#also yes. i used different scenes for the quotes and not when they said it. i tried. didn't like it

[xthecaptainssaviorx]

[i-hate-accidents]

i hate accidents: the beginning

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary:  the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections:  I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n:  bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings:  classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, positive/supportive families, allusions to alcohol abuse in [I.viii]

word count:  13.9k (of 38.8k)

story context:  everything in s1 and s2 of the tv series is canon for this story except for the s2 epilogue with the bridgertons.  this story takes place leading up to and into the 1815 season. 

additional notes:  this story is incomplete. scenes that are not written are described in chevrons <> with third person pov or are delineated by isolated ellipses. additionally, the author has only watched s2!  she has not watched any of s1 aside from clips, and they have not read the books aside from quotes used in edits.  they have not yet watched queen charlotte.  the author kinda knows the gist of an offer from a gentleman; they are familiar with sophie beckett (and are excited to meet her/them in the tv series!).

author’s note:  this is the first time the author has written fanfic in 13-15 years.  :)  it is her hope that they have made some progress since her pre/teens.  additionally, this fanfic has been written, on and off, over the course of two years.  the author sincerely hopes you find some sort of joy in it, especially the readers who maybe hope to see themself a little more specifically in the world we so love.

reading tip: whilst the author is proud of it, she understands the intro to the first section is long. if you wish to get more straight to y/n and benedict's story, the author suggests jumping to [I.ii]. they won't be offended that you did heh.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you do not know how you got here.

well, that is not true; you quite literally walked from the markets and followed the directions that penelope had given you, but you did not think those directions would lead you here.

this is a mistake.  i must have taken a wrong turn, gone up instead of down, made a left when i should’ve taken a right. 

or perhaps this is a dream?  yes!  that has to be it!  a dream!  i must have lulled off and dreamt myself here, for whatever reason.  once i close my eyes and open them again, surely i will be at home, or the markets, or the workshop even.  surely!  

so, you close your eyes shut.

you had been walking about the markets on your non-work day, some weeks ago, browsing the wares you wouldn’t (and couldn’t) buy, eavesdropping on any conversation of intrigue, observing the bustle of the crowd going about their day, mindlessly thinking of the next thing to write, daydreaming—when you had collided with someone.  they had let out a squeak, their materials flying out of their hands, as you had fallen on your back, thankfully not hitting your head.  in your periphery, you had seen how the person had crawled to your side and looked at you with urgency and concern.

“i am so sorry!”  their voice was pretty.  sweet and lovely.  you lifted yourself up a bit to see the person you had collided with.  they were also pretty— beautiful, red-haired, and hooded in blue.  

their eyes widened.

“er, i meant,” they spoke again, but this time with an— irish accent?  their voice was still sweet and lovely but very distinctly irish and distinctly different from their voice mere moments before. “are you hurt?”

“i am all right, thank you.”

“very well,” they said, still in their irish accent, “then i must be going—”  and they shot themself up and turned, you assumed, to run away.

“wait!  you’re a writer, yes?”

as you had hoped, the person in blue froze.  they slowly turned to you again, apprehension and intrigue in their eyes.

“how do you know?”  their voice was mangled between their two accents.

“unless you pluck birds for fun,” you stated as you collected the scattered materials they had dropped in the collision, “these are quills.”

you stood up, approached them, and held out their quills to take, offering a smile.  the stranger took the quills and put them in their bag.  they returned their eyes to you and returned your smile.

“thank you,” they responded in their english accent.

“i know how precious those are, so i am very glad to see they won’t go to waste.  well, they wouldn’t have gone to waste either way; i would’ve taken them if you hadn’t turned around.”

that caused the person in blue to laugh.

“i assume you are a writer?” they inquired.

you don’t know what had overcome you; you don’t know why you had been so trusting of this stranger, especially with something such as your writing, but you had been. you reached for your then most recent, folded up quarto, kept between your bosom and your blouse, and offered it to the stranger to read.  they took it, shifted their eyes from line to line, turned it to read the crossed lines, and then looked up at you, beaming.

“this is brilliant!— oh, forgive me; i did not even ask for your name.”

“y/n,” you extended your hand.  “and you?”

the stranger seemed to stiffen but quickly relaxed themself, taking your hand in theirs and shaking them.  they beamed still, but something of their smile had grown quietly mischievous.

“can you keep a secret?”

when you open your eyes, you huff out a breath in a poor attempt to assuage yourself from the reality of your situation:  you are not dreaming.  here you are—you—at grosvenor square.  

you knew of your friend’s circumstances as she had shared it:  she is a noble lady, a third sister of the featherington family, who has been writing scandal sheets of high society’s romps and happenings since her ‘debut,’ as she had put it (you hadn’t understood how she had used that word and became further confused upon her explanation of it), under a pseudonym called lady whistledown.  penelope has been kind enough to let you read her sheets, and you find it ridiculous what these high society persons do for their lives and utterly brilliant with what wit, snark, and compassion even penelope commentates on that world.  

but you did not ever, ever think that she would bring you to it, let alone into it.  when penelope had said that you were to meet her most beloved friend, you had thought it would be in an obscure alley or a room hidden behind a bookcase in an unassuming shop—not the literal neighborhood in which she, and presumably her friend, lives!  by your posture, by your clothes, by your very existence, it is blatant how much you do not belong here.

i should run.  i am going to run.

and so you turn and start—

“y/n!”

—when you hear the sweet voice of your friend.  you scrunch your eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling through your nose, and turn around and see penelope in a picturesque green dress, lifting up her skirt with gloved hands, scurrying down the pavement of her neighborhood towards you, beaming.  despite the anxiety that rages within you at this very moment, your heart swells upon seeing your friend in such enthusiastic spirits, and you smile despite yourself.

“good day, pen.”

she takes hold of your bare hands in her gloved ones and gives them a squeeze.  perhaps she can discern your nerves because you start to feel yourself calm ever so slightly by her gesture.

“i am so glad you are here,” she says.

“i am—— glad to see you,” you then lower your voice.  you do not know why; it is not as if your lowered voice will help conceal your existence in this place.  “are you certain i am permitted to be here?”

letting go of your hands, penelope swats at the question.

“the bridgertons and i care not about such things.”

“the— bridgertons?” 

“yes!” she turns and gestures to the grand brick house with wisterias.  “it is at their home, after all, in which we will be spending our time together.”

your jaw drops.

“we are staying inside the house?  not simply meeting outside the house?”

this is not a dream.  this is a nightmare.

penelope returns her eyes to yours, and it startles you with what tenderness she gazes at you.

“i understand that you are fearful, y/n.  i had presumed you would not have come if you had known we would be here.  but i would not have led you to bridgerton house if i did not think you would be safe here.  the bridgertons are the most inviting, kindly family of the ton— of high society,” she amends upon seeing your confusion at the word ‘ton.’  their name for their world, it seems.  “eloise has assured me that we shall be in her bedchamber for the entirety of our time together.  and if you wish to leave, for any reason, at any point, i shall accompany you, and we shall leave together.”

with closed eyes you heave a sigh through your nose.  you flutter your eyes open and offer penelope a weak, but sincere, smile.

“very well.”

penelope squeaks in excitement, taking hold of your hand once more, giving it another squeeze of encouragement, and leads you towards this bridgerton house as she so called it.  she raps at the stately door thrice with great eagerness, seeming to knock in perfect tandem with your beating-too-quickly heart.

an elderly man opens the door, about to greet penelope and her guest, when a young femme shoves herself through the opening.

“thank you, giles!” she calls out as if the man is across the road and then looks at you, ferocity in her eyes.  it ought to unnerve you, the whirlwind force of this stranger, but it doesn’t.  you just return her gaze with a large, albeit a bit bemused, smile.

“penelope has shared so much about you,” the stranger states and takes hold of your hand.  “let us get inside!” and yanks you into the house.  she turns, looking straight ahead, and barrels forward, pulling you with her.

as the fiery femme seems to soliloquize excitedly to herself, you look back at penelope who merely wears an amused smile at her friend’s antics as she follows behind.

“oh!” the femme exclaims suddenly.  she halts you both and sharply turns to you, still gripping your hand, grinning.  “my name is eloise.  eloise bridgerton.”

“y/n y/l/n.”

“excellent.  now!  with introductions all sorted—”

and she turns and barrels you both right, rather than heading straight ahead to the grand staircase as you had presumed she would.

“eloise—” eloise’s fervency had provided a reprieve to your anxiety, but the confusion in penelope’s voice puts you back ill at ease, “where are you—”

“it’ll take just a moment, worry not, pen!”

eloise leads you down a hall, noises and voices of all sorts coming from an entrance to a room, growing louder and louder as you approach until they reach the peaks of their volume as eloise halts you both once more, to your mortification, at the entrance of that very room.

“family, penelope, y/n, and i shall be in my bedchamber.  we have much to discuss.  please do not bother us,” eloise proudly announces to the entirety of the room.

silence falls.  all eyes—and there are many eyes—are on you.

oh, my god.

you turn to penelope.  her overall manner is calm and composed, but you can see the disquiet in her eyes.  she peers into you, the apologetic look conveying, i did not know this would happen.

you turn back to the family.  

a lady.  a lady of older age.  two gentlemen with a difference in age.  a boy.  a girl, the youngest amongst them.  

how is it with a house this massive in the middle of the city that the entire family is present in this one room?  well, the room is the size of the two floors of your home combined, if not larger, so in that sense it is sound—but your question still stands.

this has to be the entire family.  surely.  there are so many of them.  this has to be the entire family.  yes?

“no talking, no music playing, no fighting?” inquires a droll voice walking into the room, “has someone—” 

you turn your head to follow the source of the voice and make contact with dumbfounded ocean eyes.   

butterflies flutter in your stomach.

oh.

shit.

“y/n, this is my second eldest brother, benedict bridgerton,” eloise states.  “benedict, this is my friend, y/n y/l/n.  do not bother us once we are in my bedchamber.”

he stares and blinks at you but then assumes a gentlemanly posture and bows his head.

“it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss y/l/n.”

without any forethought you start to extend a hand to benedict until you hear penelope give a slight cough only you, she, eloise, and he can hear.  receiving the hint, you retract your hand and pretend to swat at your skirt.

“err— yes.  likewise.” 

another cough. 

“mis, ter?— brid… ger?—ton,” you articulate with complete and utter uncertainty of how this world’s introductions function.

he cocks his head and furrows his eyebrows at you, something like amusement playing at his features.  he wears a lopsided smile that he is barely attempting to conceal.  his expression should be infuriating.  and it is.  but, it is... charming, too.  and welcomed.

you have never felt more embarrassed or more pleased in your life.

shit.

“before the three of you retreat to eloise’s bedchamber,” declares an authoritative voice, breaking your reverie.  you turn away from ocean eyes and see the lady of the room approaching you.  much to your surprise, she smiles.  to an even greater surprise, her smile seems sincere.  “i must insist that i introduce myself and the rest of the family to our guest.  

“i am viscountess kathani sharma bridgerton, the lady of this house,” she curtsies with perfect elegance.  “it is a delight to welcome you to our home, miss y/l/n.”

“thank you for having me— lady bridgerton.  and you may call me ‘y/n.’  you need not use such, uh, formalities with me.”

“very well; then you may call me ‘kate.’”

you furrow your eyebrows.  she had introduced herself as ‘kathani’ but now asks you to call her ‘kate.’  it makes you think of mama and papa; they shared with you once how they had chosen to go by different names upon emigrating to england.  when you had asked why, they simply replied that it would be easier for others in this country to address them.  

“may i call you ‘kathani’ instead?”

surprise flashes over the dignified demeanor of the viscountess.  she regards you with softness in her eyes.

“yes.  yes, you may.”

resuming her full composure, kathani guides you to the eldest of the gentlemen and introduces him as her husband, viscount anthony bridgerton, the lord of the house.  he offers you a small smile with a bow of his head and greets you ‘good day.’  you try not to wince at his decorous use of ‘miss’ with your first name, but you suppose it is merely in these people’s natures.  

kathani continues and leads you to the lady of older age, introducing her as dowager viscountess violet bridgerton.  she dips into a lovely curtsy and, on her rise, gazes upon you with a gentle smile.  you feel compelled to respond in kind, but it would certainly not be as graceful as hers, and worse, she may interpret your slovenly attempt as a lark.  so, you refrain.  

the viscountess next introduces you to mister colin bridgerton (you summon all your self-restraint to keep your countenance neutral—this is the boy who hurt penelope); then to mister gregory bridgerton (he bows so ceremoniously towards you, you cannot help but be endeared by his resolve); and lastly to miss hyacinth bridgerton.

“why are you dressed like that?” she inquires.

“hyacinth!” the dowager viscountess reprimands.  she must be her mother.  she sounds like a mother.  it reminds you of how your mama reprimanded you and your siblings as little ones; the memory and the exchange make you hold back a laugh.

“what!  what did i say wrong?”

you ought to feel self-conscious, your lower standing brought into further display to everyone in the room, but you detect neither malice nor judgment in the young girl’s voice.  just genuine curiosity.  so, you smile.

“my family and i have different means to clothes, amongst other things.  i wear these when i work or go about my day.  though,” you regard your attire and then— hyacinth?, feeling the glimmer in your eye, “it makes for running around and playing make-believe quite easy.”

“make-believe!  gregory, do you hear that!  miss!— miss—“ she turns to you with a cocked head.  

“y/n.”

her eyes shine once again.

“miss y/n plays make-believe!  we must play!” hyacinth latches onto your hand and, with remarkable strength for a child who cannot be older than two and ten, pulls and drags you towards the entrance of the room.  “come along, gregory!  wouldn’t want to be the last one there!”

“no fair!  you cheated!” the second youngest shouts back, dropping all previous ceremonies, and scrambles towards the entrance.

“hyacinth!  y/n is not your playmate!  she is here with me and penelope!”

“plans do change, dear sister,” hyacinth retorts.  eloise’s jaw drops, and the rest of the family bursts into laughter.  the entire exchange warms your heart.  in so many ways, they are so proper, so wealthy, and yet they are not all so different from your own family.  they seem to really care for one another.

“when did you get so smug!” eloise shoots back.

“small wonder where she could’ve learned that from,” you hear colin, the traitor, murmur.  turning your head, you see him give amused, pointed looks to eloise and kathani.  the latter grins wickedly, and her husband beams at her with pride. 

“there are only so many hours in a day!” hyacinth complains.  you face her once more, still holding her hand.

“what about this?  i will play with you and your brother for an hour, and then i will be with your sister and penelope for my remaining time here.  i want to honor the wishes of each of my new friends.”

hyacinth considers this with much theatricality to her expression.  she then grins.

“that is an excellent plan,” she remarks, looking to eloise for her thoughts.  you follow her line of sight.  eloise rolls her eyes and sighs, but a smile rests on her lips.

“very well, then.”

feeling peace restored, you smile in return and, in doing so, in your periphery, catch the ocean eyes of the second eldest brother.  benedict.  he is looking at you.  why is that?  you feel your cheeks flush and the tips of your ears heat.  his gaze is somehow gentle and intense and indecipherable all at once, and the flutterings in the pit of your stomach grow, and intensify, and start to overwhelm you—

when you are tugged back to reality with a tug forward.

–

< hyacinth leads y/n through the house to the gardens with gregory by her side.  y/n is both uneasy and in awe of the things she sees.  eventually, they arrive in the gardens.  y/n notices two swings hanging off of a large branch of an old tree and is utterly endeared by the sight; it confirms what she has been thinking:  though the bridgertons are wealthy, they are warm and welcoming.

< just as hyacinth declares that she has found a suitable spot for make-believe, two male voices ask if they may join.  hyacinth, gregory, and y/n turn and see benedict and colin approaching.  colin shares that though y/n seems lovely, it would be unwise of the family to leave the two youngest with a stranger; though y/n agrees with his family’s caution, she refrains from wanting to strangle the person who hurt her friend.

< gregory whines and asks if they can begin before eloise complains.  hyacinth agrees and says that they need to assign characters.  y/n suggests that hyacinth should be a sorceress and gregory should be a knight; these proposals delight the youngest bridgertons.  y/n volunteers herself as the villain and decides to be a banshee; she turns to the elder bridgertons and asks what they wish to be. 

< before they have a chance to respond, hyacinth proposes that benedict should be the princess who has been captured.  benedict indignantly asks why, and hyacinth simply states because he is the most sensitive of the family.  sensing how the sibling argument is about to evolve, y/n intervenes and suggests that, like a sensitive princess, perhaps benedict is merely in tuned with his emotions, even amidst adversity; it is, in its own way, a compliment.  benedict’s eyes become indecipherable upon the comment, but he wears a small sincere smile.  gregory then proposes that colin is y/n’s changeling henchman. 

< make-believe ensues, and it is very sweet and very silly.  eventually, gregory is called in for latin tutoring and thanks y/n for the fun with a deep bow; hyacinth is called in for pianoforte lessons. >

hyacinth launches herself at you with a hug.  pulling back from the embrace, she beams.

“we must continue when you return next!”

before you can even start to reply, she turns and skips off towards the house.  you hear how gregory makes a comment about coming in first, and suddenly the youngest bridgertons are in a race against one another, shouting taunts and insults.  you can’t help but smile.

“they seem to quite like you.”

your smile falls.  you turn and face towards the two elder bridgertons, the traitor being the one to have spoken.

“colin bridgerton,” you begin, “yes?”

he smiles and nods.  you surge forward and shove your finger into his face, his smile now wiped.

“if you ever hurt penelope again, i shall make certain that it is the last time you ever do.  do i make myself clear?”

when he does not respond, you repeat yourself, and he slowly then quickly nods.  satisfied, you turn towards ocean eyes and point your finger at him.

“and you look after him.” 

“what did i do?”   

“be a proper elder brother and serve as an example for your misguided sibling.  understood?”  

“i— yes.  of course.  understood.” 

you smile again.

“wonderful.  i am glad we three are in agreement.  it was good speaking with you, gentlemen.  good day.” 

you turn away and start to walk towards the house.

“i quite like her too,”  and you hear the restored smile in the third bridgerton’s voice.  “what about you, brother?”

you hasten your steps towards the house.  though mere moments before you had felt emboldened and brave, you fear hearing benedict’s response.  you do not why.

–

< eloise, penelope, and y/n extensively discuss literature and writing; upon talking about women writers, y/n shares how she does not fully see herself as just a woman. >

“so, what are you?”

you wince.  you have kept good on your promise and joined eloise and penelope in the former’s bedchamber, but you are swiftly wishing you had been able to stay with hyacinth, gregory, colin even, and benedict.  you had attempted to explain an aspect of yourself to eloise but not to very much fruit, it seems.  you want to hide and escape and run from this place—

“eloise.”

—when penelope comes to your defense.  

“what?  what is it?”

“perhaps you could have phrased your question with more tact and thoughtfulness.”

eloise looks between the two of you, concern flooding her eyes.

“did i— did i not?”

penelope turns to you.

“are you comfortable to answer?”

“i would prefer that i didn’t.”

you hope that your eyes are sufficient enough to convey the immensity of gratitude that you feel towards penelope in this very moment.

“y/n,” begins eloise, “i did not realize—”

“and what are you three gossiping about?”

you jump, penelope squeaks, and eloise growls a noise of exasperation.  turning towards the voice in the doorway, you are visited, once again, by the third and second bridgerton siblings.

“and what makes you think we are gossiping?” demands eloise, “because we are w— people?”

you feel the corners of your mouth tug upward.  at least she is trying.  wanting to keep the attention on benedict and colin rather than yourself, however, and with genuine curiosity, you cock your head at the two gentlemen.

“do you two always come in a pair?”

“not always,” replies benedict.  and he smiles at you, “today is merely a special occasion.”

stupid butterflies.

“speaking of such,” colin proceeds.  “kate has requested that the three of you join the family in the drawing room.”

< the five of them make their way to the drawing room.  kate shares that, on behalf of the family, she would like to invite both y/n and penelope to dinner.  though at first honored to have been invited, upon hearing “dinner,” y/n realizes how late it has become and looks out the window:  the sun is halfway set.  she apologizes and says that she cannot stay because she resumes work the next day.  her latter statement renders some of the people in the room confused, but kathani states how she understands and that y/n is welcomed to join dinner whenever she visits.  

< seeing how confused y/n is, anthony shares that y/n is welcomed to visit their home whenever she is able and whenever she would like, and the rest of the family pipes in with how delighted they would be if she does.  not knowing how she deserved such kindness from people who were mere strangers at the start of the day, y/n thanks the bridgertons and says that she would love to.  penelope chooses to stay for dinner and says that she will see y/n next week.  y/n affirms that she, and the bridgertons, will.

< kathani and benedict offer to escort y/n to the entrance.  y/n walks down the steps and passes the gate but, before she goes, takes one last look at number five until next week and sees benedict still in the doorway.  y/n notices, but reprimands herself for perhaps imagining it, that his smile grows when his eyes lock with hers.  with flutterings in her stomach, y/n offers a wave.  he gives a small wave back.  she turns and goes, smiling all the way home. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“benedict has been making more appearances as of late,” penelope remarks.

the three of you all look up—you and pen from your writing, eloise from her reading—to see benedict entering through the doors and heading towards the other side of the drawing room.  he looks over at you— at you all and offers a smile before he plops himself down onto a chaise and begins to draw.

“yes, it is strange,” eloise considers to the two of you.  “for so long he had been moping about, locked away in his bedchamber aside from mealtime or the occasional visit to the drawing room.  he’s even picked up his charcoal again.”

“again?” you inquire, averting your gaze from the artist to your friend.  “had he stopped prior?”

“he had entirely put it down after—” eloise sighs.  whatever memory she has recounted, it does not seem to be a pleasant one.  you look to penelope; you sense that she shares a similar sentiment by the sad look in her eyes.  you are curious but you choose not to press.  

“it has been quite some time since he’s last drawn.  but now, whenever i see him, whether in his bedchamber or the billiards room or some other room in the house, he’s drawing.  he frequently arrives to mealtime with charcoal stained fingers—much to the chagrin of mama and anthony.”

you all laugh.  benedict looks up at you three, and from here you can tell he wears a curious expression, no doubt wondering what you are laughing about.  when he exaggeratedly arches an eyebrow, eloise just makes a face at him.  benedict rolls his eyes, smiling, and for the briefest moment, you feel as though he is looking at you.  but you’ve always had an active imagination.  when you blink, he has returned to his drawing, a smile still on his lips.

“i wonder what has changed?” eloise softly says, still looking at benedict.  for all her fire and spirit, you see how deeply she cares for her second eldest brother.

“perhaps he has found a muse,” penelope poses rather than queries.  you shift your gaze from eloise to penelope, and you’re curious about her expression.  she seems... delighted?  benedict finding his passion for art again does sound delightful; you know firsthand how difficult it is to pick yourself up from a slump.  but that’s not what she seems delighted by.  she just looks at you.  with a soft smile.  why?  what does benedict have anything to do with you?

you feel your cheeks and the tips of your ears flood with warmth.  you don’t know why, but penelope’s expression unnerves you, in a pleasant sensational way.

you clear your throat.

“i am happy for him,” you say, returning to your quill and folded quarto, haphazardly writing down whatever words come to your mind.  

ocean.  charcoal.  smile.  flutters.

shit.

it is not until what feels like an uncharacteristically long moment later that you hear penelope resume her writing and eloise resume her reading.  you try not to imagine what they could have silently exchanged with your gaze averted.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you suck in a sharp breath and shoot out of your seat.

“you do not!” you shriek, hastening towards kathani, eloise, and the stack of books they have just settled onto the table.  you had arrived early to the bridgertons’ home, at the invitation of kathani, so early that the rest of the family seems not yet to be awake.  

(which is strange, you find, as it is nearing 8 o’clock.  most mornings, at this time, you are already well into the bustle of work.)  

kathani had prefaced, rather enigmatically, that she and eloise had a surprise they wished to share with you.  you had your suspicions as to what it could be related to, and with each passing moment, you are suspecting, very excitingly!, that you are very correct. 

“indeed, we do,” kathani grins and gestures to the stacks.  

taking no hesitation to the offer, you grab from the top of a stack and open to the title page.

the dramatic works of william shakespeare.  vol. 2:  a midsummer night’s dream / the merry wives of windsor / much ado about nothing.

you shriek again, this time accompanied with hops of excitement, flipping to the final third of the book.

“much ado!  this is the one i’ve read!” 

dorothea, a fruit seller, had offered a copy of it to you (at a lowered price, she had emphasized) when she had learned of your liking to stories.  she grandly stated that she had started to write down the dialogue during low-attendance performances at the theater and then brought her handiwork to be typed and printed at a not-to-be-named press.  but if the pages’ handwritten annotations alluded to anything, you suspected that she had managed to purloin a performer’s copy of the script.  you felt a bit of pity for the poor performer who misplaced it, but you respected, and still respect!, dorothea’s moonlighting. 

you shoot your head up from the book and are greeted by the grins of your two friends.  “which one has romeo and juliet?”

this past autumn you had overheard several candlemakers at the markets animatedly discussing the ‘incandescent’ portrayal of the titular character by an actress from ireland.  a performance, described as ‘incandescent’ by candlemakers!  embodied by a storyteller who has emigrated here!  hearing all those wondrous things made you insatiably curious to one day read the text that made such wondrous things happen.

“i believe,” eloise says, pulling the second from the bottom of a stack, “it is this one.”

you twitch your fingers; you have to refrain yourself from snatching the book from your friend’s hand.  when it is in yours, you open to the title page and feel your eyes, along with your smile, widen.

“it is, it is!  oh, this is extraordinary!”  you flip furiously to your desired page and, once you find it, start to read,  

prologue.  two households—

��when you hear kathani say, “we had thought of starting with that one.”

that makes you rip your eyes away from the words and look up at the two ladies.

“‘starting with’?”

“when eloise, penelope, and i learned of your eagerness to read shakespeare,” elaborates kathani.  her saying that makes you flush; you had not realized with what apparent enthusiasm you had spoken of the poet.  “the three of us had discussed that the four of us could read his plays together.  if you would like, of course.”

your jaw drops.  you cannot help the squeal that emits from your mouth.  hopping once again in your excitement, you throw yourself at your friends and wrap your arms around them both.

“if i would like!  i would be delighted!”

you pull back from your hug with the two ladies and are greeted by gleaming eyes and wide grins.  you feel how your expression matches theirs.  it has only been a little over a month of your friendship with eloise and kathani, and the rest of the bridgertons at number five, but they each have somehow found a way to carve themselves out in your heart.  and if this most recent kindness by eloise and kathani indicates anything, perhaps you have found a way to carve yourself out in each of theirs.

(and you promptly ignore the thought of what that could possibly mean for ocean eyes and charcoal-stained hands, flutterings within you be damned.)

“how shall we allocate the book?” you say aloud out of genuine inquiry and a deep desire to revert your heart, mind elsewhere.  “shall we read passages aloud and then pass it on to the next reader?”

< eloise makes a remark that indicates her confusion at y/n’s question.  kathani, who is more privy to the situation, shares how she has her own copy as do eloise and penelope.  the stack that they’ve brought is an extra set that the bridgerton house has that y/n can use.  this perplexes y/n.  she cannot understand how a household can have multiple copies of a book, let alone copies of a whole anthology of many books.  before y/n can doom-spiral into thinking, penelope arrives at the entrance of the drawing room.  reading of romeo and juliet commences.  

< just as y/n finishes reading the scene in which romeo and juliet meet for the first time at the capulet ball and then kiss, y/n notices in her periphery benedict approaching the four.  kathani remarks how unusually early he is to be awake and ready for the day; y/n notes to herself how there seems to be some sort of mischief in the viscountess’s smile. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“i shall be y/n’s teacher,” the viscount declares.

“you were adamant on her not fencing, and now you are insistent on being her teacher?”

“it would be hardly appropriate, colin, for two young unmarried men to be in such close proximity to a young unmarried lady, as proximity of teacher and student in fencing would require.”

“are you always this— antiquated?”  you inquire.

that earns a snort from kathani.  anthony, looking betrayed, turns to his wife; she merely shrugs in reply, mirth shining in her eyes.  he turns back to you, eyebrows deeply furrowed and mouth fully frowning.

“and what do you insinuate by that!”

“are you so distrustful of your own brothers, the ones for whom you have served, and still serve, as a model, that you think they would take advantage of me in such a situation—”

you sense how the eldest bridgerton is about to retaliate and arch a severe eyebrow at him in response; you refuse to be interrupted.

“or are you so unbelieving in persons of feminine dispositions that you think i shall be compromised by the mere closeness of a body different from my own sex?”

there is a silence, and though you cannot see them as you stare down the viscount, you can feel how the others exchange delighted glances with one another and hold back their laughter.

“you have two choices, my lord,” you offer.

“neither of them are suitable!  and do not call me ‘my lord’!”

“is that not the proper way to address you?”

“it is, but you—!” he huffs out air through his nostrils, like an indignant dragon in a fairytale; it is a very silly, very amusing sight.  “we have not even begun the lesson and you are already the most exasperating student i’ve ever had!”

you turn to colin and benedict, grinning.

“you two must have been saints then.”

“would you expect any less?” colin grins back.

your wide smile remains intact until your eyes fall on the expression of benedict.  you are entirely uncertain of what emotion he could be possibly feeling until he seems to realize where he is, and how you are looking at him, and breaks out into a brilliant smile with matching brilliant ocean eyes.  you quickly snap your head away from him, ignoring the fluttering of butterflies summoned within you upon the shift in benedict’s expression, and turn to anthony.

“shall we begin, then?”

–

it turns out that you are quite the quick learner when it comes to fencing.  after putting on a fencing vest that had previously belonged to benedict—

“because you are the shortest of the three of us, brother,” remarked colin after the second son inquired why it had to be his former vest that you were to wear.  benedict scrunched his nose and eyebrows in displeasure.  (perhaps you should have taken offense to his opposition, but it was truly of no personal consequence to you and the reaction it created in him was truly adorable.)

“i am not!”

“you are, indeed,” anthony deadpanned.

“prove it!”

and the three eldest sons of the esteemed bridgerton family stood next to one another, comparing their heights.  you turned to kathani, eloise, and penelope.

“are they always like this?”

“idiotic?” eloise deadpanned, sounding remarkably like her eldest brother.

“indeed, they are,” grinned kathani.

—over your blouse, you are immediately put to lessons.  anthony explains the basic concepts of fencing and then demonstrates elementary strikes and parries, occasionally adjusting your stances to the proper forms.  noting how quickly you took to the lessons, he calls for a match between the two of you to observe how you would apply your skills in combat.

“you are retaining information exceptionally well, as well as executing the techniques rather impressively,” states your teacher as you deflect his strike.  you try to hide your gladness in his praise as you smirk and push his blade away with the terzo of yours.

“ah, so my sex is not a detriment to my abilities; that is good to know.”

you hear snickers and snorts from around you.

“i said nothing of the sort!”

“did you think it?”

your opponent frowns further, slightly turning his head away from you to steal a glance at his wife.  he turns back to you.

“i did,” he admits defeatedly.

“it takes a true man of honor to rise up to his folly,” you remark honestly, as you strike anthony’s arm with the tip of your sabre.  loud cheers burst from the onlookers and an aghast but proud look emerges on the countenance of your teacher; you grin, “and a fool to leave his defenses so easily open.”

impressed by your display of sport, and seemingly overcoming his antiquation, at least for the moment, anthony decides that you will match against colin and then benedict.

“how are you to improve if you are to face the same opponent?” claims your teacher with his usual air of annoyance, but you detect his pride in your accomplishment.

it is also decided that the matches will end when one scores a point.

and so, you face colin.  it is easy to keep pace with him, not due to lack of skill on his part but complete and utter determination on yours.  you tried to convince yourself, in the beginning of your match, that the remnants of your anger towards the third bridgerton brother, and how he treated your friend, did not fuel your determination to score the point— but it did and does.  and successfully so, as you strike colin in his left shoulder.  perhaps you do it with too much force as the strike reels him off balance (and perhaps you are delighted that it has done so), but he quickly resumes composure and flashes you a grin.

“i see more and more everyday why you and pen are friends.”

that softens your heart.  you should be dubious of his charming remark, but you aren’t; it is too sincere, as is he, and you begin to see, even if minutely, why penelope cares for him.

“she has good taste in the company she keeps, i’m learning.”

that makes him laugh, as it does the others, and you look over and see how pen’s countenance shines with joy.  that is enough to put your anger towards colin at ease, and turning towards your defeated foe once more, you return his smile and bow your head.  bowing his head in kind, colin leaves, and in his place arrives your next and final opponent; he is smiling like a boy.  

“best for last?” he remarks as he prepares his starting position.  you roll your eyes, ignoring the warmth that starts to fill the center of your chest.

“this shall determine that,” and settled in your starting position, you and benedict begin your duel.

you have observed something of the eldest bridgerton brothers in your matches against them.  anthony struck like fire, bombastic and ferocious.  colin stood his ground like earth, his guards resolute.  and benedict— 

benedict moves like water.  free.  fluid.

as if he is dancing while dueling.

both you and he have reached a stalemate.  you have managed to parry every one of his strikes, and he has managed to deflect every one of yours.  you can feel how those watching are holding their breaths, waiting for someone to land the point.  

you try not to startle when you hear benedict’s voice as you guard against his strike.

“it takes quite an astonishing person to earn the praise of anthony bridgerton.”

“are you so surprised that i am such a person?”

“quite the opposite, y/n,” he catches one of your strikes and grins at you.  “i think you are entirely perfect in that regard.”

you roll your eyes once again but cannot help the blush that you feel spread across your cheeks as you push back his sabre with yours.  

“do you honestly think charm will win you the point?”

“do you find me charming?” you ignore the heat that creeps up your neck and the voice in your head that has already answered his question far too quickly for your liking.  “no, i do not think so lowly of such a formidable foe.”

and he winks at you.

and somehow, without you realizing how you got there, benedict strikes the center of your chest.

“but a little distraction does help.”

his point earns a round of groans and bleats from the crowd.  instead of looking offended, benedict just laughs and approaches you, gloved hand outstretched, a boyish smile once again on his face.  despite your loss, you cannot help but smile too.  you place your gloved hand in his. 

“it was a pleasure to duel with you.”

“yes.  likewise.”

perhaps you imagine it, but you feel his thumb swipe against the side of your hand.  it is featherlight, hardly felt with both your and his hands gloved, but felt nevertheless.  before you can process the sensation any further, he lets go of your hand.  with another smile, he bows his head at you as the crowd of people approach you both, penelope raving about your matches, eloise expressing her wish to fence now, anthony already commenting on what you could do better in your next match.

and without you realizing it, you gently swipe against the side of your gloved hand.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

"mama?  papa?"

it is a rare occasion when you, mama, papa, and your sibling eat together, and an even rarer occasion to do so for a second meal, but this night was such a night.  the three of them halt their conversation and look over to you.

"how did you know you were in love with one another?"

there is a small silence, but then, without looking at one another, they smile in tandem.

"it was at first sight, really, for me,” your papa says as he offers his hand to mama.  “as trite as that sounds."

mama takes his hand into hers.

"i as well."

"when i looked into your mama’s eyes, i knew that something was different.  that my life had changed."

"for the better, dearest?"

papa laughs heartily.

"no, actually.  it has been misery ever since."

you and your family laugh as mama playfully slaps at papa’s hand.  it warms your soul every time they do this, when they tease one another and are light because of the other.   it makes you believe in love each time.  

mama and papa lace their fingers together again, smiling, still gazing at one another.  as if it is just the two of them in their own world.  mama, turning her smile from papa to you, speaks again.

"the flutterings in my stomach wouldn’t quiet, and they only intensified as we approached closer to one another that day and grew closer to one another with time."

she looks nostalgic until something mischievous quickly overcedes her countenance.

"why do you ask, my dear?  has someone captured your eye?"

"or, better yet, your heart?" papa tags along.

ocean eyes and charcoal-stained hands flash by in your mind.

"no!" you say too hastily.  "no, of course not.  it’s— for one of my writings, is all."

you repeatedly poke at your bit of boiled chicken to avoid any further inquisition from your parents’ gazes.

–

sat by your window, you stare up at the night sky when the voice of your sibling infiltrates your dreaming.

“it’s one of the brothers, isn’t it?”

you whip your head over to them.  they don’t even look at you; they are preparing for bed.

“pardon me?” 

“is it the artist brother?”

“what!”

fluffing their pillow, they smile.

“so i am correct.”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“that is not true.  you said ‘what.’”

“that reveals nothing!”

pleased with the setting of their bed, they ruin their work by plopping their bottom onto it as they finally face you in what you realize now is a confrontation.

“of course it doesn’t, the word on its own.  your reaction, however?  could not be more transparent of your feelings.”

“i have no feelings!”

“is that why you asked mama and papa about being in love?  because you have no feelings and you need to be told what they are?”

“i!—— i am going to bed!” you lift yourself up from your seat at the window sill, turning away from the peace of the night sky, and crash onto your bed.  you lay on your side, faced towards the wall, refusing to make eye contact with your sibling.  you lift up your sheet with too much force and lay it over your body and head.  “good!  night!”

after some silence, you hear the creak of your sibling’s bed and, a moment later, feel a featherlight touch on your upper arm.  you give it a thought, and perhaps against your better judgment, you lift off your sheet, turn, and are greeted by the gentlest of expressions from your sibling.

“i think it is wonderful, y/n.  whoever it is, they are very blessed to have your affections.”

your heart swells.  you love your sibling.

“how did you know it was the artist brother?”  

“so i am correct!”  they smile with a shrug.  “i deduced based on how much you’ve been writing about paint and charcoal as of late.”

you almost shoot upright from your bed.

“you’ve been reading my writing?”

“well, if they weren’t to be read, why do you leave them spread out on the table?”

“because there is no other place to store them!”

“and how good that is, or else i wouldn’t be able to read your fantastical stories or have been able to discover who your beloved is.”

“you are impossible!”

they kneel next to your bed and place their head on your shoulder.

“i love you too.”

you exhale the last of your frustrations, adjusting yourself a bit so that your sibling can rest their head more comfortably.  without realizing, you stroke their hair, just as you always have.

“i quite like the story about the mushroom family,” they state after some time. “i’m happy that the middle mushroom child befriends the peony and then the hyacinths.  i am happy they are happy.”

you feel your eyes start to drift.

“his name is benedict, by the way.”

you hear your sibling’s need for sleep in their reply.

“that’s a lovely name.”

“he is,” you murmur as the peace of the night falls over you.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“good day!— robert?”

“good day, y/n!” and robert holds the door of bridgerton house open for you to pass.

“pardon the confusion in my greetings—”

“no offense taken on my part!” the late adolescence beams.  you grin back.  with how utterly enthusiastic robert is all the time, one would think it is part of some ruse.  but it is not; he is just that genuinely delighted by life, you’ve observed.

“i am grateful.  i had expected to be greeted by giles, is all.”

robert frowns.  you feel the corners of your mouth tug downward in response, concern starting to swell your heart.

“he is ill at the moment.”

“ill!  with what?”

“i know not.  i had admitted the doctor perhaps not even a quarter of an hour ago.  but worry not too much, y/n!  from what the viscountess has shared with the servants earlier this day, giles shall make a quick recovery.  and lady bridgerton has yet to be wrong in anything!”

relief floods your body.  giles is of elderly age, so it calms you to hear that his ailment seems not to be too severe.  and you can’t help but smile not only by robert’s sunny temperament but also by his rightful faith in kathani.

“that is all good to hear.”

“shall i announce you to the drawing room?”

“oh god no.  i am quite all right, but thank you.”

“understood!  then i must pardon myself; i must retrieve miss bridgerton and miss featherington.”

“‘retrieve’?  are they not in the drawing room?”

“i was informed by dowager lady bridgerton, who was accompanied by miss bridgerton and miss featherington themselves at the time, that they would be in the gardens until your arrival and to retrieve the young misses upon your arrival.”

“i see.  well, i shall be in the drawing room then.  thank you again, robert.”

“it is my pleasure, y/n!” he beams once more and takes off to complete his task.

how odd, you think to yourself.  this day seems rather unusual to the ones you’ve had thus far at bridgerton home.  and it is hardly even noon!  you become lost in your thoughts as you approach the entrance to the drawing room—

when you are greeted by benedict, and benedict alone, lounging with his legs thrown over the arm of a chair, staring sternly at the page he draws on.

“oh,” is all you say.

benedict snaps his focus from his book to you, his countenance transforming from deep concentration to frustration to genuine surprise in a mere moment.  he scrambles up from his seat, book in one hand and charcoal in the other, posture now proper, and he bows his head.  

“miss y/l/n.”

never before have you been alone in a room with a man.  a gentleman.  a gentleman with a handsome face, charcoal-stained hands, and beautiful ocean eyes.

you roll your eyes.

“blimey, it is just me.  there is no need to bow.  and why are you calling me miss y/l/n?”

benedict smiles.

“all right.  y/n.”

shit.

perhaps that was a mistake.

“where has your family gone?” you inquire as you go to sit in the chair parallel to his, ignoring the flutterings within your stomach.  “it is uncommon to enter the drawing room of bridgerton house and not be greeted by talking, or music playing, or fighting.”

smiling, benedict falls back into his seat and resumes his drawing.

“hyacinth is with her reading tutor; gregory is with his fencing instructor; colin is eating some sort of pastry, i am certain, in town; anthony and kate are likely— preoccupied—”

you snort; benedict’s smile grows broader as he smudges charcoal with his thumb, a small furrow in his eyebrows now forming.

“and mother has managed to rope eloise into learning about the flowers of the gardens, and eloise, being eloise, has roped penelope into doing the same.”

“and what of you?”

“and what of me?”

“why have you chosen the drawing room as your whereabouts?”

benedict cocks his head towards his drawing.

“it’s in the name of the room, is it not?”

“ah, a man of wit, i see.”

“i am a man of many attributes, y/n.”

ignore the butterflies.

“such as?”

“what attributes would win your favor?”

“so that you may lie to me and say you possess them?”

“of course not; the list is merely too long and i shan’t bore you with a soliloquy.”

“so, a man of thoughtfulness.”

“oh yes, a myriad of thoughts.”  

“name one.”

“how much i am enjoying our conversation.”

and benedict shifts his ocean eyes from his drawing to you, a smile on his lips.  he is being playful, but you detect no deceit in his expression.  it infuriates you, really.  how charming he is.  how endearing.  how sincere.  

you return his smile.

“as am i, benedict.”

you sit in comfortable silence a moment more until benedict breaks the gaze, returning his oceans eyes and smile back to his drawing.  his smile, however, does not last for very long.

“this sketch, on the contrary—”

and he rips out the paper from his book, crumples it in his hand, and throws it onto the carpet of the floor, giving his deed not another moment’s notice.  he puts his charcoal to a new page in the moment next.

your smile falls.

“do you know how much paper costs?” you demand.

benedict looks back up at you with scrunched eyebrows and a smile having returned to his lips.  he tilts his head.

“why?  should i?”  he inquires.  nonchalantly.  delight in his ocean eyes.

as if you are making a jest.

as if this is amusing.  as if this is nothing.

it reminds you of a recent memory.

eloise had generously given you sheets of paper.  hitting a stride in your writing and wanting to continue, you had asked, after much internal deliberation, if you could have a ripped half of a quarto upon running out of all negative space on your current one.

“have a foolscap.  have a whole lot of them, actually,” she said easily, taking a good chunk of her stack and handing it off to you.

“eloise, are you certain?”

“of course.  it is just paper, after all.”

“right.  yes— of course.  thank you.”

eloise hummed affirmatively in response, returning to her passage, as you stared at the small stack of foolscap in your hand.  that amount of paper would have been eight months’ wage, perhaps even more.  

a gentle touch of a hand on yours brought you out of your clouding thoughts.  you looked over and saw penelope looking at you softly.  understanding her unspoken thoughts, you held her hand and gave it a squeeze.

thank you, you mouthed.

"i must be going,” you say aloud.  “goodbye, mr. bridgerton.”

you stand, turn, and quickly exit the drawing room. 

“y/n.  y/n!”

you hear him scuffling up from his lounge and start to follow you.  you hasten your steps towards the entrance.  

moments before you can open the doors of bridgerton house to the respite of the outside world, you feel benedict take hold of your wrist, stopping you in your steps, and it infuriates you how gently he does it.  how you can pull away from his touch if you want to, how you can just go if you choose to.  but you do not.

it infuriates you how much you want him to hold you.

you turn to face him.

“please— wait,” he breathes.  “what did i do wrong?  what have i done to upset you?”

you look at him incredulously.  then it dawns on you.

“please.  tell me,” benedict practically begs.  with such softness in his voice.

it infuriates you.

“i know money is of no concern to you, or your family, or fair ladies and pretty gentlemen.  but it is for the rest of us.  for the rest of us who have to work to keep the ones we love fed, clothed, warmed, sheltered.  that is a fact with which i have been concerned since the very moment i could think for myself.  and for you—of the male sex, of pale skin, of inherited riches—it is something to discard onto the carpet of one of your family’s many houses.  the paper you threw to the ground would have paid for a month’s worth of warmth for the entirety of my family’s home.  and you ask me what you have done to upset me?”

he says nothing.  he just looks at you, damned ocean eyes and all.  gentle.  attentive.  like he could care; like he does care.

you feel your nostrils flaring, your blood pounding in every vein of your body.  you finally rip your wrist away from his loose hold, already missing his touch.

“i shall take my leave.  please give my regards as well as my apologies to eloise and penelope.  goodbye, benedict.”

you turn away from him, yank the door open by its handle, and step outside, walking composedly at first, then quickly, then sprinting, then running.  to be as far away from number five of grosvenor square as you possibly can be.  to be far away from crumpled up paper, charcoal-stained hands, gentle touches, and ocean eyes.  

you rub your wrists against your eyes.

stupid bloody tears.

stupid fucking heart.

why am i so afflicted by this?  why am i crying?  why do i hurt?

because i love—

no.

you cannot fall for him.  he is someone you cannot have, cannot want, cannot— cannot…

it cannot happen, the two of you.

and most likely of all, you are not someone he wants.  not someone who he would love.  not the way you—

you are a fool for getting this far.  but these feelings, they will pass.  somehow.   you will forget them.  you will forget him.  this is not the fairytales you read, not the fairytales you write.  daydreams, hopes, love for a gentleman— there is a reason you are a writer.

you write the things you can never have, the things that will never happen.

you and benedict will never happen.

this is the prayer you tell yourself that evening before sleep takes you.  you pretend not to be affected by the tears that afflict you as you do so.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< y/n does not go to number five the next week on her non-work day as she had grown accustomed to.  she had tried to write at her table in her home to preoccupy herself, but her teardrops were ruining what she had already written.  she considers going to work to distract herself, but y/n knows her unexpected presence would be a detriment to her fellow workers’ established flow of day.  she decides to go to the markets to try and get fresh air and a change of scenery and to do anything to interrupt her spiral of thoughts and emotions.

< while at the markets, y/n hears her name called and turns to see penelope in her blue cloak.  y/n asks what penelope is doing here, and penelope gently replies that she can ask y/n the same thing.  she shares with y/n how, the week prior, after she received news that y/n had left bridgerton house, she left to find y/n in the markets and at her workplace but to no avail.  

< their conversation continues.  penelope shares how y/n was missed last week; by her, by the family, by benedict.  y/n tries to dismiss her words and how the past few months have been a mistake and that she shouldn’t be there with pen or the bridgertons, that she’s not meant to be in their world.

< with patience and empathy and grace, penelope gently encourages y/n to return to bridgerton house next week, and y/n, though her heart aching and reluctant, agrees because she misses them. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you sigh deeply.

have courage, y/n.

and you rap your knuckles twice against the stately door of number five.  a moment later, the door opens, and you are greeted by a beloved grin.

“miss y/n!  i have not seen you in weeks!”

you cannot help but smile back.

“good day, giles.”

“oh, where are my manners!” and the elderly doorman bows at you.  you huff out a laugh, feeling how your face contorts with distaste. 

“blimey, please don’t.  i am not a lady, giles.”

“you could’ve fooled me, miss y/n.”

you shoot him a severe look; he merely continues to grin.

“you know of my feelings towards being called ‘miss.’”

“i am getting older; my memory frequently fails me, miss y/n.”

“and yet you’ve recalled how we haven’t seen each other in two weeks.”

“three.”

you grin.

“precisely.”

“well, it was quite the surprise when I fell ill the following week!” then giles frowns.  “and it was an even greater surprise to have not seen you when i had returned the week following that.”

you look at the ground, unable to face the inquisition in his sad, kindly look, but when you bring your head back up, you manage a smile.

“it is no matter.  i am here now.  that is most important, yes?”

the elderly man smiles.

“yes, i suppose you are right, y/n,” and he holds the door open for you to pass.  

“aside from bouts with ailment, how have you been, giles?”

“still standing upright, still opening and closing doors,” he beams without a bit of sarcasm.  “and what of you?  how have you been?”

“i’ve been—— well.  and the family?” you say quickly, wanting to move the conversation away from you and your feelings.

“the same as is to be expected.  though—” 

concern starts to swell in your heart.  what has happened in the fortnight you have not been present?

“mister benedict has been absolutely despondent.”

“oh,” is all you say.  giles’ gentle joviality transforms into solemnity, and it makes your heart ache even further.

“on the rare occasions i do see him now, he is leaving for the gentleman’s club in the bright light of day and coming home at an ungodly hour, drunk as a wheelbarrow, wreaking of what smells like every available spirit in london.  he had stopped dipping rather deep sometime ago, much to my relief, so it was an utter shock to return to my station and to see him back on the cut, and deeply at that,” the elderly man sighs.  “i wonder what has happened for him to be so…” he unexpectedly turns to you, his countenance sanguine, “do you happen to know?”

you swallow as you ignore the sensation pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“no, i— i do not.”

“i see.  well, whatever it might be, it is clear how much it deeply afflicts him,” and giles offers you a small, sad smile.  “you know mister benedict; he has always been the most sensitive of the family.”

i do.  

i do know benedict.

you clear your throat.

“do you happen to know where eloise and penelope are at this moment?”

giles cocks his head at you but is kind enough (you thank the heavens) not to press your change of topic.

“the last i had seen them, they had spoken of viewing the art gallery.  do you know the way?”

“i am unfamiliar.”

he smiles again, and it makes you smile in return.

“then i am most glad to escort you there.”

–

giles opens the doors to the gallery, and ahead, in front of a portrait, you see the turnings of penelope, eloise, and—

“y/n,” he utters.

“benedict,” you breathe.

and he looks just as surprised as you are.  

you look to giles, his eyes wide and mouth agape, and then to eloise and penelope.  upon seeing their expressions, you feel your eyes narrow.

“ah, penelope!” shouts eloise.  everyone else turns to stare at her.  “with y/n’s arrival, i must change out of my, my art gallery viewing dress!  and— and, into my... drawing room!  sitting— dress...”

eloise scrunches her entire face in displeasure, confused by her own poorly concocted excuse.  that does nothing to deter her, however, from clamping onto penelope’s wrist and barreling forward towards the doors of the gallery.

“come along, pen!” she calls out to the friend she is pulling right behind her.  as they pass you, eloise gives you a strange and strained smile bearing all teeth, and penelope offers apologetic eyes and an encouraging smile.

giles looks to you, to benedict, and to the two escaping ladies.  mouth still agape, all he manages is,

“i suppose— i shall see to that— miss bridgerton and miss featherington arrive to miss bridgerton’s bedchamber... safe—ly…?”

he mouths, i’m sorry!, at you before quickly bowing his head at benedict, fleeing the scene with remarkable speed for an elderly man who has recently recovered from illness, and leaving you at the entrance of the art gallery.

closing your eyes, you deeply inhale through your nostrils as you place your hand to the space between your eye and your temple.  on your exhale, you wipe your hand hard against the side of your face and open your eyes, whipping your head to look at the second eldest bridgerton brother.  it seems that he has been staring at you this entire time, stupid (stunning) ocean eyes and all.

“would you like to paint a picture?” you snark.  “you are the artist in the room, and it would certainly last longer.  or perhaps you have run out of paper?”

he does not respond, indecipherable expression unchanging, and it unnerves you how guilty you feel at goading him, at taunting him, and he merely takes it.  you sigh again and cross the gallery to where he stands.  resisting the urge to look at him again, as you feel his gaze still on you, you instead look at the painting ahead of you.

it is a portrait of a gentleman.  with dark chestnut hair and mutton chops.  he wears a blue jacket, a darker blue vest, a cream cravat, green breeches, and brown boots.  a watch on a ribbon hangs from his vest; it looks familiar.  he looks familiar.  a benevolent smile rests on his lips.

you look at the plaque at the bottom of the gilded frame.

edmund bridgerton, the 8th viscount bridgerton.

you look back up at the painting, captured by a particular feature.

“you have his eyes.”

“his are gray; mine are blue.”

you roll your eyes but smile despite yourself.  (you try to ignore the flutterings that bloom upon hearing his voice again.)

“yes, but that’s not what i was referring to.  they peer into you— not with scrutiny, nor judgment, but with kindness, curiosity, compassion.  an eagerness to learn about you.  pools of welcoming.  cool tones that radiate warmth.”

you cough, ripping your eyes away from the portrait to inspect the scuffs of your boots.  you feel embarrassment spread throughout your entire body as heat creeps up your neck.

“the painter is excellent at their craft.  it is as if i know him, your father.”

silence falls in the expansive gallery, the calm and kind eyes of viscount bridgerton looking down upon you and his second eldest.

“i’ve missed you.”

you snap your head up to look at benedict, your eyes making contact with his ocean ones.  welcoming and warm.  honest and... hopeful?

i’ve missed you, too.

“benedict, it has only been a fortnight since we saw each other last,” you respond aloud, your voice coming out so much softer than you had intended.  you offer him a small smile, an olive branch of sorts.  something of relief starts to fill his ocean eyes, but his demeanor does not change.

“i behaved arrogantly, and you did not deserve to be the recipient of such behavior.  no one does, and i am so— i am so sorry, y/n.”

and you know he is.  you resist the urge to touch his cheek, to comfort him with your caress, to selfishly have your skin touch his.  instead, you look on at him.

“i do not ask you to grant me your forgiveness; i know i am unworthy of it.  i just— i just wanted you to know how i felt, and feel still.  and how i shall work on myself to be better, to do better.”

the butterflies in your stomach flutter maddeningly.  you emit an exhale from your nostrils.  the urge to touch him intensifies, and you feel yourself flex your hand to let go of the sensation.  you huff out another breath, and smile brightly, sincerely, at benedict.

“well,” you begin, “with our friendship renewed, care to show me what other paintings you love in this gallery?”

benedict’s ocean eyes beam with relief and joy, a brilliant smile lighting up his face, and it takes all your self-control not to drop all discretion and wrap your arms around him in a crushing embrace.

“i would love nothing more, y/n,” he declares.

you try not to flutter your eyes closed at the words ‘i,’ ‘love,’ and your name in the same breath from benedict’s lips.  at the pleasantness and home you feel in them.  you smile on.

“where shall we begin, then?”

you and benedict walk together as he approaches a miniature in a wooden frame ornately carved with floral motifs.  he admits that he has not the slightest clue which bridgerton ancestor this is, and that makes you snort.  grinning, he points out how adeptly the artist portrayed the translucency and fluidity of the lady’s veil and how particularly impressive it must have been to accomplish such effects in paints during the early 1600s, if the remnant dating of the artist’s signature is correct.  you remark how particularly impressive it is that a painting has endured two hundred years of existence, details still intact, and benedict responds simply that rich people have a way.  that makes you snort again, and that makes benedict grin again.

he then leads you to a portrait of kathani and anthony, the viscountess sat in a chair with the viscount stood behind.  you marvel at the painting—how much it looks like them, how much it captures kathani’s confidence, how much it captures anthony’s conviction, how much it captures their love.  excitement coloring his voice, benedict imparts to you how he was given the opportunity to observe and assist the painter on the days the latter was commissioned to portray the viscountess and the viscount.  he also shares with you how impossibly difficult they were as models, always giggling and kissing and looking away from the painter and talking to one another, being overall sickeningly saccharine.  you chortle and share with him how that does not surprise you in the least bit.  despite his annoyance upon recalling the memory, an incredibly fond smile rests on benedict’s lips.  turning from his lips back to the painting, you remark how in love they are, and he remarks that, indeed, they very much are—and turns his fond smile from the painting to you.

coughing, you walk over and ask about the landscape of an enormous building.  benedict names it as aubrey hall, the ancestral home of the bridgertons.  you recall how you had heard of it early on in your friendship with the bridgertons; you had been unable to see them one week as they were preparing for kathani’s first ball as viscountess at the home.  you also recall how the usually collected and confident kathani was anxious and uncertain during that time.  benedict, beaming with pride, says how, of course, she absolutely excelled and how all of the ton—he rolls his eyes then and you guffaw—enjoyed themselves at the event.  while kathani had done an unsurprisingly resplendent job, the ball was not very entertaining to benedict.  he much more enjoyed the annual bridgerton game of pall mall leading up to the event.  after announcing how kathani had won—much to the contradictory disappointment and delight of her husband—and answering your questions about what sounds, to you, like a very silly, very fun game, benedict suggests that you join them next year.  you laugh, finding it impossible to imagine yourself at a home such as aubrey hall, particularly for the entirety of three days, but your heart swells at the invitation and the sincerity in his voice, and you say aloud how you would love nothing more.

your spontaneous tour eventually comes to an end, and the two of you make your way towards the entrance, still discussing the various art you had seen.  as you and benedict walk out of the gallery, a thought crosses your mind.

“none of your work is on display.”

you notice how benedict stiffens.  you feel your smile tug into a frown.

“ah, yes.  i do not think my work is— up to snuff— with the work on display here.”

“horse shit.”

benedict’s jaw drops, his face aghast and regaled in reaction to what you assume is your choice of language.  you merely shrug.

“you have not even seen my work!”

“i do not need to see your work when i can already see how harsh you are being.”

he scoffs, and it aggravates you.

“fine— i will show you, then, and prove to you my point.”

“fine, then!  show me, and i will prove to you my point!”

–

“you are full of horse shit!”

you and benedict are in his bedchamber, where all his works are hidden away.  he has shown you canvas after canvas, sketch after sketch, charcoal drawing after charcoal drawing, his palette of color ideas— and he still has the audacity to say that his work is not “up to snuff” for the bridgerton gallery.

benedict looks aghast again, perhaps by your language, perhaps by what you are (very rightly, very correctly) insisting.  he shakes the canvas that he holds in his hand in your face.

“look at the proportions, y/n!  they are entirely off!”

you roll your eyes, swatting his arm away, and begin to rummage through his other work.  you pull a sheet and hold it up to benedict’s face.

“look at this sketch, then look at the canvas.  there is a very clear, marked improvement, and with only a—” you look at the dates at the bottom right corners for confirmation, “—a difference of two days!”

“what does ‘improvement’ mean if the improvement is not even good!”

“it is good!  and!  improvement is everything, benedict!  it is progress!”

“what—”

you and benedict jump back from one another by the sudden new voice.  you had not realized how close the two of you were as you were shouting at one another, how close your faces were to one another, how close your lips were to—

a blazing heat creeps up your neck, at the tip of your ears, and across your cheeks as you turn from benedict’s flustered face to the scowl of the eldest bridgerton sibling in the doorway.

“—are the two of you doing?”

“brother!  i— i was merely showing y/n my work.”

you vigorously nod your head.  anthony’s glare remains unaffected.

“alone?  together?  in your bedchamber?”

your heart almost leaps out of your chest, your eyes about to bulge out of their sockets as you look around the room, suddenly aware of where you are.  you are in benedict’s bedchamber.  alone.  together.

“i—” you start, very pathetically.  “i——  we—”

anthony curtly bows his head at you.

“y/n, i would like to have a word with my brother.  in private.  please.”

“of— of course, right— of course!”

you hastily put the sketch on a nearby table and walk towards the door, pass anthony as he steps in, and are about to run down the hall and away from the scene when—

you turn and steal a glance at benedict, mustering up all the apologies you can convey through your eyes.  despite the peril of his current predicament, his ocean eyes soften immediately, and a thousand butterflies erupt in your stomach and flutter around viciously.  he offers you a slight smile, one that is sincere and unregretful.  you offer one back, just as sincere, just as unregretful, before anthony gives you another bow of his head and closes the door.

–

“are you pleased by the results of your consorted trickery?” you state blandly upon seeing the young ladies that you thought were your friends sitting in the drawing room.

eloise looks up from her pamphlet, beaming at you, as penelope wears a wide and proud smile.  well, at least they have answered your question.

“trickery?” eloise feigns.  you roll your eyes; their expressions answer honestly, but their words continue their game.  “i have no idea what you are referring to.  pen and i were merely keen on viewing the art gallery today, and i thought, my blue-deviled of an elder brother ought to stop moping about; what better to get him to leave his bedchamber than by way of his favorite topic?”

“and his other favorite topic,” penelope adds.  eloise chortles, and you feel the tips of your ears heat.

“what is that supposed to mean!”

eloise waves a dismissive hand at you.

“benedict knew nothing of your arrival, as i am sure you deduced by his surprise,” but the second eldest daughter grins wickedly.  “though, from the sheer amount of time you have spent together thus far today, i am also sure the surprise was very welcomed, indeed.”

“by both parties, it seems.”

you promptly ignore the flush you feel on the apples of your cheeks.  your friends are lucifer incarnate split into two.

“well, then you must be delighted to know that your shared plot has led to punitive action against him.”

that surprises them.  (good.  you are relieved to finally have some sort of an upperhand in this conversation.)

“‘punitive action’?  by whom?  for what?”

“by—”

the three of you hear a set of footsteps.  you look to where the sounds are heard and see the two eldest bridgerton siblings enter the drawing room, the elder approaching you with conviction and the younger trailing behind him like a pet that has just been reprimanded.  the sight would make you laugh, if you weren’t the one to have instigated the current conflict between the two brothers.

anthony stands before you, posture perfect and chin held up high.

“y/n, thank you for your patience.  please allow me to apologize most ardently on behalf of my brother for his complete and utter lack of propriety.  it will not happen again as i shall be more vigilant in tracking his every deed.  i do hope this incident of my brother’s disrespect does not taint the beloved friendship between you and our family.” 

and he deeply bows his head at you.

your jaw drops.  benedict shuts his eyes tight and scrunches his face.  penelope bops her gaze amongst the three of you.  and eloise just howls, causing anthony to break the gravitas of his decorum and shoot a glare at her.

“it is no laughing matter, eloise!”

“it is harmless fun, brother!  a pursuit of intellect exchanged between two creatives, who also happened to be by themselves.  i have never heard of a baby being conceived from sharing some art.”

“ELOISE BRIDGERTON!”

you have now entirely hidden your face behind your hands; no one needs to witness the deep crimson that you are certain is spreading very rapidly across your countenance.  an absurd hope also blooms in you that if you cannot see the others, then the others cannot see you.

“what ever is the matter in here?” 

your eyes shoot open upon hearing the much needed voice of reason.  removing your hands from your face, you see kathani enter the drawing room, a confused expression worn on her face.  

“my dearest,” anthony begins, “i have offered my deepest apologies to y/n for benedict’s disgrace.”

“disgrace,” scoffs eloise, crossing her arms.

“disgrace!” reiterates anthony with increased fervor.  kathani’s confusion does not lighten.  she looks to benedict, whose eyes are scrunched closed again (his nose looks adorable this way), and then to you.

“are you all right, y/n?” she inquires gently.

“i—” you had intended to say, am well, but that would be a lie.  you are utterly mortified.  so, instead, you state the truth.

“benedict has been a gentleman.  he has treated me with the utmost respect, and when he has done wrong by me— which!  which has nothing to do with our being in his bedchamber!—  he—” you steady your voice, determined to say this right, as you know and feel it with and in your heart, “he has corrected himself and bettered his words and thoughts and deeds.”

“you hear that, brother?  no harm has been done.”

“eloise, you were not even there!”

“i believe what eloise means, anbe, is that you are being dramatic.”

“dramat— they were in his bedchamber, kathani!  together!  alone!”

kathani rolls her eyes, her attempt at diplomacy entirely gone.

“speak louder, anthony; just a bit more and the entire country shall hear you.”

the viscount pouts grumpily at his beloved, emitting a huff of air through his nostrils.  

“you must trust y/n by her word,” the viscountess states.

“or do you not trust someone of feminine disposition to speak for herself?” eloise inquires.

“pen!” 

you all snap your gazes to the entrance of the drawing room and see colin making his way to your friend in blue, followed by—

“y/n!” shouts gregory and hyacinth as they run towards you.

“y/n, penelope!” remarks violet and approaches you both.  “how delightful it is to see you!  you—” she says, reaching out for your hand, gently taking it in hers, and smiling kindly at you, “—in particular.  it has been a moment, y/n.” 

it melts your heart, really.  the sincerity of affection that flows so easily from violet bridgerton.  you recall the kind eyes and benevolent smile of her late husband.  it is no wonder you so easily fell in love with this family; true, real love is woven into the very fabrics of each of their beings.

you look at them.  hyacinth and gregory cling onto your slides, holding you tight.  kathani and anthony are engrossed in debate, affection in their eyes despite the heat in their words.  colin and penelope speak with and blush around one another as eloise, unknowingly (and, in your opinion, frustratingly, endearingly), butts into their conversation.  and benedict.  who, with the gaze of the entire room no longer on his so-called indiscretion, is looking at you.  softly.  with those damned, wondrous, bewitching ocean eyes.  a smile on his lips that makes the flutterings in your stomach unbearingly, wonderfully unyielding.

you truly, really love this family.  

you love the bridgertons.

“though,” the dowager viscountess starts.  

shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you see how violet looks at the others in the room as half of them now pointedly avoid eye contact with the matriarch and the other half share a similar sentiment to her.

“is everything all right?” she turns to you, peering curiously into your eyes.  “has something happened?”

you cannot help the laugh that bubbles out of you.  violet seems taken aback by your reaction, as are the others in your periphery, but her eyes, as well as theirs, shine on.

“i think,” you say, smiling, “it is just another day with the bridgertons.”

[ineffableteeth]

So I was rewatching Good omens and I realized something.

Season 2 brings up Memory. A lot

Specifically Crowleys memory

In every episode something is said about it and I find this really interesting

I’m only going to bring up what I think are major, I want to note there are more instances than this. This is gonna be messy and a little disorganized since I’m just throwing my words on this post as I think of them and read the episode transcripts but I had to write it out.

In Episode 1 we see pre-fall Crowley and are introduced to our amnesiac archangel. This will be important later

We don’t see much of Crowleys memory loss in this episode but the biggest example I could find was the way Beelzebub had said Extreme Sanctions after Crowley misunderstood

It was as if they were expecting him to remember

In Episode 2 we get the first blatant hint of Crowleys memory loss

When Gabriel said he couldn’t remember, Crowley doesn’t say “Well try anyway”

He says “Yes you can.”

Crowley knew Gabriel could remember, he knew he could make himself remember. As if he knew it from experience.

Also in this episode we get Crowleys “I’m a demon, I lied.” As well as several other instances where he lies in this episode.

I also feel like his “Lonliness” is important to point out, because I feel like that goes much much deeper than “[I’m on] my side”

In Episode 3 we get Crowley and Gabriel’s Conversation about “Gravity”

Crowley knows what gravity is on a base level. But he says “I don’t remember” when asked why gravity exists and proceeds to give a very nondescript explanation

Now for Episode 4. This episode is actually what triggered me to start looking for these instances.

Because of Furfur

Near the end of the episode when Furfur enters the dressing room he mentions that him and Crowley were directly next to eachother during the Great War, as well as the fact Crowley used to jump on his back “Like a little monkey in a waistcoat”

And Crowley didn’t remember

All he remembered was going to war

Why does Furfur — A demon — remember but Crowley doesn’t?

In Episode 5 we get one of the most crucial ‘memory’ scenes imo

The aftermath of Crowley threatening Gabriel

When Gabriel tells Crowley “It hurts to remember, my head isn’t built for that” Crowley replies with “I know, do it anyway”

Again it sounds like Crowley is speaking from experience

The most important quote to me though is when Crowley says “I know, looking at where the furniture isn’t.”

Because after the fact he proceeds to ask Gabriel if he wants a hot chocolate

This wasn’t a sympathetic action. It was Empathetic.

He feels for Gabriel, he knows what it’s like to not know

Finally in Episode 6 we get context.

This is where the whole amnesiac archangel comes into play.

Before I get into that though I want to bring up Crowleys meeting with Saraquael. Because something interesting stood out to me while reading her voicelines. After Crowley asks “Do we know eachother?” Saraquael says “When you were an Angel” and pauses before she says the following voiceline “We worked together on the horsehead nebula”

Those were two different sentences. I’m definitely looking too far into this but to me it sounded like she knew he wouldn’t remember so she gave unnecessary context. This as well as the fact she didn’t respond when Crowley essentially said he didn’t remember her.

Back to my original point though, during this episode we finally learn how (and why) Gabriel lost his memories. Angels can remove their own memories as well as have their memories removed by other angels.

But clearly Furfur still has his memories, as well as Shax, Dagon, and Beelzebub

And anytime Crowley mentions “remembering” something it’s post-fall

Adding on Neil’s post about “Crowley not being a reliable narrator on his fall” as well as showing Crowley pre-fall in episode one leads me to believe there’s some foreshadowing in there and something happened to Crowleys memory.

But What?

Why doesn’t he remember?

What did they do to him?

[flonbowe]

MAJOR BROTHERSHIP SPOILERS, ESPECIALLY RELATED TO ZOKKET!

You have been warned

So they’re like, a toxic relationship right?/hj

OK JOKING ASIDE These two are very interesting to me, and since we've known about Zokket longer, I'll be talking about him first in this thread of reblogs and posts

Zokket

So to get the elephant out of the room, I earnestly don’t believe he is just Cozette brainwashed

Like Aside from small details like the body shape being larger than she is, Zokket's voice sounding very much so different in not just the voice bleps, but in his actual grunts and noises (Especially so before his boss fight), there's things like Zokket's personality, behavior, hell he's even flat out referred to as a separate person a couple times.

Cozette after being freed only ever mentions being under Reclusa's control, and putting on a mask to become Zokket. A mask that breaks once Zokket is beaten.

The way Zokket is defeated, the way the Glohn energy flees off of Cozette's body, coupled with the fact it was specifically a mask Cozette said she donned to become Zokket, tells me outright that Zokket isn't exactly brainwashing, but instead a type of spirit or possession used to carry out Recluse's will. Now All this to say Zokket is his own person, and a very interesting person. Unlike most other Mario characters, he's a very flat character. Intentionally so don't get me wrong, that's the point. He's focused more on numbers than people. He doesn't "misremember" names, he actively doesn't care. His first proper scene is him misnaming the Extension Corps multiple times, with him getting more aggravated the more they try to correct him. He visits Shipshape a couple times through out the game, and most of those visits usually end with him mocking the idea of having connections and overall being very bitter. He's a cold cold man, and even during his boss fight he revels in making the bros hurt each other. There's also some interesting extra details via hidden logs from Cozette while being possessed, and Zokket writing his plans through her body. Quoting from those logs "The egg says its name is Reclusa. Yes, it told me its name, and that makes sense. The egg speaks directly to my brain. The egg has also shared this important truth. Loneliness is sublime . The egg only SEEMS not to move. But it definitely speaks in my brain. I now know my only calling: the resurrection of Reclusa. Loneliness is sublime . All connections will be severed. Reclusa will rule a new era of isolation. Once I have completed my task, I, too, will know the bliss of isolation. Loneliness is sublime . Approximately 284 hours, 56 minutes, and 29 seconds until the resurrection. "Beyond the Glohmatic Ray" "I have distilled the isolate energy from Spite Bulbs. That will be the source for Glohm. I can then focus and amplify it through the Great Lighthouses..." "The So-Called Extension Corps." " I met these buffoons on Slippenglide Island and employed them as generals over my army. They are intensely incompetent but loyal. Do they seek glory, or are simply afraid? They will be superfluous after the rebirth. I will need some means to dispose of them" "Building an Army" "My soldiers, my hands in the wide world, are simply junk repurposed and rebuilt. I gave them language so they might cooperate., but it is absurd to see these junk piles speak. I cannot imagine a place for them in the new world after he is reborn. They will suffer. They may rebel and become ungovernable. No matter--they are ephemeral things." after Recluse was revived, Zokket intended to torture the Zok Troops, his minions, of which HE created. Zokket doesn't just hate bonds, but seems to actively wants to break them. He strayed from his goal of reviving Reclusa by using some of the Glohm to make handheld rays to make people miserable and hate each other, instead of just using the Lighthouses for Reclusa. He threatens the Corps when the revival is almost complete, which would have come to fruition anyway had they succeeded. Zokket seems to fully understand bonds, and despises them. He's not apathetic, he's actively resentful... Except For Reclusa Excluding voice clips, the only time he laughs, is here.

His only use of positive language, and its when he's dying, where he should be at his lowest. Instead, he gets excited, happy, happy to see his Great Inspiration finally return to this world. For a man who hates bonds, he seems to have a great deal of care for his master. A master he was willing to die for, who he was destroyed for. Not even Connie, who he can't forget because of Cozette's lingering consciousness, all Zokket can muster for her is remembering her name, unlike Reclusa. So Who is Zokket? Zokket is a very cruel, bitter person. He's distant and calculating, planning and very exact, very precise ways to revive his master. But he's also sadistic, planning misery for anyone and everyone involved in his plans, for the goal of isolating the world for his master, Reclusa. a master, who he has a deep level of fondness for, the only person he actively shows happiness towards, a person who he spends his alone time with, his purpose, his great inspiration. That's Zokket (At least, my thoughts as to who Zokket is)

[mononijikayu]

chapter (5) — his primadonna!

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, actors/singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 4.5k words.

NOTE: i really have a hard time finding titles for songs because i listen to so many while doing all these and it just??? i end up finding myself in conundrums of the will i use this or not??? also, yes sukuna is a bit older than reader! the first year trio are in their early 20s, reader is a bit older. there will be more of hey lover soon enough, i promise. other than that, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you guys!!! 🫶

TAGLIST: @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @v3nd3ttal3on, @r0ckst4rjk, @theshxaverse, @cheescakebroom, @kariatenoh, @ggukfikz, @sukunadckrider ;

masterlist

hey lover! series

YOU REALLY WERE BOOKED AND BUSY. Immediately after wrapping up another variety show, you were already on the road for another one after you teased the location on your Instagram. People could only wonder what this one could have for them to enjoy. They all started to do a guessing game.

And because you spoiled the location already, some fans figured it all out. So, your agency soon enough announced that your next work adventure was going to be a reality travel show with your other Jujutsu Kaisen co-stars Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuji and Kugisaki Nobara.

It works pretty well, between the four of you. You were all very close, since you all went to the same drama and theater school together. You were only a year or two above them in age, it was hard not to have the same energy together.

The news had fans buzzing with excitement, since they liked all of your dynamics in the show and there were very few scenes of you all together, which the fans were craving for. This trended almost immediately on social media, being reposted by your co-stars and even the Jujutsu Kaisen official social media channels.

But perhaps the most notable was from veteran actor Ryomen Sukuna.

"Excited to see bedhead from my bubs." He quote-tweeted the video from the show's official twitter page.

And of course, almost immediately, everyone was going wild.

The hashtags #y/nsukuna, #HESDOWNBAD, #MYBUBS and #HERBEDHEAD were trending all at the same time.

"HUH!??? SUKUNA??? WHAT KIND OF POST IS THAT???"

"bro is not normal about y/n cause what do you mean he's saying he's excited for her bed head???"

"ARE WE GLOSSING OVER THE FACT THAT HE CALLS HER BUBS???"

"ryomen sukuna is down bad guys like its over for him (hes just like me)"

"guys guys, yall are not thinking about the wider picture......sukuna has pictures of y/n with bedhead"

Of course, Ryomen Sukuna likes to add fuel to the fire.

He quote-tweeted that fan and said, "Of course I have bedhead pics of y/n. There's a folder."

You also were not helping your case when you commented, "Do I at least look pretty in them, darling?"

Within a few seconds, the scarlet eyed man slyly replied. "Bubs, you're always pretty. No need to question that."

You liked the post almost as fast as when lightening strikes.

And of course, the world burns once more as your fans lose it.

➽──────────❥

EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR SHOW WAS FUN. And you were enjoying yourself at every taping of the episode, because it really did feel like a genuinely planned friendship road trip all across locations the show chose for all of you. You had never had a show be this fun like this.

The premise was simple: you and a group of fellow cast members would explore different destinations, taking part in challenges, meeting the locals, and showcasing each unique place's culture.

Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi were all pros at making the atmosphere fun and welcoming. Even in acting school, they were all like that and you loved that about them. It made everything so much more fun.

With each location, everyone brought their personality to the forefront, and it made for the perfect mix of laughs, banter, and unforgettable moments. You all took turns driving, cooking, and planning activities, making each stop a collective adventure.

Today had been particularly intense, with endless shots, physical challenges, and more retakes than usual. Now, after the long drive to your next destination and running on only a few hours of sleep, you felt the exhaustion settle into your bones.

As the car bumped along the final stretch of road, the warm glow of a cozy cabin nestled in the mountains came into view, and relief washed over the group.

Nobara let out a deep, dramatic sigh as she spotted the cabin. “This place better have decent beds, guys.” she muttered, twisting in her seat to stretch her neck. “I'm not waking up with another crick, or someone’s going to pay.”

Yuji snickered, tossing his bag onto his shoulder once you all arrived. “Trust me, we’re all on the same page!” he replied with a wide grin. “And that reminds me, can I get some sympathy? Megumi here takes up half the bed when we share. He’s, like, dead asleep, but somehow there’s no room for me.”

Megumi’s expression barely flickered, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Or maybe you’re just sprawled out like a starfish, Yuji.” he countered dryly, adjusting his own bag with a shrug. His usual calm made the subtle quip land even harder, and everyone burst into laughter.

You rolled your eyes, the exhaustion temporarily lifted by the familiar rhythm of friendly banter. Nobara, ever the force of nature, hooked her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the moment with a grin.

“So, guys.” she began with a pointed look. “You’re on dinner duty tonight, right? Please tell me you’ve got some magic in that suitcase of yours. I’m about to pass out, and the last thing I want is to wake up for ramen noodles.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you took in her expectant expression. “I’ll do my best with whatever we’ve got. But fair warning, if it’s instant noodles, I was never here.”

“Noted!” she laughed, patting your shoulder with faux solemnity. “I trust you’ll deliver.”

As everyone wandered off to settle in, Yuji threw an exaggerated thumbs-up over his shoulder. “Let’s go, resident chef! You’re a legend on camera and in the kitchen now. We're in for a treat!”

After a while, the crew had set up some lights in the small, rustic cabin kitchen where you were stirring a pot, trying to summon the energy to finish cooking.

The smell of food mingled with the quiet, comforting sounds of the cabin settling around you, though you could feel your eyelids drooping. Just as you stifled another yawn, Megumi drifted over, holding a steaming mug of coffee.

“Here.” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual. “You look like you need it more than I do.”

You took it with a grateful smile, letting the warmth of the cup seep into your hands. “You’re a lifesaver, Megumi. Seriously.”

He tilted his head, smirking just a bit. “Only as much as you saved us from yet another ramen dinner. This is... actually pretty good.”

His understated compliment made you laugh, even as you fought the lingering fatigue. Moments later, Yuji and Nobara poked their heads into the kitchen, the smell of food having drawn them in. Yuji rubbed his hands together excitedly.

“Look at this—our pro chef on set! Where did we luck out finding you?” he joked, pulling a few plates from the cupboard.

“Come on, Yuji, don’t distract the one person who can cook!” Nobara chided, though her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “Let’s not ruin our one decent meal tonight.”

Soon, everyone gathered around the makeshift dinner table, the crew even joining in as laughter and conversation filled the small cabin. The exhaustion you’d felt earlier melted away, replaced by the warmth of friendship and the satisfaction of good food.

These simple, shared moments, the laughter, the teasing, the shared triumphs over long days—reminded you why you loved every bit of this adventure. You really felt relaxed, after working in high stakes productions for a while now. This was a deserved break.

As the night wore on, the cabin was filled with tired but happy voices, sharing stories and jokes until everyone drifted off, still smiling. The promise of a new day of filming awaited, but for now, you soaked in the peace, knowing these were the memories you’d cherish long after the cameras stopped rolling.

➽──────────❥

IT WAS ROUGH THE NEXT MORNING. Not only were you driving in the morning, you had to wake everyone up. You already had an alarm set up and everything. But not all of that ever went to plan today, after your phone buzzed over and over. In short, you woke up to a flood of notifications.

Apparently, one of the crew members had captured that moment when Megumi handed you the coffee, along with his rare, dry joke in the kitchen. And of course, it was posted as a Behind The Scene shoot clip for the previous episode.

You expected that, of course. The whole pension house has cameras. The dim cabin lighting made the moment look even cozier, with Megumi’s slightly amused expression as he watched you laugh. Fans were absolutely losing it.

Of course, now that this was all over the place, the world will take over it. Social media was soon overflowing with edits, fan comments, and new ship names. People had screenshotted the entire scene, focusing on every little glance and smile, with captions like #SoftMegumi, #ChefxFushiguro, and #MegumiTheSimp.

"DID Y'ALL SEE HOW HE LOOKS AT THEM? I'M IN SHAMBLES?" one fan tweeted, sharing the clip on repeat.

"HE REALLY GAVE THEM THAT COFFEE LIKE IT WAS A LOVE CONFESSION, GUYS IM NOT OKAY???" another wrote, complete with heart emojis and a collage of your laughing face next to Megumi’s rare, softened smile.

Some of the edits were next level—fans had slowed down the footage, added romantic filters, and paired the whole thing with soft, soulful ballads that made it look like a scene from a romance movie.

The “Chef and Softie” ship was officially launched, and fans everywhere were on board.

Yuji, of course, was all over it. He reposted one of the fan edits with the caption, “Megumi looks happier here than he has in years. Should I be worried? 👀😂”

Meanwhile, Nobara was gleefully teasing you about the whole thing. "So, when’s the coffee date?" she teased, holding up her phone with an edit of you and Megumi staring at each other. “I saw all the comments—there are people already drafting wedding invitations for you two!"

Megumi tried to brush it off, but when Yuji pulled him aside to show him the edits, even he couldn’t hide the slight blush rising to his cheeks. He was always such a shy type, especially when he gets teased or praised.

Oh, Gojo would have a field day with this one if he was here. Megumi was lucky that he wasn't even online right now because he was busy with his new film.

“They’re really reading into it.” he muttered, though he didn’t look entirely displeased. "We're friends. I got coffee, you look like you needed it. Of course I'll get you one."

Cue the chaos: Ryomen Sukuna, in true dramatic form, making his feelings known on TikTok.

It all started to get even more worse when a fan edit of you and Megumi went viral on TikTok. The “Chef and Softie” ship was sailing strong, and fans were ecstatic.

Yuji even tweeted it, tagging you both with, “Did I just become the third wheel?? 👀😂”

@ItsRyoSuku:

"So, that’s how it is, huh? You’re into him now? @TheOneY/N”

This, of course, set the app ablaze with fans screaming in the comments:

@FushiguRizz:

“OMG Sukuna’s JEALOUS HAHAHA 💀 #TeamSukuna”

@SoftieXChefEndgame:

“BACK OFF KING OF CURSES, #TeamMegumi4Life 😤💖”

You, sensing an opportunity to stir the pot, replied:

@TheOneY/N:

"Aw, darling 😘 Don't be jealous. You know you’ll always be my #1. Right, bubs?"

The replies exploded as fans flooded the your reply with more chaos and new fan edits, hilarious ship names like #ChefAndCursed, and endless laughing emojis.

@MegumiStanAccount:

“BUBS?! 🤯🤯 @TheOneY/N OUT HERE DOMESTICATING THE KING OF CURSES I’M DONE.”

@LoveTriangleDrama:

“Y’all realize this means we have a LOVE TRIANGLE on our hands??? chef’s kiss 🍿 #ChefAndSoftie #CursedCoffee”

Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t done, though. Minutes later, he fired off a reply:

@ItsRyoSuku:

"Bubs?? If you think I’m letting Fushiguro get away with those coffee stares, you’ve got another thing coming. >:)”

At this point, the exchange has been shared everywhere — especially on Twitter where it was trending with hashtags #TeamSukuna and #ProtectMegumi. Fans had fully split sides, and edits were everywhere.

Even Yuji was horrified—but laughing.

@YujiItadoriOfficial:

“Guys, this was NOT supposed to be my life… #GetUncOffSNS 😂”

It quickly turned into a frenzy, with fans speculating about “The Battle for the Chef’s Heart” and even pitching fictional scenarios of you, Megumi, and Sukuna all vying for each other’s attention. By the end of the day, the “love triangle” had gone viral, with Yuji groaning and shaking his head.

“Seriously.” he muttered as you all read the tweets, “Unc's just losing it. Clearly, he’s only thinking about you.”

You tried to keep a straight face, but you couldn’t hold back your laughter as Yuji scrolled through the comments with an exasperated sigh. Every time he refreshed, new comments flooded in, fans fully invested in the “Chef, Softie, and the King of Curses” triangle that had taken over Twitter.

@BestiesWithCurses:

“Is it just me, or did Sukuna just out himself as a full-on softie under that murder-y glare? 🤔 #CursedSoftieConfirmed”

@MegumiDefenseSquad:

“Megs doesn’t need protecting, but we WILL #ProtectMegumi from all curse-related jealousy out there!! 😂”

@ChefSukunaShipper:

“Listen, they called him DARLING and BUBS. Sukuna’s in the soft-zone for her ONLY, confirmed 💖”

But then came the fan art—a goldmine of exaggerated, hilarious comics and sketches of you, Megumi, and Sukuna in all kinds of ridiculous scenarios. The best of the batch was a comic panel of Sukuna glowering in the background as you and Megumi shared a coffee, titled “The Cursed Love Triangle.”

Yuji held up his phone to show Megumi, who glanced at the screen and immediately looked away, a faint blush on his cheeks. “It’s… they’re really running with this, aren’t they?”

“Oh, you don’t even know,” Yuji laughed, scrolling to another edit with Sukuna in a tux, Megumi in an apron, and you standing in the middle with a confused look. “According to this, you’re both about to get down on one knee.”

Nobara chimed in, wiping tears from laughing too hard. “They even have hashtags for your ‘rivalry,’ Megumi. #TeamMegumi’s doing battle against #TeamSukuna for ultimate coffee rights!”

Megumi groaned, glancing over at you with an embarrassed smile. “Maybe we should just let Sukuna win.”

Of course, Sukuna, apparently with notifications on, took that opportunity to jump back into Twitter tweeting:

@ItsRyoSukuna:

"Nice try, everyone. 😈 The only winning here will be me taking MY seat beside @ItsTheOneY/N Got it, ‘Softie’?”

Fans went wild at this, and new edits started rolling in within minutes. Twitter was flooded with art of Sukuna claiming his “throne” beside you, while Megumi stood off to the side with a coffee, looking exasperated.

You decided to end the day with a final tweet:

@ItsTheOneY/N:

“Who knew coffee could spark this much drama? 😅 #NoTeamJustTea 🍵”

It didn’t stop the fans from picking sides, but it did give everyone a good laugh. The “love triangle” might have been a joke, but you had to admit that seeing the edits and fanfiction of you, Sukuna, and Megumi “competing” over coffee and affection had made the whole trip that much more entertaining.

When Yuji finally got on his account, he was exhausted. This was his uncle after all. Everyone is BEEFING with him. Yuji just can't help but facepalm.

“I just… I’m done. I don’t want to hear about coffee, ‘bubs,’ or anything love triangle-related for at least a week.”

The next day, though, everyone noticed Yuji slyly checking Twitter to see if the ship had started trending again on live television in the next aired episode.

The topic did in fact trend again, much to Yuji or Megumi's liking.

➽──────────❥

YOU WERE EXCITED FOR THE SHOW TO FINISH. With filming almost wrapped up in your last city, you were so ready to finally get back to the comforts of home, and, frankly, to more sleep. As fun as the trip had been, full of late-night laughter and challenges with Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi, you missed your own quiet moments.

But mostly, you missed Sukuna. Between his prep for hosting the music awards and your packed filming schedule, you’d barely exchanged a handful of texts in days.

So, while lounging in your hotel room, a little tired and missing him more than you wanted to admit, you decided to let it out on Twitter.

“I’m super sleepy, but I miss Sukuna. He’s a good hugger! 😴💤 #TravelingAlone #WishHeWasHere,” you typed, hitting “Tweet” without giving it much thought.

And that was that. Except, of course, it wasn’t.

Within minutes, your mentions exploded. “WAIT, does she mean the Sukuna?” one fan squealed. Another posted, “She just confirmed they hug…like a lot. THEY HUG TO SLEEP TOGETHER?!?!”

People were in full-blown fanfiction mode, concocting elaborate stories about you and Sukuna cuddling, secretly sharing hotel rooms, even whispering sweet nothings.

Just as you were debating whether you should tweet a clarification (or maybe just let them have their fun), your phone buzzed again. It was a notification from Sukuna himself.

He’d quote-tweeted you with a simple reply: “Miss you too, bub. 🖤”

That one tweet? Pure chaos. The reactions started pouring in with shrieks of excitement, hearts, and stunned reactions. “He just called her bub?!!” “I didn’t even know I was rooting for them, but here I am, #SukunaY/N!”

Unable to resist, you retweeted his reply with your own message: “Can’t wait to explore this beautiful place, but it’d be better with you here, darling! 😘”

Your castmates had spotted the tweets by now, crowding around and teasing you mercilessly.

“Oh wow, are you two public-public now?” Nobara grinned, nudging you.

“Y/N, this is serious rom-com-level stuff right here, and with Unc too? Crazy stuff!” Yuji laughed, winking.

Megumi looked genuinely contemplative. “This is making me wonder why my love life is so uneventful,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

Just as you were laughing at their banter, your phone buzzed again—a private message from Sukuna: “So, is this you hinting I should crash your little trip? Because I’m nearby, doll.”

A grin crept onto your face, and you quickly typed back, You totally should! I’d love the company.

A few minutes later, Sukuna confirmed, Alright. Just booked the flight. Pick me up later, sweetheart.

You barely got any sleep that night, excitement buzzing through you. When his flight finally landed the next morning, you were there, half-nervous, half-thrilled, waiting by the arrivals gate.

Sukuna strolled out casually, dressed down in a black hoodie and jeans, but still somehow looking like he owned the whole airport. Tattoos peeked out from his sleeves, drawing a few interested stares from passersby.

“Long time no see, doll,” he murmured, pulling you into a tight hug with that familiar, easy confidence that made you feel instantly at home.

You laughed, “Took you long enough. Thought you got lost or something.”

“Please. I think I’d know how to find my way to you in a blackout.” he teased, arm slipping possessively around your waist as you led him toward the exit.

A few fans who had been waiting nearby looked shocked, quickly snapping pictures, and before long, the hashtag #SukunaAtTheAirport was trending.

Everyone wanted to know why he’d flown out, what he was doing with you, and if there was something big on the horizon. The tension was undeniable, and you could already picture the theories fans would concoct.

As you walked through the crowd, Sukuna leaned down, whispering in your ear. “You know, I could’ve made my entrance even more…dramatic. But I figured I’d go easy on you.”

“Oh really?” you replied, trying to look unbothered. “Well, I’m just glad you didn’t make too much of a scene. Wouldn’t want to embarrass your new favorite travel buddy.”

Sukuna chuckled, his eyes gleaming. “I’ll make up for that later, darling. You’re getting the VIP treatment.”

The thought made you laugh, wondering just how over-the-top his “VIP treatment” was going to be. By the time you made it back to the hotel, fan theories about Sukuna crashing your trip, “spontaneous romantic getaways” and even engagement rumors were spiraling out of control. But with him beside you, laughing and exchanging private smiles, you didn’t mind one bit.

➽──────────❥

SUKUNA MANAGED TO GET A WHOLE WEEKENS OFF. You were excited when he told you all about it. The moment you stepped into the hotel room, the buzz of excitement between you and Sukuna was palpable. You tossed your bags aside and turned to him, ready to unleash the whirlwind of ideas you had for the day.

“Okay, so what’s on the agenda, Mr. VIP?” you asked, crossing your arms with a playful smirk.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, an amused grin creeping onto his face. “You have a lot of questions for someone who just pulled me out of my busy schedule. I could just take a nap instead, you know.”

“Please, no naps yet! We need to capitalize on your presence here. Let’s explore! We have to make the most of this trip!” You practically bounced on your heels, unable to contain your enthusiasm. “Plus, I still owe you that coffee from when you were busy—remember?”

His smirk deepened. “Fine. Coffee it is. But you’re buying,” he teased, giving you a mock serious look.

“Deal! But only if you let me choose the place,” you shot back, feeling a competitive fire igniting.

“Let’s see what you’ve got then,” he replied, folding his arms with an exaggerated air of skepticism.

As you headed out, the two of you were met with curious glances from the hotel staff, and you could already see a few fans lingering around, whispering and pointing. They were clearly waiting for the latest updates, and your heart raced at the thought of being at the center of the attention.

“Are we about to create some real drama here?” Sukuna asked, noticing the crowd gathering outside. “Should I be on my best behavior, or are we going full chaotic?”

“Let’s keep it cute for now, but I can’t promise anything. I don’t have your special energy,” you replied, grinning.

Sukuna feigned offense, clutching his chest. “You wound me, darling! My energy is unparalleled!”

The two of you walked out into the bustling streets, and your phone buzzed with notifications every few seconds. “You know,” you said, scrolling through the latest tweets, “people are going wild about you being here. They’re already predicting our romantic escapades.”

“Romantic escapades? Pfft,” he scoffed, glancing sideways at you. “You mean me rescuing you from boring coffee shops and dragging you into a karaoke bar, right?”

“Hey! I love a good karaoke session!” you shot back. “But let’s try to stick to our plan first. Coffee, then who knows? Maybe karaoke afterward?”

“Fine, but only if you sing ‘I Will Survive,’ and I want a dramatic performance.”

“Of course! But only if you join me! Two-for-one special,” you laughed, nudging him playfully.

As you strolled through the city, Sukuna’s presence felt electrifying. The way he casually interacted with the environment, his low chuckles at your jokes, and even his light teasing made you giddy. You found a quaint little coffee shop with a cozy vibe and promptly ordered your favorite drinks—something sweet and frothy for you, and a dark roast for him, because “real men drink coffee like adults,” he insisted.

As you waited for your drinks, you couldn’t help but lean closer to him. “So, how does it feel to be out in the wild instead of behind a camera?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s refreshing, actually. I’m usually surrounded by a lot of people I don’t like.” he replied with a wry smile. “But it’s different when I’m with you.”

Your heart did a little flip. “Well, I’m glad I’m on your good side.” you teased, sipping your drink and relishing the moment.

Before long, your phones buzzed again. Sukuna glanced at his and chuckled. “Looks like you’ve got a fan club keeping tabs on us!” he said, showing you a tweet that read, “Y/N and Sukuna getting coffee together? Official couple status confirmed!”

“See? Look at them shipping us!” you laughed, shaking your head. “They have quite the field day with this.”

Sukuna shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze steady on you. “Let them. I don’t mind being their poster boy for their fantasies about us if it means I get to hang out with as my primadonna, bubs.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Alright then, poster boy, what’s next on your agenda after coffee?”

“Maybe we could find a spot with a great view? Something to give them a real show.” he said, his mischievous smile returning.

“Now you’re talking! I know the perfect spot,” you replied, your excitement bubbling over. “It’s a little hidden rooftop terrace I found last time I was here. The view is stunning, and you’ll love it!”

As you made your way toward the terrace, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

The city was coming alive around you, the sounds of laughter and music filling the air, and you felt a rush of happiness at sharing this moment with Sukuna.

Once you reached the rooftop, the view was breathtaking, and you both stood there for a moment, taking it all in.

“Wow, bubs." Sukuna said, leaning against the railing, “You weren’t kidding. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it!” you said, grinning as you pulled out your phone to snap a few pictures. “Let’s get a selfie to commemorate this.”

“Selfie time? My Instagram’s gonna blow up, don't you think?” he teased, striking an exaggerated pose, pulling you close.

You snapped the picture, laughter bubbling up as he made a silly face. “Now that’s a winner! This will make them go wild!” you said, showing him the shot.

“Just make sure to tag me, or I might feel unloved, bubs.” he joked, but there was a hint of sincerity in his voice that made you smile wider.

As the evening continued, you both settled onto a cozy ledge, enjoying the soft breeze and the distant sounds of the city.

The atmosphere was perfect, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the start of something special—not just for you and Sukuna, but for all the fans who were eagerly following your adventures.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the trip?” you asked, leaning against him comfortably.

Sukuna turned to you, his expression softening. “Honestly? Just more moments like this. The coffee, the views, and you.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words. “You know, if we keep this up, we might have to face the fans’ expectations for more.”

Sukuna chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Let them think what they want. I don't really care. As long as I get to hang out with my favorite person, I’m game for anything.”

You smiled, the world around you fading away as the two of you shared a moment of connection that felt like it belonged only to you.

And as the sky darkened, dotted with stars, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something even more incredible.

Later on, Sukuna asked you to send the pictures to him. He wanted to post them.

His caption?

'My primadonna.'

[neunhofferart]

Howdy, Heidi! You said that some fans picked up things that were done on accident… Were there more scenes like that? Also, were there scenes that you guys made on purpose but fans didn’t pick up / were aware of them? In shipping terms (hihi) and in general terms. Thanks!

I think in every type of media you will inevitably see versions of 'authorial' intent vs audience interpretation that overlap and differ from each other in many ways. (Authorial intent in quotes because in collaborative mediums like film and animation every single person on the pipeline who touches the work probably has a slightly different personal interpretation they're contributing to the final work, even under someone like a showrunner or a director).

Humans are smart and it's in our nature to look for connections and find explainations to questions, so most of the time if someone is putting something down, someone is going to pick it up, so to speak, and a lot of things ARE on purpose.

But this same phenomenon can also lead to us seeing connections in places that even the 'authors' might not have originally thought of while creating the work, and I think that can be pretty neat actually! I don't necessarily think reading alternate interpretations of works is wrong-- it can be very healthy to explore multiple reads of a narrative or a character/character dynamic. On Chaos Theory there were definitely times when we were like 'fans are probably gonna ship this even if it's not the text' haha. Sometimes fans latch onto headcanons you really have no control over. Sometimes things were animated slightly differently from how they were conceived (which is also a natural part of things).

But yes, sometimes I have seen a few other things that were interpreted in slightly different ways from how they were directed or written verbally, but I'm personally of the opinion that it's more fun to leave some things visual and open to a little interpretation rather than beating the words over the audience's head and having the characters constantly announcing 'I'm feeling this because of this!' And going 'this is the only way to interpret the show and the characters and if you don't you're wrong!'

It's usually not a huge deal. I think even as we were working sometimes I'd make connections to myself that weren't necessarily spelled out to us and go 'oh, this is a throughline for this character actually!'

Like for example- if I remember correctly, the original direction behind how Kenji reacted to Ben's apparent death was that it was supposed to the first time he'd ever seen someone he really KNEW seemingly die right front of him, and being unable to do anything about it deeply affected him. Ben is a very important turning point in his character development regardless of which way you read it.

And I think this is actually something that just continued to stack onto his character throughout both shows whenever any of his friends lives are seriously in danger. In Camp when he's still unable to do anything but comfort Sammy while she's poisoned, to deciding it's too dangerous not to trade Wu's laptop for Brooklynn, to eventually throwing himself between the spinosaurus his dad is about to kill Darius with and choosing his friends over his own father and being willing to die with/for them... and then in Chaos Theory it kind of reboots all over again with Brooklynn dying and then his dad dying right in front of him, and his complex of not wanting to be useless and trying to do whatever he can at the expense of even himself to keep the loved ones he has left safe is kicked into overdrive.

I think there are a lot of things like that where the intent is not always verbally spelled out, but the more important thing is that it's still (hopefully) making you feel something.

[yourstruly9489]

Distortion Fanart (michael centered)

(saturated version on the left, og on right)

This is long, so a break before closeups start!

Closeups:

Text reads "The Distortion" (the o has a spiral inside of it)

More closeups but the doors on the left page are open, left to right, top to bottom:

Text reads: That was very stupid

Text reads: I am the throat of delusion incarnate

Text reads: There has never been a door there, Archivist

Text reads: How would a melody describe itself, when asked?

Text reads: "MICHAEL" That is a real name

Text reads: Does your hand in any way own your stomach?

Text reads: My very existence, tied to my pointlessness

Text reads: Did you notice which door she left through?

Text reads: I am not a "who," Archivist. I am a "what"

And that's the end of the closeups :D

All the text inside the doors are quotes from Michael Distortion btw. The only exception being "MICHAEL" bc Jon says that, but Michael does respond by saying "That is a real name" so I think it counts as a Michael quote. At least enough to be included.

I'd also like to thank a couple members of the "michael enjoyers" community for helping me come up with enough quotes. I do not remember your names, but thank you :D

The decision to make this spread was fairly impulsive. It started by me doodling spirals on a scrap piece of paper while trying to design a birthday card for a family member. While doing so, I thought, "why not fill a full page in my sketchbook with spirals?" And that turned into "I could make it into a Distortion spread."

And so, we have ended up here with a full Michael Distortion spread.

It was lots of fun to do, and has possibly gotten me out of artblock. Although, trying to come up with 9 unique doors that weren't yellow was quite the pain. Alongside the 9 different spiral patterns inside said doors. (although a couple of the spirals are copies of another)

And now a couple fun facts.

I am currently listening to "More Doors For Me" by elybeatmaker. I thought the song would be fitting.

I have only watched the first 14 episodes of TMA, and none of the TMAGP episodes. Everything I know about TMA is from my sister and Tumblr. For this reason I did only Michael, bc I know him far better than Helen. (she appears less in fanworks)

This spread took me five days. This is because I was either busy, or didn't have the motivation to work on it. The doors took the longest.

There is so much tape. The black background on the left page is black construction paper taped in, the spiral patterns underneath the doors were taped in, the doors themselves were taped on, the yellow door was also taped in, along with the hand and the wrist, both separately taped. It's a good thing I want a thick sketchbook.

My sketchbook's paper is a bit thin, so you can see the spiral behind the yellow door on the back of the next page. (I have since drawn over it, so I don't have a pic)

Each door has a separate color chosen to be the main color of said door. The colors include: Pink, Red, Orange, Yellow, Lime, Green, Light Blue, Blue, Purple, and Brown. The only one that is a normal door color (brown) has Michael inside it.

If you look closely at the right page, you can see where the lines start to get uneven in the background spiral.

I really like the idea of showing someone this spread and have them randomly open the doors, just to see a surprise Michael. :)

Materials used: generic pencil (for the initial sketch) 05 Micron pen random Prismacolors a cool multicolored lead pencil I don't know the brand of kingart twin-tipped brush pens Sipa fineliner pens scotch tape X-acto knife kid scissors black construction paper yellow cardstock A5 Fabriano sketchbook that I hate with a burning passion

Since you read this far, have some bonus Michael doodles!

^This one was variations of a scene from a dream.

^This one is from a doodle page I have laying on my desk, hence the scribbles nearby. I did not color in the lines (yes, that is nendou from TDLOSK to his left) This was also the first time I ever drew him.

I love giving him spiral cheeks :)

[golbrocklovely]

outsiders // colin and penelope

A/N: i know this is unlike anything i've posted before on here. i'll be honest, idk how else to explain this other than i direly need to see luke newton play a vampire, so this is about as good as it's gonna get until then. this is also very vaguely based off of a tweet that said this picture of polin makes them look like a cunty vampire couple and you know what??? they ain't wrong about that lol i used direct lines from the show, particularly in the drinking scene with the boys and the carriage love confession (which will be in part two). there are also some quotes and line sprinkled throughout that are similar to those in the show/book. but most of the dialogue is not from the show/book directly. also this is the first time i've ever written a fanfic using characters rather than real ppl… well minus a spn fanfic i never finished. so, please be kind since it's all fiction anyway. hope you enjoy and lmk what you think :)

prompt: Colin is trying to deal with the fact that he is not only in love with his best friend, but that he is incredibly lost as to who he is as a person. It also doesn't help that he's a monster; a vampire. Pen just wants her freedom, her ability to be Whistledown without anymore people finding out. And in her mind, Debling is the solution to her problem. But one fateful night brings Penelope and Colin together in ways they never imagined.

trigger warning: jealous!colin, protective!colin, AU!vampire, the entire bridgerton family are vampire, colin's friends are dicks lol, formal english (but that's a given), vampire powers, manipulation, ANGSTY AS HELL, idiots to lovers (not until part two), somewhat of a cliff hanger but not really since the next part will be out soon, mentions of blood/blood drinking

word count: 3054

~~~~~~~~~~~

Colin knew deep within himself that going out with Fife and the rest of his so-called friends was a mistake. Mostly because his mind was preoccupied tonight, many thoughts swirling around him; all of which pertained to a certain red head he had known since childhood. The mistake was thinking that he could relax while being around these exhausting men and their childish ways.

However he really did need some revelry after what he witnessed during the day.

When he walked into the library party and caught Pen with Debling, smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying, his blood boiled. A permanent frown etched into his face and had stayed there the entirety of the day.

"Say, what ails you, Bridgerton? Are you not enjoying your night?"

Colin turned to Stanton, blinking slowly. He took a swig of his drink, shaking his head. "I am well. Please continue with your story."

Stanton smirked, turning back to the table, "On my Grand Tour, I encountered this Greek girl in the Balkans. My bear leader..."

Colin zoned out again, unable to truly listen much longer to the men's stories of different conquests they had over the summer. His mind was still reeling, his thoughts ever consumed by the image of Penelope. Of their shared kiss. Of his constant reoccurring dreams of her and him. 

"She sounds like the young woman who made my time in the French Quarter worth the length of the voyage. Much to offer upstairs, and I do not mean her mind." Lord Wilding motioned with his hands, causing all three men to burst into laughter. Colin sighed, staring at the ground for a moment.

Fife looked up at Colin, "What about you, Bridgerton? You were gone for quite a while. I am sure the girls of summer made your trip quite... fulfilling?"

The gentlemen chortled, and Colin could feel them all eyeing him, waiting for an answer. "I did tell you my story of the contessa, did I not?"

"Yes, but you did not give details." Stanton whined.

Colin half-heartedly smiled, "Well, a gentleman must keep some things to himself."

Wilding pffted, "Oh, come now. I do not see a gentleman amongst us."

"I concur with you there." Colin shook a finger at them. The gentlemen gave him a quizzical look, freezing him for a moment. "Oh, forgive me… But it is tiring, is it not? The necessity imposed on us to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning. Do you not find it lonely?"

Colin gazed upon the men, hoping to see agreeing eyes; but instead the table chuckled at his expense. He sat back in his chair, defeated.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Featherington girl, now would it?" Fife teased, his glazed eyes staring at Colin's face.

"You know, Bridgerton? Congratulations are in order. I heard that apparently Debling plans to propose to her." Stanton raised his glass, "The marriage mart whisperer actually made a match. Cheers."

"May God have mercy on that poor man's soul." Wilding whispered, finishing his drink.

Colin narrowed his eyes, "I beg your pardon?"

"I know you have a fondness for the girl, but I cannot fathom what type of wife she would be. I would never marry a Featherington, but especially Penelope." Wilding remarked, almost disgusted.

"Maybe that's why Debling plans to travel for years." Fife quipped.

"Well, like your lady in the French Quarter, she at least has a lot to offer upstairs." Stanton snickered.

Colin leapt to his feet, his chair slamming to the floor. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides as his anger raged through him. His red eyes shot up, glaring deeply into the gentlemen's souls, captivating them instantly.

"You will never speak about Penelope or the Featheringtons ever again. And if ever asked about them, you will say nothing but the kindest of words." Colin grunted, his gaze shifting from man to man, "If I ever hear you speak badly about her or her family again, I will tear your throat out with my teeth. Your trivial existence will be ended, and the ladies of the Ton will be better for it... Know this as true, but forget I said this."

The gentlemen blinked rapidly, clearing their throats and looking at each other confused. Fife glanced behind Colin, "What happened to your chair?"

Colin smoothed out his vest, calming himself, "Oh, it must have fallen over when I stood up. Goodbye gentlemen, I am growing rather tired of this night."

~~~

Colin had the privilege of being born a vampire; and with that privilege came the ability to manipulate those around him. However, there were only two types of people he couldn't manipulate: other vampires - which really only applied to his family since he knew of no others - and those he was in love with. That applied to all the Bridgerton siblings. It was their own little family quirk, as they so lovingly called it. In a way, it kept everyone in check. Because they knew out of everyone in the Ton, the people they loved couldn't fall victim to their ability.

But luckily for everyone in the Ton, the Bridgertons were a good family. Violet had taught her children to seldom use their ability, and the children all followed suit. Hyacinth and Gregory did occasionally use it on the maids in the house, so that he could get extra sweets or she, the latest issue of Whistledown before bed; but for the most part all of the Bridgerton siblings fell in line with Violet's beliefs. 

While most of the Bridgertons enjoyed being vampires, Colin did not. Maybe it was because he was battling with himself over who he truly was. All this did was make him feel even more like an outsider. He wanted to be normal, to be known and loved for who he is, but how could he? He was a monster.

And now this monster, deeply annoyed by the past couple weeks of events, was on the search for blood.

Colin did not enjoy hunting. In the day, when he couldn't hunt, it was easier to forget what he was. But at night, his cardinal urges always came to the surface. 

Hunting on the poorer side of London wasn't challenging. There was always someone out and about. And Colin only needed a little bit of blood. None of them ever killed; the rule was only take what you need and leave no trace. And they were all excellent at that.

The worst that could happen was being caught by authorities. Or even worse, somehow ending up in Lady Whistledown.

Colin lurked around a corner, waiting impatiently for a passerby. He glanced at the printer shop, the light inside telling him someone was there. He needed to move further away, in case those inside would hear his victim if they were to scream out suddenly.

He casually walked down the cobblestone street, his sense of smell picking up someone near. It was a woman; that he was sure of.

He knew he should have just drank from the prostitutes, the ones he couldn't even bring himself to sleep with tonight. But he didn't like the idea of drinking from them. They oddly had shown him kindness, something he couldn't even acquire from his friends.

A woman rounded the corner. She was young, and her dark black hair was slightly unkempt. Colin rushed over to her, their eyes meeting instantly. The only sound she was able to make was a small gasp.

"Don't be scared, Miss . This will be over quickly. I'm just so...." he swallowed hard, "hungry."

Colin cupped the woman's face, turning her head so her neck was more on display. His fangs grew, his mouth watering at the thought of blood. Her pulse had quicken when he rushed her, her blood now calling his name. He sunk his teeth in, moaning as the liquid poured into his mouth. He closed his eyes, his thoughts shifting slowly back to familiar ones...

Penelope. 

He hated admitting it, but he had wanted to drink from Pen. His dreams not only consisted of touching her in the most inappropriate ways or confessing that their kiss was all he thought about; it was how he longed to bite her neck, taste her salty skin and rich blood. He knew she would be heavenly, but he never allowed himself to ponder on it too long. These were fantasies after all. She would never, ever find out what he was. And he would not damn her to a life like this.

He groaned against the woman's neck, lapping up spilt blood. Penelope was haunting him, even in real life. How was it that he could smell her, even right now? Even with his mouth on a different woman's neck, drinking her life essence, was he able to feel Pen's presence? It's like he could hear her say his name.

Colin glanced up, the printer shop illuminating the archway leading onto the street. A short person stood frozen, watching him. 

He froze too, his eyes focusing on the figure. The woman in his arms slurred incoherently. His eyes connected with her for a split second, telling her to forget what occurred and to go home. He pushed her off down a separate street, his eyes remaining on the silhouette.

He took a whiff of the air, his eyes widening.

The person ran the opposite way, racing back towards a carriage nearby. Colin made it there long before they could, grabbing them by the shoulders and pushing them up against the wall. His hand covered their mouth instantly, staring deep into the blue eyes he was captivated by since childhood.

"Penelope?"

~~~

Penelope had known the Bridgertons were vampires for years. While she might have met Colin first, Eloise had been her closest friend; mostly because it took Pen a while to really strike up the courage to actually talk to Colin. But when Eloise and her were young, outside and playing in her mother's garden, El casually told her what she was. At first, Pen didn't believe her. Who would believe such a thing without proof? El suddenly waltzed up to a butler nearby and told him to start doing a dance for her, and he did. The girls laughed at the sight, and from that moment on, Pen knew.

She never asked questions, but she was curious as to what vampires were really like. El wouldn't confirm anything to her, understandably wanting to keep some things private. And once Lady Whistledown rose to power in the Ton, El was even more hush about vampirism. Pen could tell she was nervous about her family's secret getting out there. But Pen assured her that Whistledown would never write on such a thing, otherwise she would become the laughingstock of Mayfair.

And now with El completely ignoring her because of Whistledown, she hoped that El understood that statement still rang true. While she would write about what everyone was talking about, no one but her knew their real secret. She would never share it, even if her and Eloise were no longer close.

The carriage came to a stop, the footman opening her door swiftly. She stepped out, the newest addition of Whistledown in her hand. She smirked as she read it over, noting how many in the Ton were speaking on her and Debling's possible engagement. While Pen did not enjoy being the center of attention, she did enjoy knowing that the sniveling mamas of the Ton were wrong about her.

Not only was Penelope courted, she was going to get married. That is, assuming she accepted Debling's proposal. Or that he actually planned to ask her mother tomorrow.

A life with Debling seemed... fine, to her. And if that's all she could get, she would take it. She wanted a love filled marriage, that was true; but maybe time would change that. It's possible that Debling one day might love her. Or that she may grow to fully accept what she had.

Part of her hated admitting it, but her feelings for Colin were still there too. But she accepted that reality as a fantasy and nothing more. Somehow, vampires were real, but Colin reciprocating her feelings wasn't. 

God had a very wicked sense of humor.

She walked down the street, turning the corner to the printer shop. When she raised her hand to knock, something caught her eye. She gazed down the street, two figures stood out in the open. It appeared to be a man and a woman. She squinted her eyes, watching them. The man cupped the woman's jaw, burying his face into her neck. Pen blushed at the notion. She had thoughts similar to that of her and Colin. Dreams, even. But to see two people doing something like that, so out in the open, was very scandalous to her. She wanted to look away, but curiosity got the better of her.

The couple swayed into the light unintentionally, and Pen's eyes widened.

The man's mouth was latched onto the woman's neck, and she was limp in his arms. It almost appeared like he was biting her. As she took in the man, she noted his dark brown coat. His tall stature and quaffed hair were familiar to her. It almost looked like...

"Colin?" She whispered.

The man looked up, locking eyes with Pen. She gasped, seeing his face for the first time. Dear Lord in Heaven, it was Colin. His mouth was stained red from blood and his fangs were prominent, even from such a distance away.

Her heart raced, and she knew she needed to get out of there, now.

She spun on her heel, running back to the carriage. Before she was able to get remotely close, her body was pushed up against the wall, her mouth covered.

"Penelope?" Colin hissed, his red eyes almost glowing in the dark.

She studied his face, taking in the features she had yet to see of him. His eyes were the most surprising, but his fangs were shocking up close.

"I am going to remove my hand. Please don't scream." He moved his hand slowly, her face feeling hot from his skin touching hers. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Colin." Pen argued.

"It is none of your concern, Pen. Whatever you saw..." Colin fought to speak, "was not what it looks like."

Pen suddenly became aware of the Whistledown papers in her hand, "Well, if that's the case, then I should be heading back home."

"You didn't answer my question. Why are you-" He began.

She cut him off, trying to sidestep him. "Colin, I need to-"

"What is that in your hand?" He questioned, pointing down.

Her blood ran cold. "W-What?"

Colin grabbed the papers from Pen's hands before she could stop him, her heart dropping instantly.

He gazed at the papers, reading over the words hastily. She backed up, her body hitting the wall. His stare hardened, eyes watering. "You're... Whistledown."

The hurt in his eyes, his voice, made Pen instantly tear up, "Colin, please I can-"

Colin backed away from her, "I cannot believe this. How could you?"

Pen wiped away her tears, "I am terribly sorry, Colin. Please let me expl-" 

"No, no. I do not want your explanation. What is there to explain? Clearly you are the one who has been writing such horrid things about my family. I cannot believe you would do this to us. To El." He choked out, "To me."

She begged, "Colin, let me explain myself."

"On top of being Whistledown, you come out here in the middle of the night to do your dealings. Unchaperoned, and presumably with no one knowing where you are. You could seriously get hurt! Not only could you ruin your reputation, but you could be harmed. How can you be so careless, Penelope?" He furrowed his brow, his eyes boring into hers.

Pen hated being talked down to. Who was Colin to act so scared for her safety, or her reputation for that matter? He was a vampire, for God's sake. She spat, "The only thing out here that seems to be harmful is you, Colin."

She knew she made a grave mistake. Damn her mouth.

Colin's eyes glowered at her, his body tensing. "What did you say?"

"I-I," Pen took a moment, gathering the courage to speak. "I saw you, Mr. Bridgerton. You weren't simply... caressing some random woman on the street. You were feeding on her. You're a vamp-"

He glared into her soul, demanding, "You are going to forget we had this conversation. You are going to forget what you saw moments ago. You are going to go home. Now."

Pen copied his gaze, shaking her head. "Who are you to tell me what to do? Have you gone mad?"

This was a terrible time to find out that Colin was, in fact, in love with Penelope. He knew he was, but the timing of it all really could not have been worse.

Colin growled, walking up to Pen's carriage door and opening it for her. "Get inside, Penelope. We will talk about this on the way back to your home."

"How can I trust to get in a carriage with you? Are you still hungry?" She sassed, her hands on her hips.

He lowered his gaze, his eyes darkening. "Do not make me force you inside."

Her skin felt hot suddenly, his tone hitting deep within her body. She had never seen Colin like this, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

Her mind was cautious, nervous. But her body... felt something else entirely.

She sighed, stepping inside her carriage with the help of Colin. He followed her in, sitting across from her. He called out to the footman to go to the Featherington residence.

"Take the long way, please." Colin sat back against the seat, staring at Pen.

"Make a stop at the Bridgerton's house first... please." She called out. The footmen acknowledged their commands, and Colin rolled his eyes at her petty attempt of control. She squirmed under his gaze, unable to make eye contact with him.

He asked bitingly. "Should you start or should I?"

|| Part 2 >>

[myfairkatiecat]

NOT TRYING TO BE RUDE, BUT i HATE KEEFE SO SO MUCH AND IM WONDERING (GENUINELY) WHAT YOU LIKE ABOUT HIM BECAUSE I CAN'T SEE THE APPEAL

ALSO YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER THIS IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE OR BUGS YOU SORRY IF IT DOES EITHER/BOTH

Hey anon! Those are some strong feelings you've got there!

This is a tricky question to answer since a lot of the things that make me like Keefe's character make some people dislike his character, so you might be about to get a list of all the things you despise about him by asking me what I like about him. I like him because I think he's a good character, and way better written than people give him (or Shannon) credit for. I don't always love Wattpad Fanon Keefe (perfect boyfriend, super sweet, always says the right thing) because it erases so much of his character. I like canon Keefe. He's a raw character with a lot going on and a whole slew of well-developed character traits.

Before I jump into this post, however, I want to say one thing: I think a lot of people who dislike Keefe are mostly frustrated with Shannon's portrayal of his character flaws, and I don't think they give Shannon enough credit for the way she's intentionally written Sophie as an unreliable narrator. It's rather clear during different parts of the series that Sophie isn't the most reliable narrator, and Shannon also explicitly writes in the margins of her annotated KOTLC book that she used a certain scene as an example of when Keefe takes his jokes too far. Sophie forgives him without even an outright apology in that scene, but Shannon makes it clear in her annotations that she, the author, isn't writing it off. I don't own the annotated so I can't remember the exact quote, but it's my biggest case for why I think Shannon has intentionally written Keefe with these character flaws, as character flaws, and yes, Shannon sees them as character flaws and has said so, so for the purposes of this ask response here, let's assume Shannon Messenger is aware she's writing a flawed character, because I do think it's rather unfair to her how often the people of the fandom accuse her of brushing by Keefe's actions when in reality she's just writing Sophie Foster as true to her character as she can.

With that, let's jump into this little essay about Why Keefe Is An Awesome Character And I Love Him that I've writtten for you!

My AP English teacher always used to say, "characters are more human than humans." I believe the purpose of this quote was that well-written characters exemplify what makes us human—our love, our experiences, our regret, our strengths and flaws—in ways that connect strongly to the audience. Part of the reason so many people like Keefe's character, I believe, is because they are able to connect strongly to him. This is because he is written as "more human than humans," as my AP English teacher would say—even though technically, he's not a human, but an elf.

One major strong point of Keefe Sencen's character is that his strengths and weaknesses are often wrapped up in the same character traits. This is something that is true for many people. For example, my politeness in real life social situations makes me a lot of friends, but too often can turn to people-pleasing. A good character, in my opinion, should have both strengths and flaws stemming from all of their major character traits. Here are a few of Keefe's:

His humor

One major aspect of Keefe's character is his humor. Whether you personally find it funny or not (I think I found it a little funnier when I was eleven... I'm sorta growing out of some of it, though his wittier comments in the latest books are more my style, which might be a sign of both me and the character maturing) it's an enormous part of his character. As a major character trait, it presents both strengths and flaws.

Often, he brings levity to heavy situations that the other characters appreciate. One instance I remember is in Flashback. They were preparing for a confrontation, and I don't remember what it was that Keefe said, but Sophie narrates that she appreciated the moment of comedic relief, because it eased some of her anxiety. Keefe is able to take intense moments and settle them with quick-witted (or hilariously not funny) comments. This is likely a skill he adopted in order to handle the crushing pressure of being in his own home as a kid. (Fitz, contrastingly, adapted the skill of just holding lots and lots of weight, bending and bending and bending until he finally breaks. Not to make my Keefe essay about Fitz, of course, but I know someone is going to point out that Fitz also dealt with a lot of pressure at home, and wanted to point out that he developed somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms as well, they're just different from Keefe's.)

However, sometimes his jokes are unwanted or go too far. Shannon comments on this specifically at the end of the first book, where Keefe makes a joke about how he helped save her when she almost died, and then sorta trailed of when he realized he was talking about her almost-death. Shannon commented in the margins that this was a moment of Keefe experiencing awareness that his joking has gone a little too far. She hasn't released annotated editions of any later books, but I'm confident that at least a few other scenes are examples of this as well. Sometimes I run across them during a read through and I'm like "huh, it's interesting to have a good idea as to what Shannon was thinking writing this." Sometimes, his constant making light of serious situations really isn't funny to anyone, and it keeps him from accepting the gravity of what they're doing, likely contributing to his reckless behavior.

2. His intuitive communication

Something to notice about Keefe is that even though he's often socially unaware, either in ways that indicate his childhood trauma or just his emotionally immaturity as a teenager, he's very good at knowing exactly what to say for his intended goal. That intended goal isn't always necessarily something he should want, mind you—we just talked about how his need to lighten the mood sometimes causes problems, and he knows enough about some of his friends (cough Fitz cough) to know exactly what words will hurt them the most in an argument as well.

This can be a strength for him, especially when he's comforting Sophie. Since he can feel her emotions instinctively, he often knows exactly what she needs to hear. He's actually incredibly sweet at times, especially in Legacy (I mean... there are other issues there, which I'll get into another time). For example, when he's telling her the reasons Bronte isn't the worst possible father for her to have. There's nothing inherently great about the specific way he comforted her, but it did ease some of Sophie's queasiness, because he knew what she needed to hear. Also, there are the scenes in Legacy where he's telling her that Sophie Foster is all she needs to be, or the scene in Everblaze where he reminds her that no matter who her parents are, she's still going to be exactly the same person she is, and they can't change her. Keefe is really good at knowing the right thing to say. (This might have stemmed from walking on eggshells his entire life aroud his parents!)

However, this also makes it really easy for Keefe to be manipulative, or lie, or say the completely wrong thing on purpose. The best example of the first two was when he somehow convinced everyone in just a few sentences that he totally wasn't going to go to Loamnore with them. Somehow, the guy famous for not doing what he's told convinced everyone he was going to do what he was told, and the thing is, it wasn't even unrealistic. He gave really good reasons that it made sense for him to stay back, and even made jokes about it, about how he and the others not going were "too cool for Loamnore." He had everyone convinced he really wasn't going to be reckless this time, when he totally knew his plan the whole time. The famous Unlocked healing center scene is a great example of the last one, because Keefe got upset with Fitz and knew exactly what to say to make him the most upset and embarassed in that situation. He only even took back the words when Sophie became upset as well. He and Fitz are in... not an awesome place in the latest books, and his POV reflects that.

3. His courage

Let's be honest. Is Keefe a runner? Yes. But when he runs, is he running from a fight? Nope. Never. One of the major instances of this guy running away actually put himself in a ton of danger. He doesn't run for cover, or safety. He runs usually out of fear of himself, his relationships, or that he isn't able to help in any other way. If we really look at his character, Keefe is incredibly brave. All of the KOTLC main cast is. They've got guts. But a lot of the others have a more guarded sort of courage, while Keefe's is... well. Not guarded.

Keefe doesn't think things through, and sometimes, there isn't time for that. Sometimes, immediate action is necessary, and Keefe is great with that. Quick, in-the-moment plans are his specialty. He's not afraid to stand up to people who want to hurt him (*cough* Dimitar scene *cough*).

But he's also extremely reckless (*cough* Dimitar scene *cough*). Because his courage is less guarded than his friends (such as Sophie's or Biana's) he may be more inclined to carry out his plans quickly, but he's also more likely to not think things through fully and end up putting his own life at risk, and sometimes even his friends' lives, even when he's trying to help.

4. His caution and fight or flight instinct

To everyone who ever said Keefe's character is flat and his strengths and flaws never develop or change, what version of KOTLC are you even reading?! Like I mentioned above, Keefe's recklessness is a huge part of his character since book one, but now I'm here about to talk about his caution/obsessive worrying/the famous running away, specifically the second time. This is a relatively new character trait for him. It develops slightly after Lodestar/the first half of Nightfall. Keefe truly did learn a lot from leaving for the Neverseen and lying to Sophie before going to Ravagog. We're given an extremely limited window into this process, since Sophie had other things going on and Keefe's short story focused a lot on his crush on her, but Keefe noticeably steps back and stops trying to turn things into a "Keefe show" (as Sophie puts it in Nightfall) and attempts to work more as a team, which is definitely character development again. However, where he really learned his lesson was Loamnore. He showed up, again going behind Sophie's back and coming up with a plan of his own, and it ended with Sophie tied up on the ground and him being forced to undergo a transformation that gave him powers he's terrified of. While his recklessness didn't entirely vanish after this (his response in the end was to run away to the literal Forbidden Cities) but is definitely flavored with siginificantly more caution and an attempt to be genuinely responsible.

In Unlocked, Keefe noticeably asks for people to be kept away from him, including Sophie, so that he can keep from accidentally controlling anybody. He also stops using his voice entirely. These are actually incredibly selfless things for him to do. He loves to be with his friends (particularly Sophie for reasons) and he loves to talk! And neither of those things are bad! But he isn't willing to put them in danger. In fact, he actually sort of overdoes it in Unlocked, even asking for Dex to make him an ability restrictor. (While he's well-intentioned here, I think Keefe brushes past the idea that making one of those again might be something of a traumatic experience for Dex.) In the end, he's so worried about it that he runs away, but he does it with considerably more of a plan than he did when he joined the Neverseen. He knew he'd know the languages, he arranged a way to get his hands on human currency, and while Unraveled isn't out yet, the state in which they found Keefe along with some of the things Keefe described about his experience make it clear that Keefe purposefully learned a lot about human cultures and successfully blended in and made his life work.

His newfound carefulness paired with his classic instinct to run really encapsulate a lot of his character strengths and flaws. In the later books, it's actually a sign that he's developing as a character and moving away from some of his past character flaws, but like all well-written major character traits, it comes with its own drawbacks.

Another important aspect of Keefe's character is the way he is noticeably shaped by his own experiences. I mentioned the whole "being more human than human" thing earlier, and while yes, he's still not human, I think this is part of what makes so many people connect to his character. He's realistic. He has even more strengths and flaws than the ones I've mentioned above, and all of them obviously come from somewhere specific in his past.

Why is he so chronically unserious? Because he couldn't be serious enough for his family. Before he met Fitz and started spending time with the Vackers, he didn't even really have friends. He had a suffocated home and impossible expectations, and when he tried to live up to them, he just wasn't good enough. So he adapted to break the tension. He adapted to just... not try ("those who don't try never look foolish" -Fiyero in "Dancing Through Life," from Wicked. I think Fiyero is... very Keefe coded) and started skipping classes, breaking the rules, playing pranks and doing anything to cut through the tension. He dealt with pressure by tossing it off his shoulders and just deciding to not deal with it. Obviously, deciding to Just Not Deal With Things eventually began to hurt him, and he slowly and painfully begins to learn to have difficult conversations (but hey, at least he's getting there? I think Neverseen is where his development in that particular area becomes apparent, with the way he opens up more and even admits where he's really beginning to feel guilty).

Why is he such a master of knowing what to say? Because he grew up walking on eggshells around his parents. And when he decided to stop caring about his parents, he weaseled his way out of trouble whenever possible, and learned to use other people's emotions to learn things from them and get his way. "But Katie," you say, "reading other people's emotions without permission and using them to get his way is a very not good thing to do!" You're very correct! And it's an enormous indication of how skewed his view of normal is. What's the one Empath he grew up observing? His father. Look, he knows his parents suck, but because his parents suck, he has no way of knowing what is and isn't normal. Is his father doing this particular thing because he's a horrible person or because that's a normal thing to do? How on Earth is Keefe supposed to know?! Well, there are rules about telepathy, and there aren't any rules about empathy, so the external indications seem to tell him that this particular thing is normal. This is yet another example of Keefe's life experiences having a huge impact on his character.

Why is he so reckless? Because he doesn't care. Even his his most noble moments of bravery stem from the same place of not caring what happens to his life. It's the same reason his deep care for his friends' lives turns to quickly into self-sacrificial tendencies (which show themselves in canon on numerous occasions and usually don't even help). He has this "better me than any of them" mindset that's deeply rooted in his childhood trauma. Even though he's fought tooth and nail against everything his parents have ever said about him, he still has this ingrained sense of worthlessness. The way he says he "doesn't care about permanent damage" and tells Sophie that he's going to make sure he's always the one who ends up wrapped up in bandages and also has that moment in Unlocked where he wants to retreat into the darkness and never wake up? Look, we all know he needs therapy, but maybe reread that last sentence. ...Keep reading it until you get it.

And finally, what makes him finally learn to be cautious? Because he sees firsthand how his reckless plans are impacting the lives of other people around him, and if there's any negative trait that Keefe is NOT, it's selfish. Keefe may be occasionally selfish—you know, case by case basis, like most people—but it isn't a character trait of his by any means. He struggles significantly more with not caring about himself than he struggles with not caring about others. So when he realizes it isn't only his own life he's putting on the line, and sees the way it's hurting his friends, he takes an enormous step back, and even runs away for a time. Now, it would be great if he would start caring about himself too, because this poor guy needs therapy and his level of self-deprecation at this point is way out of control. But it is the case that he cares about his friends a lot (if someone quotes this part and brings up Fitz, I'm going to point out that their friendship has fallen way out due to actions and reactions on both sides of that relationship) and ultimately it ends up adjusting the balance in his character traits and their related strengths and flaws.

In short, Keefe is a lot of things. He's good things, he's bad things, he's consistent things. He reads like a real person—someone who frequently makes the same style of mistakes but does learn and grow over the course of his life. Every character trait of him stems from some aspect of his past. Shannon didn't write him with a slew of random personality traits—each and every one of them ties down to who he is and how he's shaped by his experiences. He can be a truly amazing friend. He can be a really horrible friend. He can be sweet and amazing and say the perfect thing. He can say the wrong-est possible thing with the intention of cutting the other person deep. He's a slow learner, but he learns nonetheless. His character development isn't a smooth arc in which he has trait A, event B happens and at the end he has trait C. That's common in storytelling, but not real life. Keefe learns, grows, then makes the same mistake again, then learns stronger. His character development sees both growth and setbacks, and the changes are subtle. He's still the same person even when he changes.

He's good things, he's bad things, he's consistent things, and I think it is out of an awareness of our own humanity that so many people relate to him and therefore enjoy his character.

I hope you enjoyed this essay, anon. Believe it or not, I actually have plenty more to say about any of these topics, and some other topics that I didn't even bring up, so if you want to see even more, just direct me towards what you want to hear and I assure you I'll have thoughts. Have a wonderful day!

[paperstorm]

I know these next few episodes are supposed to be Tarlos driven, but I also think I’m going to lower my expectations for this coming episode on Monday because I think it will be more TK/Owen/Enzo driven and also Tommy’s got a big storyline as well as the big call Wyatt will have. I think episode 8-9 will probably have more of Tarlos in the forefront. I just know that a lot of people may have a lot of Tarlos expectations for Monday and I don’t think they’ll have a huge part together, other than being ridiculously in love husbands.

I think sometimes we as a fandom gotta get better at taking the things Ronen says at conventions with many grains of salt because a) often they are not on video but reported back through people who were there so the things that spread on twitter aren’t exact quotes (I’m looking at you, people who said he said a spin-off was confirmed when he didn’t say that at all), b) Ronen often hasn’t seen the final cuts of the episodes so he’s referring to scenes that were shot but might be edited differently than he’s imagining, and c) it’s all about his perception and what he means by phrases like “tarlos heavy” and whether that gets twisted into something he didn’t necessarily mean by fandom interpretation and speculation. I don’t think this time he necessarily meant “tarlos are gonna get 30 minutes of screen time of just them on screen together having long deep conversations”. I think he probably meant these episodes contain a storyline (or perhaps multiple storylines) that involve both TK and Carlos will affect their lives going forward. There are other characters getting their own stories concurrently, like you said, and often pivotal scenes in this show are very short (I’m thinking of like the “I’m not going anywhere” “you better not” scene from 4x18, which is one of my favourite scenes in the entire series but it’s also literally like 90 seconds long). So yes. I think temper your expectations, remember that something Ronen said at a con three months ago that was relayed to us second hand is very susceptible to fandom misinterpretation, and enjoy whatever the episode brings :)

[8flix]

Before you go. Any comments on byler? 🎤

Ah, yes. The byler predicament. Allow me to muddy the waters even more.

But first, a disclaimer: to be clear, I have no conclusive/confirmed information about season 5. What I know are inferences made from previous leaks, combined with what we now know as fact.

A little more on that before I get to Byler:

The leak came from outside of Netflix; a third-party private company that offers closed captioning services (as confirmed by Forbes, then eventually Netflix). The leaked videos of Heartstopper Se3 and Arcane Se2 are low resolution (640x266 / 640x480) encodes of unlocked edits (ie: edits that are subject to change at the network's discretion), and devoid of VFX. If you're a fan of either show, don't waste your time because it will only spoil the finished product.

That being said, I doubt that there is any video of ST5 episodes 1 through 3, as purported by the so-called "hacker" (I use that in "quotes" because any schlub with an email address could have accessed the server without restriction -- the login app had no restrictions to the inhouse videos).

So, aside from the fact that Netflix will aggressively pursue civil and criminal charges against the source (if they ever find the person) -- a threat that any legit hacker would certainly ignore (unauthorized access to a computer network is already a federal crime, regardless of whether or not something was "taken" and/or released publicly) -- I think there won't be any video of ST5 leaked because it doesn't exist.

A legit hacker would have released it already, defying both Netflix and the FBI, and in such away that would make tracking them down impossible. What is there to lose? Nothing for a legit "hacker." And let's be honest: this wasn't a "hack" of top-secret government documents. And the "hack" will not cause long-term financial damage to a publicly traded company like Netflix. In an election year, the Feds have more important cyber criminals to go after than a scriptkiddy looking for notoriety in the Fortnight Discord app.

Realistically, it's doubtful more than a cease-and-desist letter from Netflix to that Twitter influencer dude, and perhaps firing the IT guy who forgot to flick the privacy toggle on the login app at the closed-captioning company, will come to fruition. And like I said, a legit hacker has zero fucks to give, so threats of a civil lawsuit or prison time would mean nothing to them because their OPSEC would be 100%.

Also, it's my belief that no videos of ST5 will come out because of how TV series are made. Principal photography of ST5 is around 12 months (December 2023 - December 2024). That's a 5-day work week, 16-hours per day. Not including holidays, reshoots, and unforeseen delays, about 48 - 50 weeks in total -- so, about 250 - 300 days of shooting (a movie is often 30 - 120 shooting days). Post production -- which includes editing, music, VFX rendering, ADR, etc. -- will take at least 6 months. For a $200 million series like ST5, 4 - 6 weeks of per-episode-editing is not unheard of. Stranger Things is arguably a Netflix legacy. It's not only going to be protected, but perfected.

Season 5 is being released in two-parts. Part 2 will likely still be in post-production when Part 1 is released. To give you an idea of how close producers come to hard deadlines for series: I watched (legit) screeners of Locke & Key Se2 -- the final two episodes -- before they were complete -- 2 weeks before the world premiere. It's that close.

ST5 shoots chronologically, with some exceptions. Meaning, they film in order of episode. (Movies, on the other hand, film according to scene and schedule -- scenes that take place in the same location, but spread throughout the movie and take place on different days, are shot consecutively). The leak happened in late June (apparently), which would mean that episodes 1 through 3 would have been shot and edited by May. That's not realistic. Like, at all. If I were a betting man, I'd say that episode 1 is still being edited as I write this. There is still 4 months of principal photography remaining.

My expectation is to see trailer #1 during the Super Bowl in February. And October 31, 2025 as a release date for Part 1.

My expectation is a December release for Part 2.

Hardcore hype and teasing for 10 months.

This is my guess; based on personal experience with shows and movies that are not Netflix properties.

Okay, so, Byler...

If you believe the 2022 "definitely not leaked Se4 scripts" are definitely real... then Will is "fully resigned to knowing that he’s just ripped off the Band-Aid." #Byler, as we know it, will never come to be and #Mileven is endgame.

Or, if you believe the "definitely not leaked Se4 scripts" are definitely cap, then Byler is, in fact, the real endgame.

Given the circumstances, I am obviously the former. And, as much as I hate to say it, Will and Mike will never be a couple. 99% confident about that one.

Whichever side you take, in the words of Dr. Emmet Brown, "You're not thinking fourth dimensionally." (hint)

Will Will find love? No. There are bigger plans for Will. Conversely, there are plans for El that go way beyond teenage love. Again, if you believe the fake scripts to be real, then it will become apparent in ST5 that Will and El share a unique connection. My inference is that they are related. If not in the current timeline, then in the alternate timeline and reality (that will be revealed in Se5). "Young versions" of "Will, El, Mike, and the others," have already been cast to appear in Se5. But, IMAO, they're not the "young versions," but the alternate timeline/reality versions. Back to the Future, and Terminator are huge influences. As is the JJ Abrams movie "Super 8" (watch the movie, there are so many similarities with it, and Stranger Things).

I'll also add that there were scenes filmed in 2020/2021 that were meant to be included in season 5. I think -- if memory serves -- it's in or at a church and touches on the theme of "occult murders". So, I wouldn't be surprised if Eddie Munson makes an appearance.

In my professional opinion as a writer (excluding what I may or may not know about ST5): regardless of what scripts you've read -- official, unofficial, fake, real -- the series endgame has already been revealed on screen. I'll explain:

In general terms, for any television series with a definitive finale, and a pre-determined ending, writers follow a blueprint: specific plot points that must revealed along the way so that the story makes sense to viewers -- even to those with conflicting opinions.

If the writing is done correctly, then (for example) when something is revealed in episode 25, viewers will experience a lightbulb moment: "Oh yeah, I remember the references during episodes 2, 5, and 15."

So, using the Byler vs Mileven plotlines, it's plausible that either outcome is still possible. That's the brilliance of Stranger Things' writers' room (I say that sincerely).

Clues have been dropping since episode 101. Spoken dialogue, secondary dialogue, music selection (read the lyrics), character names, specific dates, shooting locations, pop culture references, carefully choreographed shots and scenes, numbers, dates, background props... Everything contains a piece of a puzzle that reinforces what is already known, and reveal what will soon become obvious.

Seriously, I don't know the ending of ST. And honestly, in my experience, it's more likely than not that only the Duffers and a small handful of Netflix/21 Laps execs know the real ending. For a series as big as Stranger Things (with an estimated season 5 budget surpassing $200 million), don't be surprised if more than one ending is filmed. Certainly, more than one has been written. It's not uncommon to leak misleading (but highly plausible) information on purpose. Netflix marketing peeps are top in their field, and outside-the-box thinkers.

What I do know is that the endgame -- be it canonical or other -- will completely blow you away and go down in history as Netflix's most watched finale.

Or, it will be the biggest let down since The Sopranos ending -- the first one AND the do-over.

[dresshistorynerd]

I think we can all agree that this is dumb, right? Though the title is highly misleading and the quote marks around "ban" do a lot of work here. These companies just no longer requires actresses to wear structural garments. Still a dumb and bad solution to the problem of badly made costumes.

Couple of my issues with the article:

The purpose of the corset or any other similar structural garment wasn't to reduce waist, but to provide support and shape the silhouette. In the article someone from Netflix commented that they shouldn't promote that women should make their waists smaller, apparently it's "bad optics". And from Neflix the main series where corsets are no longer required is Bridgerton, because one of the main actors had bad time with her stays. But if you take just one quick look at the Regency silhouette you will see the waist is far from reduced. Literally there is no waist. Completely covered. They have been doing something terribly wrong if they have made Regency stays that pinch down the waist. Some actors also seem to think the waist is supposed to be reduced all the time. I remember that one actor in HBO's The Gilded Age complained about the corset, but then in the same breath admitted that she had asked the costumers to make it purposefully a little too small so she could be tight-laced all the time (a practice some fashionable rich Victorian women did for high society events, and definitely not all the time). But beyond the inaccuracies in the article, there is an issue here. Structural garments supported the bust yes, but also in many periods they supported the weight of the dress. In 17th and 18th centuries and Victorian Era the skirts of rich women especially had a lot of heavy fabric which would be hard to deal with and move around with, if all the weight is only on the waist. But with a structural garment it distributes the weight to the whole torso, especially on the hips.

A structural garment needs to be fitted well and worn with with a shift underneath. It absolutely can be uncomfortable, create bruising and restrict breathing, if it's not well fitted. If you have ever used too small jeans that contain no spandex at all, you know how nasty the effects can be on the skin. Especially TV sets often have very little time for creating costumes and they might have just one fitting or at tops two or in worst case scenario none at all, which very easily leads to ill fitting costumes. That is a huge issue with structural garments. I've been making transitional short stays for myself and I have never made a garment like that so I'm still struggling fit it well (it's unfinished), and I can say it's not comfortable when it doesn't fit well. I haven't watched Bridgerton but I have seen couple of screencaps of different scenes with characters wearing stays and no shift to be seen anywhere. I really do hope they actually are wearing shifts when they have the full outfits on and just didn't wear them in these scenes for aesthetics or something. Because, yes, that will absolutely give you bruising, if you wear any type of fitted and structured garment against your skin without any fabric between it and the skin, against which the structural garment can slide against. It would be irresponsible to put your actors in such garments without shifts. I don't blame the actors for complaining about the "corsets", since I can believe they are uncomfortable if they are not well fitted or god forbid if they aren't wearing shifts.

I don't know how many times this needs to be said: corsets are not torture devices. While I don't blame the actors for complaining, reading comments like this kills one brain cell every time: "Women existed in that for such a long time, which does give you a lot of sympathy for that time period and what they were going through. For the first month, I couldn’t breathe." I'm sorry, but women literally did physical labour in corsets. They climbed mountains in corsets. (I have a whole post related to this.) Do these people really think so little of women in the past that, if corsets really were torture devices, they would have just endured them quietly for centuries? Of course the most fashionable clothing in a lot of the periods were uncomfortable and hard to move in, even restrictive, but those were the court gowns and ball gowns the young fashionable elite wore for the special evening occasions to show off to the high society. But does that really differ from today? If you look at the MET galas and stuff, do these actors really claim the outfits are comfortable? The everyday clothing and the clothing of the working class was fairly comfortable, and yes, they all wore corsets.

Yes, you can make properly fitted, comfortable supportive garments for costumes in any production. The proof is in opera. Opera singers wear corsets in a lot of productions. I have read many accounts by opera singers who talk about how their corsets are well fitted and actually makes singing easier, because you can "lean" on the corset (I don't know anything about singing, but that's what I have seen them say). Also they tend to wear those large and heavy period dresses and as alluded earlier moving on them on stage without corset would be very hard. Singing also would be harder as the singers could easily become breathless from moving the heavy dress without using the muscles on the whole body. Operas have much smaller budget than these big tv and movie productions, so there's really zero excuses for making badly fitting corsets.

So yes, it's dumb, it's inaccurate and kinda infuriating. But it's also actually pretty sinister. The issue isn't actors wearing corsets for many hours, that's what people have done for ages and still do in re-enactments, opera etc. The issue is that there's too little time for fitting and sewing the corsets in modern tv and movie production. And this is part of a much broader issue. Costume designers and makes are unionized in Hollywood and for a while now Hollywood studios have tried to cut the amount of unionized behind the scenes labour they employ.

Making profit from a movie or a tv show is not good enough anymore. Now productions that don't "perform as expected" are seen as flops. The production companies make predictions of profit and green light projects they have calculated to make most profit, and if they don't make that high profit, it's a flop and it won't get the planned sequel or the next season. To achieve those high profits they also do everything they can to lower the production costs, and one way is by employing as little unionized labour, to whom you have to pay fair wages, as possible. So costume departments are then very often understaffed and they have way too little time to produce the costumes in proper quality. This can be seen very blatantly in the clear drop in quality of movie costuming during the past couple of decades. So the reducing of structural garments in costumes seems like yet another attempt to reduce unionized labour disguised as feminism.

Obviously the good and smart solution to the problem of uncomfortable structural garments is to hire enough costumers for long enough time so they can have multiple fittings and make them better.

[hekateinhell]

I was wondering what your thoughts are on this. A lot of people see a vampire biting (without consent) a metaphor for rape. Like when Lestat is turned and the ball scene. Armand was seemingly attempting a hook-up. He's maybe using mind control because Lestat is somewhat incoherent. He's terrified because it reminds him of Magus. He calls it an unforgivable lie. Where do you think this metaphor ends? Do they (metaphorically) rape mortals when they kill them or is that different? Thanks！

Hi! 🖤

So I think it's going to be a two-part response here because it's an interesting question and I want to do it justice. Now, this is what Lestat says in TVL:

I wanted him [Armand] to beg. I wanted him to give me that powerful voice full of lies and cunning, the voice that had made me believe for one pure and dazzling instant that I was alive and free and in the state of grace again. Damnable, unforgivable lie. Lie I'd never forget for as long as I walked the earth.

This is the unforgivable lie! The illusion Armand created that let Lestat believe with his whole heart and soul "I [Lestat] could get away this time. I had another chance. The wheel had turned full round", but of course it wasn't real, and that's what hurt Lestat the most.

That being said, let's address the metaphor because it comes often enough in VC. Usually between two vampires — the most explicit examples would be Armand saying he wants to rape David in TVA, and Lestat ruminating over the violence of his creation (which mirrors David's) in Blood Canticle:

[...] immortals who think they want the Dark Blood perish infinitely more easily than those of us who never asked for it. Perhaps the anger of the rape carries us through for centuries.

Your question was: "Do vampires metaphorically rape mortals when they kill them?" and I would have to say, yes, they do!

Because when we're thinking about metaphors, allegories, and the different ways that language is used, it's so important to put it into context or we're going to lose the nuance completely. I discussed this with my friend @somevagrantchild, who's not just an obsessive Anne Rice fan but also someone who's been studying vampire media for a very long time, and they made some excellent points in response to your question that I'm going to directly quote below!*

They are violating and taking from the mortals without consent; it’s a general vampire allegory for all vampires since the beginning of time. Anything not consensual = rape. If a vampire hypnotizes a human to drink from them so that the human enjoys it, it’s still rape.

No human ever consents to be killed. Even like the suicidal people Armand draws to him still aren’t consenting. They don’t have enough knowledge to consent, killing a suicidal person doesn’t make it consensual. The only way would be if the human was like, “I understand you are a vampire, please kill me sir.” The consenting to death would be seeking out the vampire themselves and making the conscious choice; suicide means deciding when you die. If they’re suicidal but haven’t killed themselves yet, then killing them before they make that choice is still violating them.

Rape especially applies to vampires (more than other types of non consensual murder) because of the intimacy of it, the way they’re violating that person's inner self by drawing out their memories and private feelings, also the bodily fluids going from one body into another (as opposed to stabbing someone and their blood just spilling on the floor).

Examples in literature: At the very beginning of vampire fiction with Lord Ruthven seducing innocent maidens; Dracula just snuck in their room and attacked while they were asleep in bed but Ruthven was seducing them personally, and all adaptations of Dracula have him being much more seductive. Carmilla, too, sneaking into Laura’s bed and feeding on her breasts in the middle of the night. The whole penetrative aspect makes the rape metaphor more applicable than it is to other types of murder/violence.

*touched up for grammar and continuity from Discord.

Hope that answers your question and thank you so much @somevagrantchild for lending me your brain for this one! I want to devour it. ♥️

[robindrake93]

11 days since I sent you that ask and I can now say, I get it. I get what you meant about episode 8. WE DID NOT JUST GET LUKERCY CRUMBS HOLY SHIT-

ALL OF THEIR SCENES TOGETHER WERE MAKING ME FERAL FJGKD WHICH WAS SO HARD TO KEEP IN WHILE WATCHING IT WITH MY SIS 😭😭 IT WAS SO GOOD

the training!! the entire fucking fight with luke practically begging percy to believe that he is his friend and wants him to join him!! the lighting!! just everything!!! you can soo tell luke wanted to shove percy in that portal and take him along no matter what!! (ignoring annabeths appearance cause im still on the fence with that change even if I get why they did it)

i am so going to binge read lukercy fics the entire night just to fill my rabid need for content of them after seeing that AHFJVKDKD I CANT-

You're right we didn't just get crumbs, we got a whole damn pie.

Luke not only welcoming Percy to camp but being the one to show him around, constantly by his side. Even watching him sleep from across the cabin.

The look on Percy's face when Luke tells him he's always on Annabeth's side.

Luke breaking the camp rules that two demigods (with different parents) aren't allowed to be alone in the cabins together to give Percy the shoes in his cabin (as opposed to on the hill like in the book).

Percy wanting to take Luke on the quest but being afraid that Luke would prioritize Annabeth over him.

The jealousy and disgust in Luke's voice during the Iris message when he makes the comment about "when did you two become an old married couple" and the look of equal disgust and discomfort from Percy when he says "gross let's move on from that." (paraphrasing but you get the idea)

Luke influencing Percy so much that the very first words of Percy's book ("Look, I didn't want to be a halfblood") are actually a quote from Luke.

The whole training scene.

Sword under the chin is always hot. Percy's making a face like he knows it too.

When Luke goes to sit on that rock beside Percy, he chooses a spot that lets them sit eye-to-eye but also he rocks toward Percy for a second like he's going to go in for a kiss.

Percy mirroring the head tilt that Luke (Charlie?) does.

Luke's voice full of pride when Percy does good.

Luke telling Percy he's small and scary. So fucking cute.

The way we can see via body language what book!Percy has been telling us all along: that every time Percy picks up his sword, he hears Luke's voice in his head telling him what to do.

Percy and Luke almost never take their eyes off each other for the whole secret meeting about Clarisse.

They're meeting in the woods at night. Luke didn't even have to bribe Percy this time, he just trotted after him.

Luke coaxing Percy into talking. (in the books Percy doesn't do a lot of talking out loud and Luke actually does break the ice several times because Percy is just standing there staring like a little weirdo [affectionate].).

Fireworks from beginning to end. Love the red and blue ones especially for that bisexual lighting. It was easily the best lighting in the whole show.

"Easy. I just want to show you." Everyone says that the maia scene was the hottest thing Charlie said as Luke but they're sleeping on this. Those are 'gonna take your virginity' words and his tone of voice? Mmm. Yum.

AND it's about his sword? HIS SWORD?! The most phallic weapon of all? Gods help me.

Just an interesting detail but Luke doesn't actually ever point his sword at Percy until Percy attacks him. It really shows that his plan is to convince Percy to leave with him.

"The gods are my enemy. You....." - Luke searching for what Percy is to him. lol I guess it's supposed to be a dramatic pause for dramatic effect but it really just makes it sound like Luke is debating how exactly to define their relationship.

Both of them have watery tear-filled eyes? Excuse me? Cry babies? Yes please. I told all of you so.

Also Luke is comfortable with turning his back on Percy to draw the runes (?) even though Percy drew his sword and is sweating like a sinner in church.

Luke actually proposing that they run away. Together. Just the two of them.

"We"

Percy is literally swaying on his feet. You can see that he's nervous but he also doesn't take so much as a single step backward. He still wants to be close to Luke!

Luke's determination to bring Percy with him. During their fight he does his best to keep Percy between himself and the portal. He even tosses Percy towards it a couple of times. Luke wants Percy to run away with him voluntarily but you can see as the fight goes on longer, he decides kidnapping is an option.

Luke is not leaving without his boy.

The skill difference between Percy and Luke. We see this during training too, where Luke is tossing Percy around and basically playing with him (I mean it's serious training but Luke's skill level is so above that it looks like playing). Luke is not seriously fighting Percy. He's trying to herd Percy into that portal.

Luke praising Percy in the middle of their fight.

Percy cutting Luke.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -" Because Percy really doesn't want to hurt Luke and he's never like actually hurt someone he cares about.

Luke cutting Percy.

Looming.

The way after Annabeth shows up, Luke's eyes flit down to Percy three separate times. You can visibly see him weighing his options. I think he was debating if he could sling Percy over his shoulder and run into the portal faster than Annabeth could catch them.

"I know Luke wasn't trying to kill me." - WOW what a change from the book. I can't believe they had Percy understand that because in the pit scorpion scene, he did not get it. I'm happy about the change but surprised they made it. (makes me wonder if Percy's the one who's loyalty we're supposed to question instead of Annabeth's as the next seasons come up).

Sorry that was long but like. Wow. We won hardcore.

As for reading more lukercy fic, you'll be pleased to know that it's the lukercy valentine's event this week (02/12-02-15) so there should be ✨ new fics. ✨

[jimblejamblewritings]

Marauders Fanon vs Canon??? (I don't have a good title but hear me out)

So I'm writing a fic but I wanted to make it more in line with canon for some parts and was looking up some stuff and realized a lot of stuff we think is common knowledge is fanon mixed with canon or something wasn't stated in canon when it was. This isn't about Team Snape or Team Marauders. I went to pick up my copies of the books since I owned them and noticed these things:

Keep in mind, anything anyone says is biased. On both sides. Especially when they're talking to Harry or showing him something. They want to make themselves look the best. So there might be contradictions by characters

(Sidenote: James says "you-know-what" when telling Lily he can't be as bad as Snape because he'd never call her a mudblood like he just did. So, yes, that very much shows mudblood is meant to be a slur like the n-word. we can put that argument to rest)

Snape Invented Levicorpus:

There's a lot of maybe he did maybe he didn't on every side but in Half-Blood Prince Ch. 28 (pg.603-604) it states:

“Sectum— !” Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape’s face clearly at last [...] Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi— “No, Potter!” screamed Snape. [...] You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them — I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you’d turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don’t think so."

Snape reacts only after Harry is about to use Levicorpus. So it's confirmed on page that when Snape says spells, he means both Sectumsempra and Levicorpus. And we know from his worst memory that the only spell James uses on Severus that isn't taught in school is Levicorpus. So that could be the only witnessed spell of Severus' James would have turned on him.

Also in the Worst Memory, he definitely uses a form of sectumsempra on James:

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly. Blood spurted from Malfoy’s face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. (Half-Blood Prince Ch. 24, p. 522)

Snape had directed his wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James’s face, spattering his robes with blood. (Order of the Phoenix Ch. 28, p. 647)

They both cause gashes although James' hex is obviously a lot less intense than Draco's hex. I don't know if this would imply Snape wasn't advanced enough yet in the spell but he seems very proficient even at the end of 5th year where this scene takes place. So maybe he used a different form of it? Either way the spells match up in the look of them, it's just the severity is different.

~~

Lily was NOT a bad friend to Severus. I've seen people say oh she didn't use her wand during Snape's Worst Memory therefore making her a bad friend and not that invested in him. She literally pulls out her wand and threatens James and Sirius if they don't let him go. Just because they listened to her threat so she didn't get to fire a hex doesn't mean she wasn't going to. She wanted to talk first and try to reason before resorting to violence. She was a good friend to Severus. Period.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily. (Order of the Phoenix Ch. 28, p. 648)

~~

Sirius claims that James always hated Dark Arts. This could definitely be a skewed perspective but so far I've treated every quote as truth of the person who said it so I'll do the same here for now. If this is true, then James never hated Snape out of nowhere and happened to be proven right that he's a Death Eater. They knew.

James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can’t you? I think James was everything Snape wanted to be — he was popular, he was good at Quidditch, good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts and James — whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry — always hated the Dark Arts. (Order of the Phoenix Ch. 29, p. 670)

The war started in 1970. The Marauders and Snape's first year at Hogwarts was 1971. So Death Eaters, Voldemort, and the war in general was their entire school career. Severus wasn't hanging out with pre-Death Eaters. They were always preparing to join the Death Eaters. They were called Death Eaters at the school. So whether that's his actual motivation or not, James and literally everyone else would know from first year if their fellow students were on Voldemort's side or believed in his cause or not.

You and your precious little Death Eater friends—you see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who, can you? (Deathly Hallows Ch. 33, p. 676)

To me that makes the use of mudblood constantly even worse. From the beginning students knew the implication of that and would call and honestly torment their fellow muggleborn students that slur anyway. Everyone at school was well aware of the war and their actions, even the first years.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said in a constricted voice. “Why not?” “Tuney h–hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore.” “So what?” She threw him a look of deep dislike. “So she’s my sister!” “She’s only a— ” He caught himself quickly; Lily, too busy trying to wipe her eyes without being noticed, did not hear him. “But we’re going!” he said, unable to suppress the exhilaration in his voice. “This is it! We’re off to Hogwarts!” She nodded, mopping her eyes, but in spite of herself, she half smiled. (Deathly Hallows Ch. 33, p. 670 - 671)

~~

James and Severus were at each other's throats. It wasn't one-sided bullying on either side. They both attacked each other. Literally starting on the train they both made petty enemies out of each other and it escalated each year. Now we never get to see on page who started the physical but whoever did the other side returned it just as much as they dished it.

“You’d better be in Slytherin." “Slytherin?” One of the boys sharing the compartment, who had shown no interest at all in Lily or Snape until that point, looked around at the word, and Harry [...] saw his father. [...] “Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” James asked [Sirius]. “My whole family have been in Slytherin,” he said. “Blimey,” said James, “and I thought you seemed all right!” Sirius grinned. “Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?” "Gryffindor." Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him. “Got a problem with that?” “No,” said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy— ” “Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” interjected Sirius. James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike. “Come on, Severus, let’s find another compartment.” “Oooooo . . . ” James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed. “See ya, Snivellus!” (Deathly Hallows Ch. 33, p. 671-672)

“She started going out with him in seventh year,” said Lupin. “Once James had deflated his head a bit,” said Sirius. “And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,” said Lupin. “Even Snape?” said Harry. “Well,” said Lupin slowly, “Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James, so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?” (Order of the Phoenix Ch. 29, p. 670)

I'm also sure of this because of what Severus does to Petunia who has no magic. More than likely this was a back and forth but not one-sided bullying from the marauders or from Snape.

Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn: Petunia, hiding behind a tree, had lost her footing. “Tuney!” said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. “Who’s spying now?” he shouted. “What d’you want?” Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. “What is that you’re wearing, anyway?” she said, pointing at Snape’s chest. “Your mum’s blouse?” There was a crack. A branch over Petunia’s head had fallen. Lily screamed. The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. (Deathly Hallows Ch. 33, p. 668)

Like this is an overkill response and could have genuinely hurt Petunia just for her being a little shithead. So the notion that Severus dished it and took it probably isn't a lie from the characters but true. And I don't feel bad for adult Petunia. She was a horrible woman and abused Harry and should have been held accountable more for that.

But we have to be honest that child Petunia deserved better. She thought at strange neighbor was spying on her and her sister and then after he becomes friends with her baby sister, he either harms Petunia or convinces Lily to invade Petunia's privacy. And then she finds out she can't go be with her sister who is disappearing for months out of the year at what sounds like the best school ever. I mean baby Petunia didn't deserve this shit.

“You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.” Petunia turned scarlet. “Beg? I didn’t beg!” “I saw his reply. It was very kind.” “You shouldn’t have read— ” whispered Petunia, “that was my private—how could you—?” Lily gave herself away by half-glancing toward where Snape stood nearby. Petunia gasped. “That boy found it! You and that boy have been sneaking in my room!” “No—not sneaking— ” Now Lily was on the defensive. “Severus saw the envelope, and he couldn’t believe a Muggle could have contacted Hogwarts, that’s all! (Deathly Hallows Ch. 33, p. 669-670)

The two wouldn't have known Dumbledore's reply was kind if they just saw the letter. They went into her room and then opened her mail. Also, me, I would have freaked out more if some boy I didn't really know or liked was just in my room. This point doesn't really matter in relation to canon or anything, I just thought I'd mention that child Petunia deserves a mention every now and then.

~~

The Marauders' pranks seem to all be hexes. Everyone considers them harmless and sometimes funny or annoying or pranks. So hexes even if not legal are seen as just pranking and stupid. This also kind of implies that James and Sirius did most of the pranks not really Peter or Remus but I don't think that was intentional and is just a book contradictory.

walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can — I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. (Order of the Phoenix Ch. 28, p. 648)

“And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,” said Lupin. (Order of the Phoenix Ch. 29, p. 670)

He pulled out a card from one of the topmost boxes with a flourish and read, “ ‘James Potter and Sirius Black. Apprehended using an illegal hex upon Bertram Aubrey. Aubrey’s head twice normal size. Double detention.’ ” Snape sneered. “It must be such a comfort to think that, though they are gone, a record of their great achievements remains [...] It was, as Harry had anticipated, useless, boring work, punctuated (as Snape had clearly planned) with the regular jolt in the stomach that meant he had just read his father or Sirius’s names, usually coupled together in various petty misdeeds, occasionally accompanied by those of Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. (Half-Blood Prince Ch. 24, p. 532)

~~

I don't think Snape was a loner. Even in his own memories, he doesn't present them as if he had no one once he got to Hogwarts. The text itself makes it seem like obviously Lily was his best friend but he hung out with the Death Eaters on a level of actually liking them.

"thought we were supposed to be friends?” Snape was saying, “Best friends?” “We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging round with! I’m sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Mary MacDonald the other day?” Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up into the thin, sallow face. “That was nothing,” said Snape. “It was a laugh, that’s all— ” “It was Dark Magic, and if you think that’s funny— ” [...] "Mulciber's and Avery's idea of humor is just evil. Evil, Sev. I don't understand how you can be friends with them." (Deathly Hallows Ch. 33, p. 673 - 674)

Also we never find out what Mulciber does but in Goblet of Fire it's revealed that he's really good at the Imperius Curse. Now, he probably wasn't doing Unforgivables at school (although all the Crucio's thrown around even during Harry's time might prove otherwise). But it might have been something along the lines of that curse.

~~

People change and grow which is good but Hermione and Ron definitely had a prejudice of werewolves and threw that in Lupin's face during the Shrieking Shack. Like it wasn't about him helping Sirius, they were also appalled at the werewolf bit seperately. Also it was wrong of Snape to teach that and make a whole essay hoping students would pick up on the symptoms matching Remus' symptoms.

~~

Canon does confirm that Severus suspected Remus of being a werewolf before The Prank™. He wanted to know where Remus went every month. Severus had worked out the schedule exactly and knew it was once a month.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month [...] We were in the same year, you know, and we — er — didn’t like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James’s talent on the Quidditch field . . . anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be — er — amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he’d be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it — if he’d got as far as this house, he’d have met a fully grown werewolf — but your father, who’d heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life . . . Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was." (Prisoner of Azkaban Ch. 18, p. 356 - 357)

Also I think this shows that The Prank™ happened in 5th year a little before Snape's Worst Memory but it wasn't what made Severus drop hints to Lily about Remus being a werewolf. His suspicions were confirmed that night of the Shrieking Shack but they formed well beforehand. We don't know if this is what Severus actually saw that led him to start being suspicious because it doesn't seem likely that he and Remus ever talked about it but this is really the only in depth detail we ever get so it's what we've got to go off of.

The one thing that never gets explained is how Severus approached Sirius or what happened that would lead to them having any sort of conversation where Sirius would say if you want to go after Remus, here's how you get past the Whomping Willow. Which is a missed opportunity in my opinion. Clearly Sirius was aware that Snape wanted to go after Lupin and they both understand that. So what did Snape do or say to lead up to that. Because based on how his character is written in the rest of the books, unless Severus alluded to knowing Remus was a werewolf, it's out of character for him to risk his friend like that. We get this scene showing Sirius' character in the exact same scene after Remus tells the story:

“Two more for Azkaban tonight,” said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. “I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this. . . . He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin . . . a tame werewolf —” “You fool,” said Lupin softly. “Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?” BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape’s wand and twisted themselves around Lupin’s mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black’s eyes. (Prisoner of Azkaban Ch. 18, p. 357)

If Snape had just said something like he was going to tell they were breaking curfew, I doubt Sirius would have just blurted that our so I wish it had been given a scene.

But this does show that even though Sirius was wrong to tell him how to get into the Whomping Willow, Severus suspected something was up and proceeded to go on a full moon anyway. If you suspected he's a werewolf, why take the chance?

Even though it makes no sense for fanfic purposes (or canon really but different convo) the timeline is: Snape is suspicious —> The Prank —> Snape's Worst Memory. And all in a matter of days or weeks in 5th year. Feel free to switch it up though because that's a lot crammed into a short time.

And personal opinion, but Dumbledore wasn't wrong in this moment. Remus can't control what he is and potentially getting expelled would make him a victim as well. We don't know if Sirius was punished by some made up excuse but I don't think forbidding Snape to tell was wrong when it doesn't affect Sirius but Remus.

Lily also knew about his theory. Even though this conversation is after the prank, this isn't new information. It's Severus reiterating what he suspected before, just with the added context that he has confirmation of Remus being a werewolf.

“He’s ill,” said Lily. “They say he’s ill— ” “Every month at the full moon?” said Snape. “I know your theory,” said Lily, and she sounded cold. “Why are you so obsessed with them anyway? Why do you care what they’re doing at night?” “I’m just trying to show you they’re not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are.” The intensity of his gaze made her blush. (Deathly Hallow Ch. 33, p. 674)

Unfortunately, I think people were right that Severus was jealous of James over... Quidditch. It sounds like a cover up and so foolishly silly. There's definitely more things but being jealous over quidditch was true. It comes out of Snape's mouth in his own memories.

The words seemed wrenched from him against his will. “And he’s not . . . everyone thinks . . . big Quidditch hero— ” Snape’s bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent, and Lily’s eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up her forehead. (Deathly Hallows Ch. 33, p. 674)

~~

This is more speculation than overt in text but I don't think James did take off Snape's underwear during the second Levicorpus in Snape's Worst Memory. The Deathly Hallows is a YA book not middle grade so it would be acceptable to put that in the book. The book has worse stuff in it. But the first time the memory appears, Harry is pulled out by Snape returning to his office before he can find out. The second time, it skips it. If the scene had finished playing out with Severus having his underwear forcibly removed, I think it would have been on page by this point in the last book. That doesn't make it right by any means, I'm not saying that. But I think it's not concrete that James ever did that.

Now what else isn't concrete is that "Snape never used Levicorpus the way the Marauders did". It lifts people up by their ankles. It's a spell Snape confirms was invented. It's a spell that became a popular jinx around Hogwarts. The Hogwarts uniforms are black robes and point hats. Those things are confirmed and canon by text. So if Snape or any other student was using Levicorpus, unless they were wearing something underneath their robes, they all would have been exposed like Severus was in his Worst Memory. That makes literally everyone look bad and is actually problematic of all the characters. And means Snape invented the spell knowing it would do this and did it to people. And then all the other students did. They'd all be shitty.

Of course this can be remedied by just stating that people wear clothes under their robes and Snape just happened to be in only underwear that day but the books seem to be wishy washy on if people are wearing clothes under the robes or not or even wearing the robes at all sometimes. This also does lend some credibility to people saying Snape's Worst Memory was the part where he called Lily a mudblood not the part about being Levicorpused. Because if everyone in school was doing that to each other and it's just seen as stupid jinxes then the Levicorpus wouldn't be the most horrifying thing. I used to not believe in this thought but seeing the text again, it's possible.

~~

This specific scene tackles a lot of what was said before but I want to address it as a whole instead of breaking the dialogue up:

“I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here.” “I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just— ” “Slipped out?” There was no pity in Lily’s voice. “It’s too late. I’ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends—you see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?” He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. “I can’t pretend anymore. You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine.” “No—listen, I didn’t mean— ” “— to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?” (Deathly Hallows Ch. 33, p. 675 - 676)

There's something pretty traumatizing that Mary was the one around to hear Snape threaten to sleep in front of the Gryffindor Common Room. Like his friends assaulted you with Dark Magic and then he's there and threatening to sleep there. Mary dealt with a lot of trauma that we never talk about.

Severus never meant to call Lily a mudblood, once again confirming it is viewed as a slur in this world. It doesn't just slip out. He's comfortable using it. For years, he's been friends with people who want Lily and people like her harmed or dead. It's not just convenient to hang out with these people because he has to see them since they're all in Slytherin. It is Severus' ideology and belief.

And not to harp on her too much but Lily actively hung out with someone constantly calling people a slur and only gave up on him after he said it to her specifically. Like babes, stand up, please. She also says she made excuses for him for years implies he did in fact dish it out like he took it.

Snape calling every muggleborn a mudblood, hangs out with known Death Eaters, aims to be one officially, and wants to join You-Know-Who. All around the end of 5th year into early 6th year. The war had been raging and they all knew it so Severus wasn't a troubled teen who joined a bad cause. He actively participated in it. Troubled teens don't always join neo-Nazis simply because they're troubled. That claim robs Severus of the agency his character has. He made these decisions and has to contend with them. That's a more powerful character.

Even when he was alone though, Snape still used that word. Even when there was no part to play. He never changed his ideology. He only joined the right side because the woman he loved was killed by the other side.

And now Snape stood again in the headmaster’s study as Phineas Nigellus came hurrying into his portrait. “Headmaster! They are camping in the Forest of Dean! The Mudblood— ” “Do not use that word!” “— the Granger girl, then, mentioned the place as she opened her bag and I heard her!” “Good. Very good!” cried the portrait of Dumbledore behind the headmaster’s chair. (Deathly Hallows Ch. 33, p. 689)

He's still calling muggleborns a slur. Unprompted and Unprovoked.

(Side Note: Why does this feel like a retcon of Phineas Nigellus? He's not mentioned much but I think maybe fanon has me remembering him as being more awful but he's not that bad here or really does much in the series)

~~

No one from the marauders era saw Harry as a real person. There's way too many quotes to show it but I think we all know. Every last one of them saw Harry as James 2.0 or James reincarnate but they never saw him as just Harry.

Final Thoughts:

The look-back into actual canon was very helpful. A lot of unanswered questions are actually explained in other spots, we just tend to forget when they are never explicit or lingered on and the book series is as huge as it is.

I do have to say though that the re-read actually made me not like Snape more. Like, I don't remember half the quotes being like this but they were actually worse than I thought. Particularly the point where he's in Sirius' bedroom, takes a letter not addressed to him and then rips a photo in half to only keep the part of Lily and throw the rest of her photo that has her husband and CHILD on the floor. I hate to say it but canon actually made me not like this character, the opposite effect I was expecting.

It also did make me sympathetic to child Petunia and remember that they were two very different people. Shame she became awful.

[afanofmanyth1ngs]

Yellowjackets/IWTV Fanfic

So, about a week ago I put out a poll about doing a weird IWTV fanfic that's basically set in the Yellowjackets verse... And now I'm doing it... YAY!! but I do just want to come on here to basically throw around some things I'm going to do :P So this is going to be where I update people and just basically talk about how I'm going to do this, what my schedule is going to look like, things I need opinions on. This is more so a motivation thing so IF YOU ARE INTERESTED, please please please comment and follow along. I lose motivation quickly, but this is something I'm pretty dedicated to. but either way THIS IS HAPPENING.

______________________________________________________________

First things first. YES I have started working on it. Im not even close to finished with the first chapter because each chapter is going to be LONG. This is not going to be everything that happens in Yellowjackets happens in here, and not even close. Even as I started it... I will sometimes use direct quotes, but thats only if im stuck and cant figure out what im doing.

NEXT as I said this is not going to be yellowjackets word for word, but I will be using each episode as a starting point. scenes might mirror each other, and I will cut between scenes as they do in the show.

Some things that are automatically going to be different from Yellowjackets:

They will not be on a Sports team of any sorts. The one thing each character has in common, is that they all are passionate about one or more forms of art (ex: Louis: Photography - Lestat: Acting - Madeleine - Sewing and dress making and altering (not the right words sorry lol)) SO im having them go to an art school :P little bit of a long shot but not only is it just convinent for me because of all the art forms they like, but also I think it would be kind of cool for just normal (LMAO) IWTV kids who have never touched a sport in their lives to now have to like hunt and stuff... kind of Lord of the Flies with half of the kids being CHOIR KIDS core.

Theyre all gonna be in High school. i was like well im not aging them up cause what fun would that be, so lets just age them down and keep a whole bunch of that trauma and see what happens... and im not super far into the writing process but its working rn!!

Theyre crashing in the Alps. I have zero knowlege of the Alps whatso ever BUT i know i went over them when i flew to Italy so Im having them go to the Uffizi Galleries!!! and then BAM Alps. so get ready for some major inaccuratcies about that cause im gonna make them how they are in Yellowjackets... just in like Italy. Maybe I'll reasearch a bit more... dw about it its ok :D

As I said before each chapter is going to be LONG. so rn I have around 4ish scenes (ones not finished yet) and by the time I'm finished with those and edit it's going to be close to around 4,000 words I'm estimating... that's 4,000 words for not even a quarter of THE KIDS STORY LINE. on that topic, because each chapter is going to be so incredibly long, I've decided to split each chapter in about half. I was originally planning to do one chapter = one episode of yellowjackets but again it's going to be WAY too long, so kids' storyline, adult story line. I like that a lot too because a big pet peeve of mine is in stories where it keeps switching through times and then i get so lost and have to reread like 10 times to understand... LIKE PLEASE JUST SPLIT IT INTO A FEW CHAPTERS SO IM NOT CONFUSED

Last thing! Most of each character's backstory IS WORKED IN... so for example (A HUGE example) is for at least the first few chapters Armand will be called and referred to as Amadeo. Marius is his adoptive father who rescued him from some sex trafficking scandal or something and renamed him, before he eventually changes his name to Armand while out in the mountains. So, like obviously he's not going to get the name Armand from Santino, but you know... working in what I can :P

OK ACTUALLY LAST LAST THING: I don't know when this will come out... I have a deadline for myself and I'm certain I will get to it, HOWEVER I do not have access to the other Yellowjackets episodes, which is pretty crucial if I want to get into a schedule of posting each week regularly. As of right now I am hoping to get the first chapter out on October 3rd... Yellowjackets will be accessible to me AND then I'll be able to post a chapter on Halloween... YAY!! if that does not work out because the following chapters are taking too long and I release before I can make sure the Schedule is set, it will most likely be one of the Thursdays in October because I REALLY want to get one out on Halloween!!

OK!! hope you guys liked my little rant!! I'll keep everyone who's interested updated on here so if you want to be in the loop follow me (or don't! if you don't you can just check my page!) and again comments motivate me, so if you have any questions or just think it's a cool idea let me know!