#I believe Oscar would read “my hands are yours” and die on the spot

[stephen9260]

Rip Oscar Malevolent you would have loved Sabé

[liliacvol6]

Just Famous

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader 

Summary: You’re THE up and coming movie star, he’s the guy that plays Spider-Man. What happens when he reveals in an interview that you’re his celebrity crush

Warnings: Honestly just a cute ass lil story

~~~ 

I had this in my drafts forever so I figured I should probably post it eventually :)))

(Y/F/N) - your first name

(Y/L/N)- your last name

(Y/B/F) - your best friend’s name 

~~~~~~~~

You sat on your couch reading a news article about the up and coming movie Spider-Man Far From Home. You were a large marvel fan and had wanted to get into the movie series, you auditioned for MJ but it ultimately went to Zendaya. You talked about this recently in an interview, how losing the role made you work harder and that’s how you go the role you were nominated for an oscar with. 

“Y/N!!” Your manager and friend called to you, you looked up from your phone. Their face was bright red and they held out their phone, “Fucking watch this”

You grabbed her phone and pressed play. It was a video from an interview from the Far From Home press tour. Tom Holland, Zendaya and Jacob Batalon sat laughing and giggling while the interviewer came up with the next question, she waited for the giggles to die down and then said,

“So (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) auditioned for the role of MJ, do you think the movie would’ve been way different if she was cast and Zendaya, you weren’t?” Tom started looking around the room at everyone and as Zendaya started to speak Tom threw his hands in the air waving around, 

“Wait just a minute, (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) could’ve been my MJ? Are you serious??” Tom was smiling widely now, Zendaya slapped his arm and Jacob rolled his eyes,

“What am I not good enough??” Zendaya asked laughing, Tom shook his head and put his face in his hands 

“No, you’re great but she’s celebrity crush for sure and I would love to meet her” 

You gasped as your manager started laughing, “How crazy is that?” She asked taking her phone back. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Tom Holland was extremely cute and from what you had seen in interviews and red carpet appearances he was a real sweetheart too, and YOU were his celebrity crush... you couldn’t believe it.

~~~~~One week later~~~~~

In the past week you were still swimming around with the thought of Tom Holland. It was just a stupid comment that he probably didn’t mean but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The day you thought you had gotten over it, your manager informed you that you were just invited to the Far From Home premiere in two days. Naturally, this caused you to freak the fuck out even more than you already were. You called up your best friend and asked them to join you at the premiere. They said yes and now it was time for you to find the outfit. 

*I’m in love with this dress btw *

You settled on a dress dress that was to die for. The red was a not so subtle nod to one of Spiderman’s iconic colors and you looked stunning. 

~~~~~

The Night of the Premiere 

“Okay we are approaching so you and (Y/B/F) get ready to depart the car” Your driver told you, you looked at your best friend and they smiled back at you. You were nervous yet excited, nervous because even though you’re an actress you still got nervous in front of the camera. Also nervous because you were most likely going to meet Tom Holland tonight, which also had you excited. 

The car came to a stop and the door opened, you could see some flashing cameras in the distance and knew that’s the destination you had to get to. You stepped out of the car and people started screaming. You say all of the Spiderman fans screaming and waving. You waved back to them and (Y/B/F) came over and grabbed your hand, leading you to where you had to go. You scanned the people that were waiting to go onto the carpet. You were slightly overwhelmed with the amount of marvel stars that had shown up. 

“Holy shit, this is insane” Your best friend whispered to you as they also looked around at all of the celebrities. You nodded to her and turned around to talk to her while you waited to go on the carpet. 

“Oh my god! (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)!! I didn’t know you would be here!” A voice yelled behind you, you turned and were face to face with none other than Zendaya herself. You were star-struck. 

“Oh wow hi, you’re incredible and you look so beautiful” You said to her as she pulled you in for a hug. You introduced your best friend and they received a hug from Zendaya as well. 

“I’m happy you’re here, Tom is a big fan” She said causing you to smile slightly. You wanted to tell her that you were a big fan of his but you couldn’t because Jacob came over and tapped her shoulder,

“Hey Z, we gotta take cast photos” He said looking from her to you, “You came! Awesome, Tom didn’t know if you would since his manager sent out the invite so late” He said smiling at you, you just laughed and waved as him and Zendaya were rushed over to the rest of the cast. You felt slightly embarrassed that everyone was throwing around Tom wanting to meet you like this wasn’t insane news to hear.

Your eyes landed on Tom Holland. The red suit, looked so good on him and you almost lost your breath when you saw him wearing glasses. 

“Woah” you audibly said as your best friend’s eyes went to where you were looking, to your horror he turned his attention to you. You both made eye contact and you felt your stomach flip in knots. He was so handsome and he was looking at you. He gave you a smile and turned his attention back to taking photos. 

After the group photos it was your turn to walk the carpet. You walked with confidence and smiled at the cameras. You were then joined by your best friend and took pictures together. When you turned to walk to the next picture spot you saw Tom staring at you, you went to smile but he turned away immediately. You watched as he started a new interview with Zendaya and it was your turn to walk past him and get ready to watch the movie. When you were walking past you heard your name being called by Zendaya. You turned and saw her ushering you over to the interview. You tried to not look nervous as you walked over to where the interviewer, Tom and Zendaya were standing smiling at you.

“Hi” You said to Zendaya, you turned to look at Tom and he was blushing. The interviewer laughed and held up her microphone.

“So, Miss (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), we were just discussing all the different celebrities that are here tonight when Tom Holland let it slip that he was most excited to meet you” The interviewer said holding the microphone over to you, you didn’t know what to say, Tom was now looking at you with a sheepish grin on his face and you giggled into the mic.

“That’s really sweet, I was really happy when I got the invite because I’m a huge Spiderman fan and I think Tom is doing a great job of portraying him” You said smiling at Tom and then the interviewer.

“Ah.. Thank you” Tom said quietly. 

“Oh my god he’s so embarrassed, that’s so adorable” Zendaya said reaching out to pinch his cheek, he playfully slapped her hand away causing everyone to laugh. 

After a few more questions that the interviewer had managed to loop you into as well, she said “Well thank you for the interview and I can’t wait to watch this film!” she said cheerfully before turning and moving on to interview someone else. 

“I’m sorry about that” Tom said to you as you went to turn away, you turned back and made eye contact with him. You smiled and shrugged

“Don’t be, I have wanted to meet you for a while” You said, mentally you were applauding yourself, you couldn’t believe you managed something intelligent out and especially something somewhat flirty. 

“Listen, I know we don’t know each other that well but if you would ever wanna get a bite to eat or something I’d love that” Tom said giving you a big smile, you felt your insides once again freaking out and you shook your head

“Yeah, I’d love that.” Tom beamed at you and then glanced down and back up

“You look beautiful tonight, and uh.. listen. there’s this after-party I’m throwing with a few friends and I’d love for you and your friend to come along so we could hang out. Only if you want.” He added the last part hastily 

“Oh absolutely, that would be a lot of fun.” 

“Great, can I get your number?” He asked, you said yes and he went over to Harrison who had his phone and brought it back to you.

You put your number in and he thanked you. You didn’t have any time after that to chat because everyone was called in to watch Far From Home. Your best friend tugged on your arm when you were in the theater and showed you your phone which they were keeping for you while you took pictures. 

You had a new text

“Hey, It’s Tom!”

Another one

“Tom Holland, haha shoulda specified. Anyways, here’s the address for the party. I’m looking forward to seeing you there.”

Another text came in while you were looking at your phone

“And you really do look incredibly beautiful tonight” You smiled at your phone and texted him back 

“You look incredibly handsome tonight, I especially love the glasses :)” You looked up just in time to see Tom getting flustered and Harrison laughing as Tom hit his arm. You couldn’t wait for the after-party.

[george-mackay-macfine]

Wedding

Requested: Yes / No 

Synopsis: Y/N and George get married, 

Word Count: 3,355

Honeymoon One Shot - Contains smut 

https://george-mackay-macfine.tumblr.com/post/190679146605/honeymoon

I watched hidden behind the opaque curtain as guests began to make their way into the old Manor George and I had chosen for our ceremony. The bracelet on my wrist sparkled as the last rays of the sun hit it, the engraving standing out against the gold.

My best friend, always and forever, and a lot longer - George.

The ceremony would begin in a few minutes, as soon as all the guests settled, and George and his groomsman arrived. I couldn’t wait to see the field, George and I had poured hours into getting it to look right, twinkling lights were to hang from the ceiling, rose petals line the aisle, something straight out of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Nights Dream. A literal dream, our dream.

George and I had helped set up the day before, aided by Dean and Daisy and the rest of our wedding party, and we're were there to make sure it all looked how we’d envisioned, but I hadn’t yet seen it with the lights on yet, and the excitement was killing me, But now, the sun was setting and the sky was darkening, and I was excited to see how all the lights looking with everything together.

“Only a few more minutes,” My heart was beating rapidly and I had butterflies in my stomach but I couldn’t have been more ready to walk down that aisle. My mind was having trouble focusing on anything but how handsome George would look in his tuxedo, standing there, waiting for me.

“You ready, sweetheart?” My dad asked me as he walked towards me, a hand extending towards me, ready to take my arm his other holding my bouquet.

This was really happening.

“Yeah, I am,” I smiled at him, leaning up to kiss his cheek as I closed the small gap between us. We talked quietly amongst ourselves as we walked out of the room I’d gotten ready in, and down the stairs. “Here we go,” I whispered happily.

“Holy shit, Y/N, this is happening,” I heard Daisy exclaim as she linked arms with Dean, George’s best man. “I’ll see you out there, He’s going to die” She smiled at me, her head turning with Dean’s as they walked out the side door onto the isle.

“I love you, Y/N, so much. I know you’re marrying George, but just remember you were my girl first,” He chuckled tears welling with tears.

“Always,” I held my breath trying to hold in the tears that were threatening to fall. Dad laughed and squeezed my hand, “Love you,”

“I love you, Y/N,”

The opening cords to Elvis Presley’s Can’t help falling in love began to play as we stepped out onto the field. My eyes quickly surveyed how our dream had come alive as we walked to the end of the aisle, then my eyes were all for him. I couldn’t see the crowd, they didn’t exist, it was just George and I. He looked nervous he had his eyes on his feet, taking a deep breath, my soon-to-be husband looked better than I ever expect, hair combed back perfectly, his navy blue tuxedo with the white shirt underneath, and that’s when he looked up at me. And not two seconds passed before we both were in tears, the time was finally here.

“Hold it in kiddo,” My dad whispered at me, I nodded and sucked back the tears. I had to keep it together to get down the aisle. I could fall apart later, “Nearly there,”

Twenty more steps,

We’d waited years for this, waiting for my career to settle, then George’s took off, we deserved this, we had been waiting for years.

Fifteen more steps,

This was it, we’d gotten here.

“Beautiful,” George mouthed as we neared each other.

The smile erupted on my face, all I could feel was love. So much love for George, and in turn I could feel the love bursting and radiating from him. George had always made me feel safe, always made me feel overcome with the protection he provided, and I couldn’t wait for him to keep me safe forever, and I couldn’t wait to make sure he was always happy.

I couldn’t wait to cherish him forever,

Five more steps.

George shook my father's hand as I reached the altar, his hands going for mine pulling me securely to his side. We’d made it. George and I turned to our officiant, Henry as he began.

“Welcome, family, friends and loved ones. We gather here today to celebrate the wedding of George and Y/N. You have come here to share in this formal commitment they make to one another, to offer your love and support to this union, and to allow George and Y/N to start their married life together surrounded by the people dearest and most important to them.” Beside me Daisy let out an undignified sniffle, causing a smile from Henry. “Bless you, So welcome to one and all, who have travelled from near and far. George and Y/N thank you for your presence here today and now ask for your blessing, encouragement, and lifelong support, for their decision to be married.”

“I love you,” George whispered loudly enough for only me to hear, A smile pulling at my lips as I held his hand,

“And I you,”

“Marriage is perhaps the greatest and most challenging adventure of human relationships. No ceremony can create your marriage; only you can do that—“ Henry began, and all I could think about was George, and the love I felt for him. “Through love and patience; through dedication and perseverance; through talking and listening, helping and supporting and believing in each other;” My mind floated back to George’s Oscar nomination, how proud I was, how much love I felt for this man, I didn’t think I’d ever feel more love, but now here we were, ready to be joined forever, “Through tenderness and laughter; through learning to forgive, learning to appreciate your differences, and by learning to make the important things matter, and to let go of the rest. What this ceremony can do is to witness and affirm the choice you make to stand together as soulmates and partners.”

I loved this man,

“Will you, George MacKay, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

“I do,” He smiled, eyes on me.

“Will, you, Y/N, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

“I do,”

“In the spirit of the importance of strong friendships to a marriage, George and Y/N have asked two friends to read selections about love that especially resonate with them.” Daisy and Dean stepped up to replace Henry, Daisy first, her hands shaking as she approached the microphone.

“No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.”

As Daisy read the quote she’d picked for us from As you like it, my eyes began to water.

“I love you,” I mouthed to my soon to be sister-in-law,

“I love you,” She mouthed back, tears rushing freely down her cheeks, as Dean wrapped an arm around her shoulders,

"One half of me is yours, the other half yours— Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours.” He spoke clearly into the microphone, smiling proudly at George and I, before releasing Daisy as they both walked back to their spots by our sides,

“One final quote, to prepare us for a Midsummer night’s dream,” Henry began, “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.” He smiled, “Two people in love do not live in isolation. Their love is a source of strength with which they may nourish not only each other but also the world around them. And in turn, we, their community of friends and family, have a responsibility to this couple. By our steadfast care, respect, and love, we can support their marriage and the new family they are creating today.” He cleared his throat, “Will everyone please rise and will you who are present here today, surround George and Y/N in love, offering them the joys of your friendship, and supporting them in their marriage?”

“We will,” Our family and friends chimed,

“Please, be seated friends,” Henry waited for all to take their seats, “We've come to the point of your ceremony where you're going to say your vows to one another. But before you do that, I ask you to remember that love—which is rooted in faith, trust, and acceptance— will be the foundation of an abiding and deepening relationship. No other ties are more tender, no other vows more sacred than those you now assume. If you are able to keep the vows you take here today, not because of any religious or civic law, but out of a desire to love and be loved by another person fully, without limitation, then your life will have joy and the home you establish will be a place in which you both will find the direction of your growth, your freedom, and your responsibility. Please now read the vows you have written for each other.”

“Y/N,” George began, his hands gripping mine, “You were my reason back then, my reason now, my reason every day. You strengthen my weaknesses, bring focus to my dreams. Here and now I pledge my life to yours, that your dreams become my dreams. No matter where life leads me, I know that as long as you are there, that is where I am meant to be,” I let out a dreadfully loud sob as George finished his vows, he smiled kindly, his hands reaching under my veil to wipe them away,

“Y/N,” Henry urged, I nodded my head and looked back to George,

“George, From this moment, I take you as my best friend for life. I pledge to honour, encourage, and support you through our walk-in life together. When our path becomes difficult, I promise to stand by you and uplift you, so that through our union we can accomplish more than we could alone. I promise to work at our love and always make you a priority in my life. With every beat of my heart, I will love you.” I took a deep breath, hands tightening around his. “I promise to love and care for you and I will try in every way to be worthy of your love. I will always be honest with you, kind, patient and forgiving. But most of all, I promise to be a true and loyal friend to you. I love you.”

“May I have the rings, please?” Daisy and Dean stepped to Henry, passing over the rings, “George and Y/N have written their own ring exchange vow’s,”

“Y/N,” George smiled, his hand taking the ring from Dean, “I promise to love, respect and honour you I will always be there for you, with you, beside you, Let this ring be a symbol of our love, may it represent our today, our tomorrows, our future & our past. As I have given you my hands to hold, so I give you my life to keep.” George slid the band on my finger, It was real,

“Y/N,” I took the band from Daisy,

“With this ring, I give you my heart… From this day forward, You shall not walk alone. My heart will be your shelter, And my arms will be your home” I whispered pushing the ring on George’s finger,

“By the power of your love and commitment, and the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!” Henry cried, “George you may now kiss your bride,” George practically threw back the veil, dipping me into a romantic chaste kiss,

“Wife,” He whispered as he brought me back to a stand,

“Husband,” I smiled,

“Now we party,” He smiled pulling me down the cheering isle,

The reception venue was as absolutely stunning as was the wedding. Our Midsummer Nights Dream flowed from the ceremony space to the reception area, the lights twinkled above our head, as George and I sat at the middle of the table surrounded by our friends and family as we shared our first meal as husband and wife, we cried together through my dad’s speech, and laughed through Dean’s,

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to make a toast to my beautiful wife,” I heard George say into the microphone apparently he wasn’t nipping off to the bathroom, He plucked the microphone from the stand walked across the dance floor to me, His hand coming down to stroke my cheek lovingly, “Now please, bear with me, this may belong.” George began,

“It’s his Oscar speech moment,” Dean bellowed to a roomful of laughter,

“He’s not wrong,” George cackled into the microphone,

“You’ll get it this year honey,” George’s mother called,

“Thank’s mum,” George laughed, “First of all, thank you to Y/F/N for your kind words, and I would like to say that it is a privilege to be welcomed into your family. Distinguished guests, those of lesser distinction and those of no distinction at all, family, relatives, in-laws and out-laws, friends, friends of friends, freeloaders, hangers-on, and any stray golfers who may have wandered in, welcome to our wedding dinner.” Another whoop from Dean and the Groomsmen, “Someone once said that a good speech has both a good beginning and a good ending however a great speech keeps them very close together. Well, unfortunately, this speech is neither good nor great, so make yourselves comfortable. And yes, security is positioned at all the exits so don’t even think about it.”

“George,” I laughed.

"Now seriously, I had a cracking speech prepared with humour, emotion and sentiment but as I am now married, Y/N has given me a speech to read instead.” He joked, “It is hard to express our feelings on this special day but it wouldn’t be such a special day without the presence of our friends and families. Y/N and I are humbled and greatly honoured that so many of you have made the effort to be with us here and share this day with us. So on behalf of Y/N and myself, I would like to thank you all. I hope you are all enjoying this day as much as we are, and how well it is going is a reflection on the monumental efforts for all involved. So as is the tradition I would first like to make a few thank you’s. I would like to thank my mum and dad for putting up with me, today and over the years. Thanks for your love, support and patience throughout my teenage years, which I’m sure I’ll grow out of soon enough.”

“I doubt it,” George’s dad called to another monuments round of laugher,

“Most of all, thank you for giving me such a wonderful start in life. When I turned around and saw Y/F/N walk down the aisle with Y/N, I realised how much today means to Him and Y/M/N. Y/N’s their daughter and I know this is the day they have been looking forward to since she was a little girl. I promise you I will try and make Y/N as happy for the rest of her life as she is today. I want to thank you for everything you have done for me over the last couple of years, You’ve both been so kind and helpful to me, I really appreciate the way you’ve opened up your home and lives to me. Thank you for accepting me as part of your family. I am honoured to be able to call such a special couple my in-laws.”

“We love you George,” My mum called, lips wobbling as she held in her tears,

“We’ve some presents for our parents, and I know tradition states that usually the mum’s receive a bouquet of flowers, and the dad’s get a bottle of fine malt. But we wanted to give you something a little more permanent, so we’ve got non-refundable bookings for each of you to get a tattoo. We hope you choose the style wisely.” He waited for the well-earned laugher before he began again. "Seriously though, to show you how much we appreciate what you have done for us, and also what you have put in to make this day as special as it is, we would like to present these to both of you,” He ducked behind the table, head popping up a second later, a guilty look on his face, “We’ve seemed to left them at home, so an IOU is in order,” He chuckled guiltily.

“George, you had one job!” Daisy chided her brother,”

“Shush, Dais,” He cleared his throat, “Thank you for the support you have given us, from day one, you’ve been fully behind us and have always shown us how marriages should be, and that’s successful and full of love. I’d like to take this opportunity to propose a toast, there’s a proverb that goes: "When children find true love, then their parents find true happiness". So, here’s to their happiness from this day forward.” He raises his beer, everyone copied him with their glasses, “To you,” We all took a sip. “Our thanks go to Y/N’s brothers, Y/B/N and Y/B/N, for their impeccable Ushering, never have so many people been ushered so well. I’ll tell the organisers of the Oscars to hire you because it is fairly self-evident that you’ve both done a fantastic job of keeping the paparazzi away. Well done, and thanks to the both of you. My next thank you is to the maid of honour and the bridesmaids. You are all looking fantastic today, and were a great help in keeping Y/N sane, throughout the day. I would like to present Daisy with this token of our appreciation, again, another IOU.”

“GEORGE,” She cried through her laugher,

“Sorry Dais,” He chuckled, “Don’t worry folks, we’re nearly done, To my best man, Dean. For those of you who don’t know him, Dean is this guy here. A big thank you must go to him. This morning he even gave me a list of nice wonderful comments to say about him, but it just reinforced my belief that he is a compulsive liar and to ignore everything he says about me!”

“Bastard,” Dean laughed quietly beside me,

“Seriously though, you have been a great mate for more years than I care to remember and there is no one I would rather have by my side for our wedding. As a token of our appreciation, we would like to present you with a gift. Now I know that traditionally, the best man gets a beer mug, a nice pen or a hip flask, but I tried to find you something a little different. We hope you like it, but again, another IOU,”

“That’s six George,” My dad called with a raise of his glass,

“Glad we can still count there, Y/F/N. Keeping me honest,” George laughed. “Now on to my wife, I’m completely overwhelmed at how amazing you look today, and I can’t believe just how privileged I am that you chose to be my wife. Y/N, you are my soul mate and the love of my life! I am a very fortunate man and I would just like to take this opportunity to say to you how much I am looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you. I hope that every day will be as happy as today.”

“I love you,”

“As I you,” He replied with a raise of his glass,

[somedayonbroadway]

hii! i hope i don’t sound annoying by asking this, but i love your writing so much! i know you did a deaf race angst story a while back, i loved it so much and deaf race is probably my new favourite hc so, if you don’t mind, could you do some more deaf race hcs please? thank you!

Okay, first of all, I get a lot of you guys apologizing for sending asks and I just need to send out a PSA real quick:

Ya’ll are never annoying. I love the questions. Every time I see a new ask I literally can’t help but smile. As long as you aren’t spreading hate, I’m here for all the questions and prompts and everything because I LOVE THEM!

ALSO! I know this took me a long time to answer, so I’m sorry for the wait! (I currently have about 45 asks, so patience is much appreciated!)

Okay, Anon, so yes, deaf!Race is one of my favorite modern HCs. I haven’t written anything with it in a long time and I miss it.

So here we go…

In modern era where Jack and Race are brothers…

Race was born deaf.

Their parents love him so much but are a little upset by this fact, though they learn sign language.

Jack learned sign language too. He’s very excited about it, but he’s more excited to have a baby brother.

Jack and Race are seven years apart in age.

Growing up, they’re happy

Race is homeschooled by his parents. He has no idea that people outside of their house don’t use their hands to communicate.

But when Race is six, his whole family gets into a crash. Mother dies on impact, father dies upon arriving at the hospital and Jack is in critical condition and is kept in the hospital for a month before he’s released to social services.

During this time, Race realizes that people expect him to be able to communicate and talk to them. He tries but no one knows his language.

It takes three days for Race to get an interpreter. Since he’s not seriously hurt, no one sees it as a priority and even though it’s bad to not get an interpreter immediately, Race can’t argue with them. He’s only six. And no one else knows him or is willing to fight for him.

Once Mr. Kloppman gets there, he tears the staff a new one for not getting this kid an interpreter immediately and then sits with Race in Jack’s room, realizing that this little boy was all alone and didn’t even really know that both of his parents were dead.

Growing up in the system is hard. Jack’s right arm broke in the crash. He has to learn to sign with his left for a couple months so that he can talk to Race.

The first few homes are group homes. No one knows Sign. So Jack and Race are often outcast. The other kids don’t want to bother trying to talk with Jack because Jack refuses to talk without signing so Race can understand.

Their foster parents are already overwhelmed so they don’t cater to the boys at all, thinking they’d just figure out how things worked.

The longest they stay in one home in the first year is a month.

When Race has to start going to school, he realizes that sign language isn’t something that most people just know. Jack and him have to go to different schools and no one understands him. So he often sits alone and doesn’t bother trying to make friends. It’s easy because a small kid like him gets ignored often.

Outside of school Jack sticks to Race like glue, knowing that at some point, someone’s going to try and separate them and Jack can’t handle that. He knows that it’ll just make it worse for Race too.

Eventually, a year after the accident, they end up at the home of a William Snyder.

Race knows immediately that he doesn’t like this home. The man hit Jack on the first day.

Snyder doesn’t like it when Race signs. He says it’s not normal.

He’s the reason Race can read lips.

It starts with just a small slap anytime he’d sign but quickly escalated to getting his hands tied down

Jack and him are forced to sleep in different rooms for the first time in their lives.

Snyder goes hard on Jack because he knows that Race won’t hear Jack screaming. And when he beats on Race, he makes sure so gag him somehow.

Jack teaches Race English anyway he can, trying to help his brother escape the beatings and getting his hands tied down. Snyder hates it when he can’t understand.

Snyder has them for the money.

Race isolates even further into himself because Jack isn’t allowed to sign with him.

At this point, Jack is only fourteen. He can’t do much to stop it other than things that aggravate Snyder even more, like fight back.

On an unrelated note, there’s locks on all the cupboards and the fridge so Jack and Race can only have food if Snyder unlocks them.

Also, if Race can’t sign with Jack he likes to put a hand on Jack’s chest or neck to feel him talk to him

Anyways

Jack and Race are with Snyder for almost a full year before someone notices the bruises on Race realizing for the first time that he’s deaf and mute.

After that, Race and Jack are fully separated.

This just about breaks Race. He’s only almost eight and the one constant he’d had in his life was ripped away from him.

He falls into a depression. Even though his foster parents are kind and know sign, he doesn’t talk to them. He usually just lays around in his room on his bed, not wanting to move.

Meanwhile Jack is in a home with Miss Medda and a boy already adopted by the woman named Charlie.

Race grows up thinking he’s broken after his parents die. He believes that no one can really love him because he can’t hear and no one else that he meets is deaf

He stops signing for a long time because he and Jack can’t see each other for a few months. And when they get a meeting time and a promise to be able to see each other once a week, Race just goes to Jack and cries.

Medda tries to take Race in but their social worker sees no reason to move Race, especially when his foster parents know sign and Medda doesn’t.

His foster parents start to get irritated with him when he won’t sign or even try to communicate with them. They’re nice people, but even nice people have their limits.

His foster mother would push him into a wall one night.

Race would run away.

They’d call the cops and Medda who would tell Jack. Jack would immediately go out to find him.

He’d find him sitting alone in a park with a single newspaper for warmth.

Jack wouldn’t try to talk to him. He’d just sit there with him and Race would lean into him, not understanding why the world had chosen him to be so different.

Eventually, he just starts hanging out at Medda’s a lot anyway, because his foster parents realize that after he spends time with Jack, he’s happier and more relaxed.

Medda would teach Race how to play the piano and the guitar.

While Race never could hear what he was playing, feeling the vibrations and reading music would calm his nerves.

By this time Race is about nine. Jack is sixteen. And Jack’s foster brother, Charlie, is eleven.

It takes a long while, but eventually, about three months after Race runs away, Crutchie sits down next to him. Race doesn’t think anything of it at first, but Crutchie eventually turns to him starts signing to him.

It’s the first kid close to Race’s age that even makes an effort to try and communicate with him.

Him and Charlie are fast friends after that.

For two years, Charlie is Race’s only real friend.

When Jack turns eighteen, he adopts Race immediately.

They move down the street from Medda so Race can go to the same school. One that Race hates. The teachers never go slow enough for him to understand, his classmates call him stupid and constantly bully and belittle him. He’s often roughed up by other kids who take his backpack and dump out its belongings and then throw them everywhere while they make sure Race is on the ground.

It isn’t until Race is almost twelve that another boy comes to the school. Albert.

Albert isn’t deaf. One of his brothers is and his father is. So he knows sign language

Much like Race, Albert didn’t know that the rest of the world communicated verbally until he was forced into public school

While he does know English, he’s not very good at it, but he realizes that Race struggles to keep up with the teachers so he does his best to help him understand.

Albert and Race are inseparable from that point on.

And as we all know, Albert and Race love to cause trouble wherever they go.

As they get older they grow closer together and they love to tease bullies.

This eventually leads to a very bad fight between them and Oscar Delancey, a boy they can’t stand, where Race ends up with a broken wrist

Needless to say, it’s a bit too close to being back with Snyder and being tied down.

This happens when Race is fourteen.

He falls back into a short depression, not wanting to go to school which prompts Albert to break in through his window to talk to him.

That makes Race happy because at least he has a friend this time.

A certain football player in high school has a crush on Race.

Yes it’s Spot.

Yes he begs Albert to teach him sign so that he can talk to Race.

And that’s what I’ve got.

Let me know if y’all wanna see more deaf!Race or a deaf!Race scene or whump scene or anything!

Thank you so much, Anon!

[apollo-writes-random-shit]

The Final Heist

Final part fam!

Read it on AO3!

Word Count: 2,894

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 (You’re here fam!)

She should have known something was up when Gavin kept staring at the jewels room.

Ignoring all the chaos in the dining hall, curtains parted a familiar face standing in front of the microphone in front of the small band. At first, her face fell as she saw everything going on, spotting a server being chased and tracked by the police. She should have known something was up when Gavin kept staring at the jewels room. In her mind, Gavin never suited the young man. Shaking her head, she opened her mouth and began to sing a favourite of the patrons.

Sometimes when I, wanna run away and hide.

Race grinned, hearing the soft cry of frustration as Sean lost him. He was sure anyone else would slow down to blend in more. After all, the cops were looking for someone who was running away but Race? He was smarter. Sure at the start, he'd been too cocky, letting himself slow down and blend in. He however quickly learnt that it was a bad move from both the police and Snyder.

When there's no one on my side, and all my pride had disappeared.

His experience as a thief had taught him a lot of skills, both good and bad. To others, being a thief was despicable in situations like his but honestly, he really didn't care. He loved the rush that came with his job. Yes, there were times where everything felt like it was crashing down and that he should run from the job but those moments were rare. At least that's what he liked to tell himself.

I take it off my mind and leave it all behind.

Race shook his thoughts from his mind as he spotted more of Sean's crew leaving. No doubt they were not just leaving the building to answer questions. They were also there to look out for him retreating with his prize. A smirk painted his face as he turned skidded towards a window, barely dodging Sean's hand, letting out a laugh as his fingers brushed against his jacket.

It was only then that Sean noticed where he was heading and he doubted the detective would try to follow him.

Nothin' left to do but try to take the leap and follow-through.

It wasn't the first he had jumped out of a window and he knew there was a chance that he might have to do it again. No matter the number of times he had to use a pane of glass to make his escape, he still wasn't used to the feeling of it shattering around his body.

And that's exactly what I'll do~

Had he meant to land on Sean's head? No. Did he? Yes. Was he going to apologize? Probably not. He certainly wasn't going to stick around. He had an important delivery, after all, one he could not afford to fuck up.

I know to you I don't seem very strong but I assure you before you can find me I'm gone.

Sean grunted as he stood up, already nursing a killing headache. He honestly didn't care that he had blacked out for a few seconds. Instead, he was more focused on catching up to the infamous thief. He'd yell at the person who had fired two warning shots later. In the chaos of attempted capture, no one noticed two men slipping away.

So come on and catch me you've still got a chance...But not for long~

His heart fell slightly as he stood in the door of the casino. There were multiple ways Racetrack could escape...Too many. "Same teams as last time! Remember his tricks and do your best to block off any place you believe he can use as an escape!"

He took off, hearing his trusted colleague and friends fan-out to look for their target. They all knew there was a high chance he could escape like always but they hoped that tonight would be the night. They were all sick of this game of cat and mouse but mostly, they were sick of Sean's obsession with the elusive thief. Sure they all wanted the cocky bastard behind bars but at times, they felt like that goal ruled Sean's life.

I'll be rollin' place to place, won't stop till I win the race!

Even Sean himself could admit that he wanted nothing more than to catch Racetrack and lock him away before moving on to other cases though he doubted he'd find any as interesting as the current case.

Although I may have crossed the line.

He knew he'd win eventually. Race may be the fastest person he has ever seen but even he had to slow down and finish at some point.

No time to waste on you.

Race hummed as he skated along, holding back laughter, hearing his competition ask questions to random patrons. Humming softly under his breath, he calmly hit a slot machine. After all, even grandmas needed a big win sometimes.

Idly, he pulled out the diamond, inspecting it for a few seconds. However, the second his back hit another one, he instantly regretted his action, watching with horror as it flew across the room.

I don't plan on slowing down, no I'll keep on going even if you think I'm in the wrong

He swallowed, ignoring the offended cry from behind him as he crossed the room, clumsily launching himself onto the pool table. "Come on you piece of shit." He bit his lip, holding back a cry of frustration as it slipped through his fingers yet again.

Just know that, although I may not think everything though I don't take back what I say or regret what I do.

He found himself unable to hold back a small cry of triumph as he caught it, even though he had hit the ground face first.

Race clambered to his feet, wincing slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He sighed softly, shoving it back into it's hiding place before staring at the man in front of him, giving him a weak grin. "Well hey, Jackie boy. If you don't mind, I'ma just...Leave? Have a good night Sir!" Was he surprised at a hand tightly grabbing his collar? No. Was he surprised to be shoved into the wall? Also no.

He tuned out the normal Miranda rights speech all police gave, paying more attention to the light wind ruffling his hair. Yeah, he knew he had the right to stay silent or whatever but where was the fun in that? "Look. I get this is ya job and shit but eh. I don't have time for this." With a grin, he grabbed the curtain, using it as a cover as he jumped out of the window, ignoring the curses coming from behind him.

I know that some stay in line and they stick to the plan, but if you leave it to me I'll do whatever I can 'cause I know that's what I'm here for.

He was grateful for the short distance between the window and ledge. Knowing that the small team would have alerted the others to his trick, he took off running. He may be stupid at times but no way was he going to use his skates on such a narrow landing. The thief silently praised himself on his quick thinking as he found himself almost tumbling off the edge. A sharp turn later and he found himself jumping from letter to letter, thanking Pulizer for having such a large sign.

In the split second he took to come to a stop so he could catch his breath, his ears were filled with both an annoying and familiar tune. The whirring of helicopter blades and a voice coming from behind the blinding light. "Hand yourself in Racetrack! It's over."

A smirk overtook his face. "Can't hand myself over to you when I can't see you!"

"Oh for god's sake. Turn the light down Wiesel!" With a groan, Sean turned back to the smug thief. "There. Happy Mr Drama Queen? Now just hand yourself and the diamond over. It's not that hard."

"Not very professional are you Spot?" Race always liked the way he could annoy his rival with a few words.

I don't wanna wait around anymore, even if you can't see.

He pulled the diamond out of his jacket, flashing the annoyed detective an innocent look. "Do you mean this diamond?" A laugh escaped him as he stared at Sean's blank look. "Alright alright. Here." He hummed, holding it out. Sure this wasn't part of the original plan but he was used to thinking on his feet.

The good inside me...

The second Sean's hand touched the top of his stolen good, he slapped his hand over it, laughing yet again as he used his arm to swing across the gap between The World casino and the building next door. "Thanks for the hand Spot!"

The frustrated swear from his opponent was music to his ears. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light in the alleyway. He took a few moments to pull out a stashed briefcase, yet another step to the conclusion of his final plan.

A smirk graced his face as he jumped down, unable to hold back a chuckle as the two figures waiting for him. "Hello, boys~"

The smirk just widened as the pair spun around, posed for a fight. "So. Shall we get going?"

"First things first. Hand over the briefcase kid. We gotta check you have what you promised."

"Awwwww. Don't you trust me, Morris? I have the briefcase right here so naturally, I have what I promised."

Oscar huffed. "How do we know it's not empty? Open it and show us or we'll hand you over~"

"Oh, I don't think you will."

"Why not?"

The two brothers tensed as the thief pulled out a gun, grin wiped from his face, replaced with a schooled blank expression, his posture bored. "Listen here, boys. I'm not really in the mood to play around tonight. This job is important and all you have to do is drive me to the bridge. Remember, your dear ol' uncle is in tremendous debt and just because the boss is behind bars doesn't mean it's completely automatically cleared...Now. Get in the car and start driving." Race flicked the gun towards the car watching smugly as the two scrambled to get into the ute that was going to be used as his getaway vehicle.

They didn't need to know that the weapon was empty. He never liked the idea of spilling blood. The idea of snatching someone's life from them sickened him but he knew he didn't have a say in it. Sure he was Snyder's prized thief but he had morals. He wasn't like the other members of the gang. To him, human life meant something, no matter who's life it was. Yes, he had been told to get away and if needed, to kill his enemy but Race was never going to have blood on his hands. He would rather die himself instead of ruining the lives of people's loved ones. As far as he knew, he had never landed anyone in hospital and he always made sure it'd stay that way, even if it meant being yelled at by his boss.

I don't have the time to tell you why I do the things that I do.

The ride was silent, allowing Race to take a breather as he removed the wig he had been wearing all night. As fun as it was to 'dress-up' as Snyder used to call it, he found it better when he was allowed to be 'natural'. He allowed the wind to mess with his hair as he removed his contacts, putting them away happily. He wasn't the biggest fan of them, no matter how helpful they were...Mostly because he still poked himself in the eye a lot when he was putting them in and taking them out like an utter moron.

He smiled softly at the diamond in his hand. Soon this would all be over and he could relax in the first time in years. Sure he'd miss the rush he got from outsmarting the police but it would still be better than scanning the streets each time he decided to take a walk.

Before he knew it, the Brooklyn bridge was rolling under the wheels of his transport and with a soft smile, he tucked the diamond away, knocking softly on the window. "This is my stop boys! Money's in the back so keep driving until you get a chance to see it." The wanted man carefully jumped out from the ute tray, allowing himself to just roll as he stared at the view offered to him, ignoring as the car turned around to return to The World. He grinned to himself, wishing he could see the looks on the Delancey brothers' faces as they opened their 'payment'. After all, it had taken him a while to get enough Monopoly cash to fill the briefcase.

Just please hold on and soon you'll see that I'm not the villain I appear to be.

Shaking his head, he hummed to himself as he stared off at the police blockade in front of him, an annoyed police force staring at him. No one seemed more pissed-off than Sean 'Spot' Colon. The sight of everything just filled Race with joy. Now came the fun part.

Diamond clutched in hand, Race did what he did best and sped towards them, keeping an eye on each person in front of him, trying to guess the move they'd make before it even entered their mind.

Movin' along, no I won't settle down until I'm locked behind bars or I'm kicked outta town!

He managed to hold back a gasp as Sean attempted to hit him with his baton at his head before attempting to grab him. (Honestly who aimed for the head? What was he trying to do? Hit him in the temple and kill him?) While he was able to hold back the gasp, he couldn't stop the soft squeak escaping his lips as a bullet grazed his cheek. Like he gets it. They had to arrest him and if that involved shooting at him to force him off balance then they could do it. Still, being shot at was never a fun feeling.

"Jeez, Jojo. You'd think you'd know not to shoot at me by now but apparently not."

So you can keep on a runnin' around and around and around.

He winked at the flustered man as he stuttered out an apology before pausing. "Wait...Why the hell am I apologizing to you?"

"Because I'm just amazing like that~"

With a hum, he skidded to a stop by the railing, holding the diamond over the edge, watching as Sean threw his arms out. "Alright Race. Just hand the diamond over and hand yourself in."

"Dunno guys. That doesn't sound like fun but I guess I can be nice."

But you will never quite catch up to me!

He saw the way some of their eyes lit up in satisfaction but he saw the suspicion in Sean's eyes. With a hum, Race tossed the diamond over to his rival before launching himself over the group, laughing at the confused noises of the group. How none of them noticed him removing the top of the diamond right in front of him, he had no idea.

And I know you think I'm crazy.

Using their brief confusion, he pushed himself on, ignoring the footsteps chasing him, the calls for him to stop falling on deaf ears. Tucking away the real stolen good, Race jumped towards the gently swaying rope, allowing it to wrap around his wrist.

"See you around!" He blew a kiss to the frustrated group before pulling himself further up the rope, grinning as he popped his head into the helicopter's open door. "Money's with ya nephews Weasel~ See you around!"

He allowed himself to jump down onto the support beam, wincing ever so slightly at the feeling of cold steel against his body, his uniform doing little to protect him.

But I hope that maybe now you'll see why...

He took a deep breath and jumped to his feet. Pulling the small ball out of his pocket, he threw it into the air as hard, praying that his throw would be strong enough. He was a runner after all and rarely had to throw things in his job.

His eyes lit up with both joy and relief as the bomb exploded far in the sky, decorating the sky with a firework. Even the feeling of being shoved roughly to the platform couldn't take the relief away. He couldn't be bothered to question how they had even gotten up to the platform.

"You're under arrest Racetrack. You have the ri-"

Race chuckled, cutting Sean off. "To stay silent. I get it. It's been three years Colon. I'd say it's been long enough for us to be friends ya know? Besides, I think you just got rid of the fella known as Racetrack~ Can we move this along? It's cold out."

"You're being arrested...And your complaining about the temperature?"

"Looks like your ears work DaSilva! Anyway, I guess I should congratulate you all for this huh?"

"God, you're annoying."

All Sean and his team got as a reply was tired joyful laughter.

I had to try!

[lanamemories2]

Startled by the sound of his door opening, Lana turned after making her last adjustments. She’d been hanging his birthday gift by his window, a prime spot for the breeze to stir if the latch was undone. Strung up on a homemade mobile, one she’d recruited the help of various minions to make, dangled twelve separate origami animals, each a different colour. All had a personalised message from one of Dom’s friends, if you spread the paper flat to read them.

Ducky’s said ‘cool guy :)’ and was folded into a bear. Navy white pinstripe. 

Philly’s only had a little goblin doodled on holding a fistful of socks. The paper was an expensive kind, white with mint and lilac glitter. Folded into a caterpillar. Lana liked this one because caterpillar’s have butterflies inside them and she feels the magic in Philly is sourly overlooked by the general population -- she’s the most likely person Lana knows to sprout wings and fly away.

Viktor’s was far too explicit with a recurring mention of cock. It could not be included in the gift.

Maggie’s was a wolf. Lana drew a little smiley face below the snout that wasn’t quite fitting, but it felt friendlier, that way, more Maggie -- paired with a dainty floral paper, too. It had a quote written on from Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. “She rested her head against his and felt, for the first time, what she would often feel with him: a self-affection. He made her like herself.” It finished with “love you, Maggie x”. 

Marlowe’s was a tiger. Flame orange, eye catching. On it, it said: ‘anyone who's put up with my shit for almost four years deserves a medal of some kind... like pinned to their lapel and personally engraved and everything. i got outbid on ebay so I don't have a fancy medal to give you...so instead i'll just say, you're a good guy dom evans! and I hope you have a fucking awesome birthday man. if anyone deserves only good things its you :)‘.

Rosa’s was folded into a monkey. Pink paper, in the end, because Rosa makes Lana think of love and blushing and sunsets. ‘dom i can't believe you're 23 today, you're an old man now!!! when i was just an embarrassing 12 year old and made those happy 15th bday shirts for you i was so obsessed with you because a small part of you thought you were an angel on earth and you'd come to protect me but it's nice to know now that we can protect each other. i'm still going to wear those 15th bday shirts for the rest of the week so everyone knows, i think your life is the most celebration worthy thing in existence. and if you want to know i am, in fact, hoping that i never marry so that by the time i'm 35 we can just run off together, preferably with franklin in tow, and have a worry free life, it's what you deserve. i love you forever dominic james evans!!!‘

Kasey’s was a fish in a pastel shade, sweet like a ripe peach. ‘Happy birthday Dom, you're the best of the best!!‘

Jude’s was a sloth. Deeper blue. Lana hassled him to write Dom one despite the fact they aren’t even particularly close. On it, he wrote: ‘Dunno you that well but you seem alright. Lana’s pacing as I write, clearly riled her up enough. Saw your ass in full view, high definition. Was decent. Good work soldier. Back to the trenches. Happy birth and shit.’.

Gunner’s was a dog. She did her best to capture the essence of a golden retriever with yellow paper, given that this was his family pet’s breed. Notably, she drew a very large dick onto the origami between it’s legs -- assuring Gunner Paxton’s legacy wasn’t overlooked. ‘in first year i had a hard time making friends and you saw me struggling in the caf when i sprained my wrist so you offered to help me cut up my food and i thought it was weird but it was the first time a stranger showed me care in such a specific way now i always feel cared for with you and it's nice so thanks for being you and happy bday‘.

Jack’s was a lion. Below the paper mane Lana wrote ‘NOT UGLY’ in small, block font, almost fashioned like a collar. The paper was faded black and white, referee striped -- tribute to his time coaching little league. Unfolded, it says: ‘dearest cousin Dominic, you are my favorite cousin even when you peed on me that one time at the beach because you said it would keep the jellyfish away. thank you for always throwing the football around with me and even being okay with it if i threw it too hard and it hit your nose and made it bleed and we had to tell my dad you tripped over a rock. happy birthday let’s get fucked! Love Your Best Friend, Jack Hall :P’.

Will’s was a shark, folded from paper slicked to look like an oil spill, gleaming in the light -- dark and technicolour, all at once. Lana drew sunglasses over the eyes. ‘sorry i tried to dye your hair purple that one time. you're kind of great even if statistically you shouldn't be since you're an RA. that's fucking bizarre of you, by the way. you seem to be one of those people that's genuinely good which is also fucking bizarre but i figure if anyone around here deserves a good year, it's you. happy fucking birthday don't die xoxo‘

Marla’s was a pigeon. Oxblood red. She wanted a vicious city-dwelling creature that feasted on the flesh of abandoned McDonald’s fries. ‘you are more worthy than a thousand plates of ikea meatballs. you can seize life by the balls. the meatballs. extended meatball metaphor. you are a leaf floating on an amber river. you are a cherry blossom caught in a ceiling fan. if auras existed yours would be INCREDIBLY fucking sexy. you will live a long life and father approximately 333.3 children.’

Noah’s was a sky blue dog with a doodled strand of wheat from it’s mouth. ‘hey man happy birthday :) not to get all sappy but im really grateful to know you. don't know if luck is real but if it is, hope this brings you some of the best of it there is’. A drawing of a little four leaf clover after the message.

There was a thirteenth string without anything attached and Lana almost took it as an omen of how unlucky it was, her opening up in this way, how much she’d come to see it as a curse. But she held it in her hands, anyway. A swan as white as the Betta fish she’d pointed out as him at the aquarium. Wishing star white. Whiter than an angel. The most Dom paper she could think to fold it from, when she woke up and realised she’d been dreaming about him. 

“Hey,” she breathed with a laugh, cat burglar caught with the ruby in gloved hands. By all practical accounts, she’d broken and entered. “Charmed my way in. Wanted to, um... Was meant to be a surprise, like, an in and out job, and... I told some other RA Gunner left his inhaler here and he went all crazed, like, Action Man, whipping out a master key. Totally Oscar worthy. Should probably... let him know Gunner isn’t dead, later, but. Wanted to give you your present. It’s, um... I mean, it’s everyone,” came as she sifted gently at Philly’s caterpillar, smile bubbling to the surface. “I got them all to write you stuff. It isn’t, like, crazy, or anything, but.” Lana wet her lips, excitement overflowing -- she couldn’t seem to smother her smile. “This... is mine.” That did it. It faded as her eyes dropped. She pinched the swan delicately in both hands, then, blood rushing in her ears -- it provided amusing contrast, the coy blush in her cheeks with the devil horns she’d slid into her hair, a costume nobody had asked for. “Kinda wrote it... a while ago. It’s -- I don’t know,” she second guessed, laughing again at how dumb she was sure she sounded. Gestures like this always scared her, when she really meant them, felt like far too much. “You can read it, if you wanna.” @domfm​

[angrylizardjacket]

let us cling together {Roger Taylor}

aka: we only see each other at weddings and funerals

A/N: aydtd 'verse. my grandfather died on Friday and yesterday was his funeral, and this came to me. I just want to appreciate the concept of family, not all family, because sometimes family is shitty and terrible, but sometimes they're pretty alright. Anyways. death and funeral tw !!

1. Douglas Clarke

Ash isn't invited to her father's second wedding, not that he would know where to send the invite. Her parents had split in the early 80s, polarised by the fight between Minnie and Ellie, their youngest twin daughters. What followed was a messy divorce, both parents sinking deeper into their alcoholism, and, according to a disgusted Minnie, their father dating a slue of co-eds from the college where he taught. By the time he has one stick around long enough to marry, the only family member Ash is speaking to is Minnie, and Minnie's close to not even going herself.

"Mum's right furious Oscar was invited, but she's also right furious she wasn't," Minnie tells Ash over coffee. Ash, thirty-two and secretly high, nods, before taking a long sip of her hot chocolate, "honestly the woman plays jump rope with her indignance, she'd be insufferable either way." Minnie sighs dramatically, swirling her own mostly finished drink.

Their father's new fiance is the same age as Minnie, only twenty-four, and it's one thing on the considerable laundry list of reasons most of the family is considering boycotting the wedding. Minnie has her own personal reasons, mostly relating to her twin sister marrying her ex and bringing him, and their children, to the wedding, but Ash just nods sympathetically, and tries not to act as out of it as she feels. She hasn't been legally disowned, but for all intents and purposes, she was no longer a Clarke.

Minnie rants and rambles about the family Ash has forsaken, and Ash finds herself grateful that she doesn't have to deal with any of the drama anymore.

A few weeks after the wedding, Ash and Minnie go for coffee, and Minnie brings a photo of the wedding party.

Ellie's had twins. Their older brother, Oz, is clearly going through a divorce. August was their father's best man, and the new bride looks smug.

Ash is glad she dodged that bullet of an event.

The marriage doesn't last long in the grand scheme of things, but it doesn't end how Ash had expected it to. At thirty-five, she's touring with Queen again, with Roger again, and the last thing she expects is a call from her sister to say her father died in his sleep.

It's not as if she's celebrating, she's not heartless, she's just... not sure where she fits into the picture. Minnie invites her to the funeral.

She doesn't give an address. She watches, blank faced, as his wife chokes on her eulogy, and Ellie, there to support her, reads for her despite her own tears. They read off the names of his family, his relatives, and Ash's name at the end sounds almost begrudging as it leaves Ellie's lips. It's here that Ash finally learns his wife's name, Lynn, and she contemplates how strange it is that she'd never learnt it before.

It's here Ash learns a lot of things. Unsure of her emotions as she sits alone at the wake, not crying, not doing... anything. She's not even high but everything feels like static in her mind.

"Ashley?" Everyone calls her Ashley here, it makes her skin crawl. Her only goal is to not get in a shouting match, and so far she's managed to avoid her mother, and August, so she's doing pretty well.

It's Lynn, who hugs her like she's family, and introduces Ash to the little brother she didn't know she had.

Douglas Jr is two. He doesn't have Lynn's eyes, but Ash can't remember what her father's looked like.

"I bet that pissed Oz off to no end." Ash says without thinking, and Lynn's face reflexively scrunches. Ash hasn't even spoken to Oz, she's barely spoken to anyone apart from Minnie, who still wasn't speaking to Ellie or their mother.

Lynn doesn't know what to say, and leaves before Ash can say anything to the kid with Lynn's blonde hair and painfully familiar bright green eyes.

The next person to sit with her is a ginger teen trying to hide the fact that he's eating a brownie.

"Hi," Ash, frowning a little, greets the boy with flat confusion. He looks familiar, but so does everyone, Ash is just as likely to be related to any of the gingers present as she isn't.

"Huh?" Mouth full of brownie, the kid looks surprised that she even acknowledged him.

"Who are you related to?" Ash asks, because is Ash knew anything, it was that her father barely tolerated his own children as children, and no child would come to a wake of their own accord. Maybe Ash should pay more attention. She doesn't want to be here.

"Os-" the kid swallows his food before starting again, "Oscar Clarke; Doug was my grandad." He explains, and Ash can feel her voice freeze in her throat. She looks at the kid, really looks at him, and sees her brother in his eyes, his cheekbones, his lanky frame.

"You're," she hesitates, frowns, tries to remember what Minnie told her, "you're Allen?"

"Who are you?" The kid scowls, and quickly takes another bite of his obviously stolen snack.

"I'm Ash... ley. I'm Ashley." She says, and it sounds strange, it's the first time she's used that name in over a decade.

"Oh." Allen seems a little confused, and he shoves the rest of the cake just as a young girl hollers his name.

"Allen you're a thief and a rotten feckin' -"

"Jackie!"

Ash, even after all this time, knows that voice. It's been sixteen years since she'd seen her brother in person, and he's changed so much overall, but the longer she looks, the more she recognises him.

And he's coming towards her.

"Mind your language Jacks," Oscar tells the girl who yelled, and who was now, sulkily accompanying him to where Ash and Allen were sitting, "we'll get you more brownie, biscuit." He assures, before fixing Allen with an exasperated look. "You could've just asked Nan for another-"

"Nan would rather feed me Pop's rotting left foot-"

"You're so gross," Jackie wrinkles her nose, and Ash actually laughs. Oscar finally, finally looks at her.

"Hi, sorry, I'm -" he offers his hand, but falters, brow creasing in a frown.

"It's been a while, Oz," Ash swallows hard, and Oscar, gentle, tall Oscar, who had already spent a considerable amount of time with his eyes tear stained, notices his vision clouding at the sight of his little sister.

"Ashley."

He looks at her like he can't believe she's real, and for the first time all day, Ash cries. He's different, now almost forty, with wrinkles, crows feet and laugh lines, and so many freckles. His hair is shorter than she remember it, but he still keeps his beard to stubble.

It still feels the same when he hugs her.

She's stiff, conflicted, in her mind there's a disconnect; she's missed him so much, but she still hears him, all those years ago, calling her a homewrecking who're. She doesn't hug him back.

"Who's she?" Jackie whispers loudly to Allen, who shrugs. Oscar's smiling gently as he pulls back, and he wipes at his eyes.

"Jackie, Allen, this is your Aunt, Ashley." He explains, and something catches in Ash's throat.

"Auntie 'Ashley-Who-We-Don't-Talk-About'?" Jackie asks, matter-of-factly, and Ash actually laughs a little at that, though Oscar looks a little guilty.

"Ashl-" he chokes on her name, "Ace, these are my kids, Allen and Jaquelyn."

Ash greets the children, smiles and shakes their hands, and a strange little silence falls over them. No-one knows quite what to say.

"So," Ash finally breaks the silence with a sly smile, "Douglas Junior is a thing." Oscar laughs, loud and bright and so familiar.

"I'm just glad I dodged that bullet."

2. Mikayla McGreggor [nee. Clarke]

Minnie marries a highschool history teacher named Oliver, and Ellie's not invited.

Ash knows from being on the peripheries of Minnie's planning that the family is being a pain to organise, between Ellie being banned, Lynn not wanting to come if their mother was coming, and their mother kicking up a stink about everything and nothing every five minutes. Ash, for her part, is easy comparatively, and just works diligently away where she agreed to alter the wedding dress.

The most stressful part of the situation is that Ash is heavily pregnant, and most of her family don't even know. Though she exchanges letters with Oscar now, and he knows she's engaged, she won't give up her connection to Queen for the lingering fear that it might be used against her somehow. Old habits die hard, after all.

Ash isn't part of the wedding party, not out of malice, but of consideration; neither Minnie nor Oliver wanted go put her under any sort of stress. So Ash happily sits in one of the back rows of the church, Roger by her side, watching proudly as her sister gets married.

The wedding itself was fairly dry, though the reception was quite the party. Oscar's the first to find Ash after everyone had finished eating and the band had begun playing. He's halfway through introducing himself to Roger before he finally looks at him, looks at Roger's charming smile and how he'd extended his hand to meet Oscar's, and his voice dies in his throat, eyes going wide.

"Roger," he introduces himself easily, "a pleasure to meet you."

Oscar regains his composure easily, though Ash still thinks she should have warned him. Or Roger, maybe. Though Roger knew what he was getting into, he actually thought it was rather funny.

The reception is a ridiculous family affair; Ash's mother corners her in the bathroom to slur her way through calling Ash a whore for being pregnant and unmarried. It appears their family's painfully traditional values did not die with their father. Much to both Ash and her mother's surprise, Ash isn't actually bothered. Ellie crashes the party about an hour and a half in, in the middle of the maid of honor's speech, to give a tearful apology, to which Minnie bursts into tears and accepts on the spot.

"I like your family," Roger says with the barest amusement.

"That makes one of us," Ash grimaces, taking another sip of soda, though it is sweet to see Ellie and Minnie spinning around the dance floor like they did when they were kids. Minnie's new husband looks so damn endeared by the sight. Roger's smile only widens.

"Your nephew has my poster on his wall," He actually sounds proud, and Ash can't help but press a smile to his shoulder.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he got them off of Oz," Ash snickers, leaning into Roger who had his arm around her. "Thank you for coming to this with me, Rog," Ash's voice turns gentle, as does her smile when his gaze meets hers. He kisses her softly instead of answering, his hand coming to rest on her round belly, and Ash, for the first time in her memory, feels content while surrounded by family.

3. Ash Taylor [nee. Clarke Mercury]

Ash doesn't invite her mother to her own wedding. She doesn't invite Lynn either. All her siblings (and their spouses and their children) are invited, and her mum's right furious, even moreso when she learns that Freddie's mother is going to be giving Ash away.

Freddie himself is gaunt and sickly, but he stands proudly as Ash's best man, tears welling in his eyes as he smiles brightly at his surrogate sister as she walks down the aisle. Minnie is Ash's only bridesmaid, while Brian and John stand, beaming, behind Roger.

Astrid, Ash and Roger's first daughter, all of four years old, chaotically and haphazardly throws her flower petals like grenades where she leads the procession down the aisle, and wears her empty basket like a helmet for the duration of the ceremony. Meanwhile, the newborn Cate was carried by John's eldest, who also took responsibility.

The wedding, as well as the reception, is a star studded affair, and Ash's little and painfully Scottish family is more than a little overwhelmed. They all know in a roundabout way that Ash is well connected, but they'd never really realised the extent.

She's midway through a conversation with Oscar when Bernie Taupman kisses both of her cheeks and thanks her wryly for keeping John Reid off the guest list.

"That was for Freddie's benefit as much as it was Elton's," she answers, and Bernie snorts a laugh, while Oscar's gone starry-eyed. Oscar had recently come out to the family, which almost made Ash cry. He'd been so worried that she was angry or disappointed, until she quickly blurted that she was bisexual. She knows the look in her brother's eyes all too well, and he apparently had the same taste in men as Ash. Even if Bernie wasn't interested in men like that, it was still polite to introduce the two of them.

"Bern, this is my older brother, Oscar." She introduces fondly, and Oscar's expression fades to a grin as he holds out his hand.

When Doc McGhee passes on best wishes from Tommy Lee 'well, all of Motley Crue, but especially Tommy', Ash laughs lightly, thanking him, while Minnie and Jackie take a moment to fangirl once he leaves.

"I didn't take either of you for Motley fans," Ash admitted. Minnie shrugs, says she likes all sorts of music, and Jackie explains that Allen's going through a metal phase, and so she was to, by virtue of him always blasts his music loud enough for the whole house to hear. Ash had noticed that; he'd recently shaved his head, pierced his nose, and put a safety pin through his ear, though Ash quite liked the look on him.

Speaking of Allen, he was deep in conversation with Rob Reiner, just as starry-eyed as his father as he picked the director's brains.

"So how did you meet Ash and Roger?" The kid finally asks, and the renowned director smiles a little.

"I asked Ash to work on Spinal Tap with me-"

"No way! Ash worked on Spinal Tap?" Allen almost gasped, and Reiner nodded, endeared by the excitable teen.

It's here that the family comes to realise that for all they have gotten to know her since she'd allowed them back into her life, they don't know what she does beyond a vague mention of 'costumes'.

Ash doesn't notice her family's growing respect the more they integrate themselves with the other guests, she's too wrapped up in enjoying the night with Roger.

4. Oscar Clarke

Like almost all deaths in Ash's life, her brother's comes as a shock. Freddie passed almost a year and a half ago, and her son was born barely a month ago, and at three in the morning on a Sunday, she receives a distraught call from Ellie.

She'd known Oscar was sick, but he never liked talking about that sort of thing. Perhaps he was trying to protect her, but she hadn't even known he was in hospital.

Jackie bawls at the funeral, and won't let go of Allen. Their mother, Oscar's ex-wife, was kind-faced and gentle as she hugged each of Oscar's sisters in turn. Their mother was nowhere to be seen, a bigot to the last.

Ash and Roger sit in the front row, reserved for family, and Minnie is holding Ash's and Ellie's hands so tight it's painful, weeping silently. It doesn't feel real, it feels like she's moving in suspended animation, like moving through honey, nothing makes sense. Jackie is audibly sobbing where she clings to her brother's arm while he delivers a choked up speech about his father's life. Allen looks so much like Oscar.

Astrid and Cate don't quite know what's going on, but they know to be quiet, and baby Barney, barely a month old, starts screaming halfway through the eulogy, and Ash feels it deep in her bones. Roger offers to take him outside, but Ash shakes her head, standing and walking him outside. Ash holds Barney close as she rocks him. And that's how her sisters find her, crying quietly, clutching her son as his own cries subside.

The three women sit in the grass and take quiet solace in each other, their family having gotten just that bit smaller.

[peaceisadirtyword]

Puppy (Ivar/Reader)

A/N: I told you Ivar would be back soon. 

I wrote this in two hours while pretending to study at the library and I thought I’d post it because it’s cute (I think) and because I’m in need of fluff and love in my life. This was an idea I had and then @ivarsrideordie approved of it and I knew I had to write it. So here it is, the side of Ivar that loves dogs. I might have carried away a bit with this one so forgive me if it’s weird. Also please forgive any mistakes I might have had, English is not my first language and I wrote this while high on coffee and too stressed. And I hope I didn’t wrote Ivar to ‘out of character’.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy it💖

Warnings: Attempt of fluff and too much cuteness, Ivar is a bit jealous of a dog, plot twist at the end (not really), exams are killing me and I can’t write decent things.

Words: 2531 (I definitely got carried away)

gif belongs to @ivar-theboneless I love his facial expressions someone give Alex an Oscar or something 

He sighed, losing his patience. Whenever he felt someone or something was bothering him, he just yelled at someone, usually Hvitserk, and then he could be in peace again. At least for a while. 

But this time yelling wasn't enough. 

He had been following him all day, wagging his tail and running happily after him, no matter how many times Ivar tried to scare him off by trying to hit him with his crutch, the fucking mutt would start playing with him, and even nibbling his shoes. 

"For Odin's sake" he growled, noticing the dog was waiting for him, sitting just outside the Great Hall. Immediately, the pup barked happily, wagging his tail to greet him... Even if he had only been inside for ten minutes. 

"It's just a dog, Ivar" Hvitserk laughed, seeing his grumpy little brother trying to get away from the pup "Are you going to give it to Y/N?" 

"This thing is not going anywhere near my home" Ivar clenched his jaw.

"Well then don't let her see it" Hvitserk took a bite of an apple he had stolen from the kitchen "She'll want to keep it"

"Leave!" he roared to the little dog, which looked at him with real puppy eyes, tilting his head to one side. It looked like he was smiling. 

Ivar scoffed. Of course the fucking animal didn't move. 

Everything started in the morning, when he left the small house he shared with you to meet his brothers in the Great Hall. He was still eating some bread that remained from the rushed breakfast he had had, and when he stepped outside, he spotted a hungry little dog who was snuggling up in a corner. As he was in a good mood (you had woke him up straddling him and kissing his neck), Ivar just tossed the bread in front of the dog. 

The worst idea he could have ever had.

The pup had looked at him as if he was seeing a God, and since then he had been following Ivar around. Luckily, he had been able to keep him outside the Great Hall, and hoped to do the same when he entered home. 

"He seems to like you" Hvitserk found the situation too amusing "Poor thing, he doesn't know what's getting himself into"

"Shut up, Hvitserk"

"Come on, how many beings in this world like you, Ivar? Without being members of your family or Y/N, that poor girl had an accident when she was a child and now look at her, married to you... But this dog seems perfectly normal to me... You should be nicer to those who accept and love you as who you are"

"Hvitserk, shut your mouth or I'll make the dog rip your balls apart"

His brother chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well, I'll let you and your friend alone, I have things to do and I'm sure you have new tricks to teach to him... See you later"

Ivar glared at him as he disappeared into the Great Hall, with that annoying smirk of his on his lips. 

Ignoring the dog, he started walking home. His legs were giving him a hard time that day, and he had been busy all morning. He needed a hot meal, some ale and cuddle with you in front of the fire. Oh how he'd love to spend the rest of the day with you, naked under the furs. 

He sighed in relief when he reached the door. It smelled really good and he was almost sure you had cooked his favorite soup. 

Gods, what did he do to deserve you?

Of course, the dog was still behind him. He was even more excited now, and Ivar figured it was because of the smell. 

"Okay, now I'm serious" Ivar looked at the animal lifting a finger "Y/N cannot see you because she'll want to keep you, so stay here and don't make any noise... Or better, go away" he scoffed, opening the door. He managed to keep the dog outside. 

"Ivar!" you squealed, hugging him tightly and kissing his lips softly "I missed you, how was your day love?" you helped him to take off his furs, ignoring his confused stare. 

"Tiring" he frowned "Yours?"

It's not like you never looked excited to see him, but not that much. 

You reminded him of the pup he left outside. 

"Boring" you bit your lip. As you hadn't been feeling well these past weeks, you weren't able to go out and train with your sword or walk around the forest "I visited Floki and Helga though, you should go soon too, they think you've forgotten about them"

Ivar nodded. He'd love to visit Floki, but there was so many things to do in Kattegat he couldn’t find the time. 

"Do we have some herbs?" he asked, moving to the bed to sit down and give his legs a rest.

You frowned, worried. 

"Are you in pain?" your genuine worry made Ivar smile a bit. Only you and his mother actually cared about his pain "I think we have some left... I'll prepare them for you, come on sit down and eat" you pointed to one of the chairs next to the table. 

Ivar was honestly surprised. Usually, you'll greet him lovingly, kissing him and asking him about his day, you would often cook, but usually you just brought back some leftovers from the Hall, as you didn't like to stay at home all day. 

Well he wasn't going to start complaining now. 

As he sat and started eating the soup you served him, you prepared the herbs the healer gave to you to ease Ivar's pains. Just when you finished and put the infusion in front of him, something started scratching the wooden door. 

Ivar pressed his lips together as you looked at the door, confused. 

"Did you hear that?" you frowned. 

"I didn't hear anything" he shrugged "It was probably the wind though"

You didn't believe him, but served a bowl of soup for yourself and started eating, eyeing the door suspiciously.  

Then the scratching was more intense, and this time it was accompanied by a loud wailing that made you gasp and Ivar roll his eyes. 

Quickly, you got up and practically ran to the door, opening it. 

Immediately, the dog entered the house, running happily to sit next to Ivar. Again.

"Ivar!" you squealed in delight "It's a puppy!"

"Yes, I can see that, Y/N" he sighed "He had been following me all day, it's annoying"

You ignored him, closing the door and bending down to pick up the pup, which squirmed against your body, wiggling his tail.

"Aw, he's so cute Ivar" you smiled widely, giggling when the dog licked your face "Why didn't you let him in? He must have been freezing outside" you pouted, hugging the animal against your chest. 

"I don't want him in my house" he glared at the dog, which was making himself comfortable by leaning his little head on your chest.

You looked at him with puppy eyes, and he quickly looked away, knowing he could never tell you no if you looked at him like that.

"But he must be hungry, and cold, and... He's so small and cute" you bit you lip "And he likes you" 

"He's a dog, Y/N, I don't want dogs in here, they are noisy, hairy, they only eat and shit and they smell awfully"

"Are you describing the dog or one of your warriors?" you bit your lip to hold back a laugh and he glared at you "Sorry, love, but I'm sure this little one has more manners than your men"

"Y/N, I'm serious" he clenched his jaw "I said no animals in this house, get rid of him or I will"

You widened your eyes, hugging the pup even more tightly, trying to protect him. 

"Please, Ivar" you pouted "I'll take care of him, I'll make sure he doesn't bother you... Look at him, he's a baby and he's alone, if we let him out in the cold he'll die" your eyes were full of tears now, and Ivar rubbed his eyes, sighing.

"I knew this would happen" 

"Is that a yes?"

"No" 

"Come on, Ivar" you whined "Please"

He breathed deeply, turning his head to look at you. You and the dog were looking at him, begging him.

"Would it make you happy?"

"What?" you frowned

"If we keep him" he said "Would that make you happy?"

"Yes" your eyes lit up "Yes, it would make me the happiest person alive, Ivar"

"Okay" he closed his eyes, not believing his own words "We'll keep him, but if he gives any problems I'll kick him out, is that clear?"

"Thank you!" you squealed kissing his cheek with a bright smile "You're the best, I love you"

The pup looked happy, too.

"Can we call him Hvitserk?" Ivar smirked. If he had to put up with that hairy beast, he'd at least would have some fun. 

"Ivar, that's rude"

"Come on, it's funny" he rolled his eyes "Okay, you name him, but now put him down, we're eating and it's gross"

You shook you head, sighing, but let the pup down and got up to wash your hands before putting your bowl away, not really hungry. 

After taking the herbs, Ivar was always sleepy, so it didn't surprise you when he started yawning and rubbing his eyes. You had been busy cleaning up and were feeling a bit tired too, so when you finished up you laid down onto the bed, waiting for Ivar to join you for a nap. 

The puppy, which had eaten three entire plates of meat and had been laying next to Ivar (who you'd caught stroking the dog twice), ran quickly to you, jumping up to snuggle up against your chest and placed his head on your breasts, licking your fingers when you scratched his ears. 

"Oh no, you don't" Ivar's voice startled you but made the dog wiggle his tail excitedly "Look, mutt, you're sleeping on the floor, so get out of my bed and leave my wife's breasts alone, that's my territory, you little fucker" he said, making you laugh "Come on, I'm the one cuddling her, not you"

"Ivar, leave him alone" you smiled softly "It's the first day... I'll prepare a bed for him with some furs for tonight, I promise"

He sighed.

"Okay, but get him away from there" he tried to get the dog away from your chest.

"Ivar could you please stop trying to argue with the dog because of my breasts?"

"I'm the one who sleeps leaning onto your breasts, Y/N, and no dog or man shall take my place there"

You sighed, but put the dog away softly, making his head rest on the mattress. 

"Happy?"

"No, but it's a start" he shrugged stubbornly, laying down on the bed next to you.

"Thank you, Ivar" you smiled at him when he turned to face you "I love you"

"I love you too" he said back, smiling softly. Your stomach fluttered and you bit your lip. Only you got to see that side of Ivar, the real Ivar who actually liked dogs. 

You leaned in to kiss him, but the dog's nose got in your way, and Ivar received a lick on the face instead the kiss he was expecting. 

He growled and you laughed, cleaning his face with the sleeve of your dress.

"Gods, I hate him"

"No, you don't" you giggled "Let's get some sleep, love"

A couple of hours later, you came back home, closing the door quietly in case Ivar was still sleeping, and sighing in relief when you saw him laying on the bed.

You took off your furs and coat and approached the bed, smiling when you found Ivar cuddling the puppy with his face buried into the dog's fur. Your new friend was also asleep, but he soon woke up, greeting you excitedly. 

As much as you tried to keep him still so he wouldn't wake Ivar up, your husband opened his eyes, startled. 

"Sorry" you apologized, biting your lip "I didn't mean to wake you up"

"It's fine" he answered with a beautiful, husky voice that made you shiver "Where were you?" 

"I had to buy some things" you shrugged "And you looked like you needed some rest, so I didn't wake you"

The puppy then pawed at your arms, asking you silently to take him in your arms. Which you did happily, kissing his little head. 

"I'll cook something for dinner" you smiled, putting the dog down and walking to the kitchen.

"I admit that the mutt is not that bad" Ivar shrugged "At least is warm... And it's like having a baby, isn't it?"

You froze, biting your lip and instinctively putting your hands on your belly. 

"Yeah, something like that" you muttered, and cleared your throat "Now you can get some practice" you turned around, facing him "You'll need it" you smiled nervously, hoping he would catch the hint.

Ivar's head snapped up, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Y/N, what...?"

"I wasn't sure, and i didn't want to tell you before knowing it for sure..." your heart started beating faster and faster "I went to talk to Helga this morning and asked her to come with me to the healer... And I just came back"

"Y/N are you serious?" Ivar had gotten up and was approaching you, leaning onto his crutch.

"Yes, I... I'm pregnant" you bit your lip, looking away at the verge of tears "That's why I haven't been feeling well these past days... I've been carrying our child for weeks"

He stopped right before you, but you didn't dare to look at him in the eye, scared of his reaction. 

"Y/N..."

"Are you mad at me?" your voice trembled, and Ivar frowned, putting his hand on your cheek and making you look at him. He was crying, too.

"My beautiful, innocent wife, how could I be mad at you when you just gave me the most wonderful news ever?" he pressed his forehead against yours "Thank you, Y/N, I love you more than anything in this life, I truly do, even if I don't show it very often" you smiled at him, putting your arms around his neck and kissed his lips.

"I love you too, Ivar" you buried your face on the crook of his neck, hugging him tightly "We're going to have a child" 

"Yes" you could hear the happiness on his voice, and it made you smile widely "We are" his hand caressed your belly and he smiled again "We have to celebrate... Sit down" he made you sit on the chair, and you frowned, confused "Come on, Thor, let's make dinner for mom, alright?" he smiled to the puppy, who barked excitedly.

"Thor?" you raised a brow, biting your lip to hold back a smile.

"Yes, if we're keeping this mutt, we're naming him after one of the most powerful Gods... I'll have a collar made for him with the shape of Mjolnir"

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @thisisparadisemylove @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @chimera4plums

I hope you liked it! On Friday I’ll post the next part of Secrets so prepare for the drama

P.s. the gif is Ivar’s mood with Thor, though all of us know he loves him.

[sandrawrites13]

hiding and fist fight | | day nine

“ be careful making wishes

                                                                                                   in the dark. . . ”

welcome to day nine of the thirty-one days of horror! i’ve decided i’m going to include a quote from a song that you can listen to while reading for more of a spooky effect. the quote you read above is by fall out boy and is called my songs know what you did in the dark.

which, brings me right into the ninth prompts, hiding and fist fight. following reader and erin hannon from the office. 

triggers: SHOOTING, a fight, fist fight, violence, near death, oc! luna, fear, and uh character deaths maybe idk nvm

it all started amongst how other things start. 

jim and dwight. 

you weren’t really a part of the debate that was going on, since you were on a coffee run with pam (who was eager to go running out with you, claiming mindlessly about “cece always keeping her from running around”). 

all you know is that when you returned, you were pretty much immediately thrown into a giant fight and you were forced to pick sides. 

on one hand, there was dwight who for sure did nothing to cause such a heated dispute to break out, and on the other side there was jim, who most certainly did. 

so, of course, you sided with jim. but you didn’t say that to them. you said it in your head, or to erin while you stood at her desk, laughing at the two of them duke it out. 

dwight had stood up with sticky notes all over his back, getting in jim’s face, who seemed unphased. luna, your best friend, stood chuckling, holding onto her boyfriend’s arm. “dwight, just calm down,” she said, coughing back a laugh. 

“no, you calm down! you better stop this jim!” 

“stop what?” he asked nonchalantly. “not my fault you’re in a sticky situation.” 

and that right there, my friends, that send dwight shrute off the edge. 

he growled, ripping off the sticky note that was on his chest and throwing it (and failing to) dramatically to the floor, before getting in front of jim’s face and pushing him. 

jim feigned hurt, even putting a hand over his head. “oh, woes me. not that, dwight. don’t do that!” 

dwight, unamused, growled before once again pushing him, this time over luna, who unsuspectingly tripped him and actually sent him down to the ground with a thump. 

you jumped back in surprise, a hand over your mouth as you collapsed in giggles from the sight before you. it was when luna yelled out his name you realized that something went wrong. 

“for fuck’s sake, dwight!” she shouted, helping him to sit on the floor, some blood on her hands. “he hit his head!” 

“it’s fine,” he mumbled out, groaning. “i think i have to go to the hospital, though.”

everyone in the office screamed similar things: “dwight!” “idiot!” “what the fuck?” “did anyone see my candy bar?” 

the latter was from kevin, of course. 

“i’ll take him to the e.r.,” luna said, putting her hands up, “i can’t believe you did this, dwight. you went too far.” 

dwight shook his head, “i just reassured my statement as alpha male.” 

psh. as if. you knew jim was the real alpha male. 

“whatever? who cares?” you asked. “just get him to the hospital! do you need help?” luna looked over to you, shaking her head as she rushed jim out of the room. 

“thanks, y/n. we’ll give you an update.” 

“drive safe!” screamed erin and pam at the same time, earning a small chuckle from dwight as he scoffed. erin turned to you, her smile faded. “you think he’s alright?” she asked. 

“he’s fine,” you reassured with a smile. “another one of dwight’s things.” 

“this is more than a thing,” she riposted, but quieted anyway. “anyway. are you gonna actually do work or just stand here?” she asked, her smile returning as the phone rang. 

you rolled your eyes, walking back to your desk as your own smile came upon your face. 

=-= timeskip uwu =-=

about four hours passed before people started to leave. it was stanley, as usual, that initiated it, and then andy (who, despite saying he would never leave before his employees, always does), and then a few others. you, however, didn’t leave until erin left, and some people liked to stay late for the extra pay. 

currently, you were with erin, pam (of whom was waiting for the babysitter to get home from dinner with cece), angela, oscar, toby, and meredith. 

you were right about ready to leave when it happened. 

a loud bang that clouded your hearing and made you jump. for a minute, all of you just stared at each other, confused. and then there were haste footsteps up the stairs, followed by what you knew was gunshots.

erin jumped from her spot behind reception, standing and frozen like a deer in the headlights. 

“was that--?” pam was interrupted by more gunshots, now closer than ever. 

“close the door!” yelled oscar, instructing you. you jumped at the sound of his voice, running to the door to shut it. 

your hands were shaking, your heart beating out of your chest. “were those gunshots?” you ask, shakily. you look up to toby and oscar, petrified. 

“i need to get bandit!” cried angela, running to her desk. “he can’t hear this.” 

“everyone, we need to go in the conference room,” toby instructed quietly, in a hushed whisper. as soon as he said that, there was a loud bang on the door and you realized that this situation -- as crucial as it was -- was very real. 

you gasped, jumping back in the hindsight to scream before soft hands covered your mouth. “shhh,” erin whispered. “we need to go.”

you followed the group into the conference room, you in the middle of a breakdown, and following toby and oscar, who not only seemed like the most rational ones, but the bravest (which was odd, looking back at it). 

“oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” pam ranted off. “there’s no way that’s a shooter. there’s no--.” 

CRACK

in a loud and booming movement, the sound of the door being kicked open surrounded the office and clouded you in your adrenaline. meredith shut the door as silently and quickly as she could, ducking out of view from the windows. 

“everyone, get under the chairs so they can’t see us,” toby instructed, and you did as he told. 

“i don’t wanna die,” you whispered, wiping your tears, “this has to be a joke. this has to be dwight pranking us back.” 

“shhh, y/n,” oscar demanded. you sharply shut your mouth, not even realizing you were still holding onto erin’s hand until you were both under chairs together, your palms connected, both of you on your stomachs hidden from view by the chairs. 

you looked over at her, and she seemed petrified, but had no indication. it felt comforting to have her near you, but both your morale and your mindset wouldn’t allow you to think rationally for a moment. 

when you noticed the others, they were in the same regards. horrified, scared, oscar pulling out his phone to dial 9-1-1 while pam put her knees to her chest from behind her chair. 

toby was still, unmoving, and angela was holding onto bandit as if her life depended on it -- which, it very much could. under her breath she could be heard murmuring prayers, her eyes shut in her own personal talk with God. meredith seemed as content as could be, probably drunk and not even assessing the situation properly. 

on the outside, you could hear the intruder rummaging through the office. knocking computers down, going through your stuff, and every now and then -- shooting a gunshot up to the ceiling. 

you were in your own dilemma, praying, God, don’t let him come in here. you wanted more than anything for him to notice that all the doors were locked and for him to just leave on his own. 

but you were scared. 

you looked over to erin, and she locked eyes with you. your heart, beating out of your chest, just irrationality controlled your anxieties, prolonging them. you wanted to get out of this alive -- was that so hard? 

everything you had ever wanted to do was coming in flashes. everything you didn’t see. everything you wanted to eat, to look at, to watch. every person you wanted to talk to, to be friends with, to love.

“i’m scared,” you whispered to erin in the hushest tone you could manage. more of a lip-synch, that she had to figure out. “erin, i’m so scared.” 

“it’s going to be okay,” she whispered back, holding your hand even tighter. “just keep looking at me.” 

“i don’t want to die.” you wept, choking back a sob. she readjusted herself, holding your chin so you locked your eyes on her. 

“just. . . keep looking at me,” she instructed, more calming herself down than you. but you didn’t mind it, because even just staring inside of her icy eyes for however long could make all your anxieties turn to nothing but washed paper. 

when you heard the sound of boots on the outside of the conference room, you held your breath, staying completely silent. erin’s breathing, even if it was misplaced and uneven, was comforting that made you want to drown in her. 

without thinking, and partly out of fear, you leaned forward and kissed her slowly, tears streaming down your face. 

you just wanted to feel something good, even if it meant you were about to die. you didn’t care anymore. you just wanted to do it. 

she kissed back, and it made you happy, but you wouldn’t have felt regret anyway. fear makes you do crazy things. 

you didn’t care about anything in that moment. not even the fear of dying. you were so ready to go, but if you were going to go, you just wanted it to be when you were connected in her arms, finally doing what you wanted to do. 

you didn’t retract yourself from her, no matter how hard you tried. your eyes, swollen shut from tears, didn’t have to stay open to imagine her, and to see her, and to hold her. you were just there existing, kissing erin hannon. 

and it was beautiful, and terrifying at once. 

you didn’t stop until three minutes later, when you heard police sirens from outside the window and the sound of running from combat boots as they bolted out the front door of the office. 

the scent of horror and despondency filled the already thick air, and just when you wanted to tell yourself it was okay to let go and that the bad person was gone, you couldn’t. 

so she did. 

when she pulled away, you could see red stains under her eyes from her own tears, her face drained from any colour and a plastered look of only trembles rolling down her features. to the side of you were the rest of your friends, all shaking and in tears themselves, angela still mid prayer by the time the police finally came into the office and knocked heavily on the conference room. 

oscar jumped to his feet, glancing out the window a few times before he finally peered outside, creaking it open to see the serious and somber look of a man dressed in all blue, who instructed everyone outside. 

you followed immediately, nobody daring to speak. 

silently, you fell back into erin’s arms, collapsing as she held you, herself breaking down. 

and you broke -- with her. 

a / n - 

me: :( 

erin:

me: :) 

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Downton Court Hotel pt. 8

And now the part that I’ve we’ve all been waiting for!

No, seriously, I’ve had this drafted for over a month, maybe two.

This piece is dedicated to every art student who’s ever had to BS their way through a presentation on the colour field piece they did for the final in their painting class’s abstract section. Cheers!

Note: When I do get all of today’s spam up on Ao3, I will probably just post the link for pt. 6. Because spam.

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Characters: Thomas Barrow, Jimmy Kent, Peter Pelham

Relationship: Baxter/Molesley, canon pairings

Warnings: Resurrecting more characters! Play “spot the Maggie Smith” reference! Peter is a fluffy marshmallow!

https://bitletsanddrabbles.tumblr.com/post/184471088834/downton-court-hotel-pt-7

Thomas wasn't certain who it was who'd said "I may not know much about art, but I know what I like."  It was probably George Bernard Shaw or Oscar Wild or someone like that. Maybe Winston Churchill. All he could really say, standing in the hotel's dining room-cum-art gallery, was that he truly appreciated the sentiment. Mr. Carson had been rattling on at length about the virtues of the Marquess of Hexham's work to anyone within ear shot for a week solid, his words laden with solemn respect. If the listening party was Mr. Molelsey, only three days back from his honeymoon, one was certain to hear lively, pedantic replies on depth of colour and experimental art forms. Admittedly, it made a bit of a break from hearing about Paris, but there was still only so much of Mr. Molesley being pedantic one could take.

(Mrs. Molesley was better. Ask her how things went and she would shyly tell you about how Mr. Molesley had surprised her with tickets to the opera and she hadn't understood a word of it. Then she'd change the subject to the linens or some such.)

As far as Thomas was concerned, it looked like a paint store had thrown up on the room. With the exception of one or two pieces in black and white, each canvas was a riot of colour, some more harmonious than others. None of them contained what he would consider a 'picture' or even the semblance of one. Even definite 'shapes' were frequently lacking. There were, he thought, five year olds in the country who could do just as well. Then again, he supposed he'd seen calendars of five year old art here and there, along side art by cats and dogs, so someone with the money and title to attract attention shouldn't have too much trouble getting noticed.

He walked over to stand behind Jimmy who was finishing hanging a plaque next to one canvas (the staff had not been trusted to hang the art, only the descriptions) and asked. "So do you have any idea what any of this is supposed to be then?"

"I haven't been reading these things," was the reply. "Just hanging them."

Thomas cocked an eyebrow at the bellboy's disgruntled tone, but didn't reprimand him. It was, after all, rather late and well past when Jimmy would normally be off  having a drink and chatting up some girl or other. There was, however, a healthy dose of playful sarcasm in his voice as he replied, "Well then, what does that one say?"

Jimmy stepped back, looked at him, then at the picture. As with many of the others, there was no discernible picture, as such, just huge swatches of colour blending into each other. Leaning in to better see the rather small print, Jimmy read. "An exploration of the effect of colour and harmony as a reflection of the human psyche and a path to tranquility."

Thomas blinked, not quite certain to believe he'd heard properly.  He shook his head with a lopsided grin and asked, "Cor, what do you think all that means in English?"

An amused and unfamiliar voice answered him. "It means I painted pretty colours on the canvas while listening to smooth jazz, and it was very relaxing."

Turning abruptly, Thomas found himself facing a man just a bit shorter than himself, although about the same age. He had brown hair that needed a trim, blue eyes, an open face, and was wearing what struck Thomas as a very soft, comfortable looking jumper. There was just enough family resemblance with Lady Edith's fiance that, combined with the commentary, there was no doubt that this was Peter Pelham, sixth Marquess of Hexham.

"Why didn't you just say that, then?" Jimmy asked.

It earned him a laugh. "My dear boy, art critics are going to read that! You can't just give an art critic plain language, the poor things would shrivel up and die!"

Thomas and Jimmy both looked back and forth between the man and the painting, each exuding an air of utter confusion. Jimmy was the first to get up the guts to say something. "So, you're saying that all of the high toned language you read about with art is all pointless gibberish to make things sound posh?"

"Not all of it," Lord Hexham replied, walking over to stand next to them, his eyes on the painting. "There are definitely artists in all fields who paint to send messages and make statements on the world. Something that claims to be a commentary on the treatment of the working class by the Conservative Party, for instance, or the roll of women in Socialist society is likely exactly as billed. Similarly the photorealists who wind up in galleries rather than sketching people's portraits in malls have every right to talk about the years and difficulty of perfecting their craft and attention to detail. But process artists have a bit more difficulty getting taken seriously.

“Take my Study in the Style of Jackson Pollock, for example." He turned and gestured to another painting which looked very much to Thomas as if he'd simply thrown random colours of paint at a canvas. "As far as technique is concerned, all I did was splash paint at the canvas and see where it hit. Not much to talk about, really. A child could do it. But that type of abstract isn't really about technique so much as it is a study in chaos theory. What sorts of patterns will emerge? What sorts of emotions can you evoke? If you cover a ball in paint and throw it at the center of the canvas, will it hit there or someplace you hadn't intended and what sort of effect will that have?" He paused, then added with another of those wryly amused smiles, "Not to mention if you've just had a bad day it can be very cathartic."

Thomas looked around him with a bit more respect than he had earlier. "So basically, these were all experiments that came out the way you wanted them to?"

"More or less. I normally don't have any sort of end goal in mind for what I want things to look like, but I stop when I get something I like." Turning, the aristocrat held out his hand. "But we've not been properly introduced. I am Peter Pelham, Marquess of Hexham. And you are?"

"Thomas Barrow, night manager."

"A pleasure," Peter smiled at him, shook his hand, then turned his attention to Jimmy.

"James Kent," Jimmy replied in the formal manner Mr. Carson insisted on. "Bell boy."

"Does everything meet with your approval, Your Lordship?" Thomas asked in the same, prim tone, stepping into his professional role.

"Oof, please, call me Peter when I'm not 'on duty'," Peter winced, looking around the room. "One does get tired of being 'sired' and 'Your Lordshipped' on every little occasion. Save the formality for when the show opens and the press is here." He concluded his turn of the room, then walked over to one painting that was hanging perfectly straight on  the wall and pulled it off center so it hung slightly skee-jawed. "I prefer the way that one looks at a bit of an angle," he explained. "I expect people will forever be trying to straighten it, so if you could convince them not to I would appreciate it. Beyond that," he looked around again and nodded, "It's very nice. I approve." He gave them a smile from his seemingly endless supply. "Does this mean you can take a break now?"

"Well, it means James can clock off," Thomas allowed. Mr. Carson probably wouldn't have approved, but there was nothing left to be done here and the other man needed to sleep sometime. "I need to get back to my office. It's normally quiet this time of night, though, unless someone decides they want a midnight snack."

"Will you be here for the actual event?" The question was directed at both of them, but Thomas thought Peter looked a touch more in his direction. "I'd told Edith there needn't be a lot of fuss, but she made it sound like there would be anyway."

"If you have a title, Mr. Carson will make a fuss," Thomas assured him. "It will be all hands on deck, although you'll see James more than you will me. I'll stop past, but I'll be busy running things elsewhere."

Peter nodded. "In which case, I will see you two tomorrow. I hope you have a good night." Turning he walked to the door and picked up a large, rectangular package that Thomas immediately recognized as a painting.

His heart rate jumped. "Ah, Your Lor – er – Peter?" he called, causing the other man to pause and turn. He pointed to the package. "We've not forgotten one, have we?"

It took a moment for understanding to register with the other man, then he laughed. "Oh, no! This is just something Edith asked me to do as a present for her grandmother. It's considerably different than the works here." He gestured to the rest of the room "Would you like to see?"

The offer caught Thomas a bit off guard and he hesitated. Carson would probably not approve of their fraternizing with their betters, but as he couldn't imagine the Dowager Countess Grantham appreciating the Marquess's work, from what he'd seen of it, it was tempting to say yes. He glanced at Jimmy, who was obviously thinking something similar, and then yielded to temptation. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all," Peter assured, setting the canvas down and carefully working at the tape with his fingers. "I wouldn't want you both to go through life thinking my entire skill set was throwing buckets of paint around. Here, could one of you hold this up for me while I get the tape at the bottom?"

Jimmy stepped forward and between the two of them they worked the brown wrapping paper off the work. The painting, as promised, was nothing like the surrounding experimental abstracts. This canvas had a very definite, if stylized, image and reminded Thomas of art you might see on a post card. In the center stood a young woman with red hair who looked familiar although he couldn't quite place her. She was dressed in a plain white dress, like something out of a Greek play, and a gold band wrapped around her head. A wave was breaking behind her and a series of moons in different phases went along the top.

Jimmy whistled. "I may not know art, but I know what I like," he said, eying the painting with obvious appreciation. Thomas bit back the playful urge to ask if he meant the painting or the woman.

"Thank you. Now," Peter grinned, watching them out of the tops of his eyes. "Do you recognize who it is?"

The easy answer was 'no', but Thomas hated admitting when he was wrong. He particularly hated it when someone more educated and titled than he was rubbing his face in it so they could look superior, so, despite the fact that Peter seemed a lot nicer than most of the aristocrats he knew – right up there with Sybil, really – he had a crack at it. "She reminds me of that picture of the naked woman on the sea shell. Goddess of Love, wasn't it?"

"Ah, the Birth of Venus, yes," Peter nodded, clearly pleased with the answer. "Not a direct influence on this work, but I can see where you'd draw the comparison. She's actually Thetis, a relatively minor sea goddess. I wouldn't expect anyone who hasn't done some heavy study of mythology to recognize her. But I was meaning more the woman herself, the model. Edith says you've all met her." He paused and, receiving absolutely baffled expressions for his pains, explained, "It's Lady Violet Crawley, in her younger days. I believe most of my references were from her forties, if you could believe it."

Thomas had a bit of trouble believing it, but there again the image was stylized. That might have made her look a bit younger, not to mention the Crawleys, from what he'd seen, were graceful agers.

Jimmy was caught up on a different detail. "The Dowager Countess was a red-head?"

Peter nodded, "Indeed! She wore it well, don't you think?" He started packaging up the painting again, pulling the paper over it and pressing down on the tape. This time both Thomas and Jimmy went to help him. "Edith wanted a painting of her Grandmother as a younger woman, done in the style of the Art Nouveau movement of the 1920s. Alphonse Mucha is the best known and most often mimicked artist of the movement, so I thought of mimicking someone less overdone, but then again from what I know of the Dowager, she's the sort to appreciate the iconic."

"You've described her quite well," Thomas agreed. He did not add that he found it second to 'bloody old bat'. "And it's an impressive painting."

"Aren't artists supposed to find their own style, though?" Jimmy asked. "Be original, do their own thing, all of that?"

"To an extent, but really, people have been painting for millennia. There's not really anything 'new' left and unless you live in a bubble someone, someplace is going to influence your way of doing things." Peter pressed down the last of the tape, then stood, picking the painting up again. "Not to mention in order to learn a technique, you have to study the technique and the fastest way to impress upon people that you've got it down is to mimic someone who already did it. Art critics love this – you listen tomorrow, particularly when they get to the Pollock inspired piece." He nodded to the canvas he threw paint at. "They will dither on forever about capturing the intent and tone of the original artist."

"Well, looks like I certainly have something to look forward to." Jimmy gave a forced smile that threw his enthusiasm into question.

"It's entertaining if you look at it as sort of a social comedy," Peter assured him, blue eyes twinkling.  He definitely had the sort of eyes that twinkled. "Mocking the pomp and circumstance and all of that. But here, I am keeping you from a no doubt well deserved rest and Mr. Barrow from his office. I will bid you both a good night and let you get on with it." He smiled and nodded, accepted their respectful bows, then turned and left.

Once it was quite certain he was out of ear shot, Jimmy turned and looked around the room, muttering under his breath. "Well he's an odd duck, but I'll tell you, suddenly tomorrow looks a lot less boring."

[katie-dub]

The Princess of White Chapel (1/12)

Dr Killian Jones is having a terrible day. He’s got a mission, he’s got a time machine, he’s got … drunk. What could possibly go wrong?

AO3

Rated M for alcohol use, violence, minor character death, frank discussions of depression and grief

This is not a Millian fic, but their relationship is discussed and shown in a positive life, if that's not your bag, no hard feelings!

I’m beyond excited to finally share this story with you all for this year’s @captainswanbigbang! I feel like I’ve had this one sitting in my docs forever (forever, nearly two years, same difference), and I can’t wait to see what you all think.

The amazing @princesse-swan created my banner and has some stunning art to share with you while I’m posting. She’s so freaking talented and is the best cheerleader I could have ever hoped for - I don’t know how I got so lucky as to be paired with you lady! Give her some love, because she deserves all the flailing! You'll find her art for me here!

The fantastic @distant-rose and @ultraluckycatnd were my betas, sounding boards, muses and tireless defenders of the oxford comma. Ladies, I salute you!

I have approximately a million more people to thank for helping me to bring this to life, but to save this turning into an embarrassing, over-long, emotional mess like an ill-advised oscars acceptance speech, I’ll just leave your names here, you know what you did and I love you for it. @mahstatins @killiancygnus @phiralovesloki @icecubelotr44 @sambethe @winterbythesea @justanotherwannabeclassic @welllpthisishappening* @fluffandnonsense @belovedcreation @ladyciaramiggles and the ladies of the hub and the ISB.

*psssst it’s Laura’s birthday today! So this chapter is dedicated to her, and you should all go wish her a fabulous day!

A soft hand wrapping around his waist. A mess of tangled curls tickling his cheek. The scent of spices and sex filling his nose.

He kept his eyes closed, basking in the blissful sensations. Life with his love felt like the most perfect dream - and he wasn’t willing to give it up just yet.

“Killian,” a husky whisper in his ear, “Killian, darling, time to wake up now.” A nose nuzzling against the sensitive spot behind his ear, tickling him and making him twitch. Stubbornly, he squeezed his eyes together ever more tightly.

Sharp teeth biting down on his earlobe finally startled him enough to open his eyes. He turned to glare at Milah, forcing himself to hold her gaze so as not to be distracted by her many assets. She giggled at the look of exaggerated fury on his face, ducking down to his ear to whisper “Oops” before licking where her teeth had been.

Killian groaned as she trailed her lips and her tongue along his jaw, kissing, licking, and sucking as she went. His eyes closed as he revelled in the sensations left in her wake, his breath quickening and his pulse starting to race as she inched ever closer to his lips.

When she finally, torturously slowly, brushed her lips against his, he lost all patience. He growled as he tangled his hands into her hair, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. He rolled her onto her back and broke away, resting his forehead against hers as he caught his breath.

“You’ll be the death of me, my love,” he murmured, peppering Milah’s face with kisses.

“But what a way to go, aye?” was her teasing reply, the last of her words lost to a gasp as he began to kiss his way down her body.

Killian awoke from his dream, disoriented and disheveled, by the sound of his phone ringing. He fell off the sofa as he scrambled about to stop the incessant noise, knocking his elbow on the coffee table and sending a glass of water flying in the process.

“Bloody hell!”

God, he wanted to be back in that dream, a decade in the past where he was with Milah, in love, their naked bodies entwined. Alone, in pain, and wearing the contents of his drink on his now soggy shirt. This was his reality now.

He spotted the phone and grabbed it, barking “what?” as he stalked towards his kitchen for something to clean up the mess.

“Hi Killian,” Belle answered benignly. She always did have saintly levels of patience with his bullshit. “Just checking if you’re going to make it to book club tonight? We’re discussing Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman.” Killian glanced at the clock, 7:35. He was meant to be there… five minutes ago. Fuck. “And before you try fobbing me off by saying that you haven’t read the book and wouldn’t have anything to add anyway, you suggested this one Killian. In fact, you’re meant to be leading the discussion. I believe you said that it’s one of your favourites, a ‘modern classic’?” He could actually hear the air quotes he had no doubt Belle would do if they were together.

“Belle, I’m really sorry, it’s just something important came up.” He glanced at the letter lying on his coffee table, alongside a now nearly empty bottle of rum, his jaw clenching at the sight. “I just can’t tonight.” He winced as he waited for the inevitable backlash. Was she going to get angry? Guilt him with the weight of her crushing disappointment?

“Oh. That’s a shame. I really wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine. Maybe another time.”

Killian made a vaguely noncommittal noise in reply, wanting to rant at her for pushing him towards a new relationship. While Belle was kind enough to be so understanding about him bailing on her yet again, he didn’t feel like he could, but the rage simmered all the same.

“I've got to go, everyone’s waiting. Call me later?”

“Sure, Belle, bye.” Killian hoped he had sounded at least vaguely civil as he jabbed at his phone to end the call. He dropped it next to him as he slumped back against the sofa. Unconsciously, he began to play with the ring on the prosthetic that had replaced his left hand while he fumed silently at Belle’s presumption. When would they all understand that what he had with Milah couldn’t just be replaced? That he didn’t even want to try?

Perhaps if they understood his plans, they wouldn’t push him so hard. He didn’t need a replacement for Milah. He needed to save her. And he would.

So long as time hadn’t run out.

He picked up the letter that had driven him to drink until he passed out when he received it earlier that day. It had been a long time since he had spiralled like that and lost sight of his goal. He re-read the words, still in disbelief, somehow hoping a few hours would have changed their meaning. If it weren’t for the official King’s College London letterhead, he might have thought it was a wind up.

“Dear Dr. Jones,

It is with regret that we must inform you that, in line with the current economic troubles society is facing, we have made the decision to withdraw your funding at the end of the academic year.”

Killian couldn’t read any further. He knew who was behind this move. Bloody Gold, the beast who killed his Milah and took his hand, was still playing games with him. It was one of his favourite things to do: fuck with the man who fucked his wife.

He would never get over how having endless funds could apparently absolve you of any sin. That, combined with powerful allies (a mixture of establishment school friends and power-hungry fools who’d been suckered in by one-sided deals), made him untouchable. He had never even gone to court for his part in the death of his ex-wife and maiming of her lover. Killian’s protests of Gold’s guilt had been taken as merely the ravings of a man crushed by grief.

Everyone had indulged him kindly, until they hadn’t.

The principal and president of King’s College himself had come to Killian to explain how his vendetta against the eminent philanthropist harmed not only his future prospects but threatened his entire faculty’s continued existence. Gold’s generous grants were vital to the university, as he was reminded, and it wouldn’t do to upset the man.

So Killian had chosen to play the long game. Almost as soon as Milah was killed, he had sworn to himself that he would use his research to find a way to save her life. And after months of enduring Gold’s bullying, he had also made it his mission to destroy the man while he did it.

It was so much easier to smile and make nice where necessary when he could picture how he might one day rip Gold’s throat out.

Reductions in funding could be brushed aside as he enhanced his prosthetic so that it moved as fluidly as his remaining hand - and was more deadly than it could ever be. Academic papers that were blocked from publication without justification became but a minor nuisance as he trained to take on Gold’s henchmen. Applications for grants and proposals to present research that were denied were just mild irritations while he worked on the time machine that would bring all his plans to fruition.

Killian scrunched the letter up and threw it into the bin, then dragged his hand through his hair.

The end of the academic year. That was only one month away. He had one month to make his time machine work or 10 years of endless toil - and his only chance to save his love - would have all been for nothing.

He had been without his Milah for longer than he’d been with her now, but he still felt her loss as keenly as the night he lost her. The sound of her voice may be dimming in his memory, but the way she made him feel would never fade, his love for her would never die. At times, he felt as though Gold had reached right into him and ripped his heart from his chest back then. In its place was a black hole that allowed for no love, no joy and certainly no mercy.

Belle, Robin, Will, and the rest had no idea what they were dealing with when they tried to play matchmaker. When they tried to get him out of his shell and having fun. When they tried to make him live his life like a respectable member of society.

Oh, if only they knew.

Killian had always been a man of many vices: drink, gambling, sex. But then Milah had come along. She had changed him, had made him better. He still indulged, but in a socially respectable fashion and not with the crazed air of a man on the brink of destruction. When she died, he could practically feel his friends holding their breath, waiting for the wildfire to ignite. What they didn’t know - couldn’t know - was that he had something else to keep him going now: her rescue and his revenge.

His head felt fuzzy, the hangover from his earlier desperate binge already kicking in. This was why he had abstained. He couldn’t afford to feel like this. Not when Milah needed him.

He closed his eyes and remembered the first time he saw her.

His head was swimming after several hours of shots and pints and god knows what else. Yet, one look at her and everything became clearer. She was sat in a corner, looking lonely and nervous, glancing about furtively. She had looked up from her drink and caught his eye, smiling shyly and quickly looking away. She was stunning.

Then a brute of a man stepped between them.

Killian’s first thought had been sheer irritation at having his view of this goddess blocked. But then he noticed that the man had one hand on her shoulder, his grip harsh.

Killian hadn’t stopped to think before racing over to her. As he moved closer, he could see that his instinct about this man had been right: she looked anxious and annoyed.

He tapped the giant on the shoulder, smiling brightly at him when he turned around.

“Excuse me, would you mind letting go of this lovely lady?” Killian winked at her and was delighted to see a faint blush and a barely suppressed smile cross over her face. “Once you’ve done that, could you go… well, anywhere else?” Definitely not his wittiest line, but Killian was just impressed that he managed to sound clear and confident.

A confused expression crossed over the man’s face and he did indeed let the lady go. “Were you talking to me?”

“I’m sorry, did I talk too fast? You’ve managed to take your hand off the lady, excellent work. 10 out of 10 for that. Now all that’s left is for you to kindly fuck off.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Well…” Killian tilted his head to the side, as if musing on the question. But then he balled his hand up into a fist, punched the man hard and knocked him to the ground.

He looked up at the woman who had captured his attention. Her eyes were wide with fear and, if he wasn’t mistaken, admiration. She stared at him in shock for a moment before speaking.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“He shouldn’t have been touching you without your consent.” All of a sudden Killian panicked; he knew how the situation had looked, but perhaps she hadn’t been a damsel in distress after all? “I mean, you looked very unhappy about him being here, did I get that wrong?”

“No, you were right. But you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

“He’s one of my husband’s men sent to bring me home.” She spat out the words, her eyes darting around the room as if checking for others. After a few moments of searching and presumably finding nothing, she seemed to relax.

While Killian did note this odd behaviour, he was more preoccupied by the word “husband”. He felt his face fall. Of course this goddess was unavailable. She looked up at him and grinned wickedly.

“I wasn’t ready to go home anyway. Want to have a drink with me … ?”

“I’m Killian,” he supplied, looking down at her left hand to see a ring stubbornly placed on her finger. “And you’re married.”

“My name’s Milah, actually.”

Killian laughed at that. “It’s lovely to meet you, Milah.”

That had been the start of a dark and dangerous affair that had ultimately led to his Milah’s death. Killian squeezed his eyes together, fighting back tears. Even before her untimely end, he had wondered if his presence in her life was more trouble than it was worth, but she had always reassured him that his love had made her complete. He had certainly felt that way about her - and with her gone, he was broken and could never be whole again.

He needed Milah back, and time was running out. What better time than the present to go back to the past?

He didn’t stop to consider the obvious factors working against him: he was tired, stressed and intoxicated. He was fairly certain that “drunk in charge of a time machine” went against some kind of time traveller rule.

(Probably up there with “don’t change the past”, but he was hardly going to obey that one, was he?)

Then there was the small matter that he hadn’t yet managed a successful test. Most of the time, he would switch the machine on and nothing would happen.

But every now and then, it would glitch and cause odd ripples in the world around him. His educated guess about the strange phenomenon was that the machine was swapping his particles with particles of Killian Jones from alternative universes - pulling pieces of some other him into this one. One time his prosthetic shimmered and mutated into a hook and back again before he could so much as groan at the cliché. Another time, he went colour blind for a few hours. Once his hair mysteriously turned blonde for a week until he could recalibrate the machine.

(He had to wonder at the alternative version of him who thought that was a good look. He assumed in that reality Killian Jones did not have a friend like Will Scarlet, intent on mocking him relentlessly.)

But he was confident that his calculations were all correct now. This time he would manage it.

He grabbed the bag that he had packed long ago with everything he needed to exact his revenge and stumbled down to the tube. The air was oppressive in the underground station thanks to the late July heat as he waited for his train. He swayed, swallowed down a wave of nausea and cursed himself for choosing the hellish heat over cycling to campus as he usually did. Some sensible part of him had realised that he didn’t have the wit needed to cycle through London traffic - and yet that self-preservation instinct wasn’t strong enough to stop him from propelling himself on a dangerous quest.

The dry, hot wind of the approaching train provided some relief even as it burnt his skin. He clambered aboard and settled into an empty seat. He was grateful for the unspoken British rule that one must sit as far away from other living souls as was physically possible and never, upon pain of death, make eye contact with or talk to strangers. And so, he made it to Embankment station without once having to so much as glance at another human, instead ruminating on calculations and probabilities in his head.

The air outside was only marginally more refreshing than that below ground. It didn’t have that stale, recycled quality, but it was thick with humidity and the scent of melting tarmac. He tugged at his collar and loosened yet another button on his shirt. In his rush to leave, he had failed to change out of the shirt he had fallen asleep in and he could smell alcohol and sweat in the fabric. It suddenly felt inauspicious to greet his lost love in such crumpled clothes, but time was against him. He had to press on.

No one stopped him as he made his way into the nearly deserted building. The undergrads were home for the summer, so the halls were stalked only by the professors who finally had time to do their real work, students plugging away at their doctorates and the unlucky few who needed to retake exams using the month before resits to study hard. At this time of night in particular, few were to be seen in the Strand, unless, of course, they were haunting the bars that were littered in and around campus instead of devoting themselves to academia.

Killian Jones had long since accepted that his habits fell far out of the realm of what most considered normal. And to be completely honest? He couldn’t care less.

He finally made his way to his lab, unlocking the door with a buzz of excitement. It was finally happening.

He strode straight to the machine, stashing his bag in the footwell then climbing inside and buckling in.

He took a deep breath, staring blankly at the calendar on the wall in front of him. He had long thought about this moment. He knew exactly when he needed to go to: one week before Milah’s death. Enough time to get to Gold and stop him, but not long enough to risk meeting himself. He hoped anyway.

He paused for a moment, suddenly realising how reckless this was. He hadn’t run any last checks. No one knew what he was doing.

But then he thought of Milah. She deserved this.

He input the coordinates and hit the command to send.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then lights began to swirl in front of him, moving fast enough to make him dizzy. He saw a beam of light shooting out from the machine and blasting through a window - that certainly hadn’t happened before. He hoped that was a sign of success, he really didn’t want to have to clean up the mess if it wasn’t. Then, just as suddenly as the light show had started, it stopped. Everything went still.

Had it worked?

Killian cautiously stepped out of the time machine and looked around. He was still in the lab surrounded by his equipment. His eyes flicked to the calendar on the wall. It stubbornly continued to read 2017 and he knew this attempt had failed.

He clenched his jaw in an attempt to keep the tears from his eyes. He’d let Milah down. Again. After all these years, he still couldn’t save her. If this hadn’t worked, he honestly didn’t know if anything would.

“It didn’t work,” he muttered to himself, racking his brain for something, anything, that he had done wrong. He must have miscalculated something, but he had been so sure he had it this time. “Why didn’t it bloody work?” He swept his hand across the nearest counter, sending everything scattering to the floor in his frustration.

His head pounded and his stomach turned, reminding him of how much alcohol he’d consumed. He knew he should stay, should try to understand his mistake for Milah’s sake, but he just couldn’t. His soul was weary with the weight of yet another failure, of carrying the burden of his revenge alone, of the sad and empty existence his life had become.

Tears pricked at his eyes and his chest ached with anger. If only Gold hadn't interfered again, pushing him to act before he was ready... This was all his fault.

No, it's yours, whispered a voice from somewhere deep inside. This is your failure. Why did you ever think that you could achieve the impossible?

The whispers of his inner tormentor grew louder and more cruel, detailing his faults, all the ways he let down those he loved, and showing him that he could never have his happy life back. He had done too much, been too distant, his life was empty because he made it so. The vicious narrative overwhelmed him until he felt physically sick.

He needed to get out of there, so he left, leaving his supplies and the shattered remains of his window scattered across the floor.

[rwdestuffs]

Done dirty: Jaune

Yeah, I’m surprised too.

Let me get this out of the way: I don’t like Jaune. I really can’t stand him. I want the people reading this to know that beforehand to understand on the likely chance that I go on a tangent that make Jaune out to be the devil incarnate. It is merely an aspect of my own opinion that I have, and I have every right to dislike Jaune. Much like how Jaune fans have every right to like him as well. But this post is about how he has been done dirty. Not just by the fans, but by the narrative.

See, Jaune was supposed to be an audience surrogate. Which means he asks the important questions that the audience doesn’t know, so that they can be informed. Unfortunately, the question that is asked is not a good one that was thought of.

“What is Aura?”

Aura is supposed to be an integral part of the world. Jaune stated that his ancestors were great heroes, but he is somehow not knowledgeable in this area. It would make far greater sense if he only knew the basics. Alternatively, there could be a class where the students learn how to use their aura in tactical applications. The concept could be explained there.

Not only that, but it also implies that having aura unlocked isn’t a requirement for addmitence into Beacon. And since Beacon is a school where you learn how to fight monsters, and I presume criminals (given Pyrrha’s comment about it in Volume 1), you’d think that aura unlocked would be a requirement.

That’s more of a tangent on Beacon as a school than it is about Jaune, so let’s move on.

Jaune cheated his way into the school. And this presents a problem in the sense that he for some reason expected that sleeping in class and not studying outside of class would make him a skilled hero?- He comes off as entitled because of how he worded it.

It really just feels like he thought that just attending Beacon would give him the skills he wanted. And then he sort of… bemoans that he isn’t as good as the rest of his friends?- Y’know, the ones who actually earned their right to attend the school?- Those friends.

Jaune put not only himself in danger with this stunt, but also his team!- He never attended any kind of combat school, nor did he partake in the entrance exam that Nora, Ren, Blake, Qrow, Raven, and likely a few others had to do to prove himself. He is risking his team’s reputation and the lives of others with his lack of experience and training. For fuck’s sake!- CARDIN made it in on legitimate terms!

Contrary to popular belief, Jaune is not endangering only himself, he is endangering the rest of his team. His lack of ability and experience means that his team not only have to protect themselves (and civilians if the case calls for it), but also Jaune. Because again, he lacks the experience, training, and willingness to get better. The only ‘reason’ he decides to accept Pyrrha’s help later in the volume is because he got an ego boost (that Pyrrha helped him out with), and while yes, he did feel like a jerk for how he treated her earlier, it wasn’t until he emasculated Cardin (again, with Pyrrha’s anonymous help) that he finally decided that maybe just maybe, he’d need some training.

Volume 2 also pushed Jaune to the forefront. As I’m sure a lot of people are aware, a common touchy topic in the good ol’ rwde tag is that Jaune kept asking Weiss out numerous times. I can understand being sympathetic with Jaune the first time. Rejection is hard, but them’s the breaks. It was when he repeatedly asking her out (despite her saying ‘no’) that it got irritating. Not only that, but both the fans and Weiss VA, Kara believed that Weiss should “Give Jaune a Chance.”- Which, no. Absolutely not. I don’t know in what world where “No” means “Try again later” but I’m pretty sure that this isn’t that world. The narrative seems more content in making Weiss be in the wrong for daring to have some autonomy and rejecting Jaune instead of… pointing out that Jaune was harassing her. And at the end of the prom arc, Jaune gets to dance with Pyrrha. He didn’t really learn a lesson on respecting women after all that, he just……… got to dance with Pyrrha.

Also Jaune gets his first solo victory at the end of Volume 2!- He flails his sword around, and downs an ursa through sheer luck!

Volume 3 actually toned down Jaune quite a bit, so I won’t put much here. He acts like a human being, and suffers through some intense stuff. But we enter a hard spot here:

Pyrrha’s death.

See, up until Volume 4 rolled around, Pyrrha’s death was sort of like… Schrodinger’s Cat. She was both fridged only for Jaune’s development and at the same time, not fridged for only Jaune’s development.

There was a lot of speculation about what would happen. How would Ruby react to it?- How would Ren and Nora react to it?- How would Yang, Weiss, or Blake react to it?- How would everyone react to it?

The answer is: We don’t get to see. Jaune is the only one who gets to react to Pyrrha’s death. Jaune and only Jaune. Which presents a problem as he is taking away from other’s development and reactions to Pyrrha’s death. He not only calls the area that Ren saw his village get slaughtered in “creepy”

Jaune is right to be angry here. And while he is wrong for being angry solely at Qrow (He seems to have no issues with Ozpin in Volume 5), he is still right that they forced the choice upon Pyrrha. As a person of great power once said:

So yeah. Jaune has every right to be angry at Qrow, but earlier in the Volume, when RNJR was fighting Tyrian, Jaune looked away when Tyrian was about to attack Ruby.

This is the same guy who charged a Nevermore weaponless to try to save Pyrrha, right?- Jaune’s lack of consistency in this scene ultimately got him more hate from the rwde tag (And I will include myself in that, as I was guilty of it too), but again: where is the consistency?

I get that Jaune was outmatched there, but for him to go from “I’ve gotta stop this grimm from hurting my friend! I may not have my weapons, but I’ll try my best!” to “I have my weapons, but what’s the point in trying to take this guy on?- He’ll just beat me anyways.” is jarring. And this isn’t even mentioning that he earlier said,

Way to say that in front of the girl who saw two of her friends die right in front of her and two orphans who saw an entire village get slaughtered in front of a grimm. How many of your family members did you lose again?

Look, Jaune came off as really insensitive in that scene, and it will be undoubtedly something that the rwde tag will rag on for years to come.

And in Volume 5, he’s sidleined again. A bit anyways. Jaune gets semblance training alongside Ruby’s silver eye hand-to-hand combat training while Ren and Nora……… don’t need to at all. Look, if the reason behind Ruby’s hand-to-hand training is so that there’s a way for her to survive if she’s disarmed, then Ren needs a way to survive if he ever encounters a person who could match his speed or shrug off his attacks. And like I mentioned earlier, Jaune has no beef with Ozpin. Where was his rant about what they forced upon Pyrrha then?- Did Ozpin give the same spiel that Qrow gave too? Tangent aside, he does provide some interesting commentary, and has some unique dialogue with Weiss and Yang. As a Yang fan, and Jaune detractor, I do like the point where she refers to him as “vomit boy.” While it felt forced, it was a jab at Jaune, and given how sparsely those jabs are in the canon show are, I’ll take it.

And the Haven fight, oh boy! was I waiting for this.

Jaune starts it.

Now, I have no issues with Jaune starting the fight. It’s a human emotion that he gets to have, and he is staring down the person who murdered his partner. The problem is that he isn’t punished for it. Like I said plenty of times before, Yang had human emotions when she charged Adam, and she got punished for it. And then there’s the fact that he takes on Cinder.

See, Jaune really doesn’t have much narrative reason to take on Cinder. Had he been there for Pyrrha’s death or had he accidentally gotten in the way and caused Pyrrha’s death (like it was in the original notes), then Jaune’s rivalry would be justified. Unfortunately, the narrative never set up a Jaune vs. Cinder rivalry, and it hurts the story. Cinder was foiled by Ruby in the first episode, and the Volume 2 opening showed Cinder and Ruby fighting. Plus, there’s the fact that CInder got two of Ruby’s friends killed right in front of her, as well as Cinder’s seething hatred for Ruby in Volumes 4 and 5. Jaune was never a factor in any of those, and he had no right to take on Cinder in a narrative sense.

And then after saying to the sociopath that he doesn’t matter and that it is his friends that do, Weiss gets impaled. And we only really see Jaune reacting first. Where is Yang’s reaction?- I understand that Ruby was knocked out by that point, but couldn’t have she also screamed out her name when she woke up?- Jaune is the only one to scream out her name.

(Thank God that he didn’t say “I can’t lose anyone else…”)

But can we talk about how this is becoming a trend?- Female characters being harmed or killed just so that Jaune can develop?- I highly doubt that Ruby, Yang, Ren, Nora, Qrow, or even Oscar are going to develop from this, and there’s no reason that Cinder couldn’t have targeted Ruby (for narrative reasons, as well as her own established grudge), Ren (who is stated to be a glass cannon, and has far less bad blood than with Jaune than Weiss), or Nora (who hasn’t gotten much of a backstory yet, and would actually get the audience scared that she might die). Yeah, two of these characters I suggested are also female, but they have better reasons to get impaled than Weiss (who had to be massively nerfed just so that the fight with Vernal would be a total stomp).

The hardest part about all this are the people who constantly defend Jaune’s every action.

“He’s just following his dreams of trying to become a hero!”

- By endangering people?- Why couldn’t he ask his parents to enroll him in a combat school or something?

“He’s a teenage boy. They tend to ask people out and not get the hint!”

- That’s an explanation. Not an excuse.

“He’s honoring Pyrrha’s memory by merging it with his stuff!”

- So I guess mama and papa Nikos don’t matter then, huh?

Nobody is saying that Jaune isn’t allowed to have emotions. But when the best defense you can muster is along the lines of “Is he supposed to just stand around, show no emotions, and do nothing like [insert relevant character here]?”- Then it just shows that they want only Jaune to act and react like a human, and not anyone else.

I’m fairly certain that some of people who defended Jaune starting the fight also overlap with some of the people who berated Yang for wanting to save Blake.

Jaune has had a major arc in pretty much every volume except for Volume 3. Which is a bad sign when Ruby has only gotten one, and it barely lasted half as long as Jaune’s first character arc that he also got in Volume 1.

His initial isn’t even in the title. He never once got a trailer. There’s no reason for him to be at the forefront of events and being the only one to react to the events that happen.

It’s not necessarily that Jaune gets development, it’s more that other characters DON’T get to develop because that honor goes to Jaune. Jaune gets to act human, but he is never treated like a human. He is never called out for his actions, and he is always met with defenders in the FNDM despite other characters being met with belittlement for doing similar actions (need I bring up Yang’s belittlement for trying to save Blake again?).

Jaune’s lack of proper treatment and constant spotlight hogging is what makes him a poor character.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, GHOST! You’ve been accepted for the role of OTHELLO with a faceclaim change to Oscar Isaac. Admin Kaitlin: Oh man, Ghost, you have no idea how long I have been waiting for an Odin to bless our dashes. I’m not sure exactly what it is about him, but he’s one of those characters that has just always been enchanting to me, and I am so so so stoked that we’re finally going to have him on our dash. I absolutely loved the version of him that you gave us in this application, and I can’t wait to see where you take him from here! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Ghost

Age | Twenty-four

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | I haven’t been on tumblr, more specifically the rp world, in like a long ass time so it might take me a couple weeks to get back into the swing of things (this goes for writing too) but I am going to be on at the very, very least 3-4 times a week and that’ll be on a bad week tbh.

Timezone | EST

Current/Past RP Accounts | Yikes. These. Are. Old. They were all hard to find because my memory (and liking to weird and complicated urls) is a little foggy and 3 are from the same rpg but here you go! The last I had deleted interactions off of but it has A LOT of character building posts I made for her.

In Character

Character | Othello; Odin Bello. Can I use Oscar Isaac, please?

What drew you to this character? | I was originally looking at Delilah when she was auditioned for an taken up by the perfect player. So, I decided to read him and I fell in love. I love broody “bad” boys who are also hella loyal and lost. I like his mix of brutality and passion. There is so much room for him to develop and I always look for that in characters. The last bit of his bio also sums up perfectly what I see in Odin. A constant battle with himself, really.

All must learn a little bit of cruelty in a time where there is no room for kindness. All must learn to be a little kind in a time where the world only knows to be cruel.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I. Bellamy. Out of all Odin’s connections, I feel I could have the most fun with this one and this is why this is a major plot idea I have stirring in my noggin. That is, of course, if it is ever feasible. It also plays into his and Bellamy’s connection to Pandora. He obviously wants to use Bellamy to potentially have a connection to the Montagues, to have someone inside to give him whatever information he needs. He also wants to take Pandora down. They are equal, but to him there could only be one brutal entity running around Verona. I’m sure he knows Bellamy’s annoyance with Pandora and what better way to find a way to tear her down than through Bellamy? If the blood is not on his own hands, how could he be guilty? If it wasn’t a Capulet that were to be Pandora’s demise, then there’d be no need for an outcry of more war. It seems to be the perfect concoction for a messy ending, but for who???

II. Delilah… I want Odin to regret the day he ever met her and not because of her supposed unfaithfulness, but because he was never man enough to love her right. I want him to watch her succeed and truly KNOW that he fucked up. I want him to try and make up for it and I want him to fail. Honestly, I am a sucker for hurting my own characters and what better way than giving Othello a taste of his own medicine?? It will also prove Ivan’s disloyalty to him and that would add a whole new level whenever this man comes into the picture in Diverona. I want Delilah to succeed so bad if you can’t tell.

III. PICK A SIDE ODIN!!! I want him to become one or the other. His mother or his father. I want there to be a downfall so hard that he either gives up all hope and becomes the monster people knew he would become or for him to see the errors in his way and try to make emends for them. No more broody, brutal and crying Othello. No more bloodshed. No more war. Every action has a consequence and so far he has gotten away free of harm. I want to tatter him up, strip him down and still see if he thinks brutality and kindness could have ever shared a home in the same body.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Bring it on!

In Depth

What is your favorite place in Verona?

Odin took in a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs with the oxygen he knew he needed to survive. Some people say they don’t need a thing in this world to survive the bitter taste of reality. Yet, he knew as long as he was alive, he knew what it was like to need something so badly you would die for it. He felt he needed oxygen just as much as he neededVerona. To pick and choose a favorite place was like asking him if he’d rather go deaf or blind. He’d choose both over losing any spot or step he had in this city.

“I didn’t come back to this home to be asked to favor one area in it over the other,” He licked his lips, eyes looking around him. It was the closest thing he ever had to a home. “Would you pick a favorite child out of ten if you had them?” He laughed, something hollow and telling of the answer he already knew.

No.

Because when it comes to something you love, you love all of it, not just the pieces that bring you the most happiness or contentedness. Through all the ugly you love it. Just like through all the blood and glorious battle, Othello loved his fair Verona.

What does your typical day look like?

***6:00 AM: The alarm on his bedside table goes off, but he is already awake. The muscles in his shoulders ache from a sleepless night, but he reaches over and dismissing the tone before sitting up in bed. His feet hit the cold floor beneath him as he stretches out his body, groaning in what seems like pain. They tell you about the hurting and then the healing, but somehow he missed the healing.

6:05 AM: Hot water runs in the shower, the steam filling the room and fogging up the mirror. He stands, forehead against tile as his skin burns beneath the water. He prepares his mind for the day that follows. He remembers his father, his stern glare and harshness. He remembers how he is just like him and it helps his mind to adjust to the world he is about to enter. He reminds himself that kindness only gave him the hurting. He wonders when the healing will ever come.

6:30 AM: He is dressed in uniform, sitting in the driver’s seat of his vehicle. He waits for the cold to leave his bones, but it never does. He adjusts the mirrors and his walkie-talkie before starting his car and driving off. Verona seems still, but he knows the facade way too well to believe it to be true.

6:47 AM: A running car is parked on the side of the road, driver’s side open, body splayed out over the top of the hood. He puts his lights on and pulls over. When he comes up to the person, it is clear they are no longer a part of the land of the living. EDM pounds through the speakers of the car, the hood covered in rose-gold chromatic dust. He takes in a deep breath before going back to his car.

6:50 AM: Odin comes back with a bag of white powder, some wipes and a plan. There are no known users of what the Capulets call il sangue di Faerie and there is good reason for that. Even he doesn’t know much about the dust, but he’d protect his family no matter what. He might have been cold and hardened over, but he had always been a faithful man. His loyalties were concrete. So, he did what he could to hide the truth. He cleaned up the mess of Faerie’s Blood before wiping the cover-up drugs over unbreathing nostrils, sprinkling the rest over the hood that once shined like the lights of the night life that hid these secrets as well.

6:53 AM: “Dispatch, we have a problem,” He spoke calmly into his walkie-talkie, eyes never leaving the corpse in front of him. “We have an overdose victim on the side of the road about 3 miles away from The Dark Lady. Send medics immediately. Suspect appear to be dead. ” He waited only moments for a response that help was on the way. At least this person didn’t have to experience the hurting. If only he was able to stick around for the healing.

7:30 AM: The car door shuts. Odin watches what’s left of the scene before him. His heart rate is steady and his mindset unaffected by what just happened. This city was a battle field and there were bound to be fatalities along the way. Accidents happen, especially when it comes to Faerie’s Blood cocaine addiction…

8:00 PM: The rest of his day was uneventful. He comes home to silence, slipping out of uniform and kicking it to the side. There is a twinge in his chest that he can’t quite describe as he pulls the blankets aside and climbs into bed. He remembers and feels the hurting and thinks about the healing. He thinks about how if your dead you can never hurt and then there would be no need for the healing. Even if you’re only dead on the inside, it still counts. He is content enough then to slowly drift into a slumber.***

Odin laughed, taking in a deep breath. “You think being a law enforcement officer would be more interesting, but it really isn’t. On a bad day we catch a thief trying to steal some cigarettes or catch someone driving under the influence. Gotta keep the streets and people of Verona safe, yeah?” He licked his lips, knowing very well his real day-to-day life was more of a glorified cop show where something was always happening. If it wasn’t covering up drugs… it was covering up a murder.

Othello drew in a deep breath. “But if you really want to know. There’s never a dull day with the family. Do you think I dawn the uniform now because I fight for justice? Maybe for them, but it is a good disguise. What officer isn’t morally corrupt nowadays? It just seemed to work.” He also needed the boost after his discharge. “I became a hero and found a place I belong. So, in the end, who gives a fuck what I do in my day?”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

The answer was simple. No matter how much he hated to admit it and to reveal his heart, he knew no other answer to give. His jaw clenched with a whisper of pain, but what else was a strong and calloused man to do but than to swallow it down in one heavy gulp. “Falling in love,” His father also made the same mistake. “What else has it brought me other than betrayal and hurt?”

The Bello men weren’t made for love, his father made that clear, but sometimes the heart is stronger than the mind. Only his fists were never stronger than his heart when it came to Delilah. Even Odin was man enough to choose words over fists, but no one had ever told him that they could hurt all the same. His tongue always lashed out and he could see the pain in her eyes every single fucking time. The words still haunted him.

“You’re nothing but a harlot. Who will love you now, Delilah?”

But maybe his biggest mistake wasn’t actually falling in love, but letting other’s make him believe in the lies he also told. The same mistake that led to ruining a good name– hurting a beautiful and kind woman. He never deserved her and he never will. He was his father and she was his mother. Black and white. Cold and warm. Cruel and kind. They were the spitting image of what he grew up watching and everyone now had the answer to the question they asked for years. The question he even had deep beneath his ribs.

Which do you think he’ll turn out to be?

Which will I turn out to be?

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

***“Bello.” his upper said sternly, making it known that he was serious in his decision. “You’re being discharged.” He knew words could hurt, but not like this. It was what was going to happen and had no control over it. He had been reckless and care free, but this was his way out of having to live brutally and lost. Yet, he wasn’t the soldier they needed with war on the horizon. “It’s for the best.”

“That’s what you think, but what if it’s not for the best?” He asked, tone slightly aggravated. He could feel his fists and jaw clench all the same. With a familiar anger he saw growing up. The same anger that swam through his veins. “This is where I belong.”

The other man shook his head, resting a hand on Odin’s shoulder. As if it were supposed to be comforting. As if it were going to fix things. “Sometimes where we think we belong is just a stop sign along the way to find your real home.”

Odin scoffed, pushing his uppers hand off of his shoulder. “Don’t pull that bubblegum bullshit with me. I’m not in the mood.”

“You need to leave. Before this gets out of hand.”

Out of hand? Them discharging him was out of hand, but he swallowed back the news like razors sliding down throat. He raised his arms in surrender before grabbing his things to leave. “You’ll regret this one day.” He said in a tone devoid of anything but anger.

At least he knew, even with the disappointment of this entire situation, that no one in this world could ever disappoint him more than himself. He thought the obstacles he tumbled through in his life before now were hard? Try losing the last thing you believed could fix you. Try leaving behind the only life you grew to love and care about. It was the hardest thing he was ever asked to do and it ended up being the thing he was best at… leaving.***

“Fuck this question.” He sighed, adjusting his shirt and standing up a little taller to make it seem as if it weren’t that big of a deal. “Being asked to leave the army was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I lost a lot.” He shrugged, like he always did when he wanted to brush off all the seriousness and hide that he was human– one who felt pain all the same. “But look at where I am at now. I wouldn’t be here if that didn’t happen, so, in a way I guess it was meant to be.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“We’ve been fighting to choose sides for centuries.” Othello never bit his tongue when it came to his thoughts. Especially on war. “We’ve been battling, shedding blood, winning and losing for centuries. What makes now any different? I’ve seen all sides of war, this is just the same as the rest.” He shrugged, head tilting in a systematic sort of way. As if every question he was asked came with a question in return.

Shouldn’t you already know the answer?

“It’s human nature. If you really dig down deep, deep beneath the world’s kindness– it is built off of brutality and death. No resolution came without the conflict.” He laughed. “But sometimes people like the conflict a little too much to ever meet in the middle. Am I right? When have you last seen a war go on this long, if not to revel in the destruction?”

Extras: N/A

[easyhairstylesbest]

Elle Fanning Says Catherine and Peter's Relationship Gets 'Way More Twisted' in 'The Great' Season 2

Spoilers for Hulu’s The Great, below.

My rapturous two-day binge of Hulu’s The Great was immediately followed by the sinking feeling that a second season could be years away. The series, which stars Elle Fanning as Catherine the Great and Nicholas Hoult as Peter III, is the chaotic, violent, sensual, unhinged relative of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette and Yorgos Lanthimos’s The Favourite. Tony McNamara, the Oscar-nominated screenwriter behind the latter, previously hadn’t confirmed his latest show would extend beyond its 10 delicious episodes.

But, huzzah, Hulu confirmed that a second season of The Great is on the way. Ahead, everything we know about the status of season 2—and a case for why The Great deserves one.

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A second season has been confirmed.

The show tells a revisionist history of the 18th-century Russian rulers’ rocky marriage, and it was initially reported as a limited series. But by the end of the finale, the Empress has only sampled her first taste of power. “This season doesn’t end the way you think it’s going to end,” Fanning admitted to Entertainment Tonight. “[Tony]’s definitely thinking about [season 2]. He has some idea.” Luckily, Hulu confirmed that Catherine and co. will return for a second 10-episode installment.

Both of the show’s lead actors previously teased their involvement with another season. Without divulging details, Fanning previously confirmed to ET: “If they wanted to do it, I would do it right away.” It also seemed that Hoult was already involved. Variety reported the actor exited the upcoming seventh Mission Impossible movie because filming “overlapped with the production of season 2 of The Great.”

All the main cast members will likely return—with one major exception.

For a show full of bloodshed, the central characters remain alive at the end of season 1. Those likely to return include Fanning as Catherine, Hoult as Peter, Phoebe Fox as Catherine’s maid Marial, Sacha Dhawan as bureaucrat Orlov, Adam Godley as religious advisor Archie, Gwilym Lee as Peter’s right-hand man Grigor Dymov, Charity Wakefield as Peter’s frequent mistress Georgina, Belinda Bromilow as the colorful Aunt Elizabeth, and Douglas Hodge as General Velementov. However, Catherine’s lover Leo (Sebastian De Souza) may have met his death. (Though we don’t see his demise onscreen, so anything is possible.)

Ollie Upton

The first season ends with a heartbreaking cliffhanger.

The Great‘s finale follows Catherine on her 20th birthday. As a present to herself, she decides to toss aside her meticulous months of planning by making a last-minute decision to kill Peter that day. Meanwhile, Peter is grappling with the fact that he may actually love his wife, and is determined to get her to say it back to him by day’s end.

In other events, Aunt Elizabeth realizes Catherine’s plans to overthrow Peter. While distressed, she doesn’t rat her out to the Emperor. “Most women die with an unsaid better idea in their hearts,” she concludes. General Velementov prematurely begins the coup, soldiers in tow. Plus, Orlo and Archie physically fight each other for power.

Ollie Upton

Catherine’s plans to eliminate Peter are complicated by his birthday gift to her—a visit from her idol, Voltaire (Dustin Demri-Burns). “You are the oddest of creatures,” she tells her husband afterwards. “Cruel and thoughtless, tender, entertaining, and bizarre—I’m fond of you. In some ways, you break my heart.” When Catherine lunges forward with a knife to kill Peter, he misinterprets her coup attempt as foreplay. But that confusion is set right when Marial tells Peter of his wife’s plan—and reveals Catherine is pregnant with his heir.

In the end, it’s a love story—his for her and hers for Russia. As Peter holds a knife to Catherine’s throat, they bargain about the fate of the country and their relationship. “You love me and you love Paul,” she says, naming their unborn child in an attempt to win his sympathy. “You won’t kill us.” Peter won’t, but he will ask that Catherine end the coup or lose Leo, her assigned companion turned real-life lover. After consulting Voltaire, Catherine sacrifices Leo for the sake of her adopted country. Catherine and Peter are bonded by mutual delusions—his that she will fall in love with him, hers that he’ll allow her to rule.

Ollie Upton

There’s much more of Catherine the Great’s story to explore.

From the beginning, The Great does not purport to be a historically accurate retelling of Catherine the Great’s life. A title card at the beginning of each episode reads “*an occasionally true story.” Based on McNamara’s 2008 play of the same name, The Great is the kind of period piece where every character inexplicably speaks in a British accent.

But despite the creative liberties (Catherine was 14 when she married Peter, not 19, and she lived with him for decades before staging her coup, not six months), there’s still much to her story. For one, Catherine didn’t rise to power until after the birth of her son Paul, a storyline teased in the finale. And she reigned for 34 years, so there’s a lot of content to dig into.

Ollie Upton

Executive producer Marian Macgowan said they had mapped out several seasons of the show. “We initially pitched six seasons. So we believe there’s sufficient material to take us through until she is an old woman,” Macgowan told Decider. When Fanning was asked about the timeline for season 2 by Entertainment Weekly, she confirmed it would pick-up with the characters at a similar age. (No The Crown casting changes here.)

In an interview with Deadline, published after Fanning picked up a Golden Globe nomination for her performance, she declined to reveal much about the second season, but did stress her relationship with Peter will shift. “Catherine, I feel, has a real soft spot for [Peter], which gets to be explored,” she said. “Their relationship gets way more twisted. So we have a lot working together.”

It’ll likely be years before season 2 of The Great hits the screen.

Before opening your stash of macaroons and breaking glasses, we must remember the state of the world. It will likely take more than a year before we get our promised second season. The first was ordered in February 2019 and didn’t debut until May 2020. Plus, nearly every film or TV production is delayed due to the coronavirus pandemic.

Ollie Upton

Until then, we’ll just rewatch Catherine teaching Peter how to say touché.

Stream season 1 of The Great now.

Sign up for Hulu here or as part of the Disney+ bundle here.

Savannah Walsh Editorial Fellow Savannah Walsh is an Editorial Fellow at ELLE.com.

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Elle Fanning Says Catherine and Peter's Relationship Gets 'Way More Twisted' in 'The Great' Season 2

[caroline18mars]

Into the night - Chapter 113

Jordan played a perfect role of the perfect hostess all night long, listening at conversations, getting everyone drinks and desserts while her heart was lying spread out over the floor, Jared could hardly watch it, it wasn't him that deserved an Oscar, no, right now it was definitely her, she played her role so perfectly it scared him. He on the other hand, was falling apart at the seams, it started to become painfully clear what he had done, what he had blown up, “I think we should call it a night, we're gonna have a really long day tomorrow” Nahla hoisted one of her sleeping kids from her lap and put him against his shoulder and then looked at her friend and the two brothers “I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for us, Jared and Shannon..your hospitality has been amazing and we'll never forget it, so next time you come to London with your pretty girl here, you have to stay with us, ok?”. Jordan felt the tears well up as Jared gave her an intense stare, London..she was never ever going back there, was she? “you're welcome, it was my..our pleasure..” he gave Nahla a crooked smile “and we'll definitely come and visit you in London” his eyes drifted back to Jordan who couldn't hold back the tears any longer. “Oh sweetie..what's wrong?” Nahla put her hand on her arm, “nothing, I'm just being foolish, I miss London..I don't know if I'll ever see it again..” she forced a smile “anyway, enough about that, I'll go put this little man to bed as well, he's exhausted” she groaned as she got up with Noah whose head started to get heavy. With Jared's stare burning into her back she followed Nahla into the house. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Go, go be with her” Shannon hissed at his brother, as soon as they were out of hearing range, “what have I done?” Jared hung his head shaking it, “something immensely stupid, but at least you were honest about it, and so far she hasn't run yet..she might not realize it but she does need you..especially now” Shannon urged him on “I'll take care of this” he pointed at the table full of empty plates and cups “you go take care of your girl”. 

Jordan sat on the edge of the bed, in the exact spot she had sat this morning with a heavy heart but right now it was even heavier, a tear splashing down on the letter she was re-reading but the salt water could never wash away the unbearable words written there. “What are you reading?” Jared's voice startled her and once again she quickly folded the letter and put it back in its enveloppe, “nothing..” she breathed, she was just too tired to fight, so she pushed the enveloppe back in her bag and let herself slide under the covers. Jared circled the bed, taking off his shirt, this was more than he could have hoped for, she was here in his bed when she could have chosen any room to spend the night in, so he carefully sat down on the bed and looked at her staring at the ceiling “Jordan..I'm so sorry..”. Jordan blinked a couple of times “I don't want to talk about it, Jared, I'm really tired” she softly said, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling, her neutral reaction gave him the courage to slip in bed next to her, “I understand..you don't have to say anything, I just want to explain..”. Jordan gently shook her head and rolled her eyes “what is there to explain, Jared? You cheated because you're not happy with me, I should have known that all this was too good to be true..how could I possibly think that a world famous celebrity could possibly be eternally happy with a simple bookstore assistant? It was all an illusion, I can see that now..I was just a distraction to help you get over Charlotte” the calm and determination in her voice was unsettling. “No, that's not true..” he rolled on his side, putting his hand on her stomach but she shuffled away from his touch “yes it is, even Charlotte told me that I don't stand a chance with you and we'd never last”. Jared's heart skipped a beat, unable to believe what he was hearing “what?” he suddenly seemed out of breath, “yeah, I saw her..she was there after Cedric..” she nearly vomited that horrible name “raped me, she was in my room all of a sudden..we talked..it wasn't a dream, she was just there..she's still as obsessed with you as you are with her”. Jared lay there breathless, what the hell was all this about? Had she lost her mind? “Babe..come on, Charlotte's dead” he said not knowing whether to be angry or shocked, this was the first time after her abduction she talked about the horrible things that bastard had done to her and mentioning Charlotte in the same sentence had his breath stuck in his throat. “Believe me or not, I know what I saw and what was said..she was there and I believe her..doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that she's watching over you and that both of you are not over each other and you never will, it's hopeless, just fucking hopeless” no matter how hard she refused to cry in his presence, she still had to push her fingers under her eyes to stop a few tears. “No..it's not..” Jared once again shuffled closer to her, pushing a kiss on her shoulder but before he could take her in his arms she rolled on her side and pulled the duvet over her, creating a perfect barrier between them “I don't want to talk about it, goodnight Jared”.

Jordan was up before the break of dawn the next day after a sleepless night and from all the tossing and turning he had done for hours, she could tell it hadn't been one of Jared's best nights either, he wasn't planning on making this easy on her as he had gotten up when she had and told her he was going with her to take Nahla back to the airport. “why are you putting all my clothes in that bag, are we going somewhere?” Noah got out of his own bathroom, staring at what she was doing, “I'm..not..I'm just ..putting them in the bag because they need washing..and Jared's washing machine is broken, so I'll go do laundry at your house when we get back from the airport” it was a horrible lie, and she hated herself for it, but it was crucial that Noah or Jared wouldn't get suspicious. “Just hurry up, ok? I'll go make you a sandwich and then we can go” she grabbed the bag and quickly left the room, rushing outside where Omar and Shannon were filling up the car with the family's suitcases “I'll just put this one in the back” she casually said like it was one of the kids' bags. “Hey..” Shannon walked up to her while Omar got back inside to get the last of the bags, “Look I know it's none of my business but I just wanted to say how glad I am that you and Jared are talking things through”, Jordan quickly straightened her back and closed the cardoor “Oh..uhm..I don't know if we really are talking..I don't know if this can be fixed..so I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you..there's just too many women in this relationship, it's just too crowded..” she nervously gave her eyebrow a little scratch “sorry..I'm just gonna go and see if Noah's ready” she forced a little smile as she pushed past him, leaving him frowning and wondering about her words. Jared came walking down the stairs, pulling his hair into a bun as she walked back inside the house and their eyes met “Morning” he quickly took the last step and pushed his lips against hers, he hadn't slept a wink because of everything she had said last night and right now he really needed to connect with her. Jordan slowly pulled back with a painful grimace, biting her lip like she wanted to bite the feel and the taste of his kiss away, “don't..” she breathed, “don't what? Don't love you? Don't touch you? You know as well as I do that that is just not possible, can't we just talk about what happened? I want to do whatever it takes to sort this mess out, please!” he whispered, his lips still so unbearably close to hers. “It is what it is, Jared, you can't just go out and sleep with someone else and then come back and try to make it all better, because that would be underestimating both of our intelligence! I'm not enough for you, Jared, and I never will be, not as long as other girls and Charlotte take up all that space in your brain! Let's just face it, for you living with me is like a really boring schooltrip while all those other woman are ridiculously fun rollercoaster rides, I get that, and that's why it's ok, I've made my peace with it, I don't want to die holding all those grudges so this is where I'm gonna start and wipe the slate clean” Jordan took a couple of steps back and headed out to the kitchen, leaving Jared with an unbearable ache in his heart for the second time  in 24 hours.

”Why can't I go back to school with Victor? Is it because you can't go back to London because it's dangerous for your heart? And does that mean I'm gonna have to go to school here in America?” Noah looked up at his aunt who sat in the back of the van with him, a spot she had chosen herself to be out of Jared's seeing and hearing range while driving the family to the airport. “Uhm yeah..” Jordan nodded, “when are you getting your new heart?” Noah pressed her for a clearer answer “I don't know..the hospital hasn't called yet so that means there's no new heart available and it's not my turn yet” she softly said, hoping Jared who sat in the row before them, wouldn't overhear. “But your heart is old and broken” the boy nestled himself a little closer to her, his choice of words was spot on as always, that was exactly how she felt, old and broken.. “We're here” Shannon said, steering the car onto the parking lot closest to the entrance to reduce the chance of getting noticed and switched the engine off, Jared who had heard the conversation between Noah and Jordan, opened the door and pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head while he waited patiently for Jordan to get out of the car, making sure to walk next to her as the tribe headed for the entrance. “You know, I've also been thinking about finding Noah a new school, I've already had Emma look into it and she came up with some great options..” he said, but Jordan stopped in her tracks all of a sudden, creating a safe distance between them and the family “Stop it! Why do you keep doing this? Noah is not your concern anymore” Jordan hissed at him,  “Jordan..” he tried to reason with her but she just threw him a dirty glare and stomped past him, following Nahla and the kids inside of the departure hall. “This is the part I've been dreading the most..” Nahla pushed their passports in her bag after a smooth check in, and walked up to Jordan pulling her in for a final hug. Jordan closed her eyes, this was it, she was all on her own from now on, alone and stuck in a country she didn't even want to be in “Take me with you, please..I don't know if I'm ever going to see you again” she whispered in her friend's hair, Nahla felt the tears well up hearing her friend's cry for help. “you will, we will, you will get a new heart, Jordan, believe that, it's gonna be alright, you'll see” she breathed, trying desperately to believe in her own words, truth was that she was incredibly worried about the deafening silence of the hospital, time was ticking and it was ticking fast, if she didn't get any news soon, it was gonna be too late, anyone could see that her health was seriously deteriorating. Jordan let go of her friend and just nodded but her tears betrayed her disbelief, “Have a safe flight and please say hello to London from me” she whispered in a hoarse voice as she went over to Omar and the kids to say her goodbyes. “Take good care of Jordan, alright? She's gonna need all the support she can get” Nahla breathed as she hugged Jared whose body went rigid to her surprise “I will..promise..” he swallowed hard as he slowly pulled back from the hug and stared at Jordan while overhead a voice announced the family's flight.

Noah hobbled on Jordan's hand back to the car, “aunt Jordan, my hand, you're squeezing it too hard” he muttered, “oh..sorry, sweetie, sorry” she quickly loosened her grip on him, she just wanted to hold him close for as long as she could but he pulled himself free and ran up to Jared who walked a few metres in front of them, his hands dug deep in the pockets of his hoodie. Lost in his thoughts he felt the boy tug at his jeans and he quickly offered him his hand which Noah eagerly accepted “are you ok? You look really sad, is it because Nahla and Victor left?”, Jared shook his head “no..I mean, yes of course I'm gonna miss them, but..” he quickly glanced over his shoulder to look at Jordan who walked behind them with her head hung low “that's not what I'm sad about, I..just got a lot of things on my mind, that's all” he sighed. “Oh..ok..” Noah sighed, seeming a little upset all of a sudden, “hey..” Jared stopped for a second to pick him up “what's wrong?” and carried him on his arm. Noah blushed a little like he was too shy to ask him anything “Nahla said it's aunt Jordan's birthday in a couple of days and..I want to get her a present, but..I have no money” he whispered in Jared's ear. “Her..birthday?” oh god, wasn't that one of the first things a boyfriend had to know about his girlfriend? A wave of guilt washed over him “don't you worry, we'll go buy her a real nice present tomorrow, alright?” he confidently said to put Noah's mind at ease, but how was he gonna organize things? Who would he invite? All her friends had just taken a plane home..didn't matter, at least now he had a very good reason to try and make it up to her. The drive back to the house was awkward as hell, not a lot was said in the car, these days all the talking was done by Noah who didn't have a clue of what was really going on, “look aunt Jordan, there's so many cars on our driveway” Noah sat up on his knees to have a better look. Jordan felt her heart sink now that reality was catching up with her a little too quickly, so as soon as Shannon parked the van on Jared's driveway, she jumped out and grabbed the bag she had hidden on the backseat “come on Noah”. Alarmed by her nervous behavior, Jared circled the car and saw her strut down the driveway with Noah “Jordan, what's going on? Where are you going?” he called for her but instead of answering him, she only sped up, ignoring him. “What the hell is she doing?” Shannon joined Jared as they watched her walk up the driveway next door, “I don't know” his brother breathed all worried as he went after her. “Aunt Jordan, no, I don't want to go home with grandma” he heard Noah cry as he approached, his heart started to beat a million miles an hour when he saw Noah's grandparents joined by the police stand there with her. “What the fuck is going on here?” Jared joining in made them all turn their heads, “I'm sorry sir, please stand back” one of the cops tried to stop him, “Noah, listen to me, you need to go with your grandparents, it's not gonna be for long, I promise” Jordan crouched down to Noah's level, tears running down her face “the judge decided that you should go with your grandma, so I'm not allowed to take care of you for now..but I'm gonna fight this, ok? Don't you worry”. Noah's grandmother had seen enough and grabbed Noah's hand but he yanked his hand away “no, let me go, I'm not coming with you, I'm staying with my aunt Jordan” he shouted. “Hey, get your hands off of him” Jared stepped in but the cop pushed him back again “sir, they have a court order, so I need you to step back, I won't ask you again” he said in a stern voice while Noah was being dragged away from Jordan kicking and screaming and pushed into the car. “He loves having a story read to him before he goes to sleep” Jordan ran to the car following his grandmother “and he tends to have nightmares so you'll need to comfort him and..”, his grandmother stopped in her tracks and spun around “I know how to raise my own grandson” she hissed before she got into the passenger's seat and slammed the door while the car rolled down the driveway, leaving Jordan to fall down to her knees crying uncontrollably like someone had ripped her heart out with bare hands.

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: EDITORIAL: Lessons on the New Future of Movie Theaters

Image: pxfuel.com

During this last month or so of our collective national and international quarantine, I’ve been holding the topic of re-opening movie theaters from my usual “What We Learned This Week” columns on the Feelin’ Film podcast for a “Soapbox Special.” There have been so many articles, so many perspectives, and so many rapidly evolving updates and changes that I couldn’t distill them down into one little lesson or column entry.

With several regions of America starting to re-open (including my own state of Illinois and city of Chicago), it was time to get on the stump and arm the cannons. I put some of what follows into spoken word recently on an episode of Mike Crowley’s “You’’ll Probably Agree” podcast, but the issue has grown since then. Click into the multitude of links in the lessons for the deeper referenced stories. They are well worth their reads and your attention. The theme of this all can be summarized as cautiously optimistic.

LESSON #1: WHAT WOULD IT TAKE TO GO BACK TO THEATERS — I’ll open this rant back in late May with polling from Variety. It featured a survey of consumer comfort. Here are some bulleted results in numerical order:

91% requested hand sanitizer stations

90% say the most important factor is a cure for COVID-19.

86% supported limited screenings for cleaning time

75% support employees temperature checks

70% would rather watch a first-run feature at home

61% would feel better about mandatory face coverings

60% support audience temperature checks

47% were comfortable buying concessions

46% were comfortable using public restrooms at theaters

There’s more there in that article, but those were the highlights. Beyond even that poll, you’ve got more and more segments of the population who won’t feel comfortable with any public event, let alone a movie, without a vaccine in place. Putting any number of these initiatives in place would be costly, especially for theater chain companies reeling on the edge of bankruptcy.

LESSON #2: WHAT DOES THAT FUTURE LOOK LIKE — Any of those changes from Lesson #1 would make for a very different setting than the “normal” way we’ve been going to the movies for the last century. Many editorials and articles (Seattle Times in May, Vulture in May, and Quartz in June) have tried to talk that out exhaustively with every guess in the clouds. For example, many of us have embraced reserved seating as a way to select our spots, skip crowds, and guarantee seats even if we walk in last minute to avoid 20 minutes of senseless trailers (I know that’s not just me, *wink*). The activity timeline changes upward if we are to stand in a line for temperature checks and even downward if there are no concession lines or needs anymore, which is a tremendous business hit to the theater chains that have been bolstering their kitchen capabilities and choices beyond candy and popcorn for the better part of the last two decades. The other word in there everyone wants to avoid is “crowds.” Can that be accomplished with roped off sections, skipped seats, or an all-reserved seating model (which some older theaters don’t fully have)? In the meantime, you’ve got companies fumbling financial footballs and poking public outcry bears (bravo Michael Phillips) over requiring or not requiring masks (and reversing courses) and other measures before they even open. Do you really trust them to get all of this right on the first try here in July?

LESSON #3: THE OPTION OF AUTOMATION — Piggybacking off of Lesson #2, one potential solution could be artificial intelligence, as crazy at that sounds. According to Variety in May, some theaters in Korea were considering “contact-free” technology. Theater chain CJ-CGV replaced its human staff with AI robots and automated kiosks for scanning and handling ticket transactions. Concession stands were replaced with app-powered and LED-controlled pick-up/delivery boxes. Leave it to tech-savvy Asia to be the tip of that spear. Could the likes of AMC or Regal pull stuff like that off, again, while teetering on financial failure? How do data-danger-minded consumers feel about that?

LESSON #4: COMPANY SURVIVAL IS PERILOUS — The first three lessons constitute a forecast and some great ideas, but who or what can afford those measures? After months of virtually complete closure, save for some door-front concession hawking, large theater chains, especially AMC (which includes the Carmike brand), are in the financial toilet. Bailouts and loans are hard to come by and “junk” status is hitting stock reports. You even have Amazon interested in gobbling up AMC, which would be quite interesting. It may require a rescue such as that. This peril is international as well with CineEurope reporting a possible $20–31 billion loss for the year. Even reopening isn’t an instant cure. The majority of profits for these companies are dependent on concessions because of the high ticket receipt percentages going back to the studios, a gouge that has been increasing over the years at the high blockbuster level (Thanks, Disney). If the food areas are closed due to viral fears and health code regulations, that destroys earnings. 50% capacities of social-distanced seating doesn’t help theaters either. Even 50% might be optimistic. There are theaters opening at barely 25% capacity.

LESSON #5: “TOO BIG TO FAIL” IS LOOKING FAILURE STRAIGHT IN THE FACE — And with that we reach the studios’ level of wallet hit with an inactive theater distribution market. Even with their demanded big bites of the pie, half-filled (or less) theaters do not help them either. This is especially the case at the blockbuster level. No matter the anticipation demand or potential staying power of a really big hit flick with less competition, it is exponentially harder to recoup $200 million-budgeted tentpoles and their $100+ million marketing campaigns if sizable fractions of the screens holding butts are gone or entire chains are shuttered. That’s why the really big stuff like Tenet, Mulan, Fast 9, No Time to Die, and more are not automatically landing on streaming services or VOD outlets. Even at a Trolls: World Tour-equivalent $20 price tag per rental (and its modest success), those giants cannot recoup those huge red balances versus getting a ticket for every head instead of every household. A little thing like The Lovebirds or Irresistible can land in the green with VOD, but not Wonder Woman or Black Widow. A business with a blockbuster class level of movies that once looked too big to fail making its worldwide billions is now failing because they have no place to go and no one able to come to their shows.

LESSON #6: STUDIOS DID SOME THIS TO THEMSELVES — Believe it or not, the studios have slowly damaged their own theatrical success/potential for years with the incremental shortening of the windows between big-screen premieres and home media release dates. Folks my age remember the months of interminable wait back in the VHS and cable TV eras before streaming services were even a glimmer in someone’s eye. For example, Forrest Gump hit theaters over the July 4th weekend of 1994. It didn’t land on VHS until late April 1995 after a long theatrical run and a winter Oscar bump. After that, it wouldn’t hit paid cable for another bunch of months and then years before basic cable made it “free.” By comparison, Joker opened on the first weekend of October last year, hit store shelves the first weekend of January 2020, and no one cares if it comes to HBO or Showtime because Netflix, Hulu, or VOD is cheaper and better. What used to be six months at the minimum (or even an entire year if you were a Disney release) has shrunk to merely 90 days on average. Sure, both Forrest Gump and Joker raked for their times, but it’s an indictment on patience versus money-grabbing. People that are willing to wait can now weather a pretty comfortable amount of time compared to the past for their 4K players and big-screen TVs in their dens. In our current COVID-19 state, we’ve all got nothing but time on our hands to do just that. Why risk health if personal patience versus some “fear of missing out” can pay one $20–30 digital download/disc price to watch a movie repeatedly instead of hauling the entire family plus concessions once, especially for something they don’t deem “big screen worthy?” The studios trying to keep the buzz constant with shorter waits will now see leverage backfire in favor of the consumer. For a current case of that, just look at Disney/Pixar’s Onward and the mere weeks it took to cave from the VOD rental level to dismissively dishing it to everyone in Disney+. With studios building their own streaming shingles, you’re going to see more of that or see more wins for Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon.

LESSON #7: THE PRICE POINT OF DIGITAL — Let’s go further with the digital wants of consumers versus the new risks and hassles of theaters. Circling back to that opening Variety polling again, remember that 70% would rather watch a first-run feature at home. And that was back in May. Imagine now knocking on the door of Independence Day, no matter how much antsy-pant anticipation and hope is out there. That same Variety polling screened respondents on online pricing with some keen results. It asked how much a “reasonable” price would be to stream top-quality productions in their home. Here are those results in numerical rank:

47%- $10

20%- $20

19%- only if it was free

6%- $30

3%- $40

1%- $50, $60, or $80%

That’s 67% holding firm at $20 or under and studios need to do their own projections of math. Regardless, welcome to a more than a little bit of the #firstworldproblems portion of this entire “Soapbox Special.” Movies are wants, not needs, period. They are lovely fulfillment, but non-essential. For every one of those 6% hardcore FilmBros and cinephiles with the disposable income to drop $40 or more to see their precious Christopher Nolan film, over 95% aren’t budging or can’t afford it. Check your privilege.

LESSON #8: ADAPT OR DIE — One way or another, change is needed at the highest level that trickles down to every screen in America. A popular industry that has weathered the advent of television, cable, and now streaming opponents and competition in its century of existence should be able to survive this. Or can they? With the Paramount Accords lapsed, is it time for studios to buy or build their own sustainable theaters to show off their own wares and keep all the profits they used to share with the chains? If studios instead mine the digital landscape successfully, do we really need multiplexes anymore? That is a question posed recently in The New Yorker by Richard Brody in a good read. They’ll need smaller budgeted films to do that, scaling so many things down. Go back to the roots. You can make a dozen solid indies or five or more star-driven mid-budget programmers like the industry used to do in the 1990s with the cost of a single MCU film. Reverting back to that level of business would require some baths and haircuts, but it would rescue the industry. It’s time to embrace those needs. In another angle, columnist Nick Clement on Back to Movies says the film industry is “f — ked.” In many respects, I highly agree with him and his fantastic stump piece speaking on unemployment and the public state of some of those aforementioned #firstworldproblems. Time and patience are the biggest needs.

LESSON #9: “ABSENCE AWAY MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER” — I’ve used this lesson before in “What We Learned This Week” and it’s time to end with it again. Shed away all the polling and conjecture. We all know the love for movies is there or we wouldn’t be talking about it. Look at the success of early openings and the lined-around-the-block comeback of drive-in movie theaters. It will be a topsy-turvy year, without question, even with a full return. We’ve had a zero-budget film named Unsubscribe streaking at an empty box office only to be dethroned by revival screenings of Jurassic Park putting it back to #1 in the nation, George Foreman-style, 27 years after it last ruled the multiplexes. If the year ended today, Bad Boys For Life would get the “biggest movie of 2020” championship belt in the record books. Just like Field of Dreams says, “people will come.” They just need to wait. Everyone, for that matter, from the greedy studio execs and sidelined movie stars to the lowly theater ushers and concession stand workers, needs to wait. This has sucked and it will keep on sucking, but the best answer is to wait and get through this better and healthier, personally and financially, than rushing and screwing it all up. The movies will be there. We want all the people to be there too.

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