#the quote is nice the book it is from is so not my cup of tea but we can ignore that

[owlsie-hoot]

... and the relief we feel once we notice our mistake cannot be expressed with words, only with actions.

for @below-average-fangirl

[lizthewriter]

messy / regina george

PAIRING  regina george x fem!reader

SUMMARY  you and regina have been secretly hooking up for months, but she breaks up with you when you ask for more. after she gets hit by a bus, you fear for her life and whatever relationship you have left.

TAGS  regina george x fem!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending, queer!, reneé rapp is so fine 😫😫, internalized homophobia, use of d-slur (lesbian slur)

QUOTE  "half of all my exes regret me, / but none of them will ever forget me, / loving me gets really messy," - messy by reneé rapp

WRITTEN  1.13.2024

WORD COUNT  1.3K

A/N everytime reneé showed up on screen, i literally started banging my fists against my seat because she SERVED CUNT!!!! SHE WAS SO FINE!!!! literally after the movie, my best friend said to me: "i think you're just gay. i think you're a woman kisser. you might just have a little fruit in your cup."

slammed up against the wall, you felt regina's teeth clash furiously against yours. it was all hot passion - how your lips ran feverishly against hers as though you'd never get to feel her touch again, the way her hands ran up and down the sides of your body as though she needed to memorize the shape of you. days the two of you had gone without a moment to yourselves. days you had spent fantasizing about her pressing you up against the wall. it wasn't that you didn't want a normal relationship. it wasn't that you didn't want to kiss and hold hands and go on cute dates, but . . . that wasn't regina's style. she was closeted. heavily. actually, you weren't sure that she even understood that making out with girls was perhaps the most gay thing she could do, but you were willing to take what you were given. it was regina george, after all.

she pulled away from you by biting gently down on your lip, letting go when she could no longer stretch it any longer. "god, you're so hot," she whispered with a smirk, unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt. she reclaimed the control she had over your body, pressing her lips to your collarbone. your hands somehow found their way to her beautiful blond locks, scraping her scalp with the sharp edge of your nails. fantasy was nothing like reality. you had forgotten how good it felt, but how terrible it was all at once. as her warm breath tickled your skin, doubts that had been haunting you the past few days filled your mind slowly. was this healthy? didn't you deserve a healthy queer relationship, one that would be open and free and full of love, real love?

you wanted it all. you wanted the life you saw other queer girls have all around the world. going on cute picnic dates with homeade muffins and favorite books, sitting in the lap of your partner and doing their makeup, snuggling on the couch while watching a movie. holding hands while strolling the town center. it was hard to keep these thoughts back any longer. they overflowed.

you felt regina freeze as you gently pushed her away from where she had latched onto your upper chest. "can we, um, talk?" you ask. she could hear the tone in your voice. you knew she could. the way her eyes met yours made your stomach twist with discomfort.

"talk?" she asked in an incredulous tone, pulling away.

"it's just that, well, hear me out first. i like you. i really like you, a lot! that's why i really want us to be more than . . . making out in the custodian's closet after school and sneaking into your room while your mom's asleep," you explained nervously, stumbling over your words. finally able to meet her eyes, all hope was shattered as you felt her icy stare fixed upon your flushed face.

"i thought we made a deal when we started this. nothing more than this." she barked out a bitter laugh and fluffed out her hair. "what, did you think i was some kind of dyke or something? this was supposed to be fun. nice job stamping out that fire." she opened the door to the closet and waltzed out like nothing had happened. as if you didn't spend the entire last three months building a bond. heart: broken.

-

fear couldn't describe the emotion you felt driving to the hospital. it was gut-wrenching, blood-curdling, heart-tearingly excruciating. the rumors swirling around made your sick with worry. could she really be dead?

you weren't there when it happened. you had been driving home and then doing homework, hiding your phone away in a drawer somewhere to keep you distracted. it wasn't until hours later that you checked your notifications to realize she had been admitted to the er.

you rushed into the hospital, demanding to hear about her condition.

"are you immediate family?" the nurse at the desk asked. of course you lied. of course you said yes. she gave you the room number and told you that you could wait in the hall - the doctors were talking with her mother and you would need to wait until she woke up herself.

when you arrived at the door to her room, you were afraid to look inside. you weren't sure why. she was alive, yes. maybe you were afraid she was still upset with you. or worse, she had amnesia and forgot about you completely. dejected, you collapsed into the very comfortable plastic chair next to her room.

a few minutes later, the door opened and the doctors and mrs. george exited the room. you stood up suddenly, expectant in your expression.

"she's fine. she's going to heal 100%, she just needs to wear a corrective neck bracelet for several weeks," the doctors assured you. you could relax, just a little. they walked down the hall, chatting softly. mrs. george grinned at you - you had met before, of course, being introduced as one of regina'a friends.

"well, look who we have here! did you hear the news? they said my name on the evening," she told you excitedly, as though her daughter weren't stuck in the hospital from injuries resulting for being hit. by a bus. "head on in darling, those cute boys said she'd be awake soon." her eyes trailed down the hall to the two doctors that had revived regina. with a mini-wave and a "toodle-doo!" she was down the hall and full on flirting with men much younger than herself.

the doorknob to regina's room stared back at you with intimidation so strong you almost turned around and drove home. you reached out a closed your hand around the cool metal, slowly turning it until you were passing through the doorway and standing feet away from her bed. it didn't feel as scary as you thought, entering her room, staring over at her bed. she looked more at peace then you had ever seen her, she looked prettier than you had ever seen her. without her mean-girl face, she seemed a lot more genuine. a lot more like the regina that opened up to you that one chilly night in december.

you silently pulled a chair next to her bed and sat there, waiting for her to wake up. you didn't mind the wait, in a way. because she was sitting there next to you, and she was going to be okay.

when regina awoke, she seemed more confused than anything. her brows furrowed as she looked around the room, her eyes finally landing on you.

"hey," you said all of a sudden, sitting up straight. "you're okay, you're fine. you're . . . in the hospital."

"what are you doing here?" not snappy or bitter or angry. genuine.

"i heard you got hit by a bus," you said, biting your bottom lip anxiously. would she yell at you? tell you she never wanted to see you again? "i heard . . . i you died. i just had to see for myself, to make sure you were okay. i'm sorry, if you don't want me here, i'll -"

"don't leave!" she shouted, grabbing your hand. you stared down at the place where her skin met your hand. this wasn't happening. this couldn't be happening. her fingers intertwined with yours and you find her eyes to be pleading you. "please, just don't leave."

"regina -"

"just shut up and listen, okay?" she told you, sounding upset, but it didn't seem to be an emotion she was directing towards you. you sat back down and scooted your chair closer to her. "i want us to be something more too . . . okay? i like you, loser."

you narrowed your eyes at her. "is this regina george trying to be nice?" you asked dubiously.

"don't ruin the moment or i'm taking everything i said back."

"no," you said quickly, shaking your head with a smile. you placed your other hand on the one clasped in hers. "it's a good look on you. really."

[iceunhie]

— phaethetically in love !

premise. belle thinks her brother is the most oblivious person in sixth street. the reason? one: because his (super obvious) crush on you is practically the worst kept secret in new eridu, and two: because he can't even see that said crush is reciprocated! good thing he has one (1) amazing, wonderful, nosy sister to help him out, yeah?

or, belle thinks the two of you are a prime example of an s tier romance movie; and she really wants to skip to the final arc already.

pairing. wise x gn!reader.

warnings: kinda ooc wise (i just started the game), wise is a loser (lovingly), belle is an instigator (proudly), comedy, facepalm moments.

a/n: for @vxnuslogy and @milksnake-tea bc yes wise kissers yes

MY (rlly cool btw 🥺) MASTERLIST || INBOX !

“you're in love with [name], aren't you?”

like all siblings in the world—or what's left of it, belle schemes.

(against wise, of course. obviously.)

her brother bursts into a mess immediately, nearly spilling his cup ramen all over his new shirt, chopsticks sticking out. laughing nervously. general chop would not be proud. “who told you that? i mean— haha, who said that, belle?”

his sister rolls her eyes. “me, myself. i.” she emphasizes, leaning her elbows against the table and putting her palms together; the grin she wears right now is so serene, but not in the angelic, nice way. belle smiles and wise finally thinks, oh. my sister may need to book herself to the closest self-help guru in new eridu.

“i have reason to believe that you, my dearest brother, are in love with [name].”

her voice goes up an octave at the last bit, leading wise to stuff her mouth with potato chips. already, heads have turned. “mff.”

“keep your voice down! and stop broadcasting it to everyone here-”

“what, i am right, aren't i? they clearly like you back, so why haven't you confessed yet?”

“keep. your. voice. down.” wise says, and belle's shit eating grin only widens as she sees her brother's ears tinged with pink. “and... how did you even know that?” he asks, mortified.

“well, one: because it's obvious—like, have you seen how obvious you are?” belle huffs, taking a bite of the potato chip with force (personal grudges are involved). “and two, because they like you back, dummy!”

because when belle sees the two of you together, it's like wise focuses on no one else. you are the center of his world—and he is just being pulled to bask in your light. his eyes soften like they melt only for you, and wise looks like all he is is, all he wants to be, is to belong with you.

(and, wise likes to stare at you for ungodly amounts of time. belle even caught him staring when you were petting a cat by the street and decided to name the stray ‘wise’; courtesy of him, apparently. the cat literally just had grey fur.

“wise.”

“hm?”

“you're practically spawning heart eyes now.”)

it's sickening. (in a oh my god my brother is in love kind of way, mind you.)

“so!” belle says, a devilish sparkle in her eyes. “allow your dearest sister to help you out, 'kay?”

wise nearly coughs up blood.

“what?!”

so at present, belle compiles her (hastily written) list of romantic moments you and wise have shared. she's not surprised—the number can be counted on one hand. diabolical, disappointing, world-ending! she resists the urge to cough up blood.

first, a coff cafe date with tin man's help: a fail. tin man's wingman capabilities were very superb, but she never heard the end of it when wise was lecturing her about how tin man kept sending over heart shaped desserts and little fortune cookies. the fortune cookies in question which said ‘you can do it!’ and a latte with art of caricature tin man making a heart. (you were very confused). belle thought it was motivating. wise thought it was mortifying.

next, even instilling help from fairy to calculate statistics about what event would you two be likely to be together. fairy said, and belle quotes: “probably never. that kind of pining's for the long run, with the other master's current experience. give it a year or six, master.”

so, she's currently face-palming.

did her brother really have zero game? why were the two of you just dancing around each other?! she's tried everything—from letting you two spend more time with each other in commissions, her inviting you over more to leave you to chat with her brother, and even the entirety of sixth street has lent their aid! how were you two not dating yet?!

“didn't they go on an arcade date at random play yesterday?” belle mutters. “that should've increased your progress by a long mile, bro! even general chop said you two were really, really close in the noodle shop....”

just what was she going to do now? at this rate, her brother would be relationshipless in no time! in fairy's words again, it would be phaethetic. and that would be a phaethal blow on her pride.

“...master, i said no such thing.”

“well, now you did.”

“The Ethereal Reckoning,” there's a pep in your step, the boxes full of movie DVDs in your arms as you walk back to the movie store. it was heavy, but at least you got to walk with the grey-haired proxy beside you. “That movie was great! Thanks for recommending it to me.”

Sporting a dopey, lovesick grin in response, wise nods at that, content to listen to your voice. it was actually belle's idea to let you lend movies you like over so the two of you could talk about it back and forth. wise would need to (begrudgingly) treat her to a bowl of ramen later on.... she saved him—he probably wouldn't even be talking to you for this long at this point, let alone hang out with you without her. for someone so nosy, he guesses his sister was a pretty good wingwoman.

“the main character was pretty similar to billy, you know?” you ramble on as wise listens. “i mean, because they were an android too, and...”

he finds that he's content to listen to anything you say, really. (right now he doesn't really know what you're saying, something about a horror ethereal movie, but you could just tell him anything and he would listen).

“i feel like the heroine's death was unnecessary, though.” you sigh, “too much tension just for it to end like that? how anticlimactic.”

your voice was so nice, so warm and easy to listen to, and wise can't even say anything to retort, simply staring with a growing (lovesick) smile on his face. talking to people was hard work, and talking to you? it might just make him combust.

“...ise? wise?”

“ah, huh?” he snaps out of his trance, only to find you mere inches away from his face, the only thing keeping you apart the boxes full of movies he's carrying. “...!”

“are you listening?” you furrow, and someone really might be out to get him right now because in that moment, wise flinches from the proximity, bumping into you.

then, because the universe thinks his life couldn't get more dramatic than it already was—you stagger, about to fall forward.

he moves before he thinks. “watch out!”

and wise.... practically astral-projects to another plane when he feels you fall into his arms, his hands on your waist. he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, the flustered look on your face. (he feels like he's going to die).

the two of you lock eyes for a moment, and wise feels like he's about to so something very stupid and his hands are still on your waist—

“....”

“.....”

someone save him.

“ah...”

“sorry!” you recover first, hurriedly letting yourself pull away from him (much to his disappointment). “i wasn't looking, and i- are you okay, wise?”

“no, no, it's fine.... i-i'm fine....” he hopes his voice isn't as small as it is, he couldn't be smooth to save his life; and wise helps you gather your bearings, his hands brushing against yours, blood rushing to his ears. sheepishly rubbing at his nape. “sorry, i was distracted.”

perhaps in the mood to lift the atmosphere, you sputter out, “no worries! it's fine! besides, you listened to me all this time.... i really enjoyed the movie, really.”

“of course i'll listen.” and before wise can think to stop his traitor of a mouth, the words spill out of his lips like it always wanted to be.

“you're worth paying attention to.”

it's automatic—your face heats up, warming like the sun on a hot day in new eridu, and god, he is such an idiot-

“you think so?” wise gulps. you looked bashful, and were way too adorable right now, and his face felt like it was on fire.... wait, that's not the point! he has to answer you, at least. this is a chance to make progress!

“y-yeah. definitely. i enjoyed... watching the movie with you.” he says. did his voice just crack just now? “we can hang out more often too, even without belle.”

he feels bad for throwing his sister under the bus like that, but—wait, did he just ask you out on a date? (accidentally)

well, it didn't matter because wise feels like he won the lottery right now, because you brighten up immediately. “really?”

then you cough and compose yourself. “i mean, sure! i'm sure it'll be fun, haha...”

awkward silence ensues. uh oh, did he say something wrong? was he too forward? he wants to say something, but something is lodged in his throat, and wise can't bring up a response. (his heart was beating like crazy right now, though).

“uh...”

“....”

then, something soft brushes against the side of his cheek. as fast as it was felt, wise felt the sensation leave just as easily. did you just-?

you just kissed him. on the cheek.

“thanks for hanging out with me, wise.”

“you're welcome- wha- huh?!” he nearly drops the stack of dvd's he was holding. you pull away, an enigmatic smile on your face. face flushed.

before he can even respond, the two of you finally arrive at the movie store. damn it, gods of the world. why did his luck run out now?

“i guess this is your stop.” he blinks, your voice coming back to him. “and, wise?”

“ah, uh, yeah?”

“it's a date, then?” your eyes sparkle and shine a light through his heart. super effective!

is this really happening? is he really going on a date with you—oh, he's so thrilled he could actually burst into song and kick his feet, but belle would tease him ruthlessly after. nosy sisters were so much work....

“yes!” he almost yells it out, but because he didn't want to look uncool in front of you, wise composes himself. play it cool, play it cool. don't mess up this chance! “yes, definitely. it's... it's a date.”

you put down the other stack of dvd's down the table, flashing him a dizzying, lovely smile smile. wise swears he falls even harder for you.

“then it's a date.”

BONUS.

“seriously?! you're going on a date with them?!” belle shouts, so unceremoniously that wise slaps a hand on her mouth.

“not so loud! but, yeah.” he says, face heating up. “your plan worked, sis.”

“yes! yes! finally!” his sister practically cheers, “i can finally be free of your sickening heart eyes... and finally, our street's most anticipated couple is here!”

wise can't help but sigh in fond exasperation. he guesses he'll let her have this one today.

“also, belle?”

“what?”

“you didn't tell anyone about this, did you?”

...

“uhh....”

(on the day of the date, wise receives an abnormal amount of good luck posters. he also gets a disturbing amount of thumbs up from the neighbors.

the last straw? tin man, giving him a baked cake with the words ‘rooting for you!’ covered in pink heart sprinkles.

he facepalms. belle...!)

a/n: d d do you guys get it..... phaethetically...... phaethon..... wise is phaethon and he's awkward in love lol hahahahaha (💀)

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wearing pink [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x bimbo!reader

word count: 2.7k

request: Hear me out... Spencer introducing bimbo f!reader to the squad! 😭🩷

A/N: Honestly, I had never written anything like this and I hope it is the correct idea of a bimbo. I based her on some TV characters, so (if you're a fan of this type of reader) I hope you like it!

“Baby, you're so nervous,” Spencer giggled, listening to the click of your heels from one side of the apartment to the other to check that everything was in order.

“I'm not nervous, I just want everything to look nice” you complained. Your gaze went to your boyfriend, who was wearing an elegant suit that you had bought for him last month, and you noticed that his tie was a little crooked. You immediately went in front of him and your hands acted on their own to accommodate it, as they had done so many times.

It was the first time Spencer's unit mates would see you and you wanted to make the best impression of all. You kept asking if the dishes looked good, if your skirt was smooth, if your hair was combed, if your makeup looked good. And each time he just smiled and nodded, recording how precious you were.

Honestly, the fact that the team found out about your existence was mere coincidence, the result of an unfortunate event that ended up unmasking Spencer. He had spent the night with you, since the cases had kept him too busy the last few weeks, and when he left the room, he only gave you a kiss on the forehead so as not to disturb your sleep. Although he wasn't very hungry, his body was in desperate need of coffee, so he opened your cupboard for something to take back to the office. Everything in your kitchen, which you hardly ever used, was pink, lilac, or any pastel variation of a few others, so it was a relief for him to find a single black thermos. Without paying much attention, he took it, poured the hot liquid, and then walked out.

There was no case, yet, so he sat down at his desk after waving to Morgan and Emily. He felt his phone vibrate and he thought it was a message from JJ, but he found that it was you who was contacting him.

Hey, are you leaving without saying goodbye? 

He smiled inadvertently and apologized saying that you looked so pretty that he hadn't wanted to disturb your calm. I could almost imagine you blushing from your soft bed.

Okay then. Good luck today, handsome. 

Love u xx

"No way! Are you a plastic girl?" Garcia yelled, from his partner's side. Spencer jumped a little when he heard her and it seemed she had caught everyone's attention.

“A what?”

"Your cup" the woman stretched out her hand to pick up said object and showed it to the rest: it had a bright pink print, with some images of a blonde girl and various objects, including a text written with something like newspaper clippings. which enunciated Burn Book.

"Where did you get that, Reid?"

"Who is she?"

“It's Regina George, from the movie Mean Girls. You don’t know her?" Prentiss muttered and at first, he immediately denied it.

“On Wednesdays we wear pink,” Garcia quoted, hoping he would have a clue, and again he showed he didn't know what they were talking about. But after taking a closer look at it, he suddenly remembered that he had looked at a poster with her somewhere in your room and it all made sense.

“When I took it, it was black”

"It's probably one of those magical cups that reveal the image with heat"

“Thermochromism?”

"I guess that's the scientific term"

"So where did you get it from? Did it just show up at your house by chance?"

"No, it was at my girlfriend's house"

At that, Emily's eyes widened, Garcia gasped loudly, and Morgan, who inconveniently just took a gulp of his coffee, almost choked on the hot liquid.

Penelope almost took the doctor by the neck to ask him why he had omitted such important information and he only shrugged his shoulders and replied that he had never commented on it because they had never asked.

It didn't take long for Garcia to yell at the missing team members what they had just found out and pretty soon JJ and Rossi were also gathered around the man to find out what was going on. To everyone's dismay, Hotch interrupted almost immediately, and they didn't manage to ask Spencer any questions. And he said it would be better if they were that curious to ask her themselves.

“Reid, I swear you don't even introduce us to that girl I'll never talk to you again” Garcia had threatened him, clearly exaggerating just to convince him.

When Spencer saw you again, he filled you in on the whole situation and asked if you were okay with hosting a unit dinner, to which you happily agreed.

"Everything looks immaculate, you don't have to worry," he assured you, taking both of your hands and leaning in to kiss you.

"But what if they don't like me?"

"What reason would they have for that, huh?" he insisted, holding your face in his hands. He really liked your lip gloss, it always tasted delicious and made your lips look flawless. 

"Because they're like mega-cool detectives and I... well, I won't even know what to tell them."

"Let them ask the questions, I assure you they will be dying to know everything about you" he smiled at you, quite confident that the evening would go perfectly. It was the first time Spencer had introduced the team to a couple, so they would behave prudently. Or at least so he hoped.

The sound of the doorbell caught your attention and you practically jumped towards the door to open it for whoever was there, but not before asking your boyfriend for the thousandth time to make sure you looked good. When you opened it, you saw a blonde woman and a bald man who, from Spencer's stories, you assumed were Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan. They asked your name and you agreed, finishing verifying that it was the place with the presence of your friend behind you.

"Hello! We thought we had the wrong house” she sighed, completely nervous, and Morgan didn't even say hello because he had been stunned to see you.

You were very pretty, generally speaking, you were wearing a white skirt, a tight top, and a light baby pink sweater, plus huge heels that made you almost level with your boyfriend. You were like a model and it's not that he didn't trust his friend's flirting skills, but that you had simply exceeded his expectations of him.

You received them with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while they secretly observed the place. Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, and JJ soon arrived, in exactly that order, and when they were all assembled, they took seats at the table. Spencer helped you serve dinner, which you had ordered from your favorite restaurant, and pretty soon all of you were eating and drinking the wine that David Rossi had brought as a gift.

Although the conversation had been pleasant during the first few minutes, it was obvious that everyone wanted to ask you questions, quite surprised to see the type of girl you were and how they never imagined that their friend would fit in with someone like that.

"So since when are you guys dating?" Emily murmured, trying to be nice, but also dying of curiosity.

"What will they be now, love? About six months?” you said, reaching out to hold his hand on the table.

“Six months, fourteen days, and seventeen hours”

"He's the mathematician here, so you can listen to him" you joked and the others laughed. The courtship time somewhat dismayed the team, because, although they didn’t blame him, they wished they had known sooner.

"And how did you two meet?"

“Oh, for my dad. Spencer went to give a conference to his police officers in New York a while ago and he asked him for a private consultation on a case that had been giving everyone a headache. When he helped him figure it out, Dad was so grateful that he invited him to dinner so he could meet our family. My parents loved him so I thought of it as a sign and we kept in touch after that."

"Now I understand why he kept looking at his phone and smiling in his spare time," Morgan muttered to embarrass him, like an older brother would, and the team laughed at the memory.

"And who is your father?" Rossi asked. Reid had never mentioned what had happened, but still you seemed familiar to the man, as if he had seen you somewhere before.

“He worked for a few years as a police chief here in Virginia, but now last year he got promoted to the commissioner or something; his name is Joseph Sanders”

You probably had no idea how important that position was to police officers, but they all exchanged glances as if you had just told them that you were the daughter of the President of the United States himself. Rossi immediately snapped his fingers as he winced, telling you that of course he knew your father and that he had seen you when you were a girl of maybe ten years old. The others only weighed in on the fact that Reid was now the commissioner's son-in-law.

“Hey and, no offense, but how did you fall in love with our boy wonder? He's always been a bit shy”

Now it was your boyfriend who was worried that they might make him uncomfortable or point out the clear difference between the two of you, but your carefree giggles put him at ease every time.

"It is enough to see that face to do it, don't you think?" you responded affectionately and the girls smiled at your response.

"Actually, she called me to invite me to have coffee after dinner with her father and although at first I thought it was hopeless I realized that she liked spending time with me and that's why I kept asking her out”

“He was so sweet. Flowers, chocolates, dinners. The whole package"

“Yes, well, it's that I did a little research on the best courtship methods and found common factors like that in most of them. It was only necessary to combine it with the right environment and make some modifications to them so that they were pleasant in front of you. Did you know that in the 19th century it was well seen that men…?”

"Reid," Derek interrupted, as a signal for him to stop rambling, and his friends smiled at the doctor's soft apology.

“Half the time I don't understand what he's saying, but I love hearing him talk,” you said sincerely. He had never taken that as an offense, because, although many people didn't understand his talks about him either, at least you always paid attention to him "I honestly don't know how a person can have a brain of that size"

“In fact, brains don’t vary in size but rather in areas of development, so it is incorrect to say that one person has a bigger brain than another. In such a case, one person has a more developed brain than the other”

The group looked at him accusingly again and he was about to feel guilty, but your lips crashing a kiss on his cheek considerably improved his mood.

After many more questions, everyone was able to realize that you and Spencer couldn't be more than complete opposites. You loved everything that Reid didn't know and he knew a lot of things that didn't matter to you. There were no books in your house, if glossy magazines counted for anything, and Spencer didn't even have a modern cell phone. Your house vibrated with pink and expensive things, while he only cared that there would be a bed to sleep in when he got home. But even with everything you looked really in love and the team wondered how that was possible.

Although you tremendously admired the man's capabilities that wasn’t the most important thing to you, but his wonderful beauty of him. He was someone who drew attention with his eccentricity, that every time he walked into a room he left a mark and someone many women wished they had, which he didn't even notice. And by becoming your boyfriend, without any explicit sense of ownership or anything, he had become all yours.

You liked holding his hand in the streets, you liked that he came to work and the clients were surprised when he kissed you, that everyone said how lucky you were to have found a man like that. Besides, he had passed one of the most important tests: he had your parents' approval, which was usually not an easy thing to come by.

And right now, it seemed that you were winning the sympathy of your boyfriend's family too, because the fact of seeing him so happy by your side was reason enough for them to like you and, therefore, also approve of you.

When it was time to eat dessert, the girls invited you to go shopping with them one day and all the compliments from the men were related to your last name, even astonished that Spencer now belonged to the spheres of high police society. They told you many things about themselves and you, with some effort, tried to take it all in.

"It was a great pleasure meeting you, you can come back here any day you like," you said to say goodbye, once the night was already quite advanced and they decided that the best thing (for the comfort of both the hosts and the guests) would be to leave. 

“The pleasure was ours, Y/N”

Just like at the beginning, they kissed your cheek, and one by one they left, giving you kind words of thanks, until only you and Spencer were left.

"How was I?" you immediately asked your boyfriend, who was already looking at you out of the corner of his eye with a smile.

“Perfect”

"You think so?"

"I know it" he assured you, moving closer to you to hold you by the waist and causing your skirt to ride a little higher to the height of your butt "They loved you"

“But can you believe your friend Emily was wearing flats with that dress? It's not right and I didn't mean to be rude by mentioning it, but I died when I saw it” you started to babble, still under Spencer's grasp “And your friend Penelope has such a…quirky style. She wears colors that shouldn't mix, but somehow it looks good on her. And your boss, Aaron, shouldn't wear a suit jacket with a casual shirt. The others were relatively good, but the next time I see Jennifer I'll be sure to treat her to a moisturizer for her skin”

"And leaving that aside, did they at least make a good impression on you?" he laughed. He wasn't upset with you, it was inevitable that you would notice that kind of 'signs of bad taste' as you called them.

“Oh, they are adorable. You can tell that they love you very much, everyone speaks with admiration of you. Even your friend Derek, even though he tried to annoy you every so often."

“Yeah, I'll make him pay” he muttered under his breath, making you smile.

Carefully you reached up to reach his lips with a kiss and he sighed pathetically into your mouth as you clung to his body. Your skin was so smooth wherever he touched, as if you were a delicate piece of porcelain in his big hands.

“I hope you had a good time”

“Of course I did, sweetie. I already told you, you were perfect"

Perfect. You loved that he described you that way.

"Do you have to go home?"

"Probably. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I just thought maybe we could go to my room. I bought something new that I think you'll like” you said innocently, while you held him by the tie that you had arranged so carefully at the beginning of the evening. Upon hearing this, he wasted no time and carried you in a bridal pose, taking you there while you laughed out loud.

No one questioned Spencer when he arrived later than usual the next morning, smelling of cherry shampoo and with a suspicious purplish mark, knowing that the only one to blame for that would have to be you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Annotations | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just fluff! & a mention of child trafficking, but hey, what's different in the CM universe?

Author's note: I'm finally writing a season 1 Spencer fic! Wanted to add a bit of Elle in this one 'cause I do miss her! I actually also just love this one... I think it might just be my favorite Spencer Reid fic I've ever written.

Words: 3K

After a well-deserved day off, the BAU team was back at the FBI headquarters, ready to tackle another case. Spencer had enjoyed his Sunday at home, just reading and playing chess all day long, but he was happy to be back at work, too. 

He was the first one in the office and decided to head into the breakroom for a nice cup of coffee. As he stirred in his mountain of sugar, he turned and took a seat at the table. The breakroom table was almost completely empty, save from the single book that was on it. Intrigued by the lonely item, Spencer reached for it. ‘Looking for Alaska’ it read on the black cover just above the cartoon of a daisy. 

It was a book he hadn’t read yet but after quickly reading the back, he was quite interested to read the whole book. Seeing as Spencer had a little bit of time, which was probably enough for him to finish the entire book, he started reading it whilst enjoying his morning coffee. 

As he went through the book, Spencer noticed the annotations in the margins and the highlighted quotes. Something he’d found even more interesting than the book in itself. There was so much you could learn from a person by just reading their margin notes and even their handwriting. 

From the handwriting alone, Spencer could tell a lot about the owner of this book. The letters were of average size with a lot of space between them. They even slightly slanted to the right. They were well-adjusted and adaptable, they enjoyed their freedom and didn't like to be overwhelmed or crowded. 

Whoever this person was, judging from their notes in this book, they were the smartest and most interesting person ever in his opinion. 

“Everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow.” 

They had underlined the quote and wrote “Everybody dies – Death is inevitable” in pink. Spencer fought the urge to write his own thoughts right next to it. This was someone else’s book, not his. He couldn’t ruin this person’s book with his scrawny handwriting. 

Besides, his coworkers started to file in and JJ told everyone to gather in the briefing room. He left the book on the table and joined his coworkers on the case instead. Though his mind was preoccupied with the details of the case, it kept going back to the notes in the book. 

He didn’t even know who this person was and still, he couldn’t keep them out of his mind. It even got to the point that he got weirdly excited when the book was still there when he returned from the case two days later. 

This time around, he decided to write his own thoughts in the margins. They had used a pink pen, which allowed him to use his usual black one that made his notes stand out from theirs. It felt weird writing in someone else’s book, but he felt somewhat of a connection to this person reading through her annotations.

They had gotten halfway through the book, Spencer noticed. The annotations stopped when the ‘AFTER’-part started. Which was where Spencer decided to stop, too. He could read the entire book before their morning briefing, but he didn’t want to spoil the person reading this. 

Besides, he secretly hoped the book was there again tomorrow with more notes for him to read. 

Luckily for Spencer, the next day he got in, the book was still there. Or, upon further inspection, he found that the book was there again. The person had continued reading and continued annotating. When he went back to the notes he wrote down, he noticed more pink words. 

“What’s your Great Perhaps?” 

With a soft smile, Spencer grabbed a notepad with the FBI logo imprinted on it before scribbling down the answer to her question. There wasn’t enough space in the margins for all his ramblings, so this was his best option. 

Once he was done, he stuffed the A6 page between the book in the right spot before continuing to the next part where new notes in pink lettering had appeared. They had underlined and highlighted a couple of quotes, written down some thoughts. 

Spencer actually found her notes more interesting than the book itself. 

For days, Spencer spoke to the book’s owner through their notes. At first, it was ‘Looking For Alaska’ for a couple of days. Even though they had already finished the book, they kept communicating through their notes. The next Monday, they had left him ‘Little Women’ by Louisa May Alcot. As they kept going back and forth, they kept changing the book they left. From old classics to poetry books to new releases, the two of them had their very own book club, even if he didn’t even know who this person was. 

“What are you doing?” Elle asked when she entered the breakroom where she found Spencer hunched over yet another book. 

It had been ten weeks since Spencer had first given his thoughts on Looking For Alaska and now he was reading ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’. Or, in Spencer’s case, he was re-reading it. It had been Spencer’s favorite book since forever and it made him wonder if she knew that. 

“Oh, I’m–” he let out a chuckle. “I-I guess I’m kinda book clubbing with someone I have never seen before.” He looked up to find Elle staring down at him with an amused smile on her face and an eyebrow quirked. Spencer chuckled before turning back to his book. “Yeah, I know how it sounds. But she’s been leaving me books in the breakroom and we’ve been leaving each other notes in the margins.” 

“She?” Elle questioned, stirring her milk into her coffee. 

A smile befell Spencer’s lips as he tried to hide the obvious red tinge that tinted his cheeks. “Yeah, I learned that her name is y/n a couple of days ago. She’s been writing to me in the margins in a pink pen.” 

“Romantic,” Elle wiggled her brows, which didn’t help Spencer’s furious blushing at all. “Have you seen her around? I mean, she must work here, right?” 

“I haven’t dared to look her up yet.” His coworker shot him an inquisitive look. “Yeah, I-I guess I’m kinda nervous? I mean– I got this pretty vivid image of her in my mind from her words on the paper and even her handwriting, I guess I’m scared she’s going to transcend my expectations.” 

A teasing smirk tugged at Elle’s lips. “You’ve got a crush,” she pointed out. 

“Who’s got a crush?” Morgan asked when he and Penelope walked into the breakroom, sending an even deeper red to Spencer’s cheeks. 

“No one,” he mumbled before grabbing his book and coffee, and heading back into the bullpen. 

The worst thing was that Elle was right. He did have a crush on someone he didn’t even know. He knew her thoughts on every single book that ever existed and he could tell a lot of things from her handwriting and her notes. 

No matter who she was or what she looked like, she was already the most beautiful girl in the world to Spencer. 

And that scared him. 

Especially when he started noticing the books she was leaving him. At first it was ‘The Other Einstein’ then ‘Crime and Punishment’ and lastly, she left him ‘The Color Purple’. When she left him that last book, he knew she knew who he was. She wasn’t scared to look him up and find him. 

By week eleven, she started leaving him notes on his desk, too. It surprised Spencer that she hadn’t pushed him to meet. It had come up once, but Spencer got too scared and dodged her question. He thought she would just stop talking to him because he didn’t want to meet, but when the next book came the day after, he knew she respected his decision. 

“I think us here to wonder, myself. To wonder. To ask. And that in wondering about the big things and asking about the big things, you learn about the little ones, almost by accident. But you never know nothing more about the big things than you start out with. The more I wonder, the more I love.” 

Upon reading the note, Spencer felt the tips of his ears heat up. He started to fall in love with the swoop of her ‘s’ and the way she dotted her ‘i’s and crossed her ‘t’s. 

He reread the note a couple of times, each time even better and more beautiful than the last. And each time, he noticed more and more how the pink ink was fading at the very end. 

That was when he decided to buy her a new pen. Two even. One with pink ink, the other with purple. He left them in the break room, slotted between his copy of ‘Love: Poems’ but not without underlining his favorite quote in the purple color. 

“Does the one who always waits suffer more than the one who has never waited for anyone?”

When Spencer found the book again a couple of days later in the exact same spot he had left it, he wondered if she had found it and read it at all. The disappointment slowly built inside his chest, bracing him for the worst. 

But when he opened the book, the pink pen had vanished and underneath the line he’d indicated with the purple pen was her answer. 

“So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Til then my windows ache.”

The first five words were underlined twice as well as the last part of the line. She had even drawn little hearts in the margins. Spencer couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. He was probably crazy for thinking this girl felt the same way about him as he did about her. But seeing this, seeing the little hearts, he couldn’t think anything else. 

“You seem happy this morning,” Penelope said as she and Elle walked into the breakroom for their own coffees. 

Spencer quickly slammed the book shut and looked up at his coworkers. “Yeah, uh… I-I guess.” 

The two women in front of him exchanged glances. It was stupid of him to lie to one of the best profilers in the BAU and the woman who thrives on workplace gossip. He knew that, but he couldn’t just come out and tell them he was falling in love with someone he’d never met. 

“It’s her, isn’t it? Y/N?” Elle asked, her lips curling up on one side into a smirk. 

Penelope’s eyes shimmered at the promise of some new office drama while the two women walked closer towards Spencer to take a look at the book in front of him. Though he held his hand tightly on the item, Penelope and Elle somehow knew how to pry it off and open it, causing the purple pen to fall out and fall on the carpeted floor. 

Almost feverishly, Spencer picked it up and dusted off any dirt that had gotten on it. 

“She’s drawing hearts,” Elle pointed out. 

“Aww!” Penelope cooed. “She’s drawing hearts!” She clutched her chest as though her heart was going to pop out. 

Trying to ignore the heat that rose to his cheeks and that probably tinted his skin a bright red, Spencer grinned sheepishly. “What d’you think that means?” he asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose. 

“I think she’s into you as much as you are into her,” Penelope commented excitedly, which didn’t do much good for the blush residing on his cheeks. 

“You think so?” 

Elle scoffed. “Yeah! It’s very clear you guys are into one another. You should ask her out!” 

Before Spencer could say anything, Hotch poked his head inside the breakroom. “Who should ask who out?” he asked, having caught just the end of their conversation. 

“Spencer and y/n,” Elle replied without batting an eye, much to Spencer’s dismay. 

It was one thing some of his coworkers knew, but having his boss know about his little crush. This was even more embarrassing than when Morgan had tackled him in a park in Illinois when they were hunting down an L.D.S.K. and they had to duck before they would get shot. 

“Oh, y/n from the third unit?” Hotch asked, immediately capturing the youngest’s attention. He knew her? It surprised him a little that he didn’t know that. Neither did he know that she was in the crimes against children unit, though that part didn’t surprise him that much. “She’s coming in to help us with the case later today. We’ve got a child trafficking case.” 

Spencer completely froze up. He was actually going to meet her and it wasn’t even on his own terms. Of course, this was bound to happen, seeing that they worked in the same building. But he’d hoped he could ask her to meet him away from work. When he wanted to. 

“Seems like you’re gonna get your chance to ask her out, Romeo,” Elle joked as she smacked the book against his chest, holding it there for a moment until his hands got a hold of it, before passing by him.  

Penelope and Elle followed behind Hotch, leaving Spencer in the breakroom. He looked down at the book for a moment. He wasn’t going to have time to underline anything as a message to her, so instead, he drew a quick purple heart right next to the pink one she had drawn. At least then she’d know that he had seen it. 

During the briefing, Spencer couldn’t quite concentrate. His mind was a little too focused on the impending meeting. He was incredibly curious to know what she looked like and sounded like and if her perfume did smell of violets the same way her books sometimes did. 

“We’ve got the agents of the third unit consulting on this case with us,” Hotch explained to them and the mention of the unit y/n worked at captured Spencer’s attention. “Let’s meet at the SUV’s in ten minutes.” 

Hotch concluded the briefing and exited the room, having the others follow behind him. While everyone either went for a quick bathroom stop before leaving or gathered their stuff from their desk, Spencer made a beeline for the breakroom where he was hoping to meet her. 

As predicted, there was a girl hunched over the book he had left with a pink pen in her hand, scribbling some of her well-thought notes on the pages, sprinkling a portion of her in his belongings. She clutched her pen, her thumb sticking out ever so slightly. It looked almost childlike, but it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

“You hold your pen funnily,” he pointed out, capturing the girl’s attention straight away. 

Though at first, her brows were furrowed at the weird comment, her features quickly softening as her eyes landed on him. “Hi,” she greeted, her face breaking out into a big, toothy grin. 

Spencer’s world started spinning. The girl he had been talking to had to be the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her smile, her bright, shimmering eyes, the freckles that were scattered across her nose and cheeks like a constellation… Everything was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. 

He was proven right. She did exceed his expectations in every way possible. 

“It always shocked me when I realized that I wasn’t the only person in the world who thought and felt such strange and awful things.” The quote rolled off his lips a little too easily. But it was the first thing that popped into his head once he realized he hadn’t said anything and he was just staring at her. 

Y/N’s head tilted slightly, almost in confusion. Then, she stood up and slowly approached Spencer. “At some point, you just pull off the Band-Aid and it hurts, but then it’s over and you’re relieved.” 

There was a double entendre to her words. On one hand, she was merely quoting the first book they’d read together, but on the other, she was telling Spencer that them finally meeting was like pulling off a Band-Aid. 

Though in this case, it didn’t hurt. 

Spencer let out an airy laugh as he looked down at her. She was actually right here. In front of him. He could touch her, if he wanted to. He could smell the hint of the violet perfume she used. He could look into her eyes and actually witness how soulful they were. 

“I-I’m sorry it took so long for us to– I didn’t mean a-anything. It’s just–”

She placed a hand on his arm to stop him from stuttering and rambling, and chuckled. “It’s fine, Spencer. I get it. We were sucked up in our own world, communicating through these books… It was hard to break that bubble.” 

“Yeah,” Spencer all but whispered. He then grabbed the hand of hers that was still on his arm and squeezed it. “But now we can–we can talk about books in real life?” The statement came out in a question, uncertainty dripping from his tone. “I-I know this really nice bookstore in the city. I-I’d love to take you there sometime.” 

Her face lit up at his words. “Are you asking me on a date, Dr. Reid?” she asked. 

An awkward chuckle rolled off his lips as he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, not wanting to let go of her hand just yet. “Yes? I-I mean, if you wanna go. You don’t have to feel like you have to say yes.” 

Y/N squeezed his hand right back. “I would love to, Spencer.” 

And just like that, their fairytale that started in the margins of her books, sprang to life. 

Underlined quotes came out into longing gazes and sweet touches.

Annotations became sweet nothings whispered under the dim light of the bookstore. 

The perfect romance you’d only read about in books. 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: 

@boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer 

[chuplayswithfire]

Izzy Arc Thoughts, the post!

Having now watched the three episodes three times over (some of them more than that shhhhh), I still have a BUNCH of thoughts about the rest of the crew I want to percolate on, but I had some thoughts on Izzy that I finally feel confident in, as to what's going on in with his character since the end of season 1, and especially the arc he has between Impossible Birds and The Innkeeper.

Being upfront: I wasn't sure what kind of arc the show would do with Izzy and we still obviously don't know the full scope of it, as we have five more episodes to go, but it's definitely been intriguing in a way I didn't anticipate. I figured Izzy would continue on with his antagonistic role, and he still might, but it seems like D Jenks is having fun letting Con have a role with more emotional nuance than in season one, and seeing as that role has an impact on everyone else, I wanted to share my thoughts on what I think is going on with him in the episodes that we've seen so far. I also wanted to start my in depth analysis with a character I don't care about nearly as much (being honest!) as I do the rest of the crew, but who also has a huge impact on two characters I do care very much about, Ed and Stede. I'm planning to analyze Ed and Stede in each episode before we get eps 4 and 5!

This is a long post! It features many quotes directly , transcribed by me and taken from the captions by Max. I used a read more because the whole thing is over 6k in length and analyzes the dynamic presented between Izzy and Ed and Izzy and Stede presented in episodes 1-3 of season 2 of Our Flag Means Death. If the read more doesn't work, that is not on me, sorry.

Alright, so recap: when we left Izzy, he had lashed out at Ed for the person he was choosing to become and the manner in which he was expressing himself and his feelings - the blanket fort, the binging sweets, the singing for the crew, the sharing his feelings and asking to be called Edward, the encouraging a talent show, and then, the cleaning up and comfortably wearing a colorful printed robe of nice, soft fabric. (Quotes: "I should have let the English kill you. This, whatever it is that you've become... is a fate worse than death." "(growled) No. This, this is Blackbeard. Not some (breath) namby-pamby in a silk gown, pining for his boyfriend.”) When these insults get the aggressive reaction from Ed that Izzy associates with the version of Ed he prefers, he encourages him with a smile, hand cupping Ed's cheek, and choking out "There he is." Ed shoves his hand away, backing away with a closed off expression, and Izzy's smile dies and he closes the distance between them. He states what he wants from Ed, makes a threat, and walks away without waiting for a response. (Quote: "Blackbeard is my captain. I serve Blackbeard. Not Edward. Edward better watch his fuckin' step.”)

The next time we see Izzy, Ed has donned his leathers, made his face up with dark make up to look more fierce, and is cutting off Izzy's pink toe and feeding it to him. We know from episode 9 that cutting off toes and feeding it to people was a classic Blackbeard move. For Izzy, this is several things: 1) confirmation that Blackbeard is back, the one who would never let a threat stand and does a good maim 2) a punishment for said threat (Quote: "Threaten me again, ever... I'll feed you the rest. Understand?" "Y-Yes, Blackbeard.") 3) a confirmation that he has his boss back, that whatever Stede has done to his boss' brain is over.

We get confirmation of that third point when Izzy speaks with the crew as they're getting rid of Stede's books and possessions - "Blackbeard is himself again," with a broad smile. Later, we see Izzy abandon the crew on a small island, presumably on Ed's direct orders, as he waves goodbye to Bonnet's playthings - them - as they depart. Izzy has a gun as he stands beside Ed, and they're watching as Frenchie finishes the new flag and hoists it.

That's where we left Izzy in Season 1: standing besides Ed as Blackbird returns to being Blackbeard for a brand new era of being Blackbeard, greatest pirate who ever lived, terror of the seas.

And when we return to the show, that's kind of what we get. Edward is being Blackbeard and Blackbeard is the terror of the seas, a Wanted Poster with so many crimes they're covering both sides of the poster (and yeah some of them are very silly, what midwifery was Ed up to, exactly-), and yet, Izzy is not happy when we see him.

What I think the show works to establish in episode 1 is that what Izzy wanted back was the man he saw as the old Blackbeard, who wasn't afflicted by these feelings of love or softness or "weakness", which he views as something that Stede Bonnet inflicted upon Edward. We know that, because it's how he phrased it to Chauncey - that "[Stede] had done something to [his] boss's brain". He seemed to view these feelings as something akin to an infection from Stede, that was corrupting the Blackbeard he knew and respected to something less than. Izzy wanted the old Blackbeard back and he thought that when Ed took his toe and fed it to him, said he'd killed Lucius, all that I recapped, that he'd gotten just that. A return to his preferred normal, where everything makes sense exactly as he thinks it should. Ed back to normal, it's Blackbeard time, getting rid of the dead weight and all that.

Except that's not what he's gotten at all, and I don't think Izzy had fully grasped why prior to episode 1. He has suspicions, of course, but it takes him a while to build to a confrontation about it.

Because see, Ed switched from healthier coping mechanisms like crying, eating sweets, creative outlets, and talking to people about his feelings to much more acceptably pirate means of coping with his feelings - violence in the form of raids and drugs (rhino horn, which thought people joke about it being an aphrodisiac, has a variety of believed medical uses in Vietnamese medicine, treating ailments including hangovers, fever, gout and potentially terminal illnesses, like cancer or stroke). Raids and drug use should be totally acceptable means of managing your feelings as a pirate, except that Ed is going too far with them, pushing the crew to the breaking point and beyond. They're raiding every day, they're not taking breaks, they're not having days off, they're chasing down ships as fast as they can take them down and now they're going to be throwing away loot. Izzy is realizing that actually he has not gotten the Blackbeard he wanted and things are not great. He's also lost at least two more toes.

He and Ed have an early exchange - Izzy looking sickly, skin sallow, what appears to be hair dye or make up trickling from his hairline, Ed prepping and snorting rhino horn like it's cocaine:

Izzy: "The crew are lookin' a tad worse for wear.” Ed: "Did everyone get cake?" Izzy: "Yeah, they got cake." Ed: "Well they're, they're welcome to have some rhino horn. Just ground up a fresh batch." (snorts rhino horn) "Oh fuck! You want some?" Izzy: "No, not right now, no." Ed: "Well then, get back to work ya fuckin' lightweight!" [cut to Izzy among the crew] Ed voiceover: "Can't do the job, someone else will."

Throughout this scene, Izzy looks increasingly distressed as Ed does drugs - he looks his most distressed during the voice over however, his jaw flexing, his eyes watery.

This is what appears to have shaken him the most - the idea that he's replaceable, that Ed can and would get rid of him in favor of someone else. It's obviously incredibly distressing to Izzy, in a way that I genuinely don't think the loss of his toes was. Izzy clearly values his relationship with Edward - while in season 1 he definitely wanted a promotion and liked the idea of authority, of being captain, the fact that he was swiftly mutinied and nearly murdered seemed to put a kabosh on his ambitions, and reoriented him to staying at Ed's side. We know that Izzy at least believes that loyalty is important - we know that he thinks he's acting from loyalty when he tries to make Ed watch as his boyfriend (in Izzy's words) is murdered.

Izzy values his position with Blackbeard. He serves Blackbeard, respects him, was honored to work for a legend. And while this is supposition, he seems to have considered himself and Edward as having a close, intimate relationship that did not require words or confessions or honest expression of feeling, this kind of bond where words aren't necessary, because they're tough, manly men who don't need to express their feelings.

But.

Then we get this line. Then we get, "can't do the job, someone else will." Seven words, and they shake Izzy to his core, make him finally start questioning his until then unquestioned belief in the ways of the world and his relationship with Edward. It shakes him enough that he actually breaks in front of the crew, in a scene that's incredibly funny, but also leads to them extending him some genuinely unearned compassion, as they question the healthiness of his relationship with Blackbeard - even as Izzy is finally questioning if he has a relationship with Blackbeard.

Following his breakdown, Izzy has the crew bring the treasure above deck, but doesn't go through with making them throw it overboard. Instead, he takes those new doubts and brings them to Ed, pushing for a conversation where he is clearly for the first time in their working relationship expressing his thoughts on said relationship in word form.

Izzy: "The crew are refusing to part with any treasure." Ed: "Why?" Izzy: "Because it's fuckin' treasure." Ed: "Not good enough. (stops toying with knife, slides it in Izzy's direction.) And that's another toe. Take your boot off." (stands from seated position, walks over to Izzy.) Izzy: (starts by looking down at the ground, then slowly raises gaze to Ed's face as he speaks.) "Who am I to you?" Ed: “...What?” Izzy: “We’ve worked together for years. (sniff) You know me better than anyone has ever known me, and I daresay the same is true for me about you.” (a musical beat plays. Izzy lowers his eyes from Ed’s face, looking in the middle distance.) Izzy: I have (several second long pause) love for you, Edward.” Ed: (starting as Izzy is speaking, right after the word love) “Oh, come on.” (walks away from Izzy, circling around him.) Izzy: I’m worried about you. We all are. The atmosphere on this ship is completely poisoned.” (pause) “But if we could all just maybe (pause, swallow, visibly struggling with words) talk it through.” (musical beat) Ed: (slowly looks up) “As a crew?” Izzy: (face falls subtly, taking on a starker look of upset)

The scene transitions away, but let’s really dig into all of this for a second, because this is crucial. This is Izzy going from matters between us are unspoken but profound to I have doubts and I am verbalizing my thoughts in the hope that they will be assuaged. Izzy is expressing aloud his thoughts on their relationship for the first time, because as Izzy puts it, he thought he knew Edward better than anyone. He thought he understood him better than anyone else alive. Now, we know that Izzy doesn’t understand Edward already - we’ve known that he doesn’t actually see the person Edward all along, but this was made especially clear in episode 6, where his voiceover notes that he is “starting to suspect that Edward has no intention of ending Stede Bonnet’s life”, at a point in time when Ivan and Fang are confident the plan is off and everyone else seems pretty clear there’s a co-captaining effect going on.

The point is that all this time, Izzy has been acting from a place of assuming he knows Edward best of anyone in the world, that he understands him, that he can follow what’s going on with him and that they are intimately bound together, in this deep and unspoken love for each other that doesn’t have to be said allowed, but only has to exist, unacknowledged but deeply felt. 

But then Ed said that he could be replaced. Then Ed said that he could find someone else to do Izzy’s job. 

And this introduced doubt into Izzy’s mind, for the first time. This is what made Izzy verbalize all these things - what made him ask who he is to Ed, what made him state that he has love for Ed, that he worries for Ed, that he and Ed understand each other better than anyone else… because now he has to say them aloud, because he has to be reassured that these things are true. 

That he is someone important to Ed. That Ed has love for Izzy and knows that Izzy has love for Ed. That Ed understands Izzy, that Ed knows that Izzy understands Ed. For years, he has thought that he and Ed understood each other in this profound way, that they alone truly knew the other, and he has to question if that’s true. 

He’s being vulnerable, in a way vaguely akin to the vulnerability Ed offered in episode 10, and it clearly doesn’t land. He wants reassurance that this deep and profound love and intimacy he was so sure was there, is real, and Ed can’t give him that reassurance because it’s not true. Not in the way Izzy was so sure it was. Not in the way he ruined Ed’s life to believe. 

Izzy finally decides to put himself out there, and all that Ed gets out of it is the echo of Stede Bonnet, and it makes Izzy’s face fall like a rock. There’s the answer he didn’t want: the relationship he believed he had with Ed is not there, and Ed is still, utterly, truly, fixed in his feelings for Stede Bonnet. 

(and like just to clarify, I really don’t feel bad for Izzy here - he doesn’t have the relationship he wants with Ed because he’s never tried to really understand Ed, or listen to him, and he isn’t what Ed wants in a partner, but, objectively, Izzy does make himself vulnerable here, and he’s shot down, because Ed just doesn’t return his feelings)

Which leads us into the continuing scene. Ed goes to confront the crew about the atmosphere of the ship being poisoned, which everyone denies at gun point, leading Ed to shoving the gun under his chin and having a little conversation with himself, unsettling everyone around. 

Ed: “I know who we should ask, ol’ Blackbeard. Hello mate. You think the vibe on the ship is poisoned? I don’t know, Blackbeard. Maybe a little toxic sometimes. Maybe it’s a bit uncomfortable sometimes. You do make the crew a little bit uncomfortable sometimes. They think you’re crazy. Well, I’m not crazy. I don’t feel crazy. I feel pretty fucking good actually.” (the camera is focusing on the faces of all the crew as he gives this monologue, gun still cocked under his chin.) Izzy: “Fucking End!” (Screamed at Ed’s back) Ed: (slowly turns to Izzy.) Crew: (Fang looking shocked and saddened. Frenchie shakes his head very minutely, looking at Izzy.) Izzy: “The atmosphere on this ship is (word drawn out) fucked.” (working his jaw, looking down and to the side as he says this.) “Everyone knows why.” Ed: (nods once, sets his chin, walks forward.) “Well I don’t. Enlighten me.” Izzy: (smiling with mouth shut, suppressing a laugh. Shrugs.) Your feelings for Stede fuckin’ Bonnet.” Ed: (Nods as soon as Izzy says Stede’s name. Shoots him in the leg.) Izzy: (cries out in pain drops, clutching his knee.) Ed: “Frenchie.” Frenchie: “Yes?” Ed: “Congratulations, you are now first mate.” Frenchie: “Oh, no. I don’t, I don’t  think I’m qualified.” Ed: “‘course you are mate. You can start by cleaning up that mess.” (tilts head towards Izzy. Turns to rest of crew, onlooking.) “And the rest of you, you throw this shit overboard and get suited up.” (claps twice, turns away.) “We’ve got a record to break.” Izzy: (still groaning in pain.)

So that was a lot. 

Izzy has realized, over the course of this episode, that his relationship with Ed is not what he thought it was, is not what he wants it to be, and that Ed is still and probably always will be, in love with Stede fuckin’ Bonnet. This is why Izzy decides to say what he believes to be true - that the atmosphere is fucked because of Ed’s feelings for Stede. It’s important that we know this is not actually true - while Ed being ghosted by Stede did start his spiral, Ed was able to stop that spiral with the help of community and reaching for healthy coping mechanisms. Ed spiraled again after Izzy intervened, insulting, threatening, and demeaning him as discussed in the recap, and the spiral isn’t about his romantic feelings - it’s about, as s2e3 The Innkeeper firmly establishes, his feeling fundamentally unloveable and monstrous. Throughout s2e1, Ed is clearly denying the crew days off and meaningful rest out of pursuit of as many raids as possible. He’s trying not to touch the ground, flying high both via drugs and adrenaline, and his exchange with Frenchie at the end of the impossible makes it clear he doesn’t want to stop. 

It’s also very important, that throughout this entire thing, the only crew member Ed actually hurts is Izzy, who doesn’t actually object to losing his toes. Now, I’m on record for being one of the many people who think Izzy is actually glad that the toe scene happens - I don’t think he actually especially wanted to lose his toes, but, he was glad to get back the Blackbeard who would cut off toes, and I do think he felt there was a certain intimacy in being the only one experiencing violence. Izzy is a masochist and has previously expressed delight in being the subject of violence - was very happy to be choked by Ed in s1ep10 - so while this is not safe or sane, I do think it’s consensual, in the sense that Izzy thinks this is part of their mutual love, their unspoken but deep and crucially intimate togetherness that leads them to know each other on the deepest level. 

And then Ed says he can be replaced. And then Ed makes it clear that even when Izzy is emotionally vulnerable, Ed’s heart is with Stede. And Izzy realizes, he doesn’t have that place with Edward that he thought he did. He doesn’t have that special relationship. This is not intimacy, for Ed. And Ed shooting him and turning away isn’t even the final nail in that door. 

Because, in s2e2, Izzy is still alive. The crew has hidden him in the walls and are trying to preserve his life, even as Izzy screams for them to kill him and calls them cowards for not doing so. The crew is gathering medicine, preparing an amputation, figuring out what to do with Izzy to try and keep him alive, and Izzy wants them to kill him. (Quote: “Kill me you fucking cowards! Kill me -”)

I would say it’s because he’s realized the relationship he devoted his life too and considered sacred, the relationship he considers most valuable… is not that to the man he loves. Ed replaced him and pirate code says the first mate should kill him. The first mate (Frenchie) refuses to kill him. Frenchie is not much for that, and neither is JIm. Both of them, having experienced a better life and place of work when Stede was captain and Ed was their co-captain, are trying to preserve Izzy’s life the best they can. Jim especially clings to the memory of when life meant something on this ship, even Izzy’s life. 

Which - this makes sense coming from Jim, and I think it’s why they chose Jim, because Jim wasn’t present for Izzy being captain or the mutiny. Jim has the least complicated relationship with Izzy aside from Fang, who is notably not present in any of the scenes to do with rescuing Izzy, despite having been clearly shocked and appalled that Izzy was shot. 

Izzy, is not thrilled to be being kept alive, but the fact that Izzy is kept alive, means that Izzy has to process his feelings - and face Ed again, who, having shot Izzy, mourned and sobbed, has woken up, cleaned himself up, cleaned his space out, and decided to seek death. 

From Izzy. 

This, I think, is the second most crucial moment in Izzy’s arc and transition, because Izzy thought he was someone of incredible importance to Ed, and he also thought that he knew and understood Ed better than anyone, and that Ed crucially, understood him just as well. He thought that even without any emotional honesty or vulnerability, they knew each other more than anyone else possibly could. 

He thinks that Ed knows him. 

And Ed comes to him, and they have the following exchange:

Ed: “Morning.” Izzy: “My leg?” (looking down his body.) Ed: (laughing) “Yeah. Oh, no, that’s gone now. Up in Leg Heaven.” (sets the smelling salts down, turns to look down at Izzy.) Izzy: (looks up at Ed.) “Have you come to take the other one?” Ed: “I think one’s quite enough. I just popped down to say a proper goodbye.” (reaches behind him, draws gun. Izzy: (watches the gun, looks down from Ed’s face to gun and back as Ed cocks and loads it.) Ed: (looking at the gun, not Izzy.) “Had a dream about you last night.” (flips gun to offer the handle to Izzy.) “Take it.” Izzy: “Oh, fuck off. Fuck off. Fuck off.” (slaps at Ed’s hand, looking away from Ed.) Ed: “Hold it! Hold it.” (they are speaking over each other. Gets the gun in Izzy’s hand, directs it at Ed’s head. Looking at Izzy.) “I dreamt that ya killed me. Shot me right through the skull.” (moving the gun and Izzy’s hand, drawing it to his forehead, leaning closer. The camera moves between Ed’s face and Izzy’s.) Izzy: (smiles slowly then sneers.) “Good for you.” Ed: (blinks and nods slowly.) “It was good for me. It’s just what the doctor ordered.” (The camera moves from Ed’s face to Izzy’s showing him with that frown as Ed stands over him, leaving the gun in Izzy’s hand.) “Anyway, it wasn’t even like that.” (walks away from Izzy.) Izzy: (eyes tracking Ed as he walks away.) Ed: “Not in my dream.” (moves to stand at the foot of Izzy’s bed, back to Izzy.) “I was standing.” (inhales). “Just like this.” (Closes eyes. Spreads arms.) Izzy: (from his view, Ed is standing against the light, back open, arms spread. He blinks and raises the gun audibly.) Ed: (Swallows, holding his arms out.) Izzy: (smiles, sniffs audibly, dropping the smile as he clenches his teeth. Laughs harshly, mockingly, gun raised.) “Ohhhhh, ah, you scared, Eddie? Too scared - too scared to do it yourself? Ay.” (laughs) “Go on, clean up your own fucking mess. I’m not doin’ it. I’ve been doin’ it all my fucking life.” Ed: (looks down, disappointed. blinks.) Izzy: Fuck off. Ed: (nods, swallows.) “Farewell, old chum.” (whispered. He walks up the stairs and away from Izzy.) Izzy: (watches, shaking, nodding slowly himself, breath hitching.) Ed: (reaches the top of the stairs. A gunshot sounds. A creak. Ed lowers his eyes, looking down at something off camera. Nods. Exhales.) “I loved you” (a pause) “best I could.” The scene transitions from there, and the next we see of Ed, he is initiating plan two of suicide attempts: steering the ship into a storm and goading the ship to kill him or die with him.

But Ed’s deal is so many more posts from here. No, we’re focused on Izzy for the moment, so what did this whole exchange mean for him?

First, the thought that Ed had come to do more damage. That Ed was there for Izzy, that this was about Izzy. But it’s not. Ed has had enough of that. He notably does not apologize. Izzy notably does not seem to expect one. There is history here, and the last time they were in positions like this, the camera angle was flipped - Ed at Izzy’s right, a hand covering Izzy’s mouth, making him eat his toe and the idea that things could go as they had been, that the Blackbeard Izzy had schemed and tried to have a man killed over was back. This time, Ed is at Izzy’s left, with a gun, and he doesn’t touch Izzy except to hand over the gun.

This is where it’s so important that Izzy believed he and Ed knew each other best of all. Because in episode one, Izzy was getting worried for Ed, but it’s in episode 2, in this moment, as Ed hands him a gun, that he realizes Ed wants to die. And it’s in this moment that he realizes that Ed fully believes Izzy could. That Ed has taken these actions believing that they would lead Izzy to kill him. That Ed wants to commit suicide via Izzy, that he thinks killing Ed is something that Izzy wants, could want, could do. 

This is Izzy, realizing that he and Ed don’t understand each other nearly as well as he thought. This is Izzy, realizing that Ed looks at him and sees a man who could and would kill him, when Izzy thinks that he couldn’t ever do that. This is Izzy, having the true final death knell on that relationship he believed they had, the intimacy he believed they had, the lack of a need for words. He thought all this time that he knew Ed best and that Ed knew him, and he doesn’t want to kill Ed - and he’s also hurt and angry and upset to know Ed genuinely thought he would. That Ed would come to him for this, because Izzy doesn’t think he could kill Ed, but Ed thinks he could. 

In his mind, Ed should know that Izzy could never kill him, should trust him, should know without having to be told that it would never happen, but here’s Ed in the flesh, asking him to kill him. 

It’s over, everything he thought was there. 

And Ed? Ed did care about Izzy, in his own way, but every overture he made was denied, shot down, Izzy not interested in the bird guy, the ship, the clouds and how they contribute to a plan, the drugs, and like, Izzy is allowed to not be interested in any of those things - but these are the things Ed was interested in. These are the ways Ed tried to connect most recently, and Izzy shot them all down. To Izzy, there was a deep and intimate connection in spite of all of that. To Ed, every way he could connect with Izzy was shot down. He loved him the best he could, which wasn’t a way that could provide either of them what they wanted. Izzy had love for Ed, but that love could not be fruitful or nurturing to either of them, because it was unspoken and therefore ripe for misunderstanding. 

Izzy stews down there in the ship, in his own thoughts, while Ed steers the ship into a storm and makes his last effort to die, to have it all end - to push the crew to killing him, or dying with him. And then he ties his leg up, makes his way above deck, shoots Ed in the arm to keep him from killing them all, and tries to kill himself instead, staring at Ed as he tries to shoot himself with the gun Ed wanted Izzy to kill him with. Despite the gun being aimed for the temple, he fails and falls back, leaving himself staring up as it rains on him, hiding any tears. Fang brings Ed down, and the crew gather together, Fang supporting Izzy’s weight, as Jim lifts a cannonball with a scream and prepares to bring it down on Ed’s head. Izzy watches without interfering.

EDIT: ADDED THIS SECTION:

A quick addendum: even though I watched episode 2 so many times, I didn't realize that Izzy tried to kill himself after Ed left the room! The gunshot that Ed hears is in fact Izzy trying and failing to shoot himself right then and there, in that moment that Ed departs. Izzy's forehead was so wet and the background of him falling back and water splashing was such that I truly thought that took place in the rain, and that he tried to shoot himself after shooting Ed. Thanks to @glamaphonic for letting me know. This does leave me even more certain that Izzy is motivated to do this because he has finally understood both that Edward wants to die, and that he and Edward never understood each other as well as he thought, which brings the last years of his life into question. He tried to kill himself, failed, and came up to stop Ed from bringing down the ship. It's not just that Izzy stews down there - as Ed departs, leaving Izzy behind, Izzy takes the shot. He tries and fails to kill himself, and wakes and climbs the steps to take the shot at Ed he couldn't before.

The next time we see Izzy is s1e3, The Innkeeper, when Stede crosses over to the Revenge and finds the crew amidst the wreckage. He’s eating a raw bird with the rest of the crew, and then is brought aboard the Red Flag. As Stede asks the crew about Ed’s location, Izzy watches him. He’s the only one not eating soup, hands tucked over his chest. 

As Stede starts asking questions - dangerous questions for Izzy and the former crew of the Revenge - he walks over with a crutch. 

Izzy: “Bonnet. Good to see you.” Stede: “Piss off, Izzy. I don’t wanna hear from you.”

Stede talks to the rest of the crew, as Izzy grimaces. Stede pays him no attention. The next time Izzy speaks up: Stede: “What about my painting? Why is it all stabbed up?” Izzy: (looking up through his hair, smiling.) “That was me.” Stede: (sighs and walks away without response.) Izzy: (blinks slowly, looking dismayed. We see him start to turn his head in Stede’s direction.)

Well, that seemed like someone trying to pick a fight, and disappointed he didn’t get one, too me. In Izzy’s mind, Stede is his romantic rival, the man Ed loves where he didn’t love Izzy, and, currently, also a threat, because if he keeps asking questions and reveals the mutiny, they’ll all be killed. 

But Stede is one more thing. Stede is another dagger in Izzy’s heart, as we continue transcribing:

Izzy: “Don’t cry Bonnet. We just redecorated.” (has clearly been following Stede.) Stede: “I don’t mind, actually. I think the knives really help bring the place together.” (calmly stated before he walks away to look at the rest of the furniture.) Izzy: (drops his head, looking away as though trying to gather words.) Stede: (turns to look at Izzy.) “What’d you do with him? I know he wouldn’t have left by choice.” Izzy: (sniffles) I know you think you understand him. Stede: (interrupting) “He was either gonna watch the world burn or die trying, so which was it?” (leaning forward despite the considerable distance, still calm.) Izzy: (swallows, dips head. Starts moving forward, gritting teeth through words.) “Alright Bonnet. Have it your own way.” (stalking forward to Stede on his crutch.) “He went mad. He tortured the crew. He took my fuckin’ leg ‘cause I dared to mention your fuckin’ name.” (emphasis on the curses, slams fist when he says your name.) Stede: (in drawn breath, turns away) Izzy: “He was a wild dog, and we dealt with him like one.” Stede: “You sent him to Doggy Heaven.” Izzy: (stares in silence, head shaking. Flashes back to Ed laying in the rain, breathing out “Finally,” and laughing as Jim brings a cannonball down on him as Izzy watches. Stares. Turns to look away from Stede, face twisting. Shakes his head. Shuts his eyes. Breathes the word:) “No.” Stede: (turns to look back at him.) Izzy: “I could never do that.” (looks away, still not looking Stede in the face). “We deserved him on a beach (sniffles) left nature to do the rest. More than he would have done for us.” Stede: (turns away, breathing out.) Izzy: (continuing) “You and me did this to him. And we cannot let this crew suffer anymore for our mistakes.” Stede: (turns to look at Izzy) “Why would they suffer?” Izzy: “If your captain senses mutiny, she’ll kill us all. That’s pirate code.” Stede: (camera lingers on his face as he swallows.)

Doggy Heaven has a heavy meaning in this series, considering that Ed was supposed to send Stede to Doggy Heaven, and couldn’t because of his love for Stede. Ed couldn’t bring himself to kill Stede, but here is Stede, who Izzy views as a romantic rival, guessing that Izzy could kill Ed. Acknowledging that he, like Ed, believes that Izzy could kill Ed. Izzy, who thinks he couldn’t and wouldn’t and has love for Ed, and sees himself as loyal. 

But Izzy did stand back as Ed was killed, and that’s why he reaches for dehumanizing language to defend the action - he calls Ed a wild dog and that they dealt with him like one. 

(It’s the first time in the show that a white character makes a racist remark without immediate consequences. Before anyway says otherwise, yes it is always racist for white people to dehumanize a man of color. It is always racist to say a person of color is or was an animal or liken them to being an animal. He could have said that Ed was a danger to the crew in any number of ways but he reached for likening him to a creature less than human and yeah that’s a racist thing to do. I believe the show did not follow through with consequences for this action because it’s clear that Izzy is STILL trying to pick a fight with Stede.)

The commonality in all of these scenes with Stede are twofold. One, Izzy is trying to distract Stede from the truth of the mutiny and what the crew did (and the fact that Ed is still aboard the Revenge, left for dead [or as Izzy put it, for nature to do the rest]). The second is that Izzy is trying and failing to pick a fight - failing, because Stede won’t take him up on it. At all. Stede is not engaging with Izzy at this point outside of the practical matter of seeking information, and that’s all he has to spare for Izzy - he’s already told him to piss off once, and that’s as much energy as he spends on it, but Izzy comes at Stede antagonistically more than once - three times, actually, and I think it’s because if he has a fight with Stede, and Stede says all the things he’s thinking, about how awful Izzy is, how he’s a traitor, how could he have hurt Ed, any of those things, then Izzy can fight about it, and he can justify it to himself, and he can ignore the thought from now on, because it’s the same thought that Stede fuckin’ Bonnet is having, and those thoughts are worthless.

But Stede doesn’t give him that. Stede doesn’t give him a fight at all. Stede walks away from Izzy again and again and again and in doing so does not grant Izzy an out, an out that can ONLY come from Stede, because no one else is going to disagree with the mutiny. 

Stede is the only one who could give him that fight, and Stede refuses. And Izzy continues to have to sit with his own thoughts and justifications and they clearly aren’t enough for him, because he’s continuing to push. 

Izzy is also trying to protect himself and the crew, here. It’s very much about that. He is trying to keep himself and them from dying by being caught out for mutiny, but I think it’s interesting that it’s only here that he tries to take accountability for what he said and did to Ed, and it’s in service of avoiding what he’s actually done. Izzy says that he and Stede did this to Ed - this that resulted in, as he says, Ed going mad and torturing the crew and having to be mutinied and abandoned on the beach. Izzy needs Stede to feel equally responsible - so that Stede will help protect the crew, but also because I think Izzy is feeling guilty and has been, because he could watch Ed die, and he could hurt Ed, and he didn’t think of himself as that person, but he is and was, and thinking that he caused all of this himself is too much. Better to give some of it to Stede, and help the crew out as well as himself. 

He had love for Ed, in his own way, and he thought they understood each other and had a partnership, but here’s Stede fuckin’ Bonnet, who only knew Ed for a matter of weeks, and understood him better than Izzy did and wouldn’t do the thing that Izzy did, and this is the final nail for Izzy, the thing he’s struggling with in this whole revelation that Ed didn’t have any romantic love for him, that there was no special intimate romance between them that didn’t need to be said or expressed or acknowledged with words or vulnerability to exist, because Stede takes one look at the situation and can summarize what happened. Stede knew that Ed would want to die, because you can’t actually burn the world down. You can say “burn the world or die trying”, but the only end result is dying trying. 

And Izzy, I genuinely don’t think, understood that Ed wanted to die. Not until Ed offered him the gun. Not until Ed spelled it out. Izzy knew that Ed was fucked up over his feelings, but I don’t think he understood where they were leading. 

But here’s Stede, and he did, and Izzy can’t take that, which is why once the truth is out and the mutineers are locked in the brig awaiting probable execution, Izzy tries to pick a fight one more time, even now that there’s nothing to distract Stede from. 

Izzy: (hears footsteps and turns his head.) Stede: (comes to the brig, staring through the bars at Izzy, then the rest of the crew.) Izzy: (smiles) “Go on Bonnet, give me your worst.” Crew: (looks up at Stede slowly.) Stede: (Looks at all of them, silent and not visibly angry, somber. Tilts his head down, eyes closed. Opens his eyes, shoves against the bars and turns and walks away without a word.) Izzy: (Drops the smile. Stares forward into the distance, eyes visibly wet with tears, blinks several times).

 So, clearly trying for a fight, wanting one, and continually being denied. Izzy is almost certainly grieving Ed, the relationship he thought they had, and also his leg, and Stede is the only other person here who would even possibly mourn Ed too, and Stede refuses to give him any response. Even when goaded, even knowing the truth, he has nothing to say to him. The next time Stede and Izzy are in the same room, Stede has concocted an escape plan, and doesn’t look at or speak to Izzy at all as he gives instructions and organizes the escape.

And when they have made it back to their ship, when they’re getting the wheel and rigging set for escape, they have a final conversation:

Izzy: (walks up behind Stede, who is watching the Red Flag.) “I just wanted to thank you for-” Stede: (walks away without letting him finish.) Izzy: (looks down, is left standing alone as live moves on the ship.)

Over the course of these three episodes, Izzy’s plot is realizing that he was fundamentally wrong about his relationship with Ed, his understanding of Ed as a person, and the depths of Ed’s feelings and despair. I think he’s also realizing that he was wrong about his relationship with Stede - he saw Stede as a romantic rival, and someone who hated him as much as he hates Stede, but given the opportunity to antagonize Izzy again and again, Stede refuses, because he doesn’t care about Izzy nearly enough. 

Izzy has misunderstood the nature of his relationship as it were with both of these men, who are, and always were, predominantly, chiefly, and only, interested in each other.

[bailey-dreamfoot]

Bowser and Luigi Incorrect Quotes Because Why Not Honestly

Luigi, handing a balloon to Bowser: I have no soul. Have a good day!

Bowser, walking off: I don't have one either.

Luigi: Bowser, I need some advice.

Bowser: You need advice from ME?

Luigi: Yeah, frightening, isn't it?

Luigi: I made this friendship bracelet for you.

Bowser: You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.

Luigi: You don’t have to wear…

Bowser: No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.

Bowser: I made tea.

Luigi: I don't want tea.

Bowser: I didn't make you tea. This is my tea.

Luigi: Then why did you tell me?

Bowser: It's a conversation starter.

Luigi: It's a horrible conversation starter.

Bowser: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

Luigi: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one.

Bowser: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them.

Bowser: Luigi and I are no longer dating.

Luigi: Bowser, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

Luigi: *is visibly upset*

Bowser: Luigi, what happened? I haven't seen you like this since you found out candyland wasn't an actual country.

Luigi: You don't know anything about me!

Bowser: I know EVERYTHING about you! You are an open book written for very dumb children!

Bowser: You don't know anything about me!

Luigi: I know EVERYTHING about you! You are an open book written for very dumb children!

Bowser: A decision had to be made.

Luigi: And you fucked it up!

Luigi: You call yourself my soulmate, but where were you when my meme only had four likes?

Bowser: Making four accounts.

Luigi, tearing up: Really...?

Bowser: It’s nice to be wanted, you know?

Luigi: Not by the law!

Luigi: Bowser is not allowed to decide which one of us is the chosen one.

Luigi: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Bowser: I wrote you a poem.

Luigi, already crying: You did?

Bowser: Love makes people do stupid things.

Luigi: I love everything!

Bowser: That explains a lot.

Luigi: Hey.

Bowser: Hey?

Luigi: I can't sleep. :/

Bowser: I can. Goodnight.

Luigi: Bowser, you need to react when people cry!

Bowser: I did. I rolled my eyes.

Bowser, trying their first ever cup of coffee: I am ENERGY!

Luigi, an avid coffee drinker, on their twelfth cup of the day: Someone slap me awake or I am literally going to fall into a coma in ten seconds.

Bowser: You're violent.

Luigi: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Bowser: Do you have a self-care routine?

Luigi: "Keep going bitch" said to myself in different accents.

Luigi: They don’t make them like me no more. I’m the last of my kind.

Bowser: Thank god.

Luigi: So I was just having a conversation with Bowser about Star Wars; particularly, about the choice of architecture. The amount of people who die from falling down bottomless pits is TOO DAMN HIGH! Like, who designs architecture like this? Catwalks with no guard rails whatsoever, just zigging and zagging through enormous voids. Giant holes to nowhere!

Bowser: It's by design. It's a cleaner look, for a more elegant time.

Luigi: Like... who the fuck put this hole here???? And why????

Bowser: Exhaust?

Luigi: Darth Maul falls down a hole, Palpatine falls down a hole, Solo falls down a hole, everyone falls down a hole! Star Wars universe needs OSHA.

Bowser: Luke falls down a hole, Boba Fett falls down a hole…

Luigi: Yes, yes, I forgot about those! R2-D2 falls down a hole in the Millenium Falcon after he fixes the hyperdrive.

Bowser: We're onto something here!

Luigi: Obi-Wan almost falls down a hole.

Bowser: C-3PO falls off the barge into the sand. Pretty close to falling down a hole.

Luigi: His lightsaber does though.

Bowser: *thinks hard about what other Star Wars Characters fall down holes*

Luigi: What if the hole is symbolic? The hole represents the dark side.

Bowser: Nah, doesn't work. Luke chooses to fall down the hole instead of joining Vader/The Dark Side.

Luigi: Fair point.

(^ ive litterally never seen that before in my life, so i thought it was funny. but like- imagine they're talking ab Bowser's Castle design.)

Bowser: If by any chance Luigi should attack, just start calmly talking about anything.

Luigi: Bowser told me that brown is just navy orange, and I have never been more disappointed with something I agree with.

Bowser: Whether or not I pay income taxes is none of the government's business.

Luigi: No, well, actually, it is.

Bowser: You don't know my name or what I look like, good luck finding me.

Bowser, making a cup of tea: Yeah, get into that leaf juice, you sexy, sexy bee sauce.

Luigi: Hey, do you take constructive criticism?

Bowser: I absolutely fucking do not.

Bowser: What is this!?

Luigi: That’s the weight of guilt. Give in to the nice side. Help those unfortunate, and make the guilt go away, my friend.

Bowser: Ow! Make it stop!

Luigi: Surrender to your kindness, Bowser. It’s nice to be nice.

Bowser: Your guilt is strong, my friend. But it is no match for the power of my selfishness!

Bowser: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.

Luigi: Killed without hesitation.

Bowser: Gatekeep, girlboss, and what's the other one again?

Luigi: There isn't another one. You're crazy.

Luigi: How many children do you have?

Bowser: Biologically, legally, or emotionally? Because there is a difference.

Luigi: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Bowser: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

Luigi: ...

Luigi: You mean ring bearER, right?

Bowser: ...

Luigi: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

[drgenius-reid]

War and Peace, and Coffee

A/N: It's down to the wire but I just about managed to get something together for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute Challenge. Summary: Spencer finds himself meeting a lovely stranger in a coffee shop where they read together. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader  Category: Fluff Content Warnings: Use of Y/N. Word Count: 920

Spencer didn’t think he had ever seen someone more beautiful in his life. Even as she sat in the corner of the coffee shop, curled up on a chair with a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose, she looked adorable as she succumbed to the words in front of her. 

She read 1984 by George Orwell. Spencer could tell what book it was just from seeing a tiny piece of the cover that poked through her fingers. He noted how delicately she was holding the book, being careful as to not ruin the spine of it. 

On the small table in front of her, Spencer could see an untouched cup of coffee, a bookmark with a quote that he couldn’t figure out from where he stood, and a banana peel on a plate. He was intrigued by her. Even though he didn’t know why. 

The woman looked up from her book before Spencer could look away. Their eyes met and Spencer’s cheeks grew warm, embarrassment flooding over him at being caught watching her. He tipped his head forward towards her when she smiled softly at him, her eyes wandering back to the words that had pilfered her attention. 

Spencer walked up to the counter at the front of the coffee shop and ordered himself a black coffee with plenty of sugar, and an orange, paying for them before he headed to the bottom of the shop where a tall shelf sat, completely filled with books. He grabbed a copy of War and Peace and took a seat at the table next to the woman’s. 

‘You know you can always take the spare seat at this table,’ she said softly. 

Spencer looked to his right to see the woman now holding her cup of coffee, hands wrapped around it securely. Her glasses were back on her nose properly and her book rested on the table near her knee. 

‘I wouldn’t want to ruin your reading time,’ Spencer smiled. ‘Thank you though.’ 

The woman let out a small chuckle before motioning her head towards the door. ‘See that woman who just walked in? That’s Margaret. She is about to order herself a port of tea and a slice of cake. You, my friend, are sitting in Margaret’s seat and trust me, you don’t want to be there when she gets here. She will either flirt with you until you leave to try and get away from her, or she will pick you apart.’ 

‘And what if I’m into older women?’ Spencer challenged the woman, who threw her head back in laughter. 

‘I promise you, if you want to read your book and actually enjoy it, you’d be better coming to sit here with me.’ 

When Spencer saw the older lady ordering the exact thing he was told that she would, he moved his things across to the next table as quickly as he could, sitting down just in time. His new table mate picked her book back up to continue reading. 

‘Nice choice of literature you have there.’ 

The woman smiled at Spencer as she shrugged lightly. ‘The best books are those that tell you what you know already.’ 

‘But one must know that there was truth and there was untruth, and if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you were not mad.’ Spencer smiled at the woman who looked at him in disbelief. 

‘You’re an Orwell fan?’ 

‘More like a literature fan. I’ve read this book multiple times already,’ Spencer said as he lifted the book into the air slightly. 

‘Quote it,’ the woman challenged, placing her bookmark back into the book so that she could put her attention on him fully. 

Spencer took a deep breath and looked at her, trying to hide the smile that wanted to spread across his face. ‘Yes, love, but not the love that loves for something, to gain something, or because of something, but that love that I felt for the first time, when dying, when I saw my enemy and yet loved him. 

‘I knew that feeling of love which is the essence of the soul, for which no object is needed. And I know that blissful feeling now too. To love one’s neighbours; to love one’s enemies. To love everything - tol;ove God in all His manifestations. 

‘Someone dear to one can be loved with human love; but an enemy can only be loved with divine love. And that was why I felt such joy when I felt that I loved that man. What happened to him? Is he alive? Loving with human love, one may pass from love to hatred; but divine love cannot change. 

‘Nothing, not even death, can shatter it. It is the very nature of the soul. And how many people I have hated in my life. And of all people none I have loved and hated more than her. If it were only possible for me to see her once more.’ 

Spencer trailed off. The woman was staring at him, mouth agape. It was a look that would normally make him extremely uncomfortable but with her, it didn’t.  

‘I’m floored,’ she said finally. ‘War and Peace was the first book I read for my undergrad and I remember reading that passage for the first time. It really made me think about the nuances of love and what it means to love everyone. I’m Y/N, by the way.’ 

‘Spencer.’ 

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Spencer.’ 

‘And you, Y/N.’ 

[oh2e]

A (long) Collection of TTOI Quotes

He’s as useless as a marzipan dildo

I’m going to have to mop up a hurricane of piss here

He and Hewitt are tight as arse cheeks

‘How fucked am I? On the fuckometre?’ ‘Oh 12’ ‘yeah 12’ ‘out of what?’ ‘50’ ‘oh…. mine was out of 10’

Tiny little dick the size of a bookie’s biro

There’s no time to go home I’ll pass myself on the way back in

I can only cook with what I’m given. You give me Hugh Abbot I’ll give you bangers and mash, you give me Jerry from home office then I can raise it to fucking risotto and scallops

I am king of remembering my own password

‘Shagging your way to the top is it?’ ‘Yes well I’m not Scottish so I’ve got to get in somehow’

How much shit is on the menu and what flavour is it?

‘What do you want Malcolm’ ‘Two bits of tit. Two titties.’

Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off

“What about just firing him at a wall from a cannon?” “I know we force feed him a mixture of garlic and Dettol in cup a soup” “What about the old red hot poker up the arse?” “I’d like to nail him to a tree through the head and watch lice slowing crawl over his body eating off all the flesh”

“Has security checked this [plant]?” “For little terrorists?”

This is the problem with the public - they’re fucking horrible

Not only was it a shit idea to ruin my holiday, it was a shit idea you stole from the government to ruin my holiday

Ah that’s like smoking dead skin that is

You’re the fucking shittest James Bond ever - you’re David Fucking Niven!

You’re like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra

You take the piss outta [Al] Jolson again and I will remove your iPod from its tiny nano sheath and push it up your cock! Then I’ll plug some speakers up your arse and put it onto shuffle with my fucking fist

Ithought you said no one reads these except political obsessives and mad Christians in wheelchairs but loads of people read mine

“I am not the story here” “Well no you kind of are though Malcolm, they spelled your name right and everything”

Come with me before I put your nuts in a book and squeeze them so hard that they come out like pressed fucking flowers

You’re The Ben….Ben Nevis…Bentally Ill…

Tickety fuckity boo

“Anyone seen Jamie?” “Oh don’t tell me he’s gone feral cos he was fucking terrifying when you had him on the leash.”

I’d love to stay and talk to you but I’d rather have type 2 diabetes

Mr Baby New Potato Head

It sucks cock so deep the bell end is wearing your appendix as a little hat

This is an operations room so unless you want your tonsils out by keyhole surgery from this key here, piss off!

Cliff Fucking Lawton! Nice. Was the Cilit Bang man not available?

To a guy who loses it so bad he needs a sat nav to find his own nipples

I’m feeling about as up to date as a Gregorian calendar

“You couldn’t organise a bum rape in a barracks.” “Au contraire”

You’re about as secure as a hymen in a south London comprehensive

Stop fucking blinking or I will take your optic nerve and fucking strangle you with it

Hanging round like a couple of school secretaries in the summer holidays

It’s like a prostate consultant’s waiting room in here

You will be sorry you inflatable cock!

I am going to have your intestines as a skipping rope and your lungs sundried and turned into a fucking waistcoat

Or will Dan Miller pull his scalp off and use it as an oven glove?

Enough of the pleasantries let’s just oil up and get fucking

A towel rail shouldn’t take up a whole wall, that’s not a towel rail it’s a climbing frame.

I’ve got a to-do list here longer than a fucking Leonard Cohan song

More on my plate than a spinster at a wedding

The only other candidate is my left bollock with a fucking smiley face drawn on it

Feels a bit like my head’s made entirely of smoke alarms

Fuck the Is and fist the Ts

May as well ask what I think of skirting boards, I’m sure we need them but I don’t know why

“No no I didn’t say that” “Well you sort of did with your face”

Let me row back a little bit, perhaps all the way back to the boathouse

She’s not bent either in the sense of being corrupt or being gay and by the way that’s an incredibly homophobic headline you massive poof

Omnishambles, from bean to cup you fuck up

I’m on my way to wipe my arse on pictures of Nick Robinson

“And I’m not doing terribly am I?” [Malcolm looking out the opposite window] “I love the way they’ve sandblasted here. It looks so clean.”

No no, don’t get up - I’m not viagra

He’s a fucking knitted scarf, he’s a balaclava.

The only thing John Duggan is doing here is depriving a village somewhere of a twat

You write almost entirely in generic meaningless buzzwords don’t you?

I will tear your fucking skin off, I will wear it to your mother’s birthday party, I will rub your nuts up and down her leg while whistling Bohemian Fucking Rhapsody

She’s behaving like a squirrel in a pedal bin.

Or I’ll have to tear my eyelids off and scrunch them up into fucking earplugs

I’m flypaper for dickheads

I think you’re wrong Malcolm you’re like a sultana in a salad

Sorry I can’t make espresso but I’ve made this so thick and black it’ll be like drinking fucking plimsoles

Well fuck a pot noodle. Sam, prepare my horse. I ride to DoSAC

The only fucking vibe you need to worry about is the one your wife hides in her knicker drawer

See you later and remember my door is always locked

* Tintin’s sexy sister to Ollie

What I really need is to shoot you all in the back of the head FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. but I can’t because it’s illegal.

I reserve this level of anger for when I’m flying Ryanair

As about a strong defence as ‘the fertiliser in my homemade bomb was organic’!

She’s a fart in a frock and we both want her wafted out of here

She’s going to have to fall on her sword, which means that we’re going to have to stick one in the ground, trip her up onto it and get someone jump up and down on her back for ten minutes

She’s going to kick her own head in which’ll be easy because she does yoga

I’m looking for Mr Oliver Reeder? He looks a bit like a Quentin Blake illustration

“Is she fucked?” “Like Caligula’s favourite watermelon.”

Can I bring you a shot glass? And some bleach?

You can’t look a gift corpse in the mouth

“It’s over the fat lady’s singing” “No she’s not, the fat man from the go compare advert is talking”

I’ve got my cock out, it’s covered in breadcrumbs and the fucking pigeons are circling

Have I just stepped through a portal into a sausage machine because this is making mincemeat out of my head

Sit there and ogle me like a page three girl

I’m as busy as a two-twatted hooker

Now I have to step in your shoes but after you’ve shat in them

I don’t just take this fucking job home you know. I take this fucking job home, it ties me to the bed and it fucking fucks me from arsehole to breakfast then it wakes me up in the morning with a cupful of piss lung in my face then slaps me about the chops to make sure I’m awake enough to kick me in the fucking bollocks. This job has taken me in every hole in my fucking body.

Everything is fine I’m like lube at a funeral

If you pull off again I’m going to stick the meter so far down your throat you’ll be able to tell the price of your next shit

You closeted regency homosexual

It’s been a bit like renovating an old, old house. You can take out a sexist beam here, a callous window there, replace the odd homophobic roof tile, but after a while you realise […] the foundations are built on what I can only describe as a solid bed of cunts.

Shit in the couscous

[wonderlandisatsomewhere]

Five ultimate signs that a guy is into you❤Revising Phum's pining era

A Phum appreciation post as i haven't seen one. Personally simp Phum was what got me really hooked in the first place. Watching ep 16 makes me really sad so I need to relive the series.

I read the novel other day and it was nice that the script dragged out a bit before PhumPeem became exclusive which I totally loved.

I know Phum had shown nothing but interest on Peem. But it kept reminding me of this chapter. I'll skip the part that they made out on the first unofficial date and focus on the subtle signs LOL

1. He's always, always up in your business.

It was on the verge of stalking actually.

To the point that he'll be wherever Peem is.

He's like I won't hesitate to ditch my year long friends for a boy I knew for like a month who I still am not sure I have a crush or not.

2. He'll never run out of excuses to touch you.

Hand grabbing was his love language before he even realize it himself.

You can turn pillow fight into gay so you can ACCIDENTLY smooch the boy you enslaved just to be close to him.

3. He might laugh a little harder than he probably should whenever you open your mouth.

All he does was smile around Peem.

Not sponsored by colgate.

When the sight of a common soda cup reminds you of BABE.

And this is his default RBF btw.

4. He would sometimes look at you... like he's silently asking for a kiss, but is too proud to actually say it.

The way I see it, it's damn close.

GOSH, the amount of butterflies I got watching those episodes. 🤒

That lips staring tho. It could be Phum, it could be Pond who knows.

5. He'll say it to you. In more ways than one.

Indirectly,

Directly,

The fact that he also never forgets to appreciate Peem.

I love that their dynamic includes lots of verbal reassurances.

Finally the I LOVE YOUs.

This scene OMG.😥

(They say it doesn't count if it was before or immediately after s*x) but well...

What I also like is that Phum's fixation didn't turn into toxic and overbearing. But rather about being insecure, attention seeking and touch starved sorts. It was balanced out because Peem's character is someone who is well loved and has plenty of affection to share in return and it makes them great together. I need to read the book a bit more the said drama came which i still haven't reached yet.

In conclusion, I definitely can relate Phum.

I mean look at this boy, just look at him. (He's so angelic in this shot)💗

God, I'm gonna miss we are and Wednesdays so much.

We are the series (2024)

Quotes are from one of my fav bxb books on wattpad "On my way to you" by @apparentlyelle which you definitely need to check it out! There's link on the name. 💗💗💗

[sendarya]

My cozy holiday short fic. Enjoy!

The Note

The first thing Crowley became aware of was a loud ticking sound. The next was light. He opened his eyes and a barrage of glittery twinkles assaulted him.

“Wassat?” He mumbled sleepily, blinking and squinting behind his glasses.

A blur of white, beige, and teal came into view as his eyes continued to adjust.

“Mr. Crowley!” exclaimed the blur, before sharpening into the figure of Muriel. 

He frowned and cocked his head at the lights as the heaviness of sleep slid from him. Focusing properly, he could see there was a thin, scraggly tree covered in bits of paper under the mass of twinkles. “What’s all this?” he asked in a confused tone.

Muriel looked puzzled for a moment “What? Oh this” Their confusion quickly transformed into excitement.  “It’s called a Christmas tree? Some people came into the shop the other day, and they were all talking about something called Christmas! Of course, I didn’t sell them any books, just like you told me, Mr Crowley”. 

“Just Crowley” he interrupted, but remained sprawled in the chair he’d been napping in for the last few months. “And I know what Christmas is, I'm just wondering what it's doing in here”. He glanced all around where even more bits of paper and ribbon hung, seemingly at random, throughout the shop. 

“Oh, right, sorry. Um, Crowley. So, I was saying, they were talking about Christmas, and I remembered seeing that word in a book upstairs. Mr. Fell has a whole section on how to celebrate something called “holidays””, they made little quotes with their fingers, bobbing their head from side to side enthusiastically. Crowley transferred his gaze back to the chaos around the tree, and spotted 3 small parcels wrapped in brown paper and string sitting neatly under the scrawny greenery. He pushed down the urge to order it to be a bit less rangy. “Erm” he said, frowning in the direction of the tree “and what’re those?”

“Ah, you see, those are presents? It’s just something humans do.” Muriel flapped their hands a little and shuffled nervously over to the tree to pick up the smallest of the parcels. They turned, beaming. "This one’s for you.”

He frowned down at the little package they were holding out, making no move to take it. “Presents,” he repeated flatly. He tried to ignore the offering, “who are the other two for, then?” They continued holding the package, wiggling a little. 

 “Yes well, those are for Maggie and Nina? Because they’ve been ever so nice to me, while you were …” the smile vanished for an instant. “Resting”, they finished quickly, giving him a worried look. Then the smile was back as if it had never left. “And I thought this “present” might help cheer you up!” They bent over a little, and set it carefully on his lap when he continued to make no move to take it. They took a hesitant step back, then hurried off to one of the back rooms. 

He frowned down at the package in confusion. A moment later, Muriel returned with a glass of wine and a steaming cup of tea. They held the wine glass out to him, a hopeful expression on their face. “Just woke up” he half protested, but accepted the wine nonetheless. “You don’t drink tea.” He commented as they sat in a chair opposite him. 

“Um, no, but I do like to look at it, and do you know, it has a lovely smell.” They closed their eyes, their smile becoming more relaxed as they inhaled the steam. Then they opened their eyes again and gave him a timid, almost expectant look. “Well done” he said, but the sarcasm was lost on them. They beamed again and nodded to the package still in his lap.“You're supposed to open it? That’s what humans do with presents, they open them.”  

He sighed and drained his glass and set it on the side table, where Aziraphale used to set his tea….Quickly shutting off that train of thought, he unfolded the brown paper. Muriel sat forward eagerly as a long, thin, knitted scarf rolled out. It was a bright and cheery red, with silvery tassels. “Well, erm ” he tried to organize his thoughts, but they stayed stubbornly scattered. 

“It’s a scarf, like the one you have, but red! You like red don’t you, Mr., ah, Crowley?”  They quickly set aside the untouched tea and picked up the scarf, making as if to put it on him. “Hey now” he pushed his head further back into the chair, and took the scarf back. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to do with it, but they were looking at him with pure excitement, just like….no, better not think about that either. With a sigh he put it over his head, flipped it into a loose knot, then gave them something closer to a grimace than a smile. 

Muriel was practically glowing with enthusiasm. Suddenly, he remembered a bit about Christmas. “Well” he said “I suppose I should give you…” he patted his pockets absently, not expecting to find anything, when he felt more than heard the crinkle of paper in his left jacket pocket. He pulled it out, now completely bewildered. A creamy piece of parchment faced him, neatly folded, with just a letter C on the front, done in a lovely flourish. Suddenly, his hands were trembling, and he forgot all about Muriel, the scraggly tree, and the scarf. He fumbled open the paper and read:

“Dearest Crowley,

I trust this missive finds you well, and not too terribly distressed.

I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you, though I do hope you understand my reasons, now that I'm permitted to explain.

You see, when Agnes Nutter's Nice and Accurate prophecies came into my possession some years ago, as I'm certain you'll remember, I found a prophecy relating to me, and my hot cocoa going cold, if you can believe it. I was quite taken aback at first, but intrigued, I read on. To my amazement, there seemed to be a second prophecy concerning me.

Past the endyng, shouldst my rede to thee be headed, I see but oon thyng. Yf my second bodements doon turn to ash, thanne must thee, Pryncipality, keep closed thy mouth, until the tyme comes to leave that whiche thou cherishes, say yea to that which thou woudst say nay, and nay to that which thou woudst say yea.

As I’m certain you are well aware, prophecy is notoriously difficult to interpret, but it seems that I am destined to abandon the bookshop at some point. I am writing this note in the unlikely event that I am forced to leave without explanation. I don’t know how I will get this note to you, in that most unlikely occurrence. Perhaps I will just slip it into your pocket, my good fellow, with you none the wiser! You’ve always said I was terrible at magic, but I will never retire the act completely! 

Your dearest friend,

Aziraphale”

“Mr. Crowley, um, are you alright?” Muriel's voice broke through the haze. Without looking up, he refolded the parchment and replaced it, very carefully, back into his left jacket pocket.

Timidly, Muriel asked “Did you like the present?”

He looked at her for the first time since he woke up. “It was the best damned present ever.” Then he smiled and chuckled with a little snort while he slithered up out of the chair. “Where’d you stash the wine?” he called over his shoulder, and sauntered into the back without waiting for an answer.

[zetadraconis11]

Writer Interview Game

Thank you, @gingerlegacy07 for the tag! Y'all should check her out! She's amazing and a great writer :]

When did you start writing?

Hm, I think I started writing ever since I was 9. It was at first just a little children's book. I've always liked drawing and writing, and coming up with crazy things, lol.

I loved taking Creative Writing class when I was 17, and that's when I also started writing my own original novel.

Writing fanfiction, I started about a year ago, with Hogwarts Legacy. I just had a couple ideas and decided to just give it a shot and write them. Now, I'm still writing HL fanfics and enjoying it so much :]

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Ummm, I'm not sure. Maybe enemies to lovers as I personally don't think I can write that wonderful trope well. But I love to see it, like Zutara, lol.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

No, as I write with my own style. I might be inspired by works of others sometimes, but I intend to make stories with my own take and my own way.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Well, if I write at my home, I usually do it at my desk! Per my name, I have some dragon stuff on my desk, lol, as well as a ceramic cup of pens and pencils and a lamp.

If I feel bored at my desk, I would move to the kitchen table or the living room, just to have a change of scenery. I also sometimes go to a coffee shop and camp there for a few hours while drinking mochas and such.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I often listen to songs and think of which pairs or characters fit them. And even when I watch a show or movie, I find myself wondering what characters from HL would be like in it, hahaha.

So honestly...the most effective way is just me lost in thought XD. I have one interesting thought, then I keep following that thought, and it just builds up in there. And my creativity has me start to write it.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Family is huge in my writing. Whether it's blood family or - more frequently - found family. Also friends that are like family. And just being supportive and having healthy relationships. Wonderful happy love and fluff everywhere!

It doesn't surprise me, lol. I don't like sad endings or anything too depressing. I can't handle it, and I always want happy endings after many rough trials or trauma.

With Sebastian, I always have him redeemed when he's in a relationship with my MC Estelle. And she needed healing of her own too. And they just make each other so happy and they love each other so much. All the fluff for them and my other otps :]

What is your reason for writing?

It's mainly because I wanted to a certain story and didn't see it out there, so I decided to write it myself. In doing so, I hope that others enjoy the stories too.

Anyone that's seen the majority of my incorrect quotes or read some of my stories know I'm a huge shipper of Garrelda. I love them to bits, I'll forever captain that ship if need be, lol. So, when HL fics were still coming out, I didn't any (if at all) or Poppinis. I decided to give it a shot and write for those pairings, more of Poppinis at first. I loved Poppinis as a ship first before I fleshed out my take on Garrelda more.

In the end, I write stories that I randomly get inspired to write, and I just send them out there, not knowing if others wanted to read such a thing, lol

Is their any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Any positive comment showing love for the story just makes me so happy. Seeing them appreciate it always makes me smile. Those comments help me remember people do like what I write, and it's a nice reminder :]

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Eh, I don't know if there's anything I want to be thought about. But I guess a "provider" of Garrelda content, as I often write that pairing, especially with my recent on-going fic. Or just a "truly writing dragon", lol, as I keep sending out more stories for people to read in the HL fandom.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I think writing emotions and characters. I try to make the characters feel real, and I do my best in describing them so they're relatable to readers.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I feel like it's improving, which is great to see. But that makes me grimace about my first fics I wrote, as I know they can be a bit rough. But that's how it goes, and I do feel pretty proud of how far I've come, and I do like my writing more from time to time. I admittedly am still my worst critic, though.

And those are my answers! Thank you for whomever came up with this! :]

Np tags: @polarisgreenley, @mspegasus17, @ravenwind-75

[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 8

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

When they sat, he unclipped Damen’s leash, wound it around the handler’s rod, then tossed it to one of the attendants, who managed to catch it with only a slight fumble.

craft note: great little tension-breaking moment that doesn’t feel too silly

Torveld, evidence of a small coup for Laurent.

context: i think this just means that he is a useful tool in the power struggle against the regent? like, that’s how laurent regards him? which damen would understand at this point

Nicaise also sat well. His beauty at close range was striking. So was his youth. His voice, when he spoke, was unbroken. It had the clear fluting tone of a knife tapped against crystal, without cracks. ‘I don’t want to sit next to you,’ said Nicaise. ‘Fuck off.’

craft note: describes him as sweet, makes him say something vulgar. nice. 

also, laurent parallel!

His huge blue eyes were fringed like a whore’s, or like a doe’s.

craft note: GREAT line. highlights the deranged way sex and innocence are regarded in vere.

‘I made your pet jump,’ said Nicaise, smugly.

context: he did this to get laurent’s attention, not to hurt damen. i mean he definitely thought it was funny to stab damen with a fork but that’s just extra

Not sounding at all displeased: ‘Yes, you did.’

laurent respects the fork thing. birds of a feather etc

Laurent immediately lifted his cup and inclined it towards Nicaise in a little gesture sealing the bet. Damen tried to shake the bizarre impression that they were enjoying themselves.

context: nicaise is the closest thing laurent has to a brother, or maybe even a friend. this is one of the first glimpses of Real Laurent that we’ve seen in this book—funny, competitive, supportive in a backhanded way. damen just doesn’t know that this is the Real Laurent, and neither would a first-time reader. so from his perspective, laurent’s behavior is bizarre.

In a miracle of restraint, there were only nine courses, served ribboned and artfully arranged on jewelled plates by attractive pages.

Laurent went very still; then he deliberately shifted in his seat and leaned in, bringing his lips right to Damen’s ear. ‘I think I’m out of stabbing range, he’s got short arms. Or perhaps he’ll try to throw a sugar plum? That is difficult. If I duck he’ll hit Torveld.’ Damen gritted his teeth. ‘You know what I meant. He heard you. He’s going to act. Can’t you do something about it?’ ‘I’m occupied.’ ‘Then let me do something.’ ‘Bleed on him?’ said Laurent.

a glimmer of their future dynamic :’)

Damen opened his mouth to reply, and found his words stopped by the startling touch of Laurent’s fingers against his lips, a thumb brushing his jawline. It was the sort of absent touch that any master at the table might give to a pet. But from the shocked reaction that rolled over the courtiers at the table, it was clear that Laurent did not do this sort of thing often. Or ever. ‘My pet was feeling neglected,’ Laurent apologised to Torveld.

i am not immune to whatever the fuck this is

context: laurent was getting a little too comfortable talking to damen like they’re friends, which then made him switch gears. and/or he was feeling a little silly

‘He looks combative, but he’s really very docile and adoring,’ said Laurent, ‘like a puppy.’

freak

To demonstrate, Laurent picked up a confection of crushed nuts and honey and held it out to Damen as he had at the ring, between thumb and forefinger. ‘Sweetmeat?’ said Laurent. In the stretched-out moment that followed, Damen thought explicitly about killing him.

FREAK

i’m guessing the strategy here is to assert his own power and maybe make torveld feel frisky so he’ll support laurent and take the deal, but also. freak

She was saying to the noblewoman, ‘Of course, the idea of one of us keeping males is grotesque.

“i can excuse keeping a human pet, but i draw the line at heterosexuality”

Damen had assumed that pets, like slaves, were sexually submissive to their masters, as was the custom in Akielos. But he could only guess at the arrangements between Vannes and this woman in bed.

so is the pet/master relationship consensual? veretian pets are essentially full-time prostitutes, being paid to larp a specific power dynamic. so i suppose the matter of consent here rests on whether prostitution and sex work can be considered consensual, at all. which… is a very difficult question to answer, although my gut says that it isn’t. like, it’s consensual on paper between the two parties, but i still think that the inherent power imbalance of a person who is paying for services that make another person vulnerable is shaky at best. and the way vulnerable people (women, gay men) often turn to sex work as a last resort, because our real-life patriarchal society wants women to be disempowered and dependent, makes it really not seem like a choice at all. 

that said, vere isn’t the real world. and while bdsm is real, it is meant to include protections for every person involved. i thiiiiink i’d probably feel comfortable calling the master/pet thing in this fictional society consensual if i knew 1) that an indisputable safe word was built into the contract, and 2) that financial compensation wasn’t an aspect of the arrangement. like, if this was simply for fun and pleasure, without money or status on the line, i don’t think i’d have a problem with it. that basically just makes the veretian court a sex party for informed and consenting adults.

which, yeah, adults. even with all of that in place, i still don’t think informed consent can be given by a minor, which distinguishes nicaise’s situation from the contract-holders of age. that’s fucked up, no matter what. no wonder they hide it from torveld. 

‘We are waiting. Ancel will perform. He is popular, “in fashion.” You’ve had him.’ She didn’t wait for him to confirm this statement. ‘How was he?’ Well instructed. Damen’s mind supplied the answer, sly as a suggestion murmured in his ear. He frowned at it. He said, ‘Adequate.’

“well instructed” SCREAMING (yes this is level-headed analysis but also AHHHH)

"adequate” :)

‘The Prince?’ said Talik, scornfully. ‘Everyone knows the Prince does not keep pets.’ ‘None at all?’ said Damen. She said, ‘You.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Perhaps the Prince has a taste for men, not these painted Veretian boys who squeal if you pinch them.’ Her tone suggested that she approved of this on general principle.

this is charming in a way i can’t quite describe. the girls and the gays having a chat. also interesting—veretians seem to call damen a pet, more than they call him a slave. and there is a huge difference between the two positions. damen, however, seems to hear them as the same thing. just another little hint that his perspective isn’t exactly accurate, even though he is a noble and trustworthy character. 

The Regent gazed at him for a while. ‘I’m almost disappointed, if it’s no more than that. Laurent could benefit from a steadying influence, someone close to him with his best interests at heart. A man with sound judgement, who could help guide him without being swayed.’

careful what you wish for, fucker

‘My nephew is charming, when he wishes it. His brother was a true leader, he could inspire extraordinary loyalty from his men. Laurent has a superficial version of his brother’s gifts, which he uses to get his own way. If anyone could have a man eating from the hand that struck him, it’s my nephew,’ said the Regent.

way to tell on yourself

He badly wanted to step across the chasm that separated the two factions of this court: on the other side was this man who had long since won his respect. It was grittily painful for him to realise that it was not in his nature to do that—not while Laurent was acting on his behalf. If Laurent was acting on his behalf . . . even if Laurent was acting on his behalf, he had so little stomach for the drawn out game that was being played tonight. And yet. ‘I’m not the man you want,’ he said. ‘I don’t have influence over him. I’m not close to him. He has no love for Akielos, or its people.’

context: big damen moment! loyalty! integrity! good choice!

(although, respecting the regent… gross)

actually, putting a pin in the idea of “respect” here. it seems like damen respects the regent more than laurent, but chooses loyalty to laurent anyway. that’s partially out of fear, but also… not exactly. so what is, and is not, “respect” for these characters?

‘Go and fetch me my nephew. I prefer him not to be left alone with Torveld.’ ‘Yes, Your Highness.’

awful. the double meaning here—first-time reader thinks “laurent is working behind his uncle’s back, and that’s why the regent is annoyed that he's with torveld.” but it’s been twice now that there’s been a moment like this, where it’s almost implying that the regent is jealous of torveld for taking up laurent’s attention in... other ways. i don’t think it’s accidental, especially since torveld was described as similar to the regent. gross. 

‘—told my advisors that I was past the age to be distracted by beautiful young men,’ he heard Torveld say, and it was suddenly eminently clear that they were not discussing trade negotiations.

sharp objects quote again: “if you let people do things to you, you’re really doing it to them.”

That a man of Torveld’s honourable reputation would choose Laurent as the object of his affections was difficult to swallow, but perhaps Torveld admired reptiles.

‘And then I met you,’ said Torveld, ‘and then I spent an hour in your company.’ ‘More than an hour,’ said Laurent. ‘Less than a day. I think you get distracted more easily than you admit.’ ‘And you not at all?’ There was a slight pause in the rhythm of their exchange. ‘You . . . have been listening to gossip.’ ‘Is it true, then?’ ‘That I am—not easily courted? It can’t be the worst thing you heard about me.’ ‘By far the worst, from my perspective.’ It was said warmly, and won a breath of insubstantial amusement from Laurent. Torveld’s voice changed, as though they stood closer together. ‘I have heard a great deal of gossip about you, but I judge as I find.’ Laurent said, in the same intimate voice, ‘And what do you find?’ Damen stepped forward determinedly.

context: torveld is trying to figure out if he can get into laurent’s pants (he can’t, but laurent is in improv mode right now), damen steps in before the flirting can progress any further

Laurent, reclined elegantly against the balustrade, did not react at all except to shift his gaze in Damen’s direction. They were indeed standing close together. Not quite kissing distance.

laurent lean #4. also what a funny thing to notice, damen! “not quite kissing distance.”

‘You took your time,’ Laurent murmured as he passed Damen.

context: laurent wanted OUT of that situation

‘He is a prize,’ said Torveld, warmly. ‘I’ll wager you never thought a prince could be jealous of a slave. Right now I would exchange places with you in a heartbeat.’ You don’t know him, thought Damen. You don’t know anything about him. You’ve known him one night.

“you can’t like him because you don’t know him. i can’t like him because i do know him, and he sucks, yet i still feel protective of him for some reason. we are not the same.”

Damen was back on the leash, being used very possibly as a chaperone. Laurent was acting with the carefully bland manners of one trying politely to manage a difficult suitor. Damen thought with some amusement: boxed in by your own cleverness. As Damen watched, Torveld’s servant produced a peach, then a knife, then cut a slice at Torveld’s instruction, offering it to Laurent, who blandly accepted. When he had finished the morsel, the servant brought forth a little cloth from his sleeve with a flourish for Laurent to clean his immaculate fingers. The cloth was transparent silk, edged in gold thread. Laurent returned it crumpled.

this is as close to sitcom as we’re getting in vere

‘I’m enjoying the performance,’ Damen couldn’t resist saying. ‘Torveld’s servant is better supplied than you are,’ was all Laurent said. ‘I don’t have sleeves to carry handkerchiefs in,’ said Damen. ‘I wouldn’t mind being given a knife.’ ‘Or a fork?’ said Laurent.

banter!! it’s them!! <3 

also, i think the “performance” in question is laurent trying to spam romance interactions with torveld until he unlocks the diplomacy cutscene, rather than the actual performance at the party. clever. 

To Laurent: ‘You let him speak to his betters like that?’ ‘Not to his betters,’ said Laurent. Nicaise flushed at that.

context: laurent implies to nicaise that he respects damen more than he respects him. this is, of course, not a compliment towards damen, but a slight towards nicaise, who takes the joke seriously because he is a child

Damen looked at Laurent, who had simply let all of this unfold before him. He could see what had made Torveld transfer his affections. There was a superficial resemblance between the Prince and the slave. Erasmus’s fair skin and burnished hair were the closest thing in the room to Laurent’s gold and ivory colouring. But Erasmus had something Laurent lacked: a vulnerability, a need for caring, and a yearning to be mastered that was almost palpable. In Laurent there was only a patrician coolness, and if the purity of Laurent’s profile drew the eye, Damen had the scars on his back to prove that one could look, but not touch.

he’s expensive.

‘You had a choice,’ said Laurent. ‘You didn’t have to show me your claws.’ ‘You tricked me,’ said Nicaise. ‘I’m going to tell—’ ‘Tell him,’ said Laurent. ‘All about what I’ve done, and how you helped me. How do you think he’ll react? Shall we find out? Let’s go together.’ Nicaise gave Laurent a look that was desperately, spitefully calculating. ‘Oh, will you—enough,’ said Laurent. ‘Enough. You’re learning. It won’t be as easy to do next time.’ ‘I promise you, it won’t,’ said Nicaise venomously, and he left without, Damen noted, giving Laurent his earring.

context: it’s only a play-threat from laurent that he’d tell the regent that nicaise accidentally helped, which he then rescinds as not to scare nicaise, and even follows up with a compliment. he is trying so hard to look out for nicaise within these circumstances, and it’s especially obvious compared to how he interacts with literally everyone else.

Laurent had delivered all Damen had asked for, tied up neatly in a bow. All within the space of a day. If you put everything else aside, you had to admire it for sheer organisational efficiency.

hot

Laurent seemed, bizarrely, to be in a good mood. He leaned a shoulder rather casually against the wall. His voice was not exactly warm, but nor was the ice edge polished to cut.

laurent lean #5

‘I thought you and Torveld would have other plans.’ It just came out. Laurent said, ‘No.’

there’s no way damen actually thought that. so why did he make the comment? hmmm 

‘You are permanently disgusted by us, aren’t you?’ said Laurent.

the mutual moral arbitration continues

Laurent detached his gaze from the Regent and turned it back on Damen, his blue eyes showing neither his usual hostility, nor arrogance, nor contempt, but instead something that Damen could not make out at all. ‘I warned you about Nicaise because he is not Councillor Audin’s pet. Haven’t you guessed yet whose pet he is?’ Laurent said, and then, when he didn’t answer: ‘Ancel is too old to interest my uncle.’

“you are permanently disgusted by us, aren’t you?” laurent certainly seems to be, and i think he actually trusts damen to feel the same way. as in, he thinks damen has the same morals as he does, about this subject at least. progress!

[444m777]

29 things I love about Michael: Day 4

Michael’s love for water. In his own books Moonwalk and Dancing the Dream as well as Honoring The Child Spirit in Conversation with Michael Jackson you learn how much respect and love he has for water/bodies of water. Lakes, rivers, beaches and the ocean even though he admitted he was a little bit intimidated by the ocean haha.

Quotes on water:

“There is something about our souls that need water… it’s like therapy, it’s like meditation. It’s like soul food for us. We need it” - Michael in Honoring the Child Spirit

“I see Neverland being a lot more water. I want lots more cascades and caves and it needs a lot more water. That’s how I see it. I think water is healing…” - Michael in Honoring the Child Spirit

“It’s like stepping into a river and joining the flow. Every moment in the river has its song. So I stay in the moment and listen” - Michael in Dancing the Dream

“Hold me like the River Jordan” - lyrics to Will You Be There written by Michael

“We are like ripples in the vast ocean of consciousness” - Heaven is Here poem by Michael

“I remember going swimming as a child and making a wish before I jumped into the pool…I wanted to do something special. I’d stretch my arms out, as if I were sending my thoughts right up into space. I’d make my wish, then I’d dive into the water. I’d say to myself, ‘This is my dream. This is my wish,’ every time before I’d dive into the water” -Michael in Moonwalk

I L O V E water. Forreal. I’m a Pisces through and through! I grew up on the island Aruba. So we were in the water often. I lived near the beach. It was great. Water is sacred and spiritual aside from it being refreshing and quenching. And another thing I also love is the fact that he (unconsciously) used water as a spiritual practice (something I found out this year - and something I’ve been doing for quite some time). In his book in Moonwalk he mentioned making wishes before jumping in the water. It is said that water is a conduit and amplifier. Basically a wishing well.

I actually have a small cup of water and medium sized bowl of water on a table (I practice ancestral veneration) and I say my well wishes/gratitude into the bowl of water. I also speak positivity into water before giving it to my plants (and they grow beautifully). I think Michael might’ve heard of Masaru Emoto and his book The Hidden Messages in Water. Emoto is of course not the only one that believes and wrote about the sacredness of water. It’s just one of the many books that comes to mind in the moment.

It’s a really nice thought to know we share the same values/ideas surrounding how amazing water truly is ☺️

It’s Michael’s birthday month and so I’m sharing every day something I love about him. Feel free to join in or use the tag #29thingsMJ I’d love to read what you love about him

[maladaptiv3]

i have found what you are like

I mean...how could I not?

Content: A nice lazy, rainy Sunday morning reading on the couch.

Warning: age gap, a little possessive, it’s kind of cheesy but I don’t really care! lol 

I started this piece a long time ago and I am just hitting a wall...so here is what I have so far. I don’t know if I will finish it. 

Word Count: 1174

*original content by maladaptiv3* please do not repost my work

(new screen name hey)

The soft patter of the rain on the roof was the only sound that filled the house for most of the day. The back door was open slightly and there was a now damp towel near the opening that had been placed to catch the bouncing raindrops from the patio outside.

Your Sundays were a ritual—his eyelashes on your cheek beckoning you to wake up, eyes still heavy with sleep as you lift your cup of coffee to your lips, arranging farmers market flowers as he finishes carrying in the rest of your treasures—but it was raining today. The rain was a welcomed distraction, it shifted your routine in a way that you had been craving. It had been a long while since you had enjoyed each other's silence. Silence seemed to be rare in his world. You only experienced pockets of it, stolen away from everyone's eyes. He woke you up that morning, pulling you into him, and melting into you, "It's raining, love." You hummed, "My favorite." The rain made the morning move in slow motion. There was no early morning coffee or having to find parking at the already getting crowded farmers market. "Let's have coffee in bed. I'll go make it," his smile was sweet. You scrunched up your nose, "I wanna watch the rain." He was amused, "Of course you do." 

Your mind wandered back to the current moment. Your back was against the arm of the couch and your legs were bent at the knee. A warm blanket was in your lap, covering one-half of you. You had a book in one hand and the other was running its fingers through his hair. He was settled between your thighs, slightly propped up on a throw pillow. His fingers were tracing lines on your shin as he turned the page of his book with the other. You mused, wondering how you had the privilege to live in this perfect moment. If you could bottle it, you would. His hand would occasionally ghost up your leg and settle on your thigh, his arm stretching slightly so he could grip it. You would slightly tug on his hair, playfully of course, "Shh...I'm reading." He would squeeze your thigh once more before going back to the words on his page, "I didn't say anything." He didn't have to say anything. This was a game you knew all too well. The rain was still falling outside and you wanted to bask in this feeling for as long as you could. The comfort of just merely touching each other was enough to keep you going for days. 

After a while, you heard him sigh. You put the business card posing as your bookmark back into your book, "Something on your mind?" He laid his book down flat on his chest, "You've been reading that book for years, you think you would have finished it by now." You rolled your eyes, "I've been finished. I just like to revisit it. It's one of my favorites." He sat up to face you, his legs crossed in front of him, "Well, what about it makes you revisit it?" You were astonished, "You're telling me that Mr. Booksnob himself has never read Jane Eyre? It's a classic." "Hey! I am not a book snob." "You kind of are." He took the book from your hands and examined the cover, "So, what is it about?" You took a minute to think, "It's about a homely governess who falls in love with the older man she's working for." His fingers were drumming against the book, "What's with you and older men?" You snatched the book back from him, "That's just what's on the surface. It's a story of painful love, independence, and feminism." He nodded, "Now, that makes more sense. Read me some." "Like what?" "Read me something that reminds you of me." You had it highlighted. It was a new quote you liked. The spine was not yet used to the continuous flipping to the page every time you pulled out your beloved copy. You licked your lips and cleared your throat a bit, "All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever." He blinked a few times and seemed to be entranced by the words you just spoke, "You belong to me?" You swallowed hard, "This book isn't about us." Your breathing was shallow as you waited for him to say something. His eyes were fixed on yours, "Do you belong to me?" You were quick to nod your head up and down, "Yes." He ghosted his lips over yours, "Good answer. Kind of anti-feminist, though?" You pressed your lips against his, "Is it?"

You pulled back, "Your turn to share. What are you reading?" He took his book from its place on the coffee table, "Poetry." You wiggle the thin green book out of his grip, "I've never really been a fan." His jaw dropped, "You? Miss I Buy A Book every time I leave the house, doesn't enjoy poetry?" "I guess not." He took his book back, "Well, it's only fair I read you something." You reached out trying to take the book from him, "Can I choose?" He clutched onto it, "Absolutely not." He began to flip through the pages, "You at least know who E.E. Cummings is, right?" You shook your head, almost offended, "Obviously." He found the page he was looking for, "I think you'll enjoy this one."

You pulled back, "Your turn to share. What are you reading?" He took his book from its place on the coffee table, "Poetry." You wiggle the thin green book out of his grip, "I've never really been a fan." His jaw dropped, "You? Miss I Buy A Book every time I leave the house, doesn't enjoy poetry?" "I guess not." He took his book back, "Well, it's only fair I read you something." You reached out trying to take the book from him, "Can I choose?" He clutched onto it, "Absolutely not." He began to flip through the pages, "You at least know who E.E. Cummings is, right?" You shook your head, almost offended, "Obviously." He found the page he was looking for, "I think you'll enjoy this one."

His lips parted and he set down the book:

i have found what you are like the rain,

      (Who feathers frightened fields with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light                               with thinned newfragile yellows

                  lurch and.press

-in the woods              which                stutter                      and

                           sing

And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms;but i should rather than anything have(almost when hugeness will shut quietly)almost,                your kiss

You guys just stared at each other for a second. 

Your chest was tight and tears started to well in your eyes, "That was beautiful." He look worried and cupped your face with his hands, "No, no, no -- why are you crying?" 

Your chest was tight as you tried to keep the tears from welling in your eyes, "You memorized that?" He nodded and took your hands in his, "I find myself searching for it when I'm thinking of you. Sometimes I get asked what it's like to love you and I always tell them to read this poem. I never understood what Cummings meant when he wrote about someone being like rain until I fell in love with you." You just looked at him, your thumb brushing his, "I wouldn't believe that coming from anyone else, but for some reason, I believe it from you. I also think you kind of want to get laid, but I still believe it." 

[workingtowardsthatphd]

Wednesday 24th April

In town this morning because I need to get my phone fixed, so I've handed that off to the very nice man in the phone shop and am waiting in a cafe for him to finish that. It's gonna cost me a whopping £90 but at least I will have a working phone again!

Incomplete from Yesterday:

Replying to emails.

To do:

Collect up the quotes for Chapter 2 of my dissertation into one document.

Take notes from the book I read last week and complete the annotated bibliography for it.

Start reading the articles I have bookmarked from the final newspaper I need to read, take notes and fill out the annotated bibliography for that.

Complete:

Replied to the emails! A quick and easy task!

Started collecting the quotes up into one document and realised that I failed to write down the page numbers for some of them, so I am going to have to go back and find those at some point, thankfully I kept all of the books I read for this exact purpose because I do in fact know myself. Still very irritating.

Phone has been fixed! In that time I also read over what I submitted to my supervisor yesterday and i Hate It. I'm probably going to rewrite it entirely in the next few days, probably irritate him by submitting a completely new document, but hey! that's life.

Cups of coffee: ☕☕