#of course i mean pride and prejudice and mr darcy's hand flex

[flogisto]

you know in pride and prejudice 2005 when elisabeth goes to pemberley and mr darcy is there and she sees him and he turns around and he sees her and she's startled and the camera just. fucking zooms in on keira knightley's eye. so fucking fast.

it takes me out every time i see it, like you don't expect that kind of camera work in a period drama and it's so out of nowhere??? i mean it obviously works well to convey the shock and urgency of the moment but. it's just not the kind of movie that usually does things like that, at least not that noticeably and i find it so funny lmao

anyway it's my favorite scene from the movie (after the hand flex of course)

[obxone]

Vigilante Shit (Chapter Four)

Edited-ish. ~2.8k words

Tag list: @fishingirl12 @gillybear17 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gills-lounge @emmafitzzz @redfieldfx @baby19sthings

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You stretch your legs, flexing up on the balls of your feet to release the ache in your calves. A sigh from how good it feels leaves you before you plop down onto the stone steps leading to the parking lot. Mav said he would be out after swapping his golf shoes and closing out his tab for the day. And you are happy to wait for him after his promise that it would be worth waiting around a little longer.

A body drops onto the steps next to you as you take a sip of the lemonade you brought with you. “Don’t want to go home yet?” Rafe asks, his voice low. He stares out at the parking lot; his elbows braced on his knees. "You never used to want to go home."

“I do actually, but I’m waiting on Mav.” You swirl your lemonade a little so that your hands have something to do along with your focus. Not looking at Rafe is in your best interest, especially when he is this close to you. “You should go back to your buddies, Rafe. Leave this low life to herself.”

“You heard that?”

“Of course I did! I’m not deaf.”

He rolls his eyes. “He didn’t mean it.”

You laugh. “What? Of course, he did. This is Topper we are talking about.” You stand and look down at him. He stares up at you. Something familiar and stomach twisting reflects at you in his blue eyes. “Go back inside, Rafe. If you keep talking to me, people will notice.”

“And? Let them talk. I don’t care about that shit.”

You snort. “Since when?”

“Since always!” He looks at you like you have three heads as he stands abruptly. “You know me better than that.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “I don’t know you at all. I never did.”

He steps closer to you. His chest brushes against your shoulder, and his breath fans over your face.

“Is that why you won’t look at me?” He asks, venom lacing his tone. "Is that why you started hooking up with fucking Barry?"

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure. After a long pause, you blow out a breath and turn your attention to Rafe. “You know exactly why I can’t stand the sight of you.”

“No, I don’t,” he grits out. His fingers warm on your skin when he grabs your upper arm. “You have never told me.”

You frown, looking down at where he touches you. “Let me go, Rafe. Your buddies may not remember who I am right now, but when they figure it out, they won’t like you touching me. Especially your best buddy Top.”

His hand falls away, and he rolls his eyes but goes inside without pushing any further. Relief washes over you, and you glance at the lot. You should leave now before the risk of running into Topper increases or the chance of Rafe coming back does. But leaving Mav without an explanation is not what you want to do.

“Thinking about bailing?”

You spin to see Mav smiling at you in a teasing manner.

“Only a little.” You laugh. “Figured if your friends came that it might be best to get out of sight.”

He frowns, hands going into his pockets. “I’m sorry about them.”

You shake your head. “Topper is the one that called me a lowlife, not you.”

His frown deepens before he glances over his shoulder. “He’s an asshole. Can I at least walk you to your car?”

“Sure,” you smile and walk side by side. “So… did you at least kick his ass in golf?”

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Only a little.”

“Better than nothing right?” You murmur before stopping at your car. “Well, this is me.”

He glances over at your car. Eyebrows scrunch together when he fixates on something. “Is that a bookmark hanging from the mirror?”

“Yes,” you laugh, glancing at it. “It is scented.”

“What does it smell like?”

You shrug, leaning against your car. Your feet aching after hours of running around the Island Club. “Mr. Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy…” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. You can tell he is nervous after he exhales and rolls his shoulders. “A Pride and Prejudice girl then, huh?”

You smile a little. “So, the kook academy has Jane Austen on their syllabus?”

“Just the one book.”

He moves closer and touches you. His fingers skate across the back of your hand and down to your fingers.

“What’s going on, Mav?”

He smiles a little before clearing his throat. “Would you go on a date with me please?”

“Oh.”

His smile falters, and a small pang shoots through your heart at the sight of it. “If that isn’t…”

“No,” you rush, cutting him off. “I’m just surprised given… the reactions,” you say softly, gesturing at the Island Club. “Kooks and pogues do not tend to mix that way.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh before tipping your head as you study him over. “All right then, I would love to.”

He grins so wide you wonder if his cheeks will pop. “Great, can I have your number now?”

“Yes.” You cannot help but to blush before he hands his cell phone to you. You input your number and hand it back. “So, I guess I will see you for our date.”

His fingers slot through the spaces of your own, and you glance down at your joined hands. “How is tonight?”

You smile before meeting his gaze again. “Sounds perfect.”

He steps that last bit closer, and his lips brush your cheek. “Tonight, six pm. I’ll text you for your address, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur, tipping your head back to look at him. “I should get going. I need to check on my brothers.”

“Okay.” He relents and takes a step away. You also take a step back before reaching for your door handle. “Hang on!” He steps closer to you once more. His hands cup your face, and he leans down to press his lips to yours. It is only a simple press of his lips against yours. It makes your heart flutter. “I’ve been dying to do that.”

You laugh and wrap your hands around his wrists. “I’ve kind of wanted you to do that.”

He pecks your lips again, and you blush before he lets go and takes two steps back. “See you soon, y/n.”

“See you.”

----

“Hold on. You met a guy at the beach and then again at work today. He is friends with Rafe and Topper, he kissed you, and now you’re going out with him?” JJ asks, dumbfounded, as he moves around the living room, trying to find his backpack.

You finish tying your shoelaces and stand to adjust your skirt. “Yup.”

“Well,” John B muses, enjoying the tables turning now that you have a kook interested in you, all the while flipping a pen that he found on the coffee table over and over in his hand.

“Oh, be quiet, Lover Boy.” You glare at him in warning, and he smirks, chewing on the end of his pen. “And you!” You turn to JJ, your tone accusatory enough that he freezes in his spot. “Don’t think I don’t notice how you look at Kie.”

John B laughs loudly, head tossed back while JJ splutters in shock.

“That’s what I thought,” you sass him, and John B’s laughter increases. You smile at him before turning your attention back to JJ. “Have you even told her?”

John B smirks at his friend before meeting your gaze. “What do you think?”

“No! JJ, why not?”

He shrugs, scrubbing his hand through his blond locks. You can read the stress on him clear as day, and he will not look at you for a second. But then those stressed blue eyes turn onto you. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried that door, and it is locked.”

You stare at him for a second, trying to understand if he is being truthful. When he stares back at you with a distant look in his eyes, you know that he is telling the truth. “Fine, but I think she does too.”

John B smirks, looking at the pen. “But then there’s Pope…”

“Pope-schmope.” You mutter, and they both crack and smile at that. “He isn’t my brother, and they would never last. Pope needs someone that challenges him in other ways. Kiara isn’t meant for him.”

You love Pope, you always will, but you know all three of them. Pope and Kiara would never make it. They would be fine at first, but in the end, Kiara would get bored, and she would break his heart. It was better to do it now before they got too deep.

“But Pope likes her,” John B responds before JJ can.

You frown, glancing around the room. “Well… you know my opinion. Time is short.”

JJ nods, looking away before he finds his backpack under the sofa. He yanks it out and grins before shouldering it on. He kisses your cheek before he passes by you for the door. “Have fun on your date. Be careful, promise?”

“Promise.” You smile, patting his chest. “You be safe, promise?” You return the request just like you used to when you were kids and had to split up to hide from Luke in his drunken rages. Both boys hug you tightly, squeezing you into their group hug. “John B?” You ask, keeping your voice soft as you stare at the brown-eyed bonus brother.

“Yeah?”

“Promise?”

“Promise, y/n.”

“Good!”

He pecks your cheek before the hug ends, and you smile at both.

“You know that you’re welcome to come stay here if you ever need to. I don’t mind vouching for you.”

He smiles, hugging you again. “Thank you, but home is the last thing I have with my dad.”

“I understand,” you say quickly, cutting him off. “I’m the big sister. I just want to do my best at it.”

He nods, a sad gleam in his eyes, and you have to look away.

“Either way, stop by here as much as you want. Dinner is always an option.”

Both boys show a smile before they hustle out together, talking about their evening plans at The Point. You laugh, watching them go. At times it still feels like they are eight again and causing chaos in their wake—eight years of solid friendship.

A few minutes later, the sound of a car honking has you smiling, and you check yourself in the mirror, fluffing your hair before glancing as Mav knock’s on the screen door. He grins at you, and you blush, looking down at your outfit to make sure you look as decent as he does in his clean, pressed oxford shirt and shorts. His muscled tan forearms are on display as he leans against the frame. Your heart rate increases at the tall, dark, and handsome man in your doorway waiting on you.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“Hi,” you smile brightly and cross the small distance to the door. After collecting your crossbody, you push the screen door open and pull the main door shut. He waits for you to lock it before he grasps your hand tightly. “Do I get to know what we are doing tonight?”

“Dinner and then ice cream…” He muses. “Maybe a walk by the docks…”

You grin up at him. “I love that.”

“Good!” He smiles and opens the car door for you. He helps you in before closing the door and jogging around to get in. You look around the car, the smell of expensive leather and his cologne mixing in the confined space. Mav stares at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “Everything okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” You meet his gaze, and he smiles before leaning into you. Your lips press, and you hum, kissing him back. After a moment, you part and you squeeze his hand. “I’m starving.”

Both of you laugh, and he begins the drive to the restaurant. “Understood.”

Dinner and ice cream go perfectly. Your face hurts from how much you are smiling and laughing at his jokes. You are enjoying your time with Mav, and you hope he is feeling the same. Mav’s hand holds yours as you walk along the boardwalk together. You smile up at him when you both come to a stop at the end of the dock. “I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“Great,” he responds, his other hand moves up to touch your face. His thumb skates over your chin. “Me too. I was nervous at first.”

You lean up on your toes and press your lips to his. He kisses you back, his touch sliding down your back to pull you closer. You smile against his lips before stepping away.

“Care to watch the sunset with me, Beautiful?”

“Absolutely,” you beam up at him before glancing at the pinkening sky as the day gets ready to end.

“Mav!”

Both of you turn to see Rafe and Topper strolling down the dock. Your hand finds Mav’s, and you squeeze it while worry floods over you.

“Are we interrupting something?” Topper smirks, his gaze fixated on your clasped hands, and your stomach turns as he openly checks you out again.

You slip closer to Mav, and he is aware of it. His arm loops around your waist to tug you against his side.

“Yes.”

Topper’s smirk widens, and he glances at Rafe, whose attention is fixated on you and only you. You look back at him, your skin prickling as a dangerous smile slowly spreads across his lips.

“Top,” Rafe starts, clasping his hands in front of him in anticipation. You swallow, tightening your hand on Mav’s shirt. “You remember her, right?”

Mav looks at you in confusion, but you continue to watch Rafe. A challenge in both of your eyes, because if he does this then the entire game changes.

“From the Island Club, our server,” Topper smiles, nudging Rafe. “I know she is a pogue, it has only been a few hours, Rafe.”

Rafe smirks, shaking his head before he fixates his attention on you. “No, no, Top. No,” Rafe murmurs with a shake of his head. “You really don’t remember her?”

Topper looks between you both, confusion written plainly across his face. “No, I don’t.”

“Tell him who you are, Angel.”

Topper’s eyes widen, and realization dawns on his face. “Y/n Maybank?”

You look away, clearing your throat before staring back at him. “So what?”

“What is going on?” Mav finally speaks, and you look at him. It takes everything in you not to lash out at Rafe, but keeping your history where it belongs wins out. You are starting fresh. You refuse to be pulled back into those messy dark depths you had crawled out of during your time away from the OBX.

“We used to be friends of sorts,” you offer, and his hand tightens around your waist. “I can explain more when we are alone…”

“She used to be my girlfriend,” Rafe offers his voice hollow and void of emotion. But his eyes blaze with unspoken turmoil.

Mav shifts to get a better look at you. You nod once, cheeks heating. He squeezes your waist before turning to the other two.

“Okay.” He shrugs. “I have ex-girlfriends. Her past doesn’t matter to me.”

You inhale sharply with relief, your fingers clasping his against your side. His thumb brushes yours in comfort. Mav realizes just how wide the gap between kooks and pogues is at this moment.

“If you’ll excuse us, guys. I’m going to finish up my date and take her home.”

Mav guides you through the space between Rafe and Topper. Rafe glares at him, and Topper smirks at you, but you ignore him, clinging to Mav’s hand. He opens the car door for you. Hesitating, you press your free hand to his chest.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He asks, moving closer. His body crowds you against the side of the car. “Having dated someone?”

You nod, frowning before glancing as the sound of two motorbikes drive by. A spidery chill crawls down your spine because you know who sits atop the two bikes. Mav’s hand cups your face, turning your attention back to him.

“No reason to apologize.”

You smile weakly, attempting to let go of the anxiety building in you. He tips your chin back by hooking his finger under your chin.

“Relax, pretty girl. Rafe and Topper do not scare me.” He leans down, his lips brushing yours before he kisses you. You kiss him back, fisting his shirt at his sides. After a moment, the kiss ends, and you smile up at him. Relief washes over you, and you peck his lips. “We could go to the beach and count stars since our sunset was ruined. Or do you have a curfew?”

You laugh, burying your face in his chest and inhaling his cologne. “No curfew.”

“Perfect.”

(Chapter Five)

Feedback is welcomed, just remember to be kind. Please feel free to like, reblog, comment, or send an ask if you want. Happy Reading.

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[thegirlwholied]

fellow period-piece swooners, I have a movie rec for you and I am downright flexing my hand about it. and I am sorry, so sorry, that you cannot watch it right now- because I attended the world premiere at TIFF last night and apparently it's still seeking distribution which means unfortunately there are no gifs yet for me to reblog - but this is your notice to keep a weather eye:

the movie is the Widow Clicquot. the plot is champagne!

...not the celebratory spritz and spray of it all, but the dedication and innovation and passion and knowing-your-taste-and-insisting-on-it of getting bubbles to be just the right size and fuck Napoleon's embargos actually...

also, the people expressing opinions about Napoleon are a British cast pretending to be French - which I guess appeals to the piece of my soul that is Les Mis.

it's beautifully filmed in a way I specifically associate with Pride & Prejudice 2005... which makes sense given the director, Thomas Napper, directed the second camera unit on P&P 2005 & Atonement & Anna Karenina & etc. Joe Wright, who directed those, is a producer here (and was on stage last night & I had no idea who he was whoops).

there's a scene of exploding champagne bottles that may haunt me forever the way the floating cotton in North & South 2004 does. that & the vines.

to quote Taylor Swift, "it's giving cinematography."

the Widow Clicquot herself is played by Haley Bennett (who has been in many things I haven't seen...yes I had to imdb Haley while sitting in the row right behind her but) who I have seen before in Music & Lyrics! As Cora Corman! "Way Back Into Love"! & "Buddha's Delight"- I believe in karma (la, la, la)

anyway she's great in this - the Q&A host after called her performance "transcendant", not wrong - she had a SAG-AFTRA waiver to be there, and thankfully because this was very apparently a passion project throw-everything-you-are-into-it role for her. And her post-movie quotes speaking both about the character's passion and her own- "do something that makes you feel like a goddess!"; "do what you love and let it kill you"- made me a fan.

the Widow Clicquot's dead husband? Tom Sturridge, The Sandman himself and playing just as much a dream as Dream (note: I do not promise "dreamy" I promise "dream" which can also have adjectives like "wild" and "fever" applied). You need a good voice when leaning on some voiceover from letters/memory for a character; he sure has it.

but. Sam Riley. aka Mr Darcy from Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, and Maleficent's hot raven (and looks even better in this imho)- his character is Louis Bohne, Veuve Clicquot's wine merchant, and as much as the Widow herself, his character made me go, "I need to read the book" to learn how much was history v fiction there.

the character dynamic was: damn, of course you're cool with your husband's libertine BFF/possibly-lover, you're secure and he's such fun company.... your husband's tragically gone but his friend helps you out & appreciates your true love of the vineyard without overstepping... well. get yourself a friend you can both giggle with over how hot the new foreman is (Leo Suter filling a historical-eye-candy role) ... AND hook up with yourself. you go girl, & bless your hot bisexual heart fictionalized Louis Bohne.

(hottest kiss in cinema off the top of my head is always the Timothy Olyphant & Jennifer Garner first kiss in Catch & Release. But some scenes here flirt with that level, & it was the Widow/Louis scenes for me).

the sound alone made this one worth seeing in theaters; sounds were so well used (maybe when a movie is so much about taste, & you can't convey taste through a screen, you double down on the senses you can) and it was scored by Bryce Dessner from The National (whose brother has been collaborating on Taylor Swift's recent best tunes)-

the Widow's name is Barbe-Nicole and not to make a Champagne Barbie reference but this hit in the spot Barbie also reached for, in a subtle way, with the effortlessly close relationship she has with her maid (Lizzie from Peaky Blinders! thanks imdb, knew I knew that face) and the woman in a man's world of it all - obviously one who created a successful dynasty of champagne and how did I never know how instrumental women have been in creating champagne as we know it, about to jump down a historical rabbit hole here-

+ also. grief. "you don't understand. he wasn't just someone's first love". an early line + the one that stuck with me.

anyway. not to say I think it's a perfect movie (there were a few "wait I need more information" beats that left me feeling like I *need* and not just want to read the book)... and it didn't make me think "this better be up for an Oscar" (One Life, with Johnny Flynn & Anthony Hopkins which I saw Saturday: made me cry & should be)- though I think it could be for sound!... and I don't know if I'd say it's the movie I enjoyed the most (Flora & Son, out Sept 29) or learned the most from (Paul Simon documentary, all 209 minutes of it, probably takes that of the 4 films I saw)-

But it's the one I'm writing this post about. & I'm going to get the book. It made me want a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne. & to go to the champagne region. & to see gifs of it on my dash, immediately. & I would read fan fic if there was some- it built the characters and its own movie world enough for that, with enough space left to wonder- and when a movie can do that, it thrills me.

anyway Tumblr, or at least the side I always land on. I think you'd like it. I think it's your kind of movie too. and it's filled with a lot of love from people who clearly loved making it. here's to independent productions and the unions fighting for fair deals to make a living doing what they love, here's to feeling like a goddess, here's to gorgeous period pieces and gif makers of scenes to come, here's to the author in the audience who got to see her book on screen- and the movie star who got it made and all of us still working on making our own art into something that can be seen someday. Here's to the passion of creativity in whatever shape it takes, pour the champagne 🍾🥂

[corkwooood]

SANDITON s2 Charlotte Heywood and Alexander Colbourne

#it feels like the iconic hand flex™ to me 

[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Faking It Ch 3

A/N: I don't remember Aedion’s mom every being explicitly named in the series so I just kinda made up a name. I picture her as being the young cool aunt so that’s just my portrayal, not canon lmao. 

Also I'm going to reveal what happened between them in the next few chapters so send me some theories in my asks!!!

Despite Aelin's attempts to forget about Rowan, the day continued to drag on slowly. First science class, where somehow her brain managed to relate molecular compounds to Rowan's face. Then lunch, when luckily Aedion had managed to distract her with donuts for the short fifty minutes. Now she was back in the last period of the day, left to brew in her own apprehension as the on-screen lecture lapsed by and turned into silent reading. 

Rowan had agreed to drive them both to her house after school, saving Aelin from walking back in the crisp autumn weather. She’d put more energy into her appearance today than she’d like to admit. If Aelin had one thing she love about herself, it would be her style. Today she was wearing a slightly too short wrap skirt and a loose satin black button up which she tucked one side into the skirt. She had chosen to wear her platform Doc Martens, naively assuming she could handle the ankle pain. Her hair was done up in a tight bun and she pulled back her short layers from her face with gold pins. Aelin fiddled with her hoop earrings as she watched the second hand move around the clock. 

“You’ll be fine.” Lysandra whispered, her head still staring down at the book they were supposed to be silently reading. 

Aelin scooted her chair a little closer to her friend, careful not to make a squeaking noise against the marble tile. “But what if I'm not?” 

Lys didn't look up but Aelin couldn't tell she was no longer actually reading. “Then call me and we’ll get white girl wasted and watch pride and prejudice for the hundredth time.” 

Aelin laughed under her breath, images of Mr. Darcy’s hand flex flashing though her mind. “Can you blame me? I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers.” 

Lysandra shot he a conniving look. “Maybe this is your chance to experience your own enemies to lovers?” 

Aelin scoffed a little too loudly and someone behind them glared. “It would be more like friends who slept together to lovers to enemies to awkwardly fake dating to lovers.” 

Lysandra stifled her laugh and went back to reading. Aelin was glad that she had someone to talk to about whatever the fuck she and Rowan were about to do. Saying she hadn't thought several times about putting the breaks on this whole thing would just be a futile lie. Rowan resented her, he’d made that much clear over their very brief and clipped conversations. A part of Aelin was holding onto a hope that today they’d be able to work some shit out at least. If not, she was in for an incredibly uncomfortable few months. If they even lasted that long. 

Unable to focus, Aelin began doodling on the front of her binder. She was about to run out of space when the bell signalling the end of school rang at last. Aelin swung her bag onto her shoulder and grabbed Lys’ hand, pulling them both out of the classroom. 

“Holy fuck you are so pale.” Lysandra exclaimed. 

Aelin released her and offered a small apologetic smile. “I feel like I might throw up.” There was a moment of awkward silence before Aelin spoke again. “Will you walk to his car with me?” 

Lysandra grinned at her. “Duh! What are best friends for?” 

Normally Aelin would've hugged her but she was too focused on not emptying the contents of her stomach on the school floor. Lysandra was going on about something trivial in her attempts to distract Aelin when she spotted him. 

He was leaning against his car talking to Lorcan and Fenrys. Or more, Fenrys was talking and the other two were listening. Aelin approached him carefully, Lys an ever steady presence on her left. 

“Hey.” She said softly. Fenrys’ talking ceased and all three massive males turned towards her. They all seemed to bear matching expressions; disdain. Despite Lorcan’s body language suggesting indifference, his eyes held a hatred Aelin had rarely seen before. 

She swallowed nervously and bumped Lysandra lightly. Lys, thank god, received the message and smiled widely. 

“I’m Lysandra.” She said, her voice filled with fake sweetness. 

“We know.” Lorcan grumbled at the same time that Fenrys said “Nice to meet you.” 

They both then shot each other matching looks and fell silent. “I’m fine guys.” Rowan said at last, his first time speaking thus far. He had yet to look straight at Aelin. “I’ll come over after.” 

They nodded reluctantly and walked away, Lorcan fighting back a laugh at something Fen said. 

Aelin pulled Lysandra into a long hug. “Call me if you need anything.” Lys whispered in her ear. Then they pulled away and her friend was gone, leaving Aelin and Rowan alone. 

“Hi.” She said again. 

He only nodded at her and walked around to the drivers seat of his car. She groaned internally, already dreading the next few hours.

The car ride to Aedion’s house, where Aelin had been living for two years, was deadly silent. It wasn't really awkward, just the type of tension that you were too scared to break in fear of a storm. 

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Aelin unbuckled her seatbelt and was halfway to the door before Rowan even got out. She unlocked the door with a spare key and walked into the house. Aedion and his mom, Althea, lived in a small semi a few miles from the high school. Upon Aelin’s parents sudden death, the spare room had been shifted into Aelin’s room and Althea had taken her in with a warm heart. 

“Althea I'm home.” She called out into the house. 

A voice came from the kitchen. “I made some sandwiches.” 

Despite herself, Aelin smiled at the prospect of food. Without turning around, she led Rowan through the small hallway and into the kitchen.

Her aunt was sitting at the island, munching on celery and dip when they walked in. Upon recognizing Rowan, she dropped her food, mouth agape. 

“Althea,” Aelin spoke through her teeth. “You remember Rowan. We’re going to study for a bit.” She silently begged her aunt not to question it. 

Ever so slowly, her aunt nodded. “Of course. It’s nice to see you again Rowan.” 

Aelin swiped the plate of sandwiches off of the table and handed them to Rowan. “Take these to my room. I’ll be up in a minute please.” 

He nodded and turned on his heels quickly, clearly desperate to get out of this room. Once Aelin was sure he was out of earshot, she turned back to the kitchen. 

“Oh my god.” Her aunt whisper shouted. “Is that the same Rowan who’s dick I walked in on you sucking.” 

Aelin cringed at the reminder. She selectively tried to forget about that very awkward encounter that had traumatized all involved parties for several weeks.

“Yes.” Was all Aelin could manage to say. 

“The same Rowan who’s heart you shattered on my front lawn while me and Aedion watched from the upstairs window.” 

Aelin began tapping her foot. “Still mad at you for that.” 

Her aunt wasn't deterred. “The same Rowan -” 

Aelin put up a hand to stop her. “From now on how about we just assume it’s all the same Rowan. It’s probably wise considering I only know one.” 

Althea let out a small laugh at that and shooed Aelin out of the kitchen. She walked up the stairs slowly, her steps unhurried on the wearing carpet. Upon arrival at her room, she found Rowan hovering over her desk. He was looking at the pictures she had framed, none of which included him. There had been a time, when nearly every single one those pictures had been him and Aelin together. In the heat of the moment, she’d smashed them all on the ground, glass shattering on her wood floor. She’d immediately regretted it, but the damage was done. Over the months since, she’d gradually replaced the photos with new ones. Her and Lysandra smiling from pool chairs. Her and Aedion drunk and laughing at something Aelin could no longer remember. There was one on the far left of her and Chaol at junior prom that Aelin had forgotten to remove. She looked beautiful that night, with a stunning pale blue dress that shimmered in the moonlight outside the venue. Chaol had looked handsome too, but he wasn't who Aelin had really wanted to be there with. 

It was that photo which Rowan was now staring at, his back to her. Leaning against the door frame, Aelin cleared her throat. Rowan whirled around, his face red as if he’d just been caught in the midst of something illegal. 

“I was just - uh...” He ran a hand through his silver hair in a way familiar to Aelin. 

“It’s fine.” She said, waving her hand dismissively. 

They both took up positions on opposite sides of the bed, Aelin at the head and Rowan at the foot. He crossed and uncrossed his legs a few times before deciding at last to lie on his stomach, legs hanging off her bed. 

“This is awkward.” He said, surprising Aelin enough that she fumbled with the sandwich in her hand before regaining control. 

“Yep.” She nodded, and took a bite to refrain from having to answer. 

He shook his head as if he wanted to say more and pulled out a notepad from his bag. “Let’s make rules and a contract.” 

Finished chewing, Aelin halted to gape at him. “Are you seriously going to make me sign a legally binding contract or some shit. Rules make everything less fun.” 

Rowan didn't meet her eye when he spoke again. “I’ve learned not to trust your word.” 

A blush crept over Aelin’s cheeks and she ignored the sudden pain in her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, to say what, she didn't know, when Rowan interrupted. 

“Besides, this isn't about fun. It’s a mutually benefitting deal.” His voice was dead serious but Aelin couldn't help but scoff. 

“You’ve always been good at making fun things sound like physics homework.” 

“And you’ve always been good at taking nothing seriously and thinking only of yourself.” He looked dead at her when he spoke, his features stone cold. 

Aelin froze up and placed her half eaten sandwich back on the plate. “You’re being mean.” 

A smirk crossed his lips, although she read no real amusement there. “My apologies, your highness.” 

“Fine.” Aelin said, turning away from him to blink back a few barely there tears. “Let’s make rules then.” 

-------------------------

Rowan was being a dick. He knew that. And yet somehow, every time he opened his mouth something mean and condescending came out. Clearly, he wasn't as over Aelin Galathynius as he’s convinced himself to be. Sitting on her bed after school, scrawling notes in a notebook and eating sandwiches brought back memories he’d honestly rather forget. Maybe it had been her Aunt’s reaction to seeing him, or the picture of Chaol on the dresser, but all Rowan knew was that somewhere between the threshold and here, he’d turned into a douchebag. 

Currently, Aelin was rummaging through her desk drawer for a pen. She returned a moment later and handed it to him, careful to avoiding their hands touching. 

“Fake Dating Contract”

Rowan scrawled a title messily at the top of the page, trying to ignore Aelin’s eyes on him. 

“So what’s number one?” He asked out loud. 

She tucked a few loose blond strands of hair behind her ear and bit her lip in the way she always did when she was thinking. Unable to watch the familiar motions anymore, Rowan turned back to his paper. 

“Tell no-one.” He suggested dryly. 

“I already told Lysandra,” she admitted guiltily, “and I’ll have to tell Aedion as well.” 

He had already been expecting that response. “That’s fine. I wanted to tell Lorcan and Fenrys anyway.” 

She nodded in his peripheral vision. “But no one else. If this gets out I'll be the laughing stock of the school.” 

“Of course princess. How dare I endanger your precious reputation? Need I remind you that this was your idea.” His tone was mocking, even as his brain scolded him for the cruel words. 

Aelin blanched and shot him a glare. “Don't act like you don't need this either. I’m getting you what you always wanted.” 

 “How are you even planning on doing that anyway?” 

She wouldn't lie to him about this. Would she?

Then it crossed his mind, he had no fucking clue what she would do. There had been a time when he thought he knew every thought that Aelin had. But then she’d broken his heart and altered his view on people forever. His distrust was both justified and entirely her fault. 

“You won't like it.” Aelin said softly. 

“I don't really care how you do it.” It was a lie. Despite his disdain for her, he didn't want her methods to be anything that put her in danger. 

They went silent for a moment before Rowan spoke again. “What are the limits?”

Aelin arched an eyebrow at him. “Limits.” 

“Yeah.” He sat up, suddenly feeling too uncomfortable to be lying down. “Like if we're going to make people believe it then we’re going to need some displays of public affection or whatever.” 

Rowan didn't even need to look to know Aelin was delighting in how red his face had gone. A wicked smile crossed her face, “Are you trying to seduce me Rowan Whitethorn?” 

He couldn't help the short laugh that escaped his lips. “Stop that,” he grumbled halfheartedly. Aelin had always been the best at making him blush. 

“We’ll kiss here and there, go to a few parties together, and hang out with each others friends a few times. It won't be too hard.” She shrugged as if they were just discussing the weather. 

“Alright.” If she wasn't going to act like this was a big deal, than neither was he. 

Half hour of back and forth conversation and a few snide comments later, the rules were complete. Rowan ripped out the looseleaf paper and held it up for Aelin to read. 

Fake Dating Contract

1. Tell two people each ... ONLY

2. No making out for longer than 30 seconds. 

3. No being rude or resentful to each other in public

4. Rowan must fake date Aelin for four months or until she says otherwise. 

5. Aelin must get Rowan a football tryout by week two

6. Rowan and Aelin’s friend groups have to sit together at lunch

7. ANY RULES BROKEN RESULT IN THE SAID RULE BREAKER BEING BURNED ALIVE. 

Rowan had added the second one, much to Aelin’s amusement. She had stolen the paper at the end to add the last one and sign her name at the bottom, handing it back to Rowan to do the same. 

Once both their signatures were at the bottom, he pocketed the paper and stood to leave. 

“You’re leaving?” Aelin blurted out, clearly uneasy. 

“Why would I stay?” He meant it to come out rude, but it sounded more like a plea for a reason to. 

Aelin hesitated for a moment before offering him a small smile and turning away. Sighing, Rowan quickly exited the room, tiptoeing down the stairs and out the door to avoid any awkward encounters. It was only when he got to his car that he realized just how badly he had wanted her to make him stay. 

--------

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[arrow-guy]

Lizzie is ace? elaborate plssssss I'm dying over here

Hold onto ur butts, bc I’m about the blow your socks off (h o p e f u l l y)

It starts with all the sisters getting all twitterpated over the first ball that happens in the movie. Her sisters are arguing over who will do their hair and all that nonsense. Lizzie doesn’t join in, she’s previously made a face at her mother kissing her father. Lizzie is content to watch from the sidelines, even during the dancing. She likes observing people and jokes about men with her sister. She is the first to giggle when Darcy is stiff and awkward in the dance hall and doesn’t melt the moment she meets a handsome man. She’s just tickled by the fact that Bingly is so taken with her sister. Further than that, she’s able to brush off Darcy’s insults and gives as good as she gets. The smile on her face when she answers Darcy who’s just said, “So what do you recommend to encourage affection?” saying “Dancing, even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.” is life-giving. (Similarly followed by her crack at Darcy for his accomplished women comments.)

SHE IS EVERYONE’S HYPE MAN. She’s constantly telling Jane that she’s worthy of Bingly! And that she’s actually fully out of his league. She wants everyone to be happy and she’s the one to refocus everyone when things get out of hand. She’s able to see relationships from a logical standpoint rather than an emotional one. HOWEVER the second that she shows an emotional response to anyone who isn’t her sister everyone freaks out and assumes that she’s gone crazy. She is uncomfortable with romantic advances from people, (see the incidents with Collins) and outright rejects the first proposal we see to her in the film. (I mean, she rejects the second one too, but that’s from Darcy so there’s some feeling behind it that isn’t there with Collins.) FURTHER THAN THAT, she doesn’t just reject him, she outright says “You could not make me happy, and I am the last woman in the world who could make you happy.” To me, this is openly recognizing that she doesn’t desire the same things from a relationship/marriage that most would see as conventional, which could also be construed as her rejecting the conventional requirements of sex that may come with such a union. Which is absolutely not a stretch, considering the energy and fervor with which she says it in the film.

THE FIRST HINT OF ROMANCE ISN’T EVEN ANY KIND OF ROMANCE. It’s the shitty flirting that could be mistaken for banter between Darcy and Elizabeth and that hand flex from Darcy after he helps her into the carriage which is, in scholarly terms, Good Shit. And you can see Lizzie slowly falling in love with Darcy over the course of the movie because she is recognizing how similar they are! Not how handsome he is, but the devotion he has to his friends and his sister and the way he takes care of others. She falls in love because she learns instead of her desires for another person. It’s not a coincidence that the first time we see the two of them kiss in any fashion is the very end of the film! To commit herself to any person is a huge thing, which is exactly how it may be for someone who’s ace, in any aspect of the ace-spectrum. She explains this exact sentiment to her father after Darcy has asked for her hand in marriage. She knows Darcy on a deeper level and that’s what’s important to her rather than adhering to what’s expected of her, or keeping in line with the expectations of Lady Catherine (who can deepthroat a cactus, if you ask me.)

On top of that, the romance in the movie isn’t really overt in any way (outside of Mr. Nasty and his child bride, ugh, but that’s a different problem, and one that I’m glad was seen as such in the narrative.) Jane and Bingly are so smitten with each other that they can’t stop smiling whenever they’re around one another. Their outlooks on life are very emotional and they react as such and show love as such. Darcy and Elizabeth are completely opposite. They are so much polar opposites that they are the same person. Where Lizzie is the sun, Darcy is the moon and he reflects back the desires that Lizzie seems to project. He learns from his mistakes and works to right the wrongs he set into motion. Likewise, Lizzie sees where she was wrong, is educated, and moves forward having corrected herself. She comes to love Darcy because of this.

OKAY, this is super long and idk if any of that was any kind of coherent, but I DO know that it feels right to me. And that an argument could be made that Darcy is also ace. BUT that’s an argument for another day and an essay that I don’t think I have the energy to write if I’m not either getting paid to do it or getting a grade. REGARDLESS, Pride and Prejudice (2005) is an aspec DREAM and one of my all-time favorite movies.

[itspileofgoodthings]

My problem with the 2005 Pride and Prejudice isn’t that it’s sentimental. It’s that it’s not sentimental enough. 

I’ve always thought the genius of Jane Austen is that she’s got layers. You can enjoy her work on several levels, beginning with the fact that she writes really appealing love stories and ending with the fact that she is completely and totally a Great Artist. Her work is Art capital A. And those layers aren’t even that distinct from each other!! At least part of her amazing genius is her universal appeal. She’s like Shakespeare in that she tells stories so many of us truly, unironically, and non-academically want to read! So I absolutely think that it’s fair to take a work of Jane Austen and tell it purely as a swoon-worthy, heart-stopping-ly romantic love story. Because Jane Austen is that. It’s not all of what she’s doing but it’s a big part (and a valid part) of her appeal.

 (Of course the fact that she’s so good at it is directly connected to the fact that that isn’t all she’s doing. She perfectly exemplifies how restraint and romance are best when they’re operating in harmony in the same story but that’s a separate essay...) 

The 2005 Pride and Prejudice tells Lizzie and Darcy’s story as the most romantic swoon-iest love story of all time and it’s really really good at it. It’s sentimental but I truly don’t mean that as an insult. It’s cliche but in a way where it reminds you why cliches exist. Darcy looks at Lizzie with sincerity and shyness and True Love’s Pain written all over his face. Lizzie is direct and charismatic and fiery. The spark between them is the stuff of fairytales and every great love story EVER. The movie is full of tiny and mostly restrained moments of sentimentality that are excellently conceived of and effectively portrayed. They’re Moments with a capital M! (The hand flex!! The glances!! The Pemberley run-in!! The striding across the moor at sunrise!!) It all works and it’s great; it’s a totally effective interpretation. It’s quality Cheese and Great Romance and we all need more of it! But....Sigh. This isn’t where the movie leaves it. 

The movie knows that this isn’t all that Jane Austen does, that she’s not just about the love story, that her works are extremely accurate social commentaries not just of one time period but of human nature as a whole, that she’s witty because she’s biting because she’s honest. And this is where the movie fails, not just in its interpretation of her wit (thought that too, e.g. - “Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet and Miss Bennet” *slams head against wall*) but almost just in the fact that it tries at all. Sweeping drama, cinematic shots, longing gazes don’t blend well with humor. And honestly, even though my wordy self misses the conversations that make up Pride and Prejudice in this adaptation (like, nobody talks to each other there are no words in this movie) I understand that the visual and cinematic choices are taking the place of words and that’s what this movie is doing. But then it betrays its greatest strength- it betrays its sentimentality, its grand feelings, its longing! It tries to be funny; it tries to be biting; it tries to give you more than a love story. 

And it doesn’t work! Mrs Bennet isn’t funny. She’s softened into vague ridicule and you can feel the effort to make her likable instead of outrageous. Mr. Collins is surface level ridiculous and while the humor with him is handled so that it’s at least funny (I do love the “excellent boiled potatoes” line) it misses the whole point of his vanity and his self-entitlement and so makes you laugh at the wrong thing. He’s supposed to make your skin crawl, not be laughably ridiculous. Lady Catherine shows up in the middle of the night to heighten the drama even though she would never do that, thus reducing her grand confrontation with Lizzy (and the latter’s firecracker, rousing response) to a strange pit-stop- the point of which seems to be that her family still listens outside the door?? Wickham is passed over and his self-centered smarm is barely examined ; Bingley is made into a fool. (Nice does not equal stupid oH MY GOSH) All of it that isn’t Lizzie and Darcy feels like distractions you have to sit through patiently in order to get back to the love story. It doesn’t feel organic or well-integrated. Every moment of sentiment is punctuated with ridiculous moments of humor; every longing glance demands the price of a deeply terrible unfunny joke.

 I don’t know if I’ve ever been able to sit through this movie all the way through. I start at the beginning and as I listen to the opening piano music and watch the camera pan over the fields with the sunlight coming through I’m lured into a false sense of security. I think “Bring on the Sentimental Version of Pride and Prejudice! Hell Yeah I’ll defend it as a valid interpretation!! I’m so ready for all the Moments yay!!!” (this is not making fun, I’m completely serious) and then five minutes in they’ve killed the vibe. The attempts at humor, its silliness, and its stupidity snap me out of my enjoyment of Sentiment. Metaphorically speaking they’ve thrown water on the candles, swept out the rose petals, and turned up the background music to an annoying pitch. I’ve literally never been able to watch it without getting annoyed and nO that’s not because I’m a Snob who is above Hand Flexes but because they won’t let me enjoy the Hand Flexes!!! Because it keeps trying to be witty and incisive and clever and all these things it isn’t. It’s not the strength of this interpretation- which is fine not everything has to be because when unabashed sentiment is your goal- it’s a pretty narrow one for JA and it annoys me that this movie has perpetuated the myth that this is all she does but whatever!! that’s secondary!!- there isn’t room for true cleverness or even humor- and because it isn’t it directly limits what is its greatest strength. So I say again: I don’t object to this movie because it’s sentimental. I object to it because it isn’t sentimental enough.

[nerdforestgirl]

The Adolescence Alternative

Chapter Two: Friends

Previous Chapter: Chapter One: Excuses

By the end of the day, Sheldon realized it wasn't the book that made him sneeze. He was getting sick. It wasn't uncommon for him to get sick a few times a year. His immune system wasn't very strong, so he informed his mother that he was ill and went to bed as soon as he got home that afternoon. She brought him some soup for dinner and felt his forehead.

“You are running a fever. You better stay home tomorrow,” Mama told him.

Sheldon nodded.

Mama picked up the copy of Pride and Prejudice and looked it over. She was curious about his choice of reading material. Usually when Sheldon was sick, he reread novelizations of Star Trek or The Hobbit. Those things were comforting to him.

“For school?”

“No. Amy recommended it to me. It's better than I thought it would be. I'm almost done with it,” Sheldon told her.

His mother sighed. He sure was going to a lot of trouble to prove that this girl was supposedly real. She decided not to argue with it. “Enjoy Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy,” she said before kissing him on top of his head and leaving him. He made a complaining noise as he rubbed his forehead where his mother kissed him. All it did was smudge the lipstick left behind.

Sheldon smiled to himself as Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth circled each other. This silliness was exactly what he loved about these kinds of stories. He didn't care for love for himself. Who had the time when one wanted to win a Nobel before thirty? Still, he was a bit of a secret romanic at heart. When he finished the book, he closed it and lie down to sleep. He dreamt of being an aloof landowner and Amy being a spirited young woman he was hopelessly in love with.

Sheldon spent his whole sick day reading Mansfield Park. Amy was right. It wasn't just about romance. It was about betrayal and class. It was also much more interesting than he believed it would be. By the time he finished the book, he couldn't wait to get back to talk to Amy about it. He wondered if this was what having a real friend was like. Maybe this was why his sister went to school even though she hated all of her classes.

When Sheldon was getting ready for school the next day, he decided to pick up his much abused copy of The Hobbit. He shoved it into his bag on his way out.

In biology, Sheldon took his place next to Amy. She was reading like she always did, but she did look up at him and nodded when he took his seat.

“I finished Mansfield Park last night. I was sick,” Sheldon explained.

“Do you want to borrow my notes from yesterday?” Amy asked. She had been surprisingly disappointed when Sheldon wasn't in class the day before. They weren't friends, but his constant bothering her about the book she was reading was almost endearing now.

Sheldon had never borrowed notes from anyone other than a teacher. It was never worth his time to look through another student's work. That was if anyone would even give them over. Sheldon was used to just reading the assigned chapters from when he missed class.

“Uh. Sure,” Sheldon said in just utter surprise at her offer. He was sure he wouldn't use them, but he liked that she even offered. No one offered.

Amy handed over her page of notes from the day before. “Please return it undamaged tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Sheldon scanned it and saw a full page of tiny, neat writing. It was full of not just what the Mr. Davisson said, but also Amy's own insights. Sheldon had never once needed or wanted a tutor, but if he ever needed help in biology, he knew where to go. She possibly understood it more than he did. He decided that he would copy it down. Just in case.

“What did you think of Mansfield Park?”

“It was good. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would,” Sheldon admitted as he looked back up from her meticulous notes. “Oh. Since you showed me your favorite book. I brought you mine.”

“My favorite book? What do you think is my favorite book?” Amy asked. She was sure that she had never even spoken to Sheldon about The Canterbury Tales. Her beloved copy was still packed in a box somewhere.

“Pride and Prejudice?” Sheldon said now unsure as he slid The Hobbit over to Amy.

“That isn't my favorite book.” Amy inspected the well worn copy of The Hobbit. She saw that it was about wizards and dwarves. She was about the hand it back when she saw the hopeful look in Sheldon's eye. The book had to be loved because it was dogeared and a little tattered while belonging to one of the most careful boys she had ever met. As much as she didn't really like the boy in front of her, she didn't want to hurt his feelings. She thanked him and put the book into her bag before class started.

Later that day at lunch, Sheldon was in his usual seat down the table from a few guys he knew from Math Olympics. They weren't bad guys, but Sheldon never actually sat with them. They left him alone for the most part, and he didn't bother them. Other than Amy, they were the closest thing he had to friends.

Speaking of Amy, she suddenly appeared and sat across from him.

“Don't say anything. I just needed a place to eat,” Amy warned before he could even make a sound.

“You don't have lunch this hour?”

“Of course I do. I normally go to the library to eat, but Mr. Smith is out today. The sub wouldn't let me stay. Just let me eat,” Amy assured him. She wouldn't have chosen to eat with Sheldon Cooper, but he was the only person she knew at this lunch hour. Plus he seemed to like her enough to lend her his favorite book. Tomorrow she would go back to the library.

Sheldon shrugged and started into his own sandwich without so much as another word. That was until the guys whom he knew from Math Olympics who shared the table with him started asking questions. They had never seen Sheldon eat lunch with another person.

“Girlfriend, Sheldon?” Howard asked.

“No,” Amy answered for him. “I don't know him.”

“You can come sit with us,” Stuart offered. He wasn't actually on the team with the other guys, but he didn't have other friends. He was also the only one of the guys who didn't have a girlfriend. Well, Raj didn't have a girlfriend, but Sheldon suspected that he didn't want one because he usually didn't shut up about his friend Lincoln, who was a very handsome basketball player. Even Sheldon could see that there was something bigger going on there.

“No,” Sheldon refused on Amy's behalf.

“I can sit where I like, Sheldon,” Amy snapped. She stood up and went to sit next to Stuart. Sheldon felt a pang of what he could only assume was jealousy. That didn't make any sense, but he wanted to punch Stuart right in his jaw. He flexed his fist, but then he just stared at his sandwich. He didn't want a girlfriend. He was above that. He supposed he was just jealous because he thought that Amy was his friend. Well, not friend, but friendly. Then she just went to go have lunch with another boy. Wasn't she his?

“Do you want to come over?” Sheldon blurted suddenly across the table. He was staring right into Amy's eyes. There was no question as to whom he was speaking.

“Come over where?” Amy asked. Did he want her to come back over to his side of the table?

“My house. After school. We could study together,” Sheldon clarified.

“Why would I come over to your house?”

“Because you are my best friend.”

“Your best friend? We barely know each other and I kind of hate you,” Amy answered bluntly. It was true that Sheldon was the only person she talked to most days, but that didn't mean they were friends.

“It's the 'kind of' that makes you my best friend,” he countered with a slightly crooked smile. He was aware that he wasn't the most popular guy, but he wore it as a badge of honor instead of being bothered by it like Amy was. For whatever reason, he was reaching out to her. She thought about it for a moment and decided to reach back. This was the boy who read the books she suggested and handed over a much beloved object without asking anything in return. She supposed they were friends despite her best efforts.

“Fine. Meet me at the bike racks at three,” she muttered.

Sheldon nodded and left to get to English.

Sheldon met Amy right where she suggested after school.

“Hi. Your friends said you are good at calculus. I hate to do this because I don't usually need any help with anything, but could you maybe tutor me a little?” Amy asked when she saw him standing there. She had gotten a lot of background from Sheldon's other friends.

“They aren't my friends, but I would be happy to help you,” Sheldon agreed. He knew that even if he needed to actually explain something to Amy, it wouldn't be a problem. She wasn't one of the idiots who went to their school. He learned over the last few days that she was very bright. Maybe even near his own intelligence.

“I could return the favor. I don't think you need any help in biology, but English? French? American Government?” Amy offered.

“French?” Sheldon asked.

“You need help in French? I can do that. I'm great at French. I spent six months in France last year, and while that wasn't enough for me to be perfect, I can certainly help you get through a high school class. I aced the AP French test last year,” Amy offered.

“Oh. No. I am learning Mandarin,” Sheldon explained.

“Oh,” Amy returned sadly. She hated admitting any weakness to anyone. She really hated admitting it to someone like Sheldon. This boy was brilliant at everything he did. Of course he didn't need any help.

“Maybe you could teach me a little anyway,” Sheldon suggested. Languages were not his strong suit, and he always thought that they were one of the few things he couldn't just learn from a book.

“Sure,” Amy agreed. “Are those guys really not your friends? They seemed nice enough, and that guy Leonard seemed to know a fair amount about you,” Amy asked as she bent down to unlock her bike.

“They don't like me. No one does,” Sheldon admitted. This time he wasn't really bragging about it the way he had in the cafeteria.

“I don't think that's true. I think that they would talk to you if you sat with them. They are pretty nice,” Amy told him. They were nicer to her than anyone else had been since she got to this school. She promised that she would sit with them again the next day.

Sheldon shrugged, and they both let the subject drop. Sheldon took the handlebars of Amy's bike to wheel it to his house for her. He was strictly a walker to and from school. Missy had been hinting about a car, but Sheldon was sure if she got one, he would still walk. He couldn't imagine that he would ever feel safe in a car with his sister.

“My mom will probably be home. She works part time at our church, but she's almost always home on Thursday afternoons. I'm sure she will question you about your parents and where you go to church. I apologize in advance for that.”

“I don't go to church. We aren't usually anywhere long enough to see the point in joining a community,” Amy admitted. She wasn't sure how she personally felt about religion. She read enough about various faiths, but none seemed to hold the answers she was looking for.

“How many times have you moved?” Sheldon asked. He had lived here all of his life. He wondered what it would be like to travel the world.

“Fourteen times. This is my fourth high school. My parents are trying to let me stay here for my senior year even if Dad gets transferred again. I'd rather not. Maybe we can move back to Lyon if I'm meant to just live in one place for a while. I miss France,” Amy admitted.

“You could stay here. You have friends here,” Sheldon told her. He really meant that she was his friend. He hated the idea of her leaving town again. Even if they had only been speaking for about a week. He wasn't lying about her being his best friend. Well, perhaps his grandmother was his best friend, but Amy was second.

“Don't tell my parents that,” Amy joked, but she liked that Sheldon seemed to want her to stay. Maybe she didn't exactly hate him. She was going to his house after all.

The pair quietly walked the rest of the way to Sheldon's house. Sheldon put Amy's bike in the shed next to his house so his dad wouldn't run it over when he got home from work. Then he led her to his door. He had never once had a friend over to his house, so he wasn't sure what to do now.

“Mama, I'm home,” Sheldon called. Amy smiled that the boy called his mother “Mama.”

“Hey, Shelly,” Mama stopped short and her jaw nearly dropped when she saw Sheldon standing in the doorway with a girl.

“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” Amy muttered.

“Mama, this is my friend, Amy Fowler,” Sheldon introduced. He would have gloated to his mother that the girl was, in fact, real if not for the fact that he did not want to reveal to Amy that his mother thought it wasn't possible for him to make friends.

“It's so strange when people don't include my middle name,” Amy muttered. It was the first time Sheldon had called her by her full name.

“What?” Sheldon asked.

“At home, I'm Amy Farrah Fowler. My mother is also Amy, so everyone includes my middle name when speaking to or about me at home. Only teachers usually call me Amy Fowler.”

“Oh. Mama, this is Amy Farrah Fowler,” Sheldon corrected himself automatically.

“It's nice to meet you, Amy Farrah Fowler,” Mrs. Cooper said as she reached out to shake the girl's hand. “Can I get you something to eat?”

Amy was about to refuse when Sheldon said that he was starving. He started taking off his windbreaker and took Amy's jacket to hang on the hook next to his. Then he followed his mother into the kitchen while urging Amy to follow.

Mrs. Cooper practically fixed them an entire feast. She put out trays of cheese and crackers, a pitcher of sweet tea, a plate of fruit.

“Anything you'd like, dear?” Mrs. Cooper asked Amy as she inspected the fridge.

“Anything is fine. I'm allergic to avocados though,” Amy said quietly. She didn't want to be a bother.

“Alright. I'll make sure to keep that in mind when I'm fixing dinner. You're staying for dinner, right?” Mary asked cheerfully.

“I'll have to call my mother,” Amy said. She actually realized that she needed to check in anyway because Mother would be worried about Amy not coming home right after school.

“Phone's right there,” Mrs. Cooper told Amy.

Amy called her mother, but she was embarrassed that Mother asked to speak to Mrs. Cooper. Amy handed over the phone to prove that she was still under the observation of an adult. She expected Mother to only speak to Mrs. Cooper for a moment, but the women started chatting about a number of things. Amy shrugged at Sheldon and he just used his head to indicate that Amy should join him at the table where he had already eaten a surprising amount of the food his mother provided.

Amy picked at the plate of fruit and cheese. Sheldon poured her a glass of sweet tea and pushed it at her before he set to work on calculus.

“You understand this,” Sheldon said as he finished helping Amy go over a third set. He didn't think she needed his assistance, and he wondered if she chose to ask for help just to have an excuse to hang out. Not that he could blame her.

“I always think I do, but I only received a 85% on my last exam,” Amy admitted. It was the only class where she did not currently have an A.

“Hmm. Perhaps it's a lack of confidence,” Sheldon suggested. He found that he liked Amy even more now that he knew how smart she was. Even where she felt she needed work, it seemed that she was exceptionally bright. He had not done poorly when he picked a fake girlfriend. If he was a different kind of person, he might even want her to be his real girlfriend. That was completely hypothetical, of course, Sheldon thought as he tried to suss out her eye color.

“Your mama says it's just fine if you stay for dinner, but she is going to come pick you up right at seven,” Sheldon's mother told Amy while Sheldon showed Amy how to play a card game she had never heard of before. The pair of teenagers had given up on studying pretty quickly because Sheldon didn't usually have friends over. He could study whenever. He could only play this game if he bribed his brother or sister to join him.

Mystic Lords of Ka'a was not something that Amy had ever heard of before, but once she got the hang of it, she put down three winning hands in a row. After that Sheldon decided to redirect them to video games until dinner was ready.

Sheldon's parents didn't act as if it was so strange for Sheldon to have a little friend over. The other two kids had friends over for dinner all the time. Sheldon, not so much. They didn't want to scare her off. Junior didn't get the memo.

“Is this your girlfriend, nerd?” Junior asked as he helped himself to what Amy thought was an outrageous amount of food. There was no way he could possibly finish, right? And she thought Sheldon ate a lot.

“She is a girl and she is a friend. She is not my girlfriend,” Sheldon explained without any emotion coloring his tone.

“So, she's available?” Junior asked with a wink to Amy. Amy looked to Sheldon to try to figure out what to do. Normally she would just say no and move on with it, but this was Sheldon's family.

“No. She's not for you,” Sheldon told his brother fiercely.

“Alright, bro. I won't hit on your girlfriend,” Junior said with hands up to signal surrender.

Amy waited for Sheldon clarify again that she was not his girlfriend. Instead Sheldon just nodded his thanks and set back into eating his dinner. Amy was sure that Sheldon thought that he didn't explain again, but a little part of her wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Then she chastised herself for that thought. She didn't stay anywhere long enough for boys, and even if she did, Sheldon Cooper was not her type. He might be intelligent and cute and funny, but he was still a pompous ass. Amy didn't like him. She was sure.

Amy's mother was not even a minute late picking her up after dinner. She also seemed to inspect Sheldon as he effortlessly lifted Amy's bike to put in the trunk of Mrs. Fowler's car, but he must have looked enough like a safe nerd that even Amy's mother couldn't find fault. Amy thanked him for the afternoon, and left.