#it's so hard to figure out lol bc Tim's leg is The Thing so it feels like they should be linked but like it just doesn't seem to flow

[brittlebutch]

The 'Enjoying watch you suffer' line in Broadcast has always been hard to pin down; Tim's leg getting broken is the biggest incident in Entry #35, so it's natural to want to tie the two together, but it seems to fit so indelicately into what we know about the timeline of totheark's internal relationship that it almost causes more problems than it resolves. However, even though it's very blink and miss it, Tim does actually manage to stab Alex in the arm before he gets knocked down -- we hear Alex cry out in pain, can see blood on the blade when Jay picks it up, and then in the recovered corrupted footage from that tape that Jay posts as Entry #36 Alex says "I did what I had to... he'd just stabbed me" -- and that injury being what totheark was trying to call attention to, to me, reads a lot more clear and consistent than anything else does

[vermillioncrown]

eh, it doesn't really read as sanctimonious. makes sense. do you do anything in particular to develop the internal worldview of characters and how they "tick", besides writing interactions? do you keep character profiles or anything of the like? have a good day, and thanks for answering the first ask :)

okay good, it might have sounded a little "touch grass" for a minute there...

=

hmm...i don't do formal "character building exercises" or the like. even those character questions tire me out.

but yeah i keep notes. example of older notes that have little points of character development or relevant parts of them popping up per chapter, vs the overall notes above the timeline (tim and jason were harder to nail down so i needed notes vs dick):

or as @rozaceous has laughed at me... tallies and excel sheets, but those are so spoilery it's not even funny, but it'll be very funny to show when we get there bc. yeah.

not organized like a profile, but the main drive to write is something about this character sticks out at you (if fandom-related), thus let yourself imagine whatever scenario about that character with that salient point as a start.

example: dick grayson accidental child acquisition bc he's the one nice enough for a "child" to approach + looks old enough + plausible reason to be away from oversight -> build out connection to his job, history, where he is in canon, current connections. and i didn't figure out everything since ch 1; it's like peeling an onion lol. and as long as you don't overdo what you depict, you always have room to reveal and develop more

(example, i didn't think too hard on his relationship w bruce, tim, and jason until i had to. but the room i left in how it was only about his interactions with korvin + him being someone mission focused out of necessity and habit means you don't have to constantly sadboi introspect)

(another thing is...people usually don't introspect too deep if they're decisive and take action a lot. they can't afford to. and people don't completely know themselves, so it's okay to be wrong, as long as their wrong answer leads to a logical wrong conclusion)

(or you're writing someone completely bonkers and loose, then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but they still have their internal logic)

i balance between "lol wouldn't it be funny/sad/emotional if..." and vetting for the blorbo in question to connect it back to their canon. because the first part drives the desire to write, and the second makes the what-if have impact imo.

(you can kinda see that process happen simultaneously when i answer au what-ifs--unless something got posed where the central conceit was too far removed from the original point of the divergence)

when i don't need to iron out details i usually don't note it down, because i can always refer back to my previous bits or it's very obvious to me from the canon. if it's a difficult aspect to nail down, i take notes and keep them as an example to refer to.

i also walk a fine line between depicting idiosyncrasies vs flanderization. people are creatures of habit, right? but it's too easy to use that as a way to easily make characters distinguishable that it's like an overwrought performance rather than one of many traits in a complex individual. i keep habits in mind bc they're usually easy enough to remember by the time i'm writing out a whole thing vs note taking.

e.g. i wonder if you notice that in dick in my chapters doesn't swear much until he's under duress? he's very controlled, very practiced in keeping the mood light, such that it's just part of his internal narration.

Vs. babs, i have her more readily to be sharp and swear bc that's indicative of someone who's less outward facing on the daily compared to dick (she's only 2-3 years out from her injury and becoming oracle, and you need to imagine how someone who used to be so able as to be batgirl would feel to lose use of her legs. even if she does eventually accept her new state of being, it still sucks to say the least)

he's also an adult with a job (haha real life example), so his immediate concerns are very different from tim's as a comparison point.

=

there's not a hard formula. just take notes as you think (notepad, phone, computer), use the fun of blorbos and fandom to motivate you, and don't be afraid to revise and correct yourself. and don't let organization paralyze you (don't let perfect be the enemy of good).

uh...the easiest things for me to keep in mind are: vocab (internal and external voice), initiative (active/reactive or passive person), and mindset focus (do they introspect more or spend more time observing others)? -> and then i build out from there

and when you finally write something, read it out loud to yourself. make different voices. it's pretty easy to find when someone will say a thing vs if no one on their life would say that vs only an anime character would say that

[queerbutstillhere]

Hey prompts lover, how about Jon gets turn into a toddler and Damian has to take care of him. Cue baby Jon letting his feeling out from in his little toddler way and Damian thinking they are just baby talk although he wants to believe them + batfam finding this situation hilarious

(Well hey ;) lol, your prompt is my command! This one ran away with me, so it's pretty long lol. So long, in fact, that I had to edit it bc Tumblr told me it was too long. Enjoy!)

"This is why i don't hang out with you, Batson!"

"Robin, look, I'm. Sorry!" Billy whined, trailing after him.

"DD!"

"Shush, Kent."

"Me hungry!"

"I understand," Damian bit out.

Then he yelped as a sharp pain came from his scalp. He shot a glare over to the toddler on his hip.

"Do not pull on my hair."

The toddler pouted, leaning in and pushing his face against Damian's neck.

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"I don't know, Billy, you're the one with the magical powers, you figure it out."

"Damian, that's not fair."

"Not fair?! Billy, my best friend has just been turned into a two year old!!"

The teen caped crusader flinched away, looking away from Robin's deadly glare.

"Go figure out how to fix this, Batson," Damian grumbled, jumping in the batmobile which he had just summoned.

"Damian-"

Billy's protest was shut down when Damian snapped the lid of the car and zipped away. Jon was sat in the passenger seat, gripping tightly to the door and staring out the window.

"Wee!!" He exclaimed, looking back at Damian with this huge grin.

Damian almost smiled back, but instead focused on the road. He was headed to the batcave as he tore through the late night traffic, keeping an eye on Jon at all times. When he got to the cave, he hopped out, picking Jon up and balanced the Supertoddler on his hip. One think he had learned through his years of being Robin was how to handle kids. He wouldn't say he liked it, but he knew how to do it.

"Oh god, he's becoming you," a voice came from across the cave.

Damian looked up, searching for the voice and found Tim on the platform by the batcomputer. Jon pointed and made a high pitch noise that caused Damian to flinch away.

"Damian. What is that."

He looked even further up and found Bruce hanging from the rafters, sealing a hole in the wall.

"It's a toddler, father. I thought you of all people would know what a toddler was," Damian snarked back.

He pulled off his mask as he walked up the steps towards Tim. Jon whined and wiggled, chubby arms wrapped around Damian's neck.

"Where's my phone?" He asked Tim, walking over towards the table they usually left things on.

"I think you left it upstairs to charge, didn't you?"

Damian grumbled in response, grabbing Bruce's instead.

"Hey-" Tim started to protest.

"Batman!" Jon squealed, pointing as Bruce dropped down near them.

"Shh," Damian gently shushed him, bouncing him slightly to adjust his position on his hip.

"Damian?" Bruce questioned.

Damian just found the proper contact and was preparing to call it when Jon started floating out of his arms. With a sigh, he reached out, grabbing the red cape still attached to the toddler.

"Oh my God. Is that Jon?!" Tim exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Hi Tim!" Jon said in that little toddler voice of his, waving from his now upside down position.

"Kent. Come down," Damian ordered.

"Me fly!"

"I see that. Come back down here."

The toddler just stared at him.

"Jon."

When he still didn't stop floating, Damian reached out, grabbed his little legs and pulled him back down.

"What happened?" Bruce asked cautiously.

Damian sighed and began to explain how they were helping Billy and then something to do with magic happened and next thing Damian knew, Jon was a baby.

"And he still has his powers."

"Some of them, at least."

Tim was snickering, shoulders shaking, hand clamped over his mouth.

"You think this is funny?" Damian snapped, staring at him.

"I think it's hilarious!" Tim busted out laughing, which caused Jon, still floating to start giggling.

Then the toddler started falling. Damian easily caught him, pulling the toddler to his chest as a surge of fear shot through him.

"Well, you should probably call Clark."

"I was going to."

"Other then that, uh? Just keep an eye on him I guess."

Damian shot Bruce a glare. "I do know how to handle toddlers, Father."

Damian ended up changing and taking Jon upstairs after he started whining about being hungry. Alfred was in the kitchen, already informed of the situation. He handed Damian a vegan grilled cheese and had a PB and J ready for Jon.

"Alfie! Hiiiii!" Jon said eagerly, waving as he toddled into the kitchen.

"Hello, Master Kent," Alfred greeted, picking Jon up as putting him in a chair at the island.

"Me hungry!"

"Yes, and I have a fine meal prepared for you," he said, putting it and a glass of milk down in front of Jon.

The toddler grabbed the sandwich and began shoving it into his mouth. Damian watched with mild horror before beginning to eat his own sandwich. He still needed to call Clark.

"How old are you, Master Kent?" Alfred asked.

"Uhhhh," Jon frowned at him, peanut butter all over his face. "Dunno!"

"He still has all his memories and such," Damian commented. "As far as I can tell, anyway."

"Me like Dami!" Jon exclaimed, grinning at him with his peanut butter face.

"I- okay. I'm going to call your father."

Damian shoved the last bite in his mouth and then walked out, running up to his room and grabbing his phone. He called Clark and discovered the man was in Japan and simply got a "you'll have to watch him". So Damian went back downstairs to collect his toddler-bestfriend. Jon was getting tired and clung to Damian tightly, wrapping his arms around his neck, nearly choking Damian. The toddler yawned as Damian held him, chatting with his brothers, who had made their way upstairs, still in their uniforms.

"Dami," the toddler mumbled, his forehead pressed into Damian's cheek.

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"Me sleepy."

"Okay, you can go to sleep."

"You sleep with me?"

"I have work to do," Damian said, gently rubbing his back.

The batsiblings had gone quiet, watching them.

"Noooo," Jon whined, pulling away, grabbing Damian's cheeks. "You sleep with me!"

"Jon, no. I have to work."

The toddler stuck out his bottom lip and made a little sobbing noise.

"Uh oh, Damian look what you've done," Dick said, grinning.

"You-" the toddler broke off, whimpering as his eyes tearing up.

"Oh no," Damian said, just seconds before Jon started crying.

"Damian, you monster!" Tim exclaimed. Both brothers busted up laughing.

Jon, crying loudly, pushed against Damian, trying to get out of his arms.

"Jon quit!"

A loud wail met his words.

"Jonathan you're being unreasonable!"

Another loud wail. Jon shoved so hard he almost slipped out of Damian's grip.

"Damian, he's a toddler, that won't work," Dick told him with a headshake.

Damian adjusted Jon, balancing him on his hip.

"Okay! Okay! I'll go to bed with you, okay? Just stop crying! I'm sorry, okay?" Damian exclaimed, desperate to get the shrieking to stop.

Jon sobbed again, blinking at Damian through his tears, giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes ever.

"Okay?"

The toddler nodded, shoving his face into Damian's neck, hiccuping lightly. Damian sighed, looking up at his laughing brothers.

"I guess I'm going to bed."

"Night, baby bat!" Dick called as Damian carried Jon out.

Jon hiccuped all the way upstairs. Damian walked into his room, kicking the door shut behind him, flicking on a light.

"Okay, Superkid," Damian said, plopping the tiny toddler on the bed.

Compared to him, at 18, this toddler version of his best friend - normally 16 - was absolutely tiny. Like, just reached his knees. He was absolutely terrified of accidentally breaking him.

"Me no Superkid," Jon sniffled out, rubbing his snotty nose.

Damian made a disgusted nose and grabbed a Kleenex, wiping the snot. Jon just looked up at him, that bottom lip stuck out.

"Me Superboy."

"Yes you are," Damian said with a sigh, throwing away the Kleenex. He crouched in front of Jon. "We're gonna figure out how to get you changed back, okay? And hopefully before school on Monday."

Jon nodded.

"I'm gonna go brush my teeth, okay? Stay here. Play with Alfred."

The mentioned cat sauntered over, rubbing against Toddler Jon.

"Dami," Jon sniffed out.

"Yes?"

"I luv you."

Damian blinked at him, straightening.

"I. Uh. Okay."

His heart was pounding really hard. And he didn't know why. He escaped to the en suite bathroom, starting to brush his teeth. He could hear toddler Jon chattering to Alfred. Damian hastily scolded himself. He was a toddler at the moment, probably no more then three. He was just being a toddler, and toddler's didn't understand love like teenagers did. He shook his head and brushed it off.

Not that he didn't want it to be true.

After he washed his face and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to sleep in, he walked back out, finding Jon slumped on his side, tiredly patting Alfred's head. The cat just blinked up at Damian.

"Okay, Jon. Time to go to bed," he said, ruffling the kids hair before going to turn off the overhead light.

It wasn't the first time he had shared a bed with Jon. Just usually, Jon was larger then him. He got under the covers, and toddler Jon wiggled his way up to the top of the bed, crawling under the thick blankets.

"Good night, Jon," Damian said.

He fully intended to slip away once the toddler went to sleep. Instead, Jon crawled over and flopped on top of Damian's chest, getting comfortable. Damian groaned slightly, confused.

"Me sleep here."

"Jon, that can't be comfortable."

"Me sleep here!"

"Okay."

Who knew a toddler version of Jon could be so convincing. Jon reached up, squishing Damian's cheeks again.

"Dami, I luv you," he said again, looking sincere.

"Okay," Damian breathed out, reaching up and ruffling little Jon's hair. "Go to sleep."

The toddler scowled at him but laid back down, his little arms hugging Damian's chest. Damian sighed, placing a hand on his back, holding him still while he reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp. Then he settled on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Toddler Jon loved him. But did Teen Jon?

Why were emotions so complicated?

Damian eventually drifted to sleep, an arm wrapped protectively around toddler Jon. This was a horribly weird situation, but he supposed they could figure it out in the morning.

He woke up to a sudden massive increase of weight on his chest. He groaned in pain and shoved at it.

"Quit pushing!"

Damian snapped his eyes open, finding Jonathan Kent, sixteen, mere inches from his face.

"Kent!"

"Well duh, who else?" Jon grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"You're back!"

"Yeah?"

Jon crossed his arms on Damian's chest, resting his chin on his forearms.

"And you're incredibly heavy," Damian said, scowling now.

"Rude!"

Jon grinned at him and Damian glared back. Then he became aware of Jon's lower half laying in between his legs, his stomach pressing on-

"Okay, get off!" Damian snapped, easily flipping his weight to one side and throwing Jon off.

Jon laughed as he was tossed onto his back.

"Aw, come on, Dames, admit it, you're glad I'm back."

Damian just grumbled under his breath. Jon grinned, reaching over and pinching his side.

"Don't be a butt."

"You need to call your father."

"Hmm. What if I'd rather talk to you first."

"Kent."

"What if I start crying? That seemed to work so well the last time."

Damian tensed. "How much do you remember?"

"Oh, quite a bit," Jon said, his voice dropping. "I remember your heart going crazy when I said I loved you."

Damian was opening his mouth to respond when the door slammed open.

"Damian! I think the spell wore- oh."

Both teens snapped their gaze over to Billy Batson, in Shazam form, staring at the two of them, laying in bed together.

"Well... i guess you already knew that," Billy said, stepping backwards.

"Good assumption, Batson," Damian said coldly, eyes rolling.

"I'm just. . . I'll go. Hey Jon."

"Hi Billy," Jon said, laughing to himself.

Billy quickly retreated.

"Have I ever told you that i like him?"

"Go back to sleep, Jon," Damian grumbled, kicking his shins.

He rolled onto his side, glaring at the wall. Jon laughed, and then suddenly pressed himself against Damian's back, an arm slipping over his waist.

"I meant it," he murmured.

"Wait, what!"

[swearronchanel]

9.01

Ok it took forever to find a working link here we go

1965..

- Omg the ceiling falling on her during labor gtfo

- “Where do we begin? What marks the start of any new adventure?” Tell me, Mature Jenny

- I’m so emo ugh a year ago today (well tomorrow) I moved to London for the semester 😭 I miss it so much..

- THE BEACH BOYS😍 hell yea the tunes

- I WISH THEY ALL COULD BE CALIFORNIA GIRLLLLLSSSS

- Love Trixie’s robe, I need one

- Here’s her damn electric shaver 😂

- RIP Churchill, except not really bc you know racist, eugenist, etc😂

- You tell em Patrick! He sucks

- The turners now have a cohort of children and now rabbits lmaoo

- Tim’s been sent to boarding school, see ya never bro

- ANGELA SPOKE ?! HOLD THE FREAKING PHONE ITS ONLY BEEN HER WHOLE SILENT LIFE ON THE SHOW SJSJSJS IM SHOOK

- WAR HORSE

- skip that funeral Phyllis

- Terry wants to look after his mom how pure

- I want his camera ugh, wait till I get a vintage film camera

- Ok not to ruin the mood but Nonnatus was demolished once before, this is repetitive (I know the 60s brought demolitions but still lol)

- 7 months in squalor 😭 so sad ugh

- Phyllis to the rescue with some polite fighting words

- The cucumbers on the eyes 😂😂 I love them

- Here comes the tights competition lmaoo

- GORGEOUS GAMS, my new blog name

- Cyril gazes at them? 😂😂 who is looking at ankles? I’m weak

- I love her modesty it’s sweet lol, and I love Trixie who is modest in other ways😂

- Phyllis and sister hilda dancing and holding hands is pure AF

- I really like her, I want sister hilda’s backstory! but sister Francis tho - eh lmao I’m not sold yet

- Fred and his first wife’s picture omg let me rip my heart out, I’m glad he’s got violet now 😭

- But the little moment is realistic, we should see Patrick mention Marianne

- sorry Churchill I’m not mourning

- Trixie’s houndstooth coat is a look

- “Your values which I respect” I love her 😂

- Lucille doing the cross, felt

- Terry and his mom in the flat !! my heart

- Love my nurses showing off their legs even if this is a filler storyline *cough Trixie deserves better 1965*

- I love that Phyllis took the photos, we love a supportive mother figure

- The baby in the trash can I can’t 😭😭 it’s not just a thing of past and it’s heartbreaking

- I love Fred ok, he’s just a pure older white man. There are few

- I forgot Sgt Wolfe existed oops

- Like primrose hill ugh my heart I miss London

- Mother Mildred back on her bullshit and I love it

- She’s annoying in the best way 😂

- Sister Mj 😭 if she passes this series IM OUT THIS B! I can not handle *insert Lucille Bluth from Arrested Development saying I won’t hear it and I won’t respond to it*

- Is this Valerie’s bitch ass cousin LMAO ??

- Val pls go see your grandma, I cant stress this enough pls all of you go visit your grandmas if possible, life is too damn short and I know it too well

- Terry is the cutest child omg love him

- “Will he look like me?” Just rip my heart out would you ??

- So is this lady the mother?

- I’m calling it

- HOW DO YOU SPELL LACTATING LMFOAOAOAOA

- sgt Wolfe out here on his law and order detective shit

- What’s up with Terry?  he better not die or I’m fighting

- If something happens to this poor kid I’m going to be personally offended

- “It’s not convenient right now” me at anything, everyday of my life

- Lucille is so cute even when she’s trying not to panic

- Phyllis to the rescue, again

- I love babies but this show just makes me not ever want children LMAO

- If I have to get up on my knees to push out a baby, just slice me open

- Idk why but i wish they would’ve wrote Phyllis telling someone she gave a baby away that she obviously had out of wedlock. Don’t ask why I just feel like it could’ve worked?

- Omg the diphtheria in his mouth🤢vaccinate your damn kids !!!!

- “Everything is supposed to be moving forward” FELT THIS SHELAGH! the world seems to take 2 steps forward and 15 back..

- also loving her new hair tho

- “I haven’t got all day” mood af, Stan Phyllis Crane

- “We’ll be whichever of those you need most” Mother Mildred knows what to say

- I’m glad Trixie is there tho

- Miss Higgins is lowkey underrated, she’s only been a gem lately

- “There’s nothing worse than feeling unfresh” true af Trix, I would’ve never survived without indoor plumbing or soap or anything

- Shawty delivered her own baby?!! She’s BRAVE brave

- DID THE PRIEST KNOCK HER Up?? IM CALLING GOD

- “MOTHER Mildred” put some respect on her name

- I smell shadiness in this church

- SOMEONE HAVING A MENTAL ILLNESS DOES NOT MEAN A PERSON IS BROKEN !!

- Mother Mildred PLS throw some hands for the sake of the Lord almighty

- “Smells of his chemistry set And clearisil” ahh yes what all the cool kids smell like these days you know 😂😂 rip Tim, not gone just moved away till who knows when

- ANIMATED GIBLETS LMAOAOA NOW THTS MY NEW BLOG NAME

- I love shelagh when she says random ass shit 😂 reminds me of her sister Bernadette days

- But Where’s sister Julienne in all this??

- “And I would feel more at ease if i remained” TELL EM MILDRED

- Not too sound so gen y or whatever us late 90s babies are but this priest is only giving me ~bad vibes~

- The Reggie pic😭 I love it

- Fred adding the newspaper clip to his memory box I can’t take it

- Violet my blue eyeshadow queen, I love it (I’m wearing it again in 2020, it was a look that one time)

- “Family meant no space” 😭 I just want terry to get better and reunite with his momma and new sibling

- Omg Brenda 😭 where is your ex? I will wring his neck out

- Trixie😭😭 the childhood traumas tonight whew,..

- It makes me so sad ugh

- Sister Hilda has a velvety accent if that makes sense lmaoo

- “Do you know who the father is? FATHER” MOTHER MILDRED DRAG HIM! YOU KNOW IT AS I DO

- Omg this little girls arm! help her

- Trixie’s two piece little set is so mid 60s and cute

- “I was running away from something that was hard and it was too easy” felt that Val

- But I’m so glad she’s gonna go see her gran

- TERRY IS OK GOD BLESS 😭

- “Pass the tea cakes to this end” LMAO I guess I am Mother Mildred

- Sister Julienne is like probably like thank God Mildred is finally leaving 😂

- They won runner up! 😂😂

- FISHNETS LMAO I love it

- Aww sister Frances made a blanket, pure

- SLAP HIM WITH THE CANE MILDRED

- it’s her pimp cane😂 I love it when you call me big mommaaaa

- I KNEW HE WAS THE FATHER!!! I AM PERSONALLY CALLING THE LORD TO SMITE HIM

- Violet framed Betty’s photo wow bye let me ducking cry my eyes out

- I love the buckles <3

- So what’s the next move with the demolition??

- “The past is never lost to us, we carry it with us...”

- THEY GAVE TERRY TIM’S BLAZER WOW MY HEART !!!!!

- “...the way we embrace it has the power to change everything” 😭😭

- Aww the Turner babies and rabbit babies

- Ok that was a good episode 😭

[blinder-s]

Rose Garden / Part Two

YO SO I HOPE U ALL LIKED THE FIRST PART BC THERES MORE COMING :-) (so i mean it sucks if u didnt)

thank u for liking it !!!! it rly means a lot life is shite nd this is what makes me feel happy so I’m gna do it more lol HOPE U ENJOY - evie XX

words: 1,302

warnings: none!

gif creds to the owner! :))))

The next couple of weeks in the library were fairly mundane and boring. You spent most of the time with Helen, gossiping about whoever she had a crush on that week and how she hated men and so on and so on. Your boss had returned the following day, so you hadn’t been expected to go and collect any fines, which was a shame since it was slightly more interesting than stacking or issuing books.

“Emillie?” You heard your boss shout from the front desk, as you and Helen were hidden behind the religion section giggling like schoolgirls, “could you come and help me please?” 

You rolled your eyes to your ginger-haired friend, who stuck her tongue out at you, before heading over to the checkout desk, where your elderly boss was drowning in customers. You hadn’t even noticed how many people were in the library, though you and Helen were sharing your sexual exploits behind the Bible.

You took your space next to Tim, your boss, and began issuing books out to customers, “name please?” You called out, not bothering to move your head up to the man in front of you. It had become a habit, but you were far too tired to smile for five hours on end.

“Alfred Solomons,” he replied, a familiar voice grumbled above you. You took his card, and looked up and the boasting figure stood before you, “nice to see you again, Emillie.”

“You too, Mr Solomons,” you said, stamping the due date in his book. One you had never expected to see a man of his characteristics read; Pride and Prejudice. You looked up at the man, an eyebrow raised.

Alfie noticed your gaze and coughed slightly, embarrassed, “I thought I’d start with the classics.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, trying to cover his flushed cheeks.

“It’s my favourite,” you said honestly, biting your lip to stop the smile from breaking out on your face. His mouth broke out into the widest smile you’d ever seen on a man in your life, as you looked at him through your lashes. You continued to stamp the return date of the book on the front; a weeks time.

“I’ll let you know how I get on, Emillie,” he picked up the book carefully and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, careful not to tear any pages.You grinned as you watched him leave, even thinking that his back looked attractive. 

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts as Helen came waltzing past, a knowing grin plastered on her face. “Who was he?” She asked, cocking her left eyebrow and leaning one elbow on the wooden desk. Helen’s poker face stayed stationary until you lost the unofficial game of chicken.

You sighed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, “he’s the owner of a bakery in town.”

“And?” She pressed, her green eyes sweeping over your uncomfortable demeanour. Tim, an elderly man of over eighty, just looked at you back and forth before rolling his eyes and dismissing you both to stacking books in the far corner of the building.

You busied yourself, hoping Helen had forgotten about how you were sat staring at the back of a man you barely knew. But her face popping up in between two cookery books told you that she hadn’t.“I met him when I went to go and collect a fine last week, remember?” You explained, placing a book next to where her head was resting on the shelf. She coughed, expecting you to continue. “There’s nothing else to say, Helen.” She looked at you, an unimpressed smirk displayed on her face, and you groaned, “Helen! I’ve only met the man twice!”

“Do you like him?” She pressed, urging you to spill your inner most thoughts- something you weren’t all that comfortable doing.

“I hardly know him!” You marvelled, cautious about keeping the volume down. You especially didn’t need Tim on your back, not with Helen already doing your head in, 

“Yes, but do you fancy him?” Helen nagged, wandering to shelve a book away in the non-fiction section.

“I think he’s quite attractive,” conceding, you shook your head at your best friend’s triumphant face, “but don’t say anything! I barely know the man, Helen. Plus, I doubt he’d be interested in me, he’s at least ten years older than me.”

“Who knows? He could be your Mr Darcy,” she laughed, a knowing glint in her eyes. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might fall out of your head, but continued to do your work, leaving her to bask in this new found information.

Your shift ended at five, an hour before the library shut for the public. As you left, a smell of coffee was brought to your attention, making your stomach grumble with hunger. It was coming from the little patisserie across from the green grocers, a small walk away.

Deciding to follow your nose (and stomach), you ended up in the shop, ordering  a cup of coffee and a piece of Victoria sandwich. The evening was cool; a breeze nipping at your shoulders and dancing around the ringlets of your hair, but still warm enough to sit outside.

Half way through your drink, a man sat opposite you; George Wicker.

“Oh, hello,” you said, putting your drink down and looking up at the man who you’d been all through school with. Despite being very attractive, you could never think of George as anything but the boy who pushed you over in the mud when you were seven years old, “can I do anything for you?” 

He smiled, looking deeply into your eyes. You blushed without meaning to, but the intensive stare just kept your cheeks growing redder and redder- until you resembled the same colour as a tomato. 

“How about accompanying me to the pictures tonight?” He proposed, a hand going to touch your thigh under the table. You flinched, nearly knocking over your drink.

“Oh, no thank you George. I already have plans; I think Helen is free tomorrow, though,” you said, moving his hand off of your leg, and continuing to eat your cake in peace.

“Go on, Em,” he moved his hand back, tracing lines up and down on your bare skin, “it’ll be fun- plus I don’t like Helen. She’s far too eager.”

Your conversation continued for a while, neither of you giving up. It was only when George’s hand travelled further up your leg did you feel extremely uncomfortable, and end up knocking your steaming hot drink onto his hand. It was an accident, but you still thanked your lucky stars and whoever was looking out for you.

Needless to say, George left rather quickly, and you were able to get away without a date. There was no way in hell you’d ever date that boy- his reputation was a bit too much for handle, and considering you thought of him as a weird little boy who made friends with ants, it wasn’t likely to happen.

You made your way back to your place, the streets darkening and goosebumps appearing on your skin. It wasn’t a far walk, but you still felt tired as anything when you finally arrived at your door. Your neighbours were in, the glare from the lights peeping through their net curtains. You could hear the couple squabbling about something; probably the same thing they’d squabble about every single night since you’d moved in. 

Sighing, you unlocked the door, immediately going straight to your bedroom. It wasn’t that late; but suddenly you felt your eyes becoming droopy and struggled to keep them awake. Maybe it was George causing you stress; or maybe it was your body telling you to dream about Alfie.

Either way, you knew men were the problem.