#sorry to anyone who knows about dickensian writing this is all just for fun

[nihilnovisubsole]

so on my recent trip to socal, i had just enough time for a brief stop at FIDM’s emmy nominee exhibit. everything there was gorgeous, but i was on a mission, and that mission was to get reference close-ups of aziraphale’s costume. if there’s anything i love, it’s thinking way too hard about menswear, so i decided to write up a deep dive to go with them!

these photos are as close as i could get without tripping over the display, and as close as i could zoom my camera in without losing too much clarity. below the cut, i’ve added more thoughts and info about the outfit’s details. honestly, you could get most of this from staring hard enough at behind-the-scenes photos and promotional art. but it was a fun outing, and if it’s any help to anyone’s writing, art, or cosplay needs, that’s just the cherry on top.

[sidenote: i passed a crowd of cosplayers on their way out of the museum - a handful of crowleys and aziraphales and, i believe, a beelzebub. if you were at the exhibit on saturday, september 7th, and you left around 1 PM, i saw you! you looked great!]

NO. 1

aziraphale hand-ties his bow tie in a basic knot called “thistle,” “butterfly,” or “classic” depending on who you ask. though bow ties may not be standard now, it’s a style he could wear for decades without it calling attention to itself as “so dated it’s absurd.” this isn’t the only thing on aziraphale’s costume that, like him, exists a little outside of time. it’s an eccentric mix of pieces that are firmly dickensian and things that could float freely through the last 150 years.

on film, the tie looks bluish-beigey-gray depending on the light, but in person, it’s a dark, desaturated beige. the fabric is thin enough that i’m guessing it’s not wool, but without feeling it, i’m not sure whether it’s linen or matte silk. all i can tell you is that it’s not burberry plaid, though i bet he’d feel at home in a burberry-plaid-lined trench.

speaking of colors, i’ve seen people scratch their heads over whether aziraphale’s shirt is white - which would be traditional - or pale blue. after squinting at it and color-swatching it in photoshop, i think it’s white. if it’s blue, it’s so pale that it doesn’t matter. or does it? oh my god, this is going to bother me.

[edit: i’ve since heard on the costume designer’s authority that it’s pale blue. it’s so close to white, though. do with that what you will.]

NO. 2

after over a century of being put on and taken off, the velvet on aziraphale’s waistcoat is starting to lose its nap. the main wear is around the buttonholes, but there’s also some on the neck where it rubs against his shirt collar and the pocket where he hangs his chain.

the buttons on his frock coat are probably horn, and the buttons on his waistcoat have tiny gold rosettes. his trousers also have a very, very subtle stripe. it’s funny to see all the things the camera doesn’t pick up!

the real reason i took this picture was to get as good a shot as possible of his watch chain. i assume the actual watch is tucked in his pocket, and what we see out front is his medal from heaven or an ornamental charm. the chain is cable-link and the medallion has an ornate border, and the figure in the middle is an angel with its wings unfurled. i would’ve loved to get an even sharper shot and see for sure, but this is the best i could do within the confines of the exhibit. sorry!

NO. 3

i sweat bullets trying to pin down the style of aziraphale’s shoes before i finally googled my way to an answer: balmoral boots! they’re a victorian walking boot that became popular to pair with a frock coat, with contrasting suede(?) uppers and an oxford-style cap toe. while the leather parts almost glow gold in certain pics from the show, they’re a nice, rather rich caramel color in person. not that i would have been scandalized if they actually were gold. we know from the french revolution that aziraphale likes flashy shoes.

while i’m on it, i’ll admit that i love that good omens fans have just collectively decided that aziraphale wears sock garters. you understand me. i’m not going to say anything else.

in this pose, you can’t quite see how aziraphale’s trousers break, and i wonder if the mannequin is a little taller than michael sheen. on him, the un-cuffed hems have either a quarter- or half-break, a nice, standard pant length that never goes out of style. part of me is surprised they didn’t go with a more fusty, vintage full break, but... you know what? no. i’m already so deep down this rabbit hole, i cannot believe i’m sitting here researching victorian pant breaks. moving ON

NO. 4

aziraphale’s two coat cuff buttons sit on a decorative tab, and based on his lifestyle, i’m guessing they’re just for show. while functioning cuff buttons - or “surgeon’s cuffs” - are a lavish sign of a bespoke suit, aziraphale wouldn’t have needed them for their original purpose. the coat has deep flap pockets, and there’s a seam around the waistline, which was typical for victorian frock coats.

from this angle, the cuff buttons look like they’re solid beige, instead of the natural color variation in the horn buttons on the front. are they bone, maybe? did he have to replace them at some point? if he’s kept the coat pristine for over 180 years, but is averse to fixing it with miracles, he may very well have had to take it to a tailor here and there.

i asked my mother, who’s an experienced sewer, what fabric she thought the coat was made of. her guess was either linen, a light, almost summer-weight wool, or a blend of the two to produce that kind of twill. it seems like it’d be cold to wear that year-round in england, but i guess if you’re an angel, you don’t have to worry about being cold, do you?

PS: after more googling, i’ve been reminded that wool-linen blends are forbidden in deuteronomy and leviticus. part of me says, come on. it couldn’t possibly be that deep. on the other hand, this is the show that had gabriel wear shoes called “monk straps.” even if it’s not a blend, it’s hilarious to think about in the context of aziraphale being casually profane.

[pollylynn]

Just About, Chapters 1–5 (Loosely linked Caskett Rabbles, Set in Season 1)

A/N: I started this “series” (if one can call it that) a while ago—very short things set in Season 1. It had been sitting at four chapters for a while. I wrote the fifth tonight. I’m just going to post them all here, with separators, because they’re so short. 

Title: Just About, Chapter 1: Everything and Nothing WC: 300

 A/N: I don’t know. I need a palate cleanser after finishing Season 8, and I was “inspired” by an Elvis Costello song. So 300 words here, and plans for a few more of these, most likely all set in season 1.

She smells like heaven. Well. Not really. She doesn't even wear perfume. She smells like drugstore shampoo and coffee. But it's heaven to him. Legitimately the stuff of dreams. Or it would be, if he slept. But he can't sleep, because she smells like heaven.  

Because her cheek blushed when he kissed it, and the warmth still lingers on his lips. The silk-smooth feel of her skin stays with him, and he absolutely cannot sleep.    

It's ridiculous, really. He asked, near enough.

Why? So I can be another one of your conquests?

Or I could be one of yours.

He put it out there, and she turned him down. Shot him down, if he's honest with himself, and that's that as far as the possibility of any after-hours "research" between the two of them goes. That's that.

But she smells like heaven, and he can't decide if she's adorable or dead sexy or both at once. He can't decide if it's her legs he's into or her eyes or the fact that she's a complete bad ass. Or maybe it's how smart she is. Book and street and everything in between, and then there’s the mouth on her. She’s funny. Cutting, but not quite mean. Not quite, and she’s not the least bit impressed by him.

Not the least bit, and can’t be that, can it?

It might be that, because he hasn’t worked like this for anything in ages. For anyone. He hasn’t had to. Hasn’t wanted to, and what the hell is it about her?  

Maybe it's everything. She catches him, flat-footed and tongue-tied all the time, and maybe it’s every damned thing about her.  

Maybe whatever it is, he needs to get over it.

He asked. She shot him down. And that's that.

********************************************

Title: Just About, Chapter 2—Seemingly WC: 400

A/N: More palate cleansing.

He was supposed to be bored by now. Long before now. She'd have bet on it. She has bet on it, in a manner of speaking. She's been confident. She's brushed off innuendo and anted up to Lanie and Espo and Montgomery. Anted up to everyone brave or dumb enough to give her so much as a sidelong glance about it. About him and their "arrangement."

A week, tops . . .

A couple . . .

A few . . .

But they've barreled past a couple, and if she's honest, a few is already disappearing in the rear-view mirror, and he doesn't seem bored.

He seems a lot of things: Callous, immature, smug, vain, obtuse, reckless, and oh-so-very annoying. He seems hell bent on really playing out whatever this is. Ego, maybe?

But that doesn't fit. Not exactly.

She thinks back to the street. To what she'd meant to be her parting shot and the moment right before.

Or I could be one of yours . . .

She thinks of what he seemed then. Boyish, delighted, smitten. Shy, or something very near to it.

She thinks of all the other things he's seemed since. The not-so-terrible things she isn't always big enough to admit: Curious, astute, invested, feeling.

It's the last one that gets her. It interests her, or it would if she'd let it.

Because for all his antics, she's seen him somber, too. Gut-punched when he does the math on how many I'm so sorry for your loss calls she must've made over the years. Coldly furious at a foul-mouthed prep school punk, who's used to getting away with everything, and that doesn't seem new at all. It doesn't seem recent, and she wonders about it.

She'd wonder if she'd let herself, but she won't. She bites her tongue to keep from asking and tries remember what she knows about Richard Castle, best-selling novelist. What's known about him out in the wide world, because that's where he exists. On billboards and book jackets and slick studio sets. At rooftop book parties and on the mayor's speed dial.

That's where he exists, and she'd do well to remember that, whatever he seems, now and again. Whatever it is he's determined to play out.

It's ego, she decides, and it doesn't pay to wonder. He'll be bored soon enough.

A month, tops . . .

A couple . . .

A few . . .

(But he doesn't seem bored.)

*********************************************

Title:  Just About, Chapter 3—Just a Little WC: 500 A/N: A continuation of this Drabble series, because, for the moment, they keep coming. 

Sometimes he thinks she likes him just a little.

Most of the time he's absolutely sure she doesn’t. She yells a lot, and she’s prone to violence. Not the fun kind, either. She pokes. Hard. And she has this thing about twisting his ear like he's some Dickensian street urchin. At any given moment, he’s pretty sure she doesn’t like him one bit.

But every once in a while, he catches her staring straight ahead with the corners of her mouth turned down hard. Every once in a while, he spies a wicked glint in her eye, and he's pretty sure she trying not to smile. He racks his brain every time. He drives himself up the wall, trying to remember what he just said or did. What he didn’t do that she thought he’d been thinking about doing . . .  

It’s stupid. Insane, really, because what does it matter whether she likes him or not? He’s in. One strategic phone call and absolutely everything he’d wanted has fallen into place. Absolutely everything.

He’s writing like a fiend. He’s up nights willing his fingers to keep up with his brain. He’s scrawling down details every waking moment on every scrap of paper that comes to hand. His mind hums along, four levels deep, while they work. While they bicker and joke and turn each other inside out to get the job done. His and hers.

It’s everything he’d wanted all those miserable months with his marriage unraveling and the words gone. Every last thing, so what does it matter? Smile or no smile. Whether she likes him a little or a lot or not a bit. What does it matter?

There’s the obvious answer. The obvious conclusion that everyone's jumped to. His mother. The whole damned precinct. Alexis. That bothers him more than he'd like.  

You always say you have to love your characters . . .

The glint of cynicism bothers him. The flash of fresh scars from all the upheaval with Gina. The divorce. Before and after. Everything up until these last few weeks, and it bothers him that even his kid thinks it's obvious that Kate Beckett is the shiny new thing. That "research" is code for business as usual.

It bothers him, because it's ridiculous. And because it's kind of a fair cop. It has been, historically, but he’s done with that. Mixing business with pleasure. A lousy metaphor for him and Gina, anyway, which is why he's done with anything that even looks like a relationship.

You always say you have to love your characters . . .

It's ridiculous. He doesn’t have to. And he definitely doesn’t . . .

And so what if he did? So what if he mentally goes to tape and draws up freaking battle plans to see if he can leave her fighting off a smile?

So what if he loves Nikki Heat? Kate Beckett is  definitely not Nikki Heat, and she doesn't even like him.

Except every once in a while, it seems like she does. Just a little.

A/N: 500 words this time. The first and second were 300 and 400, respectively. I'm not going to lock into that pattern, I don't think, but each came out close, and so I decided to challenge myself to shape them into an even hundred.

******************************************

Title: Just About, Chapter 4—Kind of WC: 600

A/N: Another 600 Words

He’s kind of a dork.

She’s trying to process that. Still trying to process it. She’s been sitting with it a while, and a lot has happened. Nothing at all and a lot.

She’d told him. About her mom. About her dad. About her, more or less. Maybe a little less, but more than most people know. Quite a bit more than anyone but Lanie, maybe. More altogether than Ryan or Espo or even the Captain, though they know her in bits and pieces. They know her from guarded revelations over the occasional beer. From gossip that never quite gets stale. Never quite.

But she’d told him. Castle, who is a thorn in her side. Who is the nosiest, interfering-est, most emotionally tone deaf person she’s ever met when he’s caught up in one of his parlor trick cold readings. Castle, who loves to run roughshod over everyone and everything, especially her.

Castle, who’s kind of a dork.

She’d told him.

She can’t figure it out. He’d been happy enough with his own story.

I noticed your watch. It’s your dad’s, right?

He’d been more than happy enough, and she’d like to think it was about knocking him down a peg. She’d like to think telling him was about wiping some self-satisfied look off his face, but there wasn’t any. Not by then. Not after White Plains and an eerily calm conversation about fathers and daughters and getting away with murder, and even that’s not it. Sudden, absolute confidence that he could’ve kept the secret. That he would have if she’d asked him to.

And even that’s not why she’d told him. Not entirely.

Because she’d started telling him well before that. She’d started the minute she let her feet carry her to his doorstep for some unfathomable reason. She’d started telling him before he even opened the door. She’d started telling him as she lingered in his hallway, stalling long enough that she was suffocating in her winter coat. Feeling wordlessly stupid for being there and finally screwing up the courage to knock.

She’d started telling him the minute the door opened on that bizarre scene. Violent green mud masks and his hair standing straight up. She’d gone there for words—for an ending to Melanie Cavanaugh’s story—and wound up in the moment that hasn’t quite ended yet, even though she’s been home a while. She’d wound up pouring her heart out and leaving him there at her desk like the fixture he’s become.

It isn’t because of who he is, though she sees now that’s what had brought her there. She sees now that she’d gone to see her favorite author. The man whose words have given her the only kind of closure she’s known for a decade, but that’s not who she’d found when the door swung open.

That’s not who’d perched tentatively on the desk next to her, self-consciously trying to smooth down his hair. Really, really wanting to switch off the storyboard with its skeletal outline. Really, really wanting to explain that he’s not usually home of an evening playing laser tag with his kid. Really, really wanting to point out that his mother lives with him, he doesn’t live with her. Really, really wanting to slip back into the skin of who he pretends to be a lot of the time, but not letting himself.

She’d knocked on the door of her favorite author and found him instead. She’d told him her life story. The bits it’s been boiled down to. She’d told him. Because he’s kind of a dork.

A/N: This one is set just after A Chill Goes Through Her Veins (1 x 05). The others are more loosely woven throughout S1, but this episode has always felt like an important turning point to me. 

*********************************************************

Title: Just About, Chapter 5—Turns Out WC: 700

A/N: Finally, the new stuff. 

It's good to have her here again. 

Again

He's a little too giddy about that particular pair of syllables. Giddy enough that he's definitely compensating—scrambling on the inside, overdoing it on the outside. He’s pitched his voice somewhere in the vicinity of just-north-of-Barry-White pitch, and he’s flicking a heavy-lidded gaze across the desk at her as he lets the words roll around in his mouth. 

Bare 

Glistening

Breasts

Oh, he’s definitely compensating. Then and now–on the page and in real time—but he doesn’t really see many alternatives. 

She's here. Again. And that's good, even if she doesn't look one bit like she agrees. Even if the look she's shooting back at him makes his bedroom voice crack—even if he did sort of trick her into it this time—it’s still definitely good, because there's a this time, and that implies that there was a last time, and there was no trickery there. 

And there's the giddy again, when he thinks about her backlit in the hallway, head cocked and brow furrowed at the strange picture they must have made: He and Alexis and his mother, in for the night and up to their typical shenanigans, and then, suddenly, her at the door. And as stunned as he was to see her—as back-of-the-mind perplexed as he was, because how does she even know where he lives?—he still remembers thinking, Finally. 

Finally. That was unquestionably the word looming largest in his mind when Kate Beckett showed up on his doorstep. 

It’s troubling. It’s as troubling as the giddy feeling that comes with Again, because it's not as though he'd been waiting for her. He hadn’t been, hasn’t been, isn’t waiting for anyone. He’s so very not waiting for anyone that he’d wrecked the bedroom with his ex-wife just that morning. 

And that helpful point of information his brain offers up, just as she is on the absolute verge of leaving, is the opposite of helpful. That point of information is something that he discovers in the moment he actually hates the hell out of, and he doesn’t have time to sift through the why. He’s taken the Bare. Glistening. Breasts. gag to the absolute edge of too far and she’s leaving. 

And he doesn’t want her to leave. 

And he doesn’t want Meredith to come back. 

And those two facts are unquestionably intertwined in ways that he suspects are quite complicated. 

Because it’s not merely that he does not want Meredith back in New York—although he certainly  does not want Meredith back in New York. It’s not that his crush on, attraction to, infatuation with Kate Beckett was any kind of proof against taking the path of least resistance when Meredith dropped her bags, her fur, and her dress in short order. 

But having Kate Beckett here in his home—again—makes it blindingly clear that she is the kind of woman he wants in his home. And Meredith is most definitely not. He wants her intelligence and her empathy and her work ethic. He wants her curious mind and the challenge she presents to him in every possible way. He wants a good woman in his own life, and as if these sudden revelations weren’t complicated enough, in his daughter’s life, too. 

It’s another shocking turn of events—and another thing it turns out he was somehow expecting. She brings up Alexis—Kate does—and he’s simultaneously furious and abashed, because Alexis doesn’t, by and large, miss her mother. And no one thinks it would be a good idea to have her back in town. Absolutely no one thinks that, and he’s ashamed.  

So he hits out. He goes on the defensive. And she hits out in kind. She goes for the jugular. They yell back and forth about deep-fried Twinkie sex, about how shallow he is. She looks gratified that he’s living down to her expectations at last, and he aims to please. 

He wishes he could stop himself. He wishes he could stop the conversation cold and just tell her how glad he is. He’s simply glad that she is here. Again. A/N: Here, too, for some reason the episode itself—Always Buy Retail (1 x 06)—got chatty

[littlewalken]

Spider-Man x Deadpool story starter

I start it, you finish it

Contains a hint of lemon

Spider-Man + Deadpool

“PNDB”

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Deadpool had to be smiling underneath his mask. He stood at the podium twiddling his thumbs, waiting. Peter Parker lifted his camera to his face and took a picture. There was still a good couple of minutes to stop this.

Being “the local leader” J3 Communications had been steadily building its footing with it’s independent television empire, and part of that included a local UHF channel which allowed anyone their fifteen minutes of public discourse-as long as it didn’t incite hatred, violence, or break any other FCC laws. 

So today it was the turn of the masked vigilante Deadpool to make his choice of chairs, tables, podiums, and fake plants and take to live air with a 90 delay. He had even left his weapons at security to show how serious he was about things. And he had to be serious because he hadn’t cracked a single joke. Well, he had, but they weren’t the zingers he was known for.

Even if Peter wasn’t the staff photographer required to get a few shots of everyone who appeared he would have been there n one form or another. Spider-Man’s presence might have set Deadpool off. At least he didn’t know who it was under the mask.

When it was time Deadpool took a deep a deep breath, “Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between and not. Fifteen years ago, last Valentine’s Day, that night exactly, I took your mother to pound town. Being the stupid idiots we were, we placed you for adoption in what was hopefully a loving family and not a Dickensian orphanage.

“Every Father’s Day that goes by, every Christmas, every one of your birthdays, I think about you,” Deadpool wiped a tear from his mask. “I think about all the things I’ve missed out on, teaching you to ride a bicycle, teaching you how to lob grenades, and all that macaroni art!

“So, if you’re the fruit of my loins please come to meet me this Saturday at noon on Fog Hill. And remember to spay and neuter your pets and strange relatives!” 

With that Deadpool left the podium. The control room would repeat his message two more times and pad the rest of the time with PSAs. 

“Hey! Shutterbug! I’m ready for my close-up!”

Peter knew better than to look through the view finder as sure enough, Deadpool had bent over and was mooning the camera with his bare ass. 

“Think I should have invited mom to come along too?” Deadpool wondered aloud. “Naw, she’ll probably hear about this any way.”

“Are you really looking for a child you gave up for adoption?” Asked an intern who was still fresh to the world.

“Nope, sorry, too old,” Deadpool dismissed them. 

“That’s front page…” 

“Nope nope nope,” Deadpool teased. “I doubt Babypool would read it anyway. I can see them now, one of those sword carrying Fedora tipping pony pokers, pajama wearing cat hoarding, do you think they’re in a relationship with a waifu pillow or a cardboard cut out? What if they’re normal? OMFG my child could be an accountant!”

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Peter Parker found his mind sent back in time, back to the April Fool’s Day after the Valentine’s Day Deadpool had spoken of. The day he had to make many adult decisions as the result of an adult choice he had made about six weeks previously. He would have to tell other people. 

Ned Leeds approached with a triumphant grin on his face as he held up his prize-a bag from a high priced jewelry store, even though it only had one handle and a mysterious stain. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Peter said as he took the bag and put it in his backpack.

“What do you need it for?” Ned asked in anticipation of being part of a great practical joke.

“Something… Something that I don’t think is that funny any more.” 

Ned could sense something wasn’t right with Peter. “Okay, but if it gets funny again please let me know. Or video it, okay?”

“You’ll know, everyone will know,” Peter said quietly. He could get one at the nurse’s office, she’d give him a pass for gym too. I’ll have to tell Mr Stark I can’t web sling for awhile. I’ll have to tell him. I’ll have to tell Aunt May.

Not wanting to tip anyone off Peter did his best to look green as he headed for the nurse’s office. The kid coming out made a comment asking if Peter had eaten a certain something at lunch too and he nodded. There were a few other queasy looking kids there. 

He had to write his request to the nurse on a note because he couldn’t dare say it aloud. Not that he didn’t already know. He just wanted a second opinion to know the first one was wrong.

It wasn’t wrong. 

And so, only a few months into being 18 and an adult, he had to figure out how to make it right. 

***

There was some stupid musical that had a song about taking away all the trappings of a magical evening and seeing things for what they really were in the daylight, and he was quite sure Joey McIntyre was involved with it. 

Deadpool had positioned himself on the roof of the park bathrooms in what he was sure was a sensual pose. After all the last time he and Spider-Man had been here things had gotten rather passionate. The poor kid had blubbered about his horrible Valentine’s Day, no tuxes left to rent in his size, melted chocolates, abandoned by his date, not wanting to intrude on friends who had gone off with theirs. 

It had taken longer to get through all the discouragement and consent then it took for the somewhat awkward masked sex. Please tell me there was at least one back of the car my parents are out for the evening something before this. 

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Deadpool asked when he thought he saw something moving on the roof. He’d already told two raccoons and what he hoped was a pigeon. 

This time it was a person dressed in a Spider-Man costume and holding a gift bag. 

“I got you something.”

“A present! For me!” Deadpool squealed as he hopped to his feet. “Oh, you shouldn’t have! What on earth could it be?”

Spider-Man held out the bag but he didn’t budge. Something was wrong.

“Is it a bomb, please tell me one of my arc enemies has forced you in to delivering a bomb to me or they’ll kill your parents!” 

Even that failed to get a reaction from Spider-Man. 

“Thank you,” Deadpool said as he took the bag. He looked inside, took out the object, turned it a bit to catch the yellow security light. “You Bedazzled it and everything.”

“I thought you’d find that funny,” Spider-Man said quietly.

“I love it,” Deadpool said in a soft tone. 

There was a silence waiting for the other to laugh and break the tension. 

“Do you think unplanned parenthood is still open?” Deadpool finally asked.

“It’s called Planned Parenthood,” Spider-Man said.

“I don’t think so, we definitely didn’t plan this. 

***

“Is it Ned?”

“It’s not Ned.”

“Is it Flash Thompson?”

“It’s no one from school.”

“Is it Tony Stark?”

“No.”

“Is it Dr Banner.”

“It isn’t an Avenger.”

“So it was someone worth laying down with but not worth bringing home and introducing to me.” Aunt May returned to her larb. Of course she’d find the box to the home pregnancy test Peter had taken. He should have thrown it out at school but the positive result had shocked the sense out of him. 

“We kept our masks on,” Peter admitted. “He’s never asked who I am.”

Clunk, May’s fork hit the floor. The waiter brought her a new one. 

“I was going to take a gap year any way,” Peter said, the waiter still being close enough to possibly hear. 

“Are you going to keep it?”

“I don’t know.”

***

Tony Stark was taking the news harder than Aunt May did. He got up from behind his desk and marched to be face to face with Deadpool.

“Hey hey hey, he told me he was 42!” Deadpool joked. 

“Spider-Man,” Tony heavily emphasized the second word. “Can make his own choices. I just want to make sure that you…”

“Have already told my amazing baby mama that I will support him in what ever choices he makes with our prom night dumpster baby because it’s his body!” Deadpool snapped. 

“Halloween,” Spider-Man said. “That’s about when it’s due.”

“My bad math,” Deadpool said. 

Tony Stark still looked mad. 

***

Peter Parker looked at his phone, he was purposefully ignoring all of Tony Stark’s messages. All these years later, even after arranging the adoption, the subject of the Spider-Pool baby still pissed him off. He looked around at everyone who had gathered at Fog Hill in Central Park like Deadpool had asked and quite a few of them looked way to old. 

It was hard to pay attention to everything in general with the crowd, even Peter’s Spider-sense seemed to be going a bit crazy trying to sort its self out. When Deadpool finally arrived the crowd went wild. He climbed up on a rock and scanned the crowd.

Looking for a better line of sight the spider part of Peter’s brain directed him to a near by jungle gym. A couple of people who had been sitting there had gotten off to get closer to Deadpool but one kid remained. They were wearing a grey hoodie with goat ears and well worn sneakers. 

“Hey,” Peter said.

“Hey,” goat hoodie replied. 

His spider sense had never felt this way before. 

***

“It’s always fun and games until someone loses an eye.”

Spider-Man just shook his head. He had climbed up the sky scraper to think and Deadpool had followed.

“Do you think Tony Stark will tell you who it is?”

Spider-Man shook his head. 

“Because if either of our identities are compromised the bad guys could go after our kid and learn the identity of the other and all hell would break loose?”

Spider-Man nodded.

“Do you think our kid was even there?” Deadpool asked.

“Yes.”

[wit-craft]

sorry if this is weird and random but do u know any good books with lesbian characters? u just seem like the type of person who would

First of all, can I just say I’m thrilled that i give off that impression? Clearly, I’m doing something right. Second, yes! I do! Not as many as I’d like, but still (also, I’m including bi girls because it does widen the the selection a little.)

Adaption by Malinda Lo

Reese can’t remember anything from the time between the accident and the day she woke up almost a month later. She only knows one thing: She’s different now.

Across North America, flocks of birds hurl themselves into airplanes, causing at least a dozen to crash. Thousands of people die. Fearing terrorism, the United States government grounds all flights, and millions of travelers are stranded.

Reese and her debate team partner and longtime crush David are in Arizona when it happens. Everyone knows the world will never be the same. On their drive home to San Francisco, along a stretch of empty highway at night in the middle of Nevada, a bird flies into their headlights. The car flips over. When they wake up in a military hospital, the doctor won’t tell them what happened, where they are—or how they’ve been miraculously healed.

Things become even stranger when Reese returns home. San Francisco feels like a different place with police enforcing curfew, hazmat teams collecting dead birds, and a strange presence that seems to be following her. When Reese unexpectedly collides with the beautiful Amber Gray, her search for the truth is forced in an entirely new direction—and threatens to expose a vast global conspiracy that the government has worked for decades to keep secret.

they’re sci-fi YA novels with a bi main character and they’re really fun!! There is a love triangle, but it’s resolved super well in the sequel, Inheritance. I promise even if you hate love triangles (I do) just stick it. I don’t want to spoil anything but like… trust me.

The Summer I Wasn’t Me by Jessica Verdi

She never meant for her mom to find out. And now she’s afraid that what’s left of her family is going to fall apart for good.

Lexi knows she can fix everything. She can change. She can learn to like boys. New Horizons summer camp has promised to transform her life, and there’s nothing she wants more than to start over.

But sometimes love has its own path…

This is just about the only realistic fiction/coming out story on here— I’m usually not a huge fan. But I read this when I was younger and first coming to terms with my sexuality so it gets a spot.

Ash by Malinda Lo

In the wake of her father’s death, Ash is left at the mercy of her cruel stepmother. Consumed with grief, her only joy comes by the light of the dying hearth fire, rereading the fairy tales her mother once told her. In her dreams, someday the fairies will steal her away, as they are said to do. When she meets the dark and dangerous fairy Sidhean, she believes that her wish may be granted.

The day that Ash meets Kaisa, the King’s Huntress, her heart begins to change. Instead of chasing fairies, Ash learns to hunt with Kaisa. Though their friendship is as delicate as a new bloom, it reawakens Ash’s capacity for love-and her desire to live. But Sidhean has already claimed Ash for his own, and she must make a choice between fairy tale dreams and true love.

Entrancing, empowering, and romantic, Ash is about the connection between life and love, and solitude and death, where transformation can come from even the deepest grief.

Have you ever wondered what Cinderella would be like if it were gay and had proper faeries? Wonder no more; Ash is the book for you! Seriously though, Lo is a godsend when it comes to queer si-fi/fantasy YA fiction. She has a couple more books that I haven’t read yet but look just as good.

And I Darken by Kiersten White

No one expects a princess to be brutal. And Lada Dragwlya likes it that way. Ever since she and her gentle younger brother, Radu, were wrenched from their homeland of Wallachia and abandoned by their father to be raised in the Ottoman courts, Lada has known that being ruthless is the key to survival. She and Radu are doomed to act as pawns in a vicious game, an unseen sword hovering over their every move. For the lineage that makes them special also makes them targets.

Lada despises the Ottomans and bides her time, planning her vengeance for the day when she can return to Wallachia and claim her birthright. Radu longs only for a place where he feels safe. And when they meet Mehmed, the defiant and lonely son of the sultan, Radu feels that he’s made a true friend—and Lada wonders if she’s finally found someone worthy of her passion.

But Mehmed is heir to the very empire that Lada has sworn to fight against—and that Radu now considers home. Together, Lada, Radu, and Mehmed form a toxic triangle that strains the bonds of love and loyalty to the breaking point.

Okay so… technically, this one probably doesn’t really belong on this list but like. Guys. It’s so good. And there are lesbians, they’re just not quite main characters, and there’s other queer characters who have larger parts. It’s based on the stories of Vlad the Impaler, re-imagined if he were a woman. The pov characters are Lada (Vlad) and her brother Radu, and I love them, and their messy ass relationship, both so much. It’s all set in the royal court of the ottoman empire, in the midst of the crusades, and there’s so much about fascinating political-religious tensions, and it’s historical fiction (queer historical fiction!!! (queer historical fiction not set in Western Europe!!!)). The sequel is Now I Rise, and features the lesbians more heavily.

The Dark Wife by Sarah Diemer

Three thousand years ago, a god told a lie. Now, only a goddess can tell the truth. Persephone has everything a daughter of Zeus could want–except for freedom. She lives on the green earth with her mother, Demeter, growing up beneath the ever-watchful eyes of the gods and goddesses on Mount Olympus. But when Persephone meets the enigmatic Hades, she experiences something new: choice. Zeus calls Hades “lord” of the dead as a joke. In truth, Hades is the goddess of the underworld, and no friend of Zeus. She offers Persephone sanctuary in her land of the dead, so the young goddess may escape her Olympian destiny. But Persephone finds more than freedom in the underworld. She finds love, and herself.

Have you ever thought Ancient Greek Myths were too heterosexual? Probably not, but now they’re even gayer! A re-imagining of Hades and Persephone where Hades is a woman. It’s a really quick read with a great love story and I highly recommend it.

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust

At sixteen, Mina’s mother is dead, her magician father is vicious, and her silent heart has never beat with love for anyone—has never beat at all, in fact, but she’d always thought that fact normal. She never guessed that her father cut out her heart and replaced it with one of glass. When she moves to Whitespring Castle and sees its king for the first time, Mina forms a plan: win the king’s heart with her beauty, become queen, and finally know love. The only catch is that she’ll have to become a stepmother.Fifteen-year-old Lynet looks just like her late mother, and one day she discovers why: a magician created her out of snow in the dead queen’s image, at her father’s order. But despite being the dead queen made flesh, Lynet would rather be like her fierce and regal stepmother, Mina. She gets her wish when her father makes Lynet queen of the southern territories, displacing Mina. Now Mina is starting to look at Lynet with something like hatred, and Lynet must decide what to do—and who to be—to win back the only mother she’s ever known…or else defeat her once and for all.Entwining the stories of both Lynet and Mina in the past and present, Girls Made of Snow and Glass traces the relationship of two young women doomed to be rivals from the start. Only one can win all, while the other must lose everything—unless both can find a way to reshape themselves and their story. 

I am a sucker for a good adaption of myths and fairy tales, and this is probably my favorite. The plot, the concept… it’s so original and just absolutely delicious. The writing was good, if not the best I’ve ever read, but the characters were wonderful. Also, I picked it up without knowing it was gay, so I was very pleasantly surprised. Oh, but don’t worry– Mina and Lynet aren’t together, there’s no weird stepmother/daughter shit going on. They have separate love stories.

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters

Sue Trinder is an orphan, left as an infant in the care of Mrs. Sucksby, a “baby farmer,” who raised her with unusual tenderness, as if Sue were her own. Mrs. Sucksby’s household, with its fussy babies calmed with doses of gin, also hosts a transient family of petty thieves—fingersmiths—for whom this house in the heart of a mean London slum is home.

One day, the most beloved thief of all arrives—Gentleman, an elegant con man, who carries with him an enticing proposition for Sue: If she wins a position as the maid to Maud Lilly, a naïve gentlewoman, and aids Gentleman in her seduction, then they will all share in Maud’s vast inheritance. Once the inheritance is secured, Maud will be disposed of—passed off as mad, and made to live out the rest of her days in a lunatic asylum.

With dreams of paying back the kindness of her adopted family, Sue agrees to the plan. Once in, however, Sue begins to pity her helpless mark and care for Maud Lilly in unexpected ways…But no one and nothing is as it seems in this Dickensian novel of thrills and reversals.

Betrayal! Unbetrayal! Mutual betrayal! Mutual unbetrayal! It’s a wild fucking ride y'all. It also gets pretty fucking dark, but there’s a happy… enough ending, because I don’t do shit without happy endings.

Every Day, David Levithan

Every day a different body. Every day a different life. Every day in love with the same girl.There’s never any warning about where it will be or who it will be. A has made peace with that, even established guidelines by which to live: Never get too attached. Avoid being noticed. Do not interfere.It’s all fine until the morning that A wakes up in the body of Justin and meets Justin’s girlfriend, Rhiannon. From that moment, the rules by which A has been living no longer apply. Because finally A has found someone he wants to be with—day in, day out, day after day.

Eh, I debated whether to put this on here. As you can see, it’s about a kid who wakes up in a different body every day– be it guy or girl. From what I recall, “A” themself doesn’t every assign a gender to themself, and the book is in first person from their perspective, but the Goodreads description does use he/him pronouns. I read it as a non-binary/genderfluid person who falls in love with a girl, and it’s a really good book, so. Take it or leave it, it’s up to you. On an unrelated note, I think there’s a movie coming out soon.

That’s all I can think of at the moment! Hope you find something you like.