#i read those lines and felt compelled to make an edit

[frost-queen]

Tempting fate // part 2 (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @iixchloee, @cherrysxuya, @esposamultifandom, @dutifullyannoyingfox, @markive-m, @wolf-phoenix-lover, @mellowdreamlandpost-blog

Summary: Lady Whistledown strikes, making your family suffer underneath her swift pen. Will her wrath push Colin away or while he stand his ground and stay? [ part 1 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10]

Dearest gentile reader,

This author finds herself compelled to share this news. The ton are abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it is my honour to impart to you; Y/n Featherington. The middlest of Featheringtons. One would ask what might occur for her name to fall of interest to this author. Well let this author share you all about Y/n Featherington…

Papers got stacked on each other. – “Get this out immediately. Those were the orders.” – one of the boys said taking a stack of pamphlets and giving it to the little kid. The kid nodded and ran out of the door. – “The latest Whistledown edition!” – he called out waving a pamphlet in his hand. No one was around yet on the streets, yet he felt compelled to shout it. Running as fast his little legs could carry him, he went to deliver an edition at each house of the ton.

Lady Featherington was still in her nightwear when she got woken up. A pamphlet of Lady Whistledown given to her. Baffled she accepted the pamphlet that got placed in her hands with haste. She turned the pamphlet around so she could read it. Her gaze fell immediately on a name. Her daughters name. Before reading anything more, she rushed out of her room. Knocking on each door of her daughter’s rooms. – “Wake up children!” – she called out.

You opened the door, rubbing your eye. – “What is it mama?” – you questioned as your sister Penelope appeared in her door opening as well. – “All of you downstairs.” – your mother spoke excitedly. – “What for?” – Philipa yawned out . You shrugged your shoulders at your sister, following Prudence down the stairs. Philipa groaned annoyed, ruffling her hand through her bed hair.

Penelope was the last to go downstairs, not having said a word. Mama orchestrated for you all to sit down. Philipa and Prudence sat beside each other. You sat before them on the ground. Penelope sitting alone in an armchair. – “We have been mentioned.” – mama spoke delighted, showing them the pamphlet.

“We have?” – Philipa answered curious. – “Was I mentioned too?” – Prudence asked. – “Y/n was.” – mama spoke as your eyes widened. – “I was?” – you spoke cautiously. Prudence lowered her hand on your shoulder. You took it, giving it a comforting squeeze. – “This is excellent news girls. We are finally getting noticed. Lady Whistledown finally agrees just how important we are as a family.” – mama went on. You looked up to your sisters with a hopeful smile.

You wanted nothing more for your sisters to receive the attention of noble men. For your family had not been so lucky in finding a match. – “Have you read it properly?” – Penelope said making you all look at her. Mama chuckled nervously. – “Well no… but what wrong can she write about my girls?” – Mama replied slowly getting insecure.

Philipa extended her hand wanting to read the pamphlet. Philipa got up approaching mama as she wasn’t getting it as fast as she wanted it. Philipa took the pamphlet from her, reading the first lines out loud till her words faded out to a whisper. Her eyes wide.

“What is it?” – you asked seeing the worry in your sister. – “Philipa?” – Mama spoke frightened. Philipa lowered the pamphlet, looking over at you. – “It’s about you sister… not in the nicest way.” – Philipa answered. – “Let me see.” – mama snatched the pamphlet out of her hands to read it for herself. Her hands clenched around the paper, her expression hardening. – “What is it?” – you repeated more worried.

Mama started reading a bit out loud. A section where all your flaws were openly explained. Your insecurities. How you would seduce any man just for attention. How from between your sisters, you might have the ugliest personality. Lies spread out in ink as you were none of those. Mama gasped desperately touching her forehead in distress.

You turned your head, laying it against your sister’s knees, sobbing loud. Prudence lowered her hand on you, wanting to comfort you. – “But mama that isn’t true.” – Prudence spoke defending you. – “It doesn’t matter if it is true or not! The entire ton will read this!” – she threw the pamphlet on the ground from distress.

You wiped some tears away, reaching for the pamphlet. You wanted to read it for yourself. See how lady Whistledown had dragged you through the mud. Ruined perhaps your reputation forever. For who would want to marry such a disgrace now? A girl who found pleasure in seeking men’s attention till they bored her out and she needed another one.

Reading the insults about you, made you cry loud. Prudence took the pamphlet from you, tearing it apart. You looked at your sister Penelope. Seeing her avoid eye contact. Her emotions well-hidden as she appeared unbothered. – “I am sorry mama.” – you cried out not sure why you were apologizing. Mama needed to sit down, too distressed to respond. You got up running up to your room, crying your heart out.

At the Bridgerton house it was still early. A few siblings in the Parlor. There was a knock on the door. Eloise gasped excitedly, jumping up. She rushed up to the man with a platter. A few editions of Lady Whistledown on them. She grabbed one eagerly, reading it with a flush on her cheeks. Her excitement faded out as she read more. – “What is it Eloise?” – Violet asked curious. – “Is it not exciting?” – Violet finished. – “No.” – Eloise responded. – “It is rather hurtful.” – she went on.

“Hurtful?” – Benedict questioned. – “It doesn’t feel like Lady Whistledown.” – Eloise outed. – “What has she written then?” – Anthony wanted to know. – “It’s all about Y/n Featherington.” – Eloise responded. Colin’s head lifted up with wide eyes.

He got up, going over to her to take the edition from her. He read a few lines as his expression tensed. – “Colin?” – Violet blinked confused when her son stormed out of the Parlor without a word. Violet asked for an edition, wanting to read for herself. She gasped, pressing her hand against her chest.

There were loud knocks on the door. Rushed and demanding to be opened. The door opened as he barged in, out of breath. The door from the Parlor opened as Penelope walked out. – “Oh Colin.” – she said happily at the sight of him. – “Why are you here?” – she asked curious. Colin rushed over to her, holding the pamphlet up. – “Where is Y/n?” – he wanted to know. Penelope changed her attitude just a smidge. – “Has she read this?” – he asked panting.

Penelope nodded. Colin exhaled concerned, wanting to move passed Penelope. Penelope moved, blocking his way. – “She doesn’t want to see you.” – she spoke. Colin stared with furrowed brows at her. – “I just want to speak to her. Make sure she is alright.” – Colin insisted upon, stepping aside, but Penelope followed his movement, blocking his path once more.

“She doesn’t want you.” – Penelope outed making Colin stared shocked down at her. Colin held the pamphlet up again. – “Lies! All of this are lies about Y/n. How can you stand here so coldly when your sister has been hurt?” – he wanted to know why she acted so coldly or unbothered. – “How am I to know it isn’t true?” – Penelope responded.

Colin gasped surprised. – “She’s your sister!” – he called out to her. – “Y/n would never…” – he breathed out. – “I must ask you to leave.” – She spoke showing him the door. – “But…” – Colin sputtered against her, but got pushed back by her. She practically showed him out. The door got slammed in his face. Puzzled he stared at the door, not familiar with that side of Penelope. With no other choice, he returned home. Hoping his actions might have not been the cause for these lies.

He never intended for you to be targeted. In that moment, he just wanted to show you, that his subtle signals had been projected onto you. It was you who he wanted to court. It was you who he felt compelled to marry. Not your sister Penelope. It was innocent to kiss you. He should’ve never done it, but he needed a way for you to see. For you to finally think of yourself instead of always thinking of your sisters first. Always putting them to the front and chase after their happiness while you forgot about yourself.

That was who you were. A sister who would defend and glorify your sisters at any given time. Not whatever lies lady Whistledown wrote about you. If he was being honest you had been pushing him away at any given time. Ignoring his clear signals as you could only think of your sister’s interests. Being blind that there was someone interested in you.

Mama took a deep breath. Tapping the fan in her hand into her palm. It was the clear the attention was on them. Phillipa and Prudence looking uncertain around. – “Chins up girls.” – Mama said with a plastered smile. You gulped soft, bringing your chin up to own your pride. Prudence took your hand for comfort. All of you started to walk. The crowd parting as you made your way through. It was almost unbearable to ignore the whispers. Seeing them huddle together to gossip.

Their glances and subtle points at you. You knew it must hurt your mama to be threated like this. The ton’s gossip as it did another dent in your reputation. One the Featheringtons didn’t have highly. It was hard to keep your head up. Hands were shaking as you rather disappeared. Be invisible than be the centre of attention. Prudence squeezed your hand tighter, feeling them shake in hers.

Mama took a position in the room near the walls. She started fanning herself from the nerves. Everyone was still watching, staring, gawking at you. Mama slapped her fan hard in her hand with a mean glare. Some men cleared their throats, looking immediately away. They slightly turned their posture to chatter again.

You stood beside mama, seeing how everyone did a great turn around you. Not daring to come near as if you had some sickness. – “Mama, perhaps I should head home.” – you told her. Thinking your presence was causing the illness. You were after all the reason for the gossip. – “No!” – mama answered firmly. – “That would not change anything.” – she sighed out. You hated being the cause of her worries. Deep down, you knew a part of her was disappointed in you.

Discontent you had shone such a light on the family. Your gaze fell on your sister Penelope. Seeing a certain glance in her eyes, made you furrow your brows. Something bitter in them. Holding her gaze felt threatening as you quickly looked away. – “This was supposed to be our season.” – Mama spoke, slapping her fan down her dress.

“Now look at us.” – She started fanning harder with one hand on her hip. – “Can we fall any lower?” – she sighed out. Feeling called out, your eyes became watery. You bowed to mama, before your tears could run like water. Leaving their side to disappear into the gardens. Wiping your cheek, you couldn’t hold it dry.

Hastening outside, you were greeted by a cold breeze. – “Y/n!” – you heard your name being called out. Seeing over your shoulder, it was Colin. Shaking your head, you kept walking. Colin rushed over not letting you slip through his fingers. – “Y/n.” – he said loud catching up on you. Out of breath, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you to a stop. – “Y/n.” – he repeated softer, tugging on you, wanting you to look at him. You sniffed loud, wiping your cheek dry. – “I’m so sorry.” – he spoke with a saddened look.

You turned your posture more to him. – “It’s not your doing.” – you answered. – “I shouldn’t have…” – he shook his head feeling dumb. His gaze met up with yours once more. – “Please…” – he brought his hand up, letting it brush against your cheek. You smiled saddened between the tears. You took his hand that laid against your cheek, bringing it slowly down. – “You shouldn’t be seen with me.” – you replied taking a step back from him.

“I do not care.” – he outed. Shaking your head, you turned around, walking off. – “Y/n.” – Colin called out, coming after you. – “Think of your reputation Colin.” – you told him. – “The hell with it!” – he shouted putting you to a stop.

“The hell with it all!” – he added with wide arms. – “Colin!” – you called out returning to him with fury. – “It is not because you were not mentioned yet, you wouldn’t be mentioned by her.” – you told him with frustration. – “Let her do her worst.” – Colin answered in seriousness. – “You don’t understand Colin, this was personal.” – you told him till something cliqued.

This was personal. Things had been mentioned only those closest to you knew. Things Colin didn’t even know. Looking past Colin, your gaze focused on the glass windows from top to bottom. A bright yellow figurine catching your eyes. Narrowing your eyes, you saw her clearer. Penelope.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[writing-for-marvel]

In The Margins

Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: At first you’re confused by Bucky’s choice of gift for you, until you look a little deeper.

Warnings: this is meant to be a general holiday gift exchange fic and I’ve tried to make it as holiday neutral as possible but please let me know if I’ve missed something, a little light angst at the start cause it’s me, but other than that just fluff

Word count: 717

A/N: banners by @vase-of-lilies, dividers by @firefly-graphics. I haven’t written in over a month cause work has been insanely hectic so please be kind, I’m a little rusty 💜

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

It was clearly a book.

Bucky’s untidy, and sticky tape littered gift wrapping did nothing to hide the size, shape or pliant feel of the present. You had been gifted enough novels in your life to know there was indeed a paperback book underneath the holiday themed wrapping paper.

And as reading was one of your favourite pastimes, you were excited at the prospect of having a new story to absorb. A complex world with compelling characters you could fall in love with for the first time, the possibility of finding a new author with a fresh and unique style that would capture your intrigue to delve down a rabbit hole of their publications.

As you unwrapped the gift, you were met with extremely familiar cover art. One that had become your greatest source of comfort, an intricate world you loved to get lost in and one you frequently returned to when times were at their toughest. These particular set of words felt like a warm and protective embrace, one that you could alway rely on being there for you when you needed solace.

You chuckled nervously, unsure why he gifted you a copy of your favourite book, one that was clearly secondhand if the crack in the spine was anything to go by.

You already owned a copy that was extremely well loved, and you knew it wasn’t a first edition based on the cover age, so it puzzled you as to why he thought this would be the perfect gift he had teased in the lead up to the holiday.

Bucky knew this was your favourite book, he had listened for hours as you dissected apart the themes, your favourite scenes, the character you identified with most and how their love interest would go to the ends of the world to protect them.

Your heart sank - had he truly not been paying attention all that time?

Perhaps you were being too harsh, maybe he was just one of those people that was terrible at giving gifts.

Every interaction with Bucky always felt as though he knew you like the back of his hand, that he could read how you were feeling as if you were his favourite book.

You smiled at him, trying to avoid that awkward exchange of pretending you liked the gift when in reality it was something you already owned, but he was already on the offence, knowing you well enough to tell you were attempting (and failing) at hiding your true reaction.

“Open it.” He chuckled, as if to say ‘give me a little credit, there’s more to it than that’.

Once you flipped to the first page it dawned on you what Bucky had actually done. Scrawled in the margins of the page was his own handwriting, having underlined certain lines and scribbled annotations beside them.

Flicking through each page his handwriting gradually became messier, but the commentary didn’t abate. And when you finally reached the chapters you loved most, you could tell he had been paying attention during all your rants because his comments included ‘I see your point about…’ and ‘I can see why you adore this part so much’.

Lost in your own little world, you could hear Bucky’s voice in your head as you read his annotations, his chuckle when he underlined certain phrases and wrote ‘this reminded me of you’. The way your heart swelled in that moment could rival when the grinch's heart grew three sizes.

It was the most extensive love letter you had ever received, the person you loved most in the world providing you with his intimate thoughts on a book you treasured with your whole heart. Every time you picked up that book you would never be alone, Bucky would now forever be reading it alongside you.

Tightly clutching the book close to your chest, you finally looked up at Bucky with teary eyes to find his own softly gazing at you, brimming with affection.

“I don’t have any words except thank you. I love it.” Your throat felt dry, though a tear slipped down your cheek. Bucky reached up and carefully wiped it away.

“And I love you.”

Next year you’re really going to have to up your gift giving game if you’re going to outdo him.

[blurredblu]

Why I made Eggman harsher on Sage in my Frontiers rewrite

A reader left me a review for Sonic Horizons on FFN asking why I wrote Eggman to be harsher to Sage. I think the messages we had are informative enough that I want to transfer them to a post on my blog here.

I've anonymised the reader and only made grammatical-level edits to both our messages for clarity and correctness. The reader's messages are indented whereas my responses are not.

Okay, I've got to ask: why are you making Eggman harsher on Sage? He can’t really hate her when she exceeds her function that he made her for and along with having a intellect to talk with.

Hi there!

Eggman is a narcissistic supervillain who holds nothing but disdain for those who diverge from his vision and has no reputation of working with or respecting others' opinions. Sage is his creation the way that children can have narcissistic parents who grow unreasonably disappointed and angry that their children do not cater and adhere to their specific visions, whims, and emotional states. It doesn't matter that, reasonably and objectively speaking, Sage is intelligent and highly capable, because Eggman is not a reasonable or objective person who holds other in any regard higher than he does himself

His and Sage's relationship isn't meant to reflect two reasonable and well-adjusted people, but an unrepentantly evil megalomaniac and his guileless creation who only has one purpose to her existence, a purpose which Eggman's personality makes nigh impossible to sustainably achieve

But that's why he felt a connection with Sage because he created something that he can be proud of and despite all of Orbot and Cubot mistakes and fumbling he keeps them around for some conversations and people to knock around. The Egg Memo did also show what his childhood was like and the fact he was stuck way longer with Sage to grow to appreciate her. Yeah, he's a Narcissist but he still would have pride in Sage and she gives him that longing he wanted as a child and what he could imagine what Maria was like when she was alive. Sometimes evil people can grow to love someone which gives them a different reason to conquer/destroy the world. Plus, if Joker can fall in love and start a real family (an evil one, mind you) so can Eggman. But this is your story and I'm not here to force change I was just wondering.

Hi again!

I should first dispel any notion that this rewrite is supposed to respect or be faithful to Frontiers' interpretations of the characters. As a matter of fact, I'm writing Horizons specifically because I found the characterisation of all the key characters, including and especially Eggman, to be lacking in some way. If you're reading Horizons with an expectation that I am ignoring what Frontiers has established, it is purposeful, to the point of literally being the purpose of this fic in the first place.

On that point, I find the way that Frontiers 'humanised' Eggman to be very boring, predictable, and not well established according to what we know of his character in all the past games. It is very in line with Marvel/DC superhero/supervillain plot beats, or something parodying those beats like Megamind does, to have supervillains actually, in truth(!), have a kernel of Humanity, Sympathy, Compassion, a Human *Non-Socio/Psychopathic Heart, unlockable finally by fulfilling some Freudian conception of familial love that was lacking in their (obviously tragic and loveless, because how could it be any other way) childhood or some such. This storyline, to me, is an absolute snore. Eggman, I have found, is a very compelling and likeable supervillain who has accomplished being that without very popular and predictable plotlines about discovering the Power Of Love that other villains or characters have been routinely subject to.

If Eggman were the type who valued connections or somehow, some way, wanted connection with a being who was in some sense equal to him, it is (1) not hinted at all in most of his existence and (2) not established in a convincing way in Frontiers given point (1). If he built any statues commemorating Literally Anyone But Himself in Eggmanland or had something other than his own face be his logo on every piece of technology he owns, perhaps I could be a little more convinced of the idea that he actually would like, appreciate, and try to nurture something resembling an equal partnership. As things stand, I'm not convinced.

Horizons starts from after Forces where he tasted success and it was all torn away after he worked with a jackal, another person, who in the end exhausted his usefulness and could not help Eggman's cause, and Eggman was ultimately beaten again despite having won. Horizons follows an Eggman who is pulling out all the stops while still remaining his narcissistic, clownish, unrepentantly evil self while creating and exploiting highly advanced technology and, in some senses, being way in over his head about it while still remaining fiendishly clever. He is not like you, or me, or other supervillains so popularised in comics. He is just evil. Period. To me, that does not mean he is uninteresting or unlikeable; far from it. I like him as he is and I want to tell a story given the way that he is.

*Editorial note (one that I haven't communicated with the reviewing reader but write for the current one)

The idea of goodness and humanity always seems to include the stereotyping of sociopathy and psychopathy as inherently evil, which I do recognise to be false and the realities to be much more nuanced. It contributes to a narrow viewpoint about human nature and humanity that to have a Human Heart is to have a Squeaky Clean Bill Of Mental Health, and that those are the only ways in which villains can be compelling, relatable, or likeable to an audience, none of which I think to be true

On another note, though I use narcissistic as a qualifier, I don't use it to mean that Eggman has narcissistic personality disorder, or NPD, proper. I also don't think that someone having NPD or narcissistic traits automatically makes them evil; reality, again, is far more nuanced than such a flattened picture provides. At the end of the day, though, Eggman is extremely and cartoonishly self-centred and self-loving in all his ambitions to take over the world, which can only be aptly described as him being narcissistic

[thrashkink-coven]

I was debating even making a post about this because I’m not sure if anyone will believe me, but fuck it who cares.

My bf, some friends and I went to this gay dance party at a bar tonight. It was really fun, very good vibes. My friend was sitting at a table all the way in the back of this pub and beside him were these really really old books. They were decrepit, falling apart at the seams. Mostly just dictionaries and encyclopedias. I don’t think they’re regularly handled (obviously because it’s a bar and there were people dancing instead of reading books) I think they were for decor.

And? Idk why but I got the strong urge to open one up and read it. This encyclopedia thing called the World Book from A to Bee or something along those lines. Anyways, I open this book to a random page and there lying in, the first thing I read: “Astarte”

And a short definition on the meaning and origin of the Goddess. I almost felt compelled to take a picture but I didn’t wanna have to explain why I was taking a picture of the book- you get it. It was just a little thing that made me go “oh wow”, but I left it at that.

Until I flipped the page again, and what do I see? “Amon, Amun-Re”

I know that’s not like mind blowing but it surprised me as soon as I saw it. Just coincidentally two Gods that I happen to work with. These are books filled with hundreds of words across hundreds of categories. They aren’t about religion or deities. Just an interesting coincidence.

So I start poking around the other books and notice there was another edition of the same encyclopedia, this one was for the letter H.

2 times shame on me. I can accept silly coincidences but 3 times? That’s a sign.

The first thing I read in this book, “Hecate”.

Okay…

I shut the book and shuffle to a random page again, “Hel” and then again, “Helios”

Seriously. I need to stress again that these are not books about religion or mythology. These are just hundreds of definitions of seemingly random words from Hamburger to Hawaii. On nearly every page I flipped to there was a God I worked with.

“Hermes” was last of all, and this was very interesting to me. Hermes has dodged me in the past, he very blatantly rejected me and I think he probably had good reasons for that. I might just not be at the point in my life to work with him “professionally” just yet, but I do give him grace and worship his divinity, even if he’s not in my tool belt. I admire him. The definitions the books provided were pretty in depth and I actually learned something about each God when I read them, except Hermes, it said “See Mercury, referencing the “M” edition of the encyclopedia, but that edition was not present at the bar. A and H were the only two encyclopedias there. Huh.

I honestly considered asking the staff if I could buy the books but I didn’t wanna be weird or annoy them and my social anxiety got the best of me.

It’s just wild to me that I randomly got the urge to read these books at this bar of all places… flip to these very specific pages… and see those names. Like… I actually don’t know what to say. That was so wild. Damn.

[itsmissing]

Hi, you said we were allowed to ask random questions, so I wanted to get your take on this if it is ok. I have followed you for years at this point, and your creations are incredible! They inspire me so. I recall some time ago posting a.... reskin? Revamp? Of one of your DnD characters? I know most of your characters are not dnd nor should people use them in their own games, but if I am reading this correctly it means you yourself play or have at least played TTRPGs in the past. So, since you are welcoming questions, I thought it fair to ask an insanely creative person like you.

So I am in many DnD games right now, and most of them are very RP heavy. I find I can articulate myself well digitally when I can edit what I'm saying to make myself look thoughtful and knowledgeable. But when I RP verbally in the moment - particularly characters that have different thought patterns than I do- I flounder and words become difficult.

Suffice to say- how do you approach RP from a creator's stand point? Creating many different characters and making them unique from yourself but still compelling and competent? What is your thought process to RP?

If you do not feel comfortable answering this ask and that is perfectly fine- I realize this is coming out of left field but you did say you were bored and wanted asks, so I thought this line of questions was fair game. Regardless, I do wish to share how insanely creative and incredible I find your works. If you do not mind more questions in the future, I would love to ask a bit more of your inspirations and thought processes towards how you approach art, but instead I'll settle on my odd ask and hope I am not egregiously overstepping.

thanks for the question! bit of a long answer so i'll put it under a Read More.

i've actually played a couple of campaigns of dnd and blades in the dark (tho they were all over discord calls, and none of them ever concluded naturally), and i totally understand where you're coming from! tho i'll be honest, i haven't played ttrpgs in general in a good long while. i definitely had frustrations in my first ever couple of sessions of dnd (using a character i lovingly designed from scratch), and i think a lot of those pain points stemmed from me trying to force a narrative journey i already had in my head, pre-planned, that i imagined during the design phase for that character. but at the end of the day, dnd is improv, and if you're not used to that, your character's going to end up a little different than how you imagined, and that's ok! a session is always going to be a collaborative roleplaying space, where the party's stories as a group and as individuals are crafted gradually, over time, and some of the ideas you had for your character at the start-- their backstory, their personality, the way they talk and think-- are going to be constantly workshopped into something different, naturally, over the course of a campaign as you get more comfortable. i also find it's a lot easier to rp when you stop trying to inhabit The Exact Character That You Made With Love, and instead try to rp with their essence in mind instead. the most important thing for me when roleplaying is to understand the basics of my character-- whether they're nice or mean, outspoken or reserved, polite or straightforward, etc-- more than anything else. more practical, actionable advice is that it helps to ask yourself questions in your off time and try to answer them as best as you can, out loud and in-character. interview yourself as your character! what's their favorite fruit?

thanks for the question, and also the kind words about my art! i had typed a lot more than this out but i felt like it was mostly incoherent rambling. this might still qualify as that, actually. hope this helps in any way!

[queen-tashie]

Writeblr Q& A

Tagged by @mrbexwrites as usual lol. Thank you!!

Gentle, non-obligatory tags to @ftmerriweather, @ahungeringknife, @elizmanderson, and anyone else that wants to jump in! (Remember to tag me so I don't miss your responses!)

1. What motivates you to write?

If I don't I will explode.

I have ADHD and because of it I am just filled and overwhelmed with ideas. I've started keeping a 'thought dump' list where ALL my half-baked ideas go, and when I get more ideas for that same concept, I pull it off there and pour my heart out onto the page.

Writing has been one of the few hobbies that has been easy for me to jump in and out of because of my ADHD. Painting is great but there's clean up after. Writing, I create a new doc, or open a blank page in a journal and have virtually nothing to clean up or put away later. It's the most accessible hobby for me because of this.

And because I keep doing it, I keep developing skills and each time I write I improve a little. It's a piece of immense stability and pride in accomplishing something that it gives me so much purpose in life. So it compels me to share what I have to say through the medium of fiction. :)

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

For all its first-book flaws, I think this line from The Quiet Forest goes hard.

Runnicka stood before her home and knocked on the door. She didn’t know why she knocked, maybe Farewai didn’t feel like home anymore, like she was a traveller passing through.

3. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I used to say fight scenes. While I still think I'm pretty good at those, I think that's been overshadowed by my ability to write concisely. I am an underwriter, but once I've edited and beefed up a story, I think I have gotten pretty good at giving detailed and vivid information in few words.

4. What do you enjoy most about the Writeblr community?

I tried for years to make friends on the twitter writing community. Everything felt so superficial there, similar to instagram. When I finally stopped using twitter so much and focused on what I could enjoy on tumblr, I ran into the Writeblr community and made friends quickly. Within months. Trying to be part of the community feels effortless here, and so much more welcoming and genuine. Thanks Writeblr for giving me a place to belong! :D

5. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Blank writing docs to create a thought dump, outline, and each version of my WIPs' drafts. Plus, additional info if needed like worldbuilding. Anything that helps me keep my thoughts on the project organized. Oh, and folders.

6. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I've always thought that stories where a bloodline is cursed, or someone is blessed with powers, are one and the same, just depending on one's perspective, or the intended outcome. So in Copper Frames, my current WIP, I created a ritual magic system where a 'curse' is a 'blessing' gone wrong, or a curse is a blessing that the recipient didn't want, and vice versa.

7. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Take a break. Your writing and your desire to write will be there when you come back. Not just 15 minutes, take a vacation from it. Go do things, recharge your creative well by experiencing new things. Take a walk in a new park, watch a new movie, read a new book, hang out with friends or family you don't often see. Listen to what they have to say and ask questions. Inspiration strikes when you least expect it.

And always have a way to write down those ideas when they come to you.

[writeastorywhere]

Daughter of the Moon Goddess + Narrative Structure

I recently finished reading Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan, and I wanted to ramble a little bit about something it does very well.

So, I went into the book knowing that it was part one of a duology, epic fantasy type stuff. And I've read a good number of those, so I went in pretty sure of what I would get: cute boy, forbidden love, hidden identity, et cetera. And then I hit... it had to be page 133 or something.

And what I thought would be the "main" plot of this book had completely run its course.

Now, before this, I was mostly taking in the book with a critical eye, basically line editing it in my head and having an okay time but not really getting invested in the story. But when I hit that point in the book, I mentally set aside some of my semi-professional cynicism and started paying attention.

Okay. New love interest, new position in the hierarchy of the Celestial Kingdom, entirely different tone that I thought would be reserved for the second book. I adjusted pretty quickly, and the middle section of the book passed pretty easily. And then the little turns, the moments of "oh i thought this would be covered in the next book" kept happening, and actually sped up. I was so used to a set narrative structure for these kinds of books that these moments completely undermined my ability to predict what was going to happen--which was a nice little treat for me, because I'm a little jaded about this stuff and most of the books I've read this past year have been narratively somewhat predictable. Xingyin, the titular daughter of moon goddess Chang'e, receives the honor she's been searching for in the Celestial Army...only to receive a weighty quest from the Emperor. But that gets resolved in thirty pages and then she's been taken prisoner by the Demon Realm. But that also resolves pretty quickly and she's tasked with finding a way to break an ancient enchantment. But then she does that in like twenty pages and suddenly we've fit what I thought would be an entire series into one book. It made especially the last part of the book really thrilling for me, because while I could sort of tell where things were heading I couldn't tell where the ride stopped. It's compelling me to get the sequel, just to see how much more happens.

Usually, when I feel this way about a book--like a whole series has been squished into one space--I mean it somewhat negatively, because fitting so much information in can result in a weird claustrophobia in the story that reads very clearly. But this felt less like things had been inappropriately condensed and more like a showcase of Sue Lynn Tan's storytelling efficiency. Like she didn't need a whole book for these plot beats separately. It's very refreshing, and it makes me want to fuck around with this type of thing in my own fiction.

[midwestbramble]

Aradia Book Review

This review was originally posted on Pagan & Witches Amino which was deleted when I took down my account. I read this book originally because it has been such an influence on modern paganism and witchcraft that I felt, to really understand, I should read it.

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Contents:

Synopsis

What I Liked

What I Didn't Like

Overall Thoughts

Conclusion

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Originally published 1899 (this version published in 2010)

"If Gerald Brosseau Gardner is the father of the religion that calls itself Wicca, then Charles Godfrey Leland is the grandfather of Witchcraft as a religion in the English-speaking world, and his small book, Aradia, is that religion's birth-announcement. It is the first work in English in which Witchcraft is portrayed as an underground old religion, surviving in secret from ancient Pagan times. Until now Aradia has been a work more often cited than read. Its first edition (1899) garnered only one review, and sank from sight like a stone cast into murky waters/ it sold poorly and is now a rare book. By chance a copy fell into the hands of Theda Kenyon, who devoted a few pages to it in her sensational Witches Still Live (1929), thereby calling it to the attention of many readers. By the 1950s Doreen Valiente had read Aradia, and she incorporated some of its most beautiful passages into the Wiccan rituals that she wrote. In the '60s and '70s it was reprinted four times, but always from a defective copy of the first edition that had lost its last page. Only in the '90s did another reprint finally restore the missing page. Aradia has always been a controversial work, among Witches and scholars alike. Scholars have questioned whether it may be a fiction or a forgery by Leland or by his principal informant, Maddalena (Margherita Taludi). Witches have objected to it on theological and ethical grounds, since some of the myths that it tells are about Lucifer and Cain as well as Diana and Aradia, some of its spells work by threatening or coercing the Deities and spirits, and in its revolutionary fervor it does not shrink even from teaching that the poor and downtrodden should use poisons to destroy their feudal overlords. Despite all that, it remains a beautiful and compelling work. This edition has brought the format and typography up to date, while keeping the text unchanged. A modern reader will undoubtedly find this new edition of Aradia much easier to read than the original or any of its facsimile reprints."

-- from the inside of the cover

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

What I Liked

Right away, I noticed that Doreen Valiente took lines and inspiration straight from a translation of what Aradia supposedly says to her followers on page 7 for her famous “Charge of the Goddess.” [You'll also find the lemon hex that was going around a couple years ago in here.]

In this version, there are several small essays from practitioners from the early 2000s and earlier who were impacted by this text. While I’m not a fan of some of these authors, it was interesting to see what they had to say. Some of them also revealed the names of the Wiccan god and goddess in Gardnerian and Alexandrian sects, so good job on those secrecy oaths guys.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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What I Didn't Like

Very randomly, at one point in the book, Leland goes on a tangent about how writing in a book or folding down a page “is a sin of vulgarity as well as morality” (pg. 93). Go off I guess. He also tends to dismiss any poetry or art depicting Diana that is contemporary to his works as if they were meant to be authentic representations of how people once thought, instead of allegory. It’s very strange.

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Overall Thoughts

I don’t really have any thoughts on the actual contents of the folklore that was allegedly gathered into this book. Whether it’s real folklore from Tuscany or not wasn’t what interested me while reading. Since it’s referenced so often I just wanted to make sure I had a full idea of what exactly was being referenced. It doesn’t really have any impact on my own craft as these are not the types of stories I draw from in my own practice. However, if you have an interest in Wicca, Reclaiming, or any of the traditions coming out of the late 20th century, this may be a book that contains some insightful information.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Conclusion

Reading widely can give a better understanding of where popular ideas and practices are coming from. I work at a library though so of course I'm going to encourage you to read lol. You don't have to agree with everything inside a book to gain understanding from it. So if you take nothing else from this blog, please take away this: nothing happens in a vacuum, everything is influenced by something else. If you wish to read this book it can be found on amazon, magick.com, Thrift Books, Abe Books, and, possibly, your local witchy retailer.

*all images from the book

[themovieblogonline]

SATANTRA VEER SAVARKAR Review: A Different Side Of The Partition

One of India’s greatest character actors, Randeep Hooda, finally turns director with a bio-pic on an Indian revolutionary titled Satantra Veer Savarkar. The film depicts the life of one of the many people who fought for India’s liberation from the British occupation. With his first directorial feature, Hooda chooses a difficult topic and manages to tell a compelling story, that works on many levels, despite his inexperience. To know if the movie is worth a watch, read on for my Satantra Veer Savarkar review.  Please note that this Satantra Veer Savarkar review is critiquing the film as a fictional story and a self-contained work, and not analyzing any potential historical inaccuracies, or liberties taken with real-world events.  Randeep Hooda Turns Director With Satantra Veer Savarkar   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2bydFTTV9U Randeep Hooda is one of India’s most underrated actors. The immensely talented actor has proven his talent from his debut in Ramgopal Varma movies. And has gone on since to carve a name for himself as a great supporting actor in some of Bollywood's biggest films. Having worked with the best of the best himself as an actor, Hooda gets behind the camera here, multi-tasking as a co-writer and producer of Santantra Veer Savarkar. And as a debut goes, it works.  The movie is about Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, one of the earliest men who began the fight for India’s independence from the British during their Raj. The movie even posits that some of India’s biggest revolutionaries, like Bhagat Singh, were inspired by Savarkar’s ideologies. The biopic is a complicated subject, given that the man himself had a varied life during a time that defined India for generations to come. And despite some initial stumbling with pacing and editing, Hooda does a great job with it. While I still think the movie is way too long, it never felt tedious or dragging. I’m curious to see what else Hooda can do behind the camera.  Satantra Veer Savarkar Review Will Contain Some Spoilers The film is very much the conventional bio-pic, but this one does something very interesting with it. Savarkar is shown as a young man who wants India’s independence from a young age. However, at the height of his rebellion, he is imprisoned for life. So the story of Savarkar the man, is happening parallel to the progress of India’s as a country. But with him in the background, unable to actively contribute or participate in the revolution he was one of the earliest to start.  This angle of the story also makes Savarkar a spectator for much of this fight. As things in the real world progress in ways he disagrees with, he has no opportunity to influence them from prison. It’s an interesting viewpoint that you don’t necessarily think of when you think of a story about rebellion and defiance. But that’s how this movie kind of stands out from the rest.  Satanrtra Veer Savarkar Review Differentiates From The Rest Despite my enjoyment of the movie, there are definitely moments when Hooda’s inexperience sticks out. There are times when some lines of dialogue or reactions seem cringey or a little inorganic. Certain emotional moments are way too big and over the top. Some aspects of the story feel criminally underdeveloped. For example, Savarkar’s wife Yamuna Bai (Ankita Lokhande) stands by her revolutionary husband, for over 30 years of their marriage, most of which he was in prison for. However, she has barely 5 lines of dialogue in the 3-hour movie. There is also a lack of motivation for Savarkar’s passion. Outside of a scene in his youth where his dying father tells him to leave all this revolutionary business, the movie never explores the reasons behind Savarkar’s intense ideologies.  But even these complaints are kind of smoothed over, by how Hooda tells the story. There are times when the movie feels like an epic mythological tale about this great man and his sacrifice. And for the most part, those weird and abstract moments really work. For example, a scene where an interaction with others turns into a stage play monologue with a spotlight on Hooda as he seemingly plays to the camera as Savarkar defines a new Hindutva concept for audiences.  So in those moments the atmosphere of melodrama and excess works, given how stage plays or epic dramas usually have to play to the back of the theatre. Once I realized that this kind of approach to the story was intentional, things kind of clicked.  This Movie Is Not For Everyone Even though I enjoyed the movie, with my intermediate knowledge of India’s history and Partition, Satantra Veer Savarkar will not be a movie that everyone can enjoy. The story doesn’t spend any time explaining to audiences the current state of India. There is no CGI text in the beginning explaining that India was a British Colony conquered and enslaved by the British for decades. So without that context, Indian characters showing passion and intensity for their ‘motherland’, while also rage and aggression at the White characters, will feel a little odd. And then you get into the political nuances of the time and all the various factors that led to the division of the country into India and Pakistan during the British exit.  Audiences that have some brief knowledge of Indian history may be able to piece it all together. Especially as the movie does feature some appearances by India’s biggest historical figures such as Gandhi, Nehru, Jinnah and more. However, those names will mean nothing to audiences not familiar with history. Given that Satantra Veer Savarkar is mostly for Indian audiences, the lack of accessibility complaints may not be as big an issue.  Randeep Hooda The Actor Is Awesome! While Satantra Veer Savarkar definitely has some issues, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie for one big reason; the film does takes a big departure from the usual stories about India’s freedom. It also doesn’t side with one ideology over another. If anything, it does idolize the man it's based on but doesn’t push any one specific political narrative.  Most Bollywood movies with a story about India’s independence or partition almost always showcase a side. The movies feature nationalistic pride in India, while Pakistan is demonized as the bad guys. However, what I liked about Satantra Veer Savarkar is that the ending was more of a tragic end than a victorious celebration. Savarkar is shown as being against the division of the country based on religion and is very affected when it happens. Given how things ended up working in real life after the Partition, the movie makes it seem like Savarkar saw it coming. And in that way, the story is very moving and compelling.  Satantra Veer Savarkar Review Recommends The Movie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJ35e5RhHKk Hooda is much better on camera than behind here, and his sheer will of acting brilliance almost wills the movie to become interesting when it does slow down. Hooda again transforms his body to play the more brutal scenes in imprisonment, but it’s not the transformation that’s impressive, it’s Hooda's commitment to the role and performance. Everything from his posture, body language, and micro expressions is so good that I completely lost Hooda the actor in the role and just saw this complicated person. It’s a powerful performance in a movie that doesn’t entirely match the same energy. But I still think it’s a must-watch for fans of independence films, or biopics that feature a more theatrical approach to the story.  Satantra Veer Savarkar is currently streaming on ZEE5 GLOBAL.  What did you think of Randeep Hooda the director? Let me know in the comments below. Or reach out to me on X (formerly Twitter) at @theshahshahid for all things Bollywood. Read the full article

[redgearsmovin]

the curiosity is eating me so instead of going the rational way of potentially asking native/fluent speakers i'm finding this out myself haha

if you're reading this full disclaimer I don't know Hawaiian I'm just referencing dictionaries, wiki and websites I could find that teach about it. They're mostly basic stuff so I don't know the grammar / sentence structures etc., I'm just finding the words that could match the lyrics and putting them on translator to see if it could make a coherent line (unreliable, but I'm working with what I have haha)

The lyrics are kinda unhelpful lol, the words don't seem (?) like Hawaiian words. Upon a search, Hawaiian language (ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi) has consonants H, K, L, M, N, P, W plus ʻokina ( ʻ ), so some words already don't fit. I don't know if those are official lyrics or not but that's just my observation.

The 1st line I could make of is "E kuʻu home". E is used like to emphasize something, like how "O" is used in English. so it translates to "O my home".

2nd line i can't make much but I thought the last word is "moana" meaning ocean. idk vocabulary so I can't really tell if there's an ʻokina or kahakō (the line on vowels), but i hear it as "I ka moana" = "At the ocean / sea"

3rd line, "Ke mele o Hawaiʻi" = "The song of Hawaiʻi". Just based on what I hear and can make of.

4th line, I'm not sure? I hear as "I hea mai iaʻu ne", which I'm not sure is a proper sentence, but on dictionary "hea" is "to call" and "mai iaʻu" seems to be indicating the speaker. I don't understand the grammar but it maybe conveys the same meaning as the "calling out to me" part ?

Based on that, I guess it's almost similar as the english part. Likely inaccurate but it at least satisfies some of my curiosity haha, I just felt compelled to explain my thought process. Still very much appreciate if anyone who speaks Hawaiian can correct me on this!

Anyway here's the lyrics for comparison:

I'm on my way home To the middle of the sea There's an island lullaby That is calling out to me - E kuʻu home I ka moana Ke mele o Hawaiʻi I hea mai iaʻu ne

EDIT: So I found there are lyrics printed with the CD thanks to this one youtube comment from 13 years ago lol idk why i decided to go thru all that instead.

anyway ignore my yapping i'm saving this for me lol

the lyrics on spotify (and a lot of places) got it so wrong it's mildly frustrating me haha, because other than the hawaiian being wrong there's little details like 'noni trees' (i know the fruit as 'nona') that is just neat to know. I thought it said "lonely trees" before that lmao ?

hmmm does anyone know the translation to the Hawaiian part Nina sings in the song "On My Way Home"? I was just wondering while listening to it, and got nothing when I searched for the lyrics and tried using a translator.

[makeste]

“but I thought about how I needed to say this”

a.k.a. yet another meta dissection of The Apology. I actually wrote most of this up on Friday night based on the original Japanese (@pikahlua​ has an excellent translation up here, and I also used @hanashimas’ translations as a reference as well), but I wanted to wait until the official release, though that turned out to be a mixed bag to say the least lol.

I would also recommend reading @pikahlua​ and @class1akids​’ breakdowns of this scene (here and here, respectively), because they are excellent, and because if any scene deserves to have as many meta breakdowns written about it as possible, it’s this one.

anyway so here goes.

Caleb did a more accurate job with this than the fanscan, even if he did try his best to take us out of the seriousness of the moment by throwing in that swiss cheese line lol. anyway so there are two things I want to talk about here. the first is the line about Izuku not remembering, which I thought was a nice touch. of course he doesn’t remember what Kacchan said back then. he wasn’t exactly in the soundest emotional state after seeing one of the people he cares about most taking a near-fatal blow that was meant for him. I’d be shocked if he remembers anything about the aftermath (including the way he flew into a mindless rage afterwards) right up until the point when he entered the OFA Interstellar Party Void with Tomura. anyway, so I thought that was a nice callback.

and speaking of emotional states, the other thing I wanted to talk about is the part that Caleb got right which the fan scanlation didn’t. “but I had more to say.” in other words, “stop trying to win on your own” wasn’t just a one-liner; it was meant to be the beginning of a much longer speech. “there were other things that I needed to say.”

like, can we just stop and talk about that for a second. because basically what this means is that in that instant, when Kacchan pushed Deku out of the way and got impaled, his one and only thought was that he needed to apologize to Deku. his life was presumably flashing before his eyes, he had no idea if he was going to survive or not, and the only thing on his mind was how urgently he needed to make things right with his former childhood friend.

moving on!

so I have a confession to make, which is that I am relieved to see Katsuki describing this as the reason why he bullied Deku, as opposed to Horikoshi trying to retcon it into some sort of “secretly he was just trying to protect him and keep him out of harm’s way because he was worried” thing, which ngl would not have gelled very well with me. the thing is that I’m really not a fan of the whole “Kacchan Did Nothing Wrong” mentality that some fans seem to have. like, I have seen all sorts of convoluted attempts to find excuses for Katsuki’s shitty behavior, but in my view those attempts undermine what I love about his character in the first place. Katsuki is such a great character specifically because he is not perfect. his redemption arc is so compelling because he was such a giant asshole at the start. he was completely at fault, and he acknowledges this, and takes full responsibility for it. and that is fucking fantastic.

his arc is so great because it doesn’t rely on garnering sympathy by giving him a Tragic Past, or by trying to foist the blame for his behavior over on someone else. it’s an arc that acknowledges that redemption isn’t something you achieve by making people feel sorry for you; it’s something you have to earn by actively working to change and do better. and by forgoing the “misunderstood/tragic past” route, Horikoshi is making a statement that anyone can go down the wrong path, but that more importantly, anyone can also choose at any time to turn away from said path. there is only one requirement for doing so, and that is realizing that you’ve done wrong, and deciding that you want to change.

anyway, so in chapter 284 Kacchan of course had that whole speech about Deku not taking himself into account, and mentioned how that made him want to keep his distance. and a good chunk of fandom took this to mean that Katsuki’s bullying was actually a misguided response to Deku’s reckless tendencies -- sort of an “if I show him how weak and powerless he really is, I can get him to accept the reality that he’s quirkless, and that being a hero will just get him hurt or killed” type of thing. and I won’t lie, for a good while I was wondering myself if Horikoshi was really going to go down that route. and like I said, I am honestly relieved that he didn’t. not only for the reasons stated in the previous paragraph, but also because the message that would have sent -- that there are certain circumstances in which bullying can almost be excused because the bully had Good Intentions and was just trying to save the other person from themselves, and so it Wasn’t That Bad, Actually -- is all kinds of fucked up to say the least. so yeah, I’m glad we ended up steering well clear of that.

(ETA: this post was long enough already so I edited out the 3 additional paragraphs I originally wrote analyzing the dialogue from 284. but just to be clear, I’m not trying to imply that Kacchan worrying about Deku’s recklessness is a retconned thing that Horikoshi only threw into the story recently, because there are multiple instances throughout the story where he clearly is worried and in total denial of it. but I firmly believe those feelings are not what led to the bullying. they’re two separate things. Kacchan worrying about Deku is what prompts him to yell at him in chapter 1 when Deku comes to save him. but it’s not what incited him to burn his notebook and taunt him earlier in that same chapter. that action had a much meaner and more selfish motivation behind it, and I’m glad Horikoshi didn’t try to change it up last minute, because it wouldn’t have felt right.)

thankfully as of this chapter I think we can safely cross that out as a possibility, as we’re given the true explanation straight from Katsuki himself. and the truth is that he bullied Deku out of insecurity and jealousy and fear and intolerance. there was nothing noble about it. there were no good intentions concealed in his actions. there are no justifications given, no excuses offered, and no mitigating circumstances to be considered, other than the fact (which neither he nor Horikoshi bring up) that he was and is still a child, and that children make mistakes.

it’s an explanation that challenges many of fandom’s ideas on who is and isn’t eligible to be redeemed. there is no Ozai in Katsuki’s backstory. there’s no great tragedy that he spent a lifetime trying to rise above. the only villain in Katsuki’s story is Katsuki himself. the only darkness that he has to overcome is his own. and it’s challenging, because I think many people believe the only way someone can be redeemed for doing bad things is if bad things happen to them in return. but what Horikoshi is saying here is that that’s not the case. bad doesn’t erase bad. and the one and only way to truly earn redemption is by doing good.

and that’s what makes this such a phenomenal scene for me. by not shying away from Katsuki’s flaws and failings, and having him take full responsibility for them, Horikoshi keeps the apology from being self-serving, and underscores the true depth of Katsuki’s character development. the level of self-awareness he has here is something most people can only dream of. which is very fitting, as that’s perhaps the most important takeaway from his character arc -- that it’s only by acknowledging your own weaknesses and flaws that you can learn to overcome them and reach your full potential.

one last thing to point out here, which is that in the panel where Katsuki finally acknowledges his terrible treatment of Deku, Deku is not even visible. instead, Horikoshi drew the panel from a perspective that makes it appear that Katsuki is addressing this particular line not just to Deku, but to all of his classmates.

again, he shows him taking full responsibility and admitting his wrongdoings in front of the people whose opinions and approval he cares about most. and just to clarify in case there’s any confusion from Caleb’s translation, Kacchan’s wording makes it very clear that he wasn’t just “mean” to Deku, but that he full-on bullied him (he uses the same verb -- “ijimeru” (苛める) -- that he did back in chapter 284). there’s no attempt to downplay his actions here.

moving on now, this chapter also reaffirmed another thing about Deku and Kacchan’s relationship which I was glad to see revisited -- Kacchan’s unwavering belief in Deku’s ability. this is one of those paradoxical things about their relationship which I’ve always been fascinated by, but which is also kind of hard to explain, because I don’t want it to come off like I’m trying to put a positive spin on something which was unequivocally awful. like, please don’t think I’m trying to say that Katsuki’s bullying of Deku was in any way a good thing. but that being said, there’s also a strange irony at play here, which is that Katsuki’s jealousy and insecurity also betray the fact that even at his very worst, he never once underestimated Deku. he has always believed in Deku’s strength, even when that strength pissed him off and made him afraid and uneasy.

no one else -- not All Might, or even Deku’s own mom -- believed from the get-go that Deku could become a hero. but Katsuki never once counted him out, even when he was calling him a pebble in his shoe. he confesses here that even though he “tried to act superior by rejecting [Deku]”, in truth he was never able to shake the feeling that Deku was above him. long before he ever understood the concept of “win to save”, he knew instinctively that there was a strength in Deku’s heart that couldn’t be measured, and which had the potential to surpass even his own strength. and I’ve always felt that this was so important, because it’s the one aspect of their early relationship that hinted that on some level, however subconscious, Katsuki held the same type of faith in Deku that Deku always held in him. it was one of the few things that hinted at there being a possible path towards reconciliation one day. and it paved the way for the most important shift in their relationship to date, when Katsuki finally realized who Deku got his quirk from, and responded not with resentment or spite, but with acceptance.

moving on, I also really love the way we see them portrayed at the different stages of their childhood throughout this speech, and how it perfectly lines up with the dialogue. from small children (when Katsuki talks about his insecurities first manifesting), to middle schoolers (when he talks about the bullying), to high schoolers (when he talks about the past year and everything he’s learned at U.A.). Horikoshi really didn’t have to go that hard, but he did, and that’s why we love him.

and then we finally get to That Part.

where do I even start with this there are so many things omg.

the bow. this is the one and only time Katsuki has ever bowed to anyone of his own volition as far as I recall. and this absolutely is a bow, just to be clear, even though his form is straight-up garbage (very Kacchan-esque, with his feet and arms spaced apart because he’s still a punk after all). this is Kacchan showing more humility and respect than he’s ever shown to anyone else in his entire life.

regarding “Izuku”, I actually have mixed feelings about this to tell the truth. I think it was a good call here because it was incredibly effective in setting the tone and showing just how serious Kacchan is. however if he continues to use “Izuku” rather than “Deku” from here on out, that would give the impression in hindsight that all his past usage of “Deku” really was meant as an insult, which would undermine some of my favorite scenes. I would really like to believe that since DvK2 or thereabouts, Kacchan has (mostly) been using “Deku (affectionate)” rather than “Deku (useless loser)”, lol. but if he switches to the “nicer” name on a permanent basis following his apology, it implies that the previous nickname was indeed being used cruelly. and so honestly I hope this was just a one-time thing, because I do think that in Katsuki’s mind, the name “Deku” hasn’t been meant as a slight to him for a long time now.

“my truth/this is what I truly feel” -- the word Katsuki uses in Japanese is honne (本音), and if you’re familiar with the concept of honne/tatemae, that’s the same “honne” he’s talking about here. it means that he’s casting aside all of his walls and facades and expressing what he truly feels. and of course, one of the fascinating things about Katsuki’s character is that he’s the exact opposite of most people in that he chooses to put his meanness on full display to the public, and ironically it’s the kindest parts of himself which he tends to keep the most carefully guarded and hidden away. this also means that while his rage and anger are very often insincere and put on just for show, those relatively few occasions where he lets his humanity truly shine through are pretty much 100% genuine, as is the case with this one here.

and Deku’s face says it all when it comes to how powerful those moments can be as a result.

and this, right here, is why it wasn’t enough for Katsuki to atone solely through his actions, and why he needed to actually say the words as well. it’s not that the words are more important; obviously the actions are far and away the most important part, and carry far more meaning. but the reason why Katsuki needed to say the words as well is simply because Izuku needed to hear them. needed to, and deserved to, because this is one of the most important people in the world to him.

and so he deserves to know that the relationship isn’t just one-sided, and that he is just as important to Kacchan as Kacchan is to him. he deserves to know that Kacchan understands how horribly he treated him, and that he’s sorry for it. and he deserves to know that Kacchan, without any expectation of it changing their relationship -- meaning that he will continue to feel this way regardless of what Izuku says or does from here on out -- cares about him. now more than ever, with AFO out there doing everything in his power to make Izuku feel as alone as possible, this is something that he really, really needed to hear.

so this part has some interesting wordplay which neither Caleb’s translation nor the fan scanlation was really able to get across. basically, in the Japanese version, when Katsuki talks about “those ideals”, Horikoshi uses the kanji for “ideal”, but pronounces it as “All Might.” obviously the meaning of this isn’t too hard to decipher, as we all know how much both boys admire All Might. to them, he absolutely is synonymous with the Ideal. so this is a way of showing that respect they both have towards him, even as Katsuki goes on to point out the one fatal flaw that All Might was never able to overcome.

and speaking of interesting wording, as others have noted, at this point in his speech Katsuki switches from “temee” (which he was using earlier during the “your strengths and my weaknesses” part) to “omae” (“omae” being a less insulting word for “you”, though still very manly and tough-sounding), which is definitely a big deal. though fwiw this is not the first time he’s used “omae” for Deku (he switches to it briefly right after DvK2, when he tells Deku “you had the strongest guy lay the groundwork for you -- don’t lose”, and then later when they’re walking back to the dorms and he says he’ll learn and get stronger by watching everyone around him just like Deku did). it’s definitely a good choice on Horikoshi’s part though, as it makes this last part of the speech sound more earnest and sincere.

just a quick note, he does indeed use a plural pronoun here, as in “the obstacles that you can’t overcome, we will overcome.” but as @pikahlua​ pointed out, the “we” here is ambiguous -- it could either mean “we” as in class 1-A -- “we will overcome them for you” -- OR it could mean “we” as in all of them -- class 1-A and Deku. “we will overcome them together.” idk about you, but I know which one gets my vote.

anyway, and so this is the line that finally wins Deku over and allows him to let go of his fears, however briefly. what I love about this is Kacchan’s utter conviction. one thing that Caleb’s translation doesn’t quite get across is Kacchan’s use of the word morenaku -- “without exception” -- when he talks about how they’re going to save everyone and win. it echoes that same sentiment he showed back during the Joint Training arc -- that it’s not a perfect victory unless they save everyone. every last person. and he explicitly lists Deku among their number, just so there can be no doubt.

and Deku’s response to this (or at least his thoughts, since he’s not really able to get many words out) pretty much brings everything full circle here.

he acknowledges that everyone else has gotten ahead of him. which is especially meaningful given who he’s standing directly across from. because for most of the series, as we all well know, it’s been Kacchan who was woefully lagging behind Deku in the character growth department. but now Deku himself is acknowledging that not only has Kacchan finally caught up at last, but that he and the others have surpassed him. which is only temporary, I should add, as I have zero doubt that Deku will catch up again soon. but the fact remains that just as Deku’s rapid increase in strength and skill left Kacchan scrambling to keep up earlier in the series, Kacchan’s extraordinary character development has now left Deku in that same position. as All Might once put it, “when he’s starting at level one, and you’re already at level 50, it’s only natural that you’ll be growing at different rates.”

and what’s so wonderful about this though is that the two of them are finally approaching that point where they’ve both caught up to each other and are finally starting to level out. Deku is a full-on badass, and Kacchan is out here talk-no-jutsuing with the best of them. the two of them have been chasing and chasing after each other this entire time, and now they’re finally just about ready to meet in the middle at long last, with each of them fully embodying both of those two crucial aspects -- win, and save.

just about. because Deku still needs some help catching up. but seeing as help has already been offered -- and accepted -- I can’t imagine it will be very long now, and I can’t wait to see him finally overcoming those fears and doubts with his friends by his side. it’s going to be such a powerful moment.

and last but not least,

or, as I prefer,

you had one job, Caleb. flkjsdlk.

but at least this provides a good opportunity to note that unlike the “we’ll help you handle it” line earlier in the speech, here the phrasing is left up to interpretation, as he doesn’t use a pronoun. so it could be “we know”, or, as the fan scanlation put it, “I know.” or it could be both. regardless, it’s good stuff.

anyway, and so Deku passes out, and in the process Horikoshi gives us one last parting metaphor, just in case anyone still thinks Kacchan is all talk because they haven’t been paying attention for the past 322 chapters (more likely than you think). once again, Katsuki’s actions speak louder than his words (even his nice words) ever could: he is literally there to catch Deku when he falls.

so that’s it! my sincere thanks to anyone who actually read through all of my endless ramblings about this scene which I have been waiting for since day one. props to Horikoshi for taking on an impossibly difficult task, and pulling it off with all of the emotion and care and nuance that I’ve come to expect from his writing. imo he delivered on every single level with the exception of the aftermath, which I don’t consider to have actually happened yet. Deku’s part of this is definitely a “to be continued.” but yeah, as far as Kacchan’s part goes, 10/10. so fucking proud of this kid.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!

Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.

WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*

I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!

George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.

You were still getting ready.

As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.

It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.

He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.

When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.

So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.

You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.

"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.

You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.

You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.

However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.

It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.

After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.

You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.

And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...

He was in love with everything only when you were around.

Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.

The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.

"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."

George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.

Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.

"H-hey, Y/n!"

You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.

"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.

"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"

Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!

"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.

You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.

"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.

"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."

George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"

"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.

The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.

"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."

George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.

"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."

"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"

"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.

"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."

That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.

Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.

He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.

Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.

You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.

And George hated that.

George wanted you to be his girl.

And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...

But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.

Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.

And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.

It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...

But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.

And he would do anything for you.

George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.

You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.

As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...

"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."

A date? Us? We?!

George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.

It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.

Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?

"... What would you think?"

George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.

George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...

"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.

"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.

God, he was absolutely smitten with you.

Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.

George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?

"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."

"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"

You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.

"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.

"Wh-what?!"

"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.

Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.

You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.

And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.

George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.

George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.

You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you believe me."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.

She doesn't believe me...

George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.

... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.

But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?

That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.

The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.

Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.

It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.

He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.

George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.

And was he?

He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.

He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.

And that's just what he did.

His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.

When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.

His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.

He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...

George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.

He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.

"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.

"George..."

"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.

"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.

"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"

"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.

He didn't show.

George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.

"The same place you dropped me off."

God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.

It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.

"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.

What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.

George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.

His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.

George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.

George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.

He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.

At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.

George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.

"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.

He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.

George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.

"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."

George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.

"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.

You still had a chance to be his.

And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.

He took a deep breath.

"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.

You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.

"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.

"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.

"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.

"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."

He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.

"Please."

You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.

George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?"  All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.

"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.

You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."

"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.

George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.

You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.

George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).

"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"

"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."

The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.

You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.

After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.

There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.

Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.

You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.

"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.

And maybe he did.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.

"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.

"You look heavenly, Y/n."

You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.

"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.

"... Do you really think so?"

"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."

There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.

At least he knew he was doing something right.

George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.

Oh... she IS actually liking this.

When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"

You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.

But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.

You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.

The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"

You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.

He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.

"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.

Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.

In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.

When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.

There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.

Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.

He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.

"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"

George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."

"So what's the problem?"

He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."

"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.

"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.

"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."

George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.

"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.

"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."

You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.

"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."

"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.

By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.

His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.

His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.

"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"

"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"

"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"

There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.

"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."

"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"

You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.

In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.

The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.

"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."

George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."

"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.

Deep breaths. Here it goes.

"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."

You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.

"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."

Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.

"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.

"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...

And then he blinked.

You feel the same way about him!

George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.

"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.

"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.

For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.

The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.

George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.

"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.

His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.

You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.

His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.

You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.

Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.

"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.

"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"

"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.

You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.

Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.

With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.

All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.

Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.

He finally got the girl of his dreams.

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

A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3

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@culturefiendtrashqueen​

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[bts-hyperfixation]

The Princess and The Duke – Part 1

Duke!Namjoon x Princess!reader

I know I said this wasn’t going to be out until Friday, but after the Scammys, I thought I’d put it out today! This has not yet been edited.

Warnings - future smut, allusions to smut.

The first time you met you were six months old. Barely aware you existed, let alone there was a whole world existing around you. Namjoon was two at the time. A chubby little toddler clinging desperately to his mother as he tried to hide away from all the other strange people in the room. Most of the kingdom had turned out for your christening, so obviously the future Duke’s family had also made an appearance. They stood with the rest of the court at the front of the church, most of the adults attempting to corral children of their own instead of watching the Princess’ baptism.

It was only when a shrill cry echoed through the church hall that Namjoon looked up from his mother’s shoulder trying to locate the noise. Turned out you didn’t appreciate being dipped into freezing cold holy water. From then on, he’d watched intently, each movement made by the priest and your family, craning his neck to watch you wiggle in the queen’s arms. You were just so small, and so pink. He liked pink, and you were wrapped in piles of pink lace. He knew these were traditional colours for your kingdom, his mom liked to tell him stories about the pink flowers that grew throughout his homeland. Beautiful pink daisies. They were his favourite bedtime stories.

Stories of a brave king leading his army into battle. Each week he would send home a bouquet of the only flower that grew on the battlefield. Each week the queen would know he was okay, until one week they didn’t arrive. For the next few days, the queen was inconsolable, after that she was catatonic. She sat draped in black watching the last of the pink daisies wither. As the last petal fell from the shrivelled bud, a shout was heard throughout the kingdom. The king had returned, enemies slain, and with him he brought as many flowers as the cavalry could carry. The seeds were planted throughout the country, and those were the same flowers that remained to this day. The flowers that were lining the pews of the church, and the ballroom at the palace.

After the christening, members of the court were invited for a meal and to meet the infant princess, to meet you. The banquet was held in the ballroom, a long table adorned with wreaths and favours for each of the guests. You were placed in a cradle close to the king. A place where all could visit to pay their respects and your father could protect you. Once his family had finished their meal, they visited your crib, offering a gift and paying their respects to the royals. Namjoon tugged at his mother’s dress until she lifted him to get a better look. As he peered into the cot, he was shocked to find you staring straight up at him. Other babies he met always seemed to be asleep, but not you.

He wriggled in the duchess’ arms until he could reach you. The room fell silent as he extended his chubby hand to poke at your own curled fist. No one outside of your family, the priest, and the doctors had dared to touch you yet. They waited with bated breath for a response from the king. Little Namjoon paid no attention to the eyes on him, too focused on you. Your small fingers wrapped their way around his. The king had cooed at the event, closely followed by everyone else in the room.

…

The next time you met Namjoon properly you were four, he was almost six. You’d been allowed outside to play with the other children of the court. The problem was, many of them were considerably older than you. None of the ‘big’ girls wanted to play silly little girl games. So you sat alone and watched them as they made daisy chains together. You tried to copy them from afar, but your pudgy little fingers wouldn’t cooperate, ripping through the stems instead of creating the holes needed to thread more flowers.

Namjoon had been following around the gardener when he saw you. Decapitated daisies lay by the dozen around your feet. He couldn’t bear to see the carnage continue, so he took pity on you. He picked a flower with a thick enough stem and passed it too you. To say you were thrilled was an understatement. You’d taken the flower excitedly and threaded another through before giving it back to him to make another hole. The two of you had then spent the next half hour together, him piercing stems and you threading them into long chains. He laughed as you concentrated. Your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you focused on the task at hand.

When you decided the chain was long enough, he made one last hole so you could form a circle. With the ring complete you stepped on your tippy toes to place it over his head, nodding in approval as the string draped from his neck to his knees. He looked down, assessing his new accessory and beamed a smile back at you. The first time you ever saw his dimples. Immediately you were compelled to poke them. He didn’t stop you as you reached for his cheek, instead laughing so they deepened.

You weren’t like any princess he had seen in his books. Those princesses were graceful and dainty. You were more like a bull in a china shop. Honestly, he was relived. All the other boys were in high school, they had no time for him. And the girls all wanted him to play ‘prince charming’. It was fun playing with you. You’d run around the gardens with him, dig in the mud, and exchange the stories your parents read at bedtimes.

…

Age six brought the loss of your first tooth. The tooth had been placed in a tissue under your pillow and the next morning it had become money! You had been so excited to tell Namjoon all about it, only for him to burst your bubble.

“The tooth fairy isn’t real Y/N” he’d stated matter-of-factly, his nose turned up at the notion.

“Is too!” you’d cried back petulantly. You’d seen her with your own two eyes. Well you’d been half asleep, and it was dark… but you were certain it had been her.

“Is not!” the eight-year-old boy retorted. “I’ll prove it! Next time you lose a tooth don’t tell nobody. She won’t come I promise.” He’d sounded so smug. You wanted to hit him. instead you set out to prove him wrong. You kept wiggling your teeth hoping one would come loose. It’s around a month later you get your chance. The tooth came out in the apple you were eating for dessert. Carefully you hid the bone from your nanny so she couldn’t tell your parents. After you were tucked in that night, you slid the bone under your pillow and waited for the fairy to visit you. But she never came.

The next day when you saw Namjoon, you were devastated, but still not ready to concede the fairy’s existence.  

“Maybe I upset her?” you sniffle at him “You’re not supposed to wait for her, I broke the rules! That’s why she didn’t come! What if she never visits me again?” tears fell freely down your face. Namjoon had never felt so guilty, not even when he lied about breaking his mom’s favourite vase. He had watched you cry for a moment, unsure of where to go from here. He had made the heir to the throne cry… could he get locked away for this?

“It’s my fault Y/N! I was just jealous” he quickly tried to formulate a believable story in his head as you wiped away your tears.

“Jealous?” your voice was small, a little hope filtering through the sadness.

“Yeah… jealous. See I… uh… I’ve nearly got all my big teeth now, so she doesn’t come to see me as often. I bet if you put the tooth under your pillow tonight and go to sleep, she will come!” your face had lit up at the news. Immediately after he’d said goodbye to you, he went and told the gardener about your tooth. When you woke up the next day, a shiny coin was in the tooth’s place. You’d held the discovery over Namjoon for the few months, but he didn’t care. He was just happy you were happy and that he didn’t get into trouble.

…

At age eight you were definitely not shaping up to be the perfect princess. In fact you were quite the rambunctious little tot. Your mother became more and more exasperated every time you turned up with a new grass stain on one of your best gowns. She begged you to spend more time having tea parties with the girls instead. It was never your fault though. The tea parties were dull and Namjoon would challenge you to a race through the maze, or to see who could climb highest in the trees. You couldn’t just let him win.

If you weren’t running around or rolling down hills, you were lying together staring up at the clouds from the middle of the topless bandstand in the middle of the maze. The beautiful white stone structure had quickly become ‘your’ spot. None of the other palace kids showed any interest in exploring the maze, and the adults always seemed to get lost trying to find you. Hours were wasted with the two of you just staring up at the sky, sometimes talking about your day, sometimes in complete silence. It was just nice to be with him.

On calmer days he would read aloud from a book while you made daisy chains. You could do it by yourself now. Much more in control of your own limbs than you used to be. The summer before Namjoon was due to go to high school you made a chain so long you could coil it around the entire base of the bandstand.

…

After he started high school, you saw a lot less of Namjoon. He wasn’t able to come around as often between his homework and extracurriculars. Instead you begged your father to let you attend his football games. Each Saturday you went in disguise with your nanny to watch Namjoon play, regardless of the weather. You weren’t even sure you enjoyed the sport, but it was worth it for the smile he flashed every time he found you amongst the onlookers.

Each week you wore a different disguise wanting to make it difficult for him, but each time he found you without fail.

You melted every time, knowing that smile was just for you. Originally you told yourself it was just a swell of pride, watching your best friend play. Eventually you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than that, but you swallowed the crush. After all he was in high school, he wouldn’t want a silly little girl like you anyway.

…

When you turned fourteen it was time to for you to be presented to the kingdom. A ball was thrown in your honour, the first of many you would attend in your lifetime. The thought of being alone at any big event made you feel queasy. The fact that this one was going to be focused entirely on you made you ill for an entire week before. Namjoon had spent the week trying to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. Luckily, your birthday had been during a break from school so he could spend the time with you. He grew more and more concerned as he watched your health deteriorating to a point where you could barely keep water down. Eventually he came to a decision and asked for an audience with the king himself.

He’d dressed in his best suit making sure not a single hair was out of place. He marched straight up to the double doors to your father’s study and took a deep breath, more than prepared to argue his point. Your father had welcomed Namjoon into his office with open arms. He’d always been fond of the boy, especially knowing the weak spot you held for him. Regardless of the warm reception and his original confidence in his idea, Namjoon felt the nerves begin to overtake him. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his suit jacket, breath coming out shakily.

“Can I escort Y/N to her first ball.” The king had been taken aback by Joon’s sudden outburst, his face showing obvious surprise at the young man’s bold request. Namjoon mistook the expression for a dismissal and so, in a much less eloquent way than he had practiced in is shower, he fought his case.

“Y/N has been ill all week; she doesn’t think she can do this alone…. And I just thought… maybe she would be okay if I were with her. I know I’m only a duke, but I just want her to be okay and I really think this would be good and it’ll only be for this one ball and…” Namjoon’s rambling came to an end when your father raised his hand. Namjoon clenched his fists as he waited for an answer.

Your father had taken his time to consider Namjoon’s proposal, enjoying the way the boy had squirmed under his gaze. To this day, Namjoon refers to it as the second most terrifying day of his life. Eventually a smile had broken over the kings face, no longer able to contain his laugh. He clapped Namjoon on the shoulder and sent him off with his blessing.

On his way to meet you in the gardens afterwards, he had gathered the prettiest daisies he could find. He found you lying on the floor of the bandstand, looking a little too pale as you stared up at the clouds floating past. He cleared his throat on arrival, making you look at him with the offer of a weak smile, not really taking him in.

When he didn’t take his place beside you, you’d sat up to look at him properly. That’s when you saw the pinstripe suit and quaffed hair. It looked so unlike him you couldn’t help but giggle. Normally Joon was a t-shirt and basketball shorts kind of guy. He had rolled his eyes and extended his hand to help you up. You took it, every question in your mind had gotten stuck in your throat when his eyes had met yours. You never did get over that silly little crush. He didn’t release your hand like you expected him too. Instead he placed the bouquet into your free hand and asked you the question you’d been dreaming he would.

“Just to protect you of course… I don’t like when you aren’t well” He’d broken the moment by ruffling your hair, a sure sign he was doing this as a favour.

He took you to every ball you attended after that one.

…

The summer you turned seventeen was the summer before Namjoon left for university. You snuck out passed your guards in the night to see him. There was a very convenient secret passageway that led from your room to the gardens. You would meet him at the bandstand and talk until the sun came over the horizon. The lack of sleep had been worth it to spend those last fleeting days with him. You talked about anything and nothing, just like you would in the daytime, but this felt far more intimate.

The first time you convinced him to meet you after curfew his eyes flitted everywhere. Always nervous someone would find the two of you there and assume the worst. You on the other hand were just desperate to soak up as much of your friends company as you could before he left.

Over time he’d become more comfortable with the routine. In fact he had been certain that your sneaking around hadn’t even been that sneaky, your parents were just allowing you to rebel like this. Eventually he got used to walking you back to the entrance of the secret passageway, spending an extra few moments together.

His final night in town had been an emotional one. You’d sat side by side, your head on his shoulder staring up at the stars in complete silence for a long time. A tear fell down your cheek every time you thought about him leaving you. He’d wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close just as a shooting star arched across the sky. You immediately had a wish in mind. Eyes scrunched tight and fists clenched, you wished as hard as you could that he would stay, or at least that he’d come back fast. But unfortunately, he had to go, and morning came around far too fast.

You’d dragged your feet as he walked you back to the passageway. Shoulders bumping together, fingers brushing, glances stolen when you were sure the other wasn’t looking. The wall that concealed your entrance had come into view far too quickly. You’d sighed as you reluctantly pressed in the stones that would open the doorway, far from ready to say goodbye to the boy you’d grown up with. You hugged him goodbye, tears streaming freely down your face. You’d released him and turned to walk back into the castle, but as you’d taken that first step, he grabbed you sharply by the wrist and pulled you back to him.

His lips were so soft as they met yours. The surprise had knocked all the air out of your lungs forcing you to pull back sooner than you would’ve liked. He wiped the tears from your face and pulled you back to him, kissing you once more. And then he was gone.

…

The following autumn had dragged by. With no Namjoon, you had been forced to invest in the idle gossip of other members of the court, actually pay attention in your elocution lessons, and, perhaps worst of all, prepare for your first ball without your trusty escort. Every time you thought of Namjoon your lips tingled at the memory of your first kiss. You were devastated when his parents had told you he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the Christmas ball.

When the time came, you’d prepared for the ball like you had every other. A team came to pinch, primp, and style you to within an inch of yourself. This year they’d decided on a snow theme. Your pale blue ballgown had been the most beautiful one you’d worn at that point. It glittered like freshly fallen snow in the winter sun. The skirt poofed out around your waist and fell just above your feet so people could still see the matching shoes with little snowflakes. It was the best you thought you’d ever looked, and it broke your heart to know Namjoon wasn’t going to see you like that.

When the time came, you’d taken a breath and readied yourself for a night of refusing advances of handsy nobles, and questions you weren’t prepared to answer about the whereabouts of your usual date. You took a hold of the banister and began your entrance into the grand ballroom, desperately trying to keep your eyes forward and not trip at the same time. Whilst concentrating on not falling flat on your face, you had failed to notice one crucial detail about the room before you, until he took your hand and brought it to his lips. Namjoon had made it home after all.

You spent the entire event together. For every slow dance you were in the middle of the floor swaying together as he whispered sweet things in your ear. Time not on the dance floor had been spent laughing and catching up. The night came to an end with you escaping to your spot.

He’d picked a daisy and threaded it into your hair, trailing his fingers down the side of your face when he was finished. You’d boldly stepped even closer to him, lips inches away from his, daring him to repeat the night he left, and he’d gladly taken the opportunity.  He’d pulled you impossibly closer, lifting you on to your tiptoes and kissed you like a man starved. You’d wrapped your arms around his waist. Desperately trying to make up for lost time. Eventually you came to rest, foreheads resting against one another, breathing hard.

“Y/N I love you.” It was the first time he admitted it out loud, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. In fact he said it at least twenty more times that night.

“I love you too Joon.” You kissed him one more time before taking his hand and breaking into a sprint. You came to a stop at the passageway to your chambers. “Come in with me?” You’d asked, flashing him doe eyes he had never been able to resist.

“Are you sure?” He brushed a stray hair behind your ear and met your eyes, you’d never seen him look so serious.

“Well I can’t get out of this dress alone.” You’d tried to joke. When his expression didn’t change you gulped down any reservations and nodded. “I’m completely sure.” He’d swept you into his arms and carried you through your room laying you down on your bed. His coat and tie had been immediately discarded across the room. You’d sat up to get a better look as he undid the buttons on his white dress shirt, biting your lip at the thought of running your hands across his bare skin. He stopped undressing himself to look back at you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He embraced you, fingers finding the zipper at the back of your gown. You allowed the sleeves to fall down your arms, exposing your chest to him. Immediately his lips had gone to trail along your collarbones. He mumbled ‘I love you’ as he went. Each kiss punctuated by the words you’d longed to hear from him. You pushed his shirt down his shoulders, letting your hands linger on his biceps, rubbing little circles on the perfect skin.

“Joon?” he answers you with a hmm. “Is this real?” he pulled away from you to meet your eyes.

“I hope so.” He responded before kissing you deeply again. When you’d gotten the chance you’d stood up and allowed the dress to puddle around your feet.  He reached out to pull you in again by your newly expose waist, positioning you underneath him. He’d kissed down your stomach until he reached the top of your underwear.

“Maybe we should stop here?” he’d said, pulling away from you, “I want our first time to be something amazing.” You’d nodded, a little reluctant, but you’d waited this long for him, you could wait a little longer. Instead you’d settled into your bed together, cuddled close in just your underwear, praying that you didn’t wake up from this dream.

…

Everything was perfect, you stayed together throughout both his and your university experience. The whole kingdom knew of their childhood sweethearts. The duke and the princess destined to be together. The night of your graduation, a large ball had been put together in your honour and while no one dared say it aloud, everyone was certain there were hidden intentions behind the congratulatory event. The feeling was in the air, the whole of the kingdom whispered rumours of how the young duke was going to propose. They wondered how it would be announced, if he was going to ask you in the middle of all the guest, or if he’d elect to be more private about it.

But then the day of the ball arrived and Namjoon wasn’t waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs like he usually would. You assumed he would be waiting somewhere to surprise you, but the whispers started as soon as you’d turned up to the ballroom unescorted. No one had seen him. The entire night people had congratulated you on graduating, but your heart wasn’t even your replies. Instead you’d spent the night searching every face in the room for a sign of your missing lover.

As the night wore on it became clear that he had no intentions of attending. You’d put every ounce of your princess training to good use that night as you tried not to cry, humiliated in front of everyone you had ever known.

Awaiting you in your bedroom at the end of the night was a bouquet of pink daisies and a simple note that said ‘I’m so sorry’

You wouldn’t see Namjoon again for two years…

Part 2

Masterlist

Losing Virginity drabble

Taglist: @uraveragefangirlsposts

[cheesybadgers]

Ohhhh sorry, I didn't realise this was your side blog, silly me!! I do follow your main blog and I've seen you in my notifications quite a few times, so it's lovely to finally chat ❤️ And listen, if anyone ever takes the time to read and comment on my writing, I will always take the time to reply 😊

Although my reply turned into a bit of a mini essay (oops lol), so I'll put it under the cut:

Oh I hope you liked the snippet! I swooned quite a few times writing that scene, so thought I would share lol.

Yep yep yep, Steve has Javier's back and Trujillo has Horacio's back, and I think everyone - including Chucho and Connie - knows how much each of them means to the other, so they by default also feel protective of both of them, if that makes sense?!

Oh man, I loved writing all the interactions in chapter 13! I always love making characters talk to each other who either didn't meet at all in canon, or who didn't get much screen time together. And lolol yeah, Steve really thought he was doing something with his Spanish, bless him 😂

Hnnnnng your comments about Madrid and the balcony!!!! Erm, I think you might like the opening scene of the next chapter 👀 I shared a small snippet from it here if you haven't seen it (although I think I've edited it a bit since then and it's only the opening few lines)!

As for Señora Romero...I'll just leave this snippet here I posted a couple of months ago 😉 And once again, you are completely right about how her and Chucho would get along! And I think you might feel this even more strongly after the next couple of chapters.

Also just to re-assure you, you are absolutely not being weird at all!! You are being so kind, thoughtful and insightful and I live for interactions like this, so please don't worry at all 😘

Aw thank you for reading All In and And Yet Here He Was too ❤️ Those were a lot of fun to write, but yeah, this fic has been my (not so small) baby for the last two years lol.

I started it during lockdown when everything was on pause and the world was going through so much trauma and grief, so I didn't expect to still be working on it after all this time, and after life went back to 'normal' (whatever that really means). Although I guess that's quite fitting for the journey Javier and Horacio go on, because there is life and love after trauma and grief.

I've learnt so much about the writing process as well as the research for the fic itself. And I don't think I could have done what I did in the later chapters when I first started, so I guess it all happened the way it did for a reason.

And to link on to you saying you found this fic at the right time of your life (🥺❤️), I think this ship and fic found me at the right time as well (because you don't choose your favourite ships, they choose you 😂). I've thought for a while that the pandemic heightened my attachment to whatever I was into at the time, so I think that partly explains it, because I've never felt this compelled to write novel-length stories about any other ship before...and I can't really imagine doing it for any other ship? Certainly not fics of this depth/length anyway.

But these two? I can't explain it...I just remember working on the first couple of chapters and realising I understood them and they suited my writing style, and that was that!

And gaaaaawd, yeah, they are so ridiculously in love with each other...I mean, I'm happily married, but don't think we can compete with these two ride-or-dies 💕 I think I just ramped up the intimacy and trust we see between them in the show to maximum...and then some more after that lol.

I honestly didn't expect more than a handful of people to be interested in it, because it's a pretty rare ship in the fandom and the show ended a while ago. But I've been blown away by people's responses to it (someone even bought a fricking cross necklace because of it????!!!😭😩🥺), including your lovely comments. It's everything I could have hoped for and more, so thank you so much for taking it into your heart so dearly (and no, you absolutely didn't scare me)😭❤️

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 1)

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13 , Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 3,378

Summary: Set during the events of Explosivos (season 1, ep 6), Javier and Horacio (who for the purposes of this fic, isn’t married) are sent on a mission to bring down Gacha. A close call results in an injured Horacio and Javier is forced into a decision he wasn’t expecting to make, all of which raises questions about the nature of their complicated relationship. Involves lots of confessions in the dark, eventually leading to smut. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Canon-typical violence and the discussions thereof, swearing, smoking, angst, power dynamics, mild head injury. No smut yet, but there will be in the next chapter. 

Notes: I’m not sure what happened to me during my last Narcos re-watch a couple of months ago, but I came away with an abundance of feelings about these two, particularly stemming from this episode. I’ve got most of the next chapter done, but am not quite sure if I want to take the story further than that yet. I’m not the quickest of writers and this is the first multi-chapter fic I’ve done, so I’ll see how it goes! 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

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[mianavs]

Gezellig

You were the warmth that only another person could give

Kenma x f!reader

a/n: kenma is definitely my comfort character~

wc: 1.8k

It started with an apple pie recipe.

Kenma was editing his latest play-through video for a new video game when the craving for his favorite food creeped up on him again. He considered going to the nearby bakery that sold decent mini apple pies but a glance at the clock on his computer put an end to that idea—it was midnight and the bakery had been closed for three hours.

Normally Kenma would have settled for the day old pastry on his kitchen table but the craving for apple pie had plagued him for a while now. The reason? His neighbor had baked one a couple days ago and Kenma couldn’t stop thinking about the delicious aroma that had seeped through the walls into his unit.

A hasty thought crossed Kenma’s mind and he got up from his gaming chair to wander into the kitchen. He scanned the counters until his eyes landed on the two large apples Kuroo dropped off along with other groceries Kenma let spoil more often than not. The presence of the main ingredient spurred his impulses and Kenma fell back onto his couch as he scrolled through YouTube for an easy apple pie recipe. His perceptive eyes were immediately drawn to the golden crust of the pie on your thumbnail and his fingers clicked on your video without a second thought.

In the end, Kenma never got to making the apple pie and instead binge-watched every video on your ASMR cooking channel until he passed out at five in the morning.

Kenma knew he was obsessed when he turned on the notification bell on your channel. He loved the simplicity of your videos. There wasn’t any cheesy background music or obnoxious text. Your videos were intimate and comforting with the natural sounds of your cooking or baking and the high-quality recordings. More often than not, Kenma found himself unwinding to your content after a stressful meeting with the board members or a difficult gaming session. In fact, the more he watched your videos the more he found himself closing his eyes and imagining himself in your kitchen listening to the sizzling of the sautéing vegetables or the whir of your mixer combining the ingredients of a cake. It wasn’t necessarily hard to do since the layout of your kitchen was very similar to his own.

He should have found it suspicious when his neighbor’s cooking seemed to predict the video you would upload next but Kenma wasn’t one to dwell on unnecessary things like that. So when his neighbor cooked a delicious smelling recipe, Kenma would crave it the next day and ordered it to eat while he watched your nimble hands cook a similar dish.

In the two years Kenma had lived in his unit, he’d never crossed paths with his foodie neighbor. Although considering his line of work, Kenma supposed it wasn’t too surprising. He spent most of his time in his office and only when out when necessary. So when his doorbell rang and it wasn’t Kuroo with groceries or takeout but a young woman with a sheepish look on her face, Kenma froze like a deer in headlights.

“Hi! Umm…I’m your neighbor,” she introduced herself and awkwardly held up a small bowl. “Do you have some salt I can borrow?”

“Uh…yeah, come in.” Kenma replied stepping aside to let her in. There was a softness about her demeaner that drew him in and it wasn’t until her eyes blinked at him in confusion that he realized he’d been staring.

“T-this way.”

As Kenma led his neighbor to the kitchen he wracked his brain for the location of the salt container Kuroo had bought for him to use despite never having cooked a meal in his life. It took a couple of tries flipping through cupboards before he found the large salt container and handed it to his neighbor.

“Thanks!” She accepted it and began pouring some into her bowl. “Y’know your kitchen is a lot like mine but way cleaner!”

“I don’t really use it,” Kenma admitted. “I find it kind of intimidating…cooking.”

“It is at first but it gets easier the more you do it.” She smiled as she handed the salt back to Kenma and he couldn’t help but admire the way her entire face seemed to smile. Her eyes crinkled into crescent moons while the apples of her cheeks framed her gummy smile endearingly.

“I guess that applies to a lot of things.”

“Yes, it really does! I’m a firm believer in practice makes perfect.”

With that she thanked Kenma profusely and apologized for the intrusion before slipping on her shoes and walking out the door. While it may have only been a few minutes, the impression she left on Kenma lasted much longer. He went outside more just so he could run into his nice neighbor who would always strike up a conversation with him about anything. And while he was normally not one for small talk, it never felt forced around her. She had a knack for making even the dullest subject a compelling topic and Kenma quickly looked forward to those moments outside their apartment complex, in front of the convenience store, or outside her unit.

But even those short conversations Kenma has with his neighbor reveal very little about her. So when Kenma gets a notification from your channel and opens YouTube, he drops his phone when your thumbnail picture isn’t food but rather his neighbor that he’d grown fond of. Kenma’s eyes dart to your shared wall as he comes to terms with the fact that his favorite content creator and his pretty neighbor are the same person. It takes a couple of minutes for the initial shock to pass and another twenty minutes for him to play the video in the comfort of his office and with his headset on.

You’re all smiles as you announce a giveaway to celebrate one-hundred thousand subscribers. You introduce each of the five prizes and explain each one in detail. They’re all cooking tools from one of your sponsors that Kenma recognizes from your previous videos. When you’re describing the rules to enter, the similarities between your apartment and his are glaringly obvious now and Kenma can only shake his head in disbelief. The video ends too quickly so he watches it another ten times almost convincing himself that it’s to understand the rules of the giveaway and consider each of the products despite knowing he’d never actually enter.

A week after your giveaway video, Kuroo comes over with food and drinks after a business trip. A meal and a couple of beers later, Kenma opens up to Kuroo about you and the fact that you’re not only his favorite YouTuber but his neighbor as well. The liquid courage spurs him on and Kenma talks about your gorgeous smile, soft-looking hair, and your laugh that goes from a giggle to a cackle within a matter of seconds. Always the observant friend, Kuroo notices the persistent smile on Kenma’s face as he goes on about you and urges his best friend to ask you out on a date. The thought of spending hours with you is enough to get his heart racing but his insecurities never fail to rear their ugly heads and Kenma dismisses the idea as quickly as it comes up.

Kenma drinks even more to drown his insecurities and fantasies of you while Kuroo drinks with him knowing it’s best to support him quietly like this. When the last drop of alcohol is consumed, the two friends are completely drunk and Kuroo crashes in the guest room while Kenma stumbles to his room and collapses on his bed as the world spins around him.

Your image comes to mind but it’s too hazy for Kenma’s liking so he pulls up your giveaway video and watches it for the hundredth time. You’re so happy about your channel’s milestone that Kenma can’t help but smile like a fool as you thank your subscribers profusely. It’s with lowered inhibitions that Kenma is able to scroll to the comment section and write out how much your channel means to him.

The sound of multiple notifications stirs Kenma awake to a terrible hangover. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and focuses on his blindingly bright screen to see what the fuss is about. There’s a message from his publicist asking if he’s okay but before Kenma can reply he gets a notification from your channel; however, it isn’t the typical one that lets him know you’ve uploaded a video. The notification is a heart reaction to a comment and Kenma’s heart is in his mouth as his shaky finger taps on your giveaway video.

He doesn’t have to scroll far to find his comment because it’s the first one with ten thousand likes and three hundred comments to boot. Completely mortified, Kenma reads through the comments that have a wide range of reactions. Some gush about how cute it is for Kodzuken to fanboy over your channel while others express their disappointment that their favorite gamer actually likes cooking ASMR. While they are unnerving, it isn’t the comments that worry Kenma but the little red heart you’d left on his comment.

While he doubts you knew who he was before, this comment and the crazy feedback will definitely pique your interest enough to look him up and find out who he really is. Scared of facing you, Kenma holes himself up in his apartment. To get you out of his mind, he buries himself in work and video game streams and turns off the notifications for your channel.

After a week of not hearing anything from you, Kenma thinks he’s in the clear until one evening he opens his door expecting his takeout only to find you.

You’re a sight for sore eyes and Kenma’s heart hammers in his chest as your eyes soften and you break into a smile. The aroma of cinnamon and apples wafts up to his nostrils and you raise your mitted hands to reveal the same pie that had drawn him to you in the first place.

“Your fans mentioned you like apple pie,” you explain with a chuckle. “And I still owe you for the salt.”

“My…fans?” Kenma asks, still stunned you’re talking to him despite the comment fiasco.

“Yeah, you see I needed a reason to visit my neighbor and ask him out. Luckily, he’s a famous streamer with lots of fans.” Your confidence almost hides flush on your cheeks that deepens the longer Kenma stares at you in shock.

“…Unless you don’t want to go out-“

“I do!” Kenma blurts out. “More than anything.”

Your entire face breaks into a smile. “Well then how about a pie date?”

With a stomach full of butterflies, Kenma lets you into his apartment for the second time only this time he knows what he feels for you and is comforted by the fact that you feel the same way.

[batemanofficial]

ok i’ve had the whole workday to process so here are my compiled thoughts on don’t worry darling. spoilers under the cut

first things first i really did like the sound design. i wish there’d been more care taken to make the music choices a little more intentional or use them as a foreshadowing device, but overall it was very cohesive

the production design was great for like. 85% of the film but the other 15% just felt like a target commercial to me. like there is such thing as too much pastel

chris pine is severely underutilized as an actor, like disappointingly so. his character felt super flat which obv doesn’t bode well for a man who’s supposed to be playing a cult leader ykwim

having now watched the film in its entirety i feel like the above issue is likely due to runtime constraints, and i bet if we could see the deleted scenes frank would feel like a far more fleshed-out character. bc as he exists in the final theatrical cut of the film he kind of comes across as just Chris Pine: The Mayor

you all know how i feel about harry styles but he was actually kind of ok. like solid c+ acting, which is a lot better than i was prepared to give him credit for

his accent is godawful tho. not budging on that one

the theatre i saw it in had like 20 people in it total including myself and my friend who came w me but we all laughed at some of his lines. like he tried. he tried real hard but some of his more monologue-y scenes came across kinda hammy

florence pugh was great but imo the way they edited the film made her seem vaguely stoned instead of paranoid?? idk that might just be me but imo some of her solo scenes esp toward the end of act 1 read more “trying to act sober in target after taking too many edibles” than “plagued by visions” but overall she was great as always

ok spoiler time >:) you’ve been warned and whatnot

not to be that guy but i saw the twist coming like ten minutes in. like as soon as she picked up the eggs i knew that it was going to be a simulation

and re: harry’s acting when i kind of pieced together the simulation idea i initially thought he was going to be a robot, because he didn’t really give a ton of indication that jack had a life outside of alice and the victory project

like in Jaime’s Theory Corner i was fully assuming that the victory headquarters was going to be like. robot husband storage facility and alice was just there to be a lab rat and everyone around her (with the potential exceptions of frank and the doctor) weren’t real

but anyway

i really wish they’d fleshed out the incel thing more too, like if jack and co. are trapping their ‘wives’ in victory then i feel like they’d come across a little more paranoid than they really did in the film

and re: chris pine being underutilized i wish they’d made him more of an actual jordan peterson type than. bland white man hates women ykwim?? like yeah yeah there’s a billion misogynist white men in cinema make him more of a freak

like the dinner scene toward the end of act 2 is what he should’ve been all along honestly. he’s just kind of a lawn ornament for the first 90 minutes of the film but let him keep that weird manic liar energy and that’d make him more compelling

i wish they’d used nick kroll and asif ali more too. they’re funny!! let them be funny!!

and i also wish we’d been forced to look at less of olivia wilde’s fivehead but. that’s neither here nor there

also in general it kind of took fucking forever to get to the point. like there’s a solid 35 minutes of fat you could cut out of that movie and still have it hit all it beats

i guess my main gripe is that there’s too much fucking around and not enough finding out. like i’m not talking about the sex scenes, i had no problem with those, but alice spends a lot of her screen time staring at her hands and comparatively little of it actually bothering to do anything about her problem. which kind of bothered me bc that runtime could’ve been used to develop the other characters in much-needed ways

like. i guess this is kind of the whole point but stuff happens at alice, alice doesn’t really have enough narrative agency to do anything constructive on her own

anyway. overall i’d say it’s the matrix for straight people so i’d give it like a 6.5/10. also gemma chan’s character stabbing frank was a moment that i feel normal about [lying] [gay] [i am looking 👀]