a concept: when simon and athena are alone (and by alone i mean when none of their friends are around to hold this over simon's head), he calls her dear and other comparable terms of endearment in a 'worried-though-i-damn-well-know-i-shouldnt-be' mother hen fashion?
It’s so good it’s too good I’m wiping away tears as we speak
Athena does NOT stop laughing the first time he does it, and Simon’s a sourpuss, but he does it again later that night, and she tells him she doesn’t mind it. Just so long as he doesn’t get any ideas and thinking she’s some 11 year old girl again.
He is CERTAINLY a mother hen when it’s just them hanging out. He’s such a dad/brother/uncle to her and always makes sure she has enough food and if she falls asleep on him (which probably happens a lot) he’s getting her to bed proper. And he always manages to make it seem like he’s annoyed for having to do these things, but Athena can hear the truth and also she knows Simon better than anyone else bye
Everyone probably wonders what their friendship is really like since Public Athena and Simon are different than Private, Best Bros Athena and Simon. It’s the best friendship, they pick on each other all the time and have nice heart to hearts and there is nothing more pure in this world amen
You barely know me and we barely speak. But when we do, my heart flutters. My mind instantly thinks of the beautiful crescendo of violins present in the beginning of Gustav Holst's Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity from his infamous piece The Planets, Opus 32. I want to tell you that I like you, but I feel you just know. Sometimes there is a knowing gaze in your eyes. With me it is not impossible since I tend to wear my emotions on my face. The thing is, my dear, I want to share beautiful things with you. By that I mean the ideas that constantly stay with me, those that are too precious too share with anyone else. But I know I can’t do that. This is because we treasure different things, different people, and different ideas. Every fiber of my being wants to reconcile these differences; however doing so will only cause me pain. I speak to my mother of you. She told me to embrace the pain of wanting what I don’t have. You see, I have the luxuryof not knowing you completely. The reason being that I can leave so much to the imagination. This all I want to say to you.
To the boy with the deep hazel eyes:
I have only spoken to you once. Even still, there seems to be a deep sort of something in your eyes. You also have a strange place in my heart. The thing is I am afraid to give my heart to someone. What if the burden of my heart is too great to bear? What if I am not willing to carry the burden of your own heart? I, too, want to share beautiful things with you. I want to speak of things that I will never understand. I want to read and discuss books with you. Have you ever had the luxury of watching someone from afar? Have you ever embraced the anonymity of doing so? I do no ask you from a place of twisted desire, rather I ask you from a place of genuine curiosity. It is pleasant to think of the things that can and will be or the things that never were and never will be. In all this I must remember that the heart is a delicate as it is wicked and deceitful, for I cannot dictate its deepest desires. So there you have it , my dear.
to the both of you:
I have done a dangerous deed. We all need to live a little, ya know?
The girl who can barely speak who also likes to bake sugar cookies
Esfreguei o queixo enraivecido enquanto lia a nova noticia pro Profeta Diário, descente daquilo. Como se já não bastasse ter acordado com um berrador irritante de minha mãe, ainda tinha que lidar com olhares mais curiosos e feios do que eu já estava acostumado a receber. “Ah, vai pra porra.” Xinguei assim que joguei o jornal no gramado do jardim, mas logo que levantei o olhar pude perceber a presença de mais alguém ali. “Não foi pra ti, antes que pergunte. Foi pra esse diabo dessa Skeeter. Acredita que agora eu virei, aparentemente, um assassino?”