#that thing was not made to actually read shakespeare from but it's made to look like a good deal for beginners

[britneyshakespeare]

might fuck around and buy my friend a copy of the riverside shakespeare (1973) for his birthday

side note it astonishes me that ppl are selling this book for between $50 to $100 secondhand in some places. you can get it for under 10 bucks at so many online retailers. it's a fifty-year-old tome that was commonly used as a college textbook, there are so many fuckin copies still floating around out there and most of them on the market are in the acceptable-to-good category of condition. how could one you have be worth much more than that? is yours in extra special superb condition? what?

do ppl just think everything vintage is valuable... bc oftentimes it just isn't

[bellawoso]

love story

aitana bonmati x fem!reader

description: aitana falling for you despite you being quite nerdy when it comes to shakespeare and art. aitana is helplessly failing english lit, in order for you to tutor her she requests for you to come to her matches each weekend, you end up falling for her too.

(kinda unrealistic as i highly doubt aita would take english lit 😭) + ALSO DIEGO MAKES A RETURN!!!

at first the move to barcelona had been scary for you, the new language and culture were unknown territory for you, and you couldnt help but feel lonely with not many people to talk to you in english.

until at a party, you overestimated how much drink you could handle and ended up on the brink of passing out, only to be saved by a random spanish boy you had seen around campus and spoke english.

a new friendship stemmed that night, you and diego were inseparable, even though you owed him one two many times after he saved you from people cursing you out in spanish after you accidentally pissed them off.

that was exactly what had happened now.

you and diego also work at the same art museum, although he often complains about the boredom he experiences there, much to your annoyance. he still continued to work there, the pay is good and you are in your happy zone, excited to spend all of your free time surrounded by one of your favourite subjects.

except for times when you managed to irritate random spanish people. in your defence, the piece of work wasnt that good, and the artist wasnt well known, how were you to know that you were speaking to the artist claiming that there were better pieces that deserved a place in the museum.

the man had gone into a fast paced spanish rant, although you knew some spanish after some time of living in barcelona, you were no where near fluent enough to understand the heavily accented, rapid spanish that fell from his mouth.

diego was very quick to intervene and call security on the man who was now jabbing a finger in your direction, the only word you understood was “puta” after hearing the insult many times from diego to people that annoyed him.

seeing him escorted out, you were quick to flee to your favourite part of the museum, at the east wing of the top floor was a small library filled with copies of old literature, with historic renaissance paintings hanging on the walls.

not many people went in there, it was very well hidden from the public eye, and was out of the way of popular artist exhibitions. however, nothing was too hard to find for a certain brunette midfielder, who was bored out of her mind.

———

today was aitanas day off, when ona gathered her, jana, bruna, pina and patri for a “fun day out” a museum was the last thing she was expecting.

ona was actually enjoying looking around the museum, pina and patri were talking to a group of girls they found “hot”, jana and bruna were raiding the gift shop.

this left aitana bored out of her mind, so she went exploring and ended up on a corridoor that stretched to what looked like a library.

despite english literature being aitanas minor degree, she was actually not that fond of it, much to her parents dismay who had to hear constantly from aitana how she was failing it.

when she walked in, she physically jumped when she saw a girl sat on one of the seats reading some shakespeare play.

if there was one thing aitana despised the most, it was shakespeare, the prospect of learning the plays and writing about them made her want to gauge her eyes out.

she was ready to turn around and beg ona for them to go home, until a soft voice pulled aitana right back to the library.

“hello! can i help you?” upon hearing this, aitana quickly turned back around to match a face to the voice, and was met with you now looking up so she could see your face.

aitana didnt notice that she had zoned out while admiring you, normally she didnt feel this way for anyone. each time pina and patri tried to set her up on a date she was always quick to reject, as in her opinion she had to focus on football. however at this moment, she seemed happy enough to break the no relationships rule for you.

“sorry can i help you?” hearing you once again managed to break aitana from her daze, as she quickly tried to think of a topic that she could strike up a conversation with.

“uhhhh- you like shakespeare?” aitana asked, whilst internally cursing how her voice wobbled as she spoke to you.

“yeah i do! are you a fan of his works? what is your favourite play?”

honestly, aitana had no idea why she chose shakespeare, in fact, she despised the guy who she had to memorise a ton of plays for. however, seeing your entire face light up at the sound of his name could persuade her to talk about him all day.

what aitana hadnt vouched for was you quizzing her on him, i mean, she was failing english lit for gods sake. but if she could just act like she was an expert for long enough for you to be impressed enough to accept her request of a date with you, then it would give her enough time for some quick shakespeare revision before your date.

“i love shakespeare” aitana stated, the link tint of her cheeks only darkening as you smiled upon hearing this, “ i would say that romeo and juliet is my favourite!”

“a classic tradgedy, huh? you like romantic plays?” you asked with a smirk, and aitana tried to rack her brain to figure whether you were flirting with her or not, and made a mental note to somehow improve for the next time she spoke to you.

“yeah, im a massive tragedy fan! another tragedy i love is-“ silence filled the library as aitana desperately tried to think of another tragedy, and felt like hitting herself for not paying more attention in her lectures.

“uhhh- a midsummers night dream?” aitana cringed at how it came out as a question, and blushed fiercely when she heard you giggle.

“although some prospects of the play could be considered a tragedy, a midsummers night dream was actually intended to be a comedy!”, you stated, rambling off about some tragic elements of the play, and aitana never knew that shakespeare could be such a turn on, but maybe it was just the fact that a pretty girl was talking about it, not her old male professor.

after inviting aitana to come sit down with you, and diving into a conversation of plays, both of you hardly noticed how an hour had already passed, although the conversation had mainly been one sided, with you rambling about your favourite plays, aitana enjoyed your company.

that was until ona called aitana asking where she was as they were going, aitana was sad to leave, and noticed you frown a bit as she told you she had to go.

“thankyou for tolerating my rambling about shakespeare, i know you dont actually love it that much.” you said while smiling at the spaniard in front of you.

“huh- what do you mean? i love the guy” aitana argued.

“its fine honestly- i saw your confusion when i was talking about his plays” you laughed.

“okay fine, i might be failing english literature but i definitely learnt some new things while talking to you, so thankyou”

“any time” you responded just as diego ran into the library talking in rapid spanish which you know he only does when hes in a rush, you understood a part when he said “ended 10 minutes ago” which you could only guess he was talking about your shifts. you smiled apologetically at aitana and said goodbye before leaving with diego.

when aitana met up with everyone at the exit, she was bombarded with questions of where she was to which she responded “in the library”

pina was shocked at this answer “the library? you hate books! your failing english for gods sake! what were you doing there?”

“well- there was this girl-”

“a girl! there you have it! little aitana here has a crush! she must really love her if she spent an hour in a library with her!”

“shut up patri!” aitana scowled “ we were talking about shakespeare!”

“shakespeare?! do you feel ill tana, can you go to training tomorrow? ona i think she is ill” patri teased.

aitana only stormed off after shooting one last glare at the group before returning to the car.

the teasing didnt stop there though, as soon as the others got to the car, she was met with relentless bullying the whole way back to campus about how “whipped” she is.

but also she realised something on her was back, she had forgotten to ask for your name and she has also never given you her name, which put her in a grumpy mood for the rest of the night before deciding it was fate, and a sign that she should be focusing on football.

———

aitana however, was actually wrong that you didnt know who she was. it was part of the reason you knew she didnt actually like shakespeare. diego was a big fan of football and followed the schools girls football team who were quite popular amongst the school.

he dragged you to many of their matches whenever you had the time, and therefore you had seen the brunette midfielder quite a lot.

you werent surprised when diego dragged you to yet another one of their matches a few weeks later, you were both sat down when diego announced he was going to get a coffee, and with promises to get you a tea and some chocolate, he left.

while he was gone, both university teams started doing warmups, and you couldnt keep your eyes away from a certain brunette midfielder, who honestly looked too good today.

“careful, your drooling amiga! i didnt know footballers were your type”

“jesus diego! and theyre not, i was simply looking at number 14, i was talking to her a few weeks ago in the museum.”

“you were speaking to aitana! and you didnt think to call me?!”

the truth was, members of the football team were very popular, they were nice and would greet you if you said hello, but their main friends were in the football team, so you didnt really see them hanging around with other people. lots of students had slight crushes on certain members, much like yours on aitana.

you werent listening to diegos lecture though, as your eyes drifted to aitana again, the extra gym sessions she had been doing really paid off, and when she lifted up her training top to wipe the layer of sweat from her face, you wouldnt be surprised if you fainted there and then.

what you werent expecting were for her eyes to scan the crowd and land on you, seeing her point and wave at you with a smirk on her face made you glad you were sat, you knew if you were stood up your knees would have buckled under you immediately.

seeing you blush and send aitana a wave back was all of the confirmation diego needed to know that aitana just waved at you.

“did she just wave at you? y/n have you pulled aitana? how?! did you recite some shakespeare love quote or something?! do you like her? oh my god- you do! your blushing!” diego was spiralling, aitana was known for not dating or flirting, unlike many of her teammates who were known for flirting and dating a lot. so seeing her waving at you made diego unfocused for the entirety of the match, as he thought of how he was going to get you two together.

however, he didnt exactly need to, as you and him were seated quite close to the pitch, when the match ended both of you saw aitana call you over with a wave of her hand.

you werent sure how it was possible for her to look this good after a match, but as you approached the railing she was leant against you suddenly became very self aware of the blush that coated your cheeks.

“hey, your from the museum, right? i never actually got the chance to ask for your name.” aitana said, her eyes roaming appreciatively over your body.

“yeah, im y/n, you must be aitana, you played very well today, you have been revising some shakespeare?” you laughed as you saw the teasing frown that appeared on aitanas face, “shakespeare in my opinion writes very boring things!” aitana argued.

you put a hand over your heart and gasped in mock offence, “aitana youre hurting my heart, talking about the greatest play writer of all time!”

but before aitana could respond, pina and patri bounded over to her and slung an arm round her neck, they recognised you from the museum, and in their minds came to aitanas rescue to help her ask you out.

“hello! your y/n right? i think you were at janas dorm once doing art, correct me if i am mistaken” patri said, “yes i have been, its nice to meet you!” you replied as diego handed you yet another cup of tea.

“i hear you are very good at english literature? you know, aitana is in desperate need of a tutor!” pina stated while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, making aitana smack her on her arm.

“ignore her! her mum dropped her on her head as a baby!” aitana joked making you laugh and reply “its fine! i dont mind tutoring you if you need it aita?”

upon hearing her nickname fall from your lips aitana couldnt help but smile bashfully and blush like a little girl with her first crush, much to her teammates amusement.

“uh- yes! yes- definately, i would love that, can i have your number? to schedule a time that is! or not- if you dont want to, or if you changed your mind! no pressure y/n- “

you smiled at aitanas almost incoherrent rambling, “aita, i want to tutor you, honestly. can i get your phone to put my number in?”

aitana quickly pushed her phone in to your hands before you could change your mind, and as soon as you typed in your number, sprinted off with a quick goodbye.

———

you and aitana scheduled your tutor sessions every tuesday and thursday, the days aitana didnt have training or matches. however, the study sessions werent going as planned, as aitana could not concentrate at all. you werent sure why, and obviously aitana would never dare admit that she was daydreaming about you, with you right in front of her.

you felt hopeless, you loved aitana, you really did, she spoke to you as well when she saw you around school, except that was it, you longed for so much more with the brunette, unknown to you that aitana felt the same way.

after a month of tutoring, aitana could still not pass an english literature test, she knew that you would confront her about it soon, you had dedicated a lot of time tutoring her after all.

“aitana i dont get it! i mean- you say you need a tutor but then you dont concentrate at all, you failed another test! do i bore you during these, what can i do for you to listen?” you said exasperatedly, aitana knew you had every right to be mad at her, to anyone else it looked like she wasnt trying at all.

“no of course your not boring me y/n, you would never!”

“tana, should i change the length of these sessions, are they too long, and making you tired? i understand if its too much?”

“no, no they are fine, i have one idea in mind though”, this was it, aitana planned on asking you something she had been mustering up the courage for a while to do ever since you had stopped accompanying diego to the matches, caught up in studying.

“uh- you could come to my matches each sunday? maybe in my jersey.” aitana asked sheepishly. you however, choked on your water as soon as you heard her request, i mean, was that not a couple thing to do?

“uh- sure aita, if that would make you concentrate on english literature more!” you paused as you quickly thought of an excuse to get out of the library to recollect your thoughts, “can we please cut this session a little short, i promised diego i would go for a coffee with him!”

“oh okay, bye y/n see you on sunday!”

after saying goodbye to aitana, you rushed to diegos room, telling him about aitanas request, although his reaction didnt match your panicked state, as he immediately started laughing.

“finallyyy amiga! i was wondering when one of you would make the first move!”

“diego your not helping! what do i do?!”

“you should probablyy… go to the match and wear the jersey?” diego said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, whilst rolling his eyes.

“everyone will see, its a thing couples do, everyone will think that we are together” you said, “you say it like its a bad thing y/n, if i were you, i wouldnt be mad if people thought i was with aitana bonmati” diego argued.

“whatever” you huffed also rolling your eyes at him “you will come to the match with me though, aitana texted me saying she got front row seats for us”

“obviously im going y/n, i guess now your girlfriend has got us good seats i owe the favour of being your drink refiller?”

“you were going to refill my drinks anyway, and shes not my girlfriend diego!”

“whatever you say”

———

it was match day, as promised you were wearing one of aitanas jersey which the midfielder had dropped off for you earlier this morning. you had already gotten quite a few dirty looks from people who you could only assume were aitanas “fangirls”. the dirty looks only got worse when during warm ups aitana came over to you, and leant over the railing, holding your jaw to move your head to the side so she could whisper something in your ear.

diego, who had gone to get you a tea when this interaction took place, only saw the two of you from far away, and from a distance, it honestly looked like aitana was kissing your neck.

“woah amiga what was that? you never told me you two had sorted your feelings out, was she kissing you?” diego exclaimed as soon as aitana was called back over to get ready for kickoff.

“what? we werent kissing! she was just telling me something!”

“sure y/n, sure”

the game had started, and a brunette midfielder on the pitch couldnt seem to keep their eyes off you. however, it wasnt aitana. a girl off of the rival team seemed to be flirting with you from on the pitch, as diego said.

it wasnt only the two of you that had noticed too, it was hard for aitana to not notice, especially when the girl scored and pointed at you in the stands.

this only fuelled aitana more to win, but jealousy once again overcame her when she saw the girl blow a kiss to you, so when the girl next had the ball, aitana quickly slid into her, completely taking her out and earning herself a yellow card in the process.

the short lecture that aitanas captain was giving her went in one ear and out of the other, as aitanas eyes had already drifted to you, both of you locked eye contact and you couldnt help but laugh and shake your head at the midfielder, who smiled at seeing your laughter.

in aitanas opinion, if she couldnt injure the girl anymore, she might as well embarrass her on the pitch. the rest of the match was filled with aitana nutmegging, and skilling the poor girl who flirted with you. the spaniard relished in the feeling of dribbling straight past the girl, and ended up scoring two goals, and after each one she pointed at you.

at the end of the match, she ran straight over to you, who was already stood up and leant against the railing.

“y/n i just wanted to thank you again for coming, you dont have to do this again next week, i know that football does bore you a bit.”

“no tana, i enjoyed it really, you played so well and im so proud of you!”

“you will come again next week?”

“of course i will, now you should go celebrate the win with the team.” you said, realising that most of the team were soaking up the glory of winning, and aitana was missing it, “also, would you want to go get a coffee with me next week, theres a new cafe that opened up near campus?”

“i would love to aita, message me the details?”

“i will tonight! bye y/n, and bye diego!” however a poke in your side from diego reminded you of exactly what he wanted you to do, and you knew you would be bullied relentlessly by him all night if you didnt, so you grabbed aitanas arm before she could run to her teammates, and pressed your lips to hers.

as you looped your arms round the midfielders neck, you felt her smile into the kiss, before pressing her tongue to your lips, eliciting a soft gasp from you which aitana silenced with her lips, you pulled away from the kiss when you began to feel lightheaded, and you werent sure if it was due to the lack of oxygen or that you were just kissing aitana.

“bye aitana” you said with a wave before pressing your lips on her cheek, as a more pg way of saying goodbye.

aitana ended up passing english literature.

———

[tismrot]

HOW FATAL IS YOUR GOOD OMENS BRAINROT ? a checklist

Give yourself a point for everything that applies to you.

LEVEL 1 [ ] I have seen both seasons.

[ ] I can name at least one character that isn’t Aziraphale or Crowley.

[ ] I know that Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman wrote the book. Points: [ ] of 3

---

LEVEL 2 [ ] I have seen both seasons more than once.

[ ] I know I can write “Aziraphale” without spelling it wrong. Bonus point if you have actually written the name anywhere, for any reason.

[ ] I have had a conversation about Good Omens with a person outside of the internet in the last 3 months. Points: [ ] of 3 + [ ] bonus points --- LEVEL 3 [ ] I experienced any negative feeling beyond "ouch, that sucks for them!" after the ending of season 2.

[ ] I have looked up anything related to Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, Michael Sheen or David Tennant in the last 3 months.

[ ] I know what #payyourwriters refers to.

[ ] I have had at least one (1) thought about Crowley or Aziraphale (or both). Bonus point if you told anyone (Tumblr counts).

[ ] I read the book before the show came out. Points: [ ] of 5 + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 4 [ ] I have seen both seasons more than three times and some scenes more than that.

[ ] Somebody watched Good Omens because of me. One extra point for each additional person!

[ ] I catch myself thinking about Good Omens when I should be thinking about other things.

[ ] I have listened to Queen more than I usually do during the last 3 months.

[ ] I have read or listened to the book (don’t have to have read/heard all of it for 1 point) after season 1. Points: [ ] of 5 + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 5 [ ] I have analyzed the lyrics of most of the songs and experienced moving emotions.

[ ] I have either made a new account or revived an unused account somewhere ONLY to browse Good Omens related media. One bonus point for each additional new/renewed account. (Renewed = you haven't touched it in at least 2 years)

[ ] I have watched at least 5 videos on YouTube about Good Omens.

[ ] I no longer blush while reading fics.

[ ] I have a stash of saved images on my phone/IG account/Pinterest/other I would very much not like anyone to see.

[ ] I have made any game character look like characters from the show. Three bonus points if you googled 'south downs cottages' while playing The Sims. Points: [ ] of 6 + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 6 [ ] I have genuine, tangible heartbreak due to Good Omens, and I have experienced heartbreak before - so I know what it feels like. (Friend/platonic/aro heartbreaks count, ofc.)

[ ] I have shared my support for the strikers multiple times.

[ ] I know more than I’d like to know about the anatomy of male snakes.

[ ] I have published Good Omens related media - fics, artwork, big metas (spent more than three hours researching/writing it), music, videos. Bonus point if this happened on a recently created or renewed account.

[ ] I have had dreams about something Good Omens-related. If this was a spicy dream, collect 3 extra points.

[ ] Things that shouldn’t remind me of the show, reminds me of the show. (Flies, clocks, ducks, classical music, drinking coffee, anything related to England, biblical references, etc.)

[ ] I have a set of beliefs and theories that I stick to - example: coffee theory, body swap theory, Crowley is Raphael, etc. Bonus point if any of these are genuinely from your own head.

[ ] I have a favorite Crowley (Bildaddy?).

[ ] I have listened to other people’s Good Omens themed playlists/music on YouTube or Spotify. Points: [ ] of 9 points + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 7 [ ] I have experienced a spike in learning/skill after watching the show. (Read Shakespeare, history, philosophy, books mentioned, shown or referenced l, learned or improved a craft and any other neuron connection boosting activity).

[ ] I have experienced an increase in my preferred destructive coping mechanism after watching the show, but I’d rather have it this way than not having watched it.

[ ] I have been sad that I am not an immortal, celestial being fighting for the opportunity to finally be with my soulmate and lover, another immortal, celestial being forced to work for a rival oppressive government, after 6000 years of queer yearning and forbidden desire. I have been sad that I - due to human life expectancy, at the very least - can NOT experience such love. Ever.

[ ] Good Omens has affected my sexuality (kinks, roleplay, thoughts, type of desired partner, etc.)

[ ] I know what the archangel Michael’s ring looks like, and what it’s modeled after.

[ ] I have made my own playlist with music reminding me of Good Omens.

[ ] I have had trouble sleeping because I thought about my fic narrative (even if I haven’t started writing it yet), unfinished drawing, video idea or similar.

[ ] I can, with worrying accuracy, correctly guess the episode when watching a scene from the show.

[ ] I read an insane amount of layered theories and possible references and so on, into every word said by Aziraphale and Crowley, to the point where watching is difficult because I get so many fan theories in my head I have to write down.

[ ] I want to travel to London. Bonus point if you already have been to London pre-brainrot and hated it. If you live in London, you get a point if Good Omens made you visit Soho even though you know it wasn’t filmed there. If you live in Soho, you get a point if you've been to the South Downs because of Good Omens.

[ ] I have thought of or prepared a Good Omens costume for Halloween. Bonus point if you have already found a reason to wear it. Bonus point if you wear it casually. Bonus point if the costume is inconspicuous enough that you can go to work/school without it being too weird. Bonus point if, when wearing your costume, you sat on a bench on purpose. Points: [ ] of 11 + [ ] bonus points --- INSANE LEVEL [ ] I have been a fan of the book since 1990. [ ] I read queerness into the book independently (be honest). [ ] I have made money creating Good Omens-anything. [ ] I have met and/or talked to Neil Gaiman/Terry Pratchett(RIP)/the actors outside of social media (mail and cons count, Tumblr does not) specifically about the book or later, the show. [ ] I have hosted a Good Omens themed event (wedding, birthday party, con, baby shower, etc). One point for each event.

[ ] The amount of text I’ve written (fics, metas, song lyrics, poems, whatever) is equal to or greater than the amount of text in the book. Points: [ ] of 6 + [ ] bonus points --- GOD'S FAVORITE-LEVEL [ ] Michael Sheen retweeted you or referenced something of yours in any way. This one is worth 25 lazerii, which is more than all the other points combined. You only need this one checked to have 100% fatal Good Omens brainrot. --- Total points: [ ] of 48 + [ ] bonus points = [ ] points SCORE 1 - 3 points: Why did you take this test? Go do something better with your life, you don't belong here. Enjoy your freedom, the lightness in your heart and the fresh breeze upon your unbothered, youthful face. 3 - 6 points: I bet you still know how to feel happiness. It's still time, you can turn this around. I suggest you just leave this now, and come back whenever you see an ad for season 3. Let yourself be happy in the meantime. 6 - 16 points: You've ventured into dangerous territory, but none of your loved ones have realized you have a problem yet. And you might not... The lines are blurred here. You can still come off as an adjusted person when you talk about the show or anything related to it. 16 - 23 points: A scan of your brain reveals that almost 20% of your prefrontal cortex has rotted away. Friends and family have a negative kneejerk reaction to any mention of Good Omens related subjects. You spend most of your free time on your phone, browsing Good Omens media. The only possible cure at this point, would be a new hyperfixation. 23 - 36 points: 33 % of your total brain volume has been affected. The rot has infected almost every area, and trying to introduce any unrelated hyperfixation causes anxiety, confusion and depression. Doctors are baffled to discover that there is a fungi growing from the rot - it seems to connect with your brain, allowing for an extreme learning curve should you hyperfixate on any subject in any way related to Good Omens. If you ever wanted to read up on Shakespeare, this would be the time to do that. 36 - 48 points: 89% of your brain is affected by rot and mostly replaced by fungi - the only uninfected areas are the reptilian brain (the words 'reptilian brain' reminded you of Crowley) and the medulla, which means it hasn't affected your breathing and your instinctive reactions. You still flinch when cars almost hit you, as you wander aimlessly roadside - lost in thoughts about Good Omens. 48 - ?? points: I'm here if you need to talk. No therapist will understand this without labeling it as a severe breach with reality. (I mean, excuse me - the show is right there on Amazon Prime, it’s real.) The medical field is far behind, years and years will go by before they recognize your diagnosis; 100% fatal Good Omens brainrot. It controls your breathing, your heart rate - everything. This condition is fatal because it lasts until you die, and then you'll have a Good Omens themed funeral. 25 lazerii: How does it feel to be loved by God?

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Serial killers, murders, blood, referencing to infidelity,

A/N: This has been something I have been thinking about for a while. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Spencer did not realize that someone could know more about anything intellectual than he did. It honestly baffled him, when Hotch called him into the office, to introduce the two of you. 

“Spencer this is Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, Doctor Y/L/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

He gave you a small smile, and a slightly awkward wave. You were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, an absolute plus to the fact that you were intelligent. He was captivated by your eyes but quickly coughed and looked back at Hotch. 

“Doctor Y/L/N—”

“Please Agent, call me by my first name after the initial introductions, Doctor makes me feel a tad bit ridiculous after like the second time.” You couldn’t have been more than twenty four, Reid deduced. 

Hotch smiled at you, nodding. “Please, call me Aaron, or Hotch, I feel the same way about agent. Reid,” He turned towards Reid. “Y/N, is going to be a consultant on this next case, and you two will be working closely together.”

Reid was suddenly excited by the prospect of working with a consultant. He usually dreaded them, but something about you made him excited to actually be able to converse intellectually with someone on the team. 

But luckily for Morgan, you were not what anyone was expecting. You all had boarded the jet, sitting around and chatting since you had a long flight from DC to Oregon, not really willing to get into the details of the case just yet. 

“So, Doctor Y/L/N, what made you choose Shakespeare?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Agent Morgan, if you keep using my official title, you’re going to be talking to the wall. Wanna try again?” 

His jaw dropped slightly, enjoying the banter you were providing. Derek Morgan was far from ugly, far from it. But he simply wasn’t your type. But that did not mean you couldn’t flirt back. 

“Well then, Miss Y/N, why Shakespeare.” 

You smiled, “Shakespeare is just another language. And I already speak French, Arabic, Spanish, some Latin, a little Greek, and I’m learning enough Mandarin and Cantonese to get by on my next trip to China. So understanding Shakespeare from a linguistic point, I’ve already got covered. Especially since it was something I could read easily from a young age.” 

JJ and Emily had stopped their conversation and turned to face you, eagerly listening in to what you have to say. 

“But, from a theatrical point, his writing is so incredibly intricate. There are layers upon layers of text and context and subtext throughout all of his plays and sonnets, not to mention the fact that Shakespeare can be transformed, moved from one thing to another incredibly easily. You have to factor in that he was a misogynist, anti semitic, probably-most-definitely racist, among all of the other things, but adapting his works throughout time is something I have a special interest in, particularly his portrayal of woman and how that has been changed throughout productions over the years, mainly focusing in comedies and this strange need for him to have happy endings end in weddings.”

The jet was all staring at you, while a smirk slowly slid onto Derek’s face. “Looks like you got some competition here, Pretty Boy.” 

You shrugged at Derek, and looked back at your phone. “I appreciate competition more than meaningless run-around conversations Derek. If you’re going to profile me, then just profile me. Or google me really. There’s no need to prod and pretend like you’re not trying to find out whether or not I’m single. If you wanted to ask me out, you should just ask me out.” 

Jaws on the plane dropped. Derek tried to stutter out a response but was cut off by Emily, smirking over at him. “Besides consulting on murder cases, what do you actually do with a PhD in Shakespeare?”

You looked up at Emily and shrugged. “Whatever I really want to do. It’s just flexible enough that I can bullshit a job I want and take it, excluding present company. Usually I consult in England with the Globe Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company, I also guest lecture Shakespeare for younger audiences, like high schoolers and first years in college because I’m still young enough that I could be considered nerdy by a high schooler, but have college freshmen not be able to talk to me because I’m just good enough to get away with it.”

“What did you get your undergrad in?” Spencer spoke for the first time to you since you met him, you smiled a little bit. 

“No one really asks me that.” You looked over at Spencer. “I have a bachelors in Directing with minors in English Literature, French, and Classics, and then I went on and got my Masters in Art History, since the visual aspect of the Arts is what interests me so much.” 

Rossi nodded, “Makes sense considering I’ve seen your thesis–very impressive.” 

“What did you write about?” JJ looked over at you. 

“I��” You started but Rossi interrupted you. “Actually, if any of you had done any research, or were familiar with the Theatrical Arts, you would know that her thesis was an incredibly well-received production of Hamlet that delved into the female psyche and experience.” 

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I-I didn’t think you, any of you would have even known that. Let alone had time to go and see my production?”

“Well, I have a fondness for the arts.” 

You shook your head. “Or incredible timing.” 

“Wha–timing?” JJ scoffed. 

“Well,it’s— the program was in London, and it was only running for a few weeks…”

“Rossi when the hell did you go to London?” Derek finally spoke up, slightly captivated by you, but not in the way Reid was. You were something else, something completely new, which meant he could learn, and you were something he wanted to learn everything about. 

“Well, right before I rejoined the BAU, I did a lecturing series over at Scotland Yard, and everyone had been discussing this production by the youngest female director to ever direct at the Bridge Theatre. I loved your use of, what were they, silks?” 

You nodded, slightly embarrassed, mostly in awe. 

“Ah yes, your usage of silks and the columns. I was on the floor, part of the cattle that was moved around. Very innovative use of that space, very impressive.” 

“I’d have to agree.” Hotch spoke up, and you turned to look at him, eyes even wider than before. He smiled at the look on your face. “When we got this case, and we were requesting you as a consultant, I watched the recording. Very good work Y/n.”

“W-wow, um, thank you so much Age–Hotch. I really appreciate it–from the both of you.” You smiled at him and Rossi. 

“I would love to hear all about this production, if you don’t mind me asking.” Emily slid across the aisle, taking the seat across from you, JJ doing the same, crowding Derek. 

“Well, as Rossi said, it was about the female experience, and my Hamlet, was absolutely incredible, really took on the queer aspect of the role since Ophelia was still a woman, and–” You explained the concept, the design, the thought behind all of it. Every single person on the plane was simply obsessed with you by the time you were done, asking questions when they were curious. It confounded Spencer how he had never really paid attention to that section of the world of academia, and he was almost beating himself up over it, because he had missed you this whole time. 

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

“Eyes look your last, Arms take your—this is Romeo’s death monologue before he stabs himself. And this other one, is ‘Be buried quick with her, and so will I’, which is Hamlet trying to fight Laertes after he learns of Ophelia’s death…And..this is the one from this morning ” You turned to the sheriff who was just trying to make sense of the fact that you just were able to comprehend and relay Shakespearean information after reading the images of the victim's blood used on the walls, so calmly. “Sheriff?”

“Sorry, yes. Yes” 

You frowned a bit, “They’re getting more violent. This is Brutus finding out Portia is dead–’with meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now…”

Reid looked over at you, “All of them are the men’s reactions to the death of their beloved.” 

You nodded and sighed. “That means, uh…If he has a list,” You walked over to the white board and started writing the names of the fictional couples on it. “He still has Antony and Cleopatra…Macbeth and Lady Macbeth,,,,and….”

“And what?” The sheriff looked between you and Reid, as you turned a little white. “The um. The last couple dealing with murder/suicide of each other is, uh, Othello.”

Hotch gave you a look. “Explain.” 

“What do you know about Othello?” 

Hotch furrowed his brow.

You took his silence as permission to ramble. “It’s just a theory but, it’s regarded as not only one of the most tragic endings to lovers, even beyond the stupid miscommunications of Romeo and Juliet, because Othello kills his wife, believing she had cheated on him, suffocating her to death on their marriage bed, and then once he realizes he’s been tricked by Iago, he kills himself next to her body. It’s horrendous.”

“If I had to guess, He’s forcing the husbands to kill their wives, and then he kills them..” Spencer followed up, analyzing the pictures across the tables. “Based on the way they were positioned—he’s setting them up as a series of muder-suicides, just like Shakespeare.” 

“Actually.” You picked up one of the pictures and handed it to Hotch. “I think it’s a woman.” 

“You just stole Reid’s line.” Derek mused from the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee, which you gratefully accepted. 

Reid huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not my line.” 

“It is.” Hotch said dryly as he analyzed what you had just told him. “Y/n, can you please get me a list of the monologues left, so we can try and figure out who might be his next victims, so we can try and link the victims we do have.” 

You nodded and sat down at your laptop. It was bugging you slightly at how much you enjoyed working on this case, working with the BAU, working with Doctor Reid. 

This was the most action your PhD had seen since you had written it. 

Part 2

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 11.

Summary: It's good to finally getting back home to Saltburn. There's just a few things to work out, such as where Oliver's staying, and why.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: implications of child neglect

A/N: 3989 words. I think about Jacob Elordi saying that Felix would have Artic Monkeys on his personal playlist, about once a day. um okay so not only is this uneditd, but i definitely got very drunk halfway through it, so that's.... that. (im drunk as i publish this) BUT WE'RE AT SALTBURN AND OLLIE GETS HERE TOMORROW!! (which means the next chapter, which dw will be tomorrow irl) ((is this anything?? im worried its ooc please feedback??))

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

There is no reverence in you anymore for the castle in the countryside that is Saltburn.

Once it had towered before you, trembling, a child alone in every way that mattered until the doors opened before you. Saltburn was a haven away from the bitter hypocrisy of both expectations and apathy, though it took you quite some time to learn as much. At first, there was reverence; Saltburn was the place where every script you'd learned to smile through, every societal expectation you'd been trained to uphold, would be put to the test.

And if you couldn't keep up, if you messed up in this holy house in the face of their kind smiles, you were sure their gazes would turn blank with inevitable disappointment.

But that was years ago.

And mistakes made you interesting, your quirks made them laugh, and Saltburn became less holy each Summer as you found it to be far more human.

It's what occupies your mind for the entire trip back to Saltburn, with you and Felix sharing an earbud each from his iPod, and Farleigh reading - pointedly not not ignoring Felix after he'd found out the news.

You wonder what Oliver will see in the house; the sum of it's parts, or each room and inch of the grounds as their own storage space for memories worth so much more.

Felix hums along under his breath like nothing in the world could ever worry him. Farleigh licks the tip of his finger, glancing with ire at his cousin for just a moment before turning the page of his book. Play. You squint at the cover; Richard the Third. Shakespeare. Farleigh holds the play up further to hide the rest of his face from you both.

You'll get to the station before midday, and a town car will be waiting for you all. Most of your things from Oxford are on their way to a storage facility in the city for the Summer, but you've still got a few precious things you're bringing back to the estate in a suitcase a the front of the carriage, and a bag overhead.

Felix has been trying to look nonchalant and look out the window for a good part of the trip now, but he keeps glancing at you with a strange look.

"Does this change us?"

This time, you make sure to catch his gaze before you reach for the iPod. Most of the ride has been on shuffle, quiet otherwise between you two, if not for his humming, or yours. Flipping through the few albums he had saved, you clicked through to the one you had been looking for. The sunshine is beating down on him just outside the window, almost directly overhead, shining on him and everyone in behind him in the window seats, painting them in sharp relief if they had their curtains open.

You pressed play on You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights But You Were Staring Straight at Me by the Artic Monkeys.

Felix, who knows and loves the song, can't look at you. Actually, properly can't look at you, hiding his embarrassed smile behind his hand as he forced himself to look out the window.

And you hum along, grinning, leaning just past him to also focus your gaze out the window.

"Stop that," he mumbles under his breath from behind his hand, clearly still smiling. All you do is continue to hum along as the band thrashes along in your heads. After a moment, you slide the iPod towards him, as if taunting him, daring him to change the song himself.

"- they're not half as bad as me," you sing under your breath. Felix is turning pink around the ears, but flips the iPod over onto it's face, letting the rest of the song play out, "say anything and I'll agree -" your smile grows wider and you sit back, but continue to hum.

If Farleigh's judging either of you, he doesn't lower his book enough to indicate as much.

The town car ride back to the estate was far more eventful, as the three of you began to properly discuss Oliver's impending arrival. Apparently he hadn't thought much about packing up his room at Oxford, what little there apparently was to pack up, so he was taking the extra day students were allotted to gather himself together for the Summer. That meant one night at Saltburn before he'd be there.

"I actually, genuine can't believe you sometimes," Farleigh had started two separate tirades in the past twelve hours exactly like this, and both about Oliver. It was no secret what this third was going to be about, "you honestly couldn't give me six weeks of peace? Six weeks?"

"You'll have plenty of peace, mate," Felix had insisted, eyes wide and pleading with his irate cousin, "and honestly, I think you'll really start to warm up to him."

"I appreciate that your optimism springs fucking eternal, Felix, but -"

"No, seriously, give him a chance outside of all the academics and what everyone else thinks," Felix was beginning to plead for a moment, all big brown eyes and imploring tone of voice. Farleigh, however, was not as well swayed as the rest of the world would be by his theatrics.

"I'm not going to play nice with your little -"

"Hey, he might be into that," you cut Farleigh off before he could say something too incendiary, but Felix still cast his frown between you both.

"Not helping, Y/N," he admonished, turning back on Farleigh who was suddenly overcome with mild revulsion at your implications. When Felix wasn't looking, you wiggled your eyebrows at him suggestively, teasingly adding to the bit. He fake-gagged, much to Felix's disappointment.

It wasn't a long journey, however, and soon enough the three of you were pulling into Saltburn, and there was something amusing about the collective sigh of relief you all shared once the door opened.

"Feels like ages since we've been back," Felix stretches, leaving his bags for the chauffer and doormen, as did you. Farleigh made a start towards the trunk of the car before the chauffer climbed out, giving him a confused look and he thought better of it.

"Christmas, right?" Farleigh stuck his hands into his pockets, sauntering up the steps beside you all, gazing up at the large, blue doors.

"Duncan taking his time," Felix muttered under his breath after a moment, to which you grinned.

"Probably wants to keep them closed on us as long as possible," though just as you say that, as Farleigh and Felix snicker, the doors creak open, and there, gaunt as you've ever seen him, Duncan somehow manages to loom impressively large, even as you've grown into an adult.

"Master Felix," he nods to each of you with the same stern civility he's always carried, "Master Farleigh, Captain Y/N." You nod in turn, voice turning cordial as you greet him warmly, despite your two companions barging through ahead of you.

"Duncan, always lovely to see you," you incline your head towards him the way you always have, and for a brief moment he allows himself a faint, but genuine smile.

"God, you're so fucking weird sometimes!" Farleigh calls over his shoulder at you. You roll your eyes, but Duncan is stone-walling again, so you slip past him to catch up. In time to hear Farleigh's voice lower and ask, "have you told your mother yet?" Felix makes a face.

"I texted her before we got on the train," it sounds uncomfortable, "she sent me an incomprehensibly long text back which I only got when we had service again. I think she's fine with it."

Farleigh hangs his head, his last defence against Oliver's impending arrival foiled. After a beat, he forced a smile, sliding up to get in step beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Oh, we're gonna be best friends this summer," he tells you, as if you have no say in it, "you, me, and my fucking weed guy -"

"Say it fucking louder why don't you," Felix rolled his eyes, but you simply shook your head at the altercation, wrapping your arm around Farleigh's middle and giving him a squeeze.

"You're impossible, Farleigh," you told him, "and so lucky I love you."

Farleigh quietly cheers for what small triumph he had won, before both you and him look to Felix's vaguely sceptical expression, taking in the both of you.

"It's a fair trade," Farleigh told him easily, "you get your new best friend Oliver -" still yet to say the name without disdain, you note, "- I get Y/N."

"I did also promise Venetia I'd spend some time with her," you chime in, but Farleigh can't help himself but snort.

"You sure she won't pick a fancy for Oliver too?" You can hear his lip curl, but Felix pulls ahead where he's been casually leading you all through the house to his room. You can't see his expression.

"Fuck off, Farleigh -" you start, coldly pulling away from him, but Felix's tone is light, almost forcibly casual as he cuts you off.

"Ollie's lovely but I don't think he's much of her type."

"Everyone's Venetia's type," Farleigh spits, unable to stop himself from putting his foot in his mouth. The implication hangs in the air for a long few seconds before Farleigh catches himself. The unneeded reminder. The real reason for the sudden coldness. Felix turns, smiling bright with nothing behind his eyes as he cheerfully tells Farleigh -

"You know where your room is, right?" And says he's going to rest before hunting down the rest of the family amongst the estate. Farleigh meekly nods, and departs from you both. Both you and Felix follow him with your eyes; Felix's smile doesn't drop before the door closes behind him, and it's the two of you in the blue room, alone.

And you know he's thinking about Eddie.

You wish Farleigh knew how to keep his mouth closed, how to stop pressing buttons when he always knew what they did.

"Where's Ollie going to be staying?"

Felix's eyes flash to you, and you wonder if it were the right or wrong question. Is there a question in this moment that isn't loaded? Is there a question you could ask that wouldn't make him think of Eddie right now?

Eddie had stayed in Felix's room. In Felix's bed. At least he was supposed to. But Oliver wasn't Eddie, so he needed his own space.

Oliver was different to Eddie, you reminded yourself, and hoped that Felix was thinking it too. That was good. That was good.

"Dunno," Felix finally admitted with a sigh, draping himself over the cream sofa, looking up at the ornate ceiling. You sat on the stool for the broken piano, lifted the lid and idly played a few notes, listening to the little hammers in the instrument tap uselessly against broken strings.

"Vennie wouldn't do that again, would she?" Felix muttered so quietly you almost miss it. He doesn't call his sister Vennie often; you know he's dwelling, he's hurting the way he tries to pretend like he doesn't.

"Farleigh's talking shit because it's his job at this point," you tell Felix flatly, and he angles his head towards you, even if it looks like it hurts, so you see him contemplating, "but Ollie isn't Eddie."

Something lights up in the back of your mind as you read faint disappointment on Felix's face as he processes your words. Nodding, he sighs again, looking up at the ceiling.

"Last night was fucking beautiful," Felix's tone turns wistful; he hasn't told you properly about what happened between him and Oliver, but clearly it went well, "I hope Ollie likes it here." Then, closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath before offering, "I've been meaning to thank you, actually," he admits. You shift from the piano stool to sit on the arm of the sofa he was laying across, "for giving me space to spend those moments with Ollie last night."

His face scrunches up a little, then, as if sensing you by his head, he cracks an eye open. Slowly, almost embarrassed, he starts to smile.

"He's like you, you know?" He says gently, before he really considers what he means, and his face falls; you watch, you wait patiently, "can't go home ever again," apology in his eyes, "that's what he said to me."

There's that love, that desire to do good, to be good, that Felix has always craved. He's in his own head, all kinds of thoughtful and melancholy that he often isn't around the rest of the world. Felix shuffles himself over on the plush, wide sofa, making himself as small as possible, and you know it's an invitation. One that you take. It's awkward, but he holds you tightly so you won't fall off.

You wonder if he even realises that you're there, that you're in his arms and listening to the way his thoughts spill out of him from a moment of connection he craves but doesn't often get. If you're so much of his mental wallpaper that holding you like this, the way you listen, the way you are so gentle in these moments, if you're more like a simple diary, an easy, comfortable way to get these thoughts out of his head without the fear of his secrets being spilled upon someone who might use them against him.

"I don't think I'll ever understand not being able to come home," Felix admits softly, "I can't even wrap my head around how Ollie became the man he is with parents like that; and after all he's gone through, for this to be straw, the thing that means he'd rather live in a world alone than be around the people - person - who was mean to love and protect him and yet failed him over, and over, and over again? He's so bloody strong for how long he's gone through it all."

Swallowing hard, you're surprised by the way your eyes are clouding over. Trying not to break the moment, you press your face against his chest; Felix doesn't seem to notice, still trapped in his own thoughts, but he instinctively holds you a little tighter.

"'Home' doesn't mean the same for you as it does for me," Felix whispers softly, almost to himself, and it hits you square in the chest. The tears start to come, and you can feel them dampening his shirt, "that's what he'd said to me," oh, Felix hadn't even realised you were crying.

It takes another half a minute before he even seems to realise something is wrong, but you assured him you were fine, that you were just very glad that Oliver would be staying here instead for the Summer. He'd almost connected the dots at the start of the conversation, but now he couldn't seem to see them.

Still, you knew Felix, and you weren't sure if his heart could handle making you cry twice in two days. So you lie, and he lets it go.

Felix is sitting up and stretching, his mood having improved for having voiced his thoughts it seems, and you're drying your eyes when the door to the Blue Room opens.

"Darlings, Duncan just let me know you'd arrived and were on your way to freshen up before the afternoon," Elspeth was as bright and flighty as always, looking between you both, "so glad I caught you both." Felix is the first on his feet, warmly greeting his mother with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which she returned in kind. Seeing your red-rimmed eyes, she's immediately concerned, but you brush it off quickly, telling her that you and Felix were simply discussing Oliver's situation and that you were incredibly excited to have him joining you all. She, of course, lit up at that.

"It will be such a treat, if I'm to believe my darling son," and of course she is to believe darling Felix, everyone at Saltburn always did. His admiration was worth it's weight in gold to the people who loved him, Elspeth especially. She latches onto the elbow he doesn't offer and you're left to catch up to them as they make their way through the familiar rooms to Felix's, her voice filling the space all the while.

"You must tell me all about dear Oliver," Elspeth insists; she, like her son, was made for Saltburn. She catches the light, beautiful and timeless and made to live amongst its timeless walls. Your face still feels hot; you don't know why but you feel out of place - home doesn't mean the same thing for you as it does for me - Felix pet's his mother's hand on his arm and assures him that she'll love Oliver. He's thoughtful. He's gentle. He's beautiful. Her eyes shine; even his mother is not immune to his light.

"Now, I hope you don't mind," Elspeth begins when the three of you get to the long gallery before Felix's room, "but it was rather last minute, so it's been something of a rush to get everything ready -"

"Get what ready?" Felix asks, and you watch them like a play, like a film, like a third party without any kind of say.

"I thought it would be best if Oliver stayed in the room attached to yours," Elspeth said, and it takes a moment, but you feel your stomach drop. This was worse than last Summer; at least then you had your own room.

"Y/N's room?" There's some victory to be taken in the way Felix seems ready to fight for you in this matter.

"Oliver is a guest, dear," Elspeth didn't even look at you in this moment, "we didn't want to have him set up, all alone, on the other side of the house." She smiles, and gives a fond, if condescending look over her shoulder to you, "you'll be alright, won't you sweetheart? It's just a bedroom, it's not a big deal." You try and smile, and nod, and be placating -

"They can stay with me," Felix insisted, "sleep over, like when we were kids." For a moment, he looks to you. The nod he gives is solid, is reassuring; it eases your heart.

"I don't know if that'd be appropriate."

Elspeth knows. Everyone fucking knows. No-one will say it, but it effects every damn thing they do. How they treat you. You know this, but no-one talks about it out loud.

Saltburn thrives on the unspoken.

"Why not?" Felix forces his mother's hand, "Y/N's my best mate, has been for years, we share a bed all the time." And Elspeth is too polite to do anything but concede, and lets you both know with a faint, awkward smile that your things will be moved to Felix's room before the day is out.

"And Y/N, darling," she does finally, properly acknowledge you, taking both your hands in hers, kissing you on both cheeks, "it's wonderful to see you, of course, so glad to have you home."

Home.

You smile warmly at her. After a beat, however, she casts a faint frown to the window.

"And I feel I'd be remis not to tell you that Venetia is refusing to get out of the pool until you go down and join her."

"Oh," there's an amused kind of warmth that blooms in your chest at that, at being sought after and missed; Felix rolls his eyes but it's fond, "how long has she been there?"

"Not long before you arrived," Elspeth gives a genuine, warm smile, clearly either wilfully or genuinely ignorant about the nature of your relationship with her daughter, "please just take it as a sign that we have all missed you dearly."

She leaves you both to it, reminding you of when supper was to be held, as if the time ever changed, and you and Felix quietly made your way into his room. Your room.

You watch from the doorway as your best friend breathes in familiarity of it all. His childhood bedroom, always left immaculate and untouched, a museum to him whenever he was away from the house. A place of so many of your firsts, yet never a place you'd really called your own. Felix falls onto the bed, face-first, swearing muffled by his expensive duvet.

"Every bloody person's determined to get on my nerves today," Felix sighed, flipping himself over, legs hanging off the end of the bed. "Not you, you don't count," he adds idly, flicking his wrist in your general direction, but still managing to warm your heart, "I'm glad Ollie's staying close by, but can you believe she thought you'd stay anywhere but here?" He sounded genuinely miffed, finally turning to look at you. When he sees the abashed way you're smiling at him, his frustration drops, "what?" He can't help but match your softness in this moment, and you shake your head, trying to tell him it's nothing. "It's not nothing, look at you," he insisted brightly; your smile widened, as if on cue, "you were getting teary thinking about Ollie just minutes ago; go on, what's on your mind now. Is it Venetia?"

"'s not Venetia," you insisted, finally joining him in the room, sitting yourself on the edge of the bed looking around.

Your room; the room you share with Felix, and so close to Oliver too.

"It's our room, isn't it?" It's like he can read your damn mind, practically giggling like a high schooler at the mere thoughts of what the two of you were bound to get up to.

"You were so insistent," you finally teased, grinning wide and leaning back against him, "it's almost like you like me or something."

"That's fucking lies and slander!" Felix crows, your head on his chest, "I'll sue you for that -" but you're already moving, straddling him, pinning his hands to the bed either side of his head as you grin down at him.

"Felix Catton's sharing his bed, call the tabloids!" You teased, leaning in, and when he captures your lips in a kiss, it's like he wants you to taste how sharp his amusement is. He bites and teases and frees his hands to pull you in. Quickly everything shifts and moves and there's something possessive about the way he kisses you, holds you, has you under him and pinned and breathless before you realise what had happened.

"You think I'd let mum kick you out like that?" His pupils are blown so wide with want you think they could swallow you whole in this moment; "never want you that far away if I can help it," it comes out as a breathless admission, almost like it escaped him, like he's caught up in the moment, and you never want him to stop talking to you like this, "can't say that at Oxford - fuck Oxford," he mumbles, his lips on your neck in the next instance. His teeth sting without breaking the skin, sucking with intent to leave an ache that would remind you of him every time you touched it for the next few days.

"Us and Ollie," his lips are gentle when he kisses across your chest, your collar bones, "I'm sure between the three of us we'll end up getting into proper tabloid trouble," you can feel his smirk, and there's something electrifying about the possibilities you find yourself considering.

"Us and Ollie," you agree with a roughish grin. Felix captures your mouth once more in a kiss, matching your energy, your enthusiasm, but adds, "Ollie tomorrow."

And at that, you remember; giddy laughter escapes you.

"Our room," you can't help but remind him, and Felix's grin stretches wider.

"Venetia can wait for you a little longer."

[genericpuff]

You should watch Jack vs. Webtoons video on Lore Olympus before it gets wrongfully taken down.

His video pointed out something I wasn’t able to put into words until now. Lore Olympus has a real bad dialect problem. One second the characters are talking like they’re in a Shakespeare play which makes sense, sense they’re gods or what not. The next second you’ll have characters saying shit like “blue balls” “clout chaser” and “you’ve got a young wife with a fat ass”. It probably wouldn’t bother me if certain people talked a certain way like how Hera doesn’t use any slang and how Hermes uses some but all the characters vocabulary are the exact same.

Honestly I can look past the art and it’s inconsistencies but having dialect jump from regal to tiktok facebook slang makes my brain hurt more than glossy lipped Hades and bug eyed Persephone.

I checked it out, it's pretty great haha and yesss this is something that's been discussed before but I haven't really ever made a post about, the dialogue is CONSTANTLY flip-flopping between royal talk and "hello fellow teens" quipping. Sometimes it feels like it's trying to be like Marvel and then other times it feels like it's trying to be Bridgerton. I can think of no better example than all of the "pedigree" talk, it makes me squirm every time I read it because in the modern context of LO, it SCREAMS eugenics. The whole B-grade goddess thing made sense, until they started talking about Persephone like a poodle:

But then you ALSO get INCREDIBLY stiff dialogue that makes it seem like the comic is either being written by AI or Rachel is actually a real life version of Michael Afton post-scoop:

And yes, there is a tinfoil hat theory that LO is being written by bots at this point because I don't know how a single person could write something so tonally confused. That said, I do think the more reasonable explanation is that Rachel is likely copying dialogue from shows and movies she's watching and just tweaking it slightly before slapping it into LO. She's not observing why the dialogue works in the media she likes, she just knows she likes it and slaps it in there without any regard for context, tone of voice, or personality.

And that leads to, as you said, all the characters sounding the exact same, and that metric by which they all sound the same changes all the time. I think at this point the only reason we haven't seen Hera dropping TikTok language is because she hasn't been onscreen long enough for her to get the chance LMAO That said, we've definitely gotten some weird inconsistent dialogue with Hera as well:

(like she's essentially saying the exact same thing across both of these panels but one is being said by an adult and the other is being said by a teenager lmao)

I think the dialogue is definitely one of the most glaring issues with LO, among all of its other problems. It just never feels like it's being written by a human, there are problems with this even as far back as S1 but it's become especially apparent in S2 onwards.

To finish off this ask, here's one of my favorite dialogue mishaps in the entire series, from S1, in which Apollo literally adopts an askew English accent:

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I’d love to hear your take on the rumour that Meghan wanted to sue for/believed the Duchy of Cornwall should be split 50/50 between the brothers and whether you believe there was any truth in it?

Initially I thought no one is this delulu but now I am not so sure…

So one of the things I’ve learned in tracking/following BRF rumors is that most of them have some truth to them. To me, that’s what makes this fun; digging as deep as I can to find out what that little modicum of truth is that makes it seem plausible.

I don’t know that the rumor Meghan wanted to sue for 50% of the Duchy of Cornwall is legit. For one, no lawyer (in their right mind) would take that case because it’s pretty settled in the law how succession and inheritance works. But never say never, right, because there’s always an ambulance chaser sniffing around. (That’s why Shakespeare said we need to kill all the lawyers first.)

But there are three things I see as being behind her (and Harry’s) belief that the Sussexes would get a cut of the Cornwall money.

One - Inheritance vs Succession

I do think she, and Harry, believed that they could get some kind of money from the Duchy of Cornwall because they probably saw it more as an inheritance, rather than succession. So usually with an inheritance, it’s split between children/relatives, so Meghan probably assumed that Cornwall would be split between William and Harry because it’s Charles giving away an inheritance versus laws about succession. (I’m not sure if that makes sense. I don’t really know how else to explain what I’m thinking about that.)

But it goes back to Diana’s insistence that the brothers be raised equally, and at some point there was probably a conversation or two where “everything William gets, Harry gets” implanted in Harry’s brain and he has really taken that to heart over the years, probably spurred on by Meghan’s own ambitions of “everything Kate gets, I should have too.”

Two - Magnificent Six

Charles’s ‘Magnificent Six’ plan/vision kicked off in 2012 with the jubilee - that the future of the monarchy was Charles, William, and Harry and their wives. William and Kate would focus more on the UK and Harry and his future wife would focus more on the Commonwealth. I feel pretty confident that those discussions Charles was having with his sons and the courtiers at that time would have included some kind of discussion about the finances and how the Commonwealth work would be funded. Maybe during those discussions something came up like because Harry + Future Wife would live at Kensington Palace alongside William and Kate, it made sense that his work would continue to be represented by Kensington Palace instead of being shifted over to Buckingham Palace so maybe there was some kind of deal that a portion of the Cornwall money would continue being allocated to Harry because if the arrangement worked, why break it?

(Remember, back when these discussions were taking place, 2009ish - 2013ish, Meghan wasn’t anywhere close to the picture so there probably were a lot of things promised to Harry, or that Harry expected, that were ultimately taken away when he did marry and Meghan did join the family because of attitude/behavior issues affecting the monarchy’s overall reputation and representation.)

Three - General Not Understanding of These Things

Look, neither Meghan nor Harry are details people. So chances are extraordinarily high that they never bothered to actually read the papers or understand the laws about how the titles, succession, transition, and accession actually worked. They just assumed that everything would stay the same or that they would also get Wales titles too. And we know that’s what they assumed because of all the PR the Sussexes kept putting out in the second half of 2022; stories about how they wanted to start using “Prince Harry and Princess Meghan of Wales” titles - someone out there in Montecito thought that “of Wales” meant children of the monarch, not that it was its own separate title/position.

And I wouldn’t be surprised if that lack of understanding (or sheer ignorance) also came with a heavy delusion that “inheriting” Charles’s “of Wales” surname also came with “inheriting” Charles’s money too.

So I guess long story short, the delusion is rooted in reality. It’s just a matter of figuring out what reality it is. Was there legitimately a plan for William to continue supporting Harry’s office post-accession with Cornwall money the same way Charles supported both of the sons with Cornwall money? Or did Harry promise

[smilingformoney]

Icebreaker | Alexander Dane/Reader

I. Never Meet Your Heroes

Summary: As a budding actress and a big fan of Alexander Dane, all your dreams are coming true when you land a role in Galaxy Quest opposite your favourite actor. To your disappointment, Alexander doesn't seem to like you very much - but unbeknownst to you, he's trying desperately to ignore his attraction to you.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

You were almost vibrating with excitement on your first day on set.

You hadn’t taken part in the table read, as your casting was so last minute, so this was your first time meeting the cast and your first time playing the scene would be when the cameras were rolling. You were nervous, but you didn’t mind - you’d spent plenty of time as a theatre understudy, so you were used to playing a scene against someone you hadn’t rehearsed with. What you weren’t used to, however, was playing against such famous names.

If that weren’t enough, your main scene partner was to be none other than Alexander Dane, who just so happened to be your favourite actor in the world.

You wouldn’t quite say you were obsessed with him, but you had seen all his films, and you’d even managed to see him perform Shakespeare in London once, though you’d missed out on seeing him at the stage door. You also had a poster from his performance as Richard III on your wall, and hidden away in notebooks you’d never shared with anyone were fanfictions you’d written about his Galaxy Quest character, mostly involving romances between Dr Lazarus and characters you’d made up that totally weren’t stand-ins for yourself.

And now… you were actually going to play a love interest to Lazarus!

All your dreams were coming true. Your first TV role, in Galaxy Quest, with Alexander Dane, playing Lazarus’ love interest!

You absolutely, resolutely, could not fuck this up.

Your character’s name was Bethany, a fellow member of the Mak’Tar race, who, like Lazarus, believed herself to be the last of the race until she and Lazarus meet by chance and the two are faced with the question of whether they should procreate to repopulate their species.

On your arrival, you met with the production assistant, who led you to hair and make-up to be fitted with a cap similar to the one Alexander wore to make yourself look like an alien.

You were almost done, your hair now completely hidden by the cap and the last of your make-up being applied, when the door was thrown open and none other than Alexander Dane stepped through and sat himself down in the chair next to yours, completely ignoring you, which was fortunate because it gave you an opportunity to close your mouth when you gaped at him.

“Let’s get this blasted thing on quickly, Lena, I want to get today over with,” Alexander grumbled.

Lena, the make-up artist, rolled her eyes and continued working on you with hardly a flinch at Alexander’s abrasive attitude.

“I’m nearly done here, Alexander, then I’ll be with you.”

Alexander looked over and seemed to finally notice you. He frowned, then saw the matching cap on your head, and rolled his eyes.

“They’re going ahead with this bloody plotline, then,” he grumbled, then immediately grabbed a magazine from the dresser and stuck his nose in it.

You hadn’t said a word, and yet somehow you felt like you’d managed to fuck up your meeting with him.

“Don’t mind him, [Y/n],” said Lena, apparently completely unaffected by Alexander’s grumpiness. “He’s always like this. I must be his least favourite person on set because I’m the one who puts his cap on.”

“Third least,” Alexander replied from behind his magazine. “After Jason and Frank.”

“Jason Nesmith, he plays Taggart,” Lena explained to you. “And —”

“Frank Ross, the creator, I assume,” you finished.

Lena smiled. “You’ve done your homework!”

“I watch the show, I know who created it.”

Alexander groaned and lowered his magazine to finally look at you, albeit via the mirror. “Great, they hired another fan. When did this show stop hiring actors?”

“I can be both!” you said defensively. “Besides, what’s wrong with hiring fans? There’s no point in creating art if you don’t love it.”

“Pfft. I’d hardly call this show art. It’s nothing but meaningless drivel, and this episode’s no different, so don’t flatter yourself into thinking you’re creating something great just because you’re on TV.”

“All done!” Lena announced, ignoring Alexander, and she stepped aside to let you examine yourself in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Wow, that is weird,” you laughed, turning your head to the side to examine your new alien look. “You can’t even tell I’ve got hair underneath! I look pretty good, actually, maybe I’ll shave my head after this.”

Alexander scoffed. “Take the cap with you, make it a new fashion trend.”

“Right, Alexander, it’s your turn!” Lena announced, and the actor just sighed.

“Fine, let’s get it over with.”

Lena gave you directions to the costume department and you left feeling even more anxious than before about your scenes with Alexander Dane.

---

Although your background was in theatre, you knew from industry knowledge that in film and TV, scenes were never filmed in order. So it was a surprise to you that your first scene of the day was actually your first scene of the episode. Your character Bethany was locked in a futuristic alien zoo, gaped at daily by an alien species that marvelled at “the last Mak’Tar.” That was, until the crew of the Protector came by to rescue another alien from their zoo habitat, and Lazarus found Bethany in her cage.

You ran through the scene with the director a few times before Alexander’s arrival. Once he did arrive, he only talked quickly with the director before getting into position, and suddenly you were moments away from your first scene.

The director raised her megaphone. “ACTION!”

Lazarus approached the invisible barrier that surrounded the habitat, staring in disbelief at the figure curled up on the floor. The floor itself was wet sand with small pools of seawater, just like the environment of his home planet of Tev’Meck. Without the rest of the zoo in his periphery, he might even have believed he was back on Tev’Meck.

He glanced down at the information screen. It was all written in an alien language he couldn’t speak, but he recognised two words: Mak’Tar and Tev’Meck.

Lazarus walked around the enclosure slowly, trying not to wake the figure on the floor, until he was able to get a good look at them. Sure enough, they shared his physiology. Could it really be that another one of his kind was here, in this zoo?

A crash in the distance caused Lazarus to look up suddenly. Taggart, no doubt, causing chaos as he attempted to escape with the alien he’d come to recover.

He had to get out of there. And if there was a chance this sleeping figure really was another Mak’Tar, he had to get them out of there too.

Lazarus circled back around to the information panel and hacked the operational code he’d learnt earlier before coming to save their target. A few beeps later, the forcefield was down, and Lazarus stepped into the habitat, crouching down by the figure to wake them.

“Hello?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”

He grabbed the figure’s shoulder, rolled them onto their back, and recoiled slightly in shock. It was a female Mak’Tar!

The woman opened her eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep, frowning in confusion at seeing a figure looming over her.

Lazarus composed himself and knelt down again.

“It’s alright, I’m here to help. My name is Lazarus, I’m a Mak’Tar too. What’s your name?”

“…Bethany,” replied the woman, pausing as if it took her a moment to remember.

“Well, Bethany, how would you like to escape?”

“I… I think I’d like that very much.”

Lazarus smiled and nodded. “Excellent. Take my hand.”

He stood, and Bethany took his outstretched hand. Wow, his hands are soft , you thought as Lazarus pulled Bethany to her feet. She took a step, but stumbled. Lazarus glanced down and saw that she was favouring her left foot, her right being bandaged. Without hesitation, Lazarus threw her arm around his shoulder and helped her stumble out into the corridor.

“Cut!”

For your first take, you thought it had gone pretty well. You hadn’t messed up once! Whether or not Alexander agreed, you weren’t sure, because he simply released your arm from his grip and immediately walked back to his original mark for the second take.

You ran through the scene three more times, filming from different angles each time, until the director concluded the scene finished.

What amazed you about Alexander was the way he switched between Lazarus and Alexander with ease. Action - he was a hero, a lone survivor who had to contain himself at the possibility of finding another survivor in favour of concentrating on a quick exit. He was smiling as he pulled Bethany to her feet, his eyes warm and kind, and just a little excited. Cut - he was an actor, a grumpy thespian stuck in a job he hated, just getting through the day until he could throw the cap back in Lena’s face and stomp off home. He let go of you as soon as he could, not looking at you or even acknowledging your existence outside of the scene.

Ever heard the saying never meet your heroes? Well, you were discovering now why that was true. Alexander Dane was your favourite actor, your idol, your celebrity crush and the reason you’d pursued acting in the first place. And, it turned out, he was a massive jackass.

You weren’t naïve; you hadn’t gone into this expecting your crush to fall in love with you and whisk you off on some romance. You hadn’t even expected to make friends with him. But you had hoped to at least have a good working relationship with him for the week you were there and to come away with some fun stories about the week you spent on the set of Galaxy Quest.

Apparently, that wasn’t to be. So you resolved yourself to give the best performance you could and hope the fans liked your character when the episode aired.

Your next scene took place on the viewing deck, Bethany having successfully escaped the alien zoo and finding herself on board the Protector. You stood in front of the glass that separated you from the green screen that would be replaced in post-production with the vast expanse of the cosmos, gazing thoughtfully through the window as the director took some establishing shots of you standing alone.

When she was happy with the solo shots, the director called action for Alexander to make his entrance.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lazarus said as he stepped up beside Bethany, looking out at the cosmos and remembering what it was like for him when he first looked out into space from the safety of the ship.

“It’s terrifying,” Bethany replied quietly, and Lazarus frowned at her.

“Terrifying?”

“It’s so big… so easy to get lost.” She raised a hand and lightly placed her fingertip against the glass, covering an entire galaxy with just her fingertip. “How many species are out there?”

“Billions, I suppose. It’s impossible to count. Trillions of life forms… and none of them like us.”

Bethany looked up at him. Alexander’s profile was illuminated by the stage lights, emphasising the outline of his nose.

“How can you be sure? Maybe others survived. We did.”

Lazarus shook his head sadly. “I don’t think so. Even if there are… the chances of finding them are minuscule. It’s a miracle I ran into you.” He looked down at her and smiled, not a trace of Alexander’s regular irritation on his features. Lazarus was only kind, curious, and a little hesitant. “Perhaps it’s fortunate that I found you. So we can… keep the Mak���Tar species alive.”

“For now.” Bethany looked back out at the vast cosmos. “We’ll both die eventually, though. Then the Mak’Tar are done for.”

Lazarus hesitated. “Not necessarily. There would be more of us if we were to… make more.”

Bethany kept her gaze firmly fixed on the expansive view from the window.  She blushed slightly - you had never quite grasped forcing the blood to rush to your cheeks, but you could at least act as if it had - then shook her head.

“No, I… I think it’s best not.”

Lazarus was stunned. He collected himself and said, “And let our species die?”

Bethany turned back to Lazarus, and as much as you understood her motivations, you selfishly wished the scene were to end with a passionate make out session.

“It’s survival of the strongest, Lazarus,” Bethany said. You very suddenly realised you’d missed a line, but your theatre instincts kicked in, and you continued. “Our people were squashed like bugs when someone stronger came along. One day, our conquerors will be destroyed by someone or something stronger than them. And so the cycle continues - until there’s nothing left. Why delay the inevitable?”

“All our history, our culture - gone —”

Bethany shook her head. “It’s not gone. It’s just a story now.”

The script called for Lazarus to be speechless, so you gave Alexander a few moments to let the emotions play out on his face, then Bethany glanced out the window again.

“I think I’ll ask to be dropped off on Atera. It always looked very pretty in the books.”

She glanced uncertainly at Lazarus one last time, and when his stunned silence continued, she walked away, leaving him alone with the crushing disappointment that he wouldn’t save his species after all.

“Cut! Great first go, guys, but [Y/n], you missed a line. After Alexander says ‘and let our species die’ —”

“‘Nothing lasts forever.’ Yeah, I know, sorry. Got ahead of myself.”

“Well, at least you kept going,” Alexander said as he came up to where you were standing to take his starting position again. “Most TV actors would have broken character, swore loudly then insisted on trying the whole thing again. You held it together like a true thespian.”

You smiled coyly. He was complimenting you!

“Well, my career has been theatre so far. I’m used to having to improvise on the spot without breaking character.”

Alexander smirked at you conspiratorially. “Honestly, I enjoy it. Keeps me on my toes. On camera, you stop and start again when you make a mistake - everything has to be so perfect. And once the filming’s done, that’s it, no going back. In theatre, you do it a little differently every night. It’s so much more…”

He paused, looking for the right word.

“Organic?”

Alexander looked at you with surprise, as if it were a wonder you understood.

You wanted to talk to him more about theatre, something you both clearly loved, but you had to do the scene five more times to get the right camera angles, so you returned to your mark by the window and readied yourself to do the whole thing over again.

When the scene was finally declared finished, you were done for the day, so you returned to the make-up room to get your cap taken off. Alexander had one more scene to do on the brig, so once Lena had released your hair from its captivity and you were back in your regular Earth clothes, you snuck into the back of the set to watch the cast wrapping up. When else would you get an opportunity to see a classic Galaxy Quest brig room scene being filmed?

Jason Nesmith was giving one of his classic Taggart speeches, all the crew showing rapt attention except for Lazarus, who was seemingly distracted.

The speech concluded, the crew applauded and set to work, and Taggart swaggered up to Lazarus at his station.

“Lazarus! Something up, buddy? You didn’t applaud or nod once during my speech. Was it not inspiring enough for you?”

Lazarus looked up at his captain and smiled good-naturedly. “Very inspiring, Captain, thank you. My apologies, I was…”

He glanced forward thoughtfully, looking at the cosmos through the window and remembering his conversation with Bethany earlier. Alexander in fact looked behind the cameras, and straight at you.

“…distracted,” he finished.

“Ah, thinking of that new girl, are ya? Not surprised, she’s a pretty one. I presume. If she had hair instead of your head thing, I’d think she was pretty. Suppose she’s pretty to you, isn’t she?”

“Mhm…” Lazarus responded, Alexander’s eyes still fixed directly on you. He blinked, as if snapping himself out of a trance, then turned back towards Taggart. “Yes, I suppose she is. Excuse me, Captain.”

He stood and exited the scene by the doors at the back. Jason finished the scene with a conversation with Gwen DiMarco, then the director called cut.

“Great take, everyone! Alexander - your best one yet. You really sold us on how conflicted Lazarus is. Alright, that’s a wrap for today, we’ve got some sets to prepare over the weekend so we’ll see you all bright and early on Monday!”

The crew began shutting down and you slipped back out so as to not get in the way. You were at the cloakroom collecting your coat and bag when Alexander, still in his costume, came up to you, taking you by surprise.

“Jesus! Sorry, Alexander, you scared me.”

He smirked. “Sorry. I just wanted to say, you weren't awful today. Did you say you came from theatre?”

You blushed, and you could feel that this time your cheeks really had gone red. “Oh - wow, thanks. Erm, yeah, nothing major, I’ve just been understudying the last couple of years.”

“Nonsense, understudies are vital! Learning everyone’s roles and being ready to take any one of them on at any moment? No wonder you did so well today without rehearsal. Listen, the cast and I are heading out to a bar tonight. It’s not often we get a whole weekend off. Would you like to join us?”

Surprise and excitement sprung up inside your chest. Surprise that the man who’d been grumpy all day was suddenly being nice, and excitement at the chance to socialise with the Galaxy Quest cast.

“Sure, I’d love to! Where are we going?”

Alexander winced. “Paolo’s Karaoke Bar. I’d avoid that place like the plague myself, but there are private rooms so we won’t be disturbed by fans, and the beer is good.”

“How many beers do I have to buy you to convince you to sing?” you grinned.

“I’ll be blackout drunk getting my stomach pumped before you get a note out of me. Is that a yes?”

“Yes, I’d love to come!”

“Great - and no recording any of it,” Alexander added sternly as you slipped your coat off again and came back inside to wait for everyone to finish getting out of their costumes. “If even a single photo of this ends up on Twitter, I’m holding you personally accountable. We don’t usually invite fans to join us, but since technically you’re an actor…”

“No tweeting, got it. I do just need to let my roommate know where I’m going, though. In case of, you know, murder.”

Alexander frowned at you.

“It’s a girl thing. Go, get de-capped, I’ll wait here.”

Alexander sighed, muttered something about young people, and left you waiting in the hallway, wondering what the night had in store for you.

---

You didn’t remember much of the taxi ride to Alexander’s house. Apparently it took half an hour, but you hardly paid attention, as you were far too busy snogging him in the back seat to care how long you’d been in the car for.

You came up for air when the taxi pulled up to the house, and once you ungracefully clamoured out of the car, Alexander paid the driver while you stared up at the Beverly Hills mansion.

“You live here alone?!” you gasped.

“Welcome to the rich side of town,” Alexander replied, his feet as unsteady as yours as he approached you and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Wanna see the inside?”

“Hell yes.”

After some fumbling with his keys, Alexander managed to get the front door open and he ushered you inside. He switched on the lights, and you gasped at just how huge and open the space was. Half the walls were all window, and those that were actual wall were lined with posters from Alexander’s previous projects - mostly his theatre shows, with a few films here and there.

“That’s the one I have,” you laughed, pointing to the poster of him from Richard III.

Alexander wrapped his arms around you from behind, his erection pressing into your arse as he held you close. “Is that so? How many wanks did teen [Y/n] have staring at that poster?”

“Far too many to count.”

“Did you imagine your fingers were mine?” Alexander murmured softly in your ear, one hand travelling tauntingly slowly past the waistband of your trousers. “Did you slip them inside trying to emulate my cock? Because believe me, mere fingers couldn’t come even close to stretching you the way my cock can.”

“I - I have a vibrator named after you,” you admitted, anticipating building up inside you when Alexander cupped your cunt with his hand, savouring the warmth you were radiating against him.

“My, you really are a naughty thing, aren’t you? Let’s see if my fingers live up to your imagination.”

You gasped as he slipped his middle finger inside you, firm and thick, his skin slightly rough and absolutely nothing like your own.

Alexander kept one arm firmly around your chest, a hand cupping your breast through your top, and you had to lean back into him to stay upright. He buried his face in your neck, teeth and tongue exploring your skin, his hair tickling your face slightly. His thumb circled your lower lips, searching for that sweet spot, and when he found it, you moaned, which quickly turned into a hiccup.

Alexander smirked against your neck, but when you hiccupped again, he paused his sensual movements.

“Hic - sorry,” you mumbled, your head spinning slightly from the combination of alcohol and arousal.

“Sit down, I’ll get you some water,” Alexander said softly. He pulled his hand out of your pants, which you thoroughly disliked, but you did feel better when he deposited you on the couch and went into the kitchen to fetch you some water. The couch was warm and soft, and you felt like you could just sink into it and sleep as comfortably as on a bed…

The next thing you knew, you were lying on your front, your eyes blinking open, though you quickly squeezed them shut when you saw the sunlight pouring in from the window.

You buried your face in the pillow and let out a groan. Your head was pounding. Great, you’d woken up with a migraine.

No… it wasn’t a migraine. It was a hangover. You could feel the familiar ache in your stomach as it tried to digest the alcohol you’d consumed.

You’d been hungover enough in the past to know your routine. Toilet, coffee, a greasy breakfast and a shower, in that order.

You reluctantly sat up in the bed, your eyes adjusting to the light, and your heart skipped a beat in fear for a moment when you didn’t recognise your surroundings. Whose bed were you in if not your own?!

You looked around for a clue, and on a wall was a glaringly obvious one - a massive four-panel framed art piece featuring Alexander Dane’s brooding headshot.

Oh god, you were in Alexander Dane’s bed.

…Alone. Where was the man himself?

You rolled out of the superking-sized bed, which was difficult as you were slap bang in the middle. You reached the edge eventually, and when you threw the covers back and sat up, you noticed that your trousers and bra had been discarded, but you still had your top on.

You trudged into the en-suite bathroom, which was bigger than your own bedroom, and sat down on the toilet. You’d solve the mystery of how you ended up alone in Alexander Dane’s bed in a bit - you had to take care of business first.

When that was done, you were feeling a bit more awake, and managed to find your discarded trousers on the floor. You couldn’t find your bra, so you pushed that thought aside for later, and turned your attention to finding Alexander.

He was, you discovered, fast asleep on the sofa in the living room, mouth gaping most inelegantly as he snored, one leg bent and the other splayed on the floor, with one arm on his chest and the other behind his head.

You nudged him softly. When he didn’t respond, you tickled his exposed armpit.

“What the fuck!” Alexander grumped as he shot awake, his arm instinctively clamping down against his side to protect himself from any further tickle attacks. He blinked, delirious, then saw you standing over him and frowned. “[Y/n]? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was hoping you’d know the answer to that,” you replied. “Last I remember we were at the bar, next thing I know I’m waking up in your bed without you in it.”

Alexander sat up, looking just as affronted by the light as you were, and he rubbed his temple.

“I don’t remember anything after the bar either,” he mumbled. “Why am I on the couch?”

“Dunno. I’d suggest you were a gentleman and insisted I took the bed, but from what I’ve learnt of you in the last day, you probably just collapsed on the sofa and I took the bed for myself.”

Alexander grunted, then yawned. “Ugh. Want some coffee?”

“If you’re offering.”

“‘Course I am. More of a gentleman than you seem to think.”

Alexander pushed himself up off the couch and shuffled off towards the kitchen, then paused halfway to pick something up from the armchair.

“This yours?”

He turned and offered you your own bra, and you blushed.

“Oh… yeah, I was wondering where that was.���

Alexander passed it to you without much thought, then continued his half-asleep trek to the kitchen, leaving you to wonder why the fuck your bra had been discarded on the armchair.

You quickly pulled off your top and set about putting your bra back on, trying to be quick before Alexander saw you, but of course by hurrying you fumbled more with the catch and it took you longer than you’d have liked before you finally got the straps over your shoulders and pulled your top back over your head.

“How do you like it?” Alexander asked when you entered the kitchen.

“Strong and black.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

You blushed again and sat yourself on a stool, looking around the kitchen, trying to remember something, anything, from your journey between the bar and Alexander’s bed.

“I vaguely recall offering you to stay at mine rather than get a taxi to your place alone,” Alexander said after a few moments. He was staring at the coffee maker as it boiled, as if his memories from last night were in there. “But after that, nothing until you attacked my armpit.”

“I don’t even remember that much. I think my memory ran out of storage about 2am.”

“So you remember karaoke then?”

You grinned. “Yes, I remember karaoke.”

“Mmph. Unfortunately so do I.”

Alexander poured you a hot cup of coffee, and when the first sip of the bitter drink passed your lips, you felt as if your soul had been renewed.

“That is the best thing I have ever tasted in the history of anything,” you sighed happily. “Both because I desperately need caffeine and because that’s a damn good coffee.”

“Some fancy stuff Gwen got me for Christmas,” Alexander said, leaning against the counter as he cradled his own cup like it was his salvation. “I don’t usually share it, so you should be honoured.”

You smiled. “It’s the greatest of honours.”

You were silent for a few minutes as you savoured your drinks, you trying to recall the previous night and he remembering small slivers of moments as his memory slowly came back to him.

He remembered coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water only to find you’d passed out on the sofa. He had tried to wake you, but you were out cold, so instead he hoisted you up and carried you to his bed. Exhaustion hit him, and he didn’t want to share a bed with you without your permission, so he relegated himself to the sofa instead.

That was all he remembered. How your bra had ended up on the armchair, he had no idea, because he was certain he’d dumped you on the bed fully dressed.

Once he’d managed to send you on your way, Alexander sat down at his computer and logged on to boot up the security programme. He had installed security cameras around his house in case of a break-in, not in case of lost drunken memories, but he absolutely had to know why your bra had made its way to the armchair.

He loaded the living room camera from the previous night and scrubbed through the footage until he saw the two of you walk in through the front door, then he slowed down and watched.

You came in first, followed by him, and - oh, god. His hand was down your trousers almost instantly. You looked very pleased with his actions, but you were clearly wasted - almost as soon as he left to fetch you some water, you sat down on the sofa and passed out.

Alexander watched as he carried you into the bedroom, then returned shortly after to pass out on the sofa himself. The armchair was still braless so he sped up the footage, until about an hour later when you appeared at the doorway.

He’d apparently not fallen asleep yet or was sleeping lightly, because you had only to say something to have him sitting up. You perched yourself on the arm of the armchair, the two of you exchanged words with each other - Alexander cursed himself for not having audio recording on this thing - and, to his own surprise, he stood up from the sofa, crossed the room in a few long strides, and his lips were on yours.

He watched himself sit on the chair and pull you onto his lap, and from the camera’s angle he could mostly just see your back, but it was plain that the two of you were kissing passionately. His arms wrapped around you and held you close, then grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled the whole thing over your head. You reached behind to unclasp your bra and threw it over the back of the armchair, where he’d find it later that morning.

Alexander sighed. What on earth had he been thinking?

Well, that was no question at all. His stupid, primal, drunk man brain had thought, Woman wants to fuck me. Dick wants to fuck woman. Must obey dick.

Never mind how young you were, or how drunk, or the fact that you were a bloody fan, probably just eager to tell your friends that you’d scored with Dr Lazarus.

He watched the screen anxiously, waiting for something to happen that he’d regret. He watched as you pulled away from the kiss to say something, and his horny, drunk self grinned excitedly.

Had he really fucked you and forgotten all about it?

On the screen, you said something else, and his past self paused. He said something, you replied, and he shook his head.

You seemed to protest, but he insisted and pushed you off his lap. You were apparently irritated, by the way that you grabbed your top and stormed off, leaving him to drag himself back to the sofa and fall back asleep, both of you leaving the bra behind on the armchair.

Alexander scrubbed through the footage just to be sure, but nothing else happened until you appeared hours later to wake him up.

He closed the footage and leant back in his chair with a sigh. He was relieved he’d apparently changed his mind about your drunken fumble, but now he had a conundrum. Should he tell you what the footage showed? Surely you too were wondering how the bra got there. Or did you know? You’d seemed just as confused as he was, and in fact seemed to not remember anything at all about coming back to his house. Or maybe you were just covering it up by pretending not to remember anything at all.

What would be the point in telling you? “Hey, [Y/n], I checked my cameras and we almost hooked up but apparently I changed my mind and sent you to bed. Just letting you know.”

If you knew, you might think it meant you had a chance with him. Alexander didn’t have anything against dating other actors, but he did have a strict rule about fans. He couldn’t possibly be with someone, whether for one night or long term, who just saw him as Dr Lazarus. Besides, if you liked the show, that clearly meant you had straw for brains, and he had higher standards than that.

No, he decided, it was best you didn’t know about that little fumble. On your next filming day, he would be nothing but professional, and any idea you might have of having a chance with him would quickly disappear.

---

Alexander’s version of “being professional” was to be even ruder to you than usual. You had no idea why he was being so abrasive, but he hardly spoke to you in the make-up room, chatting exclusively to Lena and giving you short, one or two word answers if he had to speak to you at all.

With no memory of the events on Friday, you could only conclude that Alexander just didn’t like you, though he didn’t seem to like anyone, so you tried not to take it personally. Even so, being rejected by your favourite actor for no apparent reason was soul-crushing to say the least.

You knew trying to talk to him and getting rebuffed would just upset you, so you decided to follow his lead and keep conversation to a minimum. While the cameras were rolling, you had an intense, uncertain relationship between your characters, but as soon as the cameras stopped, Alexander was back to ignoring you.

Even with his cold attitude towards you, you still managed to make the most of the experience, choosing to focus instead on the thrill of being on the Galaxy Quest set. Your character was in three episodes, arriving towards the end of your first episode, spending your second episode travelling with the crew, and in the third episode they dropped her off on a planet to settle down after her years in captivity.

The second episode was the most fun to film, because you got to be part of the crew for a while, and interacting with the other actors helped you forget Alexander’s permanent cold shoulder.

Just as you’d filmed your first scene first, you filmed your last scene last, and you travelled out on location for the scene, which was set on the planet of Atera.

Bethany said her goodbyes to the crew as they climbed aboard the ship to set off again, waiting on board as Lazarus stayed behind to speak to her alone.

“You’re sure you won’t come with us?” he asked. “There’s so much more to see out there.”

Bethany smiled sadly and nodded. “I’m sure. I need to figure out who I am outside of a cage before I go looking for adventure. But…”

She took his hand, which was soft again - did Alexander Dane moisturise?

“I’m very glad I met you, Lazarus. I thought I was alone in the universe, but… now I know you’re out there, I won’t feel so alone anymore.”

He looked at her searchingly, almost imploringly, as if looking for a last-minute way to convince her to stay.

“I’ll miss you,” Lazarus admitted.

“I’ll miss you too. Will you visit?”

“I want to… but we don’t often return where we’ve been.”

“Oh,” Bethany said sadly, glancing away, and your heart skipped a beat when Lazarus gently put an arm around her shoulder and pointed up at a constellation in the sky.

“That’s where we’re going. Always forward. So if you do miss me… just look up. That’s where I’ll be.”

Just look up. That’s where I’ll be. Alexander had been trying fruitlessly to convince Frank to take out that cheesy line, but it had been a losing battle.

Bethany craned her neck to look into the sky, then turned to look at Alexander next to her.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Lazarus looked down at her.

“My dear, I think you may well have saved me.”

Bethany kissed his cheek and smiled sweetly. Lazarus hesitated, but he let her go and made his way to the ship.

She waved him off, and when cut was called, you thought it curious how familiar kissing Alexander on the cheek felt, as if it were something you were completely comfortable with.

Perhaps you were getting too into character.

---

You were admittedly disappointed with how unceremoniously you left the studio. You had your cap removed in the usual awkward silence with Alexander, who just grunted at you when you said goodbye.

In the theatre, you knew straight away how people felt about your performance. You’d sometimes hear reactions in the moment; otherwise, you’d receive (or not) applause at the end, and reviews were online and in the papers the very next day.

Television was different. You had signed an NDA banning you from sharing details of your character or the storyline you’d been involved in. And the episode wouldn’t air for months, so you had no way of knowing how your performance would be received.

The other strange thing was that you could watch your own performance on TV along with everyone else.

Over the months since your week on set, you’d found a role as an understudy in a production of Sweeney Todd, and in between rehearsing for three different roles and occasionally even getting to perform them, you’d made some good friends with cast and crew members, all of whom supported one another’s various attempts to make a career in LA.

So when the day came that your first episode would air, you had your friends over to watch your episode with you, many of them also fans of the show, or if not they came anyway simply to support you.

You didn’t appear until the very end of the episode, Bethany’s getaway into the Protector with Lazarus and the rest of the crew acting as cliffhanger, but it was still an incredible experience to watch yourself, in full prosthetics, acting in Galaxy Quest with Alexander Dane - who, despite being a complete jackass, was still your favourite actor.

“Oh my god, I so ship them!” your friend Stephanie, who played Johanna, crooned as soon as the credits rolled. “[Y/n], please tell me you and Lazarus get together!”

“I can’t tell you what happens, you know that!” you replied, throwing your hands up in innocence. “By pain of death. Or, well, by pain of a big payment if I was responsible for any leaks, and I can not afford that.”

“Eiw, did you have to kiss Alexander Dane though?” Stephanie gagged.

“What do you mean, eiw?”

“He’s ancient!”

“He’s not! He’s 53.”

“Don’t bother, Steph, [Y/n]'s in lurrrrve with Alexander Dane,” scoffed Mike from costume, who’d found out about your crush when you’d bonded over a shared love of Galaxy Quest while he fitted you for your Mrs Lovett costume.

“I am not! I’ll have you know he was really rude to me all week we worked together. Hardly said a word to me. He’ll always be my favourite actor, but as a person? Hard pass.”

Perhaps that pass would be hard, because as it turned out, the fans loved your character. So much so that you were invited as a late addition guest at the Galaxy Quest convention in LA two weeks after your third and final episode had aired.

You gladly accepted - you were going to go anyway as an attendee, but as a guest? That was a much better option. You gave your ticket to Mike, who almost cried with jealousy that you were being invited as a guest.

You’d never been to the convention yourself before, as it was always in LA and you’d always lived in London, but you’d always followed the posts about it online, and you knew that the actors always went in their costumes, including Alexander wearing his cap. Would you be expected to do the same? You didn’t even have your costume anymore.

You arrived at the hotel on the Friday night and checked into the room you’d been given. The guests all had rooms on one floor, separated from fans, and your room was right at the end of the corridor - no doubt the last room available as you were invited so last minute.

You’d hardly begun to unpack your suitcase when you heard a knock on the door.

You opened it, your anxiety telling you that someone was about to tell you there’d been a mix up and you weren’t invited at all, but to your relief you recognised Lena, the make-up artist.

“There she is! Thought I’d bring this over and make sure you still fit.”

She held up a coat bag, no doubt containing your costume.

“You do costume now too?” you joked as you stepped aside to let her in.

“I do at things like this - cheaper for them to send me out on my own. Have you gained or lost any weight since filming?”

“Uh - I guess I might have lost some,” you said. “I don’t really keep an eye on it. But I’ve been doing a show so that keeps me in shape.”

“Ooh, which show you in?” Lena asked, and you told her about your time understudying in Sweeney Todd while she got you out of your clothes and into your costume.

“Aw, I’d love to see you in it some time! But I suppose you never know when you’ll be on, do you? That must be so hard learning all three roles. Gosh, look at you, you have lost weight! If we were filming I’d take the waist in a bit, but since we’re just here for the con, we can get away with it.”

“Am I gonna have to wear the head thing? I know Alexander always wears his.”

Lena scoffed. “Yeah, only to lower the risk of Galaxy Quest fans recognising him outside of the show. I got it with me if you want, but you don’t have to.”

You bit your lip and thought about it. You really didn’t want to wear it, but if Alexander was wearing his, you kind of felt like you should, in solidarity.

Then again, he didn’t care about your feelings, so why should you care about his?

“May I make a suggestion?” Lena asked.

“Absolutely not, you lowly make-up artist,” you scoffed.

Lena laughed. “You should wear it. Everyone’s still buzzing about Bethany, and since you’re so new to the scene people won’t recognise you without it yet. And it’ll be super cute if you and Alexander both wear it for your photo session! Here, let’s get you out of the costume for now, I’ll come back tomorrow to put it on you proper.”

“What photo session?” you asked as you turned around to let Lena take the costume apart.

“Haven’t you seen your schedule yet?”

“I had literally been here for five seconds when you knocked on the door. I haven’t even had a piss yet, let alone looked at my timetable.”

“You and Alexander have a double photo session in the afternoon. People pay $30 each for photos with you individually, or $50 for a pic with both of you.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” you sighed.

“That’s what he said too.”

“I’m surprised he even agreed to do it. He hates sharing the spotlight - although I suppose he doesn’t feel threatened by me. Still, I’m surprised he’d agree to spend any more time in my presence than he has to.”

“He doesn’t hate you, you know,” Lena told you as you stepped out of the costume and gratefully began putting your far more comfortable, human clothes on. “He’s just a miserable bastard. He quite likes you, actually.”

You scoffed.

“He hardly spoke to me all week during filming.”

“Maybe, but after you went home each day, he’d tell me how well you did in your scenes that day. And Gwen tells me he spoke highly of your performance after your episodes aired.”

“I’m surprised he watches the show.”

“He loves to watch himself. Right, that’s me done with you for tonight. The intro panel’s at 9 and I’ve gotta get Alexander’s cap on too, so I can come by at 7.30 with some breakfast and coffee to wake you up while I get you fitted. Sound good?”

“So long as the coffee’s strong and black, you can do anything you want to me.”

“Flirt.”

Lena winked at you and left, and with the promise of a 7.30 alien head thing fitting, you decided to get an early night.

---

No amount of black coffee could have prepared you for the convention.

You were shuffled through back corridors to behind the main stage at 8.45, where you found most of the main cast were waiting, all dressed in their costumes.

“Hey, it’s [Y/n]!” Guy said cheerily when he saw you. “Man, am I glad you’re here. This is my first con too, and I’m bricking it. I’ve been to loads before as a fan, obviously, but never as a guest. I’m so nervous!”

“Oh, er, me too,” you replied, a little taken aback by Guy’s enthusiasm so early in the morning. You glanced over at the others, and noticed one body missing. “Hey, where’s Jason?”

“Running late, of course,” grunted Alexander from the chair he was slouched in, looking as miserable as ever. “He’ll show up ten minutes late on purpose, all to get that extra round of applause.”

He didn’t even look up at you to say hello.

You turned to Guy.

“Hey, when they introduce us, d’you think we could go on at the same time? Then we can power through that terrifying first entrance together. I’m terrified of walking on stage after everyone else and getting crickets chirping.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Guy said with relief. “I’m so glad you said it. Yes, let’s do it.”

Alexander snorted derisively. “What, are you scared of walking on a stage?”

”This is a little different from a theatre show,” you retorted. “In the theatre, they applaud at the end, and they applaud based on your performance. Here they’re applauding us as people, and none of them know me. Or has it been so long you forgot what theatre bows are like?”

Alexander did look at you then, his eyes narrowed, as the others chortled at your dig.

“Remind me why she’s here?” he grumbled to no one in particular.

“Because we got about 200 emails last week asking if she’d be here,” replied the convention host, who decided now was a convenient time to walk in. “Right, you guys ready to go?”

The convention passed in a whirlwind. You were hurried from panel to signing to meet and greet with hardly a chance to breathe. You met hundreds of fans, whose names you scribbled alongside your signature then promptly forgot, and you took every chance you had to remind the fans you were talking to that you were one of them.

In the afternoon came your photo session with Alexander, and finally you got a moment of peace when you entered the room ten minutes before the fans were to be let in - although, you suspected, they were already lining up outside.

While the crew got the backdrop ready, you collapsed into a chair with a sigh of relief.

“You still have a day and a half to go, you know,” said a familiar voice.

You looked up to see Alexander leaning up against the wall, looking at you with amusement.

“I didn’t think so many people would want to see me,” you said honestly. “Sure I didn’t have a line like you guys had, but mine still didn’t stop. I think I’ve met more people this morning than I have in my entire life.

Alexander scoffed. “Yep, and they’ll be back tomorrow, expecting you to remember them all individually.”

“How many have asked you to say that line?”

“Too fucking many. How many have asked if you’re coming back?”

“Pretty much everyone.”

“What have you been telling them?”

“That Alexander Dane’s a twat and will probably refuse to work with me again.”

He laughed, but he didn’t deny it. He sighed, then came to sit by you.

“Look, I know I’m a twat. I’ll try to make this tolerable for you.”

“Gee, thanks. No one’s forcing you to do this with me. Couldn’t you have just said you didn’t wanna do a double shoot?”

“Actually… it was my idea.”

Now that surprised you. You looked at him questioningly, and he sighed.

“Look, Gwen always hates these things, alright? Blokes are always trying to touch her. It happens less when a man is there, as stupid as that is, so Jason or I usually do a double shoot with her.”

“And you thought they might do the same with me?”

Alexander shrugged. “Sure, why not? These basement dwellers don’t know how to act around a woman - add the fact you’re gorgeous and all hope is lost. So let me know if you’re uncomfortable, alright?”

You nodded, hoping Lena had caked you in enough make-up to hide your blush at the fact he’d called you gorgeous.

As it turned out, Alexander was right - fans really did have wandering hands. After the third narrowly avoided grope, you pulled Alexander aside before the next fan stepped up.

“Alex, that’s three guys who’ve tried to grab my arse already,” you whispered. “What do I do?”

“What? Who?”

Alexander looked around as if the groping fans might still be lingering, but they’d long been ushered away by event staff.

“I told you, [Y/n], you need to tell me when it happens.”

“What am I supposed to do? Shout ‘hey, everybody, this guy’s grabbing my arse’? That’s so embarrassing.”

Alexander thought for a moment.

“Alright, when it happens, you poke me with two fingers. I’ll pretend I noticed it myself.”

“Oh, planning non-verbal cues already, are we?” you joked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, [Y/n] - if we fucked, I’d make sure you were very vocal.”

Your cheeks burned for the second time in that hour, but you had to push your sudden explicit thought about Alexander to the side, because you had two more hours to go of this torture.

Most of it went by without any more unwanted groping, but you were nearly at the end of the queue when one ball of sweat dressed in a very poorly made copy of Alexander’s costume placed his hand firmly on your rear.

You froze for a moment, then remembered to poke Alexander with two fingers. His head immediately whipped around and he looked down to see the fan’s hand far lower than it should be.

Alexander may be grumpy all the time, but there was a difference between grump and anger. He was never really angry unless he was acting - but he certainly wasn’t acting now.

You were fairly certain you didn’t even know half the swear words that came out of his mouth as he yelled at the fan. A brave staff member tried to intervene, but Alexander simply turned his vitriol to them, yelling at them for not making the event safer for female guests.

He ended his rant by ushering you along with him as he stormed out, and you felt a mixture of emotions - relief to be out of there, guilt for the fans still in line, and a bit (okay, maybe a lot) of arousal at Alexander defending you.

“Prats,” he cursed bitterly as the door closed behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the corridor. He turned to you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied awkwardly, not really sure if you were being honest. “Thanks for, um, rescuing me.”

Alexander pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring as he shot a dark look back at the door.

“You got anything else on this afternoon?” he asked you.

“No, that was my last thing.”

“Do you want to go back to my room and raid the minibar? I usually get pissed on the agency’s credit card alone, but I guess you wouldn’t be the worst company.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Make the most of it. Come on, I know a way upstairs we can go to avoid being seen.”

Alexander led you up to the floor you were all staying on, and you were halfway down the corridor to his room when your path was suddenly intercepted by Jane Doe, one of the new cast members for the reboot.

“Hello!” she announced cheerily, grinning at you both.

“Lal - er, Jane, what are you doing here?” Alexander said with confusion. “I thought you couldn’t make it this weekend.”

“It is my birthing day! We are having a party. You are coming too.”

Alexander glanced at you. “Oh - er - we’ll miss this one, actually. But happy… birthing day.”

He tried to step around her, but she simply followed his path, still grinning.

Apparently she was as strange as her character.

“You are coming!” Jane insisted.

She held something up in her hand and pressed a button, and your world went black.

[fangirl-writes]

Doppelgänger

Benny Weir x Fem!Reader

MBAV Masterlist

Warning(s): near-death, canon-level violence

Request: can be found here.

Notes: This is a mix of multiple things that we’ve seen in MBAV episodes while also stealing a little bit of plot from the Vampire Diaries. Hope you like it! 

PS: I kinda want to make this into a full fledged fic because I had so many ideas that were hard to package into a one-shot but we’ll see if I ever actually do that.

Summary: A doppelganger traps you in a mirror dimension and slowly sucks the life out of you so it can take your place. Will Benny and friends save you in time? (yes obviously, but the suspense)

You stare across the room, into the only window in the otherwise dark room, the yellow glow of it staring back at you.

It was a tragic way to die, in a place without light, where your loved ones would never find you. All the while a cheap copy of you wandered freely, fooling your friends and your Benny.

Benny. Would you ever get to see him again?

Perhaps you’d get lucky and he would peer into the mirror so his eyes would be the last thing you saw before the life finished draining from you.

He’d probably feel so guilty, think it was all his fault. 

But it wasn’t.

If there was anyone to blame, it was the vampire who seemed a regular bane to the existence of White Chapel and its inhabitants.

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

In the school’s theater, in a dressing room we’ve seen before, lies a cracked mirror that once held the spirit of Olivia Frye. And while her spirit no longer posses it, that doesn’t mean the magic of the mirror is gone.

The vanity lights flicker on in the otherwise dark room, illuminating the pale face and blue eyes of Jesse Black.

Reaching into his pocket, Jesse pulls out Benny’s spellbook.

He opens it on a marked page, running his fingers across the paper before reading aloud: “Zacaroth Maznacaroth. Dimitte hunc spiritum e carcere, ut iterum vivant.”

As he reads, the mirror begins to repair itself, the cracks sealing up. But as they are doing so, a mist also starts to leak from the glass.

A grin spreads across Jesse’s lips and he chuckles darkly. “Welcome back, my dear.”

Before him stands the ghostly figure of who appears to be you, but she’s faded, missing the color in her body that signifies life. Except for her eyes that shine the same unnatural blue as Jesse’s.

The following morning, you, Ethan, and Benny are walking down the hallway of White Chapel High as Benny searches in vain for his spellbook.

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally make it vanish again?” Ethan asks.

“No, it was in here last night I swear,” Benny says before groaning and angrily throwing his bag closed. “The one day I wanted to make Ms. Fine forget about our essays and the thing disappears! It’s like it knows when I’m using it for evil. You think my grandma put a spell on it?”

“If she was gonna do that, she’d have done it long before now,” Ethan replies.

“You know, if you started memorizing your spells like you talk about, this wouldn’t be a problem,” You say.

“And if you had agreed to strip studying I would have tried,”

“Okay, gross,” Ethan says, pulling a face.

“Y/N.”

You perk your head up, looking around the hallway for whoever said your name, finding no one in a sea of faces.

“Y/N.”

You turn around, following the voice but still seeing no one.

“Hey.”

You jump as Benny’s hand touches your shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

You let out a breath and smile at him. “Yeah, I just thought I heard someone call my name. It’s probably nothing.”

Benny nods and pulls you closer to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as you continue your trail to your lockers.

The voices persisted as the day went on, bothering you in class and at lunch, making you feel scared and crazy. Not to mention incredibly distracted.

It made it hard to focus on math or science and especially English where you were meant to be reading Shakespeare and reviewing essays.

“Ms. L/N.”

Ms. Fine startles you out of your stupor and you hurriedly hand her your rough draft, printed and stapled together.

“Are you feeling alright?” She asks and you make a quick decision.

“Actually, I’m feeling a little sick. Can I be excused for the nurses office?”

“Sure. But hurry back.”

You nod and gather your things, exchanging a glance with Benny and Ethan each before leaving.

You really did plan to go to the nurses office until you could talk to your friends, but that damn voice started bothering you again. And in an otherwise empty hallway, it was hard to ignore.

“Y/N.”

“Oh, I’m gonna regret this,” you mumble before heading in the direction of the voice.

You follow it all the way to the theater, which is dark except for the light coming from one of the dressing rooms.

“Please don’t be a ghost,” you whisper to yourself. “Or a vampire, werewolf, ghoul, zombie, whatever. Let me be having a psychotic break because of stress and this voice isn’t real.”

You cautiously peak into the room...and find nothing.

The room is empty except for the vanity and chair. And the voice has gone quiet.

Shaking your head, you walk into the room and sit down in the chair. “Maybe I am going crazy.”

Your a little startled by your reflection, which is pale even under the warm lighting.

“...or maybe I’m actually sick.”

You press a hand to your face, checking for a temperature, watching as your reflection does the same.

Letting your hand drop, you observe the mirror more closely, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Wait a minute, wasn’t this mirror-”

You let out a scream as your reflection surges forward and pulls you into the mirror before jumping out in your place.

You collapse on a cold floor, hurriedly standing back up and rushing toward the mirror’s opening but your reflection holds out a hand, causing the mirror to seal back up and trap you inside.

“Sorry,” she says. “But I can’t have two of us running around to ruin my plans.”

You bang on the glass. “Hey! Stop! Let me out!”

But she’s already gone, leaving the room and shutting the door, enveloping you in darkness.

“Didn’t you see the look on her face?” Benny asks. “Something’s wrong.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Ethan replies. “It’s probably just a headache. You know how too much supernatural stuff gets to her sometimes.”

“Yeah, but this was different. She’s been hearing voices all day. I’m starting to worry this is something bad.”

Benny pushes open the door to the nurse’s office, expecting to find you laying there but instead the small bed was empty.

“Can I help you boys?” The nurse asks from her desk.

“Uh, sorry, but did Y/N L/N come in here earlier?”

“No, I haven’t seen her in here today.”

Benny feels a pit in his stomach. “Right, thank you.”

He closes the door and exchanges a look with Ethan. “She didn’t come back to class and she didn’t come here. So where is she?”

Ethan looks a little more worried now. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” Rory says.

Not-you turns to look at him and Rory is taken aback.

“You okay? You’re paler than usual. Did you get bitten by a vampire? Attacked by an abominable snowman? Possessed by a ghost?”

Not-you smiles. “Oh, no, I’m actually an ancient doppelgänger who just looks like Y/N.”

Rory’s eye go wide. “Woah, really? That’s so cool. But...why’re you telling me?”

Not-you pats him on the head. “Cause you’re not smart enough to try and stop me.”

“Oh. Yeah that’s fair. Where’re you off to anyway?”

Not-you hums. “I’m smart enough not to tell you that.”

“Oh, great,” you mumble, watching as your battery drops another percentage, but the bars never move from zero.

How are you supposed to call for help?

It’s chilling, sitting in the dark with nothing but your phone for light. Your eyes can’t even adjust to the darkness because there’s nothing to see; you’re in a void.

A headache is slowly making itself known and you can’t be sure if its from staring at your phone screen or because a doppelgänger trapped you in a mirror.

The supernatural always has a way of giving you a headache. Doesn’t matter what it is.

Ethan can hardly touch you because if he has a vision, you’ll have a migraine for the rest of the week. If Erica, Sarah, or Rory use their superspeed around you, you’ll nearly faint.

Benny’s the only one who can use his powers and not effect you. You aren’t sure why.

He likes to joke that it’s because your soulmates. 

“I don’t know, E, I just have a bad feeling about this,” Benny says. “Sarah! Have you seen Y/N?”

Sarah, who was just putting her bag on her shoulder at her locker, turns to the boys. “No, is she missing?”

“Yeah we haven’t seen her since English and Benny’s freaking out,” Ethan replies.

“Aw, does Benny miss his girlfriend?”

“No, I mean yes, but that’s not what I’m worried about. She’s been hearing voices all day, what if something spooky got her?”

Sarah smiled. “Benny, if something spooky was happening we would surely know by now. Ethan would’ve had a vision or Rory would pop in with some information he doesn’t realize is important.”

As if on cue, Rory appears. “Heard my name!”

“Perfect,” Benny says. “Okay, Rory, give us some of that sweet sweet information. Have you seen Y/N?”

Rory’s eyebrows furrow. “Well, yeah, but she said it wasn’t really her. She said she was an ancient doppelgänger who just looks like Y/N.”

Benny gestures wildly. “You guys concerned now?!”

“Okay, yeah, maybe,” Ethan replies. “Did she say what she was doing or where she was going?”

Rory shakes his head. “No, she said she was too smart to tell me.”

“Curses,” Benny says. “They’re starting to figure out our tricks. Come on, I need to find my spellbook to track her.”

Ethan, Benny, and Sarah hurry off, leaving Rory behind. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, miffed that they disregarded him. 

“Ah, nice to see you in the flesh again,” Jesse says, tossing some popcorn in his mouth.

“I see you’re still fond of the theater where your plans were ruined,” Not-you replies, eyeing the room.

“I’m a sentimental guy,” he says. “And with you, my plans can’t be ruined again.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. My doppelgänger might be a mortal but she has the same power I do, under the surface.”

“Don’t tell me your afraid?”

“Not afraid. Just cautious,” Not-you says. “Arrogance is what got you defeated the first time. I won’t make the same mistake of underestimating them.”

Jesse stands up and walks over to Not-you, grabbing her arm. “Starting to get some flesh back, I see.”

“Swapping places with Y/N has helped immensely. Give it a few more hours and I’ll be back to full strength.”

“And Y/N?”

“Collateral damage.”

Jesse smiles. “Then we don’t need to underestimate them. We can destroy them.”

Meanwhile, Benny, Ethan, and Sarah are tearing apart Benny’s room, trying to find his spellbook.

“Goodness me, what’s going on in here?”

“Grandma!” Benny exclaims, popping out from under his bed. “Have you seen my spellbook?”

“No. Don’t tell me you’ve lost it, Benny, you know how dangerous that is,” she replies.

“I know, I know, but lecture me later, we have to find Y/N.”

“Y/N is missing?”

“Yeah,” Sarah says. “She was switched with a doppelgänger.”

Evelyn purses her lips. “Circe.”

“Who?” Ethan asks. 

“Circe,” Evelyn repeats. “She’s an old witch who caused quite the ruckus in White Chapel. Reverend Black tried to have her burnt at the stake but considering that he turned out to be a vampire I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s resurrected her somehow.”

Benny gasps. “With my spellbook!”

“Follow me,” Evelyn says, leading the group of them to her basement where she digs through a box for a leather bound book.

“Ah!” She says. “Here it is.”

She flips it open, going through the pages before stopping on one. “Here she is.”

“Woah,” Ethan says. “She really does look like Y/N.”

“Doppelgängers were created by nature after ancient beings defied their laws by creating immortality. Circe must’ve tried to make herself immortal, causing the doppel curse,” Evelyn explains.

You’re starting to feel horrible. Your body getting heavier and heavier, a weight on your chest growing. 

It wasn’t like the usual anxiety or claustrophobia you’ve experienced before. No, this felt like your soul was slowly being sucked from your body.

Is this it? you think. Is this really how I’m going to go out?

You raise your phone, the bars still empty and the battery too low for comfort.

“God,” you mumble.

Jesse pulls the Cubile Animus from his pocket. “This is what we’ll use to capture the souls.”

Circe raises an eyebrow at him. “Is that thing going to be able to hold all the supernatural souls? They’re more powerful than human souls.”

“Well, if you happen to have another soul-holder laying around, you just let me know,” Jesse says, scowling at her.

“I’m just saying, maybe you should’ve done some research before you set this plan into motion.”

“It’s going to work.” Jesse snaps, getting into Circe’s face. 

“All right, if you say so,” she replies, lifting a magical hand, glowing gold, and pressing it against the box.

You gasp, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline and your eyes flicker a gold that makes its way down your face, arms, and into your phone, causing it to call Benny.

“If Circe has taken Y/N’s place you need to find her fast. The longer Circe stays in her place, the more of Y/N’s lifeforce she takes,” Evelyn says. “She could die.”

As if on cue, Benny’s phone rings. 

He scrambles to check it, Y/N’s name glowing on the screen. “Oh my god.”

He answers it. “Y/N? Where are you, baby?”

“Benny...” your voice is faint and quiet. “...mirror...”

“Mirror? I don’t know what that means, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

The urgency in his voice is obvious and you’re trying your best.

“At- at school...the mirror...”

“A mirror at school? The mirror at school?”

“Olivia Frye’s mirror!” Ethan says with a snap of his fingers. “In the theater.”

“Y/N, babe, is that right? You’re in Olivia’s mirror?”

“..yes.”

“Great, let’s go,” Sarah says.

“Be careful!” Evelyn replies as they go.

“Y/N, stay on the phone with me, okay?”

You groan. “Benny, I’m so tired...”

They throw themselves into Grandma’s car, Sarah driving.

"No, no, baby girl, stay awake for me,” Benny pleads, hearing your breathing become labored.

“Benny...” you whisper out one last time before the phone goes dead.

“Y/N? Y/N! Y/N, baby, please- god dang it!” Benny throws his phone down.

“It’s okay, Benny, we’ll find her,” Ethan says. “She’s gonna be fine.”

“I hope so, E, I really hope so.”

"Do it now,” Jesse demands.

Circe’s eyes glow gold and she whispers an incantation.

Meanwhile, Erica and Rory are out looking for a midnight snack. 

“Are you sure we should be out here?” Rory asks. “Sarah said there’s a powerful witch out here somewhere. And that she’s working with Jesse.”

“What’s Jesse got against us?” Erica replies. “If anything he should be thanking us for being his only turns that survived. Natural selection in my opinion.”

Suddenly, her body goes rigid and a glowing, white mist flows out of her mouth and shoots off. Her body collapses to the ground.

“Erica?” Rory asks, nervously, leaning down next to her.

Erica’s soul finds its way into the Cubile Animus and Jesse smiles.

Rory’s body follows ensuite of Erica’s, going still and his soul being taken from his body.

And now we’re caught up. You’re dying in unimaginable darkness, weeping. Wishing with all your might that they find you. That you’ll see your friends and Benny again.

Luckily for you, they burst through the door.

Ethan, Benny, and Sarah are to the mirror in no time, Benny’s hand pressing against the glass.

“Y/N! Come take my hand, please!”

“I-I can’t,” you cry, tears rolling down your cheeks as you look at him, his eyes worried, scared even.

“Yes, you can!” He replies. “I won’t let you die! You’re so close, Y/N, just come take my hand.”

It’s hard, and it hurts, but you move.

You crawl, sobbing, towards him.

Benny’s own tears are threatening to spill over as he listens to you crying. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Please, I love you.”

You reach up. And take his hand.

Feeling your grip, Benny pulls.

Your body comes tumbling out of the mirror and into Benny, who immediately hold you close, whispering “oh my god” over and over.

You’re shaking, still crying. You’re thin, pale, and weak.

“Y/N,” Sarah says softly. “Do you know where the doppelganger is?”

You close your eyes, focusing. “The theater,” you whisper. “They’re at the theater.”

More souls are being sucked into the box: Kurt Lockner’s, David Stachowski’s, all the vampire nurses.

Evelyn, knowing - or rather feeling -  what’s happening, sits in her rocking chair and mumbles a counter spell that will keep her soul inside her body.

Circe growls. “Let go, Evelyn. I’ll get your soul if it kills you.”

“Not a chance.” Evelyn replies.

Sarah hits the breaks hard, putting the car in park and jumping out of the car, Ethan following closely.

“Y/N, stay here, okay?” Benny instructs.

You nod, closing your eyes and lying down.

“Hey!” Sarah kicks open the door to the theater. “Having a party without me?”

“Sarah!” Jesse says. “Glad you can join us. Just in time for Circe to take your soul.”

“Oh yeah? Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” Circe replies, turning to Sarah with glowing gold eyes.

It strikes her then how nearly exactly she looks to you.

“So your the witch who’s stealing my girlfriend’s soul!” Benny shouts.

Circe smiles. “I’m a much better model, don’t you think?”

“Not a chance, honey.”

“Jesse, I’m busy. Take care of them, won’t you?” Circe says. “Your grandmother can’t hold on forever, Benny.”

“What?” Benny cries, becoming angry. He shouts a spell, hurling it in Circe’s direction, who waves it off easily. 

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Come on, Sarah,” Jesse says. “We’ve been here before, haven’t we? What makes you think you’ll win this time?”

“This!” Ethan yells, shooting Jesse in the face with holy water.

Jesse screams.

“Literally never go anywhere without this. We’re smarter this time, don’t you know?”

“I don’t think you nerds have the capacity,” Jesse says, wiping the burning liquid off his face with his sleeve.

Sarah attacks him and Ethan gasps, being overcome with a vision. It’s a vision of Benny’s grandma and Jane chanting the same words she used to defeat Jesse the first time.

When he comes back to, he shouts, “Benny! Your grandma’s spell! The first one!”

The pieces clicking in his head, Benny chants those same words and watches as a bolt of lighting appears and hits Circe in the chest. She cries out, dropping the box that Benny scoops up.

“Hey, Jesse,” Benny says.

Jesse stops, Sarah’s neck in his hand, and looks at Benny.

“This look familiar?”

He opens the box, releasing the souls inside.

Jesse screams, dropping Sarah and running off.

“You coward!” Circe yells. “Coward! AH!”

The souls attack Circe, slowly pulling Y/N’s soul out of her body.

Once it’s out, Circe drops to the ground and fades away in a fog.

Breathing heavily, the three left watch as Y/N’s soul shoots off, presumably back to Y/N’s body.

“We really need to destroy this thing,” Benny says, tossing the box in the air and catching it again.

Erica and Rory burst through the doors, fangs bared, ready for a fight.

“Aw, man, did we miss it again?” Rory asks.

“Yeah, sorry, Ror,” Ethan replies.

“Ugh. I’ve been waiting to tear Jesse a new one for like, ever,” Erica says.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get your chance,” Sarah says.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Benny says, shoving the box into Ethan’s hands and running out to the car, the others following.

You’re still sleeping, and breathing, thankfully. But your color isn’t back to normal, neither is your weight.

So, they take you to Evelyn.

“Her body isn’t used to magic,” she explains as Erica and Sarah set you gently onto Benny’s bed. “It’s going to take a while for her to naturally heal. But, if a few powerful magicians were to try to speed things along...”

“We can do that?” Benny asks, hopefully.

Evelyn grabs his shoulders. “We can try.”

They hold hands over your body, shutting their eyes and chanting “Extende in desiderium cordis mei; Sana hoc vulnus cum virtute ignis. Aufer aegritudinem et dolorem; Sanatio est quod offero.”

Your body glows, color coming back to you and your weight returning to its normal size, but you don’t wake up.

“Did it work?” Benny asks. “Why is she still asleep?”

“Even healing magic takes time,” Evelyn explains. “Give her a little bit.”

She pats him lightly and leaves the room, leaving Benny alone with you.

“God, I really thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

The time stretches on as he waits for you to wake up and he eventually nods off.

Which is when you decide to wake up.

You smile as you see him lying next to you and lean over to kiss his cheek.

He shoots awake immediately, practically tackling you in a hug. “Thank god!”

You laugh. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Always,” he replies. “Always.”

[starberry-cupcake]

After a weekend that exhausted me, I am finally able to come back to this book. My reacts proved useful to remind me where I left of, who would have thought.

previously, on harrowberry the ninth:

this happened

also, harrowberry is courtesy of @lady-harrowhark

after which I suggested the following album cover as a representation of her

currently, chapters 14-16:

"The Mithraeum, the seat of the First Reborn! The Sanctuary of the Emperor of the Nine Houses, the bolthole of God"

I don't want to sound like gideon

I really don't

but I have to be entirely honest here

I read that sentence twice, at separate times

and neither of those times did I read "bolthole"

MOVING ON

harrowberry is settled in a room which was made for a lyctor that never was

I don't know if this is at all important but it caught my eye

I wonder what happened there

and I am, as we have established, fixating on very particular things

the emperor johnny bravo has a room that's described as a locked tomb, but harrow says that, unlike the other locked tomb, she's not interested to see what's in this one

on the one hand, I want to know what this guy's actually doing but, on the other, I don't care about what's going on in his intimacy

harrow is also surprised that he gets embarrassed

which I don't, because he should be embarrassed and ashamed about all of the stuff that is going on in general

I don't know specifics and I don't know details, but I know he's at fault

like we say over here, I've got no evidence but I've got no doubt

he tells harrowbean about the BOE

he says they hate the nine houses and that they have agents who turn planets against them

they got themselves a leader about 25 years before harrow was born, who made things more difficult for johnny man

let's bring back the timeline I'm constantly discarding and bringing back

we've been told now that: this leader showed up 25 years before harrow was born, they disappeared nearly 20 years ago and gideon was born 18 years ago in space to a mom who was brain dead upon arriving at ninth

there's also the whole eggs thing that idk if it has something to do with this or not but we're not totally throwing anything away here

we've moved from a cork board to a 3d model at this point

emperor johnny boo is blaming these people for not!dulcinea going ballistic

idk johnny man, you kind of fucked that up on your own I think, but go off, I guess

he also says that the BOE folks hate necromancers and necromancy

I don't wanna be making assumptions with little to no info (literally all I've been doing) but all I've seen so far is these people teaching harrow to kill planets

that's not what miss frizzle told me I should be doing when she wore the most iconic looks in television history

maybe if the emperor dressed like this I'd be trusting him more

emperor johnny also clocked harrow being a ninth kid smoothie

because harrow was doing theorems in the river and only one other person ever did that before

the person who founded the sixth

we're ok with the sixth because camilla came from there

when harrow starts telling him the smoothie story, the emperor says "This was...all so different...before we discovered the scientific principles" and proceeds to tell her that her parents basically did a mini resurrection

he says "I have committed the same act, and I know the price I had to pay" and calls her "a walking miracle"

to which harrow responds "I have just told you that I am the product of my parents' genocide"

emperor, my man

he says "nobody has to know" about the kid smoothie

there sure are a lot of things people aren't supposed to know or ask about over here in the emperor's bolthole

*me, high fiving gideon's force ghost*

he says the initials of BOE mean "blood of eden" and that Eden is "someone they left to die"

then he quotes shakespeare??? I think king lear???

“How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child”, that quote

I'm not super knowledgeable when it comes to shakespeare tbh but...ominous

he also says "once you turn your back on something, you have no more right to act as though you own it"

and harrow thinks "at the time, that had made perfect sense to you"

that's pinned under the "hope for later" category

NEXT CHAPTER

harrow talks to ice cube barbie in her dreams

ice cube barbie says she's died twice

THEN, AND THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT

harrow asks her if she has ortus's eyes or if her eyes are hers and what her eyes are like

and ice cube barbie says "she asked me not to tell you"

this is me, adding another thing to the "hopeful hints for gideon" shrine I am building

chapter 16

harrow asks yandere twin about her diary and she says it has been burned on her own orders

more hints for my theory of past!harrow knowing a lot and planning ahead

harrowcita calls lyctortus (name suggested by the reply gang, thank you reply gang) "the other one"

which could be "other" as in "other lyctor" or as in "other ortus", so it's fine either way

harrow is worried about not!dulcinea still being a threat

AREN'T WE ALL

AREN'T WE ALL

I SURE AM, ALWAYS

she should have been flushed into space

harrow thinks not!dulcinea is moving and yandere twin calls her "crazycakes"

then we start going a bit more in depth about augustine

I have come to understand that he isn't called "saint of patience" because he's patient

he's called "saint of patience" because that's what you have to practice when you're around him

good god, this man

he has the charisma of the fifth but the disagreeable nature of the eighth

here I am, making judgment on these people I only know like 2 representatives of, but anyway

he's like if magnus hadn't discovered a passion for baking and had instead decided his hobby was to be passive aggressive and thinking too highly of himself

his cav was his brother, apparently

harrow thinks he's hollow inside

he is absolutely horrendous to mercygirl

BUT, MOST IMPORTANTLY

he also alludes to not!dulcinea moving and thinks mercygirl is doing it

I don't know about this, you guys

two mulders in one recap is what you get when I have been forced to not read for a couple days

I think fox mulder represents my energy in these recaps

Augustine The Unpleasant mentions that johnny j has "spent the last 10 thousand years on a perpetual search-and-destroy mission out of, as far as I can tell, purely symbolic retribution"

great, that sounds fantastic for god to do

and that "I wouldn't set myself up as his replacement A.L. He doesn't need another bodyguard, and even she was significantly more lucid than you are" (you being mercygirl)

I had mentioned the possibility of ice cube barbie being this AL person, we still don't know, but this AL is "she"

let's put that in the 3D model

augustine calls chad a "nice boy", which tracks for him being a Senior Chad

he treats harrow badly, which we absolutely don't stan over here in the harrow respect corner

harrow obliterates him with a comeback and he calls her Anastasia (You were born in a palace by the sea / A palace by the sea? Could it be?) like the previous ninth

these people love comparing their old pals to everyone they meet, even if they supposedly didn't get along much

harrow also makes fun of yandere twin for being what gideon would call "a weenie" over augustine

then we get the augustine and johnny explanation of how to kill the beast

I am all for information but this whole thing gives me the worst vibes

basically he says the beasts (disrespectful name) eat planets like oysters and then keep the thanergy as armor

the beast can inhabit anything it's thanergetically connected to it via their death

like that which they kill

they travel as river projections

they have agents, which he describes like the borg in star trek

individual forms connected to its hive

the whole lyctor thing, having a necromancer's ability with a cav's training to take over the body, seems to be a key to fighting these things

because the necro part goes down into the river to do the thing and the cav can take over the defense of the body

this, I think, could be what we saw harrow doing in the prologue, the projection thing

but harrow's body isn't protected, because she's "lyctor lite"

because there's hope for gideon or so help me john

which might be why yandere twin was telling her she would not be guarded if she did what she was about to do

I am very intrigued as to what harrow will come to know to push her to do what she did

also, she got stabbed, so I'd like to know if she's fine

but we have 0 guarantees of anything over here in the mithrandir or whatever

the emperor's bolthole

god, what has gideon done to me

they say the point of the combat is to throw the beast's soul into the abyss and hope it doesn't come back

that's what I've been trying to do with not!dulcinea all this time

ALSO still no camilla

see you next time and thank you for not hating the length of these things ♥

[bussyslayer333]

Mad About the Boy

fratboy!bradley bc i said so (isn’t he so meow in this)

summary: trying to tutor bradley bradshaw was infuriating for many reasons, not all of them you expected.

pairing: fratboy!bradley x tutor!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: smut but no actual sex, allusions to smut, swearing, frat boys 😟, pet names, one mention of daddy issues (not in reference to reader) MDNI 18+

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Romeo is crazy for tying himself down like that so young,” Bradley complains for what seems like the hundredth time in the past hour.

You sigh, sick of his Shakespeare ‘interpretations’ which have been interrupting your tutoring session. This year you had prayed that keeping your head down and getting on with your classes would mean you could get by with ease. However, your English lit professor had other ideas. You had no idea why Bradley Bradshaw was even in this class, from what you had heard he was headed straight to flight school after graduation so analysing classic literature didn’t necessarily seem up his alley.

“We’re not talking about Romeo, we’re talking about Juliet’s relationship with her father.”

“Shit, daddy issues? Yeah I’ve dealt with that before someone tell Romeo to get out while he can.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes once again and readjust your glasses.

“Look, I don’t think we’re getting anywhere today, we can just start again next session.”

Bradley seems upset at your suggestion and speaks up quickly, “No! Please, don’t go I’m sorry. I promise I’ll pay attention now.”

This was one of the many things you claimed to hate about Bradley Bradshaw. Not the fact that he was in a frat, or that he had a ridiculous name, it was the fact that he always managed to get you wrapped around his finger. You’d promised yourself when your professor had asked you to do this that you wouldn’t fall into his traps, his big brown eyes or his backwards caps that he somehow managed to pull off.

Bradley’s looking at you from where he’s sat across the table in the private room you’ve booked in the library. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a tight white t shirt, he discarded his large black hoodie on a chair to his right earlier. You try not to look into his big brown eyes but you feel it would be worse to let them drift down to where his shirt is drawn tight across the expanse of his chest.

Shaking your head slightly you refocus.

“Bradley you have to promise.”

“That’s what I said sweetheart.”

That was what you hated most. That he made you feel special. That he made you feel like you weren’t just some girl picked out to tutor him. When he talks to you he always makes eye contact, he has a way of making you feel like you’re the only two people in a room even if it’s bustling with life. Even when the things he says are stupid and lack thought you want to laugh, because you want him to look at you and smile.

Fiddling with a loose piece of wool in your knitted cardigan you continue,

“Well… okay then.”

Bradley smiles, “that’s my girl.”

Your stomach flips and you feel your cheeks warm. It’s utterly embarrassing but you can’t find it in you to care. You take a deep breath and reassess, looking down to your textbook at notes you’ve highlighted to bring up and explain.

What you don’t notice is Bradley watching your every move, smirking to himself as he sees how flustered you are.

“Right, so for context we understand the importance of the patriarchy in Shakespearean society, which is why it’s shocking to audiences of the time that she disobeys her father so brazenly to elope with Romeo.”

Bradley’s watching you with his mouth slightly open. He looks adorably stupid. You look up from where you’ve been reading your annotations and he closes his mouth and leans in closer.

“Do you understand?”

Bradley winces slightly apologetically and you sigh again, wracking your brain for a way to actually help Bradley retain the information. You think back to the past few tutor sessions you’ve had with him. You had done a small assessment with him where you divised a few questions on topics and themes you’d tried to cover with him. He had excelled in one specific part but the rest was very mixed with him. You wondered what you had done in that session for him to remember so well.

“Bradley, why do you remember act 2 so well?” You ask harmlessly. Wondering what technique you tried in that session that clearly worked so well.

Bradley flushes at your question, scratching the back of his neck, suddenly avoiding your eyes. You worry you’ve upset him and start to form an apology when he finally speaks up,

“Well it was on that really hot day, and you were so animated when you were explaining everything and God please don’t think I’m a dick but your tank top was really tight and I’m an idiot and-”

You’re laughing so hard Bradley stops his embarrassed rambling and looks up, brows scrunched together. You have to take a breath to collect yourself before you can speak again.

“My boobs are what kept your attention whilst talking about act 2 of Romeo and Juliet?” You giggle.

His cheeks are rosy and hot to touch, he looks bashful and has the decency to apologise,“I’m sorry, if it’s any help you were also very enthusiastic about it which was good as well.”

You snicker again and humour him, “So if I took my shirt off and repeated the last sentence you would know what’s going on?”

He laughs, glad you’re not upset at him, “I mean probably.”

He’s joking for the most part but it forms a plan in your head. You can’t really believe this is happening. You’ve seen the girls usually surrounding Bradley and you wouldn’t be a part of that crowd ever, but you’ve never seen him act this way around a girl so you decide to voice your plan.

“Bradley read back through the notes, then I’m going to quiz your orally.”

Bradley looks slightly crestfallen at the turn in conversation and at the idea that he has to study again, before you continue your plan.

“For every question you get right I’ll let you pick a piece of my clothing I have to take off.”

He looks up at you with a dazzling smile and you chuckle at his quick change in demeanour.

“Really?”

“I promise.” You mimic his words from earlier.

Bradley immediately opens his textbook to the same page as yours and pulls your notebook with extra annotations over. He reads with intent like you’ve never seen and you feel slightly annoyed that you’d never thought of this before.

You check your phone to find a text from your roommate Maya. She knew you were tutoring Bradley tonight and had sent a message saying she hopes it isn’t too bad. Boy if she knew.

You look up to see Bradley reading the last section of your notes. You’re shocked by how fast he read, before this you were 75% certain he couldn’t read, so it was a pleasant surprise really.

“I’m done, quiz me.” Bradley interrupts your train of thought.

He’s leaned back more slightly in his chair now, observing your movement openly. You stand to twist the lock on the door, although the room is in the corner of a secluded part of the second floor you can’t imagine the horror of the 70 year old library assistant (Laurie) who you’d become well acquainted with, walking in on you stripping for a frat boy.

You sit back down in your seat and pull your knees up to your chest. Bradley has closed the books and has his phone turned face down on the table, you’re impressed by his commitment.

You decide to start off easy wanting to test the water, “Why does Romeo refuse to fight Tybalt?”

Bradley smiled like you’ve asked him the easiest question in the world even though two hours ago he did not know who Tybalt was.

“He’s just married his cousin, he doesn’t want to start fighting his own family.”

You smile at his answer, “Correct.”

“Take that hideous cardigan off.” Bradley chuckles.

You gasp at his words, “I love this cardigan! My roommate knitted it for me.”

“Is she blind?”

You stifle a laugh and pull the cardigan off. Bradley sits up a little straighter as he takes in your attire which was hidden by the baggy outer layer. You’re wearing baggy sweatpants with a tight crop top. It’s worn, so it’s comfortable but it suits you well and hugs the right areas, it also shows that you’re not wearing a bra underneath. You take in Bradley’s tensed eyebrows and eyes that are already zoned in on you.

“Are you seriously rocking a semi after all I’ve done is take off my cardigan?” You tease in mild disbelief.

Bradley takes it in his stride, “It’s more from the relief of not having that eyesore right in my view anymore.”

You roll your eyes and continue on with your questions. He gets the next one right and opts for you to take off your shoes. Claiming it will make it easier for you to remove your sweatpants when he gets the next question right. You laugh at his cockiness but surely enough he gets it right. You make a show out of taking them off, wiggling your hips and turning around whilst you bend down to take them off fully. You’re glad that morning you decided to put on a nice pair of underwear, it’s lacy but tasteful. When you turn around Bradley is readjusting himself slightly and rubs a hand down his face. He has a lazy smirk plastered on,“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.”

Your face heats at his admission “You should have told me sooner.” You smirk back.

“I think you need to sit closer. So I can hear you better.” Bradley claims

You move around from the seat opposite to the seat right next to him, you go to sit down but you can see a sly look on his face that reveals he has an ulterior motive. He pulls you down onto his lap, you’re in a slightly awkward position at first but readjust so that you legs sit either side of his. You look up and catch his lips quirking up and he sighs contently as he feels the weight of you settle down on him.

“Much better.” He breathes.

You squirm slightly, worried that he can feel the warmth of you through his sweatpants. There’s only a few layers separating you now and it’s obvious to both of you. Bradley places his hands on your waist, stilling you. He groans as you rolls your hips accidentally.

“You’re killing me here sweetheart.”

You flush slightly but decide to continue your questions,

“What does her nurse suggest to Juliet at the end of the act and how does it affect their relationship?”

Bradley tries not to focus on how good you feel sat on him and wracks his brain for the answer. He remembers reading your notes about it and closes his eyes in thought. You roll your hips down with more purpose now and speak,

“5…4…3…”

Bradley groans but begins, “Bigamy! It ruins the trust they once shared!” He spits out with urgency.

He looks down at you and sees a pleased look on your face,

“Well done baby.” You speak but flush at how the pet name slips out and Bradley quirks an eyebrow.

“Shirt off, baby” Bradley copies you with a smirk on his face.

You consider letting him suffer, but you honestly want to as much as he does now. You tease him, lifting the bottom of the shirt slowly. It reaches the bottom of your breasts and you feel Bradley twitch in his sweatpants beneath you. Filled with a surge of confidence you lift your shirt swiftly, pulling it over your head carefully. Your glasses slip down your nose slightly but your hair remains mostly fine. Bradley groans loudly and you shush him.

“We’re still in a library after all,” you giggle.

He rolls his eyes but begins again, “Can I touch you?”

His sincerity shocks you and makes your heart race, “I think you deserve to yeah.”

His hands are on your breasts in an instant squeezing them with a look of awe on his face. It makes you laugh but you’re quickly silenced as his hard length is bucked up into you. You whimper quietly and he finally closes the space between you which has been reducing as the events unfolded. The kiss is tentative at first, he tastes like the spearmint gum he’s always chewing. You take the initiative and deepen the kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair, you can tell he enjoys the action because he whimpers into your mouth.

Bradley finally removes his hands from your breasts and moves them to skim along your waist and finally down to your ass. He plays with the lace of your panties and you hum into the kiss. When you finally part from his lips, his chest is heaving. Your lips are swollen and rouged from the pressure and he admires them, staring down at your face. You feel him ping your panties against your hip and you finally speak up,

“We can’t fuck in the library.”

Bradley laughs and you worry that you’ve assumed too quickly before he reassures you,

“I wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart, I’m far too gentlemanly for that.” He winks. “Come to mine? I really want to give you a tour of my bedroom, maybe we can continue our tutor session there?”

You laugh at his suggestions but nod your head anyway. Bradley is nice enough to give you your shirt that is strewn across the chair next to him. You pull it over your head and Bradley pouts playfully. Leaving his lap, you’re glad to see you haven’t left a wet spot on his sweatpants but you can quite clearly see his prominent bulge. Bradley smirks as he follows your eye line. Not wanting to boost his ego even further you spin on your heel to pick up your own sweatpants and shoes. You hear him whisper a quiet ‘goddam’ as you bend over to pick up your sweatpants and once you’ve pulled them on you turn around and stick your tongue out at him. He laughs through his nose as you lace up your shoes.

Standing back up you see that Bradley has collected your books into your tote bag and is wearing it over his shoulder. The sweet action makes you smile shyly and he extends his hoodie out to you.

“I’m not being seen with you in that cardigan.”

“Shut up.”

You take the hoodie anyway and pull it over your head. It smells dizzyingly like him and you shake your head to clear your thoughts. He’s holding both your bags and tells you your cardigan is in his backpack. You pick your phone up from the table and slide it into the front pocket of Bradley’s hoodie, you spot him shooting a text to his roommate Jake telling him to be gone by the time he gets back and giggle. You make a mental note to text Maya and tell her you’ll be back later than usual.

Bradley walks you to the door with his arm guiding you on your lower back. Once you’ve unlocked it and are walking out he slips his hand into yours. The action is far too sweet for all the things he’s about to do to you, but it shows you that maybe you don’t hate Bradley Bradshaw after all.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: hehehehhee this was so self indulgent sorry,, i promise i will get to requests asap i just wanted to post this first :p i really hope everyone loves fratboy!bradbrad as much as i do

requests are still open !!!

pls reblog and comment or send me an ask and tell me what u think !!!

thanks for reading :)

- honey <333

[shigure]

thoughts on "writing oberon"

i don't think oberon is compelled to lie about everything intrinsically. if you ask him coffee or tea he can pick one. if you ask him what color the sky is he can tell you blue. if you ask him who won the superbowl, he's not googling it just to make sure he gets it wrong.

vocabulary for this post

vortigern: abyssal worm that destroys and loathes

faerie king: who he pretends to be

oberon: both/neither, just the fastest way to refer to the unit as a thinking being/practical reality

the nature of his lies comes from his existence as a walking contradiction. the faerie king is perfectly suited to faerie britain on the surface - he's friendly and silly and popular, and he enjoys playing pranks and entertaining people. he's never experienced any major loss like murian has, and he's as loyal to his wife as aurora is to melusine. the fairie king as presented by shakespeare doesn't have anything substantial going on between his ears. || the destroyer of faerie britain has always been disgusted by every part of it. he's keenly aware of how it was made; he's the will of britain trying to kill itself rather than limping along as this colossal parody propped up by moronic culture thieves. and just like the place itself, he's being paraded about as some kind of clown - hell, a cheater to boot. he's a walking insult to his own dignity, and he will only feel peace when it's all been blown to pieces.

this of course creates his cynicism. his experiences on the surface befriending the welsh forest faeries allowed him to feel real love for parts of this place, which heightened his disgust for all of it. surely he lamented in an irreconcilable way when barghest, the monster he created, [destroyed part of britain] and killed the friends he had made. and as his perspective becomes more disjointed in a way that can be understood, it all becomes even shakier when you add in that the faerie king is inherently unreliable, frankly just insubstantial - because any strong emotions the faerie king expresses are written to be ploys and no more, the being that is oberon-vortigern cannot voice sadness or anger, lest they be taken for the faerie king's crocodile tears. forget feeling responsible and conflicted, he can't even grieve because his strongest emotions are labelled tricks as soon as he shows them.

-

beyond that, it's really important to remember that oberon is an actor. he describes "the faerie king" as a character many times (titania too!), but you and he are not side characters - he calls the two of you spectators, i.e. not actively serving as characters at all. when he is participating, he plays a role. when he is with you, even though he as a person is still tricking you, he's not going out of his way to act like a silly faerie king and entertain you. it might be easier to understand this if you think about what he was pretending to be for you: a PHH faerie fitting in as a lostworld faerie. he's undercover, and even though the guy you talk to is still a faerie king, he's here with a more serious mission that differs from his public face.

him being an actor is crucial for how he was summoned in the first place. vortigern is a writhing mass of hatred for what britain has become. it can't love britain. it can't belong in britain. things that don't belong in faerie britain, like holmes and nemo, are weakened there. if it's going to enter britain, it needs a body that won't hate britain. it will hire itself as an actor to play "the faerie king," and read its lines dutifully. this isn't something vortigern manifested before doing and decided upon, it's something that had to happen as a premise of the summoning itself, to allow vortigern to manifest at all. for the duration of oberon's existence, from summoning til nonexistence, he is there as an actor. that includes while he's being vortigern. look at vortigern's sprite: do you see where his bug feet and bug hand connect to his body? not clearly, no! hell, his legs actually black out so we can't see whether the pants cover insect legs or turn into props. they appear to be melded to his clothes, but those aren't gloves and shoes. they're connected to his body, but they're something as removable as an actor's prosthetic.

all that is to say, [vortigern] [is an actor playing] [oberon] is a statement without removable parts. all that can happen is shifting the order into [oberon] [is an actor playing] [vortigern]. and just like the faerie king's love for the welsh forest faeries was just lines read off a script by vortigern, vortigern's vitriolic disgust for those same faeries is just lines read off a script by oberon. if the "actor" part was optional, vortigern's body would be a hell of a lot more fucked up.

-

i've previously likened oberon to an experience i have when i'm discussing something i dearly love with people who also love it, but i mention something i really hate about it. for me, this happens because i get nervous, but i end up panicking and trying to reassure my friends that i really do like the thing in question. so, i end up walking away feeling dissatisfied: i either didn't properly convey my unhappiness with That One Thing, or i did a disservice in expressing how much i love the overall product. when this happens, i feel i haven't done justice to myself.

i don't think oberon has self confidence issues (though obviously he does hate himself), so he's not going through it the way i am. but it's also true that when he's talking about things that really count, nothing he says can do justice to the multifaceted emotions he has about things. furthermore, the automatic devaluing of his most emphatic statements that comes from him being the faerie king is incredibly disheartening.

his options are either be noncommittal and insubstantial, or be sarcastic and dismissive. he's black and white in one, but not grey, instead a checkerboard. he's the ultimate "and" statement. to force an opinion out of him is to pin him to one side, but since the other side isn't less true, whatever he says becomes false. if you use a command spell to make him only speak the whole truth, he will fall silent.

i think that as you spend more time with him, a lot can be better conveyed without words. i think that if you make it clear you understand and believe the part of him that despises you, you can experience the equal part of him that is impressed by and maybe even grateful to you. i don't think it's impossible to understand him, and someone who understands him and still wants him is something he considers an unattainable dream.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi there, I love your writing and I was wondering if it’s alright if I request a Morticia Reader with Yandere Jack (My Baby Boy), Odin, Poseidon, Chen Gon (He screams Gomez), Hades, Loki, Beelzebub, Buddha, Hajin and Zerofuku (Platonic, she basically adopted Zero and cares for him like he’s her son)

She’s known to be elegant, aloof, poised, deadpan, well-mannered, finds beauty in the macabre, though polite she’s unafraid to state her opinion and sees no reason to apologize for her loved ones’ lifestyle

She’s also fiercely loyal and protective of her family and is in a deep romantic relationship with (Love), and only had eyes for him, she has a unique outlook on life and has a personal green house for all the carnivorous and poisonous plants she grows and cares fondly for

-Beautiful, dark, deadly, passionate, loving, unique, all were words used to describe you and all of them were true.

-You were like the moon against the dark night sky, surrounded by pitch black darkness, bright but eerie and quiet.

-You found enjoyment in the dark and macabre, but to you, they were normal, beautiful things, skulls, poisonous flowers, dangerous plants, death, how lovely.

-Many thought you were odd by the way you dressed and carried yourself, always wearing elegant black gowns paired with matching jewelry with spider or coffin motifs. However, sometimes you would wear different colors when it was warmer out, just a slightly lighter shade of black with an umbrella, you didn’t need any unwanted color in your complexion.

-Your tone was always even and deadpan, never showing emotions the way others do, so nobody could ever tell if you were joking or not about feeding someone to your kitty-cat, an actual lion that you kept around who was like a housecat with you and those he knew, but vicious and violent with strangers.

-Many made comments that you would be attractive if you were ‘normal’ but where’s the fun in that? It’s much more fun to keep others guessing- keeping them on your toes.

-Speaking of keeping others on their toes, if anyone was to visit your private greenhouse, they would need to watch where they step or risk losing a few.

-Your garden was notorious for being filled with poisonous and carnivorous plants, and not just little things like little Venus Fly Traps, no you had a giant 4 ½ foot one that would eat people if they got close enough if you hadn’t fed them yet!!

-However, due to their healthy fear of your garden, you didn’t have many visitors, which you liked, less of a risk of your babies getting trampled or damaged.

-Your lover liked you the way you were, you were unapologetically unique, and he loved it, you were so different from other women and that’s what drew him to you.

-At first he did think you were a little odd, intimidating was a word he liked to use, as you weren’t afraid to speak your mind and there was always an air around you, a silent warning, but as time went on, he fell hard for you.

-Jack- He adores everything about you, from the way you dress and carry yourself, to your hobbies, to your passion, he had never met someone so bright but also so dark before. You were brutally honest and so full of life; your colors were stunning to him, and he loved to just gaze at you. Your wit and charm never failed to bring a smile to his face, and he knows that he could tell you anything and you would give your honest opinion, but you would always support him. You would bond over Shakespeare and tea, him reading to you while you knitted quietly, a soft, content smile on your lips. Fiercely protective of you, would not hesitate to throw words or hands with others if they would dare insult you, and you found it refreshing that he would defend your honor, even going as far as challenging them to a duel.

-Odin- You adored your darling lover, from his darling ravens, his rugged looks, seemingly endless knowledge, and his unfaltering loyalty to those he cares about. He loved your passion, he could tell when you were happy, tending to your plants or talking long moonlit walks, and while others would only see you with a neutral face, he could tell you were beaming. Odin preferred the quiet, so you were a perfect match, he could sit with you in your greenhouse, minding your plants that could be nippy with him, and ‘read’, holding an open book while looking at you, watching your fluid movements flittering about. You were the only one, besides Odin, that Muninn and Huginn would perch on, sitting on your shoulders, enjoying your attention and affections. When Odin wanted attention he would just wrap his arms around you from behind and just hold you, which you thought was cute, but you enjoy it as well.

-Poseidon- You didn’t bother Poseidon with loud squeals and fawning eyes, like other women who would eye him, you were calm, mature, and so elegant, while being dangerous at the same time. You would hesitate to threaten to poke out another woman’s eyes if she didn’t keep them to herself, and due to your even tone she couldn’t tell if you were serious or not, until you held up your hand, nails pointed out at her. You actually made Poseidon laugh that day, and that was also the day you made him blush when you stepped into his arms, telling him how good he looked smiling. You didn’t force Poseidon to do anything, only asking him, like if he wanted to go on a moonlit walk with you, and he appreciated that, as previous women were always demanding him to do things with them. You would never force your lover to do anything he didn’t want to as you respected him and he respected you for that.

-Chen Gong- At first he was intimidated by you, you were so beautiful and so confident, he felt like he wasn’t worthy to stand in your presence. However, once he found out more and got brave enough to ask you out, he was instantly head over heels in love. He would gaze at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, lighting up his life. He was the opposite of you, cheerful and warm, he was like sunshine while you were moonlight, but he adored everything about you, how you dressed, what you did on a normal day, tending to your garden, you were stunning. If you were in the same area, he couldn’t look away from you, his eyes were always on you if you were around. He never failed to flatter you, bringing you flowers and jewelry, thinking that you would like them, “These roses made me think of you, so I brought you some!” and you always appreciated his gifts, pressing kisses to his face, leaving lipstick marks all over his face, which always makes him melt.

-Hades- You were enamored when you learned that your lover was the king of the underworld, ruling over the land of the dead, and Hades loved that you didn’t mind. His kingdom was beautiful, dark and mysterious, but also so homey and cozy feeling. Hades adored your elegance, your even tone and voice, you were perfection in his eyes, everything and anything you did, he was watching with hearts in his eyes. As he loves you, you are the same for him, he’s regal, calm, a true leader, but also passionate about the things he enjoys. So protective of you, will not hesitate to come to defend your honor, should someone dare to insult it, especially in his presence, it was those rare moments that you would see that Hades was indeed a king. Once he was done dealing with the offending party, however, he was right back to you, kissing the palm of your hand, inquiring if you were alright, which you would always appreciate, giving him a kiss on his cheek, leaving a kiss mark that he would refuse to remove for at least an hour.

-Loki- The first time he saw you his eyes shot out of his head in the shape of pulsating hearts, ogling you and when you flicked them away as if they were a pest, Loki fell hard and fast for you. You find him to be mildly annoying, at first, but when he gave you a bouquet of rose stems, the flowers at the top gone, your favorite flowers, you couldn’t help but open your heart. Definitely a prankster, but never to you, he will pull pranks for you, to make you smile or laugh, and when you smile, he’s immediately in your arms, grinning up at you with a goofy look on his face, adoring the vision. He was very passionate about you, he loved everything about you and was so territorial over you it was almost amusing, Odin liked it because you were able to keep him distracted and out of trouble.

-Beelzebub- Two peas in a pod, both of you were dark, quiet, stoic, and serious, but also loyal and so in love with each other. You didn’t bother him while he was researching, other than bringing him some tea, and he didn’t like your plants, having been bitten by one too many, but supported your love for them, not telling you to get rid of them, like other men tried to tell you to do before. Your passion for what you loved, the macabre, let him relax, as he too enjoyed it, but was less open about advertising it. That’s another thing he loves about you, you weren’t afraid to be you, he did his best to not get close to others, not wanting to hurt and lose anyone else, but you seemed to soothe his inner demons, literally, Satan liked your vibe so he did nothing against you, as he could sense you would be able to hurt him, but he wasn’t completely sure how. This let Beelzebub get close to you and you opened your arms to his love and would gladly drown in your affections.

-Buddha- Complete opposites, as far as vibes go, but at the same time, you both looked so good with each other, balancing each other out. Buddha was very physically affectionate with you, something you didn’t really mind, as he liked to hold you, while you were more words of love, telling him what you loved about him, and covering his face in lipstick marks from your kisses, which would always make him melt. Buddha helped you explore more treats and you taught him about your plants, which he would always hide behind you, not wanting to get bitten again, until you taught him how to feed your babies, which he did have to admit he was fun. You were happy with your lifestyle, something Buddha knew and appreciated, which is why he never tried to make you change, and he was happy just being with you.

-Hajun- Very territorial and easily jealous about you, you didn’t care what he looked like or that he was a demon, you loved him the way he was, and due to that, he adored you, worshipping everything about you. He didn’t find you weird or strange, he found you soothing and calm, to him, you were just Y/N, his love. Hajun was almost like a giant cat with you, he would sit on the floor in front of you and lay his head in your lap, minding his horns and he could just bask there for hours if you let him, because you have in the past. Returning to being jealous and territorial, if another man was to catcall you, or worse, insult you, all he could see is red and would fly into a frenzy, threatening to maim and kill those who would dare approach you in such a way. However, all you need to do is put one hand on his arm and he will be instantly calm, you were the only person able to calm him down, as he would never forgive himself if he hurt you, but you trust him not to, something he adores.

-Zerofuku- Your darling son, you found him peeking into your greenhouse one day and seeing his curiosity while you were feeding your larger Venus Fly Traps, you invited him in. Many told him that you were a scary woman, evil and wouldn’t hesitate to feed him to your plants, but he quickly learned they were wrong. You were so doting and gentle with the child god, treating him like you were his mother, giving him head pats, teaching him new things, and showering him with affection and love, in your own way and Zerofuku loved it! He loved being with you, even though he was the opposite of you, being a ray of sunshine, and you adored him, humoring him when you held his hand while he walked you around the gardens, you shielding yourself with your umbrella and you taught him the beauty of moonlit walks, seeing fireflies and looking at the stars together. You weren’t scary, you were like a mother, one that he loved dearly, and you loved him.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

Hi Lee for the song event

Enchanted by Taylor Swift, Gojo, fluff

WC: 1.6k

CW: mention of beer (no active drinking), college au, reader is very me-coded sorry, reader is a bit of a nerd,

listen to this while reading

note: hi gigi!!!! thank you so much for sending in a request!! this was so cute 🥰 i also feel like this isn't my best work, but i think it's cute and i've spent too much time agonizing over it lmao

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Parties were never really your scene, but your best friend told you that you needed to leave your room from time to time, so here you were, at some random house party. The cool smoothness of the wall you were leaned against seeped through the thin top you were forced into as you chatted with a face you vaguely recognized from one of your lectures. 

Smiling idly, you nodded along to whatever they were saying, trying to block out the pounding music and sour scent of spilled beer. It was easy enough to pretend you were having fun, but internally you just wanted to be in your dorm reading a book or watching a movie. You knew your friends were right and that you did have to get out of your house sometimes, you just didn’t want that time to be now.

There I was again tonight Forcing laughter, faking smiles

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be social, or make new friends, to the contrary you actually wanted that very much. You just didn’t want to have to put in the work to make new friends because of the stress it caused you. You knew you were different from other people your age; more focused on your studies and happiest when you were alone, and it normally didn’t bother you.

No, it only began to make you feel bad in settings like this, where everyone else was mingling and laughing and you were glued to a wall, not even able to recall the name of the person talking to you. Shifting uncomfortably, you made up an excuse and escaped the train wreck of a conversation you were in, pushing your way through the crowd and out onto the back porch.

Taking a deep breath of night-chilled air, you could feel some of the stress and tension leave your frame. The wooden planks of the deck creaked as you made your way across them to lean against the railing, not noticing the man to your left until he spoke.

“Hello there. Come to steal my hiding spot?” You jumped, letting out a small yelp and clutching your chest. “Oh my god, don’t scare me like that! I…”

You looked up, and your voice trailed off. Vivid blue eyes met yours, a mop of fluffy white hair falling into a finely chiseled face. Of course. Of course you had to stumble across the finest man you had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on in your pursuit for peace and quiet. Because things can never be convenient when it comes to your life.

Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy Vanished when I saw your face

Maybe…maybe bumping into the handsome stranger wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to you tonight. At first when he introduced himself as Gojo Satoru, you didn't have high hopes. You’ve heard about Gojo. Everyone had. The most popular guy on campus, athletically talented with the good looks and effortless charm to match.. Of course you knew about the Gojo Satoru.

However, instead of idolizing him like everyone else, you had assumed he was a bit of an egotistical asshole who enjoyed playing with girls' hearts and thought himself better than all. Which is why you were pleasantly surprised when you found yourself enjoying his company.

For one, he was funny, with a witty sense of humor that had you cracking up more than once. You lost track of how long you stood there, shoulder to shoulder, engaging in humorous debate. But aside from his quick wit, he was also kind. Sure he had a bit of an ego (you weren’t wrong in that assumption) but he wasn’t a bad guy. 

Second of all, he was surprisingly intelligent, engaging you in banter about various academic topics. From analyzing the true meaning of Shakespeare’s plays to debating the nature of dark matter, you found that he was able to keep up with your somewhat nerdy interests. Honestly this might be the most interesting conversation outside of your lecture halls that you’ve had in a long time. Who would’ve expected it to be with your school’s resident pretty boy?

The playful conversation starts Counter all your quick remarks

As the party winds down, Gojo finds himself offering to walk you home. Conversation flows smoothly as you walk, your laughter floating through the crisp air, warming it with your invisible light.

“Look!” You point up at the sky, delight shining in your eyes. “The air is so clear tonight. You can see so many stars!”

And while you may be marveling at the sparking stars scattered across the night’s navy backdrop, or how full the moon was, as cheesy as it was, he found himself admiring you instead.

When he had left the party to get some air and escape the hordes of people whose expectations and demands suffocated him, the last thing he had expected was you. You who had stumbled out onto his back porch, your presence a refreshing breath of fresh air blowing away the stifling needs of others. 

So, yes. As cheesy as it was, he found himself admiring you, with your childlike delight in the mundane. Before tonight, the beauty of the night sky would never have crossed his mind, but now as he watches you, he thinks it must be the most beautiful thing in the world to make you light up like that.

Noticing that he got quiet, you turned to check on him and caught him staring at you. Suddenly shy, both of you quickly avert your eyes, faint pink brushing itself across your faces. You continue walking, this time in a heavy silence that speaks more than your mindless chatter.

By the time you finally let him know that you’ve arrived at your house and bid him goodnight he wishes you lived a little farther away, if only so he could spend a little while longer in your company.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home

The cracked white plaster of his ceiling looms above him as he lays sprawled on his bed, unable to get you out of his head. Most girls who he talked to merely liked him for his looks, his popularity, or his cocky personality. But you had been interested in him for his mind. His intelligence and quick wit. 

And he can’t get you out of his head. Surely someone like you has a boyfriend. Someone as caring, beautiful, sweet, intelligent, and funny as you must have people falling for you left and right. But if that was the case, why did you spend so much time talking to him tonight? Was it possible that you were single and he had a chance? 

Letting out a loud sigh, he rolled over and closed his eyes, attempting to fall asleep. He had never believed in love at first sight, but meeting you changed him in a fundamental way. Maybe he did believe in love at first sight, because if not, what else could he call the impact meeting you had on him? Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he would be able to see you again in his dreams.

The lingering question kept me up 2 AM, who do you love?

Cuddled into your stack of blankets and surrounded by your many pillows, you were unable to fall asleep, thoughts of Gojo Satoru plaguing you. He was just…not at all like you had expected. He was smart. And funny. And kind. And he actually paid attention to your rambling, responding and expressing interest unlike many others.

And maybe (just maybe you’re neither confirming nor denying it) you find him just a teensy bit attractive. As much as your mind screamed at you that you couldn’t fall for the first guy who shows even a hint of interest in you, your heart felt otherwise, hoping you would see him again.

Despite your assumptions, you had genuinely enjoyed spending time with him, and found yourself hoping that tonight was only the first of many such conversations and the start of a long friendship. Maybe even more than that if you were being honest. If only you were able to tell if he felt the same way…

This is me praying that This was the very first page Not where the story line ends

You start dating a couple weeks after your initial meeting, and several years later finds you laughing about the foolishness and insecurity of your younger selves.

When you bumped into him on campus the day after you met, you assumed it was some stroke of luck and worked up the guts to ask him for his number, not ready to let the opportunity to have him in your life escape you.

Little did you know the only reason he was there was he begged asked one of his friends to find out your schedule. From there your relationship continued similarly, each of you believing you were the only one who felt the pull between the two of you, and that the night you met didn’t hold the same significance for the other.

In fact, it wasn’t until your one year anniversary when you were reminiscing on your first meeting that you truly realized just how enchanted the other had been the first time you met.

I was enchanted to meet you

taglist: @ponderingmoonlight @arlerts-angel @m0k0k0 @pandora-ophelia-blog

[aroaessidhe]

okay I was asked about fey books I’ve read that Do stick to folklore a bit more than certain popular books - and actually looking at what fey books I’ve read  it’s a bit like.... books that stick to folklore closely I sometimes Don’t Love, and there are others that don’t stick to it as much but I like the overall narrative more? or some mix of that. 

so here’s a list of a few - a range of how much they stick to folklore (which of course is an amorphous thing) and how much I like them, but it’s something!

YA

That Self-Same Metal - literally just read this, it’s about a Black girl who’s the stage blade expert for shakespeare’s company and can see fey, and they’re appearing more and more in the city. explores a bit of the midsummer night’s dream fey but also like “shakespeare was wrong” and general folklore. definitely the start of a series and has a lot going on but I thought it has some cool ideas!

all Holly Black’s books deal with them well! the Modern Faerie Tales companion/trilogy has maybe aged a bit by now, and I hate way the romance ended up together in The Folk of the Air (and the way the fandom is about it) but otherwise I do really like how it deals with fey and politics! also enjoyed The Darkest Part of the Forest. these are all intertwined/same world

The Buried And The Bound - a hedgewitch girl keeps fey away from her town, and gets caught up with two boys who are cursed. mostly deals with minor fey and a powerful hag

An Enchantment of Ravens - it’s been quite a few years since I read this, but I do remember enjoying it. It is a bit more of a romance focused story also, an artist stolen into the fey realm for painting a fey prince as if he was human(iirc?)

The Bone Houses - not directly dealing with fey, but like the aftermath of the ancient fey’s curses? welsh myth inspired. which I think is cool.

At The Edge of The Woods - about a girl in a religious/patriarchial village who starts to have strange dreams about a fey boy luring her into the woods. it’s not super focused on them, but they’re very much the classic ‘dangerous fey stealing people away for entertainment’ kind of thing

Adult

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries - I sort of have mixed feelings about this - I really enjoy how it dealt with fey and the creepier folklore creatures side of it! the handling of the changeling was a bit iffy and not sure about the romance

The Wolf Among the Wild Hunt - dark fantasy novella about a wolf-shifter made to join the wild hunt to save his qpr. focused on the unseelie/wild hunt area

Silver in the Wood - gaslamp fantasy novella about the keeper of a magical forest, dryads and dangerous fey

The Wind City - a bit of a mashup of fey folklore and Māori atua in a modern NZ setting

Sinners/Veiled - very classic but also with the element of a modern setting where human pollution is like a drug to fey (and the MC is a drug lord.) (so kind of dark but also not dark in the sexy way bc the MC is aroace)

Under The Pendulum Sun - this is a gothic fantasy that has a bit of a new take on a fey world, but also definitely has some of those creepy folklore vibes.

Siren Queen - this only partly involves fey but I thought the way that it mashed up old hollywood and fey (aka shady deals for fame themes) was interesting!

Sorcerer to the Crown/The True Queen - my memory on this is hazy, but I believe it’s regency fantasy, with its own take on a fey world/magic (moreso the 2nd book)

Malice/Misrule - adult high fantasy lesbian sleeping beauty reimagining, this is kind of doing it’s own thing I guess (I don’t remember if they’re even called fey?) but definitely has a bit of the creepy creature/court vibes in book 2 especially

In The Jaded Grove - I was just looking up books to see if there was anything I missed and found this, which seems interesting to me!

I also haven’t read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (but I watched the show ages ago) and I believe that has the vibe too

[variousqueerthings]

fascinated that in toeing the line of "the doctor both is and is not asexual, and because the show is ostensibly sexier now there should be imagery of especially david tennant and various women (shockingly no men with ten) smooshing lips," it means that the doctor only ever instigates a kiss when it's got some scifi-type reason behind it, even starting with nine removing the time vortex from rose.

so only counting lip-to-lip contact for a second here*:

jack kisses the doctor (the parting of the ways)

nine removes the time vortex from rose (the parting of the ways)

cassandra kisses the doctor (new earth)

madame de pompadour kisses the doctor (the girl in the fireplace)

jackie kisses the doctor (army of ghosts)

the doctor leaves a DNA print on martha (smith and jones)

martha gives the doctor cpr (smith and jones)

john smith kisses joan (human nature)

astrid kisses the doctor (voyage of the damned)

the doctor kisses astrid goodbye as she dies (voyage of the damned -- only instigation on the doctor's part of any kiss)**

donna shocks the doctor out of being poisoned (unicorn and the wasp)

christina de souza kisses the doctor in planet of the dead and is overall very flirtatious at him in a way that almost feels like idk. an anti-romance plot. it's like everything that came before (and tbh... also amy and river song) in terms of "sexy" doctor-and-companion tension is lampshaded and made a bit silly. I don't know if this is just because the actress and dtennant have minus chemistry, but it's very funny that this is the final flirting + kiss and it's so very... "shrug, you're not going to be my companion, okay, goodbye"

*I think the only time the doctor even jokingly talks about kissing is in dalek's of manhatten, when martha and bby andrew garfield/frank have been captured and the doctor arrives. martha expresses her relief, and the doctor says something along the lines of: "well, you can kiss me later. you too frank, if you want." this is to diffuse a very scary/tense situation

**I tend to read the astrid final kiss as a kindness/comfort rather than romantic interest or sexual interest. because she is dying. and she kissed the doctor earlier, and is very scared

but wait! tentoo and rose were really going at it, you say! tentoo is part human/specifically human in a donna sense. tentoo is also super up for settling down and having a monogamous relationship, which isn't exactly the doctor's style in any regeneration. so yeah.. tentoo is another part of the tightrope, just like john smith. change the doctor into someone who is almost-but-not-quite the same, enough plausible deniability and voila, it's almost like the doctor is kissing someone, but crucially, the doctor still Is Not. in tentoo's case, the doctor is in fact watching it happen with a somewhat despondent look, before turning and leaving without waiting for rose to say goodbye. because, youknow. canonically the doctor cannot give rose what she wants (because he's not alloromantic/allosexual because he's an immortal alien) so it's better just to leave

lastly flirting: the doctor does flirt, but not often. the most flirtatious the doctor gets outside of above kissing line is when jack briefly joins nine and rose, and I'd call that the jack-contagion (affectionately, it's a good thing). ten, actually, flirts... less. comparably. (and hilariously is annoyed that jack flirts so much around him) a bit with rose in christmas invasion and new earth, but apart from the "sexy" wink, not very overtly. I mean, maybe I'm very ace, but I think they do banter rather than flirting. the one time the doctor interprets something as flirting that funnily enough isn't is when rose is talking to a cat. the doctor similarly gets flirted at (madame de pompadour, shakespeare code, martha several times, health and safety, silence of the library) but doesn't tend to enjoy it or often even notice it