#fuck my **LA teacher** who gets us to use it to write things instead of doing the actual work because he doesnt want to teach

[elysiae]

do any other creators have this fear of posting their creations with the rising of AI because the idea of it leeching off your work and spewing out unoriginal half-baked bullshit makes you genuinely nauseous so you just straight up dont post anything anymore

[gigi-apologist]

first things first.

let’s think of our (my future self’s, reading this, and mine) former art teacher that was so so cool in his funky skirt and told us about greek standards of beauty and how much they honestly sucked in their underlying perception that beautiful = perfect (or as close to perfect as possible) and how their notions of flawless symmetry/golden ratio in nature/idealization of the human body persist nowadays... the “facial harmonization” being based off greek standards, erasing your main characteristics, your history and your ancestors’ history, the traits that make you different and special, such as your ethnic nose—they erase you to remake you into what a people with a superiority complex @ other peoples thought would be cool and sexy. and yeah, the greeks might have been responsible to a lot of great contributions to our culture, but bad ones, too. don’t ever forget they were misogynistic as fuck. (interesting, too, how their ideals of feminine beauty—plump women with thick unibrows—were discarded with time, but not. not this.)

is beauty really in perfect symmetry? are conventionally beautiful people really 100% symmetrical if they don’t “harmonize” their faces?

(these memes are an exaggeration, of course, but a good reminder.)

it’s okay to have asymmetrical arms, and eyes, and eyebrows, and boobs, and—and everything, really. it’s but human. even the fact most people write with either their left or their right hand proves that—points to what is truly natural instead of cultural.

so it’s okay, too, that one of your arms is more tanned than the other. and that said tan is uneven instead of perfectly, flawlessly uniform, since certain areas of your skin get more exposed to the sun than others. i am, of course, affirming the obvious. the scientific. what you already knew. but it’s also worth mentioning, as cliché as it sounds, that your skin does tell a story. the parts of it kissed by the sun were also the parts that your past self exposed to the sun, just living her life, building her story. you have seen pictures of your baby self with a tan you disliked, but weren’t you joyful and content back then, turned golden, playing outside and touching grass and having fun? weren’t you adorable, holding those puppies? would you deprive yourself of that childhood to be “prettier”?

and if you still think you’re a rotisserie chicken with some areas more roasted than others, then yeah, you’re a fucking chimken. a falin, even. bawk bawk, motherfucker. that’s silly and endearing and frankly a little ridiculous. you did make your belauved wife laugh.

a toast to life. a toast to the sun who keeps us warm. viva la vida and all its imperfections!

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter Six

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Five and a Half

A/N: idk if this is good but I’ve been putting off writing it and perfect is the enemy of done so here you go, I had fun

It’s not not serious.

At least, this seems to be the mutual conclusion you have both silently reached after that weirdly intimate night you never talked about, either.

And yes, you’re aware of how childish that is.

For two people voluntarily living in one of the more dangerous cities on the continent, it turns out you’re both pretty cowardly. But why put yourselves through the agony of all that when you could both instead play a game of emotional chicken to test where the boundaries are?

You go first the morning the two of you wake up in your bed. You both woke up in a tangle of limbs and slid out of bed after the second snooze alarm went off. He had just pulled on his jeans when he reached for the shirt you had folded the night before.

“Wait,” you said. You walked to the closet and pulled a crisp black shirt off its hanger, continuing to brush your teeth and you walked up and deposited it in his hand. “I washed this after you let me wear it home.”

That night we made pasta and I spilled sauce on my shirt and you took it off and fucked me in your kitchen until the chicken burnt-

He looks up at you, his eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head before pulling it over his shoulders. “Thank you.”

You give him a look before dipping into the bathroom to spit.

After a quick cup of coffee, you’re both striding towards your door when you stop short. He turns and looks at you, waiting for you to take another step and flick the deadbolt. Instead, you ask

“Are you going to be okay? Today, I mean. With...”

His face falls a little, like he was expecting to get out of this without you mentioning it. It makes your heart hurt.

“I’m fine,” he says, curtly. He drops his head to look at his shoes. You swallow.

“So...drinks tonight? Still?” You reach out and bop his hand with yours.

“Not if you don’t open the door.”

You roll your eyes, walking forward and flicking the bolt. You pull the door open and he catches it, holding it back for you as you take the first step out.

“...yeah. I’ll be back around 6,” he says as you finish locking the door. You drop the keys in your purse, straightening up as the two of you walk towards and out the doors.

“Bar or your place?”

“Mine.”

“You sure? It’s my turn to buy,” you say.

“No, it’s not,” he says as he opens the passenger door for you, gesturing that you climb in. You do and watch as he walks around the front to his side. “Besides, mines quieter.”

You nod, staring forward as he starts the car and pulls into the street. Like every morning, his hand falls to your knee and you feel content with his answer.

You can’t help yourself, though, when he pulls up in front of the school and parks, waiting for you to climb out. Usually, it’s a pretty quick, platonic affair- a quick “thanks, Javi” before you open the door and swing your legs out. This morning, though,

“You know,” he says when you reach for the handle. “You...you don’t have to take care of me.”

You drop your hand before turning back to face him. And maybe it’s the coffee you drank took quickly, or maybe it’s the way last night is still lingering in your head, but

“I like taking care of you.”

You reach out and pull his face to yours, letting the kiss linger before pulling away.

“See you tonight,” you said, flashing him a quick smile. If you’re not mistaken, you see the corner of his mouth twitch up before he remembers himself, and gives you a cool masculine nod. You climb out and watch as he drives away before you hear behind you:

“¿Es tu novio?”

You turn around and see three little girls from your class huddled together and giggling that they just caught the teacher doing something naughty. Despite yourself, you smile through your teacher's voice.

“Entrad, niñas. La clase está a punto de empezar.”

He makes the next move when he shows up outside the school, waiting against his car when you walk out that afternoon and he flags you down.

“Hey,” he says when you approach his car.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s up?”

“Was told to go home early,” he says. “Figured...” he waves his hand up, gesturing to you. “You got plans?”

“Was just going to swing by the liquor store. For tonight.”

“It’s not your turn to buy,” he says, moving out of the way so you can open the door. You send him a look.

“It’s the 90s. Let a girl buy you a drink, Javi.”

He smiles, and over his shoulder, you see one of the girls from this morning- Cara - sending you a shit-eating grin.

Despite yourself, you give her a little wave as Javi drives the two of you out of the parking lot.

--------------

It becomes a game after that. He picks you up from school. You ask him to stay the night again, and he does. The next morning, he kisses you goodbye in front of Steve, whose eyebrows you see pop up from the corner of your eye. That night, you stay over at his and leave the spare toothbrush you brought next to his in the bathroom. The next day, he comes to your house with take-out and a tape and the two of you fall asleep on the couch, drunk and full. Soon, you don’t remember a night where you aren’t sleeping in the same bed or whose turn it is to initiate a sleepover. You just meet at your smoking spot and then, inevitably, one of you will lead the other to their door for the night, and inevitably, the other one will stay.

The small reminders of each other begin to pile up in your respective apartments. A mystery toothbrush appears in your bathroom. Then there’s a jacket and two of his shirts hanging in your closet. A drawer in his bathroom slowly begins to fill with evidence of your presence- hair ties, bobby pins, the odd bit of makeup. During one of your drunk nights, when you are once again lamenting the lack of decoration, you draw a stick-figure portrait of the apartment - you, Javi, Steve, and the creepy silent man who you only ever see leave his place to buy fish - and tape it to his fridge. He tells you you hang around kids too much, but every time you come back, it’s still up.

Then the bigger things happen. You go to dinner with him and Steve. You bring him on a double date with Alessa and Frankie. He kisses you goodbye in front of the school every morning, and you reach out and hold his hand whenever the two of you walk outside- which you do now, by the way. You walk to the grocery store, you walk to the liquor store, you walk to the corner store to buy pre and post-coital smokes, and every time his hand finds yours. You’re still having sex, you still fuck, but now, sometimes, to what would once be your disgust, it’s slower. Softer. There’s eye contact and prolonged kisses and caressing and very little hair pulling.

And god. Now there’s cuddling.

You no longer sit across the sofa to hanger a drink. No, now your legs are in his lap or his arm is around your shoulder or some other horribly intimate design the two of you just naturally find yourself falling into whenever you’re in proximity. Now, after sex, he’s pulling you to him or you’re pulling him to you or you just both mutually descend towards each other. And when you’re all wrapped around each other, the worst thing of all happens. He talks.

It’s not like you hadn’t talked before. You were friends, after all. He already knew about your kids you taught, your parents, and some random, funny stories about your life. In turn, he had told you some stories about his mom, about the ranch, and about the people in his life. But now it’s different. Now, whenever you two are alone in the dark, bodies pressed against each other under the sheet with such softness it’s grotesque, the walls come down. He tells you about his mom's death, and how he didn’t cry for months. He tells you how afraid he is of himself, and how he worries she would hate the person he is. He tells you he doesn’t think he’s a good person, because of the women he’s hurt ( -“The DAY of?” “I’m not proud of it”-) and the people he failed (“-supposed to get her out, keep her safe, and I couldn’t-“) and how, though he won’t go into detail about it, he’s worried how numb he’s become to things, and that he’s only going to get number (“-you see so many people die, there’s got to be a point you just stop feeling that, like self-preservation, and that’s fucking scary-“). You listen. You think you may be the first person who has listened in a while. When he tries to apologize, that he shouldn’t have said that or that he’s a mopey sad sack or you don’t want to hear this, you kiss his hands.

“Javi,” you tell him. “I like listening to you. Anything you have to say.”

Looking back, you think the look he gives you the first time you said that was when you really knew. But now, you’re still playing dumb. You both are.

What’d he call it? Self-preservation?

To pay him back, you tell him about you. You try to match his scars, telling him about growing up in a loud, weird house you’d only learn at the age of fifteen was a commune. You tell him about all the times you caught your parents tripping out naked on drugs and having to drag them to bed, or how you had to watch your sister for days on end as a kid whenever they decided to go out on ‘spirit walks’, and how you eventually enrolled yourself in school after your mothers homeschooling attempts fell to the wayside. That one time when you were six and accidentally took a tab of acid your mother and father’s sometime lover, Sunshine, left on top of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  You try and tell him the good things, too- how you speak five languages (“what?” “English, Spanish, German, Russian, and some Chinese.” “...what?” “My parents were communists!”), how you used to be really good at gymnastics (“is that why you can’t do a handstand?” “I can do a handstand-“ ), and the things in yourself that you’re afraid of- your denial, your anxiety, your bad habit of never calling your sister back and how that actually reveals you’re a sociopath. And in turn, he listens. He squeezes your hand. He asks you questions when you know he wants to and lets it be silent when you can’t bring yourself to answer.

About three months into this, you find yourself lying on your side one night, staring at his beautiful, stupid, snoring face as he drools against your pillow, and for the first time, you finally, finally, finally let yourself admit it.

It is serious.

---

“Well no shit.”

You scowl at Lisa over your glass.

“What? Like we all didn’t already know? For months?”

“Leave her alone,” Alessa elbows her. “I think it’s sweet.”

“You think everything’s sweet.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “You tell him yet?”

You bite the inside of your lip and look down at your drink. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Timing?”

“You spend all your time together.”

You shake your head, taking a swig.

“Coward.”

“What!”

“I said you’re a coward,” Lisa says as Maritza deposits the tray of shots between the two of you.

“Who’s a coward?” she asks sweetly.

“Eloise.”

“Yeah, I am,” you reach forward and take two of the shot glasses, snatching the one in front of Lisa before downing it.

“Hey!” She yelps.

You flip her off and down the second.

She huffs. “Bitch.”

You shake your head and march towards the bar to order another tray.

----------

To be fair, he knew it would be like this.

He had to. It’s you. It’s both of you. Two weirdly cagey people who don’t like having their guard down and never, ever want to be the one person who sticks themselves out for ridicule. The little dares over the past few months have been one thing, like you’re placing pebbles on a scale, seeing how long it takes until it collapses under the weight. Nightly sleepovers? Pebble. Toothbrushes? Pebbles. Sharing childhood trauma after a round of particularly kinky sex where you had your hands tied to the headboard and it inadvertently reminded you of the time you got your hands stuck in some old handcuffs your sister and you had found and you had to spend three hours with your hands looped around a bed frame because Tanya was seven and when she found your mom they were high on peyote and it turns out it takes five drugged-out hippies to find a tiny pair of keys to free a small girl in the woods after it’s already gotten dark and then he told you about the time his uncle had drunk too much shiner and tried to shoot an apple off his cousins head with a BB gun but missed and now the cousin has one eye kind of like Lorenzo and then you both chain-smoked cigarettes and wondered what a glass eye feels like - alright. Maybe five pebbles.

But...actually saying it?

Stones. Big, ugly stones. The kind that fall on cars.

No wonder you got shit-faced.

“Javvvvvvvi,” you sang through his door. You pounded out the melody that only made sense in your head. “Heyyyyy,”

You hear footsteps approaching from the other side and you stand up straight, ready to drunkenly seduce him with your pose when the door swings open and-

“Can I help you?” She asks, annoyed.

You take the woman in front of you in. She’s tall, with long honey blonde hair that falls across her shoulders. Her waist is bared under the halter top she wears, and you’re only a little jealous of the toned plane of her stomach and the long legs that stretch out from her short shorts.

“I...” you start.

“What are you doing? Get away from the door!” Javi appears from behind her, reaching out to take her arm and pull her back. His eyes fall on you, though, and he drops his hand.

“El- hey- I thought you were-?”

“I was...what uh,” you raise your hand to the woman. “What the fuck?”

“Who the fuck are you?” The woman hisses back. Javi reaches up and takes her arm, pulling her back gently.

“I told you not to answer the door-“

“No, I think I’ll leave-“ you toss your hands up. “Enjoy your night.”

“She’s not- it’s not like that-”

“OH PLEASE, I wasn’t born yester-“

The door behind you opens, and the two or you swivel you hear to see Steve enter holding two bags of food. He looks between you and Javier, then to the door.

“Hey,” he says finally.

You give him a pathetic wave. He waves back before turning to Javi.

“Is she-“

“Yeah,” Javier says. He points to his apartment “Could you actually-?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods a bit too quickly, moving behind him and disappearing into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Javier turns back to you.

“She needs a place to stay before we move her. I was going to tell you when you got back.”

“Ohhhhhhh,” you draw out. You grimace, before looking back to him. “...Sorry.”

“You really think I’d do that?”

You open your mouth to answer before he cuts in again.

“Are you drunk?”

“I-“ you start before huffing. Fucking cop. “Yes! Of course I’m drunk! It’s tequila night! I even, kindly, I might add,” you reach in your bag and pull out the bottle you picked up on the way home. “Got some for you, too!”

“Who did you think she was?”

“Javi-“ you groan, squeezing your eyes shut. This wasn’t supposed to be your night. Tonight was supposed to be about getting drunk with your friends, then getting drunk with Javi, then having drunk sex on your couch loud enough the upstairs fish guy would have to bury his head in what you only assumed was a pile of rotting fish carcasses in his trash to drown out your moans.

Now it’s this.

You shake your head and nod to your door, beckoning him to follow. It’s tense, and he watches over your shoulder as your hands shake trying to pull the right key. Once you manage to unlock the door, you hurry inside and deposit your things on the table, before turning back and facing him.

You open your mouth to say something-

-and then shut it again. You sigh.

“You thought I was sleeping with her.”

You snap your head back up to see him, cross-armed in front of you. You shake your head.

“This isn’t fair, I’m drunk. You’re not.”

He walks over to the bag you threw on the couch and unscrews the bottle you brought home. He takes a swig, holding eye contact as he gulps a third of the small bottle down, all while you watch flabbergasted.

“Say it,” he says, screwing the cap back on.

“You’re going to be sick-“

“Eloise.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve talked about it!” You snap. “We never- said! What we’re doing!” You drop your hands to your side and turn, walking to the kitchen and leaning forward onto the counter. Javi follows you up, eying you.

“You thought I was, though?”

“Yes! No? I don’t know!” You bring a hand to your face. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just got scared. I guess...I’ve been scared? Lisa thinks so, the bitch-“

“Scared of what? Me sleeping with someone else?”

“No! Not- necessarily-“

“You really think- Jesus, it’s like we never-“

“Hey, don’t!” You spin to face him. “Don’t turn this around on me. You never brought this up. We haven’t talked about this. We talked about everything else and are doing everything else like dinner dates and sweet sex and fucking movie nights but we haven’t...said anything! Saying things matters!”

He stares at you.

“I didn’t think it did! I thought I was fine with just...letting...ugh!” You bring the heels of your palms to your eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that last shot.”

“Eloise, what are you-“

“I’m not a coward!” You point at him. “I’m not! I’m just- it’s just-“

“No one said you were!”

“Lisa did!”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t...Ugh! They really make strong drinks at that bar! Because I haven’t said-“

“Jesus Christ, WHAT.”

Ooh, you wish you could just fall apart and have him see what’s running through your mind right now. You feel the anger in your stomach bubble. He’s really annoyed with you for thinking the worst of him, and maybe he has a right, but you two haven’t talked about it. You had just assumed- assumed he felt the same way, assumed the little intimacies have built up in such a way that you had something real and concrete, and especially that you both weren’t fucking other people. But the second she opened the door it felt like your worst fear had come true: you were the idiot who had let their guard down first and got hurt, because they were too stupid to realize what this was, and you couldn’t even be mad. Because you hadn’t talked about it. Because he never technically said he was with you.

But now he’s looking like he’s feeling the exact same way, only he’s the idiot. He’s the idiot for confiding in you and crying on your tits and telling you all those fears and worries and believing you when you kissed his hands and told him you thought he was a good man. He’s worried that you’ve always seen him this way- as the guy who would cut and run and betray you, and maybe if you think that, then it’s true. Maybe he was kidding himself into thinking someone like you could believe in his goodness, after all he’s done.

Fuck, you may be drunk but it does make you insightful.

It may be too late though. Because he’s dropped his hands from his hips, tired of waiting for an explanation. He’s making towards the door, murmuring something about having to work and it all just seems like it’s slipping out of your fingers like you can see he’s building up the wall again and this time you’re not going to be able to tear it down-

“Javi,” you say, your voice strained. He stops and turns to you, and you know you only have a few seconds to do it. You try and form the words, but your tongue isn’t working and maybe Lisa was right, maybe you are a coward, but you have to try.

“I like taking care of you.” You say, pathetically, dropping your hands to your sides.

A beat passes. He brings his hands to his hips, waiting for a further explanation. You sigh and walk down to stand in front of him. “I like having you take care of me...and...I haven’t wanted to tell you, because I don’t want to scare you but maybe that’s just me ‘projecting’ or whatever Alessa said. She’s really annoying now that she’s doing that psychology class-“

“El.” He says, not without softness. You feel his fingers come under your chin, gesturing for you to look up at him.

This wasn’t the plan. This was supposed to be a hookup. Then a friendship. You don’t want to lose that.

But now he’s staring down at you like that, and your drunk brain is turning over itself as you think maybe that train has already left. Maybe it left a long fucking time ago, and the two of you have just been hanging onto the back, waiting for the other person to let go first.

But you don’t want to let go. You never really did. You were just waiting for him to give you a sign so you could make it look like you were jumping off together instead of you pathetically holding on as he disappears behind you.

But from the way his thumb traces your jaw and his other hand reaches forward to take your hand in his, you think maybe he’s been utilizing the same strategy, and he’s been just as scared as you.

Well, now you can either let go or try to pull yourself up.

So.

Are you a coward or not?

He wets his lips before his eyes drop. He looks defeated. And at that moment you decide – fuck it.

Between the gymnastics and dragging your high parents to bed and all this fucking holding you’ve been doing inside of you, you’ve got strong enough arms.

So.

Fuck it.

“El, I don’t-“

“I love you,” you say without thinking. “And yes I’m tequila drunk, but I don’t think that takes away from-“

You’re stopped as he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, cutting you off. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. You feel him pulling at your top and you shimmy it off and over your head, tossing it to the side before dipping your hands down and unbuckling his belt as he unbuttons his shirt before you. You drop your hand down the front of his pants, jerking him softly as he moans into your mouth. You feel him guiding you to the couch, and when the back of your knees hit the arm you drop down and begin to pull his pants down for him as he rids himself of his shirt. You’re about to take him in your mouth when he pushes you down, your back hitting the cheap leather as he crawls over you, pulling your skirt up to your hips. He pauses.

“You always skip the underwear in girls' night?”

“Only when I’m coming back to you.”

That gets him, because a second later he’s between your legs, thrusting inside of you. You let out a cry and drop your head back, exposing your neck to him as he continues to pump into, his hands reaching behind and you and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“Say it again,” he says.

“I don’t wear underwear-“

“No,” he growls, dropping his hand down between your legs to play with you. You let out another little cry.

“I love you,” you say. “I-I’ve loved you for a long time- ahhh!” The next thrust hits a little too well. “Ah, fuck, Javi- right there-“

“Keep going-“

“YOU keep going- fuck, has your dick gotten bigger?”

“El-“ he lets out a moan. Taking advantage of the moment, you slip out from under him and switch positions, pressing him back onto the couch and climbing atop of him. His hands settle on your hips as you ride him, pulling sounds from him that echo around your living room. When you cum he’s not long after, and the two of you collapse onto each other, breathing heavily as you come down with his hand holding the back of your neck.

“Hey,” he says finally. You lift your head and sit up, looking down at him. His eyes are glassy, and the look on his face makes you giggle.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes,” he says. “But a wise woman once said that doesn’t take away from what I have to say.”

“She sounds smart, you should fuck her,” you say, moving to stand. He catches your wrist, pulling you back down onto his lap with a bounce.

“Give a girl a few minutes before round two-“

He cuts you off with a kiss. It’s slow and soft and you melt into it. The way you always melt into him.

When he pulls away, you chase after his grinning lips. He brings a hand to the side of your face, tracing his fingers down the side of your cheek.

“I love you, too.” He says. “I don’t know what that’s worth…but I do.”

You lean in, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"Baby," you say "It's worth everything."

In the morning, you’ll have to contend with the knowing look Steve gives the two of you before asking “Good night?”, a joke that earns him a look from Javi and a deep blush and muttered apology from you. You’ll have to put up with the squeals from Maritza, Lisa, and Alessa when you tell them in the staff room during lunch. You’ll even get a look from your upstairs neighbor when you pass him and his fresh fish that next afternoon.  Most of all, you’ll have to consider what the fuck this means for you and Javi and this scary, exhilarating little life you’re leading.  

But.

Right now, you’re naked and smoking a cigarette on the couch with the man you love who loves you back, and you’re both laughing, and that's more than enough.

taglist: @fuckoffbard

[princessamericachavez]

Fuck it. Today I get to be self-indulgent and tell you about the entire Fjorester Hallmark Christmas Fanfic that is way too long for me to write these days but I have entirely laid down in my head so instead I’m going to write about it as a bulletpoint fic.... sort of... you’ll get the grasp. Just strap along for the ride. 

(This is obvious and shamelessly based on Tis The Damn Season by Taylor Swift, you can fight me. I said it was self-indulgent)

Okay, so first of all, the group are all friends and knew each other all through college, right? 

Jester studied psychology (she’s an emotional healer, you know?) and especialices in art therapy. 

Fjord did a marine biology major with an acting minor, because deep down he’s a theater nerd but doesn’t dare admit it because he needs to want a “real” career, you know? Also, he paid for his studies with a full swimming team scholarship. 

I legit don’t know what everyone else studied —this is the kinda stuff I would figure out while actually writing the fic— so you get to fill those blanks! 

ANYWAY, basically during college Jester had this art teacher, Artagan, who she became weirdly friendly with (you sometimes become friends with your college teachers, they aren’t even that much older than you and half the time are just as tired)

So this art teacher is delighted by her, right? Keeps telling her how talented an artist she is and how she should definitely come with him to LA after this year is over. He’ll get her into a gallery! She’ll be famous and amazing! 

So Jester goes. And her heart aches. And maybe leaving her mama is so damn hard. And maybe, maybe, she doesn’t want to say goodbye to Fjord but she’s been in love with him for so so so long and he never seemed to see her in that way, so she can’t put her life on pause for him. She can’t. Even if the night before she leaves it looks like he’s trying to tell her something, to half confess something that he never quite does say out loud and her heart falls and she leaves. 

ANYWAY here is where our story begins. 

Jester comes back for christmas after six months away and she is EXCITED to be home! 

(maybe a little too much, maybe things aren’t going as great in LA as she expected) (and mayyyybe she’s a little nervous to see a certain someone but it’s ok)

Fjord picks her up at the airport. He knows her mama doesn’t like going out much and he really, really, really insists that it’s no big deal. His car is old and shitty and there was an incident once that made Jester start calling it “The Ball Eater” to Fjord’s endless dismay (and bemusement). 

Anyway the ride home is light hearted, they make small talk and laugh about old times and Jester talks so much about how amazing everything in LA is but Fjord can’t shake the feeling that something about her, despite her smile, seems sad. 

He also can’t help the desire to hold her hand, or kiss her, or at the very least confess how uselessly in love he’s been with her for years, but she’s only here for like four days because she needs to go back to LA for her big New Years gallery show that Artagan put together and he can’t ask much from her without getting in the way of her dreams, so he doesn’t. 

So they get home and Marion is as delightful as ever and Jester finds out that Fjord has been helping her fix some things around the house (oh so you’re a very handy man, Fjord! *wiggles eyebrows*) and he’s been buying her groceries because he knows Jester used to do it because Marion is always so busy performing at the Chateau (and doing other things for her fancier clients, but Fjord would rather not bring that subject up too often) and he just thought it would be important for someone to look after her from time to time. 

Jester has to choke back tears because she is so moved that he is so wonderful with her mama even when she’s gone. Her heart flutters and it’s terrifying. 

So Fjord leaves and Jester and her mama spend the whole afternoon together, catching up and baking cupcakes and watching christmas movies until Marion has to go to work.

Meanwhile, Fjord is trying to figure out what to do with himself and with Jester —nothing, he decides, he shouldn’t really say anything— and keeps pacing around his apartment to the endless bemusement of his roomate. 

Caduceus was MEANT to go home for the holidays, but there was some kind of change of plans with his family at the last minute (or so he says, he hasn’t been very forthcoming about it and Fjord suspects they might have had an argument or something or maybe Cad just decided not to go home, but how is he supposed to know? He never knew the first thing about families) so now Caduceus is here and for the first time in his life Fjord is not spending Christmas alone. 

Caduceus suggests honesty is the best course of action, that he should just tell Jester how he feels. Yeah. Right. 

Anywayyy

Jester gets together with the rest of her friends “The Nein” they call each other, though they have never been nine, just to mess with people who keep asking and getting weirder and weirder answers. They get some drinks. 

While Fjord is away getting drinks, Beau mentions what a shitty year she’s had and Jester’s brow furrows and Beau says it was just a lot of shit, you know? Vandran just up and leaving town, handing in his thesis (though his tutor, Mrs. Melora was delightful and supportive). She doesn’t mention how depressed Fjord was over Jester leaving, though, but she does say that the cherry on top was his fucking ex showing up again. 

“Avantika came back?!”

Jester’s chest twists with the painful memory of jealousy and anger and worry over how unhealthy the whole thing was and how sick and sleepless and exhausted and sad Fjord seemed though the entire relationship before he finally gathered the courage to break things up. 

Veth knows that, so she brushes it off with a quick “it’s fine, he told her to go fuck herself” and Jester feels maybe a little better —even though she totally has no right because she and Fjord aren’t a thing and he can do whatever he wants ok? she totally doesn’t care, totally. 

Still, maybe, on the way back home she asks if he’s okay and she’s so worried and hesitant and Fjord just melts and assures her he’s alright, that he already knew when Avantika came back that she was not what he wanted, that he deserved more... that he wanted more... and he’s so earnest and breathless that Jester thinks he might really be in love with someone else, then... it doesn’t occur to her that all he can think about is kissing her in that moment, parked outside her mama’s house. 

The porch’s front light turns on, the moment passes, they say goodbye. 

Fjord comes over on the 24th to hang out. Apparently, Caduceus is a little bit more homesick than he is willing to admit and decided to unload all of his Cain Instincts on Fjord. Jester is delighted by the idea of Cad secretly being a prankster, but she lets Fjord hide out with her and her mama as they decorate the house (Marion didn’t have time to before between shifts) and make cookies and watch movies. 

And it’s so easy, so sweet and comfortable, that Jester can’t help but feel like this is what life is meant to be, she can’t help but fantasize about what things could have been like... 

Fjord finally asks what’s wrong. She tries to dodge the question first, assuring him she’s alright, but Fjord has known Jester long enough to figure out that something is weighing on her and he insists that she can tell him anything. 

Jester finally breaks and admits LA isn’t everything she dreamed. It’s pretty great, sure, and she got a job as an art therapist in a nearby clinic and the gallery is going to be great and fun but she feels so lonely, she’s tried to make new friends but everyone is too busy or stuck on their own road to success to really get to know them, she misses the Nein, she misses her mama, she misses her home and Fjord. Besides, Artagan has been so busy with planing the gallery (and all of the other cool artists he has been collecting to showcase there and she didn’t know about before) and he’s just not as focused on being her artistic mentor has before. It’s just a lot. 

And Fjord listens and nods and assures her that she’s brilliant and amazing and she will be alright, but she can always come back home if she wants (god, he wishes she would return). 

instead, Jester says he should come to LA because they used to talk about this, about both going there and trying their luck as artists. “You are such an amazing actor, Fjord!” She insists but Fjord is too anxious. Dreams don’t pay the bills. He can’t just drop everything just to follow a dream... just to follow her. 

It gets quiet after that. 

On the way out, Marion overhears that Fjord is planing to spend christmas alone with Cad on their apartment and insists they should come over for diner instead. 

Jester is delighted! It’s usually just her and her mama (who usually has to leave early because she works christmas night at the hotel) but now Cad and Fjord can come too! And the others should too! Beau and Yasha are here alone too and Veth can bring Yeza and Luke and Caleb will definitely want to spend it here instead of the library right?

So the Nein end up all invited to Jester’s christmas party. 

Which, of course, means they HAVE to do a secret santa. 

Jester gets Caleb, so she enlists Veth and Beau to go shopping for his gift to make it extra especial. 

While they are out doing chores, Caleb texts Jester and asks if he could talk to her later that afternoon. She wonders out loud why that would be and Veth blurts out: “he’s probably finally gonna tell you he’s in love with you” 

And Jester would brush it off with a flirty joke if it wasn’t by the way Beau slaps the back of Veth’s head and tells her “you said you wouldn’t tell on him!” 

So Jester is shocked and confused and thrown off balance because she never even considered Caleb like that. Does Caleb like her? Is he in love with her? Is she supposed to know that? To like him back? Oh no, he’s going to tell her this afternoon isn’t he? 

And she has to give him a christmas gift for the secret santa!

Caos and overthinking ensue and finally Jester buys Caleb a big thick book he’d been eyeing for a while but that he’d deemed too expensive to get and a very long scarf with lots of tiny cats and there’s nothing romantic about it but she’s still worried about it. 

So, either way, Caleb and Jester meet up for a late coffee (Caleb is basically immune to caffeine at this point so it’s fine and Jester only drinks hot coco so it’s alright). 

And Jester jumps the gun, she goes on and on and on about how she had no idea and she’s so sorry and she’s not sure about how to feel with this but she doesn’t want to hurt Caleb because he’s such a good friend and she really does care about him a lot but-

Caleb cuts her off with a laugh. He already knew she’s not in love with him, which is why he never brought the subject up. He’s fine, he’s moved on. 

Oh?

Actually, he wanted to talk with her because he is seeing someone else (ESSEK) and he wanted to know if it would be alright to bring him over for christmas tomorrow. He thinks he’s ready to introduce them to his friends and a party seems like a good idea. 

Jester is delighted again and assures him he totally can come and not to worry about the extra space or work or food because Caduceus and Fjord promised to come help her prepare everything for the party. 

She grabs his hands and assures him with a bright smile that she’s incredibly happy for him and hopes this is the good kinda love that makes him feel warm and fuzzy and smile. And Caleb blushes and nods and mumbles that maybe it is. 

CUT TO: Fjord is totally accidentally watching this from outside the coffeeshop because he was out buying gifts too (for his secret friend, Beau, a dope set of weights... and for Jester, a tiny unicorn that he just saw and had to get for her because he knew it would make her so happy). 

Either way, as you can imagine, what Fjord sees is easily misunderstood. 

Cue: heartbreak. 

Which gets us to christmas morning filled with excitement and presents and hugs. 

Fjord and Caduceus come over to help the Lavorre women cook (Fjord feels a little responsible over turning their little yearly diner into a fully blown party because he mentioned they were spending it alone at home). 

And Fjord is sad. He isn’t angry, or rude, or jealous... okay, maybe a little jealous, but mostly he’s just heart-broken and Jester can tell something is off, but Fjord makes an effort to smile and pretend like everything is fine and –wow, whoever he is in love with (that person he said he now new he wanted) might have broken his heart and Jester is so confused and at a lost. 

Anyway, it’s Caduceus who finally has enough of the mopping around and pulls Fjord aside to figure out what’s wrong and Fjord just blurts everything out: Jester and the feelings and the almost kiss in his car and the hanging out and the stupid little unicorn he has back at home and now doesn’t dare give her and Jester holding Caleb’s hands and how stupid he feels and how he had no right to feel that way anyway...

Cad lets him ramble and in the end just sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder and says: you should give her the gift. Did you get it so she would love you? Did you get it to get something in return? 

No, Fjord says, he just wanted to make her happy. 

Well, it will still make her happy, right? Isn’t that what you want?

And Fjord nods despite the hurt and Cad thinks he is so clever because of course he knows that Jester is in love with Fjord and that Caleb has moved on but he figures his roommate needs to figure it out himself this time. 

And so, the party comes. 

They do the secret santa early, because everyone is too chaotic and excited to wait to figure out what gifts they will get and they all want their friends to see the awesome gifts they got them already. 

Fjord nearly bites through his cheek while he sees Jester give Caleb her secret santa gift. 

Yasha gives Jester a beautiful dress, dark but artistic, that everyone insists she must try on and model for them at once because the world really hates Fjord and wants to make him blush and squirm as much as possible over the girl of his dreams. 

Caduceus gets Fjord an amazing movie collection with all the western classics he loves and it’s probably one of the nicest gifts he’s ever gotten. 

The tiny unicorn weights like a fucking ton inside Fjord’s pocket through most of the night. He convinces himself that he can’t give it to Jester, it would be overstepping. If she loves someone else, he needs to respect that. 

And then Essek shows up, and Fjord understands many things at once, and he’s so stupid he wants to laugh and hit himself at the same time. 

And yeah, just because Jester isn’t in love with someone else it doesn’t mean that she will like him now... of course not... but he feels a little bit less like a terrible friend and person for wanting her to. 

He pulls her out to the porch with some dumb excuse and after a lot of awkward small talk he finally brings out the tiny unicorn. 

Jester is delighted. What? Why? When? And Fjord just tells her the truth, that he saw it and thought of her and how happy it would make her and he had to... 

So Jester kisses his cheek and he blushes furiously and just as the moment is about to die down Veth shouts from inside that someone hid a lot of mistletoe around the house and that she is not kissing any of her friends thank you very much. 

So the two of them look up just in time to see GUESS WHAT hanging over their heads. Because of course. 

Blushing. Awkwardness. I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t- I mean if you- I mean I do- Do you? Yeah. Wait. Really? I mean, do you want to? Y-yes! 

They kiss. 

And it’s quick and shy and not really a big romantic kiss, barely a peck between two friends terrified of fucking everything up. 

The night goes on and neither of them can stop thinking about it... but other than that, it’s just a fun party. 

Fjord doesn’t sleep much, he’s up early and pacing around the house until he decides he needs to try that again. Just once more. One more kiss. And maybe then... and, yes, she will leave, but maybe one more kiss wouldn’t be so terrible before that?

So Fjord runs. He runs over to her home, heart in his throat. 

He knocks on the door, rushed and breathless... and finds Marion looking sad. 

Jester got a call that very morning saying Artagan needed her ASAP back in LA because the gallery is apparently a mess and he needs her help to organize the big night. 

Fjord does his best to cheer Marion up but he also knows, he knows, how upset Jester must have been to lose the last few days home. 

Meanwhile, Jester is doing her best to help Artagan (after finding out her mentor might be an amazingly talented artist but a terrible event organizer) and basically runs herself thin, going crazy and barely sleeping for a couple days. 

Two days before the big exhibit everything is still a mess and it’s too much for her to handle alone... and then the Nein arrive. 

What are you doing here? What is going on? How are you here? 

And they just shrug and smile and say they missed her and ‘hey, do you need a little help with that?’ and before she knows it everyone is helping her up and putting together everything that’d been falling apart. 

Beau basically intimidates the catering service into actually delivering on time by reviewing their contract and finding how much money they could lose if they don’t. Yasha, turns out, has a fantastic eye for art and helps pick where and how each piece should be hanged. Veth goes nuts with the decoration, making it way fancier than anyone expected this little art show to be —she demands black tie for everyone who is coming, too. Caleb and Essek result amazing with lights and music and manage got connect the whole audio system by some sort of magical miracle because it hasn’t worked properly since the 8s. Caduceus and Fjord offer to serve drinks when the barman calls in sick. 

In the end, after a few hectic days, it all works out. 

Jester finds out from Beau that Fjord basically knocked on their doors as soon as he found out she had to come back and talked everyone into coming and drove all the way here in his cheap shitty Ball Eater car (it broke down halfway through and Fjord and Caleb had to fix it themselves which is also why it took them two whole days to get to LA). 

The night of the gallery everything is perfect and beautiful and Jester could cry because she has the best friends in the world —but, really, she could cry because she’s missed them so much and having them here with her has made LA seem like a true city of stars again. 

And so, she takes a moment in between smiling and shaking hands and posing for pictures with Artagan (who is sort of taking all the credit for their work but it’s alright because he’s already hooked her and two others up with a bunch of interested agents and it seems like he really just wants to help this small artists have their big break) and Jester steps outside to take some air. 

Fjord follows. 

And she starts to thank him, earnestly, for all his help and support and she has no idea how she could’ve done any of this without them —without him. She can’t believe he followed her all the way here (as if Fjord has done anything else since the day they met on their college’s induction day... he always follows her)

Fjord, a little coyly, says that he could pay her back by lending him a couch while he looks for a place... and that’s how Jester finds out Fjord’s moving to the city to try and pursue acting. 

“Job hunting wasn’t going too well either, so I figured I might as well give my dreams a chance... I would also really like to be closer to you,” he admits, in a moment of boldness. 

And Jester understands. Finally. She sees what she was too afraid of admitting to herself out of fear of heartbreak and disappointment. 

“I can lend you a couch,” she smiles, playfully, “but it will cost you... a movie, maybe diner later” 

And his eyes sparkle as he steps closer and says, “I think I can manage that” and he asks if he can kiss her, following a hunch, and she nods. 

Just as everyone shouts HAPPY NEW YEAR inside the building. 

THE END

ok that’s all, i cannot bring myself to actually write this multichapter, but I hope anyone who is still here after ALL THAT enjoyed the ride. 

Happy holidays!! 

[thatasianstereotype]

Shit. I Got To Deal With This Bitch (Again). 

The third installment of my Adrien x Damian AU. 

First: Fuck. I’m Gay. 

Second: Damn, You’re Looking Fine. 

Well, would you look at that? I’m not dead after all. And this took a while to put together understatement of the fucking century. The reason is because life is a busy little shit the English language will not cooperate. I’m thinking of a scene I want to write and somehow words are lost in translating that into the computer and I end up with a white blank screen in the end. 

But moving on to the fic. At first, I was going to have the whole Gabriel-being-put-in-jail and former-friends-thing put as an aftermath because I really wanted to write Marinette and Adrien meeting the Waynes. But I decided to make the aftermath a full-blown fic from @michaelshadow7779′s ideas and extend the trilogy into a four-part series. 

This part will be focused on what happened to Liar-la, Ms. Bustier’s class trying to gain back their friendship with Marinette and Adrien, and Gabriel getting a special visit from both Robin and Ladybug. 

Again, this is a crack writing where creative liberties were definitely taken. 

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Lila Rossi is a fucking bitch and everyone —Like everyone this time— knew it. 

Her reputation was now in shambles (she’s now known as that pathological liar or that lying bitch) and Ms. Bustier’s class could only stare at her with hatred and anger —feelings that were once directed at Marinette. 

No one entertained her lies anymore. No one really hung out with her anymore. She sat at the back of the class, staring daggers at both Adrien and Marinette all day (just wishing for an akuma that will never appear).

Unfortunately for her, Lila couldn’t transfer out of class and with only 2 more months of the school year left, she couldn’t transfer out of school so she was stuck dealing with the consequences of her actions: being a fucking social outcast.

Because the class was not at all happy with their supposed friend. Tensions ran high during school. Things took a turn for the worse when Ms. Bustier tried to “fix” things in her own way, mentioning how the only reason Lila lied was because of her “disease” and the girl simply wanted to make friends. 

Needless to say, the class did not appreciate their teacher making them out to be fools all this time. 

It was Alya who ripped her a new one. Césaire definitely has a set of lungs on her. And Adrien would be lying if he didn’t say how utterly satisfying it was to watch.

Karma was a bitch. 

Payback was a bitch. 

And Adrien was fucking living in the aftermath. He wondered if it was mean (probably but he didn’t care) that he wished he had popcorn right now. 

All in all, life returned back to normal. 

Well, kind of. 

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Unfortunately, with the 2 months left in the school year, Ms. Bustier couldn’t exactly be let go because apparently Mr. Damocles didn’t want to deal with the whole paperwork, trying to find a new teacher to replace her, and dealing with the so-called Akuma class. 

That fucker. 

So essentially, he left her at the mercy of her unhappy class, saying she will be let go at the end of the school year. 

Ms. Bustier was unhappy with the arrangement. The class was unhappy with it too. Probably even more so. Since they still got to deal with Rossi’s bitch ass on a daily basis. 

The remaining 2 months of school were spent in a passive-aggressive war. Teacher vs. Students. Where technically the teacher should be respected and they should learn from her but the class was unleashing their collective pettiness. 

And Caline Bustier was fucking done with this job. She wanted to go back in time to when she thought being a teacher was a good idea and shake her past self silly. At this point, she was just counting the days until she can leave for good. 

“Kim. That’s the third time you slept in class this week. If you don’t pay attention, you won’t pass the test next week.” 

“Hold up. I got to ask the certified pathological liar where I put all the fucks I give.” 

“Ok. Don’t forget to ask Marinette if you can actually trust her answer.” 

It was glorious. 

Adrien and Marinette were definitely enjoying the show. 

.

Marinette put down her sketchbook and stared at Damian for a minute. “You’ve been here for a month and a half already. Are you still doing business for your dad?” 

Damian Wayne became a common sight around Françoise Dupont High School and can usually be seen around Adrien and Marinette. After a week of constantly seeing him hang around lunch or in after school activities/clubs, seeing a Wayne soon lost its novelty and people accepted it as the new norm.

“I’m already done with what I need to do at WE’s Paris branch.” He casually plucked flowers from the ground to make a crown for his mon amour who was happily chatting with Luka and Kagami.

“So why are you still here? Don’t you have your own education to finish?”

“My schooling is of no concern. I already earned my diploma a few months ago. It was not at all difficult when I’m already light years ahead of my peers in regards to the dismal educational system my Father forced me to attend."

She raised an unamused eyebrow. “Uh huh. And your family isn’t worried at all about you, a minor, being in a foreign country all by yourself?” 

“They know I’m here. I already informed Father that I will be extending my stay here.”

“And he just accepted it? Just like that?”

"I’m responsible enough to handle myself. I surely do not need Batman watching over me. And you don’t need to worry at all. I’ve been away from home for far longer.”

“You’re completely missing the point.”

“On the contrary, I thought I answered the question perfectly.”

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When they weren’t playing a petty war with Bustier, the class was trying to get back into Marinette and Adrien’s good graces by inviting them to everything and trying to include the pair in their lives again. They wanted to be friends with their Everyday Ladybug and Sunshine Child again. 

“Want to do homework together?”

“How about a study session?” 

“We’re having a sleepover at Juleka’s place, Marinette. We can talk about each other’s love lives like the good old times.” 

“Wanna see the new movie that came out, Adrien? I’ll even pay for your favorite snacks.”

“Come on you two. Let’s hang out in the park. We can get Andre’s ice cream too. It’ll be fun.” 

Spoiler alert: It don’t work. At all. 

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“Hey Marinette, Adrien! Why don’t you sit with us today?” Alya eagerly waved at them from where she was sitting with Nino. 

It was a part of a long list of efforts that the class is trying to include the pair in. And it would be nice if it was just to be nice and friendly, you know. Adrien wasn’t going to be outright mean to them even though they fucking deserve it after how they treated the beautiful and kind goddess that was Marinette because Mari asked him to “Play nice, kitty”. 

But the class kept trying to slide the whole Liar-la thing under the rug as if it was nothing. As if they didn’t shit all over their good name for a two-faced bitch. As if they had no part in making them feel like outcasts just weeks before. As if they didn’t called them hateful names or gave them scornful glares. 

And that’s just fucking wrong. Because it wasn’t nothing. And they weren’t good pals anymore. So stop fucking acting like it. 

Adrien was so done with his former friends/classmates. Marinette even more so. 

Because apparently, saying “Yeah, We want nothing to do with you anymore.” is not fucking clear enough that the pair wanted nothing to do with their former friends. 

Like what the actual fuck. 

Luckily, Mari can sense her kitty’s bad mood and quickly laid a hand on his arm and led them to their seats in the middle row since Liar-la took the back and they will be damned if they sit next to her. 

Alya was utterly aghast. She and the others were trying their best to have things be back to where they were before. Doesn’t Marinette and Adrien want things to be like they were before? When everyone was friends and they were making happy memories together? 

Why won’t they accept their olive branch? They’ll be friends again and everything will be okay just like it was before Lila came. 

Let it be known that Alya Césaire was not a patient person. Like at all. 

She was fuming (like you could see the smoke coming out of her ears) as she walked up to Marinette’s desk, just bursting at the seams with frustration. “I don’t get it. Why are you so cosy with Adrien instead of us? Did you forget he supported Lila too? 

“That was—” Marinette spoke up in defense of her everything-that-actually-matters brother. 

But Alya ignored her and bulldozed right over, slamming her hands down on her desk. “Yeah. He changed his mind later on but the point still stands that he was on Lila’s side just like us so why are you willing to be friends with him but not me and Nino? We were best buds.” 

“Adrien was friends with Lila unwillingly, unlike you guys. His douchebag of a father wanted him to play nice with that harlot for some reason and he had to go along with it or risk being pulled out of school.” 

Alya rolled her eyes (She literally rolled her eyes at that) before crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Please. That’s probably a pretty little excuse he gave you be on your good side again. We all know Gabriel will never actually do it.”  

“Are you perhaps referring to the man who rejected the idea of a birthday part for his own son or makes Adrien attend constant photo shoots and a crazy schedule to follow that makes it hard for him to hang out with his friends regularly. That Gabriel?” 

At that, Alya faltered a bit as she uncrossed her arms. 

“Look, Alya. I’m fine with being friendly classmates but I’m not going to be your friend again.” 

And Alya —who wanted things to just be okay again and wanted to go back to being Marinette’s best friend, who was tired of days trying to put so much effort into being Marinette’s best gal again only to be rejected every single time— just let whatever came into her mind to slip out of her mouth. She didn’t watch what she said next and in doing so burnt the last bridge she ever had to Marinette. 

“Maybe Lila was actually right for once when she said the only reason you’re close to Adrien was to use him to get ahead in the fashion industry.” 

Oh shit. 

She really done did it now. 

It was at this point that Marinette’s infinite patience and kindness snapped. Adrien scooted his chair back a bit to get out of the crossfire. He’s a dumbass kitty but he still has self-preservation. 

The grip on her pencil tightened as her eyes narrowed and grew darker, her voice ice cold.  

“You were the one who decided we were done being friends, Césaire.” 

Alya was taken aback, frozen at the biting harshness Marinette directed at her. Whatever comeback she had died in her throat. 

Mari let out a deep breath and her voice was back to neutral. “Look. Maybe someday in the future we can be friends again. But not right now. Please respect my decision.”

And that was the end of that. 

Well kind of. 

Because the ice queen treatment didn’t deter her at all. Alya still persistently tried to get Marinette to be friends with her again until Nino pulled her away and forced her to stop it with her ridiculous antics which aren’t working. 

The rest of their former friends now classmates got the message and left the pair alone. They were friendly and cordial with each other as common courtesy dictate but they had no interaction beyond that. They were nowhere near as close as they once were before Liar-la happened. 

Anyway, school went back to normal. Well as normal as it could be with all the recent changes.

Nothing was as it was before. 

And Marinette and Adrien were fine with that. 

.

Mari was hanging out with Aurore and Mireille for the afternoon so Damian and Adrien had Mari’s room all to themselves. They were currently playing video games. 

And although the Wayne boy was the perfect gentleman who doesn’t let his hormones rule over common courtesy and a proper courtship, Plagg was there to supervise the lovebirds (with a boatload of cheese to keep him company of course). 

He likes to think of himself as laid back and chill who cares deeply about his kittens. And Adrien is a pure innocent little bean. 

Don’t get him wrong. He does like Wayne as a person. The kid’s attitude and personality is a fun riot to witness. But the major plus is how it is beyond obvious Wayne adores and cares greatly about Adrien. He is a good boyfriend to his chaotic gay sunshine baby. 

But after all the shit and drama that went down with his scumbag of a dad, Plagg was just feeling a tad protective of his kitty. 

Just a tad. 

.

They have been dating for close to a month now. He wonders if they are going to do a one-month anniversary. Is that excessive? Or was that normal? But Adrien still can’t get over how he landed such a hot and amazing guy as a beau. 

If only he could go back in time to visit his insecure and confused little self and reassure him that they had game all along. 

“Fuck. I lost.” 

Dami smirked. “That makes it 7 to 5 in my favor.” 

“I don’t care if you’re drop dead gorgeous. I’ll beat your pretty face in the next round.” 

Hot-And-Sexy had an amused grin on his face. “I love you too, babe.” 

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Marinete and Damian are finally making a plan to get Hawk Moth to answer for his crimes. Needless to say, they have their differences on how to handle Gabriel Agreste.

“I vote to have Hawk Moth taste my blade.”

“We’re not killing Adrien’s dad no matter how much he deserves it.”

“I can get away with it.”

“So can I. But murder is still illegal.”

Naturally, discussing how to confront Gabriel and coming with a good solid plan that satisfies both teenagers took some time.

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Adrien entered Mari’s room, humming a bit as he carried a tray filled with homemade snacks. He perked up seeing his two favorite people in the world getting along so well.

“Hey guys! What are you up to?”

Damian and Marinette glanced at each other for a split second. They didn’t want their Chaton to worry about Hawk Moth so they didn’t share any specifics.

It was Dami who spoke up. “We are discussing the legalities of assassination.”

Mari facepalmed.

Luckily, Adrien was a pure oblivious child. “That’s nice, babe.”

.

With all the strange things he’s seen (namely, the Miraculous and getting powers from tiny little talking animals), Gabriel will like to say he shouldn’t be surprised. 

But he was. 

Luckily, he had enough self-control to not show his surprise in an obvious way, just a raised eyebrow towards the two superheroes standing in the middle of his office. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mademoiselle Ladybug and Monsieur Robin?” Pleasant and neutral. 

Ladybug he can kind of understand her presence. He is a supervillain after all. Wait. Maybe ex-supervillain now. Because he hasn’t been doing villain things for a while now since he misplaced Nooroo’s brooch and couldn’t find it no matter how many boxes of unsold Miraculous replicas he went through. And he went through a lot (that is not an understatement). Amazing how much free time he has when he isn’t stalking on the watch for negative feelings. 

But what was Robin doing here? He wasn’t aware the Gotham sidekick was in Paris in the first place. 

“We are aware of your alter ego, Hawk Moth.” 

He sighed internally. This wasn’t going to end well. But he hasn’t gotten this far by bowing down easily. 

“Just because I am a genius recluse does not mean I have supervillain tendencies.” 

Ladybug was unimpressed as she crossed her arms and stare at him with a deadpan look. “But you do have supervillain tendencies. I have yours and Nathalie’s miraculous who told us all about your plans.” 

Huh, no wonder he couldn’t find them. 

But anyway, the gig was up. Nooroo and Duusu were very emotional blabbermouths. The main reason why he couldn’t let them out of his sight —besides needing them to transform into bad guys of course. 

“Then you know I had a good reason why I became Hawk Moth.” 

“To bring your wife back. Yes, I am aware of your ‘master’ plan.” 

Maybe he can appeal to their sympathy. After all, heroes got to have empathy, right? “It was for Adrien’s sake to have his family back together.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. 

Because next thing he knew he had a razor sharp sword against his neck. He didn’t even see Robin move. 

“Do not speak of his name, you traitor scum.” The Gotham hero growled. “How dare you preach about your son’s happiness when you are the one who have been neglecting him for the past years. Do not say you care for the boy when you never once showed an ounce of love towards him.” 

Why is Robin so protective towards Adrien? Do they know each other well? 

But Gabriel’s questions were immediately banished to the back of his mind. Because right now, he was righteously fearing for his life. Prison sounded better than death. He glanced towards Ladybug. He knew she, at least, wouldn’t let him die. She was the picture perfect hero after all. 

Who was facepalming at the situation. “For the last time, we are not killing Agreste.” 

Unfortunately, Robin did not remove the sword. “And as I keep saying, no one will have to know.” 

“I will. I am literally standing right here as a witness.” 

“You may look away if you are squeamish.”

“...That’s not the problem.” It was time for Ladybug to pull out the big guns. “And if you go through with this, you will make your boyfriend cry and he will no longer want to date you.” 

It took a few seconds but Robin eventually lowered the sword and addressed Gabriel. “Do not presume that because you have no received death today that you do not deserve it. The only reason why your guts have not decorated this room is because I do not wish to make my mon amour shed tears for such a despicable man.” 

Ladybug spoke up next. “We are going to report you to the authorities. Robin and I have enough evidence to put you away for life.” 

To live for another day, Gabriel makes the smart choice of quickly surrendering right then and there. 

.

“Mon amour, I come bearing both good and bad news.” 

Adrien looked at Dami confused. “Okay? What’s the bad news?”

“Your sister have unfortunately stopped my attempt to slay your wicked father.” 

Aww. 

Adrien’s squishy little heart filled with endearing fondness at how much Hot-And-Sexy cared about him. 

“Killing my father isn’t worth going to jail, Dami. I’m sure you can pull off orange but Mari will probably bar me from ever visiting you to teach you a lesson.”  

He considered that for a moment. “That is true. Marinette is a frightening terror.” 

“She’s the greatest thing to happen to me.”Adrien swooned at his goddess before remembering his boyfriend was with him. “You’re a very close second.” 

But Dami was smiling fondly. “I know. I knew what I was getting into when I asked you out. I will never get in the way between your sibling bond.” 

Aww. 

He could feel his squishy little heart almost explode from all this sugary cuteness from his vain and egotistical Adonis.  

“You’re adorable. So what’s the good news you have for me?” 

“Marinette and I have finally dealt with your father. He will answer for his crimes in front of the Parisian authorities and you will not deal with the repercussions of being related to someone as vile as he.” 

“Does this mean I don’t have to legally change my name to Dupain-Cheng after all?” 

“You’re already one. Not sharing their name does not make you any less of one.” 

Adrien beamed, smiling brighter than any sun. He loved being part of the Dupain-Cheng family and it was nice to be acknowledged as one of them. 

“Of course. Being a Wayne is an honor too.” Damian said casually as if he was simply talking about the weather. Only the twitch of his fingers belied his nervousness. 

Adrien interlocked their fingers together. “You have to buy me a pretty ring first, Mr. Hot-And-Sexy.” 

.

The next week was kind of crazy to say the least. 

Gabriel Agreste was outed as Hawk Moth and Natalie as Mayura to the public. They were promptly put in jail. 

For all their contingency plans, Marinette and Damian had nothing to worry about after all. Adrien being a literal sunshine and Paris’ darling model was what saved him from being a pariah and outcast. The public knew that Adrien was the victim here and not part of Hawk Moth’s plans at all (Be serious. Can you imagine Sunshine child actually having an evil streak in him? No? That’s right. Because it is impossible). People were more sympathetic about Adrien having such a douchebag as a father than the possibility that he was evil like said douchebag. 

After that whole drama mess, Ladybug and Chat Noir announced their retirement to Paris’ dismay. But eh. Without akumas running around, they can leave Paris’ future to the police (since it’s you know, their job to keep the peace and not teenagers who is still winging it as they kick ass). 

Marinette and Adrien just wanted to focus on their future without any other crazy shenanigans.

He already said it before. But it still bears repeating.

Lila Rossi is a bitch.

The only thing Gabriel did right was throw her under the bus when he was caught. He told the police and superheroes how Lila helped him cause akumas with her lies and manipulation. Who knew her destroyed reputation could plummet even further? Understandably, her mother was not at all pleased with her daughter’s antics.

For being a terrorist and an indecent person, Lila was immediately arrested and deported to Italy (and that’s the last they ever heard of her thank everything Mari thinks is holy). 

.

With the whole Hawkmoth thing out of the way and he didn’t have to worry about his shitty dad ever again, Adrien can now focus on his biggest challenge yet. 

School will be over in a few days and summer will be here. Which means: It’s time to finally meet the Waynes. 

Oh fuck. He was going to meet the Batfam. 

And even though Dami assured him that his family will like him, he was still nervous. 

Fuck that. He was absolutely 100% freaking out!

Thank goodness Mari was coming along for the ride. 

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@iglowinggemma28

[rebloged-content]

Recommended Sanders Sides creators

Marry Christmas, everyone! And a wonderful December day to all of you who don’t celebrate Christmas, too. Let’s be honest right off the bat, though: I’m only using the date as an excuse to do this list anyways.

So. Throughout the time I’ve spent as a part of this wonderful corner of the sanders sides fandom over here on tumblr, I’ve often found a new creator and wished I’d found them sooner. It kind of makes me wonder who else I might miss. If you do to, here are a few creators I’d love for you to check out. You’ll probably recognize some of the names, if not all, but maybe you’ll find a new favorite creator here?

And to the creators in question, I really love your content. If you’ve made it onto this list, you’ve definitely cause one or two sleepless nights of reading for me, because who needs sleep if I can have this, right? XD Whatever you’ll find written next to your name is the impression you’ve left on me and… Well, just know that you’ve made some days of my life at least a little happier, all of you. And I hope to repay the favor by telling you how much I appreciate you releasing your content into this world… Well, repay the favor at least a little, I suppose.

Let’s begin, then, shall we?

@5am-the-foxing-hour Because this? This is who you go to if you want to read good Janus-content. You are in a mood to read sympathetic Janus? Wanna see the danger noodle just casually interact with other sides? Go to their short stories. I mean, “the cult”? Prime example of how to tell a story with impact in just a few words. 8 paragraphs, but boy did I read that one on repeat. Or “water spray bottle”, this one is fun, short and will make you laugh. An energy drink for the fander heart, so to say.

Then there’s their mafia-au, “there’s more in me than precious metals”. Six are out so far, and I adore every single word of every single part of this. Protective Remus, sassy Janus, angst, comedy relief, destruction, Roman-Remus-sibling-rivalry, braincell Logan, survival instinct Virgil, working together over a common enemy… This fic has it all, believe me. Take your time and read it, because you will read the entire thing in one go once you start. At least I did, and I didn’t even notice.

And their advent writings? Those had me squealing and jumping around in a way I will deny if anyone ever sees it. I don’t even know what else to say, they are fucking fantastic and that’s that.

So, yeah. Go check them out, before I start fangirling about them even more. You know my personal favorites now, so just go there. You won’t regret it.

Next up is @coconut-cluster. Ah, yes, Lexi. Lexi, whose uni-AU started as self indulgent and has become the loceit story on tumblr. We all know her, or at least most of us do, and we all love her too. And while I also drop everything I do at any point of time I possibly can once I realize the uni-au has any form of new addition, there are a lot of other fics created by her that you should check out as well.

Did you, for example, ever want a sappy prinxiety one-shot with the sappiness only being implied, a mutual understanding of “we’re-not-saying-we-care-but-we-both-know-we-do” born from joking reassurances and a not-a-date-nope-only-a-break? While that may seem to be a tall order, that is exactly what “before the sun goes down” is. Plus there’s ice cream. Or maybe you’re more of a logince fan? Do you want a fic where Roman isn’t the prince but serves His Highness? Do you like sincere talks while you’re procrastinating showing your face to the subjects you don’t really want to rule over? In that case, you really should read “Viva la Vida”. Careful, though, this one is so sweet you’ll probably get a toothache… There also is an analogical fic that I’ve enjoyed very much: “Cracks in the Ceiling”. I love it, because it’s just calm. Fears creeping up on you, thrown away by a trusted friend with a few words, just by being there and playing into the metaphors you head created this time around. It’s calm, and there’s not really a climax or anything, but it doesn’t need one. Because it’s just a glance into everyday life. It’s beautiful in its own right, really.

What I’m saying is, Lexi has a lot more wonderful stories to tell than the uni-au. It’s the most popular one, sure, and it’s one of her best works. But you really should check out her other fics as well. Lexi herself once said that she writs fics she’d like to read. I would figure it’s because of this, but her stories are mostly things you don’t really find anywhere else. Dynamics, stories, world building, all of those are aspects you may find somewhere else. But Lexi is just one of those people who see what they miss in a fandom and create it themselves, and among these creators Lexi is my favorite. She just has that certain skill that makes that approach to writing result in the most enjoyable reading experiences. Lexi’s fics are special, because they’re different, because they are authentic and you can feel that when you’re reading her work.

@djpurple3 is another talented individual I want to talk about. I have to confess, DJ is, as far as original content goes, almost exclusively locked in my brain with the fiction “I just keep loosing my beat”. 23 Chapters so far, one better than the last. It’s a bitter-sweet story following Remus and his children, after the bitch of a mother has been brought behind bars. Abusive piece of shit. Yeah, I don’t like her much. But the story is so full of love and support, everyone trying their best, everyone seeing how much the others deserve the world and wishing they could give it to them… Roman and Remus have a sibling-dynamic I would die for here, too. Patton is just the most adorable friend to Deceit - here Damion - Virgil is a precious bean, Logan is cute and the teacher we all wish he’d had ourselves and… god, I could keep gushing about this fic forever. I’ll stop now, though, before I’ll start spoiler things. Wouldn’t want to do that, especially since I really, really, really want more people to give this a go. It’s not underrated, I just think everyone who doesn’t is missing out by a lot, so… Go over there and read DJ’s fic right fucking now, if you haven’t already read it at least once. Thank you.

@delimeful​, our wonderful lime-friend with a cute cat making a terrifying face in his header. First of all, there is the WIBAR universe, short for “Watch it burn and rust”. 5 chapters in act one, 4 intermissions (one of those with three chapters), one chapter of act two, as well as three extras and an au of this au called “the end of being alone”, and I’ve lost count of how many nights I spent reading those instead of sleeping like I should. (Or interacting with family. Or being productive. Or… It’s really a good story, okay?!) WIBAR is a deathworlder au. So a space au in which humans are regarded as dangerous deathworlders who can survive on a deathworld like earth. In other words, Virgil is the only human, and boy does that scare everyone around him. And the best part? You can feel the development, the shift in mentality regarding Virgil, feel the moment approach in which he isn’t a threat but a companion instead.

And, apart from the fic that inspired me enough to start writing “TINND!R?” over on my writing blog, there are a lot more amazing fics to read on lime’s blog. He wrote “How easy you are to need”, for example. It’s soft, it pulls at just the right heartstrings, it’s achingly hopeful and, god, the ending still has me in tears, even after the fifth - ? sixth? something among those lines - reread. This one’s a werewolf au, actually. Virgil is the werewolf, Logan, Patton and Roman are the humans.

Do you want yourself some of that pre-AA dynamic? I’d recommend “to taste your beating heart”. In this, Virgil gets separated from the rest of his group of vampire hunters and gets turned into a vampire himself, loosing his memories. And he’s “Anx” now, not “Virgil”, goddamnit! He isn’t their friend anymore, why don’t they understand that? Well, probably because they can still see Virgil’s old habits shining through. There’s a lot of tension, a lot of angst and a whole lot of frustration involved in this.

He also wrote some amazing one-shots. They’re mostly so well written that I’m almost sad not to be waiting on a continuation. There’s “the littlest mermaid”, in which Virgil goes to investigate a noise, finding a scared, tiny mermaid in need of help. In “community gardens” we have Remus being Remus, gaining the interest and friendship of the forest’s giant Logan. “Magical mutualism” tells the tale of a witch and a demon making a pact beneficial to both parties and opening the doors neither could have gone beyond alone. The way we’re all confused about our ships not actually having set sail yet comes to a hight in Virgil in regards to his friends in “amateur matchmakers”. And this is the point at witch I stop talking before I actually recommend every single one of lime’s fics instead of just my favorites as I had planed because I started to gush too much… XD

Let’s move on to @muppenthings​. Mupp is an amazing artist and she created a giant mermaid au. There’s this one orca who’s just… We love her, but I actually don’t think she’s the brightest. I really, really love her, though. Virgil himself is being a little protective over his human friends and casually so. I love this comic series for the art style, but I also love the way it makes me crack a laugh at least once per work. Or appeal to my mother-instincts, if it’s about baby Virgil. Too cute for his own good, I tell ya! And the facial expressions! The detail, the jokes, everything about this is wonderful. You should at least take a look.

@whenisitenoughtrees​. Cat got me with “This cup of yours tastes holy (This lie is dead)”. “A slow voice on a wave of phase” was next, later “Infinity and beyond”, “we are not alone in the dark with out demons” and “changing of the guard”. And then, suddenly, the night was over. I’ve read almost all of the fics in one go, and I’ve been semi-frequently visiting her master post ever since. When “There’s an endless road to rediscover” came out just a little while back, that lead to me re-reading through almost the entire list. I don’t regret it, my plans for that weekend would like to disagree.

These six fics I mentioned here are, by no means, the only ones I enjoyed. Those are just the ones I’ve found myself opening up again and again in sleepless nights. Those are the ones that pop up in my head and have me smiling to myself in the middle of god-knows-whatever-I’ve-been-doing-at-the-time.

Angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, you’ll find everything in that list. And something I’ve grown to like about Cat’s fics even more than anything else is the quick change between feeling perplexed, a startled laugh at certain wordings (you’ll know what I’m talking about when you see it) and apprehension. These fics will have you at the edge of you seat, swooping you away on an emotional roller coaster. And, god, the way Cat writes from Remus’ perspective? The introductions of her stories and the way she redirects to the main topic after going into detail on something? I saved a few paragraphs as screenshots on my phone because I love them and I want to read them again when I’m down. I just… Cat’s great.

Next up is @eliemo. Because Elias Virgil is the royalty of Virgil angst. From the touch-starved Virgil we’ve all had a head cannon of at one point in “Heart of Ice”, over ace Virgil panicking over telling his boyfriends that he his ace and didn’t think to tell them before in “Love our way” to so, so much more.

Mostly EV follows the story arc of an underlying feeling of dread at the beginning, which slowly grows into panic, exploding in a storm of angst and concludes in everyone, or at least whoever is around, coming to the rescue and helping to calm down, with the end being the hope for getting better in the future. They always manage to convey the confusion, fear or just the general thought process so well that you can’t help but get absorbed in the story. They know exactly what to say and what to leave between the lines to get the maximum effect. And, your heart will definitely be shattered after their angst. Still, the way the sides comfort each other and support each other so well every time is just… I love their stories, a lot.

I want to make two more suggestions if you want to check out this creator. A Janus angst fic, which can only be described as “ouch” you’ll find under the name “snake bite”. It hurts in the best way possible, because Janus gets the comfort he deserves.

The other suggestion gets a lot darker. It’s about Virgil having been abused by the “others” before he got accepted into the light side. The others are shocked to find out what has gone on behind their backs and they help Virgil in every way they can to recover. Of cause it’s a rocky path, though. This would be “Learned Behavior”. The series/au has twelve stories so far, one of which has two parts. You’ll find the master post for this pinned to the top on their blog.

If you like angst, you should also give @maybedefinitely404​ a look. Ly has a soulmate-au going, in which they use the concept of “you hear the music your soulmate listens to”. "Music in my head” is a prinxiety fic, but the two of them have yet to meet. Four chapters and two mini-fics in. The reason I mentioned angst is because in this - spoiler alert for the first few chapters here - , Virgil gets put through conversion therapy. Luckily Janus and Logan are better foster parents than the ones who did that to him.

They also have a master list for all their soulmate stories, featuring different ships. Apparently they participated in soulmate month, if I understood that correctly. And to be honest, that was how I even found their account. I absolutely adore their anxceit fic, which takes place in a human au. It’s starting off pretty sad, but the bonding moments are absolutely wonderful. It’s a lovely story, and the ending is one of the best ones I’ve yet to read. Their logince fic took my breath away, too. A flower shop/tattoo artist au, and Logan is the tattoo artist. Stunning writing, wonderful world building, just the right amount of backstory to have everything make sense without overwhelming/drowning the reader in unnecessary details. Their moxceit fiction… Well, this one had me in tears within the first few paragraphs. It’s terrible and you feel for Janus, whose perspective this is written from. The ending, though… Gods! The ending was so indescribably cute. To be honest, all of the soulmate stories are great, these three are just my personal favorites.

Concerning their one shots, you’ll probably have to figure it out on your own concerning this. I haven’t been able to read all of them yet, as sad as that makes me. Definitely palling on doing it in the future, though. I did read two of them, though. “Pippity poppity” really was amusing, and I am so looking forward to the second part of “The Boy who sings next door”. The way they write the dynamics between the sides? I live for that.

Another creator I would like to recommend is @maybe-im-tired.They don’t have a master post, as far as I could see, but they only post their content anyways, so… “Can’t take my eyes off of you” is my favorite out of their fics so far. I mean, the way they managed to fit the sheer chaos that is intrulogical into this one short fic is amazing. And you could take about two thirds of what Remus said and put it up on your wall as out-of-contexts-quotes. Don’t worry, he says them out of context anyways, and they will definitely make you laugh. 

The series of short stories for the human au that starts with “Glowing stars” is another au by them that you will almost certainly like. We have Logan and Virgil as kids (about 7 I think), Remus and Patton as single parents, Roman as the most adoring uncle, Emile as babysitter and Remy as his amazing partner. Remus is a great father, wonderfully chaotic as well. And a teacher! Imagine that, Remus as your teacher... He’s great with kids though, as long as they aren’t entitled villains come to make his precious Virgil feel bad, that is.

They also wrote a bunch of “random one shots”. They are all amazing, but my favorite has to be this one. It’s a logince one, once again human au. Patton may or may not tell his big brother’s crush about the feelings he wasn’t prepared to share yet. You know, as small kids do. It’s soft, it will make you smile as much as Logan does, and I love Remus in it. I generally like how they write Remus, okay? I know how much I’ve said it, but I��m not even exaggerating. They always write him differently, and all versions they write him as are so, so lovable and just… I wanna hug the life out of all Remus versions they wrote, okay? Take a look, you’ll know why.

Anyways. Let’s continue with @figurative-siren-song. This is the last account I’ve followed and I’m still sad about it having taken me this long to find them. Little salty, to be honest. (I’ll stick to they/them because they said just not to use she/her, and, well… consistency, you know? Don’t have much, so I have to get what I can XD). When I finally did find them, I went through their entire master list (at least all of the ships with characters I actually know. I’m kinda bad with the shorts characters, so I usually just… avoid them? Idk. Personal preference, I guess), and, well… I would honestly recommend every single fic on that list. They call themself “Repair Fluff King™️” and they deserve that title. But when they warn you that a fic will be angsty, it will be angsty.

I found them through the anxceit fic “A Deal”. Well, through an animatic by their friend on youtube that had linked the fic, but details. I’ve been reading this fic up and down again and again. It’s just so good! And when they talk in the second part and Janus explains why he proposed that deal. Or in the continuation, which i can’t talk about because I will probably spoiler things! So wholesome!

 Also, their losleepxeity fic “We’re worth it”. So soft! The nicknames, the plot, the everything. It’s softer than clouds look, and we all know that means something.

But, really. Everyone will find something for them by this creator. So many ships, all incredibly well written, and soft and fluffy without getting boring in the slightest. It’s as energizing as coffee, actually. And, let’s be honest, this whole fandom drowns itself in angst most of the time. Take a break from that, repair your broken hearts with goof fluffy content that you’ll want to read over and over again. Go check this creator out. You will love them. 

Last but not least… @myfriendsasthesides​ A blog by a creator who just takes the wonderfully chaotic dynamics of a friend group and using that to give us content of incorrect sides quotes. Maybe it doesn’t fit with me going on and on about fics here. I don’t care. Follow them and turn on those notifications, please, because seeing even one post of theirs on your dashboard will make your day. It’s funny, it’s absurd, it’s chaotic, it’s making you jealous of them for having friends like that. Believe me, you will want to see those posts. It’s just… the random shots of serotonin and dopamine out generation needs really fucking desperately 100% of the time. 

That’s it with the list! Eleven creators I absolutely adore, and I’m sorry I was babbling so much all the way through, but… Well, actually I’m not sorry. And actually, half of the reason I even made this post is to tell them how much I love them and fangirl about them a bit. So… Yeah. Well.I love you guys and hope you’ll have a wonderful day! And to everyone else reading this: I hope this helped you ind some new creators you can enjoy. And a good day to you too, of cause.

Sincerely, Joy 🖤

(@joylessnightsky/@sanders-sides-fic)

[lost-in-the-80s]

Why Do You Care?

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x reader

Words: 1,502k

Summary: You and Izzy have been friends since he moved to LA, but things change when a certain ginger comes from Lafayette to live with him. (fluff)

A/N: This was the first fic I ever thought about writing, but then I kept postponing it... anyway, I hope you guys like it :)

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car​ @ladieswttda​ @teasid​ @metalheartofgold​ @ginny-rose-sixx​ @slashscowboyboots​ add yourself to my tag list :)

It was a Tuesday evening, you were coming back home from work and found this skinny guy with black hair trying to climb the building's stairs with tons of boxes. 

I think we got a new neighbor. You thought to yourself.

Walking closer you saw him struggling to open the glass door.

"Need some help?" 

He turned around and froze for a second, looking at you for some good three seconds before he could reply.

"Hm, yeah! That'd be great!"

"I'm Y/N, by the way!" You got one of the boxes he was carrying.

"Izzy!"

"Name or nickname?" You opened the door and started climbing the stairs.

"Nickname, the  real name's Jeffrey."

"Nice! Which floor are you staying in?"

"Third."

"Looks like we're on the same floor then!" You turned your head around and gave him a small smile.

Once at his apartment you put the box on the counter. "Do you have anything else to bring or this is everything?"

"This is all." 

"Wow, you'll need to go shopping then." You said as you realized the apartment looked really empty, despite for the accompanying furniture.

"Yeah, maybe."

"Call me if you want the opinion of a decorator! I live right there!" You pointed to the door in front of his.

"Are you a decorator?"

"Well, no…. But I have good taste." You smiled proudly.

"I'll think about that." 

"Ok, see you then!" You turned around and left his apartment.

---

Two years passed since that, you and Izzy became great friends after that, he even let you help him decorate his apartment.

When you two met, you didn't think much about him, but after knowing him for a while, you realized how artistic and inspiring he was and your heart started to melt for him slowly.

You always paid attention to everything he did or said, if he said he liked some band, you would buy their record and listen so you would have a subject to talk to him.

But it was useless, you knew that. The two of you were just friends and there was nothing you could do about it.

Leaving your apartment to work on a Friday morning, you saw Izzy exiting his apartment as well.

"What're you doing up so early?" You startled him.

"Dam, Y/N!" He put his hand on his heart. "Going to pick a friend at the bus station. He'll be staying with me for a while."

"Hmm, is he hot?" You two started walking side by side towards the stairs.

He gave you a mortal look.

"I'm only joking!" You raised your hands, defending yourself and giggling.

Izzy hated when you flirted with his friends, you learned it after his last birthday party, when you said that one of his friends was cute and he stayed two days without talking to you.

"I'll drop by tomorrow to meet him then" You said when you exited the building.

"Yeah, do it! I can order some pizza then."

"Sounds like a plan!" 

---

So here you were, wearing some denim shorts and a black tank top, holding a crate of beer, in front of Izzy's door.

He opened and gave you a quick hug before telling you to come in.

On the inside there was,s a ginger boy seating on the couch. He was shorter than Izzy and had bright green eyes.

"Bill, this is Y/N! Y/N, this is Bill!" Izzy introduced you.

"Oh, so you're the famous Y/N! Izzy talks a lot about you." He smirked. "You can call me Axl!"

"Axl? Ok then!" You laughed a little and shook his hand.

Soon the pizza arrived and you got to listen to lots of old stories from the boys.

You paused for a moment to wipe a laughing tear from your eye. "Oh my God! This is so funny!" You said after hearing that the first time Izzy saw Axl, he was yelling and running down the school corridors with a bunch of teachers after him.

After a while, you excused yourself to use the bathroom and Axl used the opportunity to talk to Izzy.

"You didn't say she was that hot!"

"Shh, man! Speak lower, she might hear!"

"You need to ask her out soon! A chick like that won't be single for too long!"

"It's not like that, man!"

"What's so difficult about it, Isbell?"

"We're friends. If I say something and she doesn't feel the same she'll definitely stop seeing me!"

"So your plan is to never say anything?"

Izzy shrugged. He knew he would have to tell her how he felt eventually, but he didn't know when it would happen.

"If you don't ask her out, I'll do it!"

"What!?"

"What're you guys talking about?" You entered the kitchen, sitting on your previous chair.

"Izzy wants to ask you something!" Axl said, leaning against his chair.

Izzy glared at him while he smirked.

"Hmm… I-I bought ice cream, do you want?"

"Sure!" You went to the fridge to get the bowl and didn't see the way Izzy gave a mortal look towards Axl.

When you sat again, Axl started talking.

"So… do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?"

"Not really." You shrugged, eating the ice cream. It was chocolate, your favorite flavor.

"How about we go for a walk tomorrow afternoon then?"

You stopped for a moment, your mouth open and the spoon in the middle of the way. 

Go on a date with Axl? You had just met him, but you couldn't deny the fact that he was hot. Plus, Izzy was an impossible possibility.

"Why not?"

"Good! Is 3 pm good with you?"

"Yes!" 

You didn't know why, but Izzy changed completely after that. He barely talked for the rest of the night and when you decided to leave he just closed the door behind you, instead of wait until you entered your apartment, like he usually did.

You knew he didn't like it when you flirted with his friends, but fuck, you've been single for two years, feeding hopes with him that would never become true, and you missed having someone.

Plus, Axl seemed to be a nice guy, he was funny and kind to you, so why not give him a chance?

---

Next afternoon, you knocked at Izzy's apartment at 3, as you had agreed. 

Entering you saw a barefoot Axl show up saying he would need some time because he wasn't finding one of his sneakers.

You laughed and said it was okay. 

The hot and funny summer became a cold winter night when you looked in Izzy's direction. He looked pissed.

"Are you ok?" You asked, concerned.

"You're not really going to do this, are you?" His voice was filled with disgust.

"Do what?"

"Going out with Axl." 

"Matter of fact, I will!" You crossed your arms.

"We already had this conversation, Y/N! We agree you wouldn't go out with my friends!" He raised his voice.

"I know you don't like it, but I'm not stopping my life just because you're acting like a  brat!"

"I'm acting like a brat?"

You didn't answer, just turned around. Where was Axl with his damn shoe? 

"You gotta be kidding me, Y/N!"

"Why do you care!? Honestly, Izzy, why the fuck do you care so much about who I'm going out with?"

"Because I fucking love you!" You froze. Izzy loved you!

"I've been loving you since the first time I saw you, and it's already bad enough that you don't love me, but then you want to go on a date with my fucking friend! I hate it! I hate it because I get jealous, and I hate it becaus-"

Before he could finish you clung your arms behind his neck and kissed him. 

The kiss was urgent and rough, but passionate at the same time. For a second he didn't respond, but then his hands found your waist and he pulled you even closer to him, if that was possible.

After a while, your lips parted, but you remained holding each other.

"I love you too, you idiot!" You kissed his nose.

He smiled down at you.

"Ownn! I want to be the best man!" Axl spoke up from the kitchen. He had both arms resting on the counter and his head was resting on his hands while he smiled. It looked like he had been there for a while.

"You really have the guts, don't you?" Izzy asked, separating himself from you.

"Didn't you see this was all a plan? I was just trying to give you some encouragement!" His smile turned into a smirk. 

"I'll go for a walk and give the two little birds some privacy." He put his wallet in his pocket and left the apartment, blowing a kiss into your direction.

"You know what? I'm starting to think that Axl should have moved here earlier!" You said hugging his waist.

"I'll have to agree." He smirked. "Now where were we?" He asked, before hungrily kissing you again.

[langernameohnebedeutung]

What's the best and worst feature of all the languages you speak?

Let me illustrate:

Okay...in all ‘seriousness’:

The best thing about Swedish: Sin/sitt/sina vs. hans/hennes. If you have a sentence like: “He paints his house”, you don’t know whether he’s painting his own house or that of some other guy. But Swedish actually makes that distinction: If it is his own house, you would use sitt, if it’s someone else’s you use the regular possessive pronoun hans. Solves this whole “whose body part is this?” conundrum in writing. For a language almost as unsexy as my own, I appreciate this contribution to porn writing and think we should all adapt it.

The worst thing about Swedish: The prepositions for naming time periods are so counter-intuitive if you speak German and English (where they are pretty similar) 

For example, both German and English say in four weeks/in vier Wochen - so you would expect Swedish to say: i fyra veckor. But instead, it’s “om* fyra veckor”.  In fact, saying “i fyra veckor” means “for four weeks.” (Except if you want to say it didn’t happen - then it’s (Jag har inte pratat) på fyra veckor. - I haven’t spoken for four weeks)

*”Om”, on the other hand, sounds a lot like the German “um”, where “um vier Wochen” could mean: “(it takes) about four weeks.”

Then you have för/für/for - similar words that usually have the same meaning in similar contexts - except when you say the time in Swedish. As I said, you say “i” for "for”. If you want to say for four weeks/für vier Wochen - it’s the same in English in German, but in Swedish:”för fyra veckor sedan” means “four weeks ago”. I have already accepted that I will always fuck this up.

Best thing about English: I think having only one grammatical gender makes things a lot easier - that’s a lot of time saved when learning this language compared to the other ones on this list. Especially paired with hardly any conjugation (although Swedish beats English in that regard with even less conjugation)

Worst thing about English: Okay this is coming from a place of love for this language but why the hell are you so averse to using “one” to express “people in general”? German and Swedish do it with “man”. But in English, it sounds actually strange and unusual to say: “On Tuesdays, one goes to the supermarket” or “In the capital, one takes the train to work” - instead, it’s “you go to the supermarket” and “you take the train” - which “you” might not. It feels very awkward for me when I write some theoretical scenario and always have to accuse the reader of all these horrible things - or I write something fictional and I make a sweeping general statement about human nature and instead I’m making it personal by involving “you”. - or I just write around it and explain that I mean people in general each time. But that takes extra-words. It’s ridiculous.

okay let’s get to the languages who prefer death by grammar

Best thing about German: Not to toot our own horn here, but I do sometimes miss having modal particles in other languages. (To be fair, they exist in other languages too. Wikipedia lists Dutch, Danish, German, Hungarian, Russian, Telugu, Nepali, Indonesian, Chinese and Japanese as examples of languages that use them but I’m sure there are more and also I personally would argue that it it can be a bit hard to define when what serves as a modal particle and how many a language needs to be considered “using” them)

I’d argue that “pretty” is one in English: If you say a sentence like: “This chair is pretty expensive”, “pretty” no longer expresses beauty but instead loses its meaning in favour of changing the tone of the sentence. And German has a whole lot of those.

So if I try to translate a piece of dialogue and someone says something: “Der Schrank ist ja aber so halt noch nicht ganz fertig” - that would literally translate to: “The new cupboard is yes but like that stop yet not completely finished” but the tone is something along the lines of: “I'm not saying this because I’m mad that the new cupboard isn’t finished yet but after all, it’s clearly NOT finished and that is all I’m saying.”

One example from Wikipedia is: “Er liest ja sehr gerne.” (literally: He reads yes very much) = “(as you know) he likes to read." 

And in turn, if I get a sentence from spoken conversation and I’m asked to translate it from German or I want to subtitle a scene from a video it can be a bit difficult because you have to abandon the actual text in order to translate it. And if you explain your choice, it becomes even more difficult because modal particles are used in spoken language and are not very exact and if you translate them, you have to make a choice - and it will never be literally what those words mean. (If you asked a German, what “halt” means in a sentence like “Ist halt so” - I think it would be very hard to explain and you would get a lot of different responses) But if you’d just translate the words, it all becomes meaningless and random - but if you leave them out, the sentence loses its connotation and tone and the dialogue might stop making sense.

Worst thing about German: I could name the fact that we call “nipples” “breast warts” but since Swedish does that as well (call-out!) I’m going to say ... the whole gender dilemma. And before I get anyone’s feathers ruffled, no, I’m not saying “political correctness has gone mad we should just stooop!” - I’m just saying that at some point we have to accept that our language...is just very bad at this. At it’s probably the point where we have to add little glottal stops into our words to signify whether we mean “Kundinnen” (female customers) or “Kund*innen” (”customers of all genders”)  - which in turn we don’t want to confuse with “KundInnen” (Male and female customers). (And that is not to list all the written versions that exist)

Best thing about French: Listen, French gets a lot of shit on this website for the fact that you pronounce about three sounds in every word. But since we’re among the grammar fuckers now: if you have a native language where the ending of each word is hammered in like the last nail into a coffin, you learn to appreciate a language where you don’t. Especially when your teacher goes around and asks you to conjugate random words: As long as you know the general group that a verb comes from and how those endings generally go, you will be fine by just producing a vowel sound that vaguely aligns with that. (And even if you don’t -- you’ll get very far). I always appreciated that in school.

Worst thing about French: I mean, maybe it’s unfair considering French is a Romance language and not a Germanic one but...get a proper Saxon Genitive will ya? An expression that consts of 1 word in Swedish or German becomes 2 in English - fair enough, you’re just not connecting your compound nouns in the end and get a bit prickly if people get too creative with words - but then  it’s 3 in French (4 if the second noun is female and you write “de la”). That’s three extra-words! Plus, the word-order is so counter-intuitive. Switch ‘em around, drop the "de” is all I’m saying. (The Académie Française has sent out a hitman as I wrote this)

Now, obviously I don’t speak Latin but I didn’t do my Latinum to avoid insulting it so:

Best thing: Depending on your outfit choices, people think you’re smart - or trying to curse them. Both are fun.

Worst thing: Listen, the only words I learnt are about war, murder, executions, and slaves - and the only people I could talk to if I spoke it would be...monks and nuns. Who probably won’t appreciate this kind of talk. 

[twilightfansofcolor]

Black!Bella (New Moon edition)

wc: 1.7k

So the summer is here and Bella is on cloud 9

Without a doubt one of the best summers ever

When her leg healed up, Charlie took her hiking just like when she was little, or they’d go to La Push to look at the tidepools or they’d just go to Seattle to visit the aquarium

Sleepovers with Jessica and Angela where they’d stay up watching Studio Ghibli movies, binge watching the Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar YouTube channels, giving each other makeovers and giving each other recommendations about skin care products

Long conversations with Renee about college

Renee thinks Bella should try a school in New York

Charlie wants her to go an HBCU

She never told Charlie that she filled out applications for NYU and a school in Louisiana that she liked, and that she was expecting to hear back from them soon

Bella and Edward would spend hours at their favorite bookstore chain in Port Angeles looking through the summer releases

They went there so much they were offered membership cards where they’d get 15% off every purchase

Sleepovers with Alice where Bella would constantly ask her what she saw in that C*nfederate 

Bella’s first few weeks of school fall around the same time as her birthday

She doesn’t have that many classes with Edward or Alice which she finds odd since Forks High is a small school

 Bella’s birthday is pretty much canon

Renee gave her a gift box of her favorite Godiva chocolate, makeup and skincare products while Charlie got her a Nintendo Switch with a few games so they could play against each other on Mario Kart.

The birthday party is still the same and ends in disaster 

Edward starts distancing himself from her, and so does Alice

Alice doesn’t wait for her outside her art class so they could walk to physics 

Something is wrong, Bella can feel it in her bones even though Angela and Jessica tell her that it’s probably nothing

Bella is bracing for whatever is coming. Could it be Victoria seeking revenge and Edward doesn’t know how to tell her?

Something worse, much worse

Bella listens to him tell her that they have to leave Forks and it takes her a minute to realize that the Cullens have to leave town without her

“In the hospital, you said you’d stay!”

“As long as it was safe for you, and after what happened at the party, it’s clearly not safe for me to be around you, Bella.”

Edward kisses her on the forehead one last time before he leaves, probably forever 

Charlie isn’t home from work so she just works on dinner in a daze with the television volume up as loud as she can stand it, NCIS blaring from the living room

Charlie confronts her when he finds out that the Cullens left town and that’s when she just cries, acknowledging it for the first time in hours

The following weeks after his departure are touch and go. 

She goes weeks without getting her hair braided, and just keeps it in a bun/poof 

Bella doesn’t wear makeup no matter how many times Charlie tries to entice her with the Vogue YouTube channel

“C’mon Bella, you love Saweetie,” Charlie said as if she were a toddler again, trying to get her to eat Cauliflower 

It isn’t until Charlie calls her mom that she snaps out of it and Renee tells her what she needs to know

“Bella, I know you’re going through a hard time, but you have other things you need to be worrying about. It hurts, I know, but moping around ain’t gonna bring him back, and you’re not the first person to be dumped. You’re getting ready to graduate high school in less than a year, and you need to start thinking about your future.”

Renee had never spoken to her like that before but she realized her mom was right, she did need to start thinking about her plans for the future

After giving herself two more days to cry it out, Bella gets right back to business

She’s blasting Flo Milli while she gets ready for school, gets a new wardrobe and is now tutoring kids in school and La Push for some extra cash

Which is how she runs into Jacob again

She helps him with biology which turns into Charlie coming home and finding the two of them watching Guy's Grocery Games and arguing about which contestant they think is getting the boot next

Not that he’s complaining. He’s secretly hoping they’d get together

One Friday night in February, Bella invites him to the movies with a few friends from school

And it starts to go downhill when Jacob threatens Mike, who got sick halfway through the movie

Jacob reveals his feelings for Bella but she has to reject his advances

She loves Jacob, he’s been so sweet to her, but she cannot handle another relationship when she’s barely over the first one

When Bella calls him on Saturday morning to apologize, he doesn’t pick up the phone or answer any of her texts but she thinks nothing of it, chalking it up to him being sick

The next time she calls, she calls the house and Billy tells her Jacob is feeling better but that he’s not up for visitors, so she takes matters into her own hands

She spends the entire morning parked outside his house waiting for him

Bella doesn’t recognize him, he’s a lot bigger, his hair is shorter and his usually warm brown eyes look cold

Jacob tells her to go home and not to come back and Bella knows that Sam finally got him like he did Embry and he proceeds to tell her how he’s not good enough for her like the Cullens and alludes to the fact that he knows the Cullens’ secret

“You’ve been lying to everyone. Charlie… but you can’t lie to me, Bella. Go home. Or you’re gonna get hurt.”

She just stands there in the cold rain, getting soaked from head to toe, and she can’t tell if she’s crying or if it’s just the rain hitting her face

She has a strange dream involving a brown wolf the size of a horse, Jacob, and surprisingly, Edward

Bella confronts Jacob again, this time almost getting into it with Paul who turns into a wolf right in front her

Embry and Jared take her back to Sam’s house where she meets Emily

Bella and Emily get along well, and she finds out Emily is from the Makah tribe in Neah Bay, but she’s an elementary school math teacher’s assistant at the tribal school

She’s relieved when Jacob comes back to the house, safe and free of scratches and they walk along the beach and catch up

Bella is just happy that her friend is back and she vents about what’s really been bothering her: the encounter with Laurent, saying that Victoria is still looking for him

“You don’t have to worry about them. We took down the one with the locs easy enough.”

It doesn’t register for a minute so she just stands there, trying to make sense of it. “Y-you… killed Laurent?”

At this point, Bella is crying with tears of joy, her mascara smearing with tears and Jacob just holding her

Their friendship is back to normal in no time and pick up right where they left off

Bella has to remind Charlie, Angela and Jessica several times that she’s not dating Jacob 

Not that she hasn’t thought about it

It would be so easy, and both of their dads would be happy, and she wouldn’t have to lie like she does with Charlie and any of her friends

One day they’re just driving around, goofing off when she sees a group of kids jumping from the cliff

She’s getting her phone out to dial 911 before Jake stops her and tells her that they’re just cliff diving

Jacob offers to take her sometime, maybe when it’s warmer out, promising they’ll start at the lower level

It’s dark when they pull up to her house and Bella starts to invite him in for dinner when she notices a familiar car parked down the street

Bella remembers everything about that car, the quiet engine as she sat in the back seat while his C*nfederate brother drove them to Phoenix, the feel of the leather seats as she slept.

They go in anyway, and Bella is surprised to see Alice sitting on the couch reading a magazine, but she needs Bella’s help because Edward is in trouble

The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity

“I haven’t heard from you in almost a year. You avoided me in the halls, you blocked my number and my email, but now when you reappear from thin air I’m supposed to help you? What do I get out of this?”

Alice insists that Edward needs Bella’s help, that she can’t do this without her

At this point Bella knows that Charlie put a tracking device on her phone, and she’s not going to risk it

Jacob begging her not to go, and she really doesn’t want to go either

Instead she writes a quick letter telling Edward not to do what he’s thinking of doing just because they’re not together, saying that she’s happy with how her life is and she gives it to Alice to pass along

Despite EVERYTHING that happened, she wants him to be safe, so Bella gives Alice the letter

“What does this mean? Would they come back?” Jacob asked after Alice had left.

Bella knows what would happen if all of the Cullens came back: more young Quileute kids turning into wolves, and she doesn’t want that to happen, but she can’t stop it from happening either

“I really have no clue, but that’s their decision, and I have no hand in that game.”

It takes three days before the Cullens return to Forks, and she’s facing Edward again one day in the woods behind her house

Bella just tells him everything she’s been feeling since he left and more

“There isn’t any hope for us, there probably never was, and we can’t pretend any of this never happened, Edward. You know that. We can’t go back to normal, because it wasn’t normal in the first place. You were right the first time, and I should’ve listened.”

It goes without saying that Bella is going to keep the secret, but she’s also going to move on with her life, and wants Edward to do the same

Alexa, play “Clean” by Taylor Swift

[a-duck-with-a-book]

REVIEW // Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle, #1) by Jay Kristoff

★☆☆☆☆

So I’m very late to the party, but I just finished reading Nevernight by Jay Kristoff I had such high hopes for this series based off of what people recommending it had told me and what I read about it before picking up. Dark fantasy? Check. Strong leading lady? I’m here for it. Gays? It’s literally my only personality trait. Sign me up. Unfortunately, this book fell flat in all those categories. It reminded me a lot of Sarah J. Maas’s Throne of Glass, which made me take one point off of to begin with simply for making me think of Maas’s writing. Overall, I just found the book to be too predictable, with bad writing, exposition, and pacing, and too many parts that just made me ~uncomfortable~.

In case you are not familiar with this novel, Nevernight tells the story of Mia Corvere, a girl who lost her family when she was a child after her father was convicted of treason. When the book begins, she is 16 years old and embarking on a journey to join the Red Church, a school for assassins, so that she may one day be able to avenge her father’s death. Along the way she meets a bunch of forgettable characters whose names I can’t be bothered to remember and is taught by the most fearsome killers in the Republic. Here she gains many valuable skills, like how to survive being poisoned, how to fight, and how to get big boobs.

+ Side note: by chapter 3 three I started picturing Mia as the crow guy from RWBY and I could not shake that for the rest of the book

I had many issues with this novel that I will try to summarize in some sort of coherent fashion, but to be honest this book sucked the will to live out of me so I don’t know how much energy I can put into this review.

// image: official cover art by Jason Chan //

FOOTNOTES

The footnotes were probably the most jarring element of the book for me, and, unfortunately, there’s a lot of them. Their function seems to be twofold:

they are the form of most of the world-building, explaining several customs, the history of the institutions and peoples Mia meets, and the mythology followed by the people of the Republic.

they allow for the narrator of our story to interrupt with comical one-liners or cryptic foreshadowing

In my humble opinion, both of these are unnecessary and stupid. The interruptions come off as crass and immature and make the other more textbook, boring exposition come off as a joke, especially when it is dealing with sensitive or serious topics. There is one that explains this brothel called the Seven Flavors, which the footnote explains refer to “Boy, Girl, Man, Woman, Pig, Horse, and, if sufficient notice and coin was given, Corpse.” Now, on its own, this passing mention of pedophilia, bestiality, and necrophilia could very well contribute to the world building and tone of the novel, but when placed side by side with the childish, joking tone of the “cue the violiiiiiiiins” or, regarding the acoustics of a room, “…they were, as it happens, exceptional. Falalalalalalaaaaaaaa”, come off as way too light-hearted for the topic at hand. Maybe I’m being way too sensitive, but I’m pretty tired of authors using serious topics as off-hand remarks as a lazy way to make their world daker and grittier. Plus, these footnotes were just so incredibly cringy that I would recoil from second-hand embarrassment every time. They resemble the things I wrote when I was 14 and trying (and miserably failing) to be funny. Also… there are way too many of them. While at first I appreciated the attempt to deepen the lore of the story (I’m a sucker for world-building), after a while it became evident that the author was just forcing information down our throats without taking the time to actually weave the lore and background into the story itself. It came off as a very lazy way to force exposition.

OVERLY FLOWERY LANGUAGE

This story is BRIMMING with similes and metaphors, like every other sentence is some overly complicated way to describe something that could have been presented in three words. When you include so many metaphors/similes/etc., they begin to lose power. They should allow the reader to extrapolate more meaning and emotion from a sentence, but if the book is bursting at the seams with them, they become increasingly ordinary, to the point of losing all of their luster. One prime example appears on page 30:

“It was a bucktoothed little shithole, and no mistake. Not the most miserable building in all creation. [here there is a footnote about some other inn/brothel] But if the inn were a man and you stumbled into him in a bar, you’d be forgiven for assuming he had—after agreeing enthusiastically to his wife’s request to bring another woman into their marriage bed—discovered his bride making up a pallet for him in the guest room.”

So first of all what the fuck is that supposed to mean? That whole paragraph is a fever dream. Let’s begin with “bucktoothed little shithole”. Bucktoothed? Really? What does that mean. Please, someone explain to be right now what a bucktoothed building is. Is it uneven? Is it awkward? Is it half-finished? Is one side longer than the other? Did they do a bad paint job that only covers on side? Are the windows askew? Is the door too big for its frame? We already know from the paragraph above that it is “disheveled” as well, so why the need for another weird phrasing of its appearance? We then move on to that whole JOURNEY of a sentence, where the inn is compared to a man being cuckolded. That is the most insane tale-can you imagine running into someone in a bar and that story being the VERY FIRST thing that runs through your mind??? I know I’m focusing way too much on this stupid paragraph, but basically what I am trying to get at is that even though we spend half a page talking about how bucktoothed and disheveled and cuckolded this building is, we get no actual physical description of it. Imagine if Kristoff had just written that it was a run-down, ill-kept building that looked as worse for wear as its owner did. Done, one sentence. Great. Let’s move on. Instead, we spend so long reading these absolutely batshit descriptions that ultimately tell us next to nothing. Flowery language is placed over actual context. You may think that a description this long and complex means that this inn is a significant or recurring setting in the novel. Nope. It’s not. Mia leaves and that’s that. The reason that I’m focusing so much on this objectively irrelevant paragraph is because it is so representative of the biggest issue I have with the writing in this book. There are so many unnecessary comparisons that function only to make the author feel clever rather than add anything to the story at all. It’s very à la 2010s Tumblr.

THE (IN MY OPINION, BAD) WRITING

For the first half of the book, we are constantly being TOLD things rather than being SHOWN things. With the exception of one of the teachers cutting off Mia’s arm, we rarely see the ruthlessness that the assassins are so feared for, but we hear about it in nearly every other sentence Where are the consequences? I think this book would have been way more enjoyable if there were actually consequences to the characters’ actions. The inclusion of the weaver and the weird vampire guy completely remove any tension regarding the fate of the central cast. When Mia had her arm chopped off, I was shocked, and pleasantly surprised. How was she going to overcome this unexpected obstacle in her training? Then a couple pages later, its reattached with absolutely no lasting consequences. All of the initial tension and shock value of the loss of Mia’s arm is entirely removed because of the two incest-y siblings. Their entire purpose for existing is just to undo all damage to the main characters. Then suddenly, out of the blue, Mia is willing to take on a ton of consequences and completely throw away her chance at becoming initiated in order to avenge her family just to save Tric from receiving like one punishment??? Like why?? As an aside, the only moment I truly enjoyed was when Ash fucking stabbed Tric to death. I assume that when the reader’s favorite moment is one of the central characters’ death, it does not bode well for their reception of the book.

THE THEMES

TW: rape-y subjects

The author seemed a little too keen to include rape and sexual assault in his story. Mia withdrew her consent in the sex scene in the very first chapter, and even if you read it as consensual (which I do not), it is described as incredibly unpleasant on her end. Tric is the result of a rape, which is brought up several times throughout the story. Further, Mia is constantly facing harassment from men. I understand that this is frames the idea that the world she lives in is misogynistic and ruthless, but there are other ways to push that idea through other than constantly putting in her in those situations. As in, this didn’t need to be the ONLY way we explored this subject. Beyond the uncomfortable propensity for sexual assault, I also very much disliked the sexualization of the 16-year-old main character. Oh. My. Gosh. Mia is CONSTANTLY sexualized. Every single damn character makes comments about her body, how hot she is, how much sex she potentially has. It is so weird and uncomfortable. I feel the need to reiterate that she is SIXTEEN. There is, however, a focus placed on the power Mia can gain from seducing her targets. Girl power? Not to me, really. The issue I have with this is the idea that a woman has to be overtly sexual in order to be considered powerful. This is something that we can see in many female assassins and supposedly powerful female characters in fiction (like Black Widow) especially those written by men. Now, there is nothing wrong with using one’s sexuality as a weapon, and I’m certainly not saying that a strong female character cannot be sexual, but the idea that a sixteen-year-old girl is shown having her body painfully modified tp be more desirable, and in a graphic sex scene with another character, in order to for the reader to read her as liberated and powerful does not sit well with me. I don’t really feel like this aspect of her training should be relevant to the overall story. I wish the time that Kristoff had dedicated to hammering into our heads that Mia is a femme fatale to developing her Darkin powers instead. The way she is written now feels more like she is a faux strong female character written for a male audience.

Secondly, Mia is fully written as “the plain-girl-who-is-actually-pretty”. This whole trope bothers me IMMENSELY. YA is full of girls who are described as plain, forgettable, or ugly while their physical descriptions are just the dictionary definition of conventionally attractive. It seems like a way to market off of girls’ self-consciousness while still being able to market the main character as a hot heroine in official art. And there is, of course, the issue of Mia’s boob job Readwithcindy (just “withcindy” now!) did a whole video about this so I won’t get into it much just to repeat what she already said, but I agree that the idea of a 30-something year old man including this completely unnecessary detail regarding the sexualization of teenage girl, who we have ALREADY seen in a rape and being sexualized by other men in the story, made me really, really, uncomfortable. I highly recommend you go watch her video, as she touches on this in way more detail. [Cindy's video

RATINGS

Worldbuilding: ★★☆☆☆

A lot of thought obviously went into the world-the mythology, society, and politics are well-thought out. But the way they are introduced is annoying and bland. It seems like the author put a lot of effort into constructing this world but realized a lot of it would be left out of the book, so he crammed it into footnotes instead.

Tone and writing style: ★☆☆☆☆ for first half, ★★★☆☆ for second half

The tone of the first half is all over the place, like it doesn’t know if it should be dark and gritty or comical and immature. Footnotes and character dialogue ranges from lighthearted and crass to seeped with themes of torture and sexual assault. It is jarring, to say the least, and often feels like the author doesn’t take these ideas of rape or violence seriously. There are so many instances where the scene is tense or gritty, and Kristoff is actually writing it pretty well, I’m enthralled and on the edge of my seat, and then Mia or some other character (or the footnotes) throw in some stupid comment or make the same “Mia is such an asshole lol” joke for the billionth time and completely ruin the mood of that scene. The second half of the book moved much faster and was helped with way better writing, but it really did not do enough to make up for the horrendous structure of the first half of the book.

Pacing and structure: ★☆☆☆☆

The first half of the book really drags on. Once we arrive at the school, there are constant jumps in timeline, marked with periods when a thousand things happen all at once and the plot moves forward at a dizzying rate, and others when the characters just seem to be going about their daily lessons.

Concept: ★★★☆☆

I found the overall idea of the books to be very interesting, even though it is certainly not the most original or unique concept for a YA fantasy book. The issue is that the potential is squandered with a poor execution.

Characters: ★☆☆☆☆

I truly did not care about any of the characters. The token mean girl, the bumbling nice-guy-who-is-definitely-the-love-interest. too many of the characters just sat nicely within their tropes, doing nothing much to pique my interests. I think my favorite overall was Mister Kindly.

[probably-writing-x]

Innocence never looked so good

Valerio x Reader

Request by anon : I love your writings🧡🧡they’re what keeps me busy during this sucky time. If you’re still taking asks, I was wondering if you could write about Valerio and him meeting a new transfer scholarship student. At first he’s not really interested bc she’s pretty innocent but then he ends up falling for her. Kind of like Guzman and Nadia I guess. I mean you could honestly write it anyway you want and if love it 🥺 this was just ask. If not it’s understandable :))

Gif is not my own

Requests are open🤍

“So is this how it works here?” It was a boy from the back of the class that spoke up, “You just dish out scholarships left right and centre?”

He was a tall, slim boy with wild dark curls being his typically distinctive feature. You were more drawn to the sharp structure of his face and how he seemed so nonchalant about his extroverted personality. He was leaning back in the chair with his legs on top of the desk and his arms stretched out like he was opening himself to the world.

“Valerio, not now,” The teacher rolls his eyes, “(Y/n) is just as deserving of her place here as any of you are. I expect you to make her welcome as you would do with any paying student, understood?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and blink a couple of times at the intimidating crowd in front of you. You weren’t the most confident at the best of times so starting a new school was already an experience you feared - let alone when that school was filled to the brim with rich kids that you’d never fit in with.

The only spare seat in the class happened to be beside this Valerio so you walk your way over and stand awkwardly beside his desk.

“Can I sit here?” You ask quietly, forcing yourself to remain calm, “Please?”

He lets a smirk dance across his lips as he trails his eyes up and down your form, tapping his pen on the table with one hand, “Okay, (Y/n).”

Valerio swings his legs down and shuffles in his chair to make room for you beside him. You set your bag down beside you and pull out the books that you needed for the lesson, along with your pencil case.

“Fuck,” Valerio says a little too loudly, “She really is a nerd.”

You blush furiously at his comment but keep your head down nonetheless, scribbling down the date and the title of the lesson.

“Valerio!” The teacher warns, “Do I need to tell you again that your father’s money can easily be replaced?”

He rolls his eyes as a stunning girl from a few rows in front turns around and glares at him - an evident warning behind her perfected eyes.

Valerio ignores you for the rest of the lesson, spending half of his time staring out of the window and the other half trying to see how far he could rock back on his chair.

- - - - - -

You’re sat next to Valerio in that class every single day and every day is the same. You wait for him to move his feet from the table, you sit down and get on with the work and he finds any way possible of avoiding the work. It continues like that again and again every single day.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down,” He comments as you sit down on one random Monday morning.

You’d managed to make a few friends at Las Encinas - the other scholarship students really. But you tried your best to remain under the radar.

“I don’t ever really think about it,” You shrug, tucking a stray lock behind your ear as you scribble down the date.

“It’s nice.”

It’s weird to hear Valerio say anything remotely close to a compliment, even if it was something minor. But you find yourself looking at him with a little frown.

“You don’t think I have it in me to be polite?” He cocks a brow, “I’ll have you know I’m a gentleman, (Y/n).”

“If you say so,” You shrug and it’s like the tiniest spark of fire he’s ever seen from you. It takes him aback a little even if it shouldn’t. You were always so passive, and yet you’d had that tiniest fraction of sass in your words then that threw him just a little off balance.

He watches you a little bit more that day, wanting to know the person behind who you were when you sat beside him.

- - - - - -

The next morning, Valerio is still in his normal position in the chair as you come in but there’s a rose left on your side of the table.

“What’s this?” You question, picking it up to make space for your books.

He shrugs and shifts his legs, as usual, “I have no idea.”

“Well, you must’ve seen who put it down,” You comment, turning it over in your hands, “Who was it?”

“Can’t have been me,” He pushes himself off from the table using his firmly planted hands so that he rocks back on his chair, “I’m not romantic enough.”

- - - - - -

There continue to be little moments like that. A week later, he left a book on the table that he claimed was a brilliant read under his own recommendation. Next, it was a new notepad from when he saw you were coming to the end of yours. Sometimes, it would just be a note where he’d scribbled a poem quote that he liked. And, oddly, you found yourself looking forward to each day where you may or may not find a little gesture given from the extroverted boy that sat beside you. He didn’t show any interest in you outside of those moments, ignoring you in every other class, never acknowledging you in the hallways - but that one class every morning was his slight moment with you where he did show that side.

It’s a number of weeks later and things had started to deteriorate for you yet again at home. Your parents were what you’d call ‘missing in action’ - where they reprised their regular roles of being shitty parents by abandoning you with no knowledge of when they’d return. Normally, it would be for a cheap holiday they’d booked and not told you about, or because their drug-fuelled minds had considered it a brilliant idea to head off to somewhere unknown. Whatever it was, it always circled back eventually. And you’d be left alone yet again.

This time, it had meant that you’d barely been sleeping. So you’d decided to show up to school early and you found yourself sitting in the class before anybody else had even arrived.

When Valerio walks in, he stops in his tracks.

“The introvert, the woman of routine, breaking the cycle?” He gasps, sauntering over to you with all levels of confidence as he always managed to hold.

You must’ve looked an absolute state. Your hair was pulled into a bun, your eyes darkened by the purple circles that carried their weight, your clothes weren’t as neat as you tried to keep them and every part of you felt a little detached from your normal self.

Valerio strolls around your chair and flops down into the one next to you, “What caused the change, (Y/n)?”

When you don’t respond to him with a polite or sassy response, and he’s instead met with silence, he frowns and leans toward you in his chair.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, quiet and cautious like he was saying it with genuine care.

You run your hands over your hair to smooth it somewhat and look at him with the most forced smile you had the energy to give, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

With that, you go about all the parts of your normal routine. Pen out, books open, date in the top right hand corner. But there’s something about the shaky breath that you release and the way that your eyes seem just on the verge of pouring that makes Valerio struggle to ever take his eyes off of you. He’d never felt so serious in one of these classes. And it wasn’t an important topic or a test he should be trying to pass. It was because this girl beside him had a lot more than her passive exterior showed - and he couldn’t imagine just how much she’d had bottled up inside this whole time.

- - - - - -

The next morning, and the next and the next, you’re sat in that class before him again. There was something about being at school that made you not feel so alone so you’d been making the most of the hours you could spend here. Valerio expresses concern every morning by asking if you were okay and you even start to notice him steal glances in your direction every time you were in his class or you passed him at school.

This one morning, he comes in to find you practically half-asleep at the desk. You don’t pay attention to when he sits down and your books are already open but they’re empty and lifeless on the desk.

“No date this morning?” He nudges you, noticing how your appearance had changed day by day. Deteriorating little by little.

He’d even noticed how your lips seemed a little bit more chapped and your hands seemed drier and less youthful.

You flinch from your daze and try to shake it off, “Yeah, right. Um, what are we doing today?”

And it’s odd how much his heart drops at the question. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the girl he’d grown so used to seeing every single morning in the same light. That light had dimmed. And he felt it within him that he couldn’t possibly let that light dim any more without at least an attempt at reigniting it again.

- - - - - -

When you come into school early the next morning, it startles you to turn on the light and not be alone in the class. Valerio sat at the desk with his feet up on the table and a proud smirk on his face.

“I beat you,” He comments, “Eventually.”

You wish you had the energy to respond with something witty, but it had been near enough ten days without your parents now - ten days of being alone in the flat without heating in the middle of winter, with the broken fridge and the oven that never heated up properly.

“Hey, we have a test coming up next week,” Valerio comments, “Do you mind helping me study?”

“A test?” You frown, having no recollection of anything being mentioned, “Yeah, yeah, I guess that’s okay.”

It pains him. You were clearly going through something that went beyond the realm of school drama. And yet you’d still agreed to help him with no real reason to accept his request. You could’ve easily said no. You had no obligation to help the boy who was yet to put in an ounce of effort to any day at this place. But he knew that no part of your good heart would have it in you to say no when he’d asked for help.

“Great,” He grins, “Shall we say your place tonight?”

“I-“ You stop yourself, “Could we not go somewhere else?”

“Lu will be at mine, school will be closed, and it’s too cold to go anywhere outside,” He explains, “I’ll meet you there for six.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I have my ways.”

Those ways consisted of his actions this morning whilst he was waiting for you to make your early entrance to school. He’d broken into the filing cabinet of the school office until he found the file that belonged to you, not looking any further than at the address in the top right hand corner - he’d hope that your meeting with him tonight would tell him the rest of the information that the file couldn’t.

- - - -

At just past six, there’s a repeated buzzing to try to get into your flat and you let Valerio up cautiously. This all seemed very weird. Why had he bothered? He was Lu’s brother - if he needed help with studying why wouldn’t he go to her.

He comes into your flat, still dressed in his school uniform as he smiles widely at you, “So this is your humble abode.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m guessing you didn’t expect much from the scholarship student.”

“It’s nice,” He pokes his head around every corner, “It’s quaint. Are your parents out?”

You scoff before you can stop yourself, “You could say that.”

He looks at you like he had a million more questions to ask but you interject before he can continue. He sits down at one of the seats on your dining table.

“So, I haven’t really prepared much for studying, I figured we could just go through the content and then see which bits you struggle with the most-“

“(Y/n), are you okay?” He cuts in, showing more compassion in that one question than you’d heard from anyone for a long time.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “I told you I’m fine. Can we please just get on with studying?”

“It’s me, of course I didn’t come here to study,” He rolls his eyes, “You can talk to me, you know?”

“Why would I do that? So you can go and tell the rest of them that the new scholarship kid actually has a kind of shitty life at the minute?” Your anger bubbles and you’re not really sure what causes it, “I’m not one of you guys and I know that.”

“Is that really what you think of me? You think I’ve come here to humiliate you,” The look of realisation on his face makes you instantly beyond guilty.

“How could I not expect that?” You sigh, “You said it yourself on my first day.”

“Things have changed since then, (Y/n).”

“Have they? Because you’re nice to me every single morning for an hour, and then the rest of the day consists of you acting like I don’t exist - I see it Valerio, I’m not an idiot,” You shake your head, “Why would I assume that much has changed?”

“Because I care about you (Y/n),” He sits upright and you can tell he cares about what he’s about to say, “I see you every morning and it’s like I’ve seen you go through this whole change since the start of the year. You became more confident and you came out of your shell, and then it all seemed to drop recently. I made up the fact that we had a test and I went into school when it was still dark so I could find your address, and then I walked myself here just so I could come and see you outside of that stupid desk at the back of the class.”

You stay silent. That was true. You couldn’t take for granted the fact that Valerio had been nice to you recently, and conscious of how much you seemed to deteriorate. You watch as he lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag.

“What’s this then? Valerio’s got feelings for the scholarship kid? I don’t think Lu will be impressed.”

You watch his lips curl into a smile and how his teeth flash bright against his dark curls, “I think she’d be surprised about me having feelings for anyone.”

And just like that, it’s probably the most genuine smile youve had in weeks.

[sleepywinchester]

Fool For You Pt. 2 ⏤ Oscar Díaz.

Summary: You are back in your hometown Freeridge to take care of your sister Jasmine and your father after being away for six years. You left Freeridge looking for a better life but in that process you had to let go of someone you loved. But you’re back and things are not the same but they sure feel like it.

Words: 4,038

Warnings: Smut (ish) - Abusive Ex Mentions 

A/N: I usually don’t write smutish fics (honestlyyyy i think i suck) but I TRY. On this part things get heated and you guys can see a bit more of their backstory but there’s still so much more to be revealed. 😈

(english is not my first language, might be some typos around)

❤

The continuous loud hard knocks on the window woke you up. Sitting up from the bed you let a loud groan, glaring at your sister on the other side of the window. 

“Open the door!” Jasmine shouted.

She watched you stand up from the bed. After what happened last night you didn’t want to talk about it because you are still processing it. But you knew Jasmine and she wouldn’t leave you alone until you two talked. Opening the door she barged in, standing in the middle of the room and taking a hit of her inhalator. 

Closing the door you turned to see her in the eye, “¿Que?”

Jasmine’s eyes got wide open, “¡¿Que?! LAST NIGHT I CAUGHT YOU ALMOST BONING SPOOKY AND ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY IS ‘¿QUE?’ BITCH I NEED ALL THE DETAILS. ¿Cuéntamelo todo?”

You rolled your eyes walking by her, “I told you I buried that shit when I left.” Turning on the coffee pot, you turned and she was glaring at you. 

“Well it seems like last night he was going to bury his D!” Jasmine shouted.

“JASMINE!” You shouted with wide eyes. “Gosh,” you leaned against the counter.

“In that spot,” she mocked and you rolled your eyes. “Okay fine, I’m being extra but this shit is huge. Like freaking Spooky and my sister? Bitch! Who knew you had it in you?!”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Had it in me? Bitch! I got needs too.” 

Jasmine busted on laughter, “Yass Queen! I can’t believe you’re actually my sister!”

Shaking your head you turned and began to pour coffee. “Anyways,” you looked at her over your shoulder, “Oscar and I have a lot of history. We have known each other since we were kids. We were together until-,”

“you left his ass and went to New York City,” she cut you off completely bluntly. 

Your head tilted to the left as you shrugged, “Pues si, lo deje. I wanted to leave Freeridge, I wanted so much more than just this hood.”

“And he didn’t?” 

“He did,” you sighed and your head dropped. Thoughts of all that could have been rushed through your mind. You and Oscar often talked about a life together out of Freeridge but there was also one major factor in between. Turning around you met her confused eyes, “He couldn’t leave Cesar alone with his mom. She-.” It was so hard to talk about this because his story and yours reflected. “She was a drug addict.”

Instantly Jasmine’s face transitioned into a sadder one. It wasn’t about gossip anymore, this shit was real and it made her think about mom. 

“I’m sorry,” you sat next to her, placing the coffee mug on the table and holding her hand. “This shit hits hard for us especially with mom…” Jasmine was holding in her tears. You felt guilty for not being here for her, she was the one dealing with mom being everywhere but her home taking care of her kid. “Perdón por no estar para ti cuando mas me necesitaste. I know you said you got it but you shouldn’t, you should be going around with your friends being as crazy and loud as you want.”

“I mean I still did that…” she smiled softly, “I just didn’t want to spoil what you had with Alex in NYC.”

“Boo,” you slightly fixed her hair, “that shit was already spoiled.”

She frowned, “What do you mean?” 

“He hurt me, Jas. In so many ways and the fucked up thing is that I thought it was my fault that I deserved that until one day it got out of control and I said no mas. I remembered who I was and my value.” Your voice broke a little, talking made you think about the awful times. Jasmine holds your hand tightly. Showing you she was there for you. “I was at my lowest point but you called me and…” you smiled, “you saved me, mana.”

“I love you, girl. I’m so sorry,” Jasmine stood up from the seat and hugged you so tightly. Knowing you were unhappy and being mistreated made her mad and sad. But you were safe now and she finally had her sister back.

Hugging her built tears in your eyes, “I love you too.” 

She was on her way out when she turned, “I never told you this because it didn’t really make sense but… Santos helped us so much when mom left. They are scary as hell but they take care of their own.”

Your lips created a small thin smile, “How did they help?” 

“Groceries and utilities, papi’s check doesn’t cover all of it,” she shrugged. “Anyways, I’ll see ya at school, need to prep dad before leaving.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll do it. You get to school,” you told her. She smiled and walked away.

You got dressed quickly, put on a pencil skirt and paired it with a yellow blouse that had small flowers and went into the house. 

“Hola pa’,” you spoke sweetly to your dad sitting on his wheelchair. He wasn’t the same man after being deployed in Afghanistan.  Before the war he was the most optimistic man you ever met. He would always have the biggest grin on his face. “¿Te acuerdas cuando me ayudabas con las tareas?” You spoke as you got him ready for his day. “Those were the days and I did not even know it,” you continued. “I miss those days.”

You looked down at him, his eyesight was lost in the background, oblivious of what was happening. A part of you envied that, being able just to be numb to everything happening around. 

“Jasmine?” You heard a thick Mexican accent walking inside the house. 

“Hola,” you said cheerfully walking out of the bedroom to see Milagros, the woman who used to babysit you so many times as a kid was the same person who took care of your dad.

It took her a couple a seconds to recognize the little girl that had transformed into a woman. Milagros eyes sparkled when she placed the dots together. Instantly she flashed a big grin as she walked forward and wrapped you in her arms.

“¡Muchacha!” she exclaimed, “It’s been so long.”

The way she was reacting to you being home made you grin widely. Hugging her back brought memories of when she would pick you and your sister from school and babysit. Every time your mother would go away, Milagros would always be there for your family. She filled the void of not having a mother at all times. 

“Estas igualita,” you grinned. 

She grinned so much her eyes were difficult to find. Cupping your cheeks with her hands she placed a kiss on your forehead. “Estas hermosisima, mija.”

You shook your head, “Not as beautiful as you.”

Milagros laughed and gave you another kiss, “¿Cuando volviste chamaca?”

“Hace tres días,” you told her, “volví y I’m already working at the school teaching.”

“Siempre quisiste ser una teacher,” she grinned, “me da mucha alegría que estés de vuelta. We missed you so much.”

You kissed her forehead, “I missed you too. Take care of my pa’ por favor.”

“Pos claro,” she said glancing at your dad, “I have a full day planned.”

You chuckled and grabbed your bag saying goodbye at the same time you strolled out of the house. Couple of kids rode their bicycles by your house, all of them laughing. 

As you walked down the street the events of last night appeared in your mind. The thought  of that prophet trying to do something made you so nervous. But instead of drowning in your own thoughts, you decided to raise your chin and focus on other things. This was Freeridge and shit like that happened all the time. 

Looking around you noticed a Santo sitting by his porch, he looked at you as he took a drag of his cigarette. Changing your eyesight to another house, another Santo catches your eye. Soon enough you noticed a good amount of Santos outside which was really rare at that time in the morning. 

The sound of a car made your head turn, another Santo. 

“Oscar…” you said under your breath continuing the path to school. 

You had no time left to go and talk to him but it was definitely in your to do list. He had almost the entire Santo gang on subtle escort duty, all of them around the neighborhood from your house to the school.  

That day you saw Cesar and his friends at school talking and mostly scheming, they seemed troubled about something. 

Is he in the gang too? You asked yourself.

That wouldn’t be a surprise if he was a Santo, it was his family’s legacy to be part of that gang. Learning from the past events you left right at four after the bell rings.  Once again a couple Santos were spread around the block. You smirked, shaking your head as you strolled. You wanted to be upset and even mad at him for taking what happened that night to the extreme but there was no way you could be mad at him for making sure you got home safe.  

You thought that after a couple days the subtle escorts would stop but they never did. Couple weeks passed and The Santos were like clock work, always out and watching. Oscar hasn’t been seen around that much, it’s like after that night he got into a business or something. You’d lie if you say you didn’t want to see him because you did but your pride got the best of you and pulled you away from walking by his house and looking for him yourself. 

When the colmado came to sight the thought of a couple things crossed your mind and you went with it. Going in Selena Quintanilla sounded on the speakers, the viejita was dancing to the cumbia behind the counter as she restocked the cigarettes. She looked at you and engaged you to dance with her. Shaking your head you said no but gifted her a smile. 

“Vamos, vamos,” she walked out of the back, continuing to dance. 

You chuckled and slowly following her moves, somewhere else this would be such an unusual thing. In this hood even though everyone was going through their own bullshit, they still put it aside to laugh and have fun. 

Bidi Bidi Bom Bom rhythm was so contagious that La Abuelita did the infamous washing machine dance.  “Come on, mija!” Her smile brought light to the store. You couldn’t leave her hanging and started to do the dance yourself. Dancing to this song brought you memories of your mother teaching these moves to you and Jasmine. You moved your hips in circular motions to the rhythm of the song.

“Se emociona, ya no razona, no lo puedo controlar,” you sang with her. 

You haven’t been or felt this carefree in years, this moment filled you with joy. 

“Bidi bidi bom bom,” she sang, “mijo baila con ella!” 

Turning to see who she was talking to, your sight locked with Oscar’s brown sparkling eyes. You slowly stopped dancing, his grin didn’t show any of his white pearls but his eyes were so bright. 

“Hey,” you fixed your hair, catching your breath. 

“Muy bonita. ¿Que no, Spooky?” La viejita told him.

Oscar looked you up and down, nodding to the lady. “She is.”

She softly patted your hands a couple times, “I haven’t had that much fun in a while. Thank you, mija.”

You chuckled, “Neither have I.” 

“Spooky?” She said his name walking by him, “She knows how to dance and she’s not wearing a ring. Ándale,” Her whisper was everything but a whisper which you thought was hilarious. The old lady patted his arm softly as she continued to the back of the store. 

The two laughed at what she told Oscar. He had both hands inside his pockets as he reached closer to you. Seeing him made you realize you actually missed him after not bumping into him for weeks.

“What up?” He looked you in the eye.  

You shrugged, grabbing a basket, “Nothing much. You?”

“Igual,” he also took a basket.

Oscar and you walked side by side around the corner store both picking similar items. This would be a perfect moment to ask him about the cholo security you felt you had as you walked on the block but you didn’t want to ruin what was going on. 

“You still got moves,” he said as he got a corona from the fridge. He glanced at you, asking if you wanted one with his eyes. You nodded and he grabbed it and placed it on your basket. “La batidora siempre me volvió loco.”

You chuckled, “Everything makes you crazy, Oscar.” 

Oscar smirked at your words, he grabbed a handful of limes that were right next to you. Pouring a couple of those limes in your basket as well. His chest was pressed against you, “Everything you do makes me crazy.” His whisper turned on all your senses throughout your body. 

You grabbed hot sauce, looking back at him to see if he wanted any. Understanding his small nod you grabbed a second one and handled it to him. 

“Any plans tonight?” He asked, grabbing nopales and placing them inside his basket. You grabbed the sweet potatoes next to them and added them to your haul. 

“Aside from grading quizzes and maybe unpacking,” you turned to him, “nada.”

“You still got all those boxes laying around?” You shrugged guilty of being a procrastinator. The click of his tongue was followed by a soft chuckle. “Wanna go to a party?”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Santos party?” He nodded. “I don’t know... Don’t wanna get behind on grading those quizzes.”

“It’s all good,” he told you. Deep down he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of being around his gang and he didn’t judge for that. 

The two paid and walked out of the corner store, you were holding your bags with both hands. The sunset was in full effect, pastels of pink and blue painting the sky. Oscar gazed at you as your eyes were lost in the beauty of the colors. 

Licking your bottom lip, your eyes met with his. “Thanks for the protection.”

He looked away flashing a grin, “You noticed…”

“Your crew is really hard to miss,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

Oscar shrugged, “Just making sure you’re safe.”

Without asking for consent, you tiptoed your way to his cheek and placed a kiss on it. “I know,” you said, turning around and walking away. You looked over your shoulder when you felt his eyes on you. “Te veo, fool.”

“Nos vemos, fool,” he said watching you walk.

The corner store was a couple houses away from your place. You couldn’t see it but Oscar put his bags inside the car and leaned against the hood of his car. Lighting a cigarette he watched you stroll to your house and got in safely. 

/ / / 

Your skin felt refreshed after taking a shower and washing your hair. Only wearing a towel wrapped around your body, you began to look for something to wear.

“Where are my freaking t-shirts?” you roamed around the boxes on the floor. 

There were too many unopened boxes to find the one that had your sleeping t-shirts in them. Meanwhile the ones that were open had everything but you work blouses. The Harley Davison’s ones you’ve been using have become dirty. Your eyes roamed around the floor and found Oscar’s black flannel lying by one of the boxes. You sighed walking towards it and picking it from the floor. Your finger tips instantly feeling the softness of the material. Taking a quick sniff you noticed Oscar’s scent on it and better yet, it wasn’t dirty.

“What the hell,” you shrugged, putting it on. 

You could smell him on the shirt, God how much you loved his scent. Wearing his shirt made you feel close to him even though he wasn’t there with you.

Grabbing a Corona from your fridge, you took a sip from it and began to unpack. You’ve been procrastinating about it for almost weeks now but tonight was the night all of these boxes were going to be empty.

You were drinking the last of your beer when the knock on the door made you look over your shoulder and pause on the sixth box. ‘It’s probably Jasmine’ you thought, not worrying to stand up.

“It’s open, Jas!” You shouted, turning your focus back to the box of old pictures. 

“Not Jasmine,” Oscar's deep voice filled the room.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw him standing by your door with one 40’s on both hands. You stood up quickly noticing how Oscar fully scanned your body. Seeing you wearing his shirt turned him on. How the shirt covered enough to see most of your thighs and legs. It helped that you didn’t buttoned the flannel all the way through, giving him a good sight of your cleavage. He couldn’t help but roam his eyes, admiring every inch of you. 

Oscar cleared his throat, licking his lips before speaking. “You said you were going to be here unpacking and grading papers…” He paused, his eyes were lost on you. “Uh-,” he shook his head, “I just wanted to pass by and maybe help.”

Your eyebrows rose, “You want to help me unpack?”

“Yep,” he spat. 

“Don’t you have a party going on?”

He shrugged with no worry, “Me vale. I can go if you want.”

You shook your head obviously not wanting him to leave, slowly licking your lower lip as you walked towards him. He took a deep breath once you were in front of him. You smirked, grabbing one of the 40’s, “You can stay and help. I’m actually opening the old picture box.”

He watched you turn and sit on the middle of your bed. Oscar having a seat by the edge of it. You handled him your beer for him to open and watched him twist open his.

“I was wondering where my flannel ended up,” he teased, grabbing the box next to him and opening it. 

“I actually didn’t see it until today. Needed clean clothes and,” you looked down at the flannel, “this was clean enough.”

Oscar chuckled softly as he started to take out old photo albums. 

“I can give it back if you want…” you teased.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, “Keep it, te queda mejor a ti.” 

You smiled at his response, looking down to the photos laying in your lap. There were a couple of you with baby Jasmine in her crib. Your abuelita always got you guys the biggest and colorful bows.

Oscar looked back at the album on his hand, brushing through the pages he found an old picture of the two of you in High School. “Mira,” he said.

You got slightly up and looked over his shoulder. Oscar clenched his jaw and his breathing began to get heavy as he felt you so close to him.

Flashing a grin you chuckled looking at your younger self sitting on his lap both with big wide smiles. “This was the first day we missed school to go to the beach.”

Oscar nodded with a small smile, “Si.”

“Todo era mas fácil,” you let out a sigh.

Looking at him, Oscar continued to look at the picture with nostalgia. You wished to be able to listen to his thoughts. Once again you were unsure if you should do what you felt. Kneeling next to him, you rested your chin on top of his shoulder. 

“You remember what happened that day?” you said softly. 

Oscar looked over his shoulder locking his brown eyes with yours. “Como olvidarlo.” 

You smirked, “We didn’t know what the fuck we were doing.”

He clicked his tongue, “We still enjoyed it though.”

“Hell yes,” out of habit your lips touched his skin for a second before placing your chin back on his shoulder glancing down to the picture. 

Oscar froze, his sight going down to your lips as he licked his and looked up back to your eyes. Being that close to each other was the only approval both needed to do what both were craving. He pressed his lips with yours, his right hand grabbing the back of your neck as he kissed you with passion. Your body followed your instincts and got on top of him. His fingers roamed inside your hair as his lips moved in sync with yours. 

The taste of his tongue is warm and lemon from the beer. He moaned when you bit his lower lip, listening to his moan turn you on even more. Your hands were holding the back of his neck. You could feel his hardness between your legs as you slowly moved your hips. 

His hands went under the flannel shirt you were wearing, gripping on your thighs and his fingertips finally finding the thin waistband of your panties. You stood up for a second, eyes locked with his as he slid them off your body. 

You wanted to tease him, you wanted him to build up the level of him wanting you. Slowly you began to undo your buttons, Oscar growing impatient. 

“Don’t tease, mami,” his voice was so deep and his accent so thick it made your skin tingle. He reached a hand over to you but you stood back, clicking your tongue as you moved your index finger left and right. 

“Paciencia, Oscar,” you said softly. 

Oscar smirked looking down at his lap before looking up to watch flannel drop to the floor, his hand reaching your nalgas and gripping tightly, pulling you forward. Looking down to your hip, he realized the black ink still on it. “Todavía lo tienes?” Oscar’s eyes linked with yours.

You looked down to the small cross tattoo on your hip. Turning so slightly you gave him a better look of it. Oscar’s hand touched it, reminiscing of when you first got it. That night was one neither was able to erase. 

“Damn,” he caressed it, “that was the night we-,”

You cut his words with another passionate kiss. He ignored his thoughts or what he wanted to say and continued tasting your lips. Oscar turned you over, laying you flat on the bed. You looked down at him, biting your lower lip watching him take his clothes off. His strong arms flexed as he crawled on top of you leaving trails of kisses all over your body, moans escaping with every kiss he left. Your lower back arched while your eyes shut to the sensation.

“Mírame,” he said, kissing right under your belly button. 

Biting your lip, your eyes locked with his, “I-,” you moaned when his hands cupped your breast. 

“Use your words, mi amor,” he said against your delicate skin. 

His tongue danced in a way only Oscar fucking Diaz could make it dance. He knew all your spots and how to work them. Your hands gripped the sheets of your bed tightly as you bit your lips holding the loud moans that wanted to escape your inside. 

“I can feel you holding your moans out,” Oscar told you, his look full of lust and hunger for you. “Let it out, bebe. Let it all out.”

“Fuck!” you let out a loud moan as he continued to eat you. In a matter of seconds he built you up back again. With every second, you could reach the stars more and more, until there was a full explosion. “Oscar!”

He kissed his way up to your lips, “Así me gusta.” 

“Me llevaste a las estrellas,” you kissed him. 

“Si?” He arched an eyebrow, his hand on your hip. Oscar kissed first kissed your chest, then kissed the left side of your collar bone. He left a trail of wet kisses all the way up your neck. He kissed your earlobe, you could hear his steady breathing. 

“Tonight I’ll take you to the whole damn galaxy,” he whispered in your ear.

______________________________________________________________

CHAPTER TRES

GOT FEELINGS TO SHARE? ❤  

follow tag #fool for you, for updates

[fanfic-corner]

Bed Sharing

I created this list probably about a month or so ago, and I remember being so hopeful for the finale. I never dreamt we would get semi-canon Destiel, but I also never imagined the finale would be that disappointing. I will be posting a list of 15x20 fics, but for now, take this fluff and ignore your problems for a while.

Lock and Key by tricia_16 on AO3. (144,500 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bookstore Owner Castiel, Musician Dean Winchester, Friends to Lovers, Keeping Secrets, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Virgin Castiel, Angry Sex, Dubious Content, Recreational Drug Use, Fluff, Dating, Song Lyrics, Sharing a Bed, Happy Ending.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: In a world where people get songs stuck in their heads whenever their soulmate is singing out loud, Castiel discovers that being soulmates with an aspiring singer/songwriter can be taxing, to say the least. Finding said soulmate, learning that he's the most attractive human being on the face of the earth, and then not being able to tell him he’s meant for you? It turns out that's even worse. Not having a soulmate is just the icing on the cake on an already crappy life, if you ask Dean. He wants to sell his songs, but he's terrified of singing them himself. He wants to be a mechanic, but he's stuck selling parts, instead. He wants to kiss the ever loving fuck out of Sam's girlfriend's boss, too, but the guy's holding out for his soulmate, which of course means Dean doesn't even have a shot....right?

Notes: The pure terror that struck me at the end of chapter one nearly made me dip out of this, but I stuck through it, and was 100% rewarded with the ending (I screamed. I think everyone is worried about me now).

Stand By Me by whelvenwings on AO3. (31,252 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Post-Apocalypse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing, Smut, First Kiss, Canon-Typical Violence, Touch-Starved Dean, Love Confessions.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester has been alone for a long, long time. When he and Castiel happen to find each other - a couple of survivors in a world that’s been all but wiped clean - Dean’s looking for his brother; Castiel is looking for something to look for. They stick together, because neither of them much wants to be alone. They hate each other at first, of course. Dean hates Castiel for being weird and quiet and ironic and antagonistic and proud. Castiel hates Dean for being blunt and reckless and coarse, for drinking, for refusing to talk about how he feels and just pretending everything is fine. Most of all, they hate themselves and each other just for being alive. What right do they have to be alive? No one else seems to be. But against his own will, Dean starts to notice things about Castiel that he likes. Starts to hope that Castiel might like him, too. And together, they start to fight for a world where they're both alive - and that's a good thing.

Notes: I know I have recced this multiple times before but it is one of my all time favourite fics so I won’t apologise! It is so cute, and it has everything you could ask for in a fic.

Partnered by K_K_TiBal on AO3. (28,112 words).

Tags: Minor Donna/Jody, Minor Eileen/Sam, Detective Dean Winchester, Lieutenant Castiel, Undercover as Married, Suburbia, Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, Pining, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Falling in Love, Love Confessions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Demisexual Castiel, Demiromantic Dean Winchester.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean didn't think that his life as a detective could get much worse after Castiel was promoted to lieutenant. Castiel was a stickler for the rules, had no sense of humour, and never seemed to give Dean a break, even though they used to be partners. But then, despite all of their questionable history, the two are asked to go undercover on a case in the wealthy suburbs of California. . . as a married couple.

Notes: I am screaming, that was so f*cking cute! And the artwork was gorgeous, too. Also, now I ship Jody and Donna. Cas gave off such Holt vibes in this, I was convinced I accidentally started reading a Brooklyn Nine-Nine fic (do those exist?)

the cost of a thing by quiettewandering on AO3. (74,198 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Marriage, Human Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Touch-Starved Castiel, Mutual Pining, Jealous Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Depressed Castiel, Fake/ Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: 16 months ago, Cas became human. 12 months ago, Cas left the bunker and a broken-hearted Dean behind. Now they must work a case together, where married couples are dying mysterious deaths and the only way to earn the neighbors' trust is by pretending to be married. Slowly, Dean finds that he loves being in a relationship with Cas, fake or not, and Cas finds his loneliness retreating, despite the harsh reality looming right around the corner. As Dean and Cas navigate this fake, but all too real, relationship, can they find the monster that is on a mysteriously motivated killing spree before it’s too late?

Notes: So cute! My favourite trope! And, as an added bonus, the sharing of a bed. 

flowers in the backyard by justkeeponwriting on AO3. (34,710 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homeless Castiel, Domestic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Minor Character Death, References to Depression, Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: After Uncle Bobby’s death, Dean goes to check up on the cabin that he’s inherited. Dean hasn’t been at the cabin for years, but he knows Bobby hasn’t renovated it in ages, so he isn’t very thrilled to be saddled with it. Upon arrival, he notices that unlike he expected, it’s not unoccupied, nor falling apart – instead, a stranger called Castiel has made it into his home.

Notes: This was such a relaxing and gentle read, I nearly fell asleep after I finished it! Cas & Dean’s tentative relationship was written absolutely beautifully, too.

What Happened In Vegas by Ltleflrt on AO3. (18,447 words).

Tags: Sam/Eileen, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural, Teacher Dean, Photographer Castiel, Las Vegas Wedding, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Switch Dean, Switch Castiel, Fluff.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Long time friends Dean and Castiel are road tripping from Chicago to San Diego for Sam and Eileen’s wedding, and a pitstop in Las Vegas turns into drunken love confessions and a surprise marriage. Turns out the pining has been mutual this whole time, but now they’re finally together and on cloud-fucking-nine. Until they remember that this trip isn’t supposed to be about them. To avoid undermining Sam and Eileen’s important weekend, they decide to keep their new relationship status a secret. They’ll keep the heart eyes toned down and their hands to themselves, but the struggle is real.

Notes: Oh my lord, this was absolutely hilarious (especially that last piece of art - I totally lost it) and adorable. I can totally imagine Dean and Cas getting a cheesy Vegas wedding, and we can all dig Elvis (sorry).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes by wildhoneypie on AO3. (4,942 words).

Tags: Human Castiel, Diners, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Dean, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Case Fic, Domestic, Didn’t Know They Were Dating.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Cas is human and doesn't understand basic concepts like: clothing, Mythbusters, moisturizer, and Greek food. Dean is...Dean and doesn't understand basic concepts like: boyfriends, language, how to tell your friend that he's a walking miracle, and when not to quip.

Notes: This was so cute and I live for human Cas. I also love the recurring ‘no fucking quipping’ joke in this, although the idea of Cas swearing broke me a bit!

Sharing the Rain Dog by almaasi on AO3. (19,837 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternative Universe - Historical (1999), Fluff, Romance, No Angst, Accidental Dating, First Dates, Rain, Dogs, Pets, FBI Agent Castiel, Musician Dean, Singer Dean, Flustered Dean, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Moving In Together, Living Together, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling, Smut.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: When some asshole hits a dog with his car and drives off, the first two people on the scene are Dean and Castiel. Castiel's an FBI agent with a plane to catch, and he doesn't have time to take the dog to the vet. Dean's a musician, and he doesn't have the money. An agreement is reached: Dean goes, Castiel pays, and they'll exchange details and meet again to work things out. But who gets the dog? Sooner or later they're going to realise that having shared custody of one pitbull isn't ideal. She needs one home, not two. One stable, loving home...

Notes: Rain Dog was so cute, and so was flustered Dean! The hitting a dog joke is starting to get out of hand, though.

This Game We Play by destieldrabblesdaily on AO3. (1,195 words).

Tags: High School AU, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Bed Sharing.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean and Castiel have been best friends since they were little, and sleepovers are a common event. They've always loved playing the game where they draw out letters on each others backs and try to guess what the other is writing. Even though sixteen seems to be a bit too old to still play the game, Castiel uses it as a chance to silently confess something that he's been wanting to share with Dean for a long time.

Notes: This was adorable. I am 100% here for Cas and Dean being childhood friends.

Minty Fresh Kisses by almaasi on AO3. (7,905 words).

Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Motel Rooms, Teeth, Dean in Love, Human Castiel, First Kiss, Pancakes, Sharing a Bed, Fluff, Dean POV, One Shot.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean teaches a newly-human Castiel how to brush his teeth properly. Things don't go according to plan – but for once, the unexpected development actually presents a more promising outcome.

Notes: This was so sweet, and Cas was so cute as a human! Also, I love fics where Sam is just done with the constant sexual tension, it always makes me laugh.

Wee Little Love Child by almaasi on AO3. (10,649 words).

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Kid Fic, Team Free Will, De-Aged Sam Winchester, Cursed Sam Winchester, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Sam Winchester ships Dean/Cas, Matchmaker Rowena, Parent Castiel, Parent Dean, Affectionate Dean, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Domestic Fluff.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: After being magically de-aged, little Sammy is under the impression that Dean and Cas are his parents. He wants to know if they're in love, but they can't (or won't) give a consistent answer. The thing is, they have to grant Sam's greatest wish in order to reverse the curse, but they can only do that as a pair. What does Sam want most? For Dean and Cas to express their true feelings. Aloud. To each other.

Notes: Aw, I love Rowena, and I am 100% here for her cursing Sam just to get Dean and Cas to stop being idiots and actually get together.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again: the fans are in control now. We control the Supernatural content we are getting, so please create the ending you would want to see. And, if anyone wants to talk or rant or suggest a fic, I am always here.

[ai-soo]

in memory of my oldest friend

Tiffany--

I am sitting here looking at which flowers to send to your funeral. I wish I was instead looking at flowers to send you for your birthday. 

I don’t know what to say. I wish you didn’t do it. I wish you at least said goodbye? I wish You could see, could believe that life was worth living, even with its heartaches. 

I know the hand of cards dealt to you were tough. I know life isn’t fair. But I still had hope you could persevere.

I don’t know what to say. I guess I will just write our memories.

I remember in 3rd grade we became best friends. I don’t remember the details anymore. I bet you would.

In 4th I remember you got a really good score on the math homework, and instead of saying it out loud to the class (because that’s how the teacher took scores), you went up to him to quietly tell him. Humble.

In 5th I remember watching you play basketball at recess, enjoying your time. I remember jump roping together all the time. I remember walking home together, you would sometimes come over but other days you’d have to go help your parents out at the restaurant. I remember frequent sleepover and trips. You were my sister. You are my sister.

In 6th I remember P.E. together. Wearing the P.E. shorts out of class and then getting in trouble for it. I remember being in the same classes. I don’t remember much. Again, you had the better memory.

In 7th grade I moved. I remember our phone calls, catching each other up. I remember missing you. I still miss you.

In 8th grade... In 9th... it was a blur. We fell out of contact. No one was to blame. We were young and life was chaotic.

I sent you an email one day, unsure if you were even going to see it. It was the only way I knew how to contact you anymore. But you responded, and we struck up our old friendship once more.

You said you moved to Las Vegas. I visited you with my family. It was a bit awkward. Sorry about that. But you were still the same. Smart, friendly, polite, and so much more.

Time passes again. We stay in contact via emails and social media, but it’s not as frequent.

The next thing I know, you are in Indiana. I think we were in 11th grade? Or supposed to be. You told me you dropped out of high school. It was too hard. Being in the middle of nowhere, being one of the only Asian Americans. The bullying was intense. The expectations were hard. You dropped out.

You wanted to come stay with my family. I wanted that too. It didn’t work out. So it goes.

You help your brother through school, and your sister. You work with your parents to maintain their restaurant. You sacrifice everything for the people around you. You are so strong.

We continue to communicate. There’s no real pattern to it -- just whenever someone reaches out. 

I think we fell into a more solid pattern my freshmen or sophomore year of college. We send each other gifts and check in. It was a small way of showing our love for each other, knowing we wouldn’t forget each other.

I remember one time I forgot your birthday. I felt so bad. I texted you late, and you thanked me and said you were actually scared I forgot. I did forget. I’m still sorry.

We settle into a relatively stable routine of this. You come to visit me my junior year of college. I wish I took more pictures. It was a time for us to catch up, and have new adventures. We went to San Francisco and explored. 

In college, I wrote a short skit inspired by you. I remember giving it to you to read, and you were thankful that I thought of you. I wish I could’ve done more than just write a skit about such woes.

I am frustrated that all the resources still didn’t help, either. Frustrated that suicide hotlines didn’t help, and became discouraging even. Frustrated that everything I was told to help, didn’t.

-

My mom told me a memory of one time you slept over and she could hear us talking about toast. All the different things we like on toast.

And then I found our old emails and the dumb shit we talked about.

And then I remembered one time we were walking home and a huge truck drove past us and we felt a HUGE gush of warm air. And we just LAUGHED. We laughed for so long. We joked about how that was like a blowdryer and if our hair was wet before, it would’ve been dry. And I personally have never felt such a gust of air from a car ever since then. It’s like life happened to us in a different way, and we could always enjoy it together.

I remember you being a fucking pro at DDR.

I remember us watching the Bratz movie where they had a rock band and we would sing that song and jump on my couches. We would watch movies together. Get into the same interests. 

I remember that time that strange man kept circling my house and you and me, the big sisters, rushed our little siblings into the house.

I remember playing outside around the neighborhood. Going trick or treating together.

I remember both of us writing. You told me recently that you were envious of my writing and my ability to stick to it. But I told you I was envious of you being able to create such fascinating ideas in your writing.

-

I just got off the phone with your friend, Hain.

And your friend Yaku was the one who tracked us all down to deliver the news.

You had such a talent of finding the best friends to support you. 

They both tell me how much you spoke of me, how me reaching out to you via email meant so much to you. I honestly forgot that had happened until they reminded me. Our friendship is so long and sturdy that I thought we never really fell out of contact.

I miss you.

Hain told me you often compared your life to mine. That’s so unfair. I knew you did that when you talked to me, but I didn’t realize how often you spoke about it to others. How were we two sides of the same coin?

You had many things I admire about you. I wish you took time to appreciate yourself, too.

-

Thank you for being there for me.

I wish I could have done more, but also know you would hate it if I felt this way.

You were so strong and brave for holding out for as long as you did. I hope you know that.

I will continue to come back to edit this post with more memories as I hear or remember them. I told you, you’ve always had the better memory. And now, without you hear to remind me, I will have to do my best to remember them myself.

-

Edit:

10/8/2020

I FaceTimed your friends. They are as kind as you. I can tell you attract people just like you. I miss you, we all miss you so much.

As I wrote the date, I realized how surreal it is that it’s 2020. The first week? It’s been a week. Your funeral was today. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. I wish I could go without risking people’s health. I know you would’ve understood, but that doesn’t make me feel less bad.

I mourn for your loss. I wish you could be around to see 2021, 2022, and beyond. I wish we could’ve celebrated your 24th birthday together. I wish you were still here. I miss you.

-

Edit:

10/29/2020

It still feels surreal. Like how can you really be gone?

I just wanted to update because 1. I still think of you quite often, and 2. I remembered another memory. I remember play class games with you, like heads up seven up, and always choosing you. I remember in middle school, you coming over so we could do a project together but I told you the wrong instructions because I misinterpreted the instructions, so we both messed up in the same way. I’m sorry about that. I wonder if you even remembered. Probably.

I miss you.

[oliverstarked]

where I belong

[PG-13, 3.4k words]

"Buck's not sure of the exact moment that he knew Eddie was it for him, but it’s been that way for so long now it’s become a part of who he is. He used to be good at pretending his feelings didn’t exist, but he’s so tired these days."

A little bit of introspection, a lot of idiots in love.

[read on ao3]

The ocean is so beautiful at dawn. 

Under the soft pink-orange sky the water looks bruise-purple, whitecaps leaving foamy trails on the sand. The sun is only just peeking over the horizon, edging towards another gorgeous LA day. But before that begins, before the hustle and bustle and wailing sirens, Buck sits on the beach on the cold sand and feels caught in a moment so peaceful, so nice, just the squalling of gulls and the gentle crash of the waves for company. 

He pushes stale air out of his lungs and breathes the fresh in deeply. The chill feels good, raises goosebumps on his skin and reminds him that he’s alive. A reminder he’s needed a lot lately. He’s been struggling, even though his leg has healed, even though the tsunami is months behind him, even though his relationship with his 118 family is better than ever and he has no reason to be struggling. Nightmares come and go, cold sweats, little niggling thoughts that burrow their way into his brain throughout the day. 

He tries not to talk about it. There are so many people who have it worse than him and he doesn’t want to become some kind of social… leech around his friends, constantly draining them of energy by going on about his issues. You’re exhausting , Eddie said to him once. Buck knows it’s true, knows he takes inches and runs them into miles. His heart may be in the right place, sure, but he doesn’t know when to shut up, when to slow down. If there’s one thing his lawsuit mistake has taught him, it’s that his actions, his selfishness, has consequences on those around him. 

So what if he has bad dreams occasionally? He’s not a kid, he can look after himself. It’s more important right now that he’s there for his friends: asking Bobby how Michael’s doing, bridging the relationship between Chim and his brother, being there for Maddie always, listening to Hen talk about how Nia is settling in, being whatever Eddie needs to stop him doing stupid things again. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for his own problems.

It doesn’t matter. That’s just what Buck does for the people he loves.

The warmth of the sun creeps onto his face as it rises higher, prickling his skin. Buck squints into it, seeing nothing but gold, then sighs and gets to his feet. He brushes sand off the seat of his pants before slowly turning and making his way back up the beach. 

At least he gets to go to work. 

   Eddie’s getting changed when Buck walks into the locker room, and Buck manfully pretends he can’t see the miles of bare skin on display. Hen is sitting on the bench, laughing at something Eddie must have said, and it’s easy to grin at the two of them and say, “Well, good morning.”

“Hey,” Eddie smiles, shrugging into a t-shirt, thank god. 

“Buck, I have to show you this.” Hen holds her phone out, a video paused on the screen. Buck takes it, taps play. It’s Nia, holding onto Denny’s hands and bouncing up and down in time with her blonde curls, screeching in delight as a catchy pop song plays in the background. 

“That’s pretty damn cute,” Buck says. “When do I get to meet this li’l nugget?”

“Soon,” Hen tells him, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “It’s a lot for her, the social worker says we need to introduce new things and people gradually.”

Eddie, tucking his overshirt into his belt now, says, “Well, whenever you guys need a babysitter, hit us up. Chris and Denny can play and Buck and I will dote on that gorgeous girl.”

Hen snorts, looking between them. “Should you be volunteering Buck for that?”

Honestly, it didn’t even occur to Buck that he wouldn’t be there. The automatic assumption on Eddie’s part too makes him feel warmer than he did five minutes ago. 

“Hey, you know I’m down,” Buck beams, “you just name the day.”

Hen squeezes his arm as she heads towards the door. “Thanks boys, we will definitely take you up on that.”

When she’s gone, Buck finally moves towards his own locker to start getting changed. Eddie is still there, tapping away on his phone. Buck wonders if he’s texting Ana . If they’ve even reached the ‘exchanging numbers’ phase yet. 

“Hey, man, you wanna grab pizza tomorrow night? You, me, Chris and Mario Kart at my place?”

“Sure,” Eddie agrees, hardly glancing up, definitely distracted. “But, uh, Chris won’t be there, he’s got that overnight field trip at the observatory tomorrow.” 

Damn, Buck should have remembered that. Christopher had been chattering excitedly about it for a couple weeks now. Eddie had mentioned it several times too, although decidedly less excitedly and more in worried-dad-mode. 

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Well, in that case you definitely gotta come over. We can drink beer and watch a movie that doesn’t involve some kind of talking animal.”

“Sounds good.”

He’s still typing. What is he doing, writing a goddamn article? Who could he possibly have that much to say to? 

Buck takes a breath, remembers he’s not being a selfish asshole anymore and gets changed quietly. Ana sounds like a nice person, she’d probably be good for Eddie. Buck’s feelings, his stupid feelings that he’s shoved so far down they make him feel a bit queasy more often than not, shouldn’t even factor into it.

“Are you okay?”

Buck startles at Eddie’s question. He’s not on his phone anymore, but looking straight at Buck, a little crease in between his eyebrows.

“Fine… why'd you ask?”

“You look tired.”

“Yeah. I, uh, got up early to go for a run on the beach. Anyway, not even eyebags could ruin this handsome face so you shut your mouth,” Buck blusters with an exaggerated wink and a bit of swagger as he closes his locker. 

It works, and Eddie rolls his eyes. “So glad that your ego remains unaffected.”

They argue playfully back and forth as they head up to the kitchen together and by the time they sit down to plates of Bobby’s French toast, Buck has all but forgotten his weird start to the day. 

Luckily, work keeps them busy. Any downtime they get is spent either stuffing their faces with food, showering the grime and sweat away, or trying to catch a few minutes of sleep. The entire twenty-four hours passes without major incident, unless you count Chimney tripping on a firehose and falling ass over teakettle on the freshly-waxed station floor. They’re still laughing about it as they get changed to go home the following morning, exhaustion making it hard to stop.

By the time he gets back to his apartment and collapses into bed, Buck’s tired enough that falling asleep is the easiest thing in the world.

 He wakes late in the afternoon, hot and sweaty from the sunlight pouring in through the windows. He showers, eats a sandwich, and texts Eddie to ask what time he’s coming over. 

Some sort of clarity must have crept in while Buck slept, because his head feels a little clearer. Still, he wonders what it means that a clear head feels like some kind of miracle these days. He thinks it means that he might need to talk to Frank again.

Buck grabs his phone and fiddles around on it until he pulls up his contacts. Frank’s name is sitting there right underneath Eddie’s. Before he can think about it too much, he calls and makes an appointment for his next day off. Part of him feels that old anxiety come back, worries that he’s slipping backwards instead of moving forwards, but another part of him is ultimately relieved. He doesn’t have to worry about burdening Frank, it’s his job to listen. He’s not allowed to be exhausted by Buck and his issues. 

By the time Eddie arrives not long after seven, Buck has cleaned his entire apartment, gone grocery shopping to get that beer that Eddie likes, and watched a Nat Geo documentary on bears. It’s been easy, simple, and he’s feeling okay. 

Eddie lets himself in with a smile and a tupperware container, and even though they only parted ways that morning, it’s still good to see him. “Hey, sorry I’m late, Ana called just as I was leaving.”

And just like that, Buck’s stomach sours. 

“She called you?”

“Yeah, I asked her to update me on Chris. She said he’s good, that they’ve just eaten dinner and he’s with his friends.” Eddie pauses, makes a face. “Guess that means I should stop worrying, right?”

“So you guys just talked about Christopher?” Buck asks because he’s an idiot who likes to torture himself. 

Eddie frowns, putting the tupperware on the kitchen counter. “Yeah. What else would we talk about? I emailed the school his overnight care plan this morning and she just wanted to reassure me. Anyway, Abuela made you tamales, shall I put them in the refrigerator or d’you wanna have them with the pizza?”

Buck still doubts that any other parents are getting personal calls from their kid’s teacher, but it makes him feel better knowing that Eddie’s only thought is the well-being of his son. 

Maybe this whole Ana thing is something he should talk to Frank about, too. 

“I’m going back to therapy,” Buck blurts, his brain to mouth filter nonexistent. “I have nightmares. I stopped talking about it because I thought I was being selfish but it’s fucking me up so. Yeah. I’m going back to therapy.”

Eddie’s eyebrows hit his hairline. Buck silently begs him not to make a big deal out of it, and is relieved when all Eddie says is, “Good. Thank you for telling me. The tamales?”

A mildly hysterical laugh bursts out of Buck. He comes forward and wraps his arms around Eddie, so fucking relieved that after everything, he still gets to have this. 

Eddie goes with the moment gracefully, pats him on the back a few times, and when Buck pulls away, Eddie leaves a hand on his shoulder and says, “I’m here for you. I know I haven’t always been great at that before, but I am. You don’t have to do this by yourself unless you want to.”

And Buck knows it’s true, can tell by the fierce determination in Eddie’s eyes, and thinks that maybe this means he’s not so exhausting to deal with after all. That maybe Eddie was exhausted with himself just a little, too. 

“We’re good, Eddie,” Buck says honestly. “I’m gonna call the pizza place, you take those tamales and the beer over to the couch.”

 They’re one and a half movies, two pizzas and half a dozen tamales in when Buck opens his mouth and “So are you and Ana dating?” comes out of it. 

Eddie chokes a little on his beer. “No? I don’t really know.”

It’s not quite the answer Buck was hoping for. “How can you not know, man?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Eddie leans back on the couch until he’s looking up at the ceiling, like he can’t meet Buck’s eye. “She’s nice, and pretty, and good with Chris. I dunno, Buck. It feels like it could go somewhere?”

Buck swallows hard. He knew it. He should definitely have waited to have this conversation until after he’s seen Frank though, because he has no goddamn clue how he’s supposed to be the supportive best friend when every fiber of his being is burning with jealousy. He’s not sure of the exact moment that he knew Eddie was it for him, but it’s been that way for so long now it’s become a part of who he is. He used to be good at pretending his feelings didn’t exist, but he’s so tired these days.

But what he has with Eddie and Christopher right now is the best thing going on in his life — he’s not going to risk losing that. 

“I wouldn’t even know how to ask her out,” Eddie continues, laughing a little at himself. “Out of practice would definitely be an understatement, I have no clue what I’m doing.”

Buck mirrors Eddie’s position, staring up at the beams under the loft. “I think you just say ‘would you like to go out with me’, Eddie. It’s not that hard.”

“Easy for you to say,” Eddie snorts. “I bet no girl has ever turned you down.”

“Ha, you should speak to Joe Levinson from high school,” Buck tells him. God, he thought Joe was so cute. He never told anyone, especially not his parents, and Maddie was off at college, but he used to trail around after Joe like a lovesick puppy. “We’re talking the crush of all teenage crushes here, man. I was so gone on Joe and it was senior year and then prom was coming up, and I—”

“Oh no,” Eddie laughs, “you got turned down?”

“I got humiliated,” Buck grins. “I thought I’d go classic, y’know? A love note in the locker, little hearts doodled on it and ‘I really like you, will you be my prom date?’ written in glitter gel pen. Imagine my surprise when the next morning my note is not just in Joe’s locker, but on the front of every single locker, in the halls, the cafeteria, even the damn teacher’s lounge. He made sure the last few weeks of high school were not good ones.”

“Wait…” Eddie tips his head sideways, confusion written on his face. “Joe was a boy?”

Shit. Buck isn’t ashamed of being bisexual at all, but it occurs to him now that he hasn’t actually told anybody besides his sister. “Uh… yeah?” 

“Did you just come out to me?”

Buck shrugs. “I kinda forgot you didn’t know?”

Their faces are pretty close at this angle, their heads cushioned by the back of the couch. Eddie doesn’t look hostile or disgusted though. He looks thoughtful. 

“That was really brave,” he eventually says, quieter than before. “I can’t even imagine asking a boy out in high school.”

There’s something in the way he says it that gives Buck pause. “Did you want to?” he asks carefully.

“It wasn’t an option.” Eddie doesn’t sound sad, just matter-of-fact. “Besides, I met Shannon in college. And I really loved her, Buck. There were… occasions, while I was in the army, but I never acted on it. I’d made vows, they meant something to me.”

Buck can’t look away from Eddie’s face, pulled in by the wide-eyed openness and the thought that he didn’t know this about Eddie — that they didn’t know this about each other. 

“And now?” he asks, not sure why he’s whispering.

“Now I don’t know,” Eddie says honestly. He licks his lips. Buck couldn’t tell you which of them moved first but all of a sudden their lips are touching, pressing. It’s dry, a little chaste, but most definitely a kiss. Buck shifts, brings his hand up towards Eddie’s face, and barely touches his jaw before Eddie is springing backwards, shock written all over him. 

“Buck, I’m sorry—”

“No, dude, that was all me, I was totally over the line.”

“We just got — caught up in the moment,” Eddie says, and Buck’s not sure which of them he’s trying to convince. 

“Yeah, all that talk about dating and my tragic high school trauma. Woulda been weird if you hadn’t wanted to kiss me,” he smirks, aiming for cool and cocky and probably missing by several miles. 

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter that’s more panic than amusement. They’re quiet for a minute. Eddie’s knee is still pressed against Buck’s, warm and solid. Buck doesn’t know what’s happening here but he knows he really liked kissing Eddie, can still feel his lips tingling. He knows he’s not going to lose Eddie over this though, can’t lose him. He’ll do whatever it takes for that not to happen.

“It was a moment,” Buck concludes, for both their sake. “Moment’s over.”

Eddie’s throat visibly bobs when he swallows. “Right. Y’know, I should probably take off. Before—”

He cuts himself off. The tips of his ears go bright red. It takes every ounce of willpower Buck has not to ask him ‘before what?’

He follows Eddie across the apartment to the door, but he really doesn’t want this to be weird when they get to the station in the morning. He lays his hand on Eddie’s forearm and asks, “We’re okay, aren’t we, Eddie?”

To his relief, Eddie smiles and it seems real. “Of course, Buck. Nothing’s changed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As he lets himself out, the door closing softly behind him, Buck can’t help thinking what a bad liar Eddie is. Of course something has changed. Everything has changed. That kiss will hang over them for the rest of their days as partners — as friends. You don’t just ‘accidentally’ kiss your best friend and then act like it didn’t happen. 

Buck wanders into the kitchen, fists his hand in his hair, scrapes them over his face, repeatedly bangs his forehead into the cupboard door. Stupid stupid stupid . 

Restless, he clears away pizza boxes. Drops empty beer bottles into the recycling. Seals the lid on the tupperware and puts the remaining tamales in the refrigerator. Shuts off the TV — how didn’t he notice the movie was still playing? 

He’s wiping down the kitchen counters when there’s a knock on the door. 

Eddie’s standing there on the other side, looking just as wide-eyed as he was when he left. 

“Hey,” Buck says uncertainly, ignoring the swoop in his stomach. “You forget something?”

“Yes,” Eddie says and he takes a step forward, holds Buck’s face in his hands, and crashes their mouths together. 

This kiss is nothing like their last. 

Eddie is demanding, relentless, tongue tracing the seam of Buck’s lips straight away until Buck opens up for him and everything gets hotter and wetter and so much more amazing. His own hands, which had been floundering in surprise, land on Eddie’s waist and Buck walks him backwards until his back hits the open door and closes it with a bang. He leans into Eddie with all his weight, pushes him against the wood, shoves their hips together and groans the filthiest sound he’s ever made into Eddie’s mouth.

It’s incredible, feels absolutely perfect. Buck moves his hands, slips them under the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt, finding warm skin and hard muscles and a stomach that trembles when his thumb flicks over a nipple. 

With a gasp, Eddie pulls back and smacks his head against the door. Buck removes a hand and places it gently behind Eddie’s head to cushion it, kissing a lush apology to his lips. 

“You feel so good,” Eddie mumbles. “Buck.”

Buck kisses down Eddie’s neck, their stubble rasping, his lips fluttering over Eddie’s thundering pulse. He shoves their hips together some more — once, twice, and again because he can’t stop — and he can feel Eddie’s dick through their jeans and he’s so turned on he can hardly breathe. 

“We should talk,” he says to Eddie, breathlessly, “but first we should fuck.”

“Best idea you’ve ever had, Buckley.”

A grin spreads across Eddie’s face and Buck copies it, kissing him again because he just can’t help it and grabbing his hand, dragging him away from the door and up the steps to the loft.

Two orgasms, one set of clean sheets and one shower later, Buck feels brave enough to say, “I want this every day forever.”

Eddie’s nearly asleep, head right next to Buck’s on the pillow, one arm slung across Buck’s stomach. He cracks open an eye and presses a tiny kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth. 

“Guess we’re on the same page then.”

“I don’t want you to date Ana.”

The other eye pops open, trademark Eddie Diaz exasperation all over his face. “Buck.”

“Just checking!” Buck laughs, drawing patterns on Eddie’s arm. “Y’know, I’m still gonna need therapy.”

“I’d be worried if you didn’t. Unless sex really is a magic cure.”

Buck tries to smile but instead finds himself softly saying, “I might have a nightmare.”

Eddie kisses him again, for longer this time, then shifts closer and nuzzles his nose into Buck’s temple, his hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Go to sleep, Buck.”

They settle in, warm under the blankets, and Buck closes his eyes, falling asleep quick and easy, between one breath and the next. 

[ratingtheframe]

Everything wrong with... Ep 3 - Pretty Woman

*sigh* *big sigh*.  I’m back here giving you another politically charged review of a film I like to call a femmeçade:

Femmeçade /fɛm//fəˈsɑːd/ noun noun: femmeçade; plural noun: femmeçades; 1. A genre of films directed by men that forefront yet misinterpret the female narrative and representation on screen. "Pretty Woman is the worst femmeçade of them all in the way it depicts women as the lesser gender"  (definition by yours truly).

I have to say, I have never felt more compelled, more angry in my entire life to write such a review and tear this film down until there is nothing left but the underlining, prominent misogynistic aspects of this film. I am talking about the 1990s classic, Pretty Woman starring Richard Gere and Julia Roberts. Now a musical, the film has survived three waves of feminism (if you count MeToo), and yet is still available to access for our entertainment. Even though censorship is less common in the Western World, the only good thing about watching Pretty Woman would be to see how vile and unacceptable it is in the eyes of our modern and ever changing society. It truly brought tears of anger to my eyes to watch such a film and see how its lead was shoved into the spotlight for a round or two of humiliation and prodding by the fingers and eyes of the male gaze. There is A LOT to go through here, so grab a snack and buckle in as I put Pretty Woman to shame.

Let's just start with the title itself Pretty Woman, a pretty lazy title for a film if you ask me. I understand it does what it says on the tin, like any title should, however the irksome thing about the film and title is what it’s selling. The lust and beauty of Julia Roberts as opposed to her character or story for that matter. Stood alongside Richard Gere in thigh high boots with her legs for days, months and years on show. We get it, Julia Roberts is a beauty, but why does a film have to focus on that sole part of her? By doing this it creates the idea that it’s her only asset and BOY does this film do a good job at reminding us just that. They’ve got the man’s vote and supposedly the woman’s seeing as the story is about them or who they’d like to be. WRONG, seeing as the crew behind Pretty Women were mostly men themselves. The writers, cinematographer, director, producers, best boys and gaffers, you name it. So who was this film for if it wasn’t to satisfy at least it's mostly male crew members?

Male satisfaction are the appropriate words to use when we are introduced to our leading lady in close up shots of her bra and knickers. Vivian is played by the highly talented and ordained Julia Roberts. Ever since seeing Erin Brodkovich which bagged her an Oscar in 2001, I’ve been in love with her spirit and confidence on screen. As we all know she is certainly one of Hollywood’s shiniest stars, up there with the elites like Meryl Streep, Viola Davis and Angelina Jolie. Why she decided to sign onto such a film, I would hate to speculate seeing as Feminism was more of a dirty secret than a positive movement back in the 1990s. Many (mostly men, though women too, especially those in the film business) would accuse the movement of threatening the comfortability and fun out of life’s pleasures, like women wearing makeup, dresses and being groped at office parties (sarcasm). However, as we now know, feminism isn’t the demon that the 1990s tried to make it out to be and I hope that Julia Roberts was unaware of feminism back then rather than being a strong opposer of it. 

Vivian Ward is a hooker living and working on the streets of LA, the city of dreams as some may brandish it. She lives with her roommate Kit (Laura San Giacomo) and between them they spend their nights trying to scrape enough money for their rent. I’m glad that sex work isn’t as scrutinised as it was back then and another arresting aspect of Pretty Woman is the way it depicts the so called “atrocities” of being a sex worker. The propriety and haughtiness of those who laid eyes upon Kit or Vivian was degrading and dehumanising, simply because they choose to lead a different lifestyle to those around them. It seemed so archaic, almost Victorian like the way people ogled and gazed upon Vivian at the hotel where she was taken in by her male counterpart. Pretty Woman again proves itself to be an anti-feminsit horror show for shaming women on choosing what to do with their own bodies and how they dress. We need to cut this BS out of society ASAP that women dress in certain ways to attract the attention of the opposite sex. Clothes are a form of expression and 9 times out of 10, that expression hasn’t anything to do with wanting to be leered at in public. Enough with the victim shaming as well; asking women what they wore when they were sexually assaulted. Instead let's ask what the attackers were THINKING when they decided to prey on an innocent victim....

One night whilst Vivan is looking for clients, she meets the so called delectable and mouth droppingly handsome male lead that is Edward Lewis, played by Richard Gere. I didn’t get the hype at all as I felt Vivan to have enough personality and lust for life to fill both of her and Richard Gere’s character. Edward Lewis was wooden, stern and boring, and despite this, Vivian seems to see more in him beyond her usual hookups. That’s another irritating thing about Pretty Woman. Edward Lewis didn’t have to do FUCK ALL to prove his love or worthiness in the life of Vivian. 

He didn’t have to (nor did) change one thing about himself throughout the entire film and that’s not only extremely sexist, but shit filmmaking. Did the writer of completely forget or give up on Edward Lewis’ character arc whilst he was too busy making drooling over Vivian? All Edward Lewis had to do was wave his card around and POOF Vivian was at his knees. No wonder the 1990s shamed feminists because this is the exact sort of crap they were trying to prevent from happening on screen. It may seem like fun and games when Edward Lewis tells Vivian to go shopping, buy herself a new dress for dinner, but in reality this is just a fresh case of misogyny, served up with a side of degradation and bigotry for dessert. 

Edward Lewis goes as far to hire Vivian for the week as his...escort? His actual motive isn’t known and we are left as an audience to conclude that it’s because she’s pretty. Again, selling the film title through and through and deminishing the worth of women with each scene. Vivian is never actually asked what she wants, nor do we get to know her seeing as Edward’s inflated ego and wallet covers up most of the screen time whilst watching this film. If you didn’t think this film could get any more horrific is the age gap between Julia Roberts and Richard Gere at the time of filming, to which Roberts was 22 and Gere, 40.

One moment in particular that proved this film to have zero substance to it, is when Vivian eventually gets down on Edward and to my absolute horror, her bra strap is INCREDIBLY and shockingly inauthentically loose. Like falling off loose. Not one woman in the world who chooses to wear a bra; not in China, India, Pakistan, the U.S, Ukraine, Hooker, doctor, astronaut, teacher, hairdresser or not would ever EVER wear their bra strap so loose. An impractical and uncomfortable choice, this tiny infinitesimal yet significant part of this film showed that this film doesn’t care or know how to show accurate female representation on screen and goes against any sense of providing women with strong characters they can use as role models. And all from one bra strap. 

The shopping and transformation part to this film had to be the big red thumb that stood out the most from the eternity of this film as AGAIN for the fifteenth time this film has proved itself to be in favour of entertaining those who like to ogle at Vivian as opposed to getting to know her. Edward thrusts his card at her once again (without giving her much choice, a common behavioural pattern associated with sociopaths and abusers) and she goes to Rodeo Drive to essentially pretty herself up for him so that Edward isn’t judged by those he introduces Vivian to. 

When Vivian had attempted to go shopping alone on Rodeo Drive in her casual attire, the female employees of one of the stores behaved abominably towards her, classing her as someone who didn’t have the means or appearance to shop in such a place. This film just got even worse as not only do we have the opposite gender dictating the appearance of women, we’re having our own sisters do the same whilst investing in the patriarchal narrative of the way women should be seen in public. At this point you may think I’m going crazy and repeating myself, of which I am doing both, however once you’ve fully taken the time to wake up and smell the patriarchy’s cup of coffee, there’s no turning back. These details become smoke signals that turn into epiphanies and realisations that have you questioning is this really okay? And a Pretty Woman is NOT okay.

Once Vivian has had her transformation (so kindly afforded by the dominant Edward Lewis) she seemingly begins to enjoy her new life as a piece on the side, until she is presented with Edward’s lawyer, Philip Stuckley.

So here’s what we have so far on our checklist of misogyny and anti-feminsit motifs to Pretty Women

A poster and title created in the eye of the male gaze CHECK

A female character whose worth is based on her desirability and propriety CHECK

A mediocre white man who doesn’t progress and gets his way through charm, money and power CHECK

Women who take unkindly to other women because they don’t fit the normalised standards of the patriarchy CHECK

Shaming women for their dress sense and career choices CHECK

Lack of women in general, most of which don’t speak throughout the film CHECK

The list could go on but another motif to add to the list from this film that acts as big shiny wrecking ball that smashes up feminism and leaves its values in the dust is sexual assault. Or attempted sexual assault at that, as when we see Phillip Stuckley’s first interaction with Vivian he says right out that he knows she’s a hooker, whilst running the edge of his sunglasses down Vivian’s arm and suggesting they get together after Edward’s demise back to wherever he came from. EW, this was one of the many moments of the film where I had to swallow my vomit. Phillip attempts to rape Vivian back at Edward’s penthouse suite, when luckily Edward comes in to stop it happening, which was the most decent thing he did the entire film. Edward’s lawyer represented a hoard of men that existed back then and now who feel entitled to a woman’s body, hooker or not. Even though Pretty Woman had dug itself a big enough hole, by the time I got to this part of the film I had been sold on the idea that this film is completely out of line with women’s liberation and empowerment. It’s just one big game to prod and poke at women, seeing how far they can go, which in itself is a metaphor for sexual assault. 

I’ll wrap up on the lack of diversity in Pretty Women. Because the world affords white men and women more luxuries and privileges than people of colour, they were at the forefront of this story whilst black and asian minorities were put in the background as butlers, maids and chauffeurs. It makes me so angry that on top of being a whirlwind of misogyny and sexism that such a film would have the audacity to misrepresent minorities entirely and highlight their so called use as servicing white people. IT. IS. GETTING. OLD.

Hopefully you’ve made it to the end of this “review” (kinda) and seen the damaging implications such a film has on our society. On reading Feminists Don’t Wear Pink and Other Lies curated by Scareltt Curtis, I read that “Books and things reflect what’s happening in the world, Hollywood movies DICTATE IT and MOULD what people think”. 

You may think movies don’t matter or a film of the 1990s doesn’t matter, but if we are to learn from our mistakes and progress our movements, we must unpick the past and see it for how it was. Movies are our culture, our representation of what we’ve learnt or seen in the world. I don’t want to see women as sexual objects without their permission. I don’t want to see them being moulded by the patriarchy or by women who support it. I don't want to see women only good enough to be hookers, wives or mistresses. I want women to be the strongest versions of themselves and for films to buckle up and show that shit on screen.

Pretty Woman can kiss my ass and if it’s a film you like in  unlike it. Pronto.