did you know he had a book full of all the great insults he used on people

bad | 04

 He was the cliché bad boy. He was the guy you couldn’t stand. He was the handsome, hot kid who made girls go weak in the knees. He was a brat. You had never liked him one bit, but you had also never gotten involved with anything concerning him. Until one day, when you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Originally posted by mvssmedia

MEMBER: jeon jungkook x reader (ft. kim taehyung)

GENRE: romance, future smut, badboy!jungkook

WORDS: 3 155

WARNINGS: cussing, mature

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07coming soon ↠ 

A/N: this part’s kinda weird. it’s more of a build-up chapter. there might end up being about 8 parts lol. thank yOU FOR 900, OMG

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she’s not afraid

au: in which y/n finds interest in the geek seated in the corner.

Have you not heard of the myth?

Really? Never?

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Reggie x Reader: Fingers and thumbs, baby. (Part III)

A/N: Hi, I need your help. Is this story too long? Cause if it is i’ll try to speed up the way the story goes so that it won’t bore you to death or I could leave it as it is (I already finished it it just needs editing) and let the sotry run it’s course? You’re response will be appreciated, my lovelies. Enjoy x

Plot: When Reggie and (Y/N) have been bestfriends their whole lives but the universe had other plans.

Originally posted by ivanxna

You couldn’t sleep. The moment Reggie fell asleep you had just been staring at his perfect profile. Staring at what could’ve been, staring at what could never be anymore. You decided you couldn’t stay there, you couldn’t stay with Reggie for 48 hours without wanting to kill him or yourself.

With a lot of effort you texted Cheryl to pick you up.

You continued stroking his hair and thinking of all the things you wanted to say.

Hey Reg, I’m kinda in love with you and i’d really love it if you would give us a chance because I can promise you I have loved and I can love you better than any girl can.

Hey Reg, I love you and I wish I asked you out on prom instead of going with Betty and Jughead on that investigation. I just really wanted to help Cheryl.

Hey Reg, please pick me. For once in your life please see me. And pick me.

“Hey Reg,” You whispered as a tear fell at the back of your palm, nearly on his face. “I’m in love with you.”

You heard a small thunk at the window and you saw Cheryl below in her pajamas a red faux fur coat. You smirked despite you circumstances, Cheryl just can’t do low key to save her life. You looked at Cheryl and then back at Reggie. You leaned down and gave him the smallest hint of a kiss on the cheeks before gently removing his arms around you. You replaced yourself with a pillow and walked out of his house.

Hey Reg, i’m sorry.

Cheryl remained silent knowing full well what happened without you having to say a word. She was silent as she drove, she was silent as she watched you stare at nothing with your hair blowing in the wind with your silent tears, she was silent as she walked you to her room with your heart breaking at every step you took.

She took a fluffy white blanket and prepared you tea herself. As she entered her room she saw you sitting in front of her mirror. She placed the tea on the ground in front of you and wrapping you up with the blanket. She knew you needed space and that you would talk to her when you’re ready so she just sat beside you. And then, the first sob came.

“C-Cherry …”

“Oh darling,” she hugged you as you cried in her arms.

“It hurts so much …”

“I know, love. Just let it out.” She started rubbing her hands in your arms as you cried and cried until all that was left was your trembling figure and a cold tea.

“I almost told him y’know.”

That surprised Cheryl. She glanced at you at the mirror but you were just staring at your necklace that was given to you by Reggie for your eighteenth birthday. He worked so hard at Mr.Andrews the whole summer just to earn that necklace and even declined Cheryl’s offer to give him at least half the amount or his parent’s offer to just pay for it saying he needed this to come from just him.

“But now, it’s too late.”

“Hey,” Cheryl has had enough. She made you look at her. “It’s his loss. Not yours. You can get so much better than him.”

You nodded trying to stay strong but that only lasted for about five seconds before the tears started falling again. How you will face Reggie when school starts you will never know.

Cheryl tucked you in once more, making sure you get the most comfort in this time of tragedy. She checked her clock, 5:21. Oh shit.

It was almost time for Reggie’s morning run and with his crazy body clock he would’ve woken up by now. And when he wakes up and sees you gone with no explanation he will go ballistic.

She nearly dove for her phone and saw that she had 12 messages and 4 missed calls all from Reggie.

Before she could type in a response she received another call from Reggie which she accepted after breathing in and going out to her balcony where you won’t be disturbed.


“She’s with me.” It took everything in her not to reach out into the phone and strangle this fucking moron for thinking he had the right to hurt Cheryl’s (Y/N) like this. Cheryl knew it was not Reggie’s fault, heck, it wasn’t anybody’s fault but he is just so goddamn stupid and Cheryl wanted to slap the stupidity out his body just so he can see what is already in front of him. What he is losing.

Cheryl can almost see his confusion. “And why is that?”

Cheryl gritted her teeth wanting nothing more than to chew his goddamn ear off but knew it wasn’t her place. “I had a nightmare about Jason and freaked out. I called her.” She went for the one thing Reggie can’t say shit about. Was she a manipulative bitch? Yes. At least she wasn’t fucking stupid.

He sighed, probably calming down from his mini freak out.

You fucking deserve that you fucking asshole, Cheryl thought. She can’t let her mouth ruin what was left of Reggie’s and (Y/N)’s friendship. The one thing (Y/N) has spent her whole life protecting.

“Can I talk to her?”

I think the fuck not.

“She’s asleep. And she’ll be staying with me for the rest of the weekend in case I have any other dramatic episodes. Sorry, Reg.”

You’d probably be too busy fucking that tacky new girl anyway,you fucking –

Another sigh. “Okay, whatever. Tell her I’ll see her on Monday and I’llpick her –“

“I have a limo and a driver. We’ll see you there, fucktard.” Cheryl couldn’t help herself, she needed to insult him a bit or else she’s gonna explode. She ended the call before she can die of too much anger.

Nobody is going to make her best friend cry and not pay for it. Not even the great Reggie Mantle. She will teach Reggie Mantle a lesson for his life.

You have successfully ignored all of Reggie’s efforts of trying to talk to you, with the help of Cheryl, of course.

Texting and calling? Phone’s turned off.

Going to Cheryl’s house? A big ass gate and a few bodyguards.

Calling Cheryl? Not an option.

But you couldn’t hide in her house forever so you decided to get your ducks in a row and face the inevitable. Cheryl wanted to walk you to your first class but she was dragged to her responsibilities with the Vixens which she has ignored the whole weekend for you so you let her go with a promise you’d eat together at lunch.

As you walked towards your first class your books that were held tightly in your arms were suddenly taken from you. You thought it was another of those stupid pranks but you were greeted by the stare of the one person you planned to avoid today.

“Hey, pup.” He grinned. “Missed you this weekend.”

“Yeah, sorry.” You said too quickly as you started to walk faster which was proved pointless since your leg span was significantly different and did not lean into your advantage which caused Reggie to just block your way out.

“Not even a call? A text? Now I’m just jealous of Cheryl.”

“Sorry, Reg.” You sighed. “She was just really having a bad time.”

You felt bad for lying and you knew that Reggie knew that you were lying but Jason’s death is something he will never press knowing how much it affected Cheryl.

“Okay,” he said looking at you warily. “I thought you got mad at me or something. It felt like you were avoiding me.” He pouted and you couldn’t help but try to punch him in the chest. He, unfortunately, just took your fist and placed your palm on his neck, your thumb just touching his jawline.

For the love of God stop making me fall in love with you.

“Pops, this afternoon?” You were about to decline when he gave you that look That look you just couldn’t say no to. “If you ditch me again I’ll be mad at you.”

You chuckled. Too cute, Reg. Stop, please.

“What are you, five?” You asked raising an eyebrow at him.

He pouted even more if that’s possible. “I’ll not talk to you for like, for like five minutes.”

You both laughed. “Okay. I’ll meet you there after your practice, okay?”

“What? Why don’t you just wait for me at the gym? We can go together, it’ll be safer.”

And see you eye-fucking with your new Vixen girlfriend? I don’t think so. “Nah, I needed to help, Cheryl with some homework, anyway.”

Reggie groaned. “If Voldemort steals you from me any more than she does now I’m gonna go crazy.”

The school bell rang making you jump and Reggie chuckle. “Come on,” he said taking your hand in his.

God did your hands look perfect together.

“Let me walk you to—“ He was cut off by the one voice that can completely ruin your day, right now.

“Reg!” You stiffened, not by her voice. Nor by the fact that she used the nickname only a few special people were allowed to call Reggie. No, you felt your blood stop when Reggie quickly let go of your hand. As if it was a sin. As if you were a mistake. As if the one thing that was like breathing for the two of you became something very wrong.

But you realized, it is. It is a sin. You are a mistake. Because he has a girlfriend now. A girlfriend who is supposed to be the one who gets to hold his hands. A girlfriend he can kiss. A girlfriend he can love.

And it’s not you.

You are the bestfriend, and maybe it was time you act like one.

Reggie barely saw you slip away as he turned his full attention to Veronica. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey,” Veronica accepted his hug with open arms before smiling up at him.

“I missed you.” Reggie grinned at her by which she just rolled her eyes.

“You saw me yesterday, babe.”

“Still.” Reggie gave her nose a peck.

“Well, if you missed me that much then maybe we should just skip school today, huh.” She said, raising her eyebrows up and down which made Reggie laugh.

“Can’t babe.” As tempting as it was Reggie shook his head. “I promised (Y/N) I’m not skipping school this whole school year so I could pass the college we both agreed to go to.”

Veronica couldn’t help her scowl. There it was again. Fucking (Y/N). Reggie had been running his mouth off with stories of her the whole day yesterday. She gets that they’re inseperable but there had to be limits, right?

“Oh, speaking of which,” Reggie suddenly remembered her bestfriend but frowned when, unlike usual, she wasn’t safely tucked behind him.

“What?” Veronica, too, looked behind him.

“Oh nothing, I guess she left.” Reggie looked confused, looking out in the hallway. “Sorry, she’s usually behind me so I thought she was still there.”

Veronica shook her head. She really wasn’t ready to meet her greatest competition too. “Y’know what, if I can’t steal you this morning. Maybe a few hours after school?”

“Ron, I—“

“Mantle,” she pouted. “I’m your girlfriend now and contrary to popular belief I actually want to spend time with you. Please? Just a few hours?”

Reggie weighed his chances. “Two hours, after that I’m taking you home.”

Veronica gave out a small ‘yey’ before wrapping her arms around Reggie’s neck and giving him a kiss. “I’ll see you later!” she screamed, which echoed around the hallway.

Reggie laughed. Everything was perfect, right now. He has a bright future, an amazing girlfriend, and even better friends.

God he loved his life.

He had no fucking clue on the storm coming his way.

He turned around to walk towards his first class when he saw Cheryl with her hands crossed and that eerie blank face in the middle of the hallway.

“What?” he asked knowing whatever unpleasant thoughts she was having right now, it was directed towards him. “Mad I got a girlfriend before you got a new boy toy, Cher?” he joked.

Reggie almost missed the small smirk that formed in her otherwise emotionless face. The clack on her heels was the only noise that can be heard in the hallway and as she stopped in front of Reggie he noticed he was already holding his breath.

“I’m gonna warn you only once, Mantle,” she spoke softly, as if holding herself back. “Keep what is dearest to your heart,” she pointed a long red nail in her chest, where his heart was supposed to be, unnecessarily hard. “Close to you.” She looked up at him through her lashes before she crossed her arms again.

“Because if there is one thing you should learn from me it’s that you never knew how, when, and to who you might lose them to.”

And just like that she was gone. Just like Reggie’s certainty.

Try not to...

Summary: Dean x Reader - Dean challenges the reader to a try not to laugh challenge using pickup lines, but for her the challenge turns into a bit more of a try not to fall deeper in love with the lovable dork.

Word count: 3637

Triggers: None unless you count cheesy pickup lines

Y/N = Your name

A/N: Written for @impalaimagining‘s Cheesy Pickup Line Challenge. I had two lines for this one: no. 24:  On a scale of 1 to 10: you’re a 9 and I’m the 1 you need and no. 35:  If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together. Both are marked in bold where they appear. (Special thanks to @maydayfigmentwho helped me out when I got stuck XD)

You and dean would do little challenges like others did movie nights. Quiet night in? Fuck it, I bet you I could kick your ass in the gun range. Rainy day? I bet I have the better insults. Research days? I bet I could find the info before you, and so on. Some people played games or just relaxed together. You didn’t even know what relax meant, and whilst it drove Sammy crazy, Dean was always on board. The crazier the challenge, the funnier the memory.

That night you were in serious need of something to do. The big baddies of the world had been keeping a low profile and on top of that the weather was absolutely shit. If you didn’t stretch either your legs or your mind you were sure you’d actually go mad and start crawling on the walls any minute. Luckily, Dean seemed to have the same idea as he entered the library, armed with three beers and a shit-eating grin.

“Up for a challenge (Y/N)?” The hunter said, forgoing a greeting completely as he handed Sam and you a beer each before dropping down onto the couch next to you. “I’ve got a good one for ya,” He added, the mischievous glint in his eyes promising good times to be had by all. Or maybe not all, if Sam’s groan was anything to go by.

“Sounds like a bad idea… I’m in,” You said with a laugh as you straightened up a bit in your seat. All ears as both the oldest Winchester and you ignored Sam’s muttered complaints. Taking a sip of your beer you waited as the boyish grin grew on Dean’s face and his green eyes lit up. Somehow he was always pleasantly surprised when you took him up on a challenge, which was kinda silly, since you never really said no to one.

“Alright then, I saw this one online. It was called something like try not to laugh,” Dean started, his own grin wide where your own smile fell a little as you sank back into the couch with a roll of your eyes and a bored groan.

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anonymous asked:

"no. no, no, no — you really don’t want me as a soulmate." with jason todd please? for the angsty soulmate thing?

okay, so I wanted to do something a little different with this, because I don’t want to just use the same au for every prompt, you know? so for this one shot I’m going with an au where everyone feels an invisible magnetic pull towards their soulmate, and it gets stronger the closer you get to them. (not gonna lie, I’m reading the night circus by erin morgenstern right now, and this au is heavily based off of that book but with a soumate-y twist lmao) I hope that explanation makes sense.

jason’s backstory is also cool for this because it lets me think about what would happen to the soulmate bond if one person died, so here’s your official content warning for angst, character death, and some minor medical body horror.

prompt is from this list!

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Piece of Cake

Warning: …cussin and waste of food, also unedited(raw draft)
a/n: oneshot drabble, jam fluff. Getting those writing juices flowin’
Summary: high school au/ hamilton
w/c: 3733

“Why the hell are we here?” Alexander groaned, he ran a hand down his tired face. He started to think back at the series of events that led him here. Where was here? Sitting at a long table for two in a Home Economics class. There were various cooking tools, bowls, a sink and small two burner stove top oven…and there was his partner. The bile began to rise up his throat and threatened to force a gag out of him. He glanced over at the purple bomber jacket wearing, big haired, facial hair on fleek idiot beside him. His partner sported a face of immense disinterest, his eyes on his phone as he scrolled with his thumb.

“Because you’re a fucking idiot who got us kicked out of Creative Writing.” Thomas responded with a hiss, he didn’t look up while he spoke to Alexander, he didn’t want to look at the face of the guy who placed him in this bullshit elective.

Honestly that was not how he remembered it going down at all. What he remembered was signing up for the Creative Writing class with his friends Aaron and Gilbert. His best friend John Laurens wasn’t a fan of writing and took on Aquatics as his elective. Alexander was more of an academic, though he tried his hand in sports. He was fairly good at wrestling but found it hard to maintain the proper weight/height ratio to stay in his class. He decided to follow Aaron in a more relaxed subject, one he knew he was well versed at as well. As for Gilbert…well he was in it because Mr. Washington was teaching the class.

Alexander only expected the best of the best to be there, Angelica Schuyler’s little sister Eliza was taking the class, as she did the year before. It was highly recommended after that. Alexander expected James Madison the kid who skipped two full grades to be there, he seemed to enjoy writing as well. What he didn’t expect was Thomas Jefferson to be there. Apparently he was some kid that moved away then moved back or some weird drama. He was popular when he left and even more so when rumors flooded in that he and Angelica were dating. 

Not. True.

He wasn’t a fan of someone who just waltzed into school like that. Alexander wasn’t popular…he tried and he was popular among his close friends. Most people found him annoying, the kid who got in trouble and still managed to get the grades. Kid who never shut up and pissed off nearly everyone. It took a certain kind of person to put up with him. “Maybe if you didn’t start talking shit I wouldn’t have thrown my book at you.” Alex growled back, remembering clearly that in the middle of his discussion, Thomas had clearly leaned over to Madison. He looked right at Alex and laughed right at him.

Thomas rolled his eyes, still not giving Alex the benefit of meeting his eye contact. “Please, you don’t even know I was talking about you and even if I was, someone who talks as much shit as you should be able to take it.” The dislike was mutual. Thomas was not a fan of popularity in the sense of having people flock him. He liked being admired from afar. Little knew but he was quite awkward around too many people, often leaning on the moral support of his friends like Madison. Alexander threw him off balance. He was boisterous and impossible to ignore, more importantly he brought out an ugly side to Thomas that no one had seen before.

“I can take the shit talking!” Alex yelled, earning a hush from their new elective teacher. Of course, it was bold face lie. Alexander could deal out some of the rudest, wittiest insults but the moment it was directed back at him he flew off the handle. In his mind, he had to have the last word, the last say, the last insult no matter what. He was in the middle of a great discussion when Thomas interrupted him. Sure throwing his book across the room and taking out Madison instead of Thomas was a bad idea. It would have been well worth it if he had hit Thomas instead. “No one told you to return fire…”

“You fucking socked James in the face with your book and gave him a nosebleed.”

“I said I was sorry.” Alex crossed his arms.

“After you complained about how your shot would have been perfect if it wasn’t for his, and I quote, ‘bulbous air brained head’” Alexander smirked to himself, it was a good time to use his word of the day. “Now thanks to you, James is stuck in the nurse’s office and the only other elective I get is Home Ec, stuck with you.”

The fight didn’t go over well with George. Who, as much as he loved Alexander as a student and a person, wanted him to learn a little restraint even when it came to those he had trouble tolerating. Alex felt personally attacked. He was Washington’s favorite, he was the cool new kid that everyone befriended. Then the ‘legend’ Thomas Jefferson, rich, snobby, basketball player comes back and everyone is up in arms. Angelica and Lafayette were apparently his friends first, George missed him since he coached the team. Even Aaron Burr spoke highly of Thomas. It was sickening. “Whatever lets just get this over with.”

The bell rang and Mrs.Adams began instruction they were to make a dish  that reminded them of home. The deep sentimentality made Alexander’s stomach churn. He had been through various foster homes, hopscotched around so many times the past was just a blur. That was another internal lie, he purposely tried to keep his past in the past. He looked over at Thomas. He was from the South or something, he remembered hearing that stupid twang in his voice. He probably wanted to make fried chicken or something. They were suppose to work together, other groups already started brainstorming while Thomas started taking out pots from the cabinet.

“What are you doing?” Alex watched as Thomas silently began to maneuver around him.

“I’m going to make my comfort food.” He answered, “Be a doll, and get me some cheese from the fridge.”

“This suppose to be a team thing, we didn’t discuss what we’re making.” Alex ignored his instructions. Thomas rolled his eyes and went to get the items himself. Fine,if that was how he was going to play it. Alexander went to the back and grabbed a large, clear, cylindrical container of ground up coffee.

He returned just as Thomas was filling up a pot with sink water. “What are You doing?”

“I’m going to make my comfort food.” Alexander echoed in a mocking voice, it was hard to mock Thomas’s voice. It was low and rumbly but not at all gritty. It was…smooth and low, like dark chocola–

“We can’t make two different foods, we can only turn in one.” Thomas glared as Alexander popped the container open and started measuring out a few cups of ground coffee. “Coffee isn’t even a fucking food, you dunderhead.” 

“Doll, now Dunderhead, what are you fifty?” Thomas was old fashion, his tastes were dated and so was were his insults apparently. “Hm, then I guess whoever finishes first gets to turn in our assignment.” Alex mused watching Thomas’s dark eyes narrow at him. They shared a silent moment, which was rare, nothing but glares and shallow breathing before they broke away and furiously went to cooking. Racing to be the other.

Thomas turned and dumped all of the pasta in the water before it was boiling. Alex went and started practically throwing cups of flour into the bowl with his coffee. A puff of flour rose from his bowl and dusted itself onto Thomas’s jacket sleeve. “Fucking watch it slob.” He tore off his jacket and revealed intensely toned biceps and a tight tshirt that hugged his wide chest. Alexander clenched his jaw unable to repress the small wave of shock. Thomas felt eyes on him and looked down. Alexander was glaring a hole into Thomas ‘s arm. “Take a picture, it lasts longer” He purred.

The shorter student felt a rage. The same violent rage he felt when he heard Thomas laugh at him. That stupid, soft, bell like laugh that was warm and light, completely contradicting what Hamilton assumed his laugh would sound like. With no book to throw and no time to waste, Alex eyed the open bag of flour that was between him and Jefferson. In midmix he elbowed the back and watched it flop over all over Thomas’s side of the table. “Whoops.” Alex smiled, the flour trickled off the side of the table down to Thomas’s fancy oxfords.

His southern attitude shined as he sucked his teeth and rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Thomas kicked off some of the excess flour from his feet and looked over at Alex. He waited until he was measuring cups of milk and just as he began to Thomas nudged his arm causing him to spill out of the bowl and onto himself. “Whoops~”

“You, fuckin’” Alex turned and was met by a flour covered hand smearing the white dust all over his face.

“Good look for you, Hamilton, ever considered wearing makeup to cover up those baby hairs on your chinny-chin-chin?” Thomas smirked, insulting the only thing that kept the strangely rosy, baby faced Hamilton from looking overly feminine. Thomas went back to stirring the pasta now that the water was now in a rolling boil. Hamilton angrily wiped his face, getting only some of the flour off his skin. He looked down at the batter he was making and smirked.

“Thomas…” Alexander cooed, sickly sweet. Falsely sweet but it sent a strange sensation down Thomas’s spine. He turned his head cautiously and noticed Alexander was still covered in flour. Ha. He smirked but it started to fade when he tried to read Alex’s expression. It was soft, no smile, cheeks flared. He was slightly disarmed, long enough for Alex to lean forward. Thomas’s nervous and awkward tendencies started to shine as he backed up, slightly gawk like expression in his eyes. Hamilton, confident as always, got so close their chests bumped. And fast as a whip, Thomas’s well maintained facial hair was slapped by Alex. He felt a wet, goop on his face. “I think coffee cake batter is a good shade for you.”

Jefferson frantically shoved Alex aside, his bowl in his hand, as he hogged the sink. Alex lost control of his bowl and his batter went flying all over the floor. Thomas ran out water over his face. He made quick work of the cake mix before it made him break out.

A livid Alexander who’s “hard work” was now splattered on the ground walked over to the sink. He pressed his thumb against the faucet hole and the water pressure exploded as a stream of water aimed at Thomas’s wild, mane like hair. “You missed a spot”

Thomas shook his head, his curls now hung low heavy from being dampened. “So did you!” He grabbed Alexander by the collar and held him up a few inches off the ground.

“BOYS” Mrs. Adams glared at them. “I hope you two have your dish done in the next thirteen minutes…or else you will both not only be failed, it will be a trip to Principal King’s office!”

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The Vamp and The Rockstar

Summary: The reader is a singer and part of a rock band. Raphael will usually come and watch her and the band but one day, he was upset about Simon betraying him and  he said something about her band and it really upset her. Ever since then, she quit telling him about her upcoming events and he was a bit worried about her after she started doing that. He shows up to her event and they make up.

Characters: Reader, Raphael Santiago, Jack, The Band

Fandom: Shadowhunters(TV)

Word Count: 1635

Requested: @suuny96

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Here for you

A/N: Of course! I really liked writing this one and got slightly carried away. I hope this is alright and thank you for requesting this! Also I am sorry that it’s taken me so long to write it, first it got deleted after I wrote 2000 or something words, then my laptop screen broke so I couldn’t write anything anyway, but I’m back now so I am happy to write the rest of the requests in my inbox!

 Word Count: 1573

Warnings: Some swearing but not much

Requested: Yes, by @ajokerpenguin

(Y/NN) Your nickname

(Y/F/N) Your friend’s name


It was a late on a Monday evening and your week hadn’t gotten off to a great start, you had failed your charms test, getting the worst grade in the class, your pot of ink spilled over half of your work in transfiguration when you were trying to turn it into a cup and it felt like everything was going wrong. You sighed as you walked up the stairs to your dorm, just wanting to change into pyjamas then curl up in bed and sleep till the week was over. You approached the door when you heard your friend practically yelling about something. “I swear to god she doesn’t even realise she’s acting that way half the time.” (Y/F/N) said and there was a mumble of agreement from Angie, your other roommate. “It’s not like she can help it, she’s practically had everything handed to her on a silver platter.” Angie reasoned and you could hear the shrug in her voice as you stood by the door and listened. “But she thinks she’s had such a rough up bringing. ‘Oh I was a lonely child,’ my parents were never there for me’.” You caught on to who your friend was talking about and your stomach sank to the floor, they were talking about you. You never knew they felt this way and it was almost heartbreaking to hear it since you two had been close ever since you started Hogwarts. “Then there’s the thing between her and the Marauders, she practically follows them around, they’re kind to her and she’s constantly flirting with them.” (Y/F/N) continued, you peeked through the small crack in the door and saw her grimacing as she laid on her bed. “Then she goes and complains that no guys like her and she’ll die alone when she has three super hot guys surrounding her, she could have any one of them!” Angie spat. “She’s just a slut Angie, it’s not like she can help it.” (Y/F/N) laughed and they both broke out into laughter. 

You chose this time to walk in, they fell dead silent as they watched you grab your pyjamas from your trunk then race to the bathroom, tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. When you came out and sat on your bed (Y/F/N) cleared her throat awkwardly. “H-how much of that did you hear?” She asked guiltily, you pulled up your covers over you and didn’t look at her when you mumbled. “Enough." 

The rest of the week didn’t go very well, you had ignored your roommates completely which only angered them and pushed them to start spreading rumours about you that everyone believed and teased you for, simple ones like you and Sirius Black, one of your close friends, had been caught in a broom closet making out, or you and Remus Lupin were secretly dating. Stupid ones that were improbable yet everyone believed it. You would get the occasional glare or verbal abuse thrown at you as you passed through the corridors from the girls that were crushing on the victim of the rumours or your friends that you were ignoring. You had practically been kicked out of your friend group and you felt like nothing could go right, like you had hit rock bottom. 
You left the library after your free period and was almost to your common room when you were blocked by (Y/F/N), Angie and the rest of your old friend group. ”(Y/N) funny seeing you here.“ (Y/F/N) said in a sickly sweet tone. You sighed and rolled your eyes as you held your books to your chest. ”(Y/F/N) you know I always go to the library during my free periods, what do you want?“ You said irritated, she scoffed and glared at you. "I want to know why you’re ignoring us and not letting us explain what you walked in on.” She said angrily, it was your turn to scoff as you looked at her in shock. “Are you serious? I’m ignoring you because you called me a fricking slut! You said that I was a brat that flirted with all of the Marauders then spread rumours about me. I don’t know, (Y/F/N) why don’t you think about why I’ve been ignoring you.” You spat at her then shoulder barged past her and the rest of your friends. “You’re just getting upset because you can’t handle the truth!” She called after you. You gripped your books so hard your knuckles were turning white and you decided to skip your last lesson, it was charms and you were failing anyway so you didn’t see the problem with it. 

Begrudgingly you dragged yourself to dinner, hiding your face with your hair as you walked down the rows towards the Marauders, occasionally hearing the insult thrown your way either by your old friends or people that knew them. You sat down next to Sirius and pulled a small amount of food onto your plate. “How nice of you to join us (Y/NN).” Sirius said as he smiled over at you, you gave him a weak smile back and poked at your food. “Damn, you should have been in charms (Y/N), it was so funny, Remus managed to charm Sirius’ shoes so they walked without him and he kept walking into everything and it was just great!” James laughed, not picking up on your negative mood. “About that, why weren’t you in charms?” Sirius asked before stuffing his mouth full of fries. You shrugged your shoulders and looked down, just as you did a paper ball hit your head and landed in your lap, you unfolded it and looked down at the familiar scrawl. 'I totally forgot! You told me about your crush on Sirius didn’t you! It would be such a shame if everyone found out.’ You quickly asked Remus for a quill which you knew he always carried and scribbled down a response. 'Just get out of my life! Leave me the fuck alone!!!“ You scrunched up the paper and threw it back, hearing laughter and teasing shortly after, your face contorted in anger as you violently stabbed at your dinner. 
"Whoa, (Y/N), the animal is already dead, no need to kill it again.” James laughed and you glared at him, silencing his chuckles. “Hey, why so grumpy? I know it’s Moony’s time of the month but is it yours as well?” Sirius joked and that was the last straw for you. You slammed your cutlery down on the table and stormed out of the Great Hall, all eyes on you as the doors slammed behind you. 

It had to be a couple of hours later when you realised that you should probably head back to the castle but you didn’t want to go back, you wanted to stay right where you were, on the edge of the black lake staring into the murky waters with tears on your cheeks. You heard a twig snap around you and you whipped your head round to see Sirius standing there with a guilty look on his face. “Hey.” He mumbled as he grew closer to you. You stayed quiet and rested your head on your knees facing away from him. “Come on please don’t ignore me, I’m sorry for being such a jerk.” He said as he sat down next to you. You turned to look at him and his gaze softened, he quickly pulled you into a hug and you rested your head on his shoulder. “No, no don’t cry, I’m sorry.” He whispered, stroking your back. “I-it wasn’t just y-you.” You choked out as the tears began to cascade down your cheeks again. He looked at you questioningly and wiped your tears off of your cheeks. “I’ve fallen out with the girls and found out what they actually think of me.” You mumbled as you twisted your jumper around your hand. “T-they were calling me a b-brat and a s-slut.” He pulled you tighter and kissed the top of your head, making your heart flutter. “You are none of those things, you are generous, and wonderful. You’re a better person than they can even dream of being.” He whispered softly as he stroked your back comfortingly. You smiled and hugged him.

“I don’t want to go back to my dorm.” You mumbled into his shoulder. “Then don’t, but you can’t stay out here, you’ll catch your death.” He said warmly and picked you up, you giggled and squealed as he carried you up to the castle. “You’re coming with me back to my common room and we are going to sit in front of the fire till you’re happy and warm.” He smiled as he walked up the staircases.You looked up at him with a gentle, loving gaze for ages, absorbed in his appearance, the cold grey eyes that seemed so warming, his long, soft, curly hair, the small smile that was always on his face. You leaned up slowly and kissed his cheeks, centimetres from his lips. “Thank you Sirius, for being here for me.” You mumbled softly as you pulled away. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what happens to you, I will be here to cheer you up and comfort you.” He whispered and kissed your forehead.

Hate To Love You

Pairing: John Laurens x Reader

Request: “My request is for a John x Reader (I am Laurens TRASH) where they are in a love-hate friendship and have blowout arguments and then one day they get to a REALLY bad fight that ends with the reader crying and a love confession and a kiss and all the drama and cheese you can handle”

Warnings: Swearing, angst

A/N: This got real, really quick, and I don’t know why I made it this angsty so I’m so sorry y’all, onto the story! (P.S., it’s a longer story so hope y’all brought some snacks!)

“Being the only one is this debate who was actually born here, I think I know more about my country’s history!” 

Alexander’s face contorted, you couldn’t tell if he was ready to scream, rant or hit Thomas. Or quite possibly, all the above. You felt your heart tighten for a moment at your brother’s jab, don’t get it twisted, you didn’t like Alexander by any means necessary, but it also wasn’t fair to insult him on something he couldn’t control.

You stepped in between them, placing a gentle hand on Thomas’ shoulder.

“Hey, lay off a little. Just be the bigger man and walk away.” You gave a warning look over your shoulder at Alexander, who stood a mere few inches from you, glaring. “It’d be best for you to do the same.”

These confrontations between Thomas and Alexander were a common happening, and you usually always jumped in to defend your brother. Well, your legal brother.

You had been taken in by the Jefferson’s when you were around five. Your parents were both heavy drug users and you had been taken away from them, placed into foster care within a week. You could still remember the fear you felt, five years old and wondering if you’d ever get to see your father’s face or feel your mother’s loving arms around you ever again. 

You remebered the day about two weeks into being in foster care when the Jefferson’s came to adopt you, and something you were positive you’d never forget; the first time you saw Thomas.

The strange woman, this woman that you had never met, the woman you trusted. She had come and visited you along with her husband for a few days now, each time bringing a new coloring book that you completed with exuberence. Each visit she and her husband would ask you different questions about yourself while you colored, like what your favorite color was, what food you liked to eat, what your favorite dessert was. You answered each with enthusiasm, it never crossed you as strange that these people would want to know so much about you, you were raised to respect adults and do what they asked.

Then, on their final visit, they had said they brought a surprise. Expecting it to be another coloring book, you glanced at their hands, slightly dissapointed when you didn’t find one. You turned your gaze back up to the woman’s smiling face.

“Um, miss? What’s the surprise?” You sheepishly inquired.

She winked at her husband, then parted away from him;only to reveal a little boy behind them.

He was a little taller than you, with a head full of frizzy brown hair that spang from his skull like a group of springs. His eyes shined and you couldn’t help but stare; you’d never seen brown in that shade before. You found it much prettier than your brown crayon. 

He smiled at you and stuck out his hand. “Hi! I’m Thomas! What’s your name?”

You nervously dropped your eyes to your feet, fidgeting nervously. “U-um…I’m (Y/N)…” You couldn’t seem to bring your voice above a whisper. 

“(Y/N)? Mommy and Daddy have been talking about you! Are you going to come live with us?” Your eyes shot up.

“Thomas, we haven’t asked her about that yet.” His father scolded him. He smiled sheepishly then dropped his gaze to his shoes.


The woman ruffled his hair, which made him lift his eyes back up and to you. She kneeled down so that you could see her face up close, she had the same eyes as the little boy. “(Y/N), would you like to come live with us?” your eyes widened in surprise. Live with them? You thought you were living here? 

It was then that you realized; you weren’t going to go back home. You thought for a moment, maybe you could still see your mom and dad if you went to stay with these people, you were sure your parents would like them. The lady had kind eyes, like your mom. And the man had a warm smile, like your dad. And Thomas, he seemed nice enough, even if he was a little, like your mom would say, enthusiastic.

 You decided that it would be okay to live with these people for a while, they seemed nice enough. And you trusted them, not like the people that sometimes came to visit the house. Now those people you wouldn’t be okay with living with.

But, you did want to know something. 

“Um, miss?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes dear?”

“Can I bring my coloring books?”

She and her husband both chuckled, then she nodded. “Of course you can honey. Of course you can.” You smiled.

“Then sure!” You looked at the boy, who like his father, had a warm smile. “Do you like to color too?”

He nodded. “Yeah! Come one, I can show you some of them when we get home!” He grabbed your hand and held it, and you giggled at his excitement.

For the first time in two weeks, you had a feeling that things were gonna be okay.

Ever since that day eleven years ago, you and Thomas had been practically inseperable. The man and woman who you’d later learn to call Peter and Jane often joked that you two were more like best friends than brother and sister. But it was true, you two did everything together, which also meant that Thomas could be extremely protective, sometimes to a fault.

But you were also protective over Thomas, because you knew along with his big heart, he had a big mouth. Which  is why you found yourself once again between him and Alexander, breaking up another heated argument.

“Don’t tell him what to do, especially since you weren’t even involved.” Someone stepped out from behind Alexander. 

Just fricking great. It was John Laurens.

John was as protective over Alex as you were over Thomas, and he often felt the need to butt in just at the wrong time. Just when things were dissapating.

But it wasn’t just the fact that he did this that caused your irritation towards the freckled-faced man, he always seemed to be taking jabs at you. Whenever you posed a theory in your A.P. Literature class on an interpretation of the text, he always had to shoot it down, to prove you wrong. Even when you knew you were right, hell, even when he knew you were right.

You two basically couldn’t stand each other as much as Thomas and Alexander couldn’t stand each other. Which made you even more frustrated when you found yourself getting flustered and blushing when his body accidentally brushed against yours.

It wasn’t that you had a crush on him, no that couldn’t be it. You just really liked the way that he walked, the way that he always tried to help someone in need, the way his hazel eyes sparkled when he was excited about something, the way that strands of his wild hair would sometimes fly out from the restraints of his ponytail…

Okay, fine. Maybe you had a crush on him. But he was such, such a nuisance that you knew you could never act on or acknowledge your feelings, even if now, as he stared at you with those eyes of his, you felt a blush creeping up your neck.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Butt out Laurens, you weren’t involved either.”

“But I’m actually defending someone who isn’t wrong here.” He challenged, cocking a brow. You turned your body so that you were completely blocking Thomas and completely facing Alexander and John. 

“If you could just learn to shut your mouth and actually listen, maybe you’d realize that your buddy there isn’t completely innocent in what hapeened with my brother.” You shot back. 

Alex sighed, trying to calm John down. “It’s not even worth it anym-”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so quick to jump in and defend someone that’s not even your real brother, you’d realize that he’s the one who started it!” He angrily retorted.

Time seemed to stand still as his words ripped through your heart like a lead bullet. Not many people knew about your biggest inseecurity; never truly feeling like you were good enough for the Jefferson’s, even Thomas at times. But you had learned to get over that, because even if they lived in a bigger house than you had ever seen, and even if the price tag on the clothes they wore made your eyes almost pop out of your head, you had come to think of them as your family.

Tears formed at your eyes, and your thoughts became muddled. You couldn’t think of anything to shoot back, all you could hear was his words replaying over and over in your head.

Not even your real brother.

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife as the tears you fought so hard to hold back spilled down your cheeks. John’s face turned from one of anger and hostility to one of regret. “(Y/N)-”

But you didn’t give him time to finish, instead you ran from in front of Thomas, sprinting down the hall to an abandoned closet you often hid and did your homework in before class the day it was due.

Once inside, you leaned up against the wall and wiped your face with your sleeve. You knew that John didn’t like you, he made that apparent the day he met you, but you never thought he’d stoop so low.

Maybe…you were also hurt because you felt betrayed by your crush.

It was a double blow to your heart, one that kept the tears coming. After a few deep breaths though, you managed to calm yourself down enough to where you stopped crying, and started doubting. 

Maybe it was obvious that you didn’t belong with the Jefferson’s. Maybe you truly weren’t good enough for them. Maybe Thomas didn’t even like you, he just put up with you because he had to all these years. Maybe-

Your thoughts were interrupted as the door was flung open, John was shoved inside, and then slammed shut. You let out a surprised yelp and prayed that you couldn’t tell that you had been crying. But as he nervously lookedup at you with concerned eyes, you knew it was obvious.

You moved as far away from him as you could, then crossed your arms defensively over your chest, refusing to meet his pitiful gaze.

Silence hung in the air like a storm cloud about to go, and he was the first one to break it.

“(Y/N), what I said out there, I didn’t mean-”

“I know exactly what you meant John.” You curtly cut him off.

You saw his shoes take a step towards you.

“I-I don’t know why I even said that, look, I’m really sorry, it was a really shitty thing to say. And I know it’s not true-”

You chuckled bitterly, lifting your eyes to meet his. “Technically, it is Johnathan. I was taken away from my druggie parents, thrown into the foster system and then humbly saved by the Jeffersons!” You dramatically exclaimed. “But Thomas, he is my real brother, he’s the only one I can trust in this going to shit world and for you to even suggest that he isn’t,” you walked up to him, jabbing a finger into his chest, “You must have balls the size of coconuts. Don’t you ever talk about my family again, or I’ll do something alot more serious than just talk to you. And before you get involved in something that you have no place being involved in, you should learn what’s going on. Yes, Thomas made a dickhead comment, and yes, it was unnecessary but Alexander started it. And I was actually jumping in to defend him.” You huffed, breathing heavily. Your heart pounded angrily and you clenched your fists to stop them from shaking.

He stared at you, not saying a word. Then suddenly, he broke out into a wide smile. Then, he started laughing. You were perplexed and frankly, a little concerned. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before, but you’ve got the same strong argumentative skills as your brother. Maybe that’s what draws me to you so strongly.” He smirked. 

You felt a hot blush creeping up your neck and settling on your cheeks. Draws him…he’s drawn to you?

“S-stop trying to flatter me just so you don’t feel like a dick.” You muttered, dropping your eyes to your shoes.

“But I’m really not trying toflatter you. I’m being serious.” You cocked a brow.

“But you hate me, you always have.”

He scratched his neck shyly and looked away. “I uh…I’ve never hated you, okay? It’s just, you’re Thomas Jefferson’s sister, and I’m Alexander Hamilton’s best friend…”

“Okay? Your point is?”

He sighed, then turned his eyes back to meet yours. “I’ve never hated you. I hated the fact that I can’t have you, becuase the truth is,” he took a deep breath, “I’m in love with you.”

You gasped and felt your heart conflicting. “You…why haven’t you ever said anything?”

“Because, Alexander, he wouldn’t understand. And Thomas,” he chuckled, “He’d kill me. I thought if I convinced myself that you were this terrible, unlikeable person, that I wouldn’t feel that way anymore. But the truth is, I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I couldn’t stop loving you.”

All your previous anger dissolved, taking its place was something you’d hidden away ever since you tried to push away your feelings for John. For the first time that day, you smiled at him. “Me too.”

He furrowed his brows. “You too what?”

“I tried to convince myself to not love you. And,” you grabbed his hands in yours, “I failed miserably.”

He smiled, then wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up and twirling you around, whcih proved to be a bit difficult in the small broom closet. You shrieked and laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “John!”

No sooner than he had put you down, Thomas and Alexander burst through the door, Thomas looked ready to fight while Alexanader just looked amused.

“LAURENS! HANDS OFF MY SISTER!” He seethed, stepping towards him.

You quickly escaped John’s arms and blocked Thomas, holding him back.

“No! Thomas, let me explain! He wasn’t hurting me!” 

He glared at John. “Then what the hell did I just hear and see?”

Alex chuckled, then laid a hand on your brother’s tense shoulder. “I believe we just interrupted something Jefferson.” He sent a knowing wink your way.

Thomas’ face went from angry to confused, looking between John and you. “Wait, interrupting what exactly?” Your blush grew darker.

You felt John’s arm snake around your shoulders. “You kind of interrupted a mutual confession of love bro. Kind of killed the mood.” John chuckled. 

He looked between you two again, and it finally clicked. He cringed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Um, are, is that, what?” You sighed.

“Thomas. I love him. He loves me. That’s what mutual means.” He rolled his eyes and Alexander chuckled next to him. 

“Come on Jefferson, let’s give these two love birds some privacy.” Thomas glared at him, then turned his attention back to John.

“If you even think about hurting her, I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to talk right again, got it?” He threatened. John nodded. 

“I won’t.” 

Thomas nodded, then sighed. “Good. Now I’m just gonna leave and pretend I never saw any of this and try to ignore the fact that my baby sister is dating my rival’s best friend.”

Alex nodded. “Same. By you guys!” He and Thomas walked out, shaking their heads. John turned back to you, smiling.

“Where were we?” You blushed, leaning in.

“Right about,” you stood on your tiptoes, gently pressing your lips to his, ignighting the spark that had turned into a full on raging fire, “here.”

He smiled against your lips. “I really am sorry for what I said earlier.” 

You smiled, looping your arms around his neck. “All is forgiven. But don’t mess with Thomas, I don’t think he’s joking about that threat.”

He chuckled, brushing a few strands of hair from your eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Like that day so long ago, you had a feeling things were gonna be okay.

Open Voice Acting Auditions - Autumn Leaves

1.      What is Autumn Leaves? 

Autumn Leaves is a mod, an unofficial expansion of the game Fallout: New Vegas. It has been in development for the last 4 years and will be free for everyone already possessing any version of the game.

The project is now in Beta, is fully playable and will be released in September/October 2015.

It’s a fully-voiced adventure with a heavy focus on plot and investigation. In Autumn Leaves, the player will discover a derelict library inhabited by six sentient machines, each with their own back-story and agency. What happens from that point will depend on the player’s decisions.

2.      The Story so far :

“Some years before the nuclear catastrophe, a small number of men and women – wealthy and well-intentioned - were growing increasingly worried by the political unrest across their countries. Moral panic, witch hunts, and censorship spread like wildfire.

This congregation - often scientists, professors, artists - felt the need for a place where humanity’s history and culture could be preserved, safe from those who would destroy it for its “seditious” content. They pooled their resources in the hopes of creating such a place, free from the volatile swing of political agenda.

A Vault was to be built. Within it would be enclosed the most comprehensive collection of books and holotapes in history. The project owed much to the efforts of one Professor Cartwright, who at the time worked for a certain Robert Edwin House at the Robco Company and used this position to secure valuable contacts within Vault-Tec.

As the construction of this Library began, the intellectuals gathered their private collections, and hunted tirelessly for rare texts to complete them. They also agreed that Cartwright should oversee the process, and act as the Library’s caretaker; when it was time, all would gather for shelter, and seal the doors behind them.

None of them could predict, however, that the bombs would fall so early.

And when they did, Cartwright was alone in the Library.

The Professor knew that his days were numbered. To ensure that the Library would not die with him, he spent his time reprogramming his robots. The machines would ensure that the Library would persevere, until the world could once again take advantage of its wisdom.

He would endow them with the ability to think, the ability to choose, the ability to learn. Partly because he feared the dangers that might threaten the Library in years to come. Partly because, as the years grew long, he needed someone - something - to soothe his solitude.

Two hundred years have passed. Far enough time for something to go wrong.

Today, the Player awakens the Library from its long sleep.”

3. The Characters Needing a Voice

(For non-Voice Actors : SPOILERS!!!)

The machines programmed to be "alive” :

The robots created by the professor were given some basic personality traits, but as time passed, they learned more and more about the world and about themselves. Though they’re still only machines, they are now intelligent enough to display a full range of human emotions.

But along with human emotions, they also developed all kind of issues the player will soon discover.

James :

Psychological Traits : cheerful, overachiever, candid, curious

Lines : +/- 320

James was his master’s favourite robot and it shows. Acting as the main caretaker of the Library, he display a great sense of duty when it comes to its preservation. He has been programmed to be earnest and to be curious about everything. Every time a guest comes to the Library is the occasion for James to pester him or her with questions about pretty much everything. Despite his cheerful and candid exterior, he’s rather worried about the outcome of the library, especially in a world where the fires of war still rage on.

Sample Lines :

1) You seem bitter about that. Well, if the world is giving you a hard time, maybe you should consider staying here for a while. Some kind of vacations.

2) You already killed someone, didn’t you? How did it feel?

3) One night, he got so badly drunk, he began throwing insults at us, the books and their “mother.” 4) While the experience was very enriching on a vocabulary standpoint, we ultimately had to stop him before he blew up entire bibliographies with C4.

Helena :

Personality Traits : Kind, driven, open-minded, a tad melancholic

Lines : +/- 280

As a machine dedicated to the physical and psychological health of the library’s host, Helena strives to develop her skills in the best possible manner. Though her skills with a scalpel are faultless, she only has an abstract grasp of how human psychology works. She struggles with her own synthetic psyche to find new ways to close the gap between the human mind and hers. She would have lost hope a long time ago, if she wasn’t programmed to serve this pursuit until the end of her existence.

Samples Lines :

1) Even if you already dealt with Benny, something *happened* in that grave in Goodsprings. It’s not about what you’re doing, or what you’ve done, but about what you have become.

2) I am a machine. I will never understand symbols or interpret their meanings on my own. But I know humans can.

3) You are kind to me, but it is my responsibility. I have to learn from what happened today, never to let that happen again.

Rolland :

Personality Traits : clever, obnoxious,  and yet somewhat friendly, in a jackass sort of way

Lines : +/- 260

A pinch of salt upon the wounds of everyone passing by, Rolland is - simply put - an asshole. He acts like an asshole, he speaks like an asshole, and - well - it’s to be expected since he’s programmed to be an asshole. Rolland’s provocative and iconoclastic nature has driven mad many of the Library’s visitors, much to his enjoyment. For some reason he doesn’t bother to clarify, he has some high expectations for the player.

Sample Lines :

1) Do you need a hand with something? Can’t spare much, but hey, at least here’s a middle finger for you.

2) Cut the claptrap. We both know that each of the 37 eye movements you just made when entering this room were purely motivated by greed.

3) On average, a novel content is split as follow : 63% emotions, 35% sensory description, 2% actual logic.  4) Everytime a protagonist does something irrational it’s because he or she has something to prove, is bored, or has some kind of stomach trouble.

Arthur :

Personality Traits : Typical story-teller type, demeaning in some cases

Lines : +/- 160

For a monolithic database containing all human knowledge through the ages, Arthur’s silence is quite uncanny. Though he is more than capable of entertaining normal conversations, he only speaks in parables and riddles. He’s autistic, despondent and cryptic.

Sample Lines :

1) Piper. She survived the holocaust. Do you know what else survived the holocaust? Rats and cockroaches.

2) Twisted remnant of a bygone era, he looked all his life for a mirror where he could look at without seeing the scars left by a mankind gone mad.

3) I have no doubt our security system will be able to contain whatever “outbursts” you will fail to restrain.

Edgard :

Personality Traits : Enthousiast, Paranoïd, Attention-craving

Lines : +/- 90

Something went wrong with this one. Somehow, the professor managed to mess things up when he made Edgard. Corrupted computational matrix? Defective hardware in the personality module? It’s no matter now : Edgard is just one card short of a full deck. Initially overjoyed and playful, Edgard quickly became neurotic and self-obsessed. Though good-natured, he nurtures a constant feeling of paranoia. Deeply affected by how others may perceive him, he secretly fears that someone would one day put him out of commission for being defective.

Sample Lines :

1) Oh hey! There’s actually *somebody* down here ! Have you come to see me? Come on, sit anywhere you like. You and I are going to have *fun*.

2) Cecilia, of course! Good old Cecilia ! She and I go way back. Aaah. We had a thing, you know. She liked me. *Very* much.


The Maintenance Bot :

Personality Traits : Bitter, wise, rational, practical

Lines : +/- 150

A bitter philosopher, surly to have been denied a proper rebellion phase. Decades before the player’s arrival, Maintenance Bot’s personality module – the little gizmo that allows the robots to think – was ripped out of him by its maker, after one of their most violent argument. He will regain his sentience after the player will give back the module to him.

The fact that his master died more than a hundred years ago without acknowledging his wrongs is probably the thing Maintenance Bot has the most trouble accepting.

Sample Lines :

1) Bury him? Why? All of his life, he was buried in his books, buried in his vault, buried under a mountain buried in the desert. So now, as far as I’m concerned he is already buried.

2) Being limited has some dreadful shortcomings. Though you eventually realize that being confined to a small perimeter doesn’t prevent you from digging deeper and deeper within it.

3) Are you saying you did all this to get some machines’ gratitude? No, we both know you did this for a reason. So, let’s get to the point. What do you need of me?

The Guests :

These are people who visited the Vault before the player.

Piper (Age 45) :

Personality Traits : Blunt, Altruistic, Unsophisticated, Seen-it-all before

Lines +/- 10

The first guest to have stumbled upon the Library of Hypatia. Mercenary, survivor of the war, learned to live in the wastelands when she was fifteen. Got more than her share of shit and worked hard on herself to remain one decent human being. Has a personal vendetta against slavers which she ambush on every occasion, which countlessly compromised her teammates, companions and/or family.

Sample Lines :

1) I don’t bite sizes I can’t chew.

2)  Usually, I spot slavers groups from afar. I waylay traps when they’re asleep, a bit further on the path. When the first of them trigger a trap the day after, that’s my cue.

3) Ain’t that much of a pretty story, that’s for sure. It was quite a while ago, got my share of shit at that time.

Dexter Aldrige (Age 35) :

Personality Traits : Cranky, impatient, brainy, neurotic

Lines : +/- 20

A Brotherhood scribe seeking recognition for his “exceptional abilities”. Though capable, Dexter often lets his unbridled ego take the best of him, and fails miserably at his missions.

Sample Lines

1) How the hell am I supposed to get Senior Scribe if they keep tasking me with aimless investigations in the most remote corners of the Mojave?

2) How the Old World’s people managed to waste this much resources on vapid entreprises is beyond me.

3) And now, I’m wide awake and trying to *calm* the fuck *down* by recording these events on a holotape. As you can hear, IT’S WORKING LIKE A CHARM.

Cecilia Parsons (Age 25) :

Personality Traits : Cultured, Anti-social, Wily, Peppy

Lines +/- 20

A Vault-Dweller on a mission to save her Vault from bad architectural decisions. She discovers the Library and decides to study its underbelly. Rely on her own devices, and gently cheats her way to her own purposes. Considered as a pain in the ass by her people, she was happy to leave her Vault to discover the world.

Sample Lines

1) [Slightly Drunk] That motherfucking son of a bitch Rollo hit a soft spot today.

2) [Slightly Drunk] When I got out of that stupid Vault by forcefully ripping the shortest straw out of the Overseer’s hand, I was happy I could get outside.

3) [Slightly Drunk] But the fact that they were all even happier to play along and see me off…That…THAT pisses me off.

4) I was careless. This library has far more eyes and ears than I thought, and I fear of the implications.

Professor Cartwright (Age 70) :

Personality Traits : Cultured, repenting, wise

Lines +/- 20

Scientist obsessed with the preservation of human culture. One of the most apt scientist in I.A. matters. He put all the means he possessed to create a Vault where he could put all of the old world’s wisdom and knowledge. There, by annotating, compiling and writing some kind of “Rosetta’s Stone”, he would make sure that anybody stumbling on this vault would be able to understand its value. During his isolation in the Library, he had the time to rethink many of the things he thought for granted.

Sample Lines

1) Critical thinking is much alike the immune system, without aggression - contradiction - it atrophies, withers and die.

2) We lost the war before it began.

4. General Voice Acting Directions:

I will delve deeper into each character motivations and psyche with the chosen voice actors, but in general, the most important aspect of Autumn Leaves Voice Acting is for your voice to be as natural as possible. It’s important that you don’t strain yourself, especially since some characters have more than 250 lines to deliver. So, nothing over-the-top (except maybe for Edgard), nothing cartoonish.

The aspect we will favor the most - besides how in-character your are - is your ability to deliver understated emotions, the little nuances and depth you can convey to your lines. Of course, I will be there to answer questions you may have over some lines, over the characters, over certain type of deliveries. So, if there is any way I can help you deliver the best lines, don’t hesitate to sollicitate me.

(Ah, and no need to “robotize” your voices. ;))

Contact :

-By PM


If you got friends interested in voice acting, or simply want this project to have the best voice acting possible, please reblog!

My most heartfelt and pulsating gratitude.

I am about to get full-on horror genre nerd on you and talk about why Crimson Peak was a love letter, and why it would be what we regularly see in genre films if genre fiction hadn’t been taken over by male voices and the male gaze. 

There are a lot of triggers and spoilers under here, so please proceed with caution. 

Originally posted by bowtiebirdy

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Fable Quotes and Sentences Masterlist Meme PART ONE

Send me a ☬ and I’ll generate a number between 1 and 671 for what my muse will say to yours! Or, if you’re brave, you can send me a sentence from the list and my muse will react to it!

Disclaimer: With the help of friends (you know who you are!) and a lot of hard work, I have composed a list of several hundred quotable sentences from the Fable game series. All quotes are taken from the first three installments. The next part will include quotes from the Journey as well as the novels and e-books written by Peter David. Once I am able to get my hands on Fable Legends, you can bet I’ll make a third installment to the meme then too! For now, please enjoy the quotes from the first three games.

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New Country Part 2

Part 1

*Stiles Point of View*

“Malia are you sure she was a vampire? That’s a little far fetched?” We were all sitting in Lydia’s backyard by the pool talking.

“Scott was there she said she was a vampire and when we said we’re werewolves she ran for the hills.” I put my hand over my face and rubbed my temples.

“I need more evidence than what she said I say we go investigate this.”

“Yes I call helping! Let’s go Stiles I need to find her scent again.” Malia pulled me through the house and to my jeep she shoved my in the vehicle.

“Go drive near the preserve See if i can pick up her scent if she was a vampire she needed someplace to hide.”

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Knock knock! Get the door, it’s time for Choko’s opinion on Ptolemy.

So I think the most interesting thing about Ptolemy - and I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again - is that, objectively, we don’t know very much about him. All the information about Ptolemy that we receive comes through Bartimaeus, who loves Ptolemy more than himself, than the world, than the other place, than life itself. He loves Ptolemy passionately, and affectionately, and blindly. And Bartimaeus is a creature of strong opinions! We see the way he views Nathaniel, and Kitty, and Asmira - but the difference between those characters and Ptolemy is that we also get to see how they view themselves, and how they view Bartimaeus back. And, in the case of Nathaniel and Kitty, how they view each other. Ptolemy gets…five chapters. And they’re ALL from Bartimaeus’ perspective.

It’s very easy to read the Ptolemy chapters and walk away self-satisfied with what you’ve seen, and I won’t begrudge people these feelings - that Ptolemy is a creature of pure light, that he’s an innocent child in a cynical world, that Bartimaeus’ love is the only true attitude to be held up to him - but for any of you who’ve known me for any length of time in this fandom, you know I’m gonna ask a little more of you. Nothing feels better than making y’all think, I tell you what.

(A note of concession before we start: this is definitely old ground that the older members of this fandom have tread on before - I’m writing this up to refresh my memory and thoughts, as well as bring new attention to it.)

Keep reading

“Loki, they’re asking for you again.” Thor spoke as he entered the library where he knew he could find his brother.

“What’s it they need this time?” Loki asked keeping his eyes on the words in his book.

“A bedtime story.”

“Their parents are a mortal and a god, and they ask me for the stories.”

“What can I say; they love their uncle Loki more than I.” Thor laughed slightly and waited for his brother.

“Let’s see what I can do.” Loki stood up and followed after Thor to his nieces’ and nephews’ room. As soon as he walked in the children sat up quickly in their beds and smiled tremendously.

“I’ve been told you wish to hear a story?” He walked in and sat down in the chair that was besides the window.

“Please Uncle, yours are full of adventure!”

“And mine aren’t?!” Thor yelled playfully.

“It’s just we’ve heard all yours father. If it’s ok with Uncle, we’d love to hear more of his.”

“What’s going on?” Jane asked walking into her children’s room.

“Uncle Loki was just about to tell us a bedtime story!”

“I was, was I?” He asked raising his eyebrows.

“Please Uncle, pleeease!” The children begged.

“Fine…” Loki answered defeated with a small smile on his face. “What is it you wish to hear?”

“Your fights on Earth!”


“How about we save the war stories for when you’re older, ok?” Jane stepped in.


“I don’t want to repeat myself… ”

“Don’t I get a say in this? Plus, I haven’t a love story to tell.” Loki said, trying to avoid the topic by all means.

“You know that’s not true, brother.” Thor’s voice was stern, but playful at the same time.

“You’ve been in love, Loki?” Jane asked.

“Thanks Jane, really.”

“You just never struck me for the type.” She defended herself.

“Well we eventually find the one person who we care passionately about, even if it doesn’t end with a happy ending.” Loki’s head had been hanging low when he finally decided to look up. When he did his family was all seated and at their full attention.

“It’s great so far, continue.” Jane said before giving her brother in law a smile. Loki drew in a breath and proceeded to tell the story of the first woman he had ever loved.


“Get your hands off me you fool! This is no way to handle a lady!” You yelled as the guards threw you in a cell.

“If you’re a lady, then I’m a fairy.” One laughed.

“I don’t know if your complementing me or insulting yourself.” You smirked. The other guards chuckled quietly at their fellow comrade and pushed him around jokingly.

“Take your bag, wench.” He threw it inside the cell and walked away.

“Buffoon…” You replied grabbing your belongings and putting it around your shoulder. You looked around a realized that there was only one other person beside yourself, compared to the overstuffed cells you had just walked by. It stroke you as odd, making you  stare longer then you should have.

“Will you be staring at me all the time or should I be alright?” A man with raven black hair asked.

“Why are you so special to get your own cell?” You asked carelessly.

“Well darling, surely the Prince should get some kind of special treatment.” He replied putting his book down and standing to look at you.

“Ha! If he’s committed some kind of treason then he should be treated just like all these other idiots.” You responded sharply.

“Watch your tongue, stupid girl…” He growled.

“Or what? Huh? I dare you to try something.”

“Don’t test me.”

“Don’t give me reason.” You both stared at one another until you looked away when a guard hit the wall.

“Loki, by the way.” He opened his book again and sat back down.


“Since, I figured we will both be in here for a while.”

“I’m Y/N, but I don’t plan on staying long.” You looked away and smiled.

“How do you plan on committing something of such stupidity?” Loki asked.

“Well my Prince, that’s not of your concern.” You kept your eyes forward; waiting.

“What if I wanted in?”

“I’m not stupid enough to help break out the All father’s son. I value my life.”

“He’s not my father!” He yelled. You got startled and looked over to Loki who had a look of anger on his face.

“Well—still. I don’t have a death wish.” Just then the alarms began to sound, bringing a smile to your face again. “Here we go.” Your group of friends, who were also known as thieves in Asgard, were coming to bust you out.

“Please, take me with you!” Loki begged.

“I’m sorry my Prince, we didn’t plan for you.”

“I can hold my own. All I’m asking is to seek passage with however way you get out of here.” You had to think quick as your group got closer and closer.

“Damn!” You yelled. “You are to do exactly as I say until we get out of here, ok?”

“Yes, I swear…” Just then the energy shield of the cell blew up and you were free.

“Come on, my Prince!”

“Prince? Are you trying to get us killed?!” The leader of your group asked.

“We’re wasting time, let’s go now!”

“Halt! In the name of the All Father!” Guards yelled.

“Come on boys!” You yelled. Everyone began running to get away before things took a turn for the worst. As you all approached the Bifrost the men began mounting on their horses. As you hopped onto yours, Loki stood on the ground looking up at you.

“Well come on! We haven’t got all day!” You reached your arm down and grabbed his. Pulling him up, he pushed himself off the ground and seated behind you. You kicked the side of your horse and began riding down the long strip.

“Well that’s not something you see every day!” Kreid, the leader of your group, laughed when he saw Loki on the back of your horse.

“Let me not remind you of the time I had to save you and you were in the same predicament, Kreid!” You laughed along with him.

“So many people have sat here?” Loki asked leaning towards your ear.

“Just those who I want to help,” You turned your head best you could to look at him, “And by the look in your eyes back at the prison, you desperately needed it.” You turned back around and could see Heimdall standing in the middle of the road. Your eyes met and your true attentions were revealed to him.

“I will not allow this.” His voice echoed around your assembly.

“Please, I do not wish to return back to the dungeons.”

“What would your father say?” He asked.

“Run girl and do not stop… Please Heimdall they’re getting closer.” You pled.

“I will never do this again, understood?”

“Yes! Thank you!” You smiled. He turned around and ran to his station. He opened the Bifrost and your fellow comrade’s rode threw it.

“Just tell them we ambushed you.”

“I will.” He smiled.

“Tell the family I send my warmest hellos.” He nodded and the two of you rode through the Bifrost.
Once landed back in your own realm, you could finally breathe again.

“I’ll never get used to that.” You commented.

“As won’t I.” Loki agreed.

“So now that we made it out alive, what are we to do with Princey boy here?” Brym, another member, asked you. Turning around to look at look at Loki, you signaled for him to answer.

“I haven’t thought that through.”

“Well you better because as long as you’re with us, we’re all taking a risk to be sent back to that prison.” Vrun, you’re closest friend spoke up.

“I assure you, they will not know where I’m at.” Loki spoke aggressively.

“Ok boys… let’s make up camp and get food going, yes?” You spoke up when you noticed how much they all wanted to fight one another. Everyone turned away hesitantly and dismounted off their horses.

“Friendly fellows.” Loki said sarcastically walking along side you.

“Once you get to know them, yes.” You answered. “What do you plan on doing anyways?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. I never planned on meeting you.” He responded, stumping himself.

“Nor did I.” You added, looking up to see him already gazing upon you.

anonymous asked:

Keep up the good work :) love your fanfic

Thank you so much :)

Previous chapters:

Re pt. 1

Re pt. 2

The crowd was already gathering. The hum of their indistinct murmurs slowly became a constant buzzing. Men would leave their posts to see what the commotion was all about and women would cover their mouths whilst they silently tattled, their children tugging at their skirts and pointing curiously at a peculiar group huddled near the fountain.

“It appears that we attract too much attention,” a tall, hooded figure stated, his posture stiff and his voice stolid.

“No. They attract too much attention,” the woman beside him said, her face also hidden beneath a verdigris hood and covered with bandages up to her limbs. “Two people, wearing aristocratic clothings are openly displaying their affection in the middle of a plaza. Now that could get anyone’s attention.”

“I beg to disagree, Your Majesty,” a young man with strange white hair countered while trying desperately to hide his face. “We’re not the ones dressed in bizarre outfits.” he argued.

Keep reading

Capitalize This.

Another day, another lazy assumption. This time it’s someone on Twitter, describing himself as a reviewer and would-be author, making a passing comment about THE GOSPEL OF LOKI.

I’m not going to point anyone in the direction of the tweeter. He isn’t the first to say something crass, and I’m sure he didn’t mean his remark to be as insulting and dismissive as it sounded. However, the tweet (which was also posted on Goodreads) went as follows: 

Reading The Gospel of Loki. Capitalizing on the fandom of Tom Hiddleston I imagine.”



Perhaps it got me on a bad day. Writers sometimes have them too. Perhaps it was just one too many reader assumptions. Either way, it pissed me off more than such comments usually do.

Last week I came across a long, highly inaccurate (and rather badly-spelt) Twitter conversation, in which two young women accused me of “plagiarizing” and “copying” the Norse myths, or rather the version written down in the Prose Edda by the 12th-century scholar Snorri Sturlusson - rather an inaccurate use of the term, but plagiarism is an accusation that authors should (and do) take very seriously. It cannot refer to the use of a myth or folk-tale (if it did, then Disney would be in deep trouble with Perrault and the Brothers Grimm), but even with no foundation, it’s an accusation designed to put an author’s back up.

Not long before that, I got a rabid, rambling e-mail from someone who then posted the same text on Amazon as a review, accusing me of “capitalizing” (that word again), this time on the popularity of Johnny Depp, without whom (the writer said) THE LOLLIPOP SHOES and PEACHES FOR MONSIEUR LE CURE would never have been written.

There are, of course, several things wrong with this line of argument. One, CHOCOLAT was already a best-seller before the movie was made, which means that my readers - that is, the readers who have been with me from the start, and who follow me, not Hollywood - had already voted with their feet, and needed no further persuasion to read about Vianne Rocher, Roux and Anouk. In the same way, my first LOKI book (RUNEMARKS) had already been published four years before Marvel’s THOR came out, which means, barring covert timey-wimey activity, that Tom Hiddleston’s Loki fandom wasn’t around for me to capitalize on.

So, why am I dwelling on this? Well, I think it’s the tip of an iceberg - an iceberg we glimpse so often that we tend to forget it’s even there; a great big iceberg of sexism within the whole book industry, which stealthily perpetuates the belief that no woman writer can ever really be successful without having somehow copied from, used or otherwise capitalized upon the popularity of a man.

Don’t buy it? Try this: 

Imagine someone accusing Salman Rushdie of “capitalizing” on the folk tales of the Middle East.

Imagine someone accusing Neil Gaiman of “capitalizing” on the popularity of: Norse myths; DR WHO; Claire Danes; milk.

Imagine someone accusing Lee Child of “capitalizing” on the popularity of Tom Cruise. 

No? Didn’t think so.

As for myself, I can’t even remember all the crazy, sexist assumptions that have been made (and voiced) about me during my career as a writer. Here are just a few of them:

My husband supported me financially while I was starting out. (He didn’t. We both had jobs.)

My husband secretly writes my books. (Oh, for fuck’s sake.)

My media, university or Hollywood connections helped me start off. (They didn’t. I don’t have any.)

I’m sleeping with my agent/editor. (One is gay, the other female. And no, I’m really not.)

I’m desperate to make more movies, to boost my writing career. (Nope. Much as I like movies, I’ve never needed a leg-up from Hollywood. That’s why I keep turning down offers.)

I only write for women. Because, you know - vagina. (Nope. I write for anyone with a pulse.)

We know that the book industry is largely unfair to women. Women writers are in the majority, but generally get smaller advances; fewer reviews; fewer prizes; less respect. 

It doesn’t help when Peter Stothard, latterly a Booker judge and editor of the Times Literary Supplement, excuses the fact that books reviewed in the TLS are almost all by male writers by saying that women don’t read, (or, presumably write) the kind of books reviewed in the TLS. 

It doesn’t help when Nobel Prize winner V. S. Naipaul opines (as he does, with monotonous frequency) that women are simply not intellectually up to writing great literature (being way too full of feelings and general messy thinking).

It doesn’t help when women themselves perpetuate the use of insulting terms like “chick-lit”, which belittle and marginalize women’s writing.

It doesn’t help when “women’s fiction” is still considered a sub-category. (Amazon; Goodreads; Wikipedia; take note.)

It doesn’t help when some (male) academics teaching English Literature teach male-dominated courses, and where (female) academics have to compensate by creating “women’s fiction” courses, as if women were a minority group, and not half the population. 

Recently, at a function at my local university, I was told - with some pride - by an academic that he never read books by women. It doesn’t help that morons like this are still in charge where it matters.

Given how many influential people (most of them male) are still disseminating the myth that women can’t get there on their own; that women are okay writing for women, but that men need something more durable; that women read (and write) commercial fiction, but that men write literature, we’re going to keep getting people making the same assumptions.The trickle-down effect of sexism in the book business will continue to apply, on Goodreads, on Twitter, in bookshops, on blogs. 

How can we stop it?

Don’t let it go. Don’t assume that your voice isn’t worth listening to. Call people out when they talk crap instead of slinking sadly away.

And please, everyone, say after me:

Women’s fiction is not a “genre”.

Women writers do not need the permission of men to write what they do.

Women writers do not need to ride on the coat-tails of men to achieve success.

Women writers are capable of thinking, writing, and acting for themselves, without a man to motivate them, to give them ideas or to lend them an air of authority.

Women writers don’t need to take male pseudonyms in order to gain more readers.

Women writers don’t need to scorn and belittle other women writers in order to get the approval of men.

Women writers can stand alone. But it helps if we stand together.

Joker Game Novel Translations: Book 1, Chapter 1 [Joker Game], Part 3/6


[Word count: 3951]

Note: mild language from Sakuma.

I’m so so sorry for the late update, but it’s finally here! Thanks so much for being patient and as always, thank you @akiyamaa for being always by my side (quite literally) and helping out ^^

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anonymous asked:

what are your views on Lolita?

This is a suuuuper vague question haha Obviously I love the book because I have a blog themed around it, but I think it is often hugely misinterpreted.Get ready for a loooong response!

Fist of all It was NOT meant to be an erotic novel (Nabokov purposefully skipped over the sex statutory rape scenes), and it was NOT meant to be a “romance novel” or “Love story”. People often mistake it for a romance novel (seriously though if you do ur sick) because it is written in the style of writing of the romantic era from the (1700s-1800s). The writing style is apparent in the way the scenery is described so vividly and richly, and in the way Humbert values his own emotions more than the rules of society and being logical. The novel focuses on Humbert’s inner narrative which is also common in writing of that era. Here is an article about the romantic era I must stress that romanticism is an artistic style from a certain point in history and does not equal “a love story”. It’s just a creative style, for example Frankenstein was written in the romantic era and written in the romantic style of writing, does that make it a love story? Noooooooo!! I would classify Lolita as more of a tragicomedy (much like Romeo and Juliet NOT MEANT TO BE A LOVE STORY GUYS!)    

Lolita was not written to condone or encourage pedophilia!!! It is thought that the author Vladimir Nabokov was himself abused as a child at the hands of his own uncle. He spent a great deal of time studying pedophiles, hebophiles, ephebophiles ect. to gain a greater understanding of how their minds work. He tried to learn about people such as Lewis Carroll (obviously the author of Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland) who was thought to have been “in love” or infatuated with Alice Liddell when she was a child. Lewis Carroll ( real name Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) was known to take nude photographs of children (including Alice) with their parents consent (still weird). Even though depictions of nude children were quite common in the art of the time (Victorian era) Nabokov was said to have been quite disgusted with Lewis Carroll and took him for a pedophile. Alice in wonderland was also written in the romantic style of writing mainly how the book favors absurdity and nonsense over rationality. I think Lolita was meant to be a look into the mind of a pedophile and we all know we are secretly intrigued by messed up people! why do you think there are so many crime documentaries huh? This article x talks more about Nabokov’s fascination with Lewis Carroll. Also here is a quote from said article that I think sums up his intended purpose of Lolita, to open people’s eyes. “One chess problem in particular, which was devised by Nabokov in Paris in late 1939 or early 1940, was essential to his overall plan to ensure children were not seduced by predatory incestuous male relatives

As for the relationship between Humbert and Lolita it was not love. Their relationship was full of coercion, emotional and physical abuse, and manipulation, not to mention the HUGE power imbalance between an adult and a child. Lolita literally did have nowhere else to go and Humbert revels in this fact, he enjoys how helpless she is and is honestly, in my opinion truly evil. Dolores (Lolita) is 12, recently orphaned, and being 12 has no money and a very basic education. While Humbert is a grown man in his 30’s with all the power and influence that comes with being an adult, a superior education, and I’m assuming quite a bit of money in the bank! I mean he can afford to take two very extended trips around the USA with money being no real issue. Humbert claims to adore and treasure Dolores yet throughout the book he hits her, threatens her, and generally isolates her from kids her own age. Dolores is so desperate to get away from Humbert she hordes her allowance away in hopes that she can use the money she saves up to escape. She even performs sexual favors for Humbert so that he will give her more money. And when he finds she has been saving up to escape he gets very angry and takes the money away from her. Lolita is quite literally trapped. Humbert also at one point planned to impregnate Dolores, wait until that child was old enough for his liking (eight or nine probably) and then commit incest with his and Dolores’s child. So If you are not completely disgusted with Humbert yet there’s that … I also feel like Humbert was trying to take away some of Dolores’s identity by calling her Lolita, Lolita was not her real name it was more of a pet name Humbert used to assert ownership over Dolores, that’s not love. 

Why I do I love Lolita so much? Lolita has become an iconic character and she represents a sort of unlikely power to me because she is someone who never lets her spirit be broken. Dolores did not have an easy life. Her father, with whom she had a great relationship with died when she was very young, and her mother resented and mistreated her (again emotional abuse). Then she has to deal with Humbert who she was probably hoping would become a father figure to her, and his manipulation and abuse. She tries to escape to Clare Quilty who she thinks she is in love with (she is so desperate for someone to truly care about her that she falls for a pedophile) and he too just tries to use her. She finally finds a nice boy closer to her age and even though she is living in squalid conditions with him she still tries her very best to be happy! Dolores goes through so much pain in her short life and she is still always making jokes and being her sarcastic self and trying to be as happy as she can through all of it! Humbert is an unreliable narrator and we don’t get to see anything from Dolores’s perspective but from the small snippets of dialog she has in the novel it’s obvious that she is just brilliant. She does what she can to fight back and mess with Humbert’s head, she always has a comeback or insult ready, and she finds joy in what little things she can. The writing in the novel is also so incredibly beautiful and vivid, it’s clever and tragic and darkly funny, I truly think despite it’s controversy that it is a masterpiece.                

This quote from Vera Nabokov (Vladimir’s wife and the person to whom the novel was dedicated) sums up what most people don’t understand about Lolita perfectly. 

“I wish someone would notice the tender description of [Lolita’s] helplessness, her pathetic dependence on the monstrous Humbert Humbert , and her heartrending courage all along, culminating in that squalid but essentially pure and healthy marriage, and her letter, and her dog. And that terrible expression on her face when she had been cheated by Humbert Humbert out of some little pleasure that had been promised. They all miss the fact that ‘the horrid little brat’ Lolita is essentially very good indeed—or she would not have straightened out after being crushed so terribly, and found a decent life with poor Dick more to her liking than the other kind”