oh look i made a little poem that rhymes go me

Shakespeare (Part III)

(Banner made by the incredibly talented @tiostyles)

Harry X Reader (AU)

In which Harry is a poetic frat boy who just so happens to be the TA for your new English class.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Sorry I’m late again!! As always, all feedback is sincerely appreciated. Enjoy!

English class is your favorite class.

Since your paper, the past few weeks have been stuffed full of theory readings and poetry analyses. You’ve read Wordsworth, Woolf, and many in between. It’s hard not to get caught up in a world of rhyme schemes and symbolism.

Harry has been overly-avoidant. He didn’t look at you when you handed him your essay, and he hasn’t since. You’re just confused. It’s not clear why his eyes skirt around you when his gaze pans across the classroom, or why they glue themselves to the sidewalk when you pass him outside. But every time you see him or the thought of him merely crosses your mind, all you can think about is that second or two when he was in such close proximity. You can almost smell his cologne and see the thin hair spotting his chin.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

oh god are you one of those people who reads romeo and juliet as a romance rather than a tragedy

I thought I was gonna go to bed early tonight but I guess not

hey friend you just unleashed my nerdy wrath buckle up

short answer: no, I know r&j is a tragedy and I read it as such. Shakespeare didn’t write “romances”, at least not in the sense you mean (some people call his later stuff that’s harder to put into a genre ‘romances’, such as the winter’s tale and the tempest)

so no I’m not a moron thanks

here’s the long answer:

I presume you’re “one of those people” who likes to count themselves as the Specialest Snowflake In All The Land because they don’t buy into the fake cheesy idea of //romance// that everyone else so blindly believes

maybe you like to talk about how romeo and juliet were “just horny teenagers”, how they knew each other for three days, how romeo so loved rosaline thirty seconds before spotting juliet, so clearly he’s fickle and silly. they weren’t actually in love, they were just teenage idiots.
because only stupid girls buy that stuff.
you’re more mature than that.
am I right?

well, here’s the thing, sunshine- you aren’t special. I hear this same damn argument right down to the last word every time I mention my love of this play and it ENRAGES me every time because 99% of the time this is coming from /other teenagers/. other young people talking about how this isn’t a story to be taken SERIOUSLY. it’s silly and frivolous and unrealistic. they don’t realize that this play is dedicated to them.

and it’s criticizing people just like you.

while I do believe that these two young people were soul mates (I’ll get to that later), I don’t really think this is a story about love. it’s a story about /passion/- how love and hate are only a hair’s breadth apart and their overwhelming capacity for healing or for destroying. the emotion that drives mercutio to defend romeo from tybalt. what drives mercutio to be killed at his hand. what pushes formerly docile, dreamy romeo to slay his cousin in law: it all begins to seem like the same continuous passion, enflaming the same group of people on the hottest day of the year.

as a result, love isn’t a pretty thing in this play. it’s linked inextricably to death, to murder, to chaos. love is presented as the most dangerous force in the universe. it leaves five bodies in its wake, and then at the end (people forget this) it’s what finally brings the ancient feud to an end.
it’s not silly. it’s not frivolous. o brawling love, o loving hate.

and who are the conductors of this unstoppable force? who sets verona burning and then rebuilds it better in under a week?


people with a shitty understanding of this play who love to dismiss it and downplay it like to call it a “cautionary tale”- why you shouldn’t think with your dick, why you should grow up and not be so rash, be sensible.

I agree with part of this. it is a cautionary tale. but it’s directed at YOU.

you, who devalue youth. you, who underestimate teenagers and what they’re capable of, who wave off their every thought or feeling with “just a kid”. who think that love is a pretty little silly thing and that no one under the age of 25 is capable of really experiencing it. that the kids don’t MATTER.

capulet thought it- he dismissed tybalt’s rage during the party as dumb kids throwing a hissy fit. he wrote juliet off as a child who should be seen and not heard, shuffled from her father to her husband, guided by the wisdom of those older and wiser than her.

in the world presented in the play, age has NOTHING to do with wisdom. the adults range from careless (montague) to helpless (lady capulet) to blithering (the nurse). the wisest character, the most eloquent and intelligent one with the most beautiful poetry, is fourteen year old juliet.
(go back and read it. whose speeches are the most beautiful, sophisticated, complex? Juliet’s.)

okay, fine, you say. but they didn’t love each other, they just saw each other and got hot and bothered and wanted to jump the other’s bones! anyway, what about rosaline?!

I’ll address rosaline first:

shakespeare likes making fun of the poets of old (take for instance his “my mistress’ eyes” sonnet, a deliberate parody of the Petrarchan model of frilly love poetry). heres another example in romeo. when we first meet romeo he’s mooning over a girl in the frilliest, stalest, most formulaic verse imaginable. we get the feeling he’s enjoying himself, basking in his misery.

notice, though, that we never see rosaline on stage. she represents romeo’s vague infatuation with the //idea// of love, the pretty image he made up in his head from reading old poems. this not only creates an incredible arc in his character, but makes his love for juliet obviously the real deal by comparison. he meets juliet and his world goes into free fall; he’s rash and violent and impulsive, and the verse that was so stale and ingenuine before shifts into some of the most famous passionate poetry in the english language.
in his first scene, he asks “is love a tender thing?” he falls in love with juliet- REAL love, not the kind in poems- and comes to answer his own question: no. no it fucking isn’t.

but, you say. but they CANT have loved each other! you don’t fall in love just by LOOKING at someone!

yeah, I know you don’t.

but here’s the thing. if you aren’t willing to suspend some modicum of disbelief, you won’t get anything from shakespeare. period.

we’re already assuming that these people just happen to walk around speaking in blank verse and rhyming couplet. the plot of hamlet relies on the existence of a ghost, a midsummer night’s dream on fairies, macbeth on witches, the tempest on magic, measure for measure on the friggin /bed trick/- is it SUCH A HORRIBLE STRETCH FOR YOUR CYNICAL POSTMODERN MIND TO MAKE that characters can identify their soulmates with a look? have we reached that level of lazy cynicism as a society that magical love flowers and vengeful ghosts are believable, where a woman can turn into a boy by shoving a hat over her hair and statues spring to life as deceased loved ones, but love at first sight (a very very common Elizabethan plot device; it’s /everywhere/ in shakespeare) is just too much of a stretch?

no one rolls their eyes at hamlet because “ghosts aren’t real. are you one of those people who believe in ghosts?” no- they take it for the plot device that it is in order to get to the message of the play as a whole, and the truths of the human conditions it reveals, with the help of some purely theatrical elements.

but kids in love. that’s far too silly.

it’s really fucking sad.

and questions like yours, anon? those make me really, really fucking sad.

Valentine’s Day

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of my dear followers! You guys are amazing and I love you all. <3 

Quick shout out to my girl @noenoemi for helping me find the cards. They do not belong to me and were found through Google.

Jonathan wasn’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day; though it had more to do with the fact that he rarely had anyone to celebrate with, than the idea of it being a made up holiday for stores to sell overpriced candy and cards to the unsuspecting public.

He dreaded the day, because it just reminded him how horribly lonely he was, and how his romantic life was virtually nil. It also emphasized how deeply in love he was with his best friend, with no hope for the future due to the fact that said best friend was straight, and completely unavailable.

Which is why, when he opened his locker on the tenth of February, he was extremely surprised to find a small red envelope sitting among his books.

Keep reading

I was bored on my way to uni, so I decided to mull over some fake banter between Asala (the elf-blooded teenage daughter of one of my Qunari Inquisitors, Taashath Adaar) and the companions, should she tag along on missions.


Asala: So you’re like the Qunari-Qunari, are you? All right and proper?

Bull: [chuckles] Oh, I am seldom proper, kid. But yes, I follow the Qun.

Asala: You know, my Da’s not that different from you.

Bull: [grunts disapprovingly]

Asala: No, but you see: you’d think he’d be able to do anything he wants without you Bennies watching over him? Well, nah! With a face and horns like those, you can only be a merc, and nothing else! It’s like a role - only instead of the Qun, it’s assigned to you by humans, and you can never escape! You can’t be an artist, or a baker, or a tailor… Did you know that my Da is actually great at making lace? He…

Taashath: Asala!

Asala: Fine, fine… Shutting up.

Bull: [thoughtfully to himself] Bennies…


Cassandra: When I was your age, I had already spent many years training as a Seeker.

Asala: Is that why you are so uptight? Jealous that I get to have fun and you didn’t?

Cassandra: [disgusted noise] My point is that you could at least try learning to be more disciplined. Your father worries about you; it… it distracts him from his duties.

Asala: Yeah, well, so do you, but you don’t see me prattling to you about discipline, yeah?

Varric (if in party): Hah! Good retort, Braids!

Cassandra: I… I don’t know what you mean… How could I possibly…

Asala: Go discipline your cheekbones, Lady Seeker. They are too distracting.


Vivienne: If I were you, my dear, I’d spend less time around that Sera character.

Sera (if in party): She’s not a baby, yeah? She can pick whatever friends she likes, with no help from bossy bitches like you!

Vivienne: All those… unseemly pranks, races around the keep in the middle of the night - and you are picking up some of her mannerisms, too! That is quite unbecoming for the Inquisitor’s daughter.

Asala: But I swear I saw you smile when I did that thing to Cullen!

Vivienne: It was… mildly amusing, yes - but that is not my point, darling.

(If Sera is in party) Asala and Sera together: No breeches!


Asala: Hey, can I poke you for a moment?

Solas: Not in the literal sense, I hope?

Sera (if in party): Aww look, Master Egghead is still upset about the tadpoles in his mug!

Asala: No… I just thought you might look at this for me. It’s, um, a bracelet - but I can’t put it on cuz my wrists are too big, so I wear it on a chain like an amulet of sorts. It belonged to my mother.

Solas: It has… Elvhen writing on it.

Asala: Sure it does! My mother was an elf!

Sera (if in party): Eww, I knew you were part elfy, but I never figured you’d be hold-on-to-weird-junk sorta elfy!

Solas: And I suppose you want me to translate it for you? Very well. I shall examine it when we are in a quieter place.


Sera (if she was in party during the previous banter): Hey, ‘bout last time. I… I sorta take it back and all. You are all right, even with the elfy junk bits!

Taashath: You make it sound like she should be ashamed of her mother!

Sera: Whoah, don’t go all red-eyed on me!

Asala: Da, she didn’t mean anything by it.

Sera: Sure I did! I meant s'all good!

Taashath: Hmph. All the same, think before you talk next time.

Vivienne (if in party): Sometimes you are impossibly demanding, my dear.


Solas: That inscription on your mother’s bracelet - it is a prayer to Mythal. I translated the whole text and sent my notes up to your quarters.

Asala: Oh, thanks Egg… I mean Solas. After all these years, we’ll finally know what it means! Even my mother herself could only make out a couple of words. Right, Da?

Taashath: Yes. Most of the folks in Liliel’s alienage could barely read common, let alone the language of the ancient elves.

Solas: That is… Most unfortunate.

Sera (if in party): Ya know what’s unfortunate? Going this long without food! I think I’ll go shoot a ram or somethin’.


Asala: You know, Blackwall, the way you go on, I could make a sport of dangling off a cliff to see who runs faster to catch me, you or Da.

Taashath: Don’t even think about it!

Blackwall: Your safety is not a joking matter!

Asala: Ugh, why do you never loosen up around me? Is it something about my face? My voice? Me being taller than you?

Blackwall: You are the Inquisitor’s child. My first duty is to protect you.

Asala: This child is seven-bloody-teen years old, thank you very much.

Blackwall: I thought your father said you had only turned sixteen recently.

Asala: I’ll get back on that when you’re less boring.


Asala: Hey Bull, are there singers under the Qun? Or writers?

Bull: That what you wanna be, kid?

Asala: Yeah, kinda… But have you ever seen a Vashoth singer anywhere?

Bull: Can’t say I have. Unless you count drunken singing in taverns.

Asala: Do you think the Qunari Tama… things would have picked the right role for me? The role that matches what I wanna do with my life?

Taashath: Don’t put any ideas into her head, Bull!

Bull: Wasn’t going to, boss. Like I said, the Qun is not for everyone. That teenage rebellion thing your kid likes doing - probably wouldn’t end well.


Varric: These poems you write, Braids - they are pretty good.

Asala: Wow, really?

Varric: You actually make the words rhyme without making the whole thing seem like one of those grating kiddy songs.

Asala: Hah, I don’t suppose there are too many kiddy songs about gravestones and doomed lovers and such.

Taashath: About that… I could never get why you have to make all your stuff so dark!

Varric: She’s a teenager, Floofy. Writing dark poetry is part of her job description. But unlike some teenagers, she is actually good at it.


Cassandra: I… I happened to be passing by when Varric was looking at your last poem, and accidentally glanced over his shoulder.

Asala: Oh? So now you’re gonna tell me that poetry’s undisciplined too?

Cassandra: No, I just… Why did that woman’s husband have to die?

Asala: So she’d mourn him and break the reader’s heart?

Varric (if in party): Don’t bother, Braids. The Seeker only accepts happily-ever-afters.

Cassandra: That is… the most ludicrous reasoning I ever heard! Besides, she had plenty of opportunity to come to his aid in that battle! If she had flanked the enemies that he had engaged…

Asala: She isn’t based on you, you know. Because that would mean her hubby’s based on Da, and I can’t kill off my own father!

Cassandra: [disgusted noise]


Dorian: I hear you made quite a scene at the execution site.

Asala: Hah, I sure did! Shame you weren’t there to see it!

Dorian: I deemed drinking myself witless to be a far more pleasant pastime than watching your father cut off my former mentor’s head.

Taashath: Dorian, we’ve been over this.

Dorian: With you, yes. But not with the girl. She deserves a personal thank you for standing up to a certain valiant leader.

Asala: I am great at that. Years of practice.

(Some time later)

Dorian: I wonder… What exactly did you say to change his mind?

Asala: Well, Da ranted on and on about how your hooded friend turned me into a dead chunk of red lyrium in the bad future, and how hurt and angry he was. And I said, 'So now you know how he is feeling!’. And then Da made this droopy face he is making now and…

Taashath: Will you two please change the subject?

Dorian: Very well. Pray tell me, young Asala, what are your sentiments towards grapes?


Cole: Flowing, rhythmic patterns, cryptic but beautiful, how does he do it? You… You really like the way I talk?

Asala: Of course I do! It’s like you’re brimming over with poetry all the time!

Cole: I just try to sort through things I hear. It’s hard sometimes, when people are so solid and are hurting too loudly. I… may not make a lot of sense.

Asala: Hey, I don’t make a lot of sense either! We can start a club!


Blackwall: And then he said: but at least the turkey still has its tail!

Asala: Hah, finally! I knew you were not completely hopeless! What a great un-boring story!

Blackwall: It’s from my old army days.

Asala: Huh, I thought army humour would be dirtier.

Blackwall: It is. I had to censor it somewhat so your father wouldn’t kill me.

(Some time later)

Asala: What about Grey Warden humour? Is it dirty too?

Blackwall: Well… The thing is, by the time I joined the Wardens, I had lost some of my boyish penchant for amusing tales.

Asala: Too bad… Well, army humour it is, then! Do I get to hear the uncensored version when I turn eighteen?

Taashath: Asala!


(After the cutscene where Dorian tells Taashath that Felix died)

Dorian: It was you, wasn’t it?

Asala: Salt sprinkles on Josie’s chocolate? Yeah, it was me. But I only added a little!

Dorian: No, I mean that poem on Alexius’ desk. The one about the man who planted a tree and then, when it withered, remembered how he had sat in its shade? He told me about it this morning.

Asala: I have no idea what you’re talking about! Trees! Shade! I’d never write such sappy nonsense!

Dorian: You brought the man who almost destroyed the world to the verge of tears. That is quite an accomplishment, young lady - and I say that as an incredibly accomplished person myself.


Asala: So… You and Da - did you do the bnb thing or what?

Cassandra: Bnb? What manner of teenage jargon is this?

Asala: Oh, you know… Birds and bees.

Cassandra: Birds and… Oh! Oh, I see!

Taashath: Asala, leave the Lady Seeker alone!

Asala: Still Lady Seeker, huh? So I guess you didn’t do it… What’s stopping you? I mean, you have the hots for each other - it’s sooo obvious!

Taashath: Asala, stop this - or so help me, when we return to Skyhold, you’re grounded!


Cole: Woke up from a nightmare again. Demons, calling, clawing, constricting; Uldred’s eyes, bottomlessly black, suddenly not two but a dozen; Meredith bathed in crimson. And then - soft, soothing, shimmering, rainbows dancing over his bed. It had been so long since he started the morning with a smile.

Taashath: What are you talking about, Cole?

Asala: We put shards of coloured glass into the holes in Cullen’s ceiling. Now they both protect him from the rain and give off pretty light!

Taashath: Wait, have you been climbing the roof?

Cole: She didn’t fall. She didn’t die. Today is another day when she didn’t die.

Asala: Yeah… Thanks for this cheery thought, Cole.

Cole: It wasn’t me. It was your father.


Dorian: The books I ordered from Tevinter have finally arrived.

Asala: Does this mean you’ll give me a lesson tonight?

Dorian: Of course. You already have those Orlesian volumes, don’t you? Southern historians are biased against Tevinter; our historians are biased against the rest of the world… It will be educational to pit them against one another.

Asala: And fun!

Taashath: Wait, did my daughter just call learning fun?

Dorian: Why the tone of surprise? What did you try to teach her?

Taashath: How to run a merc company.

Dorian: Well, there you have it!


Asala: Um, Cassandra… If you hesitate about Da because of me - please don’t.

Cassandra: Because of you?

Asala: Yeah, like… If you worry that I’ll hate you for stealing him and replacing my mother and all.

Cassandra: Nothing could be further from my mind! Even if my relationship with the Inquisitor wasn’t strictly professional!

Asala: Well, in case it ever stops being 'strictly professional’ - I don’t even remember my mother. Da raised me alone. And I actually think it’d be good for him to have someone in his life. Take care of the stupid old fella and all.

Taashath: I heard that!


(After Taashath saves the Chargers)

Asala: Hey, Bull… Don’t look so glum! Remember that time you said the Qun isn’t for everyone? Maybe it wasn’t for you too. It just took you this long to figure out.

Bull: Hmph. And what do you suppose is for me then?

Asala: Maryden put some of my poems to music. She’ll be singing them tonight at the tavern. Krem will come, and the other Chargers. I think if you come too, you’ll understand what is for you.

Bull: Huh, I think you spend too much time round Cole. That cryptic shit is beginning to rub off.

Taashath: Bull, what did I tell you?

Bull: Oh, right, boss - don’t swear in front of the kid! Fuck, I’m sorry!


(After Revelations)

Asala: You know, it’s kinda funny.

Blackwall: What is?

Asala: I heard stories about the Grey Wardens plenty of times when I was a kid, with the Blight having recently ended and all. And when I met you, you were just like I imagined the Grey Wardens should be.

Blackwall: And now… I have disappointed you.

Asala: What? No! The Grey Wardens are gonna disappoint me from now on, if they don’t pull off all this amazing noble-warrior-atoning-for-his-past stuff!

Blackwall: You… You don’t know the whole story, do you?

Asala: I know enough to believe that you deserve sticking around with our Inquisition. And you can always tell me the uncensored version when I am eighteen, right?


Cassandra: Are you feeling better now? Have you asked Vivienne for a potion?

(If Vivienne is in party) Vivienne: She has indeed, my dear. But such things are generally not discussed in public.

(Otherwise) Asala: Sure! But do we… do we have to discuss my darkspawn week in front of everyone?

Cassandra: I just wanted to make sure you were all right.

Asala: Aww, thanks, mom.

Cassandra: You do not have to call me ’m'am’.

Asala: I wasn’t.


(After Last Resort of Good Men)

Asala: Damn, Dorian.

Dorian: Was that expletive a sign of admiration for my good looks?

Asala: I mean… My Da yells at me sometimes, and tries to punish me when I mess up… And this makes me think that he is the meanest person in the world… But it’s nothing like what you went through, is it?

Dorian: Oh, there were plenty of temper tantrums on my part too.

Asala: And for good reason! Me, I’m just a selfish teenager who wants attention - but you… You are amazing and you deserve better!

Dorian: You are not exactly worthless yourself, young lady.


(After Bring Me the Heart of Snow White)

Vivienne: Bastien’s family shall be holding a musical salon as a tribute to both himself and his wife. I would very much like it if you attended, my dear.

Asala: Whaa- ? Really?

Vivienne: If your father gives you permission, of course. You have such a wonderful singing voice; it is wasted in the courtyards and bath houses of Skyhold.

Asala: But… Won’t they be scared of me being… me? Unless you give me a mask to wear, I suppose.

Vivienne: It will be a half-face mask only; otherwise how would you sing?

Asala: Oh.

Vivienne: Being who you are ought to be a source of strength, not weakness. Always remember that, darling.

Of names and limericks- sanders sides ficlet

Little fluff fic about roman poet named virgil and it being inspirational to a story.’

Domestic fluffy mostly plotless ficlet time. :-

Logan and Virgil sat in the commons watching a documentary about Sharks. Thomas was working while it was on in the background but it interested the 2 of them so they ate instant ramen while chatting about it.

“They’re dangerous but misunderstood, Logan.”

“We’re talking about Nursing Sharks here, Virge, they’re barely even dangerous. Plus dolphins target sharks. They’re the meaner ones.” Logan replies and Virgil’s gasp is almost Patton like. Both guys notice and start to laugh.

Once the laughter dies down Logan asks, “So Virgil, huh?”

Taking a moment to compose himself, Virge nodded, “..Yeaaaahh… What about it?”

“So like Strong or the roman poet?”

“Not su..”

“Did someone say Roman?!” Roman exclaimed, dramatically coming out of his room.

“Not like that.” Virgil retorted and laughed. Roman took this as snark, which was slightly true and came to sit with them.

“What are you on about then?”

“How his name is the name is a roman poet.”

“Ah, yes and you’re discussing how you want to follow in his footsteps and be a poet for my brave self.” Roman dramatically declared with an air of snark.

Logan laughed at that before he could help it and Virge took it as a challenge, crooking his eyebrow at them then replying, “No, I don’t do long sonnets. Only limericks from me, Not-so-charming.”

“Let’s hear one then.” Roman called Vigil’s bluff.

It did not pay off as Vigil replied, “There once was a man from rome, Unfortunately he was deaf in tone, He went to the stage, And bored for an age, Oh, how that fool makes me groan.”

“Woah.” Logic replied, surprised how lightening fast Virgil seemed to think of it and the way it rolled of the tongue.

Roman felt 3 ways about it; 1) insulted by the poem, 2) impressed by his quickness and 3) proud of the creativity involved.

Virgil’s smirk dropped as he stuttered, “W..what?”

“That was.. Amazing.”

Pink tinged up Virgil’s cheeks as he looked away.

“Honestly he’s right.” Logan added and Virgil wrung his hands as he smiled, much more comfortable not making eye contact.

“Awwe look at the blushing young man.” Patton cooed then came up behind Logan and swapped glasses.


“I’m sorry, Logan, but I need mine back for a sec. Thank you. Now where are those others? I best go reign them in.” He practically muttered. Logan squeezed Patton’s free hand then pointed to the left.

“Wait, you two swap glasses?”

“Yeah, we both have problems with each but I do better with near-sighted glasses and his are far-sighted glasses. Seemed more Logical than buying 2 pairs each and barely using 2.” Logan explained, like he always did, like it was obvious.

“Hmm, suppose.. So how long you been pocketting that limerick, Penny Dreadful?” Roman took his time to smirk now.

“I made it up, Pagent Pete. I’m quite good with rhymes.” Virgil retorted defensive but not upset.

“Well you seem to be on a roll recently, you’re gonna help rehearse today.”

“But the sharks!”

“Fine.” Roman groaned and after waiting not so patiently for a quarter of an hour Roman dragged along Virgil to the studio, Logan only sat and laughed as Virgil pleaded to be saved.

Dean said he’s straight, therefore he is (because lying about feelings is a thing he NEVER does)

The fact that I am forced to write a post debunking this particular line of reasoning makes me feel something akin to abject despair if only because it demonstrates how epically terrible a large number of people are at BASIC textual analysis. I am daunted by the prospect due solely to the fact that there is literally SO MUCH canon evidence for Dean’s compulsions toward lying and denial that I feel in some ways I cannot possibly do it justice in a single post. 

I am not going to attempt to draw out every instance Dean has ever lied in Supernatural because this post would literally be about 10 miles long if I tried. Even if I confined my examples solely to instances where he is shown (or implied) to be lying/in denial about his emotions or mental states, it would still be way too time consuming and arduous to document them all, due to sheer volume. Therefore methodologically I’ve chosen to “cherry-pick” a few examples simply to establish that Dean lying about his feelings IS a consistent, established part of Supernatural’s canon, and therefore the suggestion that his statement about his own sexuality should be taken at face value is nonsensical. 

Let’s start with the “Pilot” wherein Dean gives what has become one his signature lines “No chick-flick moments.” Translation - no being honest about feelings. Only girls do that. This moment is especially key in that it hits 2 of Dean’s consistent overlapping anxieties 1) being honest about feelings and 2) being girly, both of which are key in the argument that Dean is also PRECISELY the sort of character who would lie to himself and others about being same-sex inclined.

So, let’s skip to season 3 where Dean has made his demon deal and he has one year to live. He’s constantly putting on a facade of bravado and trying not to confront his actual feelings of terror about his impending doom. Sam tries to play along but he eventually cracks. Here’s an excerpt from “Fresh Blood” (3.07) where Sam finally calls Dean out on his denial/lying.

SAM: You know what, man? I’m sick and tired of your kamikaze trip
DEAN: Whoa, whoa, kamikaze? I’m more like a ninja.
SAM: That’s not funny.
DEAN: It’s a little funny.
SAM:No. It’s not.
DEAN: What do you want me to do, Sam, huh? Sit around all day writing sad poems about how I’m gonna die? You know what? I got one. Let’s see, what rhymes with “shut up, Sam”?
SAM: Dude, drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you’re not afraid
DEAN: I’m not!
SAM: You’re lying.
And you may as well drop it ‘cause I can see right through you.
DEAN: You got no idea what you’re talking about.
SAM: Yeah, I do. You’re scared, Dean. You’re scared because your year is running out, and you’re still going to Hell, and you’re freaked.
DEAN: And how do you know that?
SAM: Because I know you!
DEAN: Really?
SAM: Yeah, I’ve been following you around my entire life! I mean, I’ve been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world. And this is exactly how you act when you’re terrified. And, I mean, I can’t blame you. It’s just… (pause)
DEAN: What?
SAM: I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again.

Sam asks him to “drop the show” and quit lying about how he really feels. This type of conversation has become a staple of Dean’s characterization in Supernatural. He pretends he’s handling some crisis or tragedy just fine, but inside he’s clearly panicked, or terrified, or profoundly depressed. 

In “Sam, Interrupted” (5.11) we have the brothers working a case in a mental hospital following the death of Ellen and Jo. Here are few short excerpts from that episode. 

SAM: Last few weeks you’ve been kinda worrying me.
DEAN: Oh, come on Sam, stop. Look, just because we’re in the loony-bin doesn’t give you the right to head-shrink me.
SAM: Dean…
DEAN: Ellen and Jo died. Yeah, it was a freaking tragedy. But I’m not going to wallow in it.
SAM: Dean you always do this. You can’t just keep this crap in.
DEAN: Watch me. 

Dean is fully aware and even admits to Sam that he’s emotionally constipated and that he keeps things in, rather than dealing with them. As the episode continues he has multiple conversations with a psychiatrist who actually turns out to be a figment of his own mind/monster-induced psychosis, one of which includes the following exchange.

DEAN: I am fine, okay. I’m fine.
THERAPIST: Come on, even you don’t believe that. All this pressure that you’re putting yourself under, all this guilt, it’s killing you. 

Again this is him admitting to himself that he’s lying about being “okay” that he’s not handling it. And the episode ends with Dean counciling Sam to bury his feelings in order to function.

SAM: I’m mad all the time. And I don’t know why.
DEAN: Stop…stop it. So what if you are? What are you gonna do? You gonna take a leave of absence? Say yes to Lucifer? What?
SAM: No of course not -
DEAN: Exactly. And that’s exactly what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna take all that crap and bury it, you’re going to forget about it because that’s how we keep going.

Hiding from emotions, lying to yourself, bottling up your feelings. Dean’s actual, earnest advice to his brother on how to be functional. But yes, clearly we as audience members should take all of his articulations about his feelings at face-value because he would never lie about something like that. >_>

Let’s jump to season 7, just after Cas has temporarily “died” and Bobby is trying to have an honest conversation about Dean’s feelings/mental state in “Hello Cruel World” (7.02).

BOBBY: And you? How are you doing?
DEAN :Seriously Bobby, it ain’t like he’s hexed, you know? I mean, what if it’s the kind of crazy you can’t fix?
BOBBY: Yeah, I’m – I’m worried too, but humor me for a second. How are you?
DEAN: Who cares? Don’t you think our mailbox is a little full right now? I’m fine.
BOBBY: Right. And weren’t you pissed at him when he said the same thing just a couple hours before he spilled his marbles all over the floor?
DEAN: Yeah, well. [Pours himself a cup of coffee.] I’m not Sam, okay? I keep my marbles in a lead friggin’ box. I’m fine. Really.
BOBBY: Of course. Yeah. You just lost one of the best friends you ever had, your brother’s in the bell jar, and Purgatory’s most wanted are surfing the sewer lines, but yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re – you’re fine.
DEAN: Good.
BOBBY: Course, if at any time you want to decide that’s utter horse crap, well I’ll be where I always am. Right here.
DEAN: What, you want to do couples’ yoga, or you want to get back to hunting the big bads?

Dean keeps repeating he is fine, and Bobby insists that’s “horse crap” because it clearly is. Dean makes a snarky joke because that’s what he always does when people try to talk to him about his own emotional vulnerability. Are we starting to see a pattern? How loudly and repeatedly does the show have to bang on the Dean-lies-and-lives-in-perpetual-denial-about-his-feelings drum before people finally get it?

Let’s jump to season 10. Season 10 has been something of a treasure trove of these moments. Even for Supernatural it’s been heavy on the Dean is emotionally constipated themes. This of course is highly related to him having the mark of Cain and his internal struggle to deal with it. 

10.09 (”The Things We Left Behind”) 
CAS: How are you Dean?
DEAN: Fine. I’m great.
CAS: No, you’re not.

10.11 (”There’s No Place Like Home”)

10.13 (”Halt and Catch Fire”)

10.17 (”Inside Man”)

Dean lies. Dean represses his feelings. Dean functions through denial. These are things the text reiterates over and over and over and over and over and over again. Dean is not a trustworthy narrator when it comes to his feelings. They have flat out told the audience this EXPLICITLY on NUMEROUS OCCASIONS. (Remember, these examples are only a small sample of the total number of times Supernatural has shown Dean to be a lying liar who lies)

I do not and cannot for the life of me understand why people think we should believe Dean when he says he “doesn’t swing that way” anymore than we believe him when he says he’s fine when he’s clearly NOT fine. I really am just utterly baffled by this line of reasoning. It is so facile, and so counter to even the most cursory reading of Supernatural as a text, given how hard they work to show Dean’s excessive propensity for lying, “repressed feelings” and denial. 

some things i noticed during hamilton
  • king george does the turn off your cellphones announcement right before it starts and he says “enjoy MY show” lmfao
  • i was already tearing up during alexander hamilton rip
  • in the beginning laurens and hercules are v loud and usually drunk there are multiple instances of it in aaron burr, sir, the story of tonight, satisfied, and the story of tonight reprise and they always made the audience laugh
  • in my shot laurens turns to hamilton and says “you and i do or die” more privately and quietly to him alone and then turns back and continues  
  • peggy is actually reluctant in the schuyler sisters and tries to stop angelica before being quite literally dragged across the stage when she sings “and peggy”
  • when everyone exits in the story of tonight hamilton and laurens leave with their arms around each other :’)
  • in farmer refuted the squad is standing off to the side listening to samuel seabury and hercules and lafayette nudge and push hamilton forward while giggling to themselves until he finally challenges seabury
  • during you’ll be back king george jerks his shoulders up and down in time with his da da da das he looked absolutely ridiculous it was so funny
  • in helpless after hamilton gets eliza’s father’s blessing he looks to eliza and does this ridiculous little celebratory dance but then mr schuyler looks back over at him and he makes a show of composing himself
  • also in helpless washington was the one who helped hamilton get ready for the wedding and he fixed up his coat it was such a nice moment :’)
  • yo satisfied literally changed my fucking life ok bc obv renee is SO TALENTED WOW and bc the choreography was so cool man they did actually rewind everything somehow so it was the scene at the beginning of helpless im not entirely sure how they pulled it off tbh
  • in the story of tonight reprise the squad sways/thrusts their hips crudely while they tease hamilton for getting married it’s so fucking funny
  • wait for it is life changing. that is all
  • history has its eyes on you blew me away i love chris so much
  • yorktown is INSANE so many things are happening at once and the lights go crazy and the ensemble dance breakdown is just incredible
  • at the end of what comes next king george held out his hands expectantly then huffed and stomped off stage when no one started clapping immediately honestly all of his appearances were 10/10
  • oh my god dear theodosia was too much for me because it’s just burr and hamilton alone on stage singing tenderly to their newborn children
  • eliza walks in and delivers the news about laurens’ death (it’s not in the soundtrack) and hamilton’s demeanor changes immediately and after about a minute of grim silence he says “i have so much work to do” and exits and during this entire thing laurens stands off to the side surrounded by blue light and quietly and sadly sings the beginning lines of the story of tonight i damn near started bawling y’all
  • in non stop burr and hamilton are at a trial and burr gets v exasperated as hamilton delivers the long winded opening statement and after burr says “that’s all you had to say” hamilton looks like he’s going to stop but then in a typical hamilton fashion he darts back to keep talking when he says “one more thing–”
  • i especially loved nonstop bc the blending of the different character harmonies being sung all at once is phenomenal and outstanding i was completely blown away
  • in what’d i miss jefferson was encouraging the crowd’s applause and cheers and cupped his hand by his ear and leaned forward to hype the crowd up and it made everyone go even crazier it was so great
  • after jefferson finishes his argument in cabinet battle #1 he drops the mic and madison’s hand is waiting underneath to catch it lmaooooo
  • eliza beatboxes during philip’s rap/poem in take a break and philip’s voice breaks really badly so it ended up sounding like “you can write rhymes but you can’t write MINE” and that’s why hamilton says “WHAT”
  • also hamilton declines the invitation to the schuyler vacation and angelica starts after him to talk some sense into him but eliza stops her and shakes her head and they leave arm in arm they don’t even KNOW
  • maria wore a red dress with red lipstick in say no to this and i got chills bc jasmine is so talented and i am very gay that’s all i have to say
  • ok i lied towards the end of say no to this maria to sits on hamilton’s lap and places one of his hands on her stomach and the other on her chest i was vvv side eye emoji
  • i also got chills during room where it happens and one last time and literally every song ngl i’m trash
  • jefferson literally sniffs hamilton and makes a disgusted face when he says hamilton “smells like new money” in cabinet battle #2
  • king george comes back in i know him as the others are exiting and he flinches away in disgust if any of them got close to him it’s hysterical and then he jumps around as he excitedly anticipates being able to see adams crash and burn as president
  • KING GEORGE ALSO GOT BURR TO BREAK CHARACTER!!! burr laughed as he sang the beginning of the adams administration because george was making exaggerated gestures from where he set up a stool on the end of the stage to watch adams’ disastrous presidency i feel so #blessed
  • oh my god and then when hamilton calls john adams a “FAT MOTHERF–” in his iconic drag he drops a stack of books off the balcony so the thud censors the rest of it as the red strobe lights flashed it’s so extra i love it
  • in we know jefferson’s “whaaaaat” is pure giddiness and he rushes over to snatch james reynolds’ letter out of burr’s hands to read for himself he’s such an asshole
  • hurricane is AWESOME ok it’s one of my faves the lights were dimmed and hamilton is alone on stage singing and then maria gives hamilton the quill i was like bro…… that’s some poetic shit………
  • lord the reynolds pamphlet was crazy everyone was moving around and making it rain and then king george came down the stairs and smugly pranced across the stage while hamilton is trying to plead with everyone that at least he was honest about the money
  • burn was so fucking sad and it didn’t help that eliza was on her knees for half of it just lay me to rest y’all
  • JESUS and then after philip’s death in stay alive reprise eliza wails mournfully as she sobs over his body it’s the saddest thing i’ve ever heard i felt like i was hit by a train
  • sjdfnskfnksfj nothing will ever prepare you for seeing it’s quiet uptown live it’s a beautifully sad number bc hamilton and eliza are standing center stage while people move in slow motion in dim blue light around them but eliza stares straight ahead while hamilton begs for forgiveness until she finally reaches for his arm and rests her head on his shoulder and says “it’s quiet uptown”
  • burr actually runs around grinning as he eavesdrops on all the peoples’ views of him and he even fist pumps a bit in the election of 1800
  • your obedient servant was so funny bc there was only one desk and burr wrote one letter to hamilton and after a dancer delivered it burr and hamilton switched places at the desk and hamilton handed off letter after letter to be delivered to burr and burr just looked so done
  • god the choreography in the world was wide enough was a++++ because burr fires the gun and a dancer shows the motion of the bullet by acting as if she was holding it and moved it closer to hamilton and then everything slows down as hamilton has his moment of reflection and he actually runs away when he notices how close the bullet is getting at one point but then he finally decides to accept his fate and doesn’t move as the bullet comes rushing towards him when time resumes normal speed
  • towards the end of who lives, who dies, who tells your story eliza and alexander face each other and hold hands but then hamilton steps back and eliza turns to the audience and at the veeeeery last moment she holds her hands out and gasps and smiles as if she sees him on the ~other side~ after decades of being apart and she’s ready to go be with him forever and then the lights cut to black and it ends i stood up immediately and clapped with goddamn tears in my eyes
  • TL;DR there are a lot of little quirks in hamilton that make it a wonderful live experience and basically however you imagine the show it’s 100000x better trust me
Think Outside the Lovesquare Day 4: Friendly Rivalry

Neither of them could remember exactly what Kim said. In fact, by this point, it didn’t really matter. He’d issued a challenge, and normally Chloe couldn’t possibly care less about Kim and his stupid dares, but this time, Alix had informed Chloe, with the most smug grin on her face, that this contest wasn’t for Chloe.

As if Chloe couldn’t do it.

As if Chloe couldn’t do anything she set her mind to.

Chloe remembered filing her nails and commenting, “If you can do it, I’m sure I could do it better.”

“That’s big talk.” Alix stepped closer, hands on her hips as she stared Chloe down. “I bet you’ll quit in a day.”

Chloe set the file down and glared up at her. “I bet I’ll be better than you in two weeks.”

“Fine. If you lose, you have to let Alya pick your outfits for a week.”

A flash of anger lit in her eyes, and Chloe sat up straighter. “And if you lose, you have to write a speech about how great I am for the whole class.”

“Fine.” Alix slammed her hands down on Chloe’s desk, but Chloe didn’t even flinch. “Daddy’s money can’t buy you talent, you know.”

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Summary: Phil has a cheating boyfriend. Dan is a poet with a crush, facing an ultimatum.

Genre: University AU (poet!Dan)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, swearing, many elements of angst, implied smut, vague implication of abuse (only two lines)

Word Count: 33.6k

Fic Playlist (ordered chronologically to follow the storyline as it progresses)

Read on ao3

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God Dammit Ponyboy Imagine

*A/N*: More fan fiction of characters coming up next. I’m thinking Two Bit next?

Prompt: “Sorry for not being as smart as you.”

Warnings: cursing?

Word Count: 4,793

I looked around the room seeing the tapping of my pencil was becoming a nuisance to the class. I didn’t care though. I continued to tap my pencil a little louder this time.

“Now finals are right around the corner. I expect everyone’s study guide on my desk by Thursday and Ms. Y/L/N, please control your pencil.”

The class erupted in snickers. I rolled my eyes, in a nonchalant way of course, at the teachers “desired” shout out. The bell freeing me from this hell whole. I rushed towards Ponyboy’s locker which was only a few lockers down from mine.

“Hey hot stuff” I said looking up at the greaser.

“I don’t think Talia would be okay with you calling me that.” Ponyboy said with a wink

“I don’t think I care. She shouldn’t be jealous, we’re not together anymore.” I shot back.

Ponyboy and I weren’t in a romantic relationship anymore. I never really understood why he left me for Talia, his new girlfriend. I just don’t see what he sees in her.

“Well I’ll be over to study at 5.” I said going towards my locker.

“Um well actually -

“Can you believe Ms. SmokeDetector had the audacity to embarass me infront of the class by telling me to stop tapping my pencil?” I said cutting Ponyboy off…unintentionally of course.

“Oh um okay but can you -” Ponyboy tried to speak again but I was already walking away.

“See you at five!” I said disappearing into the crowd of impatient students trying to get out the door.

4:30 rolled around and I figured it would be a good time to start walking towards the Curtis’s house. Now they weren’t super far from my house but it did take a good 20 minutes to get to them. I stepped inside greeted by the usual chaos. “Oh Hey Y/N” The guys rung. I gave them all a simple wave and made my way upstairs. It was odd how Ponyboy’s door was closed instead of open how it usually is.

I opened the door and I was a shocked and a little pissed off when I saw Ponyboy and Talia kissing. They seemed on the brink of indulging in sexual intercourse. “Woah kids let’s keep it PG in here.” I said plotting myself on Ponyboy’s chair.

“Oh I didn’t know you would be coming this early and I was trying to tell you tha-”

“Ponyboy you don’t have to explain why you were doing what you were doing I could care less.” I lied. I always loved when Ponyboy got embarassed. His cheeks would become rose, his words would clog up.

“If anything she can study with us.”

“Oh I’d rather not.” Talia said back. I cocked my eyebrow unimpressed at her comment. I bent down to take out my english book. When I rested the English book on Ponyboy’s desk, they were kissing again. I snapped my fingers trying to get his attention. He looked up at me for a second then made his way to the chair I was sitting in. I got up and sat in the other available plastic chair.

“Okay so a Ghazal Poem is a poem form with rhyming couplets and a refrain, each line sharing the same meter. It is a… oh god.” I looked out and boom they were going at it again, in the chair! I sighed in annoyance.

“Do you want me to leave?” I said avoiding contact with him.

“No no you’re good continue.” Ponyboy assured.

“Thank you. So a Ghazal Poem is a poem form with rhyming couplets and a refrain, each line sharing the same meter. So basically they end with the same word?” I said questioning my theory.

“Actually it’s a bit more complicated. If you’re in the “accelerated” class you should know that.“ Talia said questioning my intelligence. Blood began to boil. My leg began to shake. While getting it through my teeth, I said "Well Sorry I’m not as smart ad you.”

I grabbed my books and left. I halfed expected Ponyboy to be behind me. I turned around and all I could see was the dimly lit streets of Tulsa. Out of all people her? Like what the fuck. She is a complete idiot. Yea she may be pretty but she is such a ditz. I turned into the lot. My legs were so shaky I couldn’t continue.

A few minutes past, 15 at the least. I began to hear the pitter patter of feet. I froze not knowing how to react. If I ran for it and it was a Soc, I was gonna get chased after. But if I stay put and hide, I may aswell get beat up. I slowly picked up my backpack as I heard the footsteps coming closer.

“Y/N Wait..” I heard the familiar voice said.

“Ponyboy don’t you have an Albert Einstein girlfriend to interact with?” I said beginning to walk the direction my house is in.

“Wait please. You forgot your book…” Ponyboy said pleading.

I stopped in my tracks turning around slowly. I walked towards him keeping my eyes focused on the book in his hand. When I tried reaching for the book his swiped his hand away putting it around my waist. He pulled me closer and kissed with every bit of compassion in him.

“Can we try again?” He asked. I nodded my head trying to hide my dark red cheeks.

A/N: I didnt know what to name the teacher and in the mist of writing this my smole detector kept beeping. So there you have Ms.SmokeDetector
Chapter Sixty-Three

A/N: Here we are, another chapter. It’s quite big, with quite a few different things happening. Very engagement-centred, but I hope you enjoy it. If any of you don’t know who Ant and Dec are when you reach that part, please do Google them. They are the funniest and nicest guys, literally the whole of the UK loves them.

That said, I hope you enjoy. Please do let me know what you think, your feedback means a lot more to me than you probably realise 😊💖

Emmy didn’t speak to Taylor or Chris for the next week. She didn’t hear from them at all, and their silence was getting her down. She didn’t mean to upset them, but the truth was that she didn’t know who to trust anymore. And so it was best not to provoke them, not to anger or offend them even further.

However she was worried, for she hadn’t heard from any of Harry’s friends either, and she prayed that Taylor hadn’t told them what she’d done. She had a feeling they would take it a lot worse than Taylor had. Although she suspected that Skippy already knew he’d been lied to, even though Emmy had specifically asked them all not to tell anyone the names until she’d told them herself. She didn’t realise Taylor and Skippy spoke so much.

A day in Newcastle was on the cards for Emmy, where the mental health charity Mind had worked with Heads Together to set up a day full of activities in the city centre to raise awareness for mental health. She was going with William and Kate, and she was dreading seeing them both. She didn’t know whether William knew about Taylor finding out, but she expected he did. With Edward and Harry in Brazil, Claire needed someone else to discuss everything with, and ever since she’d found out that William knew all about their plan she’d taken to talking to Miguel, William’s secretary. And, in turn, Miguel told William everything.

So she wasn’t surprised when, as soon as she met William and Kate outside Kensington Palace ready to leave for the day, William pulled her into a big hug.

“How you holding up?” he asked gently, and once he’d released her Kate gave her a cuddle too.

“Um, okay,” Emmy said. “I guess you heard about Taylor?”

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Literary references and character abilities (chapter 62)

While I got the gist of what everyone in this chapter talked about, I have yet to take my time and look up all the words and translate properly, but I just found something so interesting and I wanted to share with you and it’s about the names of the abilities used by Shuuhei and Shamrock, because I did not know about the things that were used as reference.
I just love how Servamp is filled with so many things from literature and the amazing names for the character abilities that have dual readings that have a connection with one another. I wrote down the observations I made in regards to the literary works that have served as inspiration. Hope they will make sense!
I’m gonna put these under the cut, as they can be spoilerish and also because it is quite long, I’m surprised that I was able to write this much,  for I ramble a lot about the things that I think about during translations and things that I found out during research. It would be nice to hear your opinions in regards to the things I wrote :)

And a shout-out to @xchibikai​ for providing the RAWS. Thank you so much!

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SPIDER-MAN 2 w/Tom Holland and YOU! (Part V)

Short info at first: DM me that you want to subscribe to the story and never miss an update. Thanks for showing support, it really motivates me to write more :) Any requests are welcome, as always!

“Since I’ve had the idea I can also start the game right?” Harrison laughs and spins the bottle and it stops… right between Zendaya and me. “Truth!” says Zendaya immediately. I agree, so Harrison gives us the task to talk about what our first kiss was like. Zendaya responds first: “Wet. That’s all I have to say.” Even after some convincing her she doesn’t want to talk more about it, so it’s my turn now. “My first kiss was … interesting. I was probably one of the late ones, most others have already kissed someone else and had their first “very-serious” relationships, but one day we played Truth or Dare at a birthday party and I had to kiss a boy I didn’t like because he was so arrogant, but a friend of mine found it funny to do this to me, so I had to… And it turned out he almost wouldn’t want to let go off me. As I said… interesting… But maybe not the best memory I have” I really just told that embarrassing story? I have sworn to myself I would just ignore it and live as if it never happened. Harrison is the first to break the silence “I think it’s okay with everyone that (Y/N) can give the next one a task, because sorry Zendaya, but (Y/N) beat you with her story!” I spin the bottle and it stops exactly in front of Zendaya. “And it’s you again, what should it be, Truth or Dare?” I say. “A Dare this time, but please be nice to me” “Okay. I’m nice to you when you are… Make a short poem of appreciation to me” After a short while to think about good rhymes Zendaya performs her poem in front of us. She stands up and starts:

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You remind me of... something

Pairing: York/Carolina
Word count: 1,213
Prompt: @lostlegendaerie always encourages me to spread the Yorkalina love
Summary: Modern AU. York is trying desperately to be poetic, but Carolina eludes categorization.

York had spent many years being derisively called poet by North and did his level best to live up to the infamy. The actual poems came few and far between, and stayed hidden in a journal with a notice to burn it all when he died, but poetry was about more than that. It was a lifestyle, and naturally he had to drag Carolina into things.

Of course he would fall in love with a woman who defied categorization.

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The Curse - Solangelo

Thanks to everyone who read Brains! I didn’t really expect that people would actually like it so much. So, this is a little longer than Brains and I hope you all enjoy it :)

The Curse

It was supposed to be a normal day. It should have been the same as yesterday, same as last week and same as tomorrow. Nico had the whole normal day planned out in his head - wake up, eat, spend time with Will, maybe go down the Underworld if his father had ‘chores’ for him and finally, spend more time with Will.

In private. Possibly, in the middle of the forest where no one could see them…

However, his sweet, funny and definitely secret boyfriend had other plans because when he woke up that morning -afternoon, whichever it was, he knew his plans for a normal day were… inconvenienced.

Nico yawned and then blinked a few times before looking out the window, wondering if he missed breakfast. 

“Is it morning or afternoon?

Did I miss eating cereal with a spoon?”

His hand swiftly came up to cover his mouth. What in Hades did he just say? Did he just…? No, that was impossible. Nico’s sleep-deprived brain was probably imagining things again.

Ignoring his sleepiness, Nico pulled the blankets off and sat on the bed. A few seconds later, when his body regained a sense of balance, he stood up only to hit his head on the upper bunk. He still wasn’t used to the new beds in his cabin. Although he did prefer these bunk beds to the coffin he used to sleep in, he was still constantly hitting his head.

“Ouch! I have hit my head!

I want to destroy this bunk bed!”

There it was again. This time, Nico was sure that it wasn’t an exhaustion-induced figure of his imagination. He rubbed the sore spot on his head and sat down again.

He was cursed. Somebody had the gall to rhyme curse him. And that somebody was probably the blond and freckled boy that made his heart squeeze whenever he smiled.

I’m going to punch him, he thought, knowing it was best, given the situation, to keep his words to himself.

Nico got dressed. He didn’t want to confront Will in his pajamas because he’ll just laugh at him and call him cute. The last thing he wanted was to be even less intimidating to him. 

He was about to head out the door, when he saw Percy and Jason through the window. There was no way in hell that anyone would be hearing him like that. Shadow travel was his only way to get to Will without running into anyone. Of course, it would make Will furious but heck, he was furious as well!

Will was always in the infirmary around this time. He once reasoned out that the Ares cabin loved starting food fights so he had to be ready when people got injured by flying bacon. Nico concentrated on his destination and let the shadows take him.

When he opened his eyes, he was in the infirmary. He heard a gentle humming behind a storage room and he instantly knew who it was. Nico leaned against the wall, reminding himself that he was angry with his boyfriend and restraining himself from marching towards him and kissing him right there. It didn’t look like there were patients or other healers around but Nico wanted to stay on the safe side because someone can walk in on them anytime.

Will dusted his hands and started walking to his desk but froze when he saw Nico in the room. He flashed Nico a blinding smile and went up to him. “Hey, honey. What are you doing here?”

Nico glared at him, hoping that it could get the message across, but Will just stood in front of him, smiling. 

“Don’t you dare call me honey

With your face all bright and sunny.

I hate rhyming.

It feels like dying!”

“Oh,” Will said but he didn’t stop smiling. There was this mischievous gleam that sparked behind his eyes, that made Nico even more angry. “But you sound so sweet that way. So poetic.”

Pathetic was more like it.

“Sound sweet, I do not.

In the Underworld, I hope you rot!”

“No need to be grumpy, Nico. It will wear off in a day. Three days maximum.”

Three days? No way was he going to poem whatever he wanted to say for seventy-two hours.

“I sound like a fool, you see?

Why have you done this to me?”

Will crossed his arms over his chest. Finally, the annoying smile was gone but it was replaced by a disappointed frown that Nico didn’t ever want to see on his boyfriend’s lips.

“Because you deserve it,” he replied. “You know what the problem is, Nico.”

“What I did, I know not,

This is annoying me a lot.”

“Well, maybe it has something to do with us dating for three whole months and you won’t let me tell anyone?”

“Oh. That is the problem, I see.

We cannot tell people about you and me.”

“But why not?” he asked as he sat down on his chair. “You won’t even let me tell Lou Ellen or Cecil about us. They’re my best friends. They should be happy for us.”

“Even if we whisper in hallways,

I’ll be with you always.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Okay, now you’re just taking lyrics from musicals.”

Whose fault was that? He didn’t even know any songs from musicals!

“Look, Nico,” Will said, taking his hand gently. “I know you’re frustrated about this but it’s the only way I could think of to make you realize how unhappy I am with our situation.”

Those eyes that implored his gaze were too blue that it was impossible to look away.

“I-I’m afraid that this won’t last,

That it will be over too fast.”

“Nico, we’ve talked about this. I have no plans of breaking up,” he said. “I’m so happy and I just want everyone to know that the reason is you.”

Why was it so easy for Will to spout out words like that? It just seemed so natural and it made him feel bad.

“While rhyming, it’s hard to explain.

Uncurse me for I am going insane.”

"Fine,” he yielded, shoving Nico’s hand away. 

Once, Will told him that most of the curses that Apollo kids do are created with hymns. Apparently, uncursing someone required a hymn too. While Will sang, Nico stood in front of him, mesmerized by his voice. How was it that when Will sang regular songs, he sounded like a dying whale that was going through puberty?

Suddenly, he was grabbed by the shoulders and was shaken frantically. “Hey Nico. Nico! You can speak now.” He was surprised when he found Will standing in front of him. He must have dazed out while he was singing.

“Oh right. I’m sorry and um…thanks.”

“Gods, don’t stare at me like that. That was so frightening. I thought I broke you!”

He didn’t even know that he was staring. Nico felt his cheeks grow warm. No matter how many times he would brush it off as embarrassment, he knew deep down that he was blushing because he liked the attention Will gave him.

He cleared his throat. “So um…like I said, I’m scared,” Nico admitted.

“You know how much I like you,” Will said, placing his arm over shoulder, pulling him closer. “Would I really get rid of the one person I like so much?”

He nodded. “I know, I know,” Nico said, not knowing whether to get out of Will’s grasp or melt in it. “I like you too, but-”

The thing was, Nico didn’t know the extent of Will’s feelings for him. For all he knew, he could be lying to him and all of this was just part of some elaborate joke. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him. He trusted him more than he trusted Hazel. It was just that all the people in his life seemed to leave him in a way.

“All I want is to hold your hand around camp and not to hide when we kiss. Don’t you?”

“I do. Trust me, I really do.”

“The only one who’s stopping us is you,” Will said, pulling away from Nico.

Nico cringed. He hoped that he would never need to discuss this. “Everyone who gets close to me… gets hurt,” he murmured.

Will tilted his head to one side, reminding Nico of a cute, confused puppy. “But I’m a doctor. I’m not going to get hurt.”

“That’s what you say but my mom died, Bianca left me and then she died too and Percy fell into Tartarus…” Nico’s voice dropped to a whisper when he realized he was rambling. “It’s a pattern, Will. A curse.”

“Curses break,” Will assured him. “I could sing a million different hymns to make sure. I’m not going to break up with you and I’m not going to get hurt. I’ll just be here…loving you.”

There was a definite blush on Will’s cheeks. Nico smiled at that.

Will looked around the room. “So, one quick kiss?”

Confidence suddenly surged through him. It was strange because he rarely felt that. Nico was used to doing things with at least fifty percent of doubt in his mind. He glanced at Will’s outstretched hand and then up to his face. How could he ever think that his happiness was cursed when he had this guy loving him?

He shook his head. “No,” he said. Will’s face fell but before he had a chance to mope around, Nico grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the infirmary.

Hundreds of campers went about their daily activities, too busy to notice that Nico di Angelo was holding Will Solace’s hand. Maybe it was what Will said or the blush on his cheeks but Nico could care less about whoever saw them. The hurt confusion that was previously on Will’s face disappeared to just plain confusion.

“One big kiss,” he told him. “This is what you want, right?”

“W-wait. Are you sure? I mean, yeah but how about you?” Will asked, his eyes wide.

Sure, it was very spontaneous and way out of his comfort zone but this is what Will wanted and he could set aside his discomfort for him.

“I still won’t let you drag me to do sappy couple stuff though,” Nico said. “Because who in the world likes going around wearing matching shirts and basically being a two-person humiliation to mankind?”

Will wrapped his arms around his waist. “Okay. No sappy couple stuff. Gotcha.”

“And promise to never curse me again.”

Whether Will agreed to his request or not, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter because in less than a heartbeat, they were kissing each other.


Characters: Gabriel x Reader, Dean & Sam x Reader (family)

Words: 1231

Summary: The reader is done with Sam and Dean not talking to her. Meanwhile, the reader and Gabriel grow closer.

Part 14 in Dreams.  Read Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here,Part 5 here, Part 6 here, Part 7 here, Part 8 here, Part 9 here, Part 10 here, Part 11 herePart 12 here, and Part 13 here.

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Love Game (MIke Fuentes~ Y/N)

gingerslittleprincess asked: Can you write an Ptv one with Mike and how he comes home from tour to find y/n sleeping in his clothes on the couch holding on to a journal with journal entries counting down the days till he came home and how much she loved him. And then the next morning she wakes up to a really cute letter from Mike that sends her on a scavenger hunt to a romantic dinner on the skyline which ends with him proposing to her? Please and thanks. I hope it’s not confusing. ^///^ oh and lots of fluff please?

Written By: Lauren

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Dear Diary,

Yesterday morning I woke up and made myself some eggs and threw a shao bing in the toaster. Turned on the Today Show because I like the noise in the background while eating, and also sometimes I learn useful things like how to keep my sock drawer organized or how to cook Kabocha squash three ways + one way to carve it into a jack o’lantern.

Usually breakfast is when I scroll through my social media feeds, but this morning I dropped the canister of pork floss I was trying to stuff in my shao bing all over the ground and I was busy sweeping and then I had to get my face on and figure out what was appropriate attire to wear to a second grade Victorian-themed birthday party where I was hired by the well-meaning lady in my book club to type haikus for eight-year-old girls on a real typewriter. “Or limmericks,” she told me, “the kids love limmericks.”

The birthday party was okay, except one five-year old, somebody’s kid brother, kept asking me why my eyes were like that, like genuinely curious, and I didn’t know what to do but laugh. The other kids called me “Yuffin” rhymes with “muffin”.


So it wasn’t until late afternoon that I got Facebook and saw my name everywhere – a HASHTAG even! – and I was like what? And that’s when I saw that some doughy white guy was going around submitting poems under my name, and not only had he gotten them in somewhere, he got into a damn big-deal poetry anthology, like one of those places where you can brag about it to everyone and it’s in your bio forever and it makes feel like you made it for real.

I looked closely at that guy’s picture, trying to remember if I knew him from somewhere, but I don’t know, I mean he could have been anyone. He could have been that dude last week who approached me when I was reading at a restaurant bar and told me he really enjoyed chicken teriyaki as a pick-up line, or the guy who passed me on the street and said, “yum, yum dim sum” or maybe that blind date I went on once who looked at me funny when I said I was a poet, and he said, “Oh, that’s cute” – that’s cute – and then started telling me about how one day he was going to write a book too. 

Or maybe we knew each other when we were kids. Maybe he was that little white boy at camp who taught me that song while pulling on the sides of his eyes – “Chinese, Japanese, in-between” – the song that I took home to my parents who looked at me in abject horror and told me never to repeat that in their home, harshly and angrily. I cried, because I didn’t understand why they were so angry. I’d thought they’d like the song because it was about Chinese people.

I read the dude’s statement, something about how he only used my name when he couldn’t get a poem published, then looked back at his publication credits – Poetry magazine! – and his flippant aside on his “detailed records” and I thought of my own detailed records, highlighted in red for all my rejections, big panels of red all around, a fucking red sea. I thought about the times I dated white boys JUST because maybe I’d marry them and my last name would be Smith and then I’d change my first name to Yvonne – the name I used to beg my parents to let me take instead and the name I used to secretly use at school when I was nine and embarrassed – and I’d never be asked by a well-meaning mentor or writer friend why my “culture” wasn’t more present in my poems ever again.

“Ethnic writers are SO HOT these days!” one friend once told me. Tinge of envy in her voice. 

Then I read the people who were invoking my name, saying it shouldn’t matter if dude stole my name or used his own name, since his poetry was good enough anyway (I thought his poems were really weird, but hey, what do I know? I’m only a Chinese American woman, after all), and I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream – but it’s MY name, it’s the name I’ve spent my whole life being OKAY with, it might not be Yvonne or Angela but it’s MINE, my parents GAVE it to ME, and I used to hate it, it used to make me so ashamed, it’s the name kids used to yell, “Eeww Effin’ has stinky BROWN eggs, she smells like ROTTEN EGGS like her lunch, EFFIN ROTTEN!” and I used to pray to God please when I wake up tomorrow let me be just Veronica or Kimberly, let me be Dawn and have blonde hair and ham sandwiches, let me have big green eyes and let Mama and Baba be Mom and Daddy and talk less funny – that’s my name that I hated and was awful to and disparaged and ignored and claimed and learned to love.

Fuck man. Do you know how hard it was for me to learn to love my name?

And this guy’s just throwing it on like it’s nothing. Like it’s a new tie.

But I was too exhausted after all that reading, plus all those terrible limericks I’d had to write. Besides, who could I tell all of this to? Who would listen?

I made dinner. Spaghetti carbonara, which always comforts me.

I’m just me, you know, and nobody knows who I am. Everyone knows my name, everyone has an opinion on my name, but so far nobody knows me. Nobody has asked me who *I* am. I’m more than my name, but my name is part of me. Who cares about me?

I’m the most famous invisible Asian American girl I know.