#but the key phrase here is he would have figured it out

[pa-pa-plasma]

super funny how you can beg & beg & beg & beg & plead & beg with a doctor for help with a debilitating illness & they're like "here's a prescription for a cream that will help" & you go to the pharmacy to get it & they're like "ooh sorry, this one costs $500. but the brand name version is $600 so really it's a deal!" & so you have to pay for it with the $501 in your bank account & then you get home & put it on & the next day your skin is on fire despite washing the cream off asap & you go back to the doctor & they're like. "huh. weird. idk then man maybe go see a specialist?" & send you on your way & you go home with this stupid worse than useless $500 cream & a few months later you finally get to go see the specialist & they glance at you & say "idk man maybe just stop being dramatic?? lol" & so you go home (again) after being berated & you're sitting there & go fuck it & look it up & you see some random guy like "oh yeah witch hazel works" & so you put witch hazel on & within ten minutes it does, in fact, work. *through gritted teeth* doctors are so fun

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[lafrexniere]

You Deserve an Oscar - OP81 & LN4

Note: Impulsively wrote this last night before bed and realized I was writing this while listening to "You Deserve an Oscar - Matt Maltese" so figured I could fit that phrase in here somewhere and make a cute title. Anyway I really like this one 😁 Summary: Landos best friend since school dating Oscar, but keeps it a secret from Lando because you were not sure how he would react

Warnings: Light details of a makeout session (he is in a mood 😉😏), and stuff is implied but not explicitly stated

"Lando, I'm just going out for a bit it's not a big deal," you said. He was always so protective of you since moving back in together. You had known each other since you were 13, your family had moved from the United States due to your parents' jobs expanding to the UK leaving you an anxiety-ridden teenager in a place with no friends and having an accent that would stand out. It was your first day, a student had been assigned to give you a tour of the school, and there he was, Lando. From that moment on the two of you were inseparable even when he was traveling for races, nothing more than a platonic friendship, you had gone to races as your younger brother had wanted to start karting, but your parents refused. Lando was the cool sibling your brother had wanted, but he was the best friend you had been waiting for, and now here you were arguing over driving your car at night. 

"Be careful, and I want you to text me whenever you get to where you are going," he said pointing his finger.

"You're not gonna ask- you know what never mind, Bye Lan," you grabbed your keys skipping out the door. After you closed it behind you making your way down to your parked car you saw the beam of light from the door light up the sidewalk. 

"Why would I need to ask? You hiding something from me?" His eyes narrowed. 

"Nope, just hanging out at a friend's, bye," you said just before hopping in the car. Oh, it was more than a friend, in fact, his teammate you were going to see, you two had been talking back and forth for about a month and had gone on a few dates, somehow getting past Lando. You both weren't really sure what you were yet, were you boyfriend and girlfriend or friends with benefits which is why you didn't want to let Lando know. You wanted to be more, there were so many times you wanted to tell Lando. After your first date, he teased you about your dress wondering who you were getting fancy for. 

You had arrived at Oscar's for the first time, he was waiting outside on his front step. You quickly texted Lando saying you had arrived and put the car in park.

"There you are!" He exclaimed as you got out of the car. 

"Yeah sorry I'm late, Lando kept me held up a bit," you apologized, "he was just being protective."

"Did you tell him it was me" he said opening the door.

"No, no I didn't," you followed him inside. 

"He's going to find out eventually you know, now that you are going to start coming over here," he said sitting on the couch holding out his arm for you to join him. You sat resting your head on his shoulder. 

"I know he's going to find out Osc," you said, "I will tell him eventually, well when we are 'us'." You dropped the subtle hint of wanting to put a label on your relationship. You two had some great dates, that led to great nights in your car.

"Us? You want to be an 'us'?" He asked sitting up straight. 

"Well yeah," you smiled as you slid your hands up to his shoulders and to the back of his neck. 

"Yeah?" He smirked matching your energy as his hands found your waist pulling you closer. 

"Yeah" you said leaning in, closing your eyes, feeling your heartbeat elevate, as your lips found his. Your fingers moved up into the waves of his hair, pushing them out of his face. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer. 

Moments later you both took a breath, 

"So is this official," you said slowly scraping his scalp as he nuzzled into your neck placing gentle kisses, giving you goosebumps. He gave no response,

"Oscar?" You said pushing his forehead back for you to see his face. 

"Yes, Y/N, yes I want you to be my girlfriend," he said taking a breath before leaning in again to lock his lips with yours. You pulled away, 

"You're serious?" You smiled.

"Yes, Y/N I want to be your boyfriend, I want to call you my girlfriend, please let me be that to you!" He begged. You smirked, kissing his forehead as he pushed you back laying his weight on top of you, falling into the comfort of the couch.

"My boyfriend Oscar," you smiled before pecking his cheek. 

"I like that," he grinned. 

The two of you had lost track of time, after one movie, one container of ice cream shared, and many deep breaths later. You two had begun drifting off when you felt your phone buzz on your lap, it was not Lando, however, it was a nice indicator to see that it was almost midnight when you had gotten there at 8pm, remembering your promise to Lando you would be back by 12:30 the latest.

"Oh shit, Oscar I gotta go, Lando's probably asleep thinking I'm home already! Or he's freaking out!" You jumped off the couch jolting him out of his tired state. 

"Come on get up Osc," you pulled his arm. He pulled you back towards him.

"A few more minutes," he pleaded rubbing his eyes.

"No." You said sternly. He stood up looking through the blanket for his shirt, stretching, making it harder for you to leave.

"Please," he smiled holding his shirt.

"No no no," you rushed to put your shoes on, he followed quickly behind you knowing you were serious this time. You ran out to your car fumbling for your keys, with Oscar right behind.

"Text me when you get home," he said leaving you with one last goodbye kiss. 

"I will," you smiled as he shut your door. You waved and drove off once you had seen he got back inside. 

There you were speeding home to your best friend and roommate's place. The panic filled you on what you would have to tell Lando. It made you drive even faster. You pulled up in front of your home, looking in your mirror making sure there was no evidence of what had happened. You were scrambling to get your key and go inside quietly. The place was dark, one light on in your kitchen, you moved towards the light, finding a grinning Lando waiting. 

"Well well well," he smirked. 

"I'm so sorry I'm late, please go to bed I know you're tired." You said trying to shoo him upstairs. 

"Not until I found out what's going on with you and Oscar," all the color from your face disappeared with that statement. How did he know?

"What?"

"I can see your location Y/N, I know you were over there." Busted. 

"Lan I was gonna tell you, we were gonna tell you once we knew," you said ashamed, and embarrassed forgetting that one small safety detail. 

"Well seeing as you almost stayed the night, I'm assuming you know," he said. You sat down across from him with your head in your hands. 

"Okay Okay I get it," you rolled your eyes. 

"Y/N and Oscar" he teased, "You know I knew something was up in the paddock."

"Lando stop it!" you blushed

"I always know," he chuckled, "You deserve an Oscar for your acting on hiding this from me,"

"Ha ha very funny," you rolled your eyes sarcastically. 

"You and Oscar, it was very obvious" he teased again.

"Me and Oscah!" You said making fun of his accent. He pushed your shoulder as you got up, and you stuck your tongue out at him. The two of you headed upstairs to your rooms. He knocked on the wall once you had turned the light off, you glanced at your phone to see messages waiting.

Land hoe 🙄: He texted me, wow great start telling him you would text him and you didn't, he's just like you with the worrying, you two are a perfect match 😍🤢

Osc 🧡: Did you make it?

Please tell me you made it?

I'm assuming you did.

Well Y/N Lando is going to find out cause I'm going to ask if you made it home. 

Oh you were telling him, sorry 😘

"Sorry," you called through the wall. You answered Oscar's messages drifting off to sleep smiling as your eyes could barely stay open any longer. You were at peace knowing that you didn't have to hide this from your best friend anymore, and knowing that Oscar was your boyfriend, and you were his girlfriend. 

[itstheghostofmypast]

Never Enough

Idol AU Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: “Sannie boy, women…are a mystery…and as a man, you’ll just have to keep pretending like you’ve figured them out, just to keep your sanity intact.” He wouldn't be San if he didn't get to the bottom of this.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: insecurities, toxic relationships, low self-esteem issues

Word Count: 4.4k

Est.Read Time: 22 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Tossing his keys on the table, he walked into the apartment, peeking into the kitchen to find Mingi and Seonghwa standing above the stove, deciding the fate of what was supposed to be tonight’s dinner. Considering he had skipped lunch, he only settled for an iced-coffee he really was ready to eat a whole horse. Tapping on the door frame, he caught their attention, raising his eyebrows and gesturing towards the stove, “What’s for dinner.”

The other two exchanged a look before Mingi smirked at the mountain of a man, “Don’t know about us, but I’m sure you’ll just skip to dessert.”

“...”

“What?”

With a heavy sigh, the unearthly gorgeous man next to Mingi shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling the upcoming headache, “Your girlfriend’s here, said she wanted to surprise you.”

His head tilted at the mention of his lover, lower lip jutting out in a pout as he tried to think about her, he had not spoken to her the entire day, or texted her, even her ‘good morning’ text seemed awfully dry. He had asked Wooyoung about it, who had ever so kindly responded with, “Sannie boy, women…are a mystery…and as a man, you’ll just have to keep pretending like you’ve figured them out, just to keep your sanity intact.”

“You sure?” the words left his mouth before he could stop, or even phrase them correctly, eyes darting to the face of his more observant flatmate, regretting it immediately when he met his curious boba eyes.

“Well…unless she has an evil twin, I’m pretty sure it’s her,” Seonghwa narrated, picking up the wooden ladle to taste the soup, only to grimace at the taste, then turn back to the man, “You seem surprised she’s here, did something happen?”

“N-no, no, nothing happened.” clearing his throat he quickly brushed him off, with a wave of his hand, bidding them goodnight as he marched towards his room, making sure to make minimal noise as he cracked open the door, peaking in to find all the lights had been turned off, even the side lamps were off- okay, so they were either playing a dirty trick on him, or something was up.

He flicked the lights on as soon as he entered the room, eyes scanning for the certain individual, only for him to let out a small gasp and turn them back off, scurrying over to a side to turn on the small lamp, before quickly glancing in her direction as he let out a small sigh in relief, glad he had not woken her up. A small smile replaced his pout as he leaned closer, her perfume enveloping his being as he sighed in relief, a hand brushing the hair off her face, before his knuckles gently caressed her warm cheek, taking in the tired expression she wore even though she was asleep. As much as he loved how independent and confident she was, it hurt him to see her like this, burdened and tired, and a part of him wished he could somehow help her- but every time he’d ask, she’d just smile at him and pinch his cheek, thanking him instead, it really did confuse him, especially when she’d add, “Thank you for being the only person who never wants anything in return, Sannie.”

Even though the two had been together for a while, there was much about her he still could not understand, possibly due to the fact that she would never talk about herself- that is unless it was something important, though he was glad that he was at least receiving this much.

More often, it would be about him, what he’d like to do, what he’d like to eat, where he’d like to go on Valentine’s day, if he’d ask her, she’d fire back with the ‘where you feel best.’ Initially, he didn’t like this at all, for him, your partner is supposed to put in the same amount of effort, she’d do any and everything he liked, which is why he had begun to feel as if this was only working out because she’d agree to everything he’d say- he was the one leading this relationship.

Due to this very reason, earlier on in their relationship, he had decided to break things off with her, like the gentleman he was, he had asked her if they could meet in person, and she had instantly said yes. Finding a quiet small diner wasn’t difficult, the difficult part was when he’d have to break the news to her, truth be told he really did like her, but her persistent ‘yes woman’ behaviour had led him to believe that this was unhealthy for both of them. Unfortunately, he was unable to do so, especially when he had seen her smile at him, skipping to his table that was way in the back corner, placing a gift bag in front of the man, urging him to open it.

“What is it?”

“You have to open it, silly, it’s a gift!”

“Why? It isn’t my birthday.” pushing the bag aside, he sighed before glancing up at her, only to notice how her smile had dropped, eyes wide, swirling with an emotion he couldn’t comprehend. Maybe he had spent a minute too long, trying to think of what to say or do, before she cleared her throat and gave him a tight lipped smile, sitting down on her seat across from him, nodding at him.

“You’re right…” she began, that faux smile of hers was present, something stirred within him that night, he’d never seen her smile like that, usually, whenever she’d smile at him, he’d notice how her eyes would twinkle, lips stretched to a beaming grin- that’s not what he saw at the moment. “I just saw this recently and thought…you’d like it…you don’t have to accept it and- I- I didn’t do this to receive anything in return.”

That was all it took for him to reach into the back and pull out a small box, opening it to find a keychain, holding it up to the light he glanced at her and then back at the shining plastic figure, a Tetsuro Kuroo keychain. He had mentioned once how he liked the anime, but he never mentioned his favourite character.

“I have a Kenma one…I just thought you’d like Kuroo…cat and all…you know.” she mumbled faintly, somewhat embarrassed now, “I- I know it’s stupid, it’s just-”

“I love it.”

She glanced up from her hands to meet his sharp eyes, flinching at the way he was staring right through her, before he gently placed the keychain back in the box, after making sure it was wrapping in the pale purple tissue to avoid any scratches. A small smile graced her lips, eyes falling back onto her lap as she nodded, mumbling, ‘That’s good to know.’

“I need you to be honest with me,” he began, somewhat conflicted if he really wanted to end things with her now, only continuing when she looked up at him and nodded, “Do you…chose not to disagree with me out of fear?” He was unsure if that was a rude question, but the way she bit her lower lip, avoiding his eyes, oh he loved how Wooyoung had convinced him this girl was only dating him because he was an idol, but that was not what he could see, leave it to Choi San to fall for someone who was trained to believe that love was a game of exchange, and for her to earn any form of liking, she must first prove herself worthy.

Picking at her nail she glanced up at him, trying not to let it slip, anything slip, instead of choosing to whisper, “I…I just don’t want you to be upset.”

“I think you trying to seek my approval is what upset me the most.” he sighed, leaning back against his seat, taking in her posture, shoulders slumped, hands in her lap, eyes lowered. For a moment, he really wondered if putting in the effort was worth it, trying to be with someone who was already not sure of herself.

“I’m sorry…I just…really like you, and I…didn’t want you to- I- what if you don’t like the same things I like?”

Shaking his head in defeat, he leaned closer, resting his forearms on the table, “Then wouldn’t that mean that I’m not the right guy for you, too? Right?” he watched her nod then lower her head, clenching her eyes shut, and from the way her shoulders had been shaking, he could tell she was trying to hold back. Maybe he was too kind for his own good, because he reached over and grabbed her hand, holding it in his, as he met her eyes, “I’m not saying let’s break up…All I’m asking for is honesty, I don’t care how bitter, how negative or rude, just…be honest with me, you know almost everything about me, but, I still know surface level stuff about you, yeah?”

For once in his life, he was glad to have talked it out, to have handled it maturely, because as the days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, he had learnt more and more about her. The way she had begun to open up to him, even if slowly, he loved it. The first time she had ever refused his suggestion had him smiling like a mad man, almost scaring her as well;

“You wanna get ice cream?”

“Sure…”

“There’s a couple’s deal on mint choco-”

“I’d rather starve.”

Sighing, he smiled down at her, knowing that if she was here right now, tangled in his sheets, hugging his pillow, something was bothering her, and perhaps for some time, if she had to retreat to his place as a safe haven. With one more glance, he quickly tucked her in, making sure to press his lips against her temple, before deciding to take a shower.

.

He walked back into his room, humming to himself, his towel draped over his broad shoulders, his blank top clinging onto him like skin, hair curtained over his forehead as his eyes landed on her- “Oh?”

Somehow, the man found himself sitting on the bed, back against the headrest, arms around her waist, with her straddling him, her arms around his neck, foreheading pressing against his chest.

“So…I take it your day was bad?”

��Mhmm…” she mumbled before sitting up straight, her hands sliding off his neck, palms tracing his form before resting on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles, looking up at him dead in the eye, completely blank and serious, “Do you want to do the deed?”

He blinked at her, letting the words sink in before tilting his head, “Um…you mean have se-”

She covered his mouth with both hands, pink dusting her cheeks, the sound of the AC gently wafting in the room as he let her do as she pleased. His fingers that had been toying with the hem of her shirt stopped, moving to gently place both hands on her thighs, giving a light squeeze, wanting her to remove her hands.

Slowly she pulled back, placing her hands flat on his hands before nodding, “Yes…that.”

“So you want to ‘do the deed’, but don't want me to say the word?”

“No.” She let out a huff, peeling his hands off her and wrapping them around her waist, as she pressed herself against him, “Do YOU want to do it?”

“Well…I’m a man, not only that, I’m a man, who’s girl is literally pressing herself onto him,” he mumbled, bringing his hands to her shoulders and creating some distance as he raised an eyebrow, “Most of all, I’m the same man who agreed to your terms of the deed being done after marriage, so tell me, why are you suddenly changing your terms?”

Pouting at him she slipped her hands between them, placing them on his chest, “Are you sure? Do you not find me attrac-”

“I have good self-control, but it’s not perfect.” he hissed, as he gripped her cheeks, squeezing them gently before lowering his neck to glare at her, his sharp eyes trying to crack whatever the hell was happening in her head, “Now, tell me where all this is coming from.”

“Ish nuthin’ .’’ He blinked at her, taking in the way she let him squish her cheeks, her lips forming a pout as he sighed before leaning closer to press his lips against hers, but only for a moment, too afraid he'd lose composure. With a gentle pat to her cheek he pulled back, leaning against the headrest once more, hands folded on his belly, staring at her, instantly regretting the hold he had on her at the sight of her reddened cheeks, faint imprints of his fingers leaving a mark.

The two sat there in silence, nothing but the slight buzz of the air conditioner present in the room, he was quietly observing her, a small smile gracing his pleasant features, watching her sitting there on his thighs, looking at her hands, examining her freshly painted nails- purple. She really did amuse him sometimes, asking for something like ‘doing it after marriage’ but still choosing to sit in his lap without a care in the world. It brought him great pleasure, the feeling of her blind faith that she held towards him.

“You like?” Breaking the peaceful silence, she raised a hand, showing him her nails, smiling when he nodded in return, “Mhmm…”

“I wanted to get like a diamond on this one-”

“So, are we gonna talk about this…or?” His question cut her off, causing her to sigh, and shrug, “I…” reaching for his hands, still nestled on his belly, she turned them around, his larger hands in hers, turning them to face palm up, “Last week…at work…they were talking about who was still single- guess what, I am.” With the tip of her index finger, tracing random patterns on his stretched out palm, as if she were painting on a canvas, he tried to focus on what she was writing but her statement caused his eyes to lock on her face, pouting at her statement, “But..you aren't.” He knew this relationship was to be kept private, and she did too. Did she want to come public?

“S.A.N” he caught it quickly, looking down at her purple nail, caressing his skin. What was she thinking?

“I know, I just told them I'm waiting for the right person, but…then SHE said I don't have a love language which is why I'm this hopeless…”

Oh. So this wasn't about him, but just her. He knew whom she was referring to, a new recent hire. One she claimed was a two-faced no-good punk. Honestly, her words had caught him off guard, never seen her ‘hate on someone’ this quickly. That was exactly why he believed her. And if one were to speak about her love language, true for a while, San was unsure of how she'd express herself too but then-

“She was like there are five to six types of love languages and I- I don't have any!”

‘♡’ nodding he tilted his head, trying to suppress a smile at the feeling of her drawing a heart, he could easily tell what it was, ever the romantic. Honestly, he wanted to meet this lady, who had been bothering his little overthinker for the past few months, it was and enough she often felt she didn't deserve love, we didn't need a complete psycho adding fuel to the fire. He was about to reply but got distracted when she wrote something else,

‘us’

“I think yours is touch, physical affection! I can tell when you're with everyone, it's sweet.” She smiled up at him, lowering herself, moving closer to him, to make sure she met his eyes that were glued to their hands, his eyes meeting hers for a split second, widening as he realised the lack of response from his end. Glad his freshly washed fluff of hair was covering most of his eyes, obscuring the view of her face, any longer, and his lips would've been claiming what was his.

“Yeah…it is.” He breathed our, turning his head to look at something else. The wall was interesting enough. Maybe having her sitting on him wasn't the smartest idea-

“Do you not like me enough to show me the same way?”

His head snapped back in her direction, hands leaving hers to gently cup her face, making sure she wouldn't look away. The sombre look on her face already had his heart sink to his stomach, “I don't just like you…I love you…and…I'm touching you right now? Right? I just don't want to cross a line, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. That's all.” he gave her a small smile, trying to help her feel the sincerity of his words.

Taking a minute to process his word she just hummed, not saying a yes or no, which in return made him press his forehead against hers, wanting her to understand how he felt, “And she's wrong…you do have one…it's called acts of service.”

“Slavery?”

“No, I-” Letting out a sigh he pulled back and raised an eyebrow at her, “Seriously?”

“What! You said it!” arguing she leaned back, her hands resting on his knees as she frowned at him, “well explain then, ‘master Choi.”

He gulped at her outstretched form, eyes trailing from her face down to her neck, and that loose shirt she wore - definitely raided his closet- as finally stopping at her thighs, it truly amazed him, how she had no clue what she was doing to him, that and he was one strong willed man. Not to mention the little nickname had him squirming in place, he could feel the cold-sweat trickle down the back of his neck, “I…” Clearing his throat he looked back up at her, “It means, you do things that you know will keep me safe and healthy, you take care of all the little things and details usually people overlook, like how you make sure to stuff some oreos in my bag, or how you sometimes get food delivered to our apartment, enough for everyone but it's always my favourite and,” his breath hitched at the way she was looking at him, as if he was her whole world, as if he were the only reason she chose to wake up every morning, “You find enough time from your hectic nine to five to drop by and sleep in my bed, waiting for me, just so I have someone to hug at night.”

By now most of her insecurities were put to rest, the constantly replaying memory of her coworker embarrassing her in front of everyone at work seemed to become a distant memory, especially when he began to move, gently pushing her back, until she was laying on the mattress, looking up at him with a quizzical look, as he hovered above her, his forearms digging into the soft bedding on either side of her head.

“Sannie?”

“Did you…tell your mother about us?”

The way her face contorted into some form of discontentment gave it away, it did not go well. Perhaps she did not approve of him being an idol? Or maybe he just was not whom she pictured her daughter with. Maybe she was not comfortable with her daughter dating someone who had to travel a lot-

“She asked me how long till you realise I'm a waste of time.”

His eyebrows scrunched at the statement, widening his eyes as he looked at her, as if he hadn't heard her correctly the first time, causing her to sigh and repeat,

“I told you, and although she was glad, she was worried that I'd do something to push you away- well, in my case, not enough to have you stay.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I'm incapable of loving, San. There will be a time when you realise I can't match your expectations and you'll finally decide to move on because I'll never be enough.”

The words she had so carelessly slipped past her pretty lift hit him like a ton of bricks, causing him to push himself off her, sitting on his knees instead as he blinked at his dull reflection on the blank TV screen. A part of him wondered what in God's name was that even, wanting to go outside to take a few deep breaths before coming to talk to her in a rational manner, the other part of him, the more immature one, was convincing him to yell at her for being like this.

Sitting on her forearms, she looked up at him, watching him lost in thought. Maybe she should just go now and not wait for the horrid heart break that would eventually conclude this relationship. It's not like she wanted to believe the words of her parent, but at the back of her mind she knew, she knew she'd never be enough, no matter how much she'd try- there just some people who could never meet expectations and she was one of them, which would explain why she felt it was justified if he walks away-

“Do you believe that?”

Her eyes met his, an unusual emotion swirling within his dark orbs, “Do you believe her?”

“Well, she is my mother, so I'm sure she's right-”

“That's not what I asked you,” he snapped at her, an edge to his tone causing her to flinch and lower her gaze, “ I asked if you believe you don’t deserve to be loved?”

“Yes…” she breathed out, licking her lips out of nervousness, “I-I do.”

“Because love is an exchange?” His frown deepened at her meek nod, “Then what do you think I want in exchange?”

“I'm…not…sure.”

“What do you want in exchange?” He flipped the question, borderline scared of her answer, but a part of him knew what it was, but the more dominant side was afraid of his guess being wrong.

“I want…I just…” her breath hitched, biting her lower lip to keep composure before flopping back down on the bed, pressing the heel of her palms against her eyes, whimpering, “... want you to love me.”

The man felt himself relax, expressions softening as he pouted at the way she was crying before him, unsure if he should use words or…honestly he knew he couldn't just pluck this insecurity out of her, especially when it was stitched into her being. She’down often tell him how even as a child, she'd only be able to get a toy if she got a good grade, got praied if she got a good grade or achieved something worth notice but at the end of the day, it was never enough, because after that came another obstacle she’d have to overcome to gain recognition-and till now, he had just discarded those things, thinking they had no real impact in shaping her, boy was he wrong.

The sudden weight pushed the air out of her lungs, feeling his fingers grip her wrists before her hands were pulled away from her face, only for her to stare at the ceiling. She looked down to find his head resting against her chest, a broken laugh causing his head to shake on her chest. He looked up at her with a pout, resting his chin on her, “It's so silly, how that's all I planned to give you anyway.”

“Huh?” she blinked at him, watching him rise up, pressing wrists into the mattress as he approached her, the tip of his nose brushing against hers, “You're so silly…you think if I didn't love you, I would have agreed to your terms?”

“I…I don't know…” honestly she wanted to respond, but this form of intimacy was new to her, sure, they would sleep together sometimes, but that would just be sharing a bed, he'd never really held her down, never pressed himself against her like this.

“I said yes to the ‘deed after marriage’, because,” he paused, ony to brush his lips over hers before kissing her properly, making sure to add enough pressure to leave her out of breath when he moved back, “I want to marry you one day, you think some silly little exchange policy is going to scare me away?”

Her eyes widened at his confession, about to burst into tears once more but he shook his head, “No! No more crying! No more silly sad thoughts!” He declared, yelling loud enough for her to shush him, “I WANT TO SEE YOU HAPPY!”

“I'm happy! I'm happy, Sannie, shhh!” She whispered, only for her to break out in a fit of giggles when he dug his fingers into her sides, smirking at the way she was wheezing and trying to fight him off.

“Are you sure!?” He hollered, following her as she tried to crawl away, grabbing her by her leg and pulling her back to him, giving her a crooked smile, “I don't think so-” his eyes fell to the shirt that had slid up when he pulled her back down, quickly skimming over the expanse of the bare skin, trailing lower to the purple lace, “Did you...where…I…no shorts!?” He asked, not really bothering to look away from a sight he had never witnessed before.

“Well I- I mean I randomly came by and,” she mumbled, pushing her shirt down to cover her naked legs, rolling it down till it reached her thighs, “I didn't wanna go through your underwear drawer…that's disrespectful.”

“You went fishing in my cupboard for this though,” he asked, frowning at the coverage, before gripping the hem of the cotton and flipping it over, causing her to shriek, “San!”

“Hmm” no longer registering anything he slowly got off her, climbing off the bed as he walked out the door, leaving her extremely confused, her only clue was, “Will be back in five.” Was he okay?

Honestly, she would've asked if everything was alright, but after this entire confession, she felt as if an anvil had been lifted off her chest. Feeling much better as she snuggled into his sheets, half awake as she waited for him, only for her to almost doze off till she felt his arm wrap around her waist, sliding her closer to him, till her back was pressed against his chest. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, only she had turned her head to meet his kiss, though she paused, eyes flickering to his went strands, glistening under the dim atmosphere light of the lamp.

“Did you take a shower again?”

“Mhmm.” He mumbled, pressing his cheek against hers, his hand giving her thigh a gentle squeeze trailing back to her waist.

“Why?” She yawned, too tired to really care.

“Doesn't matter,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose into her warm cheek before leaving a sloppy kiss, enough for her to whine, which he ignored, only to respond with, “Better wear purple on our wedding night too.”

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[froznwater]

post WT Alenaoh drabble

Alejandro wins World Tour and now not only does his family treat him poorly, but so does the rest of the world. Even Heather gets her bit of redemption after being "used by the evil Alejandro." But none of the shows fans like him. They can admit he was smart, yes, but ultimately someone able to play with that many peoples hearts is not a good person. Twitter trends with phrases like 'rigged', 'not my tdw', and 'slippery eel' for weeks after his victory. His phone number gets leaked, bombarded with hateful messages, and his car gets keyed during the ten minutes he takes to run into his local mall to pick up a gift for his mother on her birthday. Tiktok makes 'plot twist' edits of him. Where it begins with him, but ultimately switches to another of his precious peers after they "shut him down" and the entire concept is just one big fuck Alejandro party in the comments. Hundreds- thousands of greasy idiots belittling him for their enjoyment. He doesn't even post on Instagram anymore. Too pussy to entirely turn off the comments and let the world think they've won, he just buries the app deep in a folder and leaves it untouched. Eel. Fake. Bop. I'm doing it, are you? How many letters in Alejandro? Is that oil I see? Noah = 8.

Some people even show up at his house. His father hires bodyguards and demands the police to patrol the area, but blames Alejandro for all of it. This is all your fault. You were too careless. You should have done this. You shouldn't have done this. Look, this person figured you out. Why did you say this? That was dumb. Jose would have done better. He WON, didn't he? ...Didn't he? But college starts in two months, so he rides it out as much as he can. College sucks. Everyone stares, but no one approaches unless it's some dickhead-sexist loser clapping him on the back with enough gusto that really re-whacks the reality into him every time. He's met with "Aren't you that asshole that won Total Drama World Tour a couple months ago?" any time he tries to make some friends. None of the cast reach out. It stings, but Alejandro gets it. He's not wanted. Within three weeks, he's moves to the middle of fucking no where with his cat and enrolls in as many online classes that his new mediocre college will allow. - Noah, praised for his intelligence and funny one-liners over his course of 15 minutes of screen-time, is the fan-favourite. Officially. Voted through the after-season special reunion. Even though he never made it far. In the beginning it's vaguely funny, karmatic. Him. Noah. The unlike-able "schemer." Is the one that fans edit on tiktok and quote on Twitter. After a (short)while it's annoying. He can't get his coffee before class without posing(or declining to do so) for at least two instagram photos. He can't scroll Twitter without seeing someone referencing him in the replies. "Giving slippery eel." "It's all down here from here, honey."

Even his nickname for Owen is used to fatshame people everywhere. "Lunchbox." Is commented under anyone over 100 pounds. It puts a foul taste in Noah's mouth that makes him lock his phone and touch fucking grass every time. Tiktok clips of him go viral. So not only does a lot of America know him, most of it does, as well as other parts of the big wide world. It sucks. The studio won't let it die either. They sell merch of his face. Of his sweater vest with the inbuilt button-up. Of his face on a gay flag(which the fans use as confirmation in his sexuality after demanding so from him for months and getting no answer.(He isn't even gay.)) Of his last insult to Alejandro. And, really, who actually won that fight? Noah, bisexual gay icon, who signed away all his rights to merch pay-cut? Or the man and his million dollars that hasn't been seen or heard from in three months? With love and admiration comes hate. It's piling up more and more. And the more people blindly defend him the more people that come out with their "I'm going to be honest. I didn't care for Noah from Total Drama." And Noah can deal with hate. Honestly, he can deal with it better than he can with love and people genuinely liking him. But he's seen the pattern. He knows where this is going. He goes on a few interviews he never accepted before, gets a new phone number, deletes all his social media, applies to a new college with a student count of 2,000, and retires his red sweaters.

Fuck the internet.

- You'll never guess who he sees.

[thegettingbyp2]

"let's make a fucking baby" for hotch 😍

Let's Make a Fucking Baby

A/N: Okay so this one got away from me so it's almost 2k words but I loved writing it so so much!!

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You were sitting at the desk in Aaron’s home office, your laptop opened in front of you as your fingers flew over the keys. You were currently in the process of writing your second novel and you were getting impatient. No matter what you wrote, at the end of every day when you’d look over what you’d written, you weren’t happy; your ideas weren’t translating onto paper well at all. You hadn’t realised the time, until you heard the sound of your husband clearing his throat from the doorway, drawing your attention to him.

‘You’re back!’ you exclaimed, jumping out of your seat and running over to him, wrapping your arms around him. He’d been away on a case for the past two weeks and to say that you missed him would be a massive understatement. ‘I missed you,’ you said, your voice muffled in his suit jacket.

‘I missed you too, baby,’ he replied warmly, holding you tightly to him, neither of you wanting to let the other go. However, you figured that you should probably get back to writing. You reluctantly pulled away from his embrace, intertwining your fingers with his and practically dragging him over to the desk, sitting back down as he sat lightly on the arm of his chair, one of his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he leant down to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

‘How was the case?’ you asked as your eyes returned to your laptop screen and you began typing again.

‘And it made me think of…are you listening to me?’ Aaron cut himself off, amusement colouring his voice as he realised that you were only making non-committal sounds, a clear indication that you weren’t quite paying attention to what he was saying.

‘What? Of course I’m listening,’ you insisted, quickly drawing your eyes away from your screen to look at him. ‘You were saying that you caught the guy in,’ you were cut off my Aaron’s laugh and his lips landing on yours gently.

‘That’s what I said about five minutes ago, my love. How long have you been sitting here?’ he asked, gesturing to your set up at his desk.

‘Not too long,’ you replied quickly.

‘(Y/N),’ his tone turned to concern as he really took in how tired you looked. ‘When was the last time you slept?’

‘I’ve had a couple of hours here and there.’

‘Baby, you can’t just sit in front of your laptop all day, you need to take care of yourself,’ he scolded, cupping your jaw with his hand and running his thumb over your cheek, smiling softly when you nuzzled into his touch.

‘I was kind of hoping that you would take care of me?’ you asked, fluttering your eyes up at your husband, watching as his eyes darkened.

‘How about,’ he began, pulling you out of the seat until you were standing in-between his legs, his arms wrapped around your waist. ‘You let me finish what I was saying, then I can take care of you,’ he murmured, lowering his head to your neck, pressing a soft but firm kiss to your pulse, your fingers digging into his shoulders, making a smirk appear on his lips.

‘Okay,’ you whispered breathily.

Raising his head, he looked into your eyes before speaking. ‘Let’s have a baby.’

‘Excuse me?’ you spluttered, that phrase being the last thing you’d expected to come from his mouth. Sure, the two of you had spoken about starting a family now that you were married, but you weren’t expecting him to want it so quickly.

‘I want to have a baby with you,’ he continued, ‘there was a couple at the station earlier that were pregnant and it made me think. I want that. Most importantly, I want that with you. We can go nursery shopping, buy anything you want for it, I’ll go out a stupid times at night just because you crave something really weird. What do you say?’ You looked into the eyes of your husband, tears forming in yours as you listened to what he said and realised that that was exactly what you wanted.

You nodded quickly, pulling him down to press his lips to yours. ‘Let’s make a baby,’ you said as a tear slipped down your cheek.

‘Let’s make a fucking baby,’ he murmured against your lips, his hands sliding up your legs until he reached the waistband of the joggers that you were wearing, hooking his fingers in them and pulling them down your legs, groaning when he realised that you weren’t wearing any underwear. ‘Am I going to get the same surprise up here?’ he asked, tugging on his t-shirt that you were wearing.

‘I guess you’ll have to find out,’ you said, smirking at him, giving him his answer. In a flash, the t-shirt was discarded on the floor and you were standing completely naked in front of your fully-clothed husband. ‘Well, I don’t think this is very fair,’ you said, pouting slightly as your fingers make quick work of his tie and the buttons on his shirt, leaving it hanging open, revealing his bare chest to you.

Before you could slide the shirt off of his shoulders, Aaron reached down to grip the backs of your legs and lifting you to sit on the edge of the desk before sinking to his knees in front of you. ‘Did I tell you how much I missed you?’ he mumbled, looking up at you from between your legs; a sight that had your legs attempting to close in order to get some kind of friction.

‘You may have mentioned it,’ you whimpered breathlessly as you felt his lips start a trail up your inner thigh, skipping over where you needed him most and repeating his actions up your other thigh. ‘Aaron,’ you whined, trying to shift your body closer to him.

He grinned against your thigh, chuckling softly at your quiet yelp as he gently bit your skin before moving his head to finally run his tongue up your pussy, your head tipping back instantly at the contact. His lips wrapped around your clit and began to suckle softly as two of his fingers gently pushed into you. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair in an attempt you ground yourself as you felt yourself quickly rushing towards the edge.

‘You’re close already, baby, did you miss me that much?’

‘Yes,’ you spoke quickly, ‘I missed you so bad, Aaron!’

‘Go on, baby,’ he said with a crook of his fingers inside you, ‘cum for me.’ The crook of his fingers paired with his words sent you flying over the edge as you cried out, Aaron’s tongue helping you ride your climax out until he pulled away to watch your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. ‘You okay?’ he asked, running his thumb along your thigh.

You managed a breathless nod as he slipped his shirt off of his body and stepped between your legs once again. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him down to crash his lips against yours, whimpering against his lips when you could taste yourself on his tongue. ‘I need you,’ you whined, trailing your fingers down his chest to swiftly undo his belt.

‘You have me, my love, always,’ Aaron crooned in your ear. After dating for six years and approaching your first wedding anniversary, you would have thought you’d have gotten used to the things he’d say but you were slowly accepting the fact that you never would. Aaron’s fingers wrapped around your ankles, untangling your legs from around his waist just long enough to give him time to kick his trousers and underwear to the side of the room before letting you wrap around him once again as he pushed into you.

The moment you felt his hips press against yours, you felt yourself melt against his body, trusting his arms to come around and keep you safe as he slowly started to thrust in and out of you. ‘Still want that baby?’ he asked, a shiver running down your spine at his words.

‘Please,’ you replied, looking at him without a hint of doubt in your eyes and he felt his heart clench in his chest at the way you were looking at him; he never thought that he’d have the privilege of being loved by someone like you, yet here you were.

‘You might want to hold on tight then,’ he said and he felt your arms wrap around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. As soon as he made sure you were comfortable, he started to move his hips at a faster, rougher pace, the air being pushed from your lungs with every thrust. You buried your head in his neck and gently bit down on his shoulder, pulling a hiss from his lips and his hips hitting against yours even harder.

‘You’ll look so beautiful pregnant,’ Aaron whispered into your ear, a stark contrast to the way his hips were hitting yours. ‘So beautiful walking around with a bump and people are going to know that you’re mine, that you let me give you a baby.’

A mix between a whine and a moan escaped your lips at his words and you felt your walls clench around his cock, causing his pace to stutter at the feeling of you fitting around him.

‘Want your baby, Aaron,’ you managed to say between thrusts as his hand made its way down your body to flick at your clit, sending your hurtling into your second orgasm, the way your body tensed making him still against you as his own orgasm hit. He held his hips tightly against yours as you felt him coat your walls. As you both began to come down, your head moved from its position on his shoulder to rest at an awkward angle on his chest, your eyes fluttering closed.

‘Come on, baby,’ you heard Aaron speak up in the now quiet room, ‘let’s go get you cleaned up and get to bed.’ The moment you felt him make to pull out of you, your legs tightened around his waist again.

‘Not yet,’ you mumbled, not having realised how tired you’d been while he was gone. ‘Can we just stay like this for a bit?’

Aaron’s answering chuckle caused a warm glow to spread through your body as he lifted your head to kiss you. ‘Can I at least take us to the bedroom so we’re comfier?’

You nodded sleepily at him and he let you rest your head back on his shoulder before he lifted you off of the desk, cradling your body against his, still inside you as he made his way through the house to your bedroom.

‘Do you think it worked?’

‘What was that, my love?’ he asked as he laid you on the bed, reluctantly pulling out so he could clean you up and join you.

‘The baby. Do you think it worked?’

Aaron couldn’t keep the grin off of his face at the thought of you wanting a baby with him as much as he wanted one with you. Flicking the light switch off, he crawled under the covers until he had you cradled in his arms again. ‘I hope so,’ he murmured in your ear as you drifted off to sleep. ‘And if not, we can always try again.’

[tastesousweet]

frat boy chris x bitchy reader blurb . . .

had the urge to write again and drabbled up this concept

warnings: toxic dynamic (:0), mentions of sex & alcohol, characters not in an official relationship!

at times it can feel like chris has some sort of alert that screams and announces your presence at one of his parties, with the way that he ends up finding you almost immediately every time.

this time you've got your upper body leant against a wall, fiddling with the wet label of the black cherry seltzer you hold against your chest as you gaze up at some guy who’s talking to you with those pretty fucking eyes.

and just like that you’ve irked him. with the way your smooth teeth peek out every once in a while to bite at or mess with your full, glossed lips; you’re giving this guy every sign in the world that you want him. chris almost wishes he was naive enough to not know you’re only using this guy as your own pawn to get his attention- as if it was that fucking hard. this was your own form of foreplay, or “to keep things interesting” as you often would say.

so he waits it out, letting you play with whatever man you’ve got your eye on at the moment just to swoop in and have you to himself by the end of the night. he tries to stay coy and keep his composure especially when his frat brothers give him shit for it, spewing phrases like “dudeee, saw your girl’s here- she’s like eye-fucking the hell outta some guy but here nonetheless, right?” with a laugh and clap to chris’ shoulder. to which chris would mumble a dry response.

chris tries to find the humor in this situation, i mean how could he not? it’s actually quite hilarious to him that you strut around his house and all over this campus as if you’re anything above him- as if you only tolerate him out of some sort of pity. yet, more times than not you’re the one showing up at his house or inviting him into your campus apartment in the earliest hours of the morning. you’re the one urging him to never stop when he’s got your pretty face shoved into one of your pink pillows and his hips snapping against you. so, while chris is easily jealous of these men, he’s never quick to anger. these guys don’t stand a chance, you’d never give them what you give chris. these guys you play around with will never get the dirty polaroid pictures you sneak into chris’ back pocket while you kiss him goodbye at your door, or the satisfaction that he gets when he finally convinces you to let him interrupt your study session only for him to get carried away, focused on playing with your clit rather than calling out the cursive key terms written on your flashcards to help with your studying.

he only continues to take irritating sips from his, now room-temperature, can of beer (the same can of beer he’d cracked open at the start of the night; it’s rare to find chris moving onto a second drink before you’ve arrived. he’d much prefer to wait for you to show up so that you’d get drunk simultaneously especially now that he knows how much you dislike dealing with him when he’s drunk and “messily clinging onto you”) while focusing on your conversation with that man who’s way too close to you. he’s completely unaware of the pissed look on his face as he watches you nod your head, eyes glancing up and down the guy’s figure whenever you want to make his (and chris’) head spin. chris can almost see the idea come to your filthy brain before you slowly reach into your back pocket and reveal a small lollipop.

you remove its plastic cover, placing the wrapper into the front pocket of the man's blue jeans. chris can see your mouth form the words, "thank you" as you remove your hand from his pocket, grazing your fingers over his zipper and brass button before leaning back against the wall.

chris adjusts himself in the seat of his unsteady barstool, glancing around him with his lip tucked in anticipation. though his eyes narrow when you softly plunge the sucker into your mouth with your innocent demeanor, rolling it over your tongue to coat it in a thin layer of your saliva, before your lips form a slow pucker around it as you free it from your mouth.

chris draws his fingers around his lips out of habit, watching you ask "wanna taste?" to the blonde. then he's rolling his eyes at the eager head nod the idiot gives you and the way you smile and meet his mouth halfway to place the pink candy on his tongue. he looks between the two of you as you share a long moment of eye contact. you only move to stand on your tiptoes and whisper something sweetly sexy into his ear like you always do. the guy's face only turns extra red when you kiss his cheek and give him a flutter of your fingers in dismissal.

chris gives you a few moments alone to check your phone and such before he's walking over to bother you and your space.

he approaches while you’re focused on reapplying your lip gloss in the hallway mirror, "whoring around my house gets kinda embarrassing after a while don’cha think?” the musk of chris’ voice bleeds through your hair and into your ear over the loud music and party ambiance.

you give a sigh of annoyance as you glance in the mirror from your own lips to his all too familiar face tucked close to your skull. you rub your lips together and purse them before twisting the slim tube closed again, “mmm… not really, but you coming to bitch and whine about it is possibly one of the most embarrassing and predictable things you do, don’cha think, honey?”

you turn your head so that you’re face to face, giving him a condescending smile as you smooth your hand over the stubble on his jaw. he only runs his tongue over his teeth in slight defeat while staring into your eyes.

“s’not cute, honey. fix your act, y’grossin’ me out at my own fucking party.” he grits his teeth, baiting you.

your grin widens at his audacity, squishing his cheeks a little to push his lips out awkwardly, “chris… who the hell are you talkin’ to like that?”

when he hears a few people begin to turn down the hall he snatches your hand from his face embarrassingly fast, backing away a little when you scowl at him.

and just as he expected, a few bumbling idiots come prancing down the hall not sparing either of you a glance as they rush down towards the basement in search of a bathroom.

“‘kay, are you done taunting me? i wanna go dance.” you cross your arms.

“taunting? baby, when was i tauntin’ you? last time i checked you were putting on a show- havin’ lollipop sex with randoms and shit.” the way chris voice descends from concern to mockery almost makes you want to give him head right here. almost, you don’t give it up that easy.

“aw, you saw that? would’ve done so much more if i knew i had an audience, especially as handsome as you…” you pout.

“you’re a twisted bitch,” chris laughs to himself, shaking his head.

“okay, let’s not get into the name calling. we don’t want to hurt each other’s feelings now, would we?” you stretch your arms out and around his neck, pulling him both physically and mentally back to you with a smile on your face.

he bites at his lip and pretends to think, “nahh, you’re right. just ran through the entire conversation in my head and it ended bad.”

“mmm, see i told you.” you smile at him.

“right. it’s always you tellin’ me. okay, gimme a kiss, please? i need it and deserve it,” chris pleads, bringing you closer by the small of your back.

“deserve it? m’kay…” you joke before you give in. with the way his eyes are so dreamy in this dim lighting and his voice is so scratchy yet soft; you both about eat each other’s faces during that never ending kiss.

- y/n is legit a male manipulator but i support women’s wrongs tf !

[vidavalor]

Canapes. A Good Omens Sex Meta Thing.

A little short burst of meta about wordplay, shelter, smooches and tiny dinners.

This is inspired by @noneorother, who correctly pointed out that I should have included in the (Non-Frozen) Peas meta more about the rest of the wordplay happening in Aziraphale's line of French to Crowley. So, let's talk about that other French word that is hidden in in plain sight (well, sound) in Aziraphale's sentence and how it's a bit, well... vavoom-y.

In this meta, we're mainly going to look a little bit at their love of messing about with homophones. For those who haven't been in a language class in a minute or for whom languages are not your thing--don't worry, I have you covered. :) Homophones are two (or, occasionally, more) words that sound exactly the same when you pronounce them but which have different spellings and different meanings. An Ineffable Husbands-y example in English would be "pair" and "pear." One word means two people or objects grouped together and the other refers to a kind of fruit but when you speak, the words sound identical.

When you are reading, you can easily tell which word is meant by how it is spelled but if you are just listening to a person speaking, you would need to rely on the context clues provided by the other words in the person's sentence to figure out which version of "pair"/"pear" the person was using. The context becomes key to understanding the meaning-- which we also know of to be true in general with Ineffable Husbands Speak, right?

The last word in Aziraphale's sentence in French to Crowley in S2 is a homophone in French, which is absolutely the point of what Aziraphale was going for, in that it's a way to say both words at once.

Because of Crowley translating the French back to Aziraphale with the whole "you don't have an aunt, she doesn't have a gardener, and he doesn't have a... pen", we assume that what Aziraphale said was this: "Oui est la plume de la jardiniere de ma tante?", which we would then translate on one level as meaning "where is the pen of my aunt's gardener?" As we looked at in the first meta I wrote about this line, while this is one way to translate this sentence, Aziraphale built the sentence as a riff on "la plume de ma tante", a French phrase that is used to describe sentences taught while learning a new language that you would never actually say in real life-- which is the context that Crowley used in translating it back, even if as he heard the innuendo, as he knows of the cliche and also no one is ever going to ask where the pen of their aunt's gardener is. Ever lol. We talked in that other meta about how the sentence can also translate where "plume", which means feather in one of its meanings in French, and "jardiniere", which was appropriated to English from French to mean a garden box/flower box, can both be sexually euphemistic-- especially as "la jardiniere" also has meaning with regards to French cooking and food. The key bit to this meta here, though, and to the homophones is the last part of the sentence-- "ma tante"-- and what else it sounds like in French.

We talked about how "la tante" can mean aunt, as Crowley replied, but that it can also mean "queen" and, when taken with the other words in the sentence being euphemistic in a feminine way, the sentence as a whole can be taken as Aziraphale requesting some overdue quality time with Lady Crowley, whom he referred to as "my queen" in French. All of this still holds but what will add to it is that a homophone for "la tante"/"ma tante" in French is "la tente"/"ma tente". Even though these two words are spelled differently, they are pronounced exactly the same way... but "la tente" does not mean "aunt" or "queen"... it means "tent."

So, there's a homophone in French that Aziraphale uses when speaking with Crowley in S2 that translates his word as both "my queen" and "my tent" at the same time because the words are pronounced the same way. This, in true Ineffable Husbands form, manages to be both pretty amusingly dirty and pretty romantic at once. This homophone is very, very clever on Aziraphale's part because while the sentence is referring to Crowley in a feminine way and is Aziraphale expressing that it's been too long since he had himself some red velvet, the homophony causes the other word in play at the same time as "queen" to be "tent", which also euphemistic for an erection. So we have two different words that look almost alike and sound exactly the same when spoken and Aziraphale said one word-- made one sound-- and it represented two words at once, at the same time; one that corresponded to a more feminine-leaning concept of gender (and is also just a French word for queer) and the other that corresponded to a more masculine-leaning concept. But they sound the same and it's all one sound and you can't really tell the difference between the words. How perfectly Crowley. :)

But, as you all know, a tent also is...

...a kind of canopy.

The French word for "canopy", if you're referring to a covering of land, like a tree canopy, is "canopee" and Aziraphale actually speaks French well and would know that but it wouldn't fit the sentence full of innuendo he was building. The sentence builds to the homophone.

As a result, even though Crowley translated what Aziraphale said as "ma tante"-- which isn't incorrect-- and he pretended it meant "my aunt" when he knew it meant "my queen", he also heard the homophone in there that brought forth in the hidden word in the sentence-- "ma tente"-- so he also heard "my tent"/"my shelter" in there and because Crowley plays with homophones and similar word-related things (paronyms, etc.) in Ineffable Husbands Speak just as much as Aziraphale does, he heard what Aziraphale was doing and so really made the jump then hearing Aziraphale use homophones and so mean both two different words that sound alike and say both "my queen" and "my tent" at the same time.

So, they're burying canopies all over the place in S2. Crowley's canopy dialogue in pub scene is him recounting his and Aziraphale's first kiss and Aziraphale flirtily references it back to him in French later on. We aren't quite done yet, though. Recall that I said above that the French word for "canopy" is "canopee." It's pronounced "kan-oh-PAY" and, just like with "la tante"/"la tente", it has a word that is awfully close to it in French and that would be one we also use in English-- "canape."

Canapes are appetizers or, as Gabriel charmingly called them, "tiny dinners." They can be satisfying all on their own or as a starter before a main course. A vol-au-vent is a type of canape. While no one uses the word "canape" during The Meeting Ball, that is what they are all eating. It's there implicit in the words that are actually being said, like how "ma tente" might translate literally as "my tent" but has the context of "canopy" to Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley's word for what was covering them when they took shelter from the rain and first kissed is a "canopy" and it likely was a literal one, in the sense that it was probably a covering of trees and the word for "canopy" in French sounds just like a kind of food.

So, a "canopy" in French is a "canopee", pronounced virtually identically to "canape", which is an appetizer of a small bite of sometimes-toasted bread or a cracker topped with with any number of creative food options to make a delicious, tiny, delightful dinner in its own right or a preview of the food to come.

A canape (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). A kiss.

"Have a canape, my canopy" is basically what this amounts to:

We are going to leave it here and not at Crowley tossing the tray and going for the door and how that foreshadowed the ending of S2 here lol. Well, actually, here... to end on a happy note...

...just that shot of Aziraphale holding a tray of food kisses while looking at Crowley's lips, nothing to see here, no possible vavoom flashback in sight for S3 at all... :)

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Hey, love your analysis! Idk if you’ve covered this already but I’ve seen a lot of people read that one Mineta line during the sports festival arc (the “so your tastes run in that direction”) as a gay joke about Bkg. I was wondering if that’s how you would translate that line? Thanks!

That translation is from Crunchyroll's subtitles, right?

"Bakugou, don't tell me... your tastes run in that direction..."

It's a perfectly fine translation. It infers a little about what he means, but it's sufficiently ambiguous.

Here is the line in question and the official manga translation:

Chapter 36: 「爆豪まさかあいつそっち系の・・・」

I would say this is the most "accurate" in the sense that it is faithful to the specific wording Mineta uses while allowing space for multiple interpretations of what he means. Ambiguity is the name of the game because what he says is both loaded and yet suuuuper fucking vague.

系 (kei) is used colloquially to lump people into groups of interests, ideology, or behaviors; you put the thing you think they are aligned with before it, so コミケット系 would be "people who frequent or are involved with Comiket."

If you recall from my post about proximal demonstrative pronouns, kocchi is used to mean "near me, on this side of things," so socchi means "near you, on that side of things."

Thus, all together socchikei means:

Jisho

He's basically saying, "Bakugou is one of those people," so you can see why "that type of guy" works well. Likewise, "that direction" doesn't specify.

If you read about this phrase, you figure out pretty quickly that it's a rude thing to say. It usually comes across as discriminatory, much like "you people" or "one of those" do in English, because it suggests they are bad for being different from you.

In the context of the Sports Festival, everyone is criticizing Katsuki for fighting Ochako seriously. Kaminari, Mineta's comrade in teenage boy horniness, fought a girl and immediately lost, because he thought he was hot-shit and ended up being too busy admiring how pretty she was to arrange a proper defense for himself.

Since Mineta is attracted to girls, one could easily see socchikei as him saying Katsuki must not be if he's willing to throw down like that. But it is worth noting that there is a similar term Mineta could have used to more strongly imply that Katsuki is gay: acchikei.

If you are paying attention to the proximal demonstrative semantics, acchi means "near neither the speaker nor the listener, on that side of things over there." You can see how this reads as exclusionary.

The implications behind socchikei itself have changed over time and depend on context. It can be used to mean A BUNCH of different stuff.

One notable thing I found is that it is sometimes used (again, rudely) for "people with social problems," which in Japan basically means someone whose behavior is so unusual or so extreme it leads to them being unable to function normally in society. In this scenario, the speaker positions themself as a "normal person" while the socchikei is something of a "menace to society."

That's the implication the English dub went with: "Like I always suspected... Bakugou's a total sadist."

Close but no cigar, Mineta... Katsuki is a gay sadist.

I prefer to maintain the ambiguity because I think that's half the humor, but that's just me.

Thanks for asking a translation/linguistics question!! Those are my favorite ones to answer. <3

[luveline]

Hi Jade, I love your writing, I’d love to request more of Steve with his twins x the reader who’s looking for the cat, if you’re interested in writing that! I gotta know if Evangeline is okay

hey babe, thank you for reading! here’s a part two for this | single dad!steve x fem!reader, 3.5k

Despite their very best efforts, Steve's twins can't find Evangeline the lost cat. Sarah, the loudest of the pair, is passionately displeased for a while. 

"Dad," she grumbles, hand in his as they walk back home, "I wanted a party." 

You promised via a written message on a flyer you'd given Steve that you'd celebrate with him if he found the lost cat. Steve's obviously no stranger to flirting, it's how he ended up with a kid on either side of him at all times, but he figures it was an offhanded sort of thing, some throwaway sweetness. He wouldn't have given much more thought to it, but when Sarah asked him to explain what she'd written he phrased it wrong, giving Sarah the idea that finding the cat would result in a popcorn party with soda pop and karaoke. 

"I can throw you a party," Steve says. It's not especially difficult. He doesn't mind expending the extra effort. "We can have a snack party even if we don't find Evangeline. How does that sound, Charlie?" 

Charlie's the quiet one. "It sounds fun," he says. 

Steve ruffles his dirty blonde hair. The older he gets, the darker it grows. Sarah's hair is already way darker. 

"Do you think Evangeline will be okay?" Sarah asks.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Sar-bear. It's normal for kitty cats to run away when they're gonna have babies, they want to be alone." 

"Why?" Charlie asks. 

"Uh, well," Steve says, not really sure himself, "I think they're trying to keep the babies safe." 

"Did you want to be alone?" Sarah asks. 

Steve laughs out loud. He's relieved when they reach their front door, grabbing his keys from his coat pocket to unlock it. He doesn't know what to tell Sarah. Where to start? He didn't have the babies, and does she know that? He kind of thought she thought babies came from pumpkins and butternut squash like he told her a year ago. Lucky for him, Sarah forgets her question because she needs to pee, running up the stairs to the bathroom still in her shoes. 

He'd rather her trek mud in than pee her pants, but he calls, "Take your shoes off, Sarah! And wash your hands after, please!" 

"Yeah!" she shouts back. 

Steve slings his backpack over the bannister and looks down at Charlie, who looks up with a similar expression. Rubbing his hands over his face, Steve drags his cheeks down and asks Charlie, "What are we going to do with her?" 

"We could put her back in the pumpkin," Charlie says. 

Steve beams. At least one of them still believes it. "We could," he says, kneeling down to help Charlie out of his shoes. "But I don't think she'd fit anymore." 

Charlie puts his hands on Steve's shoulders and lifts his feet one at a time so Steve can take them off. He probably doesn't need Steve's help anymore, but Steve is genuinely horrified at the idea of his kids growing up, and he doesn't mind doing it a little longer anyhow. Shoes off, Charlie unzips his coat. Steve peels it off of his shoulders and hangs it up.

"Drink?" Steve asks. 

"Yes, please." 

He takes Charlie's hand where it's insisting at his hip and together they walk into the kitchen. There's no need for hand holding, but if Charlie wants it then Steve doesn't mind. Only thing is, it makes it difficult to pour juice into cups. 

"Are you hungry, buddy?" Steve asks, lowering the cup to Charlie's level. 

"Yeah. Dad, it's–" 

"What do you want for dinner? Are you hungry enough for a big helping? Maybe I'll make lasagna." 

"Dad, it's cold." 

Steve frowns at Charlie where the little boy's curling in on himself. Steve picks him up, hands quick to cover his back but careful not to knock his drink over. 

"Is it cold?" Steve hasn't taken his coat off yet. "I'm sorry, bud, let's turn up the thermostat." 

"It's really cold." 

Steve's feeling it now, a chill on his face that hints to an ajar window, or… 

Steve carries Charlie the short distance to the dining room that leads off from the kitchen and opens the door. His suspicions are confirmed; the patio doors are wide open, letting the chill of a coming fall pervade the room. 

"Woah," Charlie says. 

"Woah," Steve repeats. He sits Charlie on top of the table and closes the doors, locking the leftmost with a concerned sigh. Open doors invite creepy crawlies that Charlie can't abide by, or worse, rats. 

"Sorry, buddy, let's go find your blanket," Steve says, turning away from the doors. "And your sister." 

He forgets about the open doors after a busy night. Sarah and Charlie make lasagna with him, and then they help him wash up. Sarah gets dish soap all over her and decides that she doesn't need a bath anymore because that's what dish soap is for, dad, she's clean now. He haggles with her, and they strike a deal that she will in fact be bathing tonight as long as they can have a party (sans Evangeline the cat) tomorrow. 

She was going to get the party anyway. It's a sneaky dad win. 

When they've both been bathed and dressed in clean pyjamas, Steve ushers the twins into their bedrooms and bids them both goodnight. Charlie falls asleep before Steve's even left the room, but Sarah takes a little more persuasion. 

Steve sits on the side of her bed, his thumb stroking a line up and down the bridge of her nose to the spot between her eyebrows. Her lashes flutter with every crest. 

"Do you think Evangeline will be okay?" she mumbles sleepily. 

"Yeah, baby, I do. I think she'll be just fine. Don't worry about her, okay?" 

"She must be lonely," Sarah says. 

Steve leans in, speaking warmly. "What makes you think that? Because she's not home?" Sarah nods. Steve takes a big breath. "Well, think of it this way… She might be away from home, but she has her kittens with her, so she's not alone." 

"Does she have a husband cat?" 

"I bet she does. He might even be with her," Steve says. 

"Maybe we can get a pet cat," she says. 

Steve kisses the tip of her nose. "Nice try, Sar-bear." 

She smiles, either from his joke or his affection, and touches his arm. "Maybe I can sleep in the big bed with you tonight?"

Steve would let her if he didn't think she was close to falling asleep already. "Tomorrow," he says, letting her down gently. He sits up, his hand on her forehead, stroking back her freshly clean hair. "I love you. Have good dreams, okay?"

"Okay, daddy. You too." 

Her eyes shutter closed. He strokes her hair for a few minutes more to make sure she's asleep, before kissing her head, turning off her light, and closing the door. 

He stands in the hallway for a second, checking his watch. It's later than they'd usually go to bed but still relatively early, nearing 10PM. He has enough time to swap the load of laundry from the washer to the dryer before he has his own shower, and he could probably squeeze some TV in if he doesn't mind falling asleep on the couch. 

Steve does the laundry. He showers. He checks on the twins, peeking his head into their rooms. Sarah's asleep as he left her like a princess, and Charlie's curled up, a pill bug under three blankets. 

Steve's scrubbing his hair dry with a towel on the way downstairs and wondering if there's any good ice cream in the freezer when he hears a weird sound. He knows what he thinks it is immediately, but the reality of it being said thing is too weird, too coincidental, and he really actually doesn't want to have to deal with it. His pulse quickens at a wooden knocking sound. 

"No way," he says, ditching his towel on the kitchen counter top. He approaches the dining room door, resting his forehead against cold wood. "No fucking way." 

The sound grows louder. Steve considers leaving the door closed and dealing with it tomorrow, but he can't. He has kids in the house. And if there's an animal in need of assistance, he doesn't wanna be the kind of person who doesn't help. Even if he's so, so tired.

—

"So you found her there?" you ask, eyebrows raised high. 

Steve —Harrington, apparently, from your graduating class— rubs the back of his neck. "Would you believe me if I said the patio door was open?" 

"I believe you, Steve, I'm just surprised at the coincidence." 

Your neighbour, Serena, looks up from where she's poking at Evangeline the cat and her rabidly meowing brethren to grin. "It's a great coincidence. I'm so happy she's okay. And so sorry she decided to do this here." 

Turns out you and the pretty dad from the park are almost neighbours, living one street away. He lives on Cherry Avenue. You live on Cherry Avenue West, as does Evangeline the cat. 

"I can, uh, pay for the cleaning," Serena offers. 

Evangeline has given cat-birth in the bottom of Steve's hutch, a solid oak piece with a glass front. It's the kind of furniture you'd expect in such a nice home, but the glass-fronted cabinet isn't lined with dishes. It's full of kids' arts and crafts. 

Steve crosses his arms across his chest. "Don't worry about it. I've cleaned up worse stuff than that." 

"Oh, no, please, let me pay for it. Or at least let me clean it myself." 

"It's really no trouble," Steve says. 

"It's definitely some trouble," you butt in mildly. "Me and Serena'll clean it, just as soon as we get these cats into crates." 

You hadn't been expecting Steve to call you for a while. You'd hoped he'd find the cat, obviously, and hoped even if he didn't he'd try his luck with you. He's a handsome guy with big hands, lean arms, and a smile so gentle it tips into searing; you can't help smiling at him to get him to smile back. It makes your chest feel insanely tight. 

There's nothing so thrilling as having a good-looking guy flirt with you. It doesn't happen often. 

"If you think I'm gonna let you clean up in my house you've got another thing coming," he says with a bravado that's clearly self-aware. "You guys don't want a cup of coffee, do you? I need one." 

"Sure," you say, "I'll help." 

Steve's kitchen is the same as the rest of his house, cluttered and clean, lived in and proud of it. There's drawings on the fridge, homemade magnets, poorly painted mugs on a rack by the coffee pot. Kids live here, and they're loved here, evidenced by their artwork in pride of place, and the sheer amount of Goldfish you see in his cabinet when he retrieves a jar of coffee. 

"The kids are in bed?" you ask. 

"Yep. Though I doubt Charlie's sleeping, he can't sleep through the front door closing. The creaking scares him sometimes." 

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," you say. 

Steve shoots you a smile from over his shoulder. "Don't be sorry," he says, unscrewing the coffee jar. "It's not your fault the cat wanted to have her kittens here. It's not even the cat's fault. Charlie will come down in a minute." 

Steve's eerily right. The quiet thump of footsteps patter down the stairs, and the blonde little boy you'd met that afternoon appears at the end of the hall with a mess of cotton candy hair sticking up and a blanket around his shoulders. Steve pours you some freshly brewed coffee and offers you the mug. 

"Milk is in the fridge," he says, his arm held out as he approaches his son. "Hey, Charlie. Sorry, we were being too loud, huh?"  

Charlie slides behind Steve's legs. "It's not morning." 

"No, sorry." 

"Who's the lady?" he whispers. 

"That's Y/N, we met her at the playground earlier, remember? Because of her friend's lost cat?" 

Charlie leans around Steve's legs to sneak a glance at you. You smile and raise a hand to wave at him. He hides. 

You bend at the waist. "Hi, Charlie. Sorry to make so much noise while you're sleeping, but we had to come over and see Evangeline. You can tell me off for being loud, I don't mind." 

"It's okay," Charlie says. 

You beam at him. "Really? Thank you. I promise we'll be much quieter and you can go back to sleep soon." 

Steve brushes Charlie's hair back out of his eyes and down flat. "Want to sit on the counter?" he asks. 

Charlie nods. 

Steve picks Charlie up and puts him on the countertop next to his cooling coffee. Things are quiet and slightly awkward for a minute. You fill the silence with sips of coffee, while Steve's too preoccupied with his kid to touch his own. He rubs Charlie's back, a chubby cheek pulled into his chest, offering up treats in a murmur, "How about something warm? I can make you hot cocoa, you can have marshmallows, too. Would that make you feel better?" 

"Are you having it too?" Charlie asks.

"No, I'm having coffee." 

"Can I have some coffee?" 

"You can have a little sip to see if you like it," Steve says. 

You're surprised by his willingness to let Charlie try it, but it's not like he's force feeding him caffeine by the spoonful. Steve blows on the coffee for a few seconds and then holds Charlie's back. "Just a little bit, baby, it's hot and I don't think you'll like it. Just a little sip." 

Oh, no, you think. He's so nice. 

He's a very tender father. Gentle and patient. He helps Charlie take a little sip and he doesn't so much as blink when Charlie spits it back out into his mug. Steve fills a new mug with water and helps him wash away the taste, laughing without malice.

"I didn't think you'd like it," Steve says. "But good job for trying." 

"It tasted sour," Charlie says. 

"Are you sure?" Steve laughs again. He looks up at you and lowers his voice. "Would it be a problem for him to see the cats?" 

"Are you kidding? Of course he can." You put your coffee down. "Do you like cats, Charlie?" 

Charlie loves cats. When Serena's sure that Evangeline won't go into a defensive mom rage, she beckons Charlie forward to watch the kittens wriggling. They're not very active, having just been born, but they're cute, and alien in a way that's boggling. You fawn at his fawning. 

"Don't touch," Steve says softly. 

"Where's the pumpkin?" Charlie whispers. 

"What?" you ask. You can't help yourself. 

"Um." Steve trips over his words, "Um– he wants to know where the pumpkin is, where the kittens came out of. Because… that's where babies come from?" 

Your lips part. Serena nudges you before you can say something idiotic, and you thank her in your head. "Oh, of course! Well, we had to put the pumpkin outside so the kittens had room to lay down." 

It's not smoothly done, but Steve nods appreciatively. Charlie hums and sits back in Steve's lap. "Does Sarah get to have two parties now?" he asks. 

You'd thought yourself fine at understanding children, but you never realised they spoke in code. 

Steve's voice is almost melodical in its cadence, and his hands do a sort of waltz, a slow, practised manoeuvre as they settle around Charlie's front. "I don't know, buddy. I think one party is enough." 

"What was her party for?" you ask. 

"Well," Steve begins, "your flyer, she wanted to know what celebrating means. So I told her it meant like when you have a party, and she really likes parties, so she thought if we could find Evangeline, we'd get to have one. But when we couldn't find her, I said we'd have one anyways." 

So he's a sweetheart, you think. Good to know.

"It's too bad she's still sleeping," you say. While she might not have found Evangeline, and Steve may not have found her purposefully, she deserves a treat just for looking. You're about to suggest it when Steve tilts his head to the side. 

"It shouldn't be too long, now. She always knows when Charlie's not where she left him." 

"What, like a sixth sense?" you ask, charmed. 

"Exactly like a sixth sense. He was in the hospital for a few days a year ago and she didn't sleep for two whole days. Which is weird 'cos they have separate bedrooms," —you bite back a huge smile at the impassioned tone of his retelling— "and she hasn't slept in the same bed as him in two or three years, but it didn't matter."

"That's sweet, though," you say. 

"She loves him more than anyone in the world," Steve says easily. He dips his voice down into a playful grumbling, "But Charlie loves me most. Don't you Charlie?" 

They must have had this teasing before, as Charlie knows exactly what to say, giggling and affectionately fond as he protests, "No, dad." 

"What?" Steve asks incredulously. 

"I love Sarah most." 

"Sarah's not here to hear you, buddy." 

"I love Sarah the most, and then you, and then Aunt Robin and Aunt Cory, and then grandma." He's apparently been coached on it.

Steve meets your eyes over Charlie's head. "Can't blame a guy for trying." 

Sarah appears not long after, clearly surprised by strangers in her house and her dad on the dining room floor. She walks forward, bunny ears on her slippers wagging with each step, eyes blinking sluggishly. 

"Daddy?" 

"Sarah," he greets. "Guess what? I found Evangeline." 

Sarah realises what she's seeing, and nothing can prepare you for how high-pitched she squeals. "Are those kittens?" she asks, stepping over Steve's knee. You stabilise her when she pitches forward and prevent a disaster. "Oh my god, dad! Can we pet them?" 

"No, we can't, I'm sorry," he says, "they're still shiny brand new. And sticky." 

Sarah's disappointed but doesn't whine. She sits politely beside you and watches the kittens climbing blindly atop one another, her pyjamas warm against your crossed leg. 

"As soon as I take them to the vets, you guys can be the first to pet them," Serena says, finally tearing her attention away from her darling Evangeline. "How's that sound?" 

"Really?" Sarah asks. 

"If it's okay with your dad, absolutely." 

You reckon Steve couldn't say no if he wanted to. You all stay there like that for a while, talking in quiet tones until Charlie's falling asleep in Steve's lap and Serena decides it's now or never, attempting to usher Evangeline and the kittens into the huge cat carrier she'd procured. Thank yous and no problems are exchanged at the door, Steve with Charlie in his arms as though the boy, who looks to be five or older, weighs nothing. Sarah waves her hand at the kittens as Serena takes them to the car. 

"Dad, we really need a cat," she says. 

Steve pats her shoulder momentarily. "Maybe one day." 

You hover at the porch step, because there's something you want to ask. It might be odd, but getting this little sneak peek into their life, seeing Steve in action, you can admit to both having a small crush on him as well as wanting to see him again. Even if it turned out to be nothing, you'd want to see him. He seems interesting, charming, and so ridiculously loving; you could use a little love in your life. 

"Listen," you say, twirling your car keys around your finger nervously, "about that celebration…" 

Steve hikes Charlie further up his chest. "The party?" 

"I mean, you did find her. And I'd like to keep my end of the bargain, so maybe… we could celebrate sometime? Together?" 

Steve's hand covers the back of Charlie's head. "Are you asking me out?" 

You look away from him, accidentally locking eyes with Sarah, who's smiling at his hip like you're the best thing since sliced bread. 

"Only if you want to," you say. 

"We would love to!" Sarah says. 

You can see the moment that Steve bites back a smile. "What she said. We'd love to." He hikes Charlie up again. He must be heavier than he looks. "I really have to put them to bed, but– I'll call you," he says. "Cool?" 

"Cool," you say. He generously ignores how breathless you sound, and you say goodnight. 

Serena's telling Evangeline off in the car as though she's a reckless teenager when you climb in, but it isn't without love. "What's so unsafe about your own home, Eva? We had that wardrobe all decked out for you, and you chose some random guy's dining room. Some random hot guy," she says pointedly. "Tell me you asked him out." 

"What?" you ask, laughing nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

She stares at you.

"Okay, fine! Yeah, I asked him out," you admit. 

She cheers, "Woo! Good thing. He deserves a nice date with a pretty girl like you after that. We never cleaned out his hutch, you realise?" 

You flush all over. "Oh, fuck." 

"That might put a dampener on the appetisers." 

—-

hello, thank you for reading! if you’d like to request more for this au please go ahead, I’d love to see some<3<3

[brucewaynehater101]

I want Duke included in batfam family fics. being the older sibling Damian needs, relatable yet guiding. Tim being ‘Dukes robin’ and having lots of respect for Tim yet he’d also steal his slice of pie. Duke and Jason hanging out, and Jason appreciating how he never tries to lecture him. Duke and dick matching vibes (or as much as they can) when on patrol and somewhat in the family, and both trying to make their brothers calm tf down. Bruce trying desperately to not fuck up with Duke like he did his other sons, only serving to confuse and slightly alarm Duke. Alfred and duke being the only ones with more then *1* braincell.

he also has so much potential for angst of being a meta in a family everyone thinks hates metas, and people somehow forget him???

(I have more just don’t have the energy to write it all down)

Heck yes! I agree that Duke needs to be included in more batfam fics (and especially as a more pivotal role). I personally try to add him a bit, but I fear I do not include him enough as a key member of the batfam.

Duke is hella important and should be treated as such. I'd love to see more fics with him pissing off GCPD for fun. Just chaos and pranks against GCPD, rogues, Batman, and the Batkids. Also, he should he allowed to punch (or kick) as many JL members as he pleases (Hal was just the first).

Duke and Dick having similar fashion ideas is a cute idea I've seen in the fandom. I would also just love to see more fanart of Duke rocking some fun outfits for galas (especially if the galas follow the AU of Gotham being super weird with their social norms). Duke being featured on magazine covers, being asked to model, and being interviewed would be cool fanwork ideas to play around with. I've seen so many of the other batboys and none with Duke as a magazine cover.

Here's my ideas on how Duke could interact with different batfam members. Feel free to reblog if you have ideas yourself or think the dynamic should be different.

I feel like Duke and Cass would get along really well as chaos gremlins who get away with their shenanigans. Messing with Commissioner Gordon is a favorite pass time of theirs. For some reason, even when presented with evidence, Bruce doesn't believe that Duke and Cass would do the things they get away with. It's both impressive and annoying to the other batkids.

Duke could have a weird relationship with Tim. On one hand, Tim is Duke's Robin. The cases he's solved, feats he's accomplished, and respect Gotham has for Tim's Robin in general (for being Batman's therapy kid) are unfathomable. On the other hand, he's seen Tim walk into the same wall four times within three minutes. They both share a love for riddles, but Tim can be an idiot at interpersonal relationships.

For Damian, Duke has seen how the world picks up kids and spits them out. He's seen kids lashing out, how they merely want to defend themselves, and how fantastic they are once you get to know them. He's been angry and spiteful at the world too. For Damian, Duke's hella impressed at the kid's heart despite all the shit he's been dealt. Duke would encourage chaos, talk with the kid about how different emotions have impacted Duke's actions and life, and is an overall supportive figure. They can often be seen doing both wild stunts and "common for their age group" activities for fun (although the game Sorry is banned because of them).

Jason and Duke would probably have a complicated relationship due to Red Hood's actions. Their similar childhoods (as far as economically and location based) would lead to jokes and shared customs that they chat with Steph about (such as Creepy Toe Joe or that specific gas station or the phrase they say as they passed that one pothole). Despite that, they have different viewpoints on Bruce and murder.

Duke is probably one of the more emotionally intelligent and communicative batfam members. If Alfred is the sassy version, Duke would get a good laugh out of those remarks and the astute observations.

Bruce and Duke angst could go hard. Bruce is trying so hard not to make his past mistakes. Duke and his perception of Bruce (he holds Bruce in high regard) and how that affects their relationship.

As far as Duke being in a "perceived to hate metas" family, that could either be hilarious or angst. I imagine people trying to intervene or "save" Duke from the Bats would be infuriating and sad to see.

Duke could also laugh at the batkids' superhero friends and how they, even as adults, are banned from entering Gotham. Duke is free to live in the manor and come and go as he pleases. Any of the batkid's meta friends have to be snuck into Gotham.

[lisaiese]

lyrics in EPIC: the musical that changed my life trajectory

I don't know if it is the fact that I spent five years of high school studying Latin and Greek classics that makes me do this, but here I am writing a long ass tumblr post about some lyrics from the songs of a musical based on The Odyssey, the Homeric epic poem.

Enough chit chat, let's start from the lyrics in the first very song of the musical, 'The Horse and The Infant' from The Troy Saga:

The blood on your hands is something you won't lose All you can choose is whose

UGH so good already! Here we have Zeus speaking at the end of the song, basically telling Odysseus that killing in war is his duty as a man and a hero. This obviously kind of sounds like bullshit for us, but we have to understand the ancient culture behind it: in ancient Greece going to war was a symbol of honor. Think of the scene where Hector and Andromache met again, Hector really embodied the "I know that I probably won't come back to you and to our son (opsie), but I have to go"

Andromache said: “Dearest, your own great strength will be your death, and you have no pity on your little son, nor on me, ill-starred, who soon must be your widow…Please take pity upon me then, stay here on the rampart, that you may not leave your child an orphan, your wife a widow.” Hector responded: “All these things are in my mind also, lady; yet I would feel deep shame before the Trojans, and the Trojan women with trailing garments, if like a coward I were to shrink aside from the fighting.”

A key word is shame: many times my professor told us students about the 'shame culture' in ancient Greece, which Hector clearly refers to here. Therefore, it's either honor or shame: for the Greek dying in war was better than living like a coward. Through these lyrics - and also the next song of the album ('Just a Man') - we can notice how the characterization of Odysseus is different from that of heroes like Hector and Achilles: he seems more human. After all, it is no coincidence that he is characterized not only by physical strength but above all by intelligence: he is a 'Warrior of the Mind' (quoting one of the most iconic songs of the musical). In the first verse of The Odyssey, Homer calls Odysseus πολύτροπος, a term that literally means "of many turns" and can be translated as multifaceted, versatile, cunning.

Next lyrics are from 'Remember Them' from The Cyclops Saga:

What good would killing do? When mercy is a skill More of this world could learn to use

I chose these lyrics for two reason:

they are so well connected with the first ones and show how Odysseus still has his morality here (you have a long way my friend)

it is such a good phrase honestly, let's appreciate it

Actually, something to reflect on could be the theme of mercy, but I don't really remember a lot of information about it and I don't want to write about things I'm not so sure about. In fact, what I rememeber pretty well is mercy related to the Roman/Latin culture, in particular to the figure of Ceasar: Cicero attributes to Caesar the virtue of clementia, which is the term used in Latin to represent mercy. Apparently he is the only one who, among all the military leaders, stood out for his goodness of soul, so noble that it is not enough to simply compare him to great men, but he must be judged similar to a god («haec qui faciat, non ego eum cum summis viris comparo, sed simillimum deo iudico»). That's basically everything I can give you about the topic. I would dive into it more by talking about the musical itself, analysing how this is connected to Odysseus' relationship with his morality, but then I would really be writing an essay here and now, which would ruin the order and logic of this very long text.

Let's move on to the next lyrics from 'Ruthlessness', from The Ocean Saga, which made me gasp so hard the first I heard them:

You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great A Greek who reeks of false righteousness, that's what I have 'Cause you fight to save lives, but won't kill and don't get the job done

Speechless. Mind-blowing. The earth shook. You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great Hello??? Sorry Ulysses, but Poseidon ate. 'Cause you fight to save lives, but won't kill and don't get the job done Like, where do I even start to talk about this. Poseidon is actually throwing the naked truth in Odysseus' face! Everything so far has a logic:

Zeus tells Odysseus that he has to kill Hector's son Astynax (which he does in the end, for the sake of going home)

Odysseus spares Polyphemus (maybe because of guilt? He is just a man, afterall...)

That mercy results in a literal god (Poseidon) wanting to have vengeance: if Odysseus had been ruthless, he would have put mercy upon himself (yeah that's a direct reference to the lyrics Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves)

Now we finally arrive at my favorite saga (aaaaa): The Circe saga. Starting from some very simple lyrics, but so impactful, from the 'Puppeteer':

But this was a hell of a twist, cause we are weak to a power like this What was it? A woman

Hell yeah, a woman! Clearly, you are just a man (another reference, got you!). Ok, return to serious talk. I think most of us know that women were often portrayed as bewitchers, source of evil and misfortune, in ancient times, especially in the Greek culture. Let's think about the story of Pandora's box: it is a myth narrated by Hesiod in the poem Works and Days. According to it, the first woman on earth, named Pandora, was gifted a jar by the gods. However, led by curiosity, she opened it and, by doing so, she released sickness, death and many other unspecified evils. She then closed the jar and only one thing was left behind: Hope. This story (one of many and one of the most famous) perfeclty exemplifies how women were considered dangerous and, at the same time, powerful, as bringers of evil.

Next, from the same saga, let me present to you the best lyrics from the song 'There Are Other Ways':

There are many ways of persuasion There are many modes of control Maybe showing one act of kindness Leads to kinder sould down the road

AAAAAAA. Circe you are such *incomprehensible adjectives of praise* woman. Here Circe basically gives Odysseus' morality hope, let me explain: until now we saw how Odysseus' kind soul and his mercy led him to antagonize a god, on the other hand (in theory) killing a child opened the doors for him to return home. From these observations the only "lesson" that can be deduced is that behaving like a "monster" is better than just "being a man" (yeah I love referencing). BUT Circe kind of destroys this reasoning, proving that a good soul can take him so far... aaaand of course it's a woman who does this

Moving on: The Underworld Saga, lyrics sung by our favorite prophet Tiresias:

I see you wife with a man who is haunting A man with a trail of bodies (who?)

This song? Chills. Literal Chills. The song in itself is a forshadowing, an oracle. I chose these lyrics specifically because they forshadow Odysseus' darkest moments in the journey, by specifically pointing out what he becomes: [...] a man who is haunting A man with a trail of bodies Who? Odysseus you ask. It's you. It's you in the future, and you know why it's "no longer you" (yeah, another quoting)? Because you will have lost your morality by then. Honestly? We kind of all expected that, sorry not sorry Odysseus.

And directly connected to that we have the lyrics from 'Scylla', from The Tunder Saga (it's orange because there is no yellow):

We are the same, you and I, I

Just this one final verse, so powerful. Odysseus encountered mermaids and was merciless with them, after that he went to the lair of Scylla. They are actually the same: monsters. Or at least, Odysseus has become like her.

And now, in The Wisdom Saga, we welcome back the badass of the arena: Athena! Let's hear what she wisely says in 'Little Wolf':

One young wolf has a larger heart than all these men combined

It's always the women guys. Athena's appearance to help Telemachus fighting the suitors is so crucial: her words and herself gift us that ray of hope and goodness that was lacking ever since The Underworld Saga. Here she refers to Telemachus, Odysseus' son, who is called a young wolf. While at the beginning of the song the suitors were using the term "little wolf" to basically mock him, Athena changes the connotation: he is not a little wolf, he is a just a young wolf, with a good soul and heart. Even a wolf (an animal) is more good-hearted than a man, but here who actually is the animal and who is the man? Athena, a godess, knows best.

Finally, The Vengeance Saga, from which the best song (almost cried listening to it) is, of course, 'Six Hundred Strike':

After everything you've done... ...how will you sleep at night? Next to my wife...

OMG. Literally OMG. Here, at the final showdown between Odysseus and Poseidon, our hero prevails. Poseidon asks: "After everyhting you've done... how will you sleep at night?". I don't know if my interpretation is right, but this is what I think Poseidon meant with his words:

after everything you've done (and been through) to get here... how will you sleep at night? -> will the trauma spare you?

after everything you've done as you became a monster... how will you sleep at night? -> will the guilt spare you?

And Odysseus just answers with a "Next to my wife", because that's what he wanted from the very beginning, to come home, and he will achieve his goal. His story is the story of a journey: obviously, a journey back home, but most importantly, a journey of someone who is 'Just a Man' (got you again with the reference). Odysseus is just a man, a human being who has encountered countless obstacles, who has had his ups and downs, who has thrown his morality into the sea to return home. And what is this, if not life?

[poughkeepsies]

okay twist my arm here's my fic rec list

category: the most underrated fics that have never once left my mind since I first read them and I genuinely think about at least every few weeks in no particular order

(disclaimer that this list does not include a great majority of my beloveds' works but that's because I picked at random from the list of at least 30 that I've compiled over the past few days)

Tell Me Anything - AnnaNSmith/@annansmith - 5.3k

“Hey, Eddie?”

Buck’s voice rings softly in the quiet. A casual lilt on his tongue as he says his name.

“Hm?”

“Tell you something?”

Shrugging, Eddie keeps his eyes fixed at the ceiling above him.

��We got time.”

--

Or, how Buck shattered Eddie's entire world one night by confessing his love to him.

2. shout if you want my heart - hattalove / @hattalove - 5.8k

“I’m not even in the neighborhood of mad,” he says, instead of vomiting any of the thousand feelings warring inside him. “But Buck. This would’ve—this took you hours.”

“I’m good at multitasking,” Buck says, and Eddie can practically hear him shrugging over the phone. “I did all the cooking after I put Chris to bed, and then I got up a little earlier to get the cleaning and laundry done. It was nothing.”

Eddie’s starting to suspect he’ll have to wait for Buck to come back to make him understand that, actually, it kind of was everything.

or, eddie has a tupperware-induced emotional crisis.

3. find a way to you (if it kills me) - foxwatson / @eddiediazes - 19.5k

It’s something about the way Eddie phrases it. Something about the combination of his words and the way he’s staring down at the floor, and the flush in his cheeks and the way he’s fidgeting. Buck thinks, abruptly, he’s going to ask me on a date.

“Well I - wanted to tell you first, and I need someone to watch Chris, anyways - I know he’s getting old enough now he doesn’t like feeling like he’s got a babysitter, so I was hoping - sorry. Not the point. Uh. I have a date on Saturday.”

Just as abruptly as his own hopes had come soaring up above the cloud cover of his own unawareness - they go crashing back down to the floor - to the basement, and into the mud. “A date?” Buck rasps out.

or - the one where eddie decides to start dating again, buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief

4. Finding Home - S_lycopersicum / @slycopersicum-in-disguise - 4.4k

"Buck!" Eddie yelled as he turned his key in the loft door and dumped his suitcase inside.

He immediately got a startled "Eddie?" in response, and thank God for that because if Buck had been out running errands it would have been the last damn straw. But he was here, where Eddie needed him to be, and pounding down the stairs from the stupid platform thing he had instead of a normal bedroom. "Is everything OK?"

"No! You won't answer your goddamn phone and my house is full of bees."

5. counteroffer - buckleyseddie / @buckleyseddie - 25k

There’s a flicker of something across Buck’s face, but he quickly goes back to grinning. “You just want me at your beck and call.”

“Maybe I do.” Eddie shrugs. “You owe it to me.”

Buck sighs, as if put out, but Eddie can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Okay, then what's it gonna be?”

Eddie hums thoughtfully. He takes his time trying to think of something good. “What about-” he starts.

And that’s the moment Buck licks his lips and Eddie’s eyes dip down to them. And before he knows what comes over him, before he can think the words through, they’re out of his mouth.

“A kiss,” he says.

Buck blinks at him. Eddie blinks back.

“You want a kiss,” Buck repeats, eyebrows rising.

***

Or in order for Buck to make it up to Eddie, Eddie suggests that Buck gives him one hundred kisses.

6. keep me as your finish line - thatbuddie (talktothesky) / @thatbuddie - 33k

“Oh no, we’re not doing this.” Chimney pops a bubble with the gum he’s been chewing as he moves one of his fingers back and forth to point between The-Man-who-isn’t-Buck’s-man-he’s-just-The-Man and Buck. “You didn’t drag me to the gym just so you can ditch me to fuck some guy in the showers."

Buck lowers his voice, leaning forward as if trying to make the words’s journey shorter between him and Chimney so they can’t escape and reach anyone else’s ears,“I wouldn’t fuck him in the showers.”

Chimney’s response is wordless in the form of an eyebrow raise.

“Not anymore, okay?” Buck clarifies, rolling his eyes. “That’s not who I am now."

(spoiler alert: Buck does fuck the guy in the showers. but that comes after nicknaming him Big Beautiful Brown Eyes, finding out his name is actually Eddie, becoming his best friend, and falling madly in love with him.)

7. bring me a higher love - KiaraSayre / @starsandatoms - 7.4k

The A-shift works 4/20, Buck gets accidentally high, and Eddie suffers.

8. home stretch of a hard time - spiritsontheroof - 4.2k

When Buck tells him that he’s engaging in a “year of possibilities” in which he isn’t saying to no anything, Eddie isn’t surprised. It’s exactly the kind of thing Buck would get himself into to break this slump he says he’s been in. He’s changing his life, or so he says.

9. tying you to me - rarakiplin (gmontys) / @hoediaz - 5.3k

“Diaz?”

The man — and it is Eddie Diaz, Buck can’t not see it now — blinks, and in a split second his expression shutters closed. “Buckley.”

Buck wonders if he looks different without Diaz’s blood on his face.

-

or, eddie and buck meet each other at rock bottom

10. Four Can Keep A Secret - Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars - 20k

When Ravi and Hen accidentally see Buck and Eddie, who are trying hard to keep their new relationship a secret, in the middle of a romantic moment, they try to make them confess without the rest of the station finding out. Shenanigans ensue.

[jozor-johai]

So do you think Dany and Jon are just two Heads of the Dragon? and if so, who do you think is the third? my money's on Bran as like, the Ice Representative to balance out Dany's fire and Jon's Ice/Fire dealies.

Thank you for this ask, sorry it took ages to respond.

Say that we know (or we think we know) that two "heads" of "the dragon" are Jon and Dany—insofar as we even think we understand what that phrase is supposed to mean (an assumption that I think is worth questioning as well, but that's not a task for now).

Here's what I love about this question—the issue of "who/what is the 'third head'" comes up as a literal question in a religious sense when Arya is talking to the Sailor's Wife in Braavos. There's a statue to the god Trios, and the Sailor's Wife can't tell us the purpose of one of the heads:

Three-headed Trios has that tower with three turrets. The first head devours the dying, and the reborn emerge from the third. I don't know what the middle head's supposed to do.

GRRM is definitely referencing the concept of the "three headed (dragon)" when he invented Trios; the imagery is too central and too specific for that not to be the case. What's fun, of course, is that we're all asking ourselves the same thing—what (or who) is that middle head?

I like your suggestion about Bran. It's a pretty unorthodox idea, because most people assume/expect that the three heads of the "dragon" must be Targaryen or at least Valyrian... but I don't think one needs Valyrian blood to ride a dragon, so as far as I'm concerned Bran is an option. He's a cool idea, too, because of his attachment to the North, the far North, and maybe even the "Ice" concept, like you say. Bran's also a powerful skinchanger—or, in training to be one—and there's not a doubt in my mind we're going to see some dragons get skinchanged. GRRM has been asked about that idea before and he's gleefully dodged answering it.

That would also be interesting because it's worth remembering that Jon is technically not canonically a Targaryen (yet), or even a contender to be a "head of the dragon" (yet). We think we've figured it out (and we probably have) but it's still technically a mystery. In that sense, then, if I was going to lean on the comparison with Trios, I would say: perhaps by now we should have met the first "head" —the "death" head—and we should have met the last head— "rebirth" head—so we should be missing this middle head whose purpose we don't know. However, we think we've figured out that Jon is the marriage of Ice and Fire, so maybe he's the "unknown" middle head—and then Dany is, on one side, the "rebirth" head (of fire?), and we should have met the "death" head (of ice?) already, but we don't know who it might be. Perhaps it's Bran!

If I'm being honest, I personally haven't thought too much about solving the third head of the dragon issue. It's clear to me that some key piece of the puzzle is being intentionally obscured from our view, so it feels like a fool's errand to be confident in solving it at this point. I realize that's a lame answer, but it's the truth—I try to approach these things beginning with how they work in the story and how they work with the symbolism at play, so without being sure how the "three heads" are even supposed to work I haven't tried to solve this mystery.

If there are truly three people who are going to be the "three heads of the dragon," I think the rules of good storytelling limit our options to characters that were introduced in AGOT. If we limit that to POVs—which is not necessarily a valid assumption, but I think is likely—then that's only Tyrion, Bran, Arya, or Sansa. I'm torn on the common "Tyrion Targaryen" theory... I don't really like it, but it would explain why he's included as a POV in AGOT and why he makes the shortlist for possibilities here (among other things). Bran would be a much more interesting option, though.

The thing is, I'm ultimately not convinced the "three heads" are going to work like we expect. Yes, it's said that Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya were the "three heads," but who knows if the common understanding of that is true? Plus, the person who presents the idea to Dany of the need for "three heads" to ride the three dragons is Jorah... who I don't think knows shit about dragons. So my mind is wide open when it comes to possible interpretations of the "three heads of the dragon."

[eretzyisrael]

by Seth Mandel

Durbin’s seething resentment at being asked to talk about the threat of anti-Semitism was on display from one of his party’s two witnesses as well: Maya Berry, executive director of the Arab American Institute. She was made to look like a fool because she did exactly what Democrats asked her to do and said what they asked her to say. Her performance was atrocious from a moral standpoint but perfect from an “understood the assignment” perspective. Her main point was that focusing on any one group undermines the fight against all hate, a demonstrably false and frankly ridiculous belief.

But the key moment came during the witnesses’ questioning by Republican ranking member Lindsey Graham. Quoting the director of national intelligence regarding the pro-Hamas protests, Graham said: “We have observed actors tied to Iran’s government posing as activists online, seeking to encourage protest, and even providing financial support to protesters.” He asked if any of the three witnesses doubted the veracity of that report, and no one did. Graham then asked each witness the following: “Is it Hamas’s goal to destroy the Jewish state? Is it Hezbollah’s goal to destroy the Jewish state? Is it Iran’s goal to destroy the Jewish state?”

Two of the three witnesses—Kenneth Stern and Rabbi Mark Goldfeder—answered in the affirmative. All three entities mentioned in Graham’s question, after all, have said they want to destroy the Jewish state without shame or ambiguity. Which is what made Berry’s response so odd. “I think these are complicated questions,” she said—immediately earning a shake of the head from Graham and conjuring memories of the catastrophic answer given by several college presidents when asked before Congress if genocidal anti-Semitism counts as harassment: It depends on the context.

“If you think it’s complicated to figure out that Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran want to kill all the Jews,” Graham responded, “I should not listen to anything else you’ve got to say. And I won’t.” And with that, Graham moved on to the next witness.

Berry was rattled. Though Graham left the hearing soon after, Berry referenced that exchange at least twice more with other senators, signaling that she’d realized how poorly her comments made her look and desperately trying to claw back some credibility.

The bad news for Berry was that she could not undo the damage. The good news was that she would eventually provide another quote that might make people forget about the first quote, if only because it was potentially even worse. Asked by Sen. Josh Hawley about the inherently violent implications of the phrase “Long live the intifada,” Berry argued for the slogan’s ambiguity. “‘Long live the intifada’ can mean different” things, she said, catching herself before she got to the word “things” but far too late to avoid the rest of the ridiculous comment, which was tailor-made for the sound-bite politics of congressional hearings.

She also defended “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” a call for all Jews to be cleansed from the land.

[vaguely-concerned]

Random Assortment of Ghibli’s Howl’s Moving Castle Thoughts

Because I rewatched it today for the first time in many years and it’s one of those miraculous works that not only remaine as magical as I remembered it through childhood eyes, but if anything was even more magical as an adult and in more complex ways. I’ve finally got words for at least some of the things I was processing only subconsciously as a kid, so here we go. 

- The sneaky underlying theme of deeply flawed mother figures in this movie. Drives me nuts. The narrative doesn’t go out of its way to condemn these characters, it takes a characteristically phlegmatic nonjudgemental view of them, but it feels like this is low-key a stealth Mommy Issues story. (Making it go 🤝 with Dragon Age 2 in my head lol) Sophie’s mother does not seem to be consciously malicious but is intensely smotheringly self-absorbed and immature to the point where it has clearly been neglectful, and on the other side of the ‘Overly Permissive/Neglectful to Overly Authoritarian/Controlling’ scale of shitty parenting Suliman is controlling and invasive and heedless of boundaries. (Notice that her real complaint about Howl entering the contract with Calcifer and thus losing his heart seems to be that it means she can no longer control him and his grasp on magic, more than actual worry for him as a person. Her presence in his life is largely, ironically, paternalistic. She even frames it as something he blundered into incompetently — phrasing as him having had his heart stolen, rather than the mutual agreement we see Howl and Calcifer make even if they couldn’t know all the consequences it would have.) In the end Sophie breaks the circle by managing to be an engaged and responsive mother figure to Markl and making an actual home with the people closest to her. 

Interestingly Howl at his worst seems to be much more like Sophie’s mother than like Suliman — he leaves Markl to handle things he really shouldn’t have to alone all the time and is noted to barely be home anyway, in the beginning especially he’s flighty and vivacious and evasive (not to mention aggressively blond haha) in some of the same patterns we see her mom exhibit. Since Lettie is quite like their mother in terms of looks and sociability, we might infer that Sophie takes more after their father (including in choice of spouse lol). But crucially when the chips are down Howl is ready to protect Sophie and their home with his life rather than abandon her, in sharp contrast with her mother. I like that the movie doesn’t vilify Sophie’s mom for what she does, as such, it’s a pretty impossible position to be in for anyone… but it is just an extension of what she’s apparently been doing for a long time anyway, privileging other parts of her life and her own comfort over her daughter’s wellbeing and happiness. (Adds a certain spice and heartache to how scared Sophie is that Howl is going to leave them, too. And her fear that it would be because she’s fundamentally not good enough, beautiful enough, clever enough for anyone to choose her and stay with her. Ooof. Girl he’s been looking for you everywhere girl he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing in the world girl it’ll be okay)

- Relatedly: the unspeakably sinister vibes and implications of Suliman’s fucking… army of little Ersatz Howl page boys. When I was younger I sort of bought that he was just being a coward in refusing to go back, but honestly looking at all those kids with smiling empty eyes like painted marbles — you know what maybe it was good he got out of there when he did and in whatever way he could, huh. I don’t feel like there were wonderful things ahead here. Between that and the Witch of the Waste — who must have been much, much older than him when they seem to have sort of had a thing, since he seems to be like… mid-twenties-ish? at the time of the movie — there’s some really uncomfortable subtext going on if you want to read into it that way. I don’t think it’s the only way to read it by any means, but there’s something icky and clandestine sticking to Suliman’s whole deal that makes some form of grooming feel potentially relevant, especially taken along with the shame and fear that seems to cling to Howl around it and the recurring symbolism of him being stuck at a child state beneath it all — he slipped away from Suliman one day but never really grew up. (I’ll readily admit this is some fully Vibes based ramblings on my part, so YMMV on how convincingly you find this present in the text vs. how much is conjecture in my overthinking overheating noggin lmao)

- The fact that the first thing that allows Sophie to heal is to get to be angry — to finally get to say ‘this is all such absolute fucking bullshit *aggressively scrubs all the shit away about it*’. So much of her arc is about reclaiming the full spectrum of her emotions instead of having to make herself small, to prioritize her own inner experience and expressiveness above the need to be acceptable or pleasing to someone else's gaze. It’s not doing quite the same thing as the book in this regard (which if memory serves does more complex work around societal dynamics around gender and sexuality and aging vs. the more internal personal approach the film takes), but what it is doing is very interesting in its own right. The castle being a space (a home!!!) where all the inhabitants can eventually express themselves freely, including Howl dropping the uncannily imperturbable smiling facade to show the sad wet pathetic drama queen beneath (deeply affectionate) and Markl just getting to be a kid running around having fun. And Sophie makes that home for everyone possible by being herself unfiltered for the first time in her life. What the fuck I’m not crying don’t look at me — 

- The little one-room cottage in the fields being the forerunner to the castle… 

- Something so pleasing about the irony that Howl is said to eat hearts when really he seems to have basically had to tear his own heart out and set it on fire to keep it safe. And then after people have tried to get their hands on it to possess it (the Witch) or dictate how he uses it and who he gives it to (Suliman) for the whole movie, Sophie gives it back to him without a thought at the end; it’s more important to her for him to be whole than to own his heart. Hmnngh. (also so funny that the first thing he does upon waking up is plaintively whining about it fhdasj. Yeah having feelings again can take a person like that) 

- Howl’s bad dye job freakout is still very funny and silly, of course, never change you giant drama queen slime the place down, but there’s something about the fact that he’s apparently been dyeing his hair the colour Suliman seems to favor/uses to mark ‘her people’ all this time even when he hasn’t been able to face her, especially since the flashback shows black is his natural hair colour, and how badly it freaks him out to not meet that standard anymore… Huh. Hm.Hah.

(This time I actually wondered to myself if part of the reason he made the deal with Calcifer was to be able to get away from her and the plans she had for his life (and that he clearly would have hated, if their fundamental philosophical disagreement about warfare is any indication!). I think it says some very sad things that his happiest childhood memory is of a secret place where he got to be entirely alone because it was the only place he felt safe. Howl’s Moving Giant Coping Mechanism Metaphor. You see the castle is the Flight response made. Well not flesh. Timber, I guess. The Flight response made timber. In this essay I will etc.)   

- It hurts me that Howl brings Sophie’s old bedroom into the castle. He wanted so badly to make her happy and he seems to assume that because his memory of childhood solitude is a… if not happy then comforting thing to him, it would be for her too. But to her that’s just a reminder of the stagnancy and loneliness and… indignity? of her life before, and makes her feel like he’s treating her like a housekeeper, relegating her to that tiny room all over again, unwanted and ignored. Augh. At least she seems to understand what he meant to do for her when he shows her the meadow, though, and he doesn’t stop trying to communicate it to her even though his gesture didn’t land the way he’d hoped at first. This movie is so quietly kind about people trying to learn how to understand and love each other. Everyone is allowed to stay at the castle in all their imperfections, even the Witch. 

- Something something the Witch curses Sophie with not being able to tell anyone what’s happened to her… and in the end that doesn’t even really matter because the people around her either grow to understand without having to be told by actually paying attention to her (like Howl) or just accept her exactly as she is anyway, age yo-yoing and all, no questions asked (like Markl). And in the same way Sophie immediately recognizes Howl in his monster form and isn’t afraid of him even when he tells her it’s too late. Suliman warning her about ‘what he really is’ and Sophie immediately hugging him in his full monster form because he came home and that’s all that matters to her. Howl thinks her white hair is the most beautiful thing in the world and worth coming back to the world fully for. Sobbing. 

- The implication that part of the reason Calcifer wants out of the contract (other than just being stuck in the hearth of a place slowly falling into depressing disrepair and neglect around him) is that he’s genuinely terrified of what Howl is doing to himself. There’s something kind of sad and very funny about that. What if you went into a deal with a demon and the demon had to keep telling you ‘uh. Uh bro that’s kind of fucked up you know that right. Hey are you listening to me you’re molting monster feathers onto the carpet Sophie is gonna LOSE IT and don’t come crying to me when she does’. I wonder what would have happened to Howl’s heart if he turned completely — it seems that their contract has kept it safe and unchanged in every other way, if frozen in time, so presumably it would just… keep going the same way? (Calcifer telling Sophie that ‘it’s still the heart of a child’ got me so bad this time around. Bawling all over the place haha.) The idea of being stuck burning around a homeless heart forever is — well Calcifer I guess I get where you’re coming from here

- Of interest only to a very few people, I suppose, but the Norwegian dub of this movie fucking rules, I’m glad to find my childhood self was right about that. Calcifer is so cute in it it almost makes me dizzy sometimes, Aksel Hennie went ham on this one. Also an incredibly calming and charming performance for Howl — whenever I hear the English dub I just start laughing b/c like uh okay that’s Batman, takes me right out every time, that is not my lil guy fhsakjd. (I suspect his characterization is a bit different and softer in Norwegian too, just from the differences in translation I’ve seen?) 

- The first time Howl takes Sophie flying he holds her hand through it the entire time and guides her, the second time he takes her flying he lets her steer the flying machine for a while under his supervision before he goes off to make the distraction (there’s something so sweet about it as much as he’s being a little shit about it, honestly, he believes in her in such a quiet undramatic way even as she’s freaking out), and then after walking away from Howl’s childhood memory she walk-flies confidently on her own exactly like he showed her at the beginning. At the end the whole castle flies, with all of them safe and comfortable within it. Thoughts. Feels. Agony.

- There’s something so… weirdly achingly beautiful about the non-linearity of love in this movie. To properly meet each other as themselves here and now, Sophie and Howl have to flicker through polar opposite ends of life where they’re both stuck: old age and calcified (ahaha) childhood, resigned depression and overwhelmed fear. The promise Sophie makes at the end that is the beginning for Howl and probably kept him going in the meantime — love and a feeling of home that echoes even through the part of your life when it wasn’t there yet, love as hope. He finds her in the future, she finds him in the past, their hearts call to each other across time and space and they both work so hard to be able to actually meet in the now. The castle is kind of a wheezing overwrought monstrosity, the result of having to keep your heart outside of yourself and be constantly running from everything… but how can you begrudge it for it, when it works so doggedly to keep you and all you love safe while you look for that home? (To me Calcifer is basically a metaphor for dissociation, for what it’s worth, and he always has been)

TL;DR One of my fave movies of all times and touches me to the soul, I can't help but be distressingly earnest about it