#like he literally made a point of wearing bright colours how can you be like 'its so off brand'

[saistappen]

Special guest | MV1

In which Max pays a visit to a primary school class to answer a few questions before the Dutch gp

or

In which Max only has eyes for the young class teacher

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Today is a very special day. Your six-year-old pupils were particularly looking forward to this day.

The Zandvoort Grand Prix, which was not too far from the school, would take place at the weekend.

In a few minutes, a very special guest would be coming to your class - the lion class.

Over the last few days, you and your class have organised and prepared a lot to make your guest's time in class as pleasant as possible.

A satisfied smile sits firmly on your face as you walk through the rows of tables and put up the children's name tags you have made so that your guest can call them by name.

You then unfold the blackboard to reveal the colourfully painted greeting.

Written in orange chalk in the centre is the words Welcome Max Verstappen.

Your pupils have painted a few trophies around it, as well as chequered flags and racing cars.

A glance at the clock hanging above the classroom door tells you that it is about time for the first pupils to arrive.

Shortly afterwards, the first pupils enter your classroom with big smiles on their faces. Some of the children are already wearing fan merchandise.

After you have greeted each child with a quick hug, the rows of tables slowly start to fill up and an excited murmur goes round the room.

"Good morning my lions", you greet your class with a smile on your lips and a little chant of welcome comes back.

"As you know, we have a visitor coming in a few minutes. But before we get there, I'd like to go through a few things with you about how we're going to behave during this," you begin as you sit down on the edge of your desk and look around the room.

Yesterday you went through the rules for today with your protégés. It is important to you that everything runs smoothly and well today.

It's not a given that someone famous would take the time to answer questions in a class full of six-year-olds.

" Who can tell me the most important things to consider for today? "

Within a few seconds, countless hands shoot into the air.

Your gaze wanders briefly through the rows before you take a boy from your class, who lists all the rules to be observed for the next two lessons.

With a satisfied smile on your lips, you thank the boy and add a sentence or two, telling your charges that it's important that they don't talk out of turn and to please come forward if they want to ask Mr Verstappen a question.

You know that the class is pretty excited and probably not everything will go one hundred per cent, but despite all that, you're really confident that it will go well.

Some time passes, during which your class spends painting Max Boliden in bright colours, until there is a knock at the door of your classroom.

Countless heads go up and look over to the door with wide eyes, while one or two squeak out.

You can clearly see the nervousness slowly rising in each of them, even in you.

You wipe your slightly sweaty hands on your black jeans before a smile creeps back onto your lips and a "Come in" leaves your lips.

Shortly afterwards, the door opens and a smiling Max Verstappen steps into your classroom.

As he does every time there's a race weekend, he's wearing one of his team shirts and dark trousers.

"Good morning! "He beams as he enters the classroom and lets his gaze wander round the room.

"Good morning Mr Verstappen! "The class literally shouts in chorus, causing a proud smile to spread across your lips.

Point one has already been successful.

"Welcome to the lion class. I am Mrs y/l/n. I'm really pleased to welcome you here today," you greet the Dutchman and hold out your hand to him, which he shakes with a smile.

" I'm delighted to be here today. "

You notice how his eyes linger on you a little longer, so you clear your throat quietly and look back at your protégés, who are scrutinising Max curiously and whispering quietly.

"Look what we've painted for you! " shouts Leona, one of your students, pointing to the blackboard and presenting the colourful picture to Max.

"You drew this especially for me? That's really great! " Max steps a little closer to the board to take a closer look at the artwork.

"And we drew cars too! " shouts the next child and gets Max's attention.

"Did you design new liveries for special Grand Prix races? " Max begins to walk through the rows to take a closer look at the coloured-in cars.

He repeatedly takes time for each of the children to exchange a few sentences with them about their coloured pictures.

Smiling, you watch him and sit back on the edge of your desk.

A glance at the map next to you shows that Max will start by introducing himself and talking about his motorsport career. Afterwards, the children will ask a few questions and get autographs. Finally, there will be a little bobby car race in the schoolyard, where each child will compete against Max himself.

"You're all really great artists. I'll show my team your paintwork and I'm sure something can be done! " Max grins as he walks back to the blackboard with the pile of leaves.

Enthusiastic murmurs go through the class as Max begins to prepare for his little talk.

And shortly afterwards, he begins to tell your class, who are literally glued to his lips, about his motorsport career.

During Max's lecture, you sat in the back row to give Max enough space at the front of the blackboard.

His lecture was quite interesting, so now you know a lot more about the Dutchman.

The children had been so quiet throughout the lecture that you are really proud and shower the children with a little praise.

"And now we come to your questions. Now you can ask me anything you've always wanted to know. But think about your question carefully, because everyone is only allowed to ask me one. "

Max holds up his index finger to make it clear to the children that they are really only allowed to ask one question.

"Just one? How am I supposed to decide which question to ask? " Liana's sad voice sounded from the front, causing Max to start smiling.

" You'll manage that, Liana. Take some time to think of a good question," you reassure the little blonde-haired girl, whereupon Max gives you a grateful look.

" Who wants to start asking me a question? " As Max's gaze begins to wander around the class, countless little fingers are raised in the air.

One or two of them even start to kneel on the chair so that they can stick their finger higher in the air and be seen better by Max.

" Finn ", Max takes the first boy.

" Would you like to drive for Red Bull forever or for Mercedes or Ferrari? "

The Red Bull driver leans against your desk and rests his hands slightly to the right and left of him as he begins to think for a moment.

Your protégés look eagerly at their star and wait for an answer.

"I actually feel incredibly comfortable in my team and so far there's no reason for me to leave. I get on well with everyone in the team and we have a good working relationship so that everything runs as smoothly as it should. I'll never rule out a change, because you never know what's to come, but so far I can reassure you and tell you that I'm not considering a change. "

A sigh of relief goes through the class, which makes you grin.

In fact, most of your class are Max and Red Bull fans.

" Who is your favourite team colleague? " Joleen asks Max after he has taken her on.

"So far I've got on really well with all my team mates and we've all got on really well, but if I had to choose a team mate who I've got on best with, I'd say Daniel. The two of us not only get on particularly well in Formula 1, but also in our private lives. "

In fact, you've already guessed this answer, as you could always clearly see how well Max and Daniel got on and harmonised with each other.

You still mourn the time when Max and Daniel were team-mates. That time really was by far one of the funniest content times at Red Bull Racing.

A few more interesting questions were asked, which Max answered in detail, such as his favourite colour, which is blue, his favourite food, which was tomato soup and the question about his pets, Jimmy and Sassy two Bengals cats.

"Is there anyone else who hasn't asked me a question yet? " Max's gaze travelled around the class.

Even after answering countless questions, he still seemed pretty relaxed and happy.

"Mrs y/l/n hasn't asked a question yet," Johann takes the floor as all the children turn to look at you.

Max also leans a little more on the desk now as he leans forward to see you in the back row.

" Do you have a question for me? " he grins.

So you start going through all the possible questions that are floating around in your head.

There are a lot of things that would interest you, but they don't belong here right now, so you decide on the simplest question that any teacher would have asked.

" What was your favourite subject at school? "

" Oh, that's really easy! " Max grins and almost claps his hands. " Your teacher will probably rip my head off for this, but I never liked going to school. The only subject I liked was geography. What's your favourite subject? "

Countless voices start shouting their favourite subjects in confusion, which Max takes in his stride with a smile and somehow tries to catch every subject.

To restore some calm, you walk back to the front and start clapping a rhythm, which the children immediately follow and the class becomes quiet again.

A quiet " Wow " leaves Max's lips, who looks at you with fascination and makes the blush rise slightly in your cheeks.

"That's the best way to keep things quiet," you almost babble as you start to clear your desk to give Max a little more space for the upcoming autographs.

You had already cleared out your desk, so there were hardly any things on it. However, you now have to keep your hands busy to avoid blushing even more or doing something stupid.

" Please line up to get an autograph. If you have an autograph, please go and put on your jacket so that we can go out into the school playground straight away. Please keep your voices down," you remind the children, who shortly afterwards line up in front of your desk waiting to sign an autograph.

You take the seat next to the door to keep an eye on the children who are putting on their jackets.

The autograph session goes faster than expected, so that within twenty minutes all the children are standing in the corridor whispering in their jackets and then follow Max and you out into the schoolyard in a duck march.

Yesterday afternoon you had already set up a small parkour, which you will have to drive through today with the two Bobby Cars.

The red and blue Bobby Car are already ready and waiting to be used.

You had even made a small podium out of cardboard boxes and bought small mini trophies to give your offspring the full programme of a racing experience.

While the children would race against Max, you would time them and the three fastest times would end up on the podium.

Max grabs the blue Bobby Car, which just fits half his knee, while Aaron can sit perfectly on the red Bobby Car.

While the two race against each other, the children cheer on Max and Aaron in different groups.

The latter narrowly wins, as Max has a few problems with the only Bobby Car.

Despite all this, the Dutchman doesn't lose the fun of the game, so he competes against every single child with joy and fun, even if it's not enough for one of the three podium places in the end.

Standing proudly on the podium with their trophies, the three winners literally raise their plastic trophies in the air until a couple of water pistols are used to replace the champagne shower and all the children run across the schoolyard screaming and chasing each other.

Smiling, you look after your class as Max stands next to you.

"That was a really nice day. Thank you for preparing so many nice things. I really don't know the last time I really enjoyed a day like this," said Max, smiling and thanking you.

"I also have to thank you. You really put a lot of effort into my class. You were really looking forward to the day, which was a real success. "

You can't stop a smile from forming on your lips as Max gives you a smile and then pulls something out of his trouser pocket.

" I forgot to give you your autograph. "

The Dutchman smiles and hands you the autograph card before also grabbing a water pistol and running over to your class.

Confused, you lower your eyes to the autograph card, which shows a grinning Max in his dark racing suit.

You really have a great class.

Your lions are really lucky to have such a great teacher like you.

You've learnt a lot about me today and I hope I get the opportunity to get to know you a little better.

Why don't you write to me

01*******

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Please say more about Titans’ costumes 🥺

(if you want to)

I literally always want to talk about Titans. Always

There is so much I could say about the costuming alone omg

One thing I absolutely fucking love about the show - specifically about S1 and S2 (and kind of into S3?) - is that each character really has their own distinct style. Each character is so, so well defined by their visual style and it helps add so much to their characterization just by looking at their clothing.

Even side characters like Hank and Dawn (and fuck, I love Hank and Dawn so much) - Dawn's clothing has so much feminine elegance.

I fucking love that Dawn is a character who absolutely reeks femininity without going down the route of styling her in the typical feminine way - and I am not at all bashing traditional femininity when I say this, I just fucking love how Dawn is an example of how femininity can be so obvious without having to use girly pinkness and bows and skirts. She is so clearly meant to be a hyper feminine girly character who loves her femininity, especially with the styling of the apartment that she shares with Hank, but her clothing really drives it home. Even before it's revealed that she was a feminine, light, ballet dancer, you can see it in what she wears - a flawless light blouse, clothes that are so perfectly tailored, light fabrics, everything so well fitted. Wearing heels that are of practical lengths but still making it a point to be flattering and elevated, wearing done-up hairstyles and having her hair brushed over one shoulder in a very princess way.

And I love how all of her clothing falls under the light grey/taupe/steel grey/steel blue palette of the Dove costume and they don't stray from that with her. The only time they do is when they are hinting at her wearing Hank's clothing - like when she wears the heavily oversized black and red letter jacket in 2x02 (that I think Hank was wearing in his college flashback? I think that jacket was literally his college football jacket if my memory serves me correctly)

Speaking of Hank - again, I love how he has his own colour pallet. They often stick to the brick reds, the warmer tones with him - they make his colours very warm and inviting even if his personality isn't always the most warm. But what I fucking love about his clothing is that right from his introduction - his clothing feels grounded. His clothing always feels very working class. He is almost always seen wearing jeans and some kind of flannel, the timerland 'worker' boots, a heavier practical jacket.

I fucking love how he and Dick contrast the two ends of men's low effort, 'casual' clothing. Dick is also seen wearing jeans throughout the show, but Dick's clothing is not at all working class or approachable - even if it's just small touches, like the expensive watch that he's almost always wearing, Dick's clothing is expensive. His jacket's are more tailored (and clearly made out of more expensive materials), he wears button up shirts that are made out of more expensive cotton - and rather than being casual flannels, he wears darker, more serious colours - his shoes are often more expensive and clearly not mean to be 'worked' in.

You can look at Dick and Hank and immediately recognise the wealth gap - the fact that Dick is comfortable with wealth, and Hank is comfortable with the working class and grew up in poverty.

Going back to the colour thing - something I LOOOOOOVE about S1 specifically is the fact that you can clearly see them borrowing each other's clothes. You can see the abrupt disruption in Rachel's black uniform because of the introduction of Dawn's soft grey sweater. Gar's lighter colours are broken up by the introduction of Dick's uniform-like militant grey. Toward the end of the season, Kory's colourful bright wardrobe is broken up by her borrowing Donna's effective purposeful black catsuit - and again, this goes back to my theory about Kory regain her memories but losing her identity, and how she leaned on Donna a lot during this time, and her wearing Donna's clothing immediately after entering this identity crisis to me feels like her using Donna as a safety net when she was in emotional turmoil.

Speaking of Dick's militant colours - in S1, DICK HAS AN OBSESSION WITH UNIFORMS. I was going to make a separate post about this but I accidentally deleted the draft lmao. He goes from wearing his detective uniform to wearing an outfit that is almost military-esque (the grey henley style shirt and the cargo pants) - an outfit that is clearly meant to be practical rather than express any personal style, but it inadvertently expresses a heap of emotions from him: he feels like he does not have an identity outside of who he was with Bruce.

When he talks about his time with Bruce to Kory, Gar, and Rachel - he calls it 'military training'. And it's clear that's what he thinks of it now - not a family, not a father figure - he thinks that he was being trained as a weapon, and now that his training is over, he doesn't know what to do with himself. So he puts on his uniform to go into work and be a detective, and when he's not doing that, he wears a uniform because he doesn't have a sense of self otherwise.

BUT in S2, when he feels more comfortable returning home to Bruce (after he's confronted his demons through the Trigon hallucinations), he is wearing a very nice outfit that is more representative of wealth. Likely something that Bruce would have dressed him in - and this is the kind of clothing we see him wearing for the rest of the show that seems a lot more indicative of his personal style through the rest of the show. As if he was previously afraid to gravitate toward this kind of style because he was afraid that he was becoming too much like Bruce, he was enjoying the wealth too much - that Bruce was never a true father to him because he 'paid' for Dick's affection (as we see in the flashback with the closet full of expensive clothing that is waiting for Dick when he arrives).

It's a very interesting thing to breakdown.

Anyway, that's all my brain has for now lmao. But I always loooooove talking about Titans and analysing it. Not just the costumes but any aspect of the whole show. This show is like - my house

[paradoxolotl]

OH PARA MY DARLING!!! :))))

For the writer ask can I beg to see a snippet of Neil being banned from another coffee shop (Andrew's maybe 👀) or what led to him being banned from half the coffee shops?? (From Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage)

My beloved PAS ♥️

Unusual Asks for Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage

~

“Sir.”

Neil took a slow sip of his coffee. Only his third cup of the day. Or hour. He couldn’t remember anymore. The beauty of a deadline he had pretended to prepare for rearing it’s ten hours until due highlight covered head? Kevin’s “inhuman level of coffee consumption” ban was lifted.

Not that Neil followed it all that closely anyways. What did Kevin know.

“Sir.”

He flicked his eyes up and to the left, hand still blindly typing away at his keyboard. He had a word count to hit after all. The familiar death glare of a service employee not paid enough to give a proper fuck but forced to anyways waited for him. Usually, Neil continued silence turned most people away, or at least made them uncomfortable enough to spit out whatever they decided was worth interrupting him over. But this one only glowered harder, jaw setting.

“Ma’am.” It turned up at the end like a question, but Neil’s voice held too much faux pleasantry to be recognized as such.

Nostrils flared on her inhale. “Sir-” and honestly the amount of complete disdain and over your bullshit she packed into that single word even impressed him- “you need to leave. Now.”

Oh boy, this was almost worth pausing an essay for. Neil finished his sentence. “I’m actually pretty busy at the moment,” he said, turning back to his work. Was a Freudian mention too much? He tapped the space key twice, not quite hard enough to move his cursor. Probably not.

“Sir.”

“Jesus,” Neil muttered. He needed more coffee. Matching her glare with one of his own, Neil shook his cup, the pitiful remains just enough to splash against the sides. “I’m a paying customer. You can’t just kick me out for no reason.”

“You taped crime scene photos to our windows!” she snapped. And well. Okay yes, that was true. He didn’t need to spare a glance to see the expanse of carnage he had set up.

“It’s for research,” he said.

She jabbed a finger at the cup in his hand. “And that isn’t even from here.”

Neil glanced down. The cup sported the bright orange colours of Fox & Nip Cafe. He looked up to the hat the employee was wearing. It was purple, with The Drip stitched in white across the front. Slowly, he raised the cup to his mouth, tipping the last of it into his mouth.

“I’ve told you guys before. I don’t see what the problem is,” he said. “Your coffee is shit. You know that right? I could order a triple shot and it wouldn’t even hit me. It’s an art, how you’ve taken something so easy and weakened it to the point of threatening extinction.”

Turning in his chair, Neil pointed to the man not even pretending not to be watching. “Your coffee is shit!” he said, making the man jump. He turned back to the employee. “This is literally the worst coffee is town. You have two things going for you: the tables are big enough to work at and your muffins aren’t sweet like fucking cakes. If I have to provide my own passable coffee, I should be allowed to use the space provided to finish my work.”

If looks could kill. “Get the fuck out,” she said.

Neil had three rules he lived by. Number two: when a retail employee drops the word fuck as a promised threat, it’s time to go.

Tossing her a quick salute, Neil shoved his laptop back into his bag and left everything else behind. He didn’t really need the photos anyways.

Two blocks down, he pulled out a small notebook from a side pocket. With a sigh, he crossed out The Drip from his list.

[sailxrmxrs]

so. it's been a few months. OOPS. the creative juices have not been flowing lately BUT WE ARE SO BACK. and getting festive!! today we're decorating for christmas with our beloved infinite blue boys. this one won't be full fics but more so thoughts strung together. throwing my brain at my computer screen and seeing what sticks type beat. shoutout to itsu for the art that made me go insane abt the boys and desperate to write smth again. also shoutout to ito for listening to me ramble my thoughts aloud. always a pleasure to brainrot with u. determined to try and get back to regular writing but we shall see how that goes LMAO. for now enjoy christmas decorating gamers WOOOO.

♡ leo ♡

Leo gets SO excited for Christmas time. He loves seeing the neighbourhood lit up with strings of lights and bright displays of festivity. He's not one to hold back either with his own decorations. Leo has built up a rather eclectic collection of decorations and baubles for his Christmas tree, most of them being movie references or themed. Stormtrooper wearing a Santa hat, a resin hanging decoration made to look like a stack of Lord of the Rings books, that sort of thing. He excitedly asks what sort of fun decorations you own or want to get because he wants the tree to match both of your interests. Definitely surprises you with a few that he thinks you'll like, barely able to contain himself. Leo is bad at keeping presents a surprise. He just loves seeing how excited you get!! Very much the embodiment of golden retriever boyfriend. Always. I can see Leo also having some decorations with sentimental value too. Like this one bauble he painted as a kid that's definitely not the prettiest mix of colours, but it brings back memories of childhood and excitedly trying to stay up late to see Santa leaving presents behind. He LOVES good christmas tradition too. Every Christmas Eve he's watching the same movie (probably Home Alone) with an array of snacks laid out to enjoy. He loves getting to share it all with you too as well as starting new traditions for future Christmases together. For example, this year he dumped strips of coloured paper on the floor, put his Christmas playlist on, and declared you were both making paper chains and paper snowflakes to hang around the house with the tinsel already on display. There's no such thing as too many decorations in Leo's world so I hope you're prepared for your home to look like a festive spirit exploded in every room. Bonus note he also owns sets of festive pyjamas specifically for December and will only wear these. If it's not Christmas related he isn't touching it. Also owns slippers made to look like reindeer.

♡ milo ♡

Milo might just be the worst one to decorate for Christmas with. He's never really been overly fussed about buying decorations or a tree and has literally nothing of the sort at home. He hadn't even considered the thought that you might want to indulge a little and spend a day or two putting up lights or finding a tree for your shared living room. When you do mention the idea to him, Milo is somewhat surprised, but will nod along that sure you can get a tree. Will suggest you buy one of those pop-up trees that comes with the ornaments already attached because it's easier and will only take a couple minutes to set up and put into place. It takes a lot of convincing to sway him away from that idea. He doesn't seem to realise that half the fun is spending hours fighting the tangled mess of lights, or finding that one specific ornament you bought a few years ago just to hang front and centre on the tree. Will only agree to it if you promise to buy him an early Christmas present too. Bribery is a wonderful tool for convincing Milo to join in all the traditional couple behaviours and outings. He'll enjoy it once he's there and sees how much you're enjoying yourself, but will make a point to complain about the weather, or that he's getting bored looking at different variations of the same lights. His boredom is easily cured by a request to get food before heading home. Once you're home, he offers to reach all the tallest parts you can't reach, but not before making a smug joke about how you only asked him to help because you wanted the extra pair of hands. At the end of it all, he'll be stood behind you, arms enclosed around you and pulling your back against his chest. Will rest his chin atop your head and admit that yes, he had a lot of fun today and yes he will do it again next year. Offers to take you out again next weekend to go ice skating or put together gingerbread houses. Just as long as you don't make him wear one of those awful Christmas jumpers Leo sent a picture of himself wearing the other day. You don't make any promises.

♡ rory ♡

Ever the hopeless romantic, Rory equally adores and despises this time of year. He loves the romanticism of the festive atmosphere, the twinkling fairy lights, the decadence of the food. He's secretly been craving the chance to share it all with someone else. But he would never admit to it. Which is also the cause for his self-proclaimed hatred of the holiday season. He likes to lament about how so much of it is commercialised and specifically catered to couples wanting an excuse to show off how cute they are. He'll acutely ignore the fact that you came home to him watching one of those cheesy Netflix Christmas rom-coms. The type where a prince gets isekaied into the suburbs of New York and falls in love with generic city woman. Will try to hide his face in the neckline of his sweater while you set down boxes of decorations to dress up the room. Claims he wants no part of it and acts all indifferent to your enthusiasm, though it is blatantly evident on his face that he actually means the exact opposite. So you get to hanging baubles from the tree, singing along to Christmas songs as they chime from the speakers. It's when you notice Rory stand up, eyes flickering from you, to the tree, to the floor, that you ask if he would like to give you a hand. Will say no, but you should move that one ornament a bit higher up. It will look better there. Or maybe add a different coloured one there to brighten up that section. Pass a box of ornaments to him and tell him that if he's going to comment on your decorating then he better just do it himself. Rory acts as though this is some large inconvenience but within minutes he's quietly singing along under his breath, a rosy colour staining his cheeks. Pull out some mistletoe and watch him turn an even brighter red. Do it I dare u. And once the room is sufficiently dressed up for Christmas, Rory will collapse back on the sofa, shyly admitting how much he loved spending the time with you as you burrow into the warmth of his side. Will get a little flustered but tries to play it cool until you tease him about finishing the rom-com you caught him watching earlier. Goes to push you away but immediately pulls you back in. Maybe he can be a little more affectionate than usual today. Maybe.

♡ alexei ♡

Alexei doesn't usually decorate a whole lot around the festive season. It's not for a lack of wanting to, nor does he dislike it at all, but rather he just never felt like he had a reason to before. For him, Christmas always felt like a very family-oriented time of year so after he moved out, the thought simply never occurred to him that he could go out and buy a tree and ornaments, even just for his desk at work. When you pose the idea to him to get your home all decorated up for the season, Alexei's interest is piqued. He will scroll for ideas on how to pick a colour theme and will get really into the colour ratio of the baubles too. He lines the tree with golden fairy lights and makes sure the balance of red and green baubles is even. Makes sure to find tinsel that matches the exact shades as well so it doesn't look mismatched at all. It's really rather cute how focused he'll get over it, eyebrows furrowed and this tiny little crease in his forehead. Stands with a look a pure concentration in the way his eyes are surveying the tree from top to bottom, his finger tapping against his lip while you watch from your spot on the sofa sipping a hot chocolate Alexei made for you. You tried to tell him he doesn't need to take it so seriously with the way he's alternating between different coloured baubles but your voice falls on deaf ears. He'll stand back to admire his handiwork, looking to you for excitable approval. Once he deems it good enough, Alexei will lay down, his head just beneath the tree, and he'll gesture for you to join him. He feels all tired out after a day of decorating and has a distinct urge to nap under the tree like a cat. Will sleepily ramble about how he's been looking forward to spending the holiday with you, how he's excited to try all these new things and start ned traditions with you until eventually his eyes betray him and they blink slower and slower and he's falling asleep in your arms.

♡ brooklyn ♡

Brooklyn's home on Christmas is a sight to behold. The man knows how to decorate no matter what the occasion may be. He always loves to make a day of it too. Expect him to wake you up with a cup of tea, already dressed in a cosy Christmas sweater with his hair unstyled and a little messy. Winter Brooklyn is a delight for the eyes. Especially when he's got a hand-knitted scarf bundled around his neck and matching gloves warming his hands. Drives you to a local Christmas tree farm he always visits on the first weekend of December every year without fail. The owners know him by name at this point and are particularly excited to see he has company this year. His hand is entwined in yours as you wander around, talking and musing together over which tree would fit best. If it's snowing, expect Brooklyn to flick a snow-covered branch at you, a dusting of cold powder freckling your cheeks. Will laugh but lets you throw a snowball at him as payment for the attack. Once you pick out the perfect tree, Brooklyn takes you to a local Christmas market to pick out some new decorations. He has a rather rigorous theme he likes to stick to but wants to add something meaningful to signify the two of you—especially with this being your first Christmas together. He tries not to go too overboard and is only stopped by the sight of a stall offering decadent mugs of hot chocolate. Once you're back home and in the warm, Brooklyn is lighting the fireplace, along with a few festive themed candles, and rolling up his sleeves. It's at this point you see just how serious he is about Christmas decorating. And it certainly pays off because once you're both done, the tree looks like someone opened pinterest, found the most visually pleasing tree and managed to extract it and place it directly in your living room. Brooklyn looks very pleased with himself as you praise his well thought out planning. Ends the day with a surprise gift for you because his family always had a tradition of giving a gift on Christmas tree day and he wants to keep that going with you. Is generally just the embodiment of Christmas rom-com love interest with how perfect he makes the day turn out to be.

♡ tobias ♡

Decorating with Tobias is so unbelievably chaotic. There is no rhyme or reason to the scattering of ornaments all over the floor. Decorations are everywhere except where they are supposed to be. He claims he's got a strategy but you're not so certain. He also doesn't really bother with any particular colour theming and just picks out what he thinks looks cool. Loves to have a range of different shapes and colours for the ornaments. Also buys a string of multicoloured flashing lights to drape around the tree because 'regular white lights are boring'. Tobias doesn't care too much about whether you put up a plastic tree or a real one, that is until he sees Brooklyn post a photo of his own Christmas tree on instagram and suddenly Tobias wants to buy a real tree too and make it look as aesthetically pleasing as possible. So he's dragging you out into the cold to go and buy one. Finds his idea of the perfect tree after a good hour of deliberating over which one looks best. Wants one that's got a good shape to it and has plenty of branches. In doing so, however, he very much overestimates how big his car is and how big his apartment is. Drives home with the top of the tree sticking between the seats it's basically sitting on the passenger seat with you. And then there's getting it into his apartment. It's just a little bit too tall so the top of the tree is bent over a little against the ceiling. Tobias rejects your idea to buy a saw and cut the trunk down because surely you can just trim to top, right? No, Tobias, you cannot. Ends up deciding to bend it so the top is angled down a little since you won't let him take the kitchen scissors to it. You're about to attempt to put the star on top until Tobias stops you, claiming he needs to make some adjustments before it goes up. Runs into the bedroom and returns like five minutes later with the star but now it has a picture of his face taped onto the front. Reaches up to put it on the tree but because it's a little too tall, the star is angled down so it looks like star Tobias is watching over like some cursed angelic watchman. Leo is very unsettled when he comes over to visit.

[racingliners]

has anyone asked you about favorite (underrated?) helmets yet? ive been drooling over lance's am helmets lately i feel like no one ever talks about them -fujispeedway

oh yes @fujispeedway we can 1000000% talk about underrated helmets!!!

I also absolutely LOVE Lance's Aston Martin helmets, the 2021-2023 designs are my personal favourites both for the all over British Racing Green and the big Aston Martin wings on either side. It's such a sleek design that's executed brilliantly. (Pics below are Lance's helmets from 2021, 2022 and 2023 - all a 10/10 for me).

Of the three the 2023 design is my favourite, but I love the creativity of the 2022 helmet in creating the Aston wings out of matte paint and neon lime accents. It's super clever!

I have an unbelievably silly amount of helmets in my helmet tag so I just know I'm going to forget some (and it's almost after half past 11 at night for me so my brain will not be braining as much - I will probably end up doing a part 2 for this).

Gonna put this under a read more to avoid dash clogging.

Lewis Hamilton - 2020 pre-season testing

Do I think Lewis was absolutely spot on in switching his helmet design to purple and black for the 2020 season? Yes. Do I miss what we could have had in this beautiful white and purple variant? Also yes. (Deep deep down, I do hope this is the route he goes for his first Ferrari helmet next year).

Purple just is Lewis' helmet colour to me, and the big splashes of white with hints of baby pink is just soooooooooo pretty. This helmet looked stunning with the silver W11 Mercedes livery and I think it would have looked gorgeous with the black livery too.

10/10 no notes.

Sebastian Vettel - Singapore 2017

Seb's Singapore helmet designs literally. never. missed. Sadly I think his 2017 design gets forgotten about because of... well... the events of the race start. But to move on very swiftly, I think this design does not get talked about enough. The reflective detailing is really fun and looks just as gorgeous as all the sparkly helmets under the circuit floodlights, and it gets a bonus point for the yellow to red to pink shift matching perfectly with both the German flag on Seb's helmet and the 2017 Ferrari livery.

Again, 10/10 no notes.

Michael Schumacher - Belgium 2011

A lot of F1 drivers do have very iconic helmet designs. But will they ever be Michael Schumacher wearing a helmet decorated with actual 21 carat gold levels of iconic? No.

(I do want to include a video about how this helmet was made bc it's just so mesmerising to watch.)

This design was created and ran in honour of Michael's 20th anniversary in F1, which he celebrated at Spa - the scene of his first ever F1 race and maiden victory.

And it's sexy as hell. 10/10.

Jenson Button - Great Britain 2014

In honour of his father Johnathan, who traditionally always wore a pink button up shirt on race days when supporting Jenson and passed away at the start of 2014, Jenson ran his helmet design in a bright pink colourway for the British GP - which also featured a pink shirt wearing Papa Smurf (a frequently used nickname for Jenson's Dad).

I was super lucky to be at Silverstone for the race weekend in 2014, and you could always know when Jenson was on track because the super bright shade of pink was impossible to miss. And it also looked gorgeous with McLaren's chrome silver and black livery that year.

As a tribute, it's very beautiful. And a helmet I always remember fondly.

Zhou Guanyu - Abu Dhabi 2022

I'm not kidding when I say that I think about this helmet design at least once a week. It's probably every two days at the very least.

It's stunning, it's gorgeous, it's beautiful. Guanyu always delivers on his helmets every single time.

again, 10/10 I want a mini version of this on my shelf.

Esteban Ocon - Great Britain 2022

So, I have the heart of a marshmallow. I am incredibly mushy and sentimental, therefore anything slightly mushy and sentimental makes me go all gooey and weepy.

Esteban's helmet for Silverstone not only featured the names of every single employee at both the Alpine factory in Enstone and and the Renault Powertrains factory in Viry-Châtillon - but the top of the helmet also included the co-ordinates of both factories. Very mushy, very sentimental. It's just lovely.

The blue gradient is also very pretty. 10/10.

(gonna end this here as it's now ten to midnight and I'm struggling to think of many more BUT I will 100% make a part 2 for this if people want).

reverse unpopular opinions: send me a topic and I'll say something nice about it

[jasonbehrs]

🚃  visualise the ending  🚃

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

The warning notification sounds, the doors close, the train continues onwards.

fandom: arashi characters: aiba masaki, ninomiya kazunari ship: ninoai genres: friendship, romance themes: first meetings, subways, getting to know each other, slow burn, romance implied, open ending word count: 5.2k+ rating: T+

read it on ffnet, aff, wattpad, ao3, or below!

~~~

A/N (3.3.2023): Happy Ninoai Day (in Japan)! 🔰💛💚 This story is tagged as romance, but you can definitely read this as platonic if you want to.

I started shipping Ninoai back in March 2022 (literally like a few days after Ninoai Day haha), and oviparous' works are a large part of why I am still here. This story and its title are entirely inspired by a plot point in the fic 'The non-fiction of you and me' (available on AO3), which I highly recommend to all Ninoaiers if they haven't read it yet! There are no spoilers for oviparous' fic if you happen to read this first.

~~~

Aiba's feeling green today.

He noticed he gets better results when he wears something other than the standard, penguin-suit, salaryman costume to work, so the professional side of his closet is filled with button ups and ties in bright colours that make him happy to look at; and the morning's beautiful sunshine has him feeling like he should wear green. Once that decision is made, he finishes the rest of his morning routine in record time and heads for the Makuharihongo Station.

As soon as he boards the Sobu Line, he can tell the commute this morning isn't going to be very pleasant. He's lucky that he was able to find a seat, but by the next station there were already enough commuters that people had no choice but to hold onto the ceiling handrail in front of him. In one more stop, they were all packed like sardines.

If not for one flash of pale yellow somewhere between him and the closest exit, the blacks, grays, and whites of suit jackets and collared shirts swarming before him would certainly fit the sardine analogy. He is extra glad for his spring green shirt today.

As the train continues onwards to Mitaka, Aiba indulges in his favourite subway hobby: observing people and guessing their niche personality traits. It's something he's always done; he can't tell if it's a byproduct of his profession, or maybe it's the reason he's so good at his job.

For example, the man crossing into his personal space likely ice skated in middle school, a conclusion entirely drawn from how he is able to maintain his balance in the crooked posture he's in. What appears to be the sole woman in the entire subway car probably is the middle child of a large litter of boys.

The fellow in yellow? Well, it's not a personality trait, but he's definitely about to fall.

Standing where he is and surrounded as he is, he has no good bars or straps within arms reach to moor himself. He's entirely relying on adjusting his balance between his two planted feet and apologising when he overcorrects. All it'll take is one particularly bad jostle, and—there.

In the time it takes him to blink, Aiba's already out of his seat, one hand punched through the wall of bodies to reach where he knows a handrail should be and the other wrapped around the upper chest of the nearly-horizontal man.

Leave it to the Tokyo commuters to only create space just for a man to bruise his dignity.

"Are you okay?" he asks reflexively as he sets the Fellow in Yellow upright. Aiba guides the man's closest hand to follow his arm until it reaches the rail, and they smoothly exchange positions so the other is holding on instead.

"Your seat…" The Fellow's pitying-yet-incredulous voice is clear despite the mask he's wearing.

Aiba doesn't have to turn to know someone else had occupied his vacant spot on the bench, likely as soon as he got up. In fact, it's probably the figure skater. "Don't worry about it. This is my stop!" he lies just as the next station rolls into view.

"Take care today!" Aiba waves cheerily as he gets caught up in the throng of people rushing on and off the train. He waits until the doors close before he looks around the platform to figure out just where he ended up.

Ah, Ichigaya! Not bad! It's only one stop off from his typical Yotsuya. He can walk the rest of the way to work, easy. Besides, today's a beautiful day.

~~~

Nino ducks as soon as he boards the Sobu, raising his briefcase up to hide his face as he scoots deeper into the car and farther away from his source of discomfort. He chants "shit, shit, shit" to himself the entire way, desperately hoping he wasn't seen. (At least he isn't wearing that godawful yellow shirt again today. If he ever needed a reminder to do laundry on a regular basis, that was it.)

He doesn't let his briefcase down until he grabs a spot on the complete opposite side of the train car from where he entered, but he only does so so that he can surreptitiously peer over the edge.

The Guy in Green—who isn't wearing green today, but too much time has passed for Nino to call him any other moniker at this point—seems to be completely ignorant of his presence, and Nino finally slumps over in relief.

As grateful as he felt to be saved last time, he's embarrassed that he had to be saved at all. He's usually so good at the subway-surfing thing, a skill he honed so that he could play video games while standing during his commute home. To anyone else, it may not be a big deal, but the Guy in Green's existence will serve as a constant reminder that he didn't just fail, he failed noticeably. His ego is a sensitive, mercurial thing.

He tries valiantly to stick to his morning routine of reviewing the news when movement makes him refocus his eyes and attention. The Guy in Green is getting off.

He doesn't mean to trail his eyes after the other, but something Nino is choosing to call bored curiosity encourages him to observe him. He didn't get a good look last time; besides Nino's refusal to meet the Guy's eyes, he wound up disembarking the train less than a minute later. Now, Nino can plainly see how tall the man is and how his suit jacket and slacks decidedly fit his figure.

He can also see how the Guy's rail pass flutters out of his pocket as he side-steps a woman pushing a stroller.

Nino gets to his feet. No one else on the platform seems to notice what happened, which means it's up to him to act…

… But being a good samaritan will make him late for work, and he has a major client meeting first thing this morning…

… But Guy in Green saved him from face-planting last week; and as embarrassed as Nino is to have been saved at all, he is still grateful for it.

He squeezes off the train at the last second, narrowly avoiding the automatic doors closing on his briefcase. "Wait!" he calls ineffectually, considering how far the Guy made it while Nino was too busy making up his mind.

He stoops to pick up the rail pass and bounds after the Guy in Green. "You there, wait!"

A bunch of people stop and stare after him; and after a third cry, the Guy in Green is one of them. His eyes widen as Nino hurriedly approaches him with the rail pass outstretched. "You dropped this," Nino pants as soon as he is within normal-volume-of-speaking distance.

The Guy in Green launches into his rendition of the pocket-patting dance that everyone does to verify something needs to be on their person. "Oh my god, I did. Thank you so much!"

Nino waves away the thanks easily and pulls out his phone to check the time. He's only at Yotsuya. If he boards any next train bound for Shinjuku, he'll still be late, but forgivably so. Bonus: he never has to feel awkward about meeting the Guy again; with this, they're even in the balance sheet of Nino's mind. The day is still salvageable.

"I would have gotten into trouble at my job if I lost this card!" the other continues as he rifles through his pockets. Did he drop a second thing? Nino can only do so much!

He pulls out his wallet, and Nino raises an eyebrow. "I know it's not much, but please take this as an expression of my thanks."

Instead of the money Nino expected to see, the Guy offers him a piece of cardstock with two outstretched hands. He takes it out of curiosity, and it's a half-way punched out Dotour Coffee loyalty card.

Nino sweatdrops. He's more of an indie cafe kind of guy, and he would have much preferred money besides.

He's about to politely refuse the gift when the Guy jumps in shock. "Ah, I'm gonna be late! Thanks again." He offers a hurried, partial bow then turns on his heel, leaving Nino standing on the platform and staring after the man's lithe form running for the turnstiles.

Nino looks down at his phone again and makes a decision. If he's going to be late anyway, he might as well be extra late with some coffee and sweet bread for everyone at the meeting.

If he happens to get them from Dotour, too, well… that isn't anyone's business.

~~~

Aiba will admit he didn't think much about the Fellow in Yellow at first. Shortly after the near-fall, he had already forgotten it had happened. It is only because of their second encounter that Aiba can remember that he had offhandedly noticed the other's round nose, an impression Aiba could gain because he wasn't fully wearing his mask that first time and then wasn't wearing a mask at all the next time. If it weren't for how he saved Aiba's rail pass last week, Aiba definitely wouldn't have thought of him any further.

But he did, and Aiba does. He can now add a short but lean frame and a high, nasally voice to the list of things he knows about the Fellow in Yellow, and he isn't that surprised to realise he wants to learn more.

As the one who gets on the Sobu Line first, the onus is really on him if he wants to see the other again; and Aiba doesn't question it (as he doesn't with most things) before he devotes himself headlong to this endeavour.

Their commutes home are likely too erratic to align by accident, so the mornings are his only chance. He starts by systematically trying combinations of train times and car numbers to get a sense of the Fellow's boarding habits. At every stop after Makuharihongo, Aiba scans the commuters on the platform to see if he could recognise the person he's looking for among them.

Luckily for Aiba, humans are creatures of habit. It takes him only one business week to figure out that the Fellow boards at Shin-Koiwa, one week more to discern which cars he prefers, and just a few days afterwards to work out the timing.

It is worth it for the look of pure shock on the Fellow's face when he gets on, plops onto an available seat facing the doors, and sees Aiba sitting directly across from him. The Fellow hesitates before offering a weak wave then promptly looks down at his phone, but Aiba still considers that a win.

The same thing happens the next day, except Aiba is standing.

On the third day, the Fellow in Yellow finally looks at him with suspicion instead of surprise, and all Aiba can do is smile.

~~~

They don't really talk much, which bothers Nino more than history suggests it should bother Nino.

Actually, a lot of things about this new, unlikely, yet easy arrangement bothers Nino, chief of which is that for all their commiserations over train delays and silent acknowledgements of funny people they see in their cars, he still doesn't know the Guy in Green's name; and it additionally bothers him that that even bothers him to begin with.

The Guy hasn't even worn green at all since that first time (today, the prominent colour is a citrus-adjacent level of orange), so the nickname feels disingenuous with every passing day. Nino hasn't the first clue about how to broach the topic now, though. He thinks it might be too long since the first time to cover the basis of names.

"By the way, I'm Aiba! Aiba Masaki."

Or not. Unlikely but easy, indeed. "Ninomiya Kazunari," he offers with a curt bow of his head.

"It's nice to formally meet you, Ninomiya-san."

"Nino."

Aiba-san jerks his head forward in astonishment. "'Nino'?" He looks like he's fighting very hard not to let a smile overtake his face and losing, and Nino can't begrudge him for it. His own coworkers haven't been given permission to call him anything less formal than 'Ninomiya-kun', but Aiba-san gets the privilege after barely two weeks of acquaintance?

He resolves not to look too deeply into it. In any case, it's not something he can take back now. "You can call me Nino," he affirms.

Aiba-san fully surrenders the battle with his smile. "You can call me Maa-kun!"

"I'm not going to do that."

He pouts. Aiba-san has got to be at least thirty, maybe even thirty-five, and he's pouting in broad daylight. "What are you going to call me, then?"

"Aiba-san." An answer and an admonishment.

"The least you could do is drop the -san!" Aiba whines; and just like that, Nino has begun eschewing the -san even in his own mind.

"We'll see about that," he retorts for the mere sake of being obstinate.

~~~

In the stops before Nino arrives, Aiba frets.

He constantly entertains thoughts of asking Nino about his commuting home habits, but he's worried it might be overstepping some unseen boundaries. Their conversations, while enjoyable and easily the highlight of his day, don't get very personal; and he displayed enough stalkerish tendencies to force them into this tentative yet burgeoning friendship to begin with. Every time, he has to resign himself to the fact that Nino's company must remain a once-a-day kind of deal.

Even the topic he's broaching today is a strong departure from their typical terms of engagement, but he would feel so bad if he let it go undiscussed. He's still nervous about it, though. He wore yellow today, a colour he has started associating with good luck.

Nino boards, and they exchange routine pleasantries before he's nose-deep into his phone. Aiba has since gathered that whatever Nino reads every morning is a part of his morning routine and not a conversation avoidance tactic, so he typically honours that unless he has a funny observation to make.

Today, however, he will gladly take it as an excuse to postpone the conversation he wants to have.

He doesn't muster up the courage to say anything until Ichigaya, and it comes out in a rush. "I'm leaving on a business trip today."

"Hm? Where to?"

"Sapporo." Aiba anxiously watches the tunnel zip pass as they get closer and closer to his stop.

"Nice. I hope the crab is still in season," Nino comments distractedly, still reading whatever he reads on his phone.

Finally Yotsuya's platform comes into view, and Aiba can't hold it back anymore, even if Nino didn't ask. Even if Nino didn't want to know. "I'll be back on Tuesday."

"Oh. … Oh!"

Aiba's strange relief that Nino had any reaction at all coincides with the conductor announcing their stop. "Yeah," he says apologetically as he stands up, even though he doesn't know exactly what it is he's apologising for.

Nino opens his mouth to say something, but the doors open then, and Aiba gets caught up amongst the throng of people trying to board and disembark at the same time. He casts desperate eyes to meet Nino's, but he only gets a glimpse before he finds himself staring at the Sobu train continuing on its way to Mitaka. Aiba is left on the rapidly un-crowding platform, still and empty.

They didn't even get to say goodbye.

~~~

He doesn't have to look to know Aiba is about to start a conversation. Maybe he's just become more sensitive to it as a defense mechanism, but he swears something in the air changes. The weight of his focus is heavy.

"Hey, Nino. Have you always taken the Sobu?"

Nino hides a snort. He knows what Aiba is asking. In the past several weeks, he's discovered that the logic part of the time-honoured Japanese art of subtlety is lost on Aiba.

"It's very likely that we've ridden in the same car before. I've been at my company for a couple of years already, but I got promoted a few months ago, so now I can come in later than I used to."

Aiba exaggeratedly checks his watch, peeking behind a patterned red shirt. "This is late for you?"

Nino shrugs. "That's life when you work in finance."

"Finance! Fancy." Nino doesn't get to dwell too long on the fact that after all this time Aiba didn't even know what he spent his daylight hours doing, that he should probably do a better job of telling Aiba more about himself, or that maybe it's weird that he wants Aiba to know more about himself, before Aiba continues. "I'm a pollster!"

"Like, during elections?"

"No, no, like… Have you ever watched News Zero? You know how sometimes the hosts talk about statistics that you didn't realise anybody was even tracking?"

Unbidden, Nino remembers one such weird statistic from last Monday's episode. "Like how fruit popularity varies between prefectures?"

"Exactly! My company does analysis like that, and I poll for the data. I love ranking things, I always have. Even though I don't get to do the ranking myself, I'm happy that I even get to contribute." Aiba punctuates the thought with a bright grin.

It is such a niche job, but Aiba seems to be such a niche person, so Nino supposes it works out. Besides, it's better that someone like Aiba is doing that work than someone like Nino. Aiba just has the kind of face that makes you want to tell him things. Nino would know; he's on the receiving end of its power every workday. He finds that he must actively refrain from blurting out absolutely ridiculous things like "I saw a movie yesterday, and the lead character reminded me of you" or "Wanna head to an izakaya after work?", a show of restraint he's never had to display before.

He realises with a jolt that he hasn't really replied to Aiba yet; but before he could save face, Aiba abruptly points to the sky. So unlikely. "I rank this job as Number 1 in the country!"

Nino bypasses gratitude for sardonicism in the way it has been increasingly difficult to do lately. "I possess no knowledge that would impel me to disagree with you."

Aiba laughs. So easy. "I don't even know how to draw the word 'impel'!"

~~~

Nino boards the train looking like death in motion. "Had a call with Los Angeles," he preempts the question as he sits down, then he promptly lolls his head onto Aiba's shoulder and passes out.

Like with most things, Aiba doesn't question the sudden show of skinship and instead tries with all his might to make his bony shoulder the most comfortable pillow on the planet. For the rest of the trip, he glares at people who bump into the knees of his sleeping charge, he curses the volume of the conductor's announcements that make his eyebrows furrow even in sleep. Aiba keeps as still as possible, regardless of how the turbulent subway ride is more likely to rouse Nino than any movement Aiba makes. In any case, he was trusted with a responsibility, and he's not going to mess this up.

Nino isn't wearing a mask again today. The softness of his face is more prominent in his sleep, squished as it is against his blue-clad shoulder. He hates to wake Nino up, but he knows Shinjuku is next. (Between Nino's profession and their months of early morning camaraderie, it was easy to pick up that Nino alights the metro a few stops after his.)

"Nino, your stop is coming up."

"Wha—?" His voice is bleary with unvoiced yawns, and something inside of Aiba yearns. He wishes that the train would malfunction, that a small fire would break out on the tracks and cause a slight delay, that anything would let the moment last a moment longer. Nino clearly needs the rest.

But the conductor announces Shinjuku all too soon, Nino jumps into alertness, and Aiba's side goes cold.

"Holy shit!" Nino frantically searches his surroundings, searching for something that Aiba can't help him with. It isn't until the train slows enough for Nino to read the signs outside that he calms down. "Oh, thank god. I thought I missed my stop."

"I wouldn't have let you." Belatedly, Aiba remembers to smile. "No worries."

Nino pats Aiba on the shoulder with the patronising affection only someone like him could pull off. "That's because you're a good person, Aiba-shi."

When the doors open, Nino joins the crowd of people disembarking with a jaunty salute in Aiba's direction. He must have been really frazzled if he forgot to act like he and Aiba aren't friends.

Then the warning notification sounds, the doors close, and the train continues onwards.

Aiba lets out a deep sigh of relief. Just as well. If Nino is still high on adrenaline and gratitude, he can't think about how Aiba was around to wake him up on time in the first place. If he makes the connection anytime today, he'll have to bring it up tomorrow; and Aiba will surely have an excuse lined up by then. For the first time, he's grateful that they never exchanged LINE information.

He only rides until Okubo, one stop past Shinjuku, before getting off. While he waits for a train headed in the opposite direction, he gets a call from his boss asking where he is; and he smoothly makes up a white lie about sleeping on the subway and missing his stop.

~~~

"Nothing to read on your phone today, Nino?"

Nino startles back into awareness. Has Aiba been trying to get his attention for long? "Um, not today. No."

Aiba's eyes take on an excited shine. "Okay, I have a story to tell you. It's kind of long, so I held onto it for a morning you weren't busy reading." Nino elects to refrain from mentioning that Aiba has frequently interrupted his morning reading in the past. "Last year, my family and I went on vacation to New York…"

While Aiba goes on about the city's own crowded metro system, Nino's mind wanders back to the reason he can't focus enough to read the news on his phone.

The Dotour Coffee loyalty card burns a hole in his wallet with its call to action. It only needs one more visit to redeem the reward—a dessert of the customer's choosing—and it has for a few weeks now. Nino has had plenty of opportunities to stop by the Dotour by his office in that time, but he can never make himself go inside.

He tells himself it's because the desserts at Dotour suck; but sitting here and half-listening to Aiba embellish his story with unnecessary details he believes to be funny, Nino can only be honest with himself.

He wants to redeem the reward with Aiba.

He has imagined the conversation so many times in his mind. He'd casually go, 'Hey, when's your lunch? I'm going to Dotour to redeem the loyalty card thing. I was gonna go by myself, but I figured it's only fair that you come with me since we both contributed to it.' Aiba would probably vibrate out of his seat in excitement, and Nino would carefully hide his satisfaction with a bent head as they compare schedules on their phones.

"... And that's how I learned that passenger pushers are not a thing in other countries!" Aiba erupts in giggles as he finishes, and Nino wants to roll his eyes. Aiba sucks at telling stories. Nino wasn't even paying attention, and he could already tell what happened.

Instead he tampers a frown. Indeed. He could already tell Aiba would be happy to join him, but it's just not enough for some reason. Their friendship is supposed to be easy, but he's the one making it difficult.

The conductor announces Yotsuya, and Aiba jumps up from his seat with a stretch. "I've been holding that in forever. Now I have to think of another story to tell you on a morning you aren't busy!"

"I'll, uh, I'll look forward to it," Nino says, just because it's been too long since he's said something.

Aiba bows shallowly, his cheeky little "Yoroshiku~" getting lost in the din once the train doors open. He bounds off to his fabulous job as a pollster, and Nino doesn't say a damn thing.

He sighs to himself. There's always next time.

~~~

In the stops before Nino boards, Aiba frets.

He's known for almost two weeks now, but he could never figure out the right time to say it, and it's almost too late. If not today, then never. He knows he has to say something. He wants to say something, but he cannot find the courage.

The train pulls into Shin-Koiwa, and Aiba's heart hurts. Just like those early days, Nino is waiting on the platform with his face buried in his phone. Habit and hope have him standing at the same pillar every work day because it faces the door that opens into the car where he knows he'll find Aiba. The conflict between how happy Aiba is to see him and how much he dreaded facing him peaks with this subtle representation of the relationship they've built.

The train was kind of full this morning, so Aiba had elected to hold onto one of the overhead grab handles right in front of the doors instead of taking a seat and leaving Nino to stand. When Nino boards, he easily takes his place right next to Aiba, one arm reaching up for balance and the other managing his phone and briefcase. As far as he is concerned, today is just another day in the monotony of capitalism.

The same obstacle that prevented him from confessing the truth every time before emerges once again: His life is changing, but he wants to preserve the Nino whose life doesn't have to.

He's a coward. He knows he's a coward, and now he is also a thief. He has robbed Nino of the time and chance to process, but there's nothing he can do about it now except tell Nino his truth.

Before long, they depart from Ichigaya, and it is Aiba's last chance.

"Hey, Nino?"

"Hm?" Nino acknowledges distractedly, scrolling as ever.

Aiba takes a deep breath, one last delaying tactic before everything changes. He almost wants to cry from the anxiety; but instead of tears, words spill out of him, jumbled and in one breath.

.

Aiba takes a second to start his thought. This strikes Nino as odd because Aiba is not the kind of man who puts forethought into anything, especially his own thoughts; but he just waits. His industry is very dependent on other industries' actions, and failing to prepare is preparing to fail. That's why he diligently reads the news every morning even though he'd really rather talk to Aiba.

Then: "I'm being transferred. The Hokkaido trip I told you about a few months back? It was a success. My company wants to open a new branch there, and I was specifically picked to find and train new pollsters. It's a great opportunity…"

Nino nods along absentmindedly while Aiba talks, and then his thumb stills. His head snaps up then over, his eyes wide and entirely focused on his visibly stressed friend.

Aiba's hand grips the handle tighter. "I'm, um, I'm not going to be taking this train anymore," he ends weakly.

"Yeah, no shit," Nino snarks on impulse, but there's no heat in it. In fact, Nino feels ice cold.

"Yeah, no shit," Nino snarks, but it's mild, reflexive, almost calming. If Nino can still snark, Nino must be okay.

The calm distorts into hurt before Aiba can stop it, and he berates himself. He always intended for the reveal to be a factual exchange of information, merely a notice—he reminded himself time and again and even now that Nino's life will not be impacted by his announcement; it's not supposed to be—but his chest still goes tight with anticipation, waiting for something more from Nino. He's wanting something more from Nino.

Instead, the next voice he hears is the conductor's on the loudspeaker. "This stop: Yotsuya."

Nino, for his part, is very, very still.

With these last seconds at his disposal, Aiba wonders if he should fill the empty air. He has so much to say, actually, but he doesn't think he can give voice to any of them without said voice absolutely breaking. Instead, he looks into Nino's unblinking eyes, hoping his own can convey enough for him.

I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. The best thing that ever happened to me was meeting you. Thank you for your company all these mornings.

Goodbye.

.

"This stop: Yotsuya."

Aiba is looking at him so earnestly, waiting for his reaction, like he always is, like Nino is always making him do. He knows he has to say something, he wants to say something, but he is frozen with emotion. Anxiety, confusion, anger, desperation—what does he do with these things?

He can't pull his eyes away from Aiba's face, but the rest of their surroundings still come into hyper focus. The rumble of the subway car, people shuffling to get ready to disembark, too many different kinds of cologne in the air—he is aware of them all, yet his senses still feel dulled. It's like a movie playing at one frame a second. Every detail is apparent to him, but perceiving them is meaningless.

Pushing through the overstimulation, his brain gets flooded with visions instead. They are not memories, no, because they never happened. Drinks in his favourite izakaya. Lunches spent commiserating over coworkers. Train rides home.

They never happened because he never asked for them. Why didn't he? And what could he possibly ask from Aiba now?

(He could feel something clawing its way from his subconscious to his tongue, but it doesn't make any sense. Aiba has no reason to stay, and Nino has no reason to convince him.)

He doesn't know what he can do, what he can say. He's running out of time.

Sooner than he is ready for it, the train stops. The automatic doors pull apart before them. His head snaps toward the offensive opening, his eyes glaring with the full force of the injustice and his fear.

.

The automatic doors pull apart before them, and that's it. His time on the Sobu is over.

Aiba forces himself to let go of the grab handle, and the arm drops limply to his side now that it no longer has a purpose. There is nothing left tethering him to this moment.

Nino isn't even looking at him anymore, and Aiba steels himself. If that's as much of an answer as he's going to get, he will accept it. He deserves nothing better for how he let this relationship end. He is a coward, he is a thief, and he is just another commuter.

With one last glance at Nino's passive profile—still waiting, still hoping, still not knowing why—Aiba moves forward and blends in with the ensuing flurry of activity that accompanies every train stop. His face is forward, his steps are unwilling, and his tears are swift; but at least this time he got to say goodbye.

A two-toned caution echoes in the car behind him, a call for attention, a warning of finality.

.

"Please stand away from the closing doors."

Nino gets to his feet.

~~~

A/N (3.3.2023): If you're so inclined, follow me on twitter. :)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

look who i found at pride wtf ……. 🤨🤨🤨🤨

HEHEHE I’M SOOOO HAPPY U LIKED THE CONCEPT + THAT IT WAS SIMILAR TO WHAT U WERE IMAGINING the arimickey hivemind lives on…. TAKEDA PLS I WAS LITERALLY PICTURING HIM BUT W BLONDE HAIR PHDHDH he’s perfect for the role he’s the teacher of all time… :3 i forgot to mention it in my ask but OBV professor!reader is a little glasses wearer!!! i’m glad we all agree ANDD I’M SO GLAD TO KNOW WE’RE BOTH GLASSES ENJOYERS i think ppl who wear glasses should get paid every month just for existing and being as pretty as they are idk .. just a thought……

BUT WAHHH MICKEY WE HAVE SO MUCH TO DISCUSS I’M SHAKING IN MY SEAT 😵‍💫😵‍💫 first of all…. the idea of toji getting a crush first is SO cute that’s what we’re going with actually. all ur words are Canon to me. I THINK IT’S SUCHHH A CUTE IDEA mr buff guy ladies man toji realizes that he does in fact like Men………. i think he would very much be in denial but at some point he just accepts it. the idea of him asking another queer guy for advice is so sweet to me too (MORE ON THAT LATER i’m sure u can guess which queer guy i’m thinking abt though…. our one and only…..)

BUT WAHHH MICKEY :((((( literally all ur thoughts made me jump in my seat i’m so excited I LOVE UR READERS ALWAYS like this description……

but yeah he's always wearing the comfiest fits just like u said - sweaters, vests, a button-up shirt and a colorful tie sometimes (he was super nervous about wearing the tie at first bc he thought he'd look stupid but he got over it and now he has a rule of wearing a tie at least once a week)(canon). when it's cold he's wearing an oversized coat and an equally big scarf and toji thinks it's very cute i mean what who said that.

HE’S THE COZIEST GUY EVER I NEED TO KISS HIS FOREHEAD being nervous over the tie 😭😭😭😭…. HE’S SO REALLLL i just know he checks himself out before heading to work every morning…. makes sure his hair is all fluffed up….. gives the mirror a tiny smile to start the day off right………. i Need him as my professor actually. i just know he’s such a sweetheart n treats his students so kindly :(( the kinda prof nobody could ever hate bc he’s so passionate and so silly and cute…. AND THE OVERSIZED SCARF PLSSS toji just gets this warm feeling in his chest as he watches him come into view… giant ass scarf wrapped snugly around his neck….. WHAT COLOUR BTW i’m thinking either a dark green or a BRIGHT orange he’s that kinda guy… i love him actually i don’t think i’ll ever be normal abt ur readers mickey 😞😞😞

AND AND ANDDDD THE SLEEPY DESK SCENARIO that makes it sound like the desk is sleepy and not . the prof. BUT U KNOW WHAT I MEAN wahhhh toji getting all soft 🥺🥺🥺 and then running away LMAOO THAT’S SO CANON he feels an ounce of affection and just FREAKS out…… a big ol awkward teddy bear <333 i do think toji is a morosexual ok i’ll be the first to say it. prof!reader trips on his own shoelaces + faceplants into the grass + spills his coffee all over his nice shirt and toji is just like SIGHHH i like him so fucking much…. smiles all softly to himself like wowwww that guy is clumsy… clumsy little idiot…. who trips on their own fucking shoelaces…….. <- but he’s literally sighing dreamily and twirling his hair :// he has a thing for silly dumbasses ok i firmly believe mamagumi was like that too!!! is this the face of someone w braincells…. no absolutely not she was a golden retriever gf <33

also got this idea of the professor breaking smth in his class idk like he sits on the chair and one of the legs breaks or smth lmao and he goes on a lookout for smth to fix it with (??????) and he finds toji!!!! and he comes to his rescue, teasing the professor a little bc how the hell did he break the chair you know. and maybe he professor blushes a little..................... IT'S TOJI C'MON EVERYBODY WOULD BLUSH A LITTTLE and then maybe the professor brings him a pastry or something the next day as a thank you and now it's toji who's..... cheeks are looking a little pink?????? and he's grumbling that it's my job. no need to thank me. but the professor just dismissed that immediately and just presses the pastry into his hands and waves him goodbye with a smile.

AND THIS????????????????? sorry i had to just copy paste bc it’s so perfect I’M LOSING ITTTTTT MCIKEY :((( THEY’RE THE CUTESTTTT MY DADS I THINK? MY FATHERS??? MAY I BE ADOPTED?????? but no honestly this is THEEEE cutest thing ever i’m so…. T—T toji fixing the chair…. teasing reader……. reader giving him a little treat and toji getting all blushy… sighhhh they’re in Love … i need a whole shoujo manga abt them asap we need to Make it mickey. this’ll sell i just KNOW it…… this has the softest cutest most comforting romcom vibes i can alr feel it healing me.

OH AND AS FOR LIKE … who would make the first move …….. i think i agree that toji would. mostly bc poor prof is convinced that he’s straight 😭 so after toji has done a LOT of reflecting i think he kinda… broaches the subject.:::. really carefully……. but prof is so oblivious and doesn’t realize he’s getting hit on which . ironically would be good i think… idk i just feel like toji would eventually run out of patience and just cup his face all annoyed and blushy and confess…. very gruffly….. ”i like you, dumbass.” <- smth very straight to the point like that …. and reader fucking explodes . tragic 😔😔 but real.

but ok before we go further (and i Forget) OFCCCC U CAN USE THIS IN THE DRABBLE MICKEY U NEVER NEED TO ASK WE SHARE A BRAIN OK THIS CONCEPT IS URS…. U OWN IT I’M SO SERIOUS I WOULD BE HONOURED <33333 it’s our child i think.. we’re taking this marriage one step further…… NO BUT ACTUALLY GO WILD these two belong to u i’m SO excited to see how u write them!!!! i just know i’m gonna explode when that drabble drops….. ure gonna be the death of me….. T—T

WITH THAT BEING SAIDDDD i did….. think of smth after sending this ask……. would love to know ur thoughts i’m just spitballing i’m the loyal employee and ure the ceo ok !! BUT BUT :33 i was thinking of why toji would be at this uni specifically….. and then i was like. what if MEGUMI goes there….. maybe not at that exact institution or whatever but like. he goes to that uni and toji knows that he does…. and maybe he wanted to work there so he could check up on him every now and then?? :(( from afar!! i do picture this as a no curses au i think……. but still canon-aligned in that toji married mamagumi, had gumi, fell into a spiral of depression after she died and worked for very shady people for a while…. and gumi was eventually taken in by Someone (coughcoughcough) and hasn’t seen toji since he was a baby. maybe it’s a lil too angsty for this au but i think it could be a sweet sideplot to the romance….. toji kinda wants to reconnect w him but doesn’t know how to go abt it. maybe prof!reader would give him advice? :’3

OK BUT THAT ASIDE (and this part is Canon to me)…… obviously we HAVE to drag gojo into this somehow. i’m thinking he’s also a professor at the uni and like … the Favorite. the coolest silliest of them all. interacts w everyone and is 100% friends w prof!reader which is how he comes to know toji too!!! just imagine the two of them having a cute lil convo and BAM suddenly our resident freak is there…. slinging an arm over reader’s shoulder (toji visibly twitches) and greeting them both in a cheery voice……….. before rushing away to get some printouts he forgot to give his students <33

aside from being silly and cute and funny and perfect i’m thinking gojo has two roles in this au!! 1) making toji jealous…… 😳😳 and 2) being the resident queer man who helps toji work out his own feelings. i just think he would be the wingman of all time like maybe he notices the shy glances and blushes and he’s like :333 i’m gonna have to intervene. so he’s a lil more touchy w reader than usual….. and he KNOWSSS it drives toji a little crazy and makes him really confused and frustrated and he just delights in it. BUT ALSO i think that when toji eventually has his gay crisis he ends up talking to gojo somehow….. just two bi guys having a chat yk…….. gojo would obviously be wayyy more open w his sexuality (what do we think abt canon stsg for this au 😵‍💫😵‍💫 they’re both profs and toru is famously gross w pda) (it’s ruining suguru’s reputation) (he secretly really likes it)…. so toji just kinda.. nervously asks him abt it….. how he had his awakening and stuff……. (gojo tells him it was angemon and toji promptly leaves <33)

anyway sorry for dragging him into the narrative in my defense one of us would’ve done it eventually 😔😔 i fear there’s no hope for us.

THIS GOT LONG ? SUDDENLY?? MYSTERIOUSLY????? i’m in love w this au and them and u and ur beautiful brain and toji’s tits WHO SAID THAT … it’s really late i feel kinda delirious …… BUT I AM KISSING U SO SWEETLY i hope u have the silkiest softest dreams <33333 and that ur pillow is nice and cold and that ur bed is warm and that u wake up to sunlight streaming in through the windows <33333 MWAH one big kiss for mickey!!!

mickey i am kissing ur brain so gently i literally just woke up but i saw the bi!toji post ……… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 REAL & CANON BTW but for some reason the first thought that popped into my head was. uni au….. janitor!toji/professor!reader…………….. hear me out.

toji who just stopped working as an assassin and is trying to get his life together, who just happened to land a job as a janitor at a prestigious university that he takes fairly seriously…. (i just knowww he hates littering students with every fibre of his being. catches them in the act and reaches for his gun out of old habit LMAO) and there’s this nerdy little professor who always arrives at the uni first thing in the morning, without fail, and always gives toji a cheery little greeting when he does. wearing his cozy sweaters and vests and scarves and smiling all bright and sleepy. and for some reason he almost always takes his coffee breaks conveniently close to wherever toji is cleaning… so they can chat a bit….. even though toji usually just listens and grunts every now and then.

and at first toji feels kinda Threatened by this pretty boy bc ???? whyyyy is he interrupting my precious cleaning time. is he trying to supervise me? show off his fancy degrees??? …. reader has the fattest crush on him but toji genuinely doesn’t realize bc he’s wired to always mistrust others :// meanwhile reader is watching him clean internally going what the fuck what the fuckkk why is he wearing a compression shirt it’s literally fucking freezing??? is he teasing me???? does he know?????? they’re both losers actually. big romcom vibes

BUT YEAH i just picture professor!reader being a sleepy but cheery little guy….. who loves loves loves teaching and talking about his subject of choice and toji starts to really enjoy their talks bc reader’s eyes shine soooo brightly when he’s chattering away… all excited and gleaming….. and toji kinda hates teachers but he decides to make an exception this once. maybe starts to initiate conversations of his own every now and then… who knows…………….

OK THAT’S ALL PDHJDDHJF 😭😭 this came to me in a vision and ofc i had to share…. imagine me at a board meeting pointing at my little graphs and powerpoints while u sit in a big ceo chair overlooking the city… pondering janitor!toji and the future of this company…... mickey ur posts genuinely make me fully insane i hope u know that. bi!toji is real and loves you specifically btw <333333 I HOPE U HAVE A LOVELY DAY MWAH :3

ARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII I NEED TO KISS U RN!!!

LIKE THIS ISN'T OKAY BY ANY MEANS HOW DID YOU COOK THIS UP AND WHY IS IT LITERALLY PERFECT AND ALSO HOW IS IT SO IN LINE WITH WHAT I HAD IN MY HEAD?????????????? HOW???????

OKAY FIRST OF ALL WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT PROFESSOR!READER KIND OF BEING LIKE TAKEDA FROM HAIKYUUUU??????????????? LIKE THAT'S IMMEDIATELY HOW HE POPPED INTO MY HEAD AND NOW I CAN'T STOP IMAGINING HIM LIKE THAT I ALS OCAN'T TAKE OFF THE CAPS LOCK BC I'M GENUINELY SO INVESTED IN THIS FUCKING AU IT'S INSANE

but yeah he's always wearing the comfiest fits just like u said - sweaters, vests, a button-up shirt and a colorful tie sometimes (he was super nervous about wearing the tie at first bc he thought he'd look stupid but he got over it and now he has a rule of wearing a tie at least once a week)(canon). when it's cold he's wearing an oversized coat and an equally big scarf and toji thinks it's very cute i mean what who said that.

another thing just popped into my head when u called him a sleepy guy..... what if it's already like afternoon and all of the students are gone and the professor was supposed to be grading their papers or smth but when toji happens to walk by his class he's just sleeping on the table............... PLSSSS I THINK IT'S SO CUTEE i can see it so clearly in my head the professor's glasses are really weirdly on his face and his mouth is open with a bit of drool spilling out lmao and at first toji just shakes his head like damn this guy is stupid but then he realizes that he's smiling? that his own lips just curved into a small smile all on their own and he's kinda freaked out about it and leaves really fast hasgahsaghshgagsha HE'S A LITTLE AWKWARD SOMETIMES OKAY even big scary teddy bears have their little love moments yk

my immediate thought was that toji would actually be the one to develop the crush first btw................ and he'd be a little like ???? maybe this is his first real male crush? and the reader is just kind of oblivious to it like he thinks that yk toji seems like the straighest guy on the first glance lmao and he thinks that he doesn't have a chance but hehehehehe he's very wrong IDK WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THAT i wanna know

DON'T GET ME WRONG THOUGH I DO REALLYREALLY LIKE the reader kind of thirsting over him hihihihihi he's so real for that AND I LOVE THE IDEA OF TOJI EVENTUALLY STARTING MORE CONVOS!!!!!! FUCK OFFF HE'S SOO SWEET AAAAAAAAA i love him so much have i said that already

who do you think would take the step to go further though? IN YOUR SCENARIO I MEAN it would obviously take time. a lot of it. bc toji is well... like he is and the professor is nervous and he's kind of afraid to overstep even though he likes him sooooo much... okay i kinda feel like toji would....... and it almost makes the poor professor have a heart attack bc WHAT? hihihihiihi stoppppppppppppp i can see them both in my head soooo clearly and i'm so fucking in love with them they're so cute aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

also got this idea of the professor breaking smth in his class idk like he sits on the chair and one of the legs breaks or smth lmao and he goes on a lookout for smth to fix it with (??????) and he finds toji!!!! and he comes to his rescue, teasing the professor a little bc how the hell did he break the chair you know. and maybe he professor blushes a little..................... IT'S TOJI C'MON EVERYBODY WOULD BLUSH A LITTTLE and then maybe the professor brings him a pastry or something the next day as a thank you and now it's toji who's..... cheeks are looking a little pink?????? and he's grumbling that it's my job. no need to thank me. but the professor just dismissed that immediately and just presses the pastry into his hands and waves him goodbye with a smile. AAAAAAAAAAAH I CAN'TTTT I'M SMILING SO BIG RN MY CHEEKS HURT WHAT IN THE FUCK THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

ARI. MY SWEETEST LITTLE ANGEL. CAN I USE THIS IN THE DRABBLE I STARTED? LIKE I'M GONNA LINK THIS IN THERE TOO. i just started the drabble based on one of the asks i got - toji just smiling while he's listening to his little bf ramble about his day but i'd love to sprinkle this in there. like maybe he taught a class on smth he really likes so he's just so excited about it. excited that the students were loving the topic or whatever. BUT I DO NEED YOUR PERMISSIONN!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS IMPORTANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME YOU ALWAYS DO I'M SOOOO GRATEFUL FOR YOUUUUUUUUUU<33333 i can't believe you just cooked it up are you actually gordon ramsay btw? i know you are don't lie to me ari. BI!TOJI LOVES US BOTH THAT'S WHY HIS TITS ARE SO BIG HE'S STORING HIS LOVE FOR US IN THERE!!!!!!!!!!! I HOPE YOU HAD A REALLY REALLLY GOOD DAY MY LOVE MWAH MWAH MWAH<333333333

[thekidsfromyestergay]

My favourite hot take I've seen lately is "obviously all the new danger days merch is a cash grab because no real MCR fan would wear bright colours" because people are genuinely gatekeeping by COLOUR now huh

[volkswagonblues]

a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks. 

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim​) 

(note: #2:  I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15. 

From My Asakusa: 

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master) 

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine. 

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this: 

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology. 

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

[starshipsofstarlord]

💕 reader turns into a baby and obsessed with Bucky. Awww 🥺

Infant Issues

bucky barnes x reader / masterlist

warnings; fluff, morgan definitely being tony’s kid, biting, swearing, spoilers for IW and Endgame, mention of the blip, childish behaviour from adults, terrible humour (I really am sorry), spoiler for WV, mention of age gap, kinda a crossover, an absolute mess 😂

“Morgan?” Bucky frowned, as the girl tried to speed past him. It was not wise for anyone to allow the mischievous child run around the compound alone, she always got up to nothing but trouble, and there was such a glazing in her brown eyes.

She didn’t spare him a glance, instead, she bolted, causing the super soldier to sigh. He would have went after her if there weren’t already footsteps recurring from the path that she had just came from; it was his father. It so happened that there was a bundle of joy in his arms, crying like the sudden crack of dawn.

“What were you going to do, wait another five years to tell everyone about this one, Stark?” Bucky asked with a chuckle, though the cries from the infant muted at the sound of his voice. The child wiggled in Tony’s grasp, trying her utmost to reach out for the vibranium armed hero.

“She’s not my daughter, if she was, I think me and you would be having conversations.” Tony’s words spurred a frown to combust out onto Barnes’ face, and the billionaire sighed, shifting the baby so that the baby was in Bucky’s arms.

The child cooed up at him, her eyes were a baby blue, sure to avert possibly into a different colour once she grew elder. “Look, I didn’t ask if I could hold her, she’s cute, but why do you-“

“Morgan did it.” Tony willingly blamed his own daughter. With her various experimentations, she was definitely taking after him. He’d be sure to keep this one quiet from Pepper, otherwise he was almost certain that he’d be banned from bringing Morgan on expeditions to the compound.

“I though y/n was supposed to be watching her.” Stated the enhanced soldier, cocking his head at the information that he recalled. He promptly remembered you abandoning him half way through training the newbie recruits, because Happy was dropping Morgan off, and you had offered watch over her, despite the associate being there.

“She was, and now you’re going to have to watch over her.” Tony pointed specifically to the child in his arms, and that was when realisation hit Bucky. He gulped, breathing through his nose to calm himself, as all the pieces clicked perfectly together.

This was not just a child - it was you. As he gazed down at you, he could finally see the pouted expression that would fixate upon your face when you paid attention to him when you were drunk, there was a glazing over your eyes as you raised your small and innocent hands, scraping down the stubble of his chin, as you curled further into his arms.

“I am going to kill you.” He steadily spoke, huffing as Sam went to walk past, but stopped himself when he saw the bundle of joy that was content in the brooding soldier’s arms. 

“What the hell! Did you and y/n have a baby or something without telling anyone?” Oh, how he wished those were the circumstances, and if the pair of you were to ever have a child together, then he would be impartial to the idea of doing so.

"This is not my child, it's y/n, thanks to Stark over there." He bounced you in his arms, he even felt a small dribble of spit seep through his shirt, but he didn't mind, not as his icy glare was intently prized upon the philanthropist.

"Hey, it was my daughter's fault, not mine!" Tony excused himself from the blame, holding his palm against his chest, as he received as such. Sam ogled at him for a second, before returning his attention back into Bucky, and little you.

He came forwards, reaching his hand towards you, keening as you went to grasp his. As you did so, a smile broke out upon the man’s face, until it contorted into a sharp frown, the noise of a yelp escaping from his lips. “That little bitch bit me.”

“Language.” Steve rounded the corner, his golden brows raising when he saw the infant contently resting in his best friend’s arms. “Did you and y/n have a baby without telling us?”

“That’s what I said!” Sam beckoned to the blonde, as he averted a strong gaze to you and your normal sized partner. "Until she bit me, it reminds me of that time that I tried to steal her fries."

"I don't see why your complaining." Bucky rolled his eyes, bracing you up straighter so that your forehead was pressed lightly against his shoulder. "I'm the one whose partner is an actual child."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam rolled his eyes in reference to how you were beforehand, before Steve cut in, directing his leading tone towards the men that were stood idly by.

"What actually happened?" Tony found his enquiry to be an opportunity to avert the fault from himself; how lucky indeed was it that Steve asked such a thing.

"Technically it's your fault capsicle. Morgan found your prototype of your unsuccessful time machine. As you can see, she turned into a baby, much like Lang. And if you want to push the blame off of yourself, blame these two for their asses disappearing."

"Hey, if I wanted to disappear, I wouldn't have made such a dramatic exit. I'd have just left for my sister's." Crossing his arms, Sam shook his head at the man that was not wearing his iron suit. He was unable to take any responsibility, unless it was for his genius brain wave of creating the true transportation for the time heist.

"Well I'm going to keep that noted for any future repercussions." Oh, how Wilson regretting mentioning that now.

"You left it out, within your daughter's reach." Bucky quirked his brow, as he prepared to head towards the storage of the private laboratory that was shared between the two science bros.

"Technically, that was the big green guy." Bucky vouched not to listen to Stark, instead, he continued to walk, leaving the three other men in his rear view, though for the most part, he could still hear them bickering.

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change."

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change." Tony mimicked Steve, thus only proving his point. He was certainly a man that enjoyed pressing people's buttons, it was a shining attribute of the once playboy, and god, did it annoy the hell out of Barnes.

As he entered the laboratory, he found the lab to be in a state of havoc. "Hey, it wasn't me this time." Scott laughed, as he used an extinguisher against the frayed machine, that was blubbering sparks from its ruined exterior.

"Smash!" A small green child, wearing glasses that were far too big for him, ran across the room, followed shortly by a child with long blonde hair wrapped up in a red cape, as though it were some kind of makeshift diaper.

"Explain." Bucky bluntly stated, clenching his jaw, as he cooed lightly at your cries that pierced the air. He bounced you in his arms, not quite certain of what he was supposed to do.

In his time, there wasn't exactly an education system to teach the men going to war how to parent, or even care for a child. A part of him panicked; it was you, he hated seeing you cry in general, but now he couldn't attempt to find out the cause for your falling tears.

"Aw is that y/n?" The man half dressed in his ant man suit asked, a bright smile on his face, as he reached out to hold you. To say Bucky was hesitant to pass you to him was an understatement. "I have a daughter, I've looked after a baby before."

"From jail?" The white wolf asked, as he heard a crash exhibit from the connecting room, obviously being the fault of the two most destructive avengers, or at least, their little versions. Being aged down was definitely certification for trouble, everyone knew that.

"Okay I wasn't in there for that long." Scott reassured him, he picked up a bottle of milk from the table, handing it to the metal armed man, whom had never fed a child before. He found himself, cautiously, keeping a watchful eye, passing you over to the former criminal, intently watching every movement that the man made.

Lange simply fed you. "Always thought you and y/n would have a cute baby, imagine its- oh yeah, well after all that stuff that happened with vision and SWORD, we thought it best to destroy any technology that was recovered from the old base. This part survived, and well, I went into its- okay, you don't want to hear the science, but basically Thor insisted he could break it with his hammer, albeit whilst I was inside of it, and it sent energy around the room that turned them into pubescent children."

"I can see that it did nothing to you. And I thought Morgan did it.”

"I was so relieved, lucky I- wait, was that an insult?" Bucky remained primitively silent, and that answered Scott's question. The hero sighed, as you finished nursing, and your arms reached for Bucky, to whom he passed you to. “And I lied...”

He literally blamed a five year old for the screw up of grown men. Tony was going to thrive off this information, whence he knew that his daughter was in fact not the culprit.

"What do we do now?" He was eager to find a cure for this betrothed science. Those whom were responsible for your decrease in age, well, one was running around the compound, and the other, well, he was even younger than Morgan currently.

"You could wait twenty years, I mean you two already have quite a big age gap, and please don't kill me. I'm not sure that Cap would approve, I am a vital source to the team!"

"I'm not going to kill you tic tac. Or at least not at least until we fix these three."

"Phew." Scott wiped his brow, blowing air from his mouth. "Wait thre- oh yeah, the little guy carrying the hammer that is bigger than himself, and the

"Okay, we need someone smarter." Bucky sighed heavily, as he hugged you in thought. "You tried hitting it again with the hammer?"

"Oh my god, I could be worthy!" Gasped Scott, running off to the next room, only to come back limping, a pained expression on his face. "Little Asguardian bastard hit me!"

Bucky contained his smirk, and instead passed you to Lang, venturing into the other part of the lab, finding that Bruce was asleep, a blob of snot hanging from his nose, he could see the hammer in the middle of the room, almost as though it were waiting for him to attempt grabbing the handle, and Thor was-

The minuscule god jumped from one of the shelves, wrapping his arms around the front of Bucky’s neck, as he put all his weight on the super soldier’s back. In all practicality, Thor was strangling him, and Bucky tapped his arm, trying to convince him to let go.

“I know who Noobmaster69 is.” Thor quirked his head, lessening his hold, as he promptly awaited his now older friend to continue. “It’s, its- his name is Wade Wilson.”

“Wilson!” No, gosh no. Bucky stood completely, making sure to keep Thor in the vicinity, he needed him to be so so that he could reverse the affects on the son of Odin.

“Not Sam. Wade.” He had never met the man before, but god did he seem like a dick. When the pair of you were getting a taxi, the driver Dopinder just could not shut up about his friend, who liked to wear red, and had a kink for unicorns.

Wade certainly sounded like a weird one, but right now, his pass time was getting Thor to pick up that hammer. “Where can I find this Wade?” It practically left his mouth as a hiss, if the imagery and proven death supposed otherwise, he’d possibly think it was Loki instead.

“I will tell you, if you pick up that hammer, and hit it against that old machine. Got it buddy?”

“It’s name is Stormbreaker!” Bellowed the norseman, who tried to slide off his back, but Bucky kept a hold of his legs, refraining him from going anywhere. “Get peter to do it, I don’t want to play that game anymore!”

“Uuh, hi Mr Barnes...” That voice, oh he knew it, and the majority of the time it irritated him, he was Tony's little pet. “And, baby avengers?”

“Don’t ask kid.” Peter nodded, as he went to reach for a spanner. “Can you pick the hammer up, are you worthy?”

“Am I worthy?” He wondered aloud, his eyes fixated on the hammer, as he stepped towards it, holding his hand out, and clasping his palm around the handle, it feeling weightless in his grip, as he picked it up without effort. “Oh my god (it’s Robert Downey Junior)!”

“Great, now take it out there, I’ll deal with these two. And don’t do anything yet.” He was certainly feeling like a sergeant, throwing all the orders to the others, Peter complied, carrying the hammer as though it were an empty duffel.

“Can I try?” Instantly, after Peter passing it to him, Scott had such hope, until the force of gravity hit, and it fell on his foot, causing a light scream to ripple through his throat. “Get it off, get it off!”

Peter did so, as Bucky kept Thor on his shoulders, and grabbed a hold of Bruce’s chubby little ankle, dragging him into the other room. “Shit he’s heavy.” He saw that you were sat in the grand spinny chair, making Bucky relived that you weren’t in Lang’s arms as he attempted to have a moment of worthiness.

“What’d you do, go all Winter soldier on his ass and knock him out?!” Half screamed the prodigy of Hank Pym.

“Of course not, I think Thor did it.”

“Oh yeah, blame the kid because I did the same.”

“Put your suit from Stark on kid, unless you want to become a fetus.” Bucky ignored Scott for the moment,

“I got Hope to send her outfit, it will stretch to accommodate you, but I also think it would hug your shape nicely.”

“That was fast.” Muttered Peter, and Bucky shook his head, eyeing the outfit with weird eyes.

“I’m crazy, but not crazy enough to wear that.” Sighing, he grasped it in his hands, walking to the other room to squeeze into it. He noticed you watching, and thus he turned the chair around so that you couldn’t see anything. Little did he realise until he came out, that you had spun it around again, and was giggling. “Don’t laugh at me, or you won’t be allowed to see it when you’re returned to normal.”

A pout settled on your small lips, and it appeared as though you were getting ready to cry again, but before you could do so, a distraction intervened. An uninvited, and confusing one.

“Stop. Can I just say, that is some cruel declaration for the both of you, you’re my fave ship, after me and Hugh Jackman of course, but he doesn’t even know that this version of me exists.” A newfound imposter called out, his arms raised in the air. Leather gloves crinkled as he twitched his fingers, his white eyes freaking Scott the fuck out. “May I join you on this journey? I read about you guys in comics. And can I just say, I want to see these hunks and that hottie all grown up.”

“You want to see me go Winter Soldier on someone Lang?” Bucky gritted his teeth, prepared to murder this man for ever posing such words about you into the open air. Him speaking obviously drew some attention to him though, but it was not his rage that was mentioned, instead, it was his attire- or well, Hope’s.

“Nice suit Buck Buck. Can you do a twirl for me, I wanna see if it competes with America’s ass. Damn, does that man have some buns on him.”

“I know right!” Scott eagerly agreed, earning a smack in the nuts, to which had made him close to crumbling.“You had to use the metal hand, didn’t you.” Whimpered the Ant to the false Wasp, clamping his hands over his goods as he half hunched over. “I thought you often forgot to use it coz your right handed.”

“You’re on my left.” Gross, he sounded like Sam.

“Who the hell are you?” Thor spoke, and it felt familiar on his tongue. It was as though he had asked an enemy the same thing before...

“I, am Noobmaster69.”

“Hi, I’m Peter. Oh, we’re using our made up names, I thought Sam said it was that guy from that tech place.” Peter scratched his head through the mask, providing a small verbal distraction, as Thor willingly set himself free, launching at the intruder, whilst snatching the hammer from a suited up Peter.

“Aaasrrrghh.” He screamed like a true deity of the vikings.

“Thor, no!” Lang screamed, knowing that he’d have to come up with another excuse. The cameras had been fused whence Thor had first struck the hammer in the room, and it abused the guy in the red suit as he went for his legs, attacking the friend of Dopinder.

[buckys-little-belle]

a case study …

image one - all four left ‘princesses’ have ‘fitting’ dresses, save for the farthest left one, each one made of a, i’m guessing, taffeta fabric, very barbie dress like, fun, puffy, interesting and detail oriented designs, as well as fitting forms. the one the right, the only plus sized main character, is given a prom dress from macy’s made out of embroidered mesh … the fit of the dress alone doesn’t fit the fantasy theme thats going on, let alone the fabric used, it’s not ‘princess’ like, with a fabric thats out of the blue, and a bland colour. each character is unique and many dresses hold cultural significance, yet the one farthest right is nothing but a prom dress off the rack, the embroidery, from what i can see, isnt even significant, just a random flower …

image two - the movie has amazing diversity! genuinely, seeing the amount of characters of all shapes, sizes, races, etc was incredible, save for the shapes of the boys, all on the good side seem to be of a very similar build, tho ethnically diverse (not shown here). i don’t want to say that the movie isn’t diverse, or doesn’t genuinely represent many different people, its just the lack of care for such a specific type of representation. (i also noted that everyone in the pictures have dresses that perfectly match the theme, the styles, fabrics, and overall, i don’t want to say ‘camp’ but for lack of a better word, campiness! and yet the extras can have perfectly on theme dresses but a main side character cant … interesting, i wonder what sets her aside from all the others in those pictures … hint … it’s her size

image three - when she finally gets a fitting dress, thats at least got a puffy skirt, although the top half is lacking, it’s covered by a ‘shawl’, which if the actor wanted more modesty than the dress gave, of course you need to come up with a plan, but we’ve seen, in image two, dresses with fun floofy shirts underneath, and this could have been a perfect moment, I MEAN THE GIRL SITTING NEXT TO HAS A SHIRT UNDERNEATH A DRESS!! yet of course apparently plus sized teens and young adults love a good shawl … all of us. also the colour totally clashed with everyone else, the others are wearing mellow colours, very unsaturated, yet her dress is very bright, though not a huge point, it just is another misstep, in my opinion, on the design team.

image four - our plus sized character on the evil side is not at all safe either apparently, the dress, which is made from one fabric, while her counter parts have multiple pieces and fabrics, patterns, and fun creative accessories, is lacking in general. ALSO COLD SHOULDER?? REALLY? Plus everyone on the evil side gets a transformation closer to the end of the movie, and yet hers is the same style of dress, literally the same pattern, the length, sleeve, i circled the part of the sleeve that confirms its the same. its so lack lustre, others got fun and huge changes, plus the designers know how to do big and puffy dresses, just see the purple one, its so detailed! and made out of fabric that matches the vibes, and yet they couldn’t make something similar, or use those skills, on the plus sized characters outfits … yikes

image five - THEY KNOW HOW TO DO A TRANSITION OUTFIT!!! just look at our guy earl, i dont know his name in the movie so sorry, though he has worn a skirt before with a shit, seen in the dinning room scene, his transformation outfit completely changes the whole vibe, white and silver instead of his usual black, pearls and lace to contrast from his usual beat up leathers or whatever material he’s wearing. THEY KNOW HOW TO DO A TRANSITION. and yet the plus sized character gets the same dress in a DARK shade of gold, they couldn’t even switch up the colour that much, they went full out in white and purples, pastels for everyone else, and yet she’s in a dark gold same patterned dress? it’s just poor designing, planning, and it’s so unfair! like if you cant design a dress for a plus sized person, maybe don’t work on a set where youll have to do just that, because i don’t think it’s fair to just dress them poorly in contrast to their counter parts

end scene

i’m watching the school for good and evil … why is the one plus sized ‘ever’ girl wearing the worst dress? it looks like it could have been bought in a macy’s and everyone else has these beautiful dresses so clearly made with intention … it’s 2022, it was 2021, last time i checked plus sized girls can wear ball gowns and fun dresses too, but clearly theres still issues with costume design, fashion design, just clothing design in general for plus sized folks and i’m so so so so!!!! over it!

[julemmaes]

ahem... cassian taking nesta to that bookstore (fluff, don’t try making shit sad aight?)

Our First Non-Date

SURPRISE I GUESS!!

Nessian Archeron x Cassian

You can find the first part here.

A/N: this month has been really nice on me. I finally feel better, not crying every day for literally nothing and I wanna dedicate this to my fren Sim (@perseusannabeth) cause homegirl just finished the offcampus series and she's grieving. I know she is. So yep. Take some Nessian fluff

And Nina, I had to add some angsty parts, but they're not Irene Angst Level, okay?

Word count: 6,833

When Cassian had called her back the night after their outing with Amren and Varian, she'd stared at the phone for a full minute until it had stopped ringing and she could go back to reading the article on poisonous plants that Elain had sent her.

It hadn't even been five minutes before the words had been obscured from the call screen again and the name "Cassian Navarro" appeared.

When she had ignored the call for the second time as well, he had decided to change tactics.

Hi Nes, I was thinking about when you'd be free to go to the library. I need a couple of manuals because I'm building a little gazebo in Rhys and Feyre's garden and your sister is putting a lot of pressure on me, so I was wondering if you had the day off tomorrow.

Nesta was stunned at the amount of useless information he had given her, but managed to reply with a simple, Working tomorrow, day off on Wednesday. Sending you the address later.

She certainly hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to get up that day, her will to live must have been hiding somewhere under her bed and Nesta didn't know if it was directly related to their going out or just her stupid brain not being able to connect to real life.

The only other worst thing she'd been able to think of at that moment was having to explain to Cassian what was going on, so, pulled out of bed by the future embarrassment they'd feel in such a situation, she'd managed to dress, wash and style her hair so that she had a braid crowning her head.

She hadn't put too much effort into deciding what to wear, after all, it wasn't a date and Cassian had seen her many times before in far more outrageous and scruffy clothes than the comfortable black jeans and grey jumper she was wearing right now.

The silence had made her uncomfortable at first, only because Cassian seemed to be really stressed - about what, she certainly wouldn't ask - but after about ten minutes, he'd turned on the radio and popped a CD into the player and the melody of a Verve song had filled the cabin.

She'd started humming under her breath and he'd looked at her with a faint smile on his lips and his eyes sparkling. She hadn't mulled over that look too much, but she'd started eyeing him more closely and noticed the way he narrowed his eyes at every street sign and how he ran a hand over his face every time a strand of hair landed in front of his eyes.

When Cassian had to blow the hair out of his face for the millionth time, Nesta pulled a rubber band off her wrist and handed it to him abruptly.

Cassian looked surprised, but took it almost immediately, brushing her fingers. Nesta immediately withdrew her hand, feeling how warm and calloused his were.

"Thanks, my hair is killing me today," he finally spoke.

Nesta continued to look ahead, noticing that they were about to enter the highway. "Well, it wasn't very wise of you not to tie it up before you got in the car. I never drive with my hair down."

He nodded slowly, still with the band clutched between his fingers. And then, suddenly he let go of the steering wheel, "Hold that for me for a second." and Nesta's eyes went wide, launching herself at him to grab it and keep the car in their lane.

"Are you nuts?" she almost shrieked, keeping her gaze fixed on the road and feeling every nerve ending vibrate with anger.

"Relax." he said in a calm tone, shifting her hands and gently pushing her back into her seat one more time. "It wasn't even five seconds."

Nesta huffed out a laugh that lacked amusement, "You do something like that again without warning me first and I'm getting out of the car."

Cassian looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "A bit dramatic, but alright."

She sighed, shaking her head slightly and resting it on her hand propped against the window.

That awkward silence fell again and Nesta couldn't figure out what the problem was. She hadn't felt any kind of unease three days before, but after all, they'd been with friends and busy walking, not stuck in a car for two hours with no chance of walking away or splitting up.

And in that moment, the reality of their situation overwhelmed her.

She forced herself to steady her breathing, opening the window slightly so that more air could get in. She forced herself to think about all the things she would see today at the library and how beautiful and spectacular it had looked from mere pictures. She wasn't going to let her twisted mind stop her from having fun with someone who was desperately trying to be her friend.

She took a deep breath and a surprising calm enveloped her. She looked to her left to see if Cassian had noticed that temporal change in her behaviour, but it seemed to her that he was just as fidgety.

She was about to ask him if he was okay, because the knee that kept bouncing and the fingers opening and closing on the steering wheel were obvious nervous tics, when he did the eye thing again, this time leaning forward over the dashboard as well, and the sharp turn he took to the right caused her to shift in her seat so much that she bumped her shoulder against his.

Cassian grimaced, "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What's wrong?" she asked, readjusting in her seat.

"Sorry?"

"What's the matter? With your eyes, I mean."

"Oh." he seemed surprised by the question, almost as if he hadn't realised she'd been observing him for the last twenty minutes. He cast her a curious glance immediately returning to the road. "I wear glasses when I drive, but I couldn't find them this morning and these contacts are the wrong shade and I can't see very well."

Nesta nodded thoughtfully, "Where do you normally keep them?"

"In the glove box. But I already checked," he replied, rolling his shoulders. Another nervous tic.

Nesta had to suppress a smile. There was no way he could be so worked up just because they were talking. She looked down at the phone in her hand to check the time, and a flash of light momentarily dazzled her. She blinked a couple of times and then scoffed, "Found them."

She reached a hand towards the hatch compartment and pulled out a pair of very plain black glasses, handing them to him. Cassian seemed to finally relax since she'd gotten into the car.

"Thank fuck." then he pulled into a lay-by and without turning off the car, slipped two fingers in his eye, removing one contact and then the other, leaving Nesta stunned. He put the glasses on his nose and flashed her a smile that went from ear to ear. And Nesta was stunned for other reasons.

She couldn't deny that Cassian was an attractive man. She wasn't stupid or blind, but the man next to her should have come with a warning sign or a bell.

Attention, hot stuff coming your way.

Nesta forgot the comment she had wanted to make about how antigenic and risky it had been to remove his contacts without first cleaning his hands and in such a dirty environment.

His hair tied back in a messy bun, with the hint of a beard he was letting grow, and now his glasses on, Cassian looked like a model on the cover of a newspaper about sexy carpenters. The short-sleeved black shirt he wore that pulled on his huge biceps every time he moved in the slightest was just one more point to add to the list of things that made him appealing.

"So," he began, getting back on the road, "what's your favourite colour?"

Nesta snorted, "Are you serious?"

Cassian seemed to blanch, "What?"

"Have you ever been out with a girl?" she asked him sarcastically, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle popped out on his face, "Only on dates."

"And this isn't a date." pointed out Nesta, holding back a laugh at how tortured he sounded.

"It's not."

Nesta touched the tip of her nose, thoughtful, "Shouldn't this be easier for you then?"

Cassian released a breath through his nose, "I'm under a lot of pressure right now."

"Yeah?" she asked, looking away and smiling.

"Yeah, and stop looking like you're enjoying it." he retorted.

She feigned innocence, "Enjoying what?"

"My pain." he sheeted.

Nesta laughed, unable to contain herself any longer and when he glared at her, she covered her mouth with one hand, laughing harder. Only when he snapped his fingers against the steering wheel did she stop, laying a hand on his arm, just for a few seconds, "I'm so sorry." she wheezed, "I just don't understand. When you're hanging out with my sisters or Amren, or Mor, I don't know, you don't seem to be in this much discomfort."

Cassian sighed again and Nesta chuckled one last time, stopping when he smiled slightly. "I'm just trying not to make you uncomfortable. You accepted I take you on this non-date, and I'm doing my best not to flirt badly with you every chance I get." he confessed, nodding slowly, as if to convince himself that he was doing the right thing and not wasting their time.

Nesta was genuinely surprised at his answer and decided to offer him an olive branch.

"My favourite colour is blue."

"Nice." he smiled, showing a hint of a dimple, "Mine is red."

"It's too bright of a colour," she said lightheartedly.

Cassian chuckled, "I'm pretty sure it reflects my peppy personality."

Nesta nodded, "I read an article once about how a person's favourite colour says a lot about the person themselves," she said annoyed, "It sounded like one of those quizzes you find in gossip magazines, like it was written by a third grader. I hate those things, like horoscopes."

He grunted, "God, Mor's obsessed with horoscopes..."

The conversation continued without any more awkward silences for the remainder of the ride, and when Cassian turned onto a bumpy road, Nesta knew they were close. Of course, even if she hadn't looked at the directions from her house to the place, the myriad cars parked along the road would have been an indication.

They parked in the first vacant spot they could find and as soon as Nesta was out of the car, an icy gust of wind hit her face, making her shiver with cold. She looked over the bonnet at Cassian and found him staring at her with a half smile on his face. He'd left his glasses in the car and had let his hair down again, her hair band on his wrist, and he looked even prettier than before.

"Do you want my jacket?" he asked her, with a conflicted look on his face, as if he didn't want to. Nesta narrowed her brows and he hurried to add, "There's no hidden agenda to my offer, just a friend lending a jacket to another friend."

Nesta watched him for a moment, trying to really understand his intentions, but then remembered reading in one of the reviews that the library was heated inside and shook her head.

Cassian gave a small nod of assent and then pointed down the street, "Shall we?"

From where they had parked to the library it would have been about a ten minute walk and Nesta couldn't help but notice the way Cassian kept his distance between them as if he was afraid she would get scared and run away.

He was back to fidgeting nervously with his fingers and when he realised she was looking at him, he put them in his pockets, smiling tensely at her. He took a deep breath and then said, "So, what do you know about this library?"

Nesta looked ahead, hoping to catch a glimpse of the building, but the foliage of the trees was still too thick and they were still too far away for it to see anything. She brought her hands to her stomach, crossing her fingers, "I actually did a bit of research before I came. Did you know that the Peace Treaty between Prythian and Hybern of 1864 was signed here?" she asked in an excited voice.

Cassian smiled at her so naturally that she felt herself blush. He had an expression she couldn't decipher, but Nesta had never been good at cracking people in general, so she didn't venture to continue until he said, "Tell me more."

And Nesta launched into a detailed description of the events that had taken place inside the building, which only a hundred years before had become a bookstore. Only one wing of the building had been furnished in such a way as to become a real shop, the rest had been set up to be visited as a museum, one of the oldest libraries. She talked about the architecture and how it was obvious that the palace had been built long before it became an important meeting place for scholars and researchers.

"And in 1932 a fire destroyed the science wing, burning more than a hundred textbooks." Nesta sighed, thinking how devastating that loss had been. She lit up with happiness when she remembered what happened next. "But luckily, one of the most important literary clubs in the city got together and they managed to recover a small portion of the books. It took them years to rewrite every manual, but they got help from one of the local researchers, a certain Mr. Hawthorn, I can't remember the name or details of the research, only that he's mentioned often in the article I read."

When she paused to catch her breath, Nesta realised with immense horror what had just happened. Cassian had not spoken a word after asking her if she knew anything about the place and she had monopolised the conversation without even acknowledging him once. She felt herself flare up and knew in that moment that any hope they had of becoming real friends was gone.

Sometimes she would get lost in thought and ramble on about the things she was passionate about. Quite often people had stopped her, letting her know they weren't interested in the subject, but Cassian had never interrupted her and she was afraid to look at him, convinced she would only find boredom and disgust on his face.

That was why, when he spoke, she was struck dumb.

"I'm impressed." he breathed, chuckling immediately afterwards.

Nesta pushed herself to look at him and he stood admiring her with his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn't find the words. She felt her heart clench in her chest so tightly that she didn't know if she could survive the pain. Who knows how many times he'd tried to stop her and she'd gone on and on about windows and arches and treaties of peace.

But when she got a better look at him, stopping in front of him, Cassian looked... happy.

He let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair, and Nesta was distracted for a moment by the sway of his arms before she was brought violently back down to earth when he said, "You surprise me more and more every time, Nesta."

And the way he said her name - Ne-sta - made her toes curl.

"Why?" she managed to throw out in a weak voice.

Cassian laughed again, raising his eyebrows so high they ended under the hair on his forehead, locking his eyes to hers. "I have a degree in history and my final thesis happened to be on this very library." Nesta felt the ground open up beneath her feet and hoped it swallowed her alive. "I came out of university with top marks and various accolades for finishing my studies on time and you, dreadful creature that you are, have just taught me at least three new things about this place."

His gaze was so intense that Nesta had to lower her head to hide the satisfied and surprised smirk that popped up on her lips.

"You're amazing." huffed Cassian, "Perfect in every way."

She shrugged.

"Although," he clicked his tongue against his palate, "You made a mistake."

Nesta looked up at him, frowning, "Oh, yeah?"

Cassian nodded, smirking fiercely, "Why don't you turn around and admire the palace, and once we're inside, I'll explain what it is?"

She must have been so lost in her chatter that she hadn't noticed that they had arrived in the large entrance forecourt, because when she turned, her back to Cassian, the building stood among the forest trees, as imposing and splendid as ever. The photos had not done it justice in the slightest and Nesta was left speechless.

Living in a country with a history going back millennia, it wasn't hard to stumble upon historic streets with old buildings and monuments, but this was completely different.

She was still admiring the way the stone around the windows had been carved to look like trees trying to get into the building when she felt something settle on the small of her back. A hand.

Nesta stiffened slightly, before closing her eyes and relaxing.

Cassian must have noticed her discomfort because a moment later his hand was no longer touching her.

They entered the museum part of the building in silence and Nesta paid the entrance fees, reminding him of the tea he'd offered her last Sunday and Cassian hadn't been able to argue with that.

They had just passed the doors to the first room, the smallest in the entire palace, when he leaned towards her, to the point of touching her ear with his lips.

The fact that he was whispering as if they had been in a sacred place did things to her little icy heart, "Mr. Hawthorn was not a man."

Shocked by that information, Nesta's head snapped in his direction and she realised too late that she had miscalculated the space.

Her lips brushed against his cheek, the corner of his lips, before Cassian reacted so quickly he startled her, but avoiding them both an involuntary first kiss. His sudden movement caused him to lose his balance and he reached out his hands towards her, straightening as he held on to her shoulders.

Both of them were holding their breath.

Cassian cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the wall of books, but returning to look at her soon after, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, you just surprised me," she said when she had recovered. "I must have read the article wrong."

He was still watching her and shook his head, "Oh no, I don't think it's that. They only found out a few months ago that it was Georgina and not George Hawthorn. They found letters in the house of what was thought to be Hawthorn's wife. Some people think they were just friends, but anyone who has read the letters they exchanged knows full well that they were lovers. Anyone who says otherwise is either homophobic or stupid."

Nesta realised that she could have listened to this for hours on end. And so it was.

The visit continued relatively quietly, Cassian explaining every detail to her, expanding on things she already knew and when he forgot something, she would step in and have her say, commenting on every little aspect.

She'd noticed how Cassian hadn't tried to touch her anymore and how whenever someone was about to bump into her, he'd vocally warn her instead of wrapping an arm around her shoulders to move her out of their way like he had on Sunday.

The visit to the museum lasted less than expected unfortunately, because Nesta hadn't had this much fun in too long. It was becoming easier to smile at him or tease him when he said dumb things and even he seemed to finally be more at ease when he had to make jokes that smacked of him.

When they finally got to the shop, Nesta couldn't stand on her feet anymore, she just wanted to buy all the books she saw and go home and arrange them on her shelves.

"Which section do you want to see first?" she asked him, even though she had started hopping impatiently about the place.

Cassian gave her a smug look, "Why don't you go wherever you want and I'll look for the manuals for the gazebo in the meantime? That way you don't waste time keeping up with me. I'll be right there."

Nesta let out an excited squeal and ran off, hearing only the echo of laughter that shook Cassian from head to toe.

***

As Cassian flipped through the various books to find a picture of a gazebo that looked similar to the one Feyre had requested, he kept casting glances at Nesta.

Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed book after book without even reading the synopses. She was in the romance novels section, from what he could see from where he stood, but soon ended up in the classics, where she grabbed just as many books. She moved to the mystery books section, this time stopping to read the plots and putting most of them back on the shelves.

Then, surprising Cassian, she walked over to where the historical novels were and turned to face him. He bent his head to the side, raising an eyebrow to ask her what she was doing there. Nesta seemed at a loss, trying to move all the books from one arm to the other to point him to join her, but Cassian was already halfway there and when she looked back up at him and found him standing in front of her, she gave him a bright smile.

"Hello." she exclaimed.

Cassian's breath caught for a second before he too sighed a greeting.

"I was thinking," Nesta began, running her eyes over the titles in front of them, "that you could recommend something about..." she wiggled her fingers as much as she could, trying to point to the shelf, and Cassian leaned forward, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Here," he removed the first stack of books from her arms and she sagged a little, giving him a thankful look. "I can go get a bag so you can put them all in there and you don't have to carry them like this," he said taking all the books and having her help him arrange them so they wouldn't fall out.

He smiled at her over all the books, looking down at her and she smiled back just as happily.

Hell, if she looked at him like that every time he took her to a bookstore he should do it more often.

He had just turned to go towards the entrance, where he had seen special bags for carrying books, but Nesta stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

"Wait!" she exclaimed almost impishly.

Cassian turned his head, genuinely worried that something had happened to her in the mere seconds he had been shot. He must have moved too fast, because one of the smaller classics flew off the top of the stack and landed right in her face.

Nesta groaned at the impact and brought her hands to her face, rubbing her forehead where it hurt.

"Oh my God, are you okay?!" he asked with wide eyes. And then Nesta laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she stared at him and he visibly relaxed. "Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw a book at you."

She waved a hand in mid-air, to let him know it was nothing, and bent down to pick up what he realised was A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. Of course Nesta was reading feminist classics.

She turned back to the books as if nothing had happened and Cassian had the urge to look for a list of all the bookstores in the world to take her to if it meant having her in such a good mood by his side, it didn't matter if she would never agree to go on a real date with him, he realised. As long as he could see her smile like that, he didn't need anything else.

"So, I was saying, before you battered me with a book-" she cast an amused glance over one shoulder at him.

He frowned, muttering, "I said sorry."

Nesta ignored him, "What do you recommend?"

Cassian blinked.

"You said you read historical novels right?" she asked, looking for confirmation, "You could recommend your favourites. But not the English or Russian classics. Or French ones. Chances are I've already read those."

Cassian was stunned. Nesta wanted advice on books. From him.

They were silent for too long as she turned around impatiently, "You lied?"

He looked surprised, "When?"

"When you said you were reading. Were you just doing it to impress me or were you serious?" she asked and maybe Cassian imagined it, but she looked disappointed.

He was quick to reply, "The Black Coat, by Neamat Imam. It's pretty recent, but set in the 1970s in Bangladesh. It's about a man who needs help and seeks it from a journalist he asks for work and one of the main themes is the famine that hit the country after it became independent. It's not my absolute favourite, but it certainly gives you something to think about."

Nesta nodded, searching through the titles and finding it almost immediately, "Anything else?"

Cassian felt his neck heat up and coughed a little before resuming speaking. "The Long Ships by Frans G. Bengtsson. Set in the tenth century, it's about a Viking who is called Red because of his hair and focuses on the European political outlook in the late Viking Age. Again, it's not as good as the historical classics, but it's nice and shows a way of life that we're definitely not used to. It's different."

After looking for a few minutes, Nesta gave up reading and turned to him, crossing her arms. She tilted her head to the side, watching him closely, "What's your favourite book?"

Cassian shrugged, settling the books against his chest, "I think at the moment it's The King Must Die by Mary Renault. But I change my mind every month when I find something more interesting or captivating."

She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll take that one then."

And Cassian wished he could change the title immediately because... what if she didn't like it? Or if she thought it was a stupid book? What would she think of him then?

But Nesta had already found a copy a few shelves down and there was no turning back.

He could counterattack, though, "What about yours? You're not going to give me any advice on feminist classics or blatantly trashy romance novels?"

Nesta opened her mouth wide, looking outraged as she placed the latest addition on the pile, settling the book under her chin, "How can you say they're trashy if you don't even know what they're about?"

Cassian chuckled, "On the cover of You Came," he said as he gave her a sly look, "there's something called a 'spicymeter'. How am I supposed to take you seriously?"

Nesta blushed, "I read erotic novels, so what? I have to keep myself busy in my spare time somehow."

And then he challenged her, "Get me the hottest book you've ever read," he said in a joking tone, "I'll go get the bag in the meantime."

She had already left for the section when he had an idea that would surely doom him depending on how Nesta would react.

He walked up to the cashier's desk, making sure she didn't notice, and begging the clerk behind the counter to be quick, paid for all her books, gently placing them back in the bags.

When he reached her again, she seemed not to have noticed anything.

"'So, what did you get me? Ride Me? Fucked You Good? Last Night I Gave You A Thousand Orgasms?" he teased her with an annoyed grin on his lips.

Nesta gave him a fiery glance before noticing the bags, quite different from those you put the things you wanna buy in, and closed her mouth tightly. She frowned and looked at them for so long before speaking that Cassian began to feel self-conscious.

"You paid for my books?" she whispered, looking at him.

He nodded.

"It's not a date, Cassian," she reminded him for the umpteenth time.

"I know, but-"

"So why would you pay for things that are mine?"

He couldn't read her. She wasn't hinting at anything.

She didn't look angry but she didn't look impressed or grateful either.

Cassian placed the bags on the ground between them and Nesta followed his every movement with her eyes.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing, "My adoptive family is filthy rich. I have a trust fund that I never get to spend on things I really want to do, the only way I get to use it is by giving gifts to my friends, so just accept these as my first gift - friend to friend - and call it a day."

Nesta continued to be impassive as she kept her eyes fixed on the books.

Perhaps he had gone too far. After all, she had taken more than a hundred and fifty euros worth of stuff, but he really didn't mind.

He was about to apologise, tell her she could give the money back if it made her feel better. Cassian would find a way to spend it back on her at other times anyway.

Then she raised her head, handing him two books with hilarious covers to say the least, "These two have storylines full of plot twists. You won't be able to put them down, but don't expect big epic battles or Viking warriors. It's just two college kids trying to survive in the modern world while finding solace in each other."

He didn't even have time to thank her that she was already across the room and waiting in line so she could pay them.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"I guess you'll be paying for these two," he said as he caught up with her.

Nesta didn't even look at him, pulling out her wallet, "A gift from a friend to a friend."

As they walked back to the car, Cassian offered to carry the bags, but she didn't want to hear one more word so they had managed to compromise and had split the load equally.

They'd been on the road for about thirty minutes now and Nesta had gone through every book he'd bought her, talking about all the previous works by the authors she was holding in her hand at the moment.

Cassian could have died like that. Happy, relaxed, listening to the plots of those dirty books with no moral lessons to teach the reader, just pure entertainment.

He wondered at that moment if he would make it through the first few chapters of the books she had offered him and let out a heavy breath through his nose as he turned right towards the coast.

Nesta looked at him wide-eyed, stopping her rant about the headmaster's son getting the occasional model student to fall in love with him. She brought a hand to her mouth, "Oh dear, sorry, I'm boring you. I'm sorry."

He gave her a confused look ready to tell her she didn't have to apologise, but she continued.

"Sometimes I do and I don't even realize it. And I realize they're not challenging plots where you have to apply some hidden lobe of the brain to understand them, but they distract me from everyday problems, you know? It's fun to be able to unplug a few hours after I get home from work and-"

"Jesus, Nesta, stop!" he laughed, placing a hand on her thigh. She sighed. "You don't have to apologise. Not when you're so excited about something." he looked at her slyly, offering her a reassuring smile, "In fact, I'm glad you're talking so much today. Normally I have to pull the words out of your mouth."

She blushed slightly and then grew sullen soon after, sitting up straighter, "This isn't the way to Velaris, where are we going?"

Cassian didn't answer.

"You're taking me into the woods aren't you?"

"We literally just came out of a forest."

She ignored him.

"I knew it. You're a serial killer."

"Nes-"

"You're a little dense though. Why would you spend so much on someone if you're going to murder them?"

He decided to ignore her, chuckling, "I'm taking you to the beach."

"Why?" she asked, somewhat unconvinced.

Cassian shrugged, "I wanted to see the sunset."

"You didn't ask."

He sighed, gripping the steering wheel, "Okay," he whispered, then louder, "You want to go to the beach and watch the sunset?"

She nodded in assent and then continued to read the plots aloud.

And Cassian could have sworn he was in heaven.

***

Nesta gathered more sand, making a small ball out of it and placing it on the top of one of the towers she had made so far.

"Where did you learn to make such good sandcastles?" asked Cassian suddenly from behind her, startling her.

She jumped in the air, turning to face him and noticing the satisfied smile on his face for having taken her by surprise.

Nesta didn't answer him immediately, but allowed herself to admire him a bit.

Since they had arrived at the beach, they had taken off their shoes and were now both barefoot and then Cassian had bent down and started to roll his trousers around his ankles, offering to do it to her jeans as well, but Nesta had refused. She had sat down, looking at the sea for a while, while he walked along the shore and collected stones and shells.

When he had come back to her and shown them to her, asking her to make a sandcastle, she had laughed at first, but faced with his serious expression, she had been unable to do anything but get up and roll up her sleeves, moving to where the sand was a little more workable.

She looked away from that heavenly vision and made another ball, placing it next to the one she had just made. "When I was little my mum never let me do these, she said I'd get too much sun and forced me and Elain to stay under the umbrella all day," she replied truthfully, remembering the cruel bite of jealousy watching the children on the shore.

"And Feyre?"

Cassian had joined her, kneeling beside her and had begun to place the shells so that they served as windows to the towers.

Nesta sighed, "Feyre was still too little when Mini Me wanted to build sandcastles, but as soon as I became 'too old to play like a kid'," she gave him a knowing look, mimicking her mother's voice, "and Feyre started to figure out she was an actual being, Mama let her do whatever she wanted. Even stand in the sun for hours on end." she shrugged. "Whether it was out of indifference or love, I never understood."

Cassian had been silent the whole time and now he watched her, hands on his thighs as he waited for her to give him more. For her to tell him another little piece of her soul.

So she offered him a forced smile, "So to answer your question, it's all pent-up creativity."

"Well, you're very good at it," he granted her. "I can imagine what you could have done if your mother hadn't been so strict."

Well, yeah.

"What about you?" she asked him.

"What about me?"

"Did you go to the beach a lot?"

Cassian smiled weakly, getting up and heading towards the water to collect more shells. He nodded a couple of times and then said, "My mum and I loved coming to the beach and she loved making castles. And she always put so many 'windows' on the towers-"

Nesta turned to look at their work, realising how many shells he had placed on the piles of sand. She smiled softly, covering her eyes from the sun and watching him walk towards her.

"We always came when she was free from work."

A charged silence settled between them until Cassian chuckled, drawing her attention, "What?"

"You said this wasn't a date. And that we're just friends. Right?"

Shifting her gaze to him, she noticed how he kept his hands hidden behind his back and the mischievous glint in his eyes didn't reassure her at all. Slowly she stood up, nodding.

"So, I must treat you as I would treat my friends. Correct?"

"Cassian, I swear to god that-"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence that something wet and sticky landed in her face with a resounding splash, making her jump back.

She took a deep breath and immediately regretted it when a strong smell of stale water and seaweed flooded her nostrils.

When she opened her eyes again, wiping the seaweed from her face, Cassian was doubled over in laughter.

She didn't even give him time to get up when she started to run towards him - to do what, she had no idea - but he started to run away too and soon they were chasing each other all around the beach, not noticing the sweet looks they were getting from the people around them.

At that moment, Nesta was running so fast that she could feel the wind in her hair and the smell and sound of the sea, together with the laughter of the man who was chasing her, mixed with her own and the continuous tapping of her feet on the sand, made her feel alive.

She felt Cassian come closer every few metres until two strong arms wrapped around her waist and she was pulled up and spun around in the air.

A surprised yelp escaped her as Cassian laughed in her ear, "Gotcha!"

It wasn't until he stopped spinning with her in his arms that they realised the position they were in and immediately broke away, laughing embarrassed.

Nesta turned to face him, her face red from running and her breathing laboured. He was in no better condition. His hair was pointing in all directions and his sculpted chest was rising and falling with haste under the black fabric of his shirt.

He looked away first, scratching the back of his neck and fixing his eyes on the sunset, and offered her his arm as they returned to where they had left theirs things unattended.

Nesta shook her head, laughing one last time and started to run, " Last to reach the castle is stupid!"

Cassian burst out laughing, but he caught up to her in the blink of an eye and they both knew that she had doomed herself to lose. That's why, when he fell tripping over his feet, Nesta knew he had done it on purpose.

She helped him up and they sat back as in silence they watched the sun go down, disappearing past the horizon and the blending lights of the sky created a breathtaking spectacle.

Nesta couldn't have noticed, too busy admiring the clouds, but Cassian had been watching her the whole time, trying to understand how something as sombre and secretive as her could look so bright just by being.

The journey back was silent, but this time the silence was not awkward. They both welcomed it with open arms, a new awareness that there was no need for it to be filled with chatter and that gave Nesta the opportunity to close her eyes for a moment and doze off.

When the car stopped outside her flat, Nesta was surprised to find that she didn't want to get out.

She turned to Cassian after she had gathered her things and nodded, "I had fun today."

He gave her a genuine smile, looking surprised, "Me too."

And then she permanently shocked him, adding, "I'm not working on Saturday, we could do it again. Changing location."

He blinked once. Twice. Then he nodded, "Sure."

He didn't seem to want to say anything more, so Nesta waved goodbye to him and then got out, not waiting for an answer from him.

Cassian stood motionless in the car park of her flat for another half hour, trying to figure out what had just happened, and when the reality of things finally dawned on him, he smiled, "Fuck yeah."

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[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing #80 Review

woot woot i’ve kept it up for three issues lets gooo. i liked this issue more than the last one. there’s a lot of fanon dick characterization peppered in, but not so much that it puts me off entirely. also, i’m getting increasingly concerned about bitewing. but i did like tim in this one, very nice

look at all the blue and purple and pink. honestly at this point, i’m a broken record but come on come on come onnnnnnn. the blue and pink is very pretty though. this cover’s a bit offputting at first, and a bit spiraly, which i’m sure was the intended effect.

this is a genuine concern of mine. dick’s a vigilante, and he doesn’t have the same sprawling network and resources that bruce does. (even if he is a billionaire now, he hasn’t amassed the same collection of crime-fighting equipment that bruce has.) 

i’m not sure if he’ll be able to take care of bitewing. damian’s got plenty of pets, but alfred used to take care of them, and now bruce plus the rest of the batfam is taking care of them. as far as we know, babs only drops by occasionally, and the same goes for dick’s family and friends. will dick be able to give bitewing the love and time and affection that a traumatized puppy like her needs? i really hope so.

she does look adorable in this panel tho.

dick. richard. richie. baby. why are you shirtless.

you have scars upon scars. probably chemical burns. bullet wounds. weird fucking squiggly lines from knives that only psychos with blade fetishes use. no normal person has the body that you do. and you don’t think that showing up shirtless in front of the police is going to raise suspicion? you don’t think that the people accusing you of murder are going to look at someone who looks like they’re a fucking mob enforcer and go hmm that’s a bit suspicious?

put on a SHIRT jesus CHRIST it’s like you’re not even trying to hide your identity.

look at this pompous little princess demanding only the highest quality head pets i’d burn down latvia for her. (no offense latvians it was the first country that popped into my head.)

pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy-

no seriously kudos to the artist here. his expression is so human i wanna cry. dick, right now, is sheepishly asking a question. he knows he’s not going to get into any real trouble, he knows that he’ll be able to talk his way out of or somehow maneuver his way off this mess. but he’ll play nice for the police, so he’s asking a friend for a favour, part self-condescendingly and part oh-well-what-can-you-do.

and his expression reflects that. rather than a stoic expressionless face most male comic characters have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), rather than the weird desperate supposedly “seductive” face that most female comic characters plus dick grayson have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), he’s making a face that i pulled like yesterday. or the day before that. it’s kind of silly, kind of casual, very much human. i like it.

thank god. proper (in character) acknowledgement for officer grayson. yea, fuck cops in general, but i like that they included this line.

obviously, he’s not talking about the actual criminals, he’s talking about the police force itself. the bpd was too corrupt, and dick realized that he wasn’t helping. not only does one clean cop not make a dent in an overall dirty force, but dick was putting his allies in danger too. not only that, but it wasn’t good for dick’s mental health either. he was spreading himself too thin, and surrounding himself with some of the worst of crime 24/7 did a number on him. dick’s got a history of self-sacrificing tendencies, and i’m just glad he’s not a cop anymore.

dick has a gotham rogues mug. they make gotham rogue mugs, and dick has one.

what kinda city looks at it’s frankly horrible crime history and long list of certifiably insane serial killers who are all still alive and actively committing war crimes and goes “oooooh yea imma put that on a coffee mug!” gotham, that’s who.

this isn’t important i just like how all of bitewing’s barks are blue

back straight, hand on his hip, cheerful smile on his face as he says he’s being accused for murder. love that for him.

they couldn’t have said “yea it’s complicated” in a better way even if they put the words “yea it’s complicated” right there on the page in bold red letters. literally all the love to the artists.

dick please. you’re KILLING ME what the actual fuck IS THAT???? WHY DO YOU HAVE A MUG OF THAT???

anyway nightwing collects novelty mugs confirmed.

this paneling is so beautiful. 

tim’s the focus, but he’s not the first thing you see. he’s placed in a way that forces the reader to drag their eyes all the way up the page in order to reach him. it us know just how high up tim is carelessly crouching, especially close to the ledge of the building too. i cannot think of a single better way to introduce a character, and this character in particular: you instantly know this is a version of tim with plenty of experience and training, is comfortable in his body and knows his limits, but still hangs onto that civilian awe of being in a high place and overlooking a brightly lit city.

absolute classic robin. i love it. 

this isn’t even that important but it made me happy. this is how you train surf.

you don’t crouch or bend over when you get to a tunnel, which is oddly enough what most people think (at least from my experience). you bend backward. that not only 100% ensures that you’ll make sure you’re low enough to make it through the tunnel (because you can see the top of the tunnel, unlike when you crouch or bend), but it also makes it easier to get up: all you have to do is push up with your arms into a bent stance, and you’ll be in a ready, moving position. from a bend or a crouch, getting up is more awkward and more slow.

on a meta level, i like that this creative team knows what they’re doing when it comes to the small, almost unimportant stuff like that, because it makes the action more real. (as real as you can get with a guy running around stealing hearts.)

on a in-universe level, it once again drives home both dick and tim’s experience and professional level skill.

regardless of who you side with in the “should tim drake be robin again?” debate, you gotta admit that tim’s rebirth robin suit is r a d as fuck. if i’m not mistaken, this is the same one he was wearing in 2019 young justice for a little bit? it’s cute and hella cool i like it.

remember what i said about human expressions? doesn’t happen as often to tim bc he’s a Child, but it’s still nice to note when someone humanizes him, too. (that’s why i love the duckboy panel so much lol.)

me, at first: that’s not a “good call” dick that’s just common sense

me, now: sprinkled throughout the entire comic we can see dick bending to tim’s instructions if only briefly, joking with him to keep the mood light while still maintaining a serious mood and retaining control over this particular outing. this implies that dick’s doing it intentionally, purposefully leaving places in his sentences blank and offering affirmations, in order to encourage tim and train him in things bruce might not necessarily touch on, such as social chameleoning and misdirection techniques and love/affirmation from a family member. dick is not only a loving and supportive big brother, but he never stops training his younger brother in better vigilante tecnhiques because he wants tim to be better than him. in this essay i will-

d o g g o

also bitewing is getting so many head pats today i’m living for it

look at him, standing on a telephone wire with ease. nice flex, dick.

also look at how he’s silhouetted. the moon’s full bright, bright enough that the sky around dick is light, too. (at least. i’m like 99% sure that’s the moon.) not like most batman comics, where it’s sometimes hard to distinguish bruce from the background, which is entirely on purpose.

gotham is a dark gritty city, and so is bruce. the two of them are one. bludhaven may be a bit of a mess, but it’s being portrayed in all these different shades of blue and purple and pink, that are all light enough that dick stands out from the background. he hasn’t been swallowed up by the city, and chances are that he won’t ever be. also, the colouring helps establish bludhaven as a city too. there’s still hope for it. the light colouring means that it’s not going to sink into a pit as deep as the one bruce wove gotham into. the whole point of this nightwing arc in particular is to turn bludhaven into a better place, and it’s (most likely) letting us know early on that dick is going to accomplish that. he’ll struggle, but he’ll do it.

so dick??? dick designed his escrima sticks with a situation like this in mind? he created his signature and most iconic weapon (other than his chatty mouth), with a built in feature that turns his escrima sticks into tim’s signature and most iconic weapon???? just so that if he and tim ever got into a situation where tim didn’t have his staff, dick could make sure tim had the thing that would give him an edge over anyone he was fighting??? he’s such a big brother oh my goddd.

also tim’s smirk in this is just *chef kiss.* a staff is something he can work with, a staff is something he wields like an extension of his arm, a staff is means that someone’s about to get their ass kicked because tim’s about to beat the shit outta them.

this is my new phone background.

they really made sure we remembered that hey, those first few months when bruce was grieving too much to be any sort of a mentor to tim and was still unwilling to properly train him to be robin out of fear that he would end up like jason, dick was the one who stepped up (once he got over himself and his own fears and hangups with bruce) and trained tim to be robin, trained him how to fight and flip and fuckin fly out there, all while changing his own style a bit to be the more experienced one in the partnership while still trusting said partner to hold their own, so dick and tim have a very unique and cohesive fighting style that makes it hell for anyone who fights them together, didn’t they?

[hes-writer]

Halo

Summary: y/n feels guilty for missing harry

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, mentions of vomiting and nausea, mentions of implied smut

Word Count: 7648 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : don’t cheat and don’t do drugs, kids.

inspired by one of my anons. some parts are real and some parts aren’t :)

Tarnish (1)  .  Halo (2) .  Reign (3) . 

Reign Taglist 

___

When the relationship ended, Y/N imagined being bed-ridden. A lack of motivation to do anything casual such as standing. Watching the television seemed to be a task that required all of her energy and full-attention to be able to understand the subtitles on the screen. Her friends would knock continuously on her door to be met with no response because she was asleep or Y/N couldn’t be bothered with pitiful conversation asking her if she was okay. She would be too tempted to ask how Harry was doing when she could easily pull out her phone and search his name in a few quick taps. These used to be easy; as easy as breathing and loving Harry was easier than loving herself.

How was he doing? Y/N hoped that Harry was regretting his actions. She was yearning for the vibration of her phone to restart her heart like an AED stuck to her chest, sending her pulses to remember that they were not what they used to be. Or maybe the snippy ringtone Y/N had set specifically for him and only him would ring through the air as she wallowed in a burrito blanket. Frankly too emotionally worn out to even move an inch as she watched her phone face down on the bedside table of her new apartment.

Life doesn’t wait until Y/N is capable of being back on her feet before thundering down with the foundations of living. Five days into the breakup did she realize that the money she had saved up would be spent faster than she can replace it if she stayed any longer at the hotel near the heart of downtown. It was a spur of the moment decision to ‘treat herself’; she thought she deserved it after being called names and thrown aside like a used toy. And on the fifth day, she was on the lookout for places to live in as she adjusted to her new life without Harry.

It wasn’t like Y/N was completely dependent on him. She had a well-paying job; just not as good as his. And she could afford a nice apartment, just not as nice as his mansion. Nor did it have the same toasty feeling that enveloped her when she walked through the doors. Y/N told herself that she would give it a few months; that maybe it was just the change in setting that misplaced every bone in her body because everything she did felt off. Deep down, Y/N knew that things weren’t the same without him. She could either live a life reminiscing how she--they--used to do things or she could change and adapt to this ball thrown at her.

The decision was in her hands, yet she hesitated with every gambling thought crossing her mind. On one hand, she was used to a routine. It was a routine that never got boring to her, solely because Harry found a way to make things interesting; refreshing. On the other, Y/N would be in a never-ending comparison of how much she missed him or pat her shoulders because she was able to compromise the old parts of her that existed when Harry was around and to integrate it with a new version that was wary of anybody getting close to her.

The challenge was not easy when the media got hold of the news. It seemed as if everywhere Y/N went---mixed reactions and judgement attacked her with doe eyes offering the best of luck or disgusted snickers telling that she deserved it and that they--Camille and Harry--were perfect for each other. But when Y/N quite literally was carrying a piece of him and her inside her stomach did she step up to what she had to become to raise her baby.

It seemed like yesterday when Y/N stared at her reflection in the en-suite bathroom of Harry’s home, pinching at a subtle layer of fat that she was sure wasn’t there a few days ago. Bloated cheeks that added a fullness to her face were substituted as the result of a bright smile plastered on her face because she Harry had pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before she left for work that day. The sudden aversion to fragrant foods she absolutely adored flew right over her head and excused as a bad batch.

And the most painful memory was the day Harry and Y/N’s relationship ended. The beginning of something new, something beautiful was right under their noses. Y/N wondered what could have happened if she didn’t find the letter. When the symptoms of pregnancy became more obvious each day; would Harry notice the change in her physique? The crinkle of her nose when met with a sandwich containing pickles that she used to love?

Y/N couldn’t help but envision holding the stick with a tiny ‘+’ pixelated by dark colours. Sitting on the closed toilet seat as she contemplated delivering the news to him in the early hours of the morning after she was awoken by a flush of morning sickness. Y/N daydreamed about watching his sleeping face smooth out of any lines as he dreamed peacefully and wondered if this was still a part of what he wanted with her. Maybe she would jostle him gently, rousing him with a poke as she kneeled on his side of the bed, flailing the pregnancy test between her fingers until he blinked the sleep out of his waterline. Harry would present her a doozy smile before realizing what she held--to which he would sit up faster than he had ever done, gazing at her with a pleading stare. For Y/N to confirm that yes, she was pregnant. Yes, they were going to have a baby and yes, Harry was going to be a father. A little family in the works.

But that daydream was reeled in like a fishing hook in grave waters as reality grounded her. She was apparently two months into her pregnancy when Y/N had mistaken the sickness as an inevitable reaction to finding out his infidelity. Hearing him say the term of endearment as if he had not used it with another person made Y/N want to grab him by the shoulders to hold a steady contact, jostling him until answers spilled out of his mouth. Answers that Y/N deemed justifiable but was there ever a good excuse for cheating? She wanted to strip him out of the apologies filling his mouth and get straight to the question of why he had done it. But even then, Y/N knew that there was no way she was going to be satisfied with his answers. It was just a matter of her accepting that the idea of ‘what could have been’ would live inside her head because she was the only one that knew about the life inside of her.

Harry had not made an effort to speak to her besides arranging the dates to pick up her things. She had to wear large clothes to hide her growing belly because Y/N wasn’t sure if she even had the right to tell him something so personal anymore. It fit well with the narrative that she was a depressed homebody that craved the touch of his fingertips on her skin, the taste of his lips on her tongue and the weight of his arms around her. Albeit that he was the father, Harry had obviously moved on way before they ended; a little over a year ago now to be precise.

Y/N was almost one-hundred percent sure that Harry had blocked her number. Scratch that, she was certain if the way her messages failed to send were anything to go by. She could handle seeing the handle of ‘read’ on the bottom of a message because at least she’d know that Harry did read it and that he was aware. But watching the encircled, crimson exclamation point appear was just another reminder that he planned to erase four years from his life to start anew.

____

So what if at four months, Y/N was attending another doctor’s appointment by herself, trying to amount to as little attention as possible? Well, today was the day that she was going to find out the baby’s gender. Her bump was definitely noticeable now and extremely uncomfortable especially sitting on a plastic, grey chair in the waiting room. The device in her hand felt like stone perceiving the icon of blaring red that indicated yet another failed message to the contact previously named ‘My Love’, now to just ‘Harry’.

Y/N: I’m finding out the gender of our baby today

Y/N: I’m hoping for a girl but either way, I just want the baby to be healthy.

“Y/N? Dr. O’Sullivan is ready to see you,” The nurse clad in scrubs walked out with a clipboard gripped in her hands.

Y/N stood up, pausing to retrieve her items. She took a breath before entering the room, catching sight of the doctor in his stereotypical white coat focused on the computer screen that showed her information.

“You know what to do. Good luck today,” The nurse mused, handing her a folded hospital gown to change into as she pointed towards the direction of the room with a little nook to change privately. After struggling a bit with pulling off her top, Y/N tied the strings of the hospital gown.

“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He asked, standing up to gather the items he would need. Y/N made herself comfortable on the small bed, the white paper crinkling as her weight shifted.

She sighed deeply, “I’m alright. Really excited, actually,” A grin appeared on her face with just how close she was to find out the gender of the baby, “How about you?”

“Good as always,”

Connor O’Sullivan was the name of the doctor. They met when Y/N was in search of the top-tier family doctor’s around the city and instantly had a connection. He had a trustworthy aura that Y/N deemed acceptable to guide her to a healthy pregnancy. A friendship had definitely blossomed around the doctor-patient boundary but they stayed within their limits. Inside jokes existed but it had never crossed the line. And sure, touches to the shoulder happened once in a while but nothing had escalated further.

Y/N’s baby bump was exposed to the cool room. She shivered when a gloved hand applied the gel on her taut skin. Stretch marks were littering the sides of her tummy. It was itchy and uncomfortable. However, it was tolerable especially after applying a combination of creams and oil to soothe the ache. It was also another reminder that she really was about to become a mother.

“Cold?” Connor teased with an easy smile. Y/N rolled her eyes upwards in response, “You’re the doctor here,”

He chuckled, directing her attention to the small screen beside them. The static fizz of black and white slowly morphing to a more discernible image as he attached the device to her skin, finding the perfect angle to produce a clear picture. The first time Y/N saw her little baby; it was the size of a lemon. The next couple of visits showed progression in their growth; tiny baby feet, stubby legs, and sprouting fingers could be seen on the ultrasound.

They looked more and more like a proper baby now--like the ones one would see in the clinics and Y/N really couldn’t believe that she was about to find out their gender. Y/N couldn’t tell just by inspecting the picture because of her lack of expertise.

“You’re having a. . .” Connor began, edging his voice at the last word. He wiggled his brows as Y/N’s eyes widened.

She balled her fists, “Oh, hell. Just spit it out, C,”

“A girl. You’re having a little girl,” He peered up at the patient, watching tears fill the brim of her waterline as she gasped, palming her slightly open mouth.

“A-a girl?” Y/N craned her head to look at the square image, blurrier because of the tears but beautiful nonetheless. “I can’t believe I’m having a girl,”

The doctor wiped the gel off of her tummy with a cloth, switching off the machine as he waited for another reaction out of her. Y/N tossed her legs to the side, putting on her slip-on vans to fully-comprehend the news. “I’m having a baby girl,”

Connor nodded, releasing an ‘oomph’ at a sudden pressure around his middle. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, feeling the tube of his stethoscope dangling against her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, happy tears streaming out. He returned the gesture with soft rubs on her lower back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so emotional,” Y/N pulled away with a huff, using her fingertips to rub the wetness towards her temple. “I’m so happy but I just wished that he was--,” She cut herself off, pursing her lips as an image of Harry carrying their baby appeared in her head.

“I understand, Y/N.” Connor mirrored her distraught expression as he really did feel sorry for Y/N. However, he couldn’t explain the extra twinge in his heart at seeing her frown over a lost love. “You’re doing great on your own,”

She sighed for possibly the tenth time that day, “We both wanted to name her Halo if it’s a girl or Arlo if it’s a boy. It reminds me of what an angel she will be,”

“Wait until she gets older,” Connor joked to lighten the mood, receiving a glimmer from Y/N. “What d’ya say you get changed and I’ll print out this ultrasound, sounds good? A few more months then we can meet baby Halo,”

Halo.

___

Harry’s relationship with Camille was a dream. It was everything he imagined, maybe even better. The first time they dabbled on getting together was four years ago, before Y/N was even around in his life. There could be so many things right about a relationship and it could still be wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the right place, the right time, or they simply had too many disagreements and flaws that both parties were unwilling to work it to make them--work.

Usually, the third time would be a charm but Harry felt that he and Camille didn’t need a third time. As he said, the past couple of months felt like a dream. He could close his eyes and still feel the soft skin of the woman he loves grazing his fingertips. He couldn’t help but transpire into a new chapter of their love; one where it wasn’t just them tumbling in the sheets. When the squeals in the kitchen while making breakfast were paired with pleads for whipped cream on their pancakes; a child.

Harry was old enough to know what he wanted--at least, he thought he was--and a family was in his books. He finally found a partner who had the same mindset in their future; Camille. At first, he was absolutely sure that Y/N could not be erased from; but her name wasn't set in stone and once he found someone better--no way in hell was he going to let that be a missed opportunity.

__

Camile sighed softly, laying on Harry's bare chest as he pulled the sheets over their clammy bodies. Their orgasms settled in their veins, the rush and panting breaths calming down with each blink of an eye.

With her finger swirling patterns on his skin, Harry stared at the ceiling in hesitant contemplation, “Babe, have you ever thought of getting off the pill?” She paused.

“Uh, sure, but then we would have to use a condom?” Her voice raised at the end in curiosity.

Harry released an awkward chuckle, gently swivelling her body off of him so he could sit up. Reaching over, his fingers found the flip of the light switch that turned the bedside lamp on. He smiled at her appearance, mirroring his stance as she sat on the bed, a sheet clung around her body.

He shook his head, “No, no. No condoms, no pills and, y’know. . .”

The confusion was evident on Camille’s features, “I don’t exactly understand what you’re trying to say, H--,’

“‘M asking if y’wanna try for a baby, love.’

Silence overtook the room. Harry held his breath in his throat, seemingly trying to swallow down the lump that had formed because of her lack of response. She cleared her throat.

“A baby?” Harry nodded with excitement despite the flat tone whipping past her lips. “I--don’t know how to say this, Harry. I’ve never wanted kids.”

His face fell, the words lingering around his head like a flock of birds. The dizzying epiphany rattled his head clear of any other thoughts besides the fact that there was a hole in his book; burnt and toasted with sparks inkling his skin.

“W-why not?” His palms fell flat on the silky sheets, fisting the fabric to keep him settled. “A mini you and a mini-me running around the house. Won’t that be fun, baby? Don’t you want that?”

It almost hurt Camille to see the grin plastered on his face, hopeful eyes practically begging her to change her mind. But she couldn’t.

“Harry, that part will be fun. What won’t be fun is getting huge, morning sickness, weird cravings, hormonal imbalance, the aftermath of labour, the sleepless nights, the puke, the changing diapers, the back pain, the headaches, the fights when they’re older and so much more” Her accent rippled with each explanation rejecting the idea.

Harry huffed, crossing his arms subconsciously to shield himself, “But it’ll be worth it,”

“It won’t be,” Camille scooted closer to him, situating herself on her knees so that she could look into his eyes clearly. “Look, I made up my mind ages ago and I thought you felt the same since you haven’t settled down yet”

“I was jus’ lookin’ for the right person,” His head dipped down, dropping his gaze their intertwined hands. “It’s gonna’ be okay, Cam. We can make it work. We’ll have our own family. We’ll be okay,”

She shook her head in refusal, “It will be okay for you, H.” Harry could feel her hands itching to slip past his. He held her tighter. He didn’t want to lose her. “You can get back to work immediately. I’m a model and it takes time to lose weight. Even when I do--I won’t look the same. It’ll take me months, if not years to even resemble my present body.

“I don’t care how your body looks. You’re still gonna’ look amazing. You think I won’t love you after birthing our little baby?” With brows pressed together, he pouted his lip in curiosity as she rolled her eyes.

Camille sighed exasperatedly, “I don’t want children, Harry. The sooner you understand that the better. It’s MY body. I’ll be carrying the kid around for 9 months. No thank you.” She stood up, stumbling slightly as the sheets tangled around her feet.

He followed suit. His height towered over her as she crouched down to collect the pieces of clothing strewn around haphazardly in a rush to have each other. “But it’ll be MY baby, Cam. OUR baby, don’t you want that?”

Fingernails dug into the skin of her palm, holding her clothes as she spoke, “I don’t, Harry. Why can’t you just accept that?”

In the heat of the moment, Harry couldn’t help but quell the ache in his chest with a memory he thought he had thrown away, “Because Y/N and I planned to have a family. A-and I thought you and I could have one too,”

Camille huffed, keeping her distance. She walked to the bathroom, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fucking cheated on her then,”

___

His fight with Camille left the both of them on edge, barely able to handle the thick tension surrounding the house. Even though she took refuge in the bedroom and Harry wandered to the kitchen to cool off; it was impossible for them to stay in one place without having another argument.

Harry didn’t mean to let the memory slip past his lip. He hated it when he found himself comparing his past relationships to his current one. He felt that there was no need to do so, especially when the point of all of it was to start anew. Harry guessed that his desire to have a family was too powerful to keep his thoughts in check. The ache bubbling in his chest rose to a boil with each rejection that Camille answered with.

It wasn’t like he didn’t respect her decision. He really did. But Harry didn’t know if he was going to be happy being with her without progressing into something more through the years. What he was asking from her is just as difficult as what she was asking from him. Camille didn’t want to have children and Harry didn’t want to not have kids. There was no room for compromise if they both, mutually, wanted to respect each other's' decisions’ to the absolute fullest. However, the chances of him living a content life were zero to none.

And that was how Harry ended up at a bar, alone, at nine o’clock in the evening. They were invited by his friend, Kora, to a birthday celebration. Harry was reaching the limit of his threshold having to fake a smile and a chuckle while saying, “Camille’s feelin’ a bit sick tonight. ‘S just me,”

The thing with this celebration was that Kora was initially Y/N’s friend. He and Kora had become close friends while he was with Y/N and he guessed that that was the reason why he was invited. Although, it made him wonder why one of Y/N’s best friends invited him when she was aware of what happened between them. Surely, there was no way that Kora would invite Y/N, Harry, and Camille to the same crowded space, would she?

The sudden nervousness swirling at the pit of his stomach came with a quick neck as Harry scanned each premise of the bar. It was difficult considering the dim lighting and endless amounts of heads moving against each other. He hoped to see Y/N; just to see how she was doing! But he also felt like puking the alcohol he consumed because--as much as he wanted to admit it or not--he missed her.

After a half-hour of being vigilant, Harry willed himself to relax by the counter. Leaning one elbow on the wood as he spoke to another person regarding his upcoming album.

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s goin’. ‘M really excited for it cause’ I’ve got a lot of inspiration for some reason,” Harry answered with unyielding precision.

“We both know where that came fro--Oh hi! Sorry, H. Gotta check in on, Johnny,”

He rolled his eyes under closed lids, sipping on his drink, eyeing Kora when he heard a quip of Y/N’s name. Harry inconspicuously moved closer to her, making sure that he didn’t catch her attention.

“You’re not here,” Kora yelled with a whine to her tone. Her drunk self was still coherent enough to embark on the bartender to make another drink for her. However, Harry guessed that her senses were obscured with the way she yelled through the phone despite it being held to her ear and the function tapped to ‘speaker’.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you, Kora,” Y/N’s gentle chuckle rumbled through the speaker, making Harry smile. It was the first time he heard it in a while. He sometimes wondered if he had the right to feel relieved when Harry was the one that blocked her number in the first place.

“It’s my birthday! Why aren’t you here drinking with us?” Kora quietly thanked the bartender.

Harry’s curiosity spiked; why wasn’t Y/N here tonight?

“It’s because I’m pregnant, silly. Can’t really do that when I’ve got a bubba in my tummy,” Both women giggled, Kora, making a sound of acknowledgement, “Ohhh right!”

He really wished that he would have stuck by long enough to hear more of their conversation but Kora’s boyfriend was approaching her and he wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything if he was honest.

She moved on fast, Harry thought. He was definitely sounding like an entitled jerk. Hear him out though; Harry was happy with Camille. Yes, he had been cheating on Y/N for a whole year and yes, she had to find out through a letter but Y/N was pregnant.

Did she really move on that quickly?

___

Despite the guilt gnawing at her for missing her best friend Kora’s birthday, Y/N was also looking forward to getting some sleep. It was a couple of hours after their phone call together when the nauseating tightening of Y/N’s chest woke again and had been for the past three days.

It was a horrible feeling that spread from the confines of her stomach. The bile rising up from her throat that left a burning feeling from the acids that escaped her mouth as she quickly threw the covers away from her legs, running towards the direction of her bathroom where she emptied the remnants of her stomach from last night’s craving of pickles and hot Cheetos. Her chest heaved with exertion as she draped her arms over the white porcelain of the disinfected toilet, hunching over as her stomach seemingly pumped away toxins.

Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, visibly shuddering as she pointed a finger to flush the toilet. She had a feeling that she won’t be getting any more sleep despite the time being three o’clock in the morning. Halo was insistent on staying up past normal bedtime hours. Y/N sighed, walking lethargically towards the dresser to retrieve her phone before heading to the living room nearby.

Y/N: You up, doc?

The blue loading bar swooped to the right as Y/N sent a message to Connor. She was at the peak of her pregnancy and her due date was occurring within a few weeks. A lot had changed since the day she found out the gender of her baby. Between the emotional trauma of having been broken up with--the hard-hitting fact was that Y/N was pushed into a direction of pregnancy that wasn’t exactly her ideal path. She pretty much preferred the dream-like sequence of having Harry accompanying her to her ultrasounds.

Just as Y/N was about to delve into another imaginary scenario of Harry sending her cute baby onesies that he would absolutely need to purchase for their little one, the humming of her phone pulled her from drowning in pathetic wishes and desires.

Connor: What’s up, Y/N?

She jutted her lips as she typed out a response. Contemplating whether or not to send the message as Y/N’s thumb hovered over the arrow, she paused to wonder why she was feeling so guilty in texting another man months and antecedent her break up with Harry. He was happy with someone else, yet Y/N felt as if her feet were planted in a puddle of sticky glue; unable to move on from the life she built in her head. Although it hurt to admit that Harry only existed in her memories now, reminiscing the spoken words they have discussed was another stab to her already bruised heart.

Y/N: Halo’s keeping me up again..

Connor: Want me to come over?

To keep you company

The reply was instantaneous and she could not deny the flutter of her heart beating subtly despite the extremities it had endured. And Y/N couldn’t help but notice the jitter of her baby bump morphing a plump bulge where Halo had kicked it as if it was a stamp of approval of the man coming over.

It wasn’t the first time that Connor drove to her place at the brink of dawn to keep her company in case the sickness became too much for Y/N to handle. The first time was simply a desperate action because she was rattled by the sudden spike in dizziness and incoherence of her sickness that Y/N wasn’t confident in herself to handle it alone. Times after that were more for his comfort when Connor said that he would ‘rather be safe than sorry’ while he rubbed his palm up and down her back.

Minutes later, a knock on her door sounded, forcing Y/N to haul her plump body to the comfort of the sofa, pausing the rerun of a television show. She waddled towards the entrance, the fit of her pyjama waistband snuggly wrapping around her mid-belly. A stretch of skin exposed between her bottoms and her tank top.

“Hi, thank you for coming,” Y/N greeted shyly, widening the door to let Connor in as he chuckled, toeing off his shoes by the closet door.

He waved her off, “It’s no problem, really,” Connor assisted her back to her couch, aiding her by letting his hands stabilize in the air in case anything happened.

The moment their bottoms hit the cushions did Y/N realize the gravity of the guilt spiralling in her chest. Connor laughed softly, his back resting on the couch with his right arm resting on the top, fingertips barely brushing over her shoulder. He reached over the coffee table to obtain the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, picking one to munch on but not before looking over at Y/N.

“Want some?”

She snapped out of her daze, cheeks heating profusely at being caught blatantly staring at how Connor fit naturally into her home both physically and metaphorically. He couldn’t have appeared at a better time when Y/N not only needed medical assistance and a support group by her side. However, she asked herself if he could be anything more than a friend. She shook her head ‘no’.

“No thanks. I’m quite full,” Y/N pressed a palm to her belly when a kick halted her breath. ‘Okay maybe a little,” She rolled her eyes, scolding Halo. “She’s a hungry one,”

“I’m gonna pop some more popcorn, kay? Be right back,”

Y/N heaved a sigh, watching Connor’s retrieving figure. Her admiration was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

___

Harry wasn’t so sober when he opened the door to his car. He wasn’t in his right mind either when he unblocked Y/N’s number and tapped on her name, switching the screen as it rang. He threw his head back against the headrest, biting his lip when the dial tone rang and rang.

“Hello?”

Harry’s breath hitched, losing his voice momentarily before his slowed brain caught up to move his tongue.

“Y/N? It’s Harry,” He spoke quietly, “Don’t hang up. Hear me out,” His ears stretched to pick up the click of a dropped call but he didn’t hear any.

“Heard from Kora that y’were pregnant, yeah? And I was wondering, whose is it?” The venom in his voice dripped. His drunken stupor rendered him unable to grasp reality.

“I’m not answering that,” Y/N’s tone was firm and direct. Harry could imagine her pursing her lips inwards.

“Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?” The parking lot was filled with cars yet Harry could see that he was the only one currently occupying one. If there was a better metaphor of feeling alone in a crowded place; then he would love to hear it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? You cheated on me! You slept with another woman while we were together. You loved another woman while we were together. For an entire year, you lied to me and deceived me,”

“Jus’. . .answer the question,” He pinched his nose bridge, a headache pounding from the bottom of his skull.

“How dare you speak to me this way? You have no right calling me up out of nowhere,” Y/N lowered the volume of her voice, “and asking all these ridiculous questions,”

“S’not ridiculous,”

She gave a smile to Connor who entered the room with a bowl of delicious smelling popcorn. Y/N clutched the phone to her chest. Connor situated his body beside her with a glimmering smile, his mouth twitching as he eyed her bump, “Can I talk to her?” A gentle question breezed past his lips, moving closer when Y/N gave him approval.

The man kneeled down on the floor, leaning his head downwards to speak to Halo, “Hey little one, y’gotta be nice to momma, okay?” His fingers waved when her feet kicked out. Connor looked up to Y/N with a proud smile, “Did you see that? She responded!”

___

Harry felt his heart clench as a new voice filled the speakers. His neurons were fried with each thought firing endlessly, “Who’s that?

“Don’t call me again,”

The dial tone rung in his ears, echoing in the quiet space of his Range Rover.

___

Pressing the power button for a few seconds, the device turned black and was left on the arm of the couch. The excitement in Connor’s voice brought a dreamy smile to Y/N’s face, chewing on some popcorn. The beating of her heart seemed to double at the sight of him being so thrilled with her baby.

“We can’t wait to see you. I bet you’re gorgeous,” Connor dropped his volume to a whisper to prevent Y/N from hearing, ‘’Like your mom,”

Y/N’s relaxed and comfortable state of mind mindlessly worked her hands to thread the hair on top of Connor’s head. Just like she used to do to Harry. Her expression dimmed at the thought, painting a faint simper when Connor looked at her in surprise before shrugging it off, continuing to talk to her bump. She shivered when a warm pair of lips attached to the skin of her stomach. Gentle pressure planting a kiss as Connor said his goodbyes to baby Halo.

“She’s a smart one, that much I can tell,” He confirmed, moulding his body to the lingering shape he had left behind in his previous position. And Y/N was flustered to say that she might have scooched a little closer to his body, snuggling her head at the junction of his shoulder.

“Can I?” She asked, doe eyes raising a question that would allow them to cross the boundary they had limited themselves to. He nodded reflexively as if he was awaiting this moment. Connor took the initiative to pull Y/N closer to him, subconsciously kissing the top of her head. The scent of the woman’s shampoo wafting through his nose and invading his senses in a sweet smell that he would gladly immerse himself to.

It was the most pleasant feeling for Y/N to completely let go of her former worries about starting anew when Connor was as cozy as a heater. He made Y/N feel safe and secure with his body shielding her and his actions hinting at a subdued attraction he hadn’t fully shown to her.

And Connor was proud of himself for not quite literally freaking out when Y/N smothered her face to his chest as time passed and the sun rays filtered through the blinds as she fell asleep. Her words mumbled in a jumbled mess about how she wished that morning sickness wasn’t called morning sickness.

It wasn’t totally accurate, she complained. She thought that it was a misleading name; catfishing perhaps. He had chuckled in response, tracing his fingers up and down her arm and feeling goosebumps rise on her skin.

The orange hue of the bright star painting the sky lighter and lighter until the pitch-black sight morphed into a mixture of shades that could only be described as beautifully grandiose--just like Y/N’s sleeping face when the sun casts a shadow to highlight her nose, scrunching with the slight graze of the back of Connor’s finger rubbing the tip. Or the way the luminescence caressed the apples of her cheeks where her lashes rested, mouth puffing breaths of air as she allowed herself to be vulnerable for the first time in months.

___

A heavy feeling had settled into Harry's chest after Y/N hung up the phone. The new voice he had heard had unmistakably been a man's. Who was he? Was Y/N having that man's baby?

Before he could help it, Harry was seething. He saw red, and if he were in a children's movie there would be steam coming out of his ears right about now. How dare she move on so fast? How could she have a baby with another man so soon? But when he thought about it; Harry couldn't even recall how long it had been since they'd broken up. It made him feel somewhat guilty. He hadn't meant to forget her. It had just happened.

His guilt soon manifested into frustration-- her being pregnant was a constant reminder that she had moved on with another man. Insecurity clawed at his insides- did he really mean that little to her? 'You cheated on her', his conscience pricked, but he brushed away the thought. He hated being reminded of his infidelity to his fiancée.

His defence mechanism kicked in like clockwork, using aggression to shield his insecurities. He opened his messages app and clicked her contact, typing drunkenly.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*'

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet youu did'

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck u'

He smiled smugly at his phone screen, satisfied with what he had sent her. He shut his phone off, and started his car, ready to drive back home. He knew he was being irresponsible, but between his current girlfriend not wanting a child and his ex being pregnant with one; he couldn't bring himself to care. He drove himself home, only to find a terribly worried Camille waiting for him to arrive.

He glanced at the huge clock on the wall behind her. 1:32 am. He shrugged his shoulders and brushed past her to their bedroom. In his drunken gait, he knocked over a metal tray. The loud 'clang' made him hiss and clutch his temples, a headache pounding in his skull.

Camille sighed and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and muttering a "come here, H" Despite his sour mood, he found himself craving affection. What he wouldn't admit was that he didn't crave Camille's affection in particular. He just wanted to be held and feel safe in someone's arms. Anyone's arms. But despite himself, he mumbled, "m'sorry I left like tha'. Should'nt 've spoken to ya that way,"

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "It's okay, Harry, you're back home now. C'mon, let's get you changed and then let's sleep."

He bobbed his head up and down, willingly letting her drag him up the stairs to their shared bedroom, "Love ya,” Camille helped him out of his trousers.

She smiled softly, "Love you too, mon Cheri,” He giggled drunkenly at the showcase of her accent.

___

Harry woke up with a pounding headache, whining as his alarm rang at eight am in the morning. He opened his eyes to see that Camille wasn't in bed with him. His lips fell into a pout because of waking up alone.

There was a note on the bedside table.

'got called in for an emergency meeting for the show next week. be home by 5pm. love you!'

He sighed and reached for the glass of water she had left him. His brows furrowed when he didn't see Ibuprofen next to the water. Y/N left him ibuprofen beside the glass of water. Always. Harry snapped himself out of his daze, reprimanding himself for even thinking about her. Why is he thinking about her?

__

After a hot shower, Harry made his way downstairs to make himself breakfast. 'Eggs and toast', he thought. Placing 2 eggs in water and setting it on the stove before loading the toaster. He looked mindlessly through the drinks in the fridge, settling on 'Organic Orange Juice'. Y/N had introduced him to this particular brand after he had complained that all the others had too much sugar to be 'healthy'.

___

"This has no added sugar, H," she mentioned, "They sweeten it with honey."

___

Harry groaned, snapping himself out of the daydream, ashamed for thinking about his ex. Again.

He placed his breakfast on a plate and poured himself a glass of juice, sitting at the dining table alone. He chewed slowly with a mouthful as he unlocked his phone, beginning to go through his notifications.

Camille sent him a text. It was a selfie of her at her meeting, smiling and holding up a peace sign. He mirrored the expression, sending a text back

Harry: "stop being so cute"

He clicked the ‘back’ icon.

The second he does, his heart positively skips a beat. Not in a good way, either. Y/N's contact was just below Camille's, suddenly remembering the nasty things he had texted her the previous night.

"Fuck," He whispered under his breath, opening her contact. 'Read' was plastered under the messages he had sent. Y/N had seen them.

__

Connor had left a few hours later because he had morning rounds at the clinic the next day. Y/N had bid him goodbye with a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth,

“Thanks for coming, C,"

He smiled and pulled her into an embrace "Anytime, angel," into her hair. A warmth spread through her chest--one that she hadn’t felt in a long while.

After Connor drove off (with a final wave from his car window, of course), Y/N walked back in to settle on her couch again. Halo kicked a few times as she sat down, making Y/N squirm and giggle.

"Hi, you little goose! What's got you all excited, hm?" She rubbed over the area where Y/N felt the kick. As if, in response to her mother's voice, baby Halo kicked out again, right where Y/N's palm was. "Are you trying to high-five me, precious girl?"

Y/N cooed at her swelling tummy, a huge smile plastered across her face. "Or are ya just excited about Connor coming over to spend time with us? Got a good feeling about him, have you?"

She feels a gentle kick, it was almost as if the baby in her tummy wanted to say 'yes'. Y/N hummed softly, caressing her tummy, "Me too, angel. I've got a good feeling about him, too."

__

A few minutes later, Y/N reboots her phone her previously switched off phone so that she could see if Connor had texted her. He had.

C: Thanks for letting me spend time with you and Halo tonight. I loved it. I have a  bit of time off on Sunday, do you want to get Pizza?'

Her eyes gleamed, but she hesitated for just a second. Connor had texted her. But so had Harry. He had sent her five messages, and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to see what he had to say.

She wanted to make sure before texting Connor back. Y/N was not sure what she was expecting or hoping for, but what she saw was certainly not it.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*',

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet you did

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck you'

She felt tears stinging her eyes, cursing at the pregnancy hormones that have gotten her feeling this emotional about drunk texts from her ex. Her body ignited with fury quicker than she realized she could. Y/N doesn't hesitate to click the 'block' button to his contact.

She didn't need a man like him around her or her baby. Or her potential boyfriend.

Y/N: 'Hiya!,'

'it was great having you over, and I'd love to hang out! Down for pizza anytime. Halo loves it too :P'

The reply was instantaneous

C: 'Great!'

'See you Sunday, then! What are your favourite toppings?"

Y/N smiled brightly, finding his curiosity incredibly endearing. She typed back a response, gleaming with joy at the fact that she finally had someone she could rely on.

___

"Fuck. fuck fuck fuck," Harry repeated, clicking the call button to Y/N's contact. He needed to apologize. Desperately. He needed her to know that he didn't mean any of those things; he was just drunk. Not that that was an excuse.

'The number you are trying to reach is not in service', an automated voice said.

Harry groaned in frustration, opening her message contact, typing out;

Harry: "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me. I was drunk. I'm very sorry, Y/N xx H."

He took a bite out of his toast before looking back at his screen to see if she had read the message yet. He almost wished he hadn't. Harry’s heart plummeted. His chest constricted as tears stung at the back of his eyes. Throwing up the meal he just scarfed sounded like an option right now.

A flaming red exclamation mark met his startled glance, and his chest heaved as he read,

'Not delivered,'

___

As usual, let us know what you thought!

Reign aka pt3 is already up on Patreon (link in bio!)

Reign will be uploaded on Tumblr on Monday, August 31. ___

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[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

How Bad is Sia’s “Music” really?

I watched it illegally (because there was no way I was paying for that bullshit) and found out. It’s not as bad as we thought... It’s worse.

TW for ableism, Sia, drugs, alcohol, just in general a terrible movie, meltdowns, blackface

Literally the first thing you hear while they’re showing the production companies is THOSE stereotypical noises. If you’ve seen the trailer, you’ll know what I mean.

And yes, she does this for the WHOLE fucking movie

What was the need to show her in her underwear? Maddie Ziegler was 14 when this was made, so what was the need??? And why did Sia prolong the scene by having her hitting herself?

Less than a minute in and my reaction was already “what the fuck is this shit?”

So the opening number not only had stereotypical exaggerated facial expression, it has Maddie in BLACKFACE?!? And with culturally appropriated hair?!?

The exaggerated facial expressions are literally constant and I took photos during the film to show it, more later, but I’ll keep mentioning it

ITS LITERALLY THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME SHE IS ON SCREEN

Even her way of walking is fucking offensive, Jesus Christ

The vocalisations just had me cringing so hard, I cannot describe how awful it made me feel

Why do all the neighbours need to be paid off and help her when she goes for a walk? I don’t-

Yes, by about the five minute mark I was already seriously debating all my life decisions. It was that bad.

Kate Hudson really didn’t give a fuck that her grandma died

I will keep saying it but WHY are the facial expressions/vocalisations CONSTANT?!! Literally they do not stop at all. I work with a child who is actually similar to this in that he’s nonverbal and he makes similar noises/faces, but the way they’re in this movie is so over-exaggerated?!? And even the kid I work with doesn’t do it 24/7?!?

Sia, calling your characters Zu and Music doesn’t make them interesting in the slightest. They’re still painfully terrible and one dimensional

Literally ONE minute after being left alone with her autistic sister, Zu calls the mental health service asking if they could “theoretically” “pick up” her sister?!? Like she wants to get rid of her already?!?

“A magical little girl” - autism isn’t a magical power?!? And Music is a young woman, not a little girl?!? Why are you infantilising her?!?

Okay I’m not being funny but this choreography is NOT hard. ANYONE can do it, so claiming that you needed to hire a dancer to be Music because of the numbers is literally bullshit (and even so, there are so many amazing autistic actors and dancers?!?)

20 minutes in and I wanted to give up

So she had her first meltdown because her hair didn’t get braided immediately and that’s... certainly interesting??

The fact that Leslie Odom’s character says “I’m going to crush you now”?!?

AND THEN HE FUCKING PICKS HER UP AND FULL-BODILY PINS HER DOWN ONTO THE FLOOR

“I’m crushing her with my love” - oh fuck you, just fuck you

So Sia lied, the restraint scenes were NOT removed and there was no warning. She’s a fucking POS liar

I have no idea why he’s called Ebo or why he has such a cliche African accent?!? I might have missed out on why because I was busy trying not to bang my head into the table while I watched this film but just... yikes

“He (his brother) liked to be held” - YEAH, HELD. NOT FUCKING CRUSHED

“He is dead now” - IM NOT FUCKING SURPRISED IF YOU CRUSHED HIM LIKE THAT

The constant babying and patronizing of the autistic character is so exhausting to watch. I’m so tired

“Planning on sending her to the people pound but I guess I’ll keep her a little longer” - SHE WAS JOKING BUT THAT WAS NOT EVEN REMOTELY A FUNNY JOKE. NOT EVEN IN AN AWKWARD WAY

STOP THE FACES IM-

^ YEAH, Sia, totally a fucking love letter to the autistic community here ^

So Zu finds this necklace she made as a kid that had a little dog on it, and she says to Music, “He had seizures too, just like you”... MELTDOWNS AND SEIZURES ARE NOT EVEN REMOTELY THE SAME FUCK THIS MOVIE-

It’s like Sia is trying to make the movie funny but it’s really not at all

Is Zu implying that Music is autistic because the mum was a junkie?!?

For real though, the dialogue in general is so fucking awful and cringey. Whoever wrote this should never be allowed to write again

Did she seriously leave her autistic sister alone to talk to who I’m presuming was her dealer or loan shark?!?

Also why is he - a white dude - wearing cornrows?!?

So who is the film really about? The autistic girl or the older sister saviour? I think we all know the answer to that one

WHY IS SHE WALKING AROUND WITH HER TEETH JUTTING OUT LIKE THAT ALL THE TIME

The musical numbers are literally so painful to watch. The overly bright colours, the flashing... my eyes were hurting and so was my brain

Autism representation aside for a second, the musical numbers/choreography are all fucking atrocious. Ditto for the costumes

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK WERE THE PINK OOMPA LOOMPA FRUIT THINGS?!? THEY LOOK LIKE THE PINK VERSIONS OF VIOLET BEAUREGARDE THE BLUEBERRY

I wanted to cry by this point, this movie is far more awful than I thought

“I’m not saying she doesn’t want to change, I’m saying she can’t” - FUCK YOU. Why is it okay for him to assume what she can or can’t do

Can I just say that autistic people aren’t constantly in a coked up wonderland state?!! We don’t see the world as a wonderland fantasy world 24/7?!!

“She can hear you from two rooms away” / *shows her listening through two brick walls to a conversation* — Also, we don’t have super fucking sonic hearing?? WE CANT HEAR THROUGH FUCKING BRICK WALLS?!?

“She can understand everything you’re saying to her” - she’s autistic not fucking deaf

Less than 45 minutes in, there’s another meltdown in the park

“I’m not climbing on top of a small screaming white girl in public” - yeah please fucking don’t

So Zu fucking pins her down with her weight 🤦‍♀️

“She doesn’t know who she’s hitting” - IM SORRY WHAT

EBO LITERALLY SAID “TREAT HER LIKE A BEAR” when talking her through the prone restraint, I fucking CANNOT

“Tell her she’s safe” - NOT IF YOU FUCKING RESTRAIN HER LIKE THAT SHE IS NOT

The fact that she gets up, smiling and happy after a meltdown and immediately is excited to get a snow cone... I can honestly say that after a meltdown, I am in no way happy or smiling. I am often not very verbal and I’m withdrawn/not myself for at least several hours, usually the rest of the day. Fuck this film

This film is literally just about Zu, and Music is there for a plot device to give her character development. That’s all she’s there for.

Love how Sia shoehorned Zu being suicidal in there. You know, just to try and make her more easy to sympathize with (it doesn’t work)

This film is literally just a 1 hour 47 minute Sia music video with ZERO plot

WHY WERE THEY WEARING PILLOW DIAPERS IN ONE NUMBER-

I really did not feel into the side plot with that guy who was fighting but it was still better than the actual movie so...

I am SO DONE with the NON STOP CONSTANT vocal shit. So tired.

LOJ’s only role in this film is to be the stereotypical wise black guy who assists a white woman’s story. There’s like hardly any other depth there

The Ebo/Zu romance is so fucking stupid and pointless and out of NOWHERE. I couldn’t even tell if they were into each other or not

I was already so bored of the musical numbers by this point. They added NOTHING to the plot but they pretended they did, and I was so over it. And it’s not because I’m not “creative enough” or anything to understand, I love musicals and I think it could have been cool if done right... but it wasn’t. They were a mess. It’s just bad.

Sia really tried to pretend her movie was deep but really it’s a shallow mess

So Zu is meeting rich drug clients and says to Music “try not to have one of your freak outs up there” and “if you could try to get it out now”... FUCKING YIKES. It’s not an on/off button, shut the fuck up

YEP THIS WAS THE SIA CAMEO FUCK THAT BITCH

The fact that she just calls “DRUG DEALER?!? DRUG DEALER IS THAT YOU”, fucking end this please-

I fucking hate this bitch I’m dead serious

“We’re gonna send them to Haiti cause there’s been an earthquake. All these buildings fell down, children’s bones were dislocated” - WHY WAS SHE SO CHEERFUL ABOUT IT

“Gonna buy a shit load of pain meds, gonna but them on my private plane” - FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU

“Pop stars without borders” - Sia thinks she’s so clever but I would give anything to punch her I swear-

ANOTHER MUSICAL NUMBER JUST STOP IM BEGGING YOU

There’s this awkward conversation/bit with Zu and her drug dealer/loanshark about his outfit that was clearly meant to be funny but was just flat and painful

Yep, Sia really showed Music eating chewing gum off the underside of a park bench. Of course.

Look, the kid I work with does similar stuff by putting literally anything and everything in his mouth but like... why would you put that in your movie?

And there’s no indication before this that Music puts everything and anything in her mouth, she just randomly decides to get on her knees, under the bench and eat chewing gum, like she calculates that it’s there and gets it???

She has a THIRD meltdown after an allergic reaction to a bee sting and her sister just yells at her before realizing... I’m not here for this movie, I feel like I drifted off and was not really there

So Zu got angry because she left the drugs at the park but she’s not that upset that her sister had an allergic reaction???

Zu gets absolutely drunk because a) she lost Sia’s drugs and b) she’s stressed out by her autistic sister... wow, great message, Sia!

She really fucked off and left her sister alone to go clubbing/on a bender

The less said about the musical number here the better

Sia’s movie also checks the box of having stereotypical Asian parents, specifically stereotypical Asian dad being harsh/angry and hitting his wife!

ALSO HE PUSHED AND KILLED HIS SON WTF IS HAPPENING

Less than 3 minutes after the last, there’s a musical number that I think was about this side character going to heaven... another shitty Sia-esque number

The patterns during the number made my brain hurt.

Also there are so many autistic actors who can also dance, and yet Sia chose the neurotypical one because ✨ N E P O T I S M ✨

I just want to know how it was deemed necessary to show the fact the autistic character peed/wet herself? I mean... ??? It’s just so undignified and not at all necessary to the plot. Nothing happens after that, it just moves onto the next scene and it didn’t do anything

“I have no one” - 1) YOUR FUCKING SISTER. 2) GEE I FUCKING WONDER WHY, couldn’t be that you’re a shitty human being?!?

There’s a scene where Music is walking and she does ALL the stereotypical behaviours at once... just YIKES

Zu somehow stopped another meltdown just by grabbing Music by the shoulders and sitting her down???

Aaand yep. Another shitty musical number

Zu really goes to put her sister in a fucking facility and claims it’ll be “better for her” - BULLSHIT. Better for Zu, maybe, not Music.

Ah yes - the girl who the characters have said has problems with routines being changed/change in general... you’re now going to fuck up her routine by dumping her in a facility. Perfect Plan.

The nonverbal autistic girl suddenly speaking to say “don’t go” - you can just predict it from the off, can’t you?

Love that as soon as Music starts talking, Zu is like “fuck it, I’ll keep her!”

Zu really went and crashed Ebo’s brothers wedding... in a fucking bralette... YIKES

“I almost gave Music away” - SHE IS NOT A DOG YOU DONT GIVE PEOPLE AWAY

“We should sing a song” - PLEASE DO FUCKING NOT

Also that kiss/romance montage between Zu and Ebo was the CRINGIEST fucking shit ever

This movie seems to be implying that Music has locked in syndrome or something, like she’s locked in her own head or whatever it’s called, and I just... *sigh*

Oh and now Music magically fucking sings in a room FULL of strangers... this is literally embarrassing, please let this end

I mean it, this movie was fucking painful to watch on ever level

She got a service dog puppy which... okay?

Oh look, it’s the only decent song on the soundtrack but with an absolutely shitty over-stimulatory music video with the credits!

I can only name 5 characters in this film. Maybe 7 at a push, but even then I would be guessing

AND YEP SHE THANKED AUTISM SPEAKS OVER THE CREDITS. FUCK YOU SIA 🖕🏻

Let me reiterate: this is a movie about a neurotypical former drug addict whose character development comes from the autistic character, from having an autistic sister she has to take care of. I’m so tired.

We are NOT plot devices or tools for character development. Not once does anyone in this film treat Music like a human being - she’s treated as a burden, a problem, and then like a pet that they decide to keep. Not once is the film focused on how she is feeling - it’s always about Zu or Ebo. The performance itself was so over exaggerated and it made me want to cry when I watched it because this is how the world sees us, and this movie will make it ten times worse. It’s stuff like this that made me think “I don’t want to be labelled as autistic because people will think I’m a certain way”, that made me wait so long before going to the GP to get a referral.

As I said, poor autistic representation aside, the movie is just so appallingly bad. It truly is one of the worst films I’ve watched. If you’re going to watch it, please don’t - or, if you want to because you want to see how bad it is/to raise awareness/critical posts, at least do it illegally. Do not give Sia your money.

[asset35-maya]

RED DRESS

Part 2/2 of Nice Things

//

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Five minutes, sweetheart. Please.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed with a thump. The day had finally come when the human was more punctual than the android. He sniggered at the thought but refrained from saying it out loud. Nines looked far more serious than he ought to for a Friday night.

“Babe, it’s just the guys. And Tina.” 

Nines ignored him in favor of twirling a mascara wand through his lashes. 

“We’re literally going to Abick’s. That’s like the oldest, grungiest cop bar you can-”

“It’s not the place or the company, sweetheart.”

Gavin watched Nines finish off with eyeliner. Somehow even androids’ mouths hung open in concentration while doing that. 

He stood up from the little pouffe and shook his long hair out with a flourish. Taking that as his cue, Gavin got up and pressed himself up against his lover’s back. He curled his arms around Nines’ trim waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. 

Their eyes met in the mirror of the wooden dresser that Gavin had built for Nines.

“Whatchu so gorgeous for?”

Nines tried, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Shut up and zip me up.”

It wasn’t like he couldn’t reach behind himself and do it on his own. The RK900 model was supremely dexterous, flexible to the point of double-jointedness. 

It was more of an implicit request for the human’s approval of the outfit. Nines didn’t need it, but he asked anyway… just like later that night, Gavin would ask him if it was okay to splurge on a bacon cheeseburger or order an extra shot in his whiskey coke… 

They were codependent like that.

Gavin left one hand on the android’s stomach and placed the other on the small of his back, just at the opening of the dress. His thumb grazed the zipper, but he didn’t demonstrate any further intent to pull it up. 

“You said we were going to be late.”

Gavin swept the dark curtain of hair aside and pressed his lips to the exposed skin at the nape of Nines’ neck. When he spoke it was a whisper.

“Why’s my babydoll looking like something out of a movie for my dumb little promotion party?” 

His hand slipped into the open flap of the dress. It was a simple knee-length a-line. Fairly modest, but something about it set Gavin’s heart racing. Perhaps the colour. A vibrant, lusty, sexy, show-stopping red in sharp contrast to the milky white synthskin.

Nines couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at the touch. Sighing, he tipped his head back and let Gavin nuzzle his neck. 

“Hmm?”

“Now we’re really going to be late, sweetheart. Zip… hhhhh… zip… me up…”

“Come on, doll. I don’t want someone accidentally spilling beer or mustard on this pretty little thing you got on. It’s just gonna be a chill night out with our friends. They demanded a treat for my promotion, and Hank said he’d come too, so I picked a place he’d be more comfortable at, and I realise that’s not exactly your scene, but I’m glad you’re coming with me, but I really gotta say this dress-”

Nines turned around in Gavin’s grasp and silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s not the place or the company,” he repeated, putting his arms around the human’s neck. 

“It’s your promotion party. It’s about your achievements, your hard work, YOU. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the most important person in my life. My partner in more ways than one. My everything.

Your rise in stature means as much if not more to me than my own accomplishments. I’m not the RK900 with the impeccable solve rate. I’m Sergeant Reed’s better half. 

If I had it my way we’d be doing something much grander, but this is how you want to celebrate and that’s fine, but please don’t stop me from dressing for the occasion.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Steel blue and storm green locked in stalemate. 

Then Gavin pulled Nines into a tight embrace. He released him abruptly and spun him around, zipping up the dress in a flash. Avoiding eye contact lest the tears pricking his eyes betray him, Gavin caught the android’s hand in his and marched out of the apartment.

//

Connor greeted them at the entrance of the bar and waved them over to where the motley crew sat, already well into their first round of drinks.

Hank raised his beer glass in greeting, wearing an orange striped shirt he apparently deemed worthy of festivities. Tina enveloped Gavin in a giant hug. For a good thirty seconds he could see nothing but flannel. Then Miller, Person and countless other officers took turns congratulating him and bringing up past cases or incidents they couldn’t believe hadn’t held Gavin’s career back. 

Nines extricated himself with an artful wave of long fingers and settled onto a bar stool beside his older brother Sixty and his husband Allen. Serious, snarky and clad in their usual black leather, these two were more Nines’ speed.

Ignoring Sixty’s irritated grumble, Nines took a sip of his thirium drink to see if he liked the taste and ordered one for himself. He was prepared to spend the rest of the night sitting still and not touching the many sticky, greasy surfaces in the bar. It wasn’t his idea of fun, but he was happy to let Gavin and his friends do their thing.

Gavin, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood. He humoured his friends (many of whom were now his direct reports) and played along with whatever they insisted on doing, but Nines felt his partner’s eyes on him the entire evening.

“You punishing him?”

“Hmm?”

Sixty was squinting at him shrewdly.

“For coming to this shithole to celebrate. That’s why you wore this? Poor bastard can’t keep his eyes off you.” 

Nines swatted his brother on the chest. 

“I don’t play games like you.”

“Who says I play games?”

Allen shook his head but didn’t look up from his phone.

“I have a fashion sense, Six, not an agenda. I’m not punishing him for anything.”

“Well, you’re certainly distracting him. Reminds me of the time Allen said something stupid while we were getting ready for a shift so I put on lingerie underneath my gear. He nearly fell off a roof that day.”

Allen buried his face in his hands while Nines laughed out loud. 

“Shiiit. Your guy looks fucking lovesick. In front of all his staff too. They’re gonna think he’s a total sap. A new authority figure like him has got to show some grit.”

“Six, your husband follows you around like a lost puppy but that hasn’t interfered with his ability to lead your unit. Gavin will be fine.”

Allen didn’t know whether to consider that an insult or a compliment and settled for sipping his drink in silence.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“To?”

“Make the torture worth his while.”

At that exact moment, Gavin gave Nines a look from across the bar that could have only one interpretation. Sixty noticed and barked a laugh. 

Nines self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ear and smoothed down his dress. If he were human he’d have blushed bright red. 

Back to idly scrolling through his phone, Allen spoke without looking up.

“Let him do whatever he wants.”

Nines’ eyes widened. Sixty nodded wisely.

“His imagination is probably running all over the place right now. All you have to do is let him act on it and you’ll make him the happiest man on earth. It’s his promotion. You should be the prize.”

Allen put down his phone and scooted closer to Sixty, wrapping his arms around the android. They both looked at Nines with identical expressions that were anything but innocent. 

“Yeah, Nines. Dress like a present, expect to be unwrapped.”

Raucous cheers erupted as Gavin lost yet another game of beer pong. The new sergeant barely noticed and took the shot glass thrust into hand by a very jubilant Connor. Nines raised his glass in a silent toast and the two downed their drinks together.

The rest of the evening was an exercise in painful self-restraint. Gavin entertained various playful requests and posed for photos and thanked each and every one of his colleagues for their strong support. Hank clapped him on the shoulder proudly, and Tina even teared up at one point, emotionally overcome with happiness for her oldest and closest friend. Nines watched it all quietly from his perch beside Sixty and Allen.

//

As soon as they slid into an autonomous taxi, Gavin’s lips were on his, smothering him in heated, demanding kisses. Intoxicated and utterly uninhibited, the human put his hands in Nines’ hair… all over his body… and up the pretty red dress. No words were exchanged the entire ride home. 

The fact that android skin could not be marked or bruised was the only thing that let them walk through their busy lobby and ride the elevator up with dignity intact.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Gavin was all over Nines. He touched and groped and claimed and conquered. 

The dress zipper was pulled down as quickly as it had been pulled up before they left for the bar. Nines stepped out of the puddle of red fabric as delicately as he could and pulled Gavin’s shirt off too. It was only the high quality gyroscope of the RK900 model that kept them from crashing to the floor before making it to the bed. 

Nines allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed and parted his legs for Gavin to easily settle between them. From there, he expected things to go at lightning speed… for Gavin to plough into him and come with a loud roar after a couple minutes, finally sated after a night of frustration.

The exact opposite occurred. 

Even after all the tequila shots Connor and Tina made him do, Gavin was somehow still lucid enough to put his lover’s feelings over immediate physical needs. 

“Babe, I… am soooo… sorry…”

One hand wound up in his hair and the other gripped his hip. 

“Like.. you dressed the phck up… like you looked soooooo damn beautiful, baby… I’m gonna cry.”

For a moment, it honestly looked like that was a possibility until Nines reached up and stroked the human’s stubbled cheek.

“I know Abick’s is kinda crusty but you came anyway… looking like a million bucks but I didn’t spend a second with you… T and Con and the crew… they kinda took over…”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. It was our whole team’s night as much as yours. I’m glad they all had their fun.”

“I didn't. Have any fun.”

“Really? Not even when Chris did that Fowler impersonation?”

“Couldn’t stop… thinking of you… you’re so damn good to me… and I…”

“I was fine. You invited Six and Allen to keep me company and it was fiiiineee.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now come on, sarge. Show me who’s boss.”

Nines rolled his hips against Gavin’s and that was all the conversation there was to be had for the night. They were both still getting used to having nice things… but they were doing well.

//

Inspired by @marndraws