#george phase was quick

[youcantstandit]

perfection.

rays of sunlight drifted through your window and placed themselves across his features in such a mesmerizing way, one would think the sun shone just for him. his eyes were glittering as he looked up, hair sprawled amongst the plush of your thighs, and he let out a sigh of bliss.

nothing can stop the purity of the moment, then you lean down. soft sparks set off as softer lips shift euphorically. the universe must have smiled upon you to grace such a perfect moment.

"you are everything i want in life," his eyes are closed as he declares this in nothing more than a whisper. tingles on your back break out as the weight of his hand smoothes skin within his reach. fingers slowly sift through his hair in appreciation whilst a wave of warmth spreads from your chest at such a claim.

"if i had the world, i would give it to you." the truth which always lay at the tip of your tongue flowed off and into the air.

he smiled in response, "by having you, i have the world already."

[ludwig-van-gaythoven]

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader) Part 3

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

ED mentions.

Parts:

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

When you wake in the morning, Regina is already gone. She’s probably gone to meet with Karen and Gretchen for breakfast, pushing food around her plate more like. You’ve noticed some of your leftovers have gone missing, you don’t mind though. At least it means she’s eating something.

You’re not sure why she seems to relax around you enough to eat, something she can’t seem to do around her supposed best friends.

You have to remind yourself you aren’t her friend but the sketch is still neatly folded under her pillow, whatever that means.

You have a quick shower, throw on some jeans and a band tee and go to the campfire pit to hear what activity you’ll have to do today. It might mean being paired with Regina again, although she acts like a completely different person with you in public. You can see straight through her act. The more you see of her, the more you realise she’s not cruel, bitchy or formidable. She’s scared and a little insecure.

“Today half of you will be boating and half of you will be climbing! Cabins 1-6 follow me and cabins 7-12 meet your leader at the high ropes in 5 minutes!” The instructor calls.

Fuck no.

You try and sneak away slowly, if there’s one thing you’re afraid of, it’s heights. Maybe you can sneak off with the boating group, that sounds less scary, and safer.

It doesn’t work, Mrs Norbury catches you and sends you off in the direction of the high ropes. It’s not like they can force you to climb, right?

They’re laughing about something, you can’t tell what. Maybe Regina’s already making fun of you, maybe she’s gone through your bags to find anything embarrassing to tell her best friends. Maybe she’s taken a photograph of your sketch to prove you’re a loser, freak or whatever. She did similar to Janis, what’s stopping her from doing the same to you?

Maybe not.

You think you saw a glimpse of the real Regina underneath all the pink and glitter, last night.

An instructor calls out that the session is starting. For once this week you stop thinking about Regina.

You can already feel your heartbeat in your ears as you approach the climbing frame. You’re instructed on how to correctly fit your harnesses and told to line up and go over one at a time across the high ropes.

It was like an assault course in the air. First some wooden stepping stones, then walking across a tightrope with just a rope above to balance yourself, and then finally a zip line. You felt your stomach flip, there had to be a way out. You couldn’t have Regina see you having a full-blown panic attack.

Regina is just in front of you in the queue, she doesn’t turn to look at you even once. You’re slightly hurt but not surprised. It’s not like one evening of civility means she could be seen with you in public.

The plastics climb up and start to walk across. Gretchen and Karen walk in front, screaming and giggling the whole way. Regina saunters across, nothing phases her. As she climbs across the rope you can see the muscles under her pink crop top tensing, it makes you momentarily forget about what you have to do until the instructor calls out that it’s your turn next.

Okay, just breathe and whatever you do, don’t look down.

You climb up to the top platform. It’s just a walk across some stable wooden platforms. You can do this. You stare straight ahead, ignoring the thumping of your heart, your hands clammy against the ropes. As long as you don’t look down you’ll be fine.

By some miracle you make it across. The next obstacle is a walk across a tightrope. This one makes you cold sweat.

You start to shake more. Regina is already across the other side standing and waiting to go across the next obstacle. She still looks like a goddess, and you probably look like a sweaty mess. For the first time today she turns and looks at you, her expression is hard to work out, maybe pity? Probably amusement.

You put one foot tentatively on the rope and hold for dear life onto the top rope. You shuffle across in an ungraceful manner. Hopefully Regina has turned her back by now. This would definitely be blackmail material.

Every time the rope moves you feel like you’ll fall, any second you could faint, or throw up, or maybe have a heart attack.

You edge closer to the finishing platform, you can see the edge of it and make the mistake of looking down.

The ground becomes blurry and feels like it’s 3,000 feet away.

Your stomach lurches and your foot slips.

Desperation fills you and without thinking you desperately reach your hand out, hoping Regina will grab It, pull you back up and you won’t feel that dreaded falling sensation.

Instead she shoves you.

Hard.

You fall from the rope, your heart nearly stops and you can’t open your eyes. The harness catches you but you’ve swung sideways from the rope and the force of Regina’s push makes you come crashing back, your hip colliding with the wooden platform.

The pain is immediate, and searing.

An instructor lowers you down and a teacher demands that Regina comes down too to take you to first aid.

She does this begrudgingly, her little minions whining that it’s not fair that she has to pay the price when you ‘just slipped.’

You don’t look at her or speak to her on your way to first aid. With every step your hip explodes with pain. You try not to show how hard it is to walk. This wasn’t the same Regina you hung out with last night.

Never show your weakness to a predator. That was your first mistake.

“ I wouldn’t have had to do that if you didn’t try to touch me.” She spat, staring at the ground as you walked. Was she ashamed?

“Whatever Regina. I don’t care.” You sigh, wincing again as you step.

She huffs and rolls her eyes at you as you finally make it to first aid. She leaves you at the door.

The first aider confirms that she doesn’t think it’s fractured or broken. Just badly bruised. When she asks what happened you lie and say you slipped. She doesn’t buy it but she doesn’t push any further. She gives you some pain medicine and an ice pack and suggests you go and rest for a bit in your cabin.

You go back and lie in your bed on your back with the ice pack slowly melting away at your hip, making the sheets wet and cold.

Luckily Regina is out somewhere, she’s probably snuck off to one of the plastics cabins.

It’s not like you care anyway.

You decide not to get dinner today. The thought of limping all the way to the campfire sounds awful and you don’t want to give Regina the satisfaction of knowing she hurt you so you try and get some sleep.

Your phone buzzes and lights up on the nightstand. It’s Janis.

“Heeey Dude! How’s the school trip? Wait why are you in bed it’s not even late” the voice of your best friend rings out down the phone.

“Long story, I slipped climbing.” You don’t know why you lie to Janis. You don’t feel like talking about Regina.

You know that despite them being on civil terms now, Janis and Regina still held a grudge respectively. Secretly you knew Janis definitely still had a crush on her, not that she’d ever admit it. At first you didn’t understand why Janis would fall for someone so fake and shallow but now you’ve seen the other side to her. Or is it just a disguise for her to gain your trust? You trusted she’d catch you and instead she pushed you away.

“Are you even listening to me?” Janis breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Huh”

“I said, has Regina fallen in mud, or ruined her boots or had bugs in her hair yet?” You can hear the grin in her voice, and a slight hint of excitement from speaking about Regina.

“Uh, I don’t know… I haven’t really seen her.” You lie again. Why can’t you stop lying to your friend?

“Anyway Janis I have to go, I should probably go and get dinner now, the teachers will wonder where I am.” Another lie “Bye!” You add quickly and hang up.

You sigh and throw your phone back onto the nightstand. You close your eyes again and try and get some sleep.

The painkillers have kicked in and you finally drift off.

You’re in the middle of a forest in a clearing. For some reason you feel uneasy. The trees are all looming around you, as if they’re trying to warn you, leaning closer to whisper “Run” in their windy breath. From between the trees you see a bright pair of blue cat eyes. They’re fixed on you. Unblinking.

You try to get up to run but you can’t move, you’re fixed to the spot as a lion emerges from the trees, claws sharp and teeth bared just about to clamp down on your neck-

Something shakes you awake. Or rather, someone.

“Get up.” You hear Regina hiss.

“What, why?” You mumble back, rubbing your eyes. Her silhouette is blurry above you.

“Come with me.”

“Why the fuck should I.” Your response shocks both of you,she scowls and grabs your wrist to drag you up.

“Just come with me.”

“Fuck off, Regina.” You spit

She doesn’t say anything, just tightens her grip on your wrist and pulls you up.

There’s no use resisting. Stupidly you follow her. Why would you trust her after she pushed you, you’re walking yourself to your doom.

She leads you to a clearing in the trees. Just like your dream, everything in your body is telling you to run.

And then you see it.

A hot pink blanket is sprawled out on the floor and you recognise various containers of food you’d bought laid out on the blanket. There’s two fluffy white pillows either side of the blanket.

“Say something, dumbass!” She barks, she doesn’t meet your eyes and you notice a slight blush on her cheeks

“What’s happening.” You stutter. Surely not, why would Regina have gone to all this effort? Is she trying to apologise?

“I saw you weren’t at dinner and I didn’t want you to starve or something. I’m not sleeping in the same room as a corpse.” She quips, going to sit on one of the pillows. You follow and sit on the other, are you still dreaming?

You eat in silence for a while. Every now and then stealing glances at Regina. She’s actually eating some of the food, looking down at the blanket in thought. The sun is setting and the light manages to catch her in a way that makes her even more perfect. Her cheeks are slightly rosy and you notice she’s taken off most of her makeup. She looks softer, like her guard has dropped slightly.

“I’m sorry I pushed you.” She whispers and her eyes catch yours. She looks genuinely sorry.

Against better judgement you immediately forgive her. You can’t hold much resolve against her when she’s sitting at a picnic she made for you and the sun is reflecting off her skin like that.

“It’s okay, I’m fine anyway.” That’s half a lie, it still hurts quite badly. “Thanks for this. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted you to know I’m sorry, really, and…. Your food is better than the shit they serve here.” She fidgets nervously “It’s nice to eat without Gretch and Karen commenting on the fat content of it.”

That makes your stomach sink. You wonder how anyone could ever think that Regina was anything but beautiful.

“We could have dinner together tomorrow too, if you wanted” that definitely didn’t come out as confident as you wanted it to.

She doesn’t say anything but she smiles at you. Your heart skips.

After you finish eating you pack up Regina’s cute picnic and make your way back to the cabin. You resist the fleeting urge to hold her hand. You don’t want to get shoved again.

She goes to the bathroom to shower and you pull out your sketchbook. You draw the same forest clearing before, sketching in all the leaves, except this time the lion is lying on a blanket, eyes closed, peaceful.

You put the sketchbook back in your bag and get changed into pyjama shorts and a top before laying on top of the covers on the bed.

You’re drifting in and out of consciousness when Regina comes out of the bathroom, you hear her pad quietly towards your bed.

As if not to scare her off you stay perfectly still, eyes shut, and pretend to be asleep.

You feel her hand pull the leg of your shorts up at the side to reveal the darkening bruise at your hip.

Your heart nearly implodes when you feel her gentle lips press a soft kiss to your hip.

It’s over in a second, she goes back to her bed and pulls the covers over her head.

You let out a shaky breath and decided you would probably never be able to figure Regina George out, but at this current moment, you didn’t really mind.

[inuyashaluver]

Hi could you do smt abt being Lucy bronzes little sister who is the photographer for city women and is in a secret relationship with Leila Ouahabi and no one know because your “forbidden” to footballers per Lucy’s request as according to her your still a baby as your like 23/24 ish.

by the rule book - leila ouahabi

leila ouahabi x reader

description: in which you and your sister have a set of rules that you break because of a certain defender

warnings: let’s pretend leila attended the world cup, basically me yapping, swearing, angsty?

a/n: leila train has arrived back at my stop lmao, thank you so much for the request, much love, enjoy ❤️❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your sister had a set of rules that were heavily referenced while growing up, and the present.

this set of rules sworn on by each sister with the promise they would never be broken. and they weren’t, until leila came into the picture.

—

you were 8 years younger than your sister, lucy. you’re a bronze sister, meaning you were extremely fun, playful, but serious and stoic when you needed to be. you and your sister brought out the best in each other, expecting nothing but the finest.

lucy was the best older sister, she was funny and always included you in everything she did once you grew out of your snitch phase and actually became cool in her eyes. the two of you were always extremely close and that’s how you both liked it.

she encouraged you to put your heart to your passion, one of the main reasons you became a photographer.

lucy was extremely protective of you, hence why she created a simple set of rules between the two of you that shouldn’t be broken.

1 - don’t date any of lucy’s teammates

2 - don’t date any of (y/n)’s friends

3 - respect each other’s boundaries

4 - be honest with each other

5 - sisters come first

the rules were easily agreed upon by the both of you, they were made when you were 16 and lucy was 24.

—

you followed lucy around for photographer opportunities, landing yourself a permanent position on the media teams of both england and manchester city when lucy joined in 2020.

you always loved photography, adoring the feeling of capturing a canvas that would be around for years to come.

just before lucy joined in 2020, you were both at england camp. in free time, everyone would eagerly chatter about their new or current clubs they were going to.

you angled your camera at keira while leah marked her during a mini game, checking the photos with a pleased smile until your sister hopped on your back.

“munchkin!” (your nickname for as long as you can remember) “luce! get off!” you laugh, almost falling flat on your face until your sister got off you, giving you an exaggerated kiss on the cheek that you were quick to squeal and complain about.

“you’re so annoying” you grumble, unable to fight your smile at seeing your sister’s bright grin. “shut up, show me some pics, picasso” she teases.

you roll your eyes amusingly, giving her a sneak peek of all the photos you’d taken so far, letting out a bright laugh when she made you stop on a photo of her.

“that’s class” she pinches your cheek teasingly, “well done, baby sis” she coos teasingly, a couple of the girls coming over and teasing you too.

everyone viewed you as family and a teammate even though you were just their photographer, you’d been with them for so long, they’d grown a huge love for you.

“you excited for manchester, (y/n/n)?” leah throws an arm over your shoulder as you both walked inside st george, “yeah! should be good, nice and cold” you grin,

“maybe manchester city is where we can finally see you get a partner?” she teases, you both laugh, “lee, come on, you know the rules” you laugh, “i know the rules!” lucy calls out from behind you from where she was walking behind you.

you flip her off and she gasps offendedly, “i could get you fired for that!” she exclaims, you wave her off, laughing along with leah.

—

you, lucy and keira all lived together in manchester, splitting the rent and living comfortably.

but in 2022, the two of them got offered contracts for barcelona and they accepted, but you didn’t. manchester felt like home to you, and you really didn’t want to leave it.

it was the first time you’d been away from lucy, and don’t be mistaken, you are a highly independent person but something was so reassuring about having your sister with you.

before they moved, they helped you move into a flat for yourself, small and homey like you needed.

it was incredibly tearful dropping keira and lucy off to the airport, you don’t think you’ve ever felt your sister hug you so tight.

“i love you” she breathes out into your embrace, you hug her back equally as tight, “such a sap, bronzes don’t do that” you tease, receiving a slap on the back of your head.

it was daunting for the both of you to be apart, not really having to do that in your lives.

“i love you too” you smile, “i’ll call you when we land” lucy sniffs, hastily wiping away her tears and letting keira hug you as well. “my favourite bronze” keira smiles, both you and lucy letting out a wet laugh.

you wave them both off with a sad smile, waiting for them to go through the gate before you dragged yourself back to your car and drove off.

—

you went back to work at the beginning of the season, waiting for the girls to come outside to photograph their training session.

you smile and wave to familiar faces, taking a couple of test photos before you noticed a new face that you didn’t recognise at first, one of the new signings.

your eyes narrowed slightly in concentration when you looked at her, until you realised who it was. leila ouahabi.

you’ve never met her formally, only smiling at her in the hallways of national games if you had the chance. you always thought she was absolutely gorgeous, but you also appreciated the way she defended, even your sister agreeing she was incredible.

leila smiles at you, slightly surprised to recognise you slightly. the truth was, leila had been heavily looking at your social media platform ever since she laid eyes on you way back.

she thought you were gorgeous, she could tell you were a soft soul, with your charming smile and cute little face you made when you were concentrating on your camera.

she wanted to know you, she was just shy about it, not knowing to approach you, maybe this was the opportunity she needed.

—

training progressed, you smile pleasingly when you look back at your photos, your ultra focus showing on your facial features as you attempt to capture the best photos possible.

you were sat on the side of the pitch watching the girls train, your eyes subconsciously drifting to the spaniard.

it was until a mini game that a certain defender was chasing the ball, kicking it out and sliding directly next to you that your breathing quickened.

you look down to see her slightly wincing, heavily breathing and looking a little too attractive but that was an afterthought.

“are you okay?” you breathe out, the girl on the floor looks up at you surprised, a sly smile taking over her features.

“i’m fine, hermosa (beautiful), thank you” she winks, pushing herself up from the floor and dusting herself off, walking back to the pitch and making sure to look back at you with a flirty smile.

you blink in shock, what was that interaction?

—

these interactions went on, situations where you felt extremely nervous around her even when she was barely doing anything.

you were photographing the new kit, only a set amount of players selected for the campaign, and luckily for you, leila was the very last model for the day.

leila came in with her charming smile and a dray of drinks in her hands, she perks up when you make eye contact.

“good morning, hermosa (beautiful)” she grins, extending the warm drink out to you, you look at her in surprise, a grateful smile gracing your features.

“morning, leila, thank you” you take a sip and let out a pleased sigh, “how did you know this is my favourite?” you tease.

“i read your cup” she says with a flirty smile, though her cheeks tinged slightly with pink. you smile before clearing your throat.

you go through the plans for the shoot, explaining what type of photos you’ll be taking, the approach of the shoot and what you needed from her.

she maintained eye contact the entire time you spoke, nodding along with each and every word and clarifying on things when she didn’t understand.

it was almost hard to press the shutter button when leila would pose, it was a simple, basic, arms crossed - stoic football pose photo that you’ve taken numerous times in your career but something was just so different about how leila did it.

her confidence poured out of her and her smirk made your stomach flip. she was serious but loved to joke around with you when the time called for it.

the two of you basically chatting, taking a photo, chatting, taking a photo. a simple yet effective formula that you both enjoyed. so much so, leila asked you to go out on a date with her and you accepted without a second thought.

—

the two of you went on a couple of dates before the two of you started dating. back then it was really fresh but extremely obvious with the heart eyes you’d send each other.

the manchester girls caught on before the two of you could even process it. and the only condition for everyone was to vow their silence around your sister with the promise of the best pictures being published.

as time progressed, you both moved in together, both of you in one of the most genuine, loving relationship the two of you had ever had.

—

“baby, i’m working” you giggle, pressed up against a random wall, one hand on leila’s hip, camera in the other.

“amor (love), you’re not working right now” she grins cheekily, lips quickly locking with yours. one of her hands on your cheek and one on your hip holding you close to her.

you let out a little exhale from your nose in a laugh, to focused on kissing your now girlfriend of a year.

it was hard hiding it from lucy, especially when the two of you lived together. you were able to get away with it most of the time, telling your sister your roommate was just really chatty.

“baby” you mumble against her lips, attempting to push her away by the chest but the girl was attached to you, “shh, let it happen” she mockingly scolds, giving you a stern look before she kissed you breathlessly.

that’s when you hear it, the chuckles and teasing coming from familiar blondes, alex and chloe. “get it, baby bronze” alex whistles, you and leila pulled away with a roll of both of your eyes.

“don’t forget about that photo i have of you, alex” you threaten, one taken of her with an expression on her face during a header that had her screeching in fear when she saw you laughing at it.

“you’re just as annoying as your sister” alex flips you off when you blow her a kiss, laughing as they walked away.

leila squishes your cheeks together with one of her hands, forming your lips into a little pout, “mi amor (my love), those are my kisses” she grins lazily, clearly teasing you when she placed a little kiss on your forced pout.

you usher her off to training, giving her a playful slap on her backside that she shook her head at.

—

it was during the 2023 world cup that you both got found out, and boy was it an experience. your sister was extremely confused as to why you were so excited spain was in the final, wondering what your certain new interest about the spanish team was about.

“don’t tell me you’re a traitor, munchkin?” lucy scoffs while you set up your camera on the pitch during a pre-match walk.

“luce, i’ve got my england merch on, thank you” you laugh, shaking your head as you take a quick photo of her with an evident frown on her face, her eyes narrowed at you.

“why do you keep looking at their bench?” she questions, following your eyes to see some of the spain girls walking out to do their own checks.

“why are you so paranoid, lucia?” you tease, punching her lightly on the arm and wincing when a slap made its way to the back of your head.

“some of the girl’s play for city, i’m just being nice” you rub your head in slight pain, glaring at your older sister that she returned.

“i’ll find out, i always do” she concludes, letting you go back to taking some photos and other little media bits.

—

and unfortunately for you. she did find out.

the girls were lining up in the tunnel, about 5 minutes until everyone would walk out. ironically you see you sister standing next to leila in the tunnel, you try to fight your smile when you make eye contact with your girlfriend.

she smiles at you, your bodies moving on their own as you completed her pre match ritual, three quick pecks on the lips.

you both smiled brightly when you pulled back, before you heard a sharp voice coming from behind you.

“what the fuck was that?” your sister exclaimed, her hand on your shoulder and spinning you around, both yours and leila’s eyes widened, realising what had just happened. “fucking ouahabi” she breathes out in disbelief.

“i really hope you’re fucking joking, (y/n) bronze because i’m not fucking laughing” she says lowly, not wanting to attract much attention but she was.

you just look up at your sister in shock, mouth slightly agape, “nah, we’re talking about this. later” she glares, both at you and leila.

the girls walk out and you watch them dumbly as you go. you were grateful that moment wasn’t recorded.

during half time your sister wouldn’t even look at you, brushing you off like you were nothing. “don’t” she pleads, walking past you as you tried to approach her.

you walk to the tunnel and felt the tears pricking in your eyes, and like a magnet, leila’s hand found yours, dragging you into a quiet corner where the two of you could have some privacy.

as soon as your girlfriend brought you into a tight embrace, you broke down. “shh, it’s okay” she hums, kissing your cheek softly as you cried in her arms.

she pulls back slightly, looking at you with a sad expression when she saw your tear streaked face, her hand moving up to wipe away the evidence.

“i didn’t want her to find out like that, i was ready to tell her tonight” you sniffle, leila nods along with your words, listening to your little ramble intently as she comforted you.

“i know, bebé (baby), i know” she says sympathetically, pulling you into another hug and just holding you.

she stayed with you the entire time, talking you down and making you look presentable before you went back on the pitch.

she knew she would get subbed off anyway, only wanting to focus on you for the minute. you were still in a hug when lucy came out of the change room, her face softening when she saw your red eyes.

she was about to say something but she stopped herself, not wanting to do this right away. she weirdly smiles at both of you, tight lipped but still somewhat of a smile.

“it’s okay” leila whispers, and it really felt like it was.

leila kisses you softly before she makes her way back on the pitch, and of course when the match ended and england lost, the mood changed.

your sister let you hug her tightly after the loss, holding onto you for dear life as she hugged you. “luce, i’m so sorry, you played so well” you whispered, your hand rubbing up and down her back.

“i’m sorry, munchkin, we still need to talk” she sniffles, wiping away her tears and giving you a gentle smile. you nod, pulling her into another tight hug before you went off to congratulate your girlfriend, weirdly through the encouragement of your sister.

“hey, baby” you smile at your girlfriend, giving her a quick hug when she presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“hermosa (beautiful)” she greets with a bright smile, “congratulations” you whisper, she thanks you quickly, looking over your shoulder to see your sister hovering around with tears in her eyes, walking around by herself.

“give me one second” leila whispers, gripping your hand gently and walking over to lucy, you and your sister having matching surprised expressions.

“i want to honest, i love your sister, we have been together for a year and we were going to tell you sooner but she was really scared and i respect her” she blurts out,

“i would love to talk about this with you, if you’ll let me” leila says nervously, lucy pauses for a moment before nodding, pulling leila into an extremely quick hug but extremely meaningful.

“sure thing, leila” your sister smiles, a little laugh escaping her lips, “you know, you broke rule number one” lucy teases, telling you everything was going to be okay.

“it doesn’t count! you left when she came over” you groan, letting leila tuck you into her side as she giggled, watching you and your sister bicker like kids.

she could tell how much you cared about each other. but lucy could tell the same for the both of you.

—

all three of you did have that talk, you and your girlfriend explained the details of your relationship to your sister that she was actually quite happy about.

she’d never seen you so happy, so light with any of your previous partners.

she could tell you both loved each other because it was so painfully obvious but she was truly happy after she let out a rant about how you literally broke every rule in the contact.

she got over it though, a hefty shopping spree having your bank account screaming for salvation.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily oniiii

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leilaouahabi: biggest fan and personal photographer

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yourname: baby, my job is a photographer

↳ leilaouahabi: you’re no fun

lucybronze: hands off my sister

↳ yourname: you’re annoying

↳ lucybronze: you’re annoying

↳ leilaouahabi: i won’t touch her i swear

↳ yourname: sureeeeeeee

alexgreenwood5: so happy i don’t have to but my tongue anymore

↳ lucybronze: you knew?

↳ alexgreenwood5: no comment

leahwilliamsonn: told you!!

↳ yourname: you really did!

[mv1simp]

I am in ur walls

I have come to raise the idea of, and hear me out, Max x PR officer reader. I’m just gonna yap now, hear me out

Like can you imagine Max going through his hoe phase and reader having to clean up his image, and she’s just fondly like UGH MAX. Part of her is like blehhhhh because more work, but the bigger part of her is like ✨jealous✨

And then at some point she makes an offhand comment like if you want to be a whore, can you at LEAST not make more work for me????

Cue Max and her starting to be a thing, and him trying to rile her up enough to get her to be their own PR issue just for shits and giggles and he gets quite risque and horny and her resistance to it just turns him on even more until he’s saying and doing the filthiest shit in the middle of the paddock just to get her to crack——

Also can you imagine how hilarious it would be if they get caught and GP is like NOT YOU TOO READER LIKE DOES HE HAVE A MAGIC DICK OR SMTH——

WELCOME TO MY WALLS!!! This idea HAS ME ahahahah see I was always a crackfic writer at age 12 on wattpad, its time to remerge into the light with this prompt

Like you know how max is so millennial coded. And she’s actually the same age as him but he thinks she’s older cause she’s always looking so stressed. And she like um that’s cause you’re a fuckin manwhore max?!? Have you thought about celibacy for a hot second? And as they become better friends she demands he hand over his card so she can invest in some good skincare

(max also suggests maybe she needs to get dicked down good, he’s happy to provide that if she wants or? 🤭🤭)

But anyways she’s pumping out Gen z memes left right and centre to distract the masses from his slut era and he’s always like wdym “i have zero rizz and am a bitchless cat dad”?? I know memes?? Remember hawk thua-

ALSO WHENEVER HE REALLY TRIES TO RILE HER UP ON THE PADDOCK AND SHE CANT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT SHE MAKES HIM DO THE MOST ANNOYING SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGES TO GET BACK AT HIM like imagine her making him do a kiss marry kill with the drivers and he’s like 😑😑 and everyone’s like babes come here we got max Verstappen saying he’d kiss Alonso, marry charles and kill George before GTA 2024

ALSO I’m jumping the gun but after he ✨seduces her ✨ there’s so much scope for the classic shenanigans. Accidentally wearing shirts inside out. Accidentally wearing each others Redbull shirt and she could get away with oversized style but everyone’s like “max why tf are u wearing a crop top”. (GP knows. He knows and he can’t look either of you in the eye. Everyone has started asking why he loudly announces himself and waits 10 seconds before walking around the corners of the Redbull garage and he’s like…no reason. But his face is one of a man who has seen many, many things)

Anyway you have ban any contact of sexual nature after that incident that you have dubbed CropTopGate. But obviosuly that just makes max even more feral cause we know how competitive he is 😼

ALSO he’s notorious for going through personal managers as well but once you two start getting tension but you’re still all like “nooo 6 foot driver millionaires aren’t my type okayyyy 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️”

So he demands that you be promoted to his personal events manager as well. To which you are adamantly like NO knowing what this means for your poor self control but Christian Horner is like yes maxie boo 🥰 so now you also accompany max to all his lil modelling gigs, looking anywhere but at him while he stands shirtless next to you with a cocky grin.

OR LIKE IMAGINE HE AND A MODEL ARE DOING AN ADVERTISEMENT TOGETHER LIKE ONE OF THOSE SEXY PERFUME ONES. AND DURING A BREAK THE PHOTOGRAPHER NOTICES YOU AND MAX TALKING TOGETHER

and he’s like i don’t care who you are get over here NOW this sexual chemistry is insane so you end up in a very compromising pose up against max verstappen, F1 driver, cat dad, and certified slut while he’s whispering dirty things in your ear

(He catches on quick that you really likes it when he speaks Dutch, good thing you can’t understand it cause he’s just reciting his grocery list and enjoying watching you blush and squeeze your legs together)

very cute idea hehe thank you for messaging!! I LIVE for some sexual tension, reader is a better woman than me for trying to resist the advances of max 😮‍💨😮‍💨

[pedge-page]

I can imagine preggo wife literally talking and talking and talking in the middle of a movie and gets offended and leaves when Joel tells her to quiet down

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife : Yapper

notes: Oh I had fun writing this! no warnings (maybe some Fugitive and Raiders spoilers), Enjoy!

- - - -

Joel’s pretty excited for movie night. It’s one of the few films the two of you don’t argue over and can pretty much watch the entire way through without disruption.

Or at least, it used to be.

Joel settles against the couch armrest with his feet propped up, knees bent slightly so you have room to sit in front. He’s got any snack you could think of within an arm reach away, and he’s got the title on pause so you can scooch your fat booty and big belly comfortably. Usually takes about 15 minutes of squirming, smacking his chest to “fluff” it up, adding a pillow at his crotch, then taking it away because you like his hard cock there instead, elbow in his groin and then his knee, then you gotta get up to pee before starting the whole process over.

“OK Im ready!” You say after 15 minutes on the dot, snuggling close to him with the back of your head rested against the crook of his neck.

He finally hits play, and the Lucasfilm logo flashes across the screen. The tropical forest and ominous music plays as the familiar font of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark fade on to the screen.

“Joel. Joel. Hey Joel.” 

“Y-yes?”

“Did you know Indiana was named after George Lucas dog? Who also was the physical inspiration for chewy?” You ask  rhetorically. 

It takes him a second to understand you’re asking him a question. “What?”

“Chewbacca! From Star Wars!”

“Oh ok neat,” he says with some enthusiasm, but quick to end it and get back to watching the movie—

“Yeah also Sean Connery is also apparently—well guess how much older he is to Harrison Ford.”

“Um—I don’t—I don’t know.” Joel says slowly, watching as Indy carefully removes the sand from the pouch and weighs it to the gold idol.

“C’mon, guess!”

“I really don’t know, can we—“

“12 years older than Harrison in Last Crusade! My mom was like ‘WHAT no way’ and I was like ‘Yes way’ and she was like ‘He's his father and he's got all that white in his hair and receding hairline’ and I was like ‘Joel's only in his late 30s and he's got white in his beard.’”

Joel can’t hear a damn thing happening on screen except the shouts about hating a pet snake named Reggie. “Wha—“

“Not that you look anything like Sean Connery in Last Crusade. Maybe in like Bond —oof he was the hottest Bond. Plus you got like a receding beard-line with all the patches, I don’t know, but my mom was like ‘Ya know Joel's got more white hair lately since you've been pregnant’ and I was like ‘Nah uh’ and she was like ‘Ya huh’ and I was like ‘Huh I wonder why that is…?’ Anyway but nope only 12 years between him and Ford—“

Joel turns to look at you with a frown, a bit confused and amazed at how you have so much to say, right now, oblivious as ever. 

It doesn’t phase your rambling one bit: “—Like damn, but you know Harrison Ford has always been handsome. But like in the bad boy kind of way, not like handsome upstanding like Christopher Reeves? When I saw The Fugitive, I was like ‘oooohhhh I'll be his wife now’ hahaha! no no I’m sorry, he’s famous and I’m not so that’s why I married you, but that's such a fall film don't you think? Minus the murder and betrayal and fucking Dr Charles Nickles like was he British or not? He was in and out of an accent the whole time? Didn't make sense to me but yeah, it's just such a fall Cozy film.”

Joel looks back at the screen and realizes Marion is already being cornered by the Nazi creep: “Ah huh—honey—“

“OH! I Love her song! It’s kind of like Leia and Han’s from Empire except the last notes are different, like it goes do doooooo instead of da dat dada daaaaaaa, That’s just John William’s for ya, but you’d never notice they were so similar!”

Joel opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out as you continue:

“—Also I know you said my mom made good apple pie but I really wanna try to make it because I want you to like mine more, so I need you to get some apples and pie crust and butter and stuff from the store, I’ll make a list so you can get it. They said we need ground cinnamon but I think ours expired like 5 years ago so don’t forget that. And then I'm gonna tell you how to slice the apples since I can't handle sharp objects and then oh I need you to get the mixer from the top shelf and then you have to mix it all together and slice the top with like little heart patterns and then put it in the oven n stuff ‘cause it's hot and I don't wanna burn OH and that reminds me—!” 

“BABE!”

“Hmm? yes?” You ask with a innocent smile. 

“Let's try to be quiet and watch the movie ok?”

He offers a gentle smile and nods, pointing towards the TV again and settling to watch it with his beautiful wife.

His very very very unhappy wife. Your eyes haven’t left his, face now downturned in such a scowl, he should be shitting his pants.

You roll your jaw at him once, teeth grinding against one another with slitted, murderous eyes. Joel gulps, too afraid to glance back at you again. His eyes are wide staring at the commotion on the television but, now in your deadly silence, he can’t seen to focus on it at all. 

Instead of saying anything, you roll polly up to your feet, arms crossed over your chest defensively as you utter a loud “Hmph!” before storming away from the living room.

He’ll have to deal with groveling tomorrow morning when you might be a little more welcoming. But on the bright side, he’s got way more room to spread out on the couch and he can hear the movie much better now! 

......... 

He switches it off and runs upstairs to get on his knees by your side of the bed, begging for your forgiveness and promises of a Clyde's milkshake to go. 

- - - -

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[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings Reacting To Your Muscle Spasms ♿️

William ‘Bill’

He can relate.

He has his own issue with them, from his attack by Greyback.

It’s more subtle, and tend to get triggered by stress, but he can be in your shoes.

They DO get worse when the full moon is closer/here. Since a curse breaker, he was able to prevent himself from being turned. But still has side effects.

He doesn’t get startled when you have a bad day, and they get triggered. Nor does it bother him when you both sleep together.

He’s someone who can get it, and often forgets you even have them. When he notices, it’s just another day. He GETS it, and you can have someone to confide in

Charlie

He has them. He has them BAD.

Given he works with dragon’s, and all the time, he has suffered some nerve damage. Amongst just a million other health issues.

He’s turned it into a straight up game on who twitches the most sometimes. Weasleys. You knew what you were signing up for

Since he has his owns, you have a taste of your own medicine of what it’s like to fall asleep with someone who has them.

He genuinely knows what it’s like, and it’s nice to be with someone who gets it. Doesn’t freak out every single time it happens. It’s healing. You two are buddies in this world of muscle tension

Percy

He’s…..anxious. To put it lightly. He’s always been a man that startles easy, which the twins took advantage of, so it’s a lot to get used to.

But, since his older siblings have similar issues, he isn’t going in blind either. He’s the type to be quick to try and learn whatever his partner enjoys/suffers with.

He does get very frustrated, at the start, such as when you have an incident when your knee bumped against the table while he was working. Spilling ink everywhere. He was about to yell, but he recalled a time when Charlie did the same thing. How guilty he felt, and self conscious he was. So, he forced himself to breath, and cleaned up

It’s stressful, but he’s wanting to learn and help any way he can. He finds something like that not a deal breaker. You can’t help it, and neither can his brothers

Sleeping with him is a struggle, and doesn’t happen for a while. Not until you are both deeper in the relationship

Over all, it’s a struggle. He’s an able bodied man dating a disabled partner. But, he grew up with siblings having those similar issues. So, in a morbid sense, seeing and feeling them reminds him of home

Fred

As stated, he has siblings who have similar issues. So he isn’t phased by it nearly. Not to mention he’s most certainly developed some of his own, with being a man that has tested so many wild things on himself for the sake of WWW. Also, ya know, Fireworksexual

He’s the type that teases and would often call you “Jitterbug” or stuff like that. If you weren’t into that, he would be quick to correct himself. Jokes are to make people laugh after all, and tease those that had it coming. You were born/in an incident. Never had it coming

Given his whole aesthetic being a man of chaos, he doesn’t get bothered by you having flare ups at all. Just another day. But he would be always concerned when you have a bad day. Seeing how intense they can get. Even secretly trying to invent something to help

Given how close him and George are, they would often sneak into bed with each other when having nightmares. So having someone who’s spacing in their sleep doesn’t bother him a lick. But he will have his worries

It’s just part of who you are. And it’s part of who he is. Just one of the flaws that make you so beautiful to him

George

Rather similar to Fred, to many degrees, but he is still an independent person. And is a bit more sensitive to it all

He worries about you a bit more, and can’t help but wonder if they ever hurt. Charlie and Bill say they don’t. Unless they hit something, but still. He’s gonna worry about you when he sees the flares

When he loses his ear, after the war, he developed his own spasms from the trauma it did to his muscles and blood vessels. So he has some, and jokes that you two are twinning now. He immediately cried after saying that

Whenever you have a bad flare up in your sleep, expect to have him hold you closer. Kissing your head, in the hopes it some how. It doesn’t work like that, but he’s a wizard. Maybe it does

He’s going to worry, a lot. But it’s all in good faith, and because he cares. He’s going to try and help somehow whenever he can. And you can’t stop him

Ron

Expect to hear good ole “Bloody Hell-“ Whenever you have a bad one. He gets startled easy, like Percy, but is more audible about it. Over the years he gets better, but expect a lot of it

Growing up with siblings have similar, he doesn’t really get bothered. Just startled. Especially since he hasn’t been around his siblings along growing up, due to the age gap.

He secretly has a talent of reading spasm writing though. Since Bill and Charlie write to the family often. And since it’s ink, you can’t really fix it. So you never have to feel self conscious about your flare ups when writing

He will get startled awake, now and again, when you start sharing a bed. But he refuses to ever tell you that. Knowing how brave you are to attempt it. It’s the least he can do to try and make it work in return

When more of his siblings develop spasm, he feels a weird relief. Like if he never dated you, he couldn’t help them like he could with you

It’s new, but he’s a Weasley. Chaos is in their DNA. It’s just something you can’t control, like he can’t control his nervous ticks. It takes a while to adjust, but that’s kinda basic human nature. To adjust to new things. And you are a new thing here wants to keep

Ginny

Given her Qudditch career and lifestyle, she gets muscle fatigue often. So she can relate to having twitches. Course, having them twenty four seven is a whole other ball game for her

Given her experience, she is happy to help massage your joints and muscles. Using every trick in the book to see if they can help you in any way at all

Given she’s the baby, she didn’t really grow up around her eldest brothers, so she isn’t quite used to the concept of another person having them. Even with her team mates, they are far more subtle and they don’t exactly spend twenty four seven together

She sleeps like a damn brick. So you never have to worry about waking her up. But expect her own leg kicks when it’s been a long day on the field

She’s going to care for you deeply, and use all her special tricks to help you. Even though it doesn’t really work like that, the mental health boost it gives you still does numbers. She is trying because she CAN and WANTS to, and that’s all that matters

[learnastrowallura]

Gender of the Planets

Note: this post will present the conditions necessary for planets to have a more masculine or feminine expression; it has nothing to do with an individual's gender. Also this is worded in a black and white manner just to help you understand the concept better. The source of this information is the book Ancient Astrology in Theory and Practice: a Manual of Traditional Techniques, Volume One: Assessing Planetary Condition by Demetra George.

I prepared some example for you guys to follow and hopefully be able to apply the knowledge in your own charts as well. Enjoy <3

Masculine energy/expression is initiative, quick to act, welcoming of change

Feminine energy/expression is receptive, takes her time and is resistant to change

The Masculine and Feminine Planets

Masculine planets: Sun, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn

Feminine planets: Moon and Venus

Most actually consider Mercury to be a neutral planet; I am going with Masculine.

Now to figure out which expression these planets shift to, while taking into consideration their essential gender, we will look at the following conditions:

1. Zodiacal signs:

Masculine signs: Aries, Gemini, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius, Aquarius (fire and air signs)

Feminine signs: Taurus, Cancer, Virgo, Scorpio, Capricorn, Pisces (water and earth signs)

Masculine planets act more in accordance with their basic nature when in masculine signs (Mercury in Sagittarius)

Feminine planets do the same when in Feminine signs (Venus in Pisces)

Masculine planets when in feminine signs (Mars in Taurus) do not operate so well and vice versa (Moon in Aquarius)

2. Solar phase (morning or night):

A planet is considered to be more masculinized when it is rising before the Sun, and becomes more feminized when it is following the Sun:

Pisces Venus example: (before, masculinized)

Sagittarius Mercury example: (after, feminized)

3. Quadrant:

This one is pretty simple. If the planet is between the Ascendant (ASC) and midheaven (MC), or between the Descendant (DSC) and Imum Coeli (IC), then the planet is more masculinized, otherwise it is more feminized.

By applying this we can see that the Pisces Venus in this chart is more masculinized in this way, and that the Sagittarius Mercury becomes more feminized.

Demetra also mentions Celestial Latitude; however, I do not know a lot about it so I decided to not include it in this post.

So you see, we started out with Mercury, a Masculine planet, being in the sign Sagittarius, a Masculine sign; this tells us that Mercury is in its element here and is able to express its masculine well, which would indicate that the native is the type to be an active and fast communicator. But then when looking at the solar phase condition we determined that this particular planet is of the evening phase. In other words, that it does not rise before the Sun; this caused Mercury to become more feminine. And then when we considered the Quadrant condition, we found that Mercury was in the second house therefore between the ASC and IC points, this leading the planet to become more feminine as well. So do not judge by Zodiacal signs only!!

Feel free to reach out if u need help with applying this knowledge on ur own chart!!

Thank you for reading <3

Masterlist

Paid readings available

[re-re-redline]

-Confession Headcanons: Constantine XI-

-No Spoilers For Traum-

In the main headcanons at least, it’s in the Endnote, though, and it will be highlighted in blue. So look out!

Foreword: If you haven’t read the Romance Headcanons I did for Constantine, then I advise that you do since this is a direct continuation of concepts and events that happened (or would happen may be a better phrase) in that set of headcanons. In less words, you may find yourself a bit confused. At this phase, I don’t have that many posts so scrolling through my profile shouldn’t be too much of a chore at the time of writing. But once I have more things under my belt, I’ll make a Masterlist.

That in mind, this time I’ll be going into the process of how Constantine confesses to you. It’ll start off with how Constantine plans the whole thing, how he executes the plan, and the aftermath. Now, good ol’ Redline is nobody if not someone who writes ridiculously long lists of headcanons, so all that good shit will be under the ‘Read More’ for the sake of everyone’s scrolling convenience as I have a feeling that we’re going to be here a good while.

Now, let’s get into how this pathetic bastard (affectionate) will confess to you.

Alright, post agonizing slow burn we have a Constantine who no longer has his head up his ass. Great. So, this is the part where he confesses immediately and everything’ll be all hunky dory and this list of headcanons is gonna be a short one. …Is what I would say if things were that easy.

Let me ask you something real quick. We all know that Constantine had two (2) wives, yes? Well, can anyone tell me how he proposed to them? Was it: A. He visited her home country and proposed in person and discussed the deets there, B. He spent ages writing the world’s longest letter as a proposal, or C. It just happened, fuck if I know, why are you asking me this, Redline?

If you picked any of these options then you are wrong. His first marriage with Theodora Tocco in July of 1428 happened because her uncle, Carlo I, got his ass beat by Constantine’s older brother, John VIII, and had to give up some of his territories along with marrying his niece off to Constantine to seal the deal. Micheal had jack all to do with this aside from helping his brother take Mystras and beat up Carlo.

His second marriage with Caterina Gattilusio in 1440 was the result of his wingman George doing the negotiations. The only part Constantine played in that whole thing was deciding on who he was going to marry.

Now why am I telling you this? I’m telling you this to inform you that Constantine has virtually zero experience in this field. He had John and George pull it off for him and even then the marriages were political in nature so there likely wasn’t any feelings to confess in the first place. Now, he may have grown feelings for his wives during their short time together but honestly, we have no idea. So it’s safe to err on the side that he’s got nothin’ since it does not require proof of any kind to hold this position.

This means that it isn’t a stretch to say that Constantine has no idea what he’s supposed to do or how he’s supposed to go about this. The only confessions this man has probably ever made were at church and even then it’s unlikely that he poured his heart out to whoever was listening on the other end thanks to how clammed up he is in regards to his own feelings, so this is new territory to say the least.

Yes, yes. He does know that a confession of one’s romantic feelings for another person is basically at its core just saying “I love you.” But HOW does one say “I love you?” It’s not that simple. It can’t be that simple. Constantine already feels pretty bad for being an idiot and making you put so much time and effort into romancing him, so he can’t in good conscience just give a plain old confession and leave it at that. It needs to be something more. It has to live up to your expectations and then some. It has to be perfect.

…And that kind of thinking is why this is going to be much harder than it needs to be.

The Planning Phase:

Instead of getting stuck on the words he’s going to say as that will certainly leave him hopelessly chained to his desk for far too long, Constantine decides to plan everything else first to be efficient. Namely: the time of the act, the location of the act, how he’ll get you into position alone without cluing you into his true intentions, and countermeasures for if things don’t go as planned.

…If this sounds to you like he’s planning your assassination then you aren’t too far off the mark concerning the angle he’s attacking this from, no pun intended. Constantine is framing this alien situation in a way that’s closer to the ballpark he’s more familiar with: violence. You may find this rather easy to forget and I don’t blame you for it, but this man is from the 1400s and his bread and butter is military affairs. Not a slight to his ruling capabilities, but Constantine is said to be a soldier at heart. We already know that Constantine not only has zero experience in the way of romance but also hasn’t exactly been one to make such direct statements about how he really feels. So it isn’t unreasonable to say that he would frame the issue in a way he can comfortably work with, it’s just that this angle only makes sense to Constantine and anyone who isn’t him looking at his notes would think he’s genuinely trying to end you. Which is NOT the case.

Anyways, let’s get into how Micheal plans what time he should kill you. Ideally, this should take place at a time where there aren’t many people out and about but he also has to account for the victim’s schedule so as to not make this seem like a premeditated action with a defined purpose. It has to look natural and based on a simple whim. It has to look like an accident. After he goes through what he already knows about you—whether you’re a night owl, a morning person or neither—he picks his time and hinges the rest of his plan on the chosen timeframe. The location must be open within the timeframe and it must be normal or at least not unreasonable for people to be there at the chosen timeframe. Ah, but it can’t be when there’s too many people and it can’t be when you’re likely to get called for something either. It’s a delicate balance to be sure but trust the emperor here. He’s got it in the bag now that he has this framed in a way he understands and excels in.

With the time chosen, the location is next on the dock. The ‘where’ of it all should be a location that, ideally, is large enough for him to comfortably steer you away from any potential witnesses or unwanted third parties and has the adequate cover to obscure the both of you to, again, keep away witnesses. It can’t be a place where it’d be strange for a group of people to be based on the chosen timeframe and the nature of the location. There’s plenty of choices no doubt, so let’s rule out a couple obvious locations that wouldn’t fit the bill.

Your Room. One would think this would be the ideal location. There isn’t a need to worry about third parties since this is a personal dormitory for one singular person: meaning that more likely than not, it’d just be you in there. Plus time is not that much of a concern since it isn’t necessarily strange for a person to say, be up at midnight in their own room. And this would be the premier location for the crime—er, confession had it not been for one thing. Servants have a strange and frankly rude tendency to barge into your room for literally any reason. Everything from having a strange dream to stubbing their toe is on the table for reasons to open the door and walk-in. Hell, he’s even heard of someone just walking in and sleeping on your bed without even asking first. With such ridiculous and wholly unpredictable occurrences being the norm, calling this location ‘unsuitable’ would be an understatement. Your room should be a potential contingency for terrible luck at best.

The Cafeteria. Hiding in plain sight is the name of the game for this one. The ideal timing would be during either breakfast, lunch, or dinner to reap the main benefit this location offers. The room would be filled to the brim with people conversing on and on at their respective tables, meaning that no one would actually be paying attention to him or looking for him at all as they’d be too focused on their own food and chats with others. It’s the perfect cover so long as no strange physical actions or particularly loud statements are being made. Not a problem for someone as naturally low-key and conspicuous as Constantine XI. The only variable he’d have to account for is your reaction. …At least that would be the only variable in a vacuum. The problem once again has something to do with you. You are the master of nearly every single servant in Chaldea. You are the first person they meet and your bond with them is tight from the word go. You are, in no uncertain terms, everyone’s friend. And that begets a variation of the previous problem: people being inclined to walk up to you for literally any reason. The ‘in plain sight’ buff that this location boasts only really works if both parties involved have the same level of notoriety as your average Joe or Jane Doe. If you saw Keanu Reeves, Marilyn Monroe, or Wendy Carlos sitting down to eat at your local burger joint wouldn’t you walk up to them to say a few words? Even if you’re not the type, the same can’t be said for everyone else. You are, as the Master of Chaldea, famous in a strange way and that fame brings with it many, many people in public spaces.

Your notoriety is the problem that rules out several locations and forces Constantine to—in general—get a bit creative. This is and should be a private affair between two parties, no more and no less. …Ah, but I should mention now, as I see the proverbial written corner in the distance, that I can only keep this vague façade up for only so long. I can only generally make passing comments about the details of this plan for so long. Constantine’s plan is based on what he knows about you as a person and thus the brass tacks ultimately comes down to exactly that. So, in the spirit of staying detailed, I’m apologizing in advance and politely asking you to step into the shoes of a slightly defined person. I hope you don’t mind.

Picture yourself a morning person. A morning person who isn’t one to hang outside of their room during non-work hours because you’re just that tired from running around farming all day, and that exhaustion sticks around even when you wake up in the morning. The timing in this scenario would be—obviously—bright and early in the morning and the location would be in the library when it first opens. The library has plenty of cover in the form of its several floors and towering bookshelves, giving it a good sense of privacy. With the timing being early in the morning, Constantine won’t have to worry about making it before closing time nor about witnesses since—while there are presumably a good amount of morning people—not many would just head to the library first thing. Plus, the library isn’t a place where you’d be inclined to refuse since it’s a low energy type of location with rather simple activities to do there, y’know like reading or watching old educational films. It’s perfect.

See how the brass tacks of knowing you fits into things? There are several different answers and plans Micheal could cook up based off of surface level info—just imagine if I painted a full person instead of a tabula rasa with a small wash. We could be here for hours. Our boi has definitely been writing for that long and then some with the several crumpled up paper balls in his trash bin of scrapped locations and times, the sorta-kinda accurate maps drawn from memory with lil’ X’s indicating potential positions and notes on the pros and cons of them. This is some serious business, you know?

Getting back on track with generally describing the planning process, let’s talk about how he’s going to get you alone without you catching on. Most of it is just him keeping his composure and acting natural, any excuse will work so long as he doesn’t give anything away. Besides, it’s not THAT hard to get you to hang out with him anyways. You’ve been hanging out with him for ages at this point (because the whole romance thing wouldn’t have happened otherwise), so just asking for your time and saying something along the lines of “I just felt like hanging out with you” if you ask why will do the trick. I mean, what are you gonna do? Interrogate him? Why? You’d have zero reason to since—from your perspective—there isn’t any reason to suspect an ulterior motive. As long as he doesn’t visibly panic or fumble his lines, everything will be fine.

That’s how he gets you to follow him to the location, as for how he gets you away from witnesses…Well, we’d have to get into brass tacks again. Please recall the previous example. Early in the morning, library. This one is actually pretty simple. Lure you to the film room, quietly lock the door behind him and go in for the kill. Easy. You’ll be bleeding out before you know it!

Now. You may have noticed the words ‘pre-planned conversation.’ Yes, the man is planning and leading the conversation you’re going to have with him and is planning on having at least 15 different backups in case the conversation veers into the wrong direction. The last thing Micheal wants is for you to say something like “Man, that mochi Muramasa made a while ago really hit the spot. Hey, actually, let’s stop by and see what he’s making today!” and you head in a completely different direction, throwing the entire plan out of whack. He’s also going to write a script for his confession, but that’s a brand new animal to be studied after…

The countermeasures. The old adages: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong” and “If it simply cannot go wrong, then it will anyways” are words Constantine lives by. Considering the nature of the universe this is taking place in, the scope of how things can go wrong is much, MUCH larger than you think it is. So. Let’s get into the most riveting ways that things could go horribly wrong.

The Apocalypse (Again):

It’s highly unlikely that an apocalypse could occur considering the state of the earth at the moment, but honestly. When have constraints like these ever stopped anyone from pulling insane shit ever? Maybe there’s a new Beast that slipped under the radar and has decided that now—just when Constantine decides to shoot his shot—NOW is the time to I dunno, evaporate the earth, atom by atom, with a black hole or something.

There isn’t much that can feasibly be done by our friend here. It is the apocalypse and he is, at the day’s end, just a man. So, the ‘countermeasure’ is really just postponing the execution and waiting for things to cool down before striking again.

Assassins:

Not the class, but actual assassins that are trying to kill you. One may think that it’s next to impossible for anyone to break in unnoticed, but if Koyanskaya can poison a cake (Lostbelt 3) without anyone noticing then enemy assassins breaking in to kill you is a possibility. It’s low, but the percentage is nonzero.

That in mind, the solution is just to kill them. Easiest decision he’s ever made. The difficulty comes in with HOW he’s going to kill them. You getting involved is a distraction that could potentially lead to you calling for backup and boom! Him getting you alone will be much more difficult since he has to get these people away from you without cluing them in on the plan. It’d be nice to be able to assume that everyone would dip after the job gets done, but there’s always that nonzero chance that even one could just so happen to ask to join. So really, it’s best that you are unaware of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

Constantine’s planning would hit a dead end here since the hypothetical assassins in this situation could appear at any point between him getting you to the location and him exiting the location and parting ways with you, hell, the hypothetical assassins could strike literally the moment he turns away. This means that, instead of planning a kajillion different ways to stop hypothetical assassins from killing you at various different points, Constantine would rather rely on his quick thinking and flexibility to resolve the issue.

If this frankly absurd scenario were to come to pass, then it’d end up being like that scene in The Amazing Spider Man 1 with Stan Lee jamming to some classical, completely oblivious to Spider-Man fighting The Lizard behind him with the room getting totaled in the process. It’d be hilarious, so much so that I’d recommend turning right back around and pretending like nothing’s happening for the sake of the bit if you end up seeing it.

That Asshole Sultan is Meddling Yet Again:

Ooh, you just know that Constantine’s fuming while drafting this section in his notes. From his perspective, Mehmed has been doing nothing but flirting and trying to steal you away from him. Hell, he even had the audacity to slip a letter—wax seal and all—under his door, written in Byzantine Greek that basically said “You know you can come to me for advice on romancing Master, right? I have a lot of experience in the field of romantic affairs so—” and the letter was promptly torn to shreds and burned. Who does he think he is?! And just what is he playing at here?! It’s almost like Mehmed is trying to seriously help Constantine here and is being sincere for once! Hah, as if that’d happen in a million years. Don’t worry Mehmed, you’ll get him next time.

If Constantine is unlucky enough to catch Mehmed on the way to the planned location then he’ll straight up just turn around and cook up an excuse to take a different route there. Maybe he forgot something, maybe he wanted to get a snack from the vending machine; whatever the excuse, he’s going to avoid Mehmed at all costs and is crossing his fingers that Mehmed didn’t notice the two of you.

If the sultan does notice, then that iconic yet infuriating smirk will crawl onto his lips as he saunters over to the two of you. And the moment he speaks to you, the whole thing goes bust. Mehmed is an unpredictable variable of the highest order and Constantine wouldn’t be shocked if Mehmed was some sort of plant who’s sole purpose in life is to piss him off and ruin his plans. There’s no telling how Mehmed will derail the whole thing or how salvageable the situation will be after the fact, so the best countermeasure is more preventative than anything. Head on a swivel, eyes peeled and fully prepped to make a 180º turn to a different route. If that fails, then Micheal will save it for another time.

Enemy Love Interest:

While this concept warrants its own list of headcanons, for the sake of this exercise I’ll skip to the end so to speak. Off the bat, I’d like to start by saying that I believe that Constantine would have noticed way early in the game if someone was pining for you. He may not have any real romantic experience, but he’s not dense. He can read people fairly well and he’s heard George gush about his wife enough to know what a person in love looks like. At this phase in the game, Constantine isn’t as worried as one may think. In fact, he’s pretty confident. You were the one to go out of your way to stick around him no matter how purposely stiff and awkward he was being. You were the one who tracked him to the most obscure places in Chaldea to hang out with him specifically. You were the one who put up with playing 4D Chess and Chinese Checkers because you knew that he liked those games. It’s safe to say that you do like him that way and the enemy has nothing on him. Constantine already has your heart and he knows it, he also knows that it’s highly unlikely that his opponent will change your mind if they do confess. So their really isn’t a reason to be hasty about it.

The solution is to simply go in for the kill, he’ll shoot his shot with you and that’ll be that. His opponent who, for as long as this has been going on for, has done jack all to sway you onto their side. There is no tangible threat here, there is nothing to be worried about. The only reason Micheal feels compelled to move fast is because he feels bad for making you wait. The opps can do as they please but it will amount to nothing in the end. And if they keep trying after Constantine confesses…well, let’s just say that the devil doesn’t hold a candle to a legitimately angry Micheal and leave it at that, ‘kay?

…Whew. That was a lot of words, huh? Well fortunately—or unfortunately depending on your perspective—we’re only halfway through. We still have Constantine writing what he’s gonna say and the execution of his plan. So strap in because I’m not letting you leave just yet!

The Scripting Phase:

This is the definitive hard part for our friend here. He can no longer frame this as something he’s vaguely familiar with, now he has to actually tackle this alien issue as it is for what it is. A matter of opening the door and proudly showing what is inside, as all people do. For a man drenched in denial and secrecy, to call this daunting would be an understatement.

After some deliberation and tossing a ball at the wall for about an hour, Constantine manages to break this task down into smaller pieces. In order for one to confess one’s feelings, one must know how one feels about the other person. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a confession in the first place. It is from putting words to the sensations felt by one for another that a confession would bloom naturally in one’s mind as an explanation for red faces and bashful words. That is what a confession is at it’s heart, no? An explanation for behavior that serves as an admission of romantic feelings.

Constantine sighs, he’s getting ahead of himself here. Simplify it into a few words. Understand feelings, define feelings, ruminate on now defined feelings -> write down thoughts, refine thoughts = Confession.

Seems, at its surface, simple enough. Self introspection is something that Constantine is familiar with, something he knew well from life and knows still after death. Close ‘friends’ they are to this day, meeting clandestinely when sleep runs late and distractions flaking when needed most. Yet here and now, in the sanctuary of his room, Constantine calls for an emergency meeting. Thus begins a long undefined period of intensive pondering.

He rises from his seat and lays down on the rug, its soft yarn soothing the aches in his spine from hunching over his desk for the past couple days. He closes his eyes. Start from the fundamentals, understand them, and the rest will follow.

The first question that must be answered is: “what are his feelings concerning you?” Admiration, something that is considered platonic at its base, is the first feeling that comes to mind. He doesn’t care, anything to get the ball rolling is good enough at this point.

To be plucked from normalcy into the world of the strange and mystical is something that most would buckle under the pressure from. Coupling that with the responsibilities that come with being humanity’s last hope makes for an ordeal that only few can truly stomach and even fewer can thrive in. Your rise to the occasion and continuance to persist with your goals in spite of the weight on your shoulders is deserving of high praise in Constantine’s eyes. But what deserves even higher praise is how true to yourself you’ve been throughout this journey, something that begets tinges of envy in the former emperor.

Tragedy after tragedy has befallen you and your comrades with parting words as common as their opposites, yet even with this awful state of affairs being your undeniable reality, you still have tears to shed each and every time. As tender as it was the day you set foot in Chaldea, your heart hasn’t changed one bit. No callouses, no scabs or scales; simply a raw, colorful mass in your chest beating and bleeding as it does, uninterrupted and unchanging. You’ve matured, became more knowledgable and wise but those changes have not brought the frigid chill that desaturates the lives of many. You’re still you. Kind, heartfelt, and honest you. This is a fact. A fact that Constantine can’t help but envy.

To be true to himself and to be honest about his feelings—to remove the hardened paper covering the tender heart shaped thing in his chest would undeniably be a show of weakness. Something an emperor cannot afford, no matter the era. He is supposed to be the paragon of strength and resilience, wise beyond his years and unflinching for his empire. He is the face of it and is often one of the first things thought of in relation to it. He is the person often attributed to its achievements and its failures. To show weakness would be not only an invitation for invaders, but an insult to everything his empire and people stand for. So he swathes himself in denial and lies to mask the truth of his composition, in hopes of one day being the man he’s supposed to be. When that day comes, he’ll be true to ‘himself’ and the loathing will come to an end. But for now, he’ll play the role he covets and stand at your side, envious yet admiring.

The second feeling that comes to mind is peace. The whiplash from distinctly recalling his cracked ribs, sprained wrist and the blood blinding his eyes to the calm of the present era was immense. Your nonchalance concerning the state of the world, however, hit him harder. It took a long time to get used to your calm disposition and it was in large part spending time with you that made the initial tension dissipate. The grand majority of your time with him was not spent conducting exercises or sorties into the battlefield, but rather recreational activities and dealing with the week’s Wacky Incident™ when it occurred. Somehow he found himself playing checkers with you weekly and somehow he found himself holed up with you in his room late at night to help you with the history homework Mehmed II tossed your way. It was a normalcy that was odd for the current state of affairs, but not unwelcome—no, it was sorely missed for the former emperor. When was the last time he had played checkers? Before his coronation…? No, maybe further back? Either way, to have these moments as a constant rather than a fleeting dream was perhaps the greatest gift you could have given.

This is not Rome and it never will be, his family is gone and so are all the people who knew him personally, yet while those things sting tremendously…it doesn’t hurt nearly as much when he’s with you. Your smile, your gentle fleeting touch, your eccentricities or perhaps lack there of, the conversations you two have had; they’re something akin to a campfire. Bright, beautiful, and most notably…

Warm is the word that comes to mind. Ever since he materialized in this paper colored world, he was cold. A fact that he didn’t quite register until he held your hand in his one day. Ever since then, he longed for warmth. Blankets, mittens, and jackets—they all served their purpose nicely, but that was all. They provided nothing more than an artificial way to retain the little heat his body gave. But even so, Constantine yearned for something more.

Another time, you hugged him. At its face it was nothing special, simply a gesture of gratitude for aiding you in getting out of having to do extra push-ups. The moment lasted for less than a minute, yet it’s presence lingered for long after. Through his extra layers, the blazer and waistcoat, he could feel it. Warmth, but of a different kind. It was something much more full and hearty, intense. It was you and it was overwhelming for the short duration that it happened, a burning sensation. What lingered thereafter kept the all too familiar chill at bay, and Constantine couldn’t help but feel bereft upon its disappearance. He wanted more.

Not too long after, Constantine found himself with burns from you again. But this time was different, you hadn’t even laid a finger on him. It was a discussion shared in his room. You had come to drop off a letter from Don Quixote but ended up sticking around for longer than intended. A point of interest on the walls. A single acrylic tile containing various flowers sat above his bed. At the time, his room wasn’t fully decorated nor nearly as organized as it is today, thus casting a spotlight on the lonesome, colorful square. You inquired about where it came from to which he happily explained. The flowers came from several people at several different points in time for several different reasons. The roses were from Nero as gift for helping her put together a concert, the chrysanthemums were from Miss Crane for New Year’s, the dandelions were from Paris and Asterios—so on and so forth. The conversation then turned into how the tile came to be, the trials and tribulations of creating something of this nature for the first time. He paused midway through after not hearing you respond for some time to check on you, only to have your visage set him aflame. Your expression at that point in time was unforgettable, something he’d think back to frequently. Your eyes shimmered with curiosity and attentiveness, your lips curled into a small smile—both zeroed in on him and him only. You hadn’t once spaced out during his, admittedly, long winded explanation and it showed in the way you were patiently waiting for him to continue. The burning sensation left him stunned, so much so that he almost didn’t catch you asking if he was alright. He managed to catch his breath and continued his explanation once more, his face several degrees hotter than normal.

With the raises in temperature you brought lay the signs of something under the surface. Something that Constantine had been ignoring just fine until one innocuous look backwards in time. Constant thoughts of you, wondering when you two will hang out again and being excited at the prospect, noticing things you’d like or would need and the subsequent desire to give them to you, the warmth he feels because of you…They all pointed to a disturbing conclusion. One that made him reject his feelings down to the very circumstances of their existence.

Then he felt cold.

Constantine opens his eyes. Admiration, a touch of envy, peace and warmth: these are the most notable feelings that Constantine feels around you. The second one, for obvious reasons, should be omitted from his confession. Admiration feels too platonic, too general—not romantic enough. Peace and warmth are what’s left.

To explain even a fraction—an iota, even—of the peace you have brought him during his materialization would require opening another door and showing what is inside that one as well. That prospect is less than pleasing as what lies within is not only unimportant to who he is now, but would most likely change your perception of him for the worse. To shatter his current veneer could quite possibly sour your taste of him, leaving an unsatisfying conclusion to the months of frigid misery he had carelessly inflicted on you and himself. It’d give you a strong reason to give him exactly what he ‘desired’ at the start of this mess.

No. No, it’s far to risky to make an opening like that. He can’t make a play like this at such a critical moment, it could ruin everything. It’s not…It’s not integral for you to know. It’s just supplementary information, stuff you can infer based off of the events that took place in his lifetime. He doesn’t have to confirm anything, not for now at least. It’s best to leave this be for another time.

What remains is warmth, something he has no qualms speaking of. The only thing to be weary of is to not sound like a madman or a wraith when he does. It’s very clearly romantic both as a concept and as a feeling. Only you have brought his temperature up like this and so consistently too.

The importance of the time when you held his hand and the time you hugged him could be attributed to his lack of touching people in general, that he will readily concede. It’s a strange thing to not only invade another person’s space but to go so far as to touch them as well. Why would someone do that? Is it to check if they’re real? Or is there simply no reason at all? Does there have to be? It’s weird. It’s a weird thing to think about. And it is also a divergence from the topic at hand. Constantine squints, trying to find his original train of thought.

Ah, right. Warm. That is how you make him feel. This should be the focus of his confession. He could add tiny bits of prose on how cute you are, but ultimately no more. The objective of this task is to—in written form—rip his heart out and serve it to you on a silver platter, not his eyes. It would be nothing short of superficial and insulting to the complex and charming sort of person you are. And Constantine would much rather snap his own wrist off than to give you the impression that he not only sees you on the surface level, but desires you that much too. He could wax poetical all day and night about how he could look at you forever or something but it’s just a nice bagatelle in comparison to the bigger picture here. Really, if one day your skin melted off and your hair went with it, so long as you carry your same warmth and remained yourself, then Constantine would love you all the same. It’s just a minor difference at the end of the day.

A hand slaps his cheek, it’s his own. This line of thinking will certainly lead to places too dark for the task at hand here, so he pivots and walks back a little bit of the way he came. …Right here should be good. Yes, this is where he’ll start.

Constantine gets up off the floor, sits back at his desk and begins writing. It starts off as disjointed paragraphs with only a barely tangible through-line but as time goes on, it becomes more coherent. More…straightforward. No more beating around the bush, no more forcing you to have to guess his thoughts and feelings; just clear and direct statements.

To have let you stumble in the dark looking for him while he sat curled up in a ball nervously peering at you through the gaps in his fingers is something he regrets deeply. How many bruises have you sustained from bumping into things unseen? How many times have you tripped and fallen over your own shoes? He couldn’t put a number to it even if he tried, not that he wants to anyways. It already hurts knowing that he put you through this unbearable limbo without even stopping to consider your feelings, imagining your pain through it all would only make his eyes sting.

So he writes and he writes and he writes and he writes—draft after draft after draft after draft with minor changes in between. There can’t be any misunderstandings here, so he continues ironing out even the tiniest of wrinkles in the fabric. The process is quite time consuming, so while we ‘wait’ for him to finish, I’ll answer some questions you might be having.

“If Constantine was so utterly lost at the beginning, then why didn’t he watch romance movies or read some romantic novels? Surely those would’ve gotten the gears in his head turning faster than making up an assassination plan and the subsequent marinating in his own thoughts.” And you’d be correct, it would have sped the process up significantly if Constantine simply took notes from various romantic media. But with that comes the potential for confusion.

At the beginning, Constantine only had a vague understanding of what he felt for you as result of the heavy mental censoring and retconning he subjected himself to in the early phase. His feelings at that point were an undefined, multicolored and shapeless thing that he just knew was love. So, if he were to just study fiction’s romance and shape his confession around that, he’d be left with various words that don’t fit quite well with his actual feelings. They’re not necessarily wrong, they’re just… The definition is… I-It’s actually…AGH! It’d either lead him down the path that he has already taken or cause him to use those words anyways in a janky mess based off what he’d think you’d want and what is commonly accepted. It wouldn’t be sincere. It wouldn’t be enough and he knows it.

“With all the writing he’s doing, wouldn’t it be easier to just send out his script as a letter? He could just skip the whole plan and rest easy knowing that he doesn’t have to worry about holding his composure or fucking up his lines and stuff.” And you know what? You’d be correct on that count as well. It WOULD be so much easier if Constantine just converted his draft into a letter and slipped it under your door someday. It WOULD be less hard on him to hide away from seeing your initial reaction. But you know what else this method is? Cowardly. It’s a coward’s way of confessing his feelings.

Constantine already uses several negative adjectives to describe himself: selfish, good-for-nothing, unfit, undeserving, weak—the list goes on. But one he will never ever apply to himself is coward. He’s the guy who stayed in his crumbling empire, ripped off the one thing that id’d him as himself and rushed into battle—not as himself—but as just some dude and died fighting for what he believed in as just some dude. He could have ran to the Morea then—hell, he could’ve ran years before the siege. But that would have meant forsaking everything he cared about, and that was something he couldn’t bare. This scenario is infinitely less intense and arguably less important, but is still deserving of that same attitude, that same passion. So no, he’s not going to chicken out of confessing in person and that’s based on principle.

The other reason is that you deserve better than just a simple letter. He, again, really regrets putting you through what he did and wants to make up for it. And being a coward is a terrible first step in that direction. This confession has to be something special, something that will stand out in your memories for years to come and act as a satisfying resolution to the struggles of these past few months. This confession needs to be something more than what it is. It has to live up to your expectations and then some. It has to be perfect. Constantine refuses to start with anything less.

Oh, hey. Would you look at that? Constantine’s finished writing his final draft. Let’s see here… It’s number… Fifty-three. Yeesh, I can’t imagine writing that many drafts since I mostly do everything in one doc and rewrite everything as I reread it. But I guess this is just a testament to how serious he is about this, huh? Fifty-three drafts, the first starting off a stream of consciousness and drastically changing until the last twenty which only had a few words replaced between them. Really, the only way you’d notice the changes is if you had the whole thing memorized beforehand. In his mind, a single word could change the meaning of the entire paragraph, so somewhere in the middle of this he got up to grab the dictionary and thesaurus from his bookshelf to just be sure. It’s not enough to know the general vibe of a word, you gotta know the definition too.

Contrary to the planning of how he’ll ‘kill you,’ Constantine hasn’t thrown away any of his papers. Not a single draft has been crumpled and sent to the graveyard next to the mahogany structure he writes on. The reason for this being is that these drafts symbolize his growth. Before this mess, Constantine wouldn’t have even given the idea of confessing anything to anyone—you especially—a glance, let alone writing his thoughts down at all. Writing these drafts was nothing short of monumental for our friend here, so he elects to keep them within the locked drawer of his desk for safe keeping. A memento of his first step in the right direction.

Someday, in the distant future, he’ll show them to you. He’ll read each draft one by one to you and you’ll both look back at this point in time with joyful nostalgia.

But that era does not exist yet, so I’ll leave it at that.

What comes after the final draft and a long break outside of his room is practice. The repetitive process of repeating the same set of words over and over again is intensely dull, so there isn’t much to be added here. Just know that he’s practicing a lot to make sure he won’t fumble his lines. Oh and he’s also going over the conversation he’s going to have with you on the way to the location where he’ll confess. But all that was in the previous phase, so I don’t need to repeat myself here.

After practicing a lot and feeling comfortable with the material, Constantine decides that it’s time to go through with his plan.

A Minor Interlude:

Hey. Do you recall all the way back in the Planning Phase what I said about brass tacks? No? Ah, well I don’t necessarily blame you if you forgot since that was…what? About 5,000 words ago? Anywho, I’ll restate it here.

The Planning Phase had two sections that relied on Constantine knowing you, so I couldn’t quite continue on with the same level of detail as I normally do without applying a definition to who ‘you’ are. That was when I painted a small wash on the tabula rasa known as ‘you.’ The brass tacks in the example scenario I am going to present to you are: you’re a morning person and the confession will take place in the library, early in the morning. Why the library? Scroll back up and find out! Nothing wrong with a lil’ rereading, right?

With that in mind… Final stretch, here we go!

The Execution:

“Deep breaths… Breathe in… and breathe out… Breathe in… and breathe out…”

These are the words that the subject of our observation had been mumbling to himself for the past twenty minutes, his body trying and failing to follow his mind’s commands. He is tense and has been for longer than his time leaning against the wall in the dim reserve lights of the hallway. But his initial tension tripled the moment he attempted to set foot outside of his personal sanctuary. His legs seized up and refused to move past the doorframe, his feet were comparable in weight to blocks of lead too. Getting here was a slog to say the least, but admittedly nothing he hadn’t seen before. He had been through worse and he knows that. The oddity this time around is that the situation at hand doesn’t even hold an ember to his past experiences. So why is his body acting like it is?

He supposes that this situation, in the back of his mind, holds that weight to him personally but not objectively, if that makes any sense. Constantine XI will not die today as a result of mishandling the situation, this is a fact that cannot be denied. But it holds that same weight since the change that would come as a result of his failure is, arguably, on par with if not more terrifying than death itself. Or at least that’s what it feels like right now, even though it wouldn’t affect him much outside of his feelings. Which Constantine himself hadn’t taken much stock in until recently, mind you.

This whole thing is ridiculous from start to finish, something he is painfully aware of, but he knows he can’t deny these feelings. Doing so would put him back on the path he walked on for so long—the path that led him to create this whole mess.

It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? To just walk back to his room, or anywhere else for that matter and forget that this ever happened. He could retreat back into the safety of denial and wait for this to die its slow and agonizing death. Hide in between the lines of non-answers and excuses so that he never has to confront you directly about anything and force the responsibility of ending this onto your shoulders. The pain will subside for the two of you eventually and will be forgotten quickly after the fact, this is something Constantine was sure of at the time. But his recent introspection made him question if this was really the right method of achieving his initial goal.

There were originally two ways to go about your romantic advances in the early phase. One would’ve been to accept your feelings and the other would’ve been to reject them. Neither option was appealing. The first would have ended in your eventual demise and the second would have him snap your heart in half with his own two hands. In Constantine’s eyes there was no lesser evil between the two as they both ended in a form of misery, one by his direct action and the other by something he cannot control.

The first one couldn’t be spun in any direction to sound appealing. But perhaps he’s missing something in his views. Perhaps he has to look at things from a different perspective to find the solution. Maybe he can have his cake and eat it too.

Death comes for everyone. This is an immutable fact that no one can deny nor fight against, it’s the inevitable. With that in mind, does it really matter when that end comes for someone? Dying in 5 minutes, dying in a week, or dying in 30 years; does that really make a difference in the grand scheme of things? Under a darker worldview it doesn’t, so why should he deny his and your happiness when he clearly can’t do anything to stop your demise? So long as the short months you have with him are priceless and enriching, surely sealing your fate isn’t as much of a crime as originally thought since it was just going to happen regardless.

…As if. Death may be inevitable, but that isn’t a reason to condemn an innocent person to death for the sake of being happy. That’s not right. Nothing is worth killing you for and no amount of so-called ‘hard truths’ will ever persuade Constantine to believe that. You have an entire life left to live, cutting it short before you even see the fruits of your labor would be horribly selfish at best and demonstrably cruel at worst. To be the person that stole your happy ending would utterly crush this man’s heart to pieces. Something he knows for a fact that he can’t live with.

The only other option that remained was rejecting you, but thinking on it more made it clear at the time that he couldn’t bare that either. The undefined feelings he held for you made Constantine a little selfish, you see. He enjoyed being the person that you hung out with frequently. He enjoyed being one of the first people you came to for assistance. He enjoyed having a piece of your schedule all to himself and he enjoyed having that spot so close to your heart. Were he to kill things off here, then you would most likely begin to drift away from him and move on to greener pastures. You’d find someone else and they’d make you happy, much happier than a man who couldn’t even do the bare minimum of what was asked of him so long ago. The thought of that, much to his own confusion, brings the bitter taste of jealousy. He should be happy for you in that scenario, right? …So why didn’t he feel that way? The answer would not be found until his introspection months after.

Both options led to a form of misery, neither of which he wanted to bring upon himself or you. So what’s left? The third option, a secret option, was to not do anything at all. It sounded infinitely better than killing you or losing you.

Silence is also an answer to a question, a lackluster one to be sure but an answer nonetheless. If he simply ignored your advances, then eventually the situation would resolve itself. He could frame his inaction as ignorance and prevent the scale from moving either way simply by doing nothing. He could still be as close to you as he is and not squander his chances with you break your heart. It’s the perfect solution.

…Not.

Those few months were the most miserable he’s been since he materialized and as he stands here outside of your room, he can say with absolute certainty that he never wants to go back. It’s that reaffirmation that shakes off most of the desire to turn around and keeps his shoes planted where they are.

Constantine lets out a long sigh, reminiscing isn’t going to do him any good at this phase. He needs to be here in the now and focused on what’s to come. Nothing will change if he doesn’t. He starts from the top, and—

“…Hm?”

Constantine flinches and whips his head in the direction of where the voice came from. His eyes catch their identity, but doesn’t stick around. His gaze averts to the wall behind, stealing glances from the safety of his periphery. He knows exactly who this is.

“Oh hey, Constantine. What’re you doing at this hour?”

It’s you, clad in your pajamas with a water bottle in hand, standing in the direction of the exit. From what he could guess, you had come from the cafeteria to get some water to help you sleep. No matter how exhausted you were the day previous, you always woke up on time. A blessing for your duties and a curse for yourself.

Constantine moves to stand up straight to greet you properly, raising his hand in a small wave. It takes him longer than he’d like to form a genial smile, and if he had to guess his own reflection then he’d say that this was on the lower end of his forced smiles. That said, it doesn’t take him long to respond.

“Good morning, Master. I see you’re well?”

Beside your head was the white wall everyone was well acquainted with. Mostly a metallic white and a nice blue section off at the bottom to spruce things up a bit design wise. Though I suppose depending on who was asked the color was more akin to a pine green, which Constantine disagreed with. On another note, a noticeable pause hung in the air before your reply, he’s sure that you shrugged.

“…Eh. Deathly exhaustion aside, I guess I’m alright. But pleasantries for the sake of pleasantries isn’t your style, so I have to ask…Why are you standing in front of my room at five forty-something in the morning?”

You never did miss a beat, did you? That’s fine. Constantine came prepared.

“Well, I was resting a bit from my walk. I didn’t sleep very good last night, so I’m trying to tire myself out by doing a few laps.”

“…”

“Uh-huh…”

You made zero effort to conceal the fact that you were unconvinced. You probably had your eyebrows raised and your arms crossed too to add to that, if he had to guess. In other, more ’important’ news…There was a bit of a dent in the wall just a few feet away from your shoulder. It was barely noticeable, even for someone who was scanning the walls it’d have a decent chance of being missed on first blush.

Whilst Constantine was staring at the wall, you dropped your two cents.

“Well, good for you on exercising, I guess. But that stuff only makes you more energetic. Just go lie down and read An Elementary Treatise on Determinants. It’ll put you to sleep in minutes.”

Constantine shook his head. As good of an idea that was, he’d probably focus too hard on understanding what he’s reading than letting himself sleep. Plus, mathematics reminds him of a certain four-eyed bastard and he really doesn’t want math related dreams either.

“A good suggestion, but the book would have to be something like how water boils or the history of paper clips. …I’d rather not think of math before bed.”

Constantine hears you chuckle and unscrew your water bottle, in the corner of his eye he sees you raise it up to your face.

“I feel that.”

You pause for a moment and lower your water bottle.

“Well, that Lewis Carroll book aside, I can’t really help you. So, I hope your walk goes well. Good ni—”

Constantine immediately rushes to cut you off, the distance between the two of you cut by over half.

“A-Actually…! I…I’d like to ask…Would you mind accompanying me? We haven’t seen each other in some time, so I thought I’d—“

“Sure.”

“I know you’re tired, but—“

“I said sure, stupid. Now where are we going?”

Your hand connects with his elbow, a playful love tap he presumes was to reorient him back in the now and away from what’s in his head. He takes only a second to silently appreciate the gesture, before giving you an answer.

“The library. It’s about to open soon and I heard that a few films and radio recordings have been added to the archive as well.”

“Oh yeah, War of The Worlds is one, right? I read about that one back in school. I still don’t believe that people thought an alien invasion was going on just because some dude on the radio said so. Y2K made more sense.”

“Well, why don’t we listen and find out why they might have thought that way? I’m sure that it wasn’t just an average reading that frightened them to that extent.”

“I’ll believe it when I hear it, Micheal.”

So far so good, if he had to say so himself. Aside from a few hiccups on his end, the conversation went exactly where it needed to and he’s pretty sure you haven’t caught on to his plan yet. After all, that initial awkwardness would most likely be attributed to the fact that he’s been avoiding you, not that he was going to confess. He just has to keep steady.

The walk to the library was, fortunately, uneventful. Thanks to the time, not a single soul crossed their path and there didn’t seem to be anyone shadowing them either. The tranquility and the ease of everything made Constantine wonder if he wasted time with planning as thoroughly as he did. The conversation between the two of you flowed so naturally that he didn’t need to pull out any of his backups or redirect it any way. In fact, it was so smooth that it felt just like old times, before this mess happened and before he realized what that fluttering feeling in his chest was.

This nostalgic feeling pushes him forward and takes out a good chunk of the tension in his shoulders. This is what he wants to return to and if he succeeds then he will have this and much more along with the ability to give that much back to you. The prospect…makes him feel warm.

You both walk into the library to which the daytime librarian, Murasaki Shikibu, greets you both and kindly asks if you two need help looking for something. You asked where the new radio recordings were being stored and Murasaki gladly told you their location: Film Room C. They were in a box on one of the tables since the night shift librarian forgot to put them away yesterday.

The film room—or more accurately rooms plural—was located on the second floor. There were three separate viewing rooms, each with their own: projectors, phonographs and gramophones, old timey radios, and one of them even had a pianola! All of which were either donated, made, or were here from the ‘beginning.’ The biggest contributors to the whole shebang being Thomas Edison, Antonio Salieri, Marie Antoinette and, surprisingly enough, James Moriarty. Er, the younger one, specifically.

The shared interior of any one of the rooms is difficult to describe if you haven’t been inside, but I will do my best.

The layout can be simplified with two shapes. Picture a vertical rectangle and, in the middle of the southernmost line, draw a small square. The square is the projection booth and the rest of the rectangle is the auditorium. One exits the projection booth from either one of the side doors. At the northernmost line would be where the projection screen is, and in front of that would be three rows of seats clustered to the front. The rest of the auditorium is devoted to holding the various records, cassette tapes, and film reels. In the gaps left between the wall and projection booth are shelves for these things, and those shelves move along the wall some more and stop at the middle of the room so as to not block the light of the projector. In front of each one is a wood table that seats six people. The aesthetics of the room, such as the wallpaper and flooring are the same as the library, so I need not waste time recounting it here.

Constantine led you to Room C, the room next to the one with the pianola. He opened the door and stepped aside to let you pass first as he usually does. As soon as he stepped in after you, he gently closed the door and reached behind him to turn the lock. This is it…after this radio broadcast will be his confession.

It didn’t take long to find what you both were looking for. The 1938 CBS broadcast was stored on a small cassette tape with the barely legible note: “Ask Tesla for…” something or whatever. Clearly the person who wrote this was very tired at the time of writing since the ink was smudged beyond recognition on the latter half of the message.

You placed the tape down on the table and Constantine could feel your gaze settle on him.

“So. Do you want to play this on one of the cassette players with some headphones or use one of the radios?”

“Hmm…I’d like to use the radio for immersion’s sake…but I’d imagine that they don’t take cassettes.”

“Wrong. They do take cassettes, look here.”

You reached over to one of the radios on the table and pulled the top half off to reveal…a cassette player. You make a hand gesture towards it and speak once more.

“Edison wasn’t too happy with the fact that we had a bunch of records and tapes, but nothing to play any of them on. So he made it his personal mission to make the phonographs and cassette players for them. After that he made these radios for playing old broadcasts more ‘realistically.’ So that’s how we got these. Pretty cool, right?”

“Huh…I had no idea that Thomas Edison felt so strongly about these sorts of things.”

“Contrary to popular belief, lionhead has a life outside of one upping Tesla. Shocking, I know.”

You huffed.

“But that’s neither here nor there. Take a seat. The runtime on this is about an hour so if we don’t start now then I’ll pass out on your shoulder twenty minutes in.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, well it’ll be your last if you don’t shut your trap already.”

Constantine couldn’t help but chuckle at your crabby remark. You may be fully awake in the mornings but that didn’t mean you were happy about it.

“Huu huu huu. Keep laughing and I’ll strangle you with your own tie.”

The sounds of your unceremonious shoving of the cassette echoed throughout the small auditorium, and the tape began to play in all of its crunchy glory.

What followed for the next hour was a surprisingly quality reading disguised as an actual news broadcast. There were some portions of the dialogue in the beginning that were a bit too descriptive for normal conversation or reporting and the immersion shattered to pieces with the time skip near the end of the professor at Princeton recalling his memories of the martian invasion and how the world is after the fact. It did make sense since this broadcast WAS supposed to be just a dramatic reading of the H.G. Wells book of the same name, so that’s not really a dig at the people at the radio station. All in all, a solid use of a single hour.

Constantine could see you stretch out of the corner of his eye as he put the cassette back where he found it. Next came your voice.

“Well, I’m officially convinced. The people who tuned in after the beginning announcement definitely had no idea that they were listening to a reading, not with the quality of the voice acting and sound effects.”

“Agreed. Though there are some lines that do sound as though they’re from a book, it did sound mostly real. …Until the end that is.”

“Yeah, that time skip was way too jarring. I think they should’ve cut the reading off earlier.”

“…………”

“…………”

The legs of a chair scrape for a few seconds and the chair, he assumes, hits the desk. The soft pitter patter of your slippers inch closer to his location before stopping a comfortable distance from himself. You cut through the silence.

“Hey…”

“…………”

“…I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I really…”

Oh… Oh no…

“…Are you alright?”

“I’m fi—”

“………”

Constantine manages to cut himself off from playing that automated message. He can’t start off with a lie, no, he has to be honest. You deserve better than lies. Well, really, you deserve better than him but your pursuit for his heart lasting for as long as it has must mean that you’re okay with that. That you’re okay with settling for someone like him and that…Well, that boggles the mind, doesn’t it? But he’s not complaining. No, he’s glad. Very glad. And he’s finally going to let you know that.

“You know what, Master? I-I’m not…”

Constantine takes a deep breath and forces the statements from his mouth. The amount of effort it took to dislodge the words from his esophagus left him feeling a bit tired, but…

“I’m not alright. I haven’t been alright in a while, actually.”

Relieved. Constantine is feeling relieved. His shoulders have gotten lighter and his throat doesn’t feel as closed as it used to. Hehe… Maybe this isn’t so bad.

“It’s not because of you, or anything. No, this… This is all my fault and I take full responsibility for everything that has happened between us recently. And… There aren’t many words I know of that can accurately describe how utterly apologetic and regretful I am of these past few months. Ugh…”

Constantine was slouched over the table with his head in his hands. He wasn’t quite ready to look at you yet and your vague blob-like appearance in the corner of his eye was beginning to make him nervous because, ironically, he isn’t sure how you’re taking this. Which is exactly why he didn’t look at you in the first place. You could be very pissed right now for all he knows and the fact that he doesn’t know if that’s true or not is both making him feel better and worse at the same time.

Regardless, he continues, hoping that you can hear him through the wall he put in front of his face.

“I haven’t been this miserable since…since a while ago and I-I don’t want to go back to that.”

Constantine pries his hands off and lets them hit the table with a bit more force than necessary. He stands up straight and exhales. This is it. This is everything he’s been working towards. Just stay calm and recite the script.

“Which is why I need to tell you—”

Finally, after about and hour and a half of purposefully avoiding your countenance, FINALLY does Constantine look you in the eye. And what he sees gives him pause.

It’s you, clad in your pajamas and fluffy slippers with an empty water bottle in hand, bedhead on full display. That makes sense since you weren’t really expecting him or what he’s dragged you into. The sight, in the initial few seconds of him registering it, brings to mind a potential—no, near future that you will share. Someday, maybe very soon, he’ll get to see you like this everyday when he wakes up. But that’s if and only if he can get the words out.

Which he can’t.

Your expression stole the air from his lungs and suddenly the room feels much smaller. On your face sat that same look that you gave him that set him on fire. Your eyes shimmered with curiosity and attentiveness, your lips curled into a small smile—both zeroed in on him and him only. You weren’t angry or anything of the sort, no you seemed… You seemed happy with him and that, well, that’s amazing! That means that he hadn’t lost you yet.

Ah, that face… That beautiful expression… It’s positively strangling his ability to recall just what he wanted to say. Not a single word of any of what he wrote is coming to mind, but maybe… Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe this is how a confession is supposed to be.

Constantine, after a moment, chuckles and simply lets the words fall out as they go.

“Haha…Master… I had planned this meeting from start to finish, but it seems to have fallen through at the most critical moment. I should have expected as much, really, with the way you affect me. …While not ideal, I’ll move forward anyways. I have to. For your sake… And my own.”

It’s a great feeling for one to speak their mind like this after ages of keeping everything under lock and key, but it’s not as easy as it sounds. Not even after getting the foot in the door. The embarrassment of forgetting his heartfelt and perfect confession is already enough to drag him back to his room, but the real thing Constantine has to contend with is the rather incessant fear of what you’ll say to him when he’s finished. That face, for all he knows, could be a mask for what you’re truly feeling at this time. And that idea scares him to his core.

Constantine takes a step forward, removes his gloves and places them in the pocket of his blazer. Hesitantly reaching to grab your hand from your side to hold in both of his. This is not a gesture of affection. Just like how he locked the door soon after entering, this too is his way of forcing himself to go through with this. At least that was the initial idea. The man sighs upon feeling the warmth of your hand, he can’t help but consider falling into the temptation of placing it on his cheek like he had pictured so many times before. Mm, maybe later. The elation of feeling the warmth he had missed after so long of denying himself of it being enough for him for now. Constantine can feel his face getting hot as he musters up the courage to continue talking.

“I… I have so many things I want to say to you… But the words disappeared the moment I look you in the eye. Holding your hand isn’t making things better either, but I can’t seem to let go. The feeling of both… Is—it’s so… How do I put it? It’s… It’s warm. You are warm. You keep the cold away long after we part ways and every time I think about you… I feel as though I’ve been set ablaze. Not literally, of course! I-I mean it in more of a metaphorical sense. You don’t set me on fire, it’s just…”

Constantine raises one of his hands to cover his face, though it only really obscures his eyes from you. He knows the way his lips are pursed and the red on his face will give away what he’s feeling at the moment. Flustered. An emotion that he’s certain that you’ve seen on him before, but not as strong as it is now. He breathes a long sigh before speaking once again.

“Master. Your feelings for me… I reciprocate them in full. I know that may be hard to believe due to my…recent actions, but I do feel this way. I do cherish you deeply and I find myself thinking of you a lot in my off time and I… I…”

“………”

The thing about change is that it does not happen overnight. No matter how hard a person tries, you just can’t build Rome in a single day. It takes time. As commendable as it was for Constantine to take his first step into being more honest with you emotionally, that is all he can do right now. Take that first step, I mean. He can spare nothing more as forcing as much of his feelings out as he did left him drained. This is not his default state, after all. The amount of energy it takes to commit an action like this is twice if not thrice more than normal, leaving him now with not even fumes left to burn.

It’s important to pace yourself and find out what your limits are, but ultimately one will never know where their limitations lie until they push them. And right now, it seems Constantine XI has found his and, at the supposed moment of truth no less.

His mouth not complying with his mind causes his already high stress levels to increase, his legs beginning to shake in response. Constantine wants to start this off right and petering out at a time like this would only serve to force him to play catch up with you when he could be spending that time joyfully on equal footing.

This is, of course, under the assumption that you’ll accept…whatever this is.

Luckily for him, he doesn’t have to worry about that for much longer as he feels something warm touch his face. It’s your hand resting on his cheek, your thumb slowly drawing circles.

“I know.”

“What…?”

“I already know, you don’t have to tell me.”

Astonished, flabbergasted, and stunned: these words are close but simply not enough to convey his feelings upon hearing this revelation. Those two words have done no less than recontextualize everything that has occurred during and perhaps a bit before those few months. It makes much more sense now that he’s been made aware of this. But the newly formed ideas rattling around in his skull are, as of now, assumptions. In order to be sure, he does what any slightly confused person would do. He asks you to clarify.

“Since when?”

“Hm?”

“When did you know?”

“Ah…”

You place your free hand up to your chin in contemplation for a few seconds before sighing in what appeared to be defeat.

“Well, I’ve had a bit of an idea that you did a long time ago… But it wasn’t really confirmed for me until that time we watched Pride and Prejudice together a few weeks ago.”

Constantine felt the visceral desire to cringe upon recalling that night. He had always prided himself on being the bigger man in most situations, but something in him—which he now understands to be jealousy—just wasn’t having it that night when the Father of Conquest decided to sit next to you and sling his arm on your shoulder. The whole thing ended in Constantine swapping seats with you and throwing a punch after not being able to resist the very normal urge to punch people you don’t like.

Oh, of all the ways for a person to figure it out, WHY did it have to be the one time where he couldn't keep it together in front of you? Just…why?

“Hehe… Don’t look like that, Micheal. I thought it was pretty cute.”

Shaking his head free from the cringe, Constantine swiftly moves the topic onto something that doesn’t make him want to bash his head against the wall out of shame.

“Another thing, if you knew already then why didn’t you tell me?”

You simply shrugged.

“I just thought you needed time and space. You’ve always been the type to keep to yourself and deal with stuff on your own, so I didn’t want to butt in on something you weren’t ready or wanting me to see. So I waited.”

Yep, that’s exactly what he assumed. Ever the considerate person, you patiently waited for Constantine to get comfortable enough to act on his own. You weren’t worried since you had the knowledge that he liked you that way and you likely were confident that you were clear about your feelings. All that was left to do was to wait for him to make a move.

You chuckle.

“Guess I made the right call considering that you look like you’re going to pass out any second now.”

“Do I really?”

“Yeah, you’re sweating bullets and your legs are shaking real bad. I think you should go to bed, I know I want to.”

A tempting offer to be sure as he is feeling rather exhausted, but he knows he can’t leave just yet. He still has to say at least those three words before he can call this a successful confession. But the moment he opens his mouth, you pinch his cheek and cut him off.

“Don’t. If you have to try this hard to say it, then maybe you aren’t as ready to say it as you think you are. Telling someone you love them should be easy, almost as easy as a slip of the tongue but more genuine than that. It should be like saying the sky is blue or that fire is hot or that Emiya’s cooking is top notch—y’know like stating an obvious fact. That’s what that should be.”

Constantine attempts to respond only for you to gently shake his face a little and cut him off yet again. If it were any other person, he might well have been pissed for their audacity to treat him so disrespectfully. But your adorable pout contrasting your no nonsense attitude—plus the fact that it was you doing this—was melting his heart down, leaving him neither wanting nor able to do anything about it. You huff and add onto your previous statement.

“I’ve already waited for you once, and I’ll gladly wait some more if it means I never have to see you like this again. I don’t like seeing you struggle this hard just because you think I’ll hate you for something as ridiculous as not saying ‘I love you’ out the gate. Besides, it’s not like we’re on a time limit either, so we can take this as slow as you want. So no more of—”

You wave your free hand around in the air.

“—this because you look like you’re going to keel over. Okay?”

“Haha… Sure, sure. I’ll pace myself.”

“Great. Now that we have that sorted out, can we please go to bed? I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Er… We?”

“Yeah, we. If you’re not comfortable with it, then that’s cool, but I want to take a nap with you. Again, only if you’re okay with that.”

After months of barely seeing you, the answer was obvious.

“Sure, just give me a moment to change when we get there.”

You nodded, taking your hand off his face since it didn’t seem to you like Constantine was going to say something silly anytime soon. It rests at your side for only but a moment before being taken by Constantine, who—despite the awkward way he went about it—was smiling to himself and looking off to the side.

This whole thing was messy from start to finish but it was a success nonetheless. That in and of itself is something to be proud of and no amount of stutters and stiff phrasing could take that away from Constantine. Sure his preparation was ultimately a huge waste of time and perhaps an unconscious stall on his part, but it got the ball rolling in how our friend here was going to go about this. A long winded warm up if you will.

He hasn’t told you everything and fumbled in forgetting his explanation as to why he avoided you for months. But maybe that’s for the best. It took Constantine a tremendous amount of effort to tell you the surface of his feelings for you, explaining what happened over a decade ago to make him do this is probably going to be like pulling teeth. And it’s not like he’s necessarily gotten over it either, but he is less worried after thinking about it more rationally during that long introspection he had before today.

It’s the modern era with modern technology and modern medicine, leaps and bounds ahead of his time. Dozens of debilitating illnesses are extinct, curable, or manageable. That being said, does he really have to worry about you suddenly falling ill and perishing when you have legendary physicians at your side? Probably not. Plus you’re not his spouse, so maybe the curse isn’t after you yet. Maybe he’ll have much more time with you than he initially thought.

But thoughts like those are for a different time. For now, Constantine is content holding you in his arms as he drifts off to sleep. His last coherent thought being:

“Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

The Aftermath:

HAHAHAHA! What? Did you really think I’d make it that easy? That I’d let this all wrap up nicely with a neat bow and call it a night? Absolutely not! That’d be unrealistic.

The floodgates wouldn’t just open up all the way just because Constantine decided to change and be more open about his feelings. Things don’t work like that. You know why? Because the hinges have rusted over, not only from disuse but also from Constantine himself adding water and salt onto the hinges themselves for years. He had not nor did he ever desire, in the past, to have the proverbial floodgates open completely, let alone as much as they did now. Really, he preferred to have the gates open about…hm. About three inches. Just enough to let a little bit of water through and just enough to deceive you of the water’s color. After all, water in a glass appears colorless, but water in a lake appears a deep blue. See what I’m getting at here?

Due to Constantine’s own self sabotage—which he didn’t think it was—made it so that he just couldn’t get the words out even if he wanted to. He’s been like this for years, decades even. There’s no way that he can just up and force the floodgates open all the way on a whim. No, it would have taken extreme circumstances to have that happen right now, like you dying in his arms or something similar.

Now, don’t think that the proverbial floodgates and their rusted hinges are something akin to the Theodosian Walls in terms of strength because they’re not. He has broken down before—the mounting pressure of everything that happened in his life has caused the gates to fly off their hinges and after a quick breakdown alone somewhere, Constantine fixes it and pretends like nothing happened.

That’s how he’s been and the damage is far too extensive to simply be resolved with a single day’s determination. Though, I should say that his efforts now are a damn good first step in the right direction.

Ultimately, it’s going to take Constantine a while before he drops the ‘l’ word and perhaps a bit longer before he explains himself as to why he avoided you. It’s also going to take a few hiccups along the way with Constantine regressing a bit into his old habits of keeping his pain to himself. Change isn’t linear just like it isn’t swift, the bastard takes the scenic route that makes most people hurl from motion sickness and doesn’t apologize for it in the slightest. That’s kinda what it’s like.

But he’ll get there someday and when he does, he’ll look back on this whole thing and laugh about it with you.

Until then, it’ll be slow moving forward.

Endnote: 13,726 words later and here we are! I was not expecting this to be double the size of the original Romance Headcanons but when have I ever spoken shortly about something?

During the long ass writing process of this, I stumbled into school starting annnnnd my inspiration running dry quite a few times during this. But what got me kicking was watching a series of videos about Monogatari. The way the person phrased things and spoke about what was going on and the themes of it all had me captivated and inspired me on how to write what I was stuck on at the time, that being the Scripting Phase.

The Planning Phase was all fun and games, serious but not too in deep. Poking around the issue a bit, if you will. The Scripting Phase was the serious part, full of feelings—both good and bad. That series of videos and their wording heavily influenced how I worded things in that section, so if it seems different than everything else I’ve written so far, then now you know why.

Another thing was the music I was listening to. Shoutouts to Sabbath (Saya no Uta), Piano Alley (Yume 2kki) and Faraway Forest (Yume 2kki) for being my background music for nearly the entire duration of the writing process. I don’t know why, but those songs seemed to fit in perfectly with the mood I was going for. I am way too picky with my soundtracks because I can’t listen to a single bit of spoken word while I write AND the tempo has to be just right before I can comfortably get my noggin joggin’ on the page.

So. I know that Constantine not directly saying that he loves you is yet another blueball on my part (refer to the omitted section of the RHC) but I hope that reading this whole thing before and after the Execution Phase provided the explanation as to why I didn’t do that. Constantine is not a perfect person and I never want to write him as though he is since that’d be way too bland and untrue to his character (or my rather depressing interpretation of it.) Constantine fucks up like everyone else does. In Traum, he arguably fucked up by openly holding Johanna as close to his heart as he did because that gave him a massively exploitable weakness that Kriemhild took advantage of and iced him with. If he had kept Johanna a well kept secret, then he most likely would’ve stayed in the game longer than he did and he wouldn’t have had to worry about the consequences of his bestie The Pope getting ganked and how that would affect Reinstatement Realm morale.

I also think that his unfinished confession is much more interesting and leaves room for him to grow as a person. If everything was solved in less than a week, then that’d be lame and would have his character hit a dead end after the confession. Mm, but you could argue that—since this isn’t a series—I shouldn’t be concerned with things like time since in that scenario where it is one it’d be more noticeable if I put everything in a timeless vacuum as opposed to here where it’s just me yapping as youth say. I could have omitted time entirely, but I think that swathes of his development would be missed if I did and the payoff would have been less rewarding, both for the man himself and the reader.

I guess the fact that I view the headcanons I write as less of “What if my blorbo were to interact with ‘me’ in this given scenario” and more like “How can I use this scenario to broaden my understanding of my blorbo and what does his actions, thoughts, and feelings say about him as a person” type of shit is why I have these long ass posts that take a million years to write. And I worry that I’m leaning too much into character analysis as opposed to—in this set of hcs specifically—the romantic aspect of it. I feel like this might not be romantic enough, if that makes sense. So uh, if you feel that way then do let me know. I’m not sure how I’d about fixing that, or if I can without losing the substance that I loosely pride myself on. Makes me wonder if other fanfiction writers have the same issues I do, hehe.

But those are just Redline things. Back onto the behind the scenes, I—with much shame—am confessing that I have omitted something yet again due to length. I was originally planning on adding a bonus of what would happen if you beat Constantine to the punch but I kinda chickened out since I felt that it would take a lot of words to write even remotely well and that might put the word count above the blog’s current record holder “What it Means to Protect You” (WIMTPY) at 21k. I don’t think I’ve ever read a list of headcanons that ever came close to 21k, so I think that’ll be maximum if I ever somehow find myself writing that much. And I hope for your sake that I don’t since, I don’t know about you, but WIMTPY lagged like hell when I tried scrolling to specific parts of it, so I don’t want anyone to suffer that.

One last thing before I let you be. About the preview I released… I thought it’d be hilarious if I made it look bad since it was unfinished and I was having a time crummily drawing the header-footers and the squares with just my fingers. Though, it seems that the joke didn’t fly over that well, hehe, my bad. I might have to change my very vague™ April Fools’ plans for this year, or not do anything. So it wasn’t a complete loss on my end.

Anywho, that’s all for now. I have a lil’ something coming very soon that I had in my trusty back pocket for a certain someone’s arrival when the event drops, so look forward to that! But until then…

—Redline, over and out!

[the1975attheirverybest]

Can I ask for a blurb when reader and Matty haven't had sex in a while because they have been busy and she has been stressed. Maybe he has tried to initiate it a couple of times but as soon as he gets that she's not into he dropped of course. So she realise it has been a while and she apologises and feels guilty but he's super nice about it.

Sorry once again trying to heal my trauma through fiction. 😅

Hope your having a nice day💕

Of course, babes! Sorry about the delay. Looks like my writing is going through another shitty phase. I hope this helps in some small way. Remember that if anyone treats you with anything less than complete respect, then they don’t deserve you or your trust. Love you. 🥰

—

Monday.

It was already a busy week for both of them. Matty had spent most of the weekend in the studio, alone, with George, working out the production on a song they’d written and revised a thousand times. He’d come home really late Sunday night and found her asleep already, sliding into bed next to her as quietly as possible and going to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. So, when she woke up this morning, well before his alarm went off, she decided not to wake him, simply giving him a quick kiss on the forehead and dashing out the door to get an early start to the work week.

She waited around for him that night. Or tried to, at least. She’d cooked them a quick dinner, and set out a plate for him, but he never came. When she texted him, he replied, 39 minutes later, sorry, babe. Another late night. Enjoy dinner though. See you at home?

She wanted to see him. She missed him. So, she tried to stay up late, watching tv , snuggled up on the couch and counting down the minutes until she could hear his car pull into the driveway. But, she’d had a long day herself. Work had gotten wiped her out. Making dinner and taking a quick shower was just about all she was capable of after that. So, she ended up falling asleep right there on that couch. Well before Matty got home.

She had a vague memory of Matty carrying her up the stairs and into their bedroom, tucking her in, and giving her a kiss that tasted like toothpaste and smelled like cigarettes. So, he must have been getting ready for bed too, but she doesn’t recall seeing him change out of his clothes, or get into bed. She was out like a light.

Tuesday.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Matty grinned down at her as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“H-how long have you been standing there…watching me sleep?”

Matty laughed and shook his head. “Please, I’m not that creepy. I was just setting down your breakfast on the night stand. Did I wake you?”

She propped up her pillow and sat up, looking to her side, where Matty had, indeed, left a cup of coffee and a pastry. “Oh, thank you, baby. When did you-“

“Woke up early to grab them. Wanted to spend some time with you before we both went off to work. Feel like we’ve hardly seen each other since….Friday?”

She nodded, taking a sip of her drink, and letting the comforting taste of her coffee order wake her up gently. “You’re an angel, you know that?” She reached out her hands, pulling Matty back into bed to kiss him.

“Don’t think angels would do what I wanna do to you right now…” he mumbled against her lips as she kissed him.

“Oh, babe, not that I wouldn’t love to, but- I have to get ready for work soon, and- I just, I don’t think it’d be fun to rush through it-“

“Oh, of course. Yeah.” She felt his hold on her loosen immediately as he pulled away.

“Sorry! Please don’t be mad! It’s not that I don’t want to- it’s just that work has been crazy, I’ve actually been going into the office early to catch up on stuff and I don’t think the mood-“

“Hey,” he cupped her face with a gentle touch. “Listen to me, it’s okay! You don’t have to explain yourself. Alright? I understand.” He smiled at her reassuringly as she studied his face for any signs of secret resentment.

“A-are you sure?”

“Course I am, babe. Just take your breakfast with you. You can pass on this body” he pointed jokingly to his torso, “Won’t have you skipping meals for work, though…”

“You’re the best.” She gave him a quick peck before springing out of bed and into the bathroom.

Wednesday.

“Matty? Honey? You home?” She called out from the entryway, frowning at the noise in the kitchen, as she hung up her keys and kicked off her shoes. She hadn’t expected him to be home before her tonight. So, she was a bit thrown off.

“Hello, my love!” He chirped, a carefree smile on his tired, sleep-deprived face. He gave her a greeting kiss. “How was you’re day?”

She let him help her take off her coat as she gave him the highlights, “what’re you doing home so early?”

“Finally finished that song that’s been bothering us for weeks. Thought I’d call it an early night and come make us dinner.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s great news!”

“You wanna hear it? I’ve got it on my phone, actually!”

She loved being his private audience. He always played her incomplete songs and ideas for melodies whenever he had them and he respected her opinion immensely. She was always humbled and flattered by the way his eyes would watch her carefully to gauge her reaction to any new music and she loved that he actively sought out her input and took her feedback seriously.

Much of their dinner conversation was, naturally, devoted to that song and what he might do with it. They discussed their favorite parts of it, Matty told her about how he came to write it, what George had done with it, and why it took so long to “get just right.” The conversation carried on, and strayed in several different directions as they cleaned up the kitchen and settled into the living room, with her in his lap, flipping through several streaming services for something to watch before bed.

“Or, we could just-“ Matty dipped his head down to kiss her, his hands traveling to her waist. She’d missed him. His touch. His scent. The feeling of his soft lips on hers. She really wanted this. She did. But, she didn’t want it to go any further. And, it was clear by how eagerly Matty had re-positioned himself on the couch to be on top of her, that he did want to go further.

She closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply, but the anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t let her. It’s fine. This is fine. She loved Matty. And sex was fun. And they hadn’t done it in a while. So, this’d probably be good. She’s not entirely into it now, but should get herself there. Eventually. If she kept going, right? All couples compromise at some point. So, what if she wasn’t feeling it. Worst case scenario, she’d just wait for him to finish. It’ll be fine.

“Everythin’ alright, darlin’?” Matty’s voice interrupted the small whispers inside her own mind.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

Matty gradually withdrew, sitting up straight and getting off of her to give her some space. “I was just asking if you’re okay. What’s the matter, love?”

“Oh! Nothing’s the matter. I’m fine. Why?”

“Well….you seem…distracted. Pretty sure I felt you tense up a bit. Just makin’ sure you’re okay….”

She hadn’t realized that she’d clutched onto the couch reflexively when Matty’s arms began to run over her body. He was right. She was feeling stiff.

“I- umm, yeah, I’m fine. I just- well-“ the small flutter of anxiety that that had been moving through her now settled into real panic. She had no idea what to say that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

“Hey, what’s wrong, baby? Did I- god, have I hurt you?” Matty looked at her, concern in his eyes, he was absolutely clueless.

“No, no! Not at all- it’s not - you’ve done nothing! I promise. It’s not you-“

“Well, what is it then? You can tell me…did you- do you not want this right now?”

Her throat ran dry at his words, she felt tongue tied. Too overwhelmed to speak. Matty watched her, expecting a response. Eventually, she shook her head.

“Oh, I see. That’s okay! Why didn’t you say anything?”

They way she looked up at him with surprised and confusion utterly baffled him. Like it hadn’t even occurred to her that it was an option to simply let him know.

“Well, you know, we…umm- haven’t slept together in a while, and…yesterday, I did. When you tried, I said no, cuz I had to go to work, and stuff…so, I just figured-“

“You figured what? You’d let me have it even if you’re not into it?” Matty smiled in disbelief, shaking his head.

“Sounds silly when you put it like that.” She looked down at her feet, feeling dejected and foolish.

Matty jumped from his side of the couch over to her, pulling her into a hug, immediately. “Listen to me, and listen carefully, you are NOT obligated to give me sex. Like ever. I don’t care how long it’s been, I don’t care how many times you’ve had to say now, I don’t care if we’re right in the middle of things, and I’m standing there, lookin at you with my fuckin dick out. If, at any point, you suddenly decide, you’re not feeling it, you just say the word and we’ll stop.”

She shook her head, “but that sounds so selfish!”

“Not as selfish as me ignoring all your cues. Letting you put yourself through something so personal when you’re not enjoying it just so I can cum for the night. Does that seem fair to you? Would that be right?”

Something about the way he’d described it matter-of-factly made the decision seem like a no-brainer. But, in the moment, it didn’t feel that way at all. “Nope.”

“I never want to take advantage of you. I never want to taint our relationship. You don’t owe me anything. Just because you’ve agreed to be in this relationship with me, it doesn’t give me the right to just expect sex from you. Any time it happens between us, we both have to be into it. Meaning, every. Single. Time. We have to make it an active choice. Yeah? Besides, it’s not nearly as sexy or enjoyable for me, if you’re not into it! Do you see what I mean?”

“…yeah, I do. Thank-“

“Fuck no. Not havin’ you thank me for being, like, a normal human being. That’s the bare fuckin minimum. If anyone’s ever made you feel like that’s something you have to be grateful for, then they’re the twat, not you. And if I haven’t made that clear enough until today, then that’s a failure on my part. I’m going to fix it. Starting….well, now! May I kiss you?”

“Yes, Matty. You may.”

[starry-blue-echoes]

Star Swap, thinking about how long it'd take before people found out.

Jotaro in Josuke's place is definitely the fastest to be found out. He does not know how to do the hair. He doesn't even know TO do the hair. Tomoko's clued into something being wrong FUCKING IMMEDIATELY and, especially given how Jotaro's going to respond to her, she's not going to let it rest till she figures it out. And then older Jotaro arrives and uhhhh yeah he's going to recognize the familiar Angst

Josuke in Jotaro's place, honestly unsure. Holly's observant, and would notice right away, but I don't know how much she'd push it, if at all, and then she gets sick, and Joseph, while super observant, hasn't seen Jotaro in a while to be able to have a baseline. I think Josuke would want to tell people, but there's so much going on that nobody can really focus on figuring it out or deciding who/how to tell.

Nobody knew Giorno well enough to tell prior to part 5. It's all down to if Joseph chooses to tell anyone. And honestly... He might. Trish especially, he might as a way of sharing his own experiences to let her know she's not alone in feeling lost and homesick and in over her head.

Giorno's going to try and hide it. Erina and Speedwagon will notice something's up, but not push enough to figure it out. And Giorno's a good actor. Maybe he'll tell Suzie or Caesar some of it eventually, but... It'd be hard for him.

Jolyne, uh. Dio figures out That's Not Jonathan immediately but it's shortly before he used the mask so he's not seen any supernatural shit yet and is supremely confused. He wouldn't know how it happened or how to respond at ALL. And George might take it as a rebellious phase or some shit, given that he's distracted by being poisoned. I could see her telling Erina once she shows up though.

Jonathan has a month at best before he's forced to tell someone. He does not know how to deal with periods in Jolyne's body. He was raised by a single father in the late 1800s. He's going to have to ask Hermes or someone for help, and probably explain why he doesn't know, and thus where/when he's from, in the process. And honestly he probably wanted to tell someone early on, but was taking a minute to settle in and try not to upset his presumed descendant's life and then he got framed and the chaos and he didn't know who to trust at first- he's glad to tell someone.

YESSSSSSSSS

Out of all the Jojo’s, Jotaro is the most fucked about keeping this secret. The morning he wakes up it doesn’t matter what he does, Tomoko is going to be on him in an instant and he has no chance whatsoever at keeping the body swap a secret. Honestly Tomoko might connect the pieces pretty quick and could even confront him in a “who are you and what have you done with my son” way within a day or two of “Josuke” acting off. On the plus side Josuke doesn’t seem to have had….. really any friends prior to Diamond so that’ll make things a bit easier at least.

Thing are DEFINITELY going to be awkward between Tomoko and Jotaro tho. He’ll explain the situation as best he can, but there isn’t much he can offer beyond theories and giving a more in depth explanation of his admittedly limited knowledge about Stands. Both are struggling to figure out What The Fuck Do We Do, but they’d probably end up working together. Admittedly things are still tense, and it only gets worse when 4taro shows up, doubly so when he learns this kid is apparently his grandfather’s bastard son.

(also I can definitely see Jotaro calling Holly at some point. He doesn’t say anything, but just hearing her voice on the other end of the receiver, hearing proof that she was still alive…… it took a weight off his shoulders)

And your thoughts are basically the same as mine when it comes to Josuke. Holly would definitely realize something was wrong, but she wouldn’t have time to tell anybody because of the Stand Sickness. There would also be an added layer to Josuke’s panic because He Can’t Fix This, and seeing her illness from a Stand would ironically remind him of his own sickness when he was a boy. At least the Crusaders have a healer now?

Joseph…… that’s a tricky one. Nobody knows him so they’d have no reason to even suspect anything. Telling Trish would be an interesting idea, but there is also the chance that he just. Never does. Parts of his story yes, mentioning the Pillarmen and his experiences possibly, implying time travel MAYBE, but he might not mention the “I might be possessing a 15 year old’s body”

For Giorno, while he’d definitely be able to get away with it on Air Supplena, Speedwagon and Erina are going to notice immediately. They might be hesitant to push in the beginning because Joseph growing that withdrawn could be seen as something having happened emotionally, but I think eventually they’d put together the pieces that this isn’t their grandson

Jolyne in Jonathan’s body……. That’s going to be pure fucking gold. She does not take ANY of Dio’s shit. Also, I really like the idea of her telling Erina. After all…… she isn’t the man Erina loves, she’s merely inhabiting his body. It would feel wrong to take advantage of her in such a way, especially because of how genuine those feelings seem to be. And Dio figuring it out himself is just 🤌

And Jonathan. Poor, poor Jonathan. Out of everyone he’s going to have easily the hardest time adjusting. And what if the thing with Hermes is just his absolute breaking point. He’s tired and confused and now he’s bleeding and everything hurts and he just wants to go home, so when Hermes asks hims what’s wrong everything just comes crashing down

And Hermes….. was not at all expecting this. Sure ‘Jolyne’ was a little weird, but she’d just chalked that up to that just being how she was, that that was just her personality. But this? Forceful time travel into a body that didn’t belong to them??? Yeah that wasn’t ANYWHERE on the list

[sunkitten-shash]

Wheel of time adjacent music!?!?!????

Yes! My collection was formed several years ago, before the show came out, so no OST from that or anything. There's a good deal of fan music (and probably even more now! Haven't checked for at least six years lol), and I also just Googled and went through a bunch of forum threads about music people associate with the series.

(Sorry, this turned out very long! Wheel of Time adjacent music is one of the things I have spent a LOT of time thinking about)

Fan Music (it's mostly metal)

Reflections of Sound did some of the songs from the series - https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFD79BF2D4A257CB0 (Color of Trust especially is one of my favorites from this!)

A Soundtrack for the Wheel of Time is an older, semi-official thing - https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_kruuxgJat1Nmzuu0l5YRMYEA95XFDCEnU

Noble Beast, a power metal band, has one or two songs based on WoT; "The Dragon Reborn" obviously, and there might have been another one in the same album but I don't remember. Honestly recommend the whole album, they're BANGERS https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLN50TABYCox89OIAMicMQfnh-UgDoCQRN

Wars Fought With the Heron-Marked Blade - I don't think I ever listened to this album all the way through, but I think all or most of the songs are WoT-inspired, and the name obviously is - https://open.spotify.com/album/1CxCxLIrHYJ92oCtTbjcIN

Blind Guardian's album At The Edge of Time has at least two WoT-inspired songs, Ride into Obsession and Wheel of Time - https://open.spotify.com/album/1KpuPdS4ea7uaBdP0Ywryz

Shayol Ghul is a band with an obviously WoT-inspired name; not sure about what songs are related to the series, but I have "Alone and Cold" and "Cascade of Darkness" downloaded

"Please, Please George" is a song about the next A Song of Ice and Fire book not coming out but it does namedrop Wheel of Time ("I might have to read The Wheel of Time instead/They're gonna finish that even though Robert Jordan's dead") and is also just a fun song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztLYtUGEEfc&pp=ygUUcGxlYXNlIHBsZWFzZSBnZW9yZ2U%3D

There's a bunch of other one-off songs I picked up at some point, so I made a playlist real quick - https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbGNVzzzICJoVuxEy894nMDEg92FeUrb2

I think I found some of these artists by searching on the Encyclopaedia Metallicum, and it looks like there might be a few more on there now - https://www.metal-archives.com/

Here's a post with some I missed as well! https://www.thegreatblight.com/post/wheel-of-time-songs-you-missed

Other Music

Honestly just Google it/search on Reddit or the Dragonmount forums for songs people associate with the series. I have SO MANY, and just taking a quick look there's tons more I don't have. Some artists that I saw mentioned a lot include Within Temptation, Metallica, Nightwish, and Mumford & Sons.

A couple of my favorites:

Three Days Grace - Animal I Have Become, Our Lady Peace - Not Enough and Mumford & Sons - After the Storm (especially the "I won't rot" line!) for Rand

Within Temptation - Dangerous and Three Days Grace - The Good Life for Mat

(I also will not hesitate to make a WoT playlist (or several) with additional songs if anyone is interested!)

Thanks for giving me an excuse to talk about this, anon! I had a HUGE special interest in Wheel of Time a few years ago, and (obviously, lol) spent a lot of time finding music I could associate with the books. That phase honestly really shaped my music taste and some of the artists I found then are still favorites now.

[harrisongslimited]

George Chapter of the Day #8

I Saw Her Standing There

Trigger Warnings: adult situations, swearing, smoking, sexual references

Chapter 8

"So Georgie," John began, a sly look on his face. "You seem a tot distracted. What's up with you?"

Paul egged John on with hand gestures from a safe distance. They were going to make him say it...that he was batty over Joie. Knowing George as they did, they didn't need a PhD in psychology to see it all over his face. He never was any good at hiding his feelings.

George stared at John, grinned and walked around him, taking his guitar with him.

"C'mon. Give it up. She's got your gut in a twist, doesn't she?"

"I'll make sure to send you a wedding invitation, you soft twit."

"Fine. Call me names. But you're in love with Joie. Say it..."

"Bugger off you bloody arsehole," George shot back at him with a subtle grin. "It's none of your business."

"Well then," John replied smartly. "Our old lothario, Paul, will begin to charm and woo her, if it's all the same to you..." John continued to tease him.

George turned and looked between John and Paul, his expression unreadable. "Do whatever you bloody well please."

He wasn't ready to tell anyone anything. He was too unsure of himself. The Hamburg girls, the groupies, were easy pickings in a way. The Hamburg ladies were experienced in being girlfriends and lovers and for the most part, usually hunted him down. Joie Armagh was an entirely different species. Wooing in Hamburg was sharing a cig, a beer and after quick introductions, a shag in a not all that private or secluded place. All of them had walked in on each other in the throes of shagging and it didn't phase anyone, including the girl.

Joie required some finesse. She required time; she deserved flowers, hand holding, soft kisses on her lovely, sweet neck, dinners in restaurants that had soft lighting, roses in vases on the tables and crisp, white tablecloths. George understood it, but felt...out of his league. It was a problem he would have to get over if he ever wanted her naked body pressed against his...and having her love him was worth everything he had.

John and Paul realized George was very serious about Joie and immediately backed off...almost.

"Hey, if you manage to get her to say yes to a date, can I come with you like you used to do with me and Cyn when you were a skinny tadpole?"

George smiled and laughed. "Over my cold, dead body."

"You know George, she's a classy bird. Pretty too," Paul gave him a slap on the back. "You better stay on your toes. Some posh bloke could come along and sweep her off her feet."

George gave him a genuine smile. "Like i said, over my cold, dead body, Paulie."

..........

Joie drove with Freda on her first days at NEMS, still too unsure of driving in London. It reminded her of the Indianapolis 500, everyone going bat shit crazy and weaving and bolting through rows of cars. She was going to be in England for the next 6 months and she was going to make the most of it. She would tame the chaos of the roadways. Joie just needed a plan.

And as promised, a mini cooper was given to her as a company car. Freda took her to the parking lot to show her the baby blue car she was allowed to use while she worked for NEMS. When Paul showed up at the office that morning, he promised to give her some driving lessons, but Joie knew that George would be the one who would take the time. Joie had come to realize that Paul had his focus on his own life and his life with Jane. There was no room for her and that was ok.

George was a whole different situation. It was his eyes that tantalized her first. Deep, dark, mysterious, yet a window to his heart. Joie knew he was a softie underneath that protective cover of a funny, tough kid from the docks. Seeing him with his mum and dad cleared that right up. It was strange that she seemed to shiver whenever he was close to her. Her skin became electrified somehow, hypersensitive to the nearness of his body, the sound of his voice, even the aftershave he wore. When they were in the same room, she knew exactly where he was at all times. The feelings confused her. They were new feelings right out of the box and she was neither sure of what they meant nor what she was supposed to do about them.

Brian, on the other hand, treated her curtly. He barked orders and Freda told her it was just his way because he was under so much pressure. But Joie got the distinct impression that Brian didn't want her there for whatever reason. She was going to win him over with her dedication and discretion. But for now, she stuck close to Freda to learn her job and got to know the other girls in the office. Alice was Brian's assistant and was friendly and helpful. The only other person in the office was a constant visitor named Derek, who served as a part time press officer. Joie was surprised they operated with such a small staff considering the enormity of the operation. But she was there to do a job...and do it she would.

All 4 Beatles dropped in frequently. George came in and asked Joie to come with him on an errand, and he was going to let her drive. She had been avoiding driving, and broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of it. George reached out to hold her elbow and began whispering in her ear. She went weak in the knees, her body shivering, the flight of hundreds of butterflies crossing her lower gut. Joie tried to pull herself together; the only thing she could do was step away from him, George supposing he was invading her personal space and moving to the side.

"Would you mind coming with me this afternoon on an errand?" he asked softly.

"Would love to," was Joie's reply as a bright smile caused her eyes to shine.

"We're off, Brian," George announced. "We won't be back." Brian just nodded silently as George took Joie's hand and led her out of the office. They both waved to Freda.

"Nice...," Freda thought to herself.

..........

"Ok," he said as she got behind the wheel. "It's just like driving anywhere. There's people and traffic and you just need to get used to driving on the other side of the road that you are used to."

Joie looked at him skeptically, started the car and stopped. "I can't George. I just can't. What if we get into an accident?"

" Hm...wear your seat belt. You'll be fine. I'm right here," he looked into her frightened eyes. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere, Joie. I'll be right beside you."

It took every ounce of Joie's strength not to throw her arms around him and just hold on. Instead, she looked in every direction and eased the car out into traffic.

"Maybe I should know where we're going?"

"Esher," he announced. "I bought a house."

.........

Within an hour, Joie safely drove all the way to Esher from London. George was a patient teacher and calmly helped her navigate the roads.

"Thank you for your coaching and patience," Joie remarked, reaching out and laying her hand on his arm.

When they discussed it later, neither one knew exactly what happened. It was just like heat lightening...comes out of nowhere to light the sky.

.........

Joie was amazed at how lovely the property was. The ranch house was even nicer. It was cozy and open. But completely empty.

"It's beautiful George," Joie told him as he took her on a tour of the house. "you picked a wonderful house."

"it needs furniture and that's where you come in. The decorator is coming and I need a second opinion."

Joie thought this was a huge undertaking. "But George, I hardly know your style or what you want...."

"We'll do it together. I don't know what I want either. I want comfortable. I want a place to crash. I want to be able to entertain if I ever get the chance."

There wasn't a pot or pan or plate or chair in the entire house. And the house was large, with a coach house and an in ground pool in the back. It was going to take thousands to decorate this house and Joie felt out of her element. Her home back in California was a small apartment with 3 bedrooms.

"Are you sure you want me to help you with this? I'm a complete novice. I decorated our apartment from K-mart. Remember K-mart?"

George nodded and smiled "Give it an American flair. I liked the California open look."

"Ok...whatever you want."

"And remember the decorator will do most of the work. When I'm gone on tour, I want you to be here to coordinate once we pick out everything we need."

Joie nodded at him again and went for tour around the house a second time, taking notes and asking George questions.

As George surveyed the garden, Joie studied the empty kitchen. This was a huge undertaking. But it was her job to help him. And if George wanted her to help decorate his new house, that's what she would do.

..........

The interior decorator showed up shortly after their arrival and George remained outside in the garden. Joie negotiated with the decorator concerning everything from dishes, to a bed to dining room furniture. They came up with a great plan.

George finally appeared after overhearing Joie and decorator's conversation and liking what they discussed. "The coach house. I want it with a real California flair. Southwestern. It will go nicely with the garden I'm going to plan."

Joie and James, the decorator, nodded enthusiastically. Joie was writing furiously in a notebook she fortunately remembered to bring and laughed to herself. This is what it meant to work for a Beatle.

..........

Joie did wonder why George asked her to help coordinate the decorating and not Freda or Alice. They knew him way better than she did. Joie needed the cavalry and knew just who to call. While George surveyed his potential garden, Joie called Cyn.

"Cyn, I need your help," Joie said into the phone. "George wants me to decorate his new house and I need your input. You know him better than I do and your house is so beautiful. Can you meet me and the decorator on Wednesday?"

"Sure, of course," Cyn agreed. "I'm glad he finally bought a house. It's about time he settled down. Now all we need is to find him a steady girlfriend."

"Well, I'm just worried about the house. I want it done by the time they come back from tour. Then there's the opening for the movie and they will be off again. There's not a whole lot of time."

"Did he use James Terrier, the decorator?" Cyn asked. "George had called to see who we used and I gave him his name."

"Yes," Joie answered. "And he's wonderful. I just need another pair of eyes to help me."

"I'll bring Julian and lunch. See you Wednesday."

..........

The office was quiet on Wednesday as Brian had left with the boys on their European tour.

"Now we can breathe," Freda said to Joie as they leaned back in their chairs and lit cigarettes. "How's the house coming?"

"Delivering furniture this afternoon. I have to drive out by noon."

"How's the driving going?"

"Well, I learned from George, so all I have to do is lower my speed and I'm ok."

Freda laughed and nodded knowingly.

..........

"Let's eat first and get a plan," Cyn suggested, pouring the wine in 2 beautiful wine glasses.

While they ate and chatted, Julian explored the empty house, but didn't wander too far. There was really nothing he could get into, but like Cynthia said, somehow 2 year olds can always find trouble.

"Everything is coming today, Cyn. Everything. I've got 3 days to get this place in order before George comes home."

Cyn sipped her wine. "Any thoughts why George asked you to help?"

"None. Other than I figure that's what I was hired for. To run errands, help organize...that sort of thing."

"Um..."Cyn responded. "Maybe. I know George pretty well and it seems like he's thinking about something."

"Maybe he's in a relationship and wants to get his house settled so he has a nice place to bring someone home."

In her mind, Joie went back to the afternoon they first surveyed the house....his arms around her, his open mouth, crushed against hers, their tongues searching, hungry between her lips. There was a sigh of pleasure that she felt, sending an electric bolt right through to her groin.

His gentle hands cupping her face, sighing with pleasure to slightly deepen their kiss and draw their bodies together. It was like she was dying and he saved her. Reminded her she was a desirable woman. But afterwards, he escaped out into the garden.

"Thank you for the great job you're doing," George struggled to say, not looking at her.

"No problem," Joie replied and headed back into the house. Guess a passionate kiss is how the British say thanks.

"He's not seeing anyone steadily right now," Cyn brought her back to reality.

"Oh, well...maybe it's just in his plan. He likes plans."

Cyn laughed. "Yes, he does."

They had just about finished their lunch when a huge truck pulled up and James Terrier got out of the passenger's side. 'Afternoon ladies," he greeted. "We've got some work to do here."

Joie must have looked overwhelmed.

"But not to worry. This place will be showroom ready in no time."

With Cynthia's help, who called in Maureen, the house in Esher began to take shape. The bedroom was done...the living room and dining room. The kitchen had dishes and a tea pot. There were fresh, fluffy towels and pictures for the walls.

It was functional, yet available for George to add his own touches. The phone service had been set up already, but they needed to plug in the television set. There were other electronics George had purchased, and Joie decided that they needed someone with experience to set it all up. She made a mental note to ask George when she talked to him.

They all tackled the coach house and make it an extension of the garden, with bright colors, bright furniture and a flower motif. Julian had fun organizing the knick-knacks, the plants, anything he could get his hands on. Cyn, Mo and Joie sipped on cool white wine as they worked and talked.

By the end of the day, Julian was asleep on George's new bed, surrounded by the kitchen chairs so he wouldn't roll off and Cyn, Mo and Joie shared another bottle of wine.

By the time the women left, Joie was as exhausted as she's ever been. She curled up on the sofa just to relax for a minute and fell into a deep sleep.

..........

"Joie?" It was Freda. The phone woke her up.

"Hi Freda," Joie answered, taking a minute to realize where she was and what she had done.

"You are at George's? Brian is asking for you."

"Yes....we got so much done yesterday. It's looking like a real house. It will be ready for him by the time he gets home tomorrow," she said. "At least livable."

"That's great. I'm sure George will be thrilled," Freda began, then lowered her voice. "But Brian thought you'd be in the office this morning. He's thundering around here like there's no tomorrow."

"Oh," Joie said, surprised. "Does he want to talk to me? He didn't expect me to get George's house done in one day, did he?"

Freda kept her voice low. "I guess so. But he left for a meeting. I'll tell him to call you at George's."

"I'll be here the rest of the day today and then be in the office tomorrow. There are more deliveries today that I need to be here for."

"Ok," Freda said. "I'll tell him. But you know he can be a bear sometimes...."

Joie nodded. "I'm learning, Freda."

And she hung up.

Although she didn't know exactly what George expected to find in the kitchen, she went to the market and stocked up on the essentials. She was so busy, she really hadn't taken a moment to realize what she was doing. She was decorating George Harrison' house. Jordan was going to explode.

When she got back to the house, she met a florist at the front gate.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Are you Joie Armagh?"

She nodded.

The florist handed her a box. "This is for you."

"Me?" Joie asked again. "Me? There must be a mistake."

"Nope."

And he walked away.

She entered the house and put her purse and bags down. Then she carefully removed the ribbon and opened the box. It was dozens of flowers cradled in purple heather. The card simply said, "Thanks, George."

She was speechless. She'd never received flowers from anyone. But then she figured he wanted them for the house. She was just the receiver. But they were addressed to her with a thank you card. Joie didn't know what to think. She shrugged her shoulders and went about finding something to serve as a vase and arranged the flowers so he would see them on the coffee table when he came home.

"Hello?" It was Cyn on the phone. "I got the number from Freda. How's it going over there?"

"Hi Cyn," Joie greeted, happy to hear her voice. "How's Julian?"

"Good. He's at my mum's and I've got some free time. Need some help?"

"I'd love the company if you have time. I have to get back to town tonight so I can get into the office tomorrow."

"I'll be over in 30."

The second Joie hung up the phone it rang again. She thought it would be Cyn again.

"Hi Cyn..." she greeted with a giggle.

There was a slight delay as she heard, "It's George."

"Oh, hi," Joie answered easily. "Cyn just called and I thought it was her calling back. She and Maureen helped me yesterday with organizing your new house."

George laughed. "How does it look?"

Joie surveyed her handiwork. "You will like it. It's functional so you can add your own touches, but it's looking good. I went grocery shopping yesterday and your larder is full."

"Thanks, Joie. Cyn said you have good taste and the three of you got a lot done."

"You talked to her?"

"When John called her."

"We had a good time too---she and Maureen were a great help," Joie answered. "And there were some flowers that came. I put them in a vase on the coffee table."

"I have a coffee table?" was all he asked.

"You do now," Joie laughed. "The flowers are beautiful. Thank you."

"Thank you for your help.

"You are very welcome. It's been fun."

[deepdeanvsweston]

George and Bertie headcannons

I'm so obsessed with character relationships who have never/very briefly met

- THEY SHOULD BE MATES

- they meet properly for the first time in MAM, before that it was Harold rushing his family about Cambridge and showing it off, with just a quick wave and a mention of him when they see Bertie in the street

- George's interest was piqued of course, that's the boy from the Fallingford Case! He and Aleks have been avidly following it, and all the allegations of homosexuality against Bertie

- Harold sort of uses this as a litmus test for his family, and thankfully his parents are like 'what consenting people get up to behind closed doors is none of our business' and George is all 'I don't care about that! I want to know more about night climbing"

- anyway they meet in MAM and George knows who Bertie is from the letters Harold writes ("Albert Wells is in my class, from that Fallingford Case you're so intrigued by. When you visit for the hols, please don't mention it - he's really nice and I think you'd like him. I really like him.")

- Bertie and George don't really talk until that night they go climbing, where Harold and Aleks have gone ahead because of their long legs

- George desperately elects to ignore the way Bertie is staring at Harold's ass

- Bertie knows George sort of knows about him and Harold but is still feeling major awkward

- George tries to break the ice > "isn't it dreadful being friends with people who have long legs?" Bertie laughs and some of the ice is broken, though of course he's still nervous

- but by the time he's got to be sent back to Weston, George has told him every embarrassing story ever about Harold ("do you know he used to beg and beg our parents to take him to see the naked statues of the - male, might I add! - Greek warriors in the museum..."

- Harold is MORTIFIED

- anyway George and Bertie like playing chess together

- they'll sit on the floor, board on the coffee table with Harold's legs draped over Bertie's while he reads his latest history book buy, and Aleks leaning on George's shoulder as he practises languages

- (their boyfriends find it funny to distract them by kissing their neck and calling them pet names as they play. George and Bertie do not find it funny.)

- Bertie is always going to George to find out whether something looks good or not

("George, Harold says he thinks the yellow and orange look good together"

"He's either wrong or colour blind"

"That's what I thought. The purple, instead?"

"Oh, absolutely")

- George is teaching Bertie Hindi so he can sort of 'propose' to Harold and impress The Parents

- (he doesn't need to, the Mukherjees thinks he's 'such a charming young man')

- they're both autistic (even though the label doesn't exist yet)

- so Harold is used to George stimming, so isn't phased when finds Bertie flapping his arms and being overwhelmed by stuff

- ("Is it the lights? Are they too bright?"

"Yes... how did you know?"

"My brother, he gets bothered by these sorts of things too - says that it feels like the lights are smothering him")

- Harold and Bertie get a cat and George gets to name it Oscat Wilde

[umlewis]

undefined

lewis hamilton is interviewed after the race, australia - april 2, 2023 (transcription under the cut)

Interviewer: "...had, and considering the challenges the whole team have had." Lewis: "Well, firstly, just a huge thank you to everyone back at the two factories. I feel so, so happy right now and so grateful to them for continuing to push, and I think we've arrived with a car that's been difficult, and it's been... For us to be finishing on the podium, getting these points, is really remarkable and... Especially at this early phase where we've not actually changed the car. It's just happened to work pretty well this weekend. And we've got a lot of work to do, clearly, to catch the Red Bull, 'cause they came flying past and disappeared, but I think this hopefully gives us a real boost of hope and energy-that it's so early on in the season, yet we're there, or thereabouts, kind of-so I hope this is a message to everyone to just dig deep, keep pushing, because it's not that far away and it's relatively close to reach." Interviewer: "You actually finally got some luck, as well-the red flag at the end, as well-which usually goes against you. But today, when I spoke to George afterwards, he thought with the two of you up there, you could have actually put up more of a fight to Max, if you'd had each other there towards the end of the race today. So how close do you think you are of being able to pull off a result?" Lewis: "I don't think we would have... Max is in another league. His car is so fast. I mean, he passed me halfway down the straight and he was several meters ahead-like, ten meters ahead-but I mean, I don't know how they're so quick on the straight. It's insane. They're just in another league, and until we pick up speed on the straight like they have and have the crazy downforce that they have through the corners, that's how it's going to continue. But I think, for the others, if we continue to work together, we can definitely fight the Ferraris and the Red Bulls, and the battle's really with Fernando right now." Interviewer: "Yeah, he said he enjoyed it today. He said you drove like a champion." Lewis: "Yeah, I enjoyed racing with him. It was very reminiscent of our first race here, or my first race here, in 2007." Interviewer: "Great job. Well done."

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

hms captain??

hms captain indeed!!

i meant for this to be a short post but oops its really long already and im nowhere near finished so if you wanna learn about this terribly designed warship, join me after the cut; if you dont, enjoy this picture of an oddly designed ship.

the hms captain was a british warship. it was built during a time where shipbuilders were phasing sails out for steam engines, and where warships were being much better armoured. for example, the hms captain was steam-powered with two propellers and had wrought iron armour.

wrought iron armour caused a problem for warships. like think of any pirate media youve seen where theyve got wooden ships with these iron cannonballs; the cannonballs very easily breach the wooden ships. they dont really do that with iron armour. instead, they bounced off.

so the british admiralty, media and public were all in want, to some extent, of a ship with better guns that could breach ship armour. enter cowper phipps cole:

a man who looks like a rasputin prototype and seems to have the charisma to back up the comparison.

see coles was very good at public engagement. when he needed to, he could very easily get the media and public on his side, which is a power he leveraged in order to get hms captain approved, commissioned and built.

his design, oddly enough, goes back to a raft from the crimean war.

this is the lady nancy, constructed in 1855 to aid during the siege of taganrog. it was for shore bombardment which you can see in this illustration of it. while cameras were a thing back then (i think daguerreotypes existed during this time), i dont believe we have any photos of the lady nancy.

coles was a captain in the navy in 1855, and him and a group of sailors constructed it. according to those there, the guns on the raft were protected by some kind of dome structure or a "cupola" as they called it.

hms captain was inspired by the lady nancy, and so, it was also intended for shore bombardment. for this purpose, two big fuck off rotating turrets were mounted inside the hull on the gun deck.

these had been patented by coles himself in 1859 which is partly how he became a consultant for the admiralty when it came to building ships. being the nephew of admiral lord edmund lyons 1st baron lyons gcb gcmg kch, by marriage, twice over certainly also helped.

quick note on that:

its not technically incest, i think, his wife emily pearson was lyons niece and his mom is the sister of lyons wife augusta

i also didnt know what those acronyms meant beforehand, gcb is a british order of chivalry called most honourable order of the bath, gcmg is another one: most distinguished order of saint michael and saint george, kch is a hanoverian order of chivlary called royal guelphic order. yeah thats just gobbledegook.

lyons was important because of his role in the crimean war as commander-in-chief of the mediterranean fleet (suddenly i feel like im reading an icemav fic) and hes credited as ensuring victory for britain.

originally, the admiralty just ordered prototypes of his big fuck off turrets and they were actually impressed with them.

and so the hms prince albert was built with four of them (is that four turrets in your pants or are you just happy to see me) and the hms royal sovereign was converted to be a turret ship. both, however, could only operate as coastal service vessels.

hence, the admiralty allowed coles to draw up plans for a two (2) turret oceangoing ship in 1863, working with nathaniel barnaby who was chief constructor for the navy. keep in mind, coles had little to no experience in ship design.

then, they suspended the project.

but they allowed him to work on a one (1) turret oceangoing ship that was based on the hms pallas with joseph scullard who was head draughtsman in 1864.

and then in 1865, a committee rejected/cancelled his projects, and decided to move forward with a different design for a two (2) turret ship called hms monarch.

this made coles very angry, and an angry coles is not a good thing for the british admiralty.

(i spent an hour making this because im so bad at making things look purposefully bad)

so you know like today where bad actors like andrew tate, tucker carlson, joe rogan and even like graham hancock can just use public platforms and social medias to get a relatively large portion of the population of their side, seemingly with ease, just by talking/communicating confidently, playing into fears and anxieties of the public, and creating an us and them?

yeah so cowper phipps coles was also really good at this. grifters, liars and pretenders have alway existed.

(milo rossi brings discusses this a lot in his series on hancock's ancient apocalypse docuseries, and id 100% recommend the whole series.)

so how did coles do this?

well, he began with a very strong and very harsh attack on robert spencer robinson who was a vice admiral and controller of the navy, and his full title was admiral sir robert spencer robinson kcb frs.

the title admiral sir is very funny, like i want to get a cat called that with the nickname addy. kcb is basically the same as gcb. lyons was general grand cross and robinson was knight commander, because of fucking course its this stupid. frs is an award given to you from the royal society of london; the fellowship of the ring royal society is granted to those who have made a "substantial contribution to the improvement of natural knowledge, including mathematics, engineering science, and medical science".

it wasnt just mr admiral sir that coles attacked; he also attacked several other admirals who were on the committee but he really seemed to hate robinson. coles also lobbied parliament and the press, focussing on the flaws he saw in monarchs design and how britain was going to be left behind in the shipping arms race since many other nations were pressing ahead with several oceangoing turret ships. unsurprisingly, it was the united states that were winning the race so far.

around this time, coles' contract as a navy consultant was terminated in january 1866. like thats as hard as he was going, he fully lost his job. of course he had his dear not-quite-incest uncle lord lyons to fall back on. one hell of a safety net, very well entwined.

in response to this professional fuck you, coles simply protested that he had been misunderstood and the man must have rolled a nat 20 on his charisma saving roll because on the 1st march 1886, he was re-employed.

he waited a month and a half to submit his critique of the monarch proposal on the 16th april. he refused to publicly support a vessel that didnt represent his "views of a sea going turret-ship" because He Was Like That™. we're in the cowper karen era. his critique went on to say that hms monarch could not give his "principle a satisfactory and conclusive trial."

now at this point, the admiralty really should have just sent him packing. theyve given him chance after chance after chance despite him having pretty much no experience.

like say you have a blocked toilet that you cant unblock, but instead of calling a plumber, you ask your friends nephew whos an art curator who really wants to give this plumbing thing a go. then his first attempt makes it worse; now the taps in your bath turn on everytime you use the kitchen sink and your toilets still blocked. but you give him another go and now theres a shower curtain stuck in your toilet which is still blocked. and now youre fingers are hovering over the call button on a plumbers number when your friend calls and asks you to give their nephew another go. its only been three weeks and theres a 24 hours mcdonalds up the road that you can go to for the bathroom and youve got a shower at work you can use, so you think, okay, sure. and then he accidentally rips your kitchen sink out and you still have a blocked toilet and a non-working shower and your bath taps are running 24/7, and your friend asks you again to give him a "second chance."

like youre not giving him another chance, theres a goddamn shower curtain in your toilet and your kitchen sink is in your fucking living room. of course, youre not giving him another chance.

but say everyone in your street and everyone in your friend group is on his side because hes been telling little lies and charming them all with his aunts baked goods and his knowledge of local art and history. and everyone else is rooting for him and they all believe this is the chance.

thats the situation first naval lord admiral frederick grey (full title: admiral the hon. sir frederick william grey gcb) found himself in. obviously coles should not be given another chance, but the whole country believes he should.

so on the 21st april (thats me moms birthday :)) he agreed that coles should be allowed to build his "perfect" oceangoing turret ship.

and so the hms captain was born

the ship was to be built on a private shipyard and coles selected laird brothers' chesire yard on the 8th may 1866.

one of the biggest problems ship designers had with turret ships is that ships tend to have quite a lot of rigging that gets in the way of the turrets. this was a genuine design flaw for the hms monarch, it was brought up by the chief designer sir edward james reed kcb rfs, but he was overuled. he didnt think a turret ship should have either a forecastle or poop deck.

on a typical warship, youll see a small rise on either end of the ship. at the front/bow, you have the forecastle which was typically used as a defensive measure. at the back/stern, youd typically have the captain quarters within the hull and the roof of that is the poop deck. it would be used for either the captain or a helmsman or a first mate maybe to supervise the crew and their work.

reed, very correctly, did not want these measures because they interfered with the turrets. he also wanted much less rigging because the more wooden beams and rope and sail youve got, the less room the turrets have to fire.

he wrote that "the middle of the upper deck of a full-rigged ship is not a very eligible place for fighting large guns."

and coles and the lairds seemed to agree with this sentiment because their design corrected these flaws.

their solutions were to erect a hurricane deck to place the rigging on. this is an upper deck that is above the frame of the hull. they also used tripod masts to reduce rigging. they also placed the turrets within the hull in their own special gun deck.

now, just because youve corrected for some flaws doesnt mean you havent introduced several of your own which spoiler, the captain had a lot of flaws which we will be getting into.

captain had a length of 320ft or 97.54m; she had a beam (width at the widest part) of 53ft3 or 16.23m; her draught (the distance between the waterline and the keel/bottom of the hull) was 24ft10 or 7.57m; and her top speed was 15 knots which is about 17mph.

in a futile attempt at a balanced view, i will say that the speed was fairly impressive. most other ships had top speeds of 10-12 knots or about 11-14mph. the use of double propellers was a good choice.

one of the very few good choices.

see the captain was designed to displace or essentially weigh 6910 long tons, and was expected to have a freeboard of about 8ft or 2.4m.

a ships freeboard is the distance between her exposed upper deck and the waterline. typically, warships have high freeboards. its not quite as simple as the higher the freeboard, the more stable your ship is, but in general, higher freeboards do offer more stability. this is something the captain needed

see, most of her weight was high up in the ship which meant she had a low metacentric height. to not get into all of the complicated science that im not entirely sure i understand (dyspraxic nation rise up), lower metacentric heights tend to make ships more unstable.

[from wikipedia:]

so all of this is a bad design. apart from her impressive speed, she seemed like a ship with poor stability and a real risk of flooding because of the exposed gun decks. and with flooding, you might just fucking capsize 🚢⬆️↗️↘️🌊☠️

mr admiral sir robert spencer robins already raised concerns at the design stage in regards to the low freeboard and flooding. reed also raised concerns about the ship being too heavy and having too high a centre of gravity, but they were ignored.

if i had a nickel for every time edward james reed was overruled after raising a legitimate concern about the design of a turret ship, id have two nickels, but its weird its happened twice.

still, first lord of the admiralty (genuinely feel like this is a made up job) sir john pakington approved the design on the 23rd july 1866, though he did note that coles and the lairds would be held responsible for any failures.

if youre interested, john pakingtons full title is john somerset pakington 1st baron hampton gcb pc frs and he was a fucking tory, and the right honourable lord hampton, which okay, dude, you overcompensating for anything over there? pc means he was a member of his majestys most honourable privy council, who are all advisors yes-men to whichever bellend is on the crown.

moving past that cag-mag of a man, lets talk about how this mess got even worse. and you might be asking, "kai, how can it get worse? havent you already told me that the ship can easily sink?"

and you know, fair point, but you can always make your ship even more likely to sink.

see coles came down with an illness during the building of the ship. im not sure what it was; i cant find anything on it, but whatever it was, it meant he couldnt supervise the building of his ship. now, im not sure how much that would help considering he was the art curator turned amateur plumber in the metaphor, but maybe it would have done some good.

because when she was finished, she did not displace 6910 long tons. no, she displaced 7767 long tons. and her 8ft freeboard turned into a 6ft6 or 1.98m freeboard. she was floating 22 inches deeper than expected. oh, and her centre of gravity raised by 10 inches!

reed didnt just raise hell over this, he dragged heaven down too. and its not like he was wrong. the ship was a floating disaster.

hms captain had an angle of list of 21°. this means of she listed 21° or more, she would capsize.

now, theres no real average angle of list, but most people would say 40-50° as a reasonable yardstick. for some vessels, it might dip into the 30s°, but 21° is a ridiculously low angle of list.

for reference, this is a 20° angle.

its not much of an angle, is it?

and remember, the captain is meant to be an oceangoing vessel. the oceans dont exactly have a reputation for being calm.

unless youve got a direct telegram to poseidon and are in a place where you can ask him to calm down, the captains not gonna have fun.

and of course when reed raised his concerns, he was overuled.

if i had a nickel for every time edward james reed was overruled after raising a legitimate concern about the design of a turret ship, id have three nickels, and its kinda concerning that its happened three times.

instead, she was commissioned on the 30th april 1870 under captain hugh talbot burgoyne vc. to commission a ship is simply to place it into active service. also vc simply means burgoyne received the victoria cross whatever that one is.

anyway, she underwent several trials in the months after this and i guess everyone had pre-ordered their rose-coloured glasses because the captain won many supporters and was considered everything that coles had promised.

part of these trials were the gunnery trials. these took place in vigo and the captain was against both hms monarch and hms hercules, a non-turret ship. their target was a 600ft long, 60ft high rock. they each had 5 minutes of continuous firing.

all three ships had problems with aiming after the first few shots because the smoke emitted from the weapons meant they couldnt fucking see anything.

still, hms hercules had an accuracy rate of 65%, while hms monarch came in with a 40% rate and hms captain limped in with a 35% rate.

and im not just using "limped" as an exaggeration, these trials showed that when the turrets fired, it caused the ship to list and the list was 20°.

im sure you can see the problem there.

if you can, youre better than the admiralty who just ignored it and was like fantastic, she works. coles straight up had the entire admiralty hostage and the only person speaking up was reed.

if i had a nickel for every time edward james reed was overruled after raising a legitimate concern about the design of a turret ship, id have four nickels, which is great and all but id rather give reed a hug at this point.

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now the 35% accuracy didnt really matter if the captain was going to be used for shore bombardment. most of the time, youre not aiming for anything specific, youre just trying to cause as much damage as possible.

but that 20° list? that mattered.

it mattered a lot because on the 7th september 1870, she capsized.

shocking i know. only five months after being commissioned and everything.

that day, she was running trials in the bay of biscay during a storm when she was hit by a gale of wind. she rolled over and capsized.

there were over 500 people on board and only 18 survived. coles was among the dead. i hope their souls were able to find peace.

theres a memorial for them in st paul's cathedral in london if youd ever like to pay your respect to them.

now theres not much else to say about the captain other than the inquiry into the sinking blame the public for it.

they concluded that "the captain was built in deference to public opinion expressed in parliament and through other channels, and in opposition to views and opinions of the controller and his department" and this was pretty significant in victorian britain as it was unprecedented.

but realistically, it wasnt wrong. they were the ones backing coles the whole time.

so i guess if theres something to learn from this mess, its that if youre going to support a public figure, whether it be a celebrity or politician or scientist or whatever, take a step back and ask yourself "do i agree with what theyre saying or are they just very good at talking?"

im sure someones said it better than me, but you know, that sentiment. we can also laugh at how much of a disaster hms captain was.

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Its definitely encouraging says Leclerc of Ferraris Canadian GP turnaround as Sainz addresses team orders call

Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz cut positive figures after the Canadian Grand Prix as they recovered from a challenging qualifying session to score a strong haul of points for Ferrari – displaying improved tyre degradation in the process. Having struggled for tyre life earlier in the season, Leclerc and Sainz managed to go beyond the halfway mark of Sunday’s 70-lap encounter to overcut several rivals who had pitted under the early Safety Car triggered by George Russell’s crash. READ MORE: Verstappen hails ‘incredible’ milestone as he helps Red Bull hit a century of F1 wins Although Red Bull’s Max Verstappen, Aston Martin’s Fernando Alonso and Mercedes’ Lewis Hamilton were the ones to taste the Ferrari Trento on the podium, the Scuderia Ferrari pair were encouraged by the apparent progress Ferrari have made with their updated SF-23. “I think we couldn’t have done anything better,” reflected Leclerc, who dropped out in Q2 and started 10th after grid penalties were applied. “The feeling was good, the pace was quite good, so on that I’m happy. Again, starting from that far behind, that was the best we could do today.” Asked about the debrief that followed his early qualifying bath, with the Monegasque’s calls to swap intermediate tyres for slicks amid changing conditions initially being resisted by Ferrari and the switch then coming too late, Leclerc explained that the time for a deep analysis will come this week. This feature is currently not available because you need to provide consent to functional cookies. Please update your cookie preferences Race Highlights: 2023 Canadian Grand Prix “Yeah… I mean, we didn’t spend too much time on it, because we still had a race to do, which we did now, and today we must be happy about our performance, because it’s a good performance,” he commented. “The feeling with the car was great, we did a good strategy. All in all, it was a great management of the race and that is very positive. Now from tomorrow we will regroup and obviously analyse the weekend as a whole, and try to understand what we can do better for the future.” READ MORE: Alonso says he pulled off ‘70 laps of qualifying’ to beat Hamilton in ‘amazing’ battle for second As for the tyre life, Leclerc said: “Yeah, it is definitely encouraging. Again, the feeling with the car… I was really happy, so that is good. Tyre management is good, so it’s a positive Sunday.” Sainz, meanwhile, put in a recovery drive of his own to rise from P11, having been hit with a three-place grid penalty after qualifying for impeding Alpine’s Pierre Gasly in the Q1 phase. Sainz followed Ferrari’s orders to maintain position behind Leclerc “I think we had very strong pace today,” he said. “We showed that in a different track like Canada, to Barcelona, we are stronger, that the car is working well in the low-speed corners, we had also better deg [tyre degradation]. So yeah, a bit of progress, a bit of an encouraging day for the whole team. “I felt really good on that [medium starting] tyre. I was very quick, it felt like I could manage it no problem. I think we did some good progress, but I also think it’s down to circuit characteristics and we need to see how Austria plays out with going back to higher speed corners.” READ MORE: Hamilton buoyed by Canadian GP podium as he insists Mercedes are ‘going in the right direction’ Asked if he was disappointed at Ferrari asking him to hold station behind Leclerc when the race developed, Sainz replied: “No, I totally expected it, also because we were both trying to extend. “Obviously I felt very strong with the medium, that’s why I kept getting DRS and I could kind of feel like I had very good pace, but I think the right thing was always to extend that stint, go long and overcut the field to then go and finish P4 and P5.” via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com