#I hate James Bond so much it's unreal

[ghastulitory]

James Bond movies will really be like: Hello Mr. Bond My name is Vagina Queefston and here are the files that prove that the British government created semen.

[archerygun]

James Bond movie concept

James Bond. Unsurprisingly, another one of my hate obsessions. I know an absolutely unreal amount of Bond trivia for someone who hates the films. But I’ve formed a sort of Stockholm Syndrome about them, and part of that revolves around my obsession with how I’d make them good (or just personally appealing to me as a piece of cinema).

LET’S GO.

So, back in the 60s-maybe 70s if we’re pushing it (because I know Roger Moore is an icon - HE NAMED GEORGE LAZENBY AS A TOP THREE BOND, LOOK, I GIVE HIM MY RESPECT FOR THAT AT LEAST), James Bond is called to tackle another villain who’s built a mysterious machine believed to be a superweapon MI6 isn’t totally sure about yet. A mixture of recon and destruction.

Bond fights the villain, he’s about to win, but Villain (nameless cos I’m lazy) activates the machine. 007 is officially pronounced missing.

Flash forward to the modern day.

A man turns up at MI6 headquarters, demanding to see M. He says he has important information for him, and claims to be ‘007’ - a sign that definitely doesn’t belong to him. They look the man up, probably to send him home, but they can’t find a single thing about him ANYWHERE.

The documents on Bond, and what he was fighting against, have all been super duper sealed, and everyone in his MI6 died and took the knowledge with them. He’s been wiped from history, pretty much. We’re a good nation at hiding things. So while MI6 work to unseal old documents, they reluctantly assign Bond to the mission of taking down Villain, who has also mysteriously reappeared and is being a massive Pain In The Arse.

(The machine in question somehow freezes the two in stasis; the level of threat posed to the world and villain’s motivation? You decide.)

Cue average time-travel comedy beats (mostly contributed by my friend who I bounced this idea off of).

“Wow, Q! You’ve really outdone yourself! What is this astonishing machine!?”

“Bond, this is an iPhone.”

Can:

Kill anyone within a mile radius

Speak several languages fluently

Fiddle with specialised equipment

Fly a jetpack

Can’t:

Coffee machine

“You’re telling me you disarmed a nuclear rocket and you need help because you changed your phone’s language to Japanese and can’t change it back.”

“THE ROCKET DIDN’T HAVE TOUCH-SCREEN.”

Bond still operates on what was considered ‘inconspicuous’ in 1969 and shows up to an undercover op in full florals and flares. “You said it was a party. I’m just trying to blend in!”

M is going to be losing her mind. Q might die of frustration. It would be glorious. Lean into the weird family dynamic MI6 has in older Bond movies. Hell, no romance. Just 2 hours of “What do you mean, ‘CPR’?”

[notsuchacleverboyq]

My Heart is Buried in Venice

James Bond seeking for love since the death of Vesper. That's it.

I proclame this the official alternative No Time to Die ending. No one has the right to say the opposite.

A bit of 00Q inspired by My Heart is Buried in Venice.

Seeing her face after thirteen years had been a shock, something he wasn't prepared for; although it was just a picture on a grave, the sight of her immediately left Bond with no emotions but the grief he had been holding for a decade.

"I miss you" was all he had been able to tell her, all of the emotions coming back to him in an instant: the pain, the guilt for not succeeding in protecting her, the rage against Le Chiffre and the hate he felt towards her for betraying him, abandoning him.

Bond missed Vesper, but still was able to hate her for leaving him alone in that cruel world.

He hated his parents in the same way (he knew it had been an accident, but still he had felt abandoned his entire life), he also hated Blofeld for not being able to love him like a brother and taking everything away from him.

Bond did not cry as he held Vesper's corpse in his arms, staring at her glassy eyes and purplish lips. It was too much to cope with, it almost felt unreal: he had spent years trying to get someone to love him, begging for affection without using any word, and it went away with the same rapidity wherewith Bond had grabbed it.

Then, it came the anger: Vesper had been so selfish and mean to leave him after he had searched for that love his whole existence, and she knew that her actions were going to stab him right to the heart. However, she had taken a huge risk in order to protect him, and Bond couldn't completely blame her anymore (oh, he wished he could have blamed it all on her).

His heart had remained there, bleeding and buried in a canal in Venice, waiting for someone to take it home.

But Bond had no clue where home was: it wasn't Skyfall, it wasn't MI6, it wasn't his flat nor London and it was none of those women's arms. Bond did not know what home was.

Home wasn't Camille, the girl he had kissed in the car. He blamed it on adrenaline (or maybe sympathy?) but Bond certainly wasn't in love with her; there had been a brief moment in which, parting their lips, he had expected to find himself in front of Vesper's blue eyes, but found Camille's displeased glare. He let her go as she walked away without saying a word (not a goodbye nor a smile), knowing she was safe and he had no reason to get affectionate.

Home wasn't even Tanner, the best friend he had ever had, a real shoulder to lean on. He was a cool man, with the ability of solving every trouble or riddle, but Bond was far away from bothering him with his nonsense shit. He could tell Tanner cared, and it made the agent feel less miserable and lonely at times, but it still wasn't enough to trust someone with his worst demons yet.

An unexpected encounter had been the new quartermaster, a way too enthusiastic kid with a silver tongue. Q was the reason why he first smiled at Vesper's memory after years: his ability of fighting Bond's insults was equal only to her level, and the agent had to hold back a chuckle.

He decided to keep him as a friend, someone who had all of the qualities to not annoy him.

Moneypenny had become a sort of home. It took Bond some time (and a rejection from her) to realise that he wasn't searching for a shag or romance from that woman; he was searching for comfort and a friendly figure. Moneypenny had something that reminded him of a mother and his inner child wanted nothing more than to stay by her side. She was sweet, understanding and honest, but still not home. She was more a shelter after a storm.

Returning to Skyfall had been a throw back into his childhood and blowing it up had been pure joy. It was not true that he had always hated that place: he had once felt at home there, the memories made it horrible; he could see his mother smiling at him, his father calling for him to go hunting together with Kincade, the fireplace was brightening the place as it did on every winter and he heard himself laughing and giggling all around. It was too much, blowing it up only silenced what he did not want to remember.

But then M collapsed. He barely caught her in time and she was bleeding. That asshole had kept her injury hidden (for what reason he still did not know) and was dying in his arms. He cried all the tears he hadn't been able to push out in Venice, all the tears he had held back in the hope of being strong enough.

He had been abandoned again, but he couldn't say he hated M for that, no matter how much he tried. She wasn't exactly affectionate, but Bond had loved that, in the way he would have loved a mother, she gave him a sense of certainty. Again, he couldn't blame her for leaving.

His heart was still buried in Venice.

"Make me disappear" he pronounced those words nonchalantly, feeling Q tensing next to him. That kid (no, a man worthy all of his respect) had tricked Bond into trusting him and the agent still struggled to understand how he could have let himself being so weak in front of that willowy smartass. Bond could have killed him with such ease, however hurting him felt wrong: he would have rather let Q kill him without moving a limb.

Austria made him realise how protective of him Bond had become, even after meeting Madeleine. As Q appeared from the hotel room door Bond had immediately sensed something was wrong: the way he carefully peeked through the door, the way he relaxed at recognising the agent and his brief rambling gave Bond the impression that something wasn't alright. But Q was Q and Bond knew he wasn't a fool, so he didn't dare to ask.

When he kissed Madeleine (and all that came after) it was completely out of adrenaline. But he did not care and rather let himself drown into it, because it felt too good to reject it, it felt nostalgic and he finally had gotten back what he had lost in Venice. He did everything to keep it, he did everything to save Madeleine and was almost able to forget himself for the times he didn't succeed.

He got back to Q-branch to take the Aston. It actually wasn't the real reason, he wanted to look at the place one last time before saying goodbye to all of it, before leaving and retiring. He had never thought he would have retired, but what he had at the moment felt enough to leave his job.

Q appeared surprised when Bond entered the lab, looking at him with a confused frown. "There's just one thing I need" but it felt utterly wrong as he took the Aston and sat in the car with Madeleine, it felt horrible as he looked at Q's soft smile without saying anything. Maybe he just needed time to adjust to the change, after all it was new to him.

His heart wasn't in Venice anymore, but it wasn't with him either.

The happy ever after in which he had believed so much shuttered in smithereens right under his sight. He should have seen it coming, he had been so stupid for thinking he could have trusted someone like Madeleine, someone who had dealt with spies their entire life. He made sure that, this time, it was him to abandon her, getting Madeleine on the train. "How will I know you're okay?" "You won't. You'll never see me again" and it felt so good to finally hate her, hate her with every drop of his blood. This time, he could blame it all on someone else.

Bond spent all of his permanence in Jamaica missing something he couldn't acknowledge. At first he connected it with breaking up with Madeleine and losing love again, but it wasn't that. There was something he wasn't aware of. When Felix offered him a job, Bond thought he had been missing the action; but, on that rubber dinghy, he was still missing something, even with the adrenaline in his veins, and he knew he wasn't missing Felix (or, at least, that was just a part of the problem).

He started understanding what was wrong with him when Moneypenny brought him to Q's house. The melancholic feeling left room for excitement, a pleasant pain in his chest, and he couldn't help the words that came out of his mouth once Q opened the door: "Hello, Q: I've missed you".

He hated himself for saying it, despite knowing he totally meant it. Looking around and taking the bottle of wine in his hand, Bond tried to make peace with the fact that he had been genuinely missing Q (which probably meant he was screwed).

Q rushed to them, likely trying to save his bottle of wine, and Bond felt an enjoyable sparkle in his heart; at least before Q spoke: "He'll be here in twenty minutes".

Jealousy was Bond's response, but forced himself to look totally neutral at the statement.

Needless to say, he felt less murderous when Q cancelled the date, but couldn't help feeling also guilt for settling into his house like a parasite and and ruining said date.

The first days at Q's house felt incredibly relaxing, as if Bond was finally able to enjoy his retirement and the domesticity he had always avoided. He always got up first in the morning, making sure Q ate enough (because he had the suspect that the quartermaster had the habit to skip meals); he chuckled at the surprised reaction Q gave when he woke up and found breakfast, when he found a ready meal to take to work and when he came back home and found Bond cooking dinner in the kitchen.

Bond loved taking care of Q, giving him the affection he had sought for all of his life, and he was not expecting anything in return; he was doing it for the sake of seeing Q's smile and because he wanted to.

But he ruined everything in the moment he kissed his beloved quartermaster. He felt how he kissed back, although Q's expression wasn't pleased but rather brought a series of emotions that confused the agent (was he mad? Scared? Annoyed? Maybe all of that). Something broke that day: Q became more careful, colder, as if he was really scared (for the first time) of being near Bond, and the agent couldn't bare to see it.

He knew what had gone wrong when he kissed him, Bond was well aware of the fact that others weren't clueless about the instability of his usual relationship; he talked to Q (and he wished he had talked way before), apparently succeeding in assuring him that he was completely serious about whatever they had in that moment.

And when Bond got to sleep with Q in his bed, he started feeling like home was a possibility: there was room for trust in there, for peace and calm, and he lingered into Q's arms every time he fell asleep, trusting him with his life.

Even knowing that Madeleine had not betrayed him didn't cause him to leave Q; he made sure that Madeleine and Mathilde were safe, killed Safin and got the job done, but he wasn't looking for something in the past, for something he had missed. He wasn't looking back.

Lying in bed with Q, Bond was at ease and calm, relaxed by the steady breaths of the asleep quartermaster. They were naked under the duvet, right after an act that had been consumed under adrenaline, but Bond didn't care; he didn't need adrenaline to love Q like that, his love wasn't based on it and he didn't wait for Q to wake up, because he had stopped feeling lonely once his lover had fallen asleep.

Trying to not disturb his deserved rest after all of the emotions of the day (the agent got slapped for scaring him like that), Bond ran a hand through Q's humid hair, not expecting to find Vesper's face after kissing his forehead, not missing her like he had used to. She still lived in his memory, young and beautiful as he remembered her, but she wasn't his place: Vesper was in the past, he wasn't searching for her anymore.

The way Q shifted closer (probably seeking a source of heat) made Bond's heart beat faster and he claimed Q in his arms.

For once, love felt calm, there was no rush and it didn't need to be perfect; as long as he was with that man he didn't care about anything else.

His heart was home.

This is for everyone who feels unlovable and undeserving of affection. Your person is coming, your place is coming.

Thank you, Emmi.

[stonedregulus]

Hey bestie! Can you give us a list of your top 3 favorite fics? It doesn’t matter what pairings, just your top 3. :)

SCREAM i’m so excited to share these!!!

1. This Must Be the Place

author: @aibidil

rating: E

pairings: james sirius potter/teddy lupin (background harry potter/draco malfoy & albus severus potter/scorpius malfoy)

summary:

When your dad is Harry Potter, your face shows up in Teen Witch, your social media videos go viral, and sometimes your life depends on pretending to date your metamorph godbrother, whom you've been over for years, thank you very much. Or, the one where James and Teddy do animal yoga and risqué karaoke and their families could do with seeing fewer videos of them snogging.

i cannot even explain to you how much i adore this fic. jeddy is one of my favorite ships and this is a great depiction of them. i also really love the world this author created and the different wizarding(and otherwise) mental disorders they included. i find that kind of stuff, the mundane normal human life experiences that a lot of people just skip when they're writing magical world fics, so fascinating. also, the whole idea of a soul-bond/mind-bond is super fucking cool. 10/10 would highly recommend.

2. The Devil's White Knight

rating: E

pairings: harry potter/draco malfoy (background james potter/regulus black & sirius black/remus lupin)

summary:

When Harry wakes up in an alternate timeline--a timeline where Voldemort was defeated long before the first war--he discovers everything is different. His parents, his godfather, his friends--and him. Harry must deal with the consequences of who he would have been if he had been raised by his parents, and figure out where he stands with his casual hook up, Draco Malfoy.

guys... STARCHASER DADS... WOLFSTAR DADS!!! i am dying. this is just... this fic is absolutely everything to me. the drarry part is... well if you know me you know I'm not a drarry person (i say that and yet here I am recommending two drarry fics to you *face palm* i know wtf but whatever) BUT i am not mad at the drarry in this... i actually like it... WHAT?! yeah. i know *shrugs* i don't know. anyways, regulus as a dad makes me insanely happy. he is the perfect dad. i absolutely adore him. the sirius/harry relationship in this makes me cry so fucking much it's unreal. anyways, super cute, may actually be my fave fic of all time.

3. Blends

rating: M

pairings: sirius black/remus lupin & james potter/lily evans

summary:

Words got in the way sometimes, but Remus got the sense Sirius knew what he was trying to say. - Another coffee shop au.

look, if you haven't heard of this yet i would be somewhat shocked. i know some people hate coffee shop aus, but just... trust me on this one, okay? it's so fucking good. one of the reasons i love it is because it feels so real. i kind of mentioned that with my first rec up above, but i love when the author puts in an effort to make things relatable to real life, and this definitely has that. i also love the way this author portrays sirius, james, remus, and lil. sometimes i feel like people just don't get it right (my own opinion of right, i know, i know) but this author really gets them and writes them well. if you want a great modern wolfstar au, this is it my friends. also, it has a sequel that is still in progress :)

[dream-a-little-longer-1]

Ask : Hiya! How are you?You don’t have to but could you write any characters of your choice helping with social anxiety mines played up today so a lot of me getting scared and stuttering .I hope this is ok by you 💜💜

Hello there akira chan!!! Oh my!i hope you are alright right now and its totally ok!!

Hope this helps! Tell me if u needed anything else (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.｡*♡✧*.

William

•William was the first one who took notice,who knew

•maybe even before you, yourself seeing it coming

•William knew you dont like crowded places

•that they always made you feel overwhelmed,and the way you always stuttered and your breath hitching was a sign he understood after some time in to your relationship

•maybe even before,he was always looking after you since the beginning

•so William was the first one who saw your hands shaking even if you were smiling your perfect smile

•he saw your skin turning a shade paler as you talked to the other people in the gathering

•William saw how you stumbled upon words,sweat beginning to form on your forehead as you attempted to hide it all behind your perfect, carefully practiced mask

•but William wasnt a stranger anymore

•he was now your husband

•and seeing you forcing yourself to smile was clawing painfully at his heart

• "excuse us."

•he politely told the old lady you were talking to

•and without waiting,he took your (cold,sweaty) hand in his

•and dragged to your own bedroom upstairs

•uncaring of what everyone would think about one of the hosts ditching their own gathering

•he simply pulled you close his own body

•shutting the door behind yourselves

•his strong arms circling your slim waist

•curling protectively around your smaller form

• "are you better now?"

•you take a deep, shuddering breath

•and slowly nod your head,your heart calming down already

• "Thank you..."

•William kisses the crown of your head

• "there is no need for thank yous between us,my love."

James Bond

•James Bond was always a fan of big gatherings when he was younger

•the drinks,the lights,the dressings

•but as he grew up,he slowly started to avoid them

•the drinks were too cheap,the lights too bright,the dresses too suffocating,too fake

•so he started going only if he had to

•James was a person who laughed and joked on the outside,but on the inside,he observed the people around him carefully

•he was well familiar with your resentment toward these gatherings

•specially if your family was included,your far families to be exact

•he hated to see you act so fake

•plastering a big,unreal smile,to hide how your hands are shaking

•James loathes it

•because he loves you,and doesnt want you to act fake even for a second

•so James is the first one who notices when everyone and everything becomes too much for you

•he smiles a big smile

•as fake as everyone else's

•and takes your hand in his, noticing how they're shaking and you stutter even more

• "oh,honey. We're gonna be late if we dont hurry right now."

•you look at him, confused,but excuse yourself and follow your husband without any complains

• "what was that?did we have to be somewhere? I'm not remembering James."

•he chuckles and raises your hand to his lips, pressing a mischief kiss to your knuckles and smiles smugly

• "i just wanted to experience a little runaway with you."

•you blink at him

•and let out a loud laughter in the dark,cold night

•your laughter like music to his ears,his blue eyes soften visibly and his smile more sincere

• "you're finally laughing like yourself."

• "huh?what was that?"

•he smiles brightly again, pulling at your hand

• "now the night is all ours!lets do something fun!!!ice cream?!"

•and when you follow him, he's rewarded by another laughter

•Thats when James feel happy and whole

[kiran-wears-science-blues]

So tonight is the three year Andrew anniversary, which is awesome!!! But I’m also letting it go. 

Now that I’m hanging in one place for 4-5 years I want to try to start dating seriously, and since I’m looking for something monogamous for now, it’d be unfair to be engaging with real emotions for someone else, regardless of how fictional that someone else is. Andrew can still be a favorite character, but anything that would be inappropriate with a real life ex would be inappropriate with him, which includes self-insert fantasies. 

I mention this here because I have a lot of wonderful anons who engage in the Andrew stuff with me, and my birthday is coming up and in past years I’ve had wonderful people drown me in Kiran/Andrew stuff, but I’m asking to not receive that anymore as I’m trying to move on. I absolutely love everything you guys have given me, but it’s time to let go. (If anyone forgets, that is a-okay, I’ll just reply privately.) 

But thank you all so much for all the support you have given me over the years of this whole Andrew thing. It means the world to me. This was a fantastic journey and I loved every second of it. 

I wrote one last self-insert thing to see this out. 

Andrew’s hands are soft as they brush my hair behind my ear, but I can feel the rough callouses of physical training on his fingers. I lean into his touch, my eyes closed.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”

I nod once. “Will be,” I murmur back.

---

The first time I dreamed of Andrew, I dreamed of his pain. He was quiet and distant, troubled thoughts keeping his eyes downcast. I reached to him. He was startled by my touch, but accepted it – in time he came to seek me out when he was overwhelmed, would tuck his head into my shoulder as he melted into my hugs.

I dreamed I lay down to nap with the afternoon sun warm on my bed. I was drifting when a shift in the mattress woke me. Andrew had lain beside me, his back pressed right up to my chest, sadness a tension running through every line in his body. I slid my arm around his waist and held him close to me. He relaxed. I felt warmth suffuse me as I pressed my face against his neck and felt his hair tickle my nose.

I woke to reality – a cold, empty bed, but that warmth still radiating throughout me.

Dreams are not reality, and yet they usher in emotion as vivid, as tangible, as any waking feelings. Dreams are not reality, but they are moments of experience all the same -- gifts that do not have to follow the rules, where fiction can be made flesh and bone and wrapped in a hug.

---

I curl up into a ball on the couch, fleece blanket draped over my shoulders. Andrew brings us tea -- mine in the Star Trek mug with the likeness of Kirk and Spock emblazoned on the side; his in the mug painted in a facsimile of R2-D2. I cradle my tea in my hands, and the scent of chamomile wafts up to me.

---

I wonder what Andrew would smell like. I like to think of cedar and cinnamon – they go together, and they call to mind the earthiness and homely comforts I associate with him. Cedar and cinnamon. But it’s only a romantic, poetic phrase that would never capture the nuances of a personal scent.

It was late summer in Montreal. I pressed my face into a sweatshirt and a pillow and an old stuffed animal and imagined them Andrew. The sweatshirt smelled not of much; the pillow of me; the stuffed animal of the milky muskiness of an old childhood toy. The window was open, letting in the scents of thunderstorm. My roommate had lit a candle; it smelled like pine. My feet were propped up on one of many boxes stacked around the emptying apartment, and dust tickled my nose.

I was on the cusp of a move, of letting go of a home that breathed happiness and trying to rebuild all that on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. I was going to leave almost everything behind. I was nervous and excited and wary and hopeful, and the feeling of being caught in the currents of life was so strong it was almost overwhelming. But Andrew was coming with me.

It was all so fucking tangible – the feeling of change of hope of growth of life, and of Andrew being there. He’d be coming with me in the form of a pillow and a sweatshirt and a stuffed animal and a whole lot of imagination, but it all tangled together and he felt real. I could almost feel his warmth, could almost see the scrunch between his eyes as he thought. I could almost smell him.  

I tightened my arms around the pillow and inhaled again.

----

“You wanna watch something?” Andrew asks, as he scoots onto the couch next to me.

I pull my knees up so they’re resting in his lap. “Sure. Surprise me – something I haven’t seen yet.”

Andrew quirks a slight smile. It’s that awkward, asymmetrical kind of smile, the one that so wonderfully suits the restless energy he has even now as he snuggles up close and pulls out his phone.

Andrew talks in references the way others talk in idioms. Sometimes I get them. Sometimes I stare blankly at him, and he catches my bewildered expression. “Oh man, you’ve never seen that? It’s going on the list.” Then it’s times like now the list comes out.

“I’m sorry; I can’t decide,” he declares after a moment, and pushes the phone at me. “What do you want?”

I skim the list. “How about Indiana Jones?”

Usually the thought of Harrison Ford would make Andrew light up, but when he smiles this time, it’s sad. I find his hand and give it a squeeze.

“Okay,” he says.

---

I started the list based on the references in the show or the comics that Andrew would make and I didn’t know. It grew to references he made in fanworks; then the list grew to include anything I simply thought he’d like and I hadn’t seen.

Star Wars, James Bond, Ghostbusters, Men In Black, Jurassic Park.

It began in Montreal, movie nights in the apartment softly lit by multicolored fairy lights. Friends passed around “Andrillow” as the pillow-sweatshirt-stuffed animal conglomeration had been named, laughing, hugging, hiding behind his mass of fluff when dinosaurs jumped out of the shadows.

Later, on the other side of the ocean, it was just me and the pillow. But movie nights with a pillow can be surprisingly healing when you’re struggling to adjust.

Back to the Future, Battlestar Gallactica, Footloose, Mission Impossible, Jaws.

I curled up against the plush of Andrew’s chest and propped the laptop up in front of us. One of the sleeves of his sweatshirt tangled around my arm. I felt a rush of softness, and I thought of the hormonal changes one undergoes as a result of experiencing reliable social support and fondness and love – increased serotonin and oxytocin and reduced cortisol in response to stress. I wondered, if one were to sample my saliva, what would the effects be of pillow hugs and sharing in the interests of a fictional character?

Maybe a test would find me aptly in love. Maybe there would be measurable effect on my hormone levels, but not as strong as it would be with a flesh-and-bone partner. Maybe there would be nothing at all. But in Leeds, where underwhelming days melted together and movie nights with a pillow were a regular heartbeat of happiness that kept it all alive, I had to think there would be something.

---

Andrew usually has many opinions about the movies we watch. Oh, he’s good about not talking over the movie; he would never want to compromise a movie-watching experience like that. But I can see his reactions in his body language, in the way he tenses or relaxes or leans forward or shifts his weight.

Today, he’s barely watching. When I try to hold his hand, he fidgets restlessly; we finish our tea and he goes to make more without pausing the movie.

“What did you think?” I ask when the credits roll.

---

Andrew’s not real. I know that, of course. I feel his unrealness most in his silence.

Andrew is so defined by his words, by his passions and opinions and stories. But to hear them, I write – contemplate his perspectives on media I know only tangentially, painstakingly word them in his voice. There are only so many words I can write for a storyteller before I make him obsolete. I write and create and imagine and examine, and the more I build Andrew’s character in my head, the less real he feels. He is no longer his own; he is an entity of my imagination and biases. That is not whom I love.

But then there were comics that wrote him in a pen other than my own, and in the smallest details I would never have considered, I fell in love again. I wouldn’t have given him polo shirts or boaters shoes – and oh, the watch! I was so bowled over by that watch; such a small detail, so not me. I could imagine it was pure Andrew, and I loved him for that damn watch.

There were of course the out-of-character moments, but there were also just the moments that pushed my expectations, and how I loved him for each. In Pieces on the Ground tells me we’d argue about the merits of media piracy. I’ve considered what moments of tension we might have, but what a gift to have an unexpected disagreement. I’ve cried over new issues in which Andrew appears, because those are the moments where the realness of Andrew would be the most poignant; one short appearance of a handful of panels would protect him from being consumed by my own imagination for months.

I still ache to hear him talk. To hear him ramble, to see his eyes light up as he tells me about the nuances of comics I’ve never read, to hear his opinions, to learn more about him. For him to teach me who it is I love.

But he is not real.

---

We fall into a heavy silence. Our second cups of tea are finished; the television is dark.

I feel my chest ache. I’ve anticipated this moment, but it still sucks. My eyes prickle at the corners, and I squeeze them shut. I lean into Andrew’s shoulder; he wraps an arm around me.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my hair.

“We always knew there was an expiration date,” I tell him. “It could never be forever.”

“I know, but…”

He trails off. I twist a hand in his shirt. Fuck, I hate to let go of all of this. To let go of this source of joys, of inspirations, of support, of tenderness. My head spins with all the points of my life he has touched: hundreds of thousands of words of writing, a novel, drawing, embroidery, baking, secondhand joy at the Star Wars merchandise in every grocery store, friendships –

I exhale. “This was an incredible run. I don’t regret a damn thing.”

“You’re going to be great.”

I nod haltingly, then pull back and let Andrew’s arm slip off my shoulder. “Thank you. I really did love you.”

“I know.”

I give him a small smile and squeeze his hand.

It’s time to let go.

[nocteverbascio]

the ways we meet: alex/lucy + bar

Pairing: Alex Danvers/Lucy Lane Summary: Alex hates bringing Kara out to the bars when she feels FOMO over not finding her soulmate A/N: listen....i feel like alex and lucy NOT bonding over drinks is unreal--alex likes drinks in social situations because she hates people and lucy likes drinking because she’s a lawyer it just worksssss 

ao3 link

Kara was starting to get FOMO about not meeting her soulmate. Stupid Winn and James had already found theirs making Kara really feel like she was missing out as the only “single” friend of the group because they were off hanging out and doing things with their soulmates.

Alex just rolls her eyes at every complaint because not finding your soulmate right away isn’t a big deal.

Kara’s only had her mark for a year. Alex has had her mark for three years now and she still hasn’t found hers.

Then again with words like, Was I supposed to hit on you instead? Alex isn’t ready to leap into her soulmate’s arms because clearly he or she was kind of a player. She assumes, it’d probably be one of the things they get along about, not caring about their soulmate.

Alex is studying a sample in her apartment when her apartment door swings open. She doesn’t break her concentration as she zooms into the blood sample.

“Aleeeeex, it’s Friday,” Kara says as she shuts the door behind her and turns on the light.

Alex picks up her head from the microscope with a scowl on her face. “And what does that have to do with me?” she asks putting on her glasses.

Kara pout. “Let’s go out.”

Which is something Alex really doesn’t want to do. “Why don’t you ask Winn and James to go with you?” Alex suggests to her sister.

Kara sighs dramatically. “Because Winn is hanging out with Mike and James is with Clark.”

“And neither of them can bring their boyfriends?”

The blonde cringes. “Winn hanging out with Mike means they’re having sex and Clark hates going out drinking,” she reminds Alex with a poke.

Alex scrunches her nose in disgust. “TMI on your friends’ love lives.” She pushes her glasses back up to look under the microscope again.

“Aleeeex.”

Alex picks up her head with a sigh.

“Come on,” Kara grabs at Alex’s arm. “Let’s go out. I don’t want to be a loser staying doing nothing.”

Alex gives her a knowing look. “You just want to go out to increase your odds in finding your soulmate,” she states.

“Is that so bad? If I find my soulmate at least I’ll stop bothering you,” Kara rationalizes. “It’d be nice to find someone to share some time doing nothing with. You know it too.”

Alex is inclined to agree because having some company in her apartment from time to time would be nice. But she still thinks responsibly first with, “As much as it’ll stop you from bothering me, don’t you think you’re focusing way too much on finding your soulmate when you should be, I don’t know, studying for your midterms?”

“Don’t do that big sister thing on me now. You know I’ve already studied enough until the end of the semester.” Alex narrows her eyes. Damn her and her eidetic memory. “Besides, do you really want to stay in and study blood samples all night when you know you could use a drink too? Megan just restocked your favorite whiskeeeeey.”

Then Kara pouts. Honest to god, uses her puppy pout on Alex.

“Fine.”

The bar is extra crowded and crawling with a bunch of horny frat bros apparently. Alex can’t stand it at all. What’s worse is now that she knows what kind of crowd is in tonight, she has to pay extra attention to make sure Kara doesn’t go home with any trouble.

Or cause any trouble.

Alex takes a shot of whiskey before staring down the bar to see where her sister disappeared to.

Down the bar she sees Kara chatting with someone---small. Pretty gorgeous with her bob cut just under her ear and radiant mahogany curls with light brown streaks. She looks a little out of place for a bar, wearing a blouse and blazer like she’s just gotten out of work. Alex studies the woman talking to Kara and narrows her eyes suspiciously because it looks like she’s putting the moves on her oblivious sister.

At that point, the woman calls Megan over to pour them a shot of Tequila.

Alex grimaces. Nothing good ever comes out of Tequila. She makes her way over as she sees Kara take the shot glass.

There’s a whoop from Kara and she turns to the woman with a smile on her face before pointing drunkenly towards the bathroom.

Perfect.

The woman is staring after Kara with a smirk on her face before turning her attention back to the bar.

Alex takes that moment to sidle next to the woman, space be damned. She squares her shoulders and puffs her chest out just enough to catch the woman’s attention. She leans in and as threateningly as she can, “Did you just hit on my sister?”

The woman balks at Alex, eyes wide in surprise. “Was I supposed to hit on you instead?” she asks.

This time Alex balks in return. She was expecting some salacious douchey frat boy to say her line, yet it happened to be a beautiful woman who is just as shocked as she is. And she doesn’t know what to do.

“You’re my--”

“Soulmate?” the woman finishes. “Yeah, I guess so.” She turns to Megan briefly for another round of shots. “Oh man,” she grimaces to herself.

“What’s that for?” Alex shoots defensively. She’s just as surprised to meet her soulmate but she hates the way that sounded. “Are you disappointed that I’m a girl?”

The woman downs a shot of Tequila before pushing the other to Alex. “No, oh my god,” she blurts out quickly. “I just really didn’t wish that happened.” Alex glares. “Not the meeting my soulmate thing. I just wish I proved my line wrong and I actually went for my soulmate. I didn’t want to be a jerk and hit on my soulmate’s sister on purpose you know?”

Alex softens a bit at this. She had her own misunderstanding about her line too. “These lines make us sound like assholes,” she notes.

The woman nods in agreement. “I couldn’t agree anymore,” she says as she sticks her hand out. “Do you want to start over?”

Alex can appreciate a good gesture now and then. The earnest look on the woman’s face as she stares up at Alex also helps. She takes the woman’s hand. “Hi, I’m Alex.”

“Lucy,” the woman says. “Are you going to drink that shot or are you too soft for that?”

Alex tilts her head. “Really? You think I’m soft?”

Lucy raises her hands up in surrender playfully. “What’s your poison then?”

“Whiskey, neat.”

Lucy nods in approval, before turning to Megan to order two shots of whiskey. “My girl knows how to drink,” she flirts, nudging Alex with her shoulder.

Alex rolls her eyes. “Your girl?” she repeats pushing the shot of Tequila towards Lucy. “Isn’t that a little fast?”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “We’re soulmates,” she reminds cheekily as Megan reappears with the shots. Lucy abandons the Tequila and pushes a shot towards Alex before raising her own.

“It’s going to take a lot more than alcohol to win me over,” Alex informs as she raises her own shot.

Lucy bites her lip thoughtfully and Alex can’t stop staring. “How do you feel about pool?” she asks suddenly. Alex looks confused and Lucy tilts her head in response.

When Alex looks over her shoulder, she sees Kara suddenly over there, bent over the pool table with a dark haired woman against her back guiding her hands along the pool stick. Kara’s face is flushed pink as she sticks her tongue out, concentrating on hitting the cue ball. Great. Alex looks back to Lucy. “I’m going to take care of that,” she says with annoyance.

Lucy stops her. “Let’s take our shot first.”

“But--”

Lucy waves her hand. “If you want to pick a fight with a Luthor, I want to be there to help.” She smiles coyly at Alex before taking her shot.

“I’m not going to pick a fight,” Alex tries to hold back a laugh because she wasn’t intending to, but if it turned out that way…

Lucy slaps the glass down and claps her hands together. She rolls her neck as she walks away from the bar. “Come on, Alex, time to defend your sister’s honor.”

Alex laughs before taking her shot. We’re going to be a lot of trouble together, Alex thinks happily as she follows her soulmate towards the pool tables.

[gsmatthews95]

Oz: a recap

The time has come. It has been ten months in waiting but it had to come. It is with a slight twinge of sadness but an overpowering sense of excitement and happiness that I am leaving Australia on my way to Singapore. Which  is actually pretty ideal because I have a nice long 9 hour layover. There are very few occasions I would describe a 9 hour layover as "ideal" but this is one of them. Such a cool city. So much to do and see. And, apparently, it isn't even too big. So I'm hoping I should be able to DO/COMPLETE Singapore in a nice six hour stint, tick it off my list, add another pin to the map and tell everyone about how I've now basically completed Asia. Sick eh?. A wee bit more background before I delve into the meat of this potentially juicy post which I think I will compare to a fat fillet steak by comparison to the rest of my posts that I would say are more like coles BBQ sausages, 24 for $8... good value but not much substance. A good reference I reckon. So I'm currently on my flight. It is maybe 9am Aussie time and I am awake, not that tired, with very little to do in this flight as I went for the lost budget option (still pretty expenny). You have to pay 11 bucks for films, Ye right. Go do one scoot airlines. Urgh, absolute scandal for a 7 hour flight. No worries however. Gives me ample time to write an absolute Goliath of a blog post. Okay seriously guys stop cheering. It's distracting me and my brain flow you have to pay for food and entertainment. Not good. However, the there are two upsides to this flight with nothing to do, firstly it allows me to blog blog blog and the other upside of this prehistoric flight comfort is that it gives me a chance to register to Stephen Hawkins "a  brief history of time", what a bangin audiobook. Well bloody confusing but I feel cleverer listening to it. Although in the last nine months I have forgotten the vast, vast majority of it. All the better it's like a new book. I'm now not that excited however about my connecting flight to Berlin. 14 hours. 13 hours of no films, just sleep, urgh lame. I may find some more wee audiobooks. I'll tell you what, I may get the game Of thrones ones. They'd be immense, especially as I'm now a proper game of thrones loser (read loser as legend/fanatic).

This is what I mean, I have so much time to ramble this piece is gonna drag. Oo I have an idea. As I didn't have this blog for the majority of the trip should I go back and wrote posts for them? Hmmmm, that does kinda defeat the point of the blog though. I don't think I'll do that. the other nagging question is whether I carry on the blog for the next 3 months as I galavant around Europe. I think I should. You're welcome guys. I love you all too. Also sick that I'm using my British passport to its full extent before we F off out of Europe as part of brexit. Wooo freedom of movement. Cosmopolitan ideals, something we should probs all strive for as much as possible. However, I do think we probs made the right decision leaving the EU as most people who have spoken to me about it will know. This post is not about my political views however. Otherwise it would not be called holidaying. Maybe something like #Jezza4PM would be a better name for it if I were to become a political blogger slash activist. But I digress.

So as many of you may have gauged from speaking to me, reading this blog or merely by observing my Facebook presence. I have had an immense time. Even though my article about the ups and downs of travelling may have seemed a bit depressing, I can safely say the last ten months, yes that ten months, a long time, have been smashing. I am currently conflicted, in poor stylistic technique I have embarked upon this post without a plan. And now I am at a crossroads. Do I continue chronologically or thematically? I think I will stay true to convincing writing styles and go thematically. Let's push the boat out he he. Ok ok ok so I'll start with my hostels. I believe I do want to talk about them a little bit first.  To start, I have been in lots. Off the top of my head in Sydney alone I was in 7 separate hostels. Many for a week as I was forced to move because of the price increase, my bed being sold, being chucked out etc. But 3 main ones. Firstly, hump. What to say about this place. A mad house, a good outside smoking area, a room that stays open all night and a lot of sound people who I've seen since leaving Sydney too. One jack gawthorpe, I've seen in four separate places (who's stalking who...). My month or so there was heavy. There was always something going on, I have very fond memories. Secondly, dury house. As described by James, my friend who I took there one night: "that was literally a crack den". Yes James, but it was our crack den. With the roof that never closed and the never ending session, there was always something going on, whether it be 11am on a Sunday morning or 4am on a Friday night. And again some belter people, who again I've seen down the east coast. Thirdly, finally, and ultimately we had the palms. What a place. What a time. November-December 2017. The palms glory days. Clean hostel, nice kitchen, comfy beds, sound people, like a giant sharehouse it had the intimate feel that you knew everyone but was big enough to still be lots of fun. The palms massive made my first xmas away from home so fun and so comforting. Never forget. Loved everyone there, except dan obvs, I hate dan. Everyone else though, I love you. And the hostel. I'll give a quick shout out to bev and micks in Melbourne. Small, intimate, cosy and friendly. Not that exciting or fun but enjoyable for my three weeks. Plus it was the cheapest place around. However, barossa backpackers. Dirty, smelly, small, tiny kitchen, leaky fridges, small room, had to pay for wifi and in the middle of nowhere. Pretty crap hostel tbh. But as I was there for some time, working with and living with everyone. I had an unreal time. Even working in a potato factory. So much fun cause you're constantly with you're mates and chilling, I won't forget those few months in barossa. The hostels down the east coast were nice. Big and nice but with my motivation waiting and the fact that I was staying at each place for a few days I didn't really form much of a bond with many of them. The hostel is key to your experience. Regardless how long you are in a place for but especially if it's for the long term. And overall I think I did well with a only a few mistakes.

Work. Ok so work never went quite as I'd hoped before I came out to Australia. Maybe I was naive, maybe I just wasn't made for call centres. My one regret actually was not going in to construction in Sydney, making lots of money, doing easy work and finishing at 3:30 each day. I then could have done it all over oz as I'd have had experience and wouldn't have had to do some of my crap jobs. We live and learn, one of my bigger regrets I'd say. No hassle though, all has worked out well and I haven't been too low on money. But yes call centres and cold calling, not the job for me. Neither as it turns out is face to face fundraising. What I have learnt though is that there is no worse job than those and I now have sympathy for those doing it, I have the knowledge that I will never work in a job like that again and it has now given me a great  appreciation of any job that isn't that. Which was one reason I think I enjoyed the potatoes so much. Mainly because it was so easy and so much less depressing than my other jobs. Everyone constantly complained, I just smiled and said it could be worse. People said the job would break me. It never did. Smashing job, smashing people, smashing time. The worst of all these jobs though was the charity fundraising, I knew it would be but I just wanted 2-3 weeks work and it paid well. I lasted 1 week. Never again. The best job. Easy. Grape picking and wine making. It was so sick. I got a lot of hours, lots of free wine and food and learnt to make wine in the sun. Dream job. I even have a wine named after me, I'm gonna get a case delivered home of the 2018 vintage GSM lol. But that's enough about work after all it is a work holiday visa.

This part will be harder to split up do I discuss  specific experiences? Or parts of the journey. Oo I have an idea. Animals. I have devoted a few pieces to various animals but I haven't spoken about all of them. There are two that I will leave out though as they deserve their own piece. Australia, famous for its diverse and unique wildlife and I think I've done well in seeing a lot of it. And I got selfies with lots of them. Firstly I have fed and patted wild kangaroos and wallabies. So cute, they love carrots btw, not apples so much. One of the wallabies even had a tiny Joey in its pouch. Too much for my heart. They're great I loved em both. Then came the quokka. As many of you may have seen by my  Valentine's Day post devoted to this one. They are like giant rodents. Although they're not giant, and they're actually cute. I dunno how to describe them actually just look at my photo, well adorable. I will now move on to the dangerous segment of the list of animals, cause, as we all know, that's what oz is most famous for. Firstly, the red back spider, v venomous. Hannah (friend not sister) almost died as she entered his layer/graveyard and only just escaped with her life. I have also seen three wild snakes, woohoo. That was a real target. The python in the kitchen and the two cuties slithering across the path in Lichfield national park and the twelve (4) apostles. Now. The personal favourite. The crocs. There have been lots of crocs, none completely in the wild without a tour guide sadly, but the jumping crocs were wild and were damn sick. I even have a croc tooth necklace (sorry axel, Brutus and dominator). The one animal conspicuous by its absence I haven't seen though, sadly, a shark. Waaaaa I should have gone shark cage diving, ah it was too expensive anyway. I think I'll carry on with my sea critters vibe now for a few more. Next was the manta. MANTA MANTA MANTA. I saw lots in Indonesia but another at whitsundays. So big, graceful and noble. I love them, as everyone does, they're god personified in an animal I reckon.  I would like to be a manta ray. Next up dolphins. Not many and both times I saw them from a cliff. Not overly exciting mainly because I have been spoilt in the past both in cornwall And in the SAN blas when they swam with our boat, so very nice. My final sea dweller. Whales. Lots of humpbacks as I said in my Fraser Island piece. They are awesome, so big and majestic and loving. I would also like to be a whale. Sue me. I saw lots of camels too, they're funny I like camels teehee and dingos, they're so cute, not scary. I would like to chat to a dingo and befriend him. I love dingos. I think however, my proudest find and subsequent selfie was with the koalas. We found 8 on magnetic island. One barely 8 foot away. Perfect for a selfie. And I snapped it yay. They're such chillers too, I love koalas. I love animals actually. I also miss Rolland, I love you too Rolland!!!

So as to stop myself writing another dissertation I may make this the final para. And I'm going to try and be concise. My favourite moments. I won't describe them much but merely mention them. There's a variety of reasons why a moment could have been so great. Maybe where I was, what I was doing, who I was with. Who knows? Maybe I just felt at peace and the world felt right for a moment. Deep. And I'm not talking about every moment I sat down with a full box of goon. Ok ok seriously. The hump boat party. Both 1 and 2. Unreal, a boat party in the Sydney harbour, beers, mates, opera house, swimming, tunes, I won't ever forget those two days. My first moment seeing the extent of the blue mountains at the end of the garden of the nbb Jill and Richard had so kindly rented for us. A little ten minute walk and you were on the edge of the crator with the blue trees stretching out, I reckon I spent a couple of hours just sat there over the three days, peaceful. Sash, pretty much every sash, but one in particular when I'm pretty sure everyone I knew in Sydney was there. It was sunny and we boogied. I was having so much fun several separate people came and asked me if I sold drugs cause I was so deliriously happy. Oo also the sash it rained that was unreal, dancing in the rain with the boys, never forget. Two more from Sydney. The beach party, amazing. One of the best, if not the best day of my life. Music and goon on the beach, swimming as the sun set over the harbour bridge, so wicked. And finally xmas day. Singing for the Aussie prime minister with a broken voice having lost it the night before was something I will NEVER ever forget especially as I have the video of it all ahahahaha. We move on to mine and Hannis road trip. My first thought. The pinnacles. The pinnacles were sick, so random just a load of pointy rocks in the ground. I doubt two people have ever been so excited in one place. So funny. Also actually hannah, all of our carpool karaokes. They made your company bearable. Completing the 8km hike in kalbari was also a good moment as it was 30+ degrees and we had about two litres of water between us, stupid English. But we did it, I'm proud. Finally hanni, 100% when we chilled with Roos in morriset park for hours after Jill and richard basically laughed us down for going, v funny. A good afternoon. Days of our lives festival. Awesome, what a send off from Sydney. Dury house you did yourselves and me proud, cheers for convincing me to go xoxoxo. The whole outback trip was awesome, if I picked a few moments though... I reckon the first proper big fire was a great moment, and sorting out the car light that we couldn't turn off meaning we didn't have to take the fuse out every time we stopped the car, sheer happiness. Also getting in to alice springs. This may seem weird but I cannot explain how touchy everyone was, we needed food, civilisation, electricity, a shower and some goon. We got all of the above and spirits were restored. Also the natural springs were amazing. So beautiful, completely free and refreshing. Darwin, croc diving, easy, it was unreal. Spotting the koalas on magnetic island obvs was memorable. I want to pick some moments from Fraser but it was all so fun. If I had to pick a few though, I'd say the horse racing on the second night united everyone, we were all so into it and the crumbed sausage obvs haha. I have missed things out but when I look back on oz these are the things I feel stand out as specific moments but like I've said before travelling isn't just about the moments (sorry Alina) but the whole experience, what you feel and who you meet.

What a holiday. I am content with my time in oz. if I came back I'd change things but I'm happy just the way they went. It's been sick. Stay posted I have one more oz piece before we move to EUROPE yahoooooooo. This piece has literally killed at least two hours of my flight maybe even three. I have been very engrossed aha. But back to mr hawking for me. G.

[fionnhq]

❛ new york’s very own fionn fox was spotted on broadway street in saint laurent combat boots. your resemblance to matthew daddario is unreal. according to tmz, you just had your twenty-seventh birthday bash. while living in new york, you’ve been labeled as being austere, but also methodical. i guess being a virgo explains that. three things that would paint a better picture of you would be a tourbus packed with strangers, a black eye concealed by sunglasses, text messages left on read. & ( cismale & he/him )

so for those of you i don’t know i’m bee & i’m back with a second character because why tf not. as usual i’m a hoe for plots so hmu either on here or discord @ mercury#7589. also this is a side blog so if i’m not following you that’s because i already am on seb ok here’s what i have so far and it will probably change as i develop him but ? ? yeah

basics

full name: fionn alexander fox birth date: august 25th, 1992 occupation: musician/singer sexuality: bisexual birth place: nyc, new york nationality: american height: 6′2″ weight: 195 lbs afflictions: anxiety smokes/drinks/drugs: no/sometimes/rarely

background

fionn is the first born child to a mother and father who were household names for their modeling and film making, respectively, so it was basically inevitable that he would be thrust into the spotlight at a very early age. he was exposed to fame and wealth before he could even understand what they were

obviously, this is was a very exciting endeavor for a young child who felt like he had the world at his fingertips (and he pretty much did). rather quickly fionn came to recognize that there was a catch

he began to realize that he was different from other people, and that with privilege came people who tried to use him to gain what he had and they didn’t. everyone wanted to be around him but very few for the right reasons. he was desired, but for things beyond his control.

as time went on he came more and more closed off, various bad experiences making him distrustful and cautious. his circle of friends became smaller and smaller, despite always being surrounded by hoards of people. the bonds he formed were easily broken and he learned to be detached

little did he know the people he was being used by the most were his parents, who at as young as six years old started documenting his life for millions of people to watch on television. it all became about the views and the image and if he wasn’t interesting, he wasn’t anything

this was a lot of pressure for him. he was constantly anxious despite how well he hid it & there was a silent understanding in their home that it wasn’t acceptable to let it hold him back. he was medicated for most of his teenage years

he was fairly young when he discovered where his talents lied, which was neither in fashion or film like his parents. instead he had an affinity for music, which his family was fine with as long as he was the best at whatever he did

he had access to all the top resources and was given a vocal coach and guitar lessons and it wasn’t long before they had decided it was time for him to start making a name for himself

when he was sixteen his dad set him up with three other boys his age who he found through his various connections & they formed what would be a top-charting boyband. publicly, they were described as being friends their whole lives but the reality of it was that they’d never met each other before.

it wasn’t exactly what fionn wanted be doing, but he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. it was fun at first but as the years went on and they gained more and more popularly fionn found that the facade was exhausting

they all had their own identities and fionn was kind of portrayed as the ‘bad boy’ because he had a bit of a temper and his introversion was taken as coldness. it wasn’t completely true but that’s what worked for him

fionn felt drained. his relationships with the other members felt strained behind closed doors and he often felt as if he didn’t quite fit in. when he was twenty-one he left the band after a big blowout with one of the other guys who had been sleeping with his girlfriend at the time behind his back. it was bad

this didn’t stop him from almost immediately jumping into a new band known as king james as their guitarist. this band had a much different sound than he was known for and it was a sound that he felt much more invested in

when he was twenty-three, his parents unexpectedly died in a car accident. fionn didn’t know how to deal with this and so he never really did. he had never been good at talking about his feelings and he wasn’t good with grieving either. he kept himself busy with work and hasn’t allowed himself to fully process it to this day. there is still a lot of resentment there tbh

he’s probably destroyed a lot of relationships for this reason, because it’s always like there’s an emotional wall up and barely anyone gets to see past that

personality/facts

fionn really likes his solitude. he’s kind of a loner and he lives with three dogs who he loves immeasurably more than most people

he doesn’t date a lot b/c frankly he has no time but he takes relationships pretty seriously. those people he holds close he does really care about

he is a neat freak to the point of obsession, like he alphabetizes everything and all of his things have a specific spot and if anything is out of place it bothers him until it’s fixed

he has a thing for control, if anything feels like it’s out of his control he panics

he’s probably kind of paranoid now like he just sort of assumes everyone is going to fuck him over which is probably very annoying to everyone that isn’t

he is a perfectionist and holds himself to an unreasonably high standard when it comes to pretty much everything, but especially his work. he can be difficult to work with sometimes because if he thinks he can do better he starts to get frustrated and moody

he hates talking about himself like he’s probably so awkward in interviews which is why he never fucking does them

he’s also a workaholic, like he has to to be busy at all times or he feels like he’s not being productive. he’s a lot tbh

he’s not a big partier. he probably got that out of his system fairly young and these days it’s pretty rare to see him sloppy

he has a lot of internalized anger??? and sometimes he snaps on people and sometimes it’s the wrong people

wanted connections are anything and everything but i’ve brainstormed a few here