Original: "Pretty" Femmeslash
Yes, I have fallen off the face of the earth. And I probably won't return until August. BUT. I ran across a reference to the Mary Sue litmus test today, and I started reading through one of the tests of what makes a flat, boring character. I started reading the questions and a lovely young woman popped into my head and I HAD to write this.
Summary: Alright, it was a fact that Alexandra was a goddess among normal women. But seriously, did she have to flaunt it so much?
"You are absolutely gorgeous."
I looked up from the manuscript I was reviewing and winced. Great. Alexandra was gracing the library with her presence again. Any possible chance at a quiet afternoon was ruined. I sighed and began searching the room for an escape path that wouldn't draw too much attention.
Unfortunately, Alexandra and her ever-growing crowd of sycophants were between me and the door. Lovely. Perhaps it would be easier to just bury my nose in my work and wait out the cooing.
I pushed a pile of books a little to the right and glared at Alexandra and the men surrounding her. What a bunch of idiots, fawning over her like that. So what if she had the most amazing silver hair, falling straight as a sheet of ice? So what if her eyes were an unnaturally bright shade of blue that seemed to pierce straight to the soul? And so fucking what if she had the most amazing pair of tits that just seemed to stand up and beg? Was that really so amazing?
Apparently it was, because not only men but also women fawned over her. It wasn't natural. Women were supposed to see her as the enemy she obviously was. I mean, how was a mousy little scholar like me supposed to get a date when women like Alexandra existed?
My eyes caught hers and I flinched at the smirk that briefly passed over her face. She knew exactly what I was thinking. "Thank you," she murmured demurely to one of her admirers, batting her eyelashes. Damn but she was pretty. And the bitch totally knew it. "Really, though, your flattery is too much."
I resolutely ignored her as she played to the crowd and turned back to my work, focusing on the manuscript until the ancient ink blurred in front of me. My head pounded from trying to block out the cooing while reading the faint chicken scratch of some long-dead monk. My teeth clenched tighter and tighter as I caught snippets of conversation.
“Is it true that animals adore you?”
“Well, I don’t like to talk about it, but birds sing at my window every morning.”
“Where do you get your unique coloring? Your hair is so absolutely magnificent.”
A soft giggle. “My mother always said it was a gift from the gods.”
Finally, though, I realized that the room had quieted and my teeth had not turned to powder from all the grinding. I looked up to find the library mostly empty. I briefly contemplated working a little longer in the now blissful quiet, but an honest evaluation of my mood led me to the conclusion I was too cranky. I cursed under my breath as I slammed my books closed and rolled the manuscript with curt but gentle movements. I could take my irritation out on the reference section, but the librarian would have my hide if I actually damaged an ancient manuscript. No matter how bad the handwriting was.
Work space cleaned, I stuffed my notebooks and pens into my bag and stomped back to my room. It was late enough that the room was shrouded in dark, and I considered whether it was worth it to light a few candles. My headache convinced me that it was a much better idea to simply go straight to bed, so I dropped by bag by the door and made my way across the room to the bed.
As I slid under the covers a familiar set of arms wrapped around my waist and lips pressed against my neck. “Did you finish all your reading?”
“What the hell?” I muttered, exhausted. “I was doing great until you barged in on a whim.”
Alexandra giggled against my throat, and I elbowed her as her hands wandered beneath my tunic. “I was bored. And you always look so cute when you’re working.”
I rolled my eyes in the darkness. “Did you have to bring your whole entourage? I mean really. You’re a disgrace to women the way you revel in that horde of men that follows you around. You don’t even like them! So why do you lead them on like that?”
Breath whispered against my ear. “So you’re worried I’ll hurt their feelings?”
I squirmed a little. “Well. Sort of.”
“Is that all you’re worried about?” She sounded amused and it annoyed me.
“Well do you always have to go around looking so gorgeous? How does it make the rest of us look? Like tadpoles. Insignificant. You know, I’d be kind of attractive if I wasn’t always compared to you.”
A huff of breath and I suddenly found myself with an armful of pliant limbs. Completely against my will I felt my arms wrap around her, my hands sliding over the curves of her hips.
“You know I think you’re lovely,” she murmured sleepily. “And anyways, I don’t think that’s what’s got you upset."
I frowned at her hair, ignoring the fact she couldn’t see me. “Really? And what do you think has me upset?”
“You’re jealous,” she said simply.
I jerked. “Jealous? Of what? The fact that you’re gorgeous? What the hell? Are you that vain?”
She snuggled closer to my side, ignoring my ire. “Well, I am gorgeous. Everybody with eyes knows that. Actually," she paused thoughtfully, "that old man who's lost his sight even knows how absolutely beautiful I am. But that’s not what you’re jealous of. You’re jealous of everyone else who finds me pretty.”
She sounded so insufferably smug that I was completely overcome with the urge to kick her out of my bed. Except for the fact that she was warm and soft against me side. Bitch.
Alexandra squirmed a little and I ignored the way my heart sped up. “You needn’t worry,” she assured me as her nose nuzzled my ear. “All they ever do is tell me how pretty I am, how my hair shines and my eyes light up the room.” She yawned and it ticked against my throat. “It gets so very boring. You’re the only one who refuses to write odes to my breasts.”
Privately I admited they are totally ode-worthy. “So you love me because I’m a bitch?” I asked, trying not to sound too bitchy.
She giggled. “Something like that. Also, you have a fantastic ass,” and she groped me in the dark, just to prove her point.
Summary: Alright, it was a fact that Alexandra was a goddess among normal women. But seriously, did she have to flaunt it so much?
"You are absolutely gorgeous."
I looked up from the manuscript I was reviewing and winced. Great. Alexandra was gracing the library with her presence again. Any possible chance at a quiet afternoon was ruined. I sighed and began searching the room for an escape path that wouldn't draw too much attention.
Unfortunately, Alexandra and her ever-growing crowd of sycophants were between me and the door. Lovely. Perhaps it would be easier to just bury my nose in my work and wait out the cooing.
I pushed a pile of books a little to the right and glared at Alexandra and the men surrounding her. What a bunch of idiots, fawning over her like that. So what if she had the most amazing silver hair, falling straight as a sheet of ice? So what if her eyes were an unnaturally bright shade of blue that seemed to pierce straight to the soul? And so fucking what if she had the most amazing pair of tits that just seemed to stand up and beg? Was that really so amazing?
Apparently it was, because not only men but also women fawned over her. It wasn't natural. Women were supposed to see her as the enemy she obviously was. I mean, how was a mousy little scholar like me supposed to get a date when women like Alexandra existed?
My eyes caught hers and I flinched at the smirk that briefly passed over her face. She knew exactly what I was thinking. "Thank you," she murmured demurely to one of her admirers, batting her eyelashes. Damn but she was pretty. And the bitch totally knew it. "Really, though, your flattery is too much."
I resolutely ignored her as she played to the crowd and turned back to my work, focusing on the manuscript until the ancient ink blurred in front of me. My head pounded from trying to block out the cooing while reading the faint chicken scratch of some long-dead monk. My teeth clenched tighter and tighter as I caught snippets of conversation.
“Is it true that animals adore you?”
“Well, I don’t like to talk about it, but birds sing at my window every morning.”
“Where do you get your unique coloring? Your hair is so absolutely magnificent.”
A soft giggle. “My mother always said it was a gift from the gods.”
Finally, though, I realized that the room had quieted and my teeth had not turned to powder from all the grinding. I looked up to find the library mostly empty. I briefly contemplated working a little longer in the now blissful quiet, but an honest evaluation of my mood led me to the conclusion I was too cranky. I cursed under my breath as I slammed my books closed and rolled the manuscript with curt but gentle movements. I could take my irritation out on the reference section, but the librarian would have my hide if I actually damaged an ancient manuscript. No matter how bad the handwriting was.
Work space cleaned, I stuffed my notebooks and pens into my bag and stomped back to my room. It was late enough that the room was shrouded in dark, and I considered whether it was worth it to light a few candles. My headache convinced me that it was a much better idea to simply go straight to bed, so I dropped by bag by the door and made my way across the room to the bed.
As I slid under the covers a familiar set of arms wrapped around my waist and lips pressed against my neck. “Did you finish all your reading?”
“What the hell?” I muttered, exhausted. “I was doing great until you barged in on a whim.”
Alexandra giggled against my throat, and I elbowed her as her hands wandered beneath my tunic. “I was bored. And you always look so cute when you’re working.”
I rolled my eyes in the darkness. “Did you have to bring your whole entourage? I mean really. You’re a disgrace to women the way you revel in that horde of men that follows you around. You don’t even like them! So why do you lead them on like that?”
Breath whispered against my ear. “So you’re worried I’ll hurt their feelings?”
I squirmed a little. “Well. Sort of.”
“Is that all you’re worried about?” She sounded amused and it annoyed me.
“Well do you always have to go around looking so gorgeous? How does it make the rest of us look? Like tadpoles. Insignificant. You know, I’d be kind of attractive if I wasn’t always compared to you.”
A huff of breath and I suddenly found myself with an armful of pliant limbs. Completely against my will I felt my arms wrap around her, my hands sliding over the curves of her hips.
“You know I think you’re lovely,” she murmured sleepily. “And anyways, I don’t think that’s what’s got you upset."
I frowned at her hair, ignoring the fact she couldn’t see me. “Really? And what do you think has me upset?”
“You’re jealous,” she said simply.
I jerked. “Jealous? Of what? The fact that you’re gorgeous? What the hell? Are you that vain?”
She snuggled closer to my side, ignoring my ire. “Well, I am gorgeous. Everybody with eyes knows that. Actually," she paused thoughtfully, "that old man who's lost his sight even knows how absolutely beautiful I am. But that’s not what you’re jealous of. You’re jealous of everyone else who finds me pretty.”
She sounded so insufferably smug that I was completely overcome with the urge to kick her out of my bed. Except for the fact that she was warm and soft against me side. Bitch.
Alexandra squirmed a little and I ignored the way my heart sped up. “You needn’t worry,” she assured me as her nose nuzzled my ear. “All they ever do is tell me how pretty I am, how my hair shines and my eyes light up the room.” She yawned and it ticked against my throat. “It gets so very boring. You’re the only one who refuses to write odes to my breasts.”
Privately I admited they are totally ode-worthy. “So you love me because I’m a bitch?” I asked, trying not to sound too bitchy.
She giggled. “Something like that. Also, you have a fantastic ass,” and she groped me in the dark, just to prove her point.