#( like i get the reasoning behind the whole thing )

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following you. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait–"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 7

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Warnings: Talk of reader taking anti-depressants etc.

Things were … awkward with Liam after that, you were actively trying to avoid him along with everyone else on the race weekend. You were in the car, driving round the formation lap and you really couldn’t be bothered. Your engineer wasn’t communicating with you, you didn’t even know what strategy you guys were going for.

“Y/N, just doesn’t seem with it today does she?” One of the commentators asks looking at you were basically chugging along. Anyone watching would have thought you were in a Williams not a RedBull.

“No Karun I think she’s had a bad weekend all round, with the team and qualifying it’s just not felt like anything’s gone the way she would like” Crofty sighs and all of a sudden Max’s car starts slowing down.

The pack was still quite tight so even though you were 17th it didn’t take long for you to drive past Max’s car, completely out of reflex you stick your middle finger up at him. If this was DNF which it looked like it would be with the smoke coming out the car you now had reason to push.

“And Max Verstappen is OUT. He’s retired from the 2024 Australia Grand Prix” Crofty shouts.

“And what’s this, tension at RedBull, was I seeing that right or did Y/N stick her middle finger up?” Karun says replaying you driving past and from a few angles you can definitely see your middle finger rise spite the gloves being thick.

“I believe she did, I wonder what this means down at RedBull because all of a sudden it’s like Y/N has woken up and she’s off racing. Don’t worry guys, she was just warming up” Crofty says as he watches you go tearing around the corner.

You were picking up pace and in 6 laps you’d got yourself up to P12. A whole new wave of adrenaline washed over you and you were bussing. Your mind was going insane, no time to drink, no time for mistake. This right here was going to be your drive.

You pitted, with your own strategy at the same time as race leader Carlos Sainz, your Red Bull pit stop was also much quicker than his meaning you were released before him. This was great as now he was behind you, you had time to make up.

You looked after your tyres, making sure you kept your corners nice and clean and not bumping any track edges.

You’d eventually gotten yourself up into 6th place, and overtaking Stroll to get into P5 was say, but the gap to Oscar seemed too far.

“Gap to the McLaren?” You asked over radio.

“Which one?” You hear and if you didn’t have a helmet on and everyone could see your facial expression right now they would be laughing.

“What you mean which one? The one in front of me!” You say and some rustling occurs before you get your answer. 2.4 seconds. It was doable with 12 laps left. You overtook him with 6 laps left.

“What a phenomenal overtake from Y/L/N on Piastri and she’s not stoping there as she’s redeeming RedBull for todays race and she’s making sure McLaren aren’t up on that podium today. She’s overtaken Lando Norris and with that Carlos Sainz wins the Australian Grand Prix, Charles Leclerc makes that a 1-2 for Ferrari and Y/N Y/L/N completes the podium, after starting P17 and proving that RedBull need to extend her contract” Crofty screams as the race concludes.

As you pulled up in the podium spot, you sat in the car for a minute a little frazzled from the pushing you’d just done.

It isn’t until Lando comes and taps your helmet lightly that you look up at him with a soft smile, not that he could see it. You pull yourself up out the car and Lando pulls you in for a hug, patting your back before walking off to get weighed. Charles and Carlos come up to you, big grins on their faces.

“You did incredible!” Charles compliments and pulls you in for a hug, you take your helmet and balaclava getting weighed straight away as they both pull you over. You look over your shoulder noticing that none of the Red Bull team are there. It’s a sea of red, which you expected but you thought at least your race engineer and trainer would come along.

Not a Red Bull uniform in sight.

You went up onto the podium alone, a half assed smile on your face and Charles and Carlos were too caught up in celebrating their 1-2 with the mechanic who came up with them to take the Team Award left you spraying open air. You took a chug from the bottle off the the left while Charles and Carlos celebrated before spraying the Ferrari team below, what caught your eye, was in the sea of a red, a blue ad white RB hat. Over a head of blonde hair it was the unmistakable sight of Liam Lawson who was grinning up at you and waving happily.

He’d come to celebrate your podium, he was in fact the only one there celebrating for you. You send I’m a nod, that to Liam, spoke more than 1000 words but he knew from you was just a ‘thank you’ gesture.

You left Australia a little disheartened with the team, not having the energy to get into an argument with the team, Christian or Max. You ended up going back to the UK and staying with your parents for a while.

The worst thing about it all? No-one but Liam had reached out to you after the race. You’d even expected Lando to send you another congrats but no-one messaged you.

You felt so alone and you did the dumbest thing you think you’ve ever done and you went live on instagram. You were sat at your work desk in your spare bedroom in your parents house.

“Hey guys!” You try smile, but it comes out half arsed. Your team hoodie is pulled up over your head, covering your messy and unwashed hair.

“Why have I gone live? Erm, I’m not really too sure, I just come home to my parents and they’ve both gone to work so I’m kind of alone” you answer softly.

“Yeah, so I guess you guys can just hang with me? Ask me some questions, yeah I’d like that” you smile and you notice a comment that kind of shocks you.

“You haven’t seemed happy at all this year? What’s been going on?” You read and sigh.

“Don’t know just been a tough season, but it doesn’t matter we’ve had good results” you explain and loads of people start saying they want ghost back.

“Yeah, sometimes I want ghost back too guys” you sadly laugh, looking down before wiping across your mouth with he cuff of your sleeve.

“Room Tour? I can do that, there isn’t much here because this is y childhood bedroom guys so you can’t laugh at any of the stuff in here okay?” You say, happy that they’ve started to talk about normal topics again. You start to show them round your old room, showing the double bed, with the motorsport posters to the left, everyone in chat laughing over your Jenson Button poster. What you didn’t notice was your medical tube of anti-depressants on the side that got in shot as you were showing an old Grand Tour magazine you had.

‘Pills? Girlie you okay?’

‘Damn is she doping?’

‘Nah she got them meds, love a healthy girlie’

‘Bro no wonder both her and Lando get on so well’

Once you see the comments roll in you try to act as natural as possible but its like people know that your actively avoiding stuff about the pills.

“Okay guys I think that’s all I have time for today. But… I’ll see you next race weekend in Japan.

You got into bed after that curling up, overthinking how you could be so stupid as to not put them away and show them on livestream, while another man was just as shocked as the rest of the livestream viewers.

“Did you know?” Oscar messaged Lando immediately after he checked twitter and TikTok seeing people dig too far into your personal life by zooming in and blowing up the picture of the orange bottle to see the name of the meds.

Sertraline

After a quick google he knew what they were used for.

“No mate and I’m just as worried as you are” Lando replied and now Oscar couldn’t help but feel like he was all to blame for this. Everyone thought he was so calm and mature on track, but with you and the situation you guys faced he was anything but that and he regretted everything he said to you.

But he knew he wasn’t the only thing causing this, you were stronger than that, which is why he needed Lando’s help.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[dreadbow]

Inspired by @irunaki Egg! Athena au

(I created this in honour of you Irunaki, love your drawingsss)

Odysseus was busy enjoying his walk outside and is on his way back to his home until he found an egg.. A pretty big egg that couldn't come out of any type of birds.

He knelt down to examine it and then it started shaking, he jump back in utter confusion and then he saw the shells of the egg cracking. He's practically glued to his feet, stuck in shock as whatever is inside starting to break free out of the shell.

When the top fully comes out, a... Bird? Come out of it.

Odysseus is torn between leaving the egg behind and immediately running back or bringing it back home.

The bird... Looks up to him, it looks like the form of a human infant now that he inspected it further - just has way more feathers, so many feathers that resemblance an owl. Is it a harpy? That's the only connection he could make.

Odysseus went back to kneeling - he doesn't think he could leave the poor animal alone, it has only been born.

"Dada!" The bird says and Odysseus jump back.

WHAT THE HELL!

It can talk! It just called him 'Dada'!

Those were the thought running in Odysseus head. The bird baby can apparently speak.. And it just called him dada...

The baby bird tilt it's head sideways while still staring at him.

"Dada!" It chirps happily again, reaching out it's arms.

Odysseus looks around hastily as if he could get an answer on what to do in this situation. Well, Leaving it alone would be cruel, after all it called him 'Dada'

Odysseus picks up the hatchling carefully, and it immediately clings on to him.

The little being let out a soft yawned and bury itself in the crook of his neck, and Odysseus felt his heart melt at the adorable gesture.

Guess he's a father now.

He continued his walk back to his castle and then remembers his beloved wife Penelope. What will she says to him bringing a random creature home? She knows that his wife has a kind heart and that's one of the many reasons he loves her, but he know that she will probably question him a lot.

"It'll be fine." He thought cheerfully while humming a song to the little thing that is now sleeping on his shoulder.

(At the Castle)

"And that's what happened." Odysseus tells the whole story to Penelope who looks at him with a still confused look.

"And you adopted it?" She asked.

"It called me Dada." He sniffled, and hold out the sleeping infant to show to Penelope how adorable it is, "Can we keep it?"

Penelope breathe a giant sigh and smiled softly, "Well, I don't see why not."

"Well di you hear that little one!" Odysseus laugh warmly, "We're keeping you."

It simply smiled with it's eyes still closed, and Odysseus keeps on softly laughing and hugging them closer.

"Well, what should we named it?" Penelope ask with a smile and Odysseus stops to think.

"Uhh, well, It's a girl, so what about Theai?" Odysseus suggested.

"Hmmm, what about Athena?" Penelope gave another one and Odysseus immediately fells in love with the name.

"Yes! Athena would be a wonderful name for her." Proclaimed Odysseus loudly. He hold Athena upright, like how a father would hold their daughter, well he is her father.

"Your name shall be Athena." He chuckled

And Athena simply chirp.

[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 9

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Warning: Smutttt, cursing

Glen

Glen looks down at his watch as he walks out of the gym, tilting his wrist to shield it from the glare of the Friday afternoon sun. 3.30pm. 

He pulls out his phone to text Billie knowing she finishes early on Fridays, opening his texts and looking down at their last message. She’d replied to the message he'd sent at lunchtime asking how her day was going.

He smiles as he looks down at her words, picturing her face as he reads. He's been unable to stop thinking about her since he'd left her place yesterday, certain he was becoming totally infatuated by everything that was Billie.

He goes to type a text message but then quickly deletes it, deciding to facetime her instead. He jumps into his car as his phone starts to ring out, glancing at his sweaty, post-gym reflection in the review mirror just as Billie's face appears smiling on the screen.

“Hey handsome”

Glen can't help the way he grins back at her then. She’s so fucking beautiful, her long hair pulled back into a high pony tail that's snaking down her shoulder, a pair of trendy, clear framed glasses perched on her nose. Almost instantly he feels his insides stirring in that most delectable way - he didn’t know he had a thing for girls with glasses until just now. 

Fuck.

“Hey darlin’. What you doing?”

“Just finishing up some paperwork and then I’m out of here. You?”

“Just finished the gym and thinking about you”

Billie grins teasingly, her eyes bright behind her glasses.

“Oh yeah? Thinking about me and anything specific?”

Glen grins back, taking the bait.

“Well originally I was just thinkin’ about how I wanted to see you again. But seeing you in glasses, now I’m thinkin’ about a whole lot of other things”

Billie laughs gorgeously, her smile taking up her whole face in that way that Glen finds insanely attractive.

“You’re bad Glen”

He winks mischievously. “I’m just gettin’ started Billie”.

They both laugh, grinning back at one another through the screen.

“Anyway” he says, taking his hat off and reaching up to run his hands through his gym-sweaty hair, “The actual reason I called was to see what you were doing tonight?”

“Oh yeah? Any chance you want some company with your Netflix? What do the kids say, Netflix and chill?”

Billie tilts her head and leans back in her chair.

“Can’t say I really had any plans tonight, was just going to head home and take Nugget for a walk and then have a quiet night in with Netflix”

Billie laughs again, this time louder.

“I'm not sure you’re up with the kid's lingo these days old man, Netflix and chill doesn’t mean what you think it means”

Billie shakes her head and chuckles. 

Glen laughs, shooting her a mildly offended face.

“First of all, I’m not old. Second of all, I’m well aware of what Netflix and chill means. And I mean it in that sense and the literal sense” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well then, since you’re offering both, yes, I’d love some company” she replies, winking back gorgeously and making Glen feel all kinds of things, “I’m leaving here in five, so feel free to meet me at home? Usually it takes me about twenty minutes or so to get home”.

Glen nods. “I’ll head home, have a shower n’ grab Brisket, then we’ll come over?”

“Oh yeah? I’m very okay with that too, but only if you’re joinin’ me”

Billie tilts her head as if she's thinking for a moment, her lips stretching into a sly smile.

“You know, I am very ok with you showering at mine if you’d like” she adds flirtatiously, Glen raising an eyebrow as he looks back at the screen.

Billie bites her lip teasingly and grins. “I think that can be arranged”

Glen flashes her his best grin.

“See you soon, peach”.

---

Glen hears Nugget barking before he’s even at the door, Brisket instantly bouncing excitedly at the sound of his friend. Glen lifts his hand to knock but is beaten by the sound of Billie’s voice from somewhere telling him the door is open, wrangling Brisket on the lead as he walks them both inside.

Nugget is all over Brisket the moment they step inside, Glen unable to help his smile at the two boys sniffing furiously and wagging their tails happily. He bends to unclip Brisket and watches when they immediately sprint off into the house, pausing to look at his reflection in the hallway mirror and quickly readjusting his hat.

He lets out a breath and makes his way down the hallway, stepping into the living room to find Billie standing with her hands on her hips in front of a huge, half opened box. It takes him a second to realise that it’s her new couch that’s been delivered, too distracted by how damn gorgeous she looks standing there in her work uniform. His eyes run over her fitted black polo shirt and tight black bike shorts that show off her perfect ass, and for a moment he can’t help but wonder how any of her clients possibly focus when she’s treating them.

“Hey you” Billie says turning to face him, her smile growing bigger when Glen steps towards her and wraps his arm around her waist.

“Hey gorgeous” he replies with his own grin, pulling her into him and kissing her deeply. 

She’s still wearing her glasses from before, her beautiful hazel eyes looking even more so behind the lenses. 

“How was your day?”

Glen nods, looking over at the box that’s taking up the majority of the living room. “I'm surprised it got delivered so quickly”

Billie shrugs, smiling adorably. “Really busy actually! But definitely better when I came home to the Ikea truck pulling into my driveway”.

“Me too” Billie replies, looking back up at Glen from behind her glasses, “And I guess it's good timing that you came over tonight”.

“To help you set it up?”

Glen can’t help his laugh, grabbing her waist again and this time dipping her before he kisses her.

Billie looks up and around as if she’s thinking for a second, shrugging her shoulders innocently when she looks back at Glen.

“Well that, and also, because I'll need to christen the couch, obviously”

“And you say I’m bad”

Billie grins wickedly, reaching up to cup his jaw. “What can I say, you're rubbing off on me”

“Oh yeah? Anything else of yours need rubbing?”

Billie immediately snorts and throws her head back in laughter, Glen instantly deciding that her laugh is his new favourite sound and he’d listen to it all day if he could.

“Wow Glen, that was terrible”

“But it made you laugh though” he replies matter-of-factly and flashing his best smile, bending to kiss Billie again. Her mouth tastes like mint chewing gum and he just can’t get enough.

“You know, if you keep distracting me like this, we’ll never get this couch put together” Billie comments when they part, resting her hands on his chest and looking up at him.

Glen shoots her a mildly offended look. 

“Me distracting you? Darlin’, I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror today but I am most definitely not the one being distracting. Look at you” he remarks, stepping back for a moment and gesturing to her in front of him.

“Yes, your work uniform. Your fuckin’ ass Billie, my God it’s just perfect. It’s round and peachy and just--- fuck” he explains, his voice almost pained, stepping back towards her and snaking his hands down until he’s cupping her ass, squeezing her cheeks for emphasis, “It’s perfect. Seriously, how do your clients not just stare at you all day?”

Billie shakes her head in confused amusement, looking down at her outfit and back up at Glen again.

“In my work uniform?”

Billie rolls her eyes and laughs, “I work with high school and college athletes, Glen”

“I’m pretty sure they’re all aware that I’m at least ten years older than most of them”

Glen nods his head enthusiastically in response.

“Exactly my point. God, I’d be fakin’ all kinds of injuries if it meant I got to look at this” he adds, squeezing her cheeks again and making Billie giggle.

Glen shakes his head definitively. “And you think that matters?”.

Billie pulls a face and Glen can’t help but laugh. 

“Trust me darlin’, I was once a college aged boy. A perfect ass is a perfect ass”.

Billie chuckles.

“So am I correct in assuming by those words that you’re an ass man then?”

This time it’s Glen’s turn to chuckle.. 

Glen’s grin grows wider.

“You would be, yes. There’s just nothing fuckin’ better” he says gripping her ass and suddenly lifting her from the floor, Glen loving the way her legs reflexively wrap around his waist.

She folds her arms around his neck but doesn’t say anything, looking down at him expectantly like she’s waiting for him to continue.

“Like, having a handful of this in each hand?” he explains, squeezing her ass again and feeling his deep muscles contract deliciously at the feeling of holding her, “Or you know, seeing it bent over and bouncin’? Just mmm---”

His words trail off into a near-pained groan that rumbles in his throat, Glen instantly aware of his suddenly hardening erection that’s pressing into Billie’s groin. 

Billie looks down at him with bright eyes, clearly amused by his words, and he can tell from her expression that she can more than feel his growing excitement.

“Well, how about instead of just talking about my ass” Billie whispers, cupping Glen’s jaw and bending to kiss him in a way that teases more, “You put me down and help me put this couch together, then maybe I’ll let you bend me over it” 

Her words have an instant response in Glen and he immediately drops her to her feet, Billie laughing at his reaction as he bends and kisses her quickly. She grins up at him, Glen doing his best to ignore his now very restrictive shorts, reaching up to readjust his hat and looking down at her in front of him. 

He smiles wickedly.  “Give me those fuckin’ instructions”

---

Billie

“Screw bracket three into hole two on the base using a ‘C’ screw” Billie reads from the instruction pamphlet, looking up as Glen tightens the screw into the base of the couch. 

Her eyes run over his bulging biceps as he holds the electric drill, and for a second Billie has to remind herself how to breathe. 

He’s wearing a tight black Texas Longhorn’s t-shirt that hugs his muscles perfectly, a black sports cap sitting backwards on his gorgeous head. He looks casual and all-American and sexy as hell, and Billie finds herself seriously struggling to pay attention to her task at hand. Watching him screw the couch together has her thinking all kinds of things, most notably, how badly she wants him to screw her.

“Billie, darlin?” Glen asks suddenly, waving his big hand in front of her face and instantly shaking her from her thoughts, “I said can you pass me another of those big C screws?”

“Huh? Oh yeah sorry” she replies, immediately flustered, leaning back on her knees and grabbing the plastic bag of screws marked ‘C’ from the floor behind her.

“Daydreaming?” he asks when she passes him a screw, looking at her curiously with one raised eyebrow.

She shakes her head and smiles. 

“Just got caught up in my thoughts for a moment” she explains, smiling innocently as she readjusts her glasses and looks back down at the instructions in her hand.

Her cheeks heat when she feels Glen’s gaze on her for a moment longer, knowing she’s been caught and that Glen definitely knows what was on her mind just a moment ago. 

She hears him chuckle before the sound of the electric drill starts again, Billie pressing her lips together and glancing out of the living room window to see Nugget and Brisket chasing each other around the backyard.

Billie turns back when she hears her phone buzzing on the floor, picking it up to find a message in her girl’s group chat. It’s Sloane, asking what she's planning on wearing tomorrow to Chelsea’s bachelorette party, along with several pictures of her own outfit options. The party was going to be an all day event - complete with a full body spa experience, a pole dancing class, cocktails at a rooftop lounge and dancing at some Beverly Hills club to finish off the night. 

“The girls?” Glen asks when Billie’s typing back, Billie looking up to find him gazing at her expectantly.

Billie nods. “It’s Sloane. Asking what I’m wearing tomorrow”.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“A bachelorette party. A very full on bachelorette party to be exact”.

Glen doesn’t say anything, but his expression wills her to explain.

Billie ticks off the itinerary for the party tomorrow, chuckling when Glen’s eyebrows raise at the mention of pole dancing.

“Wow. I don't think I've heard of a bachelorette like that before. Where do you know Chelsea from?”

“She’s actually Bec’s little sister. She’s a few years younger than me, getting married next month” Billie explains, looking down at her phone and back up at Glen, “Her husband Patrick, his family owns olive vineyards or something so they’re really well off. Hence the crazy bachelorette party”.

“I assume the wedding's going to be just as big and crazy?”

Billie laughs. “You assume correct. It's on Catalina Island and I'm pretty sure they've hired an entire resort”.

Glen turns back and finishes screwing another one of the legs onto the couch base, wriggling it to make sure its fixed tight.

“What about you, what are you doing tomorrow? Any plans?” Billie asks, handing Glen another screw when he picks up the final leg.

“Yeah actually, I’ve got a friends birthday somewhere in West Hollywood”

“Close friend?” Billie inquires, typing another response to Sloane before putting her phone back down.

“Yeah, my boy Chord. Used to be my roommate back when I first moved to LA” Glen explains, repeating the process with the last couch leg and fixing it to the base, “We’re still super close”.

Billie tilts her head curiously. “Like, Chord, as in Chord Overstreet?”

Glen turns to face Billie and laughs. “Yes that’s him”

Bille chuckles and shakes her head, suddenly wondering if she'll ever get used to hearing Glen talk casually about his famous friends on a first name basis.

“Alright help me lift this?” Glen says suddenly, Billie getting to her feet and stabilising the back of the couch as Glen lifts it the right way up. 

Glen connects the chaise lounge section as Billie peels the protective film from the leather, the two standing back to admire the finished product in front of them.

“So where are you going to put it?” Glen asks, standing back with hands on his hips beside Billie, looking over their handiwork. “I take it we’re moving this one?” he adds, gesturing to her existing grey three-seater with his foot.

Billie nods, “Yep. And then the new one is going to go this way” she explains, motioning with her hands, gesturing along the wall to the left.

Twenty minutes later they’ve rearranged the living room, taken apart the old couch, and replaced it with the new one, Billie turning to grin at Glen happily when he walks back in from taking the last of the packaging rubbish to her bin outside.

“Happy with it?”

Billie smiles happily. “More than happy. I love it” she remarks, stepping forward to adjust one of the new fluffy throw cushions she’s put on it, before flopping down onto it.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I'm gonna try and sell it. Put it on Facebook marketplace or something” she says, smoothing her hand over the caramel coloured leather.

“Thank you for helping” Billie adds when Glen sits down beside her, smiling gratefully when he reaches over and squeezes her bare thigh, “This probably would have taken me all night if you weren’t here”.

“You’re more than welcome darlin’, it was no trouble at all” he replies with a gentle smile, his fingers rubbing small circles into her skin.

She stares at his hand, loving the way his touch feels, feeling the muscles deep in her belly squeeze the longer she watches it. She hasn’t forgotten about her shower comment earlier today, her imagination suddenly conjuring thoughts of her bent over in the shower with him, Glen standing behind her and matching each push of her hips with his own.

She’s just about to open her mouth to suggest as much, Glen’s phone ringing suddenly and breaking the silence. He squeezes her thigh gently, using the other to fish his phone from his pocket and looking down at the number on the screen, offering an apologetic smile to Billie before he accepts the call.

Her thoughts elsewhere, and a slow-burning fire simmering in the pit of her insides, an idea slowly forms in her brain. She stands up from the couch, pausing mid-stand to bend and quickly kiss Glen, making her way to the bedroom and leaving him alone on her new living room couch.

She pulls the tie from her hair and runs her fingers through her long waves, stripping off her work uniform until she’s naked. She leaves her clothes in a strategic trail from her bedroom to her ensuite bathroom, looking back at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She can feel her heart start to race, butterflies unfurling in her stomach, a mix of excitement and nervousness suddenly coursing through her veins.

Billie leans into the shower and turns the water on hot, steam starting to fill the bathroom after a few seconds. She picks up her phone and lets out a shaky, excited breath, opening the camera and pointing it at the mirror until her reflection fills the screen. She turns and tosses her hair back, looking over her shoulder at the mirror, crossing her legs so that her ass curves in just the right way and she teases just a hint of side boob. Covering her face with her phone, she snaps her best sexy selfie, looking down at the screen and grinning excitedly. Deciding it’s her best work yet and feeling the adrenaline shooting down her spine, she inhales deeply, closing her eyes for a moment to calm herself, before tapping at the screen and sending it to Glen.

Waiting for you to join me for that shower, handsome 😉

Billie grins and tosses her phone onto the bathroom counter, stepping into the shower and under the spray of the hot water. She closes her eyes as she tips her head back beneath the water, sighing when she feels her muscles instantly relax. She takes a second to enjoy it - the feel of the hot water soothing her muscles and washing away the day, and the delicious feeling of anticipation from her devious text. She smiles to herself knowing she has maybe a minute before Glen sees her message, her mind filling with thoughts of one thing only.

Forty-seven seconds later she hears footsteps entering the bathroom, unable to help the way her lips part when she hears Glen curse out loud, followed by a near-pained groan that makes her feel all kinds of things deep in her stomach. She doesn’t turn around, instead hearing the shuffling sound of clothes being removed, a cool breeze from the shower door soon being opened making goosebumps rise on her skin. 

She feels Glen’s arms snaking around her waist and joining her under the spray only a second later, his arousal pressing into her ass, already thick, hard and tantalisingly perfect. A heavy breath falls from her when his hand flattens against her belly, her body being pulled back until she’s flush against his chest. She feels his other hand glide up her arm, fingers collecting her wet hair and sliding it over her shoulder, soon dancing along her throat and pulling her head back against his chest.

The action has Billie reeling, every fibre of her body suddenly on fire, her eyes closing when Glen leans in and presses his mouth to her now exposed neck. She can’t help the sigh that escapes her then, letting herself melt into Glen as he kisses and sucks at her skin in the most sensual way.

She’s in heaven, she’s sure of it, feeling her whole body turn to liquid from the feel of the steamy hot water and Glen’s mouth. She nearly whimpers when the hand on her belly glides lower, teasing her for just a moment before he’s cupping her sex. They both groan then - her at the feeling of his fingers slipping through her slippery folds, him at finding her already deliciously wet and wanting.

Her breathing heavy, she musters a sliver of focus from somewhere unknown and reaches one hand behind to find his arousal, wrapping her fingers around and gliding her fist up and down his thick length. The sound Glen makes in her ear reaches the deepest pit of her stomach, his grip on her neck tightening in the best way and only spurring her on more.

She increases her pace but momentarily stalls when Glen slips his fingers inside her, two and then a third only a moment later, the sudden decadent fullness making Billie cry out his name in the most sinful way.

“I love hearin’ you say my name darlin’’” Glen breathes in her ear, his voice only just audible over the spray of the shower, his words like silky velvet wrapping around Billie’s spine and sending shivers throughout her entire body. 

He’s still holding her throat, holding her pressed against his shoulder as he continues his assault on her neck, finger fucking her with a steady rhythm and making the edges of her vision start to blur.

Billie does her best to focus on her own rhythm as Glen curls his fingers inside her, the sounds of wet and skin getting obscenely louder as they both increase their pace. Billie can feel herself quickly unravelling, slipping further into the heady cloud of erotic bliss, her heart thumping so loud she can feel it in her ears. She squeezes her eyes shut, no longer able to focus on her coordination, reluctantly letting go of Glen and instead reaching for the wall to brace herself. 

She doesn’t quite find the wall though, suddenly feeling herself being flipped around, Glen pressing her back against the tiles, caging her in and kissing her lips again hungrily. His lips are feverish, his tongue licking into her mouth, one of his hands sliding down her thigh before hooking it up and over his arm. 

His free hand snakes back to her sex and within moments he’s buried back inside her, curling his fingers once again in a way that makes Billie moan desperately into his mouth. Glen has a better angle like this, his fingers stretching and fucking her in a way that makes her toes curl, Billie knowing she’s done for the moment he finds that perfect spot inside her.

At some point she has to force herself away from Glen’s lips, dropping her head back against the tiled wall as she cries out into the shower. His lips suddenly abandoned, Glen moves down to her throat and sucks at Billie’s skin, pressing his palm against her clit and making her cry out a second time. Billie’s leg wobbles at the new contact and she grabs for his arm, gripping at his thick biceps to stabilise herself as she feels herself start to tremble.

She knows Glen can feel it too then, knowing she’s right there on the edge, his voice deep and silky in her ear as he tells her to come for him.

“Come on peach, that’s it” Glen breathes, his voice like smooth velvet, “Let me feel it baby, let me hear you come”.

His encouragement is her undoing and all of a sudden she’s coming all over his fingers, gripping onto his arms with everything she has as she spasms around his hand. She can feel Glen kissing her as she rides out her high - aware but unable to focus on the feel of his lips on her neck, her jaw, her shoulder, too caught up in her orgasm flooding through her. 

Eventually she stills, Glen still peppering her with kisses, finally pulling his fingers from her and lowering her leg to the floor. He makes sure she’s stable, still holding her waist with one hand, Billie’s eyes fluttering open to find his pale green eyes looking down at her in awe.

“You okay?”

She answers with an exhausted but emphatic nod, the action making Glen chuckle, Billie smiling when he bends to kiss her gently and tuck strands of stray, wet hair behind her ear.

She squeezes his arm, finally recovered from her release, all of a sudden very aware of Glen’s raging arousal that’s pressing against his belly just inches from her own. She inhales deeply, her next decision forming in her brain, Glen noting the change in her expression and looking down at her curiously.

She licks her lips and pushes herself off the wall, using her grip on Glen’s arms to turn him around and swap their positions so that he’s the one now pressed against the tiles. She leans in and kisses him fleetingly, teasing his lips with her tongue, her hands moving to his chest and suddenly sliding down lower.

Glen’s eyes are on her, his lips parted in anticipation as his chest rises and falls, watching Billie’s every move as she slowly, teasingly, sinks down to her knees in front of him to return the favour.

---

Glen

They’re sitting on the new couch after their shower, Glen with a beer and Billie with a glass of rose, Glen glancing over at Billie beside him. Her damp hair is freshly washed and pulled back into a braid that’s snaking down her shoulder, her clear-framed glasses from earlier perched on her nose. She’s wearing a loose pair of soft, grey sweat shorts and a white cropped t-shirt that teases a slice of her toned abdomen whenever she moves a certain way. Even fresh from the shower and with what he’s pretty sure is a face completely free of makeup, he still can’t help but think how fucking gorgeous she is.

Glen lets out a breath and takes a sip of his beer, relaxing back into the couch. Some part of him is still reeling from the shower earlier, certain he'd never get over the sight of Billie on her knees in front of him. The way she’d worked his cock over and over, teasing him and stroking him in the best way until he was coming down her throat. Her bright hazel eyes when she’d gorgeously grinned up at him, the way she’d winked at him after she’d swallowed. The thought was enough to make him hard all over again.

She was a fucking goddess and my God he’d never seen anything more sexy.

The sound of the doorbell ringing breaks him from his thoughts, Billie moving to put down her glass just as Glen stops her with a hand on her knee.

“You stay, I’ll get it”

He puts down his beer and makes his way down the hallway, both Nugget and Brisket already standing at the door and wagging their tails expectantly. Glen bends to ruffle Nugget’s fur with a smile, before opening the door and frowning when he doesn’t find the Chinese takeout he and Billie had ordered earlier.

“Billie we’re engaged!”

Instead he’s met with a hand directly in his face, a thick, shiny gold ring adorning the fourth finger.

Glen’s frown grows even deeper, confusion taking over his face, the hand suddenly yanking away and allowing Glen a full view of the owner.

“Oh…you’re not Billie”

Glen stares blankly at two men standing in front of him, the expressions on their faces just as confused as his own, the three of them seemingly lost for words as they all stare at one another. Glen watches as the taller one stands back and looks up over the house, as if checking that they’re at the right place, the other still looking back at Glen in bewilderment. 

“But that’s Nugget…” the taller one confirms out loud when he spies the happily panting golden dog at Glen’s feet, the first man with the ring tilting his head and blatantly looking Glen up and down. 

“Where’s Billie?” the taller guy asks.

“Wait, are you---” the man with the ring asks at the same time, the two looking at each other for a second before turning back to Glen when he clears his throat.

“She’s inside” he offers, stepping back and calling Billie’s name into the house behind him.

Glen hears his name whispered by one of the men, turning in time to see them whispering to one another, the taller one’s eyes widening in absolute surprise as he realises who’s standing in front of him.

“Oh my fucking God it is!” the taller one remarks loudly, “You’re Glen Powell!”.

Glen only nods at them, looking over his shoulder when Billie suddenly comes jogging up behind him, her face splitting into a smile when she spies the two men.

“Hey guys!” Billie exclaims, opening the door wider and standing beside Glen, “Everything okay?”

“Oh my God Billie!” the one with the ring shouts, clapping his hands happily, “Look! We’re engaged!”.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Billie stutters, looking back and flashing Glen an apologetic smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm before turning back to the two guys.

He thrusts his hand towards Billie and Glen watches as she immediately erupts into excited cheers of congratulations, rushing forward and wrapping both men in a happy hug. Glen shuffles his feet, still having zero idea who the two men are, looking down at Billie as she takes the man’s hand in hers and closely inspects the golden ring.

"Ryan I love it, it’s gorgeous” she gushes, smiling affectionately up at the two, her eyes soon widening as if she suddenly remembers that Glen’s standing there.

“Glen, this is Ryan and Lachlan, my neighbours” she explains, gesturing from him to the men and back again, “Ryan and Lach, this is Glen”.

“You mean Glen Powell” Ryan emphasises as Glen shakes Lachlan’s hand, Billie laughing and shaking her head when Ryan says something under his breath that Glen doesn’t quite catch. 

Glen grins and steps forward to shake Ryan’s hand next, telling them that it’s nice to meet them both and offering his congratulations on their engagement.

“You both have to come in and have a drink to celebrate” Glen proposes, a soft smile on his face as he gestures to the two to come inside.

“Oh no no, we couldn’t impose like that” Lachlan replies immediately, shaking his head in polite decline.

“Absolutely. We couldn’t possibly interrupt your… date night” Ryan adds, accentuating the words ‘date night’ and shooting a questioning look at Billie that she dismisses with a wink and a knowing grin.

“Guys you just got engaged. Please come in and celebrate” Billie insists, gesturing again for them to come in, “I’m certain I have a bottle of champagne somewhere”.

The sound of the word champagne has them both immediately changing tact, Glen stepping aside and holding the door open for them both to pass by. Billie smiles up at him as she turns to follow them, Glen instead catching her arm and stopping her, bending and quickly kissing her. He doesn’t say anything when they part, only winking back at her and loving the way her lips part into her gorgeous smile, Billie tightening her hold on his hand and tugging him towards the living room.

---

Previous Chapter

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[otrtbs]

Hi I hope you're doing well 🌷

I had a question. I'm totally asking out of pure curiosity, it's not a criticism or anything of the sort.

In ahb (this masterpiece of yours) Sirius's favorite painting is Degas' Dancers.

I wanted to know if you knew the background of this painting and if making it Sirius' favorite was a deliberate choice or if you had no idea at all.

Because the Ballerinas in Opera Garnier in Paris were all really young and mostly, they were poor. The dancers were often their family's hope to crawl out of misery.

The audience was full of men.

In fact, the sad flip side was that there was a whole prostitution network behind the scene. With these young girls. Men could pay for backstage access to watch ballerinas change and sometimes rape them.

So Degas was a big customer.

That's how he painted the dancers and most of his works.

That's again how he sculpted the ballerina, her tutu was added meaning the 14 year old girl was posing nude.

Degas is also suspected of being Jack the Ripper, there are a certain number of credible leads and potential evidences.

That's why I was wondering if you knew.

Since there is this whole chapter where they insult Picasso (as they should) I found it strange that Degas being a known major p*do did not receive the same treatment.

Ps: I'm french, I don't know if I made any mistakes writing this, if I have please excuse me I tried my best 🙏

Okay hi, hello! I am doing well and I hope you are as well! You have unlocked Art Historian Thesis Nat, so I am going to put an extremely lengthy post under the cut, I'm so sorry (this is literally my area of study,,, i fear i am incapable of being brief about this)

I do want to clarify that right off the bat, I don't necessarily think many of these art historical figures are "good people". Like none of them are the best, most moral, upstanding citizens you should model your life after (but they're also dead sooooo). But I also understand that I did take some time in my fanfiction to make my hatred for Picasso very clear, and so I can also understand the confusion in not extending that same hatred towards Degas. But there are a few reasons for that, that I'll try to explain below!

The direct historical documentation of Pablo Picasso's violence towards the women in his life is vast and damning. If you want particularly good insight into his violence and abuse, then I recommend reading Marina Picasso's (Picasso's granddaughter) memoir titled: Picasso: My Grandfather. I also recommend Françoise Gilot's (romantic partner of Picasso) books, Life with Picasso and Picasso and Matisse. It is through the memories of the people who loved Picasso and who loved him in turn, that we hear of his sadistic nature that drove his lovers to suicide and we get personal letters that he wrote to Gilot in which he says things like "Dora, for me, was always a weeping woman… And it’s important, because women are suffering machines" and "For me there are only two kinds of women: goddesses and doormats." His granddaughter has this to say about him: “He submitted [women] to his animal sexuality, tamed them, bewitched them, ingested them, and crushed them onto his canvas. After he had spent many nights extracting their essence, once they were bled dry, he would dispose of them.” And Gilot says: "I am the only one to not have been sacrificed to the sacred monster(…) and is alive to tell the tale. He was a wonderful person to be with, it was like fireworks, amazingly creative, so intelligent and seductive(…) but he was also very cruel, sadistic and ruthless with others and with himself (…) It was the greatest love of my life, but you have to protect yourself (…) The others did not, they clung to the powerful minotaur and paid a very high price."

Why this matters: The evidence for Degas being so virulently misogynistic and cruel towards women is extremely less substantial and more speculative in nature.

Degas being Jack the Ripper. Degas being Jack the Ripper started off as a tiktok theory posed in early 2024, (though you can find an article as early as 2004 written by The Guardian's art critic here) and while fun to think about and speculate, it isn't true. August and September and November of 1888 is when the Jack the Ripper crimes were committed in London and Degas was in the South of France at that time receiving medical treatment because he was in extremely poor health. (Which you can find in The Letters of Edgar Degas edited by Theodore Reff (I'm sure there's. free PDF version out there somewhere)). Also, self-admittedly speculative, but Degas didn't visit the East-End of London when he did make his excursions to London because he was classist 😭. So, it would be odd for him to know the ins and outs of the streets where the murders took place. And also he had failing eyesight starting at 36, so the odds of him being Jack the Ripper are extremely slim.

The Ballerinas Yes, while it is true that the ballerina's were often subject to horrific conditions and were prostitutes for the "wealthy" patrons of the opera house, this does not mean that Degas partook in that. in fact, most historical documentation surmises he didn't. Degas considered himself a "realist" painter rather than an impressionist painter, wishing to document "real life" in all of its ugliness, beauty and unstylized truth. Therefore his primary concern was documenting the opera house and ballet in all of the moments, not just when the girls were dancing on stage. And in many of his paintings, Degas captures the opera patronsn in his ballerina paintings as lurkers behind the stage curtains as sinister black shadows, or as men predatorily watching in nice suits (e.g. Ballet, 1876 and The Rehearsal of the Ballet Onstage (1874)). But Degas himself, was NEVER a ballerina patron, he is even quoted as saying "People call me the painter of dancing girls. It has never occurred to them that my chief interest in dancers lies in rendering movement...". (now this is not because Degas was morally outraged at what was happening to the ballerina's, but because he viewed the men abusing the girls as committing a sin against God by sleeping with prostitutes). But while Degas had access to backstage, he was never a customer. And in fact, Degas is a notorious, well-documented celibate. This is because Degas believed sleeping with women would make him lose his special painting ability. No lie. Here's a direct quote from Vincent Van Gogh in his a letter to his brother Theo about the artist: "Degas lives like a little lawyer and does not like women, for he knows that if liked them and went to bed with them, he would become intellectually diseased and would no longer be able to paint." Degas was also known to reject ballerina's advances as well (again, fearing women would take away his magic painting power).

Feelings towards women By all accounts, Degas friends describe him as being reclusive towards women to being jovial with them, but always kind to them outside of a working environment. He even developed friendships with his fellow contemporary women painters. In a working environment, Degas was obsessed with perfection, demanding ballerinas contort their bodies in painful positions, and making them hold those positions for hours at a time. By all accounts, this was not because he hated them, but was obsessed with capturing their movements, the limitations of the human body, and he demanded perfection from himself. (x x x) (i.e. his obsession for his work and drive for perfection as a painter made him demanding and harsh towards his subjects, not his pure hatred of women).

Conclusions: So by many accounts, Degas was not particularly fond of women, and had little regard for his dancers. But the claims that he must have slept with the ballerina's and been a patron/customer "because that's what all men did back then" are not backed by any evidence. only evidence to the contrary. I went in on Picasso because those that were close to him have written first-hand accounts of his monstrocity. This is not the case with Degas. So, while I didn't tear him down like I did Picasso, I wasn't lauding him as a saint either. I highly recommend reading the article called Degas's Misogyny by Norma Broude which details the ways in which modern times have run away with this idea of Degas being a sadistic woman-hater and how we've gotten to this point. Anyway, TLDR; I was aware of the dark "underside" of the Paris Ballet at the time in which Degas was painting his works. Do I think he is Jack the Ripper and a man who participated in ballerina prostitution? No, not at all. At the end of the day, I am just an art history girl, telling anyone who will listen that there is not enough documentation on Degas to take these claims as 100% truth, or put that man up there with Picasso. Peace and Love! <3

[restinslices]

Hello, I saw the publication, idea of MK1 characters with a combat medical reader, and I was wondering if you could do it. With the Lin Kuei brothers and if possible Harumi 😔☝🏻

Sorry for the bad English, it's not my mother tongue

L.N

Hey pookie. Ngl, I was having trouble making all of them different so imma pick one brother to do and if you want the rest, you can request again. Maybe spacing them out will let my brain marinate and actually work lol. Also I don't know anything about Harumi. I won't even lie to you-. Also your English is legit perfect.

I imagine that he'd meet combat medic reader at a young age

You're apart of the Lin Kuei, so he meets you when he's "adopted"

You still fight and all that jazz but you're also being trained in healing

He was adopted after his family was killed so um, yeah, he's a bit shook up and nervous

He doesn't know how he feels. He just stays in his room. He absolutely hates how everyone stares at him. He feels like he's being watched all the time

You're good friends with Bi-Han and Kuai Liang, so you're used to spending time with them at their place

I can see the first interaction being something simple. Like, his new dad (who is the Grandmaster of the clan that murdered his family) (I just CANNOT get over this shit) asks you to get him for dinner

You peek your head in his room to tell him dinner is ready. That's it. That's all.

He doesn't know who you are and honestly he has no intentions on finding out

But then over time he starts actually training, and that comes with injuries. He gets a real fucked up shoulder and is sent to your area

He's quiet the whole time for multiple reasons; he doesn't know you fr, he's still not sure about this clan, and he's watching you work your healer magic

You try to make smalltalk but he's kinda in and out of this world. Keeps zoning out. You can understand why though. Everyone knows what happened to his family

That's how your relationship is for awhile. He comes to get healed, then he leaves without really talking

Things change though when you're sent to get him for dinner again and you walk in on him crying

You're not an asshole, so you close the door behind you and sit by him

Neither of you talk. After some time you leave then come back with two plates of food

"I lied and said you were sick. Also asked if I could give you company" "Why'd you do that?" "I didn't want you to be alone in here" "Oh... thank you. Seriously" "It's all good man. You uh, wanna talk about something?

That's when the friendship truly starts. That act of kindness really sticks with him and now he truly thinks you're a good person to be around

He comes to you when he gets seriously fucked up in training or on actual missions. Sometimes he just chills out in your area and you two chat while you work on healing someone

I could see him take an interest in anatomy and shit after seeing what you do

I just see y'all vibing in your little healing hut a lot

I do think going on missions would be funny though-

"I gotta pop your shoulder back in place!" "You can't magically heal it?!" "Not this time!" "Hurry up then!" *pop* "DAMN!

"Do you get injured on purpose more when I'm here?" "I'm doing my best here"

As for when you start dating, honestly I don't see you dynamic changing much

A relationship with Tomas is like being friends but y'all hold hands occasionally

Oh and obviously you join the new clan (I am not googling how to spell that rn)

Gotta give y'all a happy ending sometimes

[lady-of-tearshed]

ok…hear me out, a fic where cassian has a kid (prob adopted or smth) that’s nonverbal bc trauma or disability reasons, and it kinda wears on cass so one night he’s like talking to rhys about how his kid isn’t normal, and the kid went to get some water but overhears the whole thing - just angst to comfort

love your writing btw💗💗

Beautifully different

Pairing: Nessian & Their kids (Oc!Briana & Oc!Zion)

Summary: Cassian has a lot of pent-up frustration and worries about his son, Zion, who is diagnosed with selective mutism. He slips up in front of Zion, and now he has to apologize and make it better.

Word count: 1368 words

Warnings: Disabled child (selective mutism), angst, miscommunication, a bit of swearing, allusion to Nessian conceiving another child.

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears ❤️

“It’s called selective mutism,”

Cassian could still remember the confusion and worry that had set in his head the day Madja had announced the diagnosis of his son, Zion. 

Cassian’s grip tightened around his mate’s shoulders, his jaw clenched with anger. “So he’s not talking on purpose?” 

“No,” Madja’s voice had softly reassured him and Nesta, whom was crying against Cassian's chest. “No, it’s not how it works. It’s a rare childhood anxiety disorder. It’s the brain response to a trigger that makes Zion unable to speak in certain situations or around certain people,”

He remembered how it made his stomach twist with guilt, how the sight of his mate crying in his chest at the hard news had brought tears to his own eyes. But Madja’s comforting hand on his shoulder had calmed him down, grounded him. Her voice had enveloped his heavy heart and soothed his ache like a soft salve. 

“It is not your fault, to any of you,” Her other hand gently rubbed circles on Nesta’s back, calming down her sobs with her reassuring words. “There are treatments to attempt to cure this, and things you could do to help Zion’s condition to go away,”

“We’ll try anything,”

Cassian was a bit late to pick up his kids from Feyre’s studio. Madja had deemed it helpful to sign up Zion on recreational activities with other children for him to interact with, so Cassian and his mate did. Of course, Briana, the perfect big sister that she was, had insisted that she absolutely needed to go too so she could hold Zion’s hand if he got too shy (but mostly because she absolutely adored her auntie Feyre, and she was overly excited to make some art with her.), so Cassian and Nesta had no choice but to agree. As if he would’ve ever denied anything to his little princess anyway… 

The doorbell rang when Cassian pushed the door open.

“DADDY!”

The tiny bundle of curly hair wrapped in pink chiffon jumped into his arms, and Cassian caught her up in his arms before twirling her around. He bit her chubby cheeks playfully, making Briana’s melodic giggle to fill the room. “Hello sweetie, I suppose you had a great day?”

“The bestest day ever!”

Cassian huffed a laugh before putting her down on the floor slowly. He lifted his eyes and scanned the room, searching behind every canvas where the paint decorating them was still fresh and shining. Finally, his eyes landed on the one exposed on the easel exposed in the farthest corner of the room, where Zion sat, absentmindedly applying the same shade of blue all over the white canva. 

Cassian had to hold back his cringe, and forced himself to not look at all the other kids' artworks and compare them to his son’s. Instead, he just caressed Briana’s hair. He crouched down to be face to face with her, and smiled.

“Hey, why don’t you go and play outside with your brother for a while? I need to talk with Auntie Feyre,” Briana opened her mouth to say something, but Cassian poked her nose and cut her off. “Alone.”

Briana sighed dramatically, pouting a little before taking her little brother’s hand and cheerfully dragged him along to the swings outside the studio. 

Cassian waited until he was sure that both of his kids were outside, playing, and not paying attention to him, then he made his way inside the studio. His ears led him to where water was running, and leaned in the doorway to where Feyre was cleaning a shit ton of paint brushes. Sometimes, the warrior wondered how she dealt with such messes weakly, for fun. 

A chuckle left his throat at the thought, and made Feyre’ face snap up from her task. A bright smile flashed over her red, blue, purple and yellow painted face. Feyre tried to wipe it away, noticing Cassian’s amusement glinting in his eyes, but her attempt very much failed, as it only resulted in spreading the paint all over her face even more. 

“Are you here solely to make fun of me, or to actually pick up your kids?”

Cassian chuckled, scratching the back of his neck while a flush of embarrassment creeped up his cheeks. “Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit late to pick up the kids I know… I was…” He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the mental image of how busy him and Nesta had been. “Busy.”

“Busy making more of those little ones?” 

Nosy woman. 

“How has it been for them today?”

“They’ve been good. Briana has made some progress on her painting today…” Feyre frowned, hesitating. Then she shrugged, avoiding the topic. “They’ve been good.”

“And Zion?” Cassian pushed, moving closer to where Feyre was washing the paint brushes. “Has he… made any progress? Did he make any friends?” 

Feyre left the brushes in the sink and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, he tried a different shade of blue on his canva today… He didn’t participate actively in the group today but…” She bit her lip and placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, “Maybe it’s normal, perhaps that’s just how he is you know… Maybe he’s happy like this-”

“Well I am not. A child needs to have social interactions to develop, Feyre. He’s not normal,” Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel his face heat up, his breathing getting as heavy as the guilt resting on his soul. “Madja was wrong. That kid will never be normal. He’ll never be like the other kids,” 

Anger bubbled up within him. How was his son not normal, when his daughter was? “Where the fuck did I mess up-”

A thud that came from the other room cut off Cassian. Both Feyre and his face snapped to the door, where a tiny wing peaked out. 

Feyre’s face twitched and she patted Cassian on the shoulder. “I’ll wait outside with Briana… and I’ll make sure that the front door stays closed while you talk it out.” 

Feyre quickly made her way out of the studio, cheeks red from the embarrassing situation. She carefully avoided eye contact with Zion’s heart-broken face. 

Cassian only stayed in the middle of the supply room, staring at Zion’s tiny wing peeking out of the doorway. He sighed, and ran a hand over his face. “Zion…” 

Zion hesitantly moved from his hiding spot and slowly dragged his feet in front of his father. His head was kept so low that Cassian couldn’t even see his eyes from where he stood. He kneeled in front of his boy, his warm palm coming to cup his cheek. His thumb brushed off some tears staining Zion’s cheek, but he still avoided his father’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I…” 

Cassian’s throat tightened, cutting off any sounds when the silent room filled with Zion’s choked sobs. He brought his face to his chest, his own tears now falling on top of his son’s head. He held him tight against him, as if he was afraid that the boy’s heart would crumble if he’d let him go. “I’m sorry, Zion. So sorry…” Cassian whispered against the boy’s ear, his hand rubbing slow circles on his back. 

Zion sniffled, his face now tilted up to look into his father’s eyes with so much sadness.

“I said horrible things, I’m sorry. Every kid is different, I know. I just…” His voice broke. Cassian looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. He calmed his sobs down before taking control of his voice again. “I just want you to be happy, my son,” His eyes met Zion’s, the same shade of hazel eyes staring back at him. “But… I guess sometimes I need to remain myself that being happy for you sin’t the same as being happy for me,” 

Zion nodded, his little hands coming to wipe away Cassian’s tears, the same way he did for him. 

“Are you happy, Zion?” Cassian whispered, his face painted with concern. 

“You make me happy.”

And these were the most words Cassian had heard from his son, but the most beautiful ones anyone had said to him in all of his immortal life span.

Acotar taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover

Cassian taglist: @ladybookstan

[lovemyromance]

Here's an alternate way SJM could have written scenes that feature Elain, with a whole list of people in place of Azriel

Azriel figures out Elain's powers -> Lucien figures out her powers. Majda said if anyone could sense something amiss it would be a mate, so it makes more sense for Lucien to have figured out her powers

Azriel takes Elain out to the garden and sits with her -> Lucien spends time with Elain in the garden.... which makes more sense because that's his mate

Azriel rescuing Elain -> Feyre rescues Elain by herself. It would have been easier to write for SJM, since we are being told the events from Feyre's POV. Or Lucien senses something amiss from the mating bond and realizes Elain is in danger, and shows up heroically.

Azriel gives Elain TT to defend herself -> Cassian offers Elain his knife and she takes it.

Azriel refuses to spy on Lucien because he wants to respect Elain's privacy -> Why would he want to respect Elain's privacy? He allows his shadows to trail Lucien and gives Rhys a full report when asked

Azriel makes everyone wait to eat until Elain is seated -> Azriel starts eating immediately when everyone else does because he's a hungry boi

Elain gets Azriel the headache powder ->Elain does not get Azriel a gift

Feyre says "why not make them mates?" In reference to Elain and Azriel -> Feyre keeps her mouth shut and doesn't question the sanctity of the mating bond

Azriel is protective of Elain and doesn't want her involved with the troves -> Azriel uses the threat of making Elain scry to force Nesta into doing it instead .... like the rest of the IC was trying to do

Azriel's shadows get ready to strike when he hears Nesta upset Elain -> Azriel continues to eat his cereal at the dining table and mind his business

Azriel buys Elain a solstice gift -> Azriel doesn't get Elain a gift

Elain gets Azriel a solstice gift again -> Elain only gets a gift for Lucien

Azriel is so down bad for Elain he would beg on his knees for a taste of her -> Azriel's POV does NOT feature a long monologue about how much he desires Elain and loses sleep around her and how he wants to know what she sounds like when she comes

Elain wants Azriel to put the gift on her and leans into his touch, giving him permission to kiss her -> Elain thanks him politely for the gift and goes back upstairs

And I could go on. If SJM didn't want to put these two together, she didn't have to write so many scenes between them. They have no reason to overlap - think about how many times we saw scenes between Nesta & Azriel or Nesta and Rhys before we received her story. Barely any scenes.

Think about how many times we saw Nesta and Cassian scenes before her story? Plenty. Practically every time Nesta was mentioned, Cassian was not far behind.

SJM had no reason to connect Elain and Azriel but she chose to. She chose to write their storylines intertwining, and it wasn't just to "create angst for Elucien".

Because you can't just sit there and "create angst" for a main couple, without showing us the couple together at least a few times. Give us an idea of what the main couple is before you throw in angst.

By the way SJM has written things, it seems more like the angst in question is the Elucien mating bond holding Elain & Azriel apart. Not, the other way around.

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #16

Wiggity what's up my fellow book clubbers, today we're taking a look at the ethics of treating artificially made intelligent lifeforms as second class citizens and what the qualifying factors are to determine a being as truly "sentient" and deserving of basic social rights. And by that I mean we're reading PKNA #12: "Second Draft" which is a comic where nothing bad happens!

This post is LOOONG btw.

okay we're just gonna start off our comic as normal and-

WOAH who's this handsome young devil in his little fancy suit??? What's that? Head of Ducklair Industries?..... yeah sure that makes sense I think.

Everett Ducklair 🤢🤢🤢 get a job stay away from him. Also this is a really nice way of saying you had to stop him from being overtaken by insane homicidal tendencies and putting guns in all his inventions btw

Haha woah what was that. Did the fabric of reality just tear for a second there or did my ADHD meds just kick in. Probably just me.

MASTER Donald???..... I don't even think I can write out the jokes I wanna make here they're too inappropriate for this blog sorry. But also what the fuck.

Uno stop mothering maybe I WANT to get frostbite and lose all my fingers

Not to take a sudden side tangent here but is this supposed to be like, a good thing? Don't the other seasons exist for a reason? I always thought fall and winter were meant to be like a cleansing period, they bring balance to the two other hotter seasons. If it's eternally spring, do some plants just never die? Are animals ALWAYS in the breeding season? Today we're going to overanalyze this one concept in an essay where-

OH MY GOD IT'S ODIN wait nevermind hiii Odin hiiiii. what's lookin good cookin. I mean- shit. fuck. shit.

I'm kind of obsessed with the way Odin is drawn in this comic. His whole body is all wiggly like a bendy straw. His stances go crazy.

gayass

Guys ever since I made that post about Odin's outfits and noticed that he's barefoot here it's been haunting me. Like it might just be a coloring error in this panel but also... why'd he take his shoes off. Also sorry for immediately revealing that it's Odin but um uhh I totally don't know who the OTHER cloaked figure is.

girlll you're giving away the game SHUT YOUR MOUTH

TWO Lylas?!?!?!

I'm loving Donald's shock lmao bro is fucking flabberghasted

This picture is so fucking silly bro. Nooo you can't put Odin in jail, he has such a nice suit on :(

Donald getting offended on Uno's behalf, not knowing that Uno is literally sitting right behind him. SURELY he'll figure it out eventually right.

Omg guys it's Geena!!! Remember Geena? From Portrait of the Young Hero? Anyways she has a gun now

Way to go Donald, you showed her basic empathy for like 2 panels and it gave her an actual sense of self value and NOW she thinks she deserves rights 🙄 she's gonna Detroit Become Human up in this bitch

beaming you with my evil lasers. what if he just fucking fried her brains here I think it would've been funny

Oh that's. probably bad.

ohhhh noooo.....

OOOOHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ok so bad news, Geena fucking exploded and her droid rebellion is presumably over. The GOOD news though is that droids are destined to get their rights anyways, just in a less violent manor than in the timeline Geena had started. So... I guess that's a win?

Disappears in a cloud of beautiful sunset smoke... Goodbye Odin 👋

Donald. Please. DONALD.

Okay so there's a LOT to say about this comic (so much that I kept hitting the image limit and having to make edits to my post to make it more concise) but if I could summarize it into one word: damn. Like I'm just kinda sad now.

The whole concept of "do robots deserve to be treated like human beings" is a common argument to explore, we've seen it in all kinds of media before. The ethics that get touched on in this comic are nothing new, but I can't help but find this comic incredibly interesting to read in the year 2024. Maybe in 1997 the idea of robots integrating into our society seemed like a far-off concept, but in present day the ever-growing integration of AI technology really makes this chapter feel a little more close to home.

I mean, it's easy to be like "yeah, well of course the droids deserve to be treated like people." I mean, Lyla and Odin are droids, and we like Lyla and Odin! Odin is literally so lifelike that people don't even KNOW he's a droid. But I can't help but think about how this all ties back to the current ongoing debates surrounding the usage of AI, and specifically AI-made content. Obviously the AI we currently have is nowhere near the level of the characters in this series (chatGPT fucking WISHES it was Uno) but there's really interesting debates to be made here.

What qualifying factors determine whether or not a living being is deserving of the same rights we humans give to ourselves? Is it being biological? I mean, there are literally millions of types of animals on our planet, but we don't even treat them with the same level of respect we give to ourselves. So, is it intelligence? If we were to create a computer with the intelligence level of a living, breathing human person, would they be entitled to basic "human" rights? HELL IF I KNOW.

I love the way this comic handles exploring this topic. Geena isn't WRONG for wanting more, she's wrong in the way she went about it. Going as far as to literally alter the course of spacetime only further complicated things, for her AND for the other droids. Had Geena instead devoted her energy into droid advocacy in the modern day, things may have gone differently. This story isn't the end of droids getting rights, but it is unfortunately the end of Geena.

We ended on a happy note, but overall this story is a pretty melancholic one. Especially that whole "only machines can be rebuilt" like DAMN.

Anyways that's enough media analysis for today, time to take off my smart thinking hat and go back to being generally kinda stupid. I'm not gonna add anything about Angus Tales here at the end because I already hit the image limit lol. Umm shoutout to Angus Fangus for having like 110 parking tickets. Idiot.

[nyx-thedragon]

Newsies thoughts part 3

so I just finished watching Newsies 1992 for the fourth time, and noted down a bunch of things I noticed or thoughts I had. I didn't do this the third time I watched bc that one was with my brother and I wanted to focus on the movie and talking and joking with him lol.

anyway, I noted down a lot of things, so prepare for a long post. (these are in order of when I thought of them, and I'm typing them from my notes app so enjoy my train of thought/how my brain thinks)

1- shoutout to Mr Kloppman for taking care of the boys

2- what's the story behind the lady that comes in singing about her son in "Carrying the Banner"? she fucking slays, but I'm very confused about it

3- they're literally just a bunch of teenage boys who've been dealt an awful hand in life but try their best to keep everyone's morale up and stay positive (me realizing how sad the reality of the newsboys is)

4- all the older newsies taking care of and helping the little ones I love them so bad

5- you can tell how close the newsies are with each other I love it. family for real

6- why does Les carry a wooden sword almost the whole movie?

7- "this is my brother David. he's older" "oh, no kiddin'"

8- love love love how all the newsies just adopt David and Les into the group immediately

9- Pulitzer needs a magnifying glass to read the big-ass headline lmao

10- Seitz lowkey seems to kinda be on the newsies' side

11- why does the crowd boo when the old guy is holding up the "round 58" sign? (during the scene where there's a boxing match going on)

12- Les and Davey immediately follow Jack in running from Snyder even though they've never been in trouble with the law

13- Davey stops Les from putting his head in the horse mask thing (?) (when they're in Medda's theatre)

14- Jack just staring at Davey while Medda coos over Les

15- genuinely Jack did not need to pull Davey by his tie. he could've grabbed his shoulder, but no. had to pick the gayest option

16- Davey inviting Jack to his house after just meeting him literally like not even 12 hours ago. and then inviting him to stay the night?? down bad behavior for real. and he seems so nervous to introduce him to his parents too ??

17- Sarah Jacobs please give me a chance please please please

18- ngl the scenes with Jack and Sarah are a little bit like,,,cringe?? idk they just don't feel right idk if they have enough chemistry for Sarah to realistically be Jack's love interest

19- bro just casually steals a horse and no one goes after him ??? (during Santa Fe)

20- the stupid fucking calculation thing Pulitzer does with his arms omg it's so funny for no reason

21- Kid Blink either doesn't see or just doesn't care that one of the Delanceys is mocking him

22- Jack puts his hand like right next to Davey's face and then slowly moves it away lol (when Jack is asking Davey what he should say to the other newsies when first planning the strike)

23- Davey staring longingly at Jack while he's up writing "strike" on the board

24- "i need some of those...what do you call 'em?" "whatever you want!" (from a random newsie in the crowd, love whoever that was)

25- Spot Conlon hears Davey say one sentence and is like 'yeah this guy never shuts up once you get him going, i can tell' (hence "walking mouth")

26- who is the newsie that just appears behind Jack while they're in Brooklyn talking to Spot??

27- Mush and Davey friendship i love you so

28- where does Race get a harmonica from for "Seize The Day"?

29- love all the littles standing on the statue pedestal during "Seize The Day"

30- Jack and Davey jump up on the statue pedestal and start kicking each other. playing footsie, boys?

oh dear lord i did not realize i noted down this much holy shit

31- Davey immediately looking for Les when the cops show up

32- the Refuge needs better security at the gate cuz how did newsies sneak in TWICE

33- they had time to choreograph a whole dance routine bro (the little seize the day reprise thing)

34- "everyone remain calm" "let's soak 'em for Crutchie!"

35- Davey gets pulled away by someone in the crowd while trying to help Jack (during the big scene when they get ambushed by the police at the distribution place)

36- why are half of the Brooklyn guys grown ass men?? and they're intimidated enough by Spot Conlon to let him be the leader? man i love Spot Conlon he's so cool

37- Spot and Kid Blink lowkey friendship love it

38- Dutchy being horizontal for the picture

39- the workers at the restaurant just watching the chaos of "King of New York"

40- i hate Snyder's face. it makes me uncomfy

41- Sarah Jacobs, how is your hair perfect right after waking up tell me your secrets

42- if they wanted the Jack and Sarah love interest story to actually work better, they should've fit more scenes of them talking

43- nah cuz actually wdym Jack's "real" name is Francis?? he doesn't look like a Francis at all (this is just me being baffled that he could be named Francis, of all things)

44- who is letting Kid Blink hang off the fucking balcony bro he is nawt gonna land on his feet

45- Race and Blink being Medda's #1 hype men <3

oh my fucking god i'm so sorry this is so long i apologize profusely. if you've made it this far, go get a little treat for yourself

46- Jack and Davey are so grabby with each other when Davey is warning Jack about Snyder

47- Medda i love you !!! (tried to fight off the police to defend Race. "he's just a child")

48- how are the newsies losing the fight against the police? there's like a thousand of them and not as many of the police (or at least it seems there's a lot less police)

49- Denton trying to get to Jack when he's captured by the police

50- Race trying to gamble with the judge, he's so unserious

51- the look Jack gives Davey when Snyder starts telling the truth about Jack (his real name, his dad not being out West)

52- i keep accidentally mixing up Specs and Dutchy lol. probably cuz they both wear glasses (i feel so bad for this omg i'm so sorry Specs and Dutchy)

53- no yeah, security at the gate of the Refuge is awful. 6 boys snuck in at once !!

54- why did Pulitzer tell Jack to shut up and listen THREE TIMES when he wasn't even talking ???

55- Davey was just standing in the courtyard outside Pulitzer's, how did no one see him?? he wasn't even hiding, dude

56- Mush shows up to get the "Newsies Banner" papers twice - once by himself and again with Kid Blink

57- "can you read? read that" (Race making sure the kids will be able to read the paper love him for that)

58- Race and Les's little friendship moment is cute ("when the distribution bell starts ringin', will we hear it?" "nah")

59- Race's reaction to Roosevelt is funny. "Roosevelt!?" (bro is shocked)

60- Denton hanging out with Les while Davey gets his papes

61- Race cheering when Jack kisses Sarah. "Jackie boy!"

whew oh dear lord I am so so so sorry for this being so fucking long. I didn't even realize I had noted down so many things I feel bad for making folks have to read this whole thing if they want to see all my thoughts. maybe I should split this in half and have two posts instead of this long one?? idk let me know what you think. also, if I got the names wrong for any newsies, please let me know I'm still learning lol.

uh yeah, this post is over now. stay hydrated, get some rest, and stay cool

[according2thelore]

i love the es/ls verse SO MUCCCHHHH!!! sam’s self-hatred towards his younger self in that last one is just - mwah! chef’s kiss! he’s so jealous of him and he also believes that that kid doesn’t deserve dean!! meanwhile younger sam hates older sam for what he’s become, but he’s jealous, too. ah!! amazing!

and dean not understanding and getting angry with sam’s self hatred is so wonderful. it’s like one if their key issues, but now it’s not a theoretical issue, it’s A Guy. and his name is 23y/o Sam Winchester.

you’re sooo amazing. love this so much. would love to see more if you’ve got it - the deans not understanding the sams’ negative feelings towards each other, and getting protective over it

hello, anon!

you get it: "it’s like one if their key issues, but now it’s not a theoretical issue, it’s A Guy. and his name is 23y/o Sam Winchester." HAHAHAHA you nailed it!

thank you so much!!! that means a lot--mwah mwah! <3

i always have more of it, lol!

~~~

"hey."

sam looks up sharply, startled. dean--his dean, young dean--is standing in the doorway of their shared bedroom in the bunker. his arms are crossed, and he looks peeved. he leans against the doorway, and he crosses his ankles in a practiced show of nonchalance.

"you don't need to talk to him like that." dean says, jaw ticking. sam snorts derisively, turning back around. he continues folding the shirt in his hand, and smacks it to his bed with enough force that it comes unfolded again.

sam doesn't reach for it again, just grabbing another.

"yeah. great. thanks dean." sam says. he's exhausted. anger--his old friend--rises up in him, but he can't even be bothered to put the energy in to stoke it.

after he confronted older sam in the kitchen, older dean's words pierced deep. i'm disappointed in you. sam feels like a chastened child. he is, in a way.

"what's that supposed to mean?" dean asks, stepping into the room. sam can feel him get closer. hates it. he folds his shirt faster, and doesn't look up at him.

"you took his side. i knew you would." sam spits the words like the poison they are. of course dean would pick the sam that doesn't fight with him, that doesn't want anything else.

dean stops, somewhere behind him, and sam hates that he can feel his brother without seeing him--a skill he had gotten on his knees and thanked god for when he was younger.

"okay what's with this--" dean fumbles for words. "this 'side' thing? it's just one side."

"no." sam finally whirls on him, dropping the shirt onto the bed. "it's not."

"sam." dean's brow is furrowed, and his voice is firm. "you need to back off. he's trying. he's been super cool with us staying here and--"

sam scoffs.

"spare me your hard-on." he spits. dean's eyebrows raise, and heat starts spotting his cheeks. sam wants to take him to the ground, until the reason dean's cheeks are pink are sam's hands, sam.

"that! what the fuck is that? back off!" dean shouts, and his hands ball at his sides. he doesn't deny it.

"back off? back off?" sam is incandescent with rage, his earlier apathy lighting aflame like dry tinder. "am i suddenly an asshole for not wanting to be here? for wanting to get home? i though that's what we wanted."

"it is--you know it is!"

"do i? do i fucking really?" sam gets in dean's face, shoves him back a step. "you're practically salivating whenever he walks into a room, you take his side in everything, you act like he's mother fucking teresa--"

dean's cheeks keep rising in colour, but his face is drawn into a furious scowl. he shoves sam back. sam's skin screams, buzzes, where dean touches it.

"he's you!"

"no, he's not!" sam shoves him back.

"sam." dean looks at him like he's crazy. sam feels like he is crazy, that this whole thing has driven him completely mad. "he is. he literally is. you're dogging on my little brother."

sam blinks hard, trying to fight off the sudden, blinding bite of tears.

"fuck you." sam spits. fuck dean for saying that like it's nothing. for claiming him like it's nothing. my little brother. dean only has one little brother.

"i'm--" sam starts, but cuts himself off because his voice is humiliatingly high. dean's face changes, irritation slipping into incredulity. sam wants him to stop thinking immediately. "stop that."

"are you--" dean's face splits into a grin.

"shut up, i swear to god--" sam begs, sitting down on his bed heavily and covering his eyes with his hands.

"you're jealous! or something! you're weird!" dean crows, and sam pitches to the side as dean's weight slams down onto the bed next to him.

sam moves his hands. dean is sitting on the side of his bed, tilted towards him and looking down at him. sam scowls.

he knows their MO is mockery and sarcasm, but for one fucking second, he just wants his brother to take him seriously. to take his side.

"i will take you down." sam threatens lowly, and throws an arm over his face. he waits for a beat, hoping dean will go away.

"sam." dean's voice is disappointingly close. "sammy, look at me."

sam is so shocked that dean has given him his name back that he moves his arm away. he sits up on his elbows. dean looks surprisingly somber, as he says:

"i'm not built to look at people be mean to 'sam.'" dean puts air quotes around his name. sam snorts, but dean just raises his eyebrows. "i'm not. i am hardwired to want to fuck up sammy's bullies. kinda my whole thing."

he's smiling a little at the end. sam softens. just a bit. he's not used to dean wanting to protect other people. he's not used to becoming a second priority in dean's life, in dean choosing a third party over sam's opinion, not since dad died.

"are you...are you calling me a bully?" sam asks, half-amused, half-irritated. dean rolls his eyes, but looks frustrated, like he can't even tell what he means.

"i'm saying. i...don't know. i'm kinda...protective over the guy. he's a sammy." dean shrugs. sam tilts his head, thinking.

"so you're saying if i get him to be a dick to me, you'll suplex him over a table?"

"oh yeah. i'll get a stepladder to reach him and everything." dean assures. sam snorts.

they sit in silence for a second, dean looking down at sam's face, and sam looking up at the ceiling, to give dean the chance to look. in a few minutes, it'll be sam's turn to look at dean while dean looks away.

a thought occurs to sam, though, and he looks over. dean obediently looks away, though there's a frown tugging at the edge of his lip, like he's annoyed his time was cut short.

"i'm not promising anything until you promise to be nice to big dean." sam says, and dean makes a disapproving, alarmed noise. he looks back at sam, eyes wide.

"that old fart? that's totally different. he's a dick. sammy's actually great and brilliant and nice and huge, so." dean tilts his chin up, like he's made a point. sam's chest seizes briefly around the impression of something--unused to and displeased with hearing dean praise someone else like this.

"hey!" sam says sharply, holding up an accusing finger. "dean's not that bad."

"hypocrite." "hypocrite." they say at once, dean's lower tone layering underneath sam's.

they blink at each other.

and--for the first time in too damn long--two brothers dissolve in, frankly, giggles. sam slumps forward into dean's arm, and dean scrubs a hand through his hair.

~~~

"he's trying his best." dean mutters into sammy's bare shoulder. sammy closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of dean's chapped lip on his skin.

their younger selves were probably hashing it out, too, a wing away.

sammy turns around in dean's arms, and sam nudges his way under dean's chin. dean lifts his head obediently, and sam exhales against dean's bare chest. he wishes he were still small enough to fit here completely.

even his younger self couldn't do this, anymore.

"i know." sam says, finally. he doesn't have to ask "i think...i think i hate him."

dean's arms seize around sam's shoulders.

"no, you don't. he's a kid. a baby."

my kid. my baby. dean's words don't say. sam hears them. he hates them. that's why he hates this kid. among many reasons. he's so blindly arrogant, so violent, so harsh. so fucking prideful. head full of his own words and heart full of fire. and dean looks at him like he looks at sammy.

"no, i don't." sammy acquiesces. and he doesn't. "resent" is probably a better word.

dean reads his silences so well that he starts petting through sam's hair. it should feel infantilizing, but it doesn't. sam sighs. he's an adult. and in a second, he'll pull away and deal with this like a regular person.

"do you miss him?" sam asks, after a long pause. him. sam. the sam i used to be. the sam that sits a dozen rooms over, talking to his own brother.

"i'll always miss you." dean says. "all versions of my pain in the ass are my pains in the ass."

sam snorts, but it's half-hearted, quiet.

there are worse things, sam supposes, than being loved to the point of absurdity. to the point of forgiveness. to the point of dean loving all versions of him, all the time.

"as long as i'm your favourite." sam murmurs. dean noses along his hairline, breathes deep in sam's hair. sammy knows dean isn't good at saying it out loud. but the soft lips at his temple are answer enough for him. dean's horrifyingly sappy when he's quiet.

you're always my favourite.

~~~

thank you for your patience, anon! i hope you enjoyed!!!! life kinda came at me w a baseball bat, so i'm sorry it took so long to respond! i hope you see this :)

-lizzy

[bibururokku]

So my brother, who I should mention is a child less than half my current age, also likes Blue Lock and randomly told me if a certain character were real, I'd make a good couple with them. I thought it was funny, so I jokingly asked who he'd like as a brother-in-law if that were the case, but the kid took it very seriously and ended up listing SEVERAL boys WITH reasoning.

However, after he was done, he gave it some extra thought and went, "But I don't think you'd like them that much..." so he made a SEPARATE list of boys who he thought would be a good husband for me, and that basically killed me inside. I didn't want to laugh in his face and make him feel bad, so I held it in, but the genuine thought he put behind his lists broke me internally.

He's so sweet, but sometimes I wonder what goes on inside that little head of his. Anyway, at some point, I started to take notes as he made his lists, so I'll put his lists and the gist of what he said UTC just because I think it's cute, but also, bro...???

List of his ideal in-law(s) 1. Bachira Meguru → He has a lot of energy, slick moves on the field, and can fight. So basically, if Bachira were his brother-in-law, they could play and run around everywhere together. Plus, he can teach him a few tricks and moves himself and how to throw hands if needed. The fact that Bachira is, if not one of, his absolute favorites in the series is an added bonus. 2. Nagi Seishiro → He's chill and feels familiar because he thinks he is similar to me, as he believes I'm a low-energy, game-loving genius. He also thinks Nagi would just give him the answer if asked to help with homework because it's a hassle to explain, and he wants that and for him to carry him in a game. Plus, his godly control over the ball when playing football/soccer is really cool. 3. Michael Kaiser → He's technically famous as one of the New Generation XI, which means he could flex to his friends. Also, he was very impressed by his ability to take down police officers with the football/soccer ball and thinks he could teach him how to do that to other people, as his in-law. 4. Isagi Yoichi → He's really nice and smart, so he can generally rely on him for things, as long as it has nothing to do with playing or practicing football/soccer with him. Isagi also matched Bachira's energy, which led him to believe that he could also pretty much play with him all day long as well. 5. Mikage Reo → He's rich and has a tendency to pamper the people he is fond of. Basically, if I were married to Reo and we were to visit my family as a couple, he'd get pretty much anything he wanted, as Reo seems to be the type of person who would give his in-laws a whole bunch of gifts when visiting.

List of who he thinks would be a good husband for me 1. Michael Kaiser → He's a famous athlete who is good at what he does, which means stability and security. Plus, he can fight and thus protect me. According to him, Kaiser's past traumas and current issues wouldn't be a problem because he thinks I could handle it and even help or support him in dealing with some of it. 2. Chigiri Hyoma → He's a sassy princess, and I, too, am sassy. Therefore, he believes we would get along as a couple. Plus, he's into people who are calm and understanding, and that's what my brother thinks of me, especially when I'm angry since I don't yell and just ask for logical explanations to understand. 3. Itoshi Sae → He makes me laugh a lot, leading him to believe we'd get along as I'd be unphased by his aloofness and would likely enjoy the freedom that somewhat cold nature would bring. He's also good at his job, so we'd have a stable and secure life. Plus, I'd probably make up for what he did to Rin (💀). 4. Karasu Tabito → He also makes me laugh a lot, so he thinks he would humor me. Also, he thinks I also fit Karasu's type since he thinks I'm strong, smart, and have a good voice. Additionally, I could make up for Karasu's inability to be nice to mediocre people, as I am generally nice and polite even if I hate someone. 5. Nagi Seishiro → He's similar to me, so naturally, that means we'd get along and be a decent and "hassle-free" couple. Especially since he's very chill, he's likely to just go along with whatever I wanted and give me the freedom to do as I please. Bonus Yukimiya Kenyu → He was joking, but he brought him up because we both have poor eyesight LMAO.

[mjrtaurus]

Factoring in something with my headcanon backstory, so bear with me.

Crocodile hates having his intelligence insulted. He becomes disproportionally angry about having his intelligence insulted as opposed to other cracks we’ve seen taken at him.

So… working this into the whole jealousy/envy complex with Marco. Maybe it went along the same vein as the whole “Usopp thought the only reason he was on the crew was to take care of the Merry, and without her he was useless and unwanted” thing. Not beat for beat, of course, but similar.

Say Crocodile is getting outpaced by Marco in battle because of the inherent capability of the phoenix fruit, and he’s well aware of it. He’s lagging behind in terms of strength, and breakthroughs in his own powers are slowly creeping (I imagine controlling personalities would have a great deal of difficulty in mastering a logia due to how free-flowing the type of power can be). And of course, his brain is going worst case scenario about it, because that’s what unchecked trauma and anxiety do when given a single crumb of doubt. Especially to a kid.

I imagine the Rocks pirates weren’t very forgiving for the weak, so consider Crocodile would fear that Whitebeard would discard him, or worse, if he couldn’t pull his weight with the Whitebeard Pirates. It’s an unfounded fear that we, as the viewer, can understand, of course. But Crocodile can’t.

So if his body wasn’t up to snuff, then how about his mind? Crocodile is an incredible strategist, planner, and overall thinker just in general. Would it really go so far out of line to think he would pour all his effort into planning raids and supply runs with ruthless efficiency just to prove how smart- and valuable- he was?

Wouldn’t that be grounds to become extra pissy with somebody when they were insulting his intelligence, when his intelligence was- from his perspective- what kept him from being thrown away like garbage?

[clowndensation]

it's like. louis attempted to tell this story to daniel the first time, broke down, and attacked him before he could finish it.

and then decades later he's convinced himself that it was leaving the story unresolved that's holding him back from living his life fully now. so he invites daniel back again. and louis is sitting poised and put together, confident in his ability to recite his history in a pretty, poignant, neat little narrative that will resolve all the guilt and yearning and emptiness inside of him. that if he can just tell a compelling, satisfying story, maybe it will actually be that, and not the life he lived through, with all the pitfalls of his own failures lurking inside.

and then season 1 ends with him once again being forced to confront that the story he wants to imagine and the life he actually lived aren't the same thing. the boundaries around his narrative are shredded and he's left exposed, and subsequently able to face his past for the first time since that original interview. and you think, you think, "well this is it. they've crossed the event horizon. there's no use hiding the truth anymore, not after it's come flooding out into the open like this"

and then season 2 opens. not only is it back to the original, practiced distance, we now have armand literally enforcing that distance. a man sitting at the table who's interjections must be disregarded, an intentional interruption to the flow of the story. he doesn't exist to aid or add detail, he exists to distract louis when he gets too deep in the story. the only time we do get louis allowing any deep truth to come out is when armand leaves the room.

it's like. louis wants a story that's true, and the truth is what he's convinced will leave him satisfied. armand wants a story that will satisfy louis, to the extent louis will accept it's true.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[drenched-in-sunlight]

i like ghostflower (hell I draw fanarts for them) but I’ve decided I like the version of them in my head more and will just stay away from the fandom in general cuz I’ve seen some discussion and they just make me go “what on earth are y’all on” 💀💀💀💀