Lots of fan press has been given to all the different ways the Doctor said I Love You to Clara. Not enough, I think, has been given to how Clara has said the same thing (aside from that one moment during Mummy on the Orient Express). There are those who say there’s wiggle room on “If you love me in any way, you’ll come back.” OK, fair enough. It’s a little harder to wiggle out of “You’ve made yourself essential to me”. This is Clara saying she can’t live without the Doctor - having just demanded that he die with whomever comes after her, “not with me”. She’s wearing a neon sign around her neck on this.
And what’s even more remarkable: there is nothing in this scene, nothing, to hint that the Doctor is in any way oblivious to what Clara is saying. This is also key because the Doctor often does act oblivious … not this time.
Neil and Katelyn find that the easiest way to tell twins apart is because Andrew’s hair is slightly lighter shade of blonde. With most kids that are blonde as they grow out of being toddlers, their hair slowly grows a darker shade. But Andrew’s hair stays almost the same shade. No one else notices and and uses other ways to tell the twins apparent with less success. Neil and Katelyn never bother to mention it.
“When you tell a 22-year-old to turn off the phone, don’t ruin the movie, they hear ‘please cut off your left arm above the elbow,’” Aron tells Variety. “You can’t tell a 22-year-old to turn off their cellphone. That’s not how they live their life.” Aron believes that AMC needs “to reshape our product in some concrete ways so that millennials go to movie theaters with the same degree of intensity as baby boomers went to movie theaters throughout their lives.”
The CEO is aware that his company is “going to have to figure out a way to do it that doesn’t disturb today’s audiences.” When asked whether there might be certain sections that allow texting, Aron replies “That’s one possibility. What may be more likely is we take specific auditoriums and make them more texting-friendly.”
OK BUT I JUST REALIZED SOMETHINH AND I DONT KNOW IF SOMEONE ELSE HAS POINTED IT OUT YET BUT…I’LL SAY IT ANYWAY.
John’s hands. One on Sherlock’s nek and the other on Sherlock’s arm. Doesn’t it remind u something? It’s exactly the same way Sherlock hugged John in TLD. Coincidence? Nope. In this show coincidences don’t exist. It means, if you think about it, that Sherlock not only remember how John hugged him, but also that Sherlock thinks that it is the way John want to be hugged, I think. It is the way John makes feel someone loved and safe and it is probably the way Sherlock felt and so Sherlock did the same when John needed, he hugged him with one hand on John’s nek and the other on John’s arm. Bacause in that moment John needed love and to feel safe.
I…I don’t know if it makes sense but this hug, John’s hug, hit me and reminded me of Sherlock’s hug.
I don’t know what to think now, I need a blanket.
Also, I feel really stupid cause probably someone just noticed it ages ago soooooooo now it’s time for me to go. And hide. Bye.
ends the same way it starts (circle, goner 2012 kind of thing, i’m sure you’ve heard this theory)
tyler mimes drumming throughout the video therefore
“can you save” is directed at josh and you can’t tell me otherwise
josh doesn’t get out of the way of the car because he’s the boy who lives and breathes plan a and he’d totally follow tyler even if his life turned out to be a total… …wait for it… … …….. wreck
the car misses josh because tyler can never intentionally direct his anger, jealousy, anxiety caused by mental illness at josh because how could he hurt a person who’s “important to [him]”, who’s “the love of [his] life”
josh’s drums go on fire because his problem is anxiety that has been probably flaring up because of the fame that his friendship & partnership in music making with tyler brought him
tyler’s in the backseat because blurryface driving is like having your life out of control because of mental illness and once you realize that you’re sick you have to take your life in your hands. but once that happens in the vid blurryface is gone from the driver’s seat because he’s a fucking coward nowhere to be seen. and what’s sad is that tyler doesn’t go to the front seat to try to save himself but he lets the car fall to pieces. (”i wanna crack the door so i can just fall out”…) it is a miracle that he has josh to carry on even without that metaphorical car.
at one point tyler makes a move like he was putting on a mask, also at the end he’s banging a metaphorical tambourine against his chest idk if this is relevant
they’ll get bickering and all up in each others’ faces and it hits them at the same time how Gay they are
“No way, dude.”
“Uh, yeah way.”
“REALLY REALLY” and then they just. start making out
“every time you call me “mullet” you have to kiss me.”
“fine. but every time you don’t address me either as “the tailor” or “sharpshooter” you have to kiss me.
“guess we better have a practice run just to make sure we’re clear on the rules then, huh lance?”
“looks like it, mullet.”
they’re piloting their little fighter drones and lance’ll elbow keith when he one-ups him, and keith’ll shove him back and lance will giggle and be like “stop” and poke keith in the ribs and keith laughs “I’m not doing anything!!” and before long they’re just a tangled puddle
allura: “boys! we are underattack!”
lance: “I knOW keith is attacking me please hELP”
the only thing that can keep them from bickering with each other is when they team up on someone else.
one of the blade of mimosa ppl offhandedly mentions that their fighting is sloppy and keith and lance devour him
“uh? Excuse You? did you see keith’s moves out there?”
“were you even watching the same battle? lance did great.”
“he freaking destroyed those guys and if you think he didn’t then you gotta answer to me”
“yeah and I’d like to see you pilot a 10,000 yr old warship, buddy”
“so just, turn around? and never insult my bf again”
“the door’s right over there. away from lance.”
the dude just backs away slowly, then turns and runs from the sheer burning force of their gay power
nothing hurt more than when I saw a picture of you and her. You barely ever took photos with me, let alone post them. And here you were posting pictures with this girl you barely knew, and I tried not to hate her, I tried not to hate you. But my insides felt like they were ripping apart at the sight of you. And I knew this was going to happen eventually, I guess I was just hoping it wouldn’t.
and its just so fucking pathetic, while I’ve spent all this time missing you.. you spent it with her. You never even thought of me once.
And all I can fucking do is imagine the way that you talk to her, its probably the same way I talked to you., like you were made out of the sun or something.
And I just don’t fucking understand how one person can leave such a huge mark on you when you can’t even leave a fucking scratch on them. Because you left me and I still see you every fucking where, and I never made you feel a damn thing. you never even cared for me.
I just want it to stop, I want it all to stop. I want to stop feeling every burning fire for you. I want to stop thinking of every word you said to me, I want to stop analyzing every little part of our relationship in trying to figure out where the fuck we went wrong because I get it now. I understand..
a relationship is always doomed to end in heartbreak when there is one person who loves more and in our case, I was always the one who loved more, and now it just hurts so bad because you love her. You love her even though I wanted you to love me.. even though I gave you every fucking piece of me. You chose her.
It will never be me and you. I was never enough, and the thought of that alone breaks me into a million pieces, so how the fuck am I supposed to feel when I realize why I wasn’t enough. When I see the face of the girl who was enough..
On February 1st John wakes up to find that Sherlock’s half of the bed is empty, and on his pillow is a single lavender rose. He smiles softly, picks it up, and presses his nose into the petals.
The following day John finds two of the same flower, their stems cut quite short, waiting for him in his favorite mug when he goes to make tea. He doesn’t ask Sherlock about it yet, and Sherlock acts as if nothing is different.
On February 3rd there are three lavender roses waiting for John. One is resting in his left shoe; another is tucked inside his jacket pocket; the third he finds on the doorknob when he’s on his way out. He puts them on his desk at work and thinks about texting Sherlock for an explanation. But he doesn’t. Not yet.
Four roses find their way onto the mantlepiece.
Five are found nestled in John’s chair late in the evening on February 5th.
Six are discovered the following morning, wrapped neatly together with ribbon, in the refrigerator. Still, neither of them say a word.
It isn’t until the 7th of February–when John finds seven lavender roses, cut from their stems, floating in a bowl of water on the kitchen table–that John’s curiosity gets the better of him. He’s not much for computers, but he knows how to use google at least. The results make his head feel light.
Eight roses decorate the sitting room in various spots.
Nine are placed into various beakers and tubes.
Ten litter the surface of the sofa all day on February 10th. They avoid sitting there all day, but neither of them mentions it.
On February 11th there are eleven roses lining the doorframe of Baker Street.
The 12th brings a bouquet to John’s office where he switches them out for the three that have begun to wilt but that he was unwilling to remove.
Thirteen roses hang from the ceiling of their bedroom the following day. John isn’t quite sure how Sherlock managed that without waking him, but he lays there for almost half an hour, just watching them sway back and forth.
John comes home from work on the 14th of February and finds lavender rose petals scattered up and down the seventeen steps of 221B. If he had to guess he would say there were enough petals for fourteen roses. His chest constricts, and he takes the steps slowly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
He expects to find Sherlock waiting for him, but when he reaches the top he finds the door to the sitting room closed, a note taped to it. Sherlock’s untidy scrawl reads, You know where to find me.
And John does. He’s back down the stairs and out the door in seconds, and for once it seems he’s got Sherlock’s luck on his side as a taxi rolls to a stop when he flings out his hand.
The lab at St. Bart’s hasn’t changed much since the day they met, and it’s a bit like walking into the past when John pushes the door open to find Sherlock waiting for him in the same exact spot he had been when John had first seen him. Only this time John isn’t limping. And this time Sherlock is holding a single lavender rose instead of a pipette, and his gaze is soft and warm as it settles on John.
“Knew you’d get it,” he says, his eyes crinkling with his smile.
John walks toward him, taking his time even though his heart is pounding. It’s ridiculous, he thinks, because they’ve been together for months now. “I’m smarter than I look,” he says, unable to keep from smiling in return. He stops about a foot away, nodding toward the rose in Sherlock’s hand. “Isn’t that cheating?”
Sherlock shakes his head. “You see, but you do not observe,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He steps closer, holding the flower up between them. “There were only thirteen on the steps. This is number fourteen.”
John steps closer and reaches out to touch the petals, letting his hand slip down until his fingers ghost over Sherlock’s. “I looked it up, you know. Lavender rose.”
“I know,” Sherlock says, his smile widening. “On the seventh. I was surprised you held out for so long.”
John can’t help laughing. “I’m not even going to ask how you knew.”
He plucks the rose from Sherlock’s fingers and sets it gingerly on the counter beside them, removing the delicate barrier between them so that he can step into Sherlock’s space and draw him down for a soft, slow kiss. Sherlock’s hands cup his face, his thumbs stroking along the sharp edges of his jaw, and John clings to fistfuls of Sherlock’s shirt at his waist.
When he pulls away it’s only enough so that he can speak, and his lips brush Sherlock’s with every word. “Love at first sight,” he whispers, and he frees one hand to touch the petals of the lavender rose beside them. “And you always said I was the romantic.”
Sherlock kisses him again, lingering for a long, sweet moment. “I thought you should know the truth. The whole of it. How long I’ve loved you.”
Something in John’s chest aches, and he spends long, drawn-out moments pressing his lips to Sherlock’s, murmuring his I love yous into his mouth, hoping that it will be enough, that Sherlock will understand that he’s been loved since the moment John saw him in this very lab so many years ago.
Later that night–after Sherlock has led them home, after John has pressed him against the sheets, after countless kisses and touches and soft, pleading words–later, they sit together in front of the fire, half-clothed, legs tangled together, and press the single lavender rose in between the pages of a heavy book. And when they’ve finished, John takes Sherlock by the hand and leads him back to bed.
The interaction between Weiss and Ruby in the volume 3 finale is some of the best stuff in the entire series in my opinion. They have such a trust and quiet understanding with one another. The way they reach out for each other.
The way Weiss stands in front of Yang, trying to shield Ruby from seeing her sister in such a way for as long as she possibly can
To Weiss’ immediate insistence on following Ruby into an unknown fight because she refuses to let Ruby go into it alone.
To their final moment where Weiss, a girl who once told Ruby she didn’t belong anywhere near Beacon, told that same girl “you can do this” with such confidence and support.
It’s only my opinion, but I think they have the best partnership in the show. They’ve come so far and reached a point where they bring out the absolute best in one another and if THIS is what they will be like when they reunite and as they go forward - I can’t wait to watch.
it amazes me how well eyewitness treats philip and lukas tbh i’ve never watched a show that treats an out gay character the same as a closeted one?
i mean, they’re giving philip AND lukas point of views in this story and allowing the audience to fully sympathize with both characters without favoring philip because hes more comfortable with his sexuality
this is the type of narratives closeted lgbt folk should have. a narrative that doesn’t automatically put them in a bad light because they’re not out and in no way demonizes them if they want to stay that way
Summary: Betty and Veronica were always
dragging you out to parties, the only thing that makes this one any better is
the arrival of the one and only Archie Andrews.
Word count: 3030
a/n: It’s way longer than I thought it was gonna be but what the heck. Sorry if it sucks but I suck so it’s appropriate.
Parties had never really been your
thing. Like you liked going out sometimes, and every once in a while you would
be in the mood to dance, but after a while it just felt boring. Every time you
got ready on Friday nights with Betty and Veronica you would be excited; ‘This
time will be different,’ you’d think to yourself. But time after time it would
end up the same way with the same house of people dancing to the same music and
playing the same game of beer pong. Tonight was no exception.
“Can we leave yet?” you yelled over
the booming bass to B and V, trailing behind them.
Veronica turned her head to answer
you, “Okay, we literally, and I mean literally, just walked in. You haven’t
even had time to get bored yet!” She pushed through the crowd and led the trio
to the bar in the corner of the room. “So,” she turned to you and Betty with 3
shot glasses, “shots anyone?”
You rolled your eyes and looked to
Betty for a go/no-go. “I’m convinced that you have some sort of radar or sonar
or something when it comes to finding alcohol” Betty joked back.
“It’s residual from my days in New
York,” she said handing each of you a shot glass. “Gentlemen, to our wives and
girlfriends,” she started the usual toast looking at the two of you
expectantly. You turned you Betty and completed it simultaneously laughing,
“May they never meet” and downed the shot, feeling the vodka burn all the way
down your throat. You weren’t a huge fan of alcohol, yet another reason parties
weren’t your favorite place, but being drunk was fun sometimes. Since it was
the getting drunk that was the annoying part, you generally stuck to vodka. You
preferred its nail polish remover taste that could get the job done faster to
the slow-working, carbonated urine formally known as beer.
Just then, the music changed to “Cake
by the Ocean” by DNCE, a song that was notoriously Betty’s jam. Her eyes
widened and she jumped up in down in excitement. “We have to dance!” she
squealed pulling your and Veronica’s wrists toward the dance floor.
“I think I’m gonna sit this one out
guys,” you explained trying to get out of this inevitable public display of
“What, you don’t dance Chad
Danforth?” Veronica teased in a very Veronica-esque way. Betty chimed in,
“Because we all know how that ends, Chad dances with Ryan like the whole time”.
“It’s not that I’m too good to
dance, it’s just I’m not drunk yet enough to dance”
That must have been an acceptable
answer because Betty simply pointed at you and began to back away with Veronica
in tow with a “Hey batter batter, hey batter batter, swang,” to which you
yelled back over the growing crowd with your hands cupped around your mouth,
“I’ve got to just do my thang!”
B and V faded behind an ocean of
people and you were alone. Just you and the vodka. Speaking of the vodka…
You turned to the bar and poured
yourself another shot and stuck your tongue out at the offensive taste. You
poured some coke into a red solo cup and started to walk away then thought
better. You turned around and poured some more vodka in with the coke. What? It
was gonna be a long night.
You made your way through the room,
deliberately avoiding the table with the jungle juice and found a dimly lit corner
to lean in.
I wonder where Archie is right now?
It’s not like he normally hangs out with us at parties anyway. Since they
always happen after football games he usually hangs out with the rest of the
team, but you were curious. You would never admit it to anyone, not even Betty
or Veronica and especially not to Archie, but you’d had feelings for him for
quite some time. There were times when you wanted to tell him about it, he was
one of your friends after all, but you truly felt that he didn’t feel the same
way. It wasn’t worth the risk.
“You like hanging out in dark
Speak of the devil and he shall
appear. You could identify that voice anywhere: the one and only Archie
“You like staring into dark
corners, creeper?” you shot back.
Archie chuckled and approached with
open arms for a friendly hug. “Hey y/n,”
“Hey Tom Brady, great game.” You
pulled out from the hug but stayed standing close to him to be able to hear
each other over the loud music.
He smiled, “It wasn’t exactly the
Super Bowl, but thank you. So, what are you drinking?” He plucked the plastic
cup out of your hand. “This isn’t the jungle juice, is it?” he questioned with
a slightly alarmed but mostly joking tone. Reggie’s jungle juice was pretty
famous, or more accurately infamous.
“God no,” you shook your head,
“It’s just coke.”
“Good. Stay away from the jungle
juice.” He took a sip and did a bit of a spit take into a nearby plant
overdramatically. He looked at you with a faux-shocked expression. “Just coke,
“Just coke as in mostly coke. As in
there’s slightly more coke than vodka.”
“Alcohol’s illegal for people our
age you know,” he warned just before he drank half of the cup’s contents.
You narrowed your eyes and leaned
toward him as if trying to get a better look, “Why, you a cop?”
He glanced around, checking that
the imaginary coast was clear before he leaned in. “You ever seen 21 Jump
“Ah,” you nodded.
“Yeah.” He said with a laugh,
straightening his back and returned the cup to your hand. You thought his hand
had lingered for a second touching yours; you were probably just imagining it.
You had to be imagining it, but the moment was over before you could really be
“Uh,” you tried to regain your
composure. “Betty and Veronica were in the other room dancing the last time I
saw them,” You offered figuring this had to be his destination. You were
friends/friendly with him but they were all really close. The only reason you
even knew Archie in the first place is because you had become good friends with
He shrugged his shoulders, “Okay.”
He blinked at you and didn’t move. You tried to suppress the smile that was
threatening to show itself. Maybe he was here for you. The electronic music
blared on and you scanned the room, looking for nothing in particular in an
attempt to make yourself busy, or at least make yourself look busy. The house
was filled to the brim with a mix of people, some you knew, some you didn’t. People
were singing and dancing and yelling and drinking and smoking and—okay, you
couldn’t ignore it anymore. Archie was still looking at you! You could feel his
eyes on you from the side.
You glanced at him and couldn’t
help but let out a nervous laugh. He was just smiling down at you like a fool.
“Is… is there something I can do for you Mr. Andrews?”
He smirked, keeping a laugh to
himself, “No, it’s just,” he shook his head looking down at his feet. “Nah,
“Oh, come on! What? Do I have
something on my face? Is my hair messed up?” You ran your fingers through your
hair trying to fix any possible issues.
“No, you look great. I was uh,” he
looked back up at you. “It was just that you looked really cute.” He shrugged
his shoulders and looked off to the rest of the party, the flashing lights
washing his face with a blue and red light, hitting his cheekbones in just the
right way to leave a shadow in the hollows of his cheeks. It wasn’t until that
moment that you really noticed how close he was standing to you. He was at max
6 inches from you; he could lean forward the tiniest bit and kiss you (if he
were so inclined). It all felt too good to be true. He had to be drunk or
“How many drinks have you had?”
“Just the sip of your ‘mostly
For some reason this answer
bothered you more than if he had been drunk. The fact that he called you ‘cute’
while being almost completely sober was, as far as you could tell, reason for
alarm. “Let’s go find some drinks.” Frankly, you needed another one.
You grabbed him by the wrist so you
wouldn’t lose him in the crowd and began to push through the mess of sweaty
bodies toward the familiar bar. You would have made it too, if it weren’t for
the jungle juice. You were walking past the table with the punch bowl of the
“juice” on it, the bar was in sight, when some random drunk guy with a cup full
of, you guessed it, Reggie’s famous jungle juice rammed into you, spilling the
entire contents of the cup all over your shirt. Your mouth hung open and the
people around you all gasped.
Archie pushed between you and the
guy, “Hey man, why don’t you watch where you’re going?” There was some real
anger in his voice, and you weren’t going to lie, it was pretty hot.
“Well why don’t you mind your own
business?” the guy said getting right in Archie’s face. He opened his mouth to
respond but before he could get anything out you put your hand on his shoulder
from behind him.
He looked down at you, clenching
his jaw. “C’mon Arch, it’s not worth it.”
He looked back up at the guy for a moment
then back down at you. The crowd that had gathered around you all waiting in
anticipation for Archie’s response.
He nodded his head, “I know where
the bathroom is,” the crowd of people returned to their former activities with
sounds of general dismay that there hadn’t been a fight. “Let’s go see what the
damage is.” He grabbed your hand in his and led you in the opposite direction
as the bar, down a hallway, and into a bathroom.
It was pretty dark in the house so
you couldn’t really see how badly it had spilled on your shirt yet. Archie
closed the door behind you while you felt around on the wall for a light
switch. You flipped on the switch and he immediately gasped sharply.
“Is it that bad?” you asked. You
couldn’t being yourself to look in the mirror yet.
“No… I mean it’s…” He tried to
think of some consolation to give, unsuccessfully. “Yeah, it is that bad.”
You hesitantly turned to face the
mirror, squinting enough to delay the inevitable. Your eyes sprung open and you
found that yes, it truly was that bad.
“Oh my god.”
“I told you.”
“This shirt ruined! How am I
supposed to wear this for the rest of the night?”
“Well, you did say you wanted to
find another drink. I guess it found you first,” You looked at him in the
mirror and rolled your eyes. “And I did warn you to stay away from the jungle
juice” he laughed getting a closer look at the stain.
You turned to him and sighed, “I
have to go home. There’s no way I can walk around like this.” You still didn’t
like parties, and this was no exception, but you were actually getting to hang
out with Archie alone. This was just your luck.
“Take my shirt,” He blurted out,
“Take your shirt? Like the one you’re
wearing right now? Arch as much as I’m sure that every girl at this party would
love to see you walking around shirtless, neither of us are at that point of drunkenness
“It’s fine. Even if you’re got my
jersey, I’ve still got my letterman,” he countered, already peeling off his jacket
and throwing it on the floor. “It’s not like I’ll be completely shirtless.” You
thought about this for a moment before hesitantly nodding your head in
agreement. You really didn’t want this night to end just yet. Plus, shirtless
You took off your stained t-shirt
and threw it in the trash, no stain remover was powerful enough to work on that
jungle juice. You stood awkwardly in just your plain black bra. You definitely
had cuter, but you hadn’t planned on anyone, especially not Archie, seeing you
shirtless tonight. Archie pulled off his jersey leaving both of you half naked.
And let me tell you he was built with a capital B. Just as he was handing you
the jersey, the bathroom door flings open. It seems neither of you had remembered
to lock it in the chaos of the dark.
Kevin Keller stumbled into the
room, clearly at least a little bit intoxicated. It took him a second but when
he finally realized what he had walked into, at least what it looked like he
had walked into, his eyes widened dramatically taking in the scene. It was
understandable. You were sure this looked a lot worse than it really was.
“Oops!” he exclaimed.
“Kevin, it’s really not what it
looks like,” you tried to explain to him with your hands out in front of you as
if trying to calm a wild animal.
“Don’t even worry about it you
guys. Your secret’s safe with me,” he tried to wink at you but the alcohol in
his system just turned it into a sloppy blink. This sentiment did nothing to
ease your concern. Kevin was not the person people told secrets to. Kevin was the
person people told when they wanted the whole town to know something.
Archie tried to stop him too, “No,
Kevin man, it’s not like that. Her shirt just-“
“Hey, you don’t have to explain
yourselves to me. I always knew Archie - Y/n would happen. Don’t you worry
about a thing. My lips are sealed.” He stumbled out of the bathroom and Archie quickly
shut the door behind him, locking it this time.
You both stood in an awkward
silence for a few seconds, neither of you knowing exactly what to say.
After about 30 seconds you asked
already knowing the answer, “He’s definitely going to go tell Betty and
Veronica about this, right?”
“I’m sure they already know.”
You nodded your head and took the
jersey from his hand. He slung on the jacket and waited for you. You pulled his
jersey over your head. It was big on you but not too big. It smelled like
Archie. It felt right. He opened the door and you followed him out of the room,
only for him to stop abruptly. You ran into him and then peered over his
shoulder at what had stopped him. Who else but Cheryl Blossom joined by Josie
at her side.
“Well, well, well. What do we have
here?” she said in her Cheryl way, her eyes scanning up and down. “The
quarterback and the rando hooking up at a party together. How cliché. Doesn’t this
feel like a bad 80’s rom-com?”
Josie joined in, “Who’s Molly
Ringwald in this situation?”
“I’m like Breakfast Club Molly Ringwald and Y/n’s like Sixteen Candles Molly Ringwald. That makes Archie Jake Ryan!”
Neither of you had the patience to
try and explain the situation to her. Archie grabbed your hand pulling you in
the other direction down the hallway. “It’s been a pleasure as usual Cheryl,”
he yelled behind him.
Over the blaring music, you could
just make out her say “Or maybe she’s more Pretty
in Pink Molly Ringwald…”
He pulled you through a different part
if the house to a patio where a few random couples were making out. They were
taking up all the seating and he scratched his head not knowing where to go.
“Why don’t we just sit in the
grass?” you suggested. You walked over to a far part of the lawn that was dark
but still lit by the moon. The music was muffled and distant, present enough
that would could have private conversation, but still muted. He sat down crisscross
applesauce style and you followed suit, chuckling to yourself. You both sat
with your forearms resting on your knees, leaving only a couple of inches between
“We’re finally alone.” He stated quietly,
sounding satisfied. The moon lit up half of his face and his fiery locks
glinted as he tilted his head.
“Yeah, that’s why I come to
parties. To be alone. Just me and two-hundred of my closest friends.” You breathed
He grinned at your reply. He looked
at you for a moment. Just really looked at you. He was really seeing you.
He looked away timidly, “You look
good in my jersey you know.”
You raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?” He
nodded his head. You considered how to reply. “Well I guess I’m just gonna have
to try out for the football team then.”
“Or,” He leaned in even closer, “alternatively,”
his lips just centimeters from yours, “you could just…” He pressed his lips to
yours, lightly but passionately, like it was something he’d been wanting to do
for a long time. His lips were soft and it felt right, he felt right. It only
lasted a couple of seconds but it felt like forever, in a good way. He pulled
back and all you could both do was grin at each other.
All of a sudden, a mess of loud
yelling coming from the house caught both of your attention. “Woo!!!” “Oh yeah!!!”
“Get it!!!” “Hashtag Archie-Y/n!!!” Veronica and Betty were hanging out of a
window calling out to the two of you. You looked up at the sky in embarrassment
and Archie just shook his head at them, laughing. They pumped their fists and
chanted “OTP, OTP, OTP…”
Archie stood up and put his hand
out to pull you up, “Do you wanna go to Pop’s? Or anywhere that isn’t right
here?” “Gladly,” you agreed, “I hate parties.”
I really hate the way Lafayette is written in fanfics. He always speaks in broken French and English, which is probably my number one pet peeve because I feel like it is just a way for fanfiction writers to avoid making him an actual character. It’s always FRENCH FRENCH FRENCH Lafayette and that is his one personality trait. We understand how he is French. We know. Also, he is always written as this hyper feminine man but also super sexualized at the same time. He is always incapable of having a conversation without flirting or using the phrase “mon ami”. I also understand how people want more gender/ lgbtq representation and headcanons for characters making them trans, gender fluid , ect. are usually pretty great but I don’t really understand why the fandom is so attached to Genderfluid!Lafayette. Sometimes if fanfiction writers choose not to use that headcanon they are attacked, and that really has to stop. It’s the authors choice. There is no historical evidence for it ( correct me if I’m wrong please). Not everyone has to use that headcanon. I’m sorry I just felt like ranting about this.
“I feel like I had a connection with this character in a weird way. I always say that when you’re in this acting business, you get a lot of rejection. You get a lot of people telling you no and you’ve got to get up, dust yourself off, and try again, and I feel like in a way Ezekiel fits that same mold where he’s in the hope business. I always say I’m in the hope business. You’ve got to stay hopeful. You’ve got to get up off your behind and try again no matter how many times they tell you it’s not going to work out. Your opinion’s got to overshadow whatever negativity might come your way. In a zombie apocalypse one can find themselves getting down about their situation, but Ezekiel’s not one of those people. He fights with all he’s got to make sure he stays positive and stays joyful. That’s what I love about him.”