#I mean be brave is my big takeaway though

[frownyalfred]

my advice for writing dialogue:

be brave

if you can’t say it in one breath out loud, you should probably add some punctuation

for casual dialogue: can you imagine two people saying this at a local coffee shop?

people talk over each other and cut each other off in real life all the time. your characters should too

modern, conversational dialogue isn’t one person lobbing one fully formed, multiple-sentence thought at another person, and then waiting to receive one back

dialogue is filled with placeholder sounds — ehs, ums, uhs — and these differ by region, language, and culture

people ask for clarification and sometimes things are just, by nature, unclear. sometimes you have to let the characters figure out the disconnect even if you, the author, know what it is already

find clips and videos online of the people/region and listen to them! how do they talk? is it fast, or drawling? how can you convey this to a reader who may have never heard them?

[randonwilmonfan]

I'd love to talk more about the locker room scene in S2 E2 of Young Royals, where Wilhelm tries to convince Simon to get back together with him, in the process (sadly) demonstrating that he believes his mother's feeble offer to "talk" about him possibly coming out when he's 18. This takes place after his almost-removal from Hillerska.

Plenty of people have already pointed out how Henry snitched on Wille and Felice’s kiss, but apparently didn’t choose to tell anyone (as far as we’re aware) about Wilhelm almost pleading with Simon to get back together with him during that post-almost-dragged-out-of-Hillerska conversation. And that's definitely an interesting thing to chew on. But there's more...

Here are a few other things that stand out to me too:

First -

I think it’s worth pointing out the obvious — Wilhelm clearly sees Simon in his future long-term (possibly for the rest of his life). The way he casually says to Simon “So, we’d only have to keep it a secret for 2 years” implies three things very clearly.

a) He immediately and easily sees himself together with Simon in 2 years and beyond. Actually, specifically, definitely beyond. Because his eye is on the prize: coming out and living openly with Simon *after* he turns 18 — implying his focus is entirely on the intended afterwards period. He doesn’t even blink at that idea; it’s obvious to him.

b) He also really doesn’t seem to think 2 years is a big deal. For a teenager who’s only lived 16 years on this planet (only approximately ~11-ish of them in a state where they’re forming conscious memories) to think 2 years is just a drop in the bucket is kind of wild. Even 6 months feels like forever to a kid. So Wilhelm — a child — viewing time from this perspective suggests he’s likely balancing 2 years out against a much longer expanse of time; hence why those 24 months would look so minuscule and shrug-worthy by comparison. In other words: he sees himself with Simon in the LONG long term. Two years is nothing if you’re imagining growing old with someone and spending the rest of your many decades on this Earth with them. (All of this is pretty much confirmed later on in S2, when Wilhelm offers to abdicate the throne for Simon.)

c) He also doesn’t seem to think Simon should be appalled by the idea of waiting for 2 years. Yes, sure, we can chalk part of that up to selfishness and lack of mentalization / empathy for Simon’s point of view. But I’m going to suggest it’s more than that. My takeaway is that he assumes Simon also sees them as endgame, and so naturally wouldn’t be bothered by waiting a bit longer in order to spend forever together. (Sadly the conversation does not play out that way for him; ouch. Though no shade to Simon: what he said in response was realistic and fair.)

Second -

I think we have to rewatch his interactions with Simon as Henry slams a door and slowly walks past them with a raised eyebrow. Because, in S1, that Wilhelm would have immediately jumped away from Simon to create distance and try to pretend there’s plausible deniability about what their relationship has been and could be again. That’s (one) part of the whole point of S1: Wilhelm is not ready to be brave enough to face a homophobic aristocratic world and take a bold stance to stand by Simon.

Instead, in S2 E2, he sits still. He stays right next to Simon. In fact, he *leaves his hand resting directly on Simon’s thigh.* And he knows someone is coming their way! He heard the door slam inside the locker room. Obviously he knows someone else is here. But he doesn’t jump. He actually doesn’t really stir much at all.

He sits there like it’s of no importance, and he doesn’t care who sees. Or, even, who overheard this very intimate, vulnerable, and pleading conversation. A conversation in which the future King of their country is almost on the verge of begging his ex to please be his again… not just for now, but for multiple years’ time. I mean we’re like 2 steps away from Wille practically offering Simon a “promise ring” (not sure if that concept holds up in Europe, but it’s basically a very pre-engagement type thing in the US; it’s not common though). (Their convo also makes it very clear Simon was the one who dumped him and that he’s having trouble accepting that and moving on.)

Yet he doesn’t seem perturbed or disturbed by Henry’s presence and overhearing and seeing them. He doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. He’s not ashamed of his love for Simon. Even more specifically, he’s not afraid of people (Henry) seeing him put his heart out on the line, and of them knowing that he wants Simon back - not for just a hook-up, but for a very long-term, serious, committed relationship. And he doesn’t make any moves to emotionally or physically distance himself from Simon, despite Henry’s clear witnessing of this private moment.

This is a subtle way to show that, even though Wille hasn't yet gone through his full S2 journey of self-awareness and self-growth, he has still already begun changing and growing after the end of S1. So he’s at least started to learn some of his lessons about what he needs to do differently.

Anyhoo, the whole point I’m trying to make is… gosh there were so many fascinating things happening in that scene. And they rush right past us in the blink of an eye! But there is so much meaning built into every small interaction and non-interaction there, and into every nonchalant assumption the characters casually voice.

I’m sure there’s more meaning and are more details I missed, too! What did you think? I’d love to learn more from others’ perspectives, too. :)

[ineffableigh]

Timeline of Suspicious Events Brain Dump - PART 3

You know the drill at this point. Off we goooo! [Part 1][Part 2]

"Maggie and Nina are depending on me!" Azi's really drunk his own Kool-aid at this point, or he's putting on a complicated show to pretend this is a serious endeavor. Giving away a valuable book just to trick Heaven? Something's really not adding up.

Another weird noise for the logs: A bassy 'whoosh/boom' noise right after Mutt says he has anniversary dinner with his beloved spouse and the camera pans to Crowley. Not sure it means anything, but it did stand out to me lol.

Something that stands out to me a lot as well, assuming it was done deliberately (I don't know the actor) - Mutt seems to be having an awfully hard time handling the cards he's currently sorting. Like, after he says 'no' at first, I cannot figure out what he's trying to do with his right hand.

Also of note: The mysterious Bird Box is nowhere to be seen in the shop, even though MANY of the set items are identical to the 1941 scene. Where that bird at??

"Under no circumstances can I there be for tonight." ... what? This has to be on purpose, right? I'm digging, I know, but that's what we do here lol.

Big sad empty warehouse for the Demon Legions. Why on earth (or in Hell) is Hell so short staffed? Where them demons at?

DANGER...osity!

"I can only be there 'til 7" so that's a half hour window for the meeting, at least for Justine. Fair, she can only handle so much of Azi's painful French lol.

The metal barrier just outside the cafe is... awfully snake-y isn't it?

"Looking where the furniture isn't..." is definitely going to be VERY important. Crowley absolutely knows something about losing AND regaining memories and it's been telegraphed all season.

Michael has eye earrings! This feels like a huge tie-in with Maggie's all seeing eye necklace.

Skimming through the rest since I've gone through it multiple times through other posts, but quick takeaways include...

Ms Cheng looking at the Pub before she goes in. Suspicious given we know that's the Hellevator, but have no reason to believe she'd be looking for someone else coming from that direction as the cafe AND record store are the other way.

Mr Brown has to be suspicious because we HEAR him getting mulched by demons when he's taken, but he survives? WEIRD.

Maggie's main character moment as I mentioned in my 'Thoughts about Maggie' post.

Azi seems very genuine when explaining the Coffee Shop Love Plot to Nina, so maybe he really did believe he was helping. I don't get why they steamrolled past her already having a partner, both the lads knew it. It's weird for that much.

Maggie blankly standing by the open window in range of trash is weird, especially since she like Activates and Becomes Brave right after.

I do wonder... how does Shax know Maggie couldn't pay the rent? That seems awfully specific. Like REALLY specific.

Throne, Dominion or Higher Crowley - what a way to drop that info! That moment hits so hard lol.

"Institutional Problem" I wonder if we'll learn more about The Fall next season. What was it that actually triggered it (in this universe)?

I love that the archangels clearly interact with each other SO LITTLE that no one even knows if Gabriel actually has his own bloody desk lol. Talk about isolation.

Huh. I wonder why Shax didn't get discorporated by the Exploding Halo...

You know who else is wearing a damn turtleneck? SARAQUAEL. OOH. COVERT AGENT? HMMMM

No one looked at the damn box, I still can't believe it. Everyone was so busy Being In A Story that they didn't think of it lol.

Analysis of the last chunk of the episode has been done to death, so I'll finish by underlining that it's SO awfully convenient that Maggie INSISTED that she and Nina talk to "them" while Aziraphale was waylaid by the Metatron.

In fact, it's Very Fortunate that the Metatron made a point of going and sitting at JUSTINE'S CAFE out of sight of the bookshop AND Nina's Cafe. Otherwise Nina might have been like hey you, get in on this chat! Like he knew that was the plan...

Plus the fact that they do that even though Justine's cafe is clearly CLOSED. I doubt she'd be chill with that so I guess she's not around.

Anyway that's enough so here's the TLDR:

The Metatron pretty much just LETS Gabriel escape, knowing that the Archangels will go down and muddle about trying to investigate.

We still don't know why Michael thought they had the right to strike people from the Book of Life. The Metatron seems to think that's out of the question, so where did that idea come from in the first place? It was a major driver of the early plot this season.

It seems convenient that Maggie cried about Nina RIGHT before the Angels arrived to inspect the Jimbriel miracle, and then RIGHT AFTER THAT, Mr Brown (of Brown's World of Carpets) shows up to set up the venue. That alone, all happening in the span of maybe 15 minutes, is a LOT.

It really feels like much of the plot was specifically orchestrated to keep Aziraphale and Crowley apart and NOT TALKING to each other. They keep hiding shit from each other to protect each other, but just hamstring themselves.

[spencers-renaissance]

you look after everyone, but who looks after you?

Summary: Penelope is sad and lonely and thinks nobody can see her struggling, but Emily does. When she shows up at her apartment unannounced, one thing leads to another, and soon a miserable evening turns into one of the best in Penelope's life.

Tags: hurt/comfort, sad penelope, angst w a happy ending, cuddling, tooth-rotting fluff, getting together, first kiss, friends to lovers

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Penelope Garcia

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I'm imagining s5/6 penemily for this one!

Penelope's small and bright apartment is her only source of comfort tonight, and although she does absolutely everything in her power to maximise the cosiness, to feel as safe and warm as possible inside its protective walls, it still doesn't feel like enough.

She's sad, and she's tired, and a larger part of her than she'd like to admit is bitter, which is an icky emotion, and she hates more than anything that it exists inside of her but tonight, it does, and there isn't anything she can do to stamp that stubborn little flame out.

She has always prided herself on the way she acts towards others. She makes sure that people are okay, and she bakes homemade muffins and puts them on their desks with one of her colourful toys when the bad stuff is getting to them, and she gives out hugs like there's no tomorrow; that's who Penelope Garcia is, and it's something that will always be important to her, no matter what.

But sometimes— sometimes she wants her own Penelope Garcia. It's easier to cheer other people up, to make them smile on a sad and rainy day, than it is to pick herself up out of her own all-consuming, utterly inexorable funks that creep up on her every now and then. And because happiness, colour, and bright smiles are who she can't help but be, people don't always see through that facade when it's no longer an instinct but a mask.

And because she would never dream of putting her bad mood or her sadness or her heavy, weighty grief on the shoulders of anyone else, she's left on her own.

When the last candle is the living room is lit, and her favourite lamps are on; when she's taken a hot shower, and she's put on her favourite pyjamas; when she's placed the order for her dinner-for-one, she sits down slowly on the sofa and pulls her knees up to her chest, staring at the inky blackness of the one window she forgot to draw the curtains over. As she stares, the inky blackness she feels on the inside only grows until it consumes her, swirling aggressively until tears are streaming down her face, and she's choking back sobs that threaten to rip her chest in two.

She's only brought out of her miserable, desolate stupor when the intercom buzzes with a visitor that she supposes is probably the delivery man with her Chinese order. She'd fancied Indian, but it reminded her too much of the team dinners Spencer always dragged them to, and that was just a little too painful for a lonesome night like this.

"Come on up," she says into the intercom, not bothering to hide the tiredness in her voice from a stranger she'll never see again, and without waiting for a response, she sits back on the sofa, staring at the purple walls of her apartment until there's a soft knock at the door.

Almost on auto-pilot, she stands up and opens the door, and her eyes widen as she stares in shock at Emily Prentiss standing in her hallway.

"You're not the delivery man," she whispers, still staring at her with wide eyes.

Emily chuckles sadly. "No, Pen. I'm not."

Penelope nods, blinking a couple of times, very unsure of what to do next or why the woman she's secretly in love with is standing in front of her at 10pm on a Tuesday night.

"Can I come in?" Emily prompts.

"Oh, uh— yes, of course." She opens the door wide enough for Emily to slip into her warmly lit living room and takes the opportunity of Emily's back briefly turned to scrub fruitlessly at her makeup-less, tear-stained face.

"This is cosy."

"Yeah, I just reread my favourite book about Hygge."

"Hygge?"

"It's uh. It's a Danish thing." Usually, she jumps at the opportunity to talk about Hygge and all the things she'd learned from her trip to visit her Danish friend last year, but right now, she's far too tired.

Emily nods, dropping her handbag by the door and walking over to take a seat on the sofa. "Come sit."

Penelope obeys and curls up in the opposite end to Emily, pulling a blanket over her lap and cuddling into it in another vain attempt to cheer herself up. Still, when pretty candles and the promise of takeaway can't make her happy, there really isn't much hope.

They stare at each other for a couple of minutes before Emily speaks, leaning forward a little. "How are you feeling, Penelope?"

Penelope blinks. "I'm fine."

Emily smiles, and again, it's sad. "No, Pen. How are you really feeling?"

She continues staring but doesn't say anything in response.

Emily scoots a little closer on the sofa. "Listen, I've watched you over the last couple of days. I know you're having a hard time, and I know that you won't say anything to anyone because you're brave and strong and quiet in your suffering. You look after everyone, Penelope, but who looks after you?"

Immediately at hearing those words, her face crumples, and she descends into the tears she'd only just managed to stop moments earlier. This time, though, the sobs she'd been choking back spillover, wracking her shoulders as she hugs her knees to her chest, desperate to hold herself together as she completely falls apart.

"Oh, Pen." Emily moves even closer and pries Penelope's hands away from her knees until she's able to guide her into a hug. Penelope usually tries to keep her physical distance from Emily, too scared of what she'll do if given a chance to touch her, but right now, she can't help but bury her face in her neck and cling on to her for dear life as Emily holds her back just as tightly.

"Shh, you're okay, honey," she soothes quietly, running her hand up and down her back gently as she lets Penelope fall apart in her arms. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

She says everything Penelope needs to hear as she cries herself out, sobs eventually receding to tired sniffles as she pulls away from Emily slightly, a little embarrassed of her actions.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry on you like that."

Emily brings a hand to her chin and lifts her face gently until she's looking directly into Emily's warm, kind brown eyes. "You have nothing to apologise for, okay? I'm just sorry you've been having such a rough time and haven't had anyone to talk to about it."

Penelope nods, still embarrassed that she fell apart so easily but feeling soothed and comforted by Emily's warm words and gentle hands.

Just then, the buzzer goes again. "That's, uh, that's my dinner."

"Ah," Emily says, nodding in understanding. "Is that who you thought I was?"

Penelope looks away sheepishly. "Yeah."

"That explains the abrupt invitation upstairs," Emily says, smiling at her as she gets off the sofa and buzzes the courier up. "You mind if I stick around while you eat?"

"No! Please— please stay," she says, hating the desperation that bleeds into her voice.

"Okay, I'll stay, of course I will," Emily promises, rushing to soothe her again as she hears the agitation and distress in Penelope's voice. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Penelope nods gratefully. "You can even have some of my eggrolls," she says, managing a little smile as she references the well-known fact that Emily despises eggrolls and makes such a big, dramatic deal out of it every time any of them order Chinese.

Emily laughs, her head tipping back a little. "You're so generous."

She opens the door for the delivery man and takes the bag from him, before bringing it over to the coffee table and laying it out in front of Penelope.

"You should eat up, sweetie," she says in that kind, concerned way of hers as she comes to sit next to her on the sofa, "I'm sure that crying took it out of you, hm?"

Penelope nods tiredly and tucks into her dinner as Emily flicks through the TV channels before settling on a rerun of Will & Grace. They sit in comfortable silence for a little while as the familiar sound of a 90s laugh-track sitcom fills the room and Penelope eats her dinner.

"You need another hug?" Emily asks once she's finished her food and is inching closer on the sofa, and Penelope might be delusional but she swears she sees an inkling of hope on her face, so she doesn't hesitate in nodding.

Emily beams and pulls her closer, arranging them until they're lying horizontally on the sofa, comfortably tangled up in one another, idly watching the TV while they enjoy the comfort of one another's company.

"Pen?" Emily whispers, after a good couple of episodes; after most of the tealights Penelope had lit earlier have burned themselves out. "You know I love you right?"

There's something in her voice that makes Penelope feel brave. "Yeah," she whispers back, burying even closer into her side. "I love you, too, Emily. More than you know."

The last four words are uttered with a weight the fragile air in the room can't hold, and they crash back down between them, making Emily shift to look at her properly. Her face is a myriad of earnest emotions, and Penelope can't look away.

"When I say I love you," Emily says, nerves and anticipation and hope in the whisper of her voice, "I mean it. I don't— I don't love you like a friend, Penelope. I love you more than that."

Penelope stares at her, her heart pounding in her chest as she looks at the woman lying next to her, anxious, hopeful features illuminated by soft candlelight.

"I love you more than that, too."

Emily's nervous features smooth into something warm and eager and happy. "You do?"

Penelope nods, and she's sure her face holds a similar expression. "I do."

"Can I kiss you?" Emily whispers, lifting her hand to rest in Penelope's blond, tangled hair.

"Please," she whispers back, and not a second later she's being kissed like she's never been kissed before; like the ocean's dried up and she's the last gulp of water to be found; like all the world's oxygen's disappeared, and she's the only gasp of fresh air left behind. She's kissed like she is Penelope Garcia and that is enough for Emily Prentiss, she's kissed like she doesn't need anything else but to exist in this moment, right here, right now.

She doesn't want it to end, but when it does, when they've pulled away and their faces are inches apart and they're breathing heavily, when she looks into Emily's eyes and sees everything she's always wanted to find in them, she's glad it did, because the first kiss ending means that they can do it again.

Yes, I'm gonna keep writing that Penelope is very invested in Danish culture okay, it's my fav headcanon, leave me alone. I hope you liked this one! <3

taglist: @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @reidology @spencerspecifics @hotchedyke @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @sapphic-stress @wifeyprentiss @cmily @notevanbuckley (add yourself to my taglist here!)

[dlwritings]

Moving Out (and On?) | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader (ft Niall Horan) word count - 3,618 warnings - language A/N - for the anon who requested x | this edit was fun to make | ya’ll love a secret dating gone wrong fic

summary - You’re sick of being Tom’s secret girlfriend, always coming in second to his career. But you didn’t want your relationship to end. When everything goes up in flames, you turn to your favorite Irishman to give you some support.

It was basically the most cliche issue you could have when secretly dating a celebrity. If the world doesn’t know you exist, interviewers are going to ask about other women. After almost two years of dating Tom Holland, you still weren’t quite used to it. For a while, it was always about Zendaya. Then, it just became any famous girl he was seen with. But Tom wasn’t with any of them. He was with you. And you were getting a little tired of hiding it.

You did your best dealing with it. You loved Tom, and you didn’t want to ruin what you had just because you wanted to go public and he didn’t.

Tom was away on press for The Devil All the Time, and you were missing him a lot. You talked on the phone every night, but it didn’t make you miss him any less. To make up for his absence, you were keeping up with the videos different news outlets were posting from his press tour. You were pumped to see that he had done another Wired autocomplete interview. His previous one had been with Zendaya and Jacob, so you were kind of excited to see him do one alone.

Tom introduced himself, and you couldn’t help but smile at his voice. Once he was handed a board, he was quick to begin. “What is Tom Holland’s,” Tom read, peeling off a strip, “phone number.” He laughed. “Uh, I won’t pick up my phone, but you can try calling my husband, Jake Gyllenhaal at (213) 406-6007.”

You laughed at his joke and continued watching. Some of the questions were interesting (What house is Tom Holland in? got him on a Harry Potter kick), but others just made you laugh some more (Is Tom Holland a dad? was a good one). 

“Is Tom Holland,” he read after laughing over the previous question, “dating anyone?”

You took a deep breath and let it out through your nose as Tom was able to maintain his poker face. “Tom Holland is enjoying his 20s right now,” he answered, “and he is very focused on his work. So you could say he is dating his career.”

Your mood shifted significantly after that question, and even though you continued watching the video, you enjoyed it much less. If you were any normal couple, he would’ve been able to say yes. Give the real answer. But this was you and Tom, and apparently the public wasn’t ready for that yet.

Just as you finished the video, as if he knew, Tom called you. You answered and tried to sound cheery. “Hi,” you said. “How’re you doing, Tommy?”

“Tired,” he answered honestly. “S’been a long day.”

“I’m sorry, love,” you said. Tom was quiet for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What?” you said. “Nothing. What’re you talking about?”

“You sound upset,” he said.

“I’m not,” you said.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said again. “I’m just tired, too.”

“Why’re you tired?”

“Can’t I just be tired?”

“You’re not usually tired.”

“Well today I am.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

“Because I know you.”

“It’s fine, Tom.”

“(Y/N), just talk to me. I hate knowing you’re upset-”

“I’m not upset!” you shouted. You took a deep breath and sighed. “I just miss you. That’s all.”

He sighed as well. “I miss you too.”

“I was watching some of your interviews,” you told him.

“Yeah?” he said, his tone lightening up a little. “Which ones?”

“I just finished your Wired autocomplete,” you said.

“That’s always a fun one,” he said. “That board though-” He made a sound like he shivered. “-like a nail on chalkboard to me.”

You laughed dryly. “I know.” Tom was quiet for a moment.

“Can you talk to me?” he asked. You could tell he was hesitant, like he didn’t want to upset you any more than he already had. “There’s something else going on. I can tell.” You didn’t want to fight with him, so you decided to tell him the truth.

“I don’t want to hide our relationship anymore,” you said. “I’m tired.”

“(Y/N),” he said with a sigh. “We’ve talked about this.”

“And you tell me the same thing over and over again,” you said. “That you’re just not ready and that you don’t think I can handle it. I can handle it, Tom.”

“We’re not having this talk again.”

“Yes we are!” you said.

“(Y/N)-”

“In the interview, you said you’re dating your career,” you told him. “And you know what? That’s what it feels like sometimes! I feel like I’m falling to the backburner, because if I’m a secret, I don’t affect your career, and if it’s not about your career, then it doesn’t matter. Not to you. Not right now. You feel like a different person right now, like you’re living and breathing your work.”

“What, so you want me to stop?”

“Of course not,” you said. “Don’t be stupid. I just want you to be proud that we’re in this relationship. To value me as much as you value work.”

“I can’t just put down what I’m working on to make you feel important,” he said.

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do!”

“I’m not going to keep having this conversation with you,” he said. “This isn’t the first time you’ve brought this up, that I don’t care about you or this relationship or whatever. Frankly, (Y/N), I can’t handle this right now. Every time you bring it up it just raises my stress level. I can’t afford to be stressed right now.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means if you really feel this way, then I’m done.”

“You’re done,” you repeated.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can’t keep babying you so you can feel secure in this relationship. I’m done.”

“Tom-”

The dial tone on the other end cut you off, and you felt tears come to your eyes. This hadn’t been your intention. You just wanted to have a conversation, and hopefully come to a better conclusion than you had every other time you brought it up. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe you should’ve just let it all be. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned it over the phone when he was busy with press. Maybe you had just lost the love of your life because of one rash decision.

You were quite young still. 21 wasn’t old. You still had your whole life ahead of you. But you were certain you and Tom were going to live happily ever after. So what were you supposed to do now?

You did the only thing you could think to do: call Niall.

Tom had gone golfing with Niall Horan a couple of times, and he would invite the Irishman over for dinner afterwards. You had been hanging out at Tom’s flat the first time he brought Niall over, and you were shocked when he walked through the door. You had always been a big fan of One Direction, and you were obsessed with Niall’s solo work. Luckily, after dating Tom for so long, you were a lot better at talking to famous people. Plus, Niall was crazy nice, and the two of you clicked instantly. After that, you considered him a good friend. A best friend actually.

So you gave him a call.

“‘Ello!” he said cheerily. “How’s it going?”

“Hey, Ni,” you said, your voice cracking. “You got a minute?”

“Always got a minute for you,” he said. “What’s wrong?” You opened your mouth only to close it again once you could tell you were about to break down into sobs. You sniffed a few times and finally composed yourself.

“Tom broke up with me,” you whispered.

“Ah, shit,” he said. You could hear him moving around a bit on his end. “You want me to come over?”

“Do you mind?” you asked, looking over at the clock. It was already 10:30.

“Course not,” he said. “I’ll be over in a bit.”

“I’ll leave it unlocked,” you said.

Niall was over in a few minutes, ready to lend a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear. “What happened?” he asked as you cuddled up to him on the couch.

“I just-” You were sniffing, practically blubbering. “I told him I was sick of, of keeping our relationship a secret. And that I didn’t want to keep, keep living in the shadows. He got mad, and, and he told me that he didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Have the same conversation we’ve been having,” you explained. “I bring it up all the time. I just want him to, to-” You cut yourself with a sigh. “I don’t know, Niall. I just felt like I was second best to all the work he’s been doing. And I’m not trying to sound unsupportive, but-”

“You don’t sound unsupportive,” he said. “Sounds like you want to be in a relationship that makes you happy, and Tom wasn’t doing that.”

“Most of the time he was,” you said. “But you know how he gets when he’s got a new role. It, it’s like it consumes him.” Niall just nodded and massaged the top of your head with his fingers.

“Maybe it’ll all work out,” he tried to offer. “Maybe it was just a fight.”

“We don’t ever fight like that,” you told him. “I try to be optimistic, but this is just-” You swallowed back more tears and shook your head. “This felt final.” Niall sighed and placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know I’m here for you,” he said. “However and whenever you need me.”

“I know,” you told him, putting your arm around his stomach to hold him closer. “Thank you.”

You spent every day with Niall for the next two months. He helped you move out from the flat you shared with Tom and let you stay with him until you could get back on your feet. You didn’t hear from Tom once. Niall was the perfect friend. He did everything he could to boost your spirits, constantly getting you ice cream or takeaway, and forcing you everyday to get out of bed and take a shower. He knew you well. Knew you’d mope and stop taking care of yourself if he let you. 

After two or so weeks went by, you forced yourself to put on a brave face. You didn’t want Niall to have to keep babying you. Tom wasn’t coming back, and there was nothing you could do about it. He hadn’t reached out to you once, and his Instagram stories were proof he was doing just fine. You were able to convince Niall you were okay with your fake laughs and pretty smiles.

Or so you thought.

Niall wasn’t dumb. Everyday, he saw you staring blankly at your black phone screen like you were waiting for it to light up with a call or text from Tom. He heard you crying in your room most nights, and he saw the redness rimming in your eyes every morning. He wasn’t sure you were even sleeping. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t reach out to Tom. He couldn’t help you if you didn’t want it. So he gave you space and let you recover however you needed to.

At the two month mark, Niall took you out for breakfast at your favorite cafe. You agreed eagerly, especially when he said he’d pay. In no world would you turn down a free breakfast.

Across town, Tom’s flight had just landed. He pulled out his phone and decided to scroll through some social media before Harrison picked him up. When he opened Instagram, he clicked through the stories of people he was following. He clicked through them absentmindedly, but his thumb froze when he saw a picture of you. You had your hands wrapped around a coffee cup and a huge smile on your face. Instantly, his heart dropped. Had you really moved on so soon? To Niall? He thought back to that day two months ago. The day he broke up with you. The worst day of his life.

“So what does that mean?” you asked him.

“It means if you really feel this way, then I’m done,” he said.

“You’re done,” you repeated.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can’t keep babying you so you can feel secure in this relationship. I’m done.”

“Tom-”

He hung up before you could finish your sentence and threw his phone against the wall. His case would protect it, he knew. He put his forehead in his hands and clenched his jaw. “Fuck!” he shouted. He meant what he said. He was sick of having the same conversation over and over again. He wasn’t ready to go public. End of story. Why did you keep having to push it? He just couldn’t handle it anymore. It was raising his stress level, and after filming his most recent movies, he couldn’t afford to be any more stressed than he already was.

Now, two months later, he was questioning everything. Had he overreacted? Deep down, he really thought you’d end up getting back together. That this was just a fight, and that you’d reach out to him. When months went by and you didn’t, he knew he had really fucked up. Maybe it was his place to reach out, but at this point, he felt like he didn’t have the right. You had already moved on. How could he just push his way into your life again?

But he had to. He had to talk to you. To say he was sorry. To get on his knees and beg to have you back, if it came to that. So, he made a snap decision. When Harrison brought him home, he asked if Tom wanted to hang out, but the ladder said no. He got in his car and headed off to Niall’s house.

You and Niall were sitting on the couch watching Harry Potter when there was a knock at the front door. You groaned and reached for the remote, but Niall just laughed. “Don’t pause it,” he said. “I’ll go check.”

“You’re going to miss Sirius’ death,” you said with a pout.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he said back. You scoffed and nodded, adjusting the blanket you were using and turning back to the TV. You couldn’t hear who was at the door, but you could make out the muffled sounds of Niall speaking with someone.

When Niall opened the door, the last person he expected to see was Tom. Niall turned to look over his shoulder and make sure you hadn’t crept down the hall, and when he saw it was clear, he turned to his friend. “Hey,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey,” Tom said back, just as uncomfortable. “Is (Y/N) here?”

“Yeah,” Niall said. “She’s been staying with me since you two-” He cut himself off. Tom hung his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, Tom, I don’t know if she’s ready to see you.”

“Come on, mate,” he said. “I’m begging you. Just let me talk to her.” Niall studied Tom. He could tell he was broken up, and he felt bad for his friend. But he felt bad for you too. He had been with you through all of this, and it hadn’t been a pretty picture. You still weren’t yourself, and he knew seeing Tom again would just bring you back to square one. But maybe you needed this closure. Who was he to stand in the way of that?

So he stepped to the side and let Tom in.

You heard footsteps approaching, so you turned to see who had stopped by. When you saw Tom, you sat up a little straighter. “What are you doing here?” you asked. Niall shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat awkwardly. You shot him a glare.

“I’ll be in my room,” he said. Tom nodded, and Niall left you alone. You pulled the blanket a little closer to you like it could be a barrier between the two of you. Tom noticed and took a step closer to the couch so he could sit on the opposite end.

“What are you doing here?” you asked again.

“I just want to talk to you,” he said.

“About what?” you asked.

He hesitated. “You been living here long?”

“Since you broke up with me, yeah,” you said. “I needed a place to go.”

“So you moved on that quick?” he asked, his voice small. You raised your eyebrows.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“I break up with you, and the next day you’re with Niall?”

“I’m not with Niall,” you snapped, realizing what he was implying. “I needed a home, Tom! You broke up with me! I had to move out! I couldn’t move back home, I couldn’t afford a place by myself! Niall was here for me!” Quickly, you added, “And even if I was with him, what right do you have to be upset about that? You broke up with me! At least Niall isn’t scared of posting pictures of me! Of people knowing who I am. You know how refreshing that is? I’ve been hidden for two years. Going out in public with Niall is like-” You let out a dry laugh. “It was like a breath of fresh air.”

“Well, then be with Niall!” Tom shouted. He was getting frustrated, but more with himself than with you. He deserved everything you were saying, and it just made him mad at himself.

“I don’t want to be with Niall!” you shouted back. “I don’t love Niall! I love you! But you didn’t want to make it work!”

“I never said that!” Tom said.

“You didn’t want to take the next step!” you said. “You, you keep hiding me, Tom! Why are you so ashamed of me?” Tom didn’t answer for a moment, too taken aback by your words.

“Is that what you think?” he said. “That I’m ashamed of you?”

“I don’t understand why else you would hide me like you had for two years,” you said.

He started stuttering through his response. “(Y/N), I’ve, I’m, it’s not that at all.” You didn’t say anything, and he sighed. “I’m scared of what could go wrong.” You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head.

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“It’s easy right now, you know?” he said. “It’s easy, and it’s safe, and there’s no chance of someone hurting you or you getting, getting too overwhelmed by everything.” It still wasn’t clicking to you.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “So, so you-” You sighed and pressed your fingers to your temples. “Why didn’t you just talk to me about it? Instead of shutting me down every time I brought it up?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I just wasn’t ready to talk about it.”

“Jesus, Tom,” you said, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “If I could take it all back, I would.” You looked at him just as he lifted his head to look at you. His eyes were brimmed with tears, and you knew yours were too.

“I won’t be in the shadows anymore,” you told him. “I won’t.”

“I know,” he said. “I swear, you won’t be anymore. I’ll tell everyone. I’ll shout it from the rooftops, whatever you want.” You couldn’t help but giggle a bit, which made Tom’s face light up. “Move back in with me?” he asked. Your smile dropped a fraction, and you looked down at your hands.

“Can I stay here a while longer?” you said. “If it’s okay with Niall? I just-” You sighed. “I just want to take this slow moving forward. I need time to, to get back to where we were. I still love you,” you added, “but I just-” You took a shaky breath. “I’m not there yet.” Tom nodded in understanding.

“Okay,” he said. “Whatever you need. Just-” He moved a little closer to you and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. “-know that I love you so much, and however you want to go public, I’m game.” You nodded, and Tom smiled and leaned forward, hoping you’d meet him halfway for a kiss. You did. He smiled against your lips and put his hand on the back of your head, keeping you close to him.

You pulled away from each other when you heard a dramatic clearing of the throat. You turned your head and saw Niall leaning against the doorframe with his arms across his chest. “I see you lovebirds patched things up,” he said. You and Tom both chuckled, and Tom hung his head as the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Is it okay if I stay a little longer?” you asked Niall.

He nodded without hesitation. “Stay as long as you need.” He paused. “You guys wanna get some food?” Tom looked at you, and you bit your lip and hung your head.

“I think we might head back to my place for a while,” he said. “You know, catch up a little bit.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, covering his ears. “I don’t need to hear anymore. I get the picture.”

You and Tom said goodbye to Niall, and as soon as the door shut, Niall put his hands on his hips and sighed. He thought for a moment and reached into his pocket for his phone, clicking on the first contact name that came to his mind.

“Tommo! You up for some Nandos?”

----- ----- ----- -----

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[l8rhader]

It was Tuesday which meant it was Losers Family Game Night.  Except, as far as most of the Losers knew, Eddie Kaspbrak had a study group that he just couldn’t get out of.

In truth, he had needed a minute.  And a drink.  And a quiet walk around the city.  All that had done for him was solidified his realization.  He needed to get his shit together.  For over a decade, he’d pined.  He’d watched as Richie went on a never-ending string of increasingly frustrating bad dates.  He listened as he bitched about each of them after they’d all, inexplicably, failed to realize how wonderful he was.  At 22, in his senior year of college and living with his six best friends in a rented house just off campus, he was really, truly living, and- He’d had enough waiting.  He wanted Richie.  

He headed back to the house and snuck in the backdoor, heading up the kitchen stairs to sit, cross-legged on Richie’s bed, and just waited, picking at a tiny hole at the bottom hem of his faded old T-Shirt with the demon car.  He didn’t want to deal with Game Night or anyone else until he saw Richie.  

Downstairs, the rest of the Losers Club were chatting happily and setting up the board for a friendly and Not-At-All-Competitive-Beverly-Remember-What-Happened-Last-Time game of Monopoly.  Richie stood up from the ottoman and moved for the stairs.  “Hang on, guys, don’t start without me.  I just want to change into sweats,” he said, adding “Stan, pull the-”

“Shoe,” he predicted, plucking it out of the box from under Beverly’s fingers as she huffed, reaching from the couch behind him, nearly knocking the wind out of Ben with an accidental kick to the gut, securing the Top Hat for herself before Stan could swipe it.  His call doubled as an encouragement to getting him out and back.  “Got it,” Richie shot him a thumbs-up behind his back.  “Hurry, it’s already 6,” he called, knowing that, at this rate, they were going to be up until way later than he’d like.  He had work in the morning, even if no one else had class until noon.

Richie was already upstairs and opening the door to his room, though.  He already had the top of his jeans unbuttoned, heading to his dresser for something more comfortable.  He let them drop, stepping out of them in just his boxers.  

Momentarily stunned by the situation he found himself in, Eddie found his voice quick enough.  “Hey Richie,” he said quietly.  “Can we talk?”

Jumping backward and knocking his dresser drawer shut on his finger, though managing to come up with the pants he’d come in search of, Richie yelped.  “Ow! Fuck,” he hissed, popping the injured digit into his mouth instinctively.  “Eds, what-”  He stopped, looked down at himself, and immediately felt his face flush hot.  “What’s up?” he asked, covering himself up with the hastily retrieved garment before realizing he could indeed put them on.

“I need to say something to you and I need to say it all before you interrupt me so can you be uncharacteristically quiet for like 5 minutes before you say anything that’s going to make me potentially jump out of your bedroom window in embarrassment,” Eddie said, taking a sharp intake of breath before adding a quiet, “please?”

Brows furrowed behind his glasses, Richie moved to his bed and sat beside Eddie.  “Of course,” he said, fighting off the instinct to point out that anything that was going to take Eddie five minutes to say would take 30 from anyone else- maybe 15 from him, but what’s 10 minutes between friends, right?  “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he said quietly, picking at his cuticle before dropping his hands into his lap.  He looked over at Richie, who was looking at him so softly that he could hardly stand it and stood up.  “Can you not look at me while I say any of this?  I can’t deal with your face and those big fucking eyes staring at me while I try to put my thoughts together because if I do, Richie, I swear I’m never going to get through this,” he said as he started to pace.  

Richie stared up at him incredulously for a moment, wondering just what in the hell he’d gotten himself into, before shaking it off.  “Sure.  Whatever you need,” he said, plucking the plush beaver Eddie had won him at the carnival one year.  At the time, he may have buried it under a dirty joke or ten, - and by may have, he absolutely did, but it made Eddie laugh that big, open laugh that always twisted a knot in Richie’s gut he couldn’t place at the time but he definitely had figured out by now, so it wasn’t for nothing- but it was, and remained to the day, one of his most prized possessions.

It appeared, though, that Eddie didn’t need Richie’s agreement for any of this.  “I mean, how couple I possibly focus when you’re there and you look like that and you’re my best fucking friend and you just get whatever it is that I’m trying to say without me having to try which is impressive considering that I try really fucking hard all the time and you’re always there!  And you always play along!  And you’re-” he looked back at Richie and clenched and unclenched his fists quickly.  “I just don’t get it and of course you’re going to say no because, I mean, you’re you and why would you even want to so it doesn’t-”

“Eds, I don’t mean to interrupt this conversation you’re having with yourself when you did ask for five minutes but,” he said, standing up and placing the stuffed animal back on his bed with a lightly confused expression, “you haven’t actually said-”

“AND THEN, here you are, six-fucking-two and cheekbones and shoulders and hands and-” he spluttered, struggling, “and-and-and I can’t even focus on anything at all because you’re this fucking hot AND you’re quite possibly the funniest person I’ve ever met, despite all of the fighting and calling me names that are absolutely mortifying but I don’t hate as much as I say I do because I know that it’s endearment from you,” he said, taking the hand that he hadn’t even noticed Richie had reached out to him.  He rolled it thoughtfully in his own hand and smiled.  “But, then, you have to be such a fucking idiot, like there’s not a brain under that perfect mop of curls you call hair, and go on all of these stupid dates with these stupid assholes who don’t see how sweet and smart and brave and funny and gorgeous you are and I have to wonder why the fuck it’s always them and not me when I’m right fucking here.  And every time one of these shitbrained lowlifes breaks your heart, I end up here in this exact spot, surrounded by your dirty laundry, wondering what in the hell happened to make you ignore what was right in front of your face the whole damn time; trying to figure out why it’s them and not me because I swear if I had you, I’d never let you go.”  Eddie took another breath that might have been a little huffier than he’d intended, but he was mad.  He was madly in love with Richie.  So sue him if he thought that it was stupid that, after over ten years, he was going to have to admit it before he, maybe literally, exploded.

Even though he was hearing every word and, practiced as he was in the art of Eddie-fication, Richie was having trouble following.  “I need something a little more linear here, Eds.  Give me something to go on.”

Give him something to go on, he did.  Eddie launched himself onto his tiptoes, arms draped over Richie’s shoulders as he kissed him.  If Richie had had any warning at all, he might have been quicker on the uptake.  He settled into the kiss quick enough, pulling Eddie up into his arms eagerly.  It still wasn’t close enough for Eddie.  He wound one hand into Richie’s hair, adjusting his neck for a better angle.

“God, why are you so fucking tall?” he panted when he finally came up for air.  “One of us is gonna end up needing a chiropractor if we keep this up,” he added.

Letting his hands wander lower, he gripped the back of Eddie’s thighs and hoisted him up so they were a little closer to even and kissed him again.  “Better?” he asked, despite feeling pretty confident that it was.  

Richie smiled at him.  That was sort of what he thought.  “You drive me insane, too,” he said, moving his strong hands to Eddie’s biceps and pulling him in closer.  “And I love you, too.”  

Eddie looked up at him, quietly stunned.  He thought back over everything he’d said but he was pretty sure that he’d left that bit out.  “You-”

“That was the general takeaway of your rant, right?  Because, honestly, Eds, it was a little all over the place but there was a good bit of mentioning different physical attributes, some jealousy and frustration with my past dating experiences, some mentioning of things other than my body, but,” he drew his lips into a straight line and shrugged, “to be fair, I’m sure you had a speech but I came in here and dropped trough and shot that all to shit,” he laughed, getting a slight blush from Eddie, “followed by a good deal of insulting which is Spaghetti-Speak for I love you.”  

Richie leaned forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Eddie’s waist.  “Is it?” Eddie asked, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t had much of a plan past this part.  

Nodding, Richie leaned back a little.  “I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend for a long time,” he admitted.  Beneath his hands, he could practically feel Eddie vibrating with excitement.  “That is, if you want me, too?”

A bright smile crept along Eddie’s face, initiating those dimples Richie liked so much he could fucking scream.  “Of course, I want you,” he said, letting his hands rest wrapped tightly in the buttons of his shirt.  “I want you more than anything else I can think of.”  

“Good.  Because you’re stuck with me, my man,” he said, swaying them both back and forth happily, a slow dance.  Then, realizing what he’d said and the implications of it, he simply smiled.  “My man.”  Eddie leaned up on his tiptoes and kissed him once more, pulling him in by his shirt before hooking his arms around his neck.  From the living room, there was a chorus of shouts for Richie to hurry the fuck up.  “Are you gonna come down with us?  Because I don’t want to stop this, but-”

Eddie released a heavy sigh.  “Go,” he groaned, shoving him out the door and toward the steps.  It was stupid, he realized, waiting this long.  Grinning broadly as he watched Richie pad down the stepsHe ducked toward the front door and opened it, pulling Richie toward him as he closed it, giving them the option of making it seem like Eddie had just gotten home.  Still, his hand in Richie’s felt right.  The way Richie had instinctively moved his hand to Eddie’s hip might have made his heart skip a beat as he hovered closer, obscured from the Losers by the wall with their coat rack on it.  

Leaning in, Richie captured Eddie’s lips with his own, pressing himself flush against him.  It was exhilarating.  He had never in a million years thought that it would happen like this, if it happened at all.  He thought there would be some long, pitiful conversation.  Some dramatic scene.  He’d expected tears and panic- maybe even some puke, on his end.  

But this?

Kissing Eddie was easy.  Having Eddie as a boyfriend- being Eddie’s boyfriend- that was going to be even easier.  Effortless.  Inevitable.  He could feel it.  He could tell.  

Still, he had to stop.  He had to pull back for a moment before he lost his head entirely and they got caught.  “Do you really want to do this?” he asked, thumb grazing lightly over Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie leaned into his hand and looked up at him, a hint of mischief in those deep, brown eyes.  He entwined his freehand in Richie’s hair, kissing him with an even more determined fire than he had the first time.  Richie hummed in surprise against his mouth, then melted against him dramatically, like the snowman turning into the little boy in that soup commercial.  He tilted Eddie’s face up and and leaned into him, feeling their hearts running a race.  For once, Richie thought, just a part of him might be faster than Eddie.  

When he finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Eddie nodded.  “I really, really do.”  

“See you in there, then,” he said, kissing him lightly one last time for the moment, smiling briefly against his lips.

Hearing Stan call out to him again, Richie turned and practically bounced back into the living room Eyes wide, Eddie whispered a harsh, “Wait.  I didn’t mean to tell them.  I just meant yes to you!” Richie settled in against the pile of throw pillows on the far side of the room, and busied himself collecting his money from Stan and bitching at Mike for stealing his seat.  “Richie? Richie!” Eddie continued to hiss, digging his fists into his hair.  “Fuck.”

He peeked around the corner and took in the set-up.  Bev and Ben were still on the couch but she was sitting up, poised for battle.  Stan was on the floor with his back against the couch, knees against the coffee table, bank assembled in the lid and safely under the table where Beverly couldn’t reach without alerting him.  Bill’s chair was still vacant, because he was still in the kitchen making drinks.  Mike sat cross legged on the ottoman with Richie nested in the pillows beside him.  His heart skipped another beat- it really needed to stop doing that- as he realized that that caught-the-canary look Richie had was because of him.  He looked so happy.  And fuck- he was, too.

“Was that the food?” Mike asked.  

“No,” Richie answered, then paused.  “Well, I mean.  It’s something I plan on eating later,” he added quickly, raising his eyebrows as Eddie ducked out of sight.  He laughed a little, knowing he was gonna hear it for that later.  

From the entryway, there was the sound of a definite thunk of head against wall.  “What was that?” asked, moving to get up, spooked.

“Probably the pasta coming to a boil,” Richie offered, situating his loudly colored money beside him.  Beverly looked at him curiously.

Still missing the point, “What?  What pasta?” Mike asked, looking over at the rest of the group as Bill came in from the kitchen with their drinks.  “Didn’t we order pizza?  I don’t-”

Once he’d freed his hands, handing Richie and Mike their beers, popping the open wine bottle down in front of Ben and Bev passing Stan his 7 and 7, Bill asked, “Richie, did you hit your head?  How many f-fingers?” offering two individual fingers for him to focus on as he plopped down into his chair, taking a swig of his own beer.

“Three if I play my cards right,” Richie winked.  Off to his left, Stan squinted at him.  Not that it was any different from his normal schtick, per se, but there was something different about Richie.  Bev picked up on it, too, swatting Stan on the shoulder and fixing him with a deliberate stare.

“Oh my God!” Eddie groaned, spinning in a circle.  He buried his face in his hands.  That wasn’t what he meant.  He hadn’t-

“Eddie?” Ben asked, craning his neck to get a better angle to try to see into the entryway.  “I thought he had that study group he couldn’t get out of tonight.” 

Perking up, Bev leaned across the arm of the sofa, shouting, “Eds!  If that’s you, get your ass in here!” 

Eddie let one deep breath fill his lungs as he dropped his head back, closing his eyes.  He was going to have to kill his boyfriend.  Even with attack mode activated, he still smiled at the thought.  The word boyfriend meant Richie which made him go warm all over.  He shook it off and peeked back around the corner.  “Hey, guys,” he said, sheepishly.

Bill turned around, more than a little shocked to find the seventh Loser home.  “What g-gives?”

“You said you wouldn’t be home until super late tonight?” Bev asked, gesturing for him to come sit with her and Ben.

There was a chorus of agreement as he fully entered the room, arms folded protectively around his waist. He looked down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact that would clearly give him away, until “Yeah, Spaghetti.  What gives?” Richie said with a crooked smile, cocking his head to one side as he leaned back on his elbows.

“Fuck you, dude.  I take it all back.  Every fucking word,” Eddie growled, crossing to Richie and swiping one of the pillows out from under him to smack him in the gut with it.  “You’re such a dipshit, you know that right?  I meant yes to you not yes to whatever the fuck you took me saying yes to mean.”  Richie opened his mouth, meaning to point out that the rest of the Losers were still in the room.  Instead, all he could do was gape at his boyfriend.  “Oh, fucking forgive me if I wanted to take a minute to enjoy the fact that I finally got over my shit, marched back here, and made a fucking move!  Maybe I wanted to keep it between us for, oh, I don’t know ten minutes before you broadcast to all of our friends that I just asked you out.”

Richie blinked a couple of times, stunned.  He held his hand up, preparing to count off on his fingers.  “So, to recap, you came home completely unannounced-”

“I live here, asshole!  Do I have to tell you all-”

Flexing his outstretched hand, Richie added his index finger to the list, “Started fucking yelling at me about my face, my dating habits, my laundry habits, and my mouth,” added a third, smiling as he glanced past Eddie at the shocked faces of their friends, “kissed me, started yelling at me again for being too fucking tall but if I’m not mistaken,” he said, letting his hand spring back to his chest with a loud thud, “I am the one who made the startling confession and did the boyfriend asking and then returned to the game night that you were invited to in the house that we share with our friends without so much as a fucking word past reiterating that you really did want to be with me,” he listed, counting them off on the three fingers he’d joked about just moments earlier.  He reached up, and took Eddie’s hand.  “You, light of my life and pain in my ass, are the one who came in here guns blazing and broadcasting it for all of these Losers.  I was simply being casual!”

Eddie squeaked out a laugh.  “As if!  You came in with all of the jokes and the fucking commentary!  What the hell did you think they were going to think”  Something I plan to eat later?  What the fuck, Richie?  I swear-”

“Because you’re so cute, cute, cute, I could just eat you up, Spaghetti,” Richie said, tugging at his boyfriend’s hand, chewing at his lower lip.

Stan sighed, pulling the box out from under the table and starting to count out Eddie’s starting pile.  “He’s always talked about you like that,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, as s-soon as you came in we would have just let it g-go as him being a dickhead,” Bill laughed, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and pulling out a fifty, taking the one Mike was flagging toward the table and tossing them both at Ben.  Bev and Stan both dug through their Monopoly money and tried to pawn that off as fair, receiving nothing but a disapproving tut from Ben, now $200 richer- in real currency, even.

Settling back into his spot, Stan glanced over at his friends, thoroughly happy for them.  “So, if you two are done, we were just starting on Monopoly and I had the car set aside just in case,” he offered, sticking the pawn on the stack of brightly colored bills and handing them up to Eddie who just stared blankly at him.  “I open tomorrow.  In or out?”

Richie swiped the pieces and laughed.  “C’mere,” he said said, a little roughly, tugging Eddie down to sit between his legs.  Snuggling back against his boyfriend, he smiled, rocking back and forth a bit. 

All it took was one subtle moment- Richie pressed his lips to Eddie’s neck gently, whispering in his ear and Eddie shut his eyes smiling happily. Mike cooed some nonsense about it being ‘about damn time,” and Eddie blushed, admitting that, yeah, it was.  That’s all it took for Stan to lock eyes with Eddie, claiming that now he was vulnerable.  The peace was broken with unrelenting trash talk as Eddie took first roll.

“Is it a g-good idea to play Monopoly, of all things, the day they actually g-get together?” Bill asked Ben quietly as he walked back to the kitchen to grab the second round.  As oldest, he always went last for every game, making him the barmaid, most nights.

“It’s not like they’ve never played together before,” Ben answered, watching the new couple with a gentle smile as his own girlfriend batted his hand away for distracting her.  “Besides, Richie’s pretty calm with Monopoly.”

“It’s not Richie I’m worried about,” Bill said as Richie cursed.  Eddie had given an evil laugh, teasing that Ben had always been on his side and, in throwing his head back, nearly concussed him.  “Although, maybe I should be,” he laughed, shaking his head, passively wondering if, maybe, he could see the future or something because hadn’t he just asked-

[hermannsthumb]

"newt isn’t sleazy and is also too busy wrestling with the ethics of hitting on his hot TA if the guy is 5 months older than him to even notice" pleeeease write this

Anonymous asked: "When I Kissed the Teacher" AU ft professor newt and his hot 5-month-older TA hermann

and coincidentally, this older one

Anonymous asked: i just rewatched mamma mia 2 and was wondering if i could request a "when i kissed the teacher" newmann fic?? love your writing!!!!!!

Ask And Ye Shall Receive. sorry ive been MIA 😔 concept from this post I made earlier this month. idk what class newt teaches that hermann would be qualified to TA for but just like, decide for yourselves

---------------------

Newt’s never been a list-making kind of guy, or--for that matter--even really a planning ahead kind of guy, but certain circumstances have thrown his life more out of wack than usual lately, and he kind of needs the stability the like of things like lists offer. Desperate times and everything. Or, at the very least, Newt is desperate. 

So Newt plans, and plots, and deliberates, and he even agonizes a little, but most of all, he makes a list.

On one half of the page, he writes pros. On the other, he writes cons. On top, he writes--what else?--Hermann.

The problem started in late August. Newt knew for months he was going to be assigned a teaching assistant come that semester--it was him, after all, who’d suggested it to the dean in the first place--but the Hermann Gottlieb of extensive, impressive, overachieving CV and overly-former cover letter was a far cry from Hermann Gottlieb in the flesh. Newt expected a dork, frankly. Someone too socially awkward to feel brave enough to thank someone for holding a door open for him. He expected a PhD student so eager to please he’d cater to Newt’s every whim, whether it was grading horrendous freshman lab reports or fetching him a sandwich from the commissary between class sections. 

They met for the first time at the campus coffee shop. Hermann was dressed in an oversized pair of slacks, a threadbare green sweatervest, and honest-to-God saddle shoes; the buttons of his Oxford were done up all the way, from the collar to the cuffs, and an ornate cane was settled against his thigh. His haircut was tragic. “Dr. Geiszler,” he said, all clipped and English, and held his hand out to Newt. “Hermann Gottlieb. It is a great pleasure to meet you. I’m an admirer of your work.”

"Sup,” Newt said, and tried to bump their fists together.

Newt knew he was in deep shit then. It wasn’t just because Hermann was gorgeous (which he was, in a sort of weird, frumpy, ripped-outta-1945 way), or that the scowl he proceeded to level Newt with made his soul wither and his heart race a little bit too fast, but both of those things in conjunction with a big one: Newt was, and is, so fucking love-starved. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of being made a professor when he was as young as he was and completing a PhD before he completed puberty. His early twenties should’ve been spent dyeing his hair terrible colors and adding to his already impressive tattoo collection and having questionable hookups with other young twentysomethings; unfortunately, the only young twentysomethings Newt ever seems to come across are his students, and he has a very strict code of ethics. Not to mention it wasn’t like he was getting any action before that as a weird, gangly teenager with peers several years his senior. He was bound to latch onto the first genius hottie who crossed his path who wasn’t trying to flirt their way into bumping that B- to a B+. And better yet, Hermann is five whole months his senior!

The shit only got deeper when the semester started. No, Hermann was not the sort to fetch Newt sandwiches, or coffee, or Aspirin from his office, nor was he the sort to handle the dreaded lab reports (at least not unless Newt handled them with him), and he definitely wasn’t eager to please. Newt, anyway. If anything the opposite was true: he seemed to actively derive enjoyment from undermining Newt at every turn.

“Wrong,” he’d mutter during class if Newt screwed something up in a lecture, or “No, Geiszler, you’re doing it wrong again,” or “How in the blazes did you get three bloody PhDs when you can’t even do simple addition?” and snatch Newt’s dry erase marker away to scrawl his own answers on the whiteboard. It was less like having a TA and more like having...well, a bitchy, annoying co-teacher. Or, God help Newt, a colleague. And boy, did he wave those five months over Newt’s head like a fucking flag. Newt was immature; inexperienced; clearly not as serious about his studies--his completed studies--as Hermann. Meanwhile Newt’s class (bright young twenty somethings, taller than Newt, cooler than Newt, with more friends than Newt) would giggle and snicker, and Hermann would look smug.

It drove Newt fucking batty.

It also made him, like, super turned on.

The two can co-exist. Apparently. Hermann Gottlieb is already helping Newt discover new and existing concepts; what a fucking excellent TA he is. Someone give that man a raise.

So Newt draws up a list, and he writes Pros, and he writes Cons, and he writes Hermann. The pros are regrettably easy to come up with, because Hermann is Hermann, and (bitchiness and undermining of Newt aside) it’s unfair how many he has. Hot. Stupid sexy accent. Stupidly smart. This is crossed out and replaced with so smart he makes me feel stupid (in a good way), because it seems like an important distinction. Glasses on chain. Mysterious. (In a tall, dark, and handsome way. Sort of. Average height--which is tall to Newt, pale, and handsome. He still scowls more than he talks, which makes him feel mysterious. In a Bronte sort of way. Newt can picture Hermann drawing a billowing cloak around his shoulders and stalking some desolate moor in the moonlight, though in this case maybe’s more of a puffy parka than a cloak.) In tiniest font of all is makes me laugh, because Hermann does, goddamn it, with his snide asides and cutting remarks and sarcasm, often not even directed at Newt when it’s just the two of them alone in Newt’s office at night.

The placement of “is my TA” on the chart is acting as a particular annoyance to Newt, entirely on account of the fact that he can think of several pros and cons for that as well, and he’s not sure whether to nestle it between dark eyelashes and once called me a moron in front of my class and I got a hard-on or beneath sweaters smell like sweat and mothballs, has annoying tic of clearing throat when lost in thought, and the dick wins 86% of our arguments. Sexy forbidden fling. Abuse of power. Is older than me so it's not as weird as it could be? I’m his boss. The school’s paying Hermann though, not Newt, and it’s not like he’s going to scurry off to the dean and demand Hermann’s funding slashed if Hermann turns him down (which he’d most likely do). But it still feels like a breach of ethics.

On the other hand, Hermann is exactly the sort of guy he’d try to pick up at a bar if he still did things like that. (Tenure, rather than giving Newt breathing space to kick back and relax a little, has only increased his obsession with his work, and now when he gets a Friday night free to himself he mostly switches crap on the TV and falls asleep with his cat on the couch.) It’s about the experience, the impossible task of seducing someone who--by all accounts--is too straight-laced and tight-buttoned to indulge in something that debase. They were always the best in bed. Tension, Newt knows, has to snap at some point.

He’d like to wrap Hermann’s personal piano wire around his thumb and bang away at the keys until it snaps, too. Ethics, Newt thinks (folding up the list and stuffing it out of sight), his ass.

Newt sacrifices a Friday night with his cat and Unsolved Mysteries in favor of working on a solution to his Hermann Problem. Swamped with work, he tells Hermann over the phone, it fucking sucks, dude, I could really use your help in my office, and Hermann grumbles, and snaps that Newt should learn to be better prepared for his own damn classes, but declares he’ll be on campus in half an hour and that Newt will be ordering him takeaway for dinner as an apology.

The door swings open at half past five. Hermann is bundled in that heavy parka and scarf (which, even for a Boston November, still looks a little too warm), and his hair is damp. “Is it raining?” Newt says, perhaps stupidly, because there’s not a single droplet of water anywhere else on Hermann’s body.

Hermann makes a face at him and pushes the door shut with his cane. “No,” he says, tersely.

“Then why...” Newt touches his own hair.

“I was taking a bloody bath,” Hermann snaps. “I don’t work on Fridays, as you well know, Newton.”

The use of his full first name stings Newt oddly even as the notion of Hermann luxuriating in a bathtub excites him. “That’s Dr. Geiszler,” Newt snaps back, because goddamn it, he’s Hermann’s boss, he deserves respect, and then mentally adds a small, depressing tally to the Cons half of the board. Ethics, ethics. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says. He throws his scarf and coat viciously at the small couch in the corner of Newt’s office, then takes his usual seat across from Newt. “Well? Where are those papers it’s so crucial we grade?”

Hermann in a bathtub, Newt thinks. Hermann naked. Papers, Newt thinks. “Papers,” Newt says, and he shoves a stack at Hermann with twice as much force as he means to, causing several to flutter to the ground. “We need...to grade them,” he says. Hermann naked, in a bathtub, maybe some candles lit around him, some nice music on, daydreaming about that wretched professor he works for. Damn it. “I have a pen,” he says. “To grade.”

“What on earth are you saying?” Hermann says. “Be quiet. I can’t concentrate with your abominable prattling on.” Then he mumbles something that sounds like incessant, rips the top paper off the stack, and begins to slash at it in red ink. He doesn’t bother gathering the two from the ground.

Why did Newt invite him here, again?

Oh, right. He pushes his glasses up his nose and feigns casualness, pulling out another paper for himself to grade. “A bath,” he says. “Just to, uh, relax? Or...?”

Hermann narrows his eyes. “Or?”

Newt shrugs. “It’s Friday. Were you getting ready for a date or something?”

This time, Hermann’s mouth twists down into a frown. Almost suspicious. “Why do you care?” he says.

“I don’t,” Newt says quickly. “Just making small talk.” God, he could picture some stud of a computer science PhD candidate winning Hermann over with techno babble--or maybe one of his fellow students, ugh, maybe they made a study group together that meets Friday nights, and Hermann was getting all gussied up, goddamn handsome astrophysics grad students--

“I was relaxing,” Hermann says. “You must be aware at this point you cause me a great deal of stress, Dr. Geiszler, on a daily basis.”

“Oh,” Newt says.

He gives up on the small talk after that. Hermann’s promised takeout arrives--a small carton of pad thai--as does Newt’s--a large carton of the spiciest thing they had on the menu--and they eat in silence. They have about three-quarters of the papers to go when Hermann suddenly sits back in his seat with a groan and rubs at his eyes under his granny glasses. “Bugger,” he says. “I can’t fathom this one for the life of me. I’m too tired.”

“It’s getting kinda late,” Newt agrees. “Maybe we should--”

“It’s not that,” Hermann says. “I had a glass of wine earlier, and--oh, it doesn’t matter. Your students need to learn how to write in a way that’s actually bloody legible--it’s like chicken scratch.”

Newt hops up and leans over his shoulder, squinting down at the page. Hermann’s hair smells nice, like something floral, and his skin has a small hint of what could almost be cologne. Why is Hermann wearing cologne? “Okay, let me see it,” Newt says, struggling to keep from getting lightheaded at the close proximity to Hermann. “I’m used to that kind of shit.”

“No,” Hermann says, drawing the paper close to his chest. “I am perfectly capable of managing it on my own.”

“Dude,” Newt says, “let me look at it, seriously. Hermann--”

He manages to tug it away from him. The handwriting is pretty bad, but the math seems to be worse. “Didn’t they do the readings?” Newt mutters under his breath. “That’s not even the right equation for the diameter. I gave them a cheat sheet, man.” They’re junior year engineering students--they should know this shit.

“I know what the equation is,” Hermann snaps. “I can grade it on my own. Give it back.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t know,” Newt says, “I said this kid--”

“It’s the radius squared--”

“Hermann, dude,” Newt says, “I know you’re--”

And that’s when Hermann grabs him by his skinny tie and kisses him, hard. 

They stare at each other afterwards. Hermann’s eyes are as wide as saucers; his mouth is hanging open. Newt’s tie slips from his fingers, which then fall limp to his lap. “Holy shit,” Newt squeaks.

Hermann is gone with a swish of his parka and a loud clack of his cane. And with a stack of papers Newt still has to somehow get through. Figures.

Their next few classes together are subdued. Hermann doesn’t interject any of his biting commentary or corrections, or even offer critiques of Newt’s lack of professionalism (when in the past his skinny jeans were such an easy target), and when the period is over, he practically sprints from the classroom before he and Newt can be alone together for even a second. It’s fine by Newt. Whatever. Maybe Hermann can get over it over Thanksgiving break, and Newt can try to get over the memory of Hermann’s strong fingers tugging him down, Hermann’s floral shampoo, Hermann’s chapped, wide lips against his, the little grunt of shock Hermann made as he did it, like he couldn’t believe his own audacity...

It’s not likely.

It’s December, the last week before finals, and Newt’s in his office bundled up in a sweatshirt (because the heat never seems to fucking work in here), revising a draft of an exam, and dreading the thought of trudging home in the snow, when there’s suddenly a knock at his door. Anticipating some overeager freshman here outside of office hours, he doesn’t look up as he says “Come in.”

A familiar clearing of a throat.

Newt shoots straight up to his feet. He knocks a mug of coffee to the floor in the process. “Hermann,” he says. “Uh. Hi. What--what are you doing here?”

Hermann shuts the door behind him, then takes a careful step forward. He’s back in his big dumb coat and big long scarf. “I thought I ought to tell you myself first,” he says, primly. “I’ve submitted a request to the dean to be reassigned to another professor next semester. Our research interests are far more in line, and I don’t imagine our personalities shall clash as much.”

“Oh,” Newt says, pretending his heart isn't sinking in his chest like a hunk of lead. Was he that bad of a kisser? He feels like he deserves a second shot at it--he wasn’t ready last time, you know, he bets he’d really wow Hermann if he had a fair heads up. “Are.. are those the only reasons why?”

“No,” Hermann admits. “They’re not.”

He crosses the room, and corners Newt against his desk before Newt even realizes what’s happening. “They’re not,” he says again, then adds in a murmur (lifting one hand to brush his fingers against Newt’s hair), “Dr. Geiszler.”

Neither of them talk much, after that.

[azaffranist]

Of things that are permanent: an analysis of the original theme of Frozen 2

As we all know, Frozen 2’s development was strained. Multiple rewrites happened involving both the prologue and the ending, and we discover new deleted scenes and lines with each day that passes as animators release unused clips. But today, because I love to overanalyze things that didn’t even make it into the movie, we’re gonna talk about the original ending where Elsa died permanently, and what it meant for the general theme of the movie. The original ‘morals’ of the story. Which, in my opinion, would’ve differed quite a bit with those of the final movie.

Frozen is first and foremost a story about love. F1 revolutionizes what people knew as ‘true love’ by showing that romantic love is not the one that saved the day during the Whiteout, but the love between two sisters and their tragic story of separation. Anna, oblivious to the true meaning of love, performed the ultimate act of true love: sacrifice, as she jumped in front of a sword to protect a sister she wasn’t even sure loved her back. Because she believed in her. And this act of selflessness thawed a frozen heart, instead of the Disney kiss we were used to. Therefore, Frozen is simply a lesson about love and the many ways it can manifest itself.

The Frozen 2 we got follows this path. I think most of us can agree that the Frozen 2 we got is about self-love. Show Yourself is an obvious example of this. We watch Elsa cry of joy when she understood that the answers she had been waiting for her whole life… were within her the whole time. She was the one she was waiting for all of her life behind that closed door. All of that pain, all of that suffering throughout those 13 years, they paid off; she finally manages to fully embrace herself and what she is. She answers her call: The Fifth Spirit, connection between the magic world and humans. She’s the “magic” part.

The Next Right Thing is about self-love too, even though it’s not that obvious, and keep this in mind for later. It shows that a loss of that caliber can break the most optimistic of people. We watch Anna cry in grief, wondering if she can manage to see another day pass in a world where her sister and her best friend are no more. The life was sucked out of her. She struggles to breathe and get up. But she does. She takes a step and then another. She loves herself enough to keep going. She loves herself enough to keep going and do the next right thing: first breathe, then take a step, then break a dam. She answers her call, in a different way: The Fifth Spirit, connection between the magic world and humans. She’s the “human” part.

And after they were reborn because of their self-love, each finding a new meaning to their lives albeit in wildly different circumstances, they each do their part. Elsa bravely ventures into the deepest chamber in Ahtohallan and finds the truth. Anna gets up after a soul-wrenching event and breaks the dam. Working together as one.

And it’s because of their self-love that they conquered. That they saved the day.

I think it’s a great theme, super inspiring, and it ties in with F1. Loving someone else and loving yourself. But I don’t think this was the main takeaway of the original F2 we will never see. Of course, the theme of self-love was going to be there; but I think the main theme was another one. One that tied perfectly with the fall aesthetic of the movie.

Let me explain. Frozen 2’s aesthetic is fall, and not just because fall leaves are pretty (even though they sure are!) but because fall is the season of change. Leaves turn red, fall, and then the tree gets new ones. This topic is introduced early on with Some Things Never Change, an upbeat, happy song that hides something crucial: denial. Anna, Olaf, Kristoff and Elsa don’t want things to change. They cling to certain certainties in the hopes that their lives will remain the same. They are deep down terrified of change.

Especially Anna.

And what does that mean in a movie? That things are definitely going to change, of course! Things will do nothing but change! Everything will be different! And this change theme is reflected on the ending of the movie. Anna and Elsa now live in different places. That’s... something that changed. But in this earlier version where Elsa and Olaf died, the message was brutally clear and the change symbolized by the fall theme involved much more than a simple shift in location and roles.

This change... unlike what we got... it hurt the characters. A lot. It was 100% something to dread. It wasn’t positive. And it was permanent.

The final blow to complete this theme and give it a twist is delivered at the lowest point of the movie, and just like in F1, a snowman utters the wisest words to the broken princess. But this time, he was dying, fading away forever.

“Hey Anna. I just thought of one thing that’s permanent.”

And here they play with expectancy. Raise your hand if you thought it was going to be a pretty grim joke and Olaf was going to answer ‘death’, because I sure did. Death is permanent. Olaf is dying there. Olaf finally understands the concept of mortality and he learned of the one, one thing that’s permanent!...

“What’s that?”

“Love.”

And a whole cinema room is crushed, as watchers learn of two things that are permanent, answering a dilemma that had been going through the entire movie. Everything changed and we couldn’t find one thing that stayed the same! But now we knew thanks to this genius play with dialogue. One, death, because everyone’s minds autofilled the answer. C’mon, I’m sure yours did. And the other one, love, because Olaf told us and… it makes so much sense.

What follows is The Next Right Thing. This song was one of the first songs created for the movie and it was inspired by several real world matters. Kristen Bell’s struggle with depression and anxiety as she lends us her mantra to keep going: just doing the next right thing. Andrew Page, who is a music producer involved in F1 and F2, lost his daughter. And Chris Buck’s loss of his son Ryder in October, 2013, a single month before Frozen 1’s worldwide release.

The Next Right Thing is a very real song about very real losses. Kristen Anderson-Lopez said she and her husband wrote this song for them, keeping them and their experiences in mind. And all in all, I think the big theme of Frozen 2 was going to be this exactly.

Death is permanent in the real world. We aren’t living in a fairytale and people don’t magically unfreeze or come back to life. But love is permanent, too.

And love transcends death.

So, no. We’re not sure if Olaf is fully aware of his mortality. He didn’t say ‘death’ after all. But he is aware of something far more important: love as an eternal force, untouched by death.

With this, I think the fall theme comes full circle. The questions are answered. Some things… truly never change. We would’ve been shown that they don’t. We would’ve been shown that even though Elsa and Olaf are dead, forever, Anna’s love for them would never, ever change. 

The big theme of Frozen 2, then, would’ve been love too. But it’s a different take. It has a twist to it. It takes a path not many movies, let alone Disney ones, dare to venture into.

Love persisting even after death.

I think this is the reason Elsa originally died. To fulfill the theme of the movie. To show that through self-love one can be reborn and rearrange their life after such a loss. Knowing that one’s love is permanent and using that as a source of strength, fuel to keep going in the face of uncertainty and change.

Leaves turn red, fall, and then the tree gets new ones.

And this idea, I believe, has the most real world applications. Every single person on this planet will experience loss at some point in their lives. But Frozen 2 would’ve clearly shown that it’s possible to keep going. That the tree goes through the harsh winter without leaves, but in spring, they can grow back.

Because we can be sure that something is permanent, and that something is love.

[teamdoubleoh]

Rings - 00Q secret marriage AU

pt. 1/2        pt. 2/2

Q and Bond flirt and MI6 ships it. There is a betting pool.

wordcount: 2791

Many thanks to Kira for helping me figure out the ending.

007 and the Quartermaster meet.

Really, the minions should have seen it coming. So should have R and Eve Moneypenny and M and the rest of the double 0s.

Introducing 007 to the Quartermaster had been the simultaneously best and worst decision MI6 had made since the founding of the double-0 program but the meeting of the youngest Quartermaster and the oldest serving Double-0 in the history of MI6 had not only been inevitable; at that point no one had really had any idea of what they were getting into.

Their fist meeting had been witnessed only by R, who was in Q’s ear at the time, and a few minions who kept tabs on the Quartermaster via CCTV, both of which was a plain matter of security.

It had been a smooth affair. Q had been brought to the National Gallery in a standard issue vehicle and entered the building with only a brief glance at the cameras above. He had strolled around for a bit, perfectly anonymous to everyone around him.

Then he had reached the meeting point and 007 had been waiting, ready to receive his papers and equipment.

»…Always makes me feel a bit melancholy. Grand old warship being ominously hauled away to scrap… Inevitability of time, don’t you think? What do you see?«

The cameras hadn’t been able to capture the slyness of the smirk in its entirety, and neither would they catch the cynicism in 007’s voice when he answered,

»A bloody big ship. Excuse me.«

Then Bond had turned away, and it had seemed as though he really was about to leave, had it not been for the very slightest of smiles on his face.

»I’m your new Quartermaster.« Q said, still facing the painting of ›A bloody big ship‹

Bond sat back down.

»You must be joking.«

»Why? Because I’m not wearing a lab coat?«

»Because you still have spots.«

»My complexion is hardly relevant.«

»Your competence is.«

»Age is no guarantee of efficiency.«

»And youth is no guarantee of innovation.«

The whole exchange had been laced with a hint of amusement that went over the heads of the Minions, whose grainy CCTV feeds and earpieces could only pick up so much.

They didn’t catch the glistening of a pair of rings on the Mens ring fingers either.

Later all present observers would agreed that, in retrospect, this was the point from which it had gone downhill. Though ›downhill‹ was the wrong expression entirely, because the Quartermaster and 007 had caught on like a house on fire.

And so it had begun.

When Bond wasn’t on mission he hung around Q-branch and tailed Q. Sometimes he would flirt in his not-so-subtle ways or bring Q fresh cups of earl grey.

Q flirted back be either complaining endlessly about Bond’s tea or not complaining at all, depending on how busy he was.

After a week of this Q branch had opened a betting pool on when and how they’d go on a date.

When Eve first found out she was close to furious - about not being told that is - and regularly joined the Minions on breaks to discuss the latest gossip.

Once Bond had brought Q Indian takeaway after returning from a mission. The wagers rose immediately.

Then Spectre happened. Bond had gone with Madeline and the entirety of Q-Branch and all of the double-0s were ready to murder Bond and incredibly careful around Q.

Q didn’t seem to care that Bond had run off but everyone at MI6 who was at least slightly invested in the matter was secretly convinced he was just putting on a brave face.

A few weeks after Bonds disappearance Eve and R - who was a mother hen to everyone in Q-Branch - told Q that he should just forget Bond; in response Q only looked at them like they’d just told him to get a job at an Internet café and asked what they meant by that.

Eve and R retold the exchange during break and again there was a major shift in the bettings. Not that anyone was having any doubts about the Quartermaster and 007 ending up together, but the predicted time for a first date moved back considerably.

Of course Bond came back eventually, as he always did.

He even brought with him all of his equipment, most of which was intact, including the Aston Martin which sported a new set of scratches but was otherwise fully functioning. When Bond entered Q-Branch - for the first time in six months after dropping of the radar as well as everyone’s favours - Q looked up from his Laptop, smirked at Bond when he laid out the equipment carefully on his desk and said with an eerie lightness in his voice: »Thank god you didn’t ruin the car. I’d hate to rebuild it from scratch again.«

Bond returned the smile and answered in his usual flirtatious tone »Don’t get used to it. I don’t think I’ll do a mission that quiet or extensive ever again.«

Q put his head to one side, and squinted at Bond and mused, »I suppose not, no. Yet another broken record, hm 007?«

Bond considered this for a moment, but refrained from answering and instead took Q’s empty scrabble mug and ventured to the Q-Branch break room to make a new cuppa.

The minions, who had collectively held their breath since 007 had set foot in Q-Branch, exhaled slowly and carefully but didn’t refrain from retelling the situation in vivid, if not dramatic detail to Eve and the agents during lunch.  Eve later told M while delivering files.

Not a full 24 hours after Bond’s return everyone in on the situation had changed their bettings again.

By day three of 007’s - ‘unexpected’ wasn’t the right word, considering the bets had still run high during his time of absence - return, Bond had taken it onto himself to make sure the Quartermaster drank and ate properly and even organised a large couch from one of the waiting rooms to put in Q’s office. He denied that the sudden appearance of a bed substitute had anything to do with him, claiming he wouldn’t care how or where Q spent the night.

His lie would have been more believable had Bond not spent the better part of the last two days trying to convince the Quartermaster to sleep more.

Q only rolled his eyes so far back it looked painful and turned to work on a new project.

Obviously the information on Bond’s exact phrasing was passed around MI6 carefully and was thoroughly discussed during coffee break. By the end of the week everyone at MI6 was convinced Bond had stopped seeing other people altogether in an effort to get the Quartermaster to have dinner with him.

Then Bond was cleared for the field.

While he regularly lost his MI6 issued watches and guns, he always returned whatever communication device he was entrusted with. Q seemed to appreciate this, and always smiled brightly at the agent when he carefully placed the most recent earpiece or radio on Q’s desk. While the betting pool was often reset by a few days or even weeks it was only once after Bonds disappearance, that it was collectively delayed by more than five months.

Five weeks after Bond’s return to MI6, R checked into the google docs spreadsheet that the Minions had created to keep tract of the wagers, only to find that almost everyone had changed their wagers to an average of plus seven months until first date.

Confused she checked the minion group chat and, upon realising that something had happened during her off-shift, got Minion #22, Lake, to summarise why exactly there had been such a massive delay in the predicted dates.

Apparently Bond had come down to Q-Branch after spending his morning at the gym, which was not unusual. He had sported black slacks and a white shirt and the top three buttons had been undone. 

That was unusual. R didn’t think she’d seen 007 without tie ever. 

And Bond had been wearing a necklace, #22 continued, but not any necklace. There’d been a ring on it. It had been a simple gold band, fitted to someone with rather thin fingers in comparison to 007 himself.

The Minions had come to the obvious conclusion; Bond had been married and, whatever had happened to the original wearer of the ring, Bond wasn’t over it.

R contacted Eve Moneypenny.

To the dismay of all of MI6, while Bond kept flirting with Q and regularly fed him take-away, Q didn’t respond to his efforts any different from before. He ate and drank what Bond handed him, and even sometimes took a nap. Not once Q answered Bond’s offers to take him out for dinner with anything but an exasperated sigh.

R didn't get to see the fabled ring until two months later.

Bond was on a mission in Lebanon, trying to seduce a woman who knew something. Getting into the party had been ridiculously easy and within ten minutes of his arrival at the luxurious villa Bond was surrounded by pleasant music, thick red carpets and about two hundred strategically placed candles, that basked the crowd in golden light. 

Bond was currently talking to a grey haired man sporting a white suit, whose tongue had been loosened by the free champagne significantly since the beginning of the event.

When the target entered the room every one present turned to towards her, including Bond. The grey haired man seemed to read his expression all to easily - though admittedly the years as spy had made Bond a formidable actor.

The man took another champagne flute from one of the passing waiters - his fifth - and shook his head at Bond, when he turned back to him. "Oh that is an expression I have seen before." He slurred. 

Bond cocked one eyebrow. 

"That look on your face, Mr. Sterling. Forget it. She doesn't go for men like us."

"Men like us?" Bond asked with an easy smile.

The target was, according to her files, eight years older than him, and the grey haired man was older than her by a few years, so age couldn’t be the deciding factor, and neither could money, as Bond was ‘Mr. Sterling’ tonight. 

The grey-haired man sighed with all the theatrical expertise of a sixth grader. "She likes to go for married men -- Only for married men, ever since her husband died - the third one I mean." He hiccuped.

Q-branch was dead silent.

So was Bond, for a split second.

Then he turned away from his conversational partner and took a step into the crowd.

R, who was on CCTV duty for the night, could see him open his mouth to speak-

"Not a word James." Q unceremoniously cut off what ever Bond might have said. The place had excellent cameras, R found, as she watched Bond smile innocently.

"I don't know whatever you could mean, dear Quartermaster."

Q groaned and shoved up his glasses over his forehead to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Oh, grow up 007 -- Just do it."  

Bond reached in the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a chain with a ring on it.

Judging by the reaction of the minions - a collective intact of breath that was so blatantly obvious that even Q briefly looked up from his laptop in confusion - this was the necklace Bond had been wearing a few months back.

Bond, unaware of the consequences of his actions to the betting pool, opened the chains fastener and pulled the ring off. Then he carefully placed the chain back in his pocket and slipped the ring on his left ring finger where it fit surprisingly well. He straightened his suit jacket and made his way across the room to their target.

The rest of the mission passed in a haze.

Bond seduced the woman, who was convinced that he was a married man and thus more or less openly spilled some secrets MI6 had been after for weeks -- as well as some no one had had any idea about, but they weren’t going to complain about that, were they.

The intel was transmitted via Q-branch to the recipient, 004 - R's fiancé, currently on mission to snuff out a child trafficking ring in the north of the united  States - and Bond, for once perfectly following his orders to return immediately, managed to grab the first plane to England the following morning.

What MI6 personnel found much more interesting than the gathered intel was the fact that not only was Bond apparently over his marriage - or at least had no problem using it to his advantage - but Q had apparently been well aware the spies former engagement.

Within three hours the betting pool was fully reset once again.

Bonds flight -Beirut to London, almost 2000 kilometres -  took four hours which he spent sleeping. When he arrived at Heathrow, still quite tired, he found that Q had already organised a non descriptive silver car to take him back to MI6. Yet, by the time Bond finally reached the steel doors of Q branch it was 10 am and the day shift had taken over again. The only thing he wanted now was a warm bed with a Quartermaster in it, and since Q had worked even longer than he had he woudn’t object to James taking him home. If you asked James he slept way too little anyways.

Bond put his Hand on the scanner to his left and waited till it had picked up his handprint - something Q branch apparently had an obsession with - and stepped through the opening doors.

R sighed. Deeply. She was supposed to be at home by now, enjoying the off time or sleeping, yet here she was, sitting at her desk, working on a project. And it was all Bond's fault.

Well technically.

She just wanted to be present for 007 return - usually the best time to pick up fresh gossip about the Agents budding relationship with the quartermaster. Unfortunately she now could barely keep her eyes open. Time for another coffee then. She stood, cup in hand, when the for opened and Bond strode in. Fucking finally.

As usual Bond went straight for the Quartermasters desk at the back centre of the room where Q was sitting, typing idly away on his sticker covered laptop.  

As usual Q looked up at the sound of Bonds steps on the cold concrete floor, a smile forming on his lips. Since Bond hadn’t been equipped with anything more than a com system for the mission, only carefully placed the small device on Q’s desk.

“You know 007, I might just start equipping you with only a com. At least if I don’t give you any tech, you won’t be able to loose it, hm?”

“Aw Q, you wouldn’t do that to me.” 

Q didn’t answer. 

“Would you?”

Q wasn’t listening. Even from R’s position pretty much all the way across the room it was clear that he was staring at Bonds hand. The one with the Ring on it. 

Now even James noticed that something was amiss. 

Q stood from his chair and extended his hand towards 007. “James, Hand over the Ring.” There was something in his voice that was a perfect mix of annoyance and fondness - which confused R a great deal. 

Bond liftend his hand and pulled the ring off. It must have been a little too tight because he struggled quite a bit before dropping it in Q’s outstretched hand. 

R took a step towards Q’s desk, to have a closer look. By now the attention of the entire room was in Q and 007.

Q rummaged with his free left hand through the pocket of his cardigan and pulled out a gold ring that seemed - to everyones surprise - to be the exact same Bond had just handed him, safe for the size. Bond’s ring was narrower, while Q’s looked like it would fit comfortably on the Quartermaster thumb. 

Q took the larger ring and slipped it onto Bond’s outstretched finger, where it fir perfectly. Bond smiled, not fazed in the least. 

“I was wondering why it was so tight.” 

Q scoffed. “Oh yes, it’s almost as though there was a reason they get fitted, hm?” 

Bond’s smile only widened as he picked up the smaller ring to slip it onto Q’s ring finger, apparently completely unaware of the minions shocked expressions around them. 

“Join me for dinner then, Quartermaster?”

R chocked on air, but Q only rolled his eyes and shut down his laptop, carefully placing it in his messenger bag. 

“James, for the love of god. It’s 10:12 am and I just completed a 38 hour shift.“

Bond’s smirk only grew as he offered his left arm for Q to take. “Bed it is then.”

[rantaire]

i’ve watched approximately 4 episodes of supernatural but when you live on tumblr for years you are always spn-adjacent. we have no choice but to absorb it by osmosis because it’s just that massive. i feel like i know a lot about the show from fandom, and many of my fandom friends were in it at some point. i also work in entertainment media so i’ve been tracking all the updates in its final year. and i have to say that even after years of disappointments from movies and tv, this one seems particularly egregious? 

here’s the thing. there’s so often a divide between the fever-dream of shipping and what we actually get in canon. and we know this. we’re not stupid, or gullible. people in fandom engage with the narrative on a level most critics could never dream.

even though many of us recognize that our beloved ships from giant properties won’t go canon because they are embedded in giant global blockbusters created by megacorporations, in recent years there seems to also be a trend of bad endings that not only work to crush these ships but make for awful storytelling and act dismissive of their own canon. and I’m tired of it.

maybe steve/bucky would never happen, but steve abandoning his traumatized best friend that he’d fought actual wars for in order to go back in time for a woman who moved on with her life without him? crap. star wars not even attempting finnpoe despite the actors’ encouragement, and giving poe a random half-assed love interest because, oh look, a girl? we can be angry about these things, and we can and should demand better and broader representation. if nothing else, at least tell a better story.

why spn’s finale feels so unsettling to me as a non-fan is that even i came to believe the tide might be turning, just a little bit. fandom is more mainstream and recognized than ever. our ships and our transformative works are discussed in big media outlets. actors and creatives acknowledge fic and retweet fanart. actors and creatives acknowledge how vital it is for people to see themselves reflected and represented in media. and it seemed to me, as a sideline observer, that supernatural appreciated its fanbase and understood how important dean and castiel’s relationship was, and how beloved castiel was as a character on his own. to have him not appear in the last episode at all is unconscionable to me, and i have never seen him in an episode! this is how much impact the character had that’s filtered down.

i watched the reactions a few weeks ago of mixed euphoria and dismay after castiel’s love confession and subsequent disappearance into “super hell.” that didn’t seem great, message-wise, but it was a step that felt significant, it meant a lot to many people, and it probably would not have happened without fandom and their tireless cheerleading and enthusiasm. it seemed like maybe they were really building to something.

and so even though i knew in my dead withered critic’s heart of hearts that we wouldn’t be getting a destiel kiss, i thought that spn might be brave enough to give their fans a final gift—a thanks for everything. have dean and cas drive off in that damned car whose name i know because i live on tumblr. end with them smiling at each other. something. i know the pandemic came into play, but other actors appeared, and even castiel’s voice could have been literally phoned in.

instead, from the anger and pain and incredulous memes i’m seeing from people across social media, it appears that what the show delivered was an ending so unfitting it was like a parody of an end. they threw the baby out with the bathwater. it’s incredibly disappointing, and it feels cowardly to me. you don’t have to make a ship canon just to appease fandom. but your fans deserve a better story for their characters after fifteen years. 

spn was uniquely positioned because it’s old as balls. most of the people still watching have seen it all and would have been up for anything good. the creatives could have done pretty much whatever they wanted. this isn’t a case of disney or international censors breathing down their neck. instead, they appear to have taken the easy way out of a lackluster finale written by folks who probably high-fived themselves for poignancy and half-assed twists and got paid more money than any of us will ever see for it. that’s boring, and it’s passé, and it didn’t have to be this way.

sometimes a property like she-ra can swoop in and save the day by delivering what fans want most. but she-ra was also made by people who came out of and understood fandom culture and just how much representation means to people. how much emotional investment and time and energy we’ve put into characters and their lives. why they matter. and it should stand as an example of what to do next.

if there’s a takeaway for all of this, it’s that we can’t and shouldn’t trust “mainstream” productions to do anything that we want in terms of representation. even if they’re uniquely positioned. even if they tease. even if they say they understand. even if they say they’ll do better next time. they’ll keep throwing pieces of bones, but they will almost always keep disappointing us. and they’re not even creating good art along the way. i know a dozen spn fic writers who could’ve written a vastly better ending to the show and i’m sure there are thousands. 

we need to create the stories we want to see. in fic and fanart and transformative works, yes, but also (and i say this to myself as well), write that book. write that script. draw your graphic novel. film a movie in your backyard tomorrow because it sounds like anything we produce right now will be more inspired and more important to each other than the scraps we get from distant studios who are only vaguely aware that we’re alive and buying their merchandise. and i want to buy your books, watch your scripts, frame your art. i want to be able to invest in the stories we want to see told.

i love what we make for each other, and we should keep doing that, more furiously than ever. and if you want to, if you dream of it, you should push to create on a broader scale. you already know that you’re a better creative than a lot of people who are generating the “hits.” i can’t wait to see what you make. and fuck supernatural’s finale.

[thoughts-within-thoughts-430]

“Earp...and Haught...sometimes Holliday...Everyone Welcome.”

4/9/21: Only this show could do this. To end things beautifully, happily, and peacefully. For its showrunner to care enough to create positive change. Because it’s the brave thing to do. Not like other shows that rely on cliff hangers, twists, or drama to make an impact. The creators of Wynonna Earp give to its fans. And the fans give in return. That’s why it’s a beautiful cycle of us saying thank you to them, and them saying thank you back. The show gives and the audience becomes aware of the act of giving and it enables us to believe that we do deserve to have such things if we love our own self enough and if we allow ourselves to accept the fact that even though we are flawed people, we are still worthy of deserving good things and that that’s what the fight is for. “We can have nice things!” Its generosity gives the show a big heart and inspires others to be generous too. As one fan says, “I don't think I've ever seen, on tv or in real life, a deeper representation of what love means.” Love for family, friends, strangers, community... This show is a gift to me (I’m honored to have received something so special) and to the many, many others who this show was made for. The cast and crew rips your “soul right out, and hands it back to you completely filled with that one of a kind Earp love and hope.” “Thank you for letting us trust again, Emily.”

As one fan said, “There is a me before the final episode of Wynonna Earp and then there is a me after the final episode of Wynonna Earp. I will be a changed person.” The show has taught me about hope, strength, and to keep fighting even when odds are against you. It gives me the courage to dare myself to wear my heart/truth on my sleeve. It has built me to be strong as I go on in life. The way the characters and actors (humans with cool souls) carry themselves on and off screen are examples of bravery, compassion, and kindness. They share generously about how these characters, stories, and relationships have allowed them to grow throughout the years. To not be afraid of removing self/socially imposed barriers so that you can live who you are. To trust yourself and be unapologetically you. And we’re inspired to keep growing too because we witness the good change in each other. That things are possible. Emily says, “the fans have always made us feel so welcome, and they really refueled my belief that kindness and love and humor can unite us all.”

The show also birthed a loyal community because of the safe home and light it extends to anyone. It has changed and will continue to change so many peoples lives for the better, including mine. I’m not as sad as I thought I’d be after the finale and I thinks it’s because the show’s lessons and takeaway messages are part of me now. Fibers within me that I don’t have to say goodbye to. I think the reason why I and the other fans appreciate this show is because, for me anyway, it made me feel certain emotions that I thought I could no longer have access to again. I felt them again during a time that I needed them. Like I didn’t know I was drowning until the show threw out a line to me and continued to keep me afloat, accompanied me, and pulled me up. It’s given me a fresh lens to approach life. It made me care again. I think the other fans have experienced this too. It’s less about the show as a whole, but more about the timing of when it came into our lives. As one fan writes, “The thing about finally seeing yourself represented, is that once you have, you refuse to settle for anything less. Emily taught us that. We won’t go quietly. We won’t give up. We’re here, and we stay. Always.”

I suppose Vision was right, “A thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts.” Wynonna Earp may only be 4 seasons long, but the amount of episodes or years isn’t what matters. It’s about the magic it created. The magic that connects its fans wherever we are in the world. The magic that will always live on if anyone is curious enough to witness it. A type of magic as rare as a unicorn, that when you get to experience it, you know it’s super special and once in a lifetime and you’re beyond grateful. That is why the finale is a celebration of it all and not a goodbye. This whole week I felt anxious and sad as I prepared for the feeling of losing something that means a lot to me, but I actually don’t feel the loss. I feel a gain, because for one last evening, the show gave its whole heart.

“So much of the good we all now have in our lives is because we followed you to the Ghost River Triangle. I love you Wynonna Earp, in that bottom of the deep, dark well way. You are the best of us. We are forever all in.” https://wynonnaearpfans.com/2021/04/10/dear-wynonna-earp-were-forever-all-in/

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: October 2020

It’s the spooky month! I tried to make it as spooky as possible, given my limited tolerance for spook.

……….FILM……….

Jennifer’s Body (2009) Fantastic. I was too averse to horror when it was released but seeing so many articles about how great it is, I braved a viewing. And again, it’s fantastic! It’s a fun blend of genres and I think would benefit from a few viewings. If you liked this, go read My Best Friend’s Exorcism. Or if you read that book, you should go back and watch this.

Goosebumps (2015) You know it was...pretty good! Better than I expected. Like a solid B. Though I read a bunch of the books as a kid so nostalgia hit pretty hard with this one. Probably a good Halloween flick for an all ages viewing? Also super fun that the Slappy doll was a real puppet. Great touch.

……….TELEVISION……….

The Bachelorette (Episode 16.01 to 16.02) I was really stoked to see a more mature series with a more mature lead but it turns out the sort of person who goes on the bachelor when they’re in their 20s isn’t that different when they’re in their 40s. Not that there’s anything wrong with this, but I think it just makes me feel a little sad. I don’t want to feel sad when I’m watching the Bachelorette!

Mad Men (Episode 6.04 to 6.12) Oof it really feels like we’re hitting the home stretch with this series. Don is barely working, the agency is chaos, and everyone in the office seems to trying to escape the black hole of work. Very keen to see how this series wraps up.

……….READING……….

The Dance of Intimacy: A Woman's Guide to Courageous Acts of Change in Key Relationships by Harriet Lerner (Complete) My therapist recommended this to me and it was a good read. I mean it’s dated in its voice, but the takeaway isn’t nearly as gendered as the title would have you believe.

ApocalyptiGirl: An Aria for the End Times by Andrew MacLean (Complete) I think this is pre-Head Lopper (MacLean’s other major comic work) and it’s all great. A nice, concise story with as much violence and saturated colour as you’d hope to get out of a comic.

The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl Vol. 3 & 4 by Ryan North, Erica Henderson, Jacob Chabot, and Rico Renzi (Complete) Just a really great series. An eternally optimistic superhero who resists violence at every turn is such a breath of fresh air in the world of capes. The book is funny, offers some deep cuts into the Marvel universe, and is a great balance of slice-of-life and big fantastical conflicts.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Vol. 1 & 2 by Alan Moore, Kevin O’Neill, and more (Complete) Really great! It sometimes reads like it’s being edgy to be edgy, but the overall vibe is fun. Also I can’t tell if the book’s depiction of asian characters is appropriate for the era it’s set in, but the book doesn’t shy away from being wildly racist (which, again, feels like it’s trying to be edgy). Who knows.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The IDW Collection Volume 8 by Kevin Eastman, Ben Bates, Dustin Weaver, Bill Sienkiewicz, Damien Couceiro, and so many more (Complete) It’s been a while since I’ve dipped into this series and it’s still such a fun dive into nostalgia. The ongoing story kept me hooked but I admit the Bebop and Rocksteady miniseries just didn’t work at all for me. I expected it to be more...fun? Maybe I need to read it again but the time travel stuff never really seemed to make sense and I didn’t quite get enough of the consequences. Clearly I had set a high bar for this one chunk of a much bigger story. Still absolutely worth checking out (back at volume 1) if you dig the turtles.

……….AUDIO……….

Kev & Cag’s Batshit Hallowe’en (Spotify Playlist) This is my go-to every October and it never disappoints. My buds have good taste. Oh here’s the link if you want to plan ahead for next year!

……….GAMING……….

Super Mario 3D All Stars (Nintendo) I’ve finished the core of Super Mario Sunshine and...it was good! The criticism of some of its flaws haven’t aged well and I still found it to be the least enjoyable Mario experience, but now that I’ve begun Super Mario Galaxy it all feels like a misstep instead of a full fumble.

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) Our adventures continue! The more in-depth breakdown is over here on Reddit and it continues to be a good time. The adventurers are currently dealing with a group of giants who are daming the main river and flooding the island!

D&D Homebrew Adventure (Menace of Merlin) We didn’t play much this month due to some moving stuff BUT the adventurers are still infiltrating Merlin’s base of operations. They saved a Naga named Lady and have returned to make a second attempt at stopping the mad mage.

And that’s it! As always, let me know if you have anything to recommend and stay safe out there.

Happy Saturday.

[isthatacalzone]

i have this whole theory that klaus is one of the only (living) hargreeves kids who actually made an attempt to process the abuse that good old reggie put them through as children, and a LOT of it comes from the fact he’s been in rehab multiple times. klaus talks like he’s been through some pretty intense therapy that’s actually made a difference to him, and IN THIS ESSAY I WILL PROVE IT (or uh, try to) so buckle up kids cause it’s gonna be a long one

(continued below because when i say essay i mean essay)

stay with me here for a bit: klaus seems to be the only one of the siblings who actively and regularly acknowledges how much of an abusive prick their father was. think about how everyone reacts when it comes to him:

luther spent the most time with their father, was so close to him that he never got the space and time to realise just how much of a monster he truly was. it also means luther inherited a lot of their father’s traits (i’m just saying, the dude found out that he had been lied to maybe two days before everything happened with vanya and allison, of course he’s going to react the way he does when pogo tells him all about how dangerous vanya’s powers are. no one else’s opinion ever mattered before, he’s not gonna learn how to listen first in two goddamn days) and ONLY JUST started to understand that their father was a fucking monster

diego is just angry. angry at the way their father treated him (and i think it’s mostly about him, and maybe grace), angry that he was never good enough to be number one, that he could never curry the same favour with him like luther could, that he was made to feel weak all his life. why do you think he still goes out and fights crime? sure, it’s all he’s ever known, but i wouldn’t be surprised if a part of him was still trying to prove to dear old dad that he was fast enough, brave enough, strong enough to save lives (”saving lives, baby”) or yknow, fuck it, the world??

allison deferred any resentment she felt and got validation through stardom. she filled every hole she had with whatever she felt like she wanted because she knew she could get it. i dunno if allison’s actually processed what reginald put her through, because really we don’t know much about how he taught her, but we know what it made her become, and it took losing her husband and her daughter to make her realise just how terrible she’s been her whole life. interestingly, it doesn’t seem like she ever blames reginald for this, only herself, and is trying to be better because of that. perhaps allison doesn’t realise just how much of an influence he had on making her who she is? 

five is interesting. he had the least amount of time with dad as That Fateful Day took place when he was thirteen, but at that point the seeds of distrust had already been sewn. would five have tried to jump to the future so prematurely if his father hadn’t basically goaded him? daddy hargreeves pretty obviously bolstered five’s ego (”hey five cheated!” “he adapted!”) but had no idea how to reign him in, humble him so that he’d WANT to learn more. reginald was all about power and control. he LOVED pushing the kids to get them to be as powerful as they could be, but it had to happen at HIS pace. five probably never considered how much fucking up his father did in just that period of time, because most of his goddamn trauma came from finding his siblings dead in the wreckage of his home in the midst of the goddamn apocalypse, and then proceeded to LIVE THERE on his own for forty five goddamn years. of course he doesn’t think it matters (”who cares if dad messed us up?” uh, i do five, i do), with him there’s always been something else far more important to care about, but he never got the chance to grow the hell up and understand his emotions. five may technically be 58 but his physical body better represents his emotional age, lbr.

(i’m not actually gonna talk about ben here because i think he’s probably the most emotionally mature out of all of them and i’m 99% sure that’s because he’s been dead for like a decade)

and vanya. vanya literally in the second episode says “i used to see someone” (which is such a loaded line like, “used to”, why not anymore? for how long did she see this mythical therapist?) but if anything’s true about vanya it’s that she never processed the trauma, she just shut down. she never got over the way her father isolated her from everyone (which, as we all know, had WAAAY more layers than we ever could have seen coming from the first few episodes), never got over the fact she was always the outsider from her siblings. she has no relationships, doesn’t push herself or strive for anything because she doesn’t think she’s worth it. it takes one guy with a couple well placed lines to get her to fall in love because that’s all she ever wanted. and even though allison (god BLESS her heart) tries so fucking hard to get through to her, there’s too many years worth of eyerolls, dismissive glances, and “go away vanya”s for her to really start to trust her. if vanya had legitimately taken the time to understand her trauma properly, i feel like she would also have been able to understand that daddy dearest fucked the rest of them up in equal measure. 

all of that leads me onto my main point: klaus. the thing that really stood out for me whenever klaus talked about their father was how he always held him accountable for all the bullshit that he put not just klaus, but ALL of them through (”he was always in here, planning his next torment”). sure, there’s hatred there, and anger just like diego, but klaus talks about the abuse with an element of compassion for himself and his siblings that his siblings do not seem to have. he’s the only one who actively refers to him as a monster (”thank christ he’s not our real father so we couldn’t inherit those cold, dead eyes!!”), and actually seems to want to hold him accountable. i turn you toward the beautiful scene in the day that was when he talks to daddy hargreeves as an example:

klaus starts the conversation pretty irreverent “i was beside myself with grief!” at which point reginald calls him out, “you were poisoning yourself” (the only thing reggie gets any points for in this conversation is seeming vaguely sad that klaus is an addict, but even then... it’s his fault... soooooo)

klaus comes to play at this point. “oh right, well, yeah, you had nothing to do with it. locking me in a mausoleum with corpses when i was 13? no, you’re right, it’s irrelevant.” i’m gonna come back to this, because it’s a big part of the inspiration for this post.

reggie spends a lot of the rest of this conversation defending himself. “you children like to blame everything on me”, to which klaus immediately replies, “well, you were a sadistic prick, not to mention the world’s worst father”

at every opportunity he calls his father out on his behaviour. reggie starts goading him for being afraid of his power (which, yknow, screw you reggie) and klaus immediately rebuttals with “y’know i suggest you get down off your high horse there, dear papa. you never had our best interests at heart, look at your precious number one. luther found all the unopened letters he’d sent you. he knows that you sent him up to the moon for nothing.” i love this line, because not only do we see that klaus has this deep understanding of how his father screwed him up, he’s outright calling dear old papa out for the shit he pulled on his siblings too.

 reggie pauses here, and for a moment seems legitimately remorseful (which, if you watch the scene, completely catches klaus of guard. god, i love robert sheehan he plays this whole thing to perfection), saying “yes, that was foolish of me”, before continuing, “i should have burned it all.”

at which point klaus laughs. “that’s your takeaway?” he says, somehow still astounded that his father could surprise him with how little he cared after all this time. “oh wow, yeah of course it is.”

also please note that reginald gets much more forceful with moving klaus’ head around in order to shave the other side of his face at this point which i could write a whole other post about but that’s for another day because this essay is already too goddamn long

anyway, astonishingly reginald at this point asks “is he okay?” to which klaus rightly responds, “do you care?”, which first of all, stab me in the heart right now, but also speaks to something true in all of them: they all wanted their father to love them, and klaus is actively trying to find SOMETHING to redeem him by, something that would stop him being such a monster in his mind. well, maybe not redeem, but understand.

reggie pulls his usual excuse “it was to prepare you, all of you, for something bigger than yourselves” (which is a HUGE LINE BY THE WAY OH MY GOD) “you never understood that” (yh uhhh whose fault is that dingbat)

klaus takes control of the shave at this point, grabbing his father’s hand as a tear slips down his face (seriously you guys, the power play in this scene it’s fucking masterful and also it’s legitimately making me cry thinking about it) and manages to choke out, “we were just kids. little kids”. 

i really think klaus is desperately trying to get his father to admit he should have been better to them. he really has nothing to lose at this point, he’s just looking for closure. and in a way he gets it, but not the way he wants as reginald replies “you were never just kids. you were meant to save the world.”

(i think that might be the first moment in his whole life that klaus truly understands his father)

what’s my point? imagine any of the other siblings in this scene. imagine luther in this scene. how quickly do you think reginald would have been able to shut down any of luther’s questions? diego would have just tried to fight him; no way he ever would have listened to anything he had to say. i can’t even imagine how allison would have talked to him. five wouldn’t give two shits about getting to know their father again, he’d just want answers. and vanya? actually yknow what him talking to vanya could be very interesting but i digress. 

i honestly believe klaus is the only one who had the emotional maturity to be able to navigate talking to their father, the only one who could call him out on his shitty ass behaviour but still come better to understanding him on a truly compassionate level. he cries when he realises his father killed himself so they’d all get back together. would any of the rest of them manage to move past their feelings of hatred for papa hargreeves and actually understand - not only understand, but empathise - with him while still maintaining that they deserved better?

i really believe that comes straight from all the years in and out of rehab. sure, rehab didn’t actually help klaus get clean - i don’t know what rehab or therapy could help you deal with dead people constantly demanding your attention all the time - but my understanding (and this is where i am happy to be corrected as i have no personal experience with this at all) is that a big part of rehab is therapy. heck, in the flashback scenes when we see when all the siblings are reading vanya’s book, he’s literally sitting in group therapy. klaus has WAAAY more practice in actually talking about his feelings and i don’t care how resistant to it he might have been, you go in and out of those spaces for long enough, something will stick. (nb: as i’m writing this, yknow who he reminds me of? gary king. if you haven’t seen the world’s end, please watch it, i think you’ll understand what i mean.)

this is not to say klaus is in any way perfect. he’s still as flawed and fucked up as the rest of them, but in terms of actually understanding his trauma? he’s strides ahead of the rest of them. 

[kendrixtermina]

Further reactions to "The book of lost tales":

I appreciate that Idril canonically wears armor and does swordfighting.

I feel like I can actually imagine adult!Idril much better now like in armor and with open hair, distraught but ready to fight while babby Earendil does not yet realize the danger...

My first thought is that Earendil was probably cute in that baby chainmail. My second thought is OUCH, Idril and Tuor always made sure their growing baby had fitting chainmail cause they felt the apocalypse might get them at any moment. Imagine that, imagine them having the baby armor fitted every year or so :(

Its fun how much of the basic structure already exists but most of what you'd consider the main characters doesn't exist or is scattered across various minor roles The only Prince anywhere in sight is Turgon - Except for Team Doriath, theyre all accounted for. I suppose Maeglin is kinda there in name only with vaguely the same role & motivation, but looks personality and background all did a 180 since. Luthien is still pretty much "princesd classic" at this point, not quite the fearless go-getter from the final version - markedly this version tells Beren that she doesnt want to wander in the wilderness with him whereas the final one says she doesnt care and its Beren still wants to get the shiny so as not to ask this of her and also for his honor.

I mean in the finished version Id consider the 3rd and 4th gen royals to be the main characters (well, alobgside Team Doriath and the varioud human heroes) and theyre hardly here. Imagine the silm with no Finrod!

Feanor had no affiliation with the royal family whatsoever, and is also generally less super. He's just the guy who won the jewelsmithing competition, not the inventor of the whole discipline. Still seems to have been envisionad as a respected member of the community who gets called to the palace for crisis meetings and is listened to when he stsrts giving speeches. From the first he already has the backstory of going off the deep end (or at least growing disillusioned with Valinor) after a family member is killed by Melkor and theyre still the first to die, but its just some other rando unrelated to the royals

The situation regarding the humans is different - instead of Melkor leaking their existence, its Manwe who explains that the other continents were supposed to be for them eventually. So Feanor goes off on a tirade about weak puny mortals comes off as a more of a jerk unlike in the final version where Melkor barely knew about the humans and described them to the Noldor as a threat. On the other hand in this one, also very much unlike in the finished product, Melkor dupes even Manwe into being unfair to the elves as a whole. In this the final version is a definite improvement, both Feanor and the Valar come off as a lot more sympathetic and though still deceived he's partially right in some things at least, so you have more of a genuine tragedy rather than a simple feud

There is something to the idea of Commoner!Feanor tho. I guess some of this survived in his nomadic explorer lifestyle and how both his wife and mother (who arent mentioned here) eventually were the ones to get that background of being not especially pretty ladies who are not from the nobility but got renown, respect and acclaim for their unique talent and contribution to society, with each having invented things and Nerdanel also being renowed for her wisdom. Hes sort of an odysseus-like Figure in that sense. I suppose later developements necesitated that Maedhros & co. have an army not just a band of thieves, which means they needed to be nobles/lords. That said this being a society where artisans are very respected and half the lords have scholarly/artistic pursuits going, the gap was probably not as big to begin with as it might have been in say, medieval England. Esoecially since Nerdanel's father had been given special honor by one of the local deities and that the social order might have been a very recent thing in Miriel's time. One might speculate that the first generation of Lords started out as warriors during the great journey, or perhaps just Finwe's friend group.

Also found that bit intetesting where the Valar have to deal with the remaining political tensions and effects of Melkor's lies on the remaining population in Valinor... - i guess with the change of framing device it was less likely for news of something like this to reach Beleriand. That, or the existence of Finarfin and his repentance made this go smoother this over in later cannon

Turgon's go-down-with-the-ship moment reaaly got to me. Im half tempted to write a fic where his wife, siblings and dad glomp him on arrival in Mandos. I dont care that none of them exists yet in this continuity i want Turgon to get hugs

I love all the additional Detail that got compressed out in the shift from fairytale-ish to pseudohistoric style especially all the various Valinor magic insofofar as it is compatible with the final version - particularly love the idea of the connection between the lamps and the trees that is now integrated into my headcanon forever

Its actually explained what the doors of night are

If I had not already read unfinished tales or volumes X to XII where this is also apparent, this is where I would say: Ah so the Valar were supposed to be flawed characters. Manwe has an actual arc; by the time he sends Gandalf he finally "got" it. I think in the published silm the little arcs of Ulmo and Manwe are mostly just lost in compression/ less apparent when only some of the relevant scenes got in but not all

It occurred to me way too late that the "BG" chars are the most consistent because theyre at the start and most stories are written from beginning to end. Finwe doesnt get a dedicated paragraph of explicit description until HoME X but my takeaway was that he's described pretty much like I always imagined him anyways/ same vibe I always got from him... charismatic, thoughtful, enthusiastic, sanguine temperament, brave in a pinch but at times lets his judgement be clouded by personal sentiment (though that last bit is more apparent/salient as a character flaw once he became the father of a certain Problem Child) ...i guess this would be a result of jrrt having had a consistent idea of him in his head for a long time.

This means Finwe's still alive at the time of the exodus which is just fun to see/interesting to know... Interestingly he sort of gets what later would be Finarfin's part of ineffectually telling everxone to please chill and think it over first while Feanor simply shouts louder (which is consistent with his actions before the sword incident in later canon where he initially spoke out against the suspiciozs regarding the Valar) - but its not exactly the same, he's more active than Finarfin later in that when "chillax" availed nothing he said that then at least they should talk with the other Kings and Manwe to leave with their blessing and get help leaving (This seems like it would have been the clusterfuck preventing million dollar suggestion in the universe where Feanor is related to him and values him) but when even that falls on death ears he decides that he "would not be parted from his people" and went to run the preparations. I find it interesting that the motivation is sentiment/attachment (even phrased as "he would not be parted from [his people]" same words/ expression as is later used for the formenos situation), not explicitly obligation as it later is for Fingolfin (who had promised to follow Feanor and didnt want to leave his subjects at the mercy of Feanor's recklessness )

Speaking of problem children. It seems the sons of Feanor were the Kaworu Nagisa of the Silmarillion in that originally all they do is show up at some point and kill Dior as an episodic villain-of-the-week. And then, it seems their role got bigger in each continuity/rewrite... probably has something to do with the Silmarils ending up in the title later making it in the sense their story that ends and begins with them. They have zero characterization beyond "fierce and wild" at this point, though in what teetsy bits there is we already have the idea that Maedhros is the leader and Curufin is the smart one/shemer/sweet-talker, though not the bit where Maedhros (or Maglor, or anyone really) is "the nice one". Which I guess explains why "Maglor" sounds like such a stereotypical villain name.

"The Ruin of Doriath" was purportedly the patchworkiest bit of the finished product, but I never noticed and it actually left quite an impression of me upon first reading, the visual of Melian sitting there with Thingol's corpse in her arms contemplating everything thinking back to how they met... she had the knowledge to warn him not to doom himself but couldnt get him to understand it because he doesnt see the world as she does.... After reading this though I wish there was a 'dynamic' rendition that combined all the best bits like, youd have to adapt it to the later canon's rendition of the dwarves, have Nargothrond exist etc. But i mean that just makes Finrod another dead/doomed relative of Thingol's whom bling cannot truly replace, like Luthien and Turin. In the Silmarillion you could easily read it as just an "honoured guest treatment" but here and in unfinished tales I get the impression that Thingol actually did see Turin as a son.

Already you see the idea of trying to make the stories all interconnected but there is less than there will be (the human heroes aren't related yet and there is basically no Nargothrond, which is later a common thread for many of the stories - a prototype shows up in the 'Tale of Turambar' tho complete with half baked prototypes of Orodreth and Finduillas

O boi im not even through yet

[channeleven]

Olive the Other Reindeer review

I dunno how highly Olive the Other Reindeer ranks when it comes to all-time classic Christmas specials, but given its longevity I assume it's well up there. Frankly I was more afraid to cover Frosty as it had longer staying power, but I did it anyway. In a world where you're considered brave for stating opinions everyone believes in, I hope to one day be viewed as a martyr for my controversial opinions.

Olive the Other Reindeer was created for Fox in 1998 by Matt Groening of The Simpsons fame. This was about a year before Futurama debuted, and this was the first instance we saw the end card for Groening's Curiosity Company. That seems to be a mark of quality for Groening's programs, as it never appeared on The Simpsons even now, and Disenchantment.

Along with Groening, Drew Barrymore starred in and produced this special. I guess I can't call her the most busy celebrity out there, at least at the time, but I'm willing to bet she was a huge fan of The Simpsons.

It had been aired just about everywhere since, even, heh, Cartoon Network.

I'll admit, I have seen this special plenty of times, I do have a soft spot for it, but as I get older I feel myself straying from it. This was alluded to in my Legend of Frosty the Snowman review, but I wanna be fair, as I did love this as a kid.

Animation

In spite of a credit existing for 20th Century Fox Animation, that was merely a shell for the network's animated productions. The animation was produced at DNA Productions, who you may know as the creators of Jingaroo, and some incredibly obscure cartoon nobody gives a crap about like The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron.

Of DNA's works, this is the most unique on a visual basis. This film features cel-shaded 3D backgrounds with flat character models meant to simulate traditional animation, with CG set-pieces. It's a pity DNA didn't want to introduce themselves by logo at that point, I would be glad to have my name to it.

Honestly, maybe that was my biggest takeaway from it, aside from seeing it as a kid. When we're young we just see what's on the screen and don't always pay deep enough attention to the story, because the story leaves much to be desired.

Story

The general idea is that Olive is too nice, exemplified by her befriending a yard pest and keeping a flea as a pet. Her quest to become Santa's other reindeer was wrought through a lie, where her flea intentionally(?) misheard what her owner said, along with a radio announcement. This gets to me because I hope dearly that the misconception is cleared before a character suffers indirectly at the hands of another. I mean look at what happened in Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Christmas special.

And, evil mailman. Why is he so hellbent on destroying Christmas? This is alluded to in how he never got a train set for Christmas as a kid, but what led to it? Without that you just have an over-the-top villain without a palpable cause.

The worst Christmas specials for me are ones that have antagonists it seems. I don't mean the Scrooge in that regard, I mean someone who goes out of their way to ruin the fun of others, if not the entire holiday. The writers work to make the villains as non-sympathetic as humanly possible to force you into the shoes of the goody-goodies, who're more often than not oblivious to nearly everything outside of anything within their scope of Christmas joy.

Frankly, though people would disagree, Cousin Mel in Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer is the best antagonist by far in the context of Christmas special antagonists. She had a drive, to milk her grandmother's business for the sake of getting rich. That was obvious. Nobody stole from her, she didn't not get something she wanted deeply for Christmas, she just wanted to get rich, and Santa would've been a big help in getting that dream.

Quest For Pappy is an exception since he's going against an established antagonist and the story just so happens to be set on Christmas day, and it's more about Popeye finding his father.

No comment on Martini, as he's but a hollow shell. A con artist with a heart of gold that somehow annoyed me.

If there's anything I'm missing, well those are the only pieces I can remember from the whole plot.

As for the musical numbers, I can remember fragments from it and, nostalgic joy aside, they're otherwise forgettable.

Overall

This is pretty animation against a barren storyline. With the lack of development on the mailman, and the overly good nature of Olive, this had soured for me overtime.

Funny thing is, you know how in the end of The Christmas Tree where they say "You alway win when you're good."? I think they called the mentality had in the grander Christmas specials. Karen and Santa get away with Hinkle's hat because they're good. Olive gets her way because she's good.

This special could be a statement on how antagonists ruin Christmas specials. How could anyone not look too deep into them when they leave so much to think about? And for all I know, everything in this special was built on a lie.

[feynavaley]

I loved your headcanons for Netherlands and Portugal... Can you give me some more, but now for: Macau, Monaco and Luxemburg? ♥️

Thank you, I’m really glad you enjoyed those! 😊 And of course I can! (The disclaimer that these are all very minor characters and their canon characterization isn’t solid still stands, but I’ll do my best.)

Macau

Generally, he’s the sane mane in the room.

He never lets his emotions cloud his judgement but always analyses the situation rationally – but without forgetting how much emotions tend to influence people’s reactions, too. The solution he proposes is always a good mediation between and emotional-based and rational-based approach.

He’s a very good mediator.

He tends to put other people’s preferences and wishes above his own for the sake of everybody getting along – only as long as it doesn’t damage him.

He’s a good listener, too, and good at reading people;

Actually, he’s good with people in general – both with making them at ease, making them feel appreciated, and also giving them a gentle push when they need to.

He’s a very discreet person and he doesn’t put his nose where it doesn’t belong;

Ironically, the result is that Macau will always know everything that goes around as everybody, knowing he won’t talk, tells him confidential information or seeks him for advice.

He’s very organized and tidy.

He has good foresight. He never lets himself be taken by random whims but always considers the consequences of his actions;

At times, he does take risks, but they’re always calculated.

He isn’t selective about the people he can interact with, he offers his friendship to anybody who wishes to take it;

And if people betray his trust, well… it’s their loss. Macau doesn’t waste his time by being bitter, he keeps being polite and moves on. He does distance himself from that person, though.

He has a good mind for business.

He doesn’t have a confrontational nature. He avoids open conflicts, instead, he lets other people run their tongue only to later do whatever he pleases.

Monaco

She’s an overachiever. She always pushes himself to her limit, and once she has reached a goal, she only gives herself a moment to celebrate before moving onward towards the next target.

She takes care of herself, though. She’s aware she can be at the peak of her productivity only if she doesn’t burn out, so she’s careful to plan for some breaks (even if the minimal possible amount), too.

She has a very preppy and energic demeanour. One of those people who never look tired, always ready to brave a mountain.

She can have a bit of a tunnel vision. Once she is focused on an objective, she might tend to overlook the consequences – sometimes, she needs somebody else calling her out.

She’s an extrovert and always ready to make new friends.

She doesn’t throw herself at new activities but always observes a bit from the sidelines – then, after she’s sure she has grasped how everything works, she joins in. She does like trying new things, though.

She’s very headstrong and confident in her abilities – once she’s set on something, making her change idea is extremely hard.

She can be a bit bossy, even if she doesn’t mean to. In particular, if she’s interacting with somebody not as strong-willed as she is, she isn’t very mindful and there’s a high chance she will prevaricate that person without even realizing she has done so.

She likes being helpful and putting her skills into use. When there’s something to be done and she knows she’s the right person for it, she immediately volunteers.

She has a very good sense of fashion. He favourite style is simple and classy, but all the details are always carefully planned and she looks glamorous. Never a hair out of place.

She’s always informed about what’s going on in the world and very involved.

She’s a multitasker, never wasting a moment. For example, each time she’s doing something manual she’s also listening to a podcast/the news, because why should she waste that time, right?

Great organization skills.

While she’s physically fit (ballet does this to a person) she doesn’t enjoy playing team sports, she’d rather watch from the sidelines and cheer on her friends.

Cat lover.

Luxembourg

He isn’t very athletic. In general, the peak of his physical activities is taking a stroll.

He’s such a workaholic that he can even forget to eat. If he’s focused on a task, he barely registers the passing of time.

He is physically unable to relax unless all the work is done. Even if he’s forcibly taken away, his mind keeps going back to what he still needs to accomplish.

Insomniac. He can be found working in the middle of the night as he couldn’t fall asleep so he decided to make the best out of it.

Drinks tons of coffee for productivity and then chamomile tea to calm his nerves. It’s unclear whether this works or not, but he has convinced himself it does.

He has a hidden mischievous side and likes pranking people he’s close to. He doesn’t do it often, though – it’s something he reserves for special occasions;

And strictly for people he’s very close to, in particular. With everybody else, he’s the picture of politeness and charm.

Nobody would be able to tell, but he swears a lot. He restrains himself in public, though. Only his family knows.

Really good at budgeting but still keeps a high-standard lifestyle. He just knows all the places to buy quality stuff without spending too much and takes advantage of good deals.

He’s a good balance between introvert and extrovert. He likes socializing and is good with people, and at the same time, he can also appreciate some alone time.

He has a big sweet tooth and often indulges in it as he’s aware that he can afford it – he has a very good metabolism, he’s thin no matter what he eats.

He isn’t a great cook and he doesn’t like ‘wasting’ time on that. If it weren’t for the pre-cooked and frozen meals Belgium often prepares for him, he would always eat takeaway or supermarket frozen stuff.

Since he’s often too busy to see his siblings, he makes a point to write them a message/give a call almost daily.

He’s fully aware of the importance of social media from a promotional POV/their utility to monitor tendencies and is very active on several platforms.

Extraordinarily fast at typing.