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#he is just a melodramatic nerd who just wants to read books and have one whole good day
therealvinelle · 1 year
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As a casual Agatha Christie fan, I am delighted by that recommendation. Do you have any other favorite books from her?
Sure!
And Then There Were None Ten people go to an island, it does not go well. This one stands out in that it has a good adaptation!
Appointment with Death The murder is ingenius and all in this one, but what I particularly enjoy is how well Christie captures the power an abusive mother can have over her adult children, it's a dynamic you don't often see in fiction (at least not played out this way).
Cards on the Table M. Shaitana has a fantastic idea: he's going to invite four murderers and four law enforcers to his house for a night of bridge, and he's going to stir up as much drama as possible. Things do not go well for M. Shaitana. (Stay miles away from the Suchet adaptation)
Crooked House The patriarch of an affluent family dies, and his twelve-year-old granddaughter decides to investigate. I was the same age when I first read it, which made the ending uh interesting.
Curtain Poirot finds the perfect murderer.
Death on the Nile Makes the list for many reasons, it's such a classical Christie but also because nobody agrees with Jackie's life choices, not even Jackie.
Hallowe'en Party A child claims to have witnessed a murder, no one believes her. A few hours later she's found murdered. I mostly like this one for the utterly insane murderer. What a champ.
Murder on the Orient Express There's a murder on the Orient Express. (If you want a film version, the 1974 version is the best. Suchet's version is... melodramatic, I don't like its ending but it had a fantastic opening scene, while the Branagh version is an atrocity, do not watch.)
Ordeal by Innocence Five years ago Arthur Calgary nerded about penguins to some random guy then left for Antarctica the next day. It was great. Now he returns to England only to find that the man was Jacob Argyle, and he was accused of murdering his mother that night. He kept claiming his alibi was some penguin guy and could give very specific, identifying details that five years later make Arthur Calgary "yup, that's me!", but Calgary was in Antarctica at the time so he never came forward. And uh Jacob died in prison in the meantime. But, Calgary tells himself, the important thing is that Jacob was innocent, right? Right? The Argyle family, who had finally put this behind them only to learn that their brother was innocent and one of the remaining members did it, don't agree.
Sad Cypress Elinor Carlisle is sad. She's about to hang for a double homicide she might not have committed, but even without that she'd still be pretty miserable.
The Secret Adversary I felt I had to recommend a Tommy and Tuppence, and while I don't remember much of any of them I'll just recommend the first one in the series. Tommy and Tuppence books are more political thriller than the usual fare, great fun if you want to switch things up during your Christie binge. (Do not touch ITV's By the Pricking of My Thumbs, though.)
The Mirror Crack'd One of my all-time favorites and weirdly formative. Miss Marple is grappling with the realities of old age, and solves a murder along the way. It's more character heavy than many of Christie's books, people do the things they do because it is in their nature and they can't escape it.
The Mysterious Affair at Styles The very first one! It makes the list for that. And because if you plan to read Curtain, you should read this one first as it references this one a lot.
Towards Zero Following the logic that the murder isn't the beginning of the story, but rather the culmination of one, this story is building towards the zero point - the moment the murder will occur.
Honestly, anon, I'm just listing Christies I fondly remember, I can keep going but the post will just get unreasonably long. Go read Agatha Christie, she's great.
Hercule Poirot's Christmas and A Pocketful of Rye get special shoutouts because while I haven't read the books, the ITV adaptations were really good, the former particularly with the casting and the latter particularly with the way the reveal was done. Same goes for One, Two, Buckle My Shoe, haven't read it but the adaptation was great.
(Overall I'm ambivalent about ITV's adaptations, the Poirot series wanted to be a fairly light, feelgood show the whole family could watch after dinner, and while both series liked to change things from the books and overall make them more daytime television, the Miss Marple series changed a lot more than the Poirot series did. They both have a nasty habit of putting Poirot and Marple in stories they weren't originally, usually to the story's detriment (passive aggressive shoutout to By the Pricking of My Thumbs). It's annoying, though does make it hilarious that they couldn't put Poirot in Crooked House.
They're still entertaining and I don't turn off the TV when an episode is on unless it's one of the bad ones, but... well it's daytime television-ified Christie.)
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de4dlyniightshade · 2 months
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heyy :) erm im gonna fangirl really quick and then the request will be at the end incase you wanna skip to that part or anything, lol. okay so this is very much unnecessary and unasked for and blah blah but i don't care! i believe writers need to hear how much we appreciate them and their works because whew mama! ive been trying to write fics for like months and it actually is so horrible. i genuinely start to angrily vibrate bc my thoughts don't flow on the notes app. but i just wanted to say, nightshade, (ehehe that's so cheeky and silly for some reason) that i reallyyy love your work. its actually like horrific how much your writing just makes me so 😜😊🤭 i know you're not like a celebrity or anything, so it's gonna be weird with this like mini parasocial relationship thing, but please know your work has an impact !! a few months ago, i did something extremely bad and out of character while i was spiraling, and i decided that the best decision for me would be to quit using social media. (and beforehand i had quit using tiktok for like 7 months already and i wasn't that addicted to my phone but i still was consuming negative media) so, ofc, i stopped completely for a good month or so and only ever using youtube every now and then. buttttt, one of the first social media platforms i came back to first... was tumblr! it's actually so silly too because i only used tumblr like 4 times beforehand so i was quite new. but anyway anyway (im a yapper UGH) i really found that your posts had made me feel happy :) idk they kinda reminded me of myself before i went big bad that one time and it made me inspired to go back to how i used to be... u get me?? you're writing literally haunts my brain oh my lord it should be illegal to read your stuff because afterwards i literally have this crazy ass urge to read more and more and more. im lowkey an addict cause i be having my deadlynightshade withdrawals. the way you write is just so 😫 gosh, it's beautiful. i also love ur sillyness because like ME TOO. your random little posts are so me coded and i love it. YOU'RE SO FUNNY 😭 uhmm i just wanted to say thanks for being super cool and talented because believe it or not, the stuff you put out makes me really happy! (that was so melodramatic like mf they write about spencer being a pathetic pussy drunk bitch why are you saying it changed ur life?? its true tho.) erm yeah that's the end of that part i just again wanted to thank you 🙏 i wish we were friends SO BAD like you're actually awesome what the fuck.... but like how do u even become friends w ppl?? LMAO ERM ANYWAY 😍 can you write a blurb or h.c or something (honestly anything will make me happy) about valentine's day?? 🤭 basically spencer being SO FUCKING SHY because you can't stop touching his hands or hair subtly or like kissing his cheek leaving marks from lipstick or like getting him his favorite snacks/drinks/books/textures/ basically a gift that made u think about him?? ugh or him doing the same with you like him being the best fucking nerd boy ever and spoiling you so much like he goes ape shit spending well over his funds limit but it's worth it because it's you? or like sweet soft cutie pie sex? at the end of the day and he's like... Erm.. Pussy for 1 please! you were so pretty today... You always are-! (I'm mentally ill and writing this at 8:37 pm on a thursday night.)
this is. the sweetest shit anyone has ever said to me i actually cried ngl to you.
i'm genuinely so thankful for the little community i have created here i never expected such an insane amount of positivity and love from people just for the whack ass shit i write but that's probably just my perpetual self hatred and disbelief that people enjoy anything about me🤞
i think it's crazy how people on the internet who have never met me, don't know me, what i look like, or anything can treat me better than any of my friends have and i'll always be thankful for that.
ALSO! i love being called funny pls kiss me i never think i'm actually funny istg
i was also planning on writing a valentines fic ALREADY but this made me wanna write it even more as a thank you for this message it genuinely made my week(can't promise it ON TIME for valentines but i can try!)
i'm also so glad that my work and blog makes you happy, there's no privilege greater than making someone smile even when they don't feel like it</3
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fishoutofcamelot · 3 years
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yall im watching detective conan instead of doing my homework again and??? im crying???
He's got a booster seat????? this 17-year-old trapped in the body of a child, this prodigy who has single-handedly caught murderers, dismantled bombs, and regularly goes toe to toe with an international crime syndicate - is just???? in a booster seat????? i dont know why but i find this absolutely hilarious. i had to pause the episode for a hot minute and just laugh
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this. this small child in, sitting in his small booster seat, is the FBI's best line of defense against the Black Organization
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j3mjj3m · 4 years
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Yo. Yo. Yoo. A Highschool musical au. Yeah you heard me.
bruh cross clique relationships are my jam
pt. 1? maybe
*
When they’d first met, Neil had been hiding from everyone else on the roof of the ski lodge. Wymack had brought him on holiday and encouraged him to join in with the teen party going on in the karaoke lounge with Dan and Kevin, but he’d taken one look and noped the hell out. 
Curled into a ball, he had never expected his angsty teenage silence to be broken by another short, bad-mannered boy, equally as distasteful of loud gatherings and soda-stupid teenage shenanigans. 
There had been something very familiar about him, like Neil had seen him before.
He also had a pack of cigarettes. 
Neil had yearned for one, like he yearned for his mom, and Andrew had asked for his name in exchange for the lighter. They’d sat in silence, letting the dulled sounds of music and cheers wash over them like a particularly persistent draft.
When Neil flinched away at the first pop of the fireworks, Andrew had frowned. And when Neil had explained they sounded too much like gunshots, Andrew gave him his number, scoffing at Neil’s old flip phone. 
Then he’d proceeded to bitch about his cousin, the one who had dragged him and his twin brother on a ‘bonding’ trip, and was then forcing him to move across the country so they could all live together. it distracted Neil from the gunfire overhead: whether or not that had been Andrew’s intention, Neil thought he’d never know. 
He assumed he’d never see Andrew again. 
But then school started up again.
Guess who was the new kid?
*
Andrew didn’t think that high school movies were actually grounded in reality till he moved to Palmetto State high. But the minute that he walked in through Palmetto State High’s front doors, he was instantly proven wrong. 
Aaron, who had already done his freshman year and half his sophomore year here, seemed unfazed. He was a generally unfazed person, expect when Andrew purposefully ignored him and then smashed his ass at Mariokart. Then he’d lose his temper but ultimately be angrier at himself, because he didn’t want to be anything like his mom had been. 
Andrew never had the chance to meet Tilda. She’d died just before they met: her will was the only reason that Aaron had found out about Andrew in the first place.
Aaron shoved his glasses up his nose and neatly ducked past a set of boisterous jocks who were bouncing a basketball to one another. 
“I already hate it here,” Andrew muttered, following after his brother. 
“It gets worse,” Aaron sighed. “Wait till you see the Exy jocks. The cheerleaders are - ” his face screwed up for a second. “Not all bad.” 
“What are you?” 
“We,” Aaron insisted. “Are nerds. Did you think you’d be able to escape the fact that we’re identical?” 
“I’m not a nerd,” Andrew muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the bracelet he wore. Bee had given it to him as a parting gift: it was the solar system, to scale, with the space between the planets made out of carbon fibre. 
“Are you kidding? The only thing you moved in with was a box of books.” 
“Whatever.” 
They brushed by the office, Aaron ignoring the freshman’s offer to take Andrew on a tour of the school. Her name-tag read Robin and she was clearly unfazed by their complete disregard of her presence. 
“History first,” Aaron huffed, squinting at Andrew’s timetable. “Good, we’re together. History sucks: we have Mr Moriyama, and his shitty nephew Riko is in that class too.”
“What’s so shitty about him?” 
“You’ll see.” 
Fantastic, Andrew thought. The day was shaping up to be an absolute nightmare. 
“Mr Minyard,” drawled a nasally man who lingered by the door. When he saw Andrew, his eye twitched. “And Mr Minyard. So the attendance sheet wasn’t an error.”
Aaron just muttered something under his breath and dragged Andrew by the sleeve. The tables were set up in spaced-apart rows, but the back was already claimed by a group of delinquent-looking attention vacuums. The others were all crowded around one boy, who had his feet kicked up on the table in front of him and an uncanny resemblance to the history teacher. 
He looked between Andrew and Aaron and sneered. Before he could open his mouth to say something, his uncle clapped his hands and called the class to attention. 
Just as Mr Moriyama was about to start the lesson, what could only be described as the human embodiment of disaster. 
When Andrew recognised him, his cheeks went red. 
“Mr Josten,” Mr Moriyama said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How is it that you are always late to my class, when your brother’s already here?” 
The brother in question looked nothing like Neil. He was taller, paler, with black hair and green eyes. He was also glaring at Neil, like that was going to make a difference. 
“My bad,” the red-head shrugged. 
“Detention,” Mr Moriyama said. 
“I have practise,” Neil retorted. And - oh, god, he was a jock. A smart-mouthed sporty boy. Fuck. Andrew thought he’d never see the boy from the rooftop again, but here they were, sitting in the same history class. 
“Should have thought about that before you were late,” the greasy man sneered, sending Neil on his way. Neil slumped his way past the desks till he saw Andrew sitting behind his brother, eyes widened with shock. 
Andrew, involuntarily, found himself giving Neil a small salute. Neil’s lips quirked up as he slid into his chair, letting the first lesson of the day finally begin. 
*
Neil jogged into practise late. This wasn’t surprising to anyone, least of all Wymack, who was leaning against the plexiglass with a knowing frown. 
“Could you stop antagonising Mr Moriyama’s own nephew in his class?” 
“In my defence,” Neil admitted. “Today’s detention was because I was late, not because I accidentally spoke my thought about Riko out loud instead of reciting them in my head.”
“Get on the court, you little shit,” he said, though not without fondness. Neil had been adopted by the Exy coach at the end of his freshman year, when he’d figured out why Neil was breaking into the changerooms to sleep. 
He jogged up to Kevin, who was less than impressed as he stood by the goal. 
“What the hell, Neil?” 
“The only reason I was so late was because Gordon still hasn’t forgiven you for getting him kicked off the team and he likes to hang around my locker to take it out on me!” 
Dan, Wymack’s other adopted child and team captain, was standing nearby and laughing. “Don’t try and flip this on Kevin: you just like picking fights with Seth.” 
Neil grinned at her. “It’s so easy.” 
“Oi!” Wymack called out. “We running drills or not?”
When he saw the blonde head of hair bobbing up and down, Neil’s grin faltered slightly. He was still in shock that Aaron had a twin, that the twin had moved here, and that twin had been the exact person Neil had met on the roof of the ski resort a few weeks ago. 
No wonder he’d found Andrew’s face so familiar. He was truly an idiot for not picking up on it.
Andrew sat down, high in the bleachers. Neil felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck, like he had when they’d talked for hours up on the roof. 
Practise went too fast after that. Neil stayed behind to help his coach pack up, Kevin and Dan bickering about plays as they went off to the showers. 
Coach went off with the equipment, giving Andrew a cursory glance. Perhaps he recognised Aaron’s face: the boy had nearly done tryouts for the team at the start of freshman year but chickened out. 
Neil skipped the steps, leaping up three at a time. Andrew was lounging on the bleachers, head cocked to the side. 
“So,” Neil said. “You never mentioned that you were moving to Palmetto.”
“We were in a random Colorado ski lodge,” Andrew rolled his eyes. “What were the chances?” 
“Clearly high enough.” Neil perched on the seat beside him. “So, Aaron’s brother, huh?” 
“Obviously.” 
Neil grinned. “Give me some slack: it was dark. I suppose you’ll be following him around, at first?” 
Andrew just shrugged. “I don’t have anything better to do.” 
“Do you like Exy?” 
His eye twitched. “I’ve played before. Why?” 
Neil felt his grin widen. “You should try out.” 
Andrew crossed his arms over his chest. “Aaron says I’m doomed to be stuck with the nerds, so long as I look like him. Apparently that’s a big deal here.” 
Neil faltered slightly. “Well, yeah. Everyone kinda sticks to their own. I’ve always wanted to join the Olympiads, but they’d never let me on the team. I’m good at math and physics, but I’m on the Exy team. They don’t associate with jocks.”
“Olympiads,” Andrew mumbled. “Jesus Christ.” 
“Hey!” 
“This entire school is a disaster,” Andrew said, notching a cigarette between his lips and spun the lighter between his fingers. “I don’t give a shit about their stupid cliques.” 
Neil felt something warm in his chest. He’d always felt the same. “Careful. If Riko thinks you’re kicking up dust, he’ll retaliate. He likes to think he owns the place and prefers that everyone just sticks to their own.” 
Andrew trotted down a few steps before looking back over his shoulder at Neil. “Well, he can just get in line.” 
Huh, Neil thought, when he couldn’t get Andrew’s smirk out of his mind for the rest of the day. This is new.
*
gosh, teenagers r so melodramatic 
@filteredred don’t call me out on hypocrisy 
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morwensteelsheen · 3 years
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farawyn and borodred for the ship ask game thing?
thank you so much!! :)
okay i’ll start with borodred because for some unfathomable reason i actually got there first —
1. What made you ship it?
One of my favourite Types of ships is the Elder Statesmen Of War-type set-ups, where it’s less about people brought together through theatrical romantic gestures and more about the steadiness of people who are going through similar (immensely difficult) circumstances, who know that in their hearts they’re always going to put their duty to that cause first, but still seek out human comfort in other people who will understand what their priorities are and why.
I think there’s also a lot of similarities about the kind of helplessness they both face despite having this tremendous innate strength. Both of them still have to deal with family dynamics that are complex (made more complex by the war) and that can’t be fixed just by their own sheer will power; both of them die these utterly unnecessary deaths (not that death makes a ship but I think in this instance it actually points to the constant tragedy these guys face); and both of them are meant to be the principal figures of their families and people and are ultimately sidelined by the cruel mechanisations of war and the forward march of history or whatever wanky term there is for it — my apologies to ep thompson's ghost, dont haunt me bro.
Plus there’s obviously the interesting thread raised when Faramir starts bitching about Gondor and likens Gondor (and by very explicit extension, Boromir) to Rohan. That always made me go ‘Hmmmmmm, wonder what else Boromir liked about Rohan,’ lmao.
Anyways for me the ship is the equivalent of Star Wars’ Kanan and Hera or (my OTP to end all others) Luke and Wedge, just people getting by on love and duty and without big ol fancy romance.
2. What are your favorite things about the ship?
The fanon, I think, really makes it, as with so many other LOTR ships. battlefield manners, by themightypen is essentially the definitive take for me on them — these two guys who are just so fucking exhausted, man, but still overcome by defensive love for their families, even if their (foster-)siblings are naïve fools. That I just love, love, love. Plus I think they’re unique for their ability to pretty comfortable explore the relationship between Gondor & Rohan in advance of the Ring War without having to stray too far into AU, which I always appreciate.
3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?
Not really, tbh, except in that I don’t think Boromir is necessarily as laddy as people like to portray him. I’m happy to play into it in, say, my modern AUs because I think that’s a fun and sweet niche for him, but I am a bit 🤪 about Boromir as this kind of reckless, drunken playboy (not least because I think that’s a much funnier niche for Faramir to fill, at least when he’s younger). Chapter Four of Swaddledog’s Hearts and Minds gets my preferred Boromir characterisation absolutely spot on, I think.
And now, sigh, the ultimate OTP, Farawyn —
1. What made you ship it?
For starters, I think I am obsessed with Éowyn in a way I’ve never quite been obsessed with any other fictional character. I came to reading LOTR at this moment in my life where I was intensely frustrated about everything — trapped inside permanently (helplessly!) because of the pandemic, just starting a new political organisation that I truly believed in but that was still making me feel like shit, facing down an untenable about of work, and, fundamentally, really, really hating being a woman and what that means. And along comes Éowyn, who is bitter, who is cold, who is ANGRY, and who doesn’t perform joy or softness or gentleness just because people expect her to. She’s this seminal Woman Of War in so many ways, I think the kind of person a lot of us wish we could be. She’s got her emotional taps cut off at the source, she holds her head high and faces down unimaginable personal and political terrors, and at the end of it all still has this abiding love for her family that, I would argue, is almost unparalleled by anyone else in the book.
After all that, she gets this incredible moment of emotional catharsis (or what we expect to be emotional catharsis): “no living man am I!” She undertakes THE greatest martial act of the Ring War, and in that moment there’s this unbelievably sophisticated dialogue happening about gender (“Éowyn it was, and Dernhelm also”), and leadership (Merry finding his courage not because of the immediate scenario of the Witch-king, but because he’s spurred into it by Éowyn’s presence), and love and care.
And then we learn that no, actually, this glorious act of violence wasn’t the emotional catharsis we thought it would be. She gets to ride to war, she gets to throw herself headlong at death, and in the end that hopeless act of individualism isn’t really what does it for her. She’s still left desolate and despairing, and actually all of her problems haven’t gone away.
And then we need to rewind a bit, because along comes Faramir, who is gentle, and is kind, and does seem to believe in joy, but not because people expect it — actually it's made abundantly clear nobody expects it — but because it’s something quite innate to how he figures the world. And he’s a huge fucking nerd too. I have a lot of thoughts on Faramir’s flaws and why I find them endearing, which I won’t put here, but almost immediately you get this sense of a guy who’s quite melodramatic, good humoured, and very much not made to live in a time of war.
But he’s also clear-headed about war and what it requires (tactically, if not strategically, though that’s a post for another day), but who is kind of cynical and weary of it in his own unique way. And it’s a unique cynicism given his personal circumstances because he’s the second son of The great family of Gondor, he’s apparently — though with some big ol’ question marks hanging about the extent — very able to command some of the elite units in the realm, and what’s more than that, he’s got all these fantastical powers (the light mind reading to start, to say nothing of this apparently magical ability to command animals too. bruh.). By all accounts he should be this brazen hot mess, but he’s not. He’s desperate to claw his way out of this war-torn cage of expectation his people have for how a man should comport himself in time of war. Is it a little naïve? Sure. A little fussy? Absolutely. But does it point to that same desperation that Éowyn has? Yes! But also the practicality, like, neither of them are really enjoying the circumstances they live under, but good fucking god are they both able to Make It Work.
So finally we get to the Houses of Healing and what is the finest and most aggressively romantic writing of LOTR. Seriously, it’s so fucking much. It’s breathtaking. It reminds me quite viscerally of this fabulous quote from Les Mis:
The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.
At some point I will devote more time to talking about the two reasons line, and the blissful Queen of Gondor speech, but I think to me that big, important line is: “And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.”
It’s not about Éowyn changing herself entirely (though, I think, it really does bear mentioning that she does change, and that’s every bit as important to understanding that scene as it is romantic), it’s about Éowyn coming to terms with how to live with herself as herself, and how to live in communion with someone else. She can’t just cut people out anymore, and she can’t just treat them as objects of infatuation as she did with Aragorn, she has to reckon with people as they are. And that’s sort of the moment where I knew I was about to plunge fully off the deep end with these two and never know a moments’ peace again, lmao.
2. What are your favorite things about the ship?
Someone on here once called Farawyn a love letter to women and, by god, yes, exactly that. I love the capacity for emotional intimacy, that is beautiful in ways I can’t express. To me, though, my favourite thing is the promise of life they speak of. Not as in oh they shag loads and have babies (though not opposed to that, obviously), but in the sense that unlike Aragorn and Arwen, who are always going to be buried under/burdened with the crushing weight of history and tradition, Éowyn and Faramir are going out yonder those hills and they’re going to do some real cottagecore farming shit. Obviously with all the trappings of rank and nobility and whatnot, but they, unique to anybody else in the books, get to sow this new idea of what life should be. They are, outside of Aragorn, the single most powerful people in Gondor. Éowyn’s got the ear of a king, a steward (which is essentially a prime-ministerial deal here), and functionally her own prince (if the hobbits are to be believed when they refer to it as essentially hers). I suspect that, in life, there were remarkably few arguments she wasn’t winning, and that Ithilien probably trended towards the jumped up noble hippie camp Tolkien so desperately wanted Oxford to be (or, in other words — Cambridge, lol).
3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?
Yeah, man, everybody stop treating Faramir like he’s a big fucking crybaby and Éowyn like she’s some kind of shrieking 2010-era tumblr girl.
One of the single most important lines defining Faramir’s character is when Denethor roasts his ass for always trying to appear noble and lordly, if you ignore every other piece of textual evidence we have about him, what part of that line makes you think Faramir’s some simpering daisy? And why would you want to link tremendous emotional intelligence and care with being too limp-wristed to function, lol??? Like I struggle loads with writing Faramir, because I have never once in my life tried to be noble or self-restrained, so find it hard to get into that mindset, but better, I think, to imagine him too closed off than to do this wilting flower song and dance lmao.
And stop making Éowyn out to be this over-emotional angst machine. She’s got problems, yes, and she’s sure as shit got a lot of angst, but at almost every point in the book where we’re overtly dealing with her emotions, she’s sublimating them into something else. One of the most serious times we see her cry is when she’s fighting with Aragorn about riding out, and after that moment she literally tries to kill herself. Those tears aren’t standard, man, that’s a real watershed (lol) moment for her. You have to read around what the text is saying to get a better feel why everybody’s constantly calling her cold and distant.
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there is no shadow where there shines no sun
day two of the october writing thing!! ft janus being a Big Nerd
pairings: moceit
tw: none that im aware of!
Janus is not being melodramatic, thank you very much. He’s simply… thinking. Contemplating. It’s not melodramatic, it’s an incredibly sophisticated, intellectual and academic activity. So, no, he is not being melodramatic. It doesn’t matter that his contemplation is happening lying on the ground outside of his highschool, and the subject of it is his ridiculous, embarrassingly large crush on a boy who is probably far too good for him. 
Fine, maybe he is being melodramatic. It had started with a metaphor, as well. He really had been spending too much time with the twins. 
His day had been perfectly normal before a stupid metaphor revealed too much about himself and his, ugh, feelings about one of his friends. He’d been in an english class, which really is not the place you want to have emotional revelations, but he supposes it's better than a class like gym. They had been discussing how authors who ran in the same circles would produce very different content, such as H.G. Wells and George Bernard Shaw. It was all quite interesting, examining how their upbringing and place in society affected their writings. While he was researching for his assignment on the topic, he stumbled across another author who had worked with them by the name of Hilaire Belloc, a writer, historian and poet. And author of the one damned quote that made him realize-
“Have you found anything interesting up there?” Patton’s voice called from somewhere above his head. “You’ve been staring at the sky for so long, I figured you’d found something.” 
Janus huffed a laugh. “No, nothing yet.” He heard Patton settle next to him, and turned to look. 
“This okay?” Patton asked quietly. Janus gave a quick hum of agreement, and Patton turned to look up at the sky. “What are you thinking about?” he asked. 
“What do you-” 
“You had your thinking face on. Like when you’re studying, or when you’re trying to beat Logan at some trivia game,” Patton said, laughter in his voice. Under the late afternoon sun, his tanned skin seemed to glow, like he really was carved from gold. 
“I don’t have a thinking face,” Janus replied weakly. He didn’t know how to handle the information that Patton knew him and his face so well, or the implications behind it. 
“Yeah you do, and you had it on,” Patton said, turning to face Janus. “So, what were you thinking about?” 
Janus sighed, knowing that Patton could be a stubborn bastard when he wanted to be and there was no way he was getting out of talking about this. 
“‘There is no shadow where there shines no sun.’ It's a quote, and it just made me realize something.” Patton propped himself up on his elbow, staring down at Janus. 
“What’d you realize? That you read lots of fancy-dancy writers?” Patton asked, poking him lightly on the side. Janus laughed and pushed his hand away, but when he caught the offending limb, Patton didn't pull back. In fact, he turns his hand around so they’re palm to palm. 
Holding hands, his treacherous mind supplied. He was so flustered, he blurted out an answer he really hadn’t meant to say. 
“You.” Patton looked up from their hands, shock clear on his face. Before he could start asking questions, Janus spoke up. 
“I mean I read the quote and I immediately thought about you and me and our whole dynamic, and before I knew you I was always too much for a lot of people and I figured it’d be the same and it just wasn’t, you balanced me out and you made me, well, lighter.” Janus would go on record as saying he absolutely did not ramble, or babble, or anything of the sort. He’d be lying through his teeth, but he’d still say it. 
Patton didn’t speak for a long moment, and Janus began to pull away, certain he’d just ruined a perfectly fine friendship. He was stopped by Patton tightening his grip. 
“You know, that idea goes both ways,” he muttered. 
“What does that mean?” Janus asked, cursing himself for the breathless, hopeful tone in his voice. 
“It means, without shadows, the sunlight can often be… too much. The shadows, they’re necessary. They’re��� comforting. Like reading a book under a tree, or finally going inside on a hot day,” Patton said. He looked up at Janus, so much affection in those dark eyes Janus was certain he was just going to melt, right then and there. 
He wanted to say something, anything, but he simply couldn’t find the words. So, he did the only thing he could think of doing. He slowly, slowly lifted their joined hands to his lips, watching Patton the entire time. He pressed a soft kiss to Patton’s hand, then pulled away. 
“I guess we just work together.” Patton laughed, bright and clear, and leant forward to press a kiss to Janus’s forehead. 
“I guess we do.”
A cloud passed over them, blocking some of the sun. Neither of them noticed. 
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mythopoeticreality · 4 years
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well, I... John Uskglass?!!??!?
Well, if you insist….xD
How I feel about this character
I mean….*sweeping gesture towards blog* I suppose you could say have something of an appreciation for him?
xD Nah, But seriously, from the very moment he appeared on that snowy Yorkshire moor in front of Childermass, I’ve loved this guy. Forget the scene, he stole the whole book! I love the mystery that surrounds him, how much of an enigma he is; I love that he is this incredible force of nature, this legend, this being that seems so Fae at times and so inscrutable. I love how absolutely extra he is? This inclination for melodrama developed over years of growing up in Faerie: Why just walk into a room when you can materialize out of a chaos of ravens? Why simply refuse to learn to read when you can create your own writing system, one that more easily aligns to your own way of thinking?  Why take your vengeance for your parents deaths out on the one guy who did it, when you can conquer half an island? The man has two modes: “Cool Arrogance” and “Sinking Coastal Yorkshire Villages Into The Sea” and I kinda love it? (though, just to make things clear, I don’t actually approve of the drowning of Coastal Yorkshire Villages, no matter what allies they’ve made in their quest not to pay their taxes. In case it needs to be said)
Most of all, I love how incredibly human The Raven King can be as well. There’s compassion – offhanded, a second thought, of course, yet still there–  in the way he heals Childermass before he vanishes again. There’s humor in his parting words to Childermass, “You are wrong, he is not dead” – a dry, ironical sort of understatement, that the man can’t even hear, you can nearly picture the smirk curling at his lips as he says it! And there’s care in all that he does. He set in motion a plan three centuries in the making, manipulating who knows how many events, all for the sake of England, for his Kingdom, to bring magic back. John Uskglass is a teacher, he gave magic to England and it spread through his own students. John Uskglass is an explorer, building the King’s roads and traveling to countless realms in search of more Knowledge, more Magic.  Yes, of course all of these traits are twisted and filtered through a more Fairy lens, why wouldn’t they be? He was raised by these beings! He’s not fully human – but he’s not entirely Fae either. He’s this strange mixture of both that neither can really understand. It’s isolating, it’s lonely, and it’s fascinating. I just…love the Raven King when he’s shown as a person?
And I just…love how he’s presented in the book? We don’t see him until that scene at the end, but by that point in the book, you’ve heard so many legends and stories and Historical anecdotes about him that you just…feel his presence over the whole story? By that point, you know about his conquest of Northern England, and of his youthful Arrogance, refusing even to learn how to read, because what could he possibly gain from doing so? You’ve heard about how he gradually became less arrogant, less like a Fairy and More like a Man after ruling his Kingdom for so long and how he did eventually learn to read – how he decided that engaging with the thoughts of others was worthwhile after all! You hear about his Strange Fae nature in the Raven King Ballad, how he’ll spirit away unsuspecting people to his realm in Fairy. You’ve read about his cruelty: the incident with Henry Barbatus, the Yorkshire Village he sank into the sea. You’ve heard rumor of his multiple returns to England: Riding off of a Fairy Road and blessing the family of the Farmer at the end of it who gave him food and a horse; Guiding back home the daughter of a Newcastle Glovemaker who had wandered her way into Faerie; As an omen of ill fortune for a group of shipwrecked basque sailors. You even know the names of those close to him: Thomas of Dundale, William of Lanchester, Catherine of Winchester.
But in the end, how much do you really know at all? Do you know if any of these tales are true? If they are then they only open more questions. What are the other sides of these tales? Who were those others with the King when he departed from the Fairy Road, the one who vanished along with it with the morning mist, who the Raven King so blithly told the Farmer not to worry about? How did the Glovemaker’s daughter find her way inside the Raven King’s house? Did she just stumble upon it or did he bring her there? And why?
It’s fantastic.  You get all of these glimpses of the character, and you can’t help but build an image from them in your mind. But it’s never a complete image.  Never full, you can never really understand the Raven King any more than any of the characters in the book can.
(So um yeah…apparently I have *alot* of feelings about the Raven King. xD) 
All the people I ship romantically with this character
 Alright so my main ship for this guy is actually John Uskglass/England, take that in whichever way your imagination is inclined, because yes I probably mean it that way. Honestly, when you see how Happy all of Nature is when it thinks Stephen is the Raven King and that John Uskglass is returned? It’s just really cute?! How can you not?!
On a more Human level, as I’ve said before, I do actually picture John Uskglass as being pansexual, and as per his fairy upbringing, rather more casual about his sexual relationships. That said….I actually have very few ships…with like…named characters, for Uskers? Maybe it’s because I do see his affairs as so casual most of the time, or maybe it’s just because he’s so isolated a character. I dunno. Black Joan is the one character  that’s a definate yes. If she’s anything like her son, she’d be shrewd and cynical and the sort of person who can hold her own against the Raven King. I have to admit I definitely love that sort of fairy-tale like trope of this Great and Powerful King, and this relatively ordinary thief falling for one another as well. So yeah, definately here for Black Joan/John Uskglass. Otherwise? Hrmm… I need more Raven King Ships. Any one got any suggestions?
I will say that when John does fall in love, he falls hard. He doesn’t like it. It’s such a soft, vulnerable feeling, and placing your heart into someone else’s hands, to be broken at any moment? It’s foolish, so far as he’s concerned. He is a King in Faerie, after all, he cannot afford to be vulnerable. So he tries to deny any feelings he may develop for a person, even to himself. If you do get him to the point of  admitting it though, I will say he can be absolutely doting. 
My non-romantic OTP for this character
Okay, so I’ve talked about this before, but I do headcanon Thomas of Dundale and John Uskglass as having grown up in the brugh together, pretty much. Thomas –like the naturally born extrovert that he is ;) –  kind of attached himself to John and over the years became something like an older brother to him? I can’t help but picture him as being very protective of the young Raven King, and, having been taken at an age where he could remember things, where he had developed a more human sense of right and wrong, Thomas helped provide something of a balancing point against the Fairies as John was growing up. Thomas encouraged those more human aspects of John’s character, and he was there to talk to about these aspects of himself, these more human instincts, that John might not have understood so well growing up surrounded by Fairies – empathy, compassion, caring. And that bridge that Thomas provided was so important later in John’s life, after he returned to England. It wasn’t merely language that Thomas was translating, but culture, an entire way of thinking that John didn’t fully understand yet. I mean?! Their relationship is just so important to me and how can I not love them?!
And yet, on the other hand…There’s also William of Lanchester? I mean, he’s specifically marked out as The Raven King’s Favorite and Most Trusted servant, and I can’t help but picture this guy as the most Eternally Tired man in all of Northern England. xD  William is the sensible,trustworthy, reliable one and that’s such a beautiful contrast to John Uskglass? Part of me loves the idea that a big part of why John trusts William so much is because William will say ‘No’ to him. He won’t flatter or stay quiet if he feels he needs to speak against John (see: Henry Barbatus). Does that mean John will always listen? That he’ll always appreciate William’s input? No, of course not (also see: Henry Barbatus) But he will get the truth, and that is important too.
And again, on the third hand, I really do love the whole relationship between Catherine of Winchester and John Uskglass as well. I love the idea of the Raven King as a teacher, and Catherine herself is just really awesome? And the idea of even John Uskglass being impressed at her dedication to magic, of how much he finds himself valuing her as a pupil, and growing to care about her over the coarse of their relationship, just…as a person? I feel like John Uskglass does most easily connect to other people through magic and through teaching, and I like to think that Catherine was one of his favorites…
Ughh. I can’t choose. Let’s go with all four of them hanging out in 13th century Newcastle. Yes? Yes. Good! 8D 
My unpopular opinion about this character
I’m not sure. I don’t…think I have any unpopular opinions? What are the popular ones? Are we all in agreement that the Raven King is a Melodramatic Goth Nerd and That is Why We Love him?
One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.
I want just…more in general? I mean, like more, like a whole series of historical novels focusing on the intrigues and plots surrounding the Raven King’s court. I want to see him interacting with all of these historical personages, reacting to like historical events happening, how magic and his presence changes that past? It would be *amazing* and I want it so badly!
…so  I’m prolly gonna have to write it myself xD
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adams · 5 years
Text
there’s snow coming down (i’m watching it fall) // stenbrough // ao3
Working at the mall isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. At least, not for Bill Denbrough, college sophomore extraordinaire and current elf to Santa Claus at the Derry strip mall.
Until now, of course. Now, there’s a boy.
Bill has a crush on a boy working at the mall, doesn't talk to him, and still expects to end up happily-ever-after. Denbrough logic.
Working at the mall isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. At least, not for Bill Denbrough, college sophomore extraordinaire and current elf to Santa Claus at the Derry strip mall.
When his best friend Richie told him that he had found them jobs for their winter break from school at the mall, Bill was excited, giddy, even. His thoughts were full of fantasies about the discounts at the Gap, or eating leftover fries in the food court. But alas, the job was not only a temporary position, but a humiliating one at that. They made him wear a hat with ears on it, for Christ’s sake, and leggings! And ever since Richie had been fired for trying to get his boyfriend Eddie to “sit on Santa’s lap” while the real Santa was on lunch break, the only upside came when Bill’s younger brother Georgie visited. He was too old to tell Santa what he wanted for Christmas, but he was just old enough to bring his brother a much needed cup of coffee from the kiosk down the hall and to listen to Bill complain about the hoards of screaming children.
Until now, of course. Now, there’s a boy.
Where the North Pole set up is located in between the two corridors of stores and the food court, Bill has a pretty good view into nearly every storefront in the mall. After Richie was fired, management shifted Bill’s position from Santa’s left-hand man (similar to his right-hand man, but with less speaking) to the front of the sleigh to avoid anymore Richie-related incidents. The front of the sleigh was home to a big bag of warehouse candy that all came in plastic bags that Bill is in charge of handing out, but it was also where the stereo was housed. One of Bill’s new responsibilities was to maintain holiday cheer by queueing up as many classic Christmas tunes as he could. He had full control over what songs played and when, although he was highly encouraged to only pick the ones from the corporate approved list of appropriate artists, meaning Mariah Carey was played more than a few times a day.
When Richie found out about Bill’s great new job, he had practically cried, falling dramatically from his feet to the carpet in Bill’s bedroom with a hand against his forehead.
“How could they do this to me? Don’t they know I would have been the greatest elf DJ in the history of elf DJing? What a waste!” 
Bill had just laughed and nudged him with the tip of his shoe, telling Richie to be grateful that he wasn’t, or that he’d probably be banned for life from the mall for scarring some children with Marilyn Manson or something. Bill was probably right.
From his new perch at the front of the sleigh, Bill has a direct view of the store diagonal to Santa’s Workshop, which happened to be one of the most quiet in the entire mall. It was a small corporate run bookstore called The Bookbag, one with a wide selection of fiction and a wall of toys near the front register. Local teens often made it a game to run to the back wall labelled Romance/Erotica and read the dirtiest passage they could find out loud before the cashier could catch them and kick them out.
Bill hates the store for their corporate agenda- there were two of them in Derry alone, let alone dozens across the coast, and they seemed to be pushing to replace libraries and small independent bookstores like the little hole-in-the-wall cafe-slash-bookstore that Bill liked to go downtown to write in. His feelings change quickly and drastically, though, when he notices that the usual cashier, a sweet looking blond boy, is replaced by someone who, even at this distance, Bill recognizes as the single prettiest and most attractive man he had ever seen before.
The Boy was almost severe looking, with narrowed eyes and a sharp jawline. There’s something soft about him, though, in the way that his blond hair curls around his face, framing it in a way that drew attention to his eyes. Bill desperately wants to reach out and run his fingers through his hair. The Boy looks disinterested, flipping errantly through a book, until a customer approaches the counter with an arm full of books to be read and the Boy looks up with a kind smile, the soft sort of smile that melts Bill’s heart and leaves him weak-kneed on the floor.
At first, Bill figures that it’s a fluke, just a friend filling in for the usual cashier’s shift for the night, but as the weekend drags on, the Boy is sitting behind the counter more often than not. Bill ends up staring through the window at him more often than not, as well, eyes darting away as soon as the Boy looks up, cheeks red as he continues to pass out candy canes to eager first graders.
And then, their eyes meet. Bill can’t glance away fast enough and he finds himself making eye contact with the prettiest boy in the mall, who smiles that soft smile at him, and his heart skips a beat. He, of course, immediately embarrases himself when he raises a hand to wave and accidentally throws a handful of candy at the children nearest the sleigh. Bill darts his eyes away too quickly to see the Boy laugh, a hand over his mouth and smile wide as could be. It’s probably for the best, too. Bill’s crush wouldn’t be able to handle seeing that.
“You should ask him out,” Richie says, lying on the floor of Bill’s room (as usual), tossing a hacky sack into the air repeatedly.
“Or at least go into the store and talk to him,” Eddie adds, unhelpful as ever.
Bill buries his face into his pillow and lets out a groan.
“I can’t do that,” he whines when he finally comes back up for air, “He’s hot and he’s seen me wearing a fucking elf hat. Richie, you of all people know how humiliating it is to be seen in that thing.”
“Maybe he’ll think it’s hot! He does look over at you a lot, right? Maybe it’s a kink thing; ask him if he wants to take a ride on Santa’s sleigh.”
“Beep beep, Richie,” Bill scowls and reaches a hand out, catching the bag midair before Richie could.
“Fine,” Richie sighs, exasperated, “But don’t come crying to me when someone snatched that hot nerd out from under you and breaks your heart.”
The holidays approach faster now, especially with his job keeping him busy, and Bill does indeed find his heart broken.
It’s the fifth week of Santa’s Workshop, nearly the week of Christmas, when Bill works up enough courage to go into The Bookbag and finally talk to the Boy. He has a whole plan to smile and wave when they make eye contact, end his shift at six pm as usual, go change out of his stupid elf costume, and then go into the store to introduce himself, sans hat.
Richie tries to tell him to just ask the Boy out again, but just asking for the Boy’s name feels like an insurmountable task as is.
However, all that falls away when Bill arrives at work and looks through the glass only to see that the Boy isn’t behind the counter at all. The only person in the store is a tall, broad-shouldered man rearranging a shelf of novels. He smiles as a customer approaches with a question, and his smile is sweet, but not the same. Bill feels his heart sink.
Still, he manages to drag himself over to the sleigh and pass out candy to ungrateful children, playing Wham! on the stereo loud enough to deafen himself beside the speaker through the entirety of his grueling shift that seemed to drag on forever.
He drags himself to the employees only bathroom in the mall that everyone still uses anyway to pull his hat off, change into jeans, and pull a red flannel on over his ugly striped elf shirt. While that only takes him a minute to do, it takes him much more time to work up the nerve to even leave the bathroom.
Twenty minutes pass by quickly, and Bill finds the courage to shake out his arms, smile in the mirror, and tell himself, “You’ve got th-this.” He makes his way to the bookstore.
Bill still doesn’t see the Boy immediately when he reaches the store, but he doesn’t let that stop him, he spent too much time working up the nerve to get here to turn back now. He approaches the counter where the same boy as earlier leans against the register. Bill briefly wonders how they’re hiring all of the prettiest people out of Derry.
“H-hi,” Bill says, the boy’s attention zeroing in on him.
“Hey there,” Mike, as his nametag proclaims, says, “Anything I can help you with today?”
“Uh, yeah, actually. I’m, uhh…” Bill trails off, losing his courage, “Looking for a book about, uh, birds?”
“Right this way!” Mike begins to lead him away from the front of the store as he shakes his head at himself, disappointed in his stupid cop-out. He takes a deep breath and steels himself for embarrassment to actually ask what he came here to ask. 
“Where, uh, where’s the usual cuh-cashier? Isn’t the b-blond b--buh-boy usually here?” He says, grazing a finger over the paperback spines on the shelves as they make their way to the non-fiction section.
“Oh, he’s moving to Portland this weekend, so I’m the new guy,” Mike grins and pulls a book off of a shelf labelled Animal/Nature Interest. “Will this one work for you?”
Bill looks down at the book titled A Beginner’s Guide to Ornithology, and despite the feeling that his heart had been cut a thousand times, he gives Mike a weak smile back and nods. Now that the holidays are ending and his dreams of the Boy are dashed, Bill figures he should pick up a new hobby.
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Richie rolls his eyes, “He was just a boy at the mall; go look now and they’ll be twelve of them in the Gap right this second. Go get over the boy by getting under one of them.”
“I’ll go get under one of them if you don’t learn how to keep a job,” Eddie pushes Richie’s long legs off of his lap. Richie’s new job at the Sunglasses Hut has already brought the news that, unfortunately, due to an incident with a beagle and a pair of Raybans, he has been let go.
“Give Bill a break, melodrama is in his blood,” Beverly says, laughing as she sits on the floor between Eddie’s legs and the coffee table, “Remember when he dedicated his fiction piece to me in ninth grade creative writing?”
“That was a dark time for me!” Bill throws a pillow across the room at her from his position on the couch.
“I just really thought that the Boy and I had this…. connection.” Bill sulks.
And sulks. And sulks. And sulks a little bit more.
In fact, Bill sulks for so long, and so intensely, that even his workplace begins to take notice.
“What do you mean I’m fired? It’s the week of Christmas! There has to be some rule against that.”
“We don’t want to be firing you right now either, Bill. It’s literally the busiest week of the year, but we’ve had more than a couple of complaints from parents about you, and I can’t say I disagree with them.”
“What are you even talking about? I’m great with the kids!”
“Usually, yeah, but whatever kind of a mood you’ve been in this past week has kept you from smiling, and you’ve played some mightily inappropriate songs over the speaker.”
“They’re all Christmas songs, though!”
“The Ramones ‘Baby, Please Come Home’ is not a Christmas song for four year olds, Bill.”
And so now Bill doesn’t have his shitty temporary, seasonal job as an elf anymore. Fucking Doug, his annoying bald manager, hands him his last check and tells him to turn in his uniform after he washes it, as if Bill is actually going to do that. He just rolls his eyes and leaves, keeping his head down after he tears the dumb elf hat off as he walks towards the front door of the mall. He doesn’t spare a second glance back towards the Santa’s Workshop, or even one for The Bookbag.
Bill does look up, though, when he runs straight into someone walking briskly in the opposite direction. He looks up to either apologize or yell at the person, but his words die in his throat when he sees who it is that ran into him.
“Book Boy?”
“Book Boy? Good to know I left an impression, then.” The Boy chuckles good-naturedly, a dimple forming beside his smile. Bill feels his heart beating significantly faster and he grins back, unable to help himself. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your ears.” The Boy gestures to the hat still gripped in Bill’s hand.
“Yeah, well,” Bill used his other hand to rub the back of his neck, “That’s n-not going to be a puh-problem anymore. I got f-f-fired for p-playing the Ramones.” The Boy raises an eyebrow and when he replies, Bill swears that he sees hearts.
“Well, if they don’t like the Ramones, then they’re definitely not worth you.”
Bill’s grin nearly doubles in size before faltering when he remembers why he was playing the Ramones in the first place. “Wait, I th-thought your coworker said you muh-moved to Portland? What are you doing b-back huh-here?”
“To Portland? I would never set foot in Portland if I could help it,” the Boy scoffed, “No, that’s Ben, the other cashier.”
“Oh. Th-then why have you been g-gone all week?”
“This past week was Hanakkuh, I’ve been celebrating with my family.” The Boy says slowly, smile fading a little. “Why, is that a problem?”
“N-no!” Bill assures him, voice high and a little loud. He knew he would fuck it up, but Richie’s voice in the back of his mind telling him that he’s just a boy in the mall kept him from falling apart, ironically enough. “My n-name is Bill.”
“Um, okay. I’m Stan,” Stan. Bill could get really used to saying that.
“Okay, Stan. Will you g-go out to dinner with me?”
“Like on a date?” Stan’s smile returns, along with his dimple. Bill really, really wants to kiss that dimple.
“Like a d-date.”
“I would love to.”
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merry Christmas everyone!! stay safe and happy!!
“Thank you,” replies Dapper politely, smiling brightly at you, and then presents are being pushed into his hands with chatter and excitement. He gets his own constellation light and art supplies, but... wait, these aren’t for him, right? He frowns around at his brothers, who are already distracted by the next present pulled out from beneath the blankets. Confused - and maybe just a little hurt - Dapper pushes the watercolors and colored pencils away from him.
But he’s delighted by his big box of charcoals, pencils, and both the sketchpads they got him. And even better is the little bear, soft as clouds.
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He throws himself on Red’s neck for a hug, whistling about his new stuffie. And the photo frame - oh, he’ll draw something perfect for it! How pretty! He hugs Blue too. Sweet dried apples from Dok and Trick and a fan for his hot little room - excellent!
“Holy shit!” Trick bursts into laughter as he pulls out the goofy sweatshirt Dok got him, immediately tugging it on despite the heat. Oh, it even smells like Dok - something pricks in his eyes. He sniffs and hurries to give Dok his coffee, drawing a shout of triumph out of his twin as he lifts it into the air, delighted.
“Thank you, Trick!”
“Course, dude,” he laughs. “Anything for you.”
Red hands Trick the tea he bought him to match, too, and some sunglasses he grabbed from a stand, and a fan for his and Dok’s room. Trick is delighted. And then - oh! The weighted blanket! Blue carries it out of his room for him and Trick immediately buries himself in it, sighing melodramatically at the great relief of the weight and making his brothers laugh. Really, though... he thinks this will help. He thanks them profusely, feeling spoiled.
Dok has one other present for him, too, but he’ll wait til they have a moment alone. He feels like he’s already overwhelmed just by seeing Trick smile at everybody else’s presents - he doesn’t know what he’d do if he cried.
Red gives Dok the logic puzzles, Shakespearian comedy, and the Princess Bride book he grabbed out of the reading section. Deutsch complains that everyone thinks he’s a nerd, but he can’t hide his excitement.
Blue and Red exchange their presents once the others are washing the dishes and cleaning up breakfast. Blue cheers for his new playing cards, but the constellation night light stops him short - he adores it, clutching it in his hands and just beaming at it for the longest time. He calls it cool at least six times and Red smiles every time, laughing at his enthusiasm.
And then -
“Oh, Roser,” gasps Blue, staring at the silver ring in his palm. “Are you kidding? You really got this for me?”
Red laughs, his face a little hot. “Yeah... yeah, haha, it just reminded me so much of you. It just - I know Anti gets you most of your jewelry, but I thought - I just wanted you to have - you know - ”
“I love it,” croaks Blue. “I love it so much, it reminds me of you too, I’ll wear it always, Red.”
Red smiles shyly, his color lighting up his cheeks. “Really?”
“Really.” Blue squeezes his hand and takes the ring from him, smiling bright as the equator sun hits the silver of his new ring. “Really. Thank you so much.”
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“Okay, now your stuff!”
Red’s eyes widen at the pretty silver dog tag and he wraps it around his throat, beaming. He laughs at the Spiderman plushie and then they both present each other with matching alpaca stuffies and burst into laughter, drawing closer to each other and knocking their foreheads together in a familiar old show of affection, clutching their new friends to their chests.
“It’s perfect!” beams Blue. “It’s perfect, Red, thank you, it’s all perfect.”
“I agree,” grins Red. “Everything’s perfect, amazing - thank you, everybody. Last but not least, hey! New blankets for everybody. And guess what? Anti got us real ham for dinner, so we’ve got that to look forward to too.”
“Hell yes!” crows Trick, his arms wrapped around Doktor’s shoulders. “Best Christmas ever!”
“Hey,” Dapper knocks for attention. “There’s still Anti’s presents for the three of you, you know.”
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musicallisto · 4 years
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Hi! May I please have a marauders, MCU and blades of light and shadow match-up? I'm straight, she/her. I'm a ravenclaw and an INFP, I'm introverted but pretty friendly and outgoing once you get to know me. I love reading,my favorite genres are fantasy and poetry. I tend to daydream quite a lot and have a tendency to overthink stuff, I can also be a tad melodramatic at times. People often come to me for advice or to vent! (1/2)
I Ship You With...
Remus Lupin
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okay you two would be the cutest and most affectionate couple - also the most blushy one
it wouldn’t help that the others (James and Sirius, especially) would spend the first days teasing the hell out of Moony for finding himself a girlfriend
“oh, he’s all grown up now” “Sirius” “look at our baby, James! can you believe how fast time flies?” “Sirius Black” “shh. let me pretend you’re still a little boy” “SIRIUS”
(they’re obviously incredibly happy for the both of you. you deserve & love each other so much, and you’re a pair of nerds that they love to watch snuggle together by the fire when you think no one else is looking)
you’d exchange books that you love and have the other read them, then discuss them - most of the time it would end up in frenzied conversations until two and a half in the morning where you gush about the characters and the worldbuilding and you sigh dreamily at the romance and the magic of it all, until he slyly reminds you that nothing is imaginary in the magic world
you’d shyly come to him one day and ask if he knows any reliable and truthful books about his... furry little problem (as you’ve learned to call it with the other boys, but really you don’t like that denomination because it implies that Remus is problematic), because you want to learn more about how to deal with it when it arises and how to keep him and everyone around safe, and you mostly trust books to give you this kind of knowledge. he’s deeply touched by your request, and although he tries to keep his composure and give you a list of works that resonated with him (though he doesn’t read too much about werewolves. it’s still difficult to handle the reality of it all), you can tell by his reddened cheeks and his fumbling words that it’s the most thoughtful sign of affection anyone has ever shown towards him
dates in Hogsmeade! what was at first strictly a friendly gathering for the entire group in the period preceding christmas remained a friendly escapade when you got together with Remus... but also the rest of the Marauders learned to give you a little space every time you go down to the village and leave you to frolick, as Sirius abjectly calls it, in the colorfully-lit streets.
you grab butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks (it will invariably be way too sugary for your liking, but seeing Remus’s white, creamy mustache after he dipped his lips in the drink is always worth it), as many sweets as you can carry in Honeydukes (most times it requires more than one bag and a few magic tricks to be able to transport them all), and end the day walking hand in hand in the main streets of the village, snow gently covering your hair and shoulders and engulfing the two of you in a winter wonder. his fingers and yours always tense when your steps bring you closer to the Shrieking Shack; but you press his hand, and when he’s more restless than usual or the full moon approaches you press a few feather-light kisses to his knuckles. you’re here and you’re not going anywhere. for that day and for that night, at least, everything is going to be okay.
Bruce Banner
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it takes him more than ages to ask you out. decades. centuries! MILLENIA
and meanwhile absolutely everyone with a pair of eyes can see how dumbstruck he gets whenever you walk in the room, and how his every internal organ stops when you talk to him. in his eyes, you’re a paragon of confidence and coolness (which actually you’re convinced you aren’t, because you’re also a blabbering mess whenever you have to talk to him), and he’s... well, he’s only himself. some kind of STEM nerd. also, on occasion, the Incredible Hulk. no big deal? YES VERY BIG DEAL
but in reality, it is not big deal for you. he seems to forget every so often that he is a doctor and that someone with several PhD’s doesn’t exactly qualify as a STEM nerd in your mind (maybe at least its most powerful form). and even beyond that, he is an incredibly caring soul who’s constantly putting others before him, and it’s mesmerizing and refreshing to just sit on a chair in his lab, reading a novel, with him working on some new solutions, listening to the buzz of the kilns and the lapping of distilled water and peroxides in their testing tubes. you get a sense of peace when you watch him work that you never seem to find anywhere else, and in no one else’s presence.
now obviously Tony (it always has to be Tony) can’t BEAR anymore all this tension between his two best associates (that’s how he calls his friends when he’s not drunk enough), and is practically begging the both of you to make a move or at least talk it out and resolve all of this electricity. which you’d rather die than do, because he’s Tony Stark, he can’t imagine the immensity of the humiliation that would slap you in the face if you attempted to confess your feelings to anyone (especially Bruce!), but you can and you know.
after a few more failed attempts, Tony decides to take the matter in his own hands. nothing in this world will ever get done without his help, he swears!
at first he tries to convince the both of you, separately, to go to a mystery blind date at Luna Park, on Coney Island. you both vigorously decline. Tony has had brillian ideas in the past, but putting yourselves out there to spend a day with a stranger and possibly find love with them? ridiculous. that’s when Tony changes plans: now he’s inviting the both of you (still separately, without mentioning anything jointly) to spend the day with him at the fun fair. it will be fun, he says, just an afternoon eating cotton candy and rifle shooting with his friend. that sounds fishy enough coming from him. it’s a miracle (or maybe a consequence of Tony’s incessant supplications) that you both accept.
when you see Bruce, and Bruce sees you, arrive from both sides of the street to the meeting point you both agreed on with Tony, you start to smell the con-trick. obviously, you shouldn’t have put this past Tony Stark. now you’re both stuck with the other and you have nowhere to look at to distract yourself from his shy, adorable eyes and timid smile. of course.
well. now that you’re here, standing like idiots, not daring to say anything to the other, in front of the entrance of Luna Park, you’d rather make the most of it. chase the butterflies that pierce your throat whenever you catch a glimpse of his excited voice, extinguish the flames that arise through all your body when he puts his hand on the small of your back - then promptly moves it.
the ferris wheel seems to call you. tugging on bruce’s arm, you lead him to the attraction with more enthusiasm than you imagined you would have when the day started. New York City is always a wonder to look at from the heights. Bruce lets out a nervous laugh, but follows you anyway. it’s not like anything is bound to go wrong, right?
but of course. you both were carefree enough to forget that the entire ordeal had been orchestrated by none other than Tony Stark. when your cabin reaches the top of the wheel, and your face lights up at the sight of the sea, Tony’s voice rings out from the speakers at the exact same moment as your cabin comes to an abrupt halt.
“your attention please. due to regrettable circumstances, the ride will be stopping for approximatively thirty minutes. please enjoy the view, whether it is the bay or the person in front of you. later.”
suddenly you want to grab him by the collar and throw his smug little smile out the cabin, headfirst into the Atlantic.
“I’m so sorry,” rings out Bruce’s voice in the tightness of the cabin, his embarrassment true. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this and now I got you in this mess...”
“You didn’t get me in any mess. I agreed too. I guess...” you swallow hard, the faintest of smiles coming to rest on your lips. “I guess we’ll have to make good use of this time, then.”
Tyril
it takes a lot for him to open up to you: patience, efforts, gentle smiles and light touches on his shoulder, good manners, and respect of his past, privacy, and boundaries. a little like approaching a wounded animal in the woods. you have to gain his trust, first. it’s not the easiest task you’ve ever had to tackle, but hey, it can’t be harder than recollecting the evil shadow shards to stop the harmful influence of the murderous, evil, shadow court over your world, right?
(it’s almost harder, actually! you never would have guessed. but that elf has so many walls around his soul, and you have to scale every one of them with your bare hands.)
it’s worth it, though. it’s always worth it to see his smile light up the forest like a thousand fairly lights, and the tenderness of such a beautiful soul, that has lost so much, come alive every time you embrace him.
you see the blue flame of sadness in his eyes when he looks at you, and he sees the image of Kaya, the one he cared for so deeply and he lost so much time ago. it still pains him because he feels like it might be his fault, that he didn’t work hard enough to save her from the evil of the shadow court. his worst fear, although he will never admit it, is that another of the innocent people he loves most will succumb to the darkness and he will watch it unravel, powerless. but you assure him that it will not happen. you are too strong-minded to be corrupted.
he teaches you how to fight, and it’s an unexpected moment of intimacy between the two of you, getting to know each other better than ever, with each other’s strengths and weaknesses
you only ever see him be truly happy when he’s surrounded by the lights of the fae, that you randomly stumble upon in the middle of the deadwood, and that reflect a thousand colors on his beautiful, upturned face. at that precise moment, you can swear you’ve never seen someone more radiant, and someone more in love
when his eyes finally fall onto yours, his look of utter adoration does not disminish, quite the opposite actually; and he holds your gaze as if you were much more of a wonder than anything that’s happening in this kaleidoscopic clearing. your breath hitches in your throat, and a pink fire blossoms in your chest; it is here, in the most desolated of places in the entire country, that you discover love and love discovers you for the first time
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alyssapinno-blog · 4 years
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Try to be happy and satisfied … but how?
So far all I am is a disappointment. I have committed to and failed at most everything I have “set my mind to.” What do I truly want to do in this life? When will I know?
Don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to be melodramatic and I know that others feel the same way, but I still can wonder, can’t I? I think my problem is that I have always “known” what I am supposed to do. Which has not always been something that I have decided on my own. So then, I became a box checker. Do this, then this, then that, and after will be this. I get to a task or event or what have you, and then I cannot even enjoy any of it because I am focused on the next task. For the simplest of examples, as a kid, do you remember how amazing every single holiday was? Yeah, me too, for the most part. But now they are nothing more than added stress or something you feel obligated to participate in. Please tell me that’s not just me. I have considered that maybe I have this ever-growing negative attitude and mindset that is implanted in my anxiety and depression that does not allow me to enjoy everything that once gave me the most joy! How do I fix this? Or is this what they call adulting? If its adulting, I don’t want it.
I have tried to start mentally being honest with myself and seeing what I could possibly do to eradicate these feelings and thoughts and I have come up short every time. The only conclusion I have come to is that I need to do things that make me happy, no matter how big or small. Writing this blog is one of the things I really enjoy. It gives me a place to think through everything and put it out into the world. Sharing it for some reason takes the weight off my shoulders as if I am sharing the burden with someone. Another joyful hobby I have reintroduced to my life is reading. Wow, I never knew the things I loved the most as far as hobbies make me a total nerd. Any who, I made a goal to read at least 10 books this year. So far I am reading book number 4. I am ahead of the odds in making my goal, so that makes me feel proud. Which then does make me happy, so win there.  Traveling is the latest interest I have re-added to my life endeavors. Recently I was on a trip to California with my husband and a bunch of my family. Yet again, nerdy, yes, I know. It was a celebration in honor of my Great Uncle’s 80th birthday. The trip alone woke up the travel bug in me but also hearing the stories of my Great Uncle and his travel adventures. He set a goal to reach 100 counties in his lifetime and is only a few shy of completing that goal. What an amazing accomplishment. (But accomplishment isn’t the word I should use because it then turns into more of a check box type of task.) His goal inspired my husband and I to also make a goal of our own. We are planning to reach all 50 states together. We even got one of those Instagram ad worthy maps where you scratch off the states that you traveled to. And if you are wondering, the states that we have been to prior to adventuring together do not count. The states that we will count and scratch off are going to be ones we do together. Our next trip is in the works, Kentucky in November. Cannot wait.
Along with trying to reintroduce hobbies and adventures that make me feel happy I have been doing a deep dive into the one thing that takes up most of my life- my job(s.) For the longest time I have working multiple jobs. I always give the same answer when people ask why I work so much. It’s either, “Saving up for the wedding,” or “Preparing for having kids someday,” or “I just love working.” Problem is- the wedding is done and paid for, kids are a topic I will write about in the future, and I love working because it takes me away from my boring lack luster life. That’s hard to admit but it’s true. I have always used work to avoid everything. This consists of missing holidays or family time because I’ve already shared that it’s not my favorite, my life at home because no matter how hard I try it’s always a mess, and the feeling of not having enough people in my friend group to occupy my time. That’s deep and dark but it’s the truth. It’s a feeling of not being acceptable or living up to the standards of what this arbitrary world has set to be normal.
 I just keep spiraling and writing so I apologize to anyone who reads this if it doesn’t make total sense, stream of conciseness. Back to the job situation. The quote that I found years ago is plastered to the left of my computer screen and I look at it daily. Steve Jobs said, “Your work is going to fill a large part of your life and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do, If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it.” Looks like I have work to do. I most definitely don’t feel like I am satisfied. I am not able to do great work as much as I have tried. Yet again another topic that I will write about in great detail later on.  I don’t have a solution other than that I need to move up or move on. Hopefully this part of my story will soon take a turn for the better.
Now that I have gone further and further into sadness without even trying to I am going to close this with a promise that I am going to continue to try to do better. I am going to try to change my life and turn to true happiness, no matter the list and boxes to check off, no matter anyone’s idea of what I should be and do, and no matter the money and what my work puts as constraints. I will be me starting now, the happy me.  
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poeedamerons · 5 years
Text
me, I will fall in love with you every single day
Day : Future Fic - Read it at AO3 
When Michael wakes up, he is alone in a bright room. He blinks his eyes several times, trying to adjust to the light, hearing beeping and whirring sounds echo around him. His body feels heavy and sore in ways he never experienced before. His ribs and chest ache.
When his eyes finally adjusted to the lights, he realizes he is in a sterile hospital room and the beeping is coming from the heart monitor beside his bed. There's an IV drip connected to the back of his hand, pumping some kind of transparent liquid into him. The room smells like antiseptic, his mouth tastes bitter and his head is throbbing with a headache (the kind that usually followed in the morning after a heavy night before). The fabric of the nightshirt is soft against his skin. He has no idea how he got here in first place. He tries to get up, but his body doesn't budge. Black dots blur his eyesight and he regret his action instantly.
Getting up proves to be a bigger hardship than he imagined, so he settles for craning his neck to the side, searching for where the IV’d arm rests. He tries to wiggle his fingers, and after, his feet. Everything seems to work just fine, and he is glad for that. Feeling a little bit more adventurous - as if he has anything else to do - he slowly raises his arm, careful of the IV lines, and checks out the printed letters on the bracelet.
Michael Guerin.
So that’s his name, he thinks. Michael. It feels strange to have to read his own name from a wrist band, but worse yet is the realization that he doesn’t quite remember a single thing before waking up. But his train of thought is interrupted by a tall man entering the room with a white foam cup in his hands.
The man is attractive, with soft-looking brown eyes, tanned skin and the most beautiful smile that Michael has ever seen. His heart flutters a little at the sight. And what a sight, his mind adds as he notice the uniform the man is wearing.
“You’re finally awake,” his voice is smooth, exuding comfort, but there is a tired edge to it. He doesn't know that voice, but he wants to. The man’s eyes are bright with happiness as he makes his way towards the bed. “How are you feeling?”
Michael's head is pounding, but it seems irrelevant because he's utterly awe-struck by the man in front of him: he's completely transfixed. He thinks he has never seen someone so beautiful in his whole life and Michael has no idea what he is doing in his room.
“I think I know you,” the words fly out of his mouth before he can think about it and a crease forms in the other man’s face, his eyes aren’t so soft anymore. He wants to take them back immediately, that man should only ever smile.
He - Michael decides he's going to call tall, dark and gorgeous 'Handsome' until he somehow manages to get a proper name - bites his lower lip and Michael's overcome with the urge to reach out and ease it free, kiss the sting of teeth better.
“Michael,” the way his name rolls off Handsome's tongue is sinful, even if Michael can hear the worry and tenderness in his tone.He wants to hear his name from this man for the rest of his life. “Do you remember why you’re here?” Handsome asks calmly, walking the final paces to stand beside the bed.
He is even more good looking up close. Michael can see the glow of his sun kissed skin and the deep pink tint of the man’s lips. He is an Adonis come to life, and Michael wonders if he still dreaming.
“No,” the answer slips his lips quickly, too perplexed to form longer sentences. The man looks at him patiently waiting if more words will come out. A few moments pass, and when Michael doesn't say anything else the man laughs, amused at something Michael isn’t aware of.
“You’re still the same though,” mirth clear in his eyes. Good, Michael thinks. “I’ll call for someone.”
“Why?” Michael’ knits his eyebrows, he doesn’t want anyone. He is just fine with tall, dark and handsome. The man’s hands reach for his, squeezing them lightly. His hands are warm and soft.
“Cause it looks like you're experiencing some kind of amnesia”. While that explains why he can’t remember anything, the anxiety in Handsome’s voice is unmistakable.
Handsome reaches for the red button above Michael’s bed, a beeping noise sounds down the corridor. He takes a seat on the chair beside Michael’s bed and that’s when Michael notices the blanket thrown over it.
“Did you sleep here?” He screws up his face trying to remember, but everything is still fuzzy. Hurt. Confusion. Pain. It's briefly blinding, the sudden stabbing through his head as he tries to think past it, trying to remember what happened and it steals Michael's breath, catching inwards on a whimper. The movement feels like an ice-pick through his skull and for a moment he can't breathe. The noise has Handsome quickly reaching up to him. His unoccupied hand massages Michael’s temple soothingly. Michael moans softly as the pain begins to dissipate, slowly, under the gentle, surprisingly knowing touch from Handsome, who snorts at him.
“Oh, I'm gonna enjoy hanging this over your head for the rest of your life,” his lips curl into a smirk before his sips the cup in his hands. “And yes, to answer your question, I did sleep here.”
“Why?” Michael asks. The man puts the cup on the small table beside him, the one with a book and two cellphones on it. He wipes at Michael’s cheek with his thumb, Michael instinctively leans into the touch, eyes closing to enjoy the feeling. Michael swallows thickly, a lump forming in his throat. He has to remember this man, the one that looks so warmly at him and is so gentle. The man whose touch makes him feel safe.
The opening door interrupts their moment and a man in white jacket walks inside. “So Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up?” He says nonchalantly, not really expecting an answer. “How you feeling, Guerin?” The doctor asks him, and Michael's guess is that they know each other. Somehow.
Handsome sighs.
“It’s like you expected, he doesn't remember anything.”
“Ah...well,” The doctor’s confident tone deflated a little. “It's like I said, it'll probably wear off in a few hours. A couple of days at most. Don't worry” His gaze turns back to Michael. “You’re here because you were found on the floor of your…. Er…. lab,” His eyes dart to Handsome for split second. “Far as we can tell, some kind of energy blasted you against the wall. You broke a few ribs and suffered a head contusion. That’s why you can’t remember anything; your brain is still healing from the impact.” Michael decides that he likes this guy; he's straight to the point. “You got here in time, so no permanent damage.”
“I found you before the worst happened.” Handsome adds.
“You found me?” Michael asks, dumbfounded, and the man nods. “Can I at least get the name of my saviour? I can't keep callin' you tall, dark and handsome like I am right now. In my mind.” The man flushes and the doctor grins like it might split his face in half.
“Oh, this is going to be amazing. I’m Kyle,” the man in white jacket introduces himself. “Fanboy of all that is going to happen here.” he motions between the two of them.
“Go away, Valenti.” Handsome pushes him away slightly, but it's gentle, affectionate and he's smiling again.
“I will, not because you are telling me to, but because I have rounds to make.” Kyle process to check on his IV. “This is for the pain, we are not letting it run fast because it’s a strong medication. No need to keep you stoned.” He winks. “See you nerds later.”
Kyle struts to the door and steps outside, "Oh," his head pops back in the room and he's grinning, "Update me on everything later, please."
“Go away, Valenti.” Handsome closes his eyes in annoyance.
“Rude.” Kyle sing songs as he closes the door.
“Just so you know,” Handsome stats, “you hate him.” Michael laughs at that, feeling like there's a story behind it.
“Do I?” Handsome nods. “I want to ask why, but I don't know if I'd get an answer seeing as you still haven't told me your name.”
“My name is Alex. Alex Manes.” Michael likes the sound of that. It fits him. Handsome - Alex - looks at him, almost hopeful. "Anything?"
“Sadly no,” he answers gruffly, because he really wants to remember this man.
“As for your other question..” Alex’s eyes fill with fondness and grabs Michael’s foot through the hospital blanket, giving it a light squeeze and holding on. “I slept here because we made vows to each other and I'm pretty sure there was an 'in sickness' clause thrown in there somewhere.”
Michael's eyes widen in shock and a grin blossoms on his face. “You’re-,” His laugh is joyful. “You,” Michael rises from his position in bed, motioning to Alex with an unnecessarily grand gesture but he can't help himself. “are married to me?”
Alex chuckles. “Yes, is that a bad thing?” His brown eyes fill with something so intense that Michael’s heart melts a little.
Michael almost drowns in his husband’s beauty. “A bad thing?” He gasps melodramatically. “Jeez, no, I'm just shocked that I'm married to the most God-like person I've ever seen. Did I bribe you?” Alex snorts, still holding his foot, but his cheeks are tinged with red. His other hand places a wild lock of Michael’s hair behind his ear.
“No bribery needed.” He adds softly. Michael chose a good one.
“So, you’re mine?” He feels as if he is sounding like a broken record here, but he has to be sure. He's way too enchanted by Alex to risk this being a dream, or some cruel joke. Or... that they're only married by some fluke.
“Yes. And you are mine.” Alex looks delighted in saying that, like being able to say the words is the single most important accomplishment of his life. Like Michael means the world to him.
Alex reaches out and cups Michael’s face in both his hands. They are still warm and now, Michael notices, they're a little calloused. Alex's thumbs sweep under his eyes, along the line of his cheekbones and Michael feels, deep in his soul, that this contact is important to them. He's enamoured with that idea, of having something that's special. That's theirs. Alex leans in, his whole face softening in a way that almost sends Michael into a cardiac arrest. The monitor beside the bed beeps loudly and whatever moment they might have been having is lost immediately.
“Whoa there, cowboy,” Alex whispers, so close that Michael can feel Alex's breath on his face. “No need to call all the floor nurses back into the room.” Michael smiles at his husband's playful words, but his heart is still beating at full force. Alex closes in and nudges Michael's nose with his in a small Eskimo kiss. A swarm of butterflies starts fluttering in Michael's stomach. He settles his own hands on Alex’s arms and let his eyes close. They are quiet for a while, just listening to the soft sound of each other's breathing.
Alex’s unshaven cheek brushes against his own, and it feels soft, intimate. Domestic. Michael exhales and breathes the scent of Alex’s hair, taking a moment to admire how their bodies fit together. Michael’s mind is reeling.
Michael thinks, dragging himself away from how wonderfully Alex fits against him, that this has to be hard on Alex, too. He wonders how hard it's been finding his husband unconscious and then sitting for hours in a hospital chair, watching and waiting for Michael to wake up. Hoping he would. It's with a surge of guilt that he wonders how he ever managed to forget about someone as amazing as Alex? How much of a bitch Fate had to be to put him in this position of forgetting them. He doesn't think it should be possible, since Alex has really only given him an Eskimo kiss and Michael's absolute putty in his hands.
Too soon, Alex pulls away and Michael misses the warmth of his breath. He's a little annoyed at himself for failing to steal a kiss; Alex is his husband, after all, and Michael is in hospital. He definitely deserves some kisses for that.
Alex's hand reaches for his foot once more, thumb digging into the arch in a way Michael didn't know would feel so good and it makes his toes curl. Michael sighs, realising now that they'll have to go back to playing twenty questions and that any chance of kissing is, temporarily, off the table. That’s cool, Michael thinks, he can wait the for the perfect moment to reach for his husband’s luscious pink lips. He wonders what they taste like.
“Now, tell me," he rests back on the bed, crossing his arms cheekly, "why don't I like doctor smarty pants? He seemed okay to me.” He shrugs.
Alex grins. "This is gonna be good. I'll remind you that you said that next time you're complaining that he's over for dinner." He lets go of Michael’s foot.
"Nooo." Michael whines. "That was good."
"Yeah,” Alex chuckles, “I know you like it when I do that," his voice is fond and, not for the first time, Michael wants to be able to remember everything about them. Their first kiss, the first time they made love, who proposed… their wedding. He wants to remember all the times Alex probably did this in bed.
Alex’s hand goes back to his foot and Michael sighs contentedly. "You still have to answer me. What's up with the doc?"
"I used to date him in high school." Alex replies, calmly, and Michael feels his eyes widen in surprise.
"You’re right, I hate him." His mouth curls into a pout. He knows that whatever race he might have been in with the doctor he has clearly won, but he still doesn’t like the thought of his husband ever belonging to anyone else but him. “I think I feel better and we should leave.” He knows he is being childish but he doesn’t care.
Alex snorts. "Same possessive fool," Alex leans in again, probably out of a well-honed instinct, to kiss the pout off Michael's lips but this time Michael's ready. He leans up and catches Alex's lower lip between his teeth, biting gently and stealing a proper kiss when Alex gasps in surprise.
His happiness at (finally) getting a kiss is fleeting, though, because Alex pulls back, grumbling his name in warning. “Michael…”
"What? Can't a dying man kiss his husband?" He doesn't regret what he just did, not in the slightest, Alex tastes like sweet lemonade with a tinge of the coffee he was drinking earlier. His only regret is that he didn't get more.
"You’re meant to be getting... excited." Alex's emphasis on the last word makes Michael wiggle his eyebrows.
"Excited, huh?"
"God, you are such a man-child" Affection is written all over Alex’s face.
"And you love me for it."
"Yeah," Alex murmurs, gazing into Michael's eyes. Michael feels like he might get lost in them. "I do".
Alex blinks, breaking the intense stare and looking almost embarrassed at having let himself get carried away. "Still can't remember anything?" Michael shakes his head no. "Is the pain better?"
Oh yeah, Michael thinks, he'd had a splitting headache before. It strikes him that after Alex told him they were married the pain sort of disappeared. He supposes that pain's irrelevant after the world-changing bombshell's been dropped that the most beautiful person he's ever seen married him willingly and loves him.
Michael is high on feelings.
A buzzing sound on the bedside table draws Alex’s attention. He reaches for the phone and swipes his thumb over the screen. Michael watches his expression shift into something indecipherable.
“What’s wrong?” He asks Alex, a little worried.
“There’s nothing wrong, per se…” His voice draggs on a little. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with loads of information,” He's carefully choosing his words and Michael doesn't like it. “But in a few seconds, this room's going to be invaded by a sticky-fingered, pink tutu-clad hurricane.”
He lost Michael there. What is that supposed to mean?
“What?” He asks confused.
Alex takes a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand searches for Michael’s and he can see the wedding band on Alex’s finger. “We have a daughter,” Michael stares at Alex, feeling like something in his brain just blacked out, speechless with yet another mind-blowing snippet of a life he's forgotten. “She's four and she's... she's going through a very intense ballerina phase.” Alex smiles softly. “Her favorite everything is pink, and she calls you papa.”
Michael realises he's forgotten to blink, the slight burning in his eyes reminding him to and he does. Once. Twice. The mental gymnastics involved to try and process the way he's feeling are monumental; his heart's trying to bust out of his chest. He hasn't been expecting to be hit with more information, let alone a child, but he's not horrified by the prospect. He realises that Alex has given him everything and he's just starting to understand fully how frightening this experience must have been for Alex. How lucky he is to have Alex in his life.
He still has no idea what landed him in this hospital, but he swears to himself that he will never give Alex another reason to worry like this.
He raises their joined hands to his lips and presses a soft gentle kiss there, looking up at Alex, eyes shining with devotion. “I’m dying to meet her.”
Alex smiles brightly at that. He looks at the ground before raising his gaze again to Michael and that is the most endearing thing he has ever seen in his life. He is a goner.
“Her name’s Malia. I explained to her that you had an accident and told her you might have a hard time remembering things once you get home,” He shakes his head. “But considering she is almost here, Auntie Is couldn’t control her need to see you.” Michael wonders who Auntie Is s, does one of them has siblings?
“Is she really that eager to see me?” He asks in wonderment that, just outside, there's a tiny human kicking up a fuss to see him.
“Yeah, she adores you, Michael.” He tells him, and Michael suddenly feels reassured.
If she's anything like Alex, Michael's pretty positive she's already got him wrapped around her sticky little fingers.
The door bursts open and, just as Alex predicted, a flash of pink tulle crashes through the room, screeching papa on the top of her lungs. The shrillness of the shriek, though not unwelcome, makes Michael's ears sting a little.
“Malia!” Alex chastises her. “What did we tell you? This is a hospital where poorly people are resting. You need to be quiet.” He catches her  hands before she can climb her way up the bed.
She turns to look at Alex. “Sorry, daddy.” Her little voice is apologetic, making grabby hands at him. Alex sighs and hoists her up on his arms.
“Where is your aunt?” He asks her and Michael can see the tip of her lips turning into a grin.
“In the parking lot.” Michael laughs at her answer, catching the little girl’s attention again and she beams at him.
“Don’t encourage her, Michael. She's only like this 'cause you're her partner in crime.” Alex attempts to send Michael a stern look, but he can feel the affectionate and amused undertone.  
“Papa and I are partners in crime!” She repeats gleefully. Michael's having another one of those moments where his brain's refusing to cooperate with him, overwhelmed by what's happening in front of him. She's his daughter. His and Alex's daughter.
She looks exactly like Alex, with the exception of her wild, curly hair and green and golden eyes. She probably got them from their surrogate - he assumes that's what they did. He already knows he's a sucker for her cherubic face and huge, expressive eyes.
“Papa,” She leans her body dangerously away from Alex’s, but he has a firm grip on her. He gets the feeling she's more than a handful, and very unlike Alex personality wise. That makes him grin even more. “I missed you.”
He looks at her and he knows he loves her, he can feel it from that same place deep inside himself that told him he knew Alex. “I missed you too, Princess.”
Alex's eyes snap from Malia to Michael, and he watches his husband look shocked, dumbfounded and then very, very relieved. Malia wiggles impatiently, leaning towards Michael still, and Michael realises that he probably uses that nickname for her all the time. He chooses to take that as a good sign, that his memory's already coming back, faster than anticipated. Hah, he thinks, take that, Kyle.
"Okay, Malia, I'm gonna put you on the bed with Papa, but you have to be really careful, okay?" Alex has Malia's attention again, she's looking at him with huge eyes and nodding her mouth pressed together in concentration. Michael thinks it's adorable. "Papa's got some tubes in to help him get better and they're easy to break. So you gotta be a good girl and sit nicely, okay?"
Malia nods enthusiastically, and Michael wonders if she's even capable of sitting still. He watches Alex say 'good' and glance back at him before Michael's scooting over a little, creating some space for Alex to place her down beside him. It's all so domestic that Michael, once again, is utterly lost for words.
“Papa,” Malia started slowly, plucking at the edge of his hospital gown, “Daddy said you forgot some things,” Her bright eyes are fully focused on him. “But you didn’t forgot me, did you?”
“Of course not,” Michael tells her, not hesitating for a second. He carefully combs her unruly curls with his fingers. “I could never forget you, Princess.”
She smiles appeased her that papa did not forget her and curls herself over him, her tiny head on chest, with a dramatically content sigh Michael's sure she picked up from somewhere else. He looks up and meets Alex's gaze and can see his own fondness reflected on Alex's face.
“I texted Is to tell her Malia's here with us, so she can stop worrying," Alex says with a smile, "she'll be by in a bit to pick her up."
Michael huffs, amused. “She's a handful, huh.” Michael can feel her breathing slowing and evening out, and when he glances down, her blinks are getting heavier.
“She's obviously been using the stubbornness she got from you," Alex murmurs, tone teasing as he brushes his fingers through her hair, "to stay awake to see you. It's way past her bedtime. I'm surprised Is didn't end up carrying her in."
Michael has to ask. “And, uh, who's Is?”
“Shi- Damn, I forgot." Alex makes his way around to the other side of the bed. "Isobel's your sister."
“I  have a sister?”
“And a brother, Max.” Alex breathes out slowly. “I’ve got brothers too but I'm not close with mine. Not like you are with Max and Isobel.” He gives Michael a look. “We can talk about them later, when little ears aren’t around.”
“Okay.” Michael understands.
“Is was our surrogate, that’s why Malia's hair and eyes are like yours.” Alex speaks again after a silence fell between them, and Michael feels surprised all over again.
“I don't even know what I look like,”  His laugh is a little broken. “I didn’t even make the connection.”
“Hey,” Alex says, sharp to get Michael's attention. It works. “Don’t beat yourself up. You're gonna remember everything in time, Michael. Kyle wouldn’t have lied to us. He’s kind of an expert on matters concerning our family.”
Michael can feel his expression shifting into something quizzical, and he knows Alex can see the what does that mean? on his face because Alex is shaking his head and speaking before Michael can.
“Later,” Alex tells him, gentle and firm, "you need to get some rest. You've had a lot of information thrown at you already."
“Only if you lay here with us.”
Alex glances around the room and Michael can tell he's trying to work out if this is a good idea or a terrible one.
“Please,” Michael begs. “It would be nice to to have you both here to help me remember.” He knows he's playing the pity card, but honestly, nothing sounds better to Michael right now than being curled up in a little hospital bed, surrounded by the two people he knows are the centre of his world.
“Fine.” Alex smiles and carefully lays down the bed as Michael shifts onto his side to better share the space, Malia still in his arms. Michael feels Alex's arm slip around his waist, cuddling them both.
“Alex?” Michael asks quietly.
“Mn?” Alex sounds sleepy like Malia and Michael feels a rush of fondness which makes him smile.
“Thank you. For everything,” his voice is trembling slightly, and he takes a breath to control himself. He isn't sure it works. “For loving me and giving me a family.”
Alex buries his face against Michael’s back smiling. “You’re welcome, Guerin” Michael feels the warm press of a kiss against the back of his neck. “Now, go back to sleep.”
Michael closes his eyes and, before sleep can take him, he prays to whomever might be listening: please let me remember everything when I wake up. Please let this be real.
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dabatcavebyhonie · 4 years
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Marvel's Runaways- an example of a BAD idea
So imagine you wanted to a great comic book show. You buy a great cheap comic so you break the bank. But then you feel the pressure to have your loved characters appeal to a more modern audience. But there is a rift between the movie universe and the TV universe. So now you are left with a half baked story filled with holes and it is almost unrecognizable to the comics. Let us also not forget their horrible idea of re-writing the perspectives for the mass audiences. This is how you get the "cringy" monster that is the Hulu's adaptation of Runaways.
The first thing you must understand before tackling Runaways is that this Marvel property is heavily ingrained into the Marvel universe. In fact, one character from the comic book cast is the son of Ultron. Ultron, who MCU wrote off as someone short series of events.  Then that means that most of the events that occur in the comics become void. This leads to a rewriting of the events that occur in the TV show.
I broke the aspects of this ongoing show into three parts : Angst- the teen and the parent, stereotypes- I promise we're different,  dialogue- Who am I?
“I had choosen the path of the black sheep rather than that of the unicorns and puppies.”
― Magenta Periwinkle, Cutting Class
Angst- The teen and the parent 
     When you are first introduced to the nouveau-rich families of PRIDE  you see  parents with a wide range of jobs. This includes tech mongers, bio-chemists, and even spiritual leaders. By each family you see various color schemes graced across the screen. I assumed this TV show would be promising. Until you meet the children. I first became frustrated by the dynamics of the children. They're all stereotypes written out of a high school rom-com. At least for shows that Have stereotypes like  Daria you understand they're there to be unrealistic and mellow-dramatic. However this idea isn't valid for Runaways. The show is supposed to be relatable and fanciful at the same time. They're also not stereotypes in the graphic novel they're just themselves. This adds angst to the angst . Which this edgy behavior is supposed to replace the depth in their character. Take the biggest example of this: Nico. Her stereotype is that she's a goth so she's mean and does witchcraft and always cries about dead sister. Then in the later seasons she's hopelessly devoted to Karolina and this is supposed to add depth to her one dimensional personality.Her senitive love for Karolina is supposed to add depth- I just...No,no, no, UGH, Stop, please. I  can't with her. The big thing that makes her DEEP is that she's actually sensitive and gay. They use queer-bating to have her be more appealing. Then her stereotypical goth-ness solidifies the Goth norm-perception, it says,"Yes all goths are this way. They're all tortured and filled with teenage melodramatic behavior.".Her Wicca worship is another Goth stereotype. As a goth myself I do not condone the stereotypes that aren't accurate. I wish her character was more inspired like Abby from NCIS. The actor wantesd the  character to be more authentic and not just a stereotype like numerous other shows have.   Just no. Every time she slams her door a front of her mother's face or steals her mother's staff I'm just dumbfounded.   
   Karolina is the church girl stereotype. She waltzes across your screen in all white and reads Her bible-I-mean-her-religious-texts-that-don't-sound-like-Christianity-at-all. Then when she's tempted by the flesh of the witch! Oh no will they, Won't they? Spoiler alert: They will as we assumed with horrible LGBTQ+ characters as always. Her depth is her love for Nico. To the amount that her dreams while she's trapped in the first two episiodes of season three was her wedding with Nico. Granted it was goregous but her love is her character depth which is dissapointing since their relationship ends in season three.  They're both always moody and mad at each other but it's fine they love each other even though they only give each other a few pecks once in a while. Like don't make the mass audience mad cause we can't have too much gay! HAHA! For me it's less for the LGBTQ+ masses or to show representation it's written to sound and look pretty for the male gaze but hey! 
That's just me spreading my SJW bias like Gert does 24/4! Like is there an off button. Introducing the liberal complete with crippling anxiety and even "NO! I can't love a Lacrosse Jock! I hate the Patriarchy!". While no one shows up for her rally or her bakes sales she crushes over Chase who is rude to her. My father being heavily left-leaning said "Gert needs to go. Like she doesn't stop talking and ruins the show!". Like when I told him I was watching the new season he frantically asked why and asked if I was okay.
I'm getting off track. Anyway, The point is the only ones that love their family to start is Molly, Gertrude and Chase. But don't worry the only one that still loves her parents after is Molly (in some twisted way I guess Karolina.....ehhh). After seeing their parents kill a kid and shove them into a magical space tube instead of calling the police or rationally acting. They gain this amazing attribute called teenage angst. Except for Molly cause she doesn't get it. Granted the first season isn't that bad but the show only gets worse the farther you go into it. I especially have been carrying a special amount of disdain for season two. But I think that maybe the new season has promise since the teenage angst doesn't smell as bad so far but I'll give you guys an update on Tumblr. What was I saying ...So if you don't understand what I mean by the heavy angst take a new scene from season three when Dale (her dad) Has Gert hostage in their cottage. She goes on numerous rants on How much she hates him when like a year ago she was being somewhat rational by trying to think before she shouts and finger wag at her parents but now-speak your mind child! I find the teen vs. parent atmosphere.
However  This idea of teenage angst isn't unrealistic. But how general it is over every character is what makes the angst unrealistic. The original hesitation of Gert makes it feel more natural. Karolina's almost disregard to what they saw originally felt more real. The small responses from characters separates their personalities and makes season one much more entertaining.
Stereotypes- I promise we're different 
Now that you understand the edgy personality of the show as a whole let's move on to the content. You're introduced to a runaway teenager named Destiny she's mugged but "rescued" by the Church of Gibborim. Little do we realize these muggers were trying to save her. Six months later we're introduced to Alex Wilder, a stereotypical nerd, who loves coding. Nico Minoru the person Alex has a crush; her  sister died who was Alex's best friend, so now Nico's a goth. Okay, that's a lot. You then meet Gert, Chase and, Molly. Molly is younger then everyone else so she is disregarded when she tells everyone to become friends. Chase is a lacrosse jock but he's different cause he's smart I guess. Chase loves his family but his dad is emotionally abusive to him and his mom. It gives Chase a leader mentality and he tends to think he knows the right answer.
 Gert is a social justice warrior who tries to make her school a better place. But she's different cause she has anxiety. Tell me if my point isn't getting across, tell me. This show's "thing" is that everyone's a stereotypes but, they're different, I guess;Which would usually be fine if it wasn't apart of such a big intellectual property: Marvel. Granted when it comes to movies and TV I never said Marvel story-lines were ever complex but the shows always Go outside the prior assumptions, it's not all stereotypes. 
Take for instance, Agents of Shield.  Take Coulson who literally was resurrected fro the dead. He is hard and stern like he was depicted in the movies but we learn about his strife and how he worked alongside Nick to build S.H.I.E.L.D. to what it is. He has control issues so he has to adopt the mindset that Nick has. It's new and interesting to the MCU audience. Melinda May, is an Ace pilot and personally my favorite simply due to her character writing. Her divide between her reputation versus who she is. She's known as " The Calvary" after all. She has trauma from a mission that killed a civilian which leaves her emotionally scared. This isn't a new concept but seeing her grow and becoming better emotionally gives the audience connections to the characters.
 Every character is written with steady care and good character writing. We feel sad When Coulson dies yet again. We feel the inner turmoil Skye and May feel. The connection isn't there in these hollow stereotypes. The connection to the audience in Runaways is what's making the show stale. The TV show characters are pale imitations of the comic book characters. It's hurts the show in the long run.  
dialogue-Who am I?
The most important thing that makes this show salvageable is the dialogue. No, I don't only mean the words coming out their mouths but the story-line that's surprisingly controlled by the parents. The superficial cold teenagers that only show disdain towards their parents and easily toppled by their Parents beckoning and call. For instance in season 2, Chase betrays his whole team to have his family back after his dad dies. He thinks they'll lose so quickly when  he's left alone with them. You see their guard come down so quickly around their providers. Yet they can never forgive them. This is obvious in Alex's case. His hatred towards his parents lead him to the arms of his father's enemy become's angry when his mother retaliates and kills Darius, but is vexed when his father is calling him. Responds just by his mother threatens him from jail in season three. Why does Nico stop to talk to her Dad in season three, episode "Lord of Lies". I'm going  to keep watching just because of the dynamic of the kids and parents. Especially as the parents are inhabited by parasitic aliens it's changes this complex dynamic yet again. Along with Nico's inner turmoil involving her magic and the forces that are utilized with her staff headlines the dialogue and plot I love so much. I will continue to watch as this tale unfolds.
Conclusion: This show is complex recycling heap. I find it hard to watch and a grotesque figure I can't move away from. I find it a good surface level adaptation. I find it messy but it's not entirely predictable! I appreciate how invested the actors are in their characters! I hope to continue watching the show to see how  the plot moves.  
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19 Day Gone Challenge
Day 5: Favorite Male Character
Caine Soren is one of the most divisive characters in the whole Gone Series. Most people either love him or they absolutely hate him. It’s not hard to see why. He does some absolutely despicable things, but he does them with so much flair!
My own personal feelings towards this character have really changed a lot over time. So, buckle up and sit back because this is a long one. It’s time to learn about How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Stan the Telekinetic Napoleon Wannabe.
When I first read the Gone series, I was had mixed feelings towards Caine for the first three books. I was really invested in all of the toxic twists and turns of his relationship with Diana, which has always been the most interesting part of the series for me. I also felt really bad for him when I found out that Connie gave him up but kept Sam. However, that wasn’t enough to outweigh all of the terrible things he did to the other characters in the story, especially Diana.
So, for the longest time, Caine was one of the characters that I sort of liked and sort of didn’t. Then Plague came out and OH BOY DID MY FEELINGS TOWARDS HIM CHANGE. I absolutely HATED him for leaving the island and breaking his promise to Diana. I remember making a list of fictional characters that I wanted slap in the face when I was about 14 (because I was a nerd) and he took the top spot on that list.
In the year or so before Fear came out, I spent pretty much every waking moment of my free time wondering if he would come to his senses and apologize to Diana or if he would only get worse as the series went on. I was expecting some sort of epic melodramatic Caina reunion some time around chapter 4 of Fear. You can probably imagine how much I angsted over having to wait ANOTHER ENTIRE YEAR for them to talk to each other again when Light came out.
By the time that Light was finally released, I had stewing in my Caine hatred for 2 years. He was completely irredeemable in my mind. There was nothing that I wanted more than for him to die. At least, that’s what I thought. When he actually did die, it absolutely wrecked me emotionally and I didn’t know why.
While I did love the fact that Caine apologized to Diana, I was happy with the fact that the two of them didn’t end up together at the end. (I still am to this day. I ship Caina hardcore, but in a “two screwed up people that could have been great together if only they had been in a different situation” sort of way. I definitely don’t see them as “relationship goals” or anything like that.)
So, what was it that was making me so sad about his death? I started pouring over the books again, trying to figure why I cared about his death so much when my feelings towards him had been so negative up until that point. As I was doing this, I sort of realized I had been so blinded by my unconditional admiration for Diana (which was totally justified because she’s an icon who is always right about everything) that I had never actually thought about his character motivations. I had always just seen him as her terrible boyfriend, and nothing more.
I had taken the statement “Caine’s a bad person” at face value, without ever questioning why he was a bad person. When I went back and did that, I discovered that he struggled with a lot of the same things I did. Underneath that charismatic and controlling facade, he was an extremely anxious person with a massive inferiority complex. He has a deeply rooted fear that nobody will ever love him unless he manipulates or forces them into doing it.
While I like to think of myself as a pretty kind, decent person, I started to realize that a lot of things Caine dealt with where more extreme versions of my own insecurities. I started to realize that maybe the reason I hated him so much was because he reminded me of a darker, angrier version of myself.
The reason that I hated Caine more than some of the less morally complex villains in the series like Zil or Drake was because I felt like, if I was in the same situation as Caine, I would have turned out uncomfortably similar to him. Luckily, I didn’t, since I have a loving family and who taught me how to be a kind a person. I also wasn’t trapped in a post apocalyptic murder bubble, which probably helped as well.
I think this is why his redemption arc impacted me so much. Seeing a character who had been as cruel and selfish and Caine lose everything he had ever cared about, but then still choose to actively try and to be a better person had a really big impact on me. At the beginning of Light, Caine lost his position of power and he didn’t have anyone left who cared about him. It would have been so easy to give up, or run away, both of which he tried to do. But it didn’t feel right.
In the end, he realized that living for himself and only for himself was wrong, and gave up his life to save Diana (and everyone else in the FAYZ as a side effect). He wasn’t trying to be a hero, he was just doing something good for the one person he had ever formed a genuine emotional connection with.
It wasn’t like somebody flipped a light switch and he was suddenly a morally upright, righteously heroic person. But he had realized that the way he had been living his life had been hurting the only person he had ever cared about, and he did everything that he could to make things right with her.
And even if you disagree and you think that he’s a completely irredeemable scumbag, at least he’s a scumbag with style.
All hail Caine Soren, king of the problematic faves.
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vaguely-concerned · 5 years
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empire of ivory here we go!
previous temeraire let’s read here
- um excuuuuse me I have waited two books for us to come back home to britain to see everyone again and now everything is awful and shitty and scary and my fave is leaving and nothing’s how it should be??? no??? this is unfair??????
- tharkay NO please don’t go everything provably goes to hell whenever you leave D:D:D:
(to be fair to him I guess it’s understandable to want some time alone to process the absolute outrageous bullshit he just pulled for a guy he’s known for like four months)
he used his page time well tho; instantly convincing roland of his worth and making her laugh... giving laurence his cup of tea b/c he looked like he needed it more... telling laurence that he’s leaving because he promised to do that much at least... truly the best boy, off to fetch more dragons apparently because it wasn’t quite crazy enough the first time
- god I love jane roland, I’m so glad my two faves got along instantly, between them they could... maybe protect laurence from himself? at least a little??? I can but dream
- I think this is the most emotionally invested I’ve been in a piece of media since that time I spent a few months completely incoherent over uncharted, and naughty dog very kindly held my heart in their hands and chose to be gentle with it in the end but I am not so sure that is how it’s going to be for this series and I am Not Prepared for the suffering
- I love whenever laurence thinks uncomfortably about one of the various and sundry atrocities committed by the government he’s still pledged all his loyalty to. yes william maybe the british empire... is in fact not good and has enough blood on their hands to dye the ocean red. I can’t wait until he connects the dots here (and presumably has a pretty intense crisis if faith about it because it seems like one of the loadbearing structures of his character... actually no wait I’m not ready to see this D:D:D:)
- the little details like the fact that he just calls bb!roland ‘emily’ and harcourt becomes ‘catherine’ so easily in his narration now are so so sweet  
- lord allendale is one of those dudes who have good politics but is a shitheel to his family and I want to smack him
laurence being the mortified poster boy of this party, though? priceless, imagine coming up with a protagonist this effortlessly involuntarily hilarious, it’s the mark of true genius
- I don’t usually quibble over things like this, but I think the edit for this fourth book specifically is a bit lacking? I’ve come across a lot of mistakes even my dumb ass can pick up on already, and I’m only a hundred pages or so in
- caught between crying and cackling at this part b/c like laurence I’m  d e v a s t a t e d  at the thought of temeraire getting sick but also temeraire is just like cheerfully getting laid the whole time
also how did none of the aviators think to give laurence The Talk about giving his dragon The Talk, you all know what he’s like
- oh thank god
- I have spent half of today crying about dragons coughing, how are you this fine evening good reader
- btw this series fills a hole in my soul left by jkr giving me all those tantalizing hints of different types of dragons in ‘fantastic beasts’ and never following up on it
- tharkay may not be here but laurence just mentioned him like once in his narration so let’s take the excuse to reminisce about the good old days (when tharkay was here)... remember that time when the one of his own jokes he laughed openly at was about lawyers and laurence frankly should have responded better b/c it was kind of funny and sadly temeraire doesn’t have the worldly experience to know it yet.... aaah precious, he truly is a sardonic blessing to my heart and deserves the world
okay back to our regularly scheduled content   
- riley why u gotta b such a bitch about this
(I love how laurence is constantly doubting himself over this tho, as if he’s done something wrong in this situation... like honey baby if there’s one thing worth breaking a friendship over it’s probably them being cool with slavery lol. it shows how much laurence has grown, considering that this disagreement has always existed between them but he used to be willing to just overlook it... I’m so proud of you laurence)
also lol @ berkely coming in to tell them everyone can hear them, I have a desperately soft spot for him and maximus. just the image of both of them turning to him ‘united in appalled indignation’ like ‘excuse you???’ and him giving exactly zero fucks... *chef kiss emoji*
- most important information revealed in this book: a) dragons are not widely considered to have committed original sin, thank you reverend erasmus and b) laurence has taken time out of his day at some point to worry about it b/c he’s a dork
(this is the sort of world building I am hopelessly weak to lol)
- gong su tricking temeraire into eating in the most melodramatic way possible... god bless you chef
- fkjhsadkjfhsdkjalhfaskjldhf laurence judging chenery for what he’s wearing while going out into the jungle in full uniform hat included himself... I caaaaan’t
- demane has only appeared on three pages so far but if anything happens to him I’ll kill everyone in this book and then myself
- ‘average dragon speaks one million languages’ factoid actualy statistical error. Temeraire Linguist Georg, who wants a pavilion thank you very much & learns over 10,000 languages each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted <3<3<3
(I love that temeraire is like... a nerd dragon with a hopelessly jock captain)
- laurence effortlessly rating the relative hotness of the other male aviators to try to suss out who harcourt has slept with fjsaldfhsdkljafh do you ever hear yourself think william
like this is the thing about him it’s so easy to headcanon him as bi b/c he can be so mindbogglingly oblivious it’s entirely possible he literally wouldn’t even have noticed until someone smacked him over the head with it
- see I’m very happy they found the cure but I don’t fucking trust it b/c the pattern of these books tends to be to give you one moment of ‘oh phew everything is going to be okay’ about 2/3 into the story and THEN everything goes to hell and fifty pages later laurence is dissociating and napoleon has conquered prussia 
- THERE WE GO RIGHT ON SCHEDULE
temeraire is never going to let laurence go anywhere without him again and rightly so
- hasn’t mrs erasmus been through enough. can’t she just be allowed to chill 
- this is really cool world building but I’m too stressed out to appreciate it
really enjoy the description of architecture tho this sounds so awesome
- sfahdfklsahdfksjda laurence making sure his clothes are as washed and presentable as possible... I can’t with you you beautiful idiot
- TEMERAIRE OH MY GOD IS HE HERE IS LAURENCE HALLUCINATING PLS SAY HE’S ACTUALLY HERE
- ...well I mean if anyone has a freudian excuse for being kind of dickish I guess it would be these guys? it’s actually pretty chill of them to only flog one of them (laurence, because he just can’t play it any way but stupid lawful good at every turn) and not just killing them all I guess, they kept them fed and stuff
- oh thank god
- temeraire you are the most darling dragon boy and I love you
I was really really worried for a moment there that the reference to the Colosseum was a not-so-subtle hint they would have to gladiator fight to the death but thankfully they were basically just calling in a parliament
- DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST STAB A CHILD IN THE STOMACH?? I HOPE HE ACCIDENTALLY SHOOTS HIMSELF IN THE DICK AND DIES pls say demane is going to be okay
- aw okay finally something good for mrs erasmus I will take it
- laurence you useless fool of a narrator is demane okay?? 
- god roland is just so cool naomi novik really gave us a jovial butch silver fox aviator lady huh... she did that for us and I for one am full of gratitude
- oh thank GOD (hm I sense a running theme here lol) the kid is going to be okay I can breathe again
- iskierka the pirate captain + temeraire’s reaction... perfect
- ;____________; I would lay down my life for temeraire and also that’s a gutpunch of a moodswing... the perfect hilarity of ‘that is an ugly hill’ immediately followed by That... jesus
- awww every time volly shows up again is a joy (temrer!!!)
- laurence... laurence you need to stop asking people to marry you because you never actually really fucking mean it!!!!! have you learned nothing about yourself since book 1, trust your goddamn instincts for once in your life you and roland have been doing perfectly okay thus far as like... affectionate fuckbuddies right? 
(her reaction was priceless tho god bless)
- aaaah there we go the british government is looking more like itself... welcome to the world of realpolitik laurence I’m really sorry :(
- “It is only dragons, you know” JANE ROLAND WTF DID YOU JUST SAY
- “This government is not of my party; my king is ill and mad; but still I am his subject. You have sworn no oath, but I have.” He paused. “I have given my word.”
:) this is... fine
(like. I know this is necessary character growth and he’s basically been a waste of a good man in service to a government like this the whole time and the writing’s been on the wall since book 1 but I don’t want this to be happening to hiiiiim)
- tfw... ur dragon boi is so good... that being anything less than good for him in turn is unthinkable...................... b o i
- ...jane doesn’t really know him very well if she didn’t see this coming from a mile off tho does she
I mean I guess she has other stuff to think about but this shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone
- remember when he thought the entire corps was weird and now he’s finally at home there... and has to leave it behind :):):) super extra fine is what this is
- yeah okay laurence definitely has a crush on ol’ bonaparte noting that down lol he’s all but blushing after that kiss on the cheek 
also... if you just overlook the dictator thing for a moment is napoleon wrong about what he’s saying tho. (no and not even laurence is prepared to say so he’s just going to go back there and get murdered anyway b/c idk lawful good is dumb as fuck sometimes I guess)
It’s really cool how the author shows that napoleon has a better handle on laurence’s psychology after barely meeting him than a lot of people he’s known for years now, though, really adds to his menace and appeal as a character
- wow uh that’s one way to end a book... it’s actually tipped over from tragedy into a strange sort of hilarity for me now: he literally got sued out of his life’s earnings for being a decent human being, committed treason for the same reason and is about to be hanged for thinking genocide might have been a step too far -- in the span of thirty pages. I believe ‘that escalated quickly’ is not too much of an exaggeration here
- SIPHO IS GONNA WRITE BOOKS ONE DAY YOU GUYS!!!! I PROUDLY WELCOME OUR SECOND NERD TO THE CREW
 - I think this one might be my least favorite so far? not that I disliked it, it’s just the one that’s hit the worst by the fact that there’s not always that much time spent with the cultures central to the book; tswana seems really interesting but because of the way the plot played out and our limited perspective though laurence it just didn’t work for me? the cool shit comes in sipho’s book at the end, like how thoroughly they kicked the europeans out of the coast of africa, which is very cathartic (I will say that most of the second book being set on the ship and then only a sliver of it is actually in china annoyed me too haha) 
I have the distinct feeling this book is setting up for some Misery and breaking of the pattern a bit in the next one though, which will be interesting! ONWARDS TO MORE PAIN AND LAURENCE IS ALREADY PASSIVELY SUICIDAL FROM THE OUTSET SO LIKE... I’M SURE THIS WILL BE REAL FUN :)
maybe my boy will be back tho? silver linings silver linings clinging to some silver linings
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Thank you, love! Can I please have a double ship? I’m a fat bottomed girl who is a tomboy - I’m not into typical “girly” stuff and I love hanging around with boys discussing politics, sports (I’m a huge sports nerd), listening to metal. I love war movies and am interested in history (WWII especially) though I’m studying Journalism. I also don’t like wearing skirts or dresses or heels. I’m a loyal friend who will always be there to listen and help you. I’m very clumsy and often trip over my feet.
Sssssssshello fellow sports fan (i’m not even joking even though that sounds so nerdy) so what do u think about the kc royals i know they suck ass but like.... im so dedicated to my boys and i’ve seen them kick the yankees ass at yankee stadium (FUCK YOU JOE MAZZELLO)
ships r below the cut sjkdfjkds
For BoRhap, I ship you with Joe Mazzello!
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For obvious reasons - I mean, a girl that’s into sports and is extremely loyal? Joey Mazz would bus a nutttt
Anyways, you’d probably meet Joe while doing some work as a sports journalist. Deciding against the box seat that you usually took during a Yankee’s game for focus reasons, you opted to sit down with the public in the stands, and you got seated next to Joe.
Joe was respectable enough for most of the game - once he got a bit loose on the juice, though, he had some mouthy tendencies, and every last word was directed angrily at the officials. 
At one point, he was so angry that you couldn’t hold in your laughter as you kept book, missing a tally for a ball but not caring too much as you stared in amazement at the fiery copper-headed man beside you. His double-black Yankees hat fell off of his head as he stood abruptly, and you took your boot-clad feet off of the seat in front of you as you leaned down to grab it for him. 
“Fucking terrible call! That was in the strike zone, that ump is full of shit,” he muttered as he sat back down in a huff, pausing before getting a curious look on his face and starting to search for his hat.
“Looking for this?” you asked, a teasing edge to your voice, and Joe’s attention snapped over to you, recognition immediately flooding his eyes as he smiled gratefully and took the hat.
“Thanks a ton, I just can’t stand those damn umps sometimes.” Looking down at the stat book on your tablet, he raised an eyebrow in inquiry before pulling his hat back on his head. “Keeping book for anything special?”
“I work for the New York Post. Sports columnist,” you explained, locking your screen to save battery after a strike was finally called and the fourth inning came to a close. Joe made a ‘not bad’ face, then gave you a grin.
“So, Yankees fan?”
“Uh, you know it,” you scoffed, nodding as you looked out to the field and smiled before making eye contact with him again. He had a kind gaze, you noted, and his smile was just as evident in his eyes as it was in his actual smile. “Wouldn’t miss a game for the world. Not even that exhibit on Governor’s right now.” You felt your stomach flipping a bit, Joe watching you very intently and almost intimidating you with how genuinely invested he was in what you had to say.
“The World War II one?” Joe inquired, and he chuckled when you made a positive noise in response. “I was in a show about WWII a couple years ago. Maybe you’ve heard of it? The Pacific?”
“That was you?” you gasped, involuntarily reaching out and grabbing his arm. Although the both of you registered it, you awkwardly decided not to say anything and just continued talking, Joe trying to mask his reaction at the tingly feeling your touch left on his arm. “Holy shit, I loved that show! I didn’t even recognize you.” Laughing, you let go of his arm and just paused for a moment, recalling how excited you’d been about that miniseries.
“Yeah, not my biggest claim to fame, but definitely up there. Still doesn’t get me recognized at baseball games, though. I got that more in the 90′s.”
“The 90′s - you must have been a baby!” you teased, in disbelief that he was any older than 25. There was no way he was anything but a toddler back in the 90′s.
“God, the closer I get to my 30s, the more that excites me,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, I was a little more than a baby back then. I was a whole, grown kid.”
“Grown kid - what a paradox,” you scoffed, giving him a gentle eye roll as a few people around you chuckled at something. “Alright, I’ll bite - in the 90′s, what were you in?”
“Would you believe me if I said some commercials and that was it?” Pursing your lips, you gave him an unmoved look and he chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. You were surprisingly adorable despite the currently deadpan expression. In fact, he was beginning to like all of your expressions, and all of your mannerisms. You were pretty laid-back for a woman of your age - like you were comfortable not putting up a front around him and men in general. “I was in Jurassic Park.”
“No way!” you gasped, thinking back to the movie and vaguely remembering a little boy around your age that had resembled him. “Oh my god, all I remember about it is that I wanted to be your friend... and I had an embarrassingly big crush on Jeff Goldblum.”
“Oh god, me too,” Joe agreed, waving a hand dismissively at the thought that anyone didn’t feel things for Jeff Goldblum.
Some faint laughter and shifting glances around you suddenly distracted you from your intense conversation with Joe, and you looked around for a moment before groaning and shielding your eyes at the jumbotron, trying not to laugh. “We’ve been called out.”
Joe looked at the large screen to see the both of you with a superimposed timer beneath you, dubbed the “Oblivious Cam.” You’d both been so invested in the conversation, they’d nearly been timing you for a minute by the time you realized. Waves of embarrassment washed over the two of you as you realized everyone in the stadium had watched what you had assumed was a mainly private interaction. Suddenly, the hand on the arm thing was mortifying.
“Well, at least we look good,” Joe offered, waving to the camera and shrugging before they kicked it off, going into the fifth inning. Joe was right, he did look damn good. And the fact that he thought you looked good too, despite your lack of commonplace women’s wear around a baseball game (see: tight-fitting unbuttoned jerseys, short shorts, heels, etc.). You’d shown out in some jeans and a ratty jersey you’d had since God knows when, with some combat boots to pull it all together. And he still thought you looked good.
He very much did. He thought you looked so good, in fact, that he took you out for drinks after the game. And then sitting down with the public became a regular occurrence for you - even though Joe wasn’t at every game, he showed up to far more games than he would have regularly, just so he could see you. But he’d never admit that, not even up to the day that he asked you out.
Which, of course, you’d been floored - men usually don’t ask out one of the boys. But you said yes, of course! And a couple months later, when he offered to fly you out to California to see the baseball movie he’d been working on about his brother, you jumped at the opportunity.
Mainly because it was an away time for Yankees.
Oops.
When you showed up on set with Joe, the cast immediately welcomed you as one of their own, and you took up residence in the bleachers/near the fence, psyched to see what they were working on for the day and also stoked because you’d probably become an extra because of this appearance. Acting credits on top of journalism? Score.
Today was the day they were filming Pat’s breakdown, and you were excited to see just how riled up Joe could get as you leaned against the admittedly searing-hot chain-link fence. Between takes, Toby, who’d taken quickly to befriending you, came over in all his English glory to visit with you about the upcoming shots.
“You ready to see Spaz Mazz?” he joked, making you laugh at the corny nickname as you nodded, letting go of the chain-link for a moment.
“Absolutely. I’ve seen Joe at baseball games, so can’t wait to see who he absolutely rails today.”
“Well, it’s your lucky day, because it’s me,” Toby chuckled, fixing his hat as Joe caught sight of the two of you, smiling and waving before going back to whatever directorial duties he was working on. Waving back, Toby sighed melodramatically before turning to you. “He yells at quite a few of us, but in the table-read, he really let me have it in this scene. The struggles of being the fun one,” he lamented, making you roll your eyes and wish him good luck as Joe called for the next shot to start.
And in a few moments, you saw exactly what Toby meant. Well, not saw. You just got to listen as Joe absolutely went off on Manny’s character in the dugout, a gleeful laugh leaving your lips as you heard him threaten to shove a bat up Zapata’s ass, then yelling at Palacco for shitting away his talent. After the more emotional part, you burst out laughing when a sudden, “Oh, shut the fuck up, Zapata!” rang in your ears.
Covering your mouth quickly, you resorted to just grinning while you listened to them methodically reconstruct the scene over and over, taking several shots in the mid-afternoon heat before deciding to call it since the lighting was waning, not providing for the right time of day for the shot that was slotted next.
Joe was one of the last to finally filter off the field, finding you immediately and giving you a mildly-tired grin as he wrapped his arm around you, walking off towards the parking lot with you. 
“Toby said Seb’s in town and wants to meet up for dinner with Chace and us. You hungry?”
“Starving,” you affirmed, leaning against him a bit as you climbed up the hill. “That was an... interesting performance. You sound a little hoarse.”
“Yelling all day can wear a guy out,” he agreed with a small chuckle, pulling out his keys to his rental and stopping in front of the car to just stand with you for a moment. The eye-black on his cheeks was smeared from sweat, his hair a mess, and you could definitely tell he was slouching a bit, tired from the day’s proceedings.
But he still was smiling down at you, and you couldn’t help but smile back before leaning up and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into an affectionate kiss, which he eagerly reciprocated. 
His arms wrapped around your waist, hands resting dangerously low on your back, but not enough to raise alarms, and you grinned against his lips before pressing a gentle peck to the lower one, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear.
“I like the baseball pants look on you.”
A throaty chuckle escaped his mouth and he gave you one last kiss before wrapping an arm around your waist and ushering you to the passenger seat, letting you open the door and start climbing in yourself before he swiftly reached out and pinched your ass, closing the door for you with an innocent grin on his face when you shot him a warning look.
“Couldn’t help myself,” he defended when he climbed into the driver’s seat after a few moments. “You brought up butts and you know yours is my favorite butt.”
“I’m glad,” you laughed, shaking your head as you watched him start the car, sucking your lower lip into your mouth for a moment before grinning mischievously. “But I wasn’t talking about your butt, though that was nice too.”
Joe’s eyes lit up at your statement, a light flush filling his cheeks as he wrestled with what you’d just suggestively implied. Looking over to you, his jack went slightly slack, and all he could manage was a soft “Oh.”
“Smooth, babe. Real smooth.”
“You caught me off guard, come on!”
And for Queen, I ship you with Brian May!
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We all know that Brian struggled with being raised as a rather womanly boy, so your more masculine personality equals out beautifully with his feminine tendencies. In categories where he lacks a masculine touch, you make up for that absence, and when you have issues with a feminine touch, he’s right there to help you along.
Synergy!
Plus, heart eye emoji at the fact that you’re a fat-bottomed girl.
Anyways, I think you and Brian would be lifelong friends. The tall ol’ softie never would have survived high school without his loyal best friend, you, to guide him through that emotional rollercoaster.
But I really don’t think you’d have a crush on him at first. I think he’d be absolutely smitten with you from the get-go - you were his rock, the only person to ground him when he got too high-strung. But because of his tendencies to be high-strung and eternally confused, you never saw him as more than a close friend.
That is, until one night that you were hanging out with him and the boys, and Roger had you caught up in a particularly in-depth conversation about Black Sabbath’s eponymous album that had been released recently. 
Roger was your go-to for anything metal related, which made Brian only slightly jealous as he watched the two of you intensely discuss whether you appreciated the blues notes that they brought to some of the songs on the album. 
“I think The Wizard is the most genius one out of all of them!” Roger gushed, and you nodded in agreement as you listened to him start to ramble on about how much he loved the song. Always the listener, you only let your eyes roam for a brief moment, pausing when you saw Brian just past Roger’s scruffy golden-brown hair.
When he caught your eye, he sent you a small smile and a brief eye roll about Roger’s rants that made you grin, and you quickly looked back to Roger as he summarized his opinion, finally. “I agree, but what about N.I.B? You can’t tell me that it isn’t up there on the quality list.”
When Roger began to dissent against your opinion, you quickly excused yourself to go grab another drink and left him to simmer, instead making your way to the kitchen and pouring yourself the rest of the whiskey as Brian entered.
“Sounds like you guys had some really important stuff to discuss,” Brian observed as he pouted slightly at the empty whiskey bottle, instead fetching himself a beer.
“I love Roger, but he could talk my ear off if I didn’t learn when to say no.” Chuckling, your lanky friend joined you at your side and leaned back against the counter, opening his beer while you took a sip of the whiskey in your cup. He watched as your nose just barely wrinkled compared to the way that his scrunched up after every sip of straight bourbon, and admiration quickly overtook his features, not able to slip away fast enough when you looked up at him.
“What?” you laughed, cocking your head a bit when he smiled at you oddly, sitting his beer on the counter. “I know I left my flat in a hurry, but do I really look that rough today?”
“No, no,” he stammered, laughing nervously as he looked forward to observe your friends out in the living room. His heart was racing, and he feared that you could hear it from that close as he swallowed hard, speaking again. “Far from it.”
That brought a slight blush to your cheeks, and you looked forward as well, your brain racing a million miles a minute as you tried to calm down. Brian usually never made you this flustered, so it was confusing to you that such a simple comment could spike your heart rate so easily. What happened?
Looking over to him again, you desperately tried to work out what was different about Brian now versus every other time he’d made an offhanded flirtatious comment all throughout your childhood. He was still looking at the living room, his eyes brimming with something unreadable, and you realized how much he’d grown from the spindly little straight-haired preppy boy you’d grown up with. 
Now he was even taller in multiple ways - of course, his height had shot up, but he also held himself in a more confident way too. He was unafraid for the most part, far from the nervous wreck you’d spent hours upon hours convincing to go do hoodrat shit with you. 
He was so sure of things now. Even if he had momentary doubts, he’d never been focused on something more than he was with the band. 
And, it did help that he was absolutely beautiful now. He’d began growing out his hair, and the curls that were on constant display were fascinating, jet-black and shiny and tempting to touch. His aquiline nose and toothy smile only added to the charm, all of it wrapped together by the warm hazel eyes that were always watching you, like right now, and suddenly you realized you were both staring at each other a moment too late as Roger came in, looking between the two of you.
Deciding against the obvious question, he instead raised an eyebrow and looked over to the empty whiskey bottle to your right, scowling. “Who did it?”
Thoroughly flustered and distracted, you took a moment to realize that Brian was pointing directly to you, and with an astonished cry, you smacked his hand away, cursing him as he laughed at you.
And from there, a slow burn of a friends-to-lover flame was alight. And I mean slow, as in not reaching culmination until 1973 or 1974, when they were really starting to make it big-time. After all, this was a ‘one of the boys’ relationship you’d had going on previously, so navigating from that to accepting your attraction to Brian and his requited attraction to you was difficult.
You’d never realized how much you really wanted to be more than just his friend until he was off on the Queen II tour and you’d gotten a call from Roger telling you that they were heading back suddenly, due to Brian’s rapidly declining health. And in those hours between that call and their arrival in London, you’d never felt more afraid. 
Suddenly, you knew exactly what it was like to be on Brian’s side of things, so you rushed to the hospital to see him.
He was yellow, so off-color, and he looked so weak when you saw him that you almost started crying when he managed a smile at your appearance. 
“Jesus, Brian, you’ve caught your death,” you muttered as you stood there next to his bed, knowing you couldn’t really touch him - that was the worst part. Now, more than ever, you wanted to hug him. But the risk of transfer was daunting, and you didn’t know if it was aggressive enough to be transmitted even by an embrace.
“Feels like it,” he laughed, his voice softer than ever before, and you frowned as you decided holding his hand was enough, taking the yellowing fingers between yours and lacing your hand with his, squeezing it gently when he gave you another soft smile. “Glad you’re here.”
“Wish we were anywhere but here, honestly,” you replied gently, on the verge of tears at the sight of your best friend so weak. “Do you need anything? Water? Food? A book?”
“Oh, shut up,” he mumbled at your fussing, a small laugh leaving his lips as he closed his eyes. “All I need right now is you. Thank you.”
“Never in my life would I expect to be thanked for hanging around and annoying the daylights out of you. Don’t you get tired of me, May?” you teased softly, trying to ease up the atmosphere as his thumb traveled over your knuckles slowly, the calloused, scratchy pad of this thumb leaving small white marks on your skin where it irritated you.
“Never,” he croaked out, so quiet you almost missed it, but a blush spread on your cheeks as you realized what needed to be said. It was now or never, and honestly, Brian was never going to have the balls to say it. That, unfortunately, was your department.
“Good. Because unfortunately, I really think you’re stuck with me for good now.”
“What?” he asked, not fully understanding what you were propositioning, although there was a hint of hope in his eyes as he opened them slowly, looking over at you. 
“I think it’s about time we went on a proper date. You and me.” You gave him a sly smile, seeing a shallow fluttering of his chest as he reckoned with what you’d just said. 
“Right now?” he whined softly, looking around at the room and sighing. “You really picked the worst time to decide that you fancied me back.”
“Oh, shut up.” It was your turn to send him an annoyed look as you stood up, giving his hand one last squeeze before heading towards the door, stopping right before you got there and looking back at him. “Anything you want me to smuggle up from the cafeteria for our date?”
He watched you for an exceedingly long time, staying completely silent and just admiring you before finally swallowing dryly and laughing a bit. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”
“I don’t think that’s on the menu down there, sorry, lovie.” He rolled his eyes at your attempt at teasing, and closed his eyes as you grinned to yourself, practically floating down the hallway on pure love.
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