#i mean he recites keats

[metaphysicsinwater]

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

         To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), dir. Joseph L. Mankiewicz.

[poemcal]

helloo, I would like to make a request for Todd. where the reader is cheeky and flirts with him during breaks, but also leaves him small poems where she confesses her love. He feels the same way but she doesn't know it, and he confesses it to her one day when he hears her crying under a tree because she felt that he would never like her, and that she felt stupid trying to make him like her.

by the way, i love how you write and I fell in love the first time I saw Ethan Hawke in the movie😭😭💖

warning: none, too fluffy maybe!!

summary: how bad can it be having a crush on your classmate? Leaving poems in his desk, just as secretly as he is in love with you.

a/n: a long one, that's it, please clap for me A WHOLE THREE HOURS WRITING THIS 😭😭😭 hope you liked it!!! AND TY FOR YOU WORDS AND SAME I FELL FOR ETHAN IN THIS MOVIE TOO 😭😭🤍

✿ I LIKE YOU, YOU LIKE ME? : TODD ANDERSON

Every day you wait for Todd and his group of friends during breaks, since you didn’t share any classes with him. At first, you were friends with Pitts, and then you became close with all of them, except Todd. One day after classes, you saw him sitting alone. He always seemed like a bundle of nerves, but you liked that about him. You snuck up on him until you were right by his side.

“Writing for English?” Your voice made him jump in his seat, and he looked at you, startled.

“Y-yeah. I mean, no,” he stammered at first, closing his notebook and glancing around as if searching for help.

“I heard the classes are very... strange?”

Todd looked at you, almost offended, and shook his head. “It’s more than that. It’s like a lifestyle.”

“Wow. I’d like to be there, then,” you said with a smile, sitting beside him and glancing at how his hands were clinging to his pants, holding onto his comfort zone.

“You should. Why aren’t you? Aren’t we in the same year?” he asked with an honest curiosity that made you smile. It seemed like he was interested in you, in a way.

You nodded. “We are, but I got assigned a different teacher. Old-fashioned and boring, but he reads us beautiful poems,” you admitted, and for the first time, Todd smiled—just at you.

“You read poetry?”

“Of course! Although we read a bit of everything, it’s always Shakespeare.”

“Mr. Keating prefers Whitman, I guess.”

Since that conversation, you would find yourself approaching Todd during every break, taking the opportunity to give him small hints about your feelings toward him, which only grew stronger. The others could notice what you were doing, but Todd? Todd always seemed to be too caught up in his thoughts, never really in the moment, but still, you liked him more.

"Todd!" You shouted from across the campus and ran in his direction. Todd blushed at feeling so many eyes on him, but still, he stopped and waited for you. "Thanks for coming over," you said, laughing, and stopped by his side, letting your lungs take in a bit of air.

"‘I-I’m sorry!’ He would say, embarrassed to feel so clumsy just watching you run.

"It’s okay" you said with a smile, stepping closer. "On Monday, I’ll have a presentation" you started shyly, and Todd looked at you, confused. ‘I’ll have to recite a poem.’

"Do you want help?’" he asked, with a voice as delicate as always.

"No! I mean, I would loved that, but I already have one, I just... I don’t know, I thought maybe you could come watch me.’

Todd paused for a few seconds, then snapped back to reality and nodded. "Of course. I don’t think I have anything to do. J-just tell me the time, and I’ll be there." He never looked you in the eyes for long. For a few seconds, his eyes would meet yours, then he would find something less invasive to focus on. But you liked it.

"At four. Library. If you go, you should bring me some roses."

"I-i should?" Todd nervously looked around. "I'll have to grab some from here, then."

You laughed. "Bring some pretty ones."

"Aren't all flowers pretty?"

You nodded. "You're right. I should be more specific. Bring ones that won't make me sneeze all day."

"You're allergic? Then why would you ask me to bring flowers?"

You shrugged. "Because they're pretty. The gesture will be sweet, too," you said, winking at him, making Todd blush slightly.

After that conversation, you began leaving little notes with poems written for Todd under his desk every day without fail. You would hide behind the door, watching his reaction from the hallway. His pink cheeks, sparkling eyes, a shy smile he failed to hide, and his hands hurriedly stuffing the notes into his pockets made you completely happy. You wondered if he kept them for himself and hid them somewhere special.

Weeks went by, and your moment to recite in the library finally came.

When it was your turn to step up, you held the paper in your trembling hands, and your eyes instinctively searched for that blonde hair, but failed. Todd hadn’t shown up. You sighed in disappointment and recited your poem. The room filled with applause and cheers, and people praised you all the way back to your seat. As you walked back to your dorm, you saw him. Todd Anderson was sitting on the grass with the other poets laughing, and suddenly, it all made sense. He didn’t like you.

Todd looked at you, his eyes wide open, but you simply turned away and headed toward the solace of your dorm.

The next days, the notes on his desk stopped appearing, taking with them Todd’s excitement to arrive early to class just to read them. From then on, you also avoided Todd at all costs, not wanting to see his face, wishing to forget him. But he remained etched in your mind and heart, as important as a commandment and as necessary as the air in your lungs.

But you never cried, instead, you were angry at yourself for your foolish efforts to win his affection, which ultimately amounted to nothing. That changed one afternoon when you were sitting under a tree, far from Welton. The wind played with your hair, and the orange sunlight on your face heightened your emotions, and you ended up crying.

Footsteps startled you, and as you looked up, there he was. Todd. His face, worried and exhausted as always, but this time, his eyes held an unusual brightness.

He knelt in front of you, his face full of concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his hesitant hands hovering in the air, unsure whether to touch you.

You nodded. "Yeah, go away, Todd."

"No, you're not," he murmured, watching as you swallowed your tears and avoided his gaze.

"I am. It's nothing, okay?"

"Come on, you can tell me," he whispered, something inside him knowing it was his fault, yet still gathering the courage when he saw you crying under that old tree.

"Todd, just—"

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, interrupting you. "I didn’t mean to miss your presentation. It’s just that—"

"You don’t have to make excuses, Todd. Really. You could’ve just said no," you murmured, letting out a tired sigh.

"No! I wanted to go. It's just... I wanted to find flowers for you, but I couldn’t. I asked the guys for help. At three! But time passed, and we failed. I’m sorry," he stammered, his hands fidgeting in a silent war with each other.

"Todd. It was sweet of you to try. But it's okay, I forgive you. That’s not why I’m like this, so don’t feel bad," you said, your voice as strained as Todd’s, which wasn’t usual for you.

"Then what is it? Y-you can trust me, I promise," he said, sitting in front of you, moving a few inches closer.

"It's silly," you said, playing with the long grass beneath your feet. "I'm... scared?" you confessed.

"Scared?"

"Yes, you know. That feeling you get when you think about the future or the past or the dark or—"

"I know! I mean, scared of what? I’m scared of many things... too many," he murmured, looking at you expectantly

"Of love," you admitted, embarrassed. "Not love itself, but the absence of love, you know?" Todd nodded eagerly. "I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever be loved or if I’ll have something with someone! And it's scary."

You felt so small next to Todd, filled with fear, shame, and shyness. Todd, on the other hand, felt with so much power, more power than what he liked. He knew he needed to encourage you, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth, making the moment worse.

"Don’t say that. You will be loved, you already are."

"By my mom, maybe," you said with a chuckle.

"No, I mean, yes! But I mean romantically."

"Do you believe in that idea that the love of my life is destined and wandering out there?" you whispered as if sharing a secret.

Todd nodded. "Y-yes. They could be very close to you. Closer than you think. Right in front of you... trying so hard to be noticed. Failing. Always," he finished with a whisper, his hands ceasing their internal fight and gripping each other for comfort.

"Todd, what are you talking about?" you asked breathlessly.

"I like you! I like you..." For the first time in your life, you heard him speak so loudly and clearly that it startled you, leaving you unable to form any words. "You don’t have to say anything... Your eyes. They say more. Always," he murmured, looking into your eyes for so long that you feared feeling exposed.

But then you understood. You already were. Todd already knew you were the girl behind the poetry and that you felt as deeply for him as he did for you. His hands released their grip and gently touched your face, wiping away the silent tears streaming down your cheeks and caressing the flushed areas. Your crying stopped, and your heart raced. You felt his heavy breathing over you, and he felt yours. After a few seconds, Todd kissed you. It was short, rushed, and anxious. But it was the best kiss you’d ever had in your life.

"I like you too. A lot, Todd," you whispered without opening your eyes, afraid your eyes would say more than your lips.

"I knew it the second week the notes stopped," he said, and you opened your eyes. "That’s when I realized I wasn’t the only one in love."

"Todd..." He silenced you with another kiss, this one slow, delicate, and patient, filled with unwritten poetry between the lines. Much better than the first, leaving you wanting more.

After that, the two of you began dating. You showed your love through physical acts, like kissing, hugging, or holding hands all the time. Meanwhile, Todd preferred to be more reserved. He now left you notes and preferred to kiss you in secret, feeling the intimacy of his love. And then, everything made sense.

[thegreatobsesso]

Milo's intro

Alright friends! This is probably scene #2 of the first draft, taking place right after Octavius's intro.

--

Milo doesn’t belong here. 

Sinclair Tower is a steel and marble high-rise where gods of industry shake hands on multimillion pound foreign investments or sign contracts that control the flow of data on the internet. Or... something. 

Milo’s not actually sure what any of these companies do. If you ask him, all their names just sound like gourmet corporate word salad - Crescendo Consulting, ATRIUM Insights, FocusFortune - and that only further convinces him that his presence is a ginormous mistake. 

He’d sent in his application on a whim, for god’s sake. A shoot-for-the-stars kind of thing. He didn’t expect a call back. When the unfamiliar voice had identified itself as personal assistant to Octavius Sinclair, he’d nearly spit his drink. 

That same voice rings out across the intimidating lounge of steel and light.

“Milo McKenzie?”

He jumps from his seat like it’s caught fire. “Hi, yes, that’s me.”

“Julian Keats. Please, follow me.”

He follows this well-groomed and neatly dressed human down a glass-walled corridor overlooking a dizzying array of unnecessarily complicated architecture. It feels crafted to disorient, although it’s probably just his anxiety. Julian ushers him into his clear box of an office that offers a full view of the bustling floor on three sides and the cityscape on the fourth. The din of businesspeople dies as the door shuts. 

“Right,” Julian begins as Milo takes a seat across from him at his tidy desk. “Congratulations on having passed the screening process. I’ll give you a brief orientation, you’ll sign some forms for our records, and then you’ll be clear to meet with Mr. Sinclair.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” he chirps, cringing at himself instantaneously. He’s a nerd, an overeager loser, a timid nobody-

“The basics,” Julian states over his rolling ticker-tape of admonitions. “This shouldn’t be anything new to you if you read the materials, but here goes. No electronics whatsoever go past the elevator, including and especially mobile phones. A typical session with Mr. Sinclair can last anywhere from one to four hours, unless interrupted by your safe word. He’ll use any combination of whips, handcuffs, ropes, paddles, clamps, spreader bars, dildos, plugs, vibrators and/or his personal business ties and belts. Anything outside that, he’ll show you and get your color before he uses it. He may want to fuck you, he may not. He may or may not let you come.”

Milo is overheating like an overtaxed laptop at this procedural recitation of things he did, in fact, already know. He's not new to scene - in fact, he had to provide references to prove it - but he’s never sat down with a business person in the middle of a bustling office space to talk about butt plugs. 

Moreover, they're talking about Octavius Sinclair. He's like, the hottest man alive. He's famous and rich and a philanthropist and an icon. And he may fuck Milo, or he may not; he may or may not let Milo come.

Fuck!

“Yeah, that’s,” he says, reminding himself no one walking by can actually hear them in here. “That’s all great.”

“And I see... only hard limit is knives.”

“Yeah, that’s it. No knives.”

“What about blades in general? Razors, swords?”

Swords? “I... guess you can put blades in general there.”

Julian scratches out his original answer and jots the new one down in impeccable script.

"And, do remind me what it is you're to call him, and what you're not."

Finally, a chance to prove his preparedness! “Sir," Milo answers confidently. "Nothing but sir. Not his name, master, or daddy."

"And your safe word is?"

"Red, or ‘safe word’. Yellow means ease up or slow down. Green is good, and if I can't speak, I'll shake my head no and say uh uh uh."

Julian ticks boxes as he speaks. "That's great," he replies without a shred of enthusiasm. "I'm gonna need your signature here, here and here."

Just as he slides several forms across the desk, Milo’s phone buzzes in his pocket. 

He ignores it, for now. Another minute or two won’t hurt.

“This one states you don’t have any allergies or significant medical conditions. This one says you haven’t had any unprotected sex since your last negative STD screening. And this one, please make sure to read it all the way through. This is the confidentiality agreement, which Mr. Sinclair will sign as well. “

The phone buzzes again. Shit. “I’m so sorry,” he says, “I have to take a call.”

Julian Keats stares at him, clearly more used to being the interrupter than the interrupted. He manages to inject an impressive amount of displeasure in a simple businesslike Ah, of course before Milo’s off searching for an enclave with some semblance of privacy.

He finds it in one of the flagrantly incongruous beanbag chairs in a corner where the view gives him vertigo. He sits facing away from the city dials back. 

“Milo.” His sister’s voice, thick with terror. “I’m in trouble. I need help. I need you to come get me.”

He presses his fingertips against his eyelids. She sounds awful, and it hurts. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll be there soon, but in the mean time, can you tell me a couple things you can see right now?”

“I’m not crazy,” she whispers; frantic, like she’s hiding from someone. 

“I know you’re not. I know. I just want you to describe a couple things you can see for me. Please.”

He sits with her for a moment while she talks, shakily, of things in her hospital room. The patterns of the curtains, the phrases scrawled by nurses on the dry erase board. The worn plastic case of CDs she’s had with her since she was admitted - Fiona Apple, Garbage, the Cranberries.

He doesn’t say goodbye until she sounds a bit calmer, and he’s going to have to cancel his afternoon appointment to go her straightaway after this, but she should be fine until he gets there. The staff know her well enough by now to know when she's close to hurting herself, or somebody else.

He feels like crying, but even if it were a fine time for such a thing, his body wouldn’t actually do it.

So he goes back in and finishes signing all the forms. Julian’s clipped confirmation goes a bit past his ears. 

“Alright, all sorted," he states, and Milo can almost see him itching to move onto the multitude of more pressing matters Milo's sure he's got. "Your appointment is at 10 pm. Arrive at the club at least 15 minutes before that and present this to security. They’ll scan the card and put you into the elevator to the penthouse. Once you’re there, just knock.”

“Wait, sorry, 10 pm tonight?”

“Yes, obviously. The confirmation file for today’s appointment said as much. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Oh, Jesus. “No,” he hurries to confirm. “No, not at all, that works for me, it’s just... wow, I didn’t think it’d happen that fast.”

God, he thought he’d get a haircut, maybe lose a kilo, but he supposes not. 

No, he’ll be walking into that room on the fifty-bajillionth floor of this very tower exactly how he is now, and letting a hot, filthy rich titan of business do whatever the hell he wants to him, within his own predefined limits. The guy the press calls the king of London, either because of how much he owns or the way he carries himself. Actually, Milo’s quite certain it’s a combination of both. And that’s...

Well, it’s bloody fucking fantastic is what it is. As he’s leaving the building, he looks around and, seeing no one paying much mind to him whatsoever, pumps his fist into the air in front of him. Just a little bit.

--

✨ WIP intro

🔖 tag list: @winterandwords // @foxboyclit //@revenantlore

@space-writes // @indecentpause // @words-after-midnight

comment to be added or removed!

📝 all posts from WIP: gay crime bdsm story

[freakingholland]

"Law of attraction" – Asher Millstone x gn!reader

A/N: There aren’t enough HTGAWM fics here on tumblr so here I am with this little something for Asher! If you want to talk about the show or if you have ideas for some imagines feel free to slide into my asks 😊

Warnings: swearing, mentions of exam-related stress

Summary: The Keating 5 and reader are preparing for exams. Who would have thought that exam anxiety could give somebody enough courage to express their romantic feelings?

Set around season 3, post vacation but pre-jail era.

Word count: 1K +

If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist

my AO3 archive is here

-

September meant no more partying, but more preparations for the fall exams. You were stuck in the evening-lit library alongside Laurel, Asher, Michaela, and Connor. Wes did not take part in the study session since he was stolen by Annalise. They were preparing for a particular case with the help of Bonnie at Annalise’s place.

You could feel your eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. It was an nth hour of staring at your books, scrolling through documents and researching papers. The palms of your hands were stained with yellow and pink highlighters. You were sat between Laurel and Asher.

You glanced up from your notes to visually check on your friends, not wanting to disrupt them. Laurel’s eyes met yours and she smiled slightly. Tiredness was visible on her face as smudged mascara created a shadow underneath her eyes.

You looked to your right, heart skipping a beat as you caught sight of Asher, hunched over his notes, his posture sagged from exhaustion. The gentle blue light from his laptop’s screen reflected in his pretty brown eyes, giving them a shimmering hue that accentuated his warmth. His usually well-groomed hair was tousled and slightly disheveled.

His presence had a soothing effect on you, managing to lift your spirits even though he looked visibly tired. You couldn’t help but wish you could retreat to the comfort of your apartment with him. Yet, despite the butterflies in your stomach, you couldn’t muster the courage to admit your true feelings for Asher, leaving you trapped in longing for something more.

What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if saying something changes everything between you two? The thought of losing the closeness you have—of turning something so natural and easy into something complicated—keeps you quiet, even as your feelings for him grow stronger.

“So… I’m trying to remember this definition of Res Ipsa Loquitur and I keep messing it up. It’s so fucking long. Mind if I recite it to you and see if it sounds right?” Ash asked whispering, leaning into your ear.

“Go ahead.” you responded.

“Okay, here it goes: the thing speaks for itself, it refers to situations where the nature of an accident-- implies negligence due to the mere occurrence of the event.” he paused for a second.

“The doctrine—umm… allows a plaintiff to establish a presumption of negligence without direct evidence… provided the event is of a type that does not normally happen without negligence, and the instrumentality causing harm was under the-- defendant's control.”

You nodded with a grin.

“That sounds pretty solid.”

“Thanks.”

He exhaled heavily and leaned back in his chair crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

He shook his head no.

“Dude I’m so tired.” He murmured.

“I can tell. Me too. I could really use a nap.” You also leaned back in your chair.

“Mmm… a nap.” Asher reached out to grab his cup of now cold coffee. After taking a sip or two he turned back to you.

He laughed at his own thought.

“Remember that damned Civ Pro final?” He said.

“Oh yeah, you came out looking pale as fuck.”

“Seriously, I thought I was about to pass out right there in the exam room…”

“I’m starting to freak the fuck out if I’m being honest.” He exclaimed.

Michaela overheard the conversation and chuckled slightly.

“And what is that supposed to mean!”

“I told you to start reading that a week ago. But you guys were too busy with Annalise’s cases.”

“Aaaas alwaaays.” She added mockingly.

Ash only rolled his eyes in response to her remark.

“You’re not the only one who’s stressed out, but we got this.” You tried to reassure him.

He spaced out for a couple of seconds.

“You are right angel. We got this.”

He stood up abruptly and reached out to grab both your mugs.

“Anyone else wants some more coffee?”

You could feel your cheeks burning up. You eyed Ash up and down as he was making his way out of the room when your eyes met with Michaela’s. She gave you a wink and smiled.

*

The hours ticked by, and the evening grew darker.

The silence was suddenly interrupted when Oliver burst into the library, a cheerful grin spreading across his face as he carried a plastic container full of freshly baked cookies.

“There is absolutely nooooo way in hell that you made those!” Laurel said jumping up from her seat and walking towards Oli.

Oliver tilted his head pretending to be offended and smiled at her.

“It’s good to see you too! I did. You all look like you could use some glucose.”  he said with sympathy in his tone.

She quickly took one of the cookies and bit into it.

Everyone stopped in their tracks and locked their gazes on Laurel to see her reaction.

“Okaaay these are… not too bad actually.”

“Gimme one I got to try!”

Michaela reluctantly bit into a cookie. She started nodding after taking two more bites.

“Not too bad huh?”

“Okay alright… pretty good Oli. Good job hun.”

He walked towards her and embraced her in a hug, making sure not to spill the cookies.

*

As the study session wrapped up and everyone started packing their bags, Asher turned to you, his eyes a mix of exhaustion and excitement.

"You know," he began, his voice softer now.

"Once we get through these exams, I think we deserve a break." You looked up, curious, as Asher continued.

"How about we celebrate with dinner? Just the two of us?"

The sudden invitation made your tiredness fade slightly as you quickly considered the offer.

"Dinner sounds nice. "

Asher's grin widened, clearly pleased with your response.

"Great, it’s a date then” he said, his tone playful yet sincere.

The others exchanged quick glances but pretended not to hear, letting the moment pass without interruption. With that, you headed out of the library, finally chatting about other, less boring matters.

You delicately poked Ash’s side. He looked down at you and hummed.

“Sooo do we have a plan for the dinner or-?”

“Mmm… I was thinking of something low-key, maybe just some good food at my place and no textbooks in sight?”

“That would be perfect.”

-

A/N 2: Part 2 soon? Yes? No? :)

[everwitch-magiks]

Gossip Girl AU!

... I love you, I do, but I must admit to never having seen Gossip Girl. This is gonna be a wild ride.

I've thought about it for exactly two seconds and have elected to do the following: five fun things that would happen in a Gossip Girl AU based solely on randomly selected episode titles from season one of the show, all of which I've never seen. Strap in, folks.

The Wild Brunch: Pez, a chaotic genius stuck in the confinements of compulsory education, has a mishap in the chem lab which results in a sentient sandwich. All the man wanted was a goddamn post-breakfast-pre-lunch grilled cheese, and now said grilled cheese is reciting Keats and crushing on the new kid from Texas. Pez names it 'Henry'.

Dare Devil: Nora dares Alex to eat the grilled cheese. Henry is horrified. Pez is entertained. Alex is keen, because it looks so tasty, but hesitant, because it looks so alive. June's book club comes to the rescue and grants Henry membership, which in turn grants him protection from being eaten under paragraph twenty-one of the school code of conduct: 'do not bite fellow members of extracurricular organisations.' Thank God for Theodore Wilkins in the class of 96' whose vampire phase left deep imprints on official regulations (and on Colin McMahon, the poor lad. He wore a lot of scarfs.)

Seventeen Candles: Alex turns seventeen. To celebrate, he and Nora break up and get back together again seventeen times - except the seventeenth time, they forget to get back together. Neither of them actually notice. Henry nearly eats himself from stress.

Roman Holiday: On a class trip to Europe, Pez mixes Henry up with an eerily similar garlic bread appetizer. The garlic bread does not recite Keats. Alex is beside himself but can't figure out why. Nora reveals herself to be a witch and summons Henry back from the buffet. Nobody is surprised by this development.

All About My Brother: Pez and Nora combine their sciency and witchy powers to transform Henry into a real boy who smells only vaguely of cheese. Alex is into it. So into it that he comes out to June a moment later, which annoys her seeing as she'd been about to come out to him and now he's stolen her thunder. June gets back at Alex by getting together with Nora, but is startled when this only makes him thrilled - so in an impressive display of commitment to the bit she dates Nora for a decade and then marries her. They have three children. Alex, meanwhile, asks Henry out by means of a message written in apricot jam on a whole wheel of brie. (Henry accepts.)

The end, I suppose! Gossip Girl. What a show, amirite?

Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts that would happen in a story!

[lesbicosmos]

dps but it's the sims part ive lost count it could be 12

neil you've had this whim for ages now and im sorry but it's just not physically possible 😭😭

damn it's neils turn to annoy both cameron and charlie with the violining this time

i love this screenshot. todd reciting love poetry to neil, the ghost just dancing, meeks thinking about the sink for some reason...pure chaos

i see u two holding hands u know, ur not slick

knox and charlie are officially together!! hopefully this means knox won't try and flirt with chris again 😭😭

knox and charlie cooked together again. "why would you let that happen after last time??" you ask? well, the oven is currently burned to a crisp and they can't afford to replace it so rn the only thing they can make is salad. nothing will happen making salad right?

welp charlie cut his finger cutting tomatoes, at least it's not a the whole house nearly burns down and a firefighter dies situation again

other things that have happened

-charlie still applauds every time he sees neil and todd kiss

-keating keeps wandering around shirtless. i have no idea why.

-todds been scared the shit out of by the resident ghost several times and every time went and hid under his covers

-NEIL GLITCHED AND IT WAS TERRIFYING. HE WAS ASLEEP AND THEN FOR A SPLIT SECOND HE JUST STOOD UP IN THE BED THEN WENT BACK TO NORMAL

anyway sneak peek of next part, double date 👀

[popthirdworld]

Chapter 14 - The Plan

This is a Christmas story told in 25 parts – with one chapter released each day of December ‘til Christmas. Enjoy!

“We’re sitting ducks”, Keya mumbled as she nervously paced in the snow, away from the yetis and fairies.

“We’ll be OK”, Lolly said, trying to calm Keya down. 

Neither of them were paying attention to George and Santa who were signing rigorously to each other under the lone Christmas tree still alive in the Winter Forest.

Keya shot the elf an unconvinced look. “Frosty is not here to protect us …”

“Yes.”

“… because the person we’re hiding from killed him.”

“Well, uh”, Lolly stammered. “Yes”.

“That’s sitting ducks”, Keya threw over her shoulder. “We need a plan.”

“Keya”, George said, standing in the girl’s path to stop her pacing and gain her attention. “Santa has one.”

Lolly and the children huddled around a rock on which the globe was perched. The yetis formed a circle around them while the fairies hovered overhead. Santa was holding court, humming to the fairies and simultaneously signing to George.

“What’s he saying?” Lolly asked the boy.

“That we’ll need a few things”, George replied. “He’s asking the fairies if they can perform a cloaking spell so that Sable can’t track us down with magic wind again.”

“Good idea”, Keya said.

“He’s also saying we need to figure out Sable’s location.”

“1374 Keating Estate”, Lolly recited.

George, Keya and Santa stopped and stared at the elf.

“How do you know that?” Keya asked, astonished.

Lolly pointed at the globe. “It’s on the business card that Sable gave Santa that he showed me earlier.”

Santa whipped out the card in his pocket. Lolly was correct. He gave a thumbs up to the elf and then turned to George to sign the next part of his plan.

As Santa signed, George felt his stomach sink. The next part of the plan, apparently, was for him and Keya to be taken home.

“Home?” George signed with alarm. “As in the shelter?”

“The most important thing is your safety”, Santa signed back. “We need to get you out of harm’s way.”

George had a visceral response to Santa’s words that he did not quite understand. His heart started pounding. Adrenaline flooded his bloodstream. Santa was talking about keeping him safe, yet safe was the last thing he felt in that moment. 

“I want to stay and help”, George could feel his hands quiver as he signed. “No one can understand you without me.”

“Even so, I can’t drag you any deeper into danger. At the shelter …”

“I’m useless”, George interjected. “Here, I’m finally … I’m not useless. Please.”

“What’s going on?” Keya queried, detecting tension between Santa and George from the flurry of hands signing back and forth.

“Santa wants to send us home”, George replied despairingly, after Santa relayed her question.

“Great!”

“Great?”

“Of course”, Keya said. “Lolly, is there a way we can get back?”

“Let me think”, Lolly responded, pondering the logistics. Elves love logistics. “Maybe you can take the horse and carriage. Or maybe I have something in here that can send you home, let me see ...”

She began rummaging through the vials of fairy dust in her hat. Keya helped her, holding the Christmas wreath, mince pies and advent calendars that the elf pulled out as she searched. This was all moving too fast for George.

“Wait a minute!” he protested.

“Why?” Keya asked. 

“I just think we need to think about this.”

“Think about it?”

“Yes.”

“There’s nothing to think about.”

“But …”

“We need to get out of here now.”

“What’s the rush?” George asked.

“I have a family at home worried sick about me, that’s the rush!”

Keya realised immediately that she had put her foot in it. She tried to apologise.

“I didn’t mean …”

“You’re right”, George said, trying to contain a bad combination of rage and sorrow bubbling up in the pit of his stomach where he felt he had just received a gut punch. “If you want to go, go. But I’m staying.”

The boy turned to Santa, picking up the globe and holding it tightly. He had nothing left to say to Keya.

“Please”, he whispered, his face so close to the globe that his nose touched the glass. “Let me stay here with you.”

Santa saw so much worry in George’s eyes. He understood why. Being Santa, he knew every child’s story. George had been running from danger his whole life. He just wanted somewhere to belong. At the shelter, however, he could not communicate and felt so alone. With all his magic, Santa could not change any of this, but he also could not let the boy stay with him in this desecrated forest and risk his life. There was nothing Santa could do. Trapped behind glass and a fraction of his size, he could not even give the boy a hug. In his very long life, Santa could not remember when he had felt so powerless.

Then, an anguished scream filled the air.

Everyone, but George who could not hear it, jumped in shock. The cry had come from Lolly, who promptly fainted and fell to the ground, landing at the feet of a pair of yetis standing nearby. Keya rushed over to Lolly to try and help her, using the elf’s hat to fan her face. Several fairies joined Keya, hovering over Lolly to inspect her unconscious body. 

George was flummoxed. “What happened?!” 

A yeti with majestic long horns like an antelope roared and pointed his leathery finger to a pile of rocks a few feet away. On top of this pile stood a small dog – Puddles. Keya, the fairies and yetis looked at the pup, baffled. Only George and Santa knew why Lolly was right to be so afraid.

The dog threw back his head, opened his mouth and let out a loud, otherworldly howl. The massive noise was in complete disproportion to the tiny body that it had come from.

“AYWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

In a flash of light, a portal opened. Sable stepped out. She was carrying Santa’s sack and had a look of satisfaction on her face. Puddles had finally tracked down their target and his howl had summoned her.

“Run!” George shouted. 

But before anyone could make a move, Sable placed two fingertips delicately over the glowing jewel on her necklace. Everyone, other than Sable and Puddles, was frozen in position. The yetis crashed to the ground like felled trees. The fairies dropped from the sky mid-flight, their light going out as their limp bodies hit the snow.

The globe slipped from George’s hands and landed by his feet. George tried desperately to move from his stiff stance to grab the globe and protect it but he could not budge an inch. The boy watched helplessly as Sable glided towards him in her evening gown and picked up the globe, triumphant. Santa stood within the globe motionless, pretending to be stuck in the same pose he was in when Sable first trapped him in the magical orb. He did not know what else he could do.

Sable pocketed the item and then pointed to the bag. The bodies of Lolly, the fairies and yetis all flew up into the air spectacularly, like a powerful tornado had just snatched them from the earth. The intense wind then funnelled them all into the burlap sack, where they landed on the mountain of presents that Santa was meant to be delivering that night.

“Roomy”, Sable muttered to herself as she tightened the ribbon on the rim of the bag, the bells attached to the ribbon softly jingling. The siphon then walked back through the portal, with the sack and Puddles, disappearing in an instant.

The terrifying sound, light and swirling winds from a moment ago were gone. The Winter Forest was now still, dark and quiet. All that was left was George and Keya, the two small children completely alone in this enormous forest, paralysed in place but trembling with fright.

[withdrco]

Chapter 10 - Go All The Way

"How was your class?" she asked.

"Good, as usual."

His answer was curt, methodical, intended to close the subject. But Lorelei was clearly not the type to settle for short answers.

"What was it?" she insisted, refusing to give him the opportunity to wall himself up in silence.

"Poetry, we studied poetry in this class," he said, looking away briefly, already anticipating the next question.

Her smile widened, she stared at him with intense attention, searching his eyes as if she were trying to understand something more.

"Professor Dumbledore has given us an essay topic for next week," added Regulus, giving in to the inevitable and hoping it would satisfy her curiosity.

"Interesting, what is the topic?"

"To analyze how nature is represented in the poems of William Wordsworth and compare that with John Keats' approach," recited Regulus, looking straight at him so as not to meet her gaze.

Lorelei suddenly brightened.

"Really? I love John Keats!'' she exclaimed without raising her voice too much ''my mother has several books of poetry collections in her library''

''You're interested in that...'' wondered Regulus, arching an eyebrow, slightly surprised.

''Of course I almost wanted to study English literature but everyone said it was a waste for a girl who had so much talent in graphic design'' explained Lorelei, shrugging her shoulders ''so I took graphic design, oh but John Keats... 'I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful, a fairy’s child; Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.' '' she recited softly, a smile floating on her lips.

Regulus remained silent, not really knowing what to say to that. Aside from Dorcas, he rarely spoke literature with anyone. But Lorelei's authenticity was hard to ignore.

''If you ever need an opinion on one of your essays, an outside opinion I mean, I'd be happy to help you!'' she offered with a smile.

''Thank you'' he replied, more out of politeness than any real need for assistance.

want to read more, link below

[hyperraduo22]

hot take (and also my view of how i characterize knox):

still not gonna excuse his creepy behavior—and by creepy behavior i mean non-consensual advances that are actually extra harmful and traumatic aside from going to their crush’s school to give flowers and a poem (especially book knox makes me wanna vomit)—but i will absolutely accept him being under the insufferable sappy wet pathetic men trope.

he is a man that gets smacked in the face by nature’s beauty, romanticizes nostalgia and the little things, cries over angsty romantic dramas and soap operas, falls in love way too fast, pines for human beings, and revolves through a million hallway crushes in one year to the point where charlie can’t keep up.

he wants to learn the romance languages but his eyes speak more languages than he’ll ever know.

similar to charlie and neil, he has phenomenal oration skills that he only shows in the cave when he’s reciting poems. he knows how to stay on beat while keeping everyone at the edge of their seats, a dreamy tone in his voice and a fondness in the eyes that never misses—he’s the one that really let’s poetry drip from his tongue like honey despite giving a judgemental look when keating first explained that.

he’s clumsy, stubborn, and can turn into a drama queen over simple situations—sometimes charlie enables this behavior cause one drama queen has to drag along their other drama queen best friend (bonus points cause they’re both gay). the other poets find it funny until they have to push knox into something he was whining over- and i mean whining even more than cameron does- until he realizes he likes trying new things.

speaking of dramatic, he can also sound very sassy when provoked or without realizing. he apologizes for it later if he didn’t mean it.

when he’s comfortable with someone, he can be a chatterbox that stumbles over his words every once in a while, blurts out the wrong things at the wrong time, and apologizes 24/7 for rambling.

he’s a high maintenance guy when it comes to his routines and beautifying himself—yes you heard me. this rich bastard not only gets designer clothes but also gets mani/pedis and expensive skin creams- bite me—which, paired with his stubborn persistence and emotionally dramatic habits, can put him on the pyramid of assholery. it’s not his first time being called annoying by his past friends. even then, i can guarantee you he’s not an american psycho yuppie at heart.

he’s the balance between cameron and charlie. although cameron is the direct opposite of charlie and is the voice of reason, knox can step in when he knows charlie will go too far while also supporting each other’s dumbass delusions. he tries to be a source of comfort for cameron too since he’s aware that charlie’s eccentricity can sting at people he didn’t mean to irritate/get at them personally.

he lights up whenever he passes by pet stores and begs to go inside even though he comes out with nothing.

he collects the books he wants to read but makes sure he gets the prettiest covers possible—some even have that velvety texture and gold engravings or come with a ribbon bookmark.

he buys flowers for himself but also in case he decides to be bold and give it to someone he’s infatuated with.

he’s the last to let go in a hug.

he may be vulnerable with his feelings but really his emotional availability and understanding is a real comfort. he’s the type to get comfortable on the couch with wine glasses on the table, waiting for his nails to dry while his friend rambles to him, and they talk through everything.

he lives life with rose-colored glasses and although that may be bad at times, it makes him look forward to waking up the next day to be surrounded by everything he thinks is beautiful, and that potent energy is what also keeps the group happy.

Some people dislike Knox bc he was creepy, but honestly that's exactly why I like him. You meant to tell me there's this group of lovely teenage boys who read poetry together and not a single of them is kind of an asshole? Get out of here

[abybweisse]

Ch193 (p2), Appropriate answers

Snake still "talks through the snakes", and we have never known why. But here he's decided to go by Keats, as a first name and without a surname, simply taken from one of his snakes.

They do blood testing first, and it's apparently not just blood typing. The orphanage wants to make sure the kids are healthy, too. Makes it easier to figure out who would be best to "foster" to real Ciel, right? 🤔 But, this sets off alarms for the boys, because they know their assignment is to see if there's a blood collection facility here, and this suggests the chances are pretty high.

Finny slips back in to reciting from the persona setup Sebastian prepared for him, but the staff hopefully just sees it as an eccentricity, much like how "Keats" keeps ending his words with "... says Keats" and "...says Emily" under his breath. The questions are very unusual, and I don't blame Snake for asking if there are right answers to them. More on this below.

For the first question, idk if the top choice would be dog or rabbit for real Ciel's preferences. It could even be cat. We know that our earl likes rabbits and is allergic to cats. We don't really know how our earl reacts to most dogs, we just know that he was a bit afraid of their own dog.

The second one is easier to guess the "appropriate answer", or at least the top choice, as we know real Ciel prefers strawberry cake over chocolate. Our earl has a clear preference for chocolate.

Truly, though, the written tests might not matter at all... as it becomes clear that not having the right blood test results means they don't even care about the written test responses anymore.

She says they are in excellent health, so this does suggest they test more than blood type, but idk what tests they are preforming other than blood type. I doubt they perform complete blood count or metabolic panels, but who knows at this point? They are already using technology that's more advanced than it should be.

Seems the orphanage is only allowing the rarer blood types, like Sirius and possibly Canopus.

[cozydoe]

inspired by this iconic post by @inahallucination, i would like to present: the dead poets at build a bear workshop

the boys decided to take advantage of a day off from welton and go to the mall

todd and neil convince the boys to go to the bookstore

they end up scattered about

meeks and pitts end up in the science and technology section

cameron in the history section

neil and todd in the classics section comparing pretty editions of shakespeare plays

knox in the romance section (before he gets dragged out for being a weirdo)

charlie tells the other poets he’s not a nerd (affectionate) so he decides to roam around the mall and wait for the other poets

when todd and neil emerge from the bookstore, they notice charlie staring at the build a bear workshop across from them

“well if i didn’t know any better, i’d say mr. dalton has a childish side to him” neil says, nudging his friend jokingly to get his attention

“what can i say? i have a refined taste” he smirks and swings an arm around todd as he inspects the contents of his shopping bag with a nod of approval

once the rest of the poets are done at the bookstore, charlie informs them of the plan

by which i mean he shouts “gentlemen, let’s build some bears!”

(this totally scares the employee at the front of build a bear but the boys are so excited they hardly notice- except for todd who shyly says hello and apologizes as they walk in)

knox thinks about making a bear for chris and they all shout “NO!”

don’t worry, they buy him a pug plushie and dress it in pyjamas

cameron jokes that they’re not kids anymore but he ends up making a black bear plushie and dresses it in a tuxedo

meeks and pitts get a bunny and they dress it in a lab coat

charlie builds a brown bear and buys it several outfits because “god damn it, this is a serious responsibility”

(he names the bear nuwanda and takes it to every meeting)

todd is reluctant to build a bear at first until he sees a bear that reminds him of the colour of neil’s eyes

he dresses it in a flannel and pair of black pants

neil finds a blond-ish coloured bear and dresses it in a dark blue sweater and khakis

it’s not until weeks later that todd makes the connection and he’s not able to look at the bear on neil’s bed without blushing afterwards)

they attempt to record messages for their bears: the thoreau passage read aloud at each meeting, their version of welton’s four pillars

neil sheepishly asks todd if he can record a message for todd and todd agrees but “only if you let me record one for you too”

neil recites lines from midsummer nights dream: “so i, admiring of his qualities// things base and vile, holding no quantity. //love can transpose to form and dignity. //love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, // and therefore is winged cupid painted blind.”

todd, being ever the oblivious fool, thinks “aw how sweet!! neil must really enjoy running lines with me!!” when he hears the message for the first time

todd’s message to neil would be something along the lines of “hi neil!! just wanted to say you’re a great friend and i really l-like spending time with you. i hope you always chase after your dreams and we stay friends for a really long time. o-okay, bye.”

neil sobs the first time he hears the message

they all get in to ridiculous antics when it’s time to stuff the bears and make wishes

reciting poems, stomping their feet, squaredancing in the middle of the store, you name it

they all print out birth certificates for their bears and hang them up in the cave (and hold birthday parties for their stuffed animals every year afterwards)

once they’re done they all head out, carrying their new stuffed companions in boxes

they all agreed this was a fun day!!

also they probably take the plushies to keating’s class and he’s super confused but happy to have some new scholars in his class

anyways i’m gonna go build a bear now!! thanks for reading 🥰

[ithinkthereforeidread]

the collected poems of todd anderson

christmas day of 1959.

ao3 link here

He knew this day would come. He’s been dreading it, sure, he’d never really enjoyed Christmas much beforehand, his multiple unopened desk sets epitomised such. At his house, fires weren’t warm, hugs were stiff and silence was punctured by the sounds of laughing children in the house next door. It’d always been this way for the Anderson family. Todd grew to accept it.

But this year was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to spend his Christmas at Welton, with all the Dead Poets.

 Usually, the boys would go home to their families for Christmas, but through the efforts of Neil he assembled a complex string of falsities about a gargantuan Latin group project that all the Dead Poets needed to finish.

“Serious business, I care about my education father, why else would have you sent me here?” said Neil over the phone, holding his index finger to his mouth to silence Todd from his chuckling, although all Todd really saw was the wide grin that hid behind it, and the way Neil’s eyes crinkled up all the way, a complete oxymoronic action when Neil was usually on the phone to his father. Todd stifles back laughter and Neil smacks him lightly, only causing him to laugh more.

“Well, that was quicker AND easier than I expected...” Neil states after placing the phone back on it’s cradle and ending the call. “But hey!” Neil squeaks, “We’re all spending Christmas together! The biggest concern was just getting my father to agree, everyone else’s parents seemed fine with it.”

Todd and Neil start to walk, side by side, Neil bumps him playfully. “I’m so glad you told me, Todd.” Neil turns his head and looks towards the shorter boy. “My Christmases at home aren’t that great either, I’ve always wanted to spend them here, but I could never work up the courage to ask my father, ask Charlie, in our first year he almost called up my father himself. It was hilarious, he had to look up at the phone, he was so short.”

“You and Charlie have been friends for ages then?” Todd queries “Oh yeah, we met in our last year of preparatory school, he was a pretty mischievous kid, obviously not much has changed.” Neil laughs, “he was just always so confident and sure of himself… I always wanted to be like that, nothing ever got to him.”

“Has that changed?” Todd’s questions were always short and straight to the point. Startling upfrontness in the most unexpected of moments. It was something Todd was known for.

“Not really… I mean, I try to get him to open up… he just isn’t an emotions type of person, I think?” Neil scratches the back of his head. “During our 9th year he went through something really big and not great, but he didn’t tell me a single word about it. To this day I have no idea wahat happened. I tried asking but it didn’t lead anywhere… all I know is some kid had been expelled but it didn’t look like him and Charlie fought or anything because they spent so much time together ....” Neil trails off.

“You know people stare at us sometimes.” Todd blankly states, an unconscious switch being flicked immediately. “When we’re walking to classes, when we go into our dorm, when we exchange smiles in classes… They bump their friends with their shoulders and snicker under their breaths… Have you noticed that Neil?”

Neil’s walking pace slows slightly, “Uh… no, I-uh I didn’t… Do they think we’re-“ “-Maybe.” Todd interrupts before Neil can say The Word. “Bu-but we aren’t, I mean, you were talking about that girl from-“ “-Yeah! Ginny, from the play, wow, I mean, she’s just great.” “Yeah, I’m sure she is.”

God.

This got awkward.

Nice one Todd.

Did it again.

~~

Ink splatters dried on the paper he cradled so delicately, he stares at the contents once more.

“what wouldn't i give to love myself as feverishly as I love you? what is the opposite of amnesia? that is what you are. sometimes i cant find my way around my memories. i have to take detours… i think you were the best one.

little fragments of joy pepper my vacancy i didn't know that i should want to be hopeful or that being hopeful meant giving up some intrinsic part of me.

last night i had a dream that we were breathing underwater flying high in the sky, arms outstretched, laughing, smiling, hugging, bodies pressed onto one another. it didn’t last long. piece by wretched, fragile piece i throw out every hated qualm of thee your impenetrable stare fixed onto me

i have hoped for love that is beyond you being caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks. they read me, you, us, with their glacial eyes and think they know but they don't

and it seems neither do we.”

“Wow, Todd. This is so… different. But good! It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this in our English class, in the poems we’ve studied… I just… wow.” Neil looks up at Todd, eyes so soft, Neil knows how big of a deal this is to Todd. He doesn’t just share his work with anyone.

“I-I’m glad you liked it.” Todd smiles, it’s almost as if he’s had to completely remove himself from himself in order to let Neil observe and compliment this part of him, he takes the page out of Neil’s hands and places it in his book. “What-er, who was it about?” Neil gingerly queries. “I- uh, well.” Todd’s heating up now, he should’ve expected Neil to ask him this question. Dammit. Why was he so stupid for letting him read it. “Well, I-I don’t think you necessarily have to go through something to write a-about it, it-it’s fiction for a reason.”

Neil’s lips downturn slightly, “I guess, but everything that we produce in art- whether that be acting, or poetry writing, painting- whatever… it… subconsciously shows something that you might not necessarily want to show or see, right? Like how Keating got us the other day to choose a poem we liked and recite it… It tells you so much about a person. When Charlie was reading his poem… wasn't all you could think about was how bleak it was?” Neil continues, “The academically and poetically rigorous selection made by Cameron or Knox’s complete devotion and enamoration with the simplest emotion of the human being, love? We hide these parts of ourselves, maybe we view them as flaws and faults of our cognitive machine, but art reveals them all.” Neil delivered a love poem to the class himself. He takes a big breath and lets the words he just spoke sit in the air of their dorm for a while.

“Into the meadows dawn..” Todd clicks his fingers, a vague ritual to jog his memory. “flashes my faun.” Todd recites “O Hunter, snare me his shadow… O Nightingale catch me his strain. Else moonstruck with music and madness, I track him in vain” all they’re doing is staring at each other.

“You- you remembered my poem?” Neil questions. “Yeah- I went to the library after you said it- wanted to see if there was more… Oscar Wilde…” “Yeah.” “I notice them staring now that you mentioned it.” Neil breaks the trajectory of the conversation, “God, they’re all so stupid, it’s as if Judy Garland and President Eisenhower just strutted into the school, arms interlocked!” Todd chuckles. Then more silence.

“Has anything changed, Neil?” “What do you mean?” “Between us. What this is. Our comradely bond, as Keating puts it.” Todd chuckles, “ Our co-dependence, attachment at the hip.”

More silence…

“I-I think…” Neil finally states, “that it was never anything it wasn’t already… perhaps we ignored it, suppressed the feeling… but… it was always there.”

“For me, at least.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

~~~

The wind pierced Todd’s skin in tiny microscopic ways, embedding itself under the protection of his coat and completely evading the rest of his physical form, though perhaps the wind wasn’t the cause of the spine-curdling ache he felt, but simply an additional symptom.

Bells rang, green and red Christmas themed paraphernalia adorned the streets he’d previously been driving through, staring out the window at lights and snow that trickled onto an already naturally bleached layer of the ground. His footprints leave indents and obtain a slippery consistency to the outer sole and toe cap. He treads more carefully.

His hands clutch the leather cover of the journal he is hiding underneath his jacket, minimising any further damage that may soon come its way, finally, through minutes of soul-searching and carefully treading through stones and flowers, he makes his way to Neil.

He looks at him with a certain sense of fragility, his stone head protruding from the ground and covered in snow. Todd wipes some away to see the carvings made into him. His full name. Aged 17. Dutiful son of Tom and Susan Perry.

The newness of it all sends a pang to Todd’s stomach as he looks at the other stones weathered with age and the constant bombardment of the elements. That’ll be Neil one day. Flowers not fresh and carvings unreadable. Forgotten to the world and all its inhabitants, rotting in satin lining and cherry oak wood. Todd stifles back a sob and covers his mouth, forcing himself to get it together for just this moment.

“Merry Christmas Neil.” Todd whispers, the words can barely come out. “You-you’re not here physically but you’re here with me, and Charlie, and-and all the other Dead Poets.” he continues, “though- though Charlie isn’t here technically either. He left. Had to. He’s not graduating, at least he’s not at Welton” Todd looks down, brushes his emerging tears away with his shoulder

“I just wanted to come here and give you your gift, I’ve had it in the making for a while now, you’ve seen some of it already. I wish I could’ve given it to you earlier… if I had known this would happen.” he pulls out the journal, and opens it up.

“Here, I’ll read you some.” Todd, though already cold and miserable, situates himself next to Neil’s cold headstone and leans his head on it, opening the journal's contents to its first page.

“Dear Neil,” Todd’s starts, but adds an offside, “It’s dated on the 7th of a while back, my-my birthday.”

“I hope this book finds you well,” Todd’s breath hitches, “especially considering that I’m probably too anxious to deliver it to you. What you’ll see here is what we spoke about the night we first kissed. About freeing ourselves from any subconscious fear or dichotomous dread of both working with and against the grain or being liked or disliked. The people I look up to the most are inspirationally unpopular. So, here’s a suite of poems by yours truly. Hopefully you’ll find your own meaning and reverence in the words my brain has conjured up, words mostly pertaining to you. Every inch of your being alive has me transfixed and enamoured, and I’m truly gobsmacked on the good deed I must’ve committed to have deserved having you in my life.” Todd’s face is red and stuffy from the cold and his breathing is short and punctured.

“You’re sleeping right near me at this moment, and as a sweaty toothed madman once said. We were together. I forgot the rest. Consider this journal a detachable limb of my own self, something you can always carry around and know that I am with you, always. You can suck the life force, the bone marrow out of the words I have written in here and I would applaud and encourage you to do so. Without you, I have no idea where I’d be right now. I owe you so much Neil, you’ve taught me that sometimes the world can be good. That a person’s smile can brighten an entire room. A performance perfectly acted can be a person’s ultimate achievement and their triumph. You are the word phenomenal incarnate Neil, I hope my words do you some sort of justice.

You deserve the world, Neil. I’m brainstorming ways to give it to you.

With love, Todd.”

——————————————————————————

i hope you guys enjoyed!! its fucking brutal honestly but needed some angst and tragedy in my fictional life to reflect my own.

just a preface that some of the poem todd read's is borrowed from pete wentz old emo livejournal posts because i need to somehow tie my two big interests together and MAN does that man write some gay ass shit. hope your heart doesnt hurt too much <3

creds to @neilscrown on tiktok for posting the headcanon "Todd definitely bought Neil a Christmas present and he never got the chance to give it to him so he would sit in his once shared room and stare at it" it tore my HEART OUT and inspired this rambling

[veryroughmybuddy]

"dear diary,

today, my english teacher called me a mole in front of everyone, including my boyfriend roommate, neil. i was standing on his desk all alone, i was already harbouring attention doing so, but then he HAD to call me out. what is he, a mind reader? yes, i'm fucking terrified of this assignment, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN TELL THE ENTIRE CLASS?! is it so bad to not want to talk to people? it's not rocket science that i'm socially awkward and i can barely speak in full sentences while being in public. like, COME ON. mr. keating keeps calling me out, and it's overwhelming me."

"dear diary,

today, mr. keating is being as stubborn as usual, trying to 'get me out of my shell' like always. he almost made me read a whole ass poem in front of the entire class, THANK GOD neil volunteered. i HEARD mr keating sigh. does he want me to embarrass myself in front of everyone? do you KNOW how many voice cracks that would cause? it's a mess swept under a mat for me to discover eventually. i'm fine reading poems in front of neil, but thatdoesn'tmeaniwanttoreadpoemsinfrontof30teenageboysandafullygrownman. doesn't he get that i despise public speaking? i would DIE before reciting some poem in class. i would shrink into a ball and throw myself into a paper shredder. i can barely recite a poem to neil, (he demands i read them to him. DEMANDS.) who says i can recite a poem in front of an entire class?"

-Todd Anderson, circa 1959 (definitely canon)

dps au where everything is the same but todd has a diary where he just complains about his english teacher and his stubborn attitude of wanting him to "come out of his shell" or whatever

[raeofgayshine]

Todd doesn’t say “I love you” very often. Ever since he was a kid the words felt strange on his lips, got caught in his throat more often than they ever came out. He didn’t have much reason to ever say it before, so he never thought much about it. 

But then he met the other Poets. He met Neil, and suddenly for the first time in his life, Todd had somebody to love. He had a family, people who he loved so deeply that it came as natural as breathing. 

And yet… Todd still could never make the words come. Said it maybe once or twice in the group chat when they were saying goodnight, but mostly he would just send his hearts and be on his way. 

It doesn’t mean the others don’t know Todd doesn’t love them. The soul marks of his poetry that grace each of their bodies is enough proof to them that Todd sees them as much as family as they see him. His poetry is the only way he’s ever really able to express his love for his friends. Hours of his time spent crafting a poem for each of them of all the things he loves about them came as a Christmas gift one year, and every poet still has his words framed on their walls. 

Neil has more than one poem written about him. Todd falls more in love with Neil with every passing moment, and cannot keep up with the poems to express the way he feels. 

Todd finds other ways, though, to tell the others (especially Neil), how much he loves them. A trick that Jeffery taught him back when they were kids, and Todd admitted that saying “I love you” was too much for his anxiety. 

Three little taps. Three squeezes of a hand. Mean “I love you” without ever having to say a word. 

Todd taps the pattern quite often around the others. 

Charlie says something he knows is wrong in class just to make Mr. Keating, and the other poets, laugh. Tap tap tap. 

Meeks offers to help him study for Latin, and doesn’t get upset once when Todd can’t pronounce the words correctly, and tells him that he’s doing wonderful even though Todd knows he isn’t. Tap tap tap. 

Cameron is helping Neil and Charlie with their math homework and neither of them are getting it and they never do, but Cameron doesn’t stop trying to help them (even when Charlie starts to heckle him). Tap tap tap.

Pitts passes him notes of poems that he thinks Todd might like to read, with every detail written about the things he noticed, and asked for Todd’s thoughts when he finished. Tap tap tap. 

Knox sits next to Todd during a poets meeting, while Neil and Charlie are being too loud, too drunk across the cave. Knox says something about having to drag them back home, but the fondness in his voice gives away how little he minds. Tap tap tap.

Neil recites Shakespeare to Todd on nights neither of them can sleep. Neil’s basked in the moonlight and Todd’s laying on his bed watching, listening. Tap tap tap. 

Every single moment he’s with the poets it’s like Todd’s heart is full to the brim. He taps more than he ever had in his life before. 

Neil notices first, or maybe he was just the first to ask what they mean. For a moment Todd gets quiet and shy before he admits the taps were his way of saying “I love you” when he couldn’t find the words. 

Neil tears up as he thinks of all the taps Todd had given, to him and to the poets. 

And before long all of them are doing it. In a silent class, you might hear from one of them. Tap tap tap. And then like a call, there are six responses back. Tap tap tap. 

[chvrliesapcet]

ever since olivia rodrigo released her debut album, SOUR, i have been listening to it on repeat (totally not kidding). so, after seeing a girl on tiktok do something like this, but with the avengers, i was inspired to make this post. there you go:

the poets as olivia rodrigo’s songs.

trigger warning: mention of su*c*de and mental health issues.

brutal: all of them. they’re teenagers, insecure sometimes, trying their best, but sadly not living the teenage dream (what is it, that fucking teenage dream, anyway?). “if someone tells me one more time "enjoy your youth, " i’m gonna cry” and they can’t quit what they’re doing, because their parents would most likely be hurt. “and they'd all be so disappointed 'cause who am if, if not exploited?” they once recited the lyrics of this song as a poem, during one of their meetings, and they were all laughing their asses off. life at hell-ton is brutal, what can i say?

traitor: knox, of course. “god i wish that you had thought this through, before i went and fell in love with you” or “guess you didn’t cheat, but you’re still a traitor” just hit different for him. he thinks about chris when he listens to this song, that’s for sure..! we can’t really blame chris for knox falling in love with her though,, sorry buddy.

drivers license: knox, again. poor boy listens to this song while riding his bike, crying his eyes out. “but today i drove through the suburbs, crying 'cause you weren't around” chris isn’t with that blonde girl, she is that blonde girl. knox has never felt this way for no one, and it’s hard for him to imagine that chris is, well, doing okay without him. he thinks and talks about her all the time. “and all my friends are tired of hearing how much i miss you, but i kinda feel sorry for them 'cause they'll never know you the way that i do”

1 step forward, 3 steps back: todd. like many people (including me!) when he listens to this song, he doesn’t necessarily think of a past relationship (mostly because he has never dated anyone before neil). he thinks of his mental health struggles, such as his anxiety, instead. it’s hard, sometimes. he thinks he’s getting better, but then realizes he isn’t.. “got me fucked up in the head, boy. never doubted myself so much. like am i pretty, am i fun boy? i hate that i gave you power over that kinda stuff” need i say more? this song is as soft, but as sad, as he is.

deja vu: keating. this is.. kind of a joke, but only because i didn’t know who to pair this song with. john was an original member of the dead poets society, and knowing that now, other teenage boys are taking turns reading poetry, in the old indian cave, reminds him of his teenage years. “so when you gonna tell her that we did that, too? she thinks it's special, but it's all reused. that was our place, i found it first” olivia’s music isn’t the type of music he normally listens to, but after hearing students (the poets) talk about her album, during his class, he decided he’d give it a try. he likes it. he loves the lyrics, mostly.

good 4 u: CHARLIE. he loves screaming the lyrics to this song. especially the bridge and the last chorus. “LIKE A DAMN SOCIOPATH!” cameron has to beg him to turn the volume down,, he doesn’t listen to him, obviously, and instead turns the volume up. his argument? ‘this song is meant to be played loud!’ to which cameron responds ‘but not that loud! i’m trying to study!’ he thinks looking at his roommate directly in the eye when singing “baby, what the fuck is up with that?” exactly the way olivia does is funny. cameron just rolls his eyes every time, but it’s hard for him to hide the smile taking place on his lips.

enough for you: pitts. although he and stev/phen are both super, super smart, i think meeks is the ‘genius’ of the group. and that, can, sometimes, make pitts feel like he might not be good enough for his boyfriend, whom he loves very much. “and i knew how you took your coffee, and your favorite songs by heart. i read all of your self-help books so you'd think that i was smart” whenever he doubts himself, meeks is the first to reassure him and tell him he’s more than enough, but still.. “'cause all i ever wanted was to be enough for you” he listens to this song with his earphones, always, so no one knows he listens to it on repeat.

happier: meeks. ever since charlie got expelled, he can’t stop listening to this song. these two were pretty close, (“he flatters me, that’s why i help him with latin”) and stev/phen doesn’t like thinking about his friend being in a new school, and spending time with other people. “so find someone great but don't find no one better. i hope you're happy, but don't be happier” he wishes charlie would still be with them, at welton, even if he hated it. “your friends aren't mine, you know, i know. you’ve moved on, found someone new” or “does she mean you forgot about me?” he’s being a bit overdramatic, considering charlie comes to see the poets at least once a week, and still attends the dps meetings.. but anyway.

jealousy, jealousy: cameron, because, yes, he’s smart and everything, but he’s still jealous of other people, and wishes he were different. he thinks he should be like the other guys. “all i see, is what i should be, happier, prettier, jealousy, jealousy” he also thinks that, maybe then, people would like him more </3. he knows no one really hates him, but feels like no one really likes him, either. and in his opinion, it’s because he’s.. him. “I'm so sick of myself, i’d rather be, rather be, anyone, anyone else” just like mr. k, this type of music isn’t what he usually listens to, but he relates to this song so much, he can’t help but listen to it at least once a day.

favorite crime: neil. just like todd, he doesn’t associate this song with a relationship he had in the past. actually, he thinks of his father (and his mom, a bit, too) and all of the things his dad forces him to do, even if it upsets him. “those things i did, just so i could call you mine. the things you did, well, i hope i was your favorite crime” i know we don’t usually talk about the canon ending, but i have to. mr. perry didn’t want his son to pursue his dreams, and planned neil’s life for him, which made him feel so miserable, he sadly committed su*c*de.. but then, his dad wasn’t blamed for it, to preserve his reputation. “and i watched as you fled the scene, doe-eyed as you buried me, one heart broke, four hands bloody” todd knows this was neil’s favorite song. he listens to it once in a while, in their room, alone, and cries.

hope ur ok: all of them. do they know how proud i am they were created? after all they’ve been through, especially their family problems, i’m glad they found each other. “she was tired 'cause she was brought into a world where family was merely blood” and even when life throws bad things at them, they always stay strong, and support each other through everything. they’re very brave. “well, i hope you know how proud i am you were created, with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred” i love them, my beautiful poets <33

[show-choir-gal]

How You Two Meet - Dead Poets Society Preference

Masterlist of Masterlists

Guide: Y/N: Your Name Y/F/N: Your First Name Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Warnings: Mentions of death in Gerard's

Neil Perry: You met when you both auditioned for a play at a community theatre Audition day has arrived, but Neil was more nervous than ever. The boys accompanied him into the theatre just in case something were to go wrong. Neil was reading over the audition lines, which come from Romeo and Juliet. The boys were really hyping Neil up in the back of the theatre until an older man came up on stage and got everyone's attention. "Attention everyone. Thank you for coming out for the auditions for Antony and Cleopatra. I truly believe we will have a wonderful cast for such a great Shakespearean tragedy. Ladies, please hand my assistant your paperwork and line up for your audition. You will perform your monologue onstage by yourself and then you will exit and take a seat. We will have a brief break and then begin with the men. Break a leg." He said as he exited the stage and sat in his seat next to the assistant he mentioned previously. One after the other, girls performed their monologues and the boys gawked. But then you got onstage and the group of boys just stopped dead in their tracks. "Hello, I am Y/F/N Y/L/N and I will be auditioning for Cleopatra." You performed your monologue of Juliet II ii 85 with all the passion and strive you could muster. Once you finished you had a standing ovation. You bowed and sat next to a girl you befriended at the audition. The girl auditions finished up and you all went on a brief break so the boys could prepare. "Neil, if you don't go after her, I will" Charlie said cheekily as he elbowed his friend. "That was the most beautiful and talented girl I have ever seen." Neil said as he looked in your direction across the room. It was soon the boys turn and one by one they went across the stage and performed, and then appeared Neil. "I'm Neil Perry and I will be auditioning for Antony." He performed his heart out, reciting Romeo III iii 33. He sat down right behind you. When all the auditions were officially over, the director came on the stage once more, "Brava ladies and gentlemen. Those were some amazing auditions and my assistant and I will have a hard time deciding the roles. This can take up to an hour so just be prepared. You were all amazing but remember that we have to make decisions. See you all in an hour or so."Just as the director and assistant left to deliberate on the casting, Neil turned towards his group of friends who were all enthusiastically giving him 'thumbs ups'. Neil smiled and turned back around. Suddenly you turned to the boy behind you. "Neil, is it?" "Uh, yeah I'm Neil. And you're Y/F/N, right?" "Yup! I wanted to let you know you were amazing up there! I was really invested. You have a promising career as an actor, I can't wait to work with you." You said with a smile as you turned back to the girl next to you and started chatting up a storm. Neil's heart melted at the thought of just simply being around you.

Todd Anderson: You were chilling in Mr.Keating's classroom because he's your dad You were sitting in a desk in the middle of your dads classroom, discussing some novels and plays before his students showed up for the class. You and your dad were discussing the interesting aspects tagged along with Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" when you were suddenly interrupted by a few boys entering the room. "Don't mind them, they like to come early." Your dad said as he waved the boys into the classroom with a smile. "How was Death of A Salesman, Mr.Keating?" Neil asked, knowing he went to see the play over the weekend. "Oh magnificent Mr.Perry. I do wish I could've brought you boys with me but I had some great company with me either way." Your dad as he shot you a smile. "Oh did you bring a lady friend with you?" Knox asked but as soon as those rolled off his tongue you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "We keep forgetting about this doll in Todd's seat. Who are you darling?" Charlie asked as he looked from Todd to you and winked. Your dad chimed in before you could get a word in, "That is Y/N. She's my daughter. We actually saw the show together." Charlie blushed and leaned back in his seat, trying and failing to make himself seem smaller. "Sweetheart, I know you had some rather bold opinions of the play. Also you can sit in the front so poor Mr.Anderson can sit down." Your dad said as he motioned to a desk near his desk. You looked back at Todd who was staring, he turned and blushed as your rose from the seat you were just occupying. "I am so sorry Todd." You replied as you got up and moved seats. Todd quickly sat down but started to stare again as you began to explain how you felt about the play you had seen with your father.

Charlie Dalton: Select girls are allowed to attend Welton, and you were chosen and played in the schools orchestra Welton was known for only letting in some of the best, and when they were letting up to 10 girls into the school for the very first time, your parents did not hesitate to make sure you got one of those spots. Top of your class, president and captain of several clubs and teams, and first chair in the saxophone section with several professional orchestras vying for your skill made Mr.Nolan not even hesitate to welcome you to the school. You walked into your first class of the day. which was English, with your bag on your back and your saxophone case in your hand. You walked in and everyone turned around and stared at you in awe. "Miss Y/L/N, I was wondering when you would be joining us! You can take the empty seat next to Mr.Dalton and tell us a little about yourself." Mr.Keating said with a smile as you made your way to the empty seat. "I'm Y/N, I transferred from a boarding school about an hour away from here. I am top of my class and I play first chair saxophone." "That's brilliant! I love seeing a bright, young mind in my presence. I see you have your instrument with you, would you liked to play something for us?" "Uhm, yeah I would love to." You replied with a smile as you took out your saxophone and assembled it and tuned it. "This is Flight of the Bumblebee, one of the most difficult songs to play on any instrument." "Do you need someone to hold your music?" Charlie asked, rather enthusiastically. "No thank you, I actually have the piece memorised." Charlie looked sad but immediately perked up when you started to play. You were so engrossed by playing you you didn't notice Charlie making heart eyes and melting as he stared at the beauty in front of him.

Steven Meeks: You're staying your uncle Keating at Welton for the year as a foreign exchange student You and Keating just finished the meeting with Mr.Nolan about the terms and conditions about your stay. It was early in the morning and Keating offered to make you a cup of tea before classes were supposed to start, you agreed and stayed in Keating's classroom. It was supposed to be about another 45 minutes before classes began, so you popped a Beatles album into the record player and was just sitting at Keating's desk and absorbed the atmosphere of an American classroom. You were reading "Catcher in the Rye" as you waited for you uncle to come back to the classroom. You heard some robust laughter come closer to the room and you recognised it as your uncles but there were other voices you didn't recognise. You looked up from the book as soon as the laughter was in the classroom. Your uncle entered with two students by his side, he gave you your cup of tea and looked at the boys. "Mr.Pitts and Mr.Meeks, this is my niece Y/F/N. She's an exchange student from England this year. Can you boys help her around during the day so she doesn't get too lost?" Keating asked with a smile. Both boys were starstruck by the girl in front of them, but Steven was falling in love by the moment. Gerard snapped out of the fit first and elbowed Steven to get his attention back to the real world. "Of course I can Mr.Keating." Steven stumbled out, Gerard just facepalmed as you looked at your uncle and both of you chuckled. Steven finally noticed the music playing, and he may not listen to music all that often but he didn't recognise. "I really like this song, who sings it?" Steven asked shyly. Your eyes went wide open and your mouth went agape, "Do they not have The Beatles here in the States?! Let me show you them, they're AMAZING!" You grabbed Steven's hand and led him over to the record player. Keating looked at you two and back at Gerard with a smile, knowing that look better than any poet he's ever researched.

Richard Cameron: You two competed against one another several times during debate competitions First debate competition of the year was in a few hours. The two teams were in the respective classrooms preparing for the competition ahead. You had to go use the restroom so you excused yourself and walked over to where the restroom was located. You bumped into someone as you rounded the corner. "I am so sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you okay?" The boy asked. "Yeah I'm perfectly fine, just got a little spooked." You replied with a smile as you made eye contact with the boy in front of you, you blushed. He stuck his hand out with a smile, "Richard Cameron, Welton Academy." You returned the smile and took his hand, "Y/F/N Y/L/N, Hamilton Academy. I look forward to seeing you on the debate court." You shook his hand as you winked and walked toward the bathroom.

Knox Overstreet: You tutor his sister back at home Knox was coming home today, his parents told you that before they left to pick him up and bring him home. You were tutoring his younger sister in English and geography. She wasn't bad by any means, but her parents always believed she could do better. You never pushed her too far because she would always reiterate that she is doing the very best she can. You knew how it was to be pushed passed your breaking point and you would never want to do that to a student you tutor. You two took a break and the front door flung open and the sound of teenage boy filled the hallway. He immediately went upstairs and put his stuff away as his parents came into the kitchen to ask how their daughter was doing. In the middle of the conversation Knox came into the kitchen as well. He immediately stopped in his tracks as he made eye contact with you, you blushed as soon as he smiled. "My my, Knox Overstreet, I hadn't seen you since you started attending Welton. You look dashing if I may say so, growing into a fine young man." You said with a smile. "Wow Y/F/N, you look beautiful yourself. Going to be an amazing woman one day." He said as blushed back at you. "Maybe, Y/N, if you're not too busy you could tutor Knox as well. Make sure he doesn't lose his muster during break." His father chimed in. His sister came in unexpectedly and said, "I think he just needs a tutor in general, I'm pretty sure I'm smarter than him." This earned a chuckle from everyone and a blush from Knox and you shot an empathetic glance his way

Gerard Pitts: You met when you were forced to attend Welton by your father, Mr.Nolan, because your grades were slipping "You are attending Welton and that is final, young lady." Your father practically spat at you. You got up in a huff as he escorted you to your English class. "Mr.Nolan, what brings you in here for today?" Mr.Keating asked with his usual smile. He practically shoved you into the classroom, "This is my daughter Y/N. She's going to be attending here because her grades slipped too low for my standards elsewhere. Don't go easy on her." Mr.Keating shot you an empathetic glance, "You may sit next to Mr.Pitts. And rest assured Mr.Nolan, I will help whip her into shape in no time." Mr.Keating motioned to the empty chair with a smile. You walked to the empty seat and sat down. Gerard could not take his eyes off you. Mr.Keating had everyone work on a poem as he came over to your desk to ask you if everything was alright. Gerard was tuning in. "I don't know anymore My mum didn't even want me to come here. I got one C because my friend passed away and suddenly it's the end of the world for my father. You'd think he would care a little more since I'm his only child, you know?" You ranted, letting a single tear roll down your face. Gerard immediately noticed and got a tissue and gave it to you. "Thank you that was really sweet." You said with a shy smile. "Well, I can't let a pretty girl cry when I'm around." He said with a smile filled with empathy.