#i cut off just a couple annotations

[candyfloss5000]

Five Minutes

Nathan Prescott x reader

Summary: you're just trying to study in peace, but you're boyfriend has other ideas...

a/n: the ending is a little shit, but I'm shit at writing smut so here we are.

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

"Nathan, not now." You're sat in the middle of your dorm's bed, notes and annotations spread out around you, as you try to study for your upcoming practise exam. It was going pretty well, you managed to get a couple hours of study time in peace, until Nathan had his last class for the day and made a beeline to your room.

"You really gonna give Shakespeare more attention than me?" He has his arms loosely wrapped around your torso from behind, occasionally presses kisses to your cheek and neck to try and tempt you to become putty in his hands.

"When he's worth more than half my grade, yeah." You say back, reading through a page of your annotations.

"Yeah, well, I'm worth more than this whole fucking town so..." Nathan cuts himself off to presses his lips to your neck again.

"Nate." You say sternly, as he tries to spice it up more. To be honest, the words on the page infront of you have been blurred by the desire sitting in your soul. It's very rare that you can gain control over Nathan Prescott.

"Come on!" He throws his head back in annoyance. "You've been at it for over two hours, just have a five minute break!" Nathan pleads as he rests his head agaisnt your shoulder. You try not to relish in how much control you have over this boy, knowing how needy he can get and how you're completely in control of his pleasure.

Trying to be discreet, Nathan's starts slowly inching his hands upwards and under your loose shirt.

"Jesus, you're fucking cold!" Your body shivers at the temperature change.

"I could think of a few ways on how you could change that." Nathan says back, before squeezing your tits over your bra.

"A few ways, or positions?" You quirk a brow, as you look over your shoulder at the blonde.

"Tomato, tomatoe." Nathan shrugs, before practically lunging forward to capture your lips with his own. His kiss is rough and desperate, enough to take your breath away.

You lean away from him, after his tongue swipes across your lips. "Five minutes." You remind him and he has to contain how giddy he is that you've finally given in.

"Five minutes." He assures you again, not wasting a second to reconnect your lips again.

Five minutes, turned into ten. Ten, turned into twenty. And before you know it, you're covered in blossoming purple marks, his shirt thrown over your head and both your bodies clinging onto one another as you drift into a deep slumber.

[crimsonred-hi]

Everything, Everywhere

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Warnings:

Summary: his lover is laying there, laying under 6 feet under the grass. Gone to the world. The love of his life: gone. Yet, he stills comes every week, to smile at her, and tell her that one day he’ll join her, but he promised her to live to the fullest… so he will.

He sits there, in front of the stone. It’s a pretty stone, with flowers painted on it, because his mother tried to make the stone pretty by painting on it.

He smiles at her, cutting the ends off the flowers he bought for her, making sure to cut them at a 45 degree angle so they last longer. It’s a bouquet of spring flowers, because the season is changing and he is going to the U.S. for a couple months, he wants the flowers to look right of the time.

He places the flowers out, making them look nice. He’s always known that the fact he never got over her was considered weird, but how could he: she was perfect and now she’s gone.

“How are ya doing, love?… I hope your well, I’m well. My life is going well… it’s weird, not having you around to fight of the groupies.”

He laughs warmly, smiling with that twinkle in his eyes, taking a memory of her arguing with a groupie because the girl was getting too close to him.

___

“Honey, why were you being like that?”

His lover grumbles from the side of him as they walk home form the pub, her arms crossed and his jacket over her shoulders.

“She was too fuckin close! She was too close. I didn’t like it.”

He sighs, moving closer, arm draped over her shoulders, pressing his lips too her forehead.

“Y/n, I’m not going to leave ya for some lass in the pub…”

She grumbles again, but she becomes a little less tense with his words.

___

“You were a funny gal… you really made me happy…”

The light in his eyes is lots at the need to use past tense when talking about her… she’s gone.

He can’t admit it, he doesn’t want to: why would he want to. He loves her, he can’t stop his love for her, but she’s not coming back. SHE IS NOT COMING BACK. He can’t say it out loud…

“I’m going on tour soon, I’m going to (your home city)… I’m gonna see your parents, celebrate your birthday with them… I’m so thankful that they let you stay in Ireland with me… I’m so thankful…”

He smiles back at the stone, her name cared into it with a curvy font. ‘Loving Daughter, Sister, Friend and Wife’. They weren’t even married, they never got the chance to get married, but her parents surprised him by putting wife on it: he cried when he read it. He wept and wept.

He still weeps.

He fiddles with the flower on her grave, trying to distract himself from the pain.

“Ermmm… I’ve got another album coming out… and I read that book you got me for my birthday, why didn’t you tell me you annotated it? I cried when I read your handwritten…”

He laughs warmly, running his hand through his hair.

“Your handwriting is so messy… and what possessed you to write in that awful purple pen?”

___

“Christ! Why are ya writin’ like that?”

She giggles, poking the pen into his arm, drawing on his arm and hurting him at the same time.

“Oi, I like this pen, it’s a nice colour.”

“It’s also blinding.”

He grumbles standing behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, kissing the back of her head and nuzzling into her hair.

“Come on, ya couldn’t have just written in black or blue?”

That sets her off, now she’s talking his ear off about how much she hates blue pen, his heart just melts as she talks with her hands.

___

He laughs that full belly laugh, the laugh that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and makes his smile wide, gorgeous.

“God! You were so fuckin funny! Good God… you were extraordinary…”

His thoughts break through, usually he would think about his own music when he was at her grave, Work Song is a constant in his mind… but he did that song with Noah Kahan recently, all he can think about is Everything, Everywhere… the title alone makes his breath shoulder, she was everything, she is everywhere.

“We cried, ‘oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh’

Everything, everywhere

I wanna love you ‘till we’re food for the worms to eat

‘Till our fingers decompose

Keep my hand in yours…”

The lyrics are soft on his lips.

He’s sang to her before, dead or alive. He felt like she was listening, he knew she wasn’t. He never believed in ghosts or the afterlife, it’s a warming concept, but is it true? He doubts it is. But he finds warmth in knowing that the plot next to his lover is bought and waiting for him.

It’s sad… he bought it the same day he bought hers.

He knows he’s still young, he knows he could find another, he could find many more… but the sheer idea of having another woman the way he had her makes him sick. It feels like cheating.

“Ya know, I made a song…. I make loads of songs, you know that… I made one about us… well, I’m telling the people it’s about characters in Dante’s Inferno…… it’s about how I would do it again… I would love you again even with the knowledge of what’s to come…”

“It’s a nice thought… well not nice, but ya know what I mean… I love the idea of meeting you again… even if it’s in hell.”

He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Christ… what I would do to have you here or be there with you?”

He sighs, looking at the time on his phone… he’s gotta go. He doesn’t want too.

“I’m sorry, honey… I’ve gotta go… I’m sorry… I’ll visit when I can… I’ll be back I promise.”

His words are too soothe a nonexistent being, the being is gone, yet he still acts like he’s talking to his living lover.

He blows her a kiss, and leaving her grave behind. His heartbreaking yet again at having to leave. Wishing he could lie in the ground with her forever…

Im sorry. Im so, so sorry.

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

hold me as the night goes by

Summary: Rolan finds you crying in the Ramazith's Tower and tries to comfort you

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: depiction of what might be a panic/anxiety attack, hurt/comfort, tiny bit of fluff

A/N: This is entirely self-indulgent, I just needed a hug from Rolan. Sorry for any possible grammatical mistakes ;P

Tagging: @tripleyeeet @elfinbloodbag @fictionobsession @adequate-superstar @sapphiccloud (if you don't want to be tagged, let me know <3)

\_/

As Rolan's wandering through the Ramazith’s Tower, in his slow but steady cataloguing of each and every book that fills the many shelves of the building, he hears a muffled sound coming from a nearby corner.

Cal and Lia both went out a while before to do a couple chores for Rolan – not imperative ones, a mere pretest to keep them away so that they wouldn’t bother him during the cataloguing. This excludes his two noisy siblings from the list of possible intruders. It can’t be a visitor either: he showed the last one out himself, and there isn't anyone foolish enough to roam the trapped halls by themselves.

Rolan silently closes the book he's checking and puts it back on the shelf, with the notebook where he’s annotating title, author and year of the various volumes. He moves towards the sound, an incantation rolling quietly on his tongue as he prepares himself to face a possible thief – and given the main contents of the tower, possibly a magic-user one.

When he finally cuts the corner, Rolan lets his hands fall to his side when he sees you, the light emanating from his palms disappearing as he places them on his hips.

"I'm glad you're enjoying the volumes," he sighs, not noticing the way you jump and moving closer to you, "but I'd rather you'd ask before taking them off the shelves. Some of these are very-"

His words die in his mouth when he notices you're not holding a book in your hands or anything that belongs to the tower. Just a creased handkerchief that you're gripping onto as if your life depended on it. Then his eyes move to your face.

For a moment, it's like he’s back in Lorroakan's study and the fists of his former master are hitting him again, cutting his breath in half and tearing his skin like sharp daggers. However, the longer he looks at your face, torn apart by streaks of tears and an unknown pain, the worse it feels. Invisible claws wrap tightly around his heart and dig deeply inside the beating muscle, like a knife through butter.

"What's wrong?"

"I-"

Your mouth flutters open but nothing else comes out. It only prompts more tears to run down your cheeks and for you to frantically wipe them away.

Rolan steps forward and raises his hand. He stops it before it moves to your cheek, instead placing it gently on your arm. Despite the misadventures you've shared together, you two still barely know each other. He has no right to touch you like that, it doesn’t matter if his desire might say differently.

"Did somebody hurt you?" he asks again, to which you shake your head, eyelids sewn together as you hold back a sob. "Then please, tell me how I can help."

You scoff, taking a useless breath as the sting in your eyes grows with the heaviness in your chest.

"I wish I knew," you utter in a pained chuckle, tears still hanging at the corner of your eyes. "But it hurts… and I don't even know why."

Your head falls as you cover your face, your palms pressing into your eyes to stop the tears and sadness that keeps building and building, as if it’s about to split you open.

Why can't you just be happy? You're alive, you're close to finding a cure for the tadpole, and yet why does everything hurt so much for seemingly no reason? Why can't you breathe? Why can’t you feel anything other than that despair that’s slowly eating you alive?

Why can't you just die already?

Your mind is completely lost, in the middle of a storm with no end in sight. All you want is for the world to stop spinning around you, for quietness.

Then you feel something. You focus on that, on the warmth that passes through your sleeves and the firm squeeze on your arm – the one thing keeping you from drifting away.

You lean into it – into him – and before you know it, your forehead hits Rolan's chest as your body is shaken by sobs.

Rolan stands frozen, unsure what to do as your hands claw to his robes. He's not used to physical touch; even with Cal and Lia, he still tenses when they pull him into a hug. This is no different.

But he can't ignore the pull he feels towards you, nor the tears that are still falling down your cheeks.

His arms wrap around you, tentatively pulling you in. You make no resistance, sinking into his touch as his hands rub along your back before finding its way to the name of your neck.

As his fingers gently caress your skin and short hair, your muscles slowly relax. Pressed against his chest, your breathing steadies and your lungs start working once again. The sadness is still there, gripping onto you like lice – just as annoying to get rid off – but the tears are slowly running out as you feel Rolan resting his chin on your head.

You open your mouth to say something but no words come to your tongue. You simply lean into him even more, listening to his slow heartbeat until the blood in your veins starts pumping in unison to his own.

“Is this… helping?”

You nod against his chest, somehow getting even closer to him. “You can let me go now, if you want.”

Rolan pulls back and  you already miss his warmth. The comforting sound of his beating heart, mirroring yours. He doesn’t move too far, stopping just a few inches away from you, but after the previous closeness it feels like you’re miles apart. His hand still rests on the back of your neck while his eyes stare into yours with grave seriousness. And a hint of fear.

“Do you want me to?”

His golden irises dart away for a moment as the whisper leaves his mouth. Taking in a trembling breath, you suddenly realise what that closeness means. To him, to you, to the frail relationship you’ve built during the past weeks. Perhaps it’s not smart to endanger the connection with one of your strongest allies, however you can’t ignore the peace you felt when he was holding you, just moments before. A peace that’s still running through you as his fingers caress softly your skin

You shake your head, your fingers digging in his tunic and moving closer to him once more. Rolan pulls you back into his hug, not one second of hesitation, and you both revel in the newfound closeness.

“I’ll be here whenever you need me,” he speaks softly, his lips pressing gently on your head. “You’ll never have to worry about that.”

Closing your eyes, a small smile pulls your mouth. It might still not be enough to feel completely better, but it's a start.

[sunthyme]

Ah... welcome to another instalment of my headcanons. I lowkey lied again but I think my prefect will be the last of the headcanons to come out. Tyty for all the love, as always, and now...

🪶The NRC Staff🪶

Trying to find characters I hadn't already twisted for my student ocs to make my staff ones was such a pain 😭😭😭 but here they are!!

🐦‍⬛Dire Crowley🐦‍⬛

(he/it) - Bisexual

The most USELESS HEADMASTER EVER!!! God, I know his SSR card looks great but I won't pull for it istg this bitch. We could have had Sam or Crewel but nooooo...

- I wanted him to look a bit older but since we don't know his age, I didn't push it too much. No spoilers for book 7 but I assume he's probably fae or smth idk.

- You'll notice I honestly didn't change much about the staff in general but I do like most of their design already. Kept his sclera dark cause it looked cool and made the gold eyes pop.

- He talks in a weird mix of old language that literally no one uses, like hella old-fashioned, and poorly used teen lingo. He's trying... A for effort, ig.

- His house and office are super cluttered with a ton of stuff he's found throughout the years but knows exactly where things are. His memory's actually incredibly good, he's just lazy. He likes to collect teaspoons.

- Later in the story, when he starts kinda view the prefect as his kid of sorts, it starts dropping off little trinkets at Ramshackle. Various things from old photos to books with old annotations to pretty rocks. He just wants the prefect to make the dorm 'more homey'.

- I'll get into this more with my prefect design but when Crowley attended NRC (in my headcanon idk if he actually did), he was a Ramshackle student. As such, my MC is using his old uniform as he didn't have any extra ones.

- He really likes cats but they just fcuking hate him. Lucius hisses everything he see Crowley. This is why he cries himself to sleep.

Enough of my dead-beat dad, onto the good dad!

🐕Divus Crewel🐕

(he/they) Transmasc - Panasexual

The good father-figure!! I love Crewel. Also, ignore me misspelling his name in the big one, I thought it had two 'l's...

- He is my Mexican father. Idk they give like simultaneously abuelita and Mexican mom vibes and I am so here for it. (Apparently also Jewish grandma vibes according to @thearchiveofalexandria but I wouldn't know lol).

- I also think he'd be older, like late 40s/early 50s but because of those anti-ageing Mexican genes, they look like 30. (Literally, my mom gets mistaken for being that young, she's in her 50s) Gave him some gray hair at the back but don't be fooled, that's just from putting up with Crowley's bullshit. The shit that goes down in-game for sure results in a couple grey hairs for poor Crewel.

- Is the father figure I never knew I needed, well, my prefect anyway. I know my MC would go to him for anything ranging from 'Crowley's threatening to cut off my water supply!' to 'Can you help me make a Halloween costume?' and his ass always helps. Stan Papa Crewel.

Oh god, this next one was HELL ON EARTH I hate drawing masculine men...

🏈Ashton Vargas🏈

(he/him) - Heterosexual

God, I hate Vargas' og design. The worst part is it does it's job, I couldn't find much to change. Also, didn't even know he had a first name lmaooo.

- I gave him more of a beard because it looked so fcuking bad without it ong 😭😭😭 I hated this... that's pretty much all I did.

- That being said, I do think Vargas wants the best for his students. Wait. Dad-bod Vargas. Guys, I just had an epiphany.

- He's got a wife, kids in like elementary school, and like two dogs idk. I feel like he's older thirties. He's giving total family man and likes to cheer on his students like they're his kids too.

- I feel like he's got mad ADHD and it's one of the reasons he became a gym teacher, just to be constantly moving and doing stuff.

My opinion of Vargas has increased while writing this. Onto my funky uncle...

🏷️Sam Cecil🏷️

(he/they/it) Genderqueer - Asexual Aromantic

I LOVE SAM!!📢📢

- They're like mid-twenties, I don't know if they went to college but if they did, they were a business major. I gave him a last name too, idk the fact that he didn't have one made me mad. Cecil cause Dr. Facilier had a daughter named Cecilia apparently.

- I tossed in a couple more piercings and I love the idea that he has tattoos too.

- He's like the fun uncle that occasionally sponsor your weird ideas. Wanna make cookies at 3am? His store's still open. Need some Nerf guns? He's got 'em. If he says it's in stock, he will literally have anything. Don't ask, he won't answer you anyway.

- Also has crazy good like and low-key knows the future but typically drops hints in a joking manner. He's also very good at communing with the dead, sales for sessions are discounted in October.

- Incredibly rich. Probably canon given his store branches and the crazy shit he has in his shop but I felt the need to reaffirm it.

- Also supplies Ramshackle with snacks and groceries. My MC works at its shop part time in return but I firmly believe that it'd refuse to let the MC starve.

Now for the gramps,

📚Mozus Trein📚

(he/him) Transmasc - Heterosexual

- Trans old man, idk. He is to me. Also, he's both the history and literature teacher.

- Also changed pretty much nothing lol, he's just an old trans man whose sick of Crowley's bullshit (you'll notice a running theme).

- All the grandpa memes and stereotypes are so true for him. His drinks tea every afternoon, plays chess with Crewel (that's canon btw), and squints whenever you try to show him something, especially on a phone.

- He uses a flip phone mobile-y but his house has a rotary one. His daughters keep telling him to replace it but he refuses, saying modern one are too complicated. His daughters also went to Royal Blade as he originally worked there before recently transferring to NRC.

- Hates pumpkin-flavoured anything so doesn't care much for fall. Winter is his favourite season though as he loves sitting with Lucius by the window on snowy days and reading. Very academiacore, gramps.

- He totally advocated for NRC to allow students to use preferred names.

Onto the ocs!!

🪐Mèng yáo Yuan🪐

(she/they/it) Agender - Biromantic Demisexual

- First up is Mèng yáo, twisted from the Horned King from The Black Cauldron. Never seen it personally but @thearchiveofalexandria has and recommended I use its villain.

- She's Chinese and a fae of sorts so she's likely quite old, though she looks in her twenties.

- She's the astrology and philosophy teacher because I thought it would make for a good course since it's mentioned in passing in Book 4.

- She's also skilled in potionology and she and Crewel test out potions for Crewel to teach in class. She is intrigued by the concept of immortality but it's more of a passive study for her.

- She's really bad at getting jokes, though she tries. She's generally not too familiar with modern human concepts but does her best to learn.

Finally,

💎Kore Gorgon💎

(she/her) - Sapphic

- Kore is based on Madame Medusa from The Rescuers, which, fair warning, I ALSO haven't seen. I really needed villains though lol. I read the wiki page and prayed tbh.

- She's around her mid-fifties and is the Math and Physics teacher. She works to integrate known magical physics with standard math and physics and teaches such.

- Her wife is named Crystal (based on an inspo character for Madame Medusa) and they're Kyra's adoptive parents. This is a small nod to Madame Medusa having two pet crocodiles. Kyra kept her parent's names as a sort of way to remember them but likes her adoptive moms a lot too.

- Kore's name is a reference to another name for Persephone and is associated with not only 'the maiden' with the underworld as well.

- She loves shiny things and adores being dressed to the nines all the time. She has a small collect of pretty rocks and tends to decorate her classroom with various trinkets.

- She and Crewel get along super well as their personalities are rather similar. (Fun fact: Madame Medusa not only was heavily inspired by Cruella De Vil, but also served as an origin for Ursula's design.)

- She has bipolar disorder and does her best to work around it, sometimes having pre-recorded lectures if she's not able to be in person.

I'll be sharing my designs for some side and family characters tomorrow so stay tuned! Love y'all!🩷🩷🩷

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦

˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — teacher!jeff skinner x teacher!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 2.4k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — their students decide to play matchmaker before a school dance; will their scheming pay off?

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — written to fill a short n sweet request last year for my patreon fic-mas <3 and if you catch the lil nod to two of our favs, you're a real one

“I know we’ve been having a hard time concentrating this week, which is understandable with all the excitement surrounding the Snowball Dance, but you do have one more day of work before you can totally kick back and check out,” Jeff Skinner, a high school social studies teacher, says after the tardy bell chimes.

The students are settling into their seats but listen intently.

He continues, “That being said, I will still be collecting your annotations for chapters eighteen through twenty that we started during Monday’s class. While I’m doing that, a sign-up sheet for the Unit 5 case study presentations will be floating around the room. If I were you, I’d grab the earliest slot available to get it over with and be done for the semester. But, hey, that’s just me!”

His twelfth-grade AP Government class meets this with a chorus of groans. A subset of students lightheartedly boo him from the back row. Oddly, though, the ruckus pleases him.

Mr. Skinner strives to create a classroom environment where the teens feel comfortable sharing their honest feelings and have the space to do so if they choose. Their vocal push-back signifies their trust in him. He also appreciates their mutinous spirit because it arose after their deep dive into the Declaration of Independence and its twenty-seven grievances; they were combative but in the name of freedom for the cohort and the individual. Jeff saw that as a Teacher Win.

“I know, I know. I’m a tyrant, and you hate me. But unlike this country, this classroom is a monarchy, not a democracy,” he returns the teasing. “And if you looked at our agenda when you walked in this morning, you would’ve seen that—because I am obviously the nicest person ever—I have allocated today’s class period to independent work time. So, you can complete whatever you may need. That means putting any final touches on this week’s chapters, polishing up your Supreme Court case PowerPoints with your partner or group, or finishing any outstanding assignments.

And if you recall, I give full credit for late work, so long as it's on my desk before the cut-off tomorrow at noon. You’re welcome." Sarcasm is his favorite—and most effective—bonding strategy. "If you're squared away, you know where the board games and art supplies are. Just no more explicit drawings. I don’t care, but Mrs. Benson next door does.”

The class laughs, fondly recalling the fiasco the day before Homecoming.

A couple of students decided to use their free time to create a few political illustrations. While they were historically accurate and objectively hilarious, they were not “school appropriate,” according to the 9th-grade Geography teacher who glimpsed the comic strips as she passed the open door.

She demanded Jeff punish the perpetrators for their vulgarity, but instead, he had the drawings laminated and bound into a resource book. Said book has since found a home on a bookshelf, wedged comfortably between Howard Zinn’s A Power Governments Cannot Suppress and The Words We Live By: Your Annotated Guide to the Constitution by Linda Monk.

In his peripheral vision, Jeff sees a student waiting by the door and invites them in. He segues, “Before I leave you to your own devices, it looks like we have a visitor from ASB. So, please be nice, give them your full attention, and don’t embarrass me. Capiche?”

The class agrees to comply, and the boy, an underclassman if he had to guess, hesitantly walks to the front of the room.

Jeff remembers how intimidating seniors felt when he was that age, so he gives his students a pointed warning over the kid’s shoulder. A few of them perk up, noticeably straightening in their seats.

“Good morning, everyone. I’m Leo, and I will be filling in for Gabby today.” He looks down at the printout of the day’s announcements and clears his throat. Then, Leo begins reading them aloud:

“Feeling stressed this finals season? Stop by the quad next week during both A and B lunch blocks to decompress with some therapy dogs. If you need further or individualized support, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson will be opening up their schedules for one-on-one sessions. Appointments can be made using the yellow slips in the main office.

Work permits are available in the career counseling hub. If you plan on getting a job or need to renew, please submit an application as soon as possible. No permits will be issued during Winter Break.

Remember that your final exam period is not the same as your regular meeting time or day, so be sure to check your portals this weekend for the updated schedule.

Still need a ticket for the Snowball Dance tomorrow night? Please stop by the ASB room or contact Owen Power, the senior class president, before sixth period today. They’re $15 with an ASB card and $20 without one. Trust me; you don’t want to miss out!"

The audience of seniors cheers, hooting and hollering out their delight. The underclassman beams, confidence swelling, and tucks the script away. His smile grows. “And now…drum roll, please!”

As the students bang their desks with open palms, textbooks, and stray pencils, the ASB student angles a pair of jazz hands towards the open door.

“Santa Claus!”

Peyton, the current school mascot—in an ill-fitting costume that's certainly older than he is—materializes in the empty space. He hauls a lumpy velvet bag over his shoulder as he saunters across the room. The tiny gold bells affixed to the sack twinkle with every step.

“Ho, ho, ho! Candy Cane Gram delivery!” Peyton bellows.

His impression is unexpectedly convincing, in Jeff's humble opinion.

“Santa” roots around in the bag and pulls the first set out. They’re paper-clipped together, indicating both were for the same person. “Taylor Zimmerman? Two for you!”

He passes the slips of paper back to the student who raised her hand.

The distribution of festive notes, an annual fundraiser put on by the junior and senior class councils to bankroll the dance itself, fades into background noise as Mr. Skinner begins looking over the pile of essays he collected last period from his squirrelly 10th-grade World History class.

The prompt had been to explore the impact of globalization in the post-Cold War era, and they’re off to a great start. The first essay's author touches on “transnational actors” and their impact on overall global wealth—in the introductory paragraph. Pride blooms in his chest. Maybe someone had been paying attention after all.

Jeff gets through three and a half papers—all 95% and above, but who’s counting?—before he feels someone standing over him.

“Uh, Mr. Skinner?” Peyton whispers in his civilian voice.

“Yes?” Jeff replies.

To mark his spot, Mr. Skinner sets his pen below a particularly eloquent paragraph highlighting how American consumer culture polluted local ecosystems abroad.

The sophomore nervously looks around the room. After deciding his peers were too engrossed in the social politics of sending and receiving Candy Cane Grams and Ice Court nomination speculation to hear, Peyton pulls a slip of paper out from inside the thick, red coat and sets it on Jeff’s desk. It’s crumpled, and the miniature candy cane is barely hanging on.

“This last one’s for you.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” Jeff smiles. The polite expression is meant to relieve the student from his classroom, but Peyton remains glued to his spot. Gently, he asks, “Is there something else I can do for you, Mr. Krebs?”

“Aren’t you going to see who sent it?” the boy asks, all toothy grin and twinkling eyes.

Well, that’s not at all suspicious, Mr. Skinner thinks as he slides the slip closer.

He scans the generic template, reading his name and room number scrawled beside washed-out festive clipart, but doesn’t understand the fuss... until his eyes drift down to the section for an optional message.

Mr. Skinner,

Just like a snowflake, you’re one of a kind. Be my date to the dance tomorrow night? It would make me SNOW happy!

Jeff almost believes it’s from you. Had he not been familiar with your handwriting, it would have been an excellent forgery. But, he knew your penmanship. Maybe a little too well.

His anchor charts were all in your hand; he could see at least three from where he was sitting. Jeff can’t recall the last time he attempted one on his own.

In exchange for mercifully sparing him from teenage ridicule due to his poor penmanship, he handled the construction and refurbishment of the props and sets necessary for the Winter Showcase and spring musical every year. Whatever you, the brilliant and beloved drama teacher, dreamed up, Jeff dutifully built.

Including, but not limited to, an impressive Audrey II, the iconic Venus flytrap from “Little Shop of Horrors,” a life-size bubble for their Glinda to float around in during performances of “Wicked,”  and the massive tire that anchors the dilapidated junkyard set for “Cats.”

He was ambivalent about musical theater when he bartered the informal contractor role, but Jeff grew to love it after a few years. Due in large part to your infectious passion.

He gives the mastermind—or masterminds, props for trying, though.

“Oh, wow!” Jeff exclaims, deciding to play along. Peyton's face brightens; there’s no way he’s not involved. “Out of respect, let’s keep this between you and me for now, okay?”

“O-of course, Mr. Skinner,” Peyton sputters, as though he’s shocked Jeff didn’t notice anything amiss or ask any follow-up questions. “That’s why I waited to give it to you. It felt too personal to announce in front of your entire class. Especially after the whole Homecoming thing.”

“Thing” wasn’t what he’d call it, but this kind of dramatic exaggeration was one of the many reasons he loved working with teenagers.

During a pep rally in October, the student body president crowned the two of you the faculty Homecoming King and Queen. Jeff wasn't even aware that was a thing he could win, and neither had you, but you bashfully accepted the titles and accompanying crowns in front of a thousand rowdy high schoolers anyway.

Later that night, you slow-danced to Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” under a sky of twinkling stars—clear fairy lights repurposed from the previous year’s "Camelot" canopy—black glitter tulle, and a plywood crescent moon.

The students lost their minds then and were yet to get over it. Obviously.

“I appreciate that,” Jeff says, biting back his amusement.

Peyton salutes him and hoists the sack over his shoulder again. He and Leo say their goodbyes and move on to the next classroom on their route.

The remainder of the school day was agonizingly hectic. So much so that it meddled with his plan to swing by the auditorium where you held classes.

His projector kicked the bucket in the middle of his lecture on the two-way exchanges collectively known as the Columbian Exchange; Jeff couldn’t get it back into commission until his prep period, so he would have to explain how the triangular trade route emerged from colonial mercantilism policies in the new year. His 9th-grade World Geography class refused to participate in the activity he organized to mimic the Arctic landscape and harsh climate, so, somewhat reluctantly, he cut his losses and threw on an episode of Where On Earth Is Carmen Sandiego? And right before his sixth period, some bored senior pulled the fire alarm, forcing the entire school to spend the glacial afternoon lined up in the parking lot.

All that said, it was safe to say Mr. Skinner had never been happier to see his driveway and his dog than he was this evening. The border collie shepherd mix, Chips—affectionately named as a tribute to the trained sentry dog who became the most decorated canine in the Second World War—is waiting on the porch. Joyously, he howls when Jeff gets out of his car.

“Hey, buddy,” he says as he reaches down to scratch between the pup’s ears. Chips jumps up, his muddy paws landing on Jeff’s coat. He begins licking his owner’s cheeks with reckless abandon. “Okay, come on, crazy dog. Let’s get you back inside.”

Immediately after Jeff opens the front door, Chips darts down the hallway. He chuckles, shaking his head as he sheds his coat and tosses his keys into the bowl by the door.

Jeff rescued his dog as he was wrapping up his undergraduate degree at NC State, and the two were as thick as thieves up until a few years ago.

That’s not to say anything happened or there’s bad blood; Chips simply found a new favorite person.

Jeff trails after Chips, following the furry tail and the delicious scent wafting from the kitchen. He makes a pit stop at the fridge to grab a beer before turning to address his successor to the rescue's heart, standing at the stove stirring a giant pot of soup.  

“You won’t believe what happened in my second period today, babe. Every day, I’m surprised by how bold teenagers are. Hell, when I was their age, I was petrified to sharpen a pencil without asking. Their latest scheme wouldn’t have even crossed my mind. Seriously, I don’t think you could guess what shenanigans they got up to if you tried.”

He's met with melodic laughter, a sparkly sound that still makes his heart skip a beat.

“Maybe not, but I don’t need to.”

Jeff’s brows knit together, confused. Then his eyes zero in on the slip of paper identical to the one in his back pocket.

If it were possible, his jaw could sweep the tile floor.

“Guess we aren’t as sly as we think,” you smirk, waving a counterfeit Candy Cane Gram of your own in the air like a white flag.

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[unbizzarre]

Byerly Vorrutyer Character Designs

BYERLY VORRUTYER of Lois McMaster Bujold’s Vorkosigan Saga

Tried to go for a rapidly-aging prettyboy with the gothic heavy lidded eyes (idk how to describe the eyes I’m talking about) and a face that reads as male while having something slightly feminine about it. A face that smiles often but is composed, cool. Slightly wavy black hair that is either shortish, chin length, or slightly shorter than shoulder length (I haven’t decided yet 😅)

Designing faces is not my strong suit so I am working backwards from a few references I like. Will probably simplify artstyle, slightly lengthen hair and mix with a dash of Professor Venom from OK KO (for that little bit of haggard twink energy) to creat the final design.

References:

Wardrobe:

Materials: silk, velvet, ruffles lace, detailed embroidery, military piping, sheer cloth, fur — echoes of beautiful luxurious handmade traditional artisan clothing- but all a little to gaudy and cheaply produced - the barrayaran aristocrat version of fast fashion. Androgynous and galactic styles occasionally thrown in to add to mystique

-SHIRTS: silk shirts // shirts with poofy or frilly sleeves // patterned shirts // sheer shirts // velvet shirts // shirts that are tucked in the pants but so unbuttoned the entire chest exposed

- SUITS: velvet suits that absolutely reek of cologne // sleezy yet sharp barreyaran style black suits you might smoke a cigar or play pool in // pastel suit for daytime garden parties

WARDROBE ACCENTS

- bigass fur coat - maybe even almost a midieval king robe

- several offensively knock off fast fashionmilitary style jackets

- luxuriously patterned bathrobe

- see through shawl / wrap / night robe thing

- some gaudy galactic style outfits

- a few sexy or frilly dresses to piss off the family

- a few a casual / slightly more subdued blend of komarran, barrayaran and practical galactic clothing he only really wears at home (stuff he wears when he’s not preforming for an audience). maybe some sentimental pieces. What’s hidden beneath the camouflage.

- some bling: rings and earrings. A few broaches and cuff links probably not that many necklaces

EDIT: here are some reference collages I put together! Note that these references aren’t the exact items that he would have in his closet but rather there are aspects to each piece that I would want to incorporate into his design. Maybe it’s the cut of a sleeve, the silhouette of a coat, the way a robe drapes, the embroidery pattern on some fabric, or the general partied-too-hard vibes of a particular photo of a model.

Bastardized military jackets:

Neglige options / heavier nightfrobe options:

Bigass fur coat:

Shirts (please ignore the long blue scarf in the central image like wtf is that- the rest of the suit is nice tho):

Party vibes:

A lot of these aspects would then be mixed with my own head cannon for the rules/cuts of barreyaran mens clothing (I went to a library and spent a stupid insane amount of time looking through books with midieval, 1800s and 1900s men’s fashions and France, Russia, and Greece- + additional books of traditional folk clothings and textile patterns + several other books of historic military uniforms…. The process and choices were so long that I had to give up and just stop thinking about any sort of vorkosigan related character design for a couple months cuz my head hurt. - I will probably make another post at some point with more annotated collages and possibly some of my own drawings synthesizing the concepts, but uh not right now because I need a nap just thinking about trying to organize it all.)

If you’d like to see a little more of vorkosigan universe costume imaginings here’s my Pinterest board on it (kinda) https://pin.it/2rOoHsq it’s a extremely disorganized and from early hyperfixation days so none of my fashion history research stuff is there (cuz that was all physical book stuff) but uh, you can look at it if you want.

P.S.

If you have any feedback or critiques on the design so far, or ideas for how you think By should look, let me know! I love hearing other people’s interpretations 😊.

Photos of faces you think look like By, pictures of outfits that feel Byerly-ish, or direct quotes from the books about his demeanor or appearance are also welcome!

@starfishlikestoread it’s been approximately a thousand years but I’m finally getting around to that Byerly fanart! Hope you enjoy 😅

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Even When the Words Went Wrong

First posted: May 27, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne

Favorite bookmark: "In which, Bruce doesn't fuck it up."

Second favorite bookmark: "I got actual tears in my tears like this fic beat up my heart in a dark alley and then stole its wallet"

Tier: Pretty middle, but at least in the top half of all metrics

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Apparently this only took me a couple days to write, which is cool, and also makes sense. Alternate POV fics are, in many ways, so much easier because I already know what happened. I just have to express how a different person perceived it and felt about it.

Part one's title came from the David Cook song, and this one is a continuation of the same lyric, just slightly changed because my version is more poetic and appropriate.

Original: You've always been the sweetest song / Even when the world went wrong

Incorrect, Mr. Cook, do better.

Bruce Wayne had killed Jason in a thousand different ways. And Jason had killed Bruce in a thousand and one.

Some nights, it was all Jason could see when he closed his eyes.

I knew when I finished the first part that I would need to do more. I couldn't push the fic any further than it had gone from Bruce's POV, but I didn't want to end it where I did, so time to jump heads.

“You don’t have what it takes to give this city what it needs,” Jason spat, fully in the swing of his narrative. The Pit hummed like a swarm of locust in the back of his skull. “You’re weak. You’ve always been weak. You—“

I'd done POV swaps before, so I was already aware that one way that alternate POVs are not easier is finding a way to cover the same ground without just copy-pasting dialogue again. It gets so boring. Luckily here Bruce and Jason are both so distracted at different points that they can each zone in and out of the narration.

Batman’s composure was flaking off him in chunks. It was a sight to see. He was angrier than Jason had ever seen, jaw on the verge of cracking with the strain. Jason felt a sickly sort of pleasure that he was at least able to elicit that after all this time.

I personally find it funny that Jason thinks Bruce is mad, that that's the only emotion he can stick a label to, because he's never fully seen Bruce panicking like this before.

Somehow he had never considered that in the lost years Bruce might have changed, too. It wasn’t that Bruce was unrecognizable. He wasn’t. The Bruce of him was still there, grim and unyielding. The grey in his hair was new, clustered around the temples, not bright enough to be Alfred’s silver but close. There were lines, too, that had been there before, but only as the finest pencil strokes. Now they were cuts, deep and furrowed. They made Bruce look harder than ever, a man carved from stone, but stone that was beginning to crumble. He called Bruce old man, first as a joke and now as a taunt, but this was the first time it almost felt real.

I did Bruce a little dirty here, since by the timeline I use he's still in his 30s here. Oh well. The changes, both from the passage of time and the weight of grief, would be shocking to Jason regardless. Like. That's his dad. He knows what his dad's face is supposed to look like.

His finger stuttered against the trigger. He could pull it. Be done right here, right now. This close, there was no way to miss. It was why he had come to Gotham. It was all Jason could see when he closed his eyes. He didn’t want this.

That's the truth of Jason, the one I think all my fics about his anger and bitterness and resentment have to come to in the end. He wouldn't hate Bruce as much as he thinks he does if he didn't love him with the same intensity. He can lie to himself all he wants, but it's a truth he has to face in the end.

Bruce had him trapped, but Bruce wasn’t fighting. He was… he… was… Crying? Bruce had his face buried in Jason’s hair, and Jason could feel the tears on his scalp and the shuddering breaths rippling through Bruce’s chest. “B?” he whispered.

Is there anything more alarming than seeing your parent cry.

He was lost. He was falling. He was thirteen and wide-eyed, awed beneath his wariness. He was fourteen and reckless, eager to please and devoted to the end. He was fifteen and cocky, unsure of his path but sure of who would walk it with him. He was fifteen and dying, alone and crying for his dad.

I'm pretty sure I've accidentally written this same paragraph like five different times across different fics with different characters. Oops.

Bruce ignored his own tear-streaked face to rub a thumb across Jason’s cheekbone, a gesture of habit formed over a fraction of a lifetime, but the only fraction that had really mattered.

I love that paragraph specifically because I can feel it. Is there a name for that? Like written ASMR?

The end of this fic is so schmoopy in a way I don't normally like to be, but I do wonder how much that speaks to a culturally rooted aversion for male emotions that aren't anger, you know?

Also the end note is a Bible quotation but specifically the version I heard in my head is the Barlow Girls song. And some of you just got hit with 00s memories upside the back of the head, you're welcome.

And lastly, this one fic garnered multiple comments of very nice people saying DC needed to hire me I AM STILL WAITING DETECTIVE COMICS

[shigayokagayama]

"oh hm i think this chapter might end up being really long based on what i have outlined" i said 12k words ago.

thanks everyone for reading! going to be cutting a bunch of stupid doodles i did with annotations under the cut

handful of doodles i did when i was still just conceptualizing this + hadnt figured out their designs + hadnt figured out how to draw people

speaks for itself

old doodles from a slightly different version of chapter 40 before i realized making terumob a pre established couple BEFORE this moment would make it stronger. they still kind of work but are slightly less funny than they were in the version where this was the moment teru confessed.

drew this shortly after finishing chapter 18, which i wrote WAY out of order from everything else. i think i started it around when i started chapter 5 and finished it around when i was working on chapter 10

toichiro said npc + chapter 27

the first time i saw this post i went "smtwo teru and takenaka" and at some point i just started referring to takenaka as "puzzlemaster". teru and takenakas dynamic was one of my favorite things to write because like. if you build your entire persona off building a false image of yourself youre not gonna be a big fan of someone who can immediately see past that

saw this post and couldnt stop thinking of chapter 35

ok now in the realm of "doodles that started as jokes in dms" me and @teruthecreator were talking about that video where jerma fucks up pancakes in nancy drew and the idea of teru giving toichiro an absolutely dogshit unreadable pancake recipe while hes at claw that he fucks up and burns the building down

ok so this is the beginning of what came to be known as the "double date dimension" or "dinner date dimension". i shared a screencap of me adding the line about ritsu suggesting that he and shou have a double date with whoever asked mob out and the Knowers (a groupchat i started with two of my friends i made as mentally ill as me about this fic) went "this would be the most uncomfortable dinner ever can you imagine" and just kept expanding it until it sort of turned into a sitcom universe version of smtwo. dont be surprised if you see this fanfiction at some point in the future

more from the double date dimension where mob invites ritsu to a halloween party without telling him its a claw company halloween party. teru and mob go in matching costumes as the flying dead pig and the pigeon whos eyes the movie is told from (i snuck in a reference to this bc its too funny to me). takenaka goes as "book accurate frankenstein" because hes too lazy to make a costume. mob gets unbelievably wasted on jungle juice because no one told him the punch was spiked.

another from the double date dimension where they host a white elephant and teru buys a really nice gift specifically for mob and tries to get mob to steal it but mob doesnt really understand the aim of the game and ends up with a boxset of the big bang theory (dubbed) and teru gets so overcome with despair he develops a fever and is unable to speak or move from his spot on the couch as mob puts on big bang theory for him (this is based on a true story)

[zukkacore]

I want the director’s cut of. Honestly the entirety of if you want divinity. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to talk about. I need to just stare out a window for awhile. I feel like crying. Wow. Amazing story stunning stunning stunning.

HELLO FRIEND SCREAMS thank you so much you know how meaningful it is that people like. Like my writing and engage with it and you've been so sosososo incredibly sweet. Sorry yours took the longest, I was trying to think of something to say bc apparently there's a word limit on these things. Boo. I would totally do a total annotated doc otherwise bc im cringe but i went over like a LOT of the references stuff in Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 which honestly. Might be a lot of the process.

Imma see if I have any other notes off the top of my head:

THE POSTER: ok, so. The WEAKNESS IS PAIN LEAVING THE BODY poster. Obviously that's a bit of an ironic joke. That wasn't even really supposed to be there. I'm realizing i kept in the draft the fact that Jace makes the picture frames on Porter's desk rattle. And actually, during the implied Cassandra Divine Intervention scene where the poster falls, was originally supposed to be one of the pictures on the desk. I... couldn't justify it. I was like. idk whats weird n whats not to have as a framed picture on your desk if you're a teacher.

I'm like. Genuinely I think one of my biggest flaws as a writer is sensory detail, description, like maintaining characters geography w/in a space. King of white wall syndrome. At the bare minimum, I do think there's this kinda funny old vs. new feeling regarding Jace's belongings, his home, etc. Or like. I guess not kitsch but like something mass market vs. very old and traditional. Like the couch in my head like something small, ugly and modern, like very minimalist and kinda uncomfortable, and something a lot of people would own. But there's also the grandfather clock in the corner—to me that's also something that was passed down like the brooch. The brooch, moon n stars, obviously n heirloom—he's has like old roots in fallinel, his family is of Galicaean faith. But also The brooch is described in the same scene as the mug Porter keeps, and it's the most generic millenial like mass market slogan thing you've ever seen. There's this like. Presence of his family's influence even if he doesn't speak to them. But also a life that's. Kinda on autopilot.

I.... i always feel like I'm patting myself on the back abt this. I do really like the Detect magic + Teleport meld. I think it was clever. I'm telling myself that's ok to say. Mainly b/c it was a good solution to two problems. And a little bit b/c I think it's romantic to rip through space and time for someone. Again, I keep joking that he loved Porter to the point of invention (something i only feel self congratulatory about bc he did it in canon first).

Anyway. I was struggling SO HARD on what to do about these flashback scenes and i've said this before but like they were so close to being on the cutting room floor. I just felt like i couldn't justify them in something that was meant to be kinda... fun? Haha. "fun" IYWD. As if. The Detect thoughts i think helped with what to do about inserting those flashbacks, which i think helped resolve my problem of them feeling pointless b/c its like. It's not for our benefit, it's literally the memories weighing on Porter at like all times. They hang over everything.

The Teleport part was bc i was like. Ok. This is the biting maiming killing dropping during sex couple. If there's a question of "you can do anything you want to me", there HAS to be an escalation of stakes. But also this doesn't feel like a story that necessitates like. A lot of violence in their kinkplay I guess? When there's so much else going on, there's so much like about mourning and the violence already inflicted on Jace twofold that's actually a source of guilt for his horrible evil loser boyfriend porter. I already went through a LOT of contrivance just to get them into Porter's office (i think the fucking in porter's office jokes are fun, sue me), but I also was like. Ok. I think I need to go bigger by going smaller. If he changes the spell to rip through time, there's this like—doubling that makes it so on some level they're basically recreating their first time. Which i think makes the kinda silly vanilla (with little bit of mind reading lol) mundanity of that last part hopefully work

Fun Fact: the "I actually kinda miss you, aint that peculiar" "I'm right here" scene is the first one I wrote. It was basically the basis for everything. As it existed then, it was wayyyyy different tho. The tone was actually a lot more hostile. The patching up injuries thing actually came in way later and i was super embarrassed bc i was like that's so cliche but now i like it b/c i think there's such a Ratgrinders haunt the narrative thing about it. A Jace Cares and that's the thesis of Porter's grief thing about it.

The "there it is, the line" "you're so weird" into he never wants porter to stop saying mystifying things to him. Like. Completely changed the trajectory of what was going on almost by accident. Like. It literally wasn't until that moment that i was like. Oh. Oh. He wants porter to stay. B/c like

I see so much of the 1st half of the story as Jace like. Using Porter's want for him as a way to satisfy his own wants and needs. He wants pleasure after denying himself. But he also needs to live. I keep saying he's using sex as a tool b/c i really think he is—he wants to be so good porter can never live without him. And on level one, that's about making sure he's indispensible. Making sure he stays alive. But the second thing thats buried under there is more of a want—for Porter to stay with him. And that changed it from Jace actually fighting to have the upper hand and in some ways even getting Porter on the back foot to it being like. Actual desperation.

How many Jaces are in this story? Good question. Pre and post shatterstar for sure, but also we only see Pre in flashbacks so they're more like Porter's perception of pre. The clones are implied but do not make an appearance. And obviously after the first 5, the other jaces w/in 8 Jace thesis are more concepts in people's heads (and also one of them is 25). The Jace of Porter's memory is definitely there. The Jace Porter thought he would get after the shatterstar also haunts the scene. too. It's jaces all the way down.

Idk if it makes sense my logic behind this but. There's Porter complimenting Jace when he's really raw and vulnerable and messy and its like. Jace's response is that it's unfair. And b/c there's so much talk abt justice and unfair in FHJY i was like. Can. there be an instance in which something is unfair in a good way? Like. In that you're the one being treated unfairly at the expense of everyone else. Like. almost like. Sometimes you can be unfair in that you're easier on your friend than you might be on someone else. That's not fair, but like. That's human. Like if something is unfair you might be getting an advantage on something you didn't earn. But you don't have to earn love, but the fact that Jace didn't have to work for it, he feels like he's getting something too easily. It's unfair. In a good way.

I've said this before but I do think Porter is able to come to some sort of synthesis about Jace. And that he was maybe able to even conceive of the totality of him b/c of how the flashbacks are laid out. Like. in the first one he's unpalatable and angry and a disappointment to the memory of Jace that Porter imagined. In the second one he's sort of perfect, the scene too short and precious and romanticized to be muddied by real flaws in his mundanity and simplicity. And in the last one, Jace is mundane, flawed, overworked, overly familiar with his students, willing to play favorites, but also empathetic, good at making connections, ultimately well meaning and trying his best. Someone real, that's Porter's favorite. It's up to interpretation i think. esp bc like.

Counterpoint: I think you could also read that. Porter seems to love this Jace more the way a god loves their creation than the way a man loves another man. Like. yeah they're suckin n fuckin but also Porter being in to the fact that jace is "so trusting" is very. Helio always has a plan and i let him take the wheel, no? He's moved by Jace's devotion. Jace will take that tho. He'll take it all.

Final point: if brennan says that anything his PCs do can become fair game for him, then same for me. If Adaine n Aelwyn can use dimension door to go to her parents house / aelwyn's apartment despite the distance, that's fair game for me to misuse it < 3. (i just think if i'd allowed for the teleport it would've made way more sense to go to someone's house. And llike. that's no fun at all

I might rb with more thoughts later to be a menace. Thank you!

[gaychocolatehomicide]

People You Want to Get to Know Tag Game

I was tagged by @inquisimer !

Hello new friend!! Sorry for the delay, this is the second time I'm typing this out because Tumblr ate the first one! Thank you so much for tagging me! (Also, I have no idea how much enthusiasm is appropriate here, so I'm just gonna go for "a bunch" and you can let me know if I need to back off lol)

So! Into the thing!

Last Song: Top of My School by Katherine Lynn-Rose -- This one has had a grip on my spine since I first heard it. Gotta love that kid burnout 👉👉

Favorite Color: Purple! I also love seafoam/mint and like 85% of my stuff is one of those colors. My brother says it makes it easier to buy stuff for me!

Last Movie/Show: I've been watching Dimension 20's Fantasy High and I'm 4-ish episodes into The Seven, which is also in that universe. Cannot recommend it enough! (Also, Persephone Valentine is in it so there's another reason for any girl likers to check it out)

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: oh boy so I've got a ton of sensory stuff that makes food Complicated for me, but if we except all the stuff I can't eat, sweet > savory > spicy. Salty should go between sweet and savory tho imo

Relationship Status: happily coming up on 3 years with my wonderful partners! They both have tumblrs but I'm not gonna tag them for privacy reasons (their preferences). I just refer to them as my boyfriend and my noodle associate, respectively.

Last Thing I Googled: Thorn (letter) -- I needed it for a thing I was writing lmao. Fun fact, I have the long s (this guy: ſ ) saved as a text shortcut in my phone so I can use it to harass my friends

Current Obsession: I've been playing BG3 and Pathfinder: WOTR, but I can feel the Fire Emblem obsession creeping up on me again. I've been working on a couple old fics from 3 houses and some more recent stuff from engage and I can just... Feel it.

Last Book: I'm reading and annotating a memoir for my boyfriend, and I'm reading the Alana the Lioness books by Tamora Pierce for my noodle associate (very important part of their childhood). On my own I'm reading the Federalist Papers because I'm that kind of nerd (and I teach history but thats beside the point)

Looking Forward To: it's about to be AP season at my tutoring job and I'm so freaking jazzed to get to teach my favorite subjects instead of just SAT Reading/Writing all day every day. Like dgmw I love teaching grammar as much as the next language nerd, but I miss talking about the absolutely out of pocket things historical figures got up to.

Tagging Forward To: @fuitgummybat | @offbrandcrisis | @thiefbird | @satanic-fruitcake | @thevanillahorizon | @transfenris-truther | @bimyheel | @eye-of-yelough | @mirthcrowned

If we're mutuals and I didn't tag you, I still love you, but the template said pick nine so I grabbed folks off the top of my notifs

No pressure to anybody, but I'd love to learn stuff about you! 💜💜

Blank template under the cut

Last Song:

Favorite Color:

Last Movie/Show:

Sweet/Savory/Spicy:

Relationship Status:

Last Thing I Googled:

Current Obsession:

Last Book:

Looking Forward To:

Tag nine people whose answers you're interested in!

[theghostofashton]

wip wednesday

thank you @sanjuwrites for the tag!

back to the au for a bit so i don’t give my other fic entirely away in these snippets lol

Carlos checks his watch. 1:42. He’s still got a few minutes until Paul’s office hours start, but it’s kind of a walk from where he parked near the student center.

He cuts through a courtyard, which looks new. He doesn’t remember this being here when he toured the campus, now over a decade ago. It’s really nice; there are a lot of flowers blooming and picnic tables set up on the grass for people to sit and study. Days like today are perfect for that.

A few feet ahead, there are two guys sitting next to each other on one side of a picnic table, books spread out in front of them. One is dark-haired and the other is blond. There isn’t an inch of space between their bodies, Blond’s right arm pressed against Dark-Hair’s left.

As Carlos passes by, Dark-Hair lifts his arm and wraps it around Blond’s shoulders, tugging him toward him and pressing a kiss against his head. Blond grins at him and pecks his lips, then slides his arm around Dark-Hair’s waist and tugs him even closer.

The image feels like being transported in time. Central Park benches, a book open across his thighs, TK’s arm firm and heavy around his waist, his snores soft in Carlos’s ears. The kisses he placed in TK’s hair, the way his hand would slip underneath the fabric of TK’s hoodie and feel his skin warm against Carlos’s own. Some days, TK would bring a book too – usually only the days he needed to cram for class, honestly – but most of the time he’d just nap. Carlos grew used to it, after a while. He had to re-learn how to read in silence after the breakup.

He swallows hard and keeps his head down as he makes his way through the courtyard and toward Burdine Hall. When he climbs the stairs to the 3rd floor, the first door on his right is wide open, with a doorstop jammed in at the bottom. Inside, Paul is sitting behind a desk and scribbling on a notepad.

Carlos knocks a couple times on the door as he steps inside. Paul looks up, and his face breaks into a wide smile.

“Hey, man.”

Carlos accepts his hug, exhaling at the way Paul’s arms tighten around him.

Carlos is in the chair in front of his desk, and feels strangely like a kid called down to the principal’s office from this vantage point. Paul being dressed in a fitted blazer and wearing a tie doesn’t really help.

Paul asks how he’s been, and Carlos answers honestly, because things have been good. Until yesterday, things felt like the best they had been in a long time. Spring break has been good to him, and he’s excited to finish out the rest of the year with his students. The last big assignment of the year is one where they finally get to chose their own books to speak to the class about, and he can’t wait to hear what they come up with. Cooking on Sundays with his mom and eating dinner with his family makes his heart warm in a unique way that feels reserved for them. Everything is – was – good.

“What’s up?” Paul asks, after he’s caught Carlos up on his research. Sometimes Carlos wishes he’d gone for the PhD instead of just leaving grad school with his masters. The stuff Paul is working on is so fascinating. Carlos spent weeks reading his dissertation when that was published, highlighting and annotating different parts, and called Paul and talked his ear off about all of them. He wishes that were what he was here to talk about today.

tagging: @carlos-in-glasses @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @paperstorm @lightningboltreader 

[cerealandchoccymilk]

Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1-2, Chapter #10

previous | all

I’m doing a deep-read of the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read) side-by-side, and writing down everything I notice from small details, version differences, translation differences, etc.

The volume numbers will be mismatched for most of the remainder of Trigun, since the Japanese first edition is 3 volumes while all later versions are 2 volumes.

As always, here are the non-analysis panels:

And the rest is under the cut.

[link for if the images aren’t in horizontal rows]

A lot of annotation transcriptions for this entry.

My 3 girlies!!!!!!!!!!! Ever!!!!!!!!

I was waiting for Vash's antennae to go back up, but it looks like 2 of them are permanently bent now. I think it's stayed half-bent since his first encounter with Kaito in the last arc. Haven't double checked to make sure though.

Milly my beloved..... (I keep spelling it Millie every time. help) In the Japanese version, the speech bubble is "good morning," but in a barely comprehensible yawn. The yawning onomatopoea is written in small text.

Various translation corrections -

「先輩は書いても絵ハガキ程度ですよねー」 "Ma'am, you only send postcards at most, right?"

「ソレが普通ですわよ　それにもともと家訓からして「自立せよ」ですからね」 "And that's the normal amount. Besides, our family motto was 'be independent!'"

「ドライといえばドライなのかも…」 "Maybe it could be a bit unemotional/pragmatic [now that you mention it], but..."

Badwick's first appearance. Just looked ahead to check his name... I forgot how stupid it is... Badwick...... The first time we see one of my favorite art style aspects, single forms!! Love seeing black blocks and non-distinguishable limbs!! This is used a lot with Wolfwood's suit and I love it so much...

I would say Vash's line here is more like "I get it now."

Images I can hear!! I loved this scene in '98... 聞いておるのかご老体！！ By the way, Vash uses polite speech here, but in a (half-)sarcastic way. (If that makes sense...)

The background mob in this panel is... unique for sure. Skin-and-bones, some guy holding (eating?) seaweed, and a sparkly prince?

Badwick's「笑うね！！」line here is more like "You make me laugh!!" or "Ha ha, very funny!!" I know Vash jumping in front of the old couple is probably intended to just be an instinctive act of protection, but thinking about my analysis in the previous arc (#08 I think?), I can't help but think about his self-sacrificial tendencies...

On a lighter note, Meryl ends her rant with マヂ(ジ)で！！ which is kind of like... "FR!!" lol Also Vash is literally dead. Honestly he might've been better off taking the bullet than getting bonked.

Classic MillyMeryl manzai routine (not a single braincell between them). Featuring a pissed Vash.

Milly's joke is a bit hard to translate.... She's actually saying an idiom wrong. The correct phrase (what she says in Overhaul) is 大事の前の小事, which literally means "a small event before/in front of the big event." (this idiom is also an contranym but I won't get into that lol) However, the kanji she uses for 小事(shōji, small event) is switched for 障子(shōji, wood-and-paper sliding door). They look the same in romaji, but they have different tones.

Meryl's response uses English loanwords/Japanglish that's all slightly incorrect for the situation.

So, the Gramps's comments are about the fact that they're using the words wrong. Apparently Granny didn't notice!? lol

Another silly Milly... Gramps's line is a sort of double-meaning, since ボケる(bokeru) means both to be silly (as in the funny man role in manzai)(which Milly has been doing throughout) and to go senile. I love how Vash is 100% tired of this shit and just stares at us.

Japanese-only thing, but I love how he says「わーかってますって　超OKっスよ」. silly goober....

「ジオ・プラント――　肥沃化プラントの影響を受けて植物が育つ事ができる土地の総称である」 "Geoplant— The general term for land that is capable of growing flora due to the effect of a fertilizing Plant."

The term "geoplant" is actually for the affected land, not the Plant itself. Which is... confusing to be honest....

The Plants mentioned here are the capital P generator Plants, not lowercase p flora plants. This line means that among the Plants on the ships, some of them were also of the fertilization variety necessary for geoplant land. "Naturally" is continued into Gramps's line, so it should end with an ellipsis.

He says that the property became worth about the same as the area of a 300-yard radius around a ship (which I would imagine is INSANELY valuable), whether they wanted the price to rise or not.

These two lines are actually by Vash.

「おそらく地脈を伝って影響が『飛び地』したんだろうな」 "Perhaps the effects of a Plant spread along a mineral vein and ended up forming an 'enclave' here."

「でもここまでになるにはただそれだけじゃ駄目だ」 "But just that's not enough for it to get to this scale."

I love how quickly he could tell this is a geoplant and recognize how much work and love the couple has put into it.

「それにどれだけ我々が支えられてきたか言葉にならんよ」 "I can't even begin to describe how much hope it has given us."

The word he uses is actually "support," but I couldn't think of a way to make it sound decent other than the next closest word, "give hope."

Not really a translation fix - in Japanese, he says something more like "This is where our lives and hopes are."

I missed it during the annotation (will mark it later), but I think the article for "tycoon" should be "the" or "a," since Morgan hasn't appeared yet. Gramps mentions that the incident from earlier that day was also one of Morgan's threats. (The annotation should be "like what happened this morning/noon." Will also fix that later.)

I feel like this line by Gramps comes across as a bit too harshly apologetic in English compared to the original? I'm not sure how to convey it accurately though... it's more of a Japanese cultural thing.

The first speech bubble is probably by one of the elderly couple, most likely Gramps, since it says "Vash-kun". Milly calls him "Vash-san."

Also about the "lover's quarrel" tease and Meryl's response:

A common tease for male+female character pairs (and real life...), but the nice thing about this is that there's no hinting of hidden romantic feelings whatsoever (stammering, blushing, etc.). Even through a Vash/Meryl truthing lens, I think at this point there truly is nothing (realized) there yet. There's no forced hetero-amatonormative romance!! (my pet peeve in manga)

These lines are actually an exchange between Badwick and Marilyn.

「うわーーっ　いくらすっと思ってるんだその門柱！！」 "Aaahh!! [Watch what you're doing!] Just how much do you think that pillar's worth!?"

「ケチくせー事いいっこなし！！どうせアコギなマネして建てたんでしょ」 "Oh, don't be so stingy!! I bet you guilt it with shady money(/through shady means) anyways."

And that’s it for Chapter #10! As always, the Japanese annotations will be in the reblogs.

[leviadraws]

Can you please talk more about sdra actor au? It's super interesting and I would love to hear more!

For particular consideration, How did the actors for Tsurugi, Rei and Teruya react to the twist for the trio in sdra2? Were there words? Were those words coming from any particular person?

Side question you don't have to answer, are any of the actors dating doesn't have to be with each other.

Oh man, I'm gonna have to actually sit down and think about this properly /lh I'm really happy people like it!

Under cut, since game spoilers and that

I'm... not actually sure which twist you're referring to with the trio? Rei's execution in the prologue, Teruya's actions in chapter 4, or chapter 5/chapter 6 in general. So, I'll just write a bit about them in general filming the series.

So, because of the nature of the series in that its an overarching mystery the cast are only given the script of the episode they're filming. So like each episode would be prologue/ch1 daily/ch1 deadly etc. This meant that everyone thought that Rei was killed in her execution, but she knew to return for the filming of chapter 4 onwards.

So like, Rei, Tsurugi, Akane, and Utsuro knew that they would be returning for chapter 5/6. Teruya knew he was returning for chapter 2, but didn't know of Rei's role (or the rest) until chapter 4.

They had to keep the details of the later chapters hidden from him as Teruya is so bad at keeping secrets and would've told the rest of the cast immediately and production didn't want details leaking out to fans before filming had finished. He caught on a little when everyone stayed around after filming the prologue but figured it could be they'd be filming flashbacks like in the original series.

I think Teruya's actor would've had words about how chapter 4 panned out. It's just such a turn without foreshadowing (imo) so I can't imagine he'd be super stoked about it. Especially since his character was pretty heavily slammed in the fan reception of the first series and so during filming he was pretty convinced that the turn in character was just so they could kill him off as the least popular from the first games cast.

He gets pretty down about it when he goes to get dinner with the rest of the returning cast, they have a pretty hard time cheering him up since they know what's going to happen but can't tell him yet either.

He's unaware that his character becomes a lot more popular until after series 2 airs. He's very confused by this.

I think, Tsurugi's actor was a little disappointed with how he is in chapter 6, when you've played a character for so long it's a little disheartening to see them change so much off-screen. It didn't help that fans blamed him a lot in the reception of the show's series two, while the reception of the first series still had him 50-50 from the rather open ended ending. Like Kanade, he gets a fair few unpleasant mails from more unhinged fans.

Rei is less bothered by the writing changes, she's working on other projects between the second series and so her part was reduced to a couple of days work before chapter 6. She's the kinda actor that would normally go to the script writer with questions and an annotated script. But she has so little to work on in the second series that she only works to make Rei a little more compassionate over that time.

They had huge problems with the effects in her prologue execution, and they didn't have the budget to CGI her burning, so they use that close up of her face and then cut straight to ash. It got quite a few laughs in early screenings with how b-movie it looked.

Both Rei and Tsurugi are really glad that the bonus episode (ova 2) let's their characters shine a little more.

As for ships, I kinda wanna leave that to each their own! Whoever you want to be dating can be dating.

[heavensenthale]

darlin', this is more than anything I felt before

fandom: teen wolf relationship: derek/stiles word count: 4.5k written for sterek secret santa 2022 edition

                                                         JULY

“I’m telling you, Derek, this full shift stuff is next level awesome. Can you teach Scott how to do it?”

They were sitting in Derek’s loft a week after the events in La Iglesia, where Derek almost died… again. Stiles had been hovering because for a hot second he thought that was it: that Derek would die before Stiles— before he— before Stiles could say something. The  what was still a question inside his own head, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he asked Derek for his library, and began transcribing notes for posterity.

Derek allowed it and most times stayed silent doing his own thing —which wasn’t much anyway— while Stiles typed furiously, only partially distracted by Derek walking around or sitting down with a book as he was today, sitting three feet from Stiles, uncaring, unknowing of what he was doing to Stiles’ heart.

“As I’m pretty sure I told you before, it’s inherited, not taught.”

“Man, that sucks,” Stiles continues perusing the book on Derek’s table, trying to decipher the handwritten annotations along the borders with varying degrees of success.

“For him,” Derek replies, making Stiles crack a smile. Werewolf’s got jokes, he gets it.

Derek read a lot during the time Stiles studied the notes, rarely responding to Stiles' questions, so this must be a good day.

“Yeah, how does it feel for you?” He might as well try to get some answers while he’s at it, and he’s been curious about the full shift ever since that night. “You wanna share a little of that werewolf wisdom?”

Derek raises an eyebrow at that. “For your little side project?”

“Off the record,” he replies, raising a hand to signal a promise to the sky. “Cross my heart and hope to live a long, boring life.”

Derek stays silent, each second stretching between them, pulling them closer. Stiles can feel there’s something in the air when he says, looking directly into Stiles’ eyes. “It really feels like I have… evolved. It feels like I can see things clearly for once…”

He trails off, standing up in a rush, keeping his distance. Stiles wonders what it is that made him move away, if it was Stiles’ heart beating senselessly inside his ribcage. “Maybe you should leave for the day, Stiles.”

“Why?”

“Just. Go, please.” He’s gripping the edge of the table in a way that reminds him of Scott’s first couple of full moons, but he files it away for later.

“What if I  want to stay, have you considered that?”

“You don’t know what you want. You’re 18.”

“I thought we were past this,” replies Stiles, frustrated. He closes the book as if it burns him and then slams his laptop shut in the same fashion. As he packs his things, he takes a long look at Derek, at the outline of his profile against the sunset and says, “I saved your ungrateful ass in Mexico. Twice. Could you be at least a little, I don’t know, nice, for a change?”

Stiles walks to the door, about to use all his strength in opening it so he could slam it closed, when Derek calls to him. “You’re still welcome to come tomorrow.”

Anger leaves his body as soon as it came. Stiles half turns to see Derek and finds him just as beautiful as ever, the orange background cutting his silhouette in a stark contrast. He could say something, but what’s the point, anyway? So he just nods in his direction and leaves.

The next day, they go back to not talking and it works for them the entire afternoon. And the afternoons after that until all of their summer is spent working side by side without much in the way of interaction except for the occasional comments here and there when one of them gets up for water or tea.

It becomes so natural that when his final school year starts, he tries to squeeze in his hours of Derek time at the cost of some of Scott’s movie nights. Until one night Stiles arrives from school to find the lights turned off and a note taped to the coffee table.

Cora needs me. I’ll be back soon.

Stiles doesn’t even question it. He just goes to his normal spot, takes a book from Derek’s shelf and sits down to decipher some more handwriting.

[continue reading on AO3]

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

In My Head, I'm Yours

Chapter 6: Women's Hearts are Lethal Weapons

AO3

Goddamnit we look good together

Wasn’t that the truth? Tonight, Percy was wearing an orange camp shirt and black jeans. Maybe Annabeth would be able to restrain herself because these weren’t clinging too tightly to his thighs. But she could see the sweat on his brow.

Gods, Percy Jackson was going to kill her.

I’ll take what I can get from you

Annabeth ordered a drink. She found Thalia almost immediately but her best friend hadn’t spotted her yet. For just a moment, Annabeth wanted to watch Delphi alone.

Not seeing Percy for two weeks was supposed to make this easier. Sure, Annabeth had actually been busy with schoolwork but she could’ve made time to see him. She chose not to because frankly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be just friends with him.

Usually when she felt like this, she cut herself off from the guy instantly. But she kept coming back to Percy. Her brain couldn’t let him go, why?

Anytime she had wanted to go see Percy, she went and saw Hazel instead. The bookstore was quickly becoming her own version of therapy.

“People are gonna start talking, Beth,” Hazel had teased. “We can’t keep meeting in the stacks.”

In the last two weeks, Annabeth estimates she’s made six trips to Pages a Plenty. Two days ago, Hazel hadn’t been standing at the checkout counter so Annabeth wandered down the aisles. Annabeth had found Hazel restocking the romance book section and felt like the universe was laughing at her.

“Better they talk about us then me and Percy,” Annabeth had said.

“Okay, girl, we need to sort this out. I cannot have you showing up at my place of work to have the same conversation with me for the next four months or until you get your shit together and admit you like him.”

“Can I corner you at the Columbia library instead?” Annabeth asked, half jokingly.

Hazel rolled her eyes. “Out with it, Beth. What’s bothering you today about Mr. Jackson?”

“I miss him.”

Hazel paused her restocking. Annabeth wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“Annabeth.”

“It’s true, how can I miss some guy I slept with a few times this much?”

“Because he’s not just some guy,” Hazel replied, “and the sooner you admit that to yourself the sooner you can take this load off your shoulders.”

Annabeth knew she was right.

They restocked the shelves together in silence. Annabeth read the back of a couple books, looking at those happily ever afters. Guess none of those women felt like Annabeth did about graduating.

She wanted to be the best architect Columbia ever saw. She wanted to be at the top of her class. She wanted to be working at a top firm within a year of graduation.

But there’s one thing she had in common with all these women, she wanted Percy. Just like they all wanted their respective love interests.

Gods, why hadn’t she met him two years in the future? When she was already at a firm, established, and ready for a relationship?

“I’ll see you at seven?” Annabeth had asked.

“At the table in the left corner of the library by the windows,” Hazel confirmed.

They ended up working at the library until it closed at midnight. Annabeth had her noise canceling headphones, a pencil case filled with freshly sharpened pencils, and hours of work ahead of her. On the other side of the table, Hazel had her laptop and its charger.

“History majors have it easy, huh?”

“I’m sorry, do you want to write a 35-page thesis paper and an annotated bibliography on Terror Trophies of World War I in America?”

Annabeth smiled at Hazel’s frazzled expression. “I just meant, you don’t have to carry a bunch of supplies.”

“Oh, yeah that’s true. Most of my sources are online journal articles…”

Annabeth was really grateful for Hazel’s friendship but it did make her feel guilty for not telling Thalia. They rarely kept things like this from each other. Annabeth suspects the only reason Thalia hadn’t figured it out yet is because Annabeth had been avoiding discussing all things Percy since her best friend returned from California.

They still talked about Percy. In the abstract sense. About Delphi’s gigs, which Annabeth was now a regular attendee, about their new songs, about Percy’s weird thing with blue food, about Jason’s weird roommate.

But Annabeth didn’t tell Thalia about the afternoons she slept in Percy’s bedroom, the things they did to each other on his couch, in his kitchen, against his front door. She didn’t tell her how she dreamed about his eyes, his mouth, his body pressing down on hers, or the way he smiled up at her from between her thighs. She didn’t mention that last time she saw Percy, she went to his apartment expecting sex and instead they made cookies together and then just talked for a few hours. She didn’t ask Thalia if she thought that was odd.

Annabeth sipped her drink and looked up at Percy again. He hadn’t seen her, she was hiding at the far end of the bar, in the shadows.

Piper was singing now.

The men start wars yet Troy hates Helen Women’s hearts are lethal weapons Did you hold mine and feel threatened? Hear my lyrics, taste my venom You are still my great obsession

She really did have a magnificent voice. Annabeth grabbed her drink and stepped out of the shadows to begin walking over to the table Thalia was sitting at.

Maybe in the next six weeks leading up to graduation, she’d be able to put her feelings for Percy into words and if she was really lucky he’d wait for her.

Maybe if she had some more non-sex hangouts with Percy, her brain could make a decision she didn’t trust her heart with.

… Every Wednesday, they gathered in Piper and Jason’s apartment for movie night. Annabeth fit in seamlessly. This was only her second annual movie night.

She was squeezed on the sofa between Thalia and Percy, Grover had taken up residence in the reclining chair, and the love seat held their group’s only couple. Leo had a date and was sorely missing out because tonight they were introducing Annabeth, who hadn’t seen a lot of movies growing up, to the wonder that is Disney’s Hercules. Percy just knew she was going to pick it apart for inaccuracies but he also knew she was going to fall in love with this film just as everyone did, she’d let the inaccuracies go just as everyone else did.

“I still can’t believe we never showed this to you,” Thalia said, “all those Disney movie nights over the years and we missed this classic!”

“It’s really a tragedy,” Grover replied, “to wait this long to see Hercules.”

“So the rules are, take a drink every time Annabeth makes a noise of disbelief,” Jason said.

Everyone held up their drinks in agreement while Annabeth huffed. Clearly, not happy to be the butt of their jokes.

“Does that count?” Grover teased.

“Actually, I think I’ll just leave you all to it, I have some work to do…” Annabeth said, pretending to stand up.

Percy pushed her back down. “Oh c'mon, live a little. Piper press play!”

As they sing along to the opening song, Percy thinks back to last week. Seeing Annabeth with Thalia by the bar; he really hadn’t expected her to show up. Especially when she hadn’t replied to his invitation.

After their set, Annabeth had apologized for not answering him.

“Seriously, I opened it and went into class and totally forgot.”

“It’s fine.” Percy wished his voice hadn’t cracked when he said it.

She was a busy woman. Percy tried to be busy too because every moment he wasn’t, he was obsessing over Annabeth. Which meant, in between classes and homework, he spent a lot of his time writing songs.

“Has Percy told you the band name story?” Jason had asked, clapping Percy’s shoulder.

Annabeth shook her head and had given Percy a look of confusion. “Why haven’t I heard this?”

“So we’re sitting around in this one’s dorm room,” Jason began, pointing at Percy, “I’ve just joined the band at this point.”

“After 3 months of auditions!” Piper chimed in, “I knew he’d be a perfect fit the minute he walked into the room.”

Percy cut her off, “Actually Piper’s exact words were ‘he’s hot.’”

Piper had shrugged, “I wasn’t lying.”

Annabeth laughed.

“Anyway,” Jason said, “we’re sitting in the dorm room, brainstorming names. Percy goes ‘we should just combine our names.’”

“And I said, like what? Perjaser?” Piper said.

“That would’ve been a sick name for a band,” Thalia said.

“Not as good as Percy’s next suggestion,” Jason replied.

He shook Percy’s shoulder, “tell ‘em!”

Percy mumbled the name.

“Sorry, what,” Piper said, cupping a hand on her ear for emphasis, “couldn’t hear you.”

“PP&J.”

The whole group started to laugh, Percy was pretty sure Jason was tearing up. How many drinks had he had? Because that story was seriously unfunny.

“Oh no,” Annabeth said, putting a reassuring hand on Percy’s arm. “Please tell me you were drunk when you suggested that.”

“Stone cold sober,” Piper assured.

“That’s real bad, man,” Thalia said, still smiling.

Surprisingly it was Annabeth’s outburst that pulled Percy back to the present.

“Oh c’mon!! Hercules is ROMAN, why are we in Greece?”

Percy chuckled.

“Drink!” Jason announced and everyone took a sip.

He was really loving this group of friends.

“But he’s not a god! He’s a Demi-god!” Annabeth said, “Hera hates him for existing!”

“Drink!”

Too soon, the movie ended. Annabeth was sufficiently riled, which had been their plan. Everyone else was fairly buzzed. Since she had spent most of the movie critiquing it, Annabeth had not touched her drink.

“But it’s still a classic right?” Piper asked, “tell us you enjoyed it a little bit?” She held her index finger and thumb close together.

“Yeah Annabeth, it’s a great movie, you have to admit that,” Grover added.

“Plus Hercules and Meg are such an iconic couple,” Jason said.

“Sooo…” Percy said, “what did you think?”

Annabeth paused, considering, “it’s inaccurate for sure, completely and utterly wrong about…well everything. And yet, I still found it to be enjoyable.”

“Enjoyable?” Piper repeated, “I’ll take it.”

After Thalia and Annabeth left, Grover hung around for another hour or so before heading out too. Percy stayed and helped his bandmates clean up. He was washing dishes while Piper dried when the call came.

Jason answered it. “Hey, Mr. D, what’s up?”

Unusual for their manager to be calling. Most days it seemed like Mr. D only wanted to be their manager when it was convenient for him.

“Okay, let me put you on speaker.”

If asked, Percy would swear he blacked out during this call. It had nothing to do with the alcohol he drank tonight.

“Yeah, sounds great, thanks Mr. D,” Piper said. “We’ll be in touch.”

“You better be! This is big for me, I mean us, I mean you! Ugh, just make a quick decision.”

And he hung up.

“He’s right,” Jason said, “this is big.”

Piper nodded. They all just stood in the kitchen wondering what to make of it.

An actual tour. People wanted to hear their music outside of New York? Apparently Mr. D discovered Delphi’s music was popping up all over the West.

“We’re almost done with school,” Percy said, “it’d be a cool way to kick off our summer.”

“I’ve always sorta pictured us touring in California,” Jason said. Probably because he had family out that way.

“So we’re doing this?” Piper asked.

“All in favor?”

They all raised a hand.

Delphi was going on tour.

[tgirlsunshine]

I just finished this is how you lose the time war for like the fifth time and this book STILL never fails to make me cry.

Plus I'm annotating it this time because I'm giving it to my girlfriend (who I really hope doesn't ask to add me on Tumblr for the next couple of weeks cause she doesn't knowww) and I'm catching so much more metaphor and meaning?? this book is just INCREDIBLE

(literary analysis to follow)

TIME WAR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT LIKE SERIOUSLY FOR REAL DO NOT CLICK UNLESS YOU'VE READ IT IT'S SO GOOD DON'T SPOIL IT FOR YOURSELF

After Blue eats the poison and dies, Red stands at the cliff's edge and jumps off, but travels back to the past before she hits the ground, right.

and, right BEFORE Blue dies, we get this new idea: Romeo and Juliet, we learn, is sometimes a comedy and sometimes a tragedy. And Blue leaves before the ending - symbolizing, almost, that Romeo and Juliet *represents* the story of Time War itself (a theory that's backed up by Blue describing herself watching it with "all the tense fervor of awaiting prophecy".

Red standing at the cliff *is a tragic ending*. Blue has died by poison, Red is about to kill herself. This is EXACTLY how Romeo and Juliet ends - with the poisoning of one at her own hand followed by the suicide of the other, driven mad with grief.

Of course, because this is a time travel story, that isn't the end - but if it weren't, it would be, on so many levels, and I think that's what's shown further by Red time-traveling to safety as she falls.

There are other parallels (two factions at war, love coming across them? I really could've seen this one sooner)

In conclusion: This Is How You Lose The Time War is Romeo and Juliet with time travel.

And because it has time travel, because we see so many possible strands in which Romeo and Juliet could be tragedy or comedy, Time War has elements of both, but is, in the end, neither.