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beesincognito · 9 months

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Perfect Strangers- part fifteen: The Theater

Viktor x Fem!reader (slight NSFW)

part fourteen part sixteen (start here!)

Takes place before Arcane and works its way there, did my best to combine the different versions of lore. (nsfw in parts)

(you and Viktor meet on your first day at the academy and bond over being habitual, awkward loners. The story revolves around class issues and a sense of belonging mixed with lore and Arcane plot.)

*slightly implied NSFW- very brief *

Word count: 5,089

******

Bags were packed for a weekend trip you were dreading. Not that it was getting in the way of work, nor was it a trip of severe inconvenience. It was a stressful venture; you would rather trek alone instead of having to bring Viktor in hopes of shielding him from what may come.

Your parents were in town again and had asked you and Viktor to stay at the family estate that weekend for a friendly visit. Of course you wanted to prevent ruffled feathers after the last time you were all together, so you obliged after discussing it extensively with Viktor in private. Feeling out his nerves with every shift of his eyes or fidgeting of his hands in yours.

“It’s not too late to back out,” you finished checking the rooms, ensuring everything was tidy for your return, “we can bow out after the theater.”

Many outs were given to Viktor, but he was adamant on going along with your parents’ request in hopes that they would warm up to him in the future. He insisted once more that there was no issue and he was looking forward to seeing your childhood home. That prospect alone made you almost as anxious as having him around your parents.

Entresol was far from the lavish lifestyle you were brought up in. The fissures were toxic, a hazard to raise a child in, and most people were never given a choice about living there. You wondered what he would think of your wastefully large home and how stifling it was. Surely after all of those years together, he would know you were far removed from the mindset of your parents and the estate should not reflect who you had become away at the academy.

A car was waiting for you on the edge of campus which you did not request, only accepting your mother’s offer to have a driver sent as opposed to leaving an hour early to walk. Pistons fired as the vehicle bumbled down the lane on the way to the theater after your bags were loaded into the back seat by the driver. All of the pampering felt widely unnecessary.

The crowds were large and the driver dropped you off at the front steps to the theater which was in a thrall over the spring program. Usually the Winterfest was the highlight of the year for the theater, but, from what you remembered growing up, spring concerts could attract a healthy sum of people on opening night. Obviously your parents wanted to attend on opening night despite the overwhelming number of people.

Your family’s wealth did not provide for a private box, but there were handsomely placed seats in the nosebleeds that allowed ample viewing of the stage unobstructed. There your parents were, waiting for you with drinks already ordered and seats saved for the four of you. There was a table for standing just behind the seats and you passed it before settling into the space next to your mother.

“I almost thought you were going to be late, it would have been a waste of ticket money,” your mother was charming as ever with the way her passive aggressive words edged on the line of cynical in tone and nature.

After fruitlessly arguing with her to assure her you had plenty of time before the concert began, you listened to her drone on about work and home. Staff was getting more disagreeable by the day and she blamed it on them being from the undercity which you were quick to politely reprimand her on without sounding too upset. Apparently there was an accident at one of the manufacturing plants and protests ensued, leading your father to lay off over a dozen workers without a proper investigation. It was vile, and you felt your leg shake with agitation while trying to remain calm.

Beside you, Viktor’s knuckles were white from gripping the neck of his cane between his knees as he looked on at the empty stage, curtains still drawn in a red velvet wall, down below. He was attempting to go unnoticed and to not make a scene since he felt another trap brewing from your mother, egging him on by spitting on the undercity in such a benumbed manner.

There was no room for you to comfort him, even silently, since holding his hand or leaning on him around your parents would most likely result in a painstakingly grueling lecture about “public decency.” If you were with someone from Piltover, then the story would have been very different, but you chose Viktor and for that you would receive no grace.

“Let’s not talk about work,” you smiled at her as best you could, playing the role of loving daughter for her sake.

“One last thing,” she tapped your father on the arm, prompting him to hand her a small letter from the inner pocket of his suit, “this came a few weeks ago. We forwarded the message to you in a letter, but you never responded so I assume you never read it.”

A broken seal told you exactly who it was from. The Galgaridon crest looked up at you in two torn pieces from the folded piece of paper. Just as the music was beginning from the orchestra pit, you unfolded it and began reading its contents; you read at an angle so Viktor could eye it if he wanted to.

Caston Galgaridon wrote to your family home to explain his recent honorable discharge from the Noxian military after an injury sustained on the battlefield rendered him incapable of continuing his service. Part of you knew he must have put himself in harm's way on purpose after your last talk. Whatever the reason, be it accidental or intentional as suspected, he was informing your family of his new position in becoming the new head of the foundry your parents helped build all that time ago. Meaning they would be working directly through him for their Noxian transports and business ventures.

At least he had the decency to not write to you directly and respect your wishes for space. Little could be said for your parents as time crawled on.

“Why does this concern me?” you folded the letter with its familiar creases and reclined in your seat.

“We thought you ought to know since you will be working with him once you’re done with schooling,” your father leaned forward to see past your mother who stared at the performance with feigned indifference, “and it’s important to maintain our partnerships.”

“I don’t see how working in Noxus is relevant to my future career endeavors.”

“No one ever said you had to relocate to Noxus,” his dry laughter said more than you needed to know, “regardless of your living arrangements, correspondence with the young master Galgaridon is still an important partnership.”

Down on stage there were ballet dancers leaping across the polished wooden stage over fake prop pieces of florals and grasses moving in imaginary wind as violins encouraged them on. As chimes echoed in the background, you stole a glance at Viktor who turned just as you did, perfectly in sync with your movements without a word needing to pass between you. Honey colored eyes reflected the lights of the stage in the near darkness of the theater and they were full of a sweetened understanding that you could have melted into if you were back in your rooms with him. You were itching to feel him in any kind of embrace at that moment, but the desire to keep your parents’ feathers silky smooth kept you grounded in your nauseating discomfort.

The past always had an ugly way of dredging itself up at the most inopportune time, but at least in that moment it was less of a real threat and more of an uncomfortable suggestion from your parents. It was a sour attempt to get you out of Piltover and away from Viktor, an obvious stabbing betrayal even if you were unsure it even counted as such when they had been so open with you about their disapproval already.

This is lovely, you had quietly remarked, pointing out the performance, leaning towards your parents. The little gestures were your only salvation it seemed.

Polite conversation was able to spark between the four of you once you managed to get the first few pleasant words out about anything other than responsibilities. Managing to make your parents smile at you and Viktor during comments and jests felt like pushing a rock up a steep hill, arduous, but greatly rewarding once you reached the top and were able to rest at its peak.

By the end of the concert the choppy waters felt unusually calm, whatever storm that had been brewing was either passed or on hold. The cab that came around the front of the building, to collect the four of you, already had your belongings strapped to the rear of the large carriage.

The trip back to the estate was long, as the hours passed, you all dozed off at different times. All except Viktor who took to admiring the changing scenery through the window even if the night outside prevented him from seeing much past the vague silhouette every now and then once you were out of the inner city. Housing towards the edge would range from modest dwellings to smaller unkempt apartments and eventually largely spaced out manors. Wide gaps in wealth were evident even topside it seemed.

He couldn’t help but think those lackluster apartments were right up your combined alley when it came to affordability since you refused to use your family funds. Over the last half year, you both were more frugal with your finances. Accepting that the y/l/n family fortune could be pulled out from under you at any moment made you both carefully calculate your means of living and you made sure to stay within those boundaries.

Viktor also knew this weekend trip was a performance at its core and he was determined to play his part as quietly as he could manage. Willing to seem invisible for your sake and to not stir your parents’ emotions into barring down on you with their unrelenting barrage of disapproving opinions. Difficult as it was, considering he was usually emboldened at the academy, more confident in his field and among his colleagues.

Thankfully he managed to speak to your parents about his work when they appeared to ask with a genuine interest, prodding him to reveal his plans.

******

Lush green hedges surrounded the property, or at least the innermost part of the property that contained the main house and gardens; it did not include the long drive up through manicured rolling landscapes and trees spotted throughout the scene. Leaves and twigs were collected in muslin sacks for disposal after the annual pruning and new buds were well into blossoming in time for the season. Birds skirted across a pond, rippling through the glass surface with beautiful disturbance coupled with their cacophony of squawks and honks.

Home was back at the academy for you, but there would always be a bittersweet nostalgia in returning to the estate for visits and this time was no different. You stepped out of the motorized carriage first, followed by Viktor and your parents in succession. Moonlight and lanterns provided a glow that came off in a haze against the evening mist. Starlight dappled in the blanket of night overhead and you wished to spend more time outside with Viktor in the fresh air, but you were hurriedly rushed inside by your parents who were too eager to show off their abode to a newcomer.

Even if Viktor was not their ideal guest, they were desperately trying to save face. Most of their disdain of him had been private comments made directly to you, so they must have thought he was none the wiser regarding their opinions of him.

Given the late hour, the tour was rather short. They only showed him where they would be dining for breakfast, should you both like to join them that early, and the parlor where they spent most of their free time. Free time did not come often for your parents, but you assumed this weekend they would be lounging for once since they insisted on your staying over.

“Don’t be shy about exploring. I’m sure y/n will take you around at some point as well,” your father passed through the large double doors that opened into a corridor not too far from your room. “Your things have been brought to the bedroom already, so you may retire if you wish.”

Bidding your parents goodnight, you accepted their offer to be excused and took Viktor with you.

“I wish they were this nice all of the time,” you mumbled over your shoulder to Viktor once you were a few turns and rooms away from them. “They were so polite to you, why can’t it be real?”

“Don’t concern yourself over things you cannot control.” Viktor followed you through the doors to your room, pulling the handles closed behind him with a low snap of pins falling into place and the lock setting. “For now, let's just be happy we’ve made it this far.”

He was right. Fretting over wishes and complaints were never going to amount to anything and you were feeling more at ease being alone with him in the privacy of your room.

Something you could control was at your fingertips. It teased at your tongue as you were feeling too shy to openly ask for anything explicit. Sitting on the edge of your canopy bed proved more than enough for a hint when Viktor joined you without suggestion. Evening clothes began to feel suffocating as you lost yourselves in a tangle of limbs and pleading whispers.

******

Morning came with a vengeance. You were undisturbed by maids or your parents, left to rest at your own leisure with Viktor in your bed and the curtains were still pulled back from the night before. Neither of you thought to close them which let the blinding white reflection of the sun wake you since you were facing large glass doors across the room. Scenic lawns softened the blow of the harsh sunlight and you blinked against its glow as a few squirrels sprinted across the window sill in leaping bounds, cheeks full of their gathering spoils.

Blankets tempted you to remain in bed, but the idea of any staff or your parents poking in to check on you prompted you to drag yourself from the plush den and get ready for the day. Pushing open the double doors and opening the remaining curtains to let in more light, you wake Viktor up in the process.

Despite how sleepy you both still felt, there was something in the air that you couldn’t explain. It was like the hotel room when you got a taste of domesticity away from the academy together, playing pretend for a little while before having to return to work and research all while feeling like teenagers in adult bodies.

“I could get used to this,” Viktor held your hand with a reverence that made you blush when you sat next to him on his side of the bed where he was still laying.

“The nice house?”

“No,” his eyes closed, still tired, “this feeling, in this room. It’s like we’re married.”

“Would you want to?” You moved your two hands together further implying what he just said.

“Eventually.”

******

Easels with abandoned paintings were pushed into a corner of glass and plaster, leaving room for a large open space of stone that made up the floor to the old studio. Days were once spent toiling away at those easels much to the behest of your family, pouring your soul into the pieces that could only be referenced from the windows beyond your enclosure and images you had seen elsewhere during excursions or from books. There were plenty of those to go around in your home, but taking your art supplies out of the estate and beyond the property grounds was restricted. Encouragement for your creative hobbies was nonexistent since it was only seen as just that, a hobby and nothing more. Cursed be the day you first asked your mother for your beginner set of paints and a canvas. Over time your parents softened to the idea of you pursuing a meaningful pastime, giving you a wide berth for creative study under the guise of it remaining a hobby and you played that part as well as you could for years.

Windows made up a wall of glass, an old sunroom connected to your bedroom through a short hallway only accessible to you. It must have once been a modest sitting room before the estate grew too large for it and it was abandoned until you burrowed your way into it as a child while exploring. Ivy still grew on the back of the house unlike the front where it was completely cleared away for structural integrity.

You were not about to thew Viktor in the history of your home and meaning of all of the rooms. Bringing him to your old studio was more of a thing of boredom and meandering through the halls with him until you thought to visit the old room which felt so strange after all that time away. Dust dated the years you were away despite your infrequent visits to the estate, the studio went on abandoned.

Chatter about the room ranged from explaining what mysterious containers and cups contained, since you were awful at labeling things outside of a shared classroom setting, to shyly tucking away old lackluster art that once left you for want of improved talent.

“It’s a time capsule,” Viktor looked around with curiosity, pretending he didn’t notice you stuffing a large drawing between canvases to his side. Those small graces were everything to you even if you knew full well you couldn’t get much past him even if you tried.

“You can say that.”

“You’ve always been an artist. I find that inspiring, to have held onto a passion this long with the opposition you’ve received because of it.”

Red creeped up your face, or at least that was how it felt when your heart hammered at his words. Inspiration was a dry well and your addled mind was unable to accept that Viktor found it in you in some way. How you had managed to keep the man before you in your life for so long would continue to elude you and you were just thankful he showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.

“Where do you see us,” it was too late to retract once the words fell out of your blabbering mouth, “in a year or so?” His comment from that morning was worming through your brain.

His sudden stoic expression, deep in thought, did nothing for your nerves so you continued to drone on in the hopes of answering your own stupid question or forcing him to move on and not answer you at all. The latter would have been better.

“I mean, nothing serious, I’m not talking about- um - future plans with you and me,” you rubbed your forehead aggressively trying to find the right words to not scare him away. After a minute or so of rambling you gave up trying to sound coherent. “Forget I said anything.”

“I’m assuming you only want me to respond regarding our careers, though I’d be glad to entertain ideas of what we’ll be in the future together,” his confidence in your relationship was unclear in the way he answered you so you asked him to not elaborate and instead let him talk about what you both might be doing once schooling was over.

With academics nearing a close, you wondered where he would work and if you would both become so busy you would belong to your jobs and lose time to live in the real world. Both of your fields were demanding and not conducive of a healthy atmosphere for maintaining a proper relationship if you were not careful with time management.

Viktor knew not to lose himself in his work, but you hadn’t a clue what the future had in store and how he would change, how he could change if circumstances forced his hand. Just the thought of losing the man in front of you made your stomach turn as you chatted through these possibilities without sounding too desperate for all of your curiosities to be answered in confidence.

“What if I hold you back?” You lamented, leaning against the glass overlooking those grassy fields you memorized as a child. “I want you to be great and belong to your work however you see fit without worrying about…me.”

Whether you wanted to admit it aloud or not, you were unsure if this blissful companionship with Viktor would outlast your school days once you were both free of the academy should you both get jobs away from its labs. No matter what you did, Viktor would most likely become a successful researcher and inventor which would take him to the workshop guilds while your mother had hinted you’d be traveling to Noxus once you joined the family business.

The future didn’t look prime for you and Viktor.

Arms encircled you, secure and warm in the room of glass.

“I am yours,” his face was set and calm in the effort to assure you without having to give you any grand speeches, “entirely and unconditionally.”

******

Entirely and unconditionally swam around your mind sweetly for the rest of the day and gave you some reprieve as you entertained your parents even though you and Viktor were supposed to be the guests. Instead of feeling as if it were the other way around, you were the one up in front of the couches by the grand fireplace telling them stories about school and from books much to your parent’s delight.

Animated gestures and vocal cues made their faces lighten up with a childish glee even when Viktor would chime in on your stories from where he sat in the overly ornate armchair. Despite having your parents there, it was nice to relive your memories from the academy with Viktor.

“Do you have any stories from the Kiraman labs?” Your mother leaned forward on her elbows as you turned the events of your lab over, organizing your thoughts to see if there were any comical stories.

“Not many involving me, but there have been a few explosions here and there from the other researchers,” your eyes glued to an ugly wall decoration across the room as you thought over it. “Well I was working on a project recently and the whole thing fell over into a mess of parts and gears.”

You went on to tell them how that day had been an inventor’s disaster and you were at your wits end with the way your projects had been going and you detailed the whirlwind that was your office. It got to the part where you bumped into an old classmate that kindly assisted you with repairing your project, helping you progress with it further than you had before if ever fell.

“So you do have friends,” your father jested.

For some reason it made you uncomfortable to think of it that way especially when you kept Jayce’s name out of it, “no we were just classmates a long time ago.”

“But they remembered you anyways, must’ve been a memorable class,” your father let out a blubbering chuckle. “Who was it anyways?”

Your neck felt cool from sweat and you regretted finishing the story, wishing you had left it after the part where you stormed away from the fallen project, “It doesn’t matter. No one important.”

“Oh come now,” he leaned back in his seat and blew out a thick cloud from his pipe. “Worried I might know their parents like when you were a child?”

“No it’s just he-”

“A gentleman!” Your mother chimed in like you were all playing a guessing game.

“And he works at the Kiraman labs, dear,” your father chattered away with guesses with your mother as you rolled your eyes, grinning uncomfortably at Viktor, “must be from a prominent family.”

“Wrong again,” you teased knowing full well Jayce was from a lower house like you, but it was not as full of grandeur and prestige as your father was imagining.

“Well play fair then, give us some decent clues,” your mother was all smiles and you managed to mirror her enthusiasm even if it was much calmer in comparison.

You stopped the makeshift game before it really took off, throwing yourself into another story that featured you and Viktor having lunch with Sky during the school trip so long ago. It seemed to satisfy their cravings for drama when part of the story was about a conversation the three of you unwillingly heard from a table over at the restaurant.

Throughout the rest of your social time with your parents, you’d occasionally catch Viktor looking at you with knit brows. It was unusual for him to stare at you like that and you knew it was because you refused to give up Jayce’s name during the storytelling. You hadn’t really told him about that day in the lab aside from having a hard time and he didn’t know who Jayce was at all, as far as you knew, since it seemed their paths had never crossed.

Inevitability gave you fair warning that he was going to ask you about who the mystery classmate was that night when you were back in your room trying to sleep.

Dinner time was easier since your parents had their friends join all of you that evening. This time you weren’t the only one telling stories; now it was your parent’s turn to peacock and entertain. Whether their friends actually cared was another matter since a few of them continued to mutter about business if the room would grow too quiet.

When it was loud with laughter, you had some semblance of privacy being able to talk with Viktor where you were both tucked away at the edge of the crowd. There you could talk about what you were going to do once you were free of this place and back at the academy.

Viktor seemed different, not upset, but tired of being around people who must have been weighing him down from how loud they were. The mystery classmate was in the back of his mind even if he knew it was irrational to worry. Keeping secrets was something he never did to you besides the occasional white lie that he wasn’t tired, he wasn’t in pain, or a new dish you worked hard to make was definitely not burnt. But this felt different in the way you held his hand in reassurance and gave him your full attention when he so much as cleared his throat.

“Relax,” he whispered after you asked him if anything was wrong for the fifth time that evening. It wasn’t a command and more of a sweetly delivered suggestion which put you in some ease, or at least stopped you from asking again.

******

It was left unsaid, all of your shared thoughts over Jayce. You didn’t want to tell him who it was and part of him didn’t really want to know despite the curiosity.

“You know you can be honest with me,” Viktor said more so to the cloth above then directly to you, staring at the velvet canopy of your bed in the near darkness.

You were reading by your dimly warm bedside light when he broke the quiet. Closing the book carefully, you set it aside, “you’re talking about the story… from the lab.”

His silence was your answer.

“He was just an old classmate,” you leaned back, “I didn’t like my parents prying.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to do the same,” he sighed, “but I know he wasn’t just a classmate.”

Hammering in your chest did nothing for your nerves and you tried to keep your breathing level once you remembered nothing got past Viktor.

“I didn’t-”

“I know you didn’t cheat,” he laughed a little which put you at ease, “but you have history with him-” you covered his mouth, but he easily freed himself, “and that’s ok. I was just curious.”

Talking helped. From gasps of surprise to laughing about things that were once very painful, Viktor told you about a night years ago where he came to see you late at night before you shared a dorm and before you ever began seeing each other exclusively. You listened wide eyed realizing he never brought it up with you before because he knew it was none of his business. He’d even forgotten about it until the mysterious classmate was brought up and he connected the dots since he knew you never really slept around back then either. There was no room to do so since you used to be attached at the hip even as friends.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you laughed at yourself thinking of that night you had answered the door as a disheveled mess, knowing Jayce had been hiding in the blankets.

Viktor caught his breath after his own bout of laughter at something you said. It felt good to finally let go of the guilt even if he still didn’t ask you who the man was and you were content with keeping it that way.

We should get married, you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper as you were in and out of sleep after what felt like hours of joking around fighting it off.

Rational thought told you marriage was not in your future and you didn’t care much for the idea anyways. The tradition and pressure was an uninviting thought and you itched at the image of your parents weeping for the loss of your status by marrying down. It wasn’t like marriage would make much of a difference in your shared lives anyways.

In the morning you both got up early and left when the fog was still thick across the grass fields and trees. It was a long drive back to the academy and you were ready to return to the dorms and close the curtains on this whole affair of entertaining your parents.

******

#viktor #arcane #viktor x reader #reader x viktor #viktor arcane #viktor/reader #viktor my beloved #arcane reader insert #viktor arcane x reader #reader x viktor arcane

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curtsies-from-princess-ashlyn · 1 year

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A reflection on season 1

Going into this rewatch, I really wanted to challenge my old opinions of it (specifically the opinion that s3 takes what was best about s1 and improves it) and see if I could walk away with a new perspective. I know that there are plenty of fans who believe that there’s something special about s1 that hasn’t been recaptured in following seasons, so I also wanted to identify what it is distinguishes s1 from the rest of the series and decide, as objectively as possible, if it truly is the best season, as many have claimed.

To get to the point: no, this isn’t the best season in objective terms. It has flaws and weaknesses, just like the next two, but I definitely notice a big difference in the overall feel of the show compared to s3. In this regard, I can understand how personal preference might sway viewers to prefer one over the other. It’s far simpler in its concept, so it ends up just being a show about some normal theater kids putting on High School Musical. Its simplicity allows for some moments to breathe a bit more than s3 does (though I think the 10-episode season helps), but there’s also a lot more awkwardness and emptiness between moments in the earlier episodes. I was really surprised at how slow the first few episodes felt to me, and it wasn’t until 1x04 that I felt as though the show was going somewhere. My personal feelings on this are largely due to Nini’s storyline being the focus in those first few episodes, and it’s not until Ricky’s struggle with his home life (which I would consider the emotional core of the show) gets more focus that things felt like they were starting to move. There’s a clear shift in the direction of the show in 1x05 (and in my opinion, a shift towards something much deeper), but the show doesn’t fully commit to this shift through the rest of the season. This shift is threefold: the positive progression of Ricky’s growth from his relationship with Gina, the expansion of character focus beyond Nini or Ricky, and the reveal that Nini lacked a sense of true identity in her romantic relationships. The direction of Ricky and Nini’s arcs are never resolved, and they’re actually regressed by the conclusion of this season. While I believe this is intentional, the framing of the conclusion is still trying to evoke a sense of celebration and triumph, making the conclusion feel really manufactured and jarring when it stands on its own. This is why, after my first viewing in 2019, I didn’t rewatch the season until s3 aired... it simply cannot effectively stand on its own. I’ll get to my opinions on how it compares to future seasons in those analyses, because I do have more to say on that.

Something very interesting I wanted to point out: Gina is always shown to offer the consolation and comfort Ricky is looking for in Nini, and when Nini has the opportunity to give Ricky emotional support, it’s shown that she doesn’t understand his struggle. Throughout the entirety of 1x04, every person Ricky turns to for comfort are incapable of giving him the emotional support he needs, and this includes Nini. The emotional poignancy of the episode is that the only thing that can make Ricky feel safe is returning home to his mom and listening to HSM, signaling that theater is becoming a new safe space to him. This is notion is made deeper in the next episode, when Gina, to his surprise, empathizes with him in a way no one else had. In 1x07, Ricky wants to call Nini after Todd answers the phone, but Gina shows up and offers him the comfort he was never expecting. Then in the last 2 episodes, we see Ricky frantically try to contact Nini after Todd shows up, only for Gina Porter to give him the consolation he needs and also successfully encourage him to show up for his cast and walk back into the gym. In 1x08, we see Ricky’s eyes light up with surprise for a moment when Nini says “I get it,” when he apologized for his behavior on Thanksgiving, but her next lines reveal that she actually doesn’t get it at all.

Last comment: I was shocked at how little Gina was actually in this season. EJ actually leads more plotlines than she does, technically making her more of a supporting character (even though her character arc is much stronger than his, imo). She is the antagonist the first 4 episodes, so she really only has focus when she’s disrupting Nini’s storyline or scheming with EJ. Then, she becomes the character to further Ricky’s growth and storyline for the rest of her appearances. Despite her appearances being more limited, her presence is so strongly felt this season, which I think really speaks to Sofia Wylie’s screen presence and strength as an actor. Honestly, not a single minute is wasted with her screen-time. It's seriously to the show’s benefit that she becomes the female lead in the following seasons, because her character was already upstaging others. I honestly think Sofia’s performance is what gave Gina so much depth and richness in s1, so she is without a doubt the MVP of this season.

#I do have a more thoughts as the seasons go on #and fair warning: I believe s2 has a lot more to offer than people give it credit for #but we'll cross that bridge when we get there #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #Ricky Bowen #Gina Porter #Nini Salazar-Roberts #EJ Caswell

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kingsofeverything · 9 months

Note

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51661387/chapters/130594462

Desperation Was My Sanctuary by. InsightfulInsomniac

Loved this.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42772812/chapters/107450907

Black Raspberries and Butterscotch by, MushroomMushroom28

Thus was amazing, wish they had other fics

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52029235/chapters/131576455

Wither & Bloom by. The_Dizzy_Pixie

Love all their works, this is the most recent.

All the love,

Sam<3

thanks, sam!

Desperation Was My Sanctuary by InsightfulInsomniac

As a PhD student and transplant to New York City, Louis is struggling for both money and companionship. His roommate, Zayn, introduces him to a friend who is involved in New York City's sugar bowl. Reluctantly, he signs up for a sugaring app knowing he’s probably the least conventional sugar baby on the market. If he can find a sugar daddy who will pay his bills without asking him to sacrifice his own preferences and boundaries, he might just be willing to earn a bit of extra cash by faking a relationship with a millionaire. At the age of 35, Harry’s spent his entire adult life devoted to his career as a fashion designer. With his label, Eroda, steady and flourishing, he finally has time to settle down. When he reflects on his adult life, he realizes that he’s never been in a relationship and therefore feels behind. Shy and insecure in his inexperience, he turns to a sugaring app to manufacture a “test relationship” on his terms. Turns out, they’re both looking for something unconventional. A smutty, non-traditional strangers-to-lovers story about finding yourself, friendship, safety, sexual discovery, and an unexpected collision with tender, profound love.

Black Raspberries and Butterscotch by MushroomMushroom28

Harry felt tears line his eyes. He’d waited so long for this. So fucking long- Louis slammed into him, nearly knocking them both over. “Hazza,” he whispered, completely out of breath, arms vice-like around Harry’s body. “Lou.” Harry gave in to the tears, letting them fall onto Louis’s shirt. “Lou, I’m here.” “You’re here.” Louis sniffled and pulled back to look at Harry. “You’re really here.” They both broke into blinding smiles. Harry took Louis in, looking almost exactly as he did four years ago, but with just a little more life experience behind his eyes. Those blue irises were as piercing as ever, none of his portraits having ever done him justice. His hair was wild as always, sticking up however it pleased. Harry laughed. It was good to be home. (OR What happens when two best friends, late to present as their secondary genders, finally spend a summer together after four years apart?)

Wither & Bloom by The_Dizzy_Pixie

No one knows that legendary Harry Styles is an omega. The record label, the fans, and even his family have no idea, leading to a very isolated and very lonely life for Harry. He knows it's for the best. Otherwise, he'd never have the career he wanted and he contents himself in the knowledge that he's not the only one. But when Harry injures his voice during a performance, his manager hires a new vocal coach to help put him to rights. Cue Louis Tomlinson, the sweetest, sexiest, kindest alpha in the world, stepped right out of Harry's dizziest daydreams. While Louis tries to figure out why there's something so incredibly un-alpha-like about 'Alpha-King of Pop' Harry Styles, Harry is busy trying to control his omega's undeniable urge to throw himself at the object of his infatuation. Amid an accidental misgendering, getting slick in public, tour bus snuggles with awkward boners, and unprovoked drops, Harry will have to choose whether he wants to keep living a lie for the sake of remaining in the spotlight or if he'll sacrifice everything to be with the man he loves... Assuming Louis ever comes back.

SEND ME YOUR FAVORITE FICS FROM 2023

#to read #28th appreciation

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finniestoncrane · 2 years

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Your One True Nemesis

Chapter 14: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1.7k my dumb ass wouldn't need him to say sorry i'd forgive him for everything, i already do request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some angst, fluff, awkward flirting

You were less than three sips of your morning coffee down before Eddie came barrelling down the tunnel from the workshop to where you were sitting. Peace shattered.

“You. Let’s go to my office.”

“Good morning to you too.”

He stopped in his tracks, waving a hand as he turned to you.

“Oh, yes. Good morning. I haven’t slept, so technically I’m well within my rights to forego any greetings.”

“Christ, Eddie.”

At no point did he stop now, intent on making his way to his office uninterrupted by your nagging concerns. When he reached the door, he went straight through, popping back out a moment later, eyes wide and face wearing an expression of irritation.

“Well?”

“Oh! Ok, coming.”

Entering the office after a quick jog across the living space, you found him sitting at his desk, fingers poised and tented under his chin as he watched you uneasily take a seat.

“I thought it time for an employee evaluation.”

He’s going to fire me.

The thought was instant, and it lodged itself into the front of your mind with no intentions of letting loose the vice like grip it had on your anxiety.

“Really? Do I get to evaluate you back?”

Your tone was snippy, tinged with a little bit of malice as you had already prepared for a torrid of insults to come spewing forth from both of your mouths the moment he dismissed you.

“My, you’re rather keen on fighting me, aren’t you? Well… good. I’m looking forward to it too!”

His body was still, solid, as he leaned back uncomfortably in his squeaky chair. Remaining silent, you waited for him to speak first, keeping eye contact during the stale mate. It was only broken when he sighed and looked to the ceiling before starting what you knew was the end.

“First, let me begin by reiterating that I never need help with anything. And yet, here you are. A necessity, I assure you. For my plans are so complex, so fiendishly inventive, that I am forced to manufacture a race of robotic servant to commence, and to do that, I needed assistance. Not help.”

Unsure of where he was going with his lecture, you sat back, trying to appear relaxed though you were completely nervous, your body feeling as though it were made of metal and wires than pliable flesh.

“There have been… certain issues between us. Difficulties to overcome. But over time I have learned… some things from you. And what I do know about you, is that you can’t even fail properly. That’s how incompetent you are.”

Raising an eyebrow, you opened your mouth to reply, but stopped as the confusion settled over you. It didn’t seem like a compliment, but it didn’t seem like an insult either. He continued.

“I had fully expected you to fall short immediately. To be such a bumbling dolt that I had no other option but to put you out of your misery at my hands. But you’ve been… not a help, but not a hindrance either. You’re effective in your work. And resilient.”

He avoided your gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the level of kindness he was expressing. Looking around the room as you considered his words you noted the newspaper clippings that lined the walls. His arrests, his headlines, everything pertaining to him in the media that made him as infamous as he was. These were his achievements. No one was giving out awards or ribbons for villainy, this was all he had. And you were impressed, actually. It rekindled something within you. As though you had forgotten how much you admired him. That for the past months he hadn’t been the Riddler, he hadn’t even been Edward Nigma. He’d just been Eddie. But beneath that, was the man you had put yourself at great risk to have the opportunity to breathe in front of. And you’d spent your time arguing with him, losing your mind to the tension created by an increasingly ridiculous attempt at becoming something more than just his lackey.

Now, looking around at the greatness he expressed through his genius and his criminality, you realised that was all you would be. It was comforting almost. To know your place. As your eyes returned to him, finally able to speak.

“Are you… saying I’m doing a good job… Mister Nigma, sir?”

Eddie’s eyes brightened, twinkling at your use of the moniker he had once insisted you use when addressing him.

“I’m getting rather tired at the way your stupidity forces me to outline the basis like this. Yes. You are… doing… a good job.”

You felt touched by the sincerity in his words, but it didn’t soothe your nerves any less.

“Is this a trick?”

“What?”

“Are you going to fuck me over? Is this some kind of cruel opening to something far more horrible?”

His face dropped, mouth trying to form words silently. He knew he’d done irreparable damage to any relationship he might have with you, workplace only of course, but to the extent to which you’d think he was lying… he hadn’t considered that.

“No, this isn’t a trick. I realise that I might have been harsh before, in what I have said. Or how I have said it. And I would rather you didn’t go and work for someone else.”

“Oh?”

From your pocket, a quick chime rang out. A text, from Mark obviously, given that Eddie was in the room with you.

“Aren’t you going to take that?”

“Not important, not while we’re talking I mean.”

Withholding the self-satisfied smirk, pleased that you had chosen to ignore Mark in favour of him, Eddie continued.

“Well, anyway. Not only would it be difficult to find someone else to train and trust, but I feel like I would…” his fingers tensed, jaw clenching as he spoke the words through gritted teeth “… be losing a valuable asset.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t… do that to me.”

There was an element of pain behind the shock he wore on his face, though both the emotions were being consciously supressed, covered by the scowl that he considered his neutral expression.

“What? Compliment your work?”

“Pretend to be nice.”

“I’m not-”

His voice was raised, teeth clashing together with the words before he stopped himself, taking a breath. He considered, in this moment, that he would need to contain his irritation in favour of making you feel comfortable. That was the point of all of this, after all. Making sure you felt… valued. At least enough that you wouldn’t leave him. He needed you there. For the work.

Visibly tense, he continued in a forced, calmer tone.

“I’m not pretending. I would just like you to know that your work has been satisfactory, and perhaps we can make efforts to be less conflicting with one another.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.”

Eddie snapped, the words spat out at you from across the desk.

“You can go now.”

Without any further words you left his office, confused enough by his words and sincerity that you left your coffee on the table, heading straight for your room. It was strange, to feel this hurt and betrayed by kindness. But you were annoyed. Angry that Eddie would do this to you now, angry at him for making you feel so conflicted, despite that fact that it was clearly your desperation for his approval and affection that made you feel this way.

Trying to distract yourself from the spiral you were threatening to enter, you took your phone out of your pocket, intending to scroll aimlessly but instead coming face to face with the text from earlier that you had ignored. It was Mark. It always was. You were grateful to have the distraction, but only for a moment before you read the words.

“Hey, we should go out tonight. Whaddaya say babe? x”

It was too much for you to even think of right then. You brain was filled with thoughts about Eddie. How you felt like you had betrayed him, how there might be a chance that you two could…

“Sorry, Mark! Got something to do for Eddie, won’t make it out x”

Mark was quick to reply, as usual.

“Aw, come on! Skip it, tell him to get lost. Just because he doesn’t have a life or any friends doesn’t mean you can’t xxx”

Oddly irritated by his dismissal of Eddie for the first time since you met him, you put your foot down.

“Can’t. Sorry x”

“Ok, fine!! I’ll remember that next time you’re lookin for someone to complain about him to ;)”

The playful teasing seemed to hide a deeper emotion, and you couldn’t help feel like he was genuinely mad at you for putting Eddie first. Which you weren’t, not really. You were turning him down in favour of your feelings for Eddie. There was a difference.

As you lay down on your bed, hoping to maybe go back to sleep and try and forget the initial discomfort of the morning so far, you considered something you hadn’t before. They were so similar, Mark and Eddie. Both of them so confident in their own ways, immediately gaining your devotion. Criminals with their own strange morals. And both of them equally frustrating in their own right. But your mind kept going back to Eddie. How much he meant to you, and how much he meant before.

And importantly, the kind of relationship you wanted to form with him. Because that was something you needed to figure out quickly if you intended on surviving through this any longer. Your heart could barely take the whirlwind you were pushing it through as it was. If Eddie was intending to be kinder to you, you had to let yourself know that it was in a professional capacity only. Nothing else. Unless there was more to it. But it was impossible to say, like everything with him.

#finnie writes #arkham riddler #arkham edward nigma #riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse #riddler #the riddler imagine #riddler smut #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x you #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma #arkham!riddler #the riddler fanfiction #arkham!verse #finnie yotn

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absolutebl · 2 years

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2 Moons Ambassador

AKA 2 Moons 3 AKA 2m3

Thailand 2022 Motive Village

7/10

Tropes: E2L, obsession, popular/nerd, university set, pining seme, sunshine/sunshine, openly gay seme, bisexual uke

(I usually don’t review 7/10s because there are so many of them, but in this case I binge watched and took notes, so hey, here’s what a 7/10 looks like)

Random thoughts:

Basically we open with a recap of 2 moons 2 (NOT 2 Moons original), some are scene for scene re-shots, which acts as an introduction to the new actors in the same roles.

Pairs are:

PhaYo - uke has glasses

ForthBeam - no distinguishing features

MingKit - uke has braces

But these are all side couples, and we have a different new main couple of loser moon + ultimate hot guy too-lazy-to-moon, TatchLom.

Gay af Tatch has a huge crush but only knows how to neg. Honestly, this is so common in BL it should be a seme character archetype.

This BL pulp acts like a show that came out 5 years ago (considering the source material I'm not at all surprised). It’s full of ALL the flaws & tropes:

faen fatale

stilted dialogue & bad sound

blushing maiden trope

awkward acting & stiff (in the wrong way) physical chemistry

nonexistent yet also convoluted plot

punching down humor

gayest bridge in Thailand

They even have the thing where the boys’ makeup on jaw line isn’t blended properly.

On the bright side, when the main couple starts liking each other, they communicate properly, talking about why they behave the way that they do, and why they flirt that way. It’s actually a really sweet relationship. They gave me Nitiman vibes only with better resolution. No bad thing, frankly, I have a soft spot for Nitiman. They also both have nice wingman, and friends trying to be supportive and giving them good advice.

There’s a noted correction for dub con, permission around sex, and one of them is openly gay, and his not liking women turns out to be a defense and a plot point in a good way.

There is a lot of unnecessary manufactured drama and angst. For the sides this was basically the definition of their plots and they intersected not at all with the mains, so you can safely skip them. The plot is dumb.

That said, a small part of me enjoyed some of the drama around the twins and Tatch’s broken friendships prior to university, and I wish that was more of the whole plot and we got less of manufactured misunderstanding couple angst. That said it descended into some TharnType Mame level kidnapping nonsense at the end.

Favorite scene?

The table of gay boys going gaga over the new hot one in their midst was pretty darn amusing, very germane to the queer experience, quite frankly.

Oddness?

Main couple moves right on from first kiss to first sex scene. Although I do like how realistic that part felt to a first college relationship, especially when one half has been jonesing for so long.

Quick Pitch

A Thai pulp that felt like it came out 5 yrs ago with many of the flaws inherent to that time and studio system, including manufactured angst and convoluted plot, but an ultimately sweet main couple that (as a pairing) feels a bit more modern and is satisfying to watch together.

This will probably go down in history as one of the few BLs where I genuinely didn’t care about any of the side couples.

(source)

Shout out to ThailBLFan92 for the fun subs with extra notes, always appreciated.

#thai bl #bl review #thai bl pulp #do not honor the crumbs #Thai pulp #TharnType #Nitiman #TatchLom #2 Moons 3 #2 Moons Ambassador #2 moons the series #2 moons 2 #Motive Village

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lavareview · 4 months

Text

x - x

MODEL: THE CARLISLE

Brand: Lava Lite

Introduced: 1974

Discontinued: 1984

Base and cap colors: brass

Wax colors: red, orange, green

Fluid colors: clear, yellow, blue

Size: height 14”, diameter 6”

The Carlisle was a 1970s lava lamp model manufactured by Lava Lite. Like many early Lava Lite models, it distinguishes itself not through colors, patterns, or novelty gimmicks, but through its unique silhouette: using a similar conical globe to previous models such as the Enchantress, the Carlisle follows the shape of its globe with a wide, conical base rather than the more classic hourglass-shaped base. It is topped with a flat cap, and, like the popular Century model, features pinhole cutouts around its base for a “starlight” effect.

The silhouette of the Carlisle would have two descendents in the Lava Lite line: the 1998 Wizard, which shared its silhouette but switched its flat cap for a pointed one, and the 2000 Blip, a low-cost lamp closely resembling the Carlisle which did not carry the Lava Lite name.

In 1974, the Carlisle retailed for $19.99. Today, Carlisle models can be found on second hand sites, where they usually sell for $120 to $190.

MY REVIEW:

I’ll be honest – the Carlisle is not one of my favorites. It’s certainly not offensive to the eye, and there are plenty of lava lamps designs far more gaudy or off-putting. Yet, I find some of those designs of more questionable taste to at least be more daring than the Carlisle, and it doesn’t make up for this with very attractive features. To be entirely fair, though, the Carlisle suffers in my view from comparison with its descendant, the Wizard, which I find to be a much superior model in multiple ways. I also seem to be in the minority on this – many lava lamp enthusiasts online compliment the Carlisle’s stylishness and its “sophisticated simplicity”, as one Lava Lite catalog puts it.

SILHOUETTE: 6/10

You could certainly do worse than the Carlisle as far as lava lamp silhouettes go – but you could also do much better. Its conical shape suffers from how much the globe protrudes over the base, giving it a sort of “muffin top” effect which breaks what I feel could have been much smoother lines in its design. I also find the width of the base to be awkward and lacking in finesse. I think a more tapered, thinner conical lamp would have made for a much more elegant silhouette.

DETAILS: 8/10

There isn’t much to criticize here, as the Carlisle does without much in terms of adornments, which I think was a good choice. The pinhole cutouts in its base are a classic carry-over from the Century model and add some visual interest to the lamp. However, the flat cap doesn’t compliment the silhouette, breaking it abruptly at the top, where a pointed or rounded cap would have been more attractive.

COLORWAYS: 5/10

At the risk of piling more and more criticism upon the Carlisle, I’m afraid I must say its color variety is severely lacking. The Carlisle only offered a brass base/cap color; as for its globe, only three colorways were available: yellow-fluid/orange-wax, blue-fluid/green-wax, and clear-fluid/red-wax. Now, none of these are bad choices, but they’re few choices, and none of them are particularly unique, nor do I feel they compliment the design well. I think the Carlisle would have much benefitted from a greater variety of colors, especially elegant choices such as a black base/cap, or purple wax and fluid options, which would have given it a certain edgy flair and sleekness. It’s notable that such color options were available with the later Wizard model.

Zachary on OozingGoo.com created this custom Carlisle by stripping the brass lacquer from its base/cap and replacing the globe with a pink-wax/purple-fluid combination. I feel this Carlisle's custom colorway looks significantly better than the ones officially offered.

POWER: 8/10

I may not love the Carlisle, but it’s hard to deny that its silhouette does stand out and look rather more imposing than more classic, thinner models. It definitely makes an impression, and I can see why one would be drawn to it – it’s just not my personal cup of tea. Still, it’s definitely a rather powerful lava lamp.

MY FINAL LAVA SCORE: 6.75/10

Is my information wrong? Did I miss a detail? Do you have a better picture of this model? Is there another model you’d like me to look into? Please send me an ask or submit relevant pictures!

#lava lamp #lava lamps #Carlisle #Lava Lite #1970s #1980s #Discontinued

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fandom-gt · 2 months

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COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page + 2 Add-On

PRICE: 95

FANDOM: MCU CHARACTERS: Peter Parker, Pepper Potts

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”I'm fine with my name not being on the blog post. If you feel that this doesn't match with your usual work, I'm fine with this not being posted on your wall as well. I'll leave it up to you

Set after No Way Home in a version of the MCU where tiny people are common and treated as second-class citizens or pets, Peter Parker(who has always been tiny) enters Pepper’s office after being hired for a job by the CEO that was listed specifically for a tiny person that includes free food and housing. He's a bit nervous, feeling weird that she doesn't remember him given how they were somewhat close before everyone's memory was erased. After Pepper greets him and states that he'll be working directly for her, she removes her heels and informs him that his new job is to pamper her by rubbing and licking her feet. Hesitant at first, Peter nonetheless complies and works on her soles as Pepper continues to work. Eventually, she ends up placing him in her heel to act as an insole and reveals that he'll be staying with her from now on, hence the free food and housing. Unable to do anything as Pepper puts the heel back on with him in it, Peter is forced to accept that his new life will be one serving at Pepper’s feet.”

WARNINGS: Objectification/dehumanization, feet, femdom,

——

Peter Parker sits in a plush, mass-manufactured waiting chair in the lobby waiting area of Stark Industries. Which is to say, he sits in a tiny chair, behind the masking-tape line of a three-foot square partitioned specifically for people his size, across the room from the bottom of the reception desk. A gap between the desk’s wooden front paneling and the floor beneath it stands taller than him, and he can see the peep-toed shoes of the receptionist idly tapping away before him. The thuds are loud, rhythmic, constant and, if he’s not mistaken, set exactly to the beat of Nicki MInaj’s Superbass. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s shaking his char with nonstop vibrations, she can’t possibly know that the miniscule tapping of her foot has such far-reaching impact.

He’s tempted to tell her, except that probably wouldn’t be a good first impression for the interview, would it? He sits in his little spider-sized chair, shuffling his paper-printed resume around in its perfect laminated sheets, because his aunt once told him that having a physical copy of it was a good habit. Even though, now that he’s thinking about it, that perfect Arial font at this scale would probably be much, much too small for someone their size to actually read. He feels, all of a sudden, quite stupid.

“Peter?” a voice booms from across the room, and he scrambles to his feet, looking up, up, up at the half-ajar door where Pepper Potts stands, searching the floor for several embarrassing seconds before her eyes finally find his diminutive form. Only when she can finally spot him does she smile, a tight, businesslike, professional expression levied at him as she nods her head toward her office. “I’m ready for you now.”

She holds the door open. He hurries across the scant few feet of flooring, breaking into a jog when the tense seconds begin to stretch and the awkwardness creeps up the back of his neck, searing his cheeks into a blush. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, he knows it — the ad was specifically for someone his size, and besides that, he knows Pepper, whether she remembers him or not. She’s Mr. Stark’s former fiancé, she’s always been nice to him when they met. Some kind shade just shy of maternal, willing to indulge him with gentle smiles, never judgmental, always encouraging of him despite his size making him, technically, a second-class citizen.

It still takes too many seconds for him to finally pass the threshold of her office. The door slams shut behind him in a manner so deep and resonating, he stumbles from the force of it. She doesn’t seem to notice as she steps in deep, booming, heel-clacking thuds around her own desk to sit down, patiently waiting for him to cross the short carpet fibers before her. He stops as close to her desk as he can manage, to the place where he can still see her face over the steep edge of it, and holds up his miniscule little quarter-inch resume as high as his tiny form will allow. “I, um- I brought this. It’s my resume, just in case… you… need it.”

She peers over him, one ginger eyebrow perfectly arched, cool and still, showing absolutely no intention to reach out and take it. “I thought they told you, you already got the job. Technically, you’ve been hired. All the paperwork’s filled out already. This isn’t an interview, Peter. This is your first day.”

“Oh,” he says meekly, hesitantly lowering his resume and tucking it lamely under his arm. “I thought- the docusign, I didn’t realize… I mean, they never even asked me to talk to anybody, I just thought-”

“This isn’t the kind of position that requires a formal interview,” Pepper says, folding her perfectly manicured hands across the desk and staring down at him. “You don’t need any particular accolades or special skills, apart from- your application states that you’re particularly durable and exceptionally athletic. If that’s the case, congratulations. You pass. You’ll be working directly under me, and you’ll be starting today. If that’s a problem, you’re welcome to leave now. Otherwise… I’d like you to get started as soon as possible.”

“Oh! No, that’s- no, ma’am. I mean, yes ma’am. I mean- yes, I’m durable, and athletic, and it’s not a problem. I can do whatever you need, as long as it comes with the room and board like the job listing said, I’ll do anything you need!” After Aunt May passed, with the world forgetting Spider-Man entirely, providing for himself has been a struggle. He can’t pay rent. He can’t pay anything. This job is really his only hope.

Above him, Pepper smiles benevolently and responds with a crisp, impatient, “Good. Then let’s begin.” Under the desk before him, he sees her feet begin to shift. One after another, with great wooshing suction sounds, Pepper kicks off heels each the size of a small apartment to him. Her bare, perfect, pale soles are exposed and then languidly stretched his direction.

“I’d like you to rub my feet, Peter,” she says, her voice thick and loud and ringing in his ears, and for a moment all he can do is stand there before her desk, staring up the sleek wooden surface to her sharp eyes miles above, stunned and uncomprehending. “Your… feet?” He repeats, swallowing thickly.

“That’s right,” she responds, unapologetic and just a little bit sharp. “That’s the job. That’s what you’re going to be doing. Rubbing, licking, massaging. Pampering my feet while I work. That’s why the listing requested someone your size, and someone… athletic. I’m very busy, and we’ve already gone over the time I allotted for your introduction, so if you don’t think this is a good fit, this is your last opportunity before I-”

“No!” He calls desperately, dropping his resume entirely and hustling to across the desk. “No, please, Mrs. Potts, I can do it. I- I’ll do it. I need this job. Whatever you want, I promise.”

“Good,” she responds, and then peels her eyes away from him to settle them on her computer monitor. Overhead, he hears the thunderous clacking of sharp nails on her computer keyboard as she gets to work, and a dozen yards before him lower to the ground at his level, her bare feet flex absently, expectantly. Swallowing, steeling himself, he jogs beneath the wooden slat of her desk toward them.

They loom overhead, each of them four or five times taller than he is, peachy and pedicured, but even despite how diligently she clearly cares for them and lotions them, they still smell… thick. Deep, heady, from the sweat and moisture that comes from shoes. A mixture of natural feminine body odor, leather, and the cherry-almond lotion she must use on them. The smell hits him like a brick wall, accompanied by a radiating and powerful body heat rolling from them. He stares up, reverent and uncomfortable, at a thick-skinned heel leading to a perfect arch, leading to the ball of her foot, leading to toes far above his head that scrunch absently, impatient.

And then, tentatively, he reaches out and presses both of his hands to the sole of her foot. It wrinkles beneath his palms, flexing absently beneath his ministrations, before smoothing out again. He musters all of his supernaturally enhanced strength, and he begins to rub, pressing and grinding his hands and forearms against the muscles and tendons that make up the bottom of her foot. Above his head, the typing falters for one surprised second. No tiny she’s ever hired before has managed to feel like that; as a matter of fact, even when she has them put every single scrap of enthusiasm they have into it, they barely manage it for a few seconds before she wears them out and grins them down into limp, expended nothing.

This, she thinks, might work out better than any tiny she’s employed to the position before. There’s just one thing. She shifts, rolling her wheely-chair out a few feet to stare down beneath her desk, between her legs, beyond the crisp black pencil skirt Peter can almost see up, to lock eyes with the tiny between the gap window of her big and second toe.

“Lick, Peter,” she instructs curtly, staring expectantly. He hesitates, but after her challenging, unblinking stare spans two, three, four seconds, he finally sticks out his tongue and begins to drag it up her sole. She smiles again, approving, and wheels her chair back in, returning to her work, enjoying the sensation of his tiny textured tongue and diligent hands massaging her sore, tired foot.

This goes on for nearly twenty minutes before Pepper retracts her left foot, only to absently and abruptly replace it with her right, nearly bowling him over with her inattentive, uncaring movement. He staggers, the wind knocked out of him, and then rises to begin the process all over again, lathing his tongue against the rough, leathery sole of her fresh right foot. By the time the hour’s up, even with his enhanced stamina and superhuman muscles, he’s beginning to feel the fatigue of the task.

Abruptly, and without a singular word of warning, Pepper’s feet shift. Her right foot slams his tiny body down onto the carpet, so she can absently root around with her toes, dragging them across his face, rolling them across his body until she can pick up the entire length of it with a simple scrunching of her feet, grasping him with the curl of her toes and lifting him from the ground – only to drop him from a few inches high into the perfectly worn sole of her black, close-toed high heel.

She shifts back away from the desk again just enough that he can see the undercut of her chin, rounded from this angle; the bottom of her nose, and her eyes.

“That was very good, Peter. I’d like to show you to your new home,” she says, and he sees her toes begin to encroach over the heel-curve of the shoe he’s now sprawled out in, on his back, staring up. “When I said you’d be working under me, I meant it literally. Your room will be my shoes. You’re going to be living under my foot from now on, for as long as you’re employed. You’ll be sleeping there, eating there, staying there, twenty-four seven. Your full-time job is my insole, unless I tell you to rub my feet. Like I said, no special skills required. Just durability. I’ll let you know when you’re needed again.”

“Wait, no, Ms. Potts-” He starts, but her foot is already sliding forward, looming in, eclipsing the light and his entire vision in darkness as her foot slides into the snug fit of her high heel, smushing him beneath the weight of it as she puts her shoe on proper and melds her entire weight onto his body. He is consumed, enveloped, and smushed under the arch of her foot.

And then she stands. And begins to walk, with great big thudding steps, swooping him over and over again before slamming her weight down on him during her casual stroll to the elevator.

#peter parker #pepper potts #peter/pepper #mcu #giantess #feet

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pebblysand · 1 year

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Hi Jo, hope you're doing well! I love your writing and have been enjoying castles sooo much... pushing for you and this wonderful project as it nears the end!

I have a question about your writing process. Forgive me if you've addressed this somewhere in the podcast or your previous posts, but I've noticed that you use a lot of specific dates in your work (Harry moving out of his flat, the start and end dates of the road trip, etc.). I'm wondering whether you always outline your stories by date, or if you ballpark it and occasionally enjoy throwing in dates as a stylistic detail? Is it better for your individual process to know exactly when everything happens? Thanks!

aw, thank you! ❤️

okay so that's a very good question. for castles, yes, i always have the calendar for that year open. there's actually been funny instances in my IRL life where i'll open my calendar on my laptop to book an appointment or something and i'll be like "wait, why is that not the right day of the week" and then realise my calendar is still set to 1998/1999 😆. when i plan chapters (like the road trip for instance), i'll have a rough idea of when things happen, when they get to certain places, etc. now, that might change - for instance, they stayed in Salem a lot less time than i had originally anticipated - but generally, i kind of have the timeframe in my head, even if i might have to move things around a bit whilst writing/editing.

but, i also think it's because of the structure/limited timeframe that castles chapters have operated in so far. it's very different building a timeline on a chapter/one-shot that happens over years v. one that happens over weeks/days. in castles, the shortest chapter (in terms of in-world time spent) is chapter six, which happens over a day. it covers the dementor attack, giulia's death, harry's interrogation at the ministry, and him coming back at the weasleys'. the longest is probably chapter sixteen, which spans about three months. those are shorter time frames where knowing what date things happen exactly is useful.

having said that, if you look at other fics of mine, like the fault in faulty manufacturing or ce ne sont que des cailloux for instance, there are hardly any dates because these span over years. in that case, having specific dates would feel weird/awkward/not useful. think about it: if you follow a character throughout their school years and randomly the author goes "on the 30th of July 2013" you're like: "why is that important?" so, for the most part, i don't know what specific dates things happen in those fics. i might know the month or the year, but it's all relative to scale. if you write something that happens over a single day, you might need to know what time things happen. if you write something that happens over years, you probably only need the year and maybe the month to anchor it.

now, regarding whether i include these as a stylistic detail or for another reason, i actually think it's both. if you've read my other fics, you will know that the near-constant dating of events in castles is actually a feature specific to castles. more specifically, it is a feature of castles bar from certain chapters where it's not. there are a number of reasons for this:

1) chapters one, six and eight do not function like this. other chapters are more or less signposted with dates/times, depending on the events of the particular chapter. this is to emphasise the "blurriness" of those chapters. these are chapters where the trauma is fresh/raw and i find that when you're in these situations, your sense of date/time can get messier.

2) i don't think i've ever mentioned this on here but one of the decisions i made very early on in castles was that there would never be any page breaks. if you were in the fanfiction trenches of the 2010s, you will know that we were all writing with an excessive amount of page breaks. sometimes you'd have one line - page break - two paragraphs - page break. this was (i think) a feature very distinctive of fanfiction, especially of that era. we used page breaks to split up scenes, emphasise certain details/lines, etc. to give you an illustration of that, the fault in faulty manufacturing is written in that style. here's an example:

now, don't get me wrong: i love that style. i love what it can do. i love how you can break things up and highlight memorable lines - it's so much fun. but, one of the things it also does is that you don't have to do transitions, most of the time. and, as i'd been almost exclusively writing in that style for ten years, one thing i really wanted for castles was to learn to work on transitions and not just rely on page breaks for convenience, especially in long works. so, prior to starting castles, i read a lot of fics and tried to see where people were using transitions that i really liked, and one of them ended up being dirgewithoutmusic. if you've read their work, there's this way they do transitions that just looks effortless. it's always: a date, a location, something simple and quick that gets the point across without fluff or too much flowery language. i remember reading one of their fics (i can't recall if it was the Hannah one or the Andromeda one) where they're just like: "In Sixth year, ..." and move on. and i remember being flabbergasted like: "omg, i don't need to be convoluted? i can just say things and it works?" and so, that sort of became the "dates" in castles. signalling the passage of time, and transitions. obviously, i still really love the above style. that's why my more "relaxed" one-shots are almost all written that way. to me, it's still a lot less effort than writing the way castles is written. but it's always good to learn something new.

and lastly, 3), as you probably know, castles isn't written linearly. it depends which chapter but the story oftentimes loops around with integrated flashbacks, etc. having dates of when things actually happens is helpful to me and the reader to situate things in a story like that. if i don't signpost things, it gets pretty confusing.

so, anyway, sorry for the long answer - i hope that helps lol.

#castles #asked and answered

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muraenide · 1 year

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" Wooow, that's not even that bad " she said while stepping out of a dark corner of the room and casually making her way in, despite the fact that is way passed closing hour for the lounge. Well, she had to deliver something to Azul and only now found the time so she has an excuse, tho it doesn't really matter " Altho it doesn't seem that's doing it for ya " she points out while hopping onto a chair by the bar. She will not pretend like she knows whatever might plague his head at this moment, but she does know that expression, the unique expression of someone that wants to drown away all their sorrows for the night, it's something that perhaps all the people that are shackled by this bad habit would recognize right away. one can easily spot another of it's own kind, that sort of thing.

" Since it seems you're cleaning everything dry tonight, how about i help you get rid of a bottle or two, and hey, if that much doesn't do it for ya, how about you get a little creative " she knows that she shouldn't encourage this habit that can spiral into such a nasty addiction that one can hardly ever rid himself of…she would know how it is to battle it after all, yet she also knows the feeling of wishing for the whole world to just go black and to lose yourself for the night " You have magic here, maybe mixing some stuff with the right magic might help you get what you want " it's just an assumption since she doesn't know anything about magic but surely there should be something like that, that can help with inducing a higher state of intoxication. //when you can't get yourself to pass out it's better to at least have a drinking buddy to kill time you know.

Dana / @trestole

Rather than see her, he feels and hears her presence. It weighs solidly in the stilled air of Mostro Lounge, causing a shift in the currents of the waters surrounding the restaurant. Jade had not been in the right mood to entertain any uninvited guest, but it would seem that it was not his choice to make at this moment. His yellow eye is luminous as he watches the Prefect waltz her way into the lounge as if she owns it, but he says nothing about how and why she got here.

Not every mystery required an answer. At times, a riddle that goes unsolved might be subject to ten times more the appeal. However, in his heart, Jade knows he's keyed every door and entrance in the lounge, and as usual, he is waiting for midnight. He's sitting on the central couch with one leg crossed over the other and an arm curled over the headrest. A glass half-filled with red liquid sits in his palm; half a dozen bottles are lined on the coffee table next to him, all of varying manufactured years.

As Azul's manager and employee, unlimited access to their inventory had been one of the benefits. Jade has no shortage of liquor when he needs it, but he knew the look of greed when he sees one. A gentle laughter peels from his lips as he takes in the sight of Dana making a fool of herself. He doesn't suppose it's him she's trying to fool, is she? The look of want, acts of pleasantries, awkward use of words - something he's grown up witnessing all his life as the same breed of people flocked around his parents, prepping for before the storm. Yet he doesn't stop her when she takes a glass for herself, takes the half-empty bottle off the ground, and takes a seat next to him. Instead, he rolls his shoulders and turns his head, gaze turns down to look at her with rapt interest, a sharp smile full of intent playing on his lips.

"You truly think I'd solve everything with magic?" Mirthless laughter pours out of him, echoes bouncing off the walls. "As expected from someone who goes to sleep with fairytales." He says as he swirls the liquid in his glass a little bit. If magic could truly heal the fractures of reality that have been ripped apart, then magicians would have no need for school or anything for that matter. There are consequences to certain magic compared to others. As a merman from the depths of the Coral Sea, Jade knew this better than anybody.

He leaves her to ramble about nonsensical nonsense to herself, letting everything she says blur into the sound of water sloshing against the glassy panels of the lounge, while he broods to himself about his problems, deeply entangled within himself, known only to himself. It's not until he feels soft strands of hair brush against his cheeks, Jade lets out a soft, defensive growl at the intrusion. His irises sink downwards at the sound of a glass bottle hitting the floor with a dull, muffled thump. The Prefect has fallen asleep. On his shoulder. Jade opens his mouth, then closes it. He places his glass on the coffee table before trying to reach down to pick up the bottle off the ground, but it was unachievable without getting up.

He lets out a long sigh as he lays right back. Slowly, he folds his arms across his chest. It would be too easy to simply shove the Prefect off of him and proceed to clean up her mess and his own, but he stays still. It wouldn't be the first time he stays overnight at Mostro Lounge, but it'd be the first time he isn't alone.

#trestole #𖦹 ⋆꙳ ⁄ ic.#𖦹 ⋆꙳ ⟡ ⁄ ᶜᴴ⁰⁰³ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇʀᴄʜᴀɴᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜꜱ *:･ MAIN VERSE.

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tryingthisfangirlthing · 1 year

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Imma be cheeky: When The Blurred Line Breaks and Fobwatch And a Sapphire Stuffed Choker. (I need to know how they end. XD)

*chuckling* I suppose that's fair. I'll give you some hints. ;3 They are both still on my "these will haunt me until I finish the damn things, and I do not consider them abandoned" list. But they are also on my "being very obstinate about the next part, in particular" list, too.

When the Blurred Line Breaks

As you've noted, Helen seems inclined to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. She's certainly been vulnerable in a way she's not used to, not with Nikola, and I don't think either of them know how to navigate that very well. Emotional, snappish conversations, hard to write.

Of course, this piece was always intended to slot into canon, to take them more or less to where we find them in S1 of the actual show. Nikola's borderline antagonism, Helen's wary, exasperated tolerance that turns to something like horror when faced with what he's been up to. So they're not going to end in a good place, I'm afraid, and I think knowing that is also part of what's blocking me from writing the rest, because there's very little that's fun about the rest.

Irritable early morning, a slow, torturous, snowy drive up to the safehouse, and a fraught parting: Nikola asking Helen if she won't consider staying, because he wants her to, and imagine what they could do, just the two of them together with peace and time and a lab, and they just shared something and he can't not ask knowing he likely won't see her for goodness-knows-how-long... Helen feeling a little betrayed that he would ask that in the first place, putting his own selfish desires first, despite knowing what her work means to her... it's perhaps bittersweet, but mostly bitter, in the end. They'll need those years in the interim to reflect a little and mellow out. Helen realizing she was perhaps a little unfair to him, emotionally; Nikola making the extremely misguided decision to impress her with The Monsters and propose a project she certainly can't refuse.(Spoiler alert: she definitely will. xD)

A Fobwatch and a Sapphire-Studded Choker

So, the next chapter is, broadly speaking, a whole fuckton of worldbuilding. In particular, living conditions and the nuances of the vampire society public transportation system, and also Rose and J'aen settling into their new place. The further alienation of J'aen having to give/set "permissions" for Rose for everything. The lovely awkwardness of settling into bed and cuddling with/being cuddled by someone who is... well. Everything J'aen is to Rose. >:3

Obviously the beginning is... intense. Time is pretty dilated, and I'm not quite sure how to transition it from that almost minute-by-minute framing, with small chapter "jumps" in between, to a more measured thing that will likely be necessary for the longer time frame (of at least a few weeks) that I'd envisioned this story taking place over the course of.

J'aen actually works for the big tech company that creates and manufactures those lovely oppressive scanners. So that's gonna be a fun conflict. Rose, meanwhile, more or less left to her own devices as a stay-at-home "bondmate," makes contact with the InRiCol underground - in part because that's what she believes in, in part because that's the only way she sees any possibility of getting the fobwatch back.

Rose has a fuckton to balance, between her obvious personal mission with the fobwatch, her dealings with the InRiCol while trying to stay under the radar, not arousing J'aen's suspicions, and also negotiating the boundaries of her status as "bondmate" and what seems to be expected of her. (And, hrm, maybe she's not actually all that averse to it... But she and the Doctor don't have that kind of relationship. But she also really needs to keep up this charade to be able to get the Doctor back. And she cares about J'aen, too, this gorgeous woman who obviously adores her, and the continued distance from her bondmate for no reason Rose can honestly give her is obviously weighing on her, too...)

I don't really want to spoil the ending, because I do intend to finish it myself! (...someday.) I can assure you that an eventual happy ending is planned. Hopefully this is enough fodder to let your imagination run wild in the meantime. ;3

#a fobwatch and a sapphire-studded choker #when the blurred line breaks #tinknevertalks #thank you for asking lovely!#it's good to like get to properly thinking and expressing myself about these again #i need to try making a scene-by-scene outline for the fobwatch fic #when the blurred line breaks will have to wait until i can actually handle and enjoy that level of prolonged angst... which may be a while #rinari writes fic #rinari responds #ask rinari

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anterocash · 2 years

Text

Boss Call.

It’s easier to make a phone call than to get on a plane and sit for fifteen hours, going through the customs hassle, just to have a conversation with the manager of Bean Through.

(Cash doesn’t know what’s left in Korea for him, so why bother going back?)

Zoom or FaceTime would be cute if his hair weren’t in that awkward stage and his beard just as difficult Cash doesn’t feel like being distracted by his face for an hour.

He’s sitting at his desk, AirPods in and ready. At the same time, Cash types away on his laptop; he might as kill two birds with one stone – Cash hadn’t realized he had started two utterly different Sci-Fi series a year ago, one document for the Clifford Park books – a series set in a world where humans and androids co-exist as two races and another document open for his Sci-Fi book for the girls – a slow burn romance about teenage supernaturals: a witch coming into her powers and her male counterpart; the broody werewolf consumed with self-hate it’s filled with twists and turns – also dragons. The prequel for A Manufactured Heart has already finished. It is poised to be released in March to coincide with the premiere of the Hulu drama.

Riding off the high success of the first book: The End of Fog, Cash quickly got to work on the sequel, much to Larry’s urging. Cash has the bulk of the following two books already written, and if he gets high enough? Could write another one before it’s even due. He always has his reservations until the direct deposit hits. Then the shame of enjoying the money settles until the sheer happiness that takes over Ashley’s face when he’s bought her a gift zaps the cold from his bones, and a fist takes his chest. Lily Lee is the absolute bane of Cash’s existence, but it’s worth it when needed.

Cash finds it somewhat ironic that his readers can accept a detective chasing after a robotic serial killer but not the precious seventeen-year-old heroine simply trying to do her best at the end of the day. Cash knows how he cultivated his audience, and while his past attempts to derail his future, he won’t let that stop him from getting paid. Never.

It feels like years have gone by when the line finally clicks over, and Cash shakes his head with a huff, totally fucking with the other man, “about damn time, did I interrupt something?”

“Won,” the coffeehouse manager greets sagely; the sound of Cash’s quick fingertips tapping away at his laptop should bring a familiar comfort to the rat owner. It’s not when they have pressing matters to discuss.

“Yes, boss?” Cash still has a jovial hint to his voice when he responds.

“Why didn’t you tell me the two weirdos that sit in the back of the shop were drug dealers?”

Cash immediately laughs, even if it’s not what he wants to do. “You think Minho is weird? Me too, Jay is just an asshole –”

“Answer the question.”

“Because it wasn’t my idea,” Cash explains with a sigh; he isn’t even typing anymore. Leaning back into his chair, he sighs again and takes his glasses off to rub his eyes wearily; not even there, and those two knuckleheads are twisting the thorn in Cash’s side. It’s not guilt he feels – it’s technically still his business – he’s still signing checks for it. Cash feels worried and presses his fingers deeper into his eyes. “What happened?”

“They have my employees doing deliveries when they go on their routes.”

“Oh, that’s so smart –” Cash mutters, impressed. That explains the sudden jump in delivery sales, almost at the same volume as their foot traffic inside the shop. Cash doesn’t know why he didn’t think of that himself while still in Korea. “Let me guess, lots of to-go orders?”

“He’s paying them good money, I can’t lie. If you weren’t so giving… Maybe I would be doing those drops as well. Why didn’t you tell me they were doing that in the shop, Won? I’m the last person you should keep in the dark about something like this.”

Yikes.

Cash hates when he’s rightfully called out. It adds insult to injury in his mind – he holds his tongue for a beat. Do not be an asshole to one of the few people you can trust.

“I have no idea, I just… After all the bullshit with Hwan and how they didn’t tell me until I caught them, I didn’t want to think about it… dude, if you want a cut, ask them.” Cash sits up and starts typing again, “Bean Through is yours,” Cash says quietly as the words leave his fingertips, “tell them to either give you what you’re due or get out, and if you don’t want to confront them –” the guy has a mean right hook.

“I don’t need to speak for me, Cash.”

He can’t see Cash, but the writer still puts his hands up, “hey – I’m not trying to – c’mon dude, you know me.”

“Yeah, I do. That’s why I’m not angry with you; a little peeved you didn’t tell me after the OD, but Hwan is okay. All that matters.”

It’s still a touchy subject; Ryuhwan is well on his way towards a healthy recovery from his accident (Cash likes to call them accidents because usually, it’s not on purpose except when it is.)

Cash nods thoughtfully before putting his fingers on his laptop once more. “He uh –” Cash clears his throat, “he texted me the other day,” things have been awkward between Cash and Ryuhwan since he’s been back home. Maybe, they spent too much time together right after the incident. The younger man hadn’t taken to Cash telling him he was moving fifteen hours and a different time zone away.

The offer lingered in the back of his throat; he never said it, and Ryuhwan was too hopeful.

“Other than that, what did you want?”

Cash snorts at the man’s words, shaking his head in amusement. “Jeez – since when was it a crime to call a friend on the telephone?”

“Won, you hate talking on the phone.”

“Yeah… but…” Cash sighs for what feels like the millionth time since they started this conversation, adjusting his glasses to get the pressure of the arms digging into the back of his ears, “I miss knowing what’s happening in real-time, don’t get me wrong, I love it here, miss you like crazy, but I’m happy where I am at the same time,” he tries to explain when he’s cut off.

“What has Seulgi told you?”

Cash relays all the juicy information he’s managed to get from his former slash current Korea base assistant – she’s still on the payroll and attends to different affairs in Korea that regard Cash. She also clears out the foul air in the home above the shop and dusts it when needed.

Seulgi is great, Cash thinks.

“Well… that was only the tip of the iceberg.”

Cash loves to gossip. He gets comfortable in his chair.

#drabble

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alyssalikestoreadbooks · 2 months

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Tweet Cute - Emma Lord

"Meet Pepper, swim team captain, chronic overachiever, and all-around perfectionist. Her family may be falling apart, but their massive fast-food chain is booming ― mainly thanks to Pepper, who is barely managing to juggle real life while secretly running Big League Burger’s massive Twitter account.

Enter Jack, class clown and constant thorn in Pepper’s side. When he isn’t trying to duck out of his obscenely popular twin’s shadow, he’s busy working in his family’s deli. His relationship with the business that holds his future might be love/hate, but when Big League Burger steals his grandma’s iconic grilled cheese recipe, he’ll do whatever it takes to take them down, one tweet at a time.

All’s fair in love and cheese ― that is, until Pepper and Jack’s spat turns into a viral Twitter war. Little do they know, while they’re publicly duking it out with snarky memes and retweet battles, they’re also falling for each other in real life ― on an anonymous chat app Jack built.

As their relationship deepens and their online shenanigans escalate ― people on the internet are shipping them?? ― their battle gets more and more personal, until even these two rivals can’t ignore they were destined for the most unexpected, awkward, all-the-feels romance that neither of them expected.

A fresh, irresistible rom-com from debut author Emma Lord about the chances we take, the paths life can lead us on, and how love can be found in the opposite place you expected."

Listen Date - July 2024

Length - 368 pages

Genre - Romance, Contemporary, Chick Lit

Rating - 8/10

Stars - ★★★★☆

Notes - The concept that the family has a popular Burger Resturant and runs a twitter account based off of it is actually really cool! I also like the idea of the anonymous texting app that reveals your identity the more you get to know the other person. That’s a cool way to get rivals invested in each other. Jack not liking the rich kids is a dynamic i’m interested in because of the power imbalance at play. Jack runs Weasel and it getting banned is the big start of the book. The burger resturant stealing the grilled cheese idea is a good plot point to add onto weasel getting shut down, as well. It creates a lot of drama, which I love. Pepper having to deal with the shit storm of the social media fallout is tense and you can tell she doesn’t want to be involved, like, at all. I think its so funny that Barbz are mentioned in the book, and its so accurate to stan twitter. I like all the beef thats started with the company, and it’s sad that Pepper is the one who has to handle it. Pepper finding out who Bunny was was a really cool scene, and the backstory of how they originally met was cute. Their rivalry is so realistic and i like how it’s played out to where Pepper thinks she’s a bad person, when in reality she’s just human. Jack finding out that Pepper runs the BLB account was SUCH good drama coming to a climax. Jack not getting that Pepper IS BEING forced to tweet is such an annoying thing, because he just... doesnt get it!! but i do!! The relationship breaking between Pepper’s sister and her mom is the reason why she feels forced. Jack and Pepper quickly coming to a solution was SO NICE!! i LOVE how it’s not drawn out, and they easily decide to keep the feud going for business matters. It’s very smart, and it’s good manufactured fun. Jack stealing Peppers phone and locking her out of the account was such a bad action for such a good line of drama, but i feel this is a bit too far, even for me. I love the dynamic between Pooja and Pepper, and i think they compliment each other well. I think the solution was fixed a little too soon, and the characters come off just a little younger than they’re written as. Ethan and Jack having a sibling rivalry was something I wasn’t expecting, and i think it’s a really interesting thing to touch on when it comes to twins. Jack believes Ethan is better than him, and resents him for it. The So Sorry Blondies being on the baking page that Pepper send through weasel is SO INSANE!!! LIKE I CANT BELIEVE IT MADE A COMEBACK. i SO wasn’t expecting chekovs blondies. The reveal that Pepper’s rivalry with Pooja was one sided was cute and i think it’s a sweet way to bond their relationship. I think Pepper and Jack are so cute with their friendship and offer so much to the book that i dont get from other stories. theres something so authentic about those two. The fans running into Pepper and Jack and thinking theyre dating was so adorable and i generally just love this section of the book. The kiss between each other while talking about ship names is so fucking cute like im kicking and swinging my feet SO HARD!!!! I AM A PEPPERJACK SHIPPER. Pepper’s mom almost catching them kissing (but catching them together) was another shock i wasn’t expecting. Social media turning on Pepper and the photo of her throwing up getting posted is so mean. I can’t believe this is something ethan would do. Pepper find out that Jack is Wolf and blaming him for the photo is also realistic. She thinks he’s disappointed but he isn’t, and she doesn’t realize that. Pepper blurting out that he made it was so stupid. Jack talking honestly with his dad about what he wants to do with his life was sweet and i actually really liked that scene a lot. Veronica admitting she stole the recipe was very releasing for me. like yes girl!! finally! It was a sweet conversation between parent and child, and i love how it concludes with them going to Philly to talk to her sister. The ending being them all reading an article about an update on their love life was such a sweet idea for a “one year later” style chapter, and i generally just thought this was a really really cute book. I loved all the talks of social media, and i loved all the character dynamics.

#Books #Book #Reading #Reader #Books And Reading #Bookworm #Bookblr #Book Reviews #Review #Book Blog #Book Lover #Bookish #Book Community #Bookstagram #Booktok #Emma Lord #Tweet Cute

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