#smart glasses comparison

[earanie]

.

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"

pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader warnings: angst <3; VERY LONG

wrote this listening to roses <3

Rafe Cameron held grudges better than anyone and his ex was about to witness exactly that. 

Fucking Jessica Green liked to think of herself as the queen of their university, the epitome of beauty and popularity. Some real high school bullshit he only fed because he liked her. And then, she went and dumped him for none other than Tyler West, the star player of his rival basketball team. Technically, she cheated on him, sneaking around with that piece of shit behind his back. 

The humiliation was killing him. 

Rafe wasn't one to take such things lying down; he wanted revenge, and he wanted it badly. He wanted to ruin her life. It wasn’t just enough to ruin her reputation—he wanted to hit her where it hurt the most. And what would hurt more than being replaced? Not just by any girl, but by someone who was everything she wasn’t. It was a genius idea, really. To prove that some loser could easily take her place, with a little help of course.

And that’s when he noticed you.

Kelce pointed you out actually, when they were six beers in and too fucking drunk to think clearly. But it was still a good choice.

You were the complete opposite of his ex, blending into the crowds like it was your superpower. He watched you for an entire hour at the party. You didn’t utter a single word the entire time you were there, only nursing your drink and listening to the other girls on the cheerleading squad speak.

Hell, he didn’t even know you were a cheerleader until that night. 

Were you always there? How had he never noticed you before? It was hard to remember when all he focused on up until then was Jessica. 

You were practically invisible in comparison to her, always on the sidelines, blending into the background. 

You were perfect.

If he could take this overlooked, nerdy girl and turn her into the new queen of the university, it would be the ultimate blow to Jessica's ego. It would prove that she wasn’t as irreplaceable as she thought. 

“You really gonna do it?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you, “Oh yeah. ‘M doing it.”

“Nahh, there’s no way you’re pulling this off.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Kelce’s skepticism was exactly what he expected, and honestly, it made the challenge even sweeter.

 “You think so?” he said, his tone light but with an edge of determination. “Watch me.”

Kelce, always the instigator, leaned forward with a smirk. “Come on, Cameron. You really think you can turn that quiet little thing into the next Jessica? She’s cute, I guess, in that nerdy way, but she’s not queen material.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. “She’s got potential,” he said confidently. “Just needs someone to show her how to use it.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane. This isn’t some movie where the shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she’s hot. Jessica had something that can’t be taught.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe pointed out, “It’s all about confidence man. Jessica wasn’t born the way she is now. She learned how to act the part, and I can do the same with her.”

Like a school project, he thought to himself. That’s all you were. 

Kelce took a swig of his drink, clearly enjoying where the conversation was going. “Alright, I’ll bite. How much time are we talking here? Because she’s got a long way to go, my guy.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering. “Give me two months. By the end of it, she’ll be turning heads. Maybe even more.”

Topper snorted, setting his drink down with a thunk. “Two months? No way. I’ll bet you a grand you can’t pull it off.”

Kelce laughed, clapping his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be good. I’m in. A grand says you can’t turn her into the hottest girl in school.”

Rafe’s eyes glinted with determination. “You’re on,” he said, without hesitation. “In a month or two, you’ll be handing me that fucking cash, and she’ll be the one everyone’s talking about. Looking all pretty in my arms.”

Kelce raised his glass. “To Rafe and his miracle project. This is gonna be fun to watch.”

Topper shook his head again, still grinning as he clinked his glass against Kelce’s. “Here’s to you wasting a month of your life on a lost cause.”

He clinked his glass with theirs, the bet sealed. 

“You better start saving up.”

This plan was flawless. 

It was so good that even in his drunken haze, he could see how perfectly it would play out. The first step was simple: get close to you. Make you feel special, noticed, like you were someone who mattered. Rafe knew how to charm people; it was practically second nature. And with Jessica, it had been easy—too easy. She’d fallen for his looks, his confidence, his golden boy appeal. 

The next day, he started showing up at places he knew you’d be. The library, the campus coffee shop, even lingering around after cheerleading practice. At first, he didn’t approach you, just observed. 

He had to figure out how to crack the code, how to make you see him without scaring you off. It took a week before he made his first move.

You were sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes. He casually strolled up, pretending to be looking for a book on the same shelf. “Hey,” he said, glancing down at you with a disarming smile. “You’re in my econ class, right? Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, a little startled, but nodded, shifting your books to make room for him. You probably couldn’t believe that someone like Rafe Cameron was talking to you, let alone sitting with you. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To make you feel special, to pull you out of your shell and into his orbit.

He knew he still had to tread carefully. The wrong move could send you running, and he couldn’t afford that.

You kept your eyes down, focused on your notes. He noticed the way your hand shook slightly when you turned the page. Rafe leaned in a little closer, just enough to make his presence known without crowding you.

“You always this buried in work?” he asked casually, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.

You glanced up, surprised he was still there. “I guess. I have a lot to catch up on.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I hear you. Econ’s been kicking my ass this semester. You doing okay in it?”

He could tell you were surprised. Probably didn't expect him to know you shared the same class. And he didn't, until last week.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s… fine. Just a lot of material.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around these supply and demand curves for days. You think the professor’s trying to torture us?”

You smiled faintly, a small victory in his book. “Maybe. It’s kind of her thing.”

Rafe grinned, pleased that he got a reaction out of you. “You mind if I study with you? Might help to bounce some ideas off each other.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his request. “Um, sure. I mean, if you want.”

“Definitely,” he replied smoothly. “You seem like you actually know what’s going on, unlike me.”

He spent the next hour working alongside you, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just being there. He didn’t push, didn’t try too hard. He wanted you to get comfortable with him, to see him as someone you could rely on.

“I’m sorry about Jessica.”

The way you blurted the words out told him you hadn’t meant to say it. 

Rafe froze, his grip tightening on the pen in his hand. He could feel the familiar anger bubbling up, but he forced it down, keeping his expression calm. This was exactly what he didn’t want—Jessica’s name being brought up, especially by you.

But he couldn’t let you see that. 

He looked at you, feigning surprise with a bit of sadness, as if Jessica was just a painful memory he was trying to move past. “Oh,” he said softly, his voice controlled and measured. “You know about that?”

You nodded, eyes wide and apologetic, clearly regretting bringing it up. “Yeah… I mean, it’s all over campus, right? The girls were talking about it in the locker room. I just—I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

Rafe forced a smile, as if he was grateful for your concern. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a small sigh as if he was relieved to talk about it, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone gentle. “I guess it’s just one of those things, y’know? We were together for a while, and it sucked when it ended.”

You looked down at your notes, fidgeting with the corner of a page. 

“She shouldn’t have done that to you.”

He let out a dry laugh, the bitterness threatening to seep through, but he quickly disguised it as a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, well, people do shitty things sometimes. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

He noticed the way you seemed to relax as if you were relieved that he wasn’t angry. He needed to shift the conversation away from Jessica, and back to you, where it should be. “But hey,” he said, his voice brightening as if he was genuinely trying to shake off the bad memories, “Everything happens for a reason right?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. “Right."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re not like everyone else around here. You’re real, y’know? Genuine. I like that.”

Bullshit. But he could see the effect his words had on you. Easy.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you looked away, a small, shy smile playing on your lips. “I’m just…here.”

Rafe shook his head, his smile softening, taking on a more sincere tone. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see that.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at him with those wide eyes, as if you were trying to figure him out. Rafe held your gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the moment feel meaningful, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. He was reeling you in, one calculated move at a time.

Finally, you nodded, lips twitching, “Thanks, Rafe."

Oh, you were too perfect for this.

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if the conversation had lightened his mood.

 “Anytime."

It was a perfect conversation, one that made you feel like he was letting you in on something personal, something real. And from the look on your face, it worked.

But inside, Rafe was fuming. Jessica had managed to worm her way into his head again, even indirectly. It was a reminder of why he was doing this in the first place. 

He plastered on another smile, picking up his pen and tapping it lightly against his notebook. “So,” he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters, “You think you can help me with this econ stuff? Because I’m pretty sure I’m doomed without you.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissipating. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

As you both turned your attention back to your notes, Rafe felt a sense of satisfaction. He was winning that bet on way or another. 

Over the next few weeks, Rafe made sure to stick to his plan. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life. He was always around, ready with a casual compliment or a small gesture that made you feel noticed, special. He’d walk you to class, carry your books, and offer to study with you whenever he had the chance. He knew how to play the long game, and with every passing day, you were warming up to him more and more.

He made sure to steer clear of anything that might remind you of Jessica or his past. Instead, he focused on building up your confidence, subtly encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

He’d invite you to parties, introducing you to his friends, and before long, you were starting to come out of your shell. You even started to dress a little differently—nothing too drastic, but enough to catch people’s attention. The change was gradual, but it was happening, and Rafe could see it.

The first party he invited you to was at a swanky off-campus house, the kind of place you’d only ever heard about but never had the nerve to attend. He had that effect on you—made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you belonged in a world that had always seemed so out of reach. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Rafe said, his voice smooth as silk. You hesitated, biting your lip, feeling out of place just imagining yourself in his world.

“I don’t know… I’m not really into parties,” you admitted.

Rafe grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just give it a try, for me?”

His gaze was so earnest, so convincing, that you found yourself nodding. “Okay. I guess I could give it a shot.”

The first party was initially awkward—loud music, people you didn’t know, and a social scene that felt worlds away from where you belonged. 

But Rafe stayed close. 

The moment you walked in, the loud music and flashing lights overwhelmed your senses. You clung a little closer to him, who noticed and shot you a reassuring smile, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd. He was different tonight—more confident, more assertive. 

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re with me. Have some fun, sweets.”

You nodded, trying to loosen up, but the eyes on you—on both of you—were hard to ignore. People were noticing. Whispering. It was exactly what Rafe wanted.

He led you to where Kelce and Topper were already posted up, drinks in hand. The second they saw you, their eyebrows shot up, but they quickly masked their surprise with easy smiles. Rafe kept you close as he greeted them, his hand never leaving your back.

“Guys, this is her,” Rafe said, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. “Told you I’d get her to come out with us.”

Kelce looked you up and down, his smirk growing. “Well, well, Cameron. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Topper raised his drink in your direction, his smile more genuine. “Nice to meet you. Rafe’s been talking you up.”

You managed a small chuckle, feeling the weight of their attention on you. “Nice to meet you too.”

Rafe gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you grab a drink? I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, grateful for the brief escape, and headed towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, the easygoing demeanor Rafe had been maintaining with you slipped away, replaced by something more calculating as he turned back to his friends.

“So?” Kelce asked, “How’s the project going?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Better than expected. She’s starting to come out of her shell. Still got a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on track.”

Topper leaned against the counter, his gaze following you as you picked out a drink. “She seems… nice. You sure you want to go through with this, man?”

Rafe shot him a look, his expression hardening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Topper shrugged. “Just saying. She doesn’t seem like the type who’s cut out for this crowd. Might be too sweet for what you’ve got planned.”

Kelce chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s sweet, alright. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? She’s not Jessica. And if he pulls this off, it’s gonna be legendary.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “Exactly. She’s perfect for this.”

He said it with confidence, but there was something else in his eyes—something he quickly buried as he watched you make your way back with a drink in hand.

When you returned to the group, his expression softened instantly. He slipped back into the charming, attentive guy he’d been playing for you all night.

“Got something good?” he asked, nodding towards your drink.

You giggled, holding up your cup. “Just punch. Thought I’d start slow.”

He snorted, nodding approvingly. “Smart move. Don’t let these guys talk you into anything too crazy.”

The night went on like that, Rafe playing the perfect gentleman, always by your side, making sure you were comfortable, that you were enjoying yourself. He introduced you to more people, his arm around your shoulders, subtly guiding you through the social maze with ease. And every time you excused yourself—whether to grab another drink or use the restroom—his demeanor shifted. The smile would slip, and he’d share knowing looks with his friends, a silent acknowledgment of the game they were playing.

But you didn’t see any of that. 

You saw the guy who made you feel like you were finally part of something bigger, like you belonged. And as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing more, laughing, talking, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself start to come down.

Rafe noticed, of course. That was the whole point. He’d spent weeks laying the groundwork, and tonight was just the beginning. He was getting what he wanted.

But as he watched you laugh at something Kelce said, genuinely enjoying yourself, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar. It was brief, fleeting, but it was there. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something else. He quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself why he was doing this.

He knew better than to get too comfortable. 

He knew his ex wouldn’t stay out of his business forever, and sure enough, she confronted him right before class the next day.

“Rafe, can we talk?”

He didn’t look at her right away, instead shoving his notebook into his bag as if she wasn’t even worth the effort. But he couldn’t resist; he turned to her, keeping his expression neutral. “What’s up?”

Jessica glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer to him. Her voice was low, almost pleading. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

She huffed in frustration, clearly not in the mood for games. “Don’t act like you don’t know. She’s a nice girl, I know she’s not your type.”

Rafe couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Jealous?

Jessica’s eyes flashed with anger, but there was something else there too—guilt. 

“No. You’re just going to use her to get back at me? That’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve that.”

He leaned in closer, his smirk turning cold. “You didn’t think about fairness when you were sneaking around with Tyler, did you? Why should I care about what she deserves?”

"Rafe."

"You only care about your precious reputation, so shut the fuck up."

Jessica flinched, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

“Do you even realize what you did to me?” The memory of the last time he’d trusted her flashed before his eyes—the way she’d smiled at him. The same smile she had for someone else, “You don’t get to apologize now. You don’t get to tell me what’s fair.”

Jessica’s expression softened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m not saying this for me. I’m saying it for her."

"Right, because you care so much about other people, huh?"

"You're being difficult for no reason."

Rafe clenched his jaw, every word she said feeling like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted to lash out, to tell her that she didn’t get to play the moral high ground after everything she’d done. But instead, he just stared at her, his eyes hard and cold.

“Stay out of it, Jess” he said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she’d been expecting this. “Just think about it before you do something stupid."

Without another word, Jessica turned and walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, seething with anger. He watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Of course, she would act like she gave a shit about you the moment he’s attention shifted from her. She had no right to lecture him, no right to tell him what to do.

This was about revenge, about proving a point. You were just a means to an end, nothing more.

But you made it so fucking hard for him to keep his head in the game. 

Every time you smiled at him, every time you thanked him for something small, it chipped away at the cold resolve he had built up inside. He told himself it was just part of the plan, that getting close to you was necessary for the outcome he wanted. But the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he was enjoying himself. 

He didn't even have to put in the effort to influence you. You began to speak up in class, even crack jokes with the other girls on the cheerleading squad. The transformation was happening right before his eyes, just like he’d planned. But instead of feeling satisfied, there was a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. You were changing, yes, but it wasn’t just on the outside. You were starting to trust him, to look at him like he was more than just some popular guy who was doing you a favor. You were starting to care, and that terrified him.

One night, after another party where you had danced a little closer, laughed a little louder, Rafe walked you back to your dorm. The campus was quiet, the stars above bright against the inky sky. You were buzzing with the energy of the night, still talking animatedly about how much fun you’d had. The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up—it caught him off guard.

“Thanks for inviting me, Rafe. I never thought I’d actually enjoy these things, but you make it… I don’t know, easier, I guess.”

Rafe smiled down at you, trying to ignore the way his heart twisted at your words. 

“I’m glad sweets. You deserve to have fun.”

You looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. For everything. You didn’t have to be this nice to me.”

For a split second, he saw you. Not as a means to an end, but as someone he genuinely cared about.

His expression faltered for a moment before he quickly recovered. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

But it was a big deal, and you both knew it.

You had gone from barely existing on the social radar to being someone everyone noticed, someone everyone wanted to be around. And it was all because of him. Rafe had given you that, but he knew he was taking something from you too—your innocence, your trust.

He walked you to your door, his usual confidence wavering as you turned to face him. There was something different in your gaze tonight, something that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Rafe… I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you began, your voice a little hesitant.

He forced himself to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your top before meeting his eyes again. “Why did you start talking to me? I mean, really. Was it because you felt sorry for me? Or… or something else?”

Rafe’s mind raced, trying to find the right words, the ones that wouldn’t hurt you. He could lie, like he’d been doing all along, or he could tell you the truth, risk everything.

But before he could answer, you continued, your voice softer now. “Because… I’m glad you did. Whatever the reason was. I’ve never felt this… this good about myself. And it’s because of you.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

Fuck. He’d never expected this, never thought that you would be the one to make him feel something real, something that wasn’t just part of his stupid revenge plan.

He’d thought he could control this, control you, but it was slipping through his fingers. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve always been amazing,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I just… I just helped you see it.”

You grinned up at him, your eyes shining with gratitud. It was too much, too real, and Rafe could feel the walls he’d carefully constructed around his heart starting to crumble. You were looking at him like he was someone worth caring about, and for the first time, he felt like he was the one being played.

He couldn’t let you get any closer. If you did, he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his plan.

But pushing you away now, after all the effort he’d put in, would raise too many questions. So, he did the only thing he could think of—he leaned down and kissed you.

It was gentle at first, testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were something fragile. Your lips were soft against his, and for a moment, Rafe let himself forget why he was doing this. He let himself enjoy the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way you sighed softly into his mouth.

But then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back.

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. There was so much trust, so much hope, and it made him want to break something, anything, just to stop feeling the way he did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the kiss had taken something out of him.

You nodded, still dazed, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

This was wrong. 

He knew it was wrong. But in that moment, with the way you were looking at him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched you go, waiting until you disappeared into your dorm before he let out a shaky breath.

What the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t afford to second-guess himself now. Not when he was so close to winning and yet, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the one who was losing.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jessica’s words mocked him.

“I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

He had scoffed at her then, dismissed her excuses as pathetic attempts to justify her shitty behavior.

But now, lying there alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was any different. He didn’t plan on feeling anything real for you. This was supposed to be a game, a way to hurt Jessica the way she hurt him. But somewhere along the line, things had changed.

How could he let this happen? How could he, of all people, start to care? He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be the one pulling the strings, not getting tangled in them.

And yet, the memory of your pretty face, the sound of your laugh, the warmth in your eyes—these were the things that lingered in his mind, all the damn time. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for weeks were still there, but they were being drowned out by something else—you.

Rafe’s resolve had been wavering for days, but he pushed the guilt aside as he drove to campus the next morning. He was picking you up before class, something that had become a bit of a routine. It was a small gesture, but one that made you smile every time, and Rafe had to admit, he looked forward to seeing that smile.

When he pulled up to your dorm, you were already waiting outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. You looked different from when he first met you—still shy, but with a confidence that hadn’t been there before. It was subtle, but Rafe noticed. 

He noticed everything about you these days.

“Hey,” you said as you slid into the passenger seat, giving him that small smile that always made his chest tighten a little. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, shifting the car into gear. “Ready for another day of fun and learning?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was a lightness in your expression that hadn’t been there a month ago. “If by fun, you mean trying not to fall asleep in econ, then yeah, totally ready.”

He chuckled, glancing over at you as he pulled onto the road. “I’m starting to think you secretly enjoy econ. You’re just trying to maintain your cool, indifferent persona.”

You laughed, the sound genuine and free, and Rafe felt that unfamiliar pang in his chest again.

“Yeah, that’s me. The cool, indifferent econ nerd.”

“See? I knew it,” Rafe teased, but there was an edge of something else in his voice, something he couldn’t quite shake.

The drive to campus was easy, filled with light conversation and the comfortable silence that had developed between you two. When you arrived, he parked in his usual spot, but instead of getting out right away, you turned to him, your expression suddenly serious.

“Rafe, can I ask you something?”

He froze for a split second, his mind racing. Had you figured it out? Did you know about the bet? But he quickly forced a casual smile, nodding.

“Sure sweets, what’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a habit he’d noticed you had when you were nervous.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Rafe’s heart pounded in his chest. This was the moment he’d been dreading—the moment when you’d start questioning everything. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.

“Why not?” he said, his tone light, but there was a hint of sincerity that even he didn’t expect. “I like you. I like being around you.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his, trying to find the truth in his words. Rafe held your gaze, doing his best to keep his expression open and honest. After a moment, you nodded, as if you’d decided to believe him.

“Okay,” you said. “I just... I didn’t want to assume, y’know? It’s just... new.”

“Good new, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “Good new.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with classes, coffee breaks, and more of Rafe’s effortless charm. But that moment in the car stuck with him. You were starting to get closer, to trust him, and every time you did, the guilt fucked with his head a little more. 

Later that day, when the two of you met up for a late lunch, he noticed the way you had begun to attract attention from others. Some guys glanced your way, clearly noticing the changes in you, and a few girls even stopped to chat with you—a far cry from the shy girl he’d first approached in the library.

As you two sat down at a table outside the campus cafe, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you spotted someone approaching. It was Leila, a girl from your cheer squad. She waved and came over, sitting down.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “Mind if I join?”

“Sure,” you said, scooting over to make room for her. He nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but there was something about the way Leila looked at you that put him on edge.

The conversation flowed easily, with her complimenting you on something you’d done at practice the other day, and you blushing at the praise.

Rafe watched, a small smile on his face, but his mind was elsewhere. He could see how much you were changing, how you were starting to come into your own, and it was becoming harder and harder to justify what he was doing.

When Leila left after a few minutes, you turned to Rafe with a grin. “She’s nice. I didn’t think she even noticed me before.”

“She notices you now,” Rafe replied, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked at him, your smile fading slightly. “Is something wrong?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, nothing. Just... thinking.”

“About what?”

He leaned back in his chair. “About how you’re starting to steal everyone’s attention here. What am I gonna do when you’re the most popular one around here?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

Rafe smiled back, but the guilt was back, stronger than ever. You were starting to trust him, to believe in the friendship he was offering, and it was killing him.

As the afternoon wore on, he found himself more and more distracted by his thoughts. He needed to talk to someone about it, someone who knew the score.

Later that evening, after dropping you off at your dorm, he called Kelce. The phone rang a few times before his friend picked up, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Yo, Cameron. What’s up?”

Rafe took a deep breath, leaning against the side of his car. “I need to talk, man. About the bet.”

Kelce laughed, clearly not picking up on the seriousness in Rafe’s voice. “What, you already feeling bad for her? Didn’t think you’d go soft so fast.”

Rafe frowned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. It’s just... I didn’t think it’d be like this. She’s... she’s actually really nice, Kelce. Like, genuinely nice.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Kelce responded, his tone more serious.

“Dude, we all knew she was nice. That’s what makes this so good. You’re flipping the script. Just remember why you’re doing it.”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh. “I know, but... She trusts me."

And I trust her, he wanted to add, but didn't.

“Look, Rafe, you’re in too deep to back out now. If you quit, she’ll still get hurt, and you’ll look like a fucking idiot. You gotta see this through. Just... keep your eye on the prize, okay? It’s not about her, it’s about Jessica.”

Rafe nodded, even though Kelce couldn’t see him. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I just needed to clear my head.”

“Good,” Kelce said. “Now go get some sleep or something. We’ve got a party this weekend, and I wanna see you back on your game.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.”

By Friday, the campus was buzzing with weekend plans, and you were in a good mood, chatting excitedly about some party that night. You two were in the cafeteria, grabbing lunch, when it happened.

You were waiting in line for food, and Rafe had stepped aside to check his phone. When he glanced up, he saw a guy approaching you—a guy he recognized from the football team. A sleazy bastard.

The guy leaned in, flashing you a charming smirk, clearly trying to flirt. He wanted to pummel his face to the wall. Rafe watched from a distance as the guy made you laugh, his hand casually resting on the counter next to yours. Too fucking close.

The sight made something twist in his chest, something dark and possessive that he hadn’t expected. He'd never felt like this before. His grip tightened around his phone as he watched, his jaw clenching.

You seemed flattered but a little uncomfortable, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. Rafe could tell you weren’t used to this kind of attention, and it made him feel something primal, something that burned hotter than the guilt. He wanted to go over there, to tell that guy to back the fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, seething, trying to keep his cool.

Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted to do.

When the guy finally walked away, you looked relieved, but Rafe was already moving. He crossed the cafeteria in quick strides, his eyes locked on you, his heart pounding. You spotted him coming and smiled, but it fell when you saw the look on his face.

“Rafe, what’s—”

He didn’t let you finish. Before you could say another word, he was right in front of you, his hand cupping your face as he pulled you toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the kiss outsider your dorm. This was different. It was fierce, almost desperate as if he needed to prove something to himself, to you, and to everyone watching. His lips moved against yours with intensity, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you closer. He didn’t care who was around, who was watching. 

All he cared about was you, right there, in his arms.

You froze for a second, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him, your hands clutching at his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor. It was like all the tension, all the confusion, everything that had been building between you two, finally snapped.

Rafe deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you let out a soft moan that only made him kiss you harder, his body pressing against yours like he couldn’t get enough.

People around you were definitely watching now, whispering, some even cheering, but Rafe didn’t care. He didn’t pull away until he was breathless, and even then, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the way you were looking at him—dazed, flushed, your lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

“What... what was that?” you asked, your voice shaky, your eyes searching his for answers.

Rafe knew he should say something, explain himself, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you again. Instead, he just shook his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Just couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, still trying to process what had just happened, but there was no mistaking the way your body was responding to him. 

He finally stepped back, but kept his hand on your waist, grounding you as he looked around. Sure enough, the guy from earlier was watching. 

Rafe caught his eye, giving him a look that said everything without words. She’s mine.

When he looked back at you, he saw the confusion in your eyes and something else—something that looked a lot like longing.

He knew he’d just crossed a line, again, but in that moment, he didn’t care. All he cared about was the way you felt in his arms, the way you looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

“C’mon,” Rafe said, his voice softer now. “We’ve got class.”

You nodded, still a little dazed, and let him guide you out of the cafeteria, his hand never leaving yours. He was in deeper than ever, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not when you looked at him like that, not when his heart was pounding like this.

As you approached the building where your next class was, he stopped, turning to face you. He touched your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your skin, and you leaned into his touch.

“Rafe—”

“You’re my girl,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours again. “Okay?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and trusting. Rafe knew he was on the edge of something he couldn’t control, but as he leaned in for one more kiss, slow and tender this time, he realized he didn’t care.

“Rafe…” you began again, speaking against his lips. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to understand about what you were, what you two were becoming. His thumb traced the curve of your jawline.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent. “I just… I need you to know that you mean something to me. This, us—"

“Okay.”

He was already in too deep.

And just like that, he got what he wanted. 

The next day, everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe has finally aligned for you. He asked you out, and just like that, you were together.

The next two months were a dream—utter bliss. You weren’t just happy; you were radiant. You’d become the most popular girl in school, and with him by your side, it felt like you were living in some sort of fairy tale. 

Every smile he gave you, every touch, every whispered confession of how perfect you were sent you soaring higher. He couldn’t get enough of you—your sweetness, your kindness, your genuine heart. It was as if he was falling more and more in love with you every single day. And you, you had never felt this alive.

But deep down, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, there was a shadow, a sliver of guilt that he pushed aside every time he looked into your trusting eyes.

He never officially ended the bet with Kelce and Topper. It was just a stupid game, something that seemed so insignificant compared to what he feels for you now. He told himself that he had forgotten about it, that it didn’t matter anymore.

After all, what you two had is real, right? And you, completely oblivious to the sinister origins of your relationship, continued to believe in the fairy tale.

Until it ended. 

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

It’s after cheerleading practice, and you’re alone in the locker room, stuffing your things into your bag. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and body spray, the usual post-practice atmosphere, but there’s something different today—a tension you can’t quite place. 

As you’re zipping up your bag, you hear voices nearby, just around the corner. Leila and Jessica, their conversation low but unmistakable. You wouldn’t normally eavesdrop, but something about the tone of their voices makes you pause, your heart suddenly beating a little faster.

"You were right," Leila says, her voice edged with a cruel satisfaction. "About your gut feeling with Rafe and his new girl."

Oh.

Jessica sounds tired, almost defeated. "What do you mean?"

Leila sighs, a dark amusement in her tone. "Kelce spilled everything when we hooked up last week. He was too high to keep his mouth shut. Rafe’s been playing her this whole time, using her to mess with you. It was all a bet."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t move, can’t think. The room spins around you, the ground shifting beneath your feet.

No. No, this can’t be real.

Leila’s voice continues, completely unaware of the devastation she’s causing. "It's so fucked up. She has no idea. She’s out there thinking he’s her Prince Charming, and all along it was just some sick game."

Jessica doesn’t say anything, but you can’t bear to hear more. You feel like you’re suffocating, your chest tightening as panic floods your system.

Before you know it, you’re running—out of the locker room, down the hall, anywhere to get away from those words, those horrible, soul-crushing words. Tears blur your vision as you stumble outside, gasping for air, for some kind of escape from the nightmare that’s suddenly become your reality.

The ache in your chest doesn’t fade as you bolt from the locker room, tears hot on your cheeks. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stop moving. The hallways blur past you as you wipe at your eyes, struggling to catch your breath. Rage and heartbreak twist inside you like a knife, and before you know it, you find yourself standing outside the gym, where the sounds of basketball practice echo through the double doors.

You push through the doors without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears. The gym is full of movement—squeaking sneakers, the thud of the ball against the court, and the grunts of effort as the players practice their drills. But all of it fades into the background as soon as your eyes lock onto Rafe.

He’s in the middle of a play, dribbling the ball down the court with that intense focus you’ve always admired. For a moment, you hesitate, that familiar warmth of seeing him almost enough to make you stop. But then the memory of Leila’s words slams into you like a wave, and the anger surges back, drowning out everything else.

You storm across the gym, your footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Some of the players notice you, their eyes widening in surprise, but you don’t care. You’re beyond caring. The only thing that matters is confronting him, making him face what he’s done.

"Cameron!" you shout, your voice sharp, cutting through the noise of the practice.

He turns at the sound of your voice, surprise flashing across his face. The ball slips from his hands, bouncing away as the other players stop, confusion rippling through the group. You always call him by his name.

The coach starts to say something, but you barely hear him. All you can see is Rafe, standing there, looking at you with those eyes that you once thought held nothing but affection for you. 

Now, all you see is a liar.

“What’s wrong baby?” He jogs over to you, his brow furrowing.

You don’t answer immediately, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to hold yourself together.

But it’s impossible.

“Was I a bet?”

His expression changes from confusion to something closer to horror, his mouth opening as if to say something, but nothing comes out. The sound of your voice, trembling with disbelief and pain, seems to have stunned him into silence.

For a moment, you just stare at each other. You want him to deny it, to laugh and tell you it’s all some terrible misunderstanding. But deep down, you already know the truth. You saw it in his eyes the second he turned to face you, that flicker of guilt, that flash of something wildly desperate.

He reaches for you, his voice breaking. "Baby, wait, let me explain—”

“Was I a fucking bet?” you repeat, your voice louder this time, edged with a desperate, frantic energy that you can’t control. You take a step back as he tries to get closer, every muscle in your body screaming to get away from him, to escape the unbearable weight of the truth.

His eyes are pleading, searching yours for something, anything that might make this easier, but there’s nothing. No words, no excuses that can make this hurt any less.

“It started as a bet,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, but to you, it’s as loud as a gunshot. “But it’s not like that, I swear. I—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He flinches at your words, pain flashing across his face, but you can’t stop. It’s like all the anger, all the heartbreak, all the humiliation you’ve been choking down is pouring out of you in a torrent, and you don’t have the strength to hold it back. You can see the panic rising in him, the desperation as he realizes just how badly he’s messed up. He takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out, but you jerk away, 

“We’re done.”

“Please, just listen,” he pleads, his voice cracking.

“No.”

And with that, you leave. 

Rafe’s voice echoes behind you as you walk away, but you refuse to look back. The gym doors swing shut, muffling the sounds of the practice resuming, and you’re left in the eerily quiet hallway, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

The locker room is cold and empty when you push open the door. The scent of body spray and sweat lingers in the air. You head straight to your locker again, hands trembling as you fumble with the lock, desperate to escape. But before you can get it open, the door swings wide behind you, and you know, without turning around, that he followed you.

“Go away,” you say, your voice barely holding steady.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice strained with desperation. “Not like this.”

You spin around, your eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to decide that. You used me! And for what? Some sick joke with your friends?”

He takes a step closer, his hands raised as if to placate you, but you back away, your heart pounding. “I know I messed up,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I know I should’ve told you the truth, but I—”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “You let me believe that you cared about me, that everything was real, and all the while it was just a game to you. You and your friends laughed in my face the entire time, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a game,” he insists, his voice cracking. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, okay? This wasn't the plan. I changed. Being with you... it was the only thing that felt real to me.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.” 

Rafe looks at you, his expression torn between guilt and desperation. 

“It wasn’t a joke. It started as a stupid bet, but I never expected to actually—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you. That’s real.”

For a moment, you see the boy who had made you feel special, who had made you believe in something more. But it's not enough.

“I don’t even know who you are."

You want to believe him, to take solace in the idea that some part of what you had was real, but you can't. You shake your head again, a sob choking you as you turn away from him, your back pressing against the cold metal of the locker.

“It isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not supposed to feel like a knife in your chest.”

Rafe takes another step closer, “Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Just give me a chance to make this right.”

"You don’t get to have a chance. You don’t get to pretend this is some kind of love story. You lied to me. You used me.”

You look at him then, really look at him, and all you see is the boy who broke your heart. The boy who turned your world upside down with a single lie. You know that if you stay, if you let him talk, you might be tempted to forgive him. But you can’t. 

Not this time.

With a deep breath, you straighten up, wiping away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “I’m done.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice thick with desperation.

But you’ve made up your mind. 

“I mean it. We’re done. I need you to stay away from me.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you as if he can’t believe what you’re saying.

But then he sees the resolve in your eyes, the finality in your tone, and he knows there’s no coming back from this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, you turn away from him, pushing past the locker room door and walking away. You hesitate for a split second. A small voice inside you screams to turn back, to give him one more chance, but then you imagine the laughter, the cruel satisfaction. 

The image of Rafe with his friends, laughing at your expense, sears itself into your mind. 

The door slams shut behind him, and he leans against it, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He doesn’t feel victorious. Instead, there’s a hollowness, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind that asks, “What now?” He clenches his fists, trying to silence it, but the emptiness remains.

This time, he doesn’t follow you. 

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

It’s SO funny to me when I see movie fans writing alex as this daddy dom, himbo guy because Alex is so!!!

If you scream at him a little too loudly he’ll probably cry, just not in front of you. He falls in love really hard and deeply but it takes him so long to accept that he can also be loved hard and deeply! He has the highest grades ever 1) because he’s smart and 2) because he bases his self worth on making others proud, on being useful. He overworks himself, he runs to clear his head until his feet bleed, his coffee is bitter but so are his thoughts. He’s a softie, who writes his bf love letters and who probably giggles and kicks his feet while reading what henry writes back to him. He can absolutely destroy you in a debate, don’t even try to argue with him he’ll win each time. He talks a lot but he has never been listened to. His rivalry with Henry started with a bad meeting and also with constant comparison, because everyone compared them both, and it was just a constant reminder than Alex will never be enough. Henry was born on the spotlight, Alex wasn’t. Henry was white, Alex wasn’t. Henry had everyone’s support, Alex didn’t. *He is a jester and a devoted knight. He knows hundreds of fun facts and will tell you. He loves Texas despite the bad memories of his childhood and teen years it brings. He feels guilty for making his sister worry so much. He loves his mother despite everything, and she loves him too, but they have an unusual, almost unhealthy relationship. He needs to prove himself every minute of the day. He works as a distraction. He puts on a façade around everyone, golden boy, America’s heartthrob, no one sees his house key, his glasses, the hundreds of papers hidden under the windowsill, the pills stolen from Liam. Someone teach this man healthy coping mechanisms. He is a child of divorce, and this affects him more than he lets on. He is actually a huge nerd. He grew up poor. He was in denial about his sexuality for years. He definitely has abandonment issues. He might be impulsive sometimes (storming Kensington palace after being ghosted by Henry) but he usually thinks things through, and is very reasonable. He makes lists, tons of them. He has undiagnosed adhd and this has shaped him as a person in a way I can’t even describe. Before Henry, bea, and Pez, he didn’t have any friends aside from Nora and his sister. He grew up catholic. He is a romantic. And a dork. He is just as passionate about history as Henry is. But Nora makes friends, and Alex ends up with acquaintances who think they know him because they’ve read his profile in New York Magazine, and perfectly fine people with perfectly fine bodies who want to take him home from the bar. None of it is satisfying—it never has been, not really, but it never mattered as much as it does now that there’s the sharp counterpoint of Henry, who knows him. Henry who’s seen him in glasses and tolerates him at his most annoying and still kissed him like he wanted him, singularly, not the idea of him.

Always the talker, never the heard. Always good, never enough. Always ogled, never seen. Always the first son, never Alex.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (BONUS)

Summary: A peak into the future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 1,865

Warnings: None. Fun fluff!

A/N: Sorry, y'all. I had some more left in the tank.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

As a bright sun began to set over the Fayetteville horizon to transform the bright cerulean sky to one glowing with orange and purple hues, 22 young men huddled at the 50-yard line of Francis High School’s freshly lined football field. The wind lightly blew around them for a welcomed cool breeze while they ran through yet another play before their first playoff game of the season. 

“Defense, we in man coverage. Offense, run a Go. We need to tighten up this late-game execution. How you gon’ react under pressure? Show me somethin’ boys!” 

While the head coach rattled off instructions to the team, Terry stood nearby with his arms folded and eyes intently focused on the two wide receivers occupying the field. Cam and CT Wilson were tall and lean twin boys who reminded him of how he looked by senior year except they were sophomores with room to grow. He told them on day one that they were physical specimens with unreal speed and high IQ made for a few semesters at Clemson if they could focus through the head-spinning four years that made up their high school experience. He promised their father that he’d be there to guide them through it all save for a few months during Spring practices.

“Cam, you goin’ inside on this one. You remember the count,” he hollered out from the sideline. 

“Locked in!” 

Terry answered with a thumbs up and adjusted his stance for optimal comfort. The child-sized weight on his shoulders was starting to get heavy but he knew the tongue-lashing that awaited him if he dared to make a false move. 

“He goes too slow. Make him count fast so he won’t drop, Daddy.” 

The small voice from above made him look up for confirmation to find her already looking down at him with a scrunched nose and missing teeth that resembled her mother when she was that age. 

“You sure?” 

“Just watch.” 

Together, they watched the play unfold. Terry counted along in his head to time when the ball should leave the quarterback’s hand in comparison to where Cameron should’ve been on the field. Sure enough, he was a step slow causing the quarterback to throw the ball slightly ahead of him for a bobbled pass. 

“Hm,” he grunted more to himself than anyone else. “I’ll be damned. Aye, Cam, come here for a second!” 

Above him, perched on her throne, Nyla Naomi Richmond rested a smart tablet on her father’s head to watch film from the previous game like she always did. Her mahogany skin was shiny under the bright white LED lights illuminating the field from her mother’s overzealous lotioning before they left home. Per her request, Terry had braided half of her hair back to give way to a collection of moisturized zigzag coils for first-grade picture day. Glasses rested at the tip of her nose with a bright yellow strap to keep them attached to her face. She kept her attention focused on the tablet’s screen, even as Cam jogged toward her and her father on the sideline. 

“Yeah, Coach? I do something wrong.” 

“Too slow,” Nyla answered without looking up. “Speed up. You’re like a turtle out there. We gotta win, man!” 

Terry and Cameron chuckled together as Terry tapped the top of Cam’s helmet. 

“A little quicker on the count, man. If you get there when you’re supposed to, that’s a catch all day. Make ‘em beat you. Don’t beat yourself.” 

“Type shit. I got you, Coach.” 

“Hey! Don’t say bad words.” 

“My fault, Coach Ny. Can I do my pushups later?” 

“Yeah yeah yeah.” 

Cam laughed at her dismissal before accepting a fist bump from Terry and rejoining the field. Terry couldn’t contain his smile as he reached up to tickle his firstborn's sides for that high-pitched giggle he loved so much. 

“Be nice, MiMi. Remember the rule?” He craned his neck to look up at her for the lesson he’d been struggling to get through her head since she began joining practice. 

She sighed dramatically and frowned. “Be hard on the work, not the person. I know, I know.” 

“Be better next time, champ. We’re here to help, not hurt.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Yes sir,” he repeated to mock her childish grumble. “You’re so mean like your mama. Gimme a kiss.” 

Like she always did, Nyla lifted her daddy’s cap to kiss the crown of his head before placing the hat backward atop her own head. 

From the day she first showed herself in a routine sonogram, Terry knew she’d be a firecracker. She refused to show her face to him and Patrice. She carefully concealed her features during an expensive 3D scan and almost hid her gender had they not caught her during an in-utero nap. 

She came into the world kicking and screaming at a long 24 inches and a head clean as a whistle just like her pops. With Patrice, she was the perfect baby. She slept all night, cooed and babbled when spoken to, and grew into a little girl who loved to cuddle into her mommy while they watched Pixar movies on the weekends. With Terry, she was a hell-raiser. Loud and rambunctious with a love for NFL games on Sunday afternoons and playful wrestling on the living room rug. 

Their smart girl had her hand in everything imaginable and, when they’d listen to other parents complain about the difficulty of raising young ones during playdates and birthday parties, they always came away feeling like they’d lucked out with Nyla. 

Across the way, Patrice stepped onto the newly refinished running track with the cheerleading team for warm-ups. Under her school t-shirt, her belly protruded enough to tell anyone looking hard enough that she was expecting. Behind her, she pulled a cooler meant to supply the football team with cold water and snacks for the next day. 

“Mrs. Richmond, you want me to help you? You always be actin’ like you Superwoman or somethin’.” her captain called out from behind her, jogging to catch up with Patrice’s long stride. 

Patrice waved her off. “Nuh-uh. Y’all start stretching. I need to drop this off personally.” 

“Uh-huh. You going to your little boyfriend. Being fast!” 

“I learned from you, Z.” 

“Not you in my business!” 

Patrice’s loud laughter created an echo in the stadium, becoming a bat signal for Terry and Nyla’s attention. 

“Hey, Mommy!” 

Nyla rushed to hop off Terry’s shoulders like he was a jungle gym, unconcerned with any harm she inflicted with her long legs as she shimmied down his body. He winced in pain until she was safely on the ground before lightly trotting behind her to greet his wife. 

Seven years of marriage hadn’t changed much of their love. They’d navigated the growing pains of newlywed life and parenthood to come out stronger on the other side. So much stronger that they’d neglected to follow through on contraceptives to keep their family of three from growing to a family of four. Their parents called a second pregnancy a blessing. And though they mostly felt the same, they also knew that baby number two was the result of too much booze and ignoring the cycle tracker during a kid-free night in Charlotte. 

Patrice braced herself for impact once Nyla got closer and wrapped her body around her legs. 

“Hey, baby,” she greeted, rubbing circles at the center of her back. “You look so pretty. Did you finish your homework?” 

“Mhm! I got 100 on my math test, too!” 

“Alriiight! That’s my smart bestie. Now you gotta pick a place for dinner this weekend.” 

“Can we get piz-”

“A place that is not buffet pizza again. Pick something else.” Terry interjected, making Nyla groan. Dad’s word was final whether she liked it or not. His eyes flickered to Patrice’s still for extra confirmation. Mom’s word was final final. 

She offered a small smile while zhushing the back of Nyla’s hair. “Try something new, Naomi. Maybe chicken tenders this time?” 

Nyla accepted her parents’ redirection with another dramatic sigh that made Terry and Patrice stifle laughter. 

“I know, mama. It’s so hard being six years old. We can write a book about it tonight when we get home so you can help your little sister or brother when they get here.” 

“I hope it’s a girl. Boys are boring.”

Neither of them could muster a response before Nyla abandoned them to supervise the cheerleaders as they started to run through cheers. 

They waited in silence until she was out of earshot to face each other with equally broad smiles. 

Terry spoke up first as he reached down to take the cooler’s handle from Patrice’s hand. 

“Didn’t I tell you from the jump she’d be a second you?” 

“Oh no, she’s a second DeeDee. She might have my mom’s middle name but she is your mama through and through.”

“Touché.” Terry chuckled. That’s why the duo got along so well. They were twin flames in more ways than one. 

A lull in the conversation made Patrice subconsciously bring her hand up to her stomach for a soft rub. Terry looked on with a fond smile, proud of the way her wedding ring reflected the light back into the night sky like a star on the ground. 

He pushed the cooler to the side and grabbed her free hand to pull her into a side hug. He kissed her temple several times over, making Patrice giggle like a schoolgirl at the sensation. 

“We make a cute kid, don’t we?” 

Patrice hummed and closed her eyes for a brief second to feel the full press of his chest on her body and his arms squeezing a little tighter than before. “So cute. She talks too much, but that’s okay.” 

“Wonder where she gets that from?” 

“Her damn daddy.” 

The vibration from Terry’s deep baritone encased in laughter tingled against Patrice’s arm to cover her in warmth from head to toe. A whistle and call of his name from the field snapped both of them from their semi-private moment, making them reluctantly pull away. 

Terry leaned down to kiss the corner of her lips as a parting gift before slyly sneaking the tip of his tongue into her mouth. She playfully pushed him to save them from the embarrassment of taking it too far in public. 

“C’mon, MiMi, we not done yet.” Patrice watched Nylah quickly ditch her squad to meet her daddy’s outstretched arms for him to place her back on his shoulders and rejoin the team. He called back over his shoulder for her attention. “I love you, baby! Go get off your feet!” 

“Sit down, Mommy!” 

“Yeah, sit down, Mrs. Richmond!” 

Patrice wore a semi-serious scowl on her face and threw her hands up to stop the barrage of demands. 

“Woah, woah, woah! I am grown,” she hollered back to everyone in the area. She began the slow journey toward her team and clapped her hands. “Just for that, let me see that Hot To Go routine. If you mess up, you owe me a lap.” 

A collection of teenage girl groans made Patrice crack a smile.

Maybe Terry was right.

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

[meganelixabethh]

I know I won’t get it- but I want Sunrise on the Reaping to be about Effie Trinket- it would be such a good book!!! All we really know is that the book starts on the 50th reaping and that it’s a look at propaganda. We also know our girl Suzanne only writes when she has something to say- and what better time to make the Effie Trinket Point than now?

Don’t get me wrong- I love to read the fanfics of Effie being disenfranchised from the top of the first book and helping the rebels every step of the way- I live for it- but I also don’t think it’s reality for the canon. Effie Trinket is a character with grey morality at best in the first book. No she’s not organising the games, or planning them, she’s not the iron fist that forces the children to comply nor is she the driving force behind the tradition- hell if she didn’t do it someone else would, right? But she picks the names. She chooses to be close to it. She isn’t as horrified as she should be

SHE. IS. COMPLICIT.

But if you asked her- if you sat her down and said heart of hearts, do you care about these children? She would say yes. She has a complete mental disconnect between the harm she is causing and the compassion she feels for the people being harmed. This is a direct comparison to the modern approach to harm. Just look at Palestine.

I also don’t believe Effie saw anything wrong with the games until one very specific moment. She looked at the glass ball at the 75th reaping and saw a single piece of paper, and she thought ‘this isn’t chance. This isn’t a game. This is a choice and I don’t want to pick up that slip of paper’. I whole heartedly believe it took an emotional closeness to the person being harmed to make her realise all those people were just the same as her- EXACTLY LIKE WE DO IN THE WEST.

Further details under the cut. TW for death, implied SA and pregnancy loss.

So the book starts with the 50th reaping- Effie is between 6 and 16 depending on how old you think she is. I personally think she’s about 8-10. I also think this is the first games where she’s really gotten involved in and is interested in the whole thing from start to finish. She watches the reapings and is absolutely enraptured with Haymitch from the moment he gets on stage- full on little girl crush mode. She follows the whole game and is so happy when he wins. This is the summer she decides she wants to work in the games. She follows the games every summer, gets a glamorous games job in the Capitol when she graduates (I think she went to uni tbh our girl is smart) and then became an escort.

When she’s offered 12 she’s annoyed- after all she’s the darling of the games circuit and she’s put her time in- but 12 is the only job going and if she wants the promotion she needs to take it. She thinks fondly of Haymitch’s games though. She no longer has her little girl crush on him, but she assumes the drunkenness must be an act for the Capitol, some kind of play. When she gets to 12 she realises it’s not. She sees how broken he is. She sees that this destroyed him and she just… doesn’t get it. She develops a fondness for him, still completely believing in the games, and they work together happily enough as far as she’s concerned. She starts dragging him out of bed and shoving him into nice clothes to make the district look good at first, but then she does it because she thinks it might be the only time he has anyone making sure he looks after himself. She is genuinely sad when their tributes die every year. She cries in her room at night after they go, and Haymitch can hear her through the wall when he’s sober enough.

Then the 74th happen. She loves Katniss and Peeta- I fully believe that. She likes them from the beginning, she agrees they have a chance, and when she’s not trying for sponsors, her and Haymitch sit in silence in the penthouse, watching and watching and watching. She grips his hand tightly for hours at a time, eyes almost unblinking and fixed on the screen, knees drawn up to her chest. It’s the first time he sees her as human, and she almost breaks his knuckles during the finale with the mutts. The moment they win, she lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and went to celebrate her first victors. She deliberately turned her face away from the horror because it was easier to not feel the breadth of it. She does exactly what we did to Ukraine. What we continue to do to Palestine.

To be completely clear- she still thinks the games are right through all of this. When she comes back for the victory tour she still thinks this is all fantastic. That mental disconnect is still there. But then eleven happens. If I’m remembering right she gets blood on her and is freaking out about her dress but I would like to see that from her side. I want to see that an innocent man was shot through the head so close to her, his blood and brains splattered across her dress and her skin. I want to see her freak out and everyone assume it’s about the dress but it’s actually about the fact she saw the light leave his eyes. This is the night she goes to Haymitch. She asks him for a drink and she asks him if he thought the man felt it. He isn’t kind to her. He asks her if she ever wondered if the kids felt it? If he felt it? This is the first time they sleep together. She doesn’t spend the night in his cabin. Their physical relationship continues but nothing else changes.

Then the quarter quell- she’s upset when Snow announces the rules. She feels hard done by but also scared for Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch. She understands that she’s avoiding the issue in her mind but she clings to the idea that the games are good so she doesn’t have to face up to the horror she helped meter out. It’s that glass reaping ball that does it. That glass ball with a single slip of paper in that breaks the back of her indoctrination. It all falls on top of her all at once. Her sobs after the bloodbath, alone in her room, the desperation she felt, not just for Katniss and Peeta to live, but for her to not have to watch them die, the man in eleven, the quarter quell, Hatmitch’s sharp words, the drink she craved after she saw it, the smile she plastered on, Haymitch’s hand gripped tightly in hers, the most genuine connection she’s felt in years and oh god are you supposed to be this fucking tired when you’re only 35? She looks at that paper and she is almost incandescent with rage. She loves Katniss and she doesn’t want to be the one who says her name. She doesn’t want to do this anymore. She doesn’t want this life. She doesn’t want the games to happen at all. She’s done.

But now she’s afraid. She’s seen avoxes, she knows what happens to rebels and she’s not quite brave enough to say anything to Haymitch other than veiled comments. She’s not sure he agrees with her and he’s not sure it wasn’t an accidental turn of phrase. The moment the arena blows out she’s dragged away in handcuffs. The prison is harrowing. What little hair she has is shaved off and she spends hours having questions thrown at her that she doesn’t have the answers to. She’s beaten, electrocuted and starved. Her bones are broken, they pull a few of her teeth out and some of the things they do are so awful she can’t even bring herself to think about it inside her own head. She doesn’t feel brave. She doesn’t have the answers to give them and she’s not sure she wouldn’t tell them if she did. She’s too Capitol for the rebels and too district for the Capitol. She’s not rescued, she’s released at the end of the war. Well, ‘released’ is a strong word. The guards unlock all the doors and tell them they have been pardoned and then walk out. She drags herself outside, clutching the walls and collapses in the courtyard as a humanitarian aid worker rushes over.

She spends the first tumultuous month sedated in a hospital bed, blissfully unaware of Coin’s assassination and the last games. When she comes to, Haymitch is sat at her bedside, looking haggard and tired. She looks better than she did on the floor of the courtyard, but not by much. When he sees her open her eyes he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He apologises for not managing to get her out. She knows she should be cross with him, but she can’t find the energy to blame him. They’ve both wasted so much time already. She pushes herself up shakily and wraps her atrophied arms around his neck, telling him that it doesn’t matter, that he’s here now. When he lowers her back down, she asks immediately after Katniss and Peeta. He tells her what happened in as painless terms as he can find, and when he’s done, she can barely keep her eyes open, tears tracking silently down her hollowed cheeks. He gently kisses her on the forehead and says he’ll be back tomorrow. It takes her a long, long time to recover.

She finds out the rest of what happened while she was imprisoned and hospitalised in dribs and drabs. Some from him, some from news, some from conversations she overhears. It takes months and months before she tells him, in halting sentences, when happened in the prison. She doesn’t tell him everything. Some things are too awful to know. They’ve not resumed their physical relationship, but they feel inexplicably drawn to one another, and in a fit of impulsivity, he invites her to come to 12 when he leaves and she does. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions, but she does tell him, eventually, all the things that led to her renouncing the games just before the rebellion. He admits to her the doctor told him she was pregnant when they found her, but miscarried while she was asleep. She can’t get out of bed for days afterwards and he brings her food and water until she’s ready to get up again. She’s glad he knows in a way. She’s glad she never had to tell him what they did to her in there.

The next summer rolls around, and Effie is finally well enough to walk up to the woods outside the district and spends all day picking wildflowers. She ties them into attractive arrangements just like her mother taught her, using brown string instead of satin ribbons. Haymitch is in the newly built square when she arrives with her flowers. She lays them all gently on the ground, one for each child she reaped, including Prim. Haymitch walks over to her as she bows her head, slipping her hand into his. She says she’s sorry, he says ‘I know sweetheart’ and the book ends there

I know we aren’t going to get this, it’s not even a possibility but a girl can dream.

[pickastitch]

gem and scar in secret life are character foils. they enhance each other's qualities and even the give insight on the game itself

what got me started on this connection was scar's task stating he was a villain and gem calling herself a hero. to go along with these roles, gem is constantly surrounded by people, while scar is uniquely alone for nearly the entire series. this narrative that is outright told to us is then flipped on its head as pearl chooses scar over gem, thus leading the 'villain' to victory

now people (as in the other players) tend to overestimate gem, her first sl title being 'i have a reputation', while underestimating scar. everyone seems to follow these assumptions except for gem and scar themselves. during the boogeyman curse gem goes straight for scar, noting him as a worthy ally. during the last session scar knows he could kill gem with him and his wolves whether or not pearl helped. these two characters are extremely socially smart and know when and when they shouldn't play into roles they've been assigned

character foils don't just reveal things about the characters. but also about their environment. so we all know that scar was the first one to explicitly fail a task and then given a new one. the next person who got a task because they failed was gem who incorrectly submitted her glass task as complete and thus had to open the end portal. this comparison (and other tasks that failed) shows us that failing isn't the worst thing a player can do because all it does is take away some potential hearts/rewards. the actual worst thing is to incorrectly submit a task. the punishment was harsh with gem loosing a life from an enderman because of the task which can be taken as the taskmaster emphasizing the rules of the game. as long as the players play along they won't get too severely punished

[itstheghostofmypast]

Fragility of Morality (teaser)

Jeong Yunho x (F)Reader

Summary: His morality was as fragile as the words that slipped past his lips. As tainted as the same fingertips that would caress her skin with an uncanny tenderness- was he a friend or a foe? Did she or did she ever want to know?

Genre: Hurt+Comfort+Angst

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: TBD

Est. Read Time: TBD

Warnings: Blood, kidnapping, gore, language, guns, murder, gothic anxiety, phantasmagoric reality (if that makes you uncomfortable), human trafficking, domestic violence.

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Series Masterlist: Ice On My Teeth

Picture Credit: To the one and only @edenesth

“I think I’m going to have the salad.”

He couldn’t help but frown at her statement, raising a brow at the odd choice of meal for dinner before tilting his head at her in thought, as he sighed at the sudden realisation, “Your mother’s opinion is not only wrong but flawed.”

Her face flushed at the way he had seen through her, somewhat ashamed at how she could not hide it better, but then again, Jeong Yunho was an exceptionally smart man, one who had not only gained her attention but had also had the opportunity of claiming her heart, from the moment he had intervened in her not so pleasant blind date set by her parents. He had peaked her attention the moment he had dragged his chair to sit with the couple, placing his chair closer to the man who had been humiliating her from the moment he had arrived, reminding her of her status due to her being a daughter, a woman, a potential wife.

Yunho had smiled at her ignoring the man who had threatened the taller man, instead pushing up his glasses and smiling at him as he picked up a fork and examined it before turning to face her once more, asking her something that had her choking on her nth glass of wine, “Do you think aggression is linked with an immaturity of physical stature?” That had led the man to abruptly stand up, pointing at her and threatening her about the deal she had just lost her parents, but that did nothing to her mood, for she had been busy listening to the man who had ignored the bastard, instead chose to narrate a tale about the time ‘his friend snorted caster sugar to help with low blood pressure’

“What did she say this time?” he sighed, leaning closer to pick up the bottle of champagne, staring at the label, examining it before popping open the bottle, filling up their glasses, as he looked at her, “I’ve told you not to keep secrets from me, haven't I, precious?”

She could but only pout at his statement, slumping against her seat before mumbling, “I looked a bit chubby to her today. She said this in front of everyone! All the gym gals, oh Yuyu, it was so embarrassing, especially after my instructor had complimented my poses during the yoga hour…perhaps I have been taking my health lightly.”

“Or perhaps your mother is afraid that you have began to outshine her in terms of beauty- which wouldn’t be a surprise, for a person’s beauty is represented through the heart that beats within the confines of their breathing corpse and my precious…your's may be a bit too pure in comparison to her shriveled lump of flesh.”

Oh Jeong Yunho, you hypocritical being.

She felt her body tingle at his comment, head dipping in sheer joy, as she bit down a smile. She was used to praises, after all he was not the first man to compliment her, but when the words slipped past his lips, she’d feel them wrap around her, hugging her close and tight, keeping her safe from all the cold, harsh thoughts that would nip at her being.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, Yuyu.”

Oh,but what I want may be your last meal, my precious.

[iamjacksragingboner]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Johnny's horrific catcalling and borderline harassment that he thinks is flirting

A/N: Going away for a few days to visit family for Christmas, so I will supply you with this first little chapter of the Cowboy Soap fic to keep you fiends satiated. Tried spending a little longer on the writing so hopefully it flows a bit better! Also, this is my first time writing Ghost, so look forward to more of him as he pops in through this fic :)

Clean up people's plates. Wash and dry cups. Pour drinks. Wake up the sorry sod that fell asleep at the bar. Collect tips. Sneak out back to wipe the sweat from your face and smoke.

It was a shift like any other. You sighed, the smoke pluming out in front of you in a tired cloud, then dissipating, and you snuffed the cigarette with the heel of your boot. The afternoon sun beat down on you like a sluggish brute as you smoothed the apron of your smock and stepped back inside, the muffled sounds of clinking glasses and patrons chatting amicably becoming clear once more.

Slinking your way back to the bar, you nodded at a gruff old man who tipped his hat at you, poured him his usual and slid it over to him. In turn, he flicked you a single coin as a tip. It was a relatively slow day in comparison to the usual lively energy of this dusty little inn, and you were thankful for the copious smoke breaks you could cop, thanks to your brother being on shift with you.

The brother in question bumped your shoulder, and your gaze flicked to his figure towering over you, black bandanna covering the lower portion of his face. "You good to handle the place while I pop out for a bit?" Simon asked, putting down the glass he was wiping. "Got an old friend coming into town sometime soon, I wanna go make sure there's a room set up for him upstairs."

You nodded in affirmation, blowing a strand of hair from your face. "Fine by me, 's not like there's anyone here anyway." As proof of this, you gestured to the sparsely filled room, the usual crowd of cowboys having been out for the past week or so. Simon was usually amongst them, but had chosen to stay behind this week, helping you man the tavern so you weren't on your own.

Cowboys were a generally thick bunch, in your opinion. Some of them couldn't tell their dick from their asshole, and you'd dealt with enough drunk and rambunctious cowboys to have a general distaste for the rest of them, no matter how 'intelligent' they claimed to be. All except your brother of course, who was smart enough to co-run the tavern with you, but had enough casual idiocy in him to coexist with other cowboys, yet not entirely enough to bother you completely. In your mind, he was gaining insider info, as it were. You'd never tell him this, however, for fear of copping a playful smack to the side of the head and a night of solo dish duty awaiting the end of your shift.

Simon nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling into a smile—he was never one for many words, often opting for silent looks you had to spend years trying to decipher, even now you have moments where you aren't quite sure what he entirely meant—before he patted you on the shoulder as he passed, walking upstairs to the rooms, kept open for travelers and folks too drunk to walk home. In turn, you picked up where he left off with the dishes, wiping dry mugs and placing them in their respective shelves.

From the little Simon had said and the magnitude that he had alluded through a myriad of looks, his friend—Johnny as he affectionately called him—was a lovely man, despite his cowboy career path. Lively, a bit on the rowdy side of things, but he was sure you and him would get along just fine.

The tavern doors open with a slam that you cringe at—you'd have to check the hinges before you went to bed that night—and in waltzed a troop of unruly looking cowboys, with dust in their hair and hands in their pockets; it wasn't hard to tell they thought they were the shit. They weren't all faces you recognised, but that wasn't all that uncommon—most cowboys tended not to settle in one town for too long, preferring a life of travel that you just couldn't get behind.

They sauntered up to the bar with an air of authority and almost pompousness, as if their very presence in here was something you should marvel at, almost as if they weren't the bane of your existence. Almost. You shouldn’t hate them too much; they provided the majority of the income that kept this tavern alive, even helped build the damn thing, but fuck they could be annoying sometimes.

You served the first two their drinks with as little communication as possible; if they caught you in a conversation, you'd be subject to a half hour's earful of their latest travels that you really didn't feel like listening to.

The third seemed hellbent on making his presence known to you, refusing to prowl over to the tables with the rest of his friends once he'd been served, instead choosing to sit and ogle you as you worked. Which was fine, it wasn't as though you weren't used to men's lecherous eyes linger on your body as you worked; wasn't exactly pleasant, but you never felt particularly unsafe, knowing your brickhouse of a brother was usually close by to scare them off.

What annoyed you was the way he would smirk any time your eyes happened to meet, which was more than once. It didn't help that he was attractive in most senses of the word, so you found yourself stealing glances more than you would have liked. Your eyes grazed along his thick arms, dense with muscle and tanned from days spent in the sun, down to his hands wrapped around his whiskey, and you made quick note of every detail you could make out through stolen glances when you were sure he wouldn't catch you. Dirt under the nails. Gnarled and scarred knuckles. Callouses on his palms. Strong hands. Worker’s hands.

You almost felt guilty, sinful even, admitting this to yourself, but he was a mightily attractive fellow; didn't stop you from shuddering when he caught you eyeing him up, and winked.

"Like what ye see, lass?"

Fuck, even his voice was attractive, an accent you couldn't place and a gravelly, casual tone that you were sure rumbled in his chest like thunder or falling stones when he spoke. You wouldn't ever admit this to him though—too many issues in falling in love with a stupid cowboy, in your opinion. You chose to instead keep your trap shut, and turned your attention to pouring another drink for the grizzled old man at the end of the bar.

"Strong silent type? I like it. Means I get ta haver yer ear off as much as I want. Yer not a bad lookin' lass either, I certainly wouldnae turn down a chance to bed a bonnie like yerself."

And just like that, any inkling of a budding attraction that was forming for this handsome young cowboy disintegrated right in front of your very eyes in an instant. You found yourself chewing the inside of your cheek raw with the effort of not kicking him out of the tavern and banning him from ever stepping foot in here again.

"Ye can call me Soap—it's what the bonnies call me—they say I give the best baths, and my massages after are highly rated too, but ye didnae hear that from me, lass."

Grit your teeth. Breathe in deep. Close your eyes. Turn around and do something else, anything else, just distract yourself for long enough for him to lose interest.

A low wolf whistle when you turned around was what did it, made you whip around with a bottle in hand, held high over your head and poised, ready to crack over his sorry head in that stupid fucking hat and his stupid fucking grin that stupid handsome cu-

"Johnny!"

Simon was thumping down the stairs, and you didn’t think you'd ever heard that amount of sheer joy in his voice. That wasn't what caught your attention however. Your eyes go from Soap—who turned at the mention of the name, a beaming smile plastered on his face—to Simon, who wrapped the man in a bone crushing hug and turned to face you with his arm around Johnny's shoulder. Soap's shoulder. You put the bottle down, for your brother's sake.

"This is Johnny," Simon said, and you could practically feel the sunbeams peaking out from under his bandanna.

Of course it is.

Contrary to your expression of shock, anger and mild embarrassment, Soap was ecstatic. "So this is yer bonnie lass of a sister I've heard so much about!"

Go choke on a tumbleweed and die, cowboy.

[ahedderick]

Manners matter. maybe.

Now that Son has moved out, we have family dinner on Monday nights. This includes Roommate. Last night I was reflecting on this, in comparison to dinners that I grew up with.

My parents managed to somehow occupy both ends of the spectrum of parenting. Practically speaking, this meant that one day I'd be a beloved child, so smart, so good looking, have a cookie, we'll buy you a pony - followed by screaming abuse, curses, I was the worst, most Ungrateful Childe ever, silent treatment. And so on and so forth.

They also had a sort of two-pronged approach to life in general. We lived on a farm, raising beef cattle. Being barefoot and mud-smirched in the garden, or in heavy boots, smeared with blood and cow manure in the barn, went side-by-side with expectations of perfect grammar and enunciation, Emily Post table-settings and manners, and the highest grades in school. It was, in a word, very weird. And honestly, the emphasis on elegant table manners, matching silverware/tableware/glasses, etc never really sat well with me. Manners at that level always struck me as ridiculous and fake. Especially in a damned farm kitchen.

Anyhoo. This is in my mind as I regard my own table. The plates matched, almost. Cups and silverware were a random assortment. Son was talking animatedly to my husband about forestry, K and I were chatting (my elbows were on the table, as they often are), and Roommate was hunched over his plate moving his fork up and down like a sewing machine needle. Ten hour shifts welding; he's hungry. Everybody was happy, engaged, and getting full of nutritious food.

That. That was all that mattered.

[angellissy]

The Aftermath

Rupert Campbell Black x Taggie O'Hara

The aftermath of the kiss between Rupert and Taggie. She is angry and sad, he is proud and stubborn. Tons of angst!

Word count: 2464 Warnings: None except a whole lot of angst I think. Bad english and grammar (not my first language)

It had been a bad idea from the start, going with Seb to a very crowded pup in town on a Friday night. 

Not that she did not enjoy spending time with him, because she did (to a certain extent), but Taggie did not enjoy crowded pups and rowdy people. She enjoyed going for a pint or two, she had partly grown up in London after all, but if she fancied going out she preferred going to less crowded pubs. She hadn’t wanted to go out tonight but felt bad for almost neglecting Seb the past weeks and decided that she really should step up if she was going to continue seeing him. He was after all a perfectly nice boy. 

Taggie had thought that it would just be the two of them, a (kind of) proper date, but as it turns out Seb had invited his friends. Taggie wished she had felt more disappointed but she mostly felt relief. Things had been a bit awkward since she kissed Rupert, not that Seb knew of that. He had only noticed the way she laughed a bit shrilly when asked where she had gone of to during that evening or the way she would pull away a little too quickly whenever they kissed. Seb did not think much of it and concluded that Taggie, though lovely, had always been a bit odd. 

Seb’s friends were loud and so unlike Taggie that she wasn’t even sure how to make a proper conversation. It wasn’t that they were rude but whenever they tried to converse with Taggie, their differences became so apparent that neither party knew how to proceed.  

“So you haven’t read either Austen or Brontë?” One of his friends, a blonde girl with a wide gap between her teeth and big black-rimmed glasses exclaimed in something akin to horror. Taggie felt herself blush and shook her head in answer. By the aghast look that adorned, was it Jessica's or Jenniefer’s? face and how she frantically looked between Taggie and Seb as if trying to puzzle out their match, Taggie knew that this conversation was beyond saving. 

For the rest of the night, Taggie sat in complete silence, relying solely on nodding, smiling, and drinking her pint not to seem completely abnormal. Gods, had her mother seen her now she would have been so disappointed and ashamed at how uncultured Taggie was in comparison to others her age. She probably would have made some snide comment on how Taggie at the very least could pretend to be smart and cultured for once, as not to shame the name O’Hara. 

Taggie glanced at her watch one too many times which resulted in Seb sighing and announcing to the table that they were headed back home. She felt a bit bad but the thought of being able to lay in her warm bed washed away all guilt and she quickly bid her goodbyes before almost rushing out of the pub. 

They barely spoke on the drive home. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt while he focused on the road, turning the volume up so loud that neither would have been able to hear the other if they did decide to talk. He only turned the music down when they finally neared the priory and Taggie felt compelled to say something, as if this moment would make up for her being quiet the entire evening. 

“Your friends were lovely” She turned to face him and smiled, but even she could feel that it did not quite reach her eyes. He stopped the car and turned the ignition off, turning to look at her. “Yeah,” He said, though a bit absentmindedly. 

She was racking her brain for something else to say when he said “What changed?” Taggie looked at him furrowing her brows “What do you mean?”. 

Seb sighed and ran a hand through his hair “I am not sure but something changed after the night of the franchise bid” She felt her pulse starting to quicken and she scrambled for something to say, but Seb continued “I mean I always knew that this might not have worked out but I had hoped that it would last longer, you are a lovely girl Taggie but I just don’t think we are a good fit.” Taggie exhaled and nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “I feel the same, I am really sorry Seb .” 

“You don’t have to apologize Taggie, sometimes it just doesn’t work.” He answered, but Taggie really did feel like she had to apologize. For had she not kissed Rupert she might have been able to give Seb a bit more of her. But after that kiss how could she? It had ignited every bit of her body and she had not been able to breathe properly ever since. 

“Friends then?” She asked giving him a wistful smile.

“Friends” He answered leaning over to give her a small kiss on the cheek. Taggie bid him goodbye and got out of the car, she wanted to stay outside but knew that Seb wouldn’t drive away until he saw her get inside the house. He was such a sweet and nice boy, why was that not enough for her?

She had agonized over that question so many times during the last weeks but had only ever reached the same conclusion. Rupert Campbell Black. It was awful. Rupert had not reached out to her after the kiss, barely greeted her at Venturer meetings, and avoided her as if she would catch fire if they interacted, which to be fair she might at this point. At first, his avoidance had made her gutted and she had cried more than she wanted to admit. Now she felt furious, furious at him for giving her delusions and furious at herself for giving in. Because now she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She might have had he not kissed her like a starved man. Gods, she had never felt so desired as she had in that moment. 

He had some nerve that man, to kiss her and tell him he couldn’t breathe without her and then simply go on as she did not exist. The absolute audacity of it all! Taggie was still standing in the hallway and shook with anger and, the unfairness of it all. It was her boiling anger and disappointment that propelled her to put her coat back on again and stalk outside. It wasn’t that long of a walk but it had never taken her such a short time as it did this time. She was standing in front of Rupert’s front door in what felt like minutes, chest heaving and breathing unevenly. Her hand hesitated for a split second before knocking on the door. It took a few minutes before she heard the lock rattle and then there he was. His hair was ruffled and he was only wearing a pair of trousers that hung loosely on his hips. 

She almost almost lost her nerve but straightened her spine and held his gaze. 

“Taggie? What are you doing here? It is the middle of the night, are you hurt!?” He took a step forward but halted when she backed away, still his eyes wandered over her body searching for any sign of injury. He looked relieved when he found none but confusion still adorned his tan face. 

“I- I, you hurt me!” She exclaimed, and this time it was his turn to take a step back. He looked crestfallen. He opened his mouth to say something but she did not let him “You can’t just kiss me and make me fall for you and then act like I don’t exist” The anger in her voice seemed to surprise him and he stayed quiet. 

“I should have known, everything they say about you is true and I am just the girl that was too stupid and naive to listen” She spat while blinking tears away, she refused to let him see her cry. 

A broken expression laced his features and she almost wanted to take her words back, she had never seen him this way before. Rupert cleared his voice and said, “You are far from stupid Taggie.” 

“St-stop it, please. Stop saying nice things, I can’t bear it when I know you don’t mean it!” Her voice cracked on the last word and her eyes burned from the effort of holding her tears back. Most of her anger had washed away leaving only a bottomless sadness so prominent that Taggie thought she might collapse from under the weight of it. 

She was too distraught to back away when he moved closer this time, she could smell the light notes of sandalwood and amber from his cologne. Rupert looked as if he was approaching a wild animal and his hand trembled slightly as he put them on her shoulders. His touch felt safe and grounding and Taggie wanted desperately to scream at him. 

“Taggie I-” He let out a low breath “I know that I have treated you with much less respect than you deserve. I barely have a good reason except for the pathetic excuse that you terrify me. That kiss-.” He paused and searched her face as if looking for a clue on whether or not to continue. He swallowed audibly and went on “Kissing you was the closest to feeling alive that I have done in years. I meant it when I said I can’t breathe without you.”

His dark eyes were glistening as he looked at her, his gaze was almost desperate. Taggie however, was not satisfied with that answer. Her resolve was hanging on by a thread but she owed it to herself to stand her ground, ironically he had been the one the teach her that. 

“You seem to be breathing fine without me” She muttered averting her gaze not being able to look at the pained expression that laced his features. 

“Look I know I have handled this just about as awfully as I could have but I don’t deserve you Taggie. You are too good for me, you just said it yourself. ” The words tumbled out of him.

“That is a bloody awful excuse and you know it! Surely I should decide what and who is good enough for me.” Taggie was gesturing furiously with her hands, feeling angry once again. At Rupert, at her father, at her mother, and everyone who had ever made her feel like she couldn’t make her own decisions. 

Rupert sighed and lifted a hand off her shoulder to run it through his dark hair. “You should.” 

They looked at each other after that, both seeming unsure of how to proceed. What was there left to say? He seemed hellbent on making her stay away from him and she was too tired to argue. Taggie felt drained. 

“Well if that is all I am gonna go” It came out as a whisper,  as if her voice too had given up. She turned around but was stopped by his hands on her waist. It all felt so familiar, how the hairs on her arms rose and how her breath hitched. He was standing so close that she could feel his warm breath on her neck. 

“It’s late and it is dark. You’re staying here” His voice had returned to its normal and confident tone, leaving no room for objection. She gave a simple nod of her head and only turned away when he removed his hands from her waist, leaving a feeling of cold absence. She followed him inside and didn’t object when he helped remove her coat. Rupert walked ahead but stopped short as if realizing something. When he turned around a somewhat sheepish expression laced his features. 

“None of the guest rooms are prepared but you can stay in my room.” He said. 

No no no she could not sleep in the same bed as him. Not now. Not after tonight. Rupert seemed to sense her apprehension and shook his head at her “I’ll sleep on the couch angel.” She swallowed and nodded, ignoring the small tinge of disappointment she felt. Her feelings towards him were giving her whiplash. It was utterly exhausting feeling this much towards someone.

She trudged behind him up the stairs to his bedroom, she was too tired to take it all in. Ah if only Taggie from a few weeks back had known she would be sleeping in Rupert’s bedroom, she would have been ecstatic. Now Taggie felt nothing. She got into the bed not bothering to remove her clothes and turned so she was facing away from where he was still standing in the door. Neither said a word and eventually Taggie fell into a dreamless sleep. 

She didn’t notice when he gently sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the duvet further up her body. He studied every freckle on her face and moved to stroke away a strand of auburn hair that had fallen in front of her face but stopped with his hand mid-air. What was he doing? He couldn’t do this. He had promised both himself that he wouldn’t touch her again, that he would ignore the burning rage he felt whenever he saw her with Seb. It had been impossible to not think of her. She had been wrong when she remarked about how he seemed to be breathing fine. It had felt like every day without her had resulted in an open wound in his chest, it was an ache he seemed unable to rid himself of, no matter the amount of whiskey he downed. He had been aching to be near her, to taste her food, and to hear her laugh. But this was for the best. 

Still, he couldn’t help himself and stroked the loose strand from her face. His heart felt tight as he watched her, she was devastatingly beautiful. He had to pull himself away from her and when he closed the door to his bedroom his chest was heaving from pent-up emotion and his throat was burning. He slid down on the wall behind the door and sat down. He wasn’t sure he trusted her not to run away in the middle of the night and he simply wouldn’t have it. 

Gods, the way her face had crumpled as she said those words to him. It made him feel sick to his stomach knowing he was the reason for her broken state. He had only been trying to protect her and for good reason.

A cancer, his previous wife had called him, and she had been right. Taggie was too pure of a soul for him, and he refused to taint her with the darkness of his. No matter the pain it cost the both of them.

[emiliosandozsequence]

Tell us about sjm. Spill the tea.

oh man there really is SOOO very much of it that idk how i'll fit all into one response, but i'll do my best 🫡

so sjm or sarah j maas is a very popular fantasy writer (she is the origin of 'feminist' romantasy as a genre because her writing has just been THAT influential (in some good ways, but mostly in bad ones for reasons i'll get to in a minute). she's jewish and has white skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes (this also is relevant i promise).

anyway, despite her writing being so influential it...is really not that good (it has the potential to be tho which is one of the (many) reasons why reading her stuff is so frustrating) and she has a HUUUGE problem with putting her biases in her writing, in particular her racism, misogyny, and ableism.

her racism is at a level that i truly find unbelievable. in every book of hers, every character that is seen as good/smart/beautiful/brave, is a main character, or, at the very least, starts out that way in the story and doesn't have a redemption arc later after the narrative has already taught you to hate her (because it's always female characters this is done with too), has fair hair and light colored eyes (and almost always light skin too); on the opposite end of the spectrum, every single (female) character that either is in the story for not very long, isn't a main character, starts out a bad or undesirable person in some manner, or isn't considered good/smart/beautiful/brave has dark hair, eyes, and/or skin.

this is a tame tho in comparison to the fact that in the first two throne of glass books (one the series she's written), the only black character is considered a manipulative liar (she's even described as such on the wiki lmao) despite being the main character's best friend before she's summarily killed off in an extremely violent manner all for the development of that main character. she also has an asian character in the acotar series that is considered rude and emotionless, despite, again, being a best friend of the main characters. oh and of COURSE the asian character doesn't have dark eyes lol. because...can't have that in a sjm book!!!! no one can look like an irl person of color AT ALL!!!! g-d. and then, ofc, there's the illyrians, which are 100% coded as people of color and are a violent and misogynistic group of people lmao. as if htat weren't bad enough, she also tried to trademark illyria/illyiran even tho (and this is what made me make the post this morning) that's a REAL PLACE with REAL PEOPLE LIVING THERE.

and even THAT is tame to the fact she posted a promotion for her own book on the same day breonna taylor was killed and, not only that, but used her death to promote said book because she mentioned the murder in one (1) line of the post. to this day she has STILL NOT taken down that post.

compared to that, her misogyny in her novels (the main character constantly competing with other girls and always thinking she's better than they are and 'not like other girls teehee') and her glaring plagiarism (she uses terminology not only directly pulled from asoiaf (wolf in the north; the queen who was promised; oathbreaker; breaker of chains) but is used in exactly the same context as asoiaf too as well as some pretty significant plotlines of dany's (in particular her freeing the slaves of several cities and gathering up everyone on her continent to support her claim to the throne and unite in defense against a common foe that will turn all of them into walking zombies basically....SOUND FAMILIAR??????)) is a pretty tame offense, but imo it all adds up to just one disgusting whole of a person to me.

oh and, to top it all off, she's a zionist. there's a video essay about her i watched on youtube that explains the proof for this, but i do Not remember what it was she said now, so i'll link it here.

she's also ableist too, which expresses itself in how nesta archeron is treated throughout a court of silver flames (g-d forbid a traumatized woman be hypersexual and an addict and get sick of being treated like shit by the peope around her or she deserves to get thrown out of her home to a place her 'loved ones' know is going to be openly hostile to her lol). i don't think sjm even realizes how ableist she is throughout this book bc she claimed it's a healing journey and like...lol. lmao even.

also (i'm 100% being petty here) i hate how fake she comes across. in every time i see a picture of her, and the one interview of her i saw, she reminds me so much of my mother to the point it makes me physically ill.

i'm almost certainly forgetting something because there's just SOOO much about this woman to dislike, but this is everything that immediately came to mind.

anyway her fans are also rancid and believe she's some sort of goddess of writing when she's not even that good and is 100% a fake and shitty person that doesn't truly care about them at all whatsoever.

[sonkitty]

The Sideburns Scheme Post #42

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 3, I Know Where I'm Going, not a foot

...

Sideburns Check

The above image is brightened a little.

The sideburns are still pointing to Crowley's mouth. That's what they tend to do when Crowley is not in the mausoleum during this minisode.

The space itself is within a human space with many lit candles at night. Crowley both sits and stands during the scene. All three characters do not wear hats during the entire scene. Both Crowley and Aziraphale are no longer wearing gloves.

...

Comparison

Here is a comparison picture between the last scene and this one, also brightened a little.

The curls on Crowley's right side of his head are more defined in this space than the last.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Aziraphale's vendetta against the backs of chairs has activated, so there's some extra thing in his chair that he has his back to, that's not in the other chairs.

Both Aziraphale and Mr. Dalrymple sit the entire time.

Crowley stands to pick up the container Mr. Dalrymple indicates with a tumor inside.

Each character touches a glass of whiskey during the scene.

Aziraphale touches the container with the tumor after Crowley passes it to him.

Mr. Dalrymple says the name, "Dr. McFell."

Aziraphale has questions with, "I'm sorry?" and, "But if you're in such dire need of bodies, why not dig them up yourself instead of making the poor and the desperate do it?"

Mr. Dalrymple has a question with, "Seriously, though?"

Mr. Dalrymple addresses Crowley as, "Doctor," which might qualify well enough for a name substitute as a title.

Crowley has a question with, "Well, in my professional opinion, that seems to be... I say that seems to me a... um... well, what do you think?"

Mr. Dalrymple has a number and a question with, "If you two smart gentlemen can't identify it, then what are my students to make of it?" Then he has another number with, "I removed this tumor from a seven-year-old boy. "

Aziraphale has a question with, "And...is he...?"

...

For pockets, I won't log it all here, but I'll share at least the following:

Aziraphale is visually pocketed between chairs when it's shown that the back to his particular chair is different.

Crowley is briefly visually pocketed between candles when he stands.

...

Story Commentary

(For reference Post #26 (my side)) The scene starts with Aziraphale looking at the drink in hesitance.

Much like in the A Companion to Owls minisode, the camera itself is making specific choices about what it shows when it comes to drinking alcohol. Mr. Dalrymple is shown finishing taking a drink when Aziraphale is asking him about digging up the bodies himself. When the scene finishes, as Mr. Dalrymple is about take a drink, the camera cuts away before the drink actually enters his mouth.

Crowley is heavily implied to be drinking. He raises his glass when saying, "More murders! I'll drink to that!" He raises it again in agreement with Aziraphale about the item in the jar not being a foot. He reaches for a bottle filled with more. However, the camera never, ever shows him in the actual act of drinking.

...

I think this minisode is supposed to match Pestilence of the four Horseman of the Apocalypse, given the context of Mr. Dalrymple talking about the tumor.

...

Present Day Aziraphale

Let's check in on Aziraphale's side of things with the forming connection.

I'm not going over the entire scene, just a few parts.

As Aziraphale parks, or more likely the car is parking itself, the car is shown to have acquired its new extra doors in its transformation.

Aziraphale also shows the interior of the driver's door has changed.

He wears a hat with a "66" on it. Is he trying to be a demon beacon?

He uses a pocket for his notepad and pen.

The road looks different from when he walks across the street to the road shown as he arrives closer to the pub.

When he arrives at the pub, he finally sees the barrel next to the jukebox. The drawing of Gabriel he shows is different than the one the story has shown him working on. This drawing shows a turtleneck and looks more like Gabriel did when Aziraphale last saw Gabriel in season 1 at the air base.

With a look to the pub sign after exit, we are taken back into the minisode.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

[personalfx81]

Fancasting the Giffen-DeMatteis-Maguire era Justice League International in the DCU

It's Bwa-ha-ha time. Basically every character who hasn't been cast yet (i.e. everyone except Guy Gardner and Booster Gold, who I've assumed is set to be played by Kumail Nanjiani).

Brandon Sklenar (1923, Midway, It Ends With Us) as Bruce Wayne/Batman

-Can Pull off "Certified Hunk" -Looks great in a suit -Isn't just "stern guy with deep voice" -Build is near-perfect. built & muscular, but not too wide. -Fairly reasonable age to be handling Damien & rest of Bat-Family.

Rob McElhenney(It's Always Sunny In Philladelphia, Mythic Quest) as Ted Kord/Blue Beetle II

-Can play dorky, fed up, and "IQ lowered when around a certain person" -Other than that, pretty big range, great with physical performance. -Similar age to Kumail Nanjiani, who I've accepted is playing Booster. -Can basically play any body type.

Daniel Radcliffe(Swiss Army Man, Weird: The Al Yankovic Story) as Scott Free/Mister Miracle

-Incredible range, could play any version of the character, Kirby, King, whatever -Leaning towards the King interpretation, can still look great disheveled. -Relatively short, would make whoever plays Barda look bigger by comparison.

Demi "Rhea Ripley" Bennet(WWE) as Barda Free/Big Barda OKAY HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT -She can play big and intimidating. -Also shows decent amount of emotion in sparse moments during performances/in interviews. -Built perfectly, toned body, with broad shoulders. -Has potential to be next great wrestler-turned actress, in the vein of Dave Bautista and John Cena.

Warwick Davis(Return of the Jedi, Willow, Life's Too Short) as Oberon Kurtzberg

-Decent range, able to go toe to toe with Val Kilmer in Willow. -Able to be funnier than one might expect, see Life's Too Short. -Aside from the hair, he's the spitting image of Oberon as drawn by Kevin Maguire.

Camila Mendes(Riverdale, Do Revenge, Palm Springs) as Beatriz DaCosta/Fire.

-Shows great amount of potential as an actress -Can play the kind of endearing, charming, fun, and slightly airheaded personality that I want for fire very easily. -Is of Brazilian descent. -Has experience with goofy/comic book-y plots.

Ulrikke Falch(Skam/Shame) as Tora Olafsdotter/Ice

-Can nail the girl-next-door, yet also extremely sincere energy I would like Ice to have. -Is a Norwegian actress who can speak perfect english. -Is of similar age to my pick for Fire. -Is just an overall well-educated and smart person, in addition to being a fantastic performer.

Samara Weaving(Ready or Not, Scream VI, Bill and Ted Face The Music) as Dinah Drake Lance/Black Canary II -Can play just really done with everything, as in JLI -Spectacular at deadpan comedy. -Can kick serious ass -Has a killer scream

Anna Akana(Amphibia, Wrestling isn't Wrestling) as Kimiyo Hoshi/Doctor Light II -Her work on Matt Braly's Amphibia shows an impressive range, from dramatic to comedic, something she excels at. -Can play that kind of overly-driven, borderline arrogant personality seen in Crisis on Infinite Earths.

Viggo Mortensen(The Lord of the Rings, Eastern Promises, A History of Violence) as Kent Nelson/Doctor Fate I

-Has that kind of Gravitas/Prestige needed to bring Doctor Fate to life -Can play that kind of cold/borderline nihilistic vibe Kent had in Ram V's JLD run,

Jimmy Tatro(22 Jump Street, American Vandal, Theater Camp) as Captain Marvel/Shazam -Has the kind of Childlike Himbo sort of energy, as seen in 22 Jump Street & American Vandal, that works real well for Captain Marvel/Shazam. -Also shows decent amount of emotional range, not just comedic, in American Vandal

Leslie Odom, Jr.(Hamilton, Glass Onion, Murder on the Orient Express, One Night In Miami) as J'onn J'onzz/John Jones/Martian Manhunter. -Has the chops. Odom, Jr. is one of the most electric performers in recent memory. -Performance as Aaron Burr in Hamilton (specifically in "The Election of 1800) proves he can pull off the Cooke-esque "Corny as a comic book" performative nature of John Jones. -Could also nail that betrayed look that MM had in New Frontier after hearing about John Wilson's death. And that's it. Not totally confident with some of these choices, but if these performers become the lineup for the JLI, I think we'll get some great portrayals of these beloved characters. Let me know if you think I'm on to something or if I should just shut up already.

[cometomecosette]

"Les Misérables" musical character interpretations: Éponine

Next in my series of characterization comparisons: every audience's darling, Éponine.

These five interpretations of the character are the main five I've seen in various performances. But they can also be combined with each other to create still other portrayals. For example, in the bootleg video of the US tour performance from 2000, Sutton Foster's Éponine is "the Wolf Child," but her natural charm and humor adds an underlying layer of "the Gamine Next Door." Whereas Joanna Ampil's Éponine in the same year's London video – from what I've seen of it – is also a "Wolf Child," but with the underlying fragility of "the Waif." And when I recently saw the current US tour, I thought Christine Heessun Hwang's Éponine was a cross between "the Gamine Next Door" and "the No-Nonsense Street Kid."

The Gamine Next Door

            This is a simple, straightforward portrayal of the musical’s Éponine, who projects an air of easy likability. First and foremost, she’s a spunky, sassy, cheerful street urchin, much like an older female Gavroche. She might occasionally hint at the true sadness of her life (i.e. “Look what’s become of me”), but she always quickly hides it behind a bright, cheeky smile. And as her name implies, her interactions with Marius have an air of a tomboyish “girl next door,” with free and easy playfulness and warmth. She might sometimes add a hint of flirting, but she never crosses the line into bad manners. This isn’t to say that she can’t be gritty when necessary: her “Attack on Rue Plumet” can be very fierce and angry, although she’s more likely than some Éponines to mix relatable fear with her defiance. Nor does her lighthearted veneer mean she’s immune to suffering. When she’s alone, she gives heartbreaking voice to her starry-eyed yearning for Marius and her abject anguish that he doesn’t return her love. Of all possible Éponines, this one is the most idealized compared to the novel’s Éponine, which obviously won’t suit everyone’s taste. But in general, audiences are guaranteed to like her, pity her, and relate to her. Teenage girls, in particular, who are in the throes of their own first unrequited loves, will embrace her as one of their own. 

The Waif

            This Éponine is the most vulnerable of them all. She’s likely to be small, delicate, and “kittenish” in appearance. She’s more soft-spoken than other Éponines too, although still with a powerful singing voice for “On My Own,” and with a gentler, more girlish demeanor. Of course, she does affect a tough, sassy veneer, boasts about her street smarts, and stands up to her father and Patron-Minette with all the necessary fierceness. But that veneer is more fragile than glass. She constantly seeks Marius’s attention with a look of wistful yearning – even if he fails to see it, we can – and when they interact, her teasing is obviously a cover for the shyness and awkwardness she feels, knowing how out of her league he is. Nor is anger and aggression her first response to danger. In “Attack on Rue Plumet,” expect her to try to reason with the men at first, and to only turn defiant when they won’t listen. Above all else, the audience will remember the tenderness of her longing for Marius and her raw anguish that he’ll never be hers. Where other ‘Ponines express their pain without crying, this one’s rendition of  “On My Own” will more likely be drenched in tears. Throughout the show, the audience will want to hold her. shelter her, and comfort her, so in “A Little Fall of Rain,” however sad the circumstances, they’ll be glad that Marius finally does.

The Wolf Child

            This feisty tomboy is very much a street urchin, not a street waif, and very much the Thénardiers’ daughter. She’s a grubby yet self-assured, iron-willed survivor, just like her father, and she has more than a little of her mother’s brashness and temper. Among Patron-Minette or with Gavroche, she’s clearly “one of the guys,” and when the time comes to fight off her father and the gang at Rue Plumet, her anger and ferocity are positively feral. Expect Montparnasse to get a good kick or punch if he dares to bring his knife near her throat. Her teasing of Marius is bold, boisterous, and physical: expect to see her pushing and pulling him around in a very unladylike manner. This girl is determined to gain his attention, and apart from brief moments of despair, she clings stubbornly to the hope that he’ll fall in love with her someday. But in “On My Own,” she’s forced to admit that she’s been fooling herself. She faces this sad truth with heartache, as all Éponines do, but with anger too. Anger at Marius for his blindness and failure to appreciate her, at the world for being empty when he’s not with her, and at herself for being vulnerable in this way, when she’s usually strong enough for anything. Of course, her story ends in tenderness, with her final moments of bliss in Marius’s arms. But what the audience will remember most are her toughness and her fiery passion.

The Wild Urchin

            This girl comes as close to the novel’s Éponine as the musical allows. Physically she’ll probably be dirtier than other ‘Ponines, with bad posture and skittish movements that recall an abused dog or a stray cat. And more than any other musical ‘Ponine, she gives off an air of mental instability. Yet she combines it with a lively, free-spirited nature, and the result is a wild, whimsical, childlike quality that’s strangely endearing, even as it earns pity. She “frolics about,” swinging her legs as she sits, playing with her skirt, kicking stones in the road, or casually lying down and stretching out on the pavement. With Marius she’s even more forward and unladylike than the Wolf Child, freely invading his personal space, and sometimes trying to flirt in a way that recalls her father with the girls at his inn. This might make even Hugo’s Éponine blush, but it drives home the point that her social skills are lacking. She strives hungrily for Marius’s attention, but between her upbringing and her mental state, she doesn’t know how to begin to win his heart. She’s also more ashamed of how awkward and “odd” she is than she pretends to be, which we see when she’s alone, along with her wistful dreams and the pain of her hopeless love. She’s a “crazy homeless girl” whom in real life, we might try to avoid on the street, but we’re forced to understand her, empathize, and care for her anyway.

The No-Nonsense Street Kid

            This ‘Ponine is less fierce than the Wolf Child, but she has a similar toughness, and though she’s quieter than other ‘Ponines, it’s not a gentle quietness like the Waif’s, but a hard quietness. Her usual demeanor is sullen yet stolid, unhappy yet resigned to her lot and ready to “tough out” anything. She stands up to her father and the gang with hard, calm defiance and mocking disdain, and though she can be sassy and playful like all Éponines, her humor is drier and more subdued than most. Her only genuine smiles are reserved for Marius. Yet she might be a mild tsundere toward him, as they say, teasing him in an “annoying little sister” style, but closing herself up and pulling away if he offers her too much friendship. She doesn’t expect him to fall in love with her; she knows it’s foolish to hope. But she can’t help but hope anyway. She wants to be resigned to living without him, but though she tries, she can’t conquer her anguish, yearning, and secret fragility. Even when dying, she’ll still be tough, walking away from Marius to try to take care of herself, only to collapse; only when Marius takes the initiative and holds her will she finally show him her inner tenderness. This is different from Hugo’s Éponine, as is her grounded personality compared to the free-spirited Wild Urchin that Hugo wrote. But this portrait of a “hard nut” slowly cracking is moving in a different way.

More comparisons to come!

[itsmaddieforreal]

FMAB / AoT Comparisons and Contrasts

I was holding off on making this post because I didn’t have enough evidence to compare EVERY aspect from both franchises, but I feel like I have enough evidence to at least explore the similarities between a majority of the main characters and a couple locations. That said, I reserve the right to make a second part to this post if I feel like it.

OKAY! SO!

Because I am an avid, hardcore fan of both Attack on Titan and Fullmetal Alchemist, I began to look compare and contrast characters from both series and oh my goodness the similarities are uncanny- like, y’all, I’m so convinced Isayama took inspiration from FMA, I’d be shocked if he didn’t.

Before I get into anything, I should point out that someone has made a couple of these observations already in a Reddit post, but I’m just adding onto these findings. Link to the OG post is below.

SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY AHEAD FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT FINISHED EITHER SHOW!!

Alright, so to start off in terms of characters, we’ve got Edward Elric and Eren Jaeger.

They’re both hot-tempered kids who lose their moms and see her suffer in horrific ways.

Their dads also technically walked out on them early on in their lives.

They also lose body parts but get them back at some point.

The deaths of their mothers trigger their character arcs, starting with how? Enlisting in the military.

Then there’s Winry Rockbell and Mikasa Ackerman:

Childhood friends/love interests whose parents died at a young age.

They care deeply about the protagonists.

They’re also terrifying when angry.

Alphonse Elric and Armin Arlert:

The blonde, smart, sensible characters who are almost always by the protagonists’ side.

Got an absolute GLOW-UP as they got older.

Trisha Elric and Carla Jaeger:

Mothers to the protagonists who have the signature “dead anime mom” hairstyle.

Died while the protagonists were young.

Their deaths prompted their sons’ character arcs. (If not the entirety of both series.)

Unaware of their husbands’ past.

Van Hohenheim and Grisha Jaeger:

Fathers to the protagonists who walk out on their families at an early age.

Both wear glasses and have somewhat? long hair.

Both were either directly or indirectly responsible for murder at some point.

Under the heel of a higher power too. (Grisha with Marley and Hohenheim with Xerxes.)

Jean Havoc and Jean Kirstein:

These are literally the same characters, just different shows.

Same first name, same haircut, same mannerisms, SAME ENGLISH VA-

Also kinda got a glow up as they got older.

Once again, if I had a nickel for every time Mike McFarland voiced a character named Jean with an undercut and playboy tendencies, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right??

Roy Mustang and Levi Ackerman:

The cool, collected and unbelievably badass heartthrobs with black hair and high military ranks.

Also terrifying when pissed off.

Riza Hawkeye and Hange Zoe:

The second in command that’s usually by their superior’s side.

Also unbelievably badass.

People may or may not ship them with their superior.

Erwin Smith and King Bradley:

I honestly could not find much similarities between these two except for the fact that they’re both leaders of their military division?

And they both die in the end I guess.

Maes Hughes and Marco Bodt:

The kind, gentle hearted ally of the protagonists who find out the truth about their enemies before anyone else and dies because of it.

Lust and Annie Leonhart:

Female antagonists that get dealt with early on in their series.

Capable of regeneration of their body.

Brings harm to the protagonist’s ally at one point. (Lust with Hughes and Annie with Marco.)

Gluttony and Bertholdt Hoover:

Male antagonists who are usually around or involved with their female partner one way or another (Bertholdt with Annie / Gluttony with Lust).

Care for their female partner a lot.

Both are killed by being eaten by someone (Bertholdt is eaten by Armin / Gluttony is eaten by Pride), but not before desperately crying out for their female partner (Bertholdt cries out for Annie / Gluttony cries out for Lust).

Scar and Reiner Braun:

Scorned men and enemies of the protagonist who eventually come after them to get revenge for their homeland(?).

Turn around and become good(?) in the end, fighting alongside the protagonists’ allies against a common but VERY different enemy (Reiner with Eren / Scar with Father).

Truth and Ymir Fritz:

Beings from another realm that interact with the protagonist one way or another.

Aid the protagonist realize their full potential, for better (Edward) and for worse (Eren).

Homunculi and Titan Shifters:

Mysterious beings with regenerative properties and unique powers.

Their powers can be transferred to new users if the previous users dies(?) (Ex. Greed with Ling / Eating a Titan Shifter as a pure Titan).

I swear I am not crazy, I just have an unhealthy obsession with both of these shows. Making a part two shortly.

OG Reddit post here:

[pcktknife]

i have no idea about anything that happens in splatoon but can u please tell me about those two pearl and marina bitches theyre so funny

unfortunately for you its late so i will not be going into the full splatoon super fan mode for this explanation(lying).

Okay so Marina and Pearl are the idols for Splatoon 2 together they make the duo Off the Hook. Pearl raps (MC Princess) and Marina djs (DJ Hyperfresh). We actually know very little about Marinas past in comparison to other idols outside of her being a Very smart and capable soldier/engineer (she was building weapons of war dw abt it) but Pearl comes from a super unfathomably rich family and was a punk/metal singer prior to Off the Hook (her notable song from that time being called 'Fuckin Dudes Be Fuckin Sleepin' im not censoring that) Marina met Pearl after leaving the army, after some weeks gave her the demo for a song she made called Ebb & Flow and Pearl was like let's make music and that was their first song. (the full 'Fly Octo Fly ~ Ebb & Flow' sounds better to me personally but whatev) The idols from Splat 1 Callie and Marie (Squid Sisters) are I believe formally trained singers/dancers and in comparison Off the Hook were described as being naturally talented. Further while the Squidsters are meant to be rivals (represented by a Fox and Tanuki) Off the Hook are supposed to have an incredibly close and strong bond (represented by a Crane and a Turtle) the final splatfests for both of these games also reflect this (though ironically Rina and Pearl are also partially based on Biggie and Tupac) Pearl is the more brash and outgoing of the 2 where Marina is more shy. They have the most synergy of all the idols I think. It comes through in their music, art, and dialogue/interactions and that's what makes them so enjoyable <:] That's all I'm giving for lore but for fun facts outside of what I've already mentioned

Pearl's voice can cause shockwaves that cause mass destruction (in 'Fuckin Dudes Be Fuckin Sleepin' you can hear glass somewhere shatter at the end bc of this)

Marina likes to draw and makes shoujo manga (or has made at least one titled Dear Pearl)

Marina designed the collection of 24 splatfest stages/maps called Shifty Stations which use octarian tech as well as the Flooder (the Shifty Station stages are named after different western novels in english and shoujo manga in japanese)

Pearl has a custom weapon called the Princess Cannon (which aids in the previously mentioned mass destruction)

There's Off the Hook branded cereal and plushies in the splatooniverse

In jpn lyrics to Off the Hook's songs are written in katakana(Rina) and hiragana(Pearl) because in world they're singing in different languages. Some game dialogue is like this also.

Pearl just....eats mayonnaise

Pearl threatened to cut an old man after he was being specie-ist to Marina

Pearl designed Camp Triggerfish (another stage...its a campsite...lodge whatever) she also wrote it's jingle and her family owns it

Marina's suuuper into machinery and also has a motorcycle

Bonus track of them recording for 'Into the Light' featuring Pearl fucking up her rap

that's all I don't have anything else thats more specific bc I got into splatoon 2 late so I dont know Every little detail but i know a few