#the whole point is so we have a ~reference book~ to look back at in the future when it may be relevant! but what that Actually means is

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Ch 10 part 1

masterpost

“Tyranny!” Damian bellowed. His little face was red with fury.

Cass crossed her arms and nodded agreement. She was not accepting any more changes to her life at this time. Things were already happening, too much.

“Nevertheless,” said cruel Batdad. “The pediatric nutritionist will be here tomorrow.” He was trying very hard to seem composed and unaffected by their upset. But he was affected. So affected. And yet he persisted on traveling down the wrong path.

Cass hissed.

Their natural ally, Alfred, put his nose up a little as he cleared the dinner dishes. He sniffed as he left, unhappy-stiff. Cass did not know how he had been defeated. Food was his domain, not some interloper with a pathetic weepy Doctorate of nutritional sciences.

“He designs the meal plans for child Olympians,” Batdad coaxed. He wanted them to like him soooo much. “Standard advice is not necessarily very useful for extreme athletes. You might feel better afterwards. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Gentle, gentle, pleading.

No!!!

Damian stabbed his fork upright into his cinnamon roll and pointed an index finger at their tormentor. “I will not submit. I consume an adequately varied and nutritious diet. Whatever your true aims are, I will not be moved.”

Cass scarfed down her own dessert messily, scowling at Batdad the whole time as if to say: come and take it from me. Can you? You can’t.

Duke watched this with clever eyes darting between Batdad and his siblings. His body said: I don’t care. But I won’t pick Bruce publicly. What can I get? Can I make trouble? 

Hmm. Cass didn’t like that. She narrowed her eyes at him. He should philosophically agree with their cause. She was going to crawl under his bed and hiss, scary sounds to wake him up and go BOO. 

She made a mental note to do that before patrol tonight. If she could even fit it in, jeeze.

Ugh. So busy. Always so much to do.

The tension was high when they trooped to the cave for briefing, before Duke went to bed and everyone else took their pre-patrol nap. Cass lingered sullenly because she wanted to hear Duke’s report on the mechanic. Jacqueline’s apartment had been sneakily snuck through. The conclusion?

“There’s a lot of work clothes in the apartment, but no tools or anything like that. No references or books, aside from a couple of ones from the university library.” Duke fidgeted, micromovement. Not an interesting report. Not an enjoyable detour. “There’s no indication as to what she’s been working on. I took DNA samples off some dirty dishes and hair off the sofa. They’re filed for processing.”

Disappointing. The next step was unclear. Cass frowned. Should they try to observe again? Wait for Jacqueline to leave her lair and follow? Perhaps they should enter the apartment and lurk, ask questions. Tell her: We know your criminal associations. Stop it. Stop it, Jacqueline.

Damian stuck his lips out. He would say: This is not a pout, Cain.

It was a pout.

“I see.” Timbird took notes, fingers flying. Tap tap tap. “You’re passing the case back?”

“It’s all yours,” he said, nodding to Damian. Babybat nodded solemnly. My responsibility. He looked at her. Cass nodded: I have your bat-back. Let’s creep on Jacqueline, as a family.

Hmm. It was too quiet. Usually, there was Batdad commentary. She snuck a look at him even though she and Damian were ignoring him for his cruelties.

Batdad was pondering. He was paying enough attention, but his mind was on something else. Hmm. Cass prodded him. “Ah- Tim, did you upload your conclusions about the Amity Park case?”

Oh. Cass kept her body still, letting it say: I’m bored, I don’t care.

Timbird sighed and ruffled his hair. The gel made a little crackle sound. “It’s a massive government coverup,” he said. Unhappy. “I think a few residents fled, but it looks like it was a mass murder of the residents. The tank tracks came from a subdivision called the GIW, which is ridiculously over militarized.” He opened a file on one of the many Batcomputer screens. It showed a complex of buildings, taken from above. Superboy photography? “They’re doing weapons development, and it appears to be based on the designs of local scientists, also missing.”

“These scientists were affiliated with the GIW?” Batdad asked.

Tim shrugged. “Unclear.” His mouth twitched, unhappy. “There’s evidence of some collaboration, but it seemed a relatively normal exchange of information. Now, the GIW appears to have all their patented inventions and is replicating them.”

“So either these scientists are on staff or they have been removed,” Damibat scowled. A grumpy line formed between his eyebrows. So cute. 

“Removed?” Duke repeated, amused.

“From this mortal coil,” Damibat repeated. Impatient. Keep up, Thomas.  Haha. Cass sniggered and stuck her tongue out. Yeah. Keep up, Duke.

[twinsarekeepers]

I’m curious as to your honest thoughts on the show? Like I love pjo and all but the show was a bit of a let down writing wise. There’s always the point of “it’s an adaptation, not a carbon copy” like yes but this new writing isn’t exemplary better than the book just because it’s rewritten by the author himself

I think the show is well-written not because Rick is attached to it, but because I actually like the way the writers are approaching adapting the source material. I have a lot of issues with the original books in terms of writing quality because frankly speaking, I don’t think Rick is a very good writer. He has a lot of interesting things in those books that he never explores or drops within the first two and this fandom gives him and the books too much credit imo.

This is why I’m not very moved when people try to ascribe meaning to a certain scene or choice he made in the books to get mad at the show for changing. As an example, one of the main things people were upset about was the kids “knowing everything” in the show when they were getting tricked left and right in the book. Many posts were dedicated to how the book version is superior because it illustrates how they’re just twelve years old kids so of course they’ll make mistakes and get tricked by monsters.

That’s a perfectly fine interpretation but I was twelve years old when I first read tlt and I was able to anticipate almost every single trap, despite being pretty gullible and naive at that age. My knowledge of Greek mythology consisted of Disney’s Hercules, maybe two Google searches, and my second grade teacher’s reading of the kid friendly version of the Odyssey. No where near the level of Percy who’d been learning for a whole year in an established class on the topic with Chiron or Grover who was literally a satry born into the world or Annabeth, who spent the majority of her life dedicated to studying specifically quests and Greek mythology and was also on the run fighting monsters for a good portion of her childhood. Like twelve year olds can be dumb but those three stumbling into every trap was asking me to suspend my disbelief too far. I remember being upset that they weren’t able to figure it out because it was obvious that Rick wasn’t making that choice to show any personality flaws or character dynamics (because he would’ve had them learn and grow but they never did they just kept being not smart), he just wasn’t able to figure out a way for them to fall into those traps organically so he had to dumb them down.

I think the show was able to get across the characters’ childishness without compromising their established backstories. Yes, Annabeth knew it was Medusa right away because that makes sense for a kid who has experience with running into monsters. But, she still acted very much like a child in her interactions with her (and throughout the episode and season). She lashed out and called her a liar and wouldn’t listen to her side of the story because it painted her mother in a bad light. That’s peak twelve year old behavior.

Yes, Percy figured out Kronos was behind everything, but it makes sense because Percy knows Greek mythology and where Kronos resides. He still very much acts like a child when he asks Hades to give him back his mom in exchange for nothing because it’s the right thing to do.

There are dozens of examples like this for a lot of complaints of the show. And this is not me saying that the show is perfect: every single show has flaws. For me, I wasn’t the biggest fan of the dialogue or the exposition dumping. It didn’t hinder my enjoyment though because I don’t think it was egregious (and wrt the exposition dumping, I expected it because the book did it and there’s really no way to “show not tell” Greek myths). I also didn’t like that we didn’t get to really see the huge clashes between Zeus and Poseidon in the weather (we got references to it through news reports but I would’ve liked something more). I was able to look past it because I really liked the storytelling and the themes the show was pulling out of the original source material.

I loved Medusa-Sally parallels and Medusa-Annabeth parallels. I loved the juxtaposition of Pan’s quest to manifest density. I loved Percy and Annabeth’s opposite trajectory in respect to their relationships with their godly parents. I loved exploring Sally’s choice to send Percy to school instead of camp. I loved explicitly coding Annabeth as autistic. I loved Luke’s backstory being brought earlier into the story. I loved the deadline passing and Poseidon surrendering to save Percy. I loved Persues-Andromeda and percabeth parallels. I loved fleshing Grover out. I loved glory vs home seeking being the central theme of the show.

And lastly, I was able to understand that with a limited number of episodes and run time (due to the nature of child labor laws!), they did the best they could and I feel like they did a pretty good job for a first season.

These are not ALL of my thoughts on the show because that would be a very long post. I gave one detailed example of why I think the show succeeded in something the fandom tries to ascribe the books and it was like three paragraphs lol. Anyway this is not the post to try and convince me that the show is bad for whatever reason you have cooked up. I’m not going to change my mind and I doubt I’ll change yours. Here’s to a season 2 that builds on a solid season 1!

[wabblebees]

assigning me homework is cruel and unusual, actually

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

[sun-kissy]

chocolate-coated hearts | r.l.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

barista!remus x shy!reader

summary: you go to a new cafe to order donuts for your friend, immediately enamoured with the barista

tw: nothing? reader takes literature as a major, also kind of has social anxiety

a/n: might make this a series! i’ve got a few ideas <3

An anxious sigh escapes you as you stand idly outside the cafe, peering inside through the mosaicked windows. It was jam-packed, people pushing past each other and snake-like queues forming throughout the space. You wriggle your phone out of your coat pocket and glance at the message that your friend, Madison, had sent in a half hour ago.

hey gorgeous!! mind picking up a few donuts for me at Beanie’s before you come over? a few of the pbj ones, and some chocolate ones too. thanks xx

She was expecting, and you went by whenever you could to help her out after her asshole of a boyfriend left.

Normally, you wouldn’t bother. You hated crowded places, and Beanie’s was the definition of crowded – an old-style cafe which had blown up overnight because of its scrumptious donuts and vintage aesthetic. But who were you to deny the cravings of the woman bearing your goddaughter?

You take a deep breath and push the creaky wooden door open, cringing at how the bell rang and signalled the whole cafe to your presence. But no one so much as looked up, busy trying to buy or sell food, or find a table.

You push your way through the sea of people, joining the queue in front of the counter. It was long, you noted, and would probably take another fifteen minutes or so until it was your turn to place an order. You fish out your crumpled book from your bag and turn it to the page you had stopped on yesterday. It was the second classic of the term – Pride and Prejudice. Taking literature as a major meant you spent more time reading than anything else, but you weren’t complaining.

As you read, you scribbled down plot points to take note of and quotes which meant something worth writing about. Your eyes stayed glued to the page, trying to work out hidden meanings and flowery language. Once you were back home, you’d have to compile all your analysis onto that worksheet Professor Ragnarsson had given out, write the 10-page long review, and then –

“Hey! Shut the damn book and order, will you?”

Your heart jumps in your chest at the sudden harsh tone. You close your book and whip your head around to see a middle-aged man glaring at you before peering down at his watch. “There’s a long queue, and we don’t have all day.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks as you open your mouth to apologise – but before you can say anything, you hear an oddly soothing voice from behind you. “Hey, don’t be a jerk. She didn’t know the counter was open.”

You glance back towards the counter, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a second. Angelic was an understatement to describe the man standing in front of you, tall and lanky and absolutely fucking beautiful.

His chestnut brown hair perfectly framed his pale face, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he glanced at the rude customer behind you. There were pinkish scars tracing from above his eyebrows to right below his lips, but they looked golden under the orange light – he looked like some kind of heavenly being.

When his eyes dart back to you, his expression instantly softened, lips tilting upwards in a smile. You thought you would melt into a puddle right there and then just by gazing into his warm, honeyed eyes. “Hi, gorgeous. What can I get you?”

You blink, your mouth involuntarily falling open slightly. Gorgeous? Was he talking to you? Maybe he was referring to the man behind you.

His smile widens, and that does absolutely nothing to calm the feeling of your heart bouncing around in your stomach. “It’s okay if you can’t choose just yet, I know the number of options can be…” he chuckles, “overwhelming. Take all the time you need to decide.”

Oh my god, you thought. His laugh sounded musical, like the tender feeling of being enveloped in a warm embrace. You’d put it on a record player and play it on loop for hours if you could.

“Hurry the fuck up –”

“One more word from you and you won’t be getting your coffee today, buddy,” the godly-looking barista snapped in a slightly louder tone at the man behind you, face contorted in irritation.

You hear silent cursing behind you, a twinge of embarrassment turning you red. You quickly glance back up. “Sorry, hi, hello. I’ll um… I…” the words were on the tip of your tongue, but seemed to dissolve when he glanced at you with those agonisingly pretty eyes and kind smile.

Snap out of it, you internally curse as you open your mouth again. “I’ll get three peanut butter-jelly donuts, and four chocolate donuts.”

“Okay. Which chocolate ones?” he asks, tapping his tongs against the display dome with stacks of donuts. There really were a lot of options – chocolate sprinkles, belgian chocolate, chocolate glazed, double chocolate – your mind seemed to freeze up for a second. Which one would Madison want?

You quickly look behind you, seeing the man’s face twisted up in what looked like rage. It seemed to be taking him all his willpower not to lash out at you, and the customers behind him didn’t look much far off.

You turn back to the counter, eyes wide with panic as you feel the blood rush to your head. You had never been good at this; thinking and choosing on the spot. That’s why Subway was always a no-go for you, that’s why Madison had specifically told you what to get her – just that she hadn’t been specific enough. “I… I’m not sure. I think, um…”

“Hey, take it easy,” you look back up to see Remus giving you a reassuring smile, a slight hint of concern on his face. Your despair must have been embarrassingly evident, then. “It’s alright if you can’t choose. Do you want me to pick for you?”

You ought to have been humiliated, the way you immediately nodded and gave in to his offer. But he just gave you an easy smile and nodded, picking up one of each type and placing them in the box.

“Thank you,” you mumble sheepishly as you move to the payment counter, fishing in your bag for a wad of notes.

“Of course,” he grins, and it was so bright you thought it could probably light up the whole cafe. “That’ll be $15.90.”

As he waits for you to pay, he takes a quick look down and begins to brush crumbs off his apron. You look up at the wrong moment, eyes immediately fixing on the curves of his biceps visible through his T-shirt, and his slender fingers.

He glances back up at you, catching a glimpse of your flustered look and instantly smirking. You look away abashedly, counting the money and handing it to him.

The brush of your fingers against his calloused palm sent a jolting shock through you as you quickly pull back, not missing the way his smile widened as he cashed the money into the register.

“Thanks for visiting, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.”

You don’t reply, afraid you’d crumble into a blushing, gooey mess. Flashing him a brief, nervous smile, you pick up the box of donuts before turning around and heading straight for the exit. Sweetheart.

You huff as you open the door and step outside, pulling out your phone to complain to Madison all about the stupidly handsome barista at her favourite cafe. God, he really knew what he was doing.

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Defying the Default"- Skin Tones and the Presence of Black Characters

Okay, this one is going to be half lesson and half a thought experiment- it may get a bit frustrating, as conversations like this often do- but remember, discomfort is not always a bad thing! So I ask that you walk with me for this one.

It’s also interesting, because I’m going to direct this towards everyone (readers included!), but specifically towards my fanfic writers of media with no visual medium, as I’ve noticed this pattern there, and it makes up a good amount of creators on this site. Okay? Okay.

Behold! Many shades of brown!

I had to wade through a lot of colorism for this, and even this link is subtly racist in its introduction- the idea that brown is ‘unexciting’ 🙄.

Anyway, you know where I’m going with this:

"Chocolate and Coffee"

Even the link above pulled this! Writers who use this... they’re not ‘wrong’ per se but… often uninspired. It feels... Lazy. When you can tell an author has put no thought into the brown of choice, it makes Black readers feel like you believe these are the only shades of brown- that that’s all we look like. Even chocolate is more diverse (white, milk, dark, marbled, cookies and cream?) Coffee can come in numerous shades as well (light, medium, dark roast? Type of bean?)

My first direction to help with this: make it a point to know what shade that character is (whether canonically, or if you're the original creator, look at a reference and write it down) and find a name! Be consistent! Find similar browns to one another. If the canon Black character's skin color is done poorly, find something similar and use that! (I'll get more into this in the next lesson!)

Our skin colors may modify as we age, it changes over the seasons/presence in the sun, and some people even have vitiligo! But we're not gonna be “dark roast coffee” one morning and “light milk chocolate” suddenly. We're not chameleons lmao.

And you know what? That shade you choose might very well be 'coffee'! But it's not going to be because you didn't look and assumed we're all some random brown! That’s the intent showing! If we can find endless ways to describe the beauty of white/pale skin, we absolutely can for brown! Be willing to unpack why you may not believe brown to be capable of beauty, and work through unlearning that- it will show in your writing! One way is by pausing with yourself, and recognizing when you had a biased thought. Even by this, you’re learning!

Here’s where I want us to get into the thought experiment:

I want you to think about the description of characters in stories (as a whole). Challenge yourself- in the fics and stories you read, how often is anyone blatantly labeled 'White'? Read a story or fic; how long can you imagine them as not-White before it's ever clarified? Because not even 'pale' automatically implies a White person!

You know how I’ve mentioned before that 'Black people are not a monolith'? I can find you at least some examples of Black people fitting some of the common descriptions of white characters.

"Brunette with brown eyes"

(Fun fact: I actually learned back in my Masters program that genetically no one has ‘black’ hair- our eyes are processing it as black, but it’s really just dark brown due to eumelanin. Regardless, if you stand us in the direct sunlight, you will see that our hair is usually just dark brown!)

"Red hair with pale skin"

“‘tanned’ skin with hazel/green eyes”

“blond hair" (period!)

Now, I’m not saying that blond haired Black people or Black folk with albinism are overly representative of my people. What I AM saying is that it needs to not be taken for granted that a reader is automatically assuming a character is White in your piece of fiction- I can assume your character looks like anything if it's not stated! Especially if the OG source is a book or a podcast! We’re just used to assigning these features- and characters- as white until ‘proven not’! The default!

I am guilty of this too! Even still, I reread many of my works and go ‘ah, I didn’t clarify.’ And I have to work on doing better at it. This is having intent for your Black characters, but really, it’s having intent for all of them!

(This doesn't mean going “the Black man said,” the way sometimes people say “the Chinese said” (which…. Tbh we should all stop doing that anyway, it's weird and racist))

My Next Challenge:

Some people may disagree, but- Ahem:

Say BLACK!

Breathe lmao! Take the time to recognize that it's OKAY to introduce a character as Black, to say Black, it's fine! Obviously be sensitive about it, don't shove it in there to “win your diversity points”, but like… People are Black. It's not a bad word. What matters is the context in which you used it!

You don't even have to say it every single time. Really just the first, introductory sentence will do. For example:

“[Character A], a bright, young, Black girl with knotless braids to her mid back, glittering hair clips matching her bright green t-shirt, and a brilliant smile that shined against her bistre skin.”

I recognize that some might argue that by saying “bistre”, you don't need to say Black. But 1) you don't have to be Black to be brown or dark skinned, and 2) There's a social stigma behind even saying Black- of discussing race in general, because it leads to discomfort. Race (as a sociological construct) exists. When we say nothing about it, allowing Whiteness to be the default, we're still emphasizing race, however silently! If you're already doing it... Why not mention it? 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

(here's a good clip of Ijeoma Oluo discussing the difficulty of discussing race; while I highly recommend the whole thing, the relevant clip is 4:25-5:39)

Maybe they're in the Black student organization in a lead position, maybe they're in a Black main cast of a play- it's okay to have those things in the story to help develop the idea that your Black character is actively Black! Just do your research to make sure you’re not leaning into stereotypes!

“There’s no races in my fantasy/future world!”

That’s fair! But I want to give you an example of how people will still project these identities onto your characters anyway:

No one has an explicitly stated 'race' in Avatar: The Last Airbender (afaik); they’re all divided by element culture. YET, many people were offended that a mixed-Korean actress was cast in her role in the live action- they ‘just didn’t see it’, because subconsciously they'd imagined her ‘face claims’ as WHITE, despite it never once being mentioned in the canon! (there’s also a firm sexualization and east Asian fetishization argument to be made about it, but that’s not within the scope of this particular conversation.)

Point is, if you are including humanoid characters in your fantasy stories, fine. You don't need to say ‘Black’ outright. But, that just means that you’re going to have to be even more detailed in your description. Because if I were watching a TV show and a Black actor shows up as an elf… I know what features I’m seeing! Entire protests have occurred over the casting of Black actors in a role ‘meant for a white person’; so... everyone sees it!

Conclusion

This is another reason why intention in character design and writing is important! Context clues and socialization help me understand who your character is. If it works like this for white characters, it can work like that for everyone else! You just have to know enough about me to write it in (and that's where the social and societal bias lie, because how much do you really know about me?)

A way to better understand this is reading books by Black authors (for fantasy, I would highly recommend Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko and Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi) as well as Black literary classics! Finding and reading Black fic authors in fandoms with Black characters! By learning how we describe ourselves and our skin colors, you’ll learn and practice how to appropriately describe us!

Now I can't make you do any of this! But I do want you all- writers especially- to start noticing our bias, how we may default to the experience of whiteness- and how that affects the way we write. When we have Black characters, and really any character of color, we need to start paying attention to how often their features, culture, and activities are emphasized, even for what we may consider to be 'background' details. That’s how we normalize creation and understanding, and become better at writing!

It’s just something to practice; remember, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

In addition, if you are interested in a simple read into why approaching race is so uncomfortable as a whole, I've attached Robin DiAngelo's book here! Thank you to the PDF guru @toiletpotato for the link!

[mychapel-004]

FNAF SPOILERS! SCROLL! TALKING ABOUT THE SPRINGLOCK SCENE!

i’ve seen so many people discussing the springlock scene in both negative and positive ways and i think it brings up really cool points about how matthew played that scene and balanced fan expectations with his own characterisation.

i think the discussions around this movie have rlly exposed the disconnect between fanon and canon in fnaf, especially talking abt the core games in isolation, bc frankly in the game universe (ignoring the books) we get Very Little characterisation for William other than the obvious, but Matthew managed to add so much in the way he talks and his body language.

in the reveal scene, we see afton at arguably his peak. in his first scene, he comes off as somewhat demeaning and judgemental until he recognises mike’s name, at which point he seems to have this nervous energy, rushing to cover it up but stumbling slightly, his reaction to the tables being turned even slightly is massive.

this is a man who committed multiple mrdrs in essentially broad daylight, hid the bodies in the most obvious place, and still got away with it, and then kept the crime scene as a trophy of his actions, and an ongoing prison sentence for his victims. he has been in complete control for decades, and is confident that he can deal with any kind of threat quickly. his confidence in his reveal is palpable

it changes when vanessa shoots him. the whole parallel with vanessa and the animatronics is hugely interesting too- how william refers to the animatronics almost endearingly as “kids” when he wants them to obey, how both vanny and the animatronics have an unearned loyalty to him, almost a pseudo-adoption through what he did to them, taking them from their parents and keeping them under his thumb, forever stuck as naive, forgiving, obedient children. vanessa breaking from that control shakes him, but the mask slips back into place almost immediately.

then, he’s outsmarted by the brother of one of his victims, and the child he planned to end next. his pseudo-children turn on him and he can no longer manipulate his appearance or shed his skin to escape. he explodes on them, and his language is incredibly telling that he is being dishonest.

he calls them small, trying to belittle them into submission, even though they are ten feet tall metal animatronics powered by rage. he is grasping at straws to regain control, and failing miserably.

finally, the springlocks go off. the locks in the movie look more like a ribcage, so the first two likely puncture his lungs. they’re slow, and painful, but he doesn’t scream or beg or sob. he grunts and groans, gritting his teeth and only letting out sounds of pain that sound almost involuntary. there is no way in hell he would visibly let himself show weakness or pain in front of these creatures that he believes he has control over. he isn’t brought to his knees until there are eight metal spikes embedded in his abdomen. he doesn’t let the mask fall for even a second, until he literally PUTS THE ACTUAL MASK ON and finally collapses. even then, he’s fighting for consciousness, twitching and writhing with no control over his body. william afton thrives on control, and his soul will not rest until he gets it back.

it’s why he keeps the pizzeria- he always comes back. he can’t help but return to the scene of the crime, putting on his old costume, continuing his killings. he revels in being a constant threat on the horizon. and now, he knows he is going to die, and he knows the suit will bring him back, and noone will be able to get rid of him then. so he puts the mask back on, and waits.

in terms of the sfx- they’re pretty accurate. with stab wounds, you need to leave the knife in the wound as long as possible for best chance of survival, as it stops the blood from escaping. in terms of the springlocks, there wouldn’t be copious amounts of blood as the locks are keeping the wounds filled- which is good because it means a slower, more painful death.

[shockercoco]

Little Do You Know

Austin Butler x reader

Warnings - none just fluff

Word count - 1144

a/n - request: "I have a request. I was think about when Austin was in Budapest filming Dune II and reader showing him or the whole crew (Timothee, Zendaya, Florence) around the city in their free time and Austin gets a crush on the reader and the crew teases him about it" - hopefully i fulfilled your vision :)

“You need to get out of this place, you know, get some fresh air,” you tell Austin as you stand in front of him.

He was currently reclining on the lounge chair in front of you reading Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. The book was literally centuries old, but somehow it caught his attention.

“I went out with you guys earlier,” he says referring to you and Florence, his eyes still attached to the book.

“That was for breakfast, and afterwards we came straight back here. I’m talking about just getting out and walking around to explore. This is your first time in Budapest, do you really want to spend your days off from filming surrounded by four walls all day?”

“It’s no use, he’s been stuck in that position all day,” you hear Florence say. Florence was sitting out on the condo’s balcony – it had been rented to the three of you for the duration of filming Dune. She swivels her chair around to join the conversation currently happening inside.

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” you glance at her before looking back at Austin. “This is unacceptable. You have plenty of time to read, the book isn’t going anywhere.”

“And Budapest isn’t going anywhere either, we’re going to be here for a while,” Austin looks up at you while he speaks, but immediately looks back down at his book when he’s done.

You scoff before you snatch the book out of his hands and hold it behind your back.

He lets out a big sigh and says, “really?”

Austin looks over at Florence as if he was silently asking for help, but she says, “I’m not on your side.”

He laughs at her statement before looking up at you. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to say something.

“I guess…I can take a break,” he finally says. 

You smile and hand his book back to him, before turning around and heading to your room to change. This causes you to miss the smile he gives you back and the way he stares at you as you walk away. Florence notices, though, but she already knew about his crush on you. It was the main reason he caved in so quickly.

What everyone doesn’t though is his reasoning for not wanting to go out – he doesn’t know how to act around you. When you look up at him he can’t help but smile, he also can’t help the way his neck turns red, but you don’t notice. When you asked him a question and he gave you an answer, he would end up overthinking for the next hour if his response was too long, or wonder if his answer was good enough, or even wonder if he made too much eye contact with you.

“Are you going to tell her, or should I,” she smirks at him as she comes inside from the balcony.

“Don’t you dare,” Austin points at her, and she laughs.

You took responsibility for being the tour guide around the city, this is what you do in all new cities. Anytime it was someone else, you just ended up being in charge in the end, but of course you took suggestions.

“Where to next?” you ask everyone behind you as you look down at the minimap on your phone. Timothee and Zendaya had finished filming for the day and ended up joining you guys on the sightseeing journey.

 The sun was setting and you all had just left St. Stephen’s Basilica, or as the locals call it Szent Istvan Bazilika.

“Oh, now you want to ask us?” Timothee jokes from behind you, causing you to turn around to see him smiling at you, Austin standing next to him with his hands in his pockets. You continue walking, but backwards to keep moving.

“Well I wasn’t going to, but I figured it was rude to not hear from the group,” you joke back with a shrug of your shoulders.

“I’m fine with you leading, you’re doing a great job,” Zendaya says from beside you, Florence hums in agreement from the other side of her. You look at Austin for his answer, and he just nods with a grin on his face

“Well thank you, I’m glad my service is appreciated,” you say to no one in particular and then look back at Timothee.

“Do you have a suggestion?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Well since I’m the only one that seems to have a problem, nope,” he laughs and you smile back.

Meanwhile, while you were talking to Timothee, Austin was watching you. He watched the way your face lit up as you joked with Timothee, the light from the sunset reflecting on your face. He watched how the whites of your teeth showed when you smiled and the way your lip gloss made your teeth look even whiter.

When you bumped into someone on accident from you walking backwards, he watched the way you immediately apologized and helped the person pick up their dropped belongings. He saw the embarrassment on your face when you turned back to the group to ask, “So no one was going to tell me that I was going to crash into someone?”

You easily brushed it off and turned around to continue walking, allowing Austin to stare at you as much as you wanted. When he heard you laugh at something Florence said, a grin instantly appeared on his face.

Austin felt Timothee nudge him in his side to get his attention. When he looked over, Timothee leaned in with a smirk to whisper, “you’re making it so obvious, just tell her.”

Austin playfully pushed him away. He did want to tell you, he just didn’t know how to tell you, which he knew was ridiculous because you wouldn’t be the first girl he admitted his feelings to. Another thing holding him back was the thought of you not liking him back and just seeing him as a friend.

What Austin didn't know, though, you had feelings for him too, but you were one of those people who would never admit their feelings first. You getting rejected? No. There was no way you could just move on and pretend like it didn’t happen. 

Florence and Zendaya both knew how you felt and kept asking you to tell him because according to them “It’s obvious Austin likes you.” You just thought they were saying that to try and convince you, not knowing it was actually true.

Eventually, Austin would admit his feelings to you when it felt like the right time, and of course you would say yes. When everyone found out that you were dating, you two would have to deal with the endless amount of teasing and ‘I told you so’s’ because little did you both know, the feelings were reciprocated.

[blackreaderfics]

Princess Treatment | Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

↳ Pairing : TitansDC!Jason Todd x shy!Reader

↳ Rating :  E

↳ Summary : After losing a bet, Jason is at your beck and call for the rest of the year. Pt. 2 of Wildcard

↳ W.C : ~5k

↳ Tags + Warnings: references to the previous fic, banter, oral (female receiving), face-sitting, grinding, shyish!reader x tsundereish!jason, reader wears glasses, jason is still a kind of dickhead but less of the dick and more of the giving head, once again side characters are there (rachel, rose, gar, conner, and dickkory)  

“Y’know if you wanted DoorDash, there’s a little something called ‘the App Store’. Just thought you might like to know.” 

You glanced up from the book you were reading on your bed and, sure enough, there was a certain messy-haired boy glowering back at you, hand stuffed in one pocket with the other cradling a plastic bag full of your Bat Burger order.

He unceremoniously plopped the bag on the desk by your bed.

“And why would I do that, when I have you?” You said simply trying to emulate Rose’s confident way of speech.

You sat up, closing your book to examine the plastic bag. It had been a week since you, Rachel, and Rose had all agreed on the terms of your agreement. The boys—Jason, Conner, and Gar had all lost a bet over Game Night, and as one does, had to bear the consequences of being the girls’ gophers, or as Rose liked to call it “errand bitches”, for the rest of the year.

Thanks to Game Night, Jason was your gopher. That night had been the first night you’d spoken at length to Jason other than greetings or pleasantries. While Rachel and Rose had readily accepted their new positions of power, it was almost daunting for you to tell the King of Back-Sass himself what to do.

You started small at first, asking him for simple things like opening jars or reaching high places. It wasn’t until Conner and Gar had seen how sparingly you were ordering him around that they started to complain. 

“If they see Jason barely doing anything, then they’re not gonna listen to us Y/N. And then the whole integrity of the bet gets thrown off. What’s gonna be the point of making bets in the first place if we don’t follow through?” Rachel hissed at you between sparring trainings.

It was agreed that any time you were near Dick (or any other older Titan for that matter) that the agreement was off. If Dick had caught any whiff of the bet, he’d probably ban Game Night—or worse, lecture them on how divisions on the basis of gender would erode teamwork on the field and blah blah blah.

From then on, you agreed to give Jason more orders. Or at least, the illusion of keeping him busy so Rachel and Rose would get off your back. Making Jason your personal UberEats seemed to do the trick. And it actually worked for a few days until… it didn’t. 

You opened the bag and wrinkled your nose at the half-eaten Bat Burger and a handful of fries. You didn’t get mad, you rarely ever did, but this was certainly annoying. 

“Jason,” You said giving him a withering look.

“What? You should be glad I saved you some. Besides, princess,” He said sarcastically, "You can’t just be eating anything. I’m testing for poison.” He reached into the bag and snatched a single fry. He took a bite and chewed for a moment thoughtfully. “Yep, all clear. Anything else you need?”

Jason was clearly testing your patience, pushing your buttons and the limits of your authority. At this rate, the few days he actually listened to you seemed too good to be true.

“No, just—I don’t need anything.” You cursed yourself for stammering and felt yourself fluster seeing his smug face. “Can you please just leave?” You got up from the bed to shoo him away.

“You’re not really good at this are you?” He snorted, dodging your lunge at him to leave the room. 

“That’s not how this works.” You took a breath to compose yourself and adjusted your glasses from falling off your nose. “We have an agreement that you follow my orders. And I just ordered you to do something, so you can go now.”

“Yea, I understand that perfectly fine.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head as if in pity. “It’s just… you’re not good at it.” He laughed again. 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need to be good at it if that’s what was agreed.” He was implying you were meek, and maybe that was true, but that wasn’t even the whole point of the agreement. Leave it to Jason to be difficult about something as simple as this.

“I get that but, at least make it believable. You know, ‘cuz then maybe I’d actually be inclined to play along.”

You shot him a weirded out look under his scrutiny. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll leave.” You made a move for the door but Jason quickly stepped in the way. Annoying.

“I’m serious, I swear. Why do you think we all listen to Dick?”

“We listen to Dick. You’re the one that doesn’t.”

He grinned. “Ok, fair enough. But, why do you all listen to Dick?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he’s a good leader?” You threw up your hands in exasperation. “What’s your point, Jason? You’re starting to sound like him.”

“Ok first, I’m disgusted you’d even say that. And second, my point is Dick doesn’t say ‘can you please leave?’ He doesn’t ask. He either tells you or makes you.”

You stared blankly at him, but he seemed eager to make a point. “You want me to act like Dick? That way you’ll listen to me?”

“Well, no ‘cuz that wouldn’t really work, remember?” The corner of his mouth quirked up. He was all too happy to get on your nerves now. “What I’m saying is you need to Make. Me. Listen.” He leaned in a little bit, letting his voice lower as he emphasized the words.

How're you a virgin when you're takin' my cock this good, hm?

“Ugh.” You shuddered, his voice by your ear involuntarily taking you back to that night you both seemed to pretend never happened. You pushed him away, having grown tired of his smug face. When you stepped towards the door again, he rushed over and closed it shut. “Oh for God’s sake.”

You tried to step around him to no avail. 

“Move.” You glowered.

Jason's eyebrows raised slightly, almost impressed. “Acceptable.” He stepped aside to let you pass. 

As you walked through the hallway, you could hear Jason’s soft footsteps behind you.

You whipped around. “Stop following me.”

“I’m not ‘following you’, there’s only one hallway. If anything you’re in my way.” He shrugged. The look on his face bore no emotion but you swore you could see amusement twinkle in his eye.

Just ahead, Dick was walking in your direction sipping on a steaming mug of coffee. 

“Y/N, Jason! Glad to see you two getting along.”

Your frustration dissipated at the sight of the chipper man. On the field, he was as serious as can be, but off the field, he was as intimidating as a substitute teacher. 

You and Dick’s eyes both followed after Jason, who hadn’t bothered to stop and say hello. The elder brother only shook his head with a good-natured sigh and returned his attention back to you.

“I’ve noticed you warming up to everyone lately. With the other girls, I mean. You, Rose, and Rachel really seem to be a good team, especially during our practices. Even Jason is playing nice with the others. He can be a bit abrasive sometimes but these days, I can see he’s making progress with teamwork too.”

“Thanks uh- I guess it’s all thanks to you. Game Nights really helped us to get closer.” 

“Glad to hear it.” He patted you on the shoulder and turned the corner to the computer room.

When you walked into the living room, you heard everyone exhale in relief. 

“What?” You looked around quizzically. Game Night Crew had gathered again on the couches, this time—thankfully—fully clothed.

“We thought you were Grayson,” Rose called from the couch. “He almost caught us the first time.”

Caught? Doing what?

You weren’t entirely prepared for what you saw but Rose and Rachel were concentrating hard on painting Conner and Gar’s nails.

“Are you completely sure this is vegan?”

“Yes, now hold still.” Rose admonished Gar, applying another coat with professional precision.

Rachel looked up from her handiwork with Conner’s hand. She wordlessly tossed a look from you to Jason who was currently looking more interested in whatever was in the fridge than at the group in the living room. Her face clearly read, make him do something now. You sent her back a look that read, fine.

You cleared your throat. “Jason.” You tried to muster up as much authority as you could. Knowing what you knew now, you knew he wouldn’t budge at the slightest tremor of your voice.

“Hn.” Was his only response, but at least you knew you caught his attention. When he turned, you locked eyes on his. “Come here, ple—I mean. Come here.”

You watched him crack a smile. He closed the refrigerator door and ambled over. So far so good.

He didn’t seem to register anyone else in the room. He only tilted his head, waiting for the next direction.

“Sit down.”

He paused as if contemplating whether or not to answer to an instruction one gave a dog thinly veiled as an order. Even so, he sat. Well, that was easy enough, you thought to yourself. It was almost comical to see him be so obedient.

“Give me your hand.” You primed.

You could see his hesitation as you reached for the nearest nail polish bottle, but it was erased as soon as you met his gaze again. 

“That’s… not my color.”

“Of course.” You picked up a burgundy red. “How could I forget?”

He sneered at your teasing but still allowed your light hold under the palm of his hand.

“Why does he get a choice and we don’t?” Gar pouted, looking longingly at a green bottle of nail polish

“I kinda like the black.” Conner shrugged and gave his other unpolished hand to Rachel.

“You can never go wrong with black.” Rachel agreed.

Jason grimaced as he watched the polish coat his nail. It was wholly apparent that under any other circumstance, he would’ve never allowed you to do this, but you were thankful that he liked to keep whatever honor he had to words. Under the agreement and as long as you spoke to him with confidence, he would listen.

౨ৎ

The next week Dick had decided that based on the success of Game Night with team morale, an outing would be another great chance for the younger members of the team to get closer. That’s why you were now sitting at the beach and squinting the sun out of your eyes. 

You had volunteered to watch everyone’s stuff while they explored the bordering pier. Jason had practically disappeared the moment his flip-flops hit the sand.

It was nice to be out just to be out, not in the field on a mission. Titan’s tower felt like one giant bubble and it was easy to forget that there was life outside being a hero. 

You settled into people-watching as you waited for the rest of the group to return. There was a group of teens playing volleyball by the net, a family of three showing their toddler how to make a sandcastle, and couples—lots of couples. 

“You not gonna go to the pier?”

You were in the middle of gazing wistfully at a couple that was sharing their ice cream when you felt a shadow over you.

“I’m watching everyone’s stuff until they get back.” You squinted up at him. Even with your hat on, it was an incredibly bright summer day.

Jason plopped down on the beach towel next to you. He was wearing swim trunks and an unbuttoned linen shirt which didn’t do much to hide the lean cuts of muscle on his abdomen. Judging by his damp curls, he had just returned from a swim in the ocean.

“I can watch,” He jutted his chin in the direction of the pier. “You should go.”

“Maybe in a little bit.” You dug your feet into the sand, feeling the warmth tingle your toes. You didn’t feel like leaving your spot just yet.

He reached behind you for his towel and bent a bit over to muss his hair dry. You were close enough to feel the tiny droplets of water tickle your skin.

“Do you have to do that right next to me?” You said, not incredibly annoyed though—the water felt cool. It was enough to make you want to go for a swim to cool down too.

“Sorry,” he said a bit sheepishly, peeking up at you from beneath the towel. His hair, now much drier and fluffed, made him look somewhat like a puppy. Cute.

You gave him a small smile before returning your attention to the ebbing and receding of the ocean tide.

“Got a lot on your mind?” 

You quickly broke your stare from the water to see that Jason was still looking at up you, eyebrow cocked in curiosity. It was the look he gave you that always made you think he didn’t quite get you. A fascinated look that made you feel like you were another species under his gaze.

“I was just thinking it’s nice to take a break and be normal for a change.”

“Normal?”

“Like,” you gestured vaguely around the beach. “Everyone here. No missions, no bad guys. Normal.”

“Yea, hanging out?” he snorted, “We do that all the time.”

Jason had been a cape since before you’d even met Dick and the rest of the group. You were still getting used to your new way of life. He was either being willfully obtuse or he really just didn’t understand you at all. You and Jason were opposites after all. Your quiet and shy often clashed with his bold and boisterous.

“I don’t mean just hanging out, I mean other stuff too.”

The couple you had seen earlier caught your eye again. They were now sitting on a beach towel further ahead of where you were. They looked like they were in their own world, nudging each other playfully in laughter. If you hadn’t joined the Titans what would you be doing now?

He followed your line of sight, gazing silently at the couple for a moment before flickering his eyes away to the water.

“We could do other stuff.”  

You expected him to be smirking at you like he usually did when he teased or made a joke, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. When you glanced at him you could see a faint flush on his cheeks. Probably from the heat.

You shook your head, realizing what you implied and trying now to take it back. “I didn’t mean with you, I mean with regular people.”

“What? Like it makes a difference?”

“Well, yea fundamentally. Gar can turn into animals, Rachel has a demon trapped inside her, Rose can’t die, Conner is Superboy. You’re...”

He frowned at your pause. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

You let out a laugh, happy that you’d annoyed him for a change.

“Well, by your logic,” he began, pointedly ignoring your laughter, “then we’re the most normal Titans here.”

He had a point. You didn’t have any special powers either but Dick had taken you in just the same.

“If you want to be a regular person for a day, I guess, now’s as good a time as any.” He shrugged noncommittally as he rose from his spot on the sand. Jason took your wrist and gently pulled you on your feet. “C’mon, before they get here.”

You furrowed your brow, worried about your unguarded post but you were relieved that Game Night crew were already on their way back.

You heard them before you could fully spot them. Conner and Gar had been happily chatting away at the head of the group. Rachel and Rose were holding prizes from the boardwalk games. Dick and Kory, being the ones that drove you here, rounded out the back of the small crowd. Kory seemed to have found delight in the terrestrial delicacy, cotton candy.

After having guided you through the throngs of pedestrians to the main attractions, he released his hold on your wrist and gestured around theatrically as he spoke, "Now we’re just two regular people at the boardwalk. There’s the very normal Ferris Wheel, normal Whack-a-Mole, normal churros gotta love those—”

“I get it,” you laughed cutting him off before he could rattle on everything within visible range around you.

"Nah, I don't think you do, but you're lucky you have me to show you. Watch this."

You shot him a skeptical look and followed after to a target shot game booth. Arrays of red targets were displayed in rows while giant stuffed animals hung along the back wall.

"Which one you want?" He pulled out a few bills to hand the attendant and passed you a few of the colorful balls for you to play a round too.

You pointed at a giant brown teddy bear hanging by its ears.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

One by one the targets fell in succession. He held the last ball in his hand and after a moment of thought, lobbed it lightly askew and letting it fall short of any target.

He gave you a smug smile and collected the teddy bear before handing it off to you.

"You call that normal?" You said incredulously, but still accepting the bear in your arms.

"What? I missed that last one."

"Sure." Jason was nothing if not terrifyingly accurate.

You played a few more games, amassing a trove of arcade treasures for each other, both of you trying your best not to be too good at the games. As you ventured down the boardwalk, you couldn't help but find your eyes linger on the young couples that surrounded you.

"When you said 'other stuff' earlier, you meant like dating stuff, right?" He said innocently between bites of funnel cake. You had decided to rest and were currently sitting down in a shaded food court, stuffed animals in tow.

You contemplated denying it but saw no reason to keep it from him. This revelation being objectively less embarrassing than the time you revealed you were still a virgin during a round of “Never Have I Ever.”

Taking your silence as an answer, he continued. "Well, since we're still doing normal shit we could try that."

You tried not to gape at him. “T-then we’d just be faking it. It wouldn’t be real...”

“So? How would you know real from fake if you've never dated anyone before?"

“Where did you get that from? I never said I didn’t date anyone before.”

“W-well I just assumed since—"

“I’ve been on dates, Jason. I’ve just never had sex.” You retorted.

“Well, Technically. We kinda, y’know..."

You don't know how fucking pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, Y/N

You pursed your lips, mind flashing to his moans, him begging you to put your mouth on him, the sloppy makeout session with him after he'd punished his cock down your throat. That’s the whole reason you guys were even talking this much now. The bet. 

This is the first time you addressed that sexcapade since it happened and it's just been this weird tension ever since. It was the elephant-sized weirdness in the room, whenever you guys were around each other. You wondered faintly if Rachel and Rose were having the same issues after that night too.

"But if you don’t want to…"

"Fine."

"I-Oh,” He stammered as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Ok...um what do you want me to do?" He rubbed the back of his neck, this time the tips of his ears tinged a faint pink.

“I don’t know." You felt yourself blush, "Act like you like me.”

He blinked back his surprise, bemused. “And what would that entail exactly?”

“You know what it entails.” You scoffed, exasperated.

“Not really no. I wouldn’t know something like that.” He recovered the annoying twinkle he usually carried in his eyes.

“I’d rather not do this if you’re going to make fun of me.”

“I’m joking. You mean act like your boyfriend and whatnot. I got it.”

In one swift motion, he leaned in closer and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. The powdered sugar was still sweet on his tongue but as quickly as it started, you could already feel him pulling away.

"W-why did you do that? At least warn me first.”

"'Cuz that’s not what boyfriends do.

“Are you the boyfriend expert now?”

“I happen to be,” He smirked. "You got a little something." He swiped his thumb at what was most likely some leftover sugar at the corner of your mouth and brought it to his lips to taste.

౨ৎ

The ride back home was not totally uncomfortable, but it was still awkward. Jason appeared to be unfazed, joking and laughing with the boys like nothing happened. You tried your best to match his nonchalance, but given the curious looks Rachel kept throwing the both of you, you'd failed.

Jason confused you. One moment it seemed like he liked you, and the next he would act like he barely knew you. You hated it. And to avoid the sting of another unrequited crush, you didn't ask anything of him for a few days, Game Night Bet be damned.

You had been reading a book on one of those rare free-schedule days when a light knock came at your door. When you opened it, Jason was on the other side holding a brown paper bag. You eyed the Bat Burger bag first, and then the boy holding it warily.

“I didn't order anything."

With all the missions and trouble in the city, everyone gradually stopped doing the bet thing anyway.

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “I owe you. For last time."

“Oh. um. Ok, I guess.” You took the bag from him and set it down at your desk. You figured that would be the end of the conversation but he remained at your doorway appearing to look like he wanted to say something else. You paused, waiting for him to speak and when he didn't, you moved to close the door again.

“W-wait! I… I’m giving you a warning this time.”

Warning?

Then it finally clicked.

“Is… that ok?”

There was a slight worry in his gaze as if he was unsure you'd say yes. You felt something in your stomach flip, words got caught in your throat and you could only give him a small nod.

Upon your approval he stepped in closer, eyes dropping languidly from yours down to your lips. He carefully slid your glasses off his face, folding them neatly on the desk. You felt his hands pull you in by the hip to press your body against him. This time when he kissed you, it wasn't the same as when you were at the beach. It was slower, deliberate. Like he had been building up to this very moment.

You closed the door behind you as the kisses became more wanton and his hands began to roam grasping at your waist and hips, kneading handfuls of your ass beneath your skirt. You loved how he felt pressed against you, sturdy and strong. It wasn't long before you stumbled backward onto the bed and found yourself under him.

"What? Am I too loud?" His brow furrowed in worry when he felt your kisses subside. "I’ll be quieter."

"No, it's not that," you laughed a bit. He did have a habit of making tiny moans through kisses. But you gave him an extra peck on the lips for reassurance. "It’s just...You’re doing this because you want to right?"

“Not even gonna lie, I wanted to do this since the day you showed up.” His smile was bashful, like he just admitted a secret.

The guy you've liked since you joined the Titans had been thinking about you the same way? You thought back to the times you interacted. Jason's attention to you always came in the form of teasing but the weirdness after Game Night and the beach only served to confuse you more.

“Well, you did a shit job of showing it.” You pouted, adjusting your position beneath him to slide your shirt off.

“That’s only ‘cuz I thought you hated me." He sat up a bit to take his own shirt off before returning to plant kisses across your body.

“Ok, hate is a strong word.”

“You’re not denying it.” You could feel him smiling against your skin.

“More like minor dislike. But that’s only because I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I’m sorry." He murmured kissing your jaw, then down your neck. "I think pretty girls make my brain stop working. But I can make it up to you." He slid a hand underneath your unclasped bra and thumbed over the nipple. You let out a small gasp of air. “D'you want me to?”

You nodded, meeting his eyes. 

“Use your words.”

“I want you to-oh fuck." Before you could even finish your sentence, his mouth had replaced his hand on your breast. He made sure to keep his eyes on you as he sucked and made warm licks at one breast, making sure to keep the other occupied with his hand.

In any other circumstance, he would never have missed the chance to tease you about your new choice of vocabulary, but he had a different kind of teasing in mind. He had removed his mouth from your breast and was now kissing up your inner thigh, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over your panties.

“You’re so fucking wet."

He pulled down your panties and worked one finger and then two until his fingers were squelching in and out of your pussy. You'd masturbated before—maybe even masturbated to the fantasy of him fingering you too—but it was nothing like this. His hands were much bigger and roughened by years of combat on and off the field. It was better than you could’ve imagined yourself

“Can I taste it?” He asked, voice hoarse with need. Like if you’d denied him, you might as well have denied a desperately thirsty man water.

Before you could even reply, he replaced his fingers with his mouth. He laved at your entrance, relishing in your whimpering his name and your tangling your fingers through his hair. Jason might've loved a good blowjob, but he practically worshiped pussy. Every suck and kiss of your folds was accompanied by his pretty moans.

It was at this point where you felt yourself hurtling towards climax, but before you could get your much-needed release, you felt the warmth from his mouth leave you.

“Please...your mouth,” was all you could say upon regaining lucidity.

“What'd I say about saying please?” He rubbed a knuckle against your mound; You tried desperately to grind on it.

"J-jason," You whined, squirming under him in impatience. He seemed to enjoy watching you writhe to the same degree he loved to annoy you.

Make. Me. Listen.

Technically the bet was still in effect. As long as you spoke to him with confidence, he would listen, right? You sat up, pushing him onto his back to straddle him. His eyes widened, flashing equal parts in anticipation and welcomed confusion as he ran his hands along your thighs and you could feel his length underneath you. You would take care of that later, but for now, you had your own needs to fulfill.

Jason attempted to meet your lips again, but you only pushed him back to the bed again.

"I… want to cum," You declared simply, trying your best to be confident.

"Yea?" He grinned. "I can help you with that. You gonna sit on my face or do you need to ask for permission?"

"No, just—it’s embarrassing," You said almost breaking character. Almost.

He rolled his eyes. "If y'wanna cum, you're gonna need to come closer."

You crawled over him, tentatively hovering above his face scared to accidentally crush him. Once you got into position, he pressed you down resuming his kisses and licks, moaning as he lapped from underneath you.

"Oh fu—I'm gonna cum," you whimpered unconsciously fisting his hair as you ground against him, using his face shamelessly to ride out your orgasm.

When you sat back on his lap, you felt something under some wetness under you. Had he cum just from eating you out?

"Be honest.” Jason was now catching breath, face glistening with your juices, with a dumb smile playing on his pink and swollen lips.

The pure sight of him—messy and pussy drunk—was enough to make you want to sit on his face again.

“You really did wanna fuck me so bad at Game Night.”

"You’re so full of it." You shook your head, humored. Leave it to Jason to crack a joke post-coital. Not that he wasn't incorrect.

“I'm so flattered you hump your pillow at night and think of me. Since you were riding me like one."

"Are you forgetting that you’re the one that lost the bet? I still have a good two months on you."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" He whispered absently rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.

"Yes, it should. I can make your life hell."

"Oh really?" His eyes flickered from your lips and back up to your face. That seemed like a risk he was willing to take. From your seat on his lap, you could feel him growing hard again beneath you.

"Yes, really. I was going easy on you."

"You do realize you can’t make me do anything I wouldn’t want to do myself.”

"What about the DoorDash?"

"Well, I ate some of it."

"And the nail polish?"

"I happen to like that color."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, it seemed he had an answer for everything and his smile was growing wider to match every smartass retort.

"Just get over here." You missed the feel of his lips on yours already.

Finding no answer for that, he could only let out a laugh, "Yes, ma’am."

©️ blackreaderfics // dividers by cafekitsune & poison-aesthetics

[nabwastaken]

so i convinced my brother to watch npmd

for context, he's the one who got me into starkid in the first place, but was never a big fan of it as a whole (we watched avpm a couple years back, and he watched twisted and tgwdlm himself)

so he's like. a casual fan. he's not in the hatchetfield hyperfixation hell i'm in, having only seen tgwdlm a few years back and not watching nmt or bf

suffice to say, he liked it!

highlights of the night include:

Him simping over Steph immediately as the show started

Me explaining different running gags that got brought up

Him commenting and cringing on the show's portrayal of teens which.. yeah

Him saying that Dirty Girl was more awkward then sexy (but being freaked out nonetheless)

Him calling out that Grace would be the murderer right away, but thankfully that thought went away as soon as Max died

At the part right before the Max death scene, he commented "oh this is so sweet" and then Max. You know.

During Go Go Nighthawks, I very loudly yelled out "FUCK CLIVESDALE". Later on when Grace tries to frame the Chemists my dear brother also said "Yeah, fuck clivesdale!" confirming he is one of us now

He knows about my obsession with Dan and Donna, and witnessed my very audible reaction when they showed up the first time to report on Max's disappearance

After the scene I say they showed up later on and during the interrogation scene in the principal's office he said "When will Dan and Donna show up again?"

Of course, they did show up again for Hatchet Town, leading to me having the same reaction AGAIN, which lead him to commenting "They're not canon, right?" Which. OW.

When Dan came on and said, "I am Dan Reynolds" I pointed at him and said "There he is! My guy! He is Dan Reynolds!" all while my brother just awkwardly nodded along

Me singing all the parts in Hatchet Town

Me explaining the cameos in Hatchet Town

After Hatchet Town I continued to freak out over Dan and Donna and continuingly reiterated the point that I ship them and I love them all while my brother was like "Yeah. Yep."

During the Barbecue Monologues, he says "Is this a reference to the Vagina Monologues?"

I commented on how a lot of people said that Just For Once gives them Falsettos vibes, and my brother LOVES Falsettos so he was immediately like "okay yeah yeah i get it go onto the song"

Him saying "Oh this is depressing" towards the end of Just For Once

Him freaking out when Paul and Emma arrived (they're the only characters he recognized)

Him also freaking out over If I Loved You, with him saying it was his favorite song in the show

In the scene in the forest where Max throws Miss Mulberry's decapitated "head" my brother said "That's Chappell Roan" and now I can't unsee it.

Him being terrified during The Summoning (later on he said "those weird god things scared me")

Him pointing at Blinky and saying "That's Chappell Roan"

The look of dread on his face when he realizes Steph would have to kill Pete

Me continuingly hammering in the point that "Steph and Pete will die" and then him being like "Why couldn't Grace give something up, huh??" and then me responding, pretending not to laugh, "What's she gonna give up? Her dad?" and then he responded "Yeah, her gay dad" (for context, earlier on during the chasity's scene i mentioned most people thinking Mark was gay)

Him just being absolutely depressed during CAITA reprise

AND THEN the look on his face when Max came in and caught the bullet with him continuingly asking and reiterating "So they're not gonna die?"

The shock and horror on his face when Grace and Max did it on the football field

Me telling him that Best of You was the ending number

AND THEN his jaw dropping when Grace pulled out the book and started singing dirty dudes must die. later on he said "it gagged him"

[ineffable-suffering]

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

[snghnlvr]

delicate | nishimura riki

౨ৎ ## love so delicate like yours, synopsis: you've realized how far you've gotten with your boyfriend now that both of you are adults.

includes: 1.9k words | soft fluff | yn is anxious asf but riki comforts them | we love reassurance | movie notebook reference 😎 | yn got a tattoo and it makes riki fall in love with them more 🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️ | coming of age¿?

extra: at this point, all of the members are taylor swift coded | soft love is the best love | yn is me because im also 18 and i dont wanna pay taxes D:

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

you sighed as you laid yourself flat against the blankets. you smiled in delight as if your troubles and worries left you. 

“school’s over.” you said, feeling your chest heavy. you recalled the school memories that you’ve experienced; both happy and sad, now that you’re taking the next chapter of your life; college. 

it’s leaving a bittersweet feeling on your whole body. 

“it is.” you looked over your shoulder, to see your boyfriend, riki fiddling with his yearbook. his fingers spotted towards the back of the book, heartfelt messages and inspiring words that his friends wrote for him. 

you’re in riki’s backyard, inside of a treehouse both of you built since children with the help of your parents. you’re so lucky your dad is a constructor. 

riki is sitting, one leg sticking out and one knee bent as he leans into the wooden walls. this position allows you to admire him from below as the sunlight flashes on his beautiful features. 

he’s reading every single message with sincerity and care, from his senior friends that he will probably never see again and his younger juniors that he can’t annoy anymore as he pleases. despite hating waking up early every morning and him dealing with tiring lectures, he has to admit he made memories and friends that’s worth a life time.

“i can’t believe we’re gonna be college students now. where we have to pay off debts, start our career paths, those people who are gonna be closer to 20 than 16 - it’s just,” you took in a breath. “surreal. surreal that we are growing up.”

you had always had a fear of growing up. not wanting to achieve the things and goals you’ve planned on time. you felt like you’re rushing to do everything at once before it becomes too late. you always wanna stay 16 forever; forever naive to understand the real world. how you’re closest friends will separate from you. how everything you’re experiencing right now will be just a memory. 

riki glanced down on you where you’re staring off of space. he can sense the anxiety in your tone. 

he closes the book after he was staring at a picture. a picture titled, “best couple” and it’s a picture of the both of you standing next to each other, smiling widely. he smiled at how adorable you looked next to him.

he scooted closer to you, making himself comfortable once he lays down next to you. his back lays flat, mimicking your position. 

“are you scared?” riki likes to question the obvious, but it helps you reflect on your feelings; how fear is just a feeling and to understand your emotions a bit better.

“just a little anxious just all,” you confessed, looking at riki whose eyes never left yours. “i’m sure it will disappear soon. i mean, everyone experiences this.” you reassure yourself and riki sense it, enjoying your honesty.

“mhm,” riki mumbles. “it’s okay to feel anxious, the future is scary.” he looks down. “it’s only a matter of time how you’re gonna handle it. you create your own future.” 

his words ring in your head. he’s right.

riki took your silence as a way that you agree with him. 

he then glanced down towards your arm, a black-inked drawing that attracted him. riki scooted closer, his body turned to yours. he propped himself up with his elbow.

no matter how close the proximity is between the both of you, it still makes you nervous til this day. especially with how much older and mature-looking your boyfriend of 6 years is. 

“your parents aren’t mad about this?” riki gently poked on your arm, eyes analyzing the art in your arm. it’s only been a week since you decided to get your first tattoo.

it’s beautiful, he thinks. 

“not anymore, i’m 18 now.” you huffed out. you remembered the horror on your parents’ faces but a sigh of defeat when they realized you’re now responsible of yourself. it makes you chuckle about their panicked expressions, slowly making themselves aware that you’re not gonna be their little 4 year old reckless daughter anymore. 

“i can imagine your mom shrieking.” riki giggled which made you scoffed because he wasn’t wrong. 

“your birth flower?” riki asked, his fingertips gently tracing the traces of your birth flower. 

your eyes widened a bit at his sudden touch then you looked down at how focused riki was. his eyes were staring at it as if your tattoo was a museum. 

your heart beat quickened at the sight. 

“the flower that i drew for you in your math notebook in 6th grade.” riki smiled, realizing how much time flies since you guys called it official since middle school. you’ve remembered the nervousness riki’s hands were, fiddling the bouquet of origami flowers. flowers he made for each that day that he fell in love with you. you thought it was silly. riki has always been caring and kind to you so it was natural for you to reprociate the feelings back. and so, without any pressure or doubts, you guys called it official.

“i thought you threw your old notebooks away..” his voice still remains soft and delicate, still smiling at your tattoo. he started to reminisce the times he would doodle on your notebook without you noticing. like a surprise.

“i ripped the page and kept it since.” when you were going into your freshman self, you looked back into the notebooks to reminsince your middle school memories. you’ve came across a drawing — no other than riki’s in one of your notebooks. you ripped it out and hid it in a safe spot until you get a tattoo of it ever since.  

some people thought you guys weren’t gonna make it past middle school — even you too, but since both of you got in the same highschool, it remained strong. a strong string holding your relationship tight.

yes, with hormones acting up and puberty getting in the way, there were times where you guys had fought and argued together to the point it was nearing breaking apart but both of you shouldn’t let it slide. not when it has reached this far. and how much you love each other.

although your boyfriend has grown up, there are occasionally times where he teases you and becomes childish around you, it makes you soft-hearted at how he still has a soul of his 12-year old self. especially moments where he look similar to a duck, which made you think about how much duck plushies you have on your bed because it reminds you of riki. 

you’re happy that you’re growing up with him.

“what are you thinking about pretty girl?” 

you gasped lightly, realizing that you’re spacing out. you looked at him and you see a small smirk implemented on his face, curious of what your pretty head is thinking about.

your face relaxes, trying to calm yourself. you’re nervous over nothing.

you looked down at your hands, then glance at riki’s hand comfortably resting, then back to your hands. your fingers slowly creep upon riki’s fingers, slowly rubbing them with yours. you smiled at the sight.

“it’s insane to think about how much we’ve grown.” you paused. “together.”

riki’s eyes looked at the sight, his heart beat echoing and growing louder. no matter what you do, you always make him think irrational. he then glances at you smiling when you’re playing with his fingers. “not many people believed in us lasting this long, not even me. i was worried if one of us lost feelings, found someone else better, or get something in our way, but im glad that we didn’t give up.” you looked at riki where his attention was diverted to you. he raised an eyebrow to indicate that he was listening.

“i’m happy that i’m dating you, i can’t express how much i adore you, how much you mean to me, i’ve never felt love this strong before — you’re just everything to me. i can’t imagine laughing harder than with anyone else, smile so much with anyone else. with you, it’s different. thank you for loving me.” 

you’re cringing on the inside at how much you confessed in such a short amount of time. you’re met with silence from your boyfriend who seem atonished from your words. you’re embarrassed, pulling back your fingers to cover your blushing cheeks in front of your boyfriend.

riki’s lips twitched, happy for you to express your feelings more comfortably now compared to the past situations. (one of the reasons that you’ve guys argued before) his chest felt light, his grin becoming bigger when you’re hiding from him.

you hear the blankets rustling, you felt riki’s arm slowly snake around your wrist to lightly remove your hand from your face. you removed your embarrassed hands and your eyes followed his hand clasping onto yours. the sight of his veiny hands makes you silent.

you admire the two of you holding hands. your stomach was feeling butterflies just as it was the first time riki confessed his feelings to you. riki twists your wrist, allowing you to see the sight from all angles. it looks so perfect. your hand perfectly structured to hold his. 

“you’re just as perfect as to what i am seeing right now.” riki spoke with a soft tone, chuckling when he kept twisting and turning your wrist. “you have a place in my heart no one else could ever have. my heart is so full of you i can hardly call it my own. i choose you. and i’ll choose you over and over. without a pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat, i’ll keep choosing you. as long as i’m alive, you will always be loved.”

you’re speechless at your boyfriend’s words to the point you feel like crying. riki still kept smiling at you, giggling. you saw the crescents formed in his eyes whenever he smiled at you and it never fails to make yourself love him more.

riki took this opportunity to lift himself up, hovering above you. he pecked your forehead. you felt his warm lips touching your skin and the goosebumps always forms whenever he makes you flustered.

you looked up at him, surprised. he looked down at you with his head tilted and a scrunched nose like a puppy, as if he was proud to do that.

nothing but an exchange of loud heart beats matching with one another and genuine giggles back and forth. 

riki then leaned in towards you. you closed your eyes at the expected action. his lips touching with yours. electricity flows when he rubs his fingers on your hands. it always make you feel all tingly on the inside. 

riki then pulls back, “cute.” he teases you, making your cheeks grow hotter. “shut up.” you rolled eyes, earning a little laugh from him.

riki still doesn’t let go of your intertwined hands as he returns to his original position where you’re laying flat on the ground, shoulder to shoulder. 

“so your summer plans?” riki asked casually. he lifted his head as his arm was under his head to act as support.

you then touched your bangs, realizing that you still have that caramel-like highlights since march. you were starting to get bored of it.

you pursed your lips. “maybe dye my hair next week back to black.” 

riki’s eyes shined. “match with me.” he spoke without thinking. you turned your head to him, realizing that his hair is black now. 

your boyfriend likes it alot when both of you match. 

“if you bleach it next month to some color then what?” you pointed out because sometimes your boyfriend makes impulsive decisions on his hair whenever he sees a cool hairstyles. you’re not angry whenever he does this because he’s good looking with whatever hair color he has.

“i won’t bleach it, i promise. i’ll follow you.” riki spoke and it makes you chuckle that he probably doesn’t realize the importance of his words. “red? blue? silver, i’ll do it for you.” you froze at his sudden deep voice erupting from him. your heart beat also freezes when his lips touches the location of your tattoo. you looked down and see his lips pushed forward. your heart flutters once again.

“you’re dumb.” you spoke, eyes softening at what you were hearing. 

gosh, you really love this man.

riki smiles against your skin, looking up and your heart twists at an umfamiliar sight. “i can be that.” he whispers like it was a promise.

[writing0305]

Baby/pregnancy prompt with Butcher prompt 7 and 10. Just some cute fluffy funny stuff during about the readers pregnancy. 💖

Baby.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x F!Reader.

Summary: You are pregnant with Butcher's son and he is extremely protective of you. So protective that he doesn't even allow you to put together the furniture in the baby's nursery.

Warning: Swearing. That's it I think?

Propmpts: Pregnancy/ child.

7 - "Go easy. You are carrying my child."

10 - "Well, we both made that baby." - "Don't remind me."

----

Thank you so much for this request!! I love writing dad Butcher so much!!

Billy Butcher was taken with you almost immediately after you joined the boys. You were soft and kind, but still witty with a strong backbone. You two grew close very quickly and for the first time in a very long time, Butcher knew what it was like to be put first in someone’s life.

You adored and loved Butcher. You kept him grounded and gave him a reason to fight. But seven months ago, you gave him a reason to live. It came as a surprise to everyone when Butcher left The Boys and took you with him.

Finding out you were pregnant, and that he was going to be a father, was a turning point in Butcher’s life. Before, he would have died for the cause, but now he couldn’t see himself doing that. He couldn’t see himself leaving behind you or his kid.

He had managed to get help from Grace Mallory with a secure apartment for the two of you. For a few months, you were under witness protection until Victoria Neuman came forward, presenting Butcher with a secure and safe job at the FBSA. It was his ticket to take out supes without putting you or the baby in danger.

Things were good for you and Butcher, and all you had to do now, was wait for the arrival of your son. Never had you seen Butcher so happy and excited for something. Your pregnancy had brought forth a whole new man and you adored every last bit of it.

One morning you were in your son’s blue-painted nursery. Most of his things were already set up and ready for him, but you had bought a few extra things to put in the room. More furniture, toys, and clothes.

You were standing on a step ladder, screwing a hanging bookshelf into the wall. When you heard the front door open, followed by Billy’s heavy footsteps, you sighed softly. He hated it when you did things like this. He hated it when you strained yourself around the apartment. But to him, even standing up was straining yourself too much.

You focused on getting the bookshelf on the wall as you listened to Billy’s footsteps walking down the hallway and stopping in front of the nursery. “Oi, what the bloody hell are you doing?” He questioned.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, offering him a sheepish smile as you shrugged your shoulders. “I bought some things for his nursery.” You replied, even though you knew that wasn’t exactly what he was referring to. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack seeing you on the step ladder.

His gaze drifted over the few boxes and bags of purchased items that lay across the floor and he raised his eyebrows at you. “Some things? By that, you mean the whole fuckin’ store?” He asked as he stepped into the room.

“It’s not that much.” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders as you grabbed a second hanging bookshelf. They were both equally small, meant to only fit a small amount of lightweight books.

Butcher stepped forward when he saw you climb back onto the step ladder again and stretched out to angle the shelf perfectly in line with the first one. “You can’t put those things up yourself, luv.” He argued with a shake of his head.

“Why not?” You asked as you looked down at him with furrowed eyebrows. “I can reach them.” You said as you shrugged your shoulders again.

He sighed as he shook his head again. “Just because you can reach them, ain’t mean you should be putting them up.” He argued as he held a hand out, wanting you to hand him the small shelf.

“Billy, it’s fine.” You sighed with a shake of your head, not handing over the shelf. “I’m fine, he’s fine.” You assured as you placed your free hand against your stomach, offering Butcher a smile

Butcher pursed his lips as he motioned with his hand for you to give him the shelf. “Here, let me do it for you.” He insisted, his voice soft and gentle. He was always cautious around you, as you got further along in your pregnancy and you had absolutely raging hormones that could go from 0 to a fucking blood bath in mere seconds.

You sighed, shoulders slouching as you stared down into his determined hazel eyes. “You’re not letting me do this, are you?” You asked softly as your head tilted to the side.

He pushed his tongue around against the inside of his cheek as he gave you a firm shake of his head. “Not a fuckin’ chance.” He replied.

You let out an overly dramatic sigh as you nodded your head. “Fine.” You huffed as you handed him the shelf, he took it in one hand and pressed the other hand against your waist, his hold secure as you slowly stepped off the ladder.

He took your place and began screwing the shelf securely against the wall. You watched him for a few seconds with your hands resting on your hips. Then the box of the rocking chair caught your attention. You kneeled down and grabbed a boxcutter. Butcher didn’t pay you any attention, thinking you were cutting open smaller items to put together.

He stepped off the ladder when he was done with the shelf and turned to you. His face fell when he saw you putting together the rocking chair. “What the bloody hell are ya doing now?” He asked as he raised his arms up by his side, by now looking done with you.

“Putting together this rocking chair.” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders. “Got it for a fucking bargain and a half.” You informed him as you waved a hand through the air, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Fucking hell, Y/n.” He sighed as he kneeled down on the ground next to you, taking away the large pieces of wood and sharp objects that lay around you.

Your eyebrows furrowed and a frown tugged at your lips as you stared at him. “Not, Billy I can do it.” You whined as you tried to grab the things back from him and both of you almost looked childish as he pushed it all out of your reach.

You huffed as you stared at Butcher, your frown deepening. He sighed and pursed his lips as he stared at you. “Go easy.” He pleaded as he reached out to place a hand on your swollen stomach.“You are carrying my child.” He reminded you. “Let me do this.” He pleaded.

“I’m pregnant, not fragile.” You replied softly as you placed your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze before you reached out, gripping onto the crib and pulling yourself up with a soft grunt.

“I ain’t takin the fuckin’ risk.” He replied with a shake of his head as he picked up a screwdriver to begin putting together the chair.  “Not with you, or this kid.” He said, pointing the screwdriver up at you and then towards your baby bump. You smiled softly as you stared down at him. You truly found this side of him endearing, even if it sometimes got overbearing how protective he was. “What you smiling about?” He asked as he quirked an eyebrow.

You shrugged your shoulders as your smile grew a little. “I like seeing you this way.” You replied softly as you absentmindedly rubbed your bump.

Butcher stared at you for a second before his gaze diverted down to the rocking chair and his eyebrows furrowed. “What way?” He asked in confusion.

“All protective, all smiley.” You replied softly as you reached your hand out to him. He took your hand and pulled himself up to his feet. While one hand wrapped around your waist, his other free hand rested against your bump, rubbing it softly. “Not looking for a reason to get yourself hurt.” You added softly as you sighed.

“I’ve told ya, I’m done with that shit.” He replied with a shake of his head. He was fine with his office job. Never did he want to go into the field again. Never did he want to be on the front lines of danger again. “I ain’t putting either of you in danger.” He said softly as his gaze flicked down to your stomach.

“I know.” You replied with a nod of your head as you reached up and cupped his cheek, your fingers brushing over his beard.  “Still, it’s nice to see this side of you.” You said softly before standing up on the tips of your toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, his lips working softly against yours. You pulled away, offering him a pleading smile. “Now, can I help with my baby’s room?” You asked as you quirked an eyebrow.

Butcher pursed his lips as he stared down at you, still rubbing your stomach. “Let me take care of it.” He pleaded softly, his eyebrows slightly knitting together.

You sighed, loosely wrapping both arms around his shoulders. “It’s my baby too you know.” You reminded with a light hearted tone of voice.

"Well, we both made that baby." He replied as he lifted his hand from your stomach and pointed at the bump.

You playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head. "Don't remind me." You muttered with a teasing voice as you took a few steps back, running a hand over your bump.

Butcher’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squinted as he stared at you. “Is that regret I hear?” He asked in a lighthearted tone as his head cocked to the side.

You raised your eyebrows, a smile tugging at your lips as you slowly shook your head. “No.” You assured softly as he took a step closer to you again, his hands reaching out to hold onto your hips. “There’s no regret.” You assured him. “Not about you, and not about him.” You said before standing up on the tip of your toes again and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Butcher tried to deepen the kiss but you pulled away, giving him a shy smile. “I have to pee…” You whispered.

Butcher rolled his eyes as he bit back the smile that tried to tug at his lips. “Way to ruin the mood, luv.” He teased as he pulled away from you.

“Your son thinks my bladder is a trampoline.” You huffed as your lips pouted out into a frown and you turned around, slowly making your way towards the door.

“Should you be wearing those adult diapers?” Butcher questioned, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips as he stared at you walk away, or as he’d like to comment on, waddled away.

You spun around, giving him a pointed look. “I will fucking kill you.” You warned as you pointed a threatening finger toward him.

Butcher chuckled, putting his hands up in defense. “Just asking.” He replied with a shake of his head. He watched you turn around and waddle out of the room, waiting before he called out after you. “I can go out a buy some.”

“Billy!” You snapped as you reached the bathroom and you could hear his low chuckle coming from the nursery. You let a small smile slip as you shook your head at him.

You and Butcher managed to finish the nursery together. All you were allowed to do was hand him things and put away the new clothes and toys. Most of your time was spent eating pieces of toast with melted butter. After that, you went to take a warm bubble bath and Butcher went to pick up dinner.

When you got out of the bathroom, Butcher had returned and you could smell the warm aroma of pizza coming from the kitchen. You waddled down the hallway, following the smell that made your stomach grumble. “Oh…is that pizza I smell?” You asked as you went into the kitchen.

Butcher let out a breath of amusement as he opened the pizza box. “Got the nose of a fucking police dog you.” He commented with a teasing voice as he wiggled a finger in your direction. He pulled out two plates, handing you one.

Like always, Butcher let you get the first serving, so he stepped back, watching as you placed slices of cheesy pizza on your plate. “I’m starving.” You sighed softly.

Butcher raised an eyebrow at you, his head tilting to the side. “You just had five slices of toast.” He reminded you as a small smile tugged at his lips.

“And now I’m gonna have five slices of pizza.” You replied with a sassy shrug of your shoulders as you returned his smile, taking a big bite of one of the slices already.

“Brought you  a diet coke too.” He informed you as he pointed towards one of the two diet cokes next to the pizza box before he filled his own plate with a few slices of pizza.

“Thank you.” You replied, placing a kiss on his bearded cheek before grabbing your diet coke and heading to the living room. Butcher followed after you and you both made yourselves comfortable on the couch.  You rested your plate on your lap, moaning softly in delight as you ate your pizza. There was a bit of silence between the two of you, but you interrupted it with a sharp gasp when your son kicked you hard and your hand shot down to your stomach. “Oh-”

If you were a supe with super hearing, you would have heard Butcher’s heart drop. He immediately set aside his plate of pizza and turned his attention to you. “What? What is it?” He asked as he placed a protective hand against your stomach.

You gasped as your son began kicking more and more. “He’s kicking a lot right now.” You uttered and Butcher let out a sigh of relief as he briefly closed his eyes. You took hold of his hand and moved it to where your son was kicking.  “Here.” You whispered.

The smallest smile tugged at Butcher’s lips at the feeling of his son’s kicks beneath the palm of his hand. “Fuck…I’ll never get over this feeling.” He whispered softly. You let out a grunt as the tiny kicks on one spot started to become sore. Butcher gave you a worried look before turning to your stomach, rubbing soothing circles against the spot. “Alright lad, calm down.”  He spoke softly to your bump. “You kick and your mum gets pissy with me.” He teased.

“I will throw you with a slice of pizza.” You warned Butcher with a pointed side eyes as you picked up a slice of pizza as a threat.

Butcher scoffed in amusement as he pulled away and sat back in his seat. “We both know you ain’t wasting a good fucking slice of pizza.” He said as he pointed a finger down at your pizza.

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was right. “Fine.” You huffed with a shake of your head. “I’ll throw you with something else.” You told him.

Butcher’s gaze shot down towards your stomach. “See what I mean?” He asked your bump as he quirked an eyebrow.

You huffed, placing a hand over your stomach as you scowled at Butcher. “Billy, you’re asking for it.” You warned him and he let out another chuckle.

He finished his food first and put his plate down on the coffee table before he turned to you. “Wanna put a movie on?” He asked as he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah.” You replied with a nod of your head as you munched on your pizza. “Let’s watch something scary.” You suggested and the two of you shared a smile. You had both always been suckers for scary movies and it was one of the many interests you shared.

Butcher put on a movie before shifting on the couch, getting into a comfortable position of half lying and half sitting. “Come here.” He called out as he spread his arm out and you set your pate aside as you scooted back, laying against his side as his arm wrapped around you and his hand protectively rested against your bump.

[grace-williams-xo]

RAMBLING THOUGHTS AFTER FINISHING PART TWO. GONNA ADDRESS MY P1 THOUGHTS FIRST. SPOILER WARNING.

1 & 2: I think Debling could’ve worked in the second half, and I’m kinda sad Cressida didn’t get a happy ending. The Creloise fell of a CLIFF after ep 5 but I think it could still be saved

5: no cishet man has ever loved his wife more than Anthony Bridgerton I’m gonna be ill

6 & 12: kanthony’s absence was felt BAD in the finale, I think their reactions to LW were sorely needed. Also Jonny and Simone have both said they’ll be at every sibling’s wedding and stick around for years but they missed Francesca’s??? Also felt their absence too much then. They’re both booked and busy I think we’ll continue to only get a couple episodes a season from them

8: Francesca did get to thrive happy in pt 2 my baby I love her

9: I think they managed to disconnect the mondrich plot even further like 😭 once again, I don’t mind them their plot just feels very empty

10: Pen and Delacroix CONTINUE to be my fave duo I love them so freaking much and they can never get rid of it

13: Portia’s growth this season continued to be 10/10 I loved her and Penelope’s relationship it really showed what it’s like to be closely related to people you oppose and the process of needing to forgive and understand them for your own peace of mind

14: that was not how I was expecting Colin to find out about Whistledown

15: Marcus felt a little rushed in part two but I think I need to watch the whole season together to fully decide

17: this was indeed the longest 27 days of my life I got Covid day after it dropped lmfao

MY ~NEW~ THOUGHTS:

We finally got character development from Cressida and if they write her out I’ll be inconsolable (as will Jessica Madsen)

I hope they paid Golda Rosheuvel good for her feet exposure. Worth more than titties in this economy

I feel the need to tell everyone that £5000 in 1815 is in the realm of £500,000 today and we cannot brush over the fact Penelope has made herself the equivalent of a literal millionaire

Anthony has two moods ‘I’m obsessed with my wife’ ‘I want to win this game’ like it is comical how drastically different his facial expression is in the game of charades compared to pretty much every other scene

Anthony saying the marriage is perfect and not hard work and Kate being like BOY I will humble you,,,, doing the lord’s work I love her so much

At some points I felt like Francesca was fighting Anthony for ‘Violet’s least favourite child’ award lmao

John saying he’s off to look at the wainscotting was unfairly funny

Cressida in the red dress is even better than I imagined fuck even if she’s not gay then I am

Peneloise back together the universe is healing I love my babies all we need now is creloise lovers and peneloise friendship simultaneously I don’t like it being one or the other sue me

However much Brimsley is getting paid isn’t enough,,,, Hugh Sachs the man that you are

I adored Penelope’s wedding dress so much and as bitter as I am still about no kanthony wedding in s2, it felt kind of right somehow for Polin to be the first wedding we properly see in this show

Most of the costumes and makeup feel like they got worse,,,,, big ‘I hired a 14 year old’ energy. I don’t need historical accuracy but I would like a modicum of care and the costume/hair/makeup dept looking at a single historical reference from before 1850,,,, please

We all got the bi Benedict we’ve been asking for and I appreciate it, and recognise that he needed Tilley to explore that, but I still would’ve preferred if they first main queer experience was not a threesome

If they go straight into benophie in s4 (which idk, I’m so torn bc I feel like F, E and B all could work well next season) then I also feel like bi Benedict was just them throwing a bone for 5 mins but meant nothing

The CONTENTIOUS Michaela Stirling,,,,, I was undecided until I saw it but that was the definition of gay panic from Francesca and it worked so well I am so excited.

As your resident peerage expert, it is much easier for women to inherit titles in Scotland than England so I wonder (not that anyone on this show knows anything) if that was a reason they chose Francesca to be sapphic [general peerage info and female inheritance info if you care]

On the above, if they can canonically end racism with one marriage then they can end homophobia with one marriage as well

We all know Eloise was the easy and obvious choice to be the queer love story but part of me does kind of like them not taking the easy route, and them going something more unexpected, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want Creloise/Sapphic El like they had eight children let’s be honest

Finch’s sneeze and Phillips’s “now Varely! The bugs!” were unfairly funny

Everything Lady Danbury said to Penelope about suspecting her and what not felt very in character and you can fight with the wall idc

Did they tell us the name of Polin’s baby boy???

Hyacinth saying she thinks of Gregory as the family pet,,,,, girl you an icon walking amongst mere mortals

Predictions I got right:

Anthony didn’t kill Colin, but “are you gonna duel your own brother” lmao I was on the right track

I knew Polin would win the Featherington baby race and I love that for them (but why were Prudence and Phillipa pregnant most of the season, barely showing, Kate was showing almost immediately, and then in the epilogue the sisters all had baby’s similar-ish ages???? Give the writers room a calendar please)

I SAID FROM DAY DOT THAT THE FURNITURE THEY BROKE FROM SEX WAS A CHAISE I CANT FIND THE POST BUT I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT WHERE DO I COLLECT MY PRIZE SOME OF YOUR GUESSES WERE TRULY FUCKING COOKED

Okay that was too long if you made it this far I’ll make you cookie ily

[bookishdaze]

Noa and Mae as Romeo and Juliet in the Next Planet of the Apes Movie?

Here's why a potential "love story" between Mae and Noa, whether explicit or simply implied, may not be such a terrible idea.

Why? Because Shakespeare told me so, that's why.

"When in doubt, it's from Shakespeare....or the Bible." At least according to a book I had to read for high school, lol.

The biblical references in Caesar's trilogy have been pointed out multiple times already, and these movies have also been described as Shakespearean tragedies. So I thought, 'ok, what kind of Shakespearean tragedy will we have this time around?'

I'm first gonna start off with Hamlet in the Caesar trilogy. I'm also gonna mention other popular movies that are based on Shakespeare's plays. Not necessarily because it's concrete proof that this is what will happen in future POTA movies. This is me simply picking up certain storytelling beats and patterns I've noticed in some of my favorite movies.

It's not 100% the same, but there are some similarities. Also, this isn't anything new. Many have pointed this out before, but I love talking about this stuff!

The Lion King, Black Panther, and Dawn of the Planet of the Apes are loosely based on Hamlet. A king or rightful heir is killed. Usually by an evil uncle, cousin, or family member. For some reason this always results in them falling off a very high cliff.

Everyone thinks they're dead, the evil relative takes power, and everything kinda sucks. There is not enough food in the Pride Lands under Scar's rule. Killmonger burns the heart-shaped herbs. Koba leads the apes to war against the humans.

The rightful ruler spends time in exile, recovering from their wounds and trauma. They might even get a visit or have a recollection of their dead father.

Then the rightful ruler comes back from the dead, challenges the usurper, and regains their rightful place upon the throne.

Now lets take a look at their sequels.

The Lion King 2 and Wakanda Forever share some similarities. They both follow another one of Shakespeare's popular plays, Romeo and Juliet.

Like the Montagues and Capulets, we have two rival kingdoms in both movies. We got the Pridelanders and the Outsiders. We also got the Wakandans and Talokanils.

The two heirs/rulers from both kingdoms meet. They hate and don't trust each other at first, but then they start to have compassion for the other. In Kiara and Kovu's case, they fall in love. Namor and Shuri don't fall in love, but after Namor shows her his underwater kingdom and what he has to protect, she softens and begins to understand him more. (They even got the whole Hades and Persephone thing going on, who are a couple in Greek mythology, by the way).

There are losses on both sides. Kovu's brother was killed while going after Simba. One of Namor's people was killed when Shuri was rescued by Nakia, and Shuri's mother, Queen Ramonda, died after Namor's attack on Wakanda. (Starts nervously eyeing Anaya here...)

These losses make things worse, by the way.

In the end, both pairs are able to bring the fighting between their people to a stop. The Outsiders are welcomed into Simba's pride. The Wakandans and Talokanils stop fighting after seeing their leaders return together.

In the end, they realize that they're the same. That they can't let hate and fear of the other side cloud their judgement.

Kiara tells her father, "A wise king once told me we are one....Look at them. They are us. What differences do you see?"

Shuri tells Namor while she spares his life, "Vengeance has consumed us. We cannot let it consume our people."

And I think this goes well with one of the core themes of these POTA movies. The apes are a mirror to humanity. We the audience are seeing us through them, and the characters in the movies themselves must come to the realization that they're the same.

Like when Caesar tells his son, "I always think ape better than human. I see now how much like them we are."

Maybe something similar like this will happen with Noa and Mae and whatever fight will happen between apes and humans. While I'm all for a good romance, it may end up being more like Namor and Shuri's case. There's something there. The tropes are present, but they don't fall in love. (At least not yet. Please Ryan Coogler, give me Nashuri endgame in Black Panther 3, hehe).

This is just a theory, by the way. This doesn't have to happen, but I just think it'd be neat. There would be differences though. What those differences would be, idk, but whatever happens in the next one, I can't wait!

"But but.... aren't you forgetting something?"

What's that?

"Don't they...ya know...both die at the end?"

Besides, they don't have to die. Things can be a little more hopeful for our two heroes 🙈

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

Having to be in pairs for a group project, two people with mixed feelings work together to create a presentation. Going into eachothers houses is easy until a certain cat wants to play cupid. Feelings erupt, and miscommunication has to be endured. A soccer game in the rain might prove that Descamps listens more than he should.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: bullying (poor pichon), boys being boys, very confusing feelings, angst bcs of achilles and patroclus (maybe even joseph and reader???), miscommunication in the enemies to lovers department, swearing

This chapter has references to The Song of Achilles book (ik its not the right timeline, but we have to do this for the angst so bare w me)

===

===

Chapter three: He is half my soul, as the poets say

===

The scores of our exams are being published. I sit in my seat, eyes scanning the numbers and fingertips smoothing out the paper. Most of them are in the ranges of 12-16, which is good enough for me.

"As you know, this is a school where we like to experiment with new methods. Next week, we are going to try a new approach." I look up from my papers, interested in the proposal of something new.

"You're going to prepare a presentation, working in pairs. You'll be working with the classmate sitting next to you, and then you'll present your work in class together. And for a sense of free will, you can present about any subject. How does that sound?"

I look to the girl next to me. Her name was Louise. She's quiet most of the time and keeps to herself. I smile softly. She smiles back.

The teacher clears his throat, eyes on Descamps and Dupin. "You two, of which I already expect a chaotic presentation, will be paired with someone else." His eyes land on me and Louise. Please, no.

"Descamps and Pardine, Louise and Dupin. Please remember your partner." I internally groan, placing my head into my hands. I look to my side, already seeing Louise and Dupin waving to each other, Louise giggling. I groan again. I don't look at Descamps. He doesn't, either.

Pichon raises his hand. "What if we're sitting alone?" The class laughs. I look at Pichon in pity.

"Well, you can work with Ms. Sabiani." The teacher says in response.

"Look. Pichon is blushing. He's turned pink like a pig." Dupin says, and the class laughs again. Even Louise giggles. She likes him, it's obvious, but what is there to like? I roll my eyes.

"That's enough, Dupin." The teacher shouts at him, the smile on his face gone. Annick raises her hand.

"Do we really have to work in pairs?" She asks.

"That's the whole point." He answers. "And I'm warning you, half a pair's work will result in half the grade."

××《☆》××

As I walk down the stairs, I look up when I hear pigs oinking. I wasn't wrong. Descamps' group of friends are pigs.

When I spot Simone and Michèle in the bench under the tree, our usual spot, I make my way to them.

"Help me gain some decency to go up to Descamps and not punch him in the face." I groan as I sit on the bench with them.

"It's unfortunate for you. Our teacher could've picked anyone else." Michèle says, pity in her voice.

"Should I go talk to him now or later?" They don't answer because they see Descamps make his way towards us.

I fight the urge to start an argument with him. About anything, really. Just to get him to stay a bit longer. I clear my throat at the thought.

"Your place?" He says, now standing infront of us, hands in his pockets. I nod once, and he walks away.

"Thank god that was over quick." Something deep inside me knew I didn't mean that.

Jean Pierre walks towards us with a book in hand. I look at Simone with a teasing smile, but there's something in her eyes I can't really tell. Like she knows something.

"Here, this is yours." He hands Michèle the book. "I put it in my bag by mistake." Michèle thanks him. He walks away with a 'see you later'.

Michèle continues to complain to us about her grades. Simone sighs, mind floating away. I look at her confused. I'll ask her about it later.

I look towards Applebaum. We make eye contact, and I smile. He looks away, fear in his eyes. What's up with everyone today?

××《☆》××

In one of those rare moments, my parents are home for dinner. We sit in the dining table, enjoying our food.

"Someone's coming over tomorrow. I know you won't be here, but I thought it'd be better if you knew." I tell them, handing small bits of food to George.

"Oh? What will you be doing?" My father asks, cutting his food into smaller pieces.

"Group project. We'll probably just stay in my room." I pet George as he eats his food.

"Are we going to meet her even after the project?" My mother says, looking up from her food.

"He, actually. And no." This makes them pause, silence surronding the room. My father clears his throat.

"A boy? And both of you will be in your room?" He says, placing his elbows on the table.

I take time to process this. "Papa, no. It's not like that." I turn red in my seat. "Trust me, it's just a project. Nothing else."

"Of course we trust you. It's just, you know. You're a teen, and teens go through... stuff." My mother says, stuttering a bit. I cover my face with my hands.

"Mama, please don't make it weird." I groan.

"No, it's perfectly normal for your age. If you want, we can forget about it-" I cut her off.

"Yes, please. Forget about it." I cut my food aggressively, face as warm as my plate.

We stay quiet as we finish the rest of our dinner.

××《☆》××

"The league of nations, L.O.N..." I fade the rest of the discussion out, watching the way the sun rests on the trees leaves, the birds tending to themselves. Last nights conversation clouds my mind, and I catch myself smiling for no reason.

I sigh every time, biting my lip in my own embarrassment. I glance at Descamps. He's focusing on the lesson for once. Nothing will happen at my place, right?

He feels my gaze on him and gently turns his head. His eye meets mine, and there's a small quirk on the corner of his lip.

"Quiet at the back." Ms. Giraud calls out suddenly.

Descamps looks away. I purse my lips, something stirring in my chest. My breathing is faster, and I feel warmer. Have I gotten sick already?

Annick walks into the room, hair tousled and frizzy. Ms. Giraud shouts at her, and my ear drums are about to explode.

Ms. Giraud gives Annick detention, and with every word Annick said back, an hour or two more.

Ms. Giraud continues to piss me off every second of the day with her strictness and very clear jealousy towards Annick. She finally continues the discussion, and I (annoyingly) decide to finally listen.

××《☆》××

I wait right outside the gate for Descamps. He comes running to the gate but slows down when he sees me, acting like he wasn't just leaping to get here.

"Hey." He says, acting nonchalant. He even has his hand in his pocket.

"Hi. Let's get going." I keep my face blank as I lead the way to my place. We walk in silence, listening to our footsteps next to each other.

Once we make it to my flat's building, I go up the steps, stopping in front of my door and unlocking it.

We step inside, the flat looking warm with the sunlight entering through the windows. I lock my door and drop the keys on my kitchen counter.

"Your coat?" I reach my hands out. He throws his coat to me, the heaviness of it making me stumble. I scowl but hang it anyway.

"Head to my room. Down the hallway to the right." I say as I grab a few supplies from my father's office.

"Want me in your bed already?" He calls out once he's inside. I hear a yelp.

I run to my room. "Descamps, are you okay?" I ask worriedly. He stares at George.

"What is that?" He points to George, who's currently walking toward me. I bend down and pet him, planting a kiss on his head.

"This is George." I carry George and craddle him like a baby. I walk towards Descamps with the furball in my arms. I rock him slowly.

"You can touch him if you want. He doesn't bite." I smile at the orange cat, then look up at Descamps. He's staring at me with the most soft look I've seen him wear. My heart thumps in my chest.

He clears his throat, hand going up shakily to pet George. George purrs when Descamps pets him. There's now a smile on Descamps face, as warm as his stare.

I bite my lip at the proximity. I memorise as much as I can about him.

The way he was breathing, like he was on a bed so soft he could sink into it. The way he smelt like faded cigarette smoke and expensive cologne. The way his bones moved under his skin as he bent over to take a closer look at George. The number of times he's blinked, the number of times he's laughed under his breath.

I dive deeper into my trance as he looks up at me. The way he stared now is so different from the way he did all those times before. Like we knew something that we haven't acknowledged yet. Or chose not to.

Something falls in the kitchen, and we snap back to reality. My face warms up, the lighting from the windows making it clearer.

Descamps walks away from me, clearing his throat again. "The cat's ugly." This makes me snap my head to his direction.

"What did you just say?" My brows furrow, defensive of the cat sleeping in my arms.

He rolls his eye. "Nothing. Let's get the project started, I guess." I glare at him for a couple more seconds, then I gently place George down on the bed, excusing myself to get more stuff from my father's office.

When I'm halfway to my room, I hear whispering. I peek at the slit on my door, wondering what was happening behind it.

Descamps is petting George, whispering words as if he's hushing a baby to sleep.

My aura softens, and my heart bursts with admiration. I accidentally drop something and curse to myself. Descamps hears the thud on the floor and pushes himself away from George. George continues to sleep.

I open the door then close it gently. "Let's get started."

××《☆》××

"Do you have suggestions?" I ask Descamps. He doesn't answer, his head turned to the side. I sigh.

Before I could say anything, he talks. "What's that?" He nods to the book on my shelf. It was a copy of the story of Achilles and Patroclus, with a notebook strapped on the front.

"It's nothing important." I shake my head. He purses his lips in thought.

"Can I see it?" His question catches me off guard, his head finally turning to look at me. No one's ever showed interest in my books or notes. I stay quiet, then after a while, I nod.

He gets up from the bed and grabs the book. He takes the string that attaches the notebook to the copy off. He scans the back of the book and hums.

"We can base the project off of this, if you don't mind." He holds up the paperback and the notebook. I'm stunned in my place.

"It's really not that interesting-"

"It must be if you had a whole notebook dedicated to it." There isn't even a teasing tone when he said that. He meant it genuinely.

"Fine." I sigh, grabbing the notebook from his grasp.

"Good." "Great." "Amazing." "Piss off." "Whatever."

"Mind if you read it to me?" He says. "I have a feeling I'll understand better when you say it, since it's your work."

I nod, hesitantly. I opened the first page of my notebook. Most of the stuff I've written in it is a summary and a review of the book.

He leans back on my pillows. I let him. I started to read.

"Patroclus was a young prince, exiled from his kingdom for accidentally killing a boy, and was taken in by their neighbouring king, King Peleus."

George purrs as I pet him. I shift to a more comfortable sitting position. Descamps' eyes are on me.

"When Patroclus first saw Achilles, it was in a competition run by Patroclus' father. He described Achilles as if he was looking at a painting made with precision and grace." I flip the page. George walks over to Descamps' lap. I huff, ignoring it.

"When they met and officially talked, Patroclus thought he'd hated Achilles. Achilles and his beauty, his speed, his perfection. In the years that pass, they grow to be attached to the other." George meows. The meow that indicates he wants petting.

I pause my reading, and Descamps looks at me confused. "Why'd you stop?"

"George wants pets." Descamps makes an 'oh' sound and pets George. He meows again.

"Maybe he wants you." Descamps says, petting the fur baby on his lap. I sigh and lean in close to pet George. With the uncomfortable position, I shift to sit beside Descamps on the bed. I clear my throat and pet George. I continue to read.

"They knew everything about each other. What they'd prefer, like how I like the rain too much to cover it with an umbrella, but know I'll get sick without it. That's how the two worked. They knew every detail, every routine, every habit, every movement. A love you'd have to fight the gods for."

A page is flipped, smoothing out of paper echoes in the room.

"Achilles and Patroclus loved each other with every inch of their heart and soul. Quoting the book, Patroclus states, 'He is half my soul, as the poets say'. Along with the famous paragraph." My eyes switch to the next page.

Descamps shifts in his place, leaning back on the pillows, looking at the pages where I'm reading off of. I start to relax, leaning back, too. George purrs.

"I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."

I take a glance at Descamps, and he's already looking at me. George snores in his sleep, making the aura of the room warmer. More comfortable.

His eye dropped to my lips, and I could've sworn I was hearing a heartbeat as fast as the wind at fall. I glance at his, pink and soft, like a cushion ready for rest.

When we lean in, slowly, too slow, my heart drops as he pulls away and stretches. I furrow my eyebrows, a dread of realisation. He's been toying with me. I close my notebook and gather my things.

"Where are you off to?" He asks. I don't answer him.

"Hey," He grabs my arm. I take it back from him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." I say coldly. "I'll finish this project myself."

"What? No. This is a group project remember?"

"I can't keep doing this. You're too hard to work with." I stack the books and materials in my arms.

"We haven't even gotten anything done yet." He flops his hands in the air.

"Exactly. You're too distracting."

"What did I do? I've been quiet the whole time."

"Yeah, well, that's the problem. You're too quiet. You aren't suggesting things."

"What does that have to do with anything?" He raises his voice.

"Just shut up, okay? Just leave. I told you I'll finish the project by myself." I get up from the bed, heading to my father's office.

"But I don't get why you're suddenly mad!" He stands up, following me.

"You don't have to know. Just leave me alone, okay?"

"Fucking fine. You're being too stubborn anyways. Do all the work. Getting pissed off for no fucking reason." He grabs his coat from the rack, putting it on. He doesn't even glance at me, opening and shutting the door with a loud slam.

I even out my breathing. It was going fine. Then I think to myself, what was? Me and Descamps, going fine? I laugh at the thought. I hated that boy. I hated him with my whole heart. My mind travels to the notes I was just reading.

Patroclus had thought he hated Achilles in the start, too. I shake the thought out of my head, slipping against the wall to sit on the floor, knees to my chest.

I hear tapping on the floor boards. I look to my side to see George, meowing softly. I take a deep breath in, then reach my hand out to pet him.

I hate him. And I know I do. He lingers in my mind like a fog in the mountains. The way his aura had softened, his smile, his warmth. I hated the thought of him, but then he smiled, and like Achilles, his face was like the sun.

××《☆》××

Night comes, and I lay in my bed, windows slightly open for the wind to come through. I'm restless, not getting a blink of sleep. I'm halfway through the project already. If Descamps had helped, it'd take longer, I think to myself, trying to still feel angry.

I don't feel angry at all anymore. There's a sort of regret in me for pushing him away. But at the same time, it's what he deserved. We had leaned in, and I didn't even know what I was expecting. I should've expected him to pull away, but what was he going to do in the first place?

Was he going to whisper in my ear? If so, what would he whisper to me? Was he going to say something about how I write, how I speak? A thought so blurry pops up in my head, and I brush it off. But it felt warm, so safe, so soft. There was a scent stuck in my head as I reminisced on the thought, trying to figure out what I was thinking.

I fall asleep in the process, dreaming about the thought instead. Limbs touching, bending, adjusting. I taste cigarettes and strawberries. I smell smoke and expensive perfume. I feel something soft against my lips, hands cupping my face, my neck, my head, and my waist.

He felt warm, tall, and heavy against me. I hold onto the dream, relaxing.

××《☆》××

I wake up, sweat coating my skin. George sits on the window sill, the sun making him shine like gold. I sit up and stretch. I get off my bed and head to my bathroom.

My hair is messy, and I have a bit of dried drool on the corner of my mouth. I wash my face to give myself some energy. I take my clothes off lazily, tying my hair up and getting inside my shower.

Once I finish, I comb and fix my hair, head to the kitchen for a quick breakfast, grab my things for school, including the unfinished project, and head to the front door.

A stack of paper tied with string greets me. I furrow my eyebrows. There's no note. I squat down and pick it up. I instantly know who it's from.

It's an essay about Achilles and Patroclus, detailed and opinionated. Written on the last piece of paper, sitting at the bottom of the stack, it reads, "I bought a copy. Finished it for you."

I stood still, processing the words, flipping through the papers to double check if they're authentic. I let out a scoff of surprise. My head snaps to a nearby clock. I'm going to be late if I don't start walking now.

My feet carry me to the front gates of Voltaire, the familiar faces and light chatter calming me. I spot Simone and Michèle, and I make my way to them.

××《☆》××

Rain starts to fall. The rain always brought me comfort. The different sounds it made when hitting different objects, the way it sways with the wind, the smell it gives the grass after.

I lag behind Simone and Michèle as they make their way to the field. I look for my satchel, then remember I'd forgotten my umbrella. I curse to myself, finding the satchel. It felt heavier than usual. I look inside, then see a clear umbrella. I open it and twist it around, gaping in awe. There's a note in the bag. I open to read it.

"Don't get sick from what you love." The note said.

There's only one person I've told about my love for rain.

I head outside, hiding my red face once I see a drenched one-eyed boy. I smile to Simone and Michèle, spotting them seated on a bench. I glance behind me as I sit down, finding an eye already looking at me with a small smile. His smile drops, and he looks away when I catch him. I purse my lips.

We watch the match, getting my mind off of the boy with ash brown hair. Once the match finishes, we all make our way home. I look up, seeing the rain pattering against the clear umbrella. I smile, watching the water droplets slip off the plastic, hearing the pattering of rain.

××《☆》××

The next day, I repeat my routine. I thoroughly read through Descamps' essay, rewritting it to fit in with mine. I should be thankful, and I am, but Descamps is making my head hurt with the way he acts. I walked to school, going subject after subject, until our presentation finally came.

Earlier, I'd slipped him the script, tucking it in his bag. I hope silently that he's memorised it.

Annick and Pichon are presenting in front of the class. I smiled softly, impressed by the presentation, and refreshed with the dynamic of the two. If only things had gone differently with Descamps, we could've been good friends. But we aren't. I don't think we ever will.

Once they finish, our teacher calls me and Descamps to the front. My anxiousness radiates off my body. Simone and Michèle give me a reassuring look. I nod at them slightly.

My eyes meet Descamps, and we're standing at the front of the class. They're quiet, and my eyes scan all of them. Surprisingly, Descamps starts.

"Me and Pardine are going to present the story of Achilles and Patroclus and the debate of their relationship; romantic or platonic?" Descamps looks at me, his hand hovering at the small of my back for support.

I start, and faster than I thought, I finish the presentation. The room claps, as they do with the others. I glance at Descamps but see him already walking back to his seat. My smile dropped slowly, remembering I was still on his bad side, and vice versa.

I walk back to my seat quietly. I don't even hear the score because my mind is too occupied with the thought of him. Would we stay angry at eachother always? At the same time, it shouldn't matter. I hate him. Right?

I shake my head. I hate him, surely. I should. I dig deep in my head for a reason. Bullying Pichon and Michèle, toying with my feelings (feelings I'm not aware whether it's good or bad), the way he acts, and smells, and feels when he's near.

I fucking hate him. I really do. I hate him, I repeat in my head. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

Then, like earlier, something inside me knows I don't mean it.

At the end of the day, I make peace with solitude. My mind wanders, and I notice that every time it does, they always end up with the face of a one-eyed boy.

Sure, Descamps gave me a finished essay for our project, and sure, he gave me an umbrella that was clear so I could see the rain. So what? I still hate him. Maybe just a little less now.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter three: He is half my soul, as the poets say.

Next- Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

××《☆》××

End of chapter three. Rollercoaster of emotions this one. It's a bit shorter than usual because i took out a bunch of the scenes in the series to focus on the emotions of reader and hopefully u guys get what im trying to give. Thanks for reading, requests r open, and see u next chapter!!!