#It's like the kind and nice versions of Them.

[harstyle]

Fourteen Years

Summary: They became fast best friends at ten years old - fourteen years later, not much has changed. Now they're twenty four, spending a few weeks together in her Berlin apartment as he takes a well earned break from work. He's a world famous singer, she has an office job she hates. Their paths couldn‘t be more misaligned - but that's what makes them work. Everything falls into place when they're together, a quiet routine building in the shadows, easy and organic. They move around each other like life is the simplest thing in the world.

But what happens when a drunken conversation on a balcony threatens the livelihood of their friendship forever?

What happens when all bets are off and they're forced to be honest with each other?

Word-count: around 4k

Warnings: nothing really, mentions of alcohol, swearing

A/N: Hey there, it's been months! I haven't really written much except from this little thing because I’ve had a lot going on. I'm not a huge fan of this tbh, but something about it feels comforting, so I thought I'd post it. Get ready for the cheesiness of it all and hope you're having a good day!

By the way he calls her Tinkerbell in this lol (don’t ask).

Also, there‘s weird time jumps because I wanted to try out something new, but it basically just switches between the night the conversation went down (italics) and the morning after and her thoughts on the night (normal). Hope it‘s not too confusing!

—

“Because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, Tink.”

That’s what he said last night. He was drunk, even though he insisted repeatedly he wasn’t, but she smelt the alcohol on his breath, a mix of beer and mint that was harmonious enough to smell good. His pupils were dilated, cheeks a shade of red they only are when he’s downright gone but trying to act like he isn’t.

She knows him like the back of her hand. Fourteen years together, every step of their lives since childhood. Elementary, secondary, early adulthood to now— all of it, she’s known him better than anyone. She’s seen all of his phases, however successful or downright devastating— she’s gotten to know all the cousins, all the girlfriends, all the enemies. They’re the it couple, the loves of each other‘s lives. In the most platonic way imaginable.

Last night he wasn‘t like himself. He spent most of the night keeping to himself despite the rare company of their friends, chucking drink after drink like alcohol isn’t the gateway drug it‘s known to be— so unlike the man who always paces himself so as to preserve his health. And then he spoke to her. And at first, it went like always.

“Tinkerbell!”

“What?” She breathes softly, turning to face him whilst pressing her back against the railing. She’s biting the inside of her cheek, having just thought of him as she looked over the scenery from her balcony thinking how nice it’d be for him to be by her side. “You okay, there, cowboy?”

“Never been better, Tink.”

And she remembers, even now, the smile that tugged at her face when she realized he was different. Because it wasn’t a bad different; it wasn’t like he became cold, or dismissive, or mean— no, he just seemed happy. Too happy, like there was nothing in the world that warranted enough importance to be worried about. A version of him she’s never fully gotten to know, but has seen snippets of. And it isn’t like he’s not a happy person— he is; never too worried, never too scared. But this was a different kind of happy.

He seemed lighter. Like the years of experience and maturity had washed away momentarily, leaving her with the eighteen year old Harry she once knew standing in front of her.

“Oh is that why you can’t walk straight?”

He shushes her, coming to lean his front against the railing. She inches closer to him, head falling comfortably against his shoulder. Then she says softly, “we haven’t spoken much today.”

“Yeah, we haven’t.”

She prompts her chin on his shoulder, staring hesitantly at the side of his face. There’s barely any lighting and she can barely make out the shapes, but it’s enough. She watches as his lashes flutter softly, as his facial muscles tighten a little. “And why is that?”

He looks ahead, breathing in and out gently, like he’s deep in thought.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Tink.”

“Okay,” she nods subtly. “Well if you want to talk about it…”

“…you’re here.” He finishes for her.

“Like I always am,” she emphasizes, the extra squeeze to his arm substituting for a thousand words she could be saying instead. But she doesn’t really need to. Never has.

Now she’s waiting. In the kitchen, back in the living room. Then in the kitchen again. She’s pacing, thinking, worrying about what Harry will say when he’s up. If he even remembers what he said, if he meant it the way she thinks he must have.

She never had to worry about losing him. Because she always knew, even at 12 years old, that risking it would mean losing it forever. It being the friendship; the bond with the kindest, most precious boy she had ever laid eyes on. So even though throughout the years sparks of feelings have crept up instantaneously, she’s never pursued that dream.

But it would be sucha dream, wouldn’t it? To be loved by the boy she grew up loving. To be loved by the boy who knows how to appreciate her without having to be taught. To be loved by the boy who always puts her first, treats her best, makes her feel whole.

It hurts sometimes to think she might never find someone like him again. It’s psychotic, really, the fact that she’s so frightened of losing him that she’s deprived herself of the best man on earth. Just so she can keep him a little longer. Even if it means walking down the aisle to him and not being the one wearing white.

For a lingering moment, all there is between them is silence. Dead silence, just the rhythm of Harry’s heartbeat exposed underneath her fingertips.

He breathes in deeply, almost as though preparing himself to say something earth shattering. But then he doesn’t. His fingers twitch, she sees it.

“What is it, H?”

He looks at her, eyes filled with something indescribable. But she speaks his language, so even though he doesn’t say it, she knows what he means to convey. Thankfulness. Gratitude. And she feels it too, any time she’s sad or conflicted, any time she’s in a place she doesn’t want to be in— a glance of his eyes and there it is. All the words. Never spoken out loud, but crafted together perfectly in the space between their bodies.  She always wonders how. She knows he’s wondering it right now too.

But it changes something in his face. It pushed him over the edge, the look of determination solidifying into something more serious.

“You get me, Tink.”

“I do,” she says lowly, making sure to tilt her lips into a smile. “And you, H, get me.”

“That’s crazy, isn’t it? How rare must a connection like ours be?”

“Pretty rare, probably,” she replies with an easy chuckle, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.

“Yeah, probably. I don’t even think it and you know. Y’know before I do, every time.”

Her breathing changes with his. It’s sporadic, slower, almost like otherwise she would be risking a solid ground to stand on. “Yeah, I… I guess so, H. Are you okay?”

“I’m always good when I’m with you. Which is—“ he laughs, almost like at himself, “which is kind of the point, you know. I—“ he looks away, running a shaky hand through his disheveled hair, “I’ve been thinking about how weird it is that we’re… I mean, I’ve never felt that way about…” he pauses again, taking a short leveled breath. “About anyone, really. Anyone but you.”

Her eyebrows pinch, pulling together to crease the center of her forehead.

She doesn’t know what to say. Maybe she shouldn’t say anything. Maybe then he’ll realize he shouldn’t be doing this right now, that he’s entering dangerous territory.

“And I saw you with… with that guy. Tim, you said?”

He nudges her when she remains quiet.

She clears her throat,”Tom, actually.”

He huffs a breath, “right, Tom. I see him, you know? I see what he could be, but it really doesn’t matter that he’s a good guy. It doesn’t matter that he picks up the bill, doesn’t matter that he opens your fucking door. I can’t shake this feeling that he could never be good enough. Because nobody is— not for you. Not even if he kisses the ground you walk on.”

And finally, it’s like she understands a little better what he’s trying to say. She snickers quietly to herself, but lenient worry spreads throughout her chest regardless. “well, that’s a little silly.”

“Is it?”

“If nobody’s gonna be good enough then might as well pick the next one in line, right?”

A pause. Then a cough. “Yeah, right,” he nods, but it looks and feels as though there’s something more to it.

Gently, she brushes a lone finger over his cold wrist. “Harry, what’s happening right now? I’m confused.”

He shakes his head, taking a breath to brace himself. “Is he the next in line?”

For some reason, her heart beats faster.  “What?”

And when he looks into her eyes again, they’re red. “Tom. Is he the next in line? The next best guy?”

For the first time, she allows her gaze to linger, to glide over his nose down to his mouth, then back up again. She swallows, the options of what to say made available to her in her head, yet both too risky to choose from. But she has to say something. “No, he’s not. You’re the best guy, you know that. But it’s different with you, with us.”

And he nods his head, taking in the answer with special consideration.

After a long pause, he takes a deep breath. “Would I be good enough?”

“Would you be good enough for what, H?”

“For you.”

And it was truly instinctual, her laugh. It was racked with nervousness, a sense of unease because she was left thoroughly confused. Looking back, it was probably demeaning of her to laugh— but then again, she still has no idea what happened last night. Where it came from.

She can picture it in her head now, the nervous look on his face as he asked her the question and probably the only time she’d ever recognized anything resembling insecurity in his voice. She’s pacing, a feeling of disgust overriding her stomach at the thought. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, to undermine him. But she didn’t know.

“Why are you laughing?”

She detaches herself from him, dismissal evident in her every step. Maybe it’s the kind of dismissal that needs to be expressed so that nothing moves and everything is left untouched— enough for him to just drop it. Because she’s terrified of it all falling apart. The first domino tile has been flicked; now it‘s only a matter of when will the rest fall in line? “Because you’re being ridiculous, Harry. Stop doing that, you’re freaking me out.”

But it’s not enough. He follows after her, struggling to walk a straight line.  “What’s ridiculous about me asking you a serious question?”

“I just— you know you’re good enough!”

“Do I?”

She glances at him shortly before continuing in stride. “Oh come on! Stop acting so oblivious and innocent.”

“What does that even mean, Y/N?”

“I can’t talk about this right now. Not when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Yeah and the fucking pope isn’t catholic.”

He scoffs aloud. “Tinkerbell!”

“What?” She swivels around, her arms coming to hug around her middle. She looks at him as though repulsed, because frankly, she is. Things were fine before he had to go and get himself drunk and spurt things he couldn’t possibly mean.

He pauses, an expression of defeat on his worry-ridden face as he inches closer. And when he speaks again, it’s timid, not like anything she’s ever known him to be.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Tink.”

“What are you even talking about, Harry?”

“I don’t want to be the guy you regret, or hate, or hurt over. When we’re old, I want to be the guy you look back on with affection. And I— I didn’t really care about anything when we were younger, but I always cared about that. About you.”

He‘s terrified, she can hear it. With every breath he takes, every word he sounds out, there‘s an undertone of hesitation that keeps poking through the surface. It‘s like he‘s fighting with himself.

“Harry,” she warns, because this is all becoming too intense.

And that’s when he said it. Because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, Tink. He said it with sincerity dripping from his words, a type of vulnerable that neither of them had ever demanded from one another. Who could’ve thought that he would ever reserve those words for her. Not for the women he’s dated, not for the woman he’ll marry. For her.

He must be kidding her.

“I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

She walked away then, slamming the door behind her with considerable force. She was ready to leave this behind. Ready to sleep and wake up renewed, indifferent to last night’s shenanigans.

But she couldn’t sleep. She left bed at seven this morning and now she’s just sitting at the counter waiting for the air to shift. She wants the reassurance that things will continue to be the same.  

But deep down, she knows things can never again be the same, not even if they move past it graciously. It‘ll always live on in their subconscious, gnawing away at their minds until either of them caves and decides it isn‘t worth the hassle. Because it doesn‘t matter how much she wishes she could deny it; there‘s always been something there. And that something has gotten bigger and bigger, becoming too enormous to stay invisible to the human eye.

The clearing of his throat snaps her out of a trance. He’s standing in the doorway, sweatpants hanging low from his hips, shirtless. His arms are hugging loosely around his frame and something about about it causes her stomach to stir. Last night, of course, but also just him. Seeing him on a bright summer morning in all his glory, just how he is. There‘s a sense of domesticity that she supposes became normalized in their friendship but is now itching for a different kind of attention.  

She wonders how long he‘s been standing there.

“Hey,” she offers a warm smile, the relief at the sight of him enough to ease some of the tension in her body. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. It’s just now that I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

“Oh! I actually thought you might so I— wait,” she rounds the island to her purse and fishes around for the pills, “I bought a new pack of advil yesterday—“

But the distraction doesn‘t work on him.

“Tink, I meant it.”

It’s abrupt. Even in his delivery, she can tell he’s been keeping it in, been aching to say it.

She freezes however, turning in her spot with a squint in her eye, “what?”

He releases a deep sigh. “I meant it. What I said about you last night. I know you’re hoping we can move past it but it’s been on my mind for a long time.”

“Oh,” she replies quietly, dumbfounded, “I’m sorry about how I reacted—“

“It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it that way. Usually I’m good at keeping these things to myself but there was something about last night that— it just fucked with me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You should always tell me when something’s bothering you, I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like you have to keep things to yourself.”

He laughs. It’s subtle and soft, but it’s there, barely a release of breath. He pushes away from the doorway, coming to stand by the island next to her. “You don’t mean that, Tink.”

“Yes I do.”

“You didn’t even want to hear it last night.”

“I was just confused.”

He shakes his head. “And if I told you all of that now? Would you react any differently? Because however much you might hate it, I wouldn’t take anything back.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“But you’re confused.”

“I mean— out of fucking nowhere, you drop this bomb on me and it’s… fourteen years, Harry. That’s how long we’ve been friends.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you’ve never thought about it? Because if you can look me in the eyes and tell me that, I’ll drop it right this moment.”

And she can feel herself becoming increasingly more frustrated because she can’t really tell what exactly he’s trying to say. Communication has always been their strong suit, but this… whatever this has come to, it’s not like anything she’s ever experienced with him before. It‘s messy, slopey, unchartered territory. “Thought about what, Harry? I’m so lost right now and I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to be honest!” He exclaims wildly, running a hand through his hair whilst gesturing with the other. “There’s been so many times, Tink. The dance, prom, our graduation, fucking last week where there’s been this— this switch. And I feel like something is going to happen but you’re— it’s like you don’t want it to. So be honest with me.”

“Well I just— that’s not fair!”

“How is it not fair?”

“Because you always seemed too fucking good for me, Harry!” She cries out. “Everyone would say it, literally everyone— those fucking girls at school, people at home, the media. I mean, how could I ever think you would settle for someone like me?”

“Someone like what, Tink? Someone who loves unconditionally? Someone who has always put the happiness of others before her own? Someone who is so damn perfect and selfless and kind that I couldn’t imagine anyone being good enough for her? Someone like that, you mean?”

She shakes her head, the words describing her thoughts heavy on her tongue but too vulgar to be spoken aloud. How could she ever be honest with him if honesty means admitting to every feeling of insecurity she has ever harbored at the prospect of her best friend? How could she ever be honest with him when honesty means making him realize she’s not nearly as perfect, selfless or kind as he believes? “Nobody has ever loved me. I don’t think it takes a degree to figure out why, Harry.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, it isn’t?”

“Look around, will you? If nobody loves you why are all of these pictures of our friends hung up on the walls?”

A chuckle escapes past her lips, “man, you really don’t get it, do you?”

“What?”

“That’s not the kind of love I’m talking about.”

He scoffs, shaking his head to regain an inkling of composure and rid himself of annoyance - not of her, but her tendency to make herself the villain in every story, “you can’t possibly be blaming yourself for all of those failed relationships right now. Half of them fucking cheated on you.”

“Yeah, why? if I’m so perfect and lovable why would—”

“God, would you ever blame me if someone cheated on me? Why are you always treating yourself the way you would never treat anyone else, huh? Why are you always so harsh on yourself?”

“You’re perfect, Harry. I mean, perfect career, perfect family— there’s nothing wrong with you. You can’t possibly compare that to me, can you? I’m a fucking mess. I haven’t found my passion—“

He rolls his eyes. “We’re twenty four, for god’s sake—“

But she continues. “And I’m emotional. I get annoying and clingy, my family fucking hates every guy I’ve ever brought home— and even worse, they hate me. So I’m sorry if I’m a little pessimistic when it comes to relationships, but I can’t fucking afford to be all rainbows and sunshine about it.”

“I get it, Tink, I do—“

But she’s had enough of misunderstandings, enough of him pretending like it’s that easy to let go and trust. “No you don’t! And you don’t get to walk in and say all those nice things about me wasted off of your mind pretending like all along it’s you who��s been yearning! Ever since we were kids, Harry, it’s always fucking been you! All of it, everything. I was crushed when I met your first girlfriend, you know that? Fucking crushed!”

There’s fury in his eyes, a fire that keeps getting bigger and bigger, burning at the sight.  “Why didn’t you fucking tell me then?”

“What did you expect me to do? You had never even looked at me twice!”

“You must know nothing about me if you really believe that.”

And it gets to a point where all she sees is red. He’s blurry in her line of vision, spewing words she can’t possibly digest in this moment.

She begins to walk away from him, cursing to herself like he can’t hear her. But he can, and he follows her every step.

“Is this how it’s going to go from now on? You’re going to walk away and pretend like nothing happened?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Frustration anchors at his every word and she can tell, even though she’s only able to hear his speech, that his eyebrows are pinched deeply, his forehead creased with intensity. She knows that he’s hurting to some capacity, that his heart is going wild in his chest.

He wraps his fingers around her wrist, tugging her back into his front. “Tink, just fucking look at me.”

Their chests collide, hearts equally beating faster for one another.

She stares into his eyes, waiting for something to be said, anything. But as seconds pass, and words still remain unspoken, her shoulders start to lose their tension and her heart plummets to the pit of her stomach.

He’s dangerous because she could never stay mad at him. She could never hate him, no matter how badly she wishes she could.

She clears her throat, but fails to move. She doesn’t find herself wanting to. “Harry.”

His eyes trail southward toward her mouth and she wishes so badly he would just kiss it. “Does it really matter what happened back when we were kids? Does anything other than what I said matter at all?”

She swallows around a lump in her throat, staring into the green of his eyes that have always had the power of swaying her in every which way. And as he’s doing the same to hers, the air shifts in a more familiar direction.

“I’m scared.”

He nods, “I know.” Interlacing their fingers with one hand, he allows the other to rest comfortably against her neck.

But she can no longer look at him, not when he’s so close, expecting her to open up to her like a flower in spring. “I can’t lose you, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I messed this up. I’ve wanted it for so long, but I’m bad at being more than a friend. I’m bad at saying what I truly feel, I’m bad at being the girl guys want to bring home to their parents. I’m bad at time management. I’m bad at being vulnerable . You know all this about me, but it was always different before. With you it was easier. But if this were to happen… you’d get to know my ugly sides.”

His eyes are glassy, as are hers. From the outside they probably look like a mourning couple, one at the brink of heartbreak. And in a way, this feels similar to every heartbreak she’s been through, only this time the risk of loss is much greater. And so is the sense of hope.

“Y/N, when I asked you last night about Tom,” he nudges a finger underneath her chin, coaxing her to look at him, “I asked because for fourteen years, I’ve always felt like I wasn’t enough for you. At first I thought you would never be into me. You were too smart, too confident. It’s ridiculous, I know, but we were teenagers,” he smiles at the memory. “But then I joined the band and I didn’t want to expose you to a world I hadn’t fully understood myself. I didn’t want you to have to deal with all of that, so I tried to protect you. I hid you from the cameras, lied to people when they asked me about you. Clearly I didn’t do it very well because you just told me it still got to you—“

“That’s not-“

He squeezes her fingers, a silent appreciation of her reassurance, “but I tried my best, you know? I’ve always kept my distance because I didn’t want this — everything I do and everything I am — to become a burden to you. Because I’ve always loved you. I’ve always wanted to make you happy, to be the best guy for you. There were times I didn’t know it, sure, but deep down I’ve always known it’d be you, Tink. These last few years I just wasn’t sure I was enough. Because you deserve the best a person could get.”  

“Of course you’re enough, H.”

“I still think you deserve better than me, baby, so much better. But if you give me a chance, I promise I’ll try my best. I love you as you are; whatever you call your ugly side, that doesn’t exist to me. You’re you, Tink, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m done cowering away because I’m scared of fucking up and I’m begging you to do the same. Let go with me and explore this. Please.”  

She supposes this feeling in her chest is so indescribable because she’s never felt it so intensely before, but it resembles sheer and raw admiration. There’s a hint of fear brewing in the deep abyss, but hope surfaces at the top. And as she looks into the eyes of the love of her life, she sees safety. Love. A Future. Together.

Her face inches closer, “I’m so terrified of losing you.”

He nudges his nose against hers. “Won’t let it happen, I promise. You’re never getting rid of me.”

A smile breaks out on her face.

“Then kiss me, H.”

And so he does.

—

That‘s a wrap! Hope you liked it :)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Trump can’t do ANYTHING for his base

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PITTSBURGH on THURSDAY (May 15) at WHITE WHALE BOOKS, and in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE with BUNNIE HUANG. More tour dates (London, Manchester) here.

Trump's coalition includes a huge number of people who will suffer terribly from his policies, but who voted for him anyway. Trumpism requires that he find ways to keep those Christmas-voting turkeys happy, or at least distracted.

Trump's go-to move for keeping his base happy is inflicting pain on people they hate, like immigrants, racialized people, queers and women. That goes a long way, obviously: there's a kind of person who can be distracted from their own deteriorating material condition by the spectacle of cruel treatment for their enemies.

But Trumpism can't just run on sadism. There's a lot of people who enjoy the sadism, but not so much that it cancels out their own rage at their deteriorating personal conditions. Trump's main tactic is to blame the suffering of his base on the rest of us: "radical leftists," "wokeism" and other hobgoblins of the small-minded. That, too, has its limits – especially when Trump controls Congress, the courts, the senate and the White House. Obviously, Trump isn't above blaming his own people for being traitors (e.g., by sending a literal noose-bearing lynch mob after his own vice president), but there are limits to this, even for Trump. If all the power-brokers in Trump's coalitions are branded as disloyal, cowardly, or traitorous, Trump will have no one left to do the actual work of advancing his agenda.

Ultimately, keeping Trump's base happy requires providing some form of material benefit to that base. Every authoritarian has a version of this – like the cash handouts that Poland's former far-right government gave out:

https://pulitzercenter.org/stories/poland-model-promoting-family-values-cash-handouts

For Trump, this presents a problem: because he represents the interests of exploitation, extraction and looting, everything nice that he gives to everyday people in his base potentially gores the ox of someone who really matters to him. It's no surprise, for example, that he reversed Biden's price-cuts for Big Pharma's most expensive drugs – the cheaper drugs are for sick people, the less profitable they'll be for pharma companies:

https://www.levernews.com/trump-already-disarmed-the-war-on-drug-prices/

Luckily (for Trump), Biden's consumer protection and antitrust agencies teed up a long list of extremely good policies that would directly shift money from rich parasites to everyday people. For example, the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau passed a rule that would make it very easy to find out which bank would charge you the least and pay you the most, and let you switch banks with one click:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/01/bankshot/#personal-financial-data-rights

It was a move that would have shifted $667m/year from banks to everyday people, every year, forever. But Trump's most important barons, like Elon Musk, hated the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau and insisted that it be shuttered, so that $667m/year will go to the banks after all – indeed, virtually all of the good things Biden's CFPB decreed the American public would enjoy henceforth have been destroyed. Sure, Trump would have liked to have taken credit for these, but the conflict between stolen valor and displeasing Shadow President Musk will always cash out in Musk's favor.

It's not just the CFPB. The FTC also set up a whole roster of ambitious projects to improve life for Americans. Some of these made the news in a big way, like the antitrust case against Meta:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/18/chatty-zucky/#is-you-taking-notes-on-a-criminal-fucking-conspiracy

Trump has lots of upsides from pursuing the Meta case. Everyone hates Meta products, including (especially) the people who are trapped using them because that's where their friends, family, communities, customers or audiences are. Breaking up Meta would be hugely popular with the American people. But also, once a court has convicted Meta of violating antitrust law, Trump can solicit favors – cash and favorable algorithmic treatment – from Meta in exchange for ordering his FTC to go easy on Meta in the "remedy phase," letting them off with a fine, rather than forcing them to spin out Whatsapp and Instagram:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/12/the-enemy-of-your-enemy/#is-your-enemy

But even if Trump lets Meta walk, there's plenty of great stuff Biden's FTC did that he could take credit for – policies that would help everyday people.

The most prominent of these is the FTC's "Click to Cancel" rule. It's a pretty simple rule: companies have to make it as easy to cancel a subscription as it was to sign up for it.

In other words, they can't do that thing – beloved of everything from the New York Times to every manosphere influencer's supplement business – where you can sign up for a subscription with one click, but you can't cancel unless you phone them, wait on hold, and beg them to let you off the hook.

Companies do this on purpose, because it's super profitable. Amazon executives carried on internal email threads where they straight up said that they'd deliberately made it confusingly easy to sign up for Prime and basically impossible to stop paying for it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

This is a no-brainer. Companies make signing up for subscriptions into a greased slide, and they make canceling subscriptions into a greased pole.

No wonder, then, that when the FTC solicited public comments on a proposed "click to cancel" rule, they had no trouble building up the evidentiary record needed to pass the rule.

Now, Trump's FTC has announced that they are delaying enforcement of the rule until mid-July:

https://techcrunch.com/2025/05/10/ftc-delays-enforcement-of-click-to-cancel-rule/

This is the second time they've delayed enforcement (originally, the rule was supposed to go into effect in January). Trump FTC chairman Andrew Ferguson had no trouble getting the votes for the suspension, because he illegally fired the two Democratic Commissioners, Alvaro Bedoya and Rebecca Slaughter:

https://www.theverge.com/decoder-podcast-with-nilay-patel/657115/ftc-bedoya-slaughter-trump-fired-supreme-court-interview

Ferguson is proof that the FTC can't do anything material for Trump's base. Sure, he can set up a snitch-line so tht FTC employees can rat each other out for being "woke":

https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/bedoya-statement-emergency-motion.pdf

This should be a slam dunk. It epitomizes the "unfair and deceptive" business practices Section 5 of the FTC Act empowers the agency to snuff out. The Trump admin is unwilling to gore the ox of out-and-out scammers, people who trick you into unkillable subscriptions. It seems that there's no material benefit that Trump's oligarch backers are willing to cede to working people. All they can offer is cruelty.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/12/greased-slide/#greased-pole

Image: Vis M (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Slide_at_Thenmala_deer_rehabilitation_center.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[hajihiko]

Aren't you tired of being nice, don't you just wanna go apeshit: a ramble about the despair gimmick

In short- in my mind & my world, despair is basically just giving up on your/society's principles and deliberately becoming the worst version of yourself. It's kind of a rejection of society and expectations to a catastrophic degree- I am tired of being nice and I am going to go apeshit (I'm sick of trying to keep everything together, I'm doing a 180 and burning it all to the ground). Who hasn't fantasized a little bit about giving up the long fight for good and doing all the things you know are bad?

In long:

I do think the whole despair and hope, specifically, are moreso gimmicks to have easily recognisable and iconic words in your game rather than something you can actually summarise. I mean, the concepts are real, and the feelings are as real as any feeling is. But the spiral-eyes and super-saiyan mode are obviously moreso to make it dynamic and On Brand, and it's simply more fun that way. As a visual artist this is great for me!

But like, the actual despair thing to me is a more familiar feeling that a lot of people might recognize; a kind of sickness, not illness, but being sick of the world you were born into. Especially these gifted kids with their whole future already defined, whether they like it or not. If your world is rigid and unyielding, you might be sorely tempted to take a sledgehammer and just wreck it.

Akane example: her life was really rough, and her only way out was sports and the privileges being good at them brings. If she doesn't keep up, she just might end back in poverty, and at least in gymnastics there are less people abusing her. But she still needs to practice, mind her diet, wear the right clothes, socialize, compete, go to school, worry about her family back home, etc. Eventually she throws it all away, says FUCK IT and lets herself do whatever she wants, even ruins her body so there is a very slim chance she can even make a comeback- no expectations, nothing to live up to. Then, she can finally stop trying so hard to be good. It's easier to lay down and deteriorate, and after so long pushing yourself to make it, there's probably a kind of delerious joy to finally just. Give up, and stop trying. Absolving yourself of all responsibility for your life and others', whatever happens from here on out just doesn't matter.

Imagine your life is a castle of blocks (you know, the kind kids play with).

When you're little, everything is impressive. You made one block stand up, wow! Good job! Keep going, here's a block coloured improvement, here's one coloured discipline.

You should have a block coloured father figure, but instead you're handed violence. That one is misshapen and ugly and makes your whole construct unstable and much more difficult to work with in the future, but you're too young to know the difference. Once you're old enough to know, it's too late- you already built so much on that foundation.

As you go on, and make a bigger castle, not only does the building get harder, but people expect more, and it gets more and more imperative that you keep going and do not fuck up. Especially when you're a gifted kid that's supposed to be the very best at that one thing you do - it's exhausting!! Every time the castle so much as rattles, you're terrified it's all gonna come down, and you just start hating this stupid castle.

Then someone shows up and says, hey. You can just knock this whole thing down, yknow? If you do, people will stop hounding you about it, and if you do it with a big tantrum and a bang, they won't even expect you to try again. You can just rest.

And god, doesn't that sound good.

She hands you a baseball bat and you delightfully start smashing your castle to bits, and get splinters and blisters and tire yourself out with it. Once you're done, maybe you even start smashing other people's blocks. Maybe you even think you're helping them. It's just stupid blocks and you're so over treating them seriously.

(It so happens that she is making her own empire out of the wood chips of your life, but you don't see that. Or you don't care, or you're just happy to give something back to her.)

But of course it's not actually a castle of blocks. It's your life, and you don't get to switch out broken blocks for new ones and you can't un-smash them.

Kind of like waking up from a bender, a fun wild crazy time while it lasted, but now you feel sick and gross and hurt and you'd like to go back to the comforts you had, but... too late.

You get put into a rehab coma. Everything is a mess, everything hurts, and you don't really want to live in a pile of wood chips after all. You don't need to make a castle, you can make whatever you want, actually. But it's gonna be pretty hard.

A guy hands you band-aids and some glue and says, better get to work.

And you get to work.

[jamesdeanbby]

maybe some hcs of ponyboy with a reader who's like americana coquette? i love your page btw 💓

────۶ৎ pretty little baby, i'm so in love with you

a bunch of headcanons for our favourite greaser acting like a lovesick puppy around Tulsa's prettiest girl!

warnings : canon typical classism, a few slurs/curses.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: i love this sm! i'm such a fan of this aesthetic. Also thank u very very much for your kind words, ur lovely!!<3333

⮞ Pony acts like he doesn’t care when you walk by, but he always notices.

⮞ His pencil stops moving, his eyes flick up, and he chews on his lip like it’s a nervous tic.

⮞ He memorizes the color of her headband every day. Pink on Mondays. Baby blue on Thursdays.

⮞ The day you wore one of those tight checkered tops? He nearly died. He turned redder than the squares in your clothing.

⮞ His school notebooks are filled with little doodles of hearts, curly cursive versions of your name, and once, a whole practice signature of his name + yours. —which Two-Bit found and has never let him live down

⮞ He imagines what it'd be like to go to prom with you.

⮞ His leather jacket over your shoulders. Your her hair all rolled up and nice, and he picks you up on the back of Steve's car.

⮞ Sometimes he zones out in class just thinking about holding your hand. Not even kissing—just pinky brushing pinky and boom, he’s toast.

⮞ Every time you talk to him, his voice cracks or he stammers, which only makes you giggle and he melts like a popsicle on the Fourth of July.

⮞ He never knows what to do with his hands when you're near. He tucks them in his jacket pockets, then takes them out, then scratches the back of his neck like an awkward puppy.

⮞ He starts bringing gum just to offer you one and get one of your smiles.

⮞ He sometimes writes you anonymous poems and slips them into your locker when you aren't looking. He always catchs a glimpse of you reading it, giggling and smiling all wide, with your girl friends all aweing at the note.

⮞ He can never find a believable enough excuse to explain to Darry why he's so giddy when he comes home those days.

⮞ Every time you compliment him—his writing, his hair, his jacket—he turns pinker than the strawberry milk you drink at lunch lol

⮞ When you walk together (always after dark so no one sees), he always walks on the outside of the sidewalk like Soda taught him.

⮞ If another Soc guy so much as glances at you the wrong way, his jaw tenses—but he doesn’t throw fists. He just writes about it on his journal later.

⮞ Once he's caught your interest he starts taking care of himself more.

⮞ He uses more pomade, makes sure his collar’s clean, brushes his teeth twice (even Darry’s like “what’s gotten into you?”).

⮞ He uses a little too much cologne, but it’s kinda cute cause it’s the cheap kind Soda wears and he’s just trying to smell 'good enough' for you.

⮞ He watches you from afar when he thinks you're not looking. In the library, at lunch, even across the lot when you're with your friends.

⮞ You always give him that sweet little wave and he raises his hand in the shyest half-wave like he’s afraid you'll change your mind halfway🥺

⮞ When she talks to Bob or Randy, even politely, he gets so sulky it's lowkey cute lmao😭 ^He’ll literally go smoke behind the bleachers.

⮞ He fantasizes about meeting your parents, wishing he had a nicer jacket and better grades.

⮞ Imagines saying “Yes sir, no ma’am,” while holding your hand under the dinner table.

⮞ His journal? Straight-up a shrine.

⮞ He collects everything you give him. Little scraps of notes you've passed him in class, a flower you once dropped, a napkin with your lipstick mark on it.

⮞ Speaking of lipstick.. Your red lipstick drives him crazy, like crazy crazy. He just wants you to kiss him all over his face and leave a thousand kiss marks on his cheeks and lips so everyone knows he's yours, though he's too shy to ever admit such dreamy little fantasy to you.

⮞ If you cry, he’s done.

⮞ He drops everything and goes straight into panicked-comforting mode. Wraps his arms around you so gently it feels like he thinks you're made of porcelain.

⮞ Your glossy lips, little hair bows, the way you taps your pen when you're bored? It kills him.

⮞ You once asked if you could wear his jacket. He couldn’t speak for a full minute and then just nodded, dumbstruck.

⮞ When you gave it back it smelt like your perfume and he swore he would never wash it again.

⮞ The boys tease him to death.

⮞ Soda ruffles his hair when he sees you walk by like, “That’s your girl, huh?”

⮞ Steve is always acting annoyed about Ponyboy's sappy stuff and always makes comments like: “You gonna write her name in the sky next?”

⮞ Two-Bit actually threathened him with serenading you two with a ukulele.

Ponyboy doesn’t want to steal you from your world. He just wants to earn his place in it.

[antianakin]

A number of people have responded to this post with something similar to this and I think this post is getting misunderstood as me arguing that I think Cassian should know about all of the things Bail has done, and it's not. That's not what I'm saying.

I'm bringing up all of these things Bail has done because it felt to me less like this is a moment where we're supposed to just see Cassian as wrong or biased, and more of a moment where the narrative VERY GENUINELY wants you to agree with Cassian that the only reason any of them are even here right now as a rebellion is because of Luthen.

For one, Cassian's sole reasoning behind why he believes the information is because "Luthen died for it" and that faith (as well as Kleya's) is ultimately what helps sway Vel into convincing Mon Mothma to believe it and stand up to Bail about it. It's BAIL who has to sit there being wrong and just be the "man Cassian doesn't like."

For two, this entire arc really focuses in on Luthen's legacy and influence, so it doesn't make a lot of sense for the ultimate message at the end to be that Cassian's just biased and wrong about Luthen's impact on the rebellion.

For three, Gilroy apparently has said in an interview that he sees Luthen and Mon Mothma as the true founders of the rebellion in his version of the story.

For four, they decided to have Bail's team be compromised in the episode with Mon's big speech so that Luthen can step in with his better knowledge and agents to ACTUALLY save her but then the "Gold Squadron" (who are also part of Bail's group) insist that they have to step in and deliver Mon Mothma to Yavin, leaving Luthen and Cassian's work essentially unrecognized. While this fits in quite nicely with the themes of Rogue One and the ways that so many people often end up unremembered by history no matter how important they are, it is also worth bringing up in this case because it's another instance of "Bail's way fails, and Luthen's succeeds because he's just better at it."

For five, Cassian wouldn't know about all of the little things Bail has done, but Rebels has made it fairly clear that Bail DOES take part in some of the recruitment work and meetings within his own rebel cells. It seems INCREDIBLY unlikely that Cassian is unaware of just how long Bail has been doing this and how much of what's here is a direct result of Bail's work for the last 19 years bringing it all together. He doesn't have the DETAILS, sure, but he's been in Bail's rebellion for two years now, you cannot convince me that he doesn't know ANYTHING about Bail's involvement in it and the fact that he literally founded it.

I would mind this a lot less if it felt like we as the audience were supposed to understand that Cassian is just being emotional and kind-of biased because a mentor of his just died, but that doesn't feel like the way it was being presented to us. You CAN interpret it that way, but that doesn't necessarily mean that's the way it was intended to be understood.

So the reason it felt important to me to bring up the fact that Bail has absolutely been established as being there from DAY FUCKING ONE with the things he did to help the Jedi and what he did for Leia isn't to say that Cassian should KNOW these things, but to point out that the narrative in Andor seems to be acting like those things don't count or is just ignoring them to favor Luthen and Mon because Gilroy prefers them. But they DID happen and they DO count and Bail Organa is just as much if not more responsible for that rebellion's existence than Luthen Rael. I LIKE Luthen, I think he's a fascinating and complex character, and I am perfectly happy to give him his roses for what he HAS done, but what I won't do is devalue or dismiss Bail Organa's contributions to lift up Luthen as the true founder of the rebellion.

It seems a little hilarious to me that they have Cassian making the argument that the only reason any of them are here, the only reason the REBELLION exists at all, is because of Luthen... and he's saying it to BAIL FUCKING ORGANA.

I'm sorry, but while I am happy to accept that Luthen did do a LOT of things to keep the rebellion alive and likely recruited quite a few of the people on Yavin to this cause himself and trained them up, there are just as many if not more who are there explicitly because of BAIL ORGANA.

Bail Organa who began fighting the Empire the moment he showed up at the Jedi Temple the night of Order 66 and turned around to save any Jedi he could and then became a GETAWAY DRIVER as Yoda went to assassinate the Emperor and then proceeded to agree to take in Anakin Skywalker's child in order to hide her from the Empire.

Bail Organa who has literally been shown helping recruit the entire Ghost Crew and likely brought on the entire Phoenix Squadon and theoretically the entire Gold Squadron. Bail Organa who was the one who helped Riyo Chuchi try to fight for clone rights. Bail Organa who saw Ahsoka Tano on Naboo for Padme's funeral and immediately turns around to offer her a chance to join the rebellion which she does eventually choose to take. Bail Organa who eventually does allow his own DAUGHTER to join the rebellion and run missions when she's old enough.

You cannot convince me that somehow Luthen Rael is MORE responsible for the creation of the rebellion and its existence and people's involvement in it than Bail Organa. You can't.

[docsbestkissedoperative]

i think it's fair to say that hank is the type to be so focused on whatever his goal is that he will never take no for an answer in regards to it, no matter the circumstance

i'm primarily thinking of project nexus where he completely doesn't gaf if the project could have been used for good.

(granted that i don't know how trustworthy the jeb of now would be in running it, but the moment jeb was no longer of use to him, he hit him with a missile launcher and tried to kill deimos and sanford)

i think a lot of people see this as just hank turning against dei and san, and while i agree on this because he does do that, i also see it as him being very stubborn about reaching what he wants

i'm fascinated by how this reaction from him doesn't just come out of nowhere, either. take this line from sanford

the thing about this line is that sanford's right. hank HASN'T listened

add every single time hank insists he can kill gestalt even when told why no one can, and there's SO many times hank doesn't care at all about what they're saying. it's in one ear out the other

one of the only times i can think of that he kind of cares is when he and jeb are trying to crush gestalt

it's so notable to me because i don't believe he ever uses an exclamation mark for anything else! but he only reacted like this when something directly impedes his ability to finish the mission, when there's a plan to deal with what's stopping him but it's not working

so when i look at this, it recontextualizes why he acts that way towards dei and san in the end

they are stopping him from reaching his goal. he doesn't use an exclamation mark again, but i think his reaction here reinforces the idea that if you are in his way, he will not hesitate to kill you

plus, while his next line says that he did want to get into a fight with the duo, it's so so interesting that hank actually tries to reason with them first (aka the first 2 screenshots). it's just him reiterating that it's the mission, but he doesn't go straight into killing them. as long as the plan to deal with what's stopping him works, he's willing to play nice

but san and dei refuse to agree with him, and that's what gets him to ask if they're going to have a problem

if we look at the animated versions too, i'm thinking about his quest to defeat the sheriff as an early example of that stubbornness, and of course we can't forget how that same stubbornness is likely part of why he gets the auditor's ire so much

hank is a force of nature that cannot stop, will not stop, and does not want to stop until he gets what he wants, and i think that makes him all the more dangerous

[moonlight-tmd]

Crack au ( different Kind of Au )

When Bee gets real Mad he unlocks the grimlin rage and Is strong and the Team IS scared Sari calls him a cybertronion Version of Hulk minus the whole getting bigger Thing. Bumblebee once Mad manage to throw megatron he managed to do IT cause megatron was Not ready cause he is a Shrimp in His eyes. And blitzwing now really wants to Date him maybe. And prowl Just Wonders how that Is possible. When ever Bumblebee IS calm he Passes Out and sleeps for two days cause he lost Lots of Energy ratchet actulley knew him a Long Time so he knows that he IS OK and that's normal for him, he gave Up trying to understand the feat of strength he gets when Mad.

If you want you can Draw Bumblebee throwing megatron Who Looks confused af.

Bye have a nice day/week/month.

Damn, that is fun. Although i think it would be more like an intense power to wreck destruction and not being able to pick something x100 his weight.

Like Bee just getting the intense chemical reaction similar to adrenaline but it makes him see red instead, he could wreck the entire city if he was left to it. Usually Bulkhead manages to contain him in a strong hug but even then his bite strength is enough to pierce the toughest armor.

One time the Decepticons really went at it and kidnapped the whole gang w/ Sari and at one point the Autobots managed to get free but a fight broke out and one of the cons ended up hurting Sari somewhat seriously, right in front of Bee.

That set him off and he went haywire. Nobody was able to catch him and the cave nearly collapsed from his electrocutions. At one point he went against Megan solo and shocked and tore into him so many times while dodging attacks before climbing and full on electrocuting him to the point majority of his wires fried. At the end of it Megs was missing whole pieces of plating, had burned fuses and severe electric damages.

Everyone just stood there watching it unfold rather than fight themselves, after that Bee was mostly back to normal and the 'cons managed to kick them out. Everyone now officially fears angry Bee and they get nervous when he is even slightly irritated.

As for Blitzwing, he got hard the moment he saw Bee single handedly wreck Megan's shit. He is now showing up under Autobot base with flowers n shit and (badly) singing love songs for Bee.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 25

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,890ish

Summary: You and Tony go on your first date.

Warning(s): talk of rape, talk of abuse, torture, death, mental health, panic attacks

Note(s): Only 2 more chapters left after this!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

You stood in front of the mirror in your room, brushing your fingers nervously down the fabric of your outfit— not too formal, not too casual. You had tried on four different outfits before settling on this one. You tugged gently at the sleeves, raking over your reflection. Your heart was beating too fast while your hand were cold. 

It was just dinner. With your husband. Who wasn’t really your husband in the traditional sense. But maybe someday he could be. If you didn’t mess this up. You exhaled slowly, trying to rid yourself of the growing bundle of nerves.

Knocking softly on the door, Yelena peeked in. A smile grew over her features as she took you in.

“That looks great,” she complimented.

“Yeah?” You questioned. “Because I have another—“

“Stop that.” Yelena shut the door and came over to you. “He’ll love it.”

“You think?”

“I know… Steve and I will be there the whole time.”

“I’m not worried about anything but myself… I don’t know… I don’t think I’m made for this… for… affection. For someone to care the way that Tony seems to.”

“That’s Rumlow and your father talking.” Gently, she turned you to fully face her. “You deserve this, Y/N. You deserve good. And Tony… well, he has his far share of flaws, but he is good for you.”

“What if—“

“No more. Let tonight be a fresh start. Both of you need it.”

~~~

Tony stood in front of the full-length mirror in the guest room across the hall. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway and he was debating on whether a tie was trying too hard. Or not trying hard enough. He ran a hand through his hair for the third time.

“Get it together,” he muttered to himself.

This wasn’t a business dinner or a meeting of any short. This was you. And for some reason, that made it ten times harder to breathe. He had no armor to hide behind tonight— no danger, no crisis. Just… vulnerability. And you.

Tony buttoned up the last part of his shirt and left the tie on the bed. Too stiff. He wanted to feel like himself. The version of himself he’d become when you looked at him like he was safe, not terrifying. He grabbed the bouquet from the dresser and headed out to the foyer where he promised to wait for you. Steve was already there, patiently waiting with the car keys to drive the two of you to the date. Tony’s heart clenched as he thought about his long time driver, Happy, and how he would have loved to be a part of this.

When Tony noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned and stared. You appeared at the end of the hallway, pausing. Tony’s heart did a weird, stutter thing in his chest as you slowly came closer.

“You look…” He stopped, clearing his throat to try again. “Beautiful. You look beautiful.”

You gave him a nervous smile. “You look really nice too.”

You took a slow breath as you stepped closer. The two of you stood there, a little awkward, a little shy— like two people who had been through hell and back together and still didn’t know exactly how to take the next step. Tony suddenly held out the bouquet.

“These are for you,” he said. “I still don’t know your favorite flower so I had to get a few different kinds.”

“Thank you, Tones,” you took them from him. “You don’t need to worry about my favorite flowers though… My favorites are any you give me.” Tony could have melted right then and there. “I’m just going to leave them here.”

“I’ll take them,” Natasha offered, easily slipping over from where she was standing by, watching. 

“Thank you.”

Tony took a deep breath and offered his arm to you, knowing full well that you may not take it. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for a heartbeat, then gently slid your hand through the crook of his elbow. Tony led you to the car, where Steve was ready to take you on the date. Tony helped you in before running around to the other side and slipping beside you. The car ride was filled with nervous silence, causing Steve to smirk. Steve drove the two of you to the complex where the penthouse was located. 

You stepped out onto the roof first, eyes widening. Twinkle lights strung across trellises cast a soft, golden glow over the rooftop. A small round table sat at the center, already set for two— candles flickered and soft instrumental music hummed quietly through the hidden speakers. Flower boxes lined the railing, overflowing with ivy and blooms. Beyond them, the city stretched out like a sea of stars. Your breath hitched at it all.

Tony stepped beside you, clearing his throat. “It’s just a rooftop,” he tried to say casually. Like his heart wasn’t waiting to beat until after seeing your reaction. “Nothing crazy.”

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out.

“I thought about the fanciest place in the city,” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “but that didn’t feel like us.”

You looked over at him, overwhelmed with gratitude. “It’s perfect.”

He smiled back before helping you to your seat. He tried his best not to stare too long, not wanting to ruin the moment by being obvious about his love for you. Once seated across from you, he reached out for a cold, glass bottle of water.

“It’s just water,” he told you. “I had it shipped in from Europe. So if you hate it, we’re blaming Rhodey.”

You looked at him, completely touched and in shock. “You… you remember that?”

“I try to remember everything you say.”

Your eyes met. Something warm and gentle passed between them. 

~~~

As dinner progressed, you smiled easier and leaned in closer— the initial nerves disappearing. Tony told you stories of his childhood and growing up with those who were now your friends. He had you laughing so hard that you almost dropped your glass. Tony couldn’t stop trying to make you laugh. It was music to his ears. His eyes never looked away from you. He couldn’t believe you were really here.

You were leaning slightly against Tony as you held his hand and he guided you back to the bedroom in your house. He stopped at the door and turned to face you.

“I know we’re married on paper,” he began quietly, “but tonight was the first time I felt like I was earning your yes.”

“I think you’ve been earning it for a while now… Are you… are you staying in here tonight?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“You promised me a movie every night. I figured tonight still counted.”

Tony smiled. “I’ll get changed and be right there.” 

Keeping your eyes locked with his, Tony slowly brought up the hand that was linked with you. He pressed the gentlest of kisses to the back of it before letting go. 

“I won’t be long, my dear,” he whispered before turning and disappearing into the guest room.

~~~

The two of you continued to fall for each other as the weeks passed. Sharing small, everyday moments. There was no rush for either of you. Just a quiet, growing closeness that was built on safety, trust, and gentle affection.

(Cue montage of small moments)

The Kitchen, Early Morning

Tony sleepily wandered into the kitchen one morning, rubbing his eyes. You were already at the stove, putting together breakfast. Tony paused, smiling softly at the sight. He leaned back against the counter as he watched you hum to yourself and work.

The Living Area Couches, Late At Night

Tony was stretched out on the couch, legs hanging off one end, a book resting one on his chest. He dozed off about halfway reading the chapter aloud. You were laying on the other couch, blanket over you. You were still awake, watching his chest raise and fall. Eventually, you got up and draped your blanket over him. Taking a breath, you leaned over and pressed a small kiss to his head before heading to bed.

The Studio, One Afternoon

Clay was smudged across your face. Your hands were slick and steady, guiding the shape of the new vase. Tony sat nearby, sketching a design for an improved kiln. Every so often, he glanced up— not at the clay. But at you. Like you’re the art. You caught him once. He didn’t look away, and you didn’t care to ask him to.

The Bedroom, Late At Night

A storm rolled outside as you and Tony sat on the bed, watching Disney’s 1991 The Beauty and The Beast. Tony’s hand rested in between the two of you, with yours not too far off. You could see his hand out of the corner of your eye thought you tried to focus on the movie in front of you. Holding your breath, you moved your hand just enough so that your pinkies brushed together. Neither of you moved away.

By the time the song, Tale As Old As Time, had begun, Tony was staring at you more than he was the screen. He slipped off of bed and began making his way around.

“Tones?” You questioned. “What are you doing?”

He held out his hand, bowing a little. “Can I have this dance?”

“Are you serious?”

“Always.”

Your hand trembled slightly as you reached out and rested it in his open hand. Tony gently pulled you from the bed. He kept his eyes locked on yours, trying to show that he had no ill intentions as his other hand guided your other hand to his shoulder and then hovered over your waist. Slowly, Tony began leading you in a small circle off to the side of the bed. You leaned into Tony more, trusting in him to guide you in a way that wouldn’t make you embarrassed.

“You…” you breathed out. “You can touch me.”

“You sure?” He quietly checked, not wanting to push you past any limit that he was already stretching.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

Tony scanned your eyes for an uncertainty one more time before he allowed his hand to softly rest against your side. He continued to lead you until the song was over. When the two of you stopped, you were still holding onto each other.

“We should finish the movie,” Tony suggested, making no move to pull away.

“Can we… can we stay like this for a little longer?” You softly requested.

“Anything you want, honey.”

The Hallway, Late Evening

Tony had to coax you out of the studio tonight. You were too engrossed with your latest project to head to bed yourself. Though you are clearly tired. You stumbled slightly as you and Tony walked to the bedroom. Without thinking, Tony gently threaded his fingers through yours to steady you. You instinctively lean into him more. He kissed your head.

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispered, helping her into the room and tucking you in before going around and crawling in bed himself.

Tony’s Office, Dinner Time

Tony was hunched over his business files when you slipped in with a tray of food. You left it on the edge of his desk without a word. Tony eventually fell asleep, waking up close to midnight with a blanket over his shoulders and his untouched food still warm beside him. He sighed with a soft smile, knowing that you came back to reheat it for him.

~~~

Tony could tell that something was off. You were in your head more today than he had seen in a while. He leaned against the open door of your studio, watching you work. Your hands were slick with clay, arms smudged with pale streaks of dried slip. Your apron wasn’t doing much to save your clothes from the splattering of clay. You were in your element— focused, steady, safe. But there was something still there. Something bothering you that you hadn’t yet to talk to Tony about.

“You look like you’re winning a war,” Tony finally spoke up, stepping further into the room.

You look up, giving him a small smile. One that wasn’t you true smile. “Feels like it sometimes,” you replied.

He came closer. “You’ve got a little—“ He reached out without thinking, his fingers moving towards your cheek, aiming to brush a bit of clay off of your skin.

But… you flinched. Hard. A sharp inhale as panic exploded across your face.

“No—!” You gasped, stumbling back from the wheel, hands raised protectively.

Tony froze for a moment. “Hey, hey, Y/N, it’s okay,” he tried. “It’s me.”

Your breathing turned ragged. “Don’t— Don’t touch me like that, please—“ 

But you’re not looking at him anymore. You’re not really there anymore. You’re somewhere else— somewhere dark.

“I’m sorry,” Tony apologized immediately, hands up as he backed up. “I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean—“

You’re shaking how, shoulders trembling as you sunk down to sit on the floor, back pressed to the wall.

“I’m dirty,” you whispered, barely audible. “They always… They always said I was… that no one should see me like this. Touch me like this.” Your voice cracked. “They said no one would ever want me if they saw me like this.”

Tony’s face twisted— pain, fury, heartbreak. But not at you. At them. Obadiah. Brock. The ghosts that still mange to sink their claws into you whenever they can. He hates them, doesn’t matter that they’re dead. He hates that they’ve still managed to break you down like this. Even if Tony’s witnessed you this way for almost a year now, and thinks it’s one of the most beautiful sights. They still try to win.

Tony knelt a few feet away, still making sure to keep space between the two of you. “They were wrong,” he stated. Your eyes lifted slowly to his, wet and ashamed. “Y/N… You’re not dirty. You are… you are the most beautiful thing in this world. Even all covered in clay. And you’re… you’re the strongest damn person I know.”

Your arms curled around your knees as clayed continued to dry on your skin like a second, fragile shell. Tony let the silence sit, not trying to fix it or move closer.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be free of them,” you admitted brokenly.

“Well, good thing I’ll be here to fight them with you,” he told you. “As long as it takes until their voices don’t echo so loud in your head anymore.”

You say nothing. But you don’t move to run and for now, that’s enough.

~~~

Tony’s office is mostly dark, lit only by the few laps scattered around the room. He was sitting at his desk, not working— just flipping a pen between his fingers as he thought about ways to help you. He doesn’t hear you at first. But then you knock softly against the open door. His head immediately turned towards you. You stand in the doorway, wrapped in a cardigan. Your eyes were puffy, like you’d been crying quietly.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt…” you mumbled.

Tony straightened, setting the pen down. “You’re not.”

You nodded, taking a timid step inside. “Can I… talk to you?”

“Of course.”

You hesitate for a second before walking in further, sitting yourself down at the far end of the couch. Your throat bobbed as you tried to find the words.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” you admitted quietly. “For earlier.”

His brows furrowed. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do… I freaked out, and I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I know you’d never hurt me, but I just… it happened so fast and I was so caught up in my own thoughts… I hate that is still controls me… That they still control me… And I hate that I made you feel like you did something wrong when you—“

“Y/N,” he cut in, quiet but firm. 

You stayed quiet as you watched him stand and come around the desk, slow and careful. He paused, keeping space between them until you gave him a nod, telling him it was okay to become closer. He continued to move slowly, crouching in front of you to meet your eyes.

“You didn’t make me feel anything expect heartbreak. For you,” he told you softly. “And not because you flinched. But because of what made you flinch… I’m not upset. I’m not disappointed. I’m not anything except whatever you need me to be.”

“I thought I was getting better,” your voice was small, heartbreakingly so. “I just want to get better… for you.”

“You already are. You keep showing up. You’re not giving up. That’s everything.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap. “I want to let you touch me… I was letting you… But then… I can’t explain it. It just happened overnight. I woke up fighting demons that I thought were gone. And that wall shot back up.”

“I’ll sit at the base of that wall for forever, honey.”

You let out a shaky, tearful laugh. “That sounds really boring.”

“You’re worth every second.”

And then, without another word, you leaned forward and rested your head against his shoulder. Tony stayed still, just letting you be there. Safe. With him.

next chapter >

[laurellala-comics]

HOORAY MIRACULOUS LADYBUG BUT ROCK STARS!

Ok thought dump time (sorry it's so long):

The story picks up with them in their early twenties. The band "Miraculous" has picked up a small cult following amongst the youths, they play at small local festivals and stuff but they've also started doing their own shows and traveling a little bit around France

Rose plays bass and sings, Alya plays lead guitar and sings, Juleka's on drums

Marinette is the only one that doesn't play an instrument- she wasn't originally part of the band, she was actually just friends with Rose and got invited to sit in on band practice and shyly inserted herself into the friend group by offering to help them with styling and their look and everything. She did costumes and ran the social media accounts.

Marinette does not sing "well" in the technical sense but she has a kind of awesome raspy scream singing style that she's able to pull off. She was joking around the first time she did it at practice, but someone in the band was like "omg wait that's really special and cool you should do it in a performance" and that person was... LUKA! Dun dun dunnnnn

Luka is Juleka's twin in this version (i know canon in mlb flops around on his age) and he and Juleka had originally started the band as a sibling duo, then Rose got involved when she and Juleka started dating, then they held actual tryouts to find a lead singer and wound up with Alya.

Marinette feels hugely untalented but Luka has such strong faith in her that she obliges and starts taking lead vocals, and this is when they really start picking up in popularity. She and Luka start dating around this time too (but it's kind of a thing where Luka is just in awe of her from a musical standpoint and Marinette likes him because he sees value in her. They probably should've just been friends but Oops too late)

Marinette is very much playing a character when she's out on stage, Ladybug, who is much more confident and cool! She's always been really shy and awkward but for the first time she feels accepted by her bandmates and by the audiences!

They have a small but dedicated fanbase and one of the most active members issss ADRIEN AGRESTE famed fashion influencer and lifestyle tik toker! He posts about his daily life in a sort of insidious form of advertising for the agreste brand (his dad is still a fashion designer in this au)

He has this very pure "boy next door" thing going on and he just posts his outfits (which happens to be agreste brand) and daily life as a model and he's also genuinely likeable and charming and so he's a bit of an internet celebrity

But although his posts aim to be very casual and encourage parasocial relationships, everything is sooo produced and has to pass by his father's marketing team and he is so micromanaged he cannot stand it!!! SO in his free time he kind of messes around online and he stumbled across someone's uploaded videos of concert footage of the band Miraculous... and he is hooked

He watches everything he can find and he wants to reach out to other fans and find out more about this band butttt his dad would never allow it :( His fancy son at a grungy alt band's concert? This would ruin the Agreste brand image!

And so he creates a FAKE ACCOUNT and inspired by the animal themed characters of Miraculous, he calls himself CHAT NOIR! and he comes up with his own dorky costume!

And though he hasn't made it to a real concert yet, he's in all of the fan spaces online, he even makes an official discord server and brings people together to chat about the band, and he comments really nice things on all the video uploads. Because he is LONELY.

And the fans are really nice and supportive of his little bandsona and it makes him feel really nice.

So this is all the background... here is the initiating event of where the au story "starts"

Luka leaves the band miraculous (and breaks up with Marinette).

They had mostly been playing around and having fun with things, with a very rock sound and aesthetic, but Luka wanted to get more experimental and more purposeful with their lyrics (more into the punk end of it)

He had started doing his own side project and Marinette had been kind of hesitant about it- basically she was nervous about doing anything that was a political statement because she didn't want to make anyone angry.

They fundamentally clashed, he believed that if you didn't make anyone angry you weren't saying anything worth saying, he saw music as an avenue for activism.

On the other hand, Marinette sees the band as something to entertain people and make them feel good as a distraction from crappy stuff, and also a security blanket/a way to make people like her. She just wants to keep the good thing going so she can feel accepted.

They couldn't see eachother's point of view, they break up and Luka starts doing his side project exclusively.

Marinette starts to worry that without Luka's musical guidance they'll flop, and that the other band members were only including her at Luka's insistence. Will they even want her around anymore? Are they even really her friends?

It's kind of embarrassing, but when she's feeling panicked it really helps to see the nice things that some of their fans say online. So SHE has a fake account that's not affiliated with herself (maybe it's called Tikki or like ladybugfan5000 or something silly) and she joins fan spaces so that she can talk to fans undercover and see what they really think of her (she is a little paranoid)

And while she's scrolling on her fake account sometimes she sees Adrien Agreste videos recommended to her. And maybe she watches some of them bc she has nothing better to do because he does have nice outfits and he's kind of cute or whatever and his voice is really calming so she ends up following him. But surely nothing will come of this (forshadowing).

Anyway. Back in Miraculous fandom spaces, Chat Noir is a big ladybug fan and so she keeps seeing him when she's looking for positive feedback. And she sees how sweet and welcoming he is to others in the fan space and so she starts interacting with him a little bit

Adrien can see that she is following his Adrien Agreste account and thinks this is really funny, and so he starts to poke fun at her as Chat Noir for liking Adrien Agreste. And she makes fun of him for liking Ladybug, which she sees as a private little joke because she is Ladybug

And it's like not a real crush it's very much a celebrity crush moment, but it's like a friendship bonding activity to talk about their celebrity crushes, and as they do they start to get to know eachother better and confide in eachother more... because Adrien is actually going through angst too

"what kind of angst" you ask? HAHAHA you fell for my TRAP! It's time for the asexualification beam of all my fav characters because if nobody will write my ace angst I will have to!!!

ACE ANGST: Adrien had been dating Kagami at his father's request, kind of as an image thing but also they were family friends and he was like I think I have a crush on her so yeah sure I'll date her!

ISSUE: Adrien does not actually want to makeout with her or touch her that much, like he doesn't MIND but it's not something he's really motivated by. Privately Kagami is kind of hurt that he doesn't seem interested in her and communicates this repeatedly but Adrien doesn't really know what to do about it... because he knows he cares about her but not in the way she wants

She breaks up with him and he breaks the news to his dad and Nathalie (who is part of the PR team that works on his videos)

And his dad is very focused on WHY they broke up and it's confusing at first but Adrien realizes that he's trying to figure out if Adrien is coming out as gay, which he absolutely would not be allowed to do publicly

And Adrien is like no no that's not it I like girls I just idk I feel like I'm not liking them in the right way and his dad is like ok great i don't care about this conversation anymore, as long as you aren't going to isolate any of our key demographics for agreste products by being gay i don't care!

And adrien is like :( oh. Ok. Good talk. And he starts thinking like "yeah no i definitely don't want to be kissing boys so I guess that's it and I'm straight totally and for sure and I'll never ruin my father's branding plans so I can stop worrying about this" *smash cut to him lying awake at night worrying about this*

So Basically the themes here are being liked vs being true to yourself. Adrien's Chat Noir sona is freeing for him as it allows him to express himself freely and represents him finding support in a community (oh gee what could this be a metaphor for Huh!). On the other hand, Ladybug is Marinette's desperate plea to be liked. There are some aspects that are freeing but ultimately she's being who she thinks people will want to see. She will have to learn about authenticity and that sometimes to support the ones you love you DO have to make a statement

It's also an exploration of some cool ace stuff I don't see explored often, namely that it is easier to have a crush on someone out of your reach like a fictional character or a celebrity because you won't have to actually ever deal with the possibility of them liking you back and the pressures of navigating a physical relationship.

Adrien starts to fall in love with Marinette on her secret account a little but he's also kinda thinking "would I still feel this way if I knew her in person? What if I only feel this way because she's far away and this is safe..." and then they have to decide if it's worth trying to meet up and seeing if their feelings go anywhere while ALSO navigating being honest about who they REALLY are. Oh mortifying ordeal of being known, the fickleness of emotion, etc

AND ALSOOOO i think examining how queer community can still be so important for hetero-romantic aces. YOU ARE PART OF THE COMMUNITY IF YOU WANT TO BE! Your experience is queer and atypical even if it may not be as obvious to others. I think het ace people are still subconsciously drawn to other queer people in the same way other queer folks experience, but then feel tentative about engaging because they worry it isn't for them. IT IS FOR YOU!!!! An ace relationship is SO punk, you are reconstructing the idea of what a romantic relationship needs and entails and you are stomping all over amatonormativity and it's so awesome I LOVE YOU!!!

Additionally, I think this is a love letter to online fandom spaces and the way that anonymity lets us be more honest with eachother... people are so unabashedly themselves online and that can lead to some really deep genuine relationships forming

My thing is I like this idea too much to tie it fully to Miraculous because I've drifted away from the fandom a lot over the past 4 years that I've spent cooking this up (i still love the concept of the show I'm just behind on episodes and plot), but I'm also not committed enough to execute this story in an original way with new characters. So it's just in this awkward limbo state. Um but yeah... check out my miraculous ladybug rockstar au tag in case i make more and check out the band show-ya for my inspo xoxo

[yall-it-me]

look. do i think we're getting buddie canon on thursday? no. do i think we'll get feelings realization on thursday? from buck, possibly, from eddie no. and this isn't because i don't ship buddie or because i don't think it's going to happen at all, i just don't think it's gonna happen thursday.

in terms of buddie canon as a whole, i think it would be rushing it to have them like kiss in the finale. that seems strange to say given that it's been seven seasons, but rushing it in the sense that the idea that buck could be in love with eddie at all (in canon) was only full-on acknowledged in 8b. since then, we also haven't seen a ton of eddie (ryan guzman please speak to your boss), let alone eddie actually reckoning with what happens with him and his family now that he has chris back, and certainly not now that he has chris back in la. in many ways, i think it would be nice to have an arc in season 9 about eddie coming to terms with who buck is to him and what that means, and for buck to come to terms with who eddie is to him and what that means. and i just don't think that can all be done well in the finale given that there are so many other things we have to cover, including the emergency itself, the captaincy, athena and chimney's relationship, and - god willing - bobby being alive.

now, we know from the bts that eddie is in gear for the emergency, and if trapped dads is true and real, then great. i also think if buck is trapped and eddie isn't there is some room for this development of both of them understanding more about what they mean to each other. but i don't think it's necessarily going to be in an "oh. oh." kind of way. one of the things that hasn't really been resolved is obviously buck's grief, and i think there's scope to really highlight the fact that buck doesn't currently feel like anyone needs him by having eddie express that he needs buck; not necessarily in a romantic sense, but in that he wouldn't have been able to do what he needed to get chris back without buck (there's more he would be able to say here, but). and not to make it about bbc merlin, but im envisioning a less dramatic version of in the finale of merlin when arthur says to merlin "everything you've done. i know now. for me, for camelot. for the kingdom you helped me build," and merlin says, "you'd have done it without me," and arthur just kind of chuckles and says, "maybe." like that's the energy im feeling. where it's so electrifyingly intimate to the point you feel insane but it leaves room for the writer's to develop more of the story.

i do think that for narrative sense, buck working through his grief should happen with eddie, but honestly i don't always believe that shows care about that, and so i also see room for buck's grief to be resolved with ravi almost as a callback to when buck was going to quit because he thought it was best and was prepping ravi to replace him. so it could be buck is going to give up on getting out, because bobby is gone so whatever, and ravi helps him see his place is still being alive and at the 118. in this event i still think there can be some buddie stuff after the emergency okay it's fine.

this has been long, but all to say that honest to god no matter what happens in the finale i will still be buddiemaxxing and bobbyalivemaxxing i do not care shipping is fun and i will continue to enjoy myself

[isfjmel-phleg]

Episode 5!

The episode opens in Colin's room, establishing his dynamic with his nurse and Martha. He is detachedly in control, not afraid of anyone, and generally a pain, and the nurse and Martha share an eyeroll behind his back at his petulance.

In the book, he tends to gravitate between his bed and the sofa, but here he's seated in a chair at a table.

Martha finds out the kids have met when Colin asks for Mary, not when Mary openly admits it, as in the book.

Mary is drawing an outdoor scene with trees in crayon, and it's adorable. So is Martha putting the picture up on the mantel like a mom magneting a drawing to the fridge.

Probably the only version to include a discussion of Colin's background, including the incident when he had typhoid and Medlock said right in front of him that it would be better if he died.

In the book, after Colin informs Martha that she won't get in trouble for bringing Mary to him, she says, "I want to do my duty, sir," and he replies, "What I want is your duty [...] I'll take care of you." Here, his line is changed to "Your work is obeying me. If you do that, I will take care of you." Not quite the same thing, and honestly, it makes him come across as worse than he needs to be.

Colin's showing Mary his mother's portrait is moved to right after Mary tells him about the moor. It's kind of a random change. They should have left out the added bit with the nurse in the previous episode and kept in the portrait conversation instead.

There's an added conversation between Medlock and the doctor. He is portrayed as vaguely amused and kindly and ineffectual, which isn't quite the characterization he has in the book. I'd like to see an adapation that avoids the extremes of making him either villainous/antagonistic or nice but ineffectual and instead shooting for something more like passively resentful of his patient and totally ignorant of how to genuinely help him but still unwilling to intentionally do actual harm.

...wait, how did Colin get to the sofa in the middle of his conversation with Mary? There's no indication that anyone came in in the meantime to carry him there, and Mary certainly wouldn't be able to do that.

After the doctor leaves, Colin's all like "see, he wants me to die," and Mary replies, "I just think he doesn't know how to make you well." And actually they're both kind of right.

"Let's talk about living," Mary says, and then it cuts to the two of them sitting in silence. I don't know if that was intended to be funny, but it was.

Nice display of character development with Mary, who used to be so rude, noticing and disapproving of how Colin talks to John and then pointedly modeling good manners.

Okay, so the wheelchair is in the corridor outside Colin’s room but wasn’t there the night before--why is it there now?

This adaptation cuts Mary's joy at the end of the long rain and her excitedly getting back to the garden. Too many outdoor shots to manage? Too much filming in the utterly unconvincing garden?

I mean, look at those pathetic spindly trees. This is not a location where a woman could have sat on a tree branch regularly.

Added scene of Colin whining to Martha before Mary comes in to see him. This adaptation seems to be taking scenes that were strictly in Mary's POV in the book and shifting them to Colin's POV. This might be intended as part of the transition to his emerging role as co-protagonist, but I think it's still too early to do this effectively. We really don't have much reason to be invested in him at this point, especially this portrayal, which has emphasized, possibly even played up his worse qualities.

There's an extended added scene between Mr. Craven and a random traveling governess (credited only as "Woman"), with whom he discusses some of his family concerns. She's pleasant, not stuffy, and knowledgeable about flowers, and Mr. Craven gives her card and tells her that his niece will need a governess eventually.

He tells this woman about his late wife and his lonely niece but doesn't mention his own child until asked point blank if he has one. "I had a son," he starts to say, then corrected himself. "I have a son." That's all he'll say. The woman asks why his niece is lonely if she has a cousin around, and Mr. Craven won't go into why. It's as if he's ashamed to admit anything about Colin other than the mere fact of his existence, which it seems he'd prefer to forget too. And actually this isn't implausible from what we know from the text, but as far as I know, this is the only adaptation that lets us see Mr. Craven failing as a father without couching it in his grief and trying to make it more understandable or excusable. We don't see this Mr. Craven longing for a relationship with his son but too afraid to pursue one as we might in other versions.

So what's the point of this scene? I'm not totally sure. Maybe to give the audience some more context for Colin's (lack of) relationship with his father, so we can better understand why he's Like This (we are seeing him at his worst in this episode). Maybe to reassure us that Mary's future won't be so bad; she'll get a governess who can potentially relate to her and encourage her love of gardening.

Once again, the POV shifts during the tantrum. In the book, Mary is woken up in the middle of the night by the noise and then begged by the nurse to come and deal with him. Here, it begins in Colin's room as the nurse tries to give him medicine and he won't take it (this is referenced in the book in a conversation with the doctor the next day) and spills it. It's also made clear that he hasn't eaten. Suddenly he starts screaming about his back, and when the nurse tries to calm him down, he threatens to throw himself out of bed. This isn't in the book, but it establishes why the adults around him are scared of him--which is a big focus in this scene. Everyone is solicitous and overaccommodating and absolutely ignorant. Medlock asks John to send for the doctor--until Colin forbids it so of course he doesn't go. As in the book, they're so focused on giving him his way that it gets in the way of any kind of actual treatment or help.

(That said, this is not one of the more convincing tantrum portrayals.)

Mary isn't begged to come; she enters of her own accord.

Colin stops crying surprisingly quickly when Mary examines his back, and the emotional trajectory of the scene doesn't really work here.

His first thank you, in contrast to the earlier scene of rudeness to John, is to the nurse after she brings him warm milk. A sign of the beginning of character development.

The Secret Garden (1975), a BBC miniseries adaptation, isn't so strong on production values or snappy pacing, but it's among the better adaptations in terms of similarity to the text and inclusion of--even expansion upon--elements that are often either very downplayed or outright omitted in most other versions. I can't remember if I've commented on it before or not, but how about I give you some observations, episode by episode? I'm a bit critical, but don't take that for dislike at all. There's a lot that I like in this version and a lot about the story that it gets right where others don't.

To give an example of the pacing, there's the glacial introduction, which goes on for nearly a whole minute. The music, however, is lovely.

Opens with some of the Indian servants about to flee the Lennox bungaloo, with mourning cries in the background, then shifts to Mary in bed mid-conversation with a woman named Taina who is taking on the role of the late ayah and trying to convince Mary to leave with her. Mary refuses. We don't get much context for who Mary is in this moment, which wasn't in the book. It does serve as a sort of exposition, but it also introduces something that doesn't make sense. In the book, Mary is forgotten in the panic; here, she's given an opportunity to escape the house in the care of someone who has remembered her, but turns it down out of stubbornness. Very different scenario.

Unlike in the book, we never see her parents (the conversation between Mrs. Lennox and the young officer is omitted), which could have been a helpful exposition device as well as demonstrating Mary's (lack of a) relationship with them.

The creepy near-silence of the dining room as Mary enters it to scavenge (although it seems a bit odd that her bedroom would be directly off a dining room at which her parents hosted parties), with the only noise being a sound of birds, is striking.

However, there's not the most effective sense of drama/menace, which is at least in part due to the nature of this sort of production. In many ways, the BBC adapations of this era were more like filmed stage plays than the more cinematic TV shows we're used to now. This isn't necesarily a bad thing, but it does take a little getting used to.

I think this might be the only film version that includes her encounter with the snake.

The closest we get to context for Mary is exposition from the officers checking the house for survivors. Some of this is from the book's dialogue, but it might have been more effective to have seen some Lennox family dynamics rather than just hearing about them.

There seem to be photos in Mary's room that might be of her parents, but we don't see them very closely.

Sarah Hollis Andrews looks the part of Mary quite well, more so than most other actresses who have played the role. (Mary is blonde in the book but is almost always cast as a brunutte.) Her performance shows some inexperience--takes in which she stumbles over her lines really shouldn't have been left in--but he makes Mary stiff, cold, blunt, and explosive by turns, which is accurate. The glimpse of vulnerability when she asks a second time why no one has come for her and her anger becomes sadness for a moment--that was poignant.

This is the only version that includes the Crawford children (three of them, anyway).

Mr. Craven is introduced with a shot that focuses on his back, which the 1949 version did too (albeit with menace--this miniseries is matter-of-fact about it).

Mary’s relation to Mrs. Craven is mentioned but it's left unclear through which parent.

If you've seen the 90s Jeeves and Wooster series, you might recognize the actor playing Mr. Craven (John Woodnutt) as the same one who played Sir Watkyn Bassett (father of Madeline).

This production chose to cast an older Mr. Craven (the actor was in his early fifties), probably because the book vaguely suggests it? Medlock says that "he was a sour young man," implying that he is no longer young, and his hair is described as "streaked with white."

The costume that Medlock wears on the train is taken straight from the book's description!

You can tell she's trying really hard to make Misselthwaite and the moor sound appealing.

The manor is said to be four hundred years old, not six hundred, because Burton Constable Hall, where the miniseries was filmed, was built around the late 1500s--Elizabethan rather than medieval.

There's less subtlety about the hints of Colin's existence than in the book. Medlock's stopping herself before referring to Mr. Craven's having a son happens in the passing in the text, but here it's very obvious and Mary notices and asks questions.

Mary outright states that she isn't grieving her parents and mentions without a hint of emotion that her mother "was beautiful, but she didn't care." Medlock seems shocked; Mary is matter-of-fact about it all.

Misselthwaite Manor is big and grand but not ominous and gothic as in many other productions. It seems quite grounded in reality--an "ordinary" British country house.

Another seldom-adapted minor character, Mr. Pitcher, Mr. Craven's valet--who is quite cold. This version doesn't really tone down uncaring or unfriendly adults as some other adaptations and retelling do.

The extended sequence of Medlock walking Mary to her room seems to establish the scale of the house as vast.

John "the strong young footman" is a very minor character in the book who is only seen transporting Colin downstairs and into his chair and has maybe one line, but the miniseries expands his role into someone who, along with Martha, often waits on Mary and Colin. This seems to be mainly for exposition purposes, to give Martha someone on her level to talk with.

When Mary first notices the wind wuthering around the house, she gets upset and goes into a flashback to the earlier part of her conversation with Taina. We see a greater extent of Mary's rudeness and her speaking a little Hindi(?). I'm really not sure why this is placed here; featuring the entire conversation at the beginning would have better introduced Mary.

Instead of going to straight to bed on arrival as she does in the book, Mary wanders out of her room and sees Dr. Craven leaving the house. She has questions about why a doctor was visiting and is told that he is Mr. Craven's cousin and visits often. True enough.

Martha is introduced from her POV, peeking at Mary while she sleeps. Jacqueline Hoyle was seventeen when she played this part, and I think she pulls off the big sister role well. She strikes the right balance of warmth and not putting up with nonsense.

John's face as he listens outside Mary's door and realizes that they've acquired yet another difficult child is amusing.

There are actually twelve Sowerby siblings in this one!

Martha's speech about assuming Mary would be ethnically Indian is present but altered in its wording, which is for the better.

There's an emphasis on Martha's and John's POV and reactions--both of them were played by teenagers, and they give off a youthful readiness to be amused as a means of coping with an unpleasant job.

John's weaponizing Mary's "it was the custom" to get her to say please and thank you is hilarious.

It's made clear that there is someone living in the east wing (not the west wing, where Mr. Craven is said to stay) and Mary catches John carrying Colin's breakfast tray. Only episode one and it's already making it clear that there is someone else in this house, even if we don't know yet who is it. I think this is kind of spoiling the mystery with too much information too soon.

Outdoor shot finally! The emphasis is more on Mary than the grounds, though. At this point the scope of the outdoors is kept small to coincide with Mary's narrow perspective.

[woolmasterleel]

No new finished art, so here's some doodles... Planning out Minato's angel design for an AU :]

Ryoji's already done if you'd like to see him

I am finally getting somewhere, here's the bust for that.. I have a full body scribbled out but it's too messy and I don't feeling like cleaning it up (✿◡‿◡)

If you try to play the harp on his head you will sustain an injury

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[licorishh]

so uhhh happy valentine's day i suppose !!

shoves this in your face and runs away

so. uh. yyyyyeah. when i said i liked all interpretations of their dynamic equally i uh. i lied. and to be totally and completely and 100% honest with you it speaks volumes to the state of the internet that i have been legitimately afraid to say that like i've genuinely been debating and turning it over in my head and arguing with myself about it for days because i don't want people frickin' YELLING at me and telling me to off myself because i like a dadgum fictional ship but it's valentine's and my friend has been hyping up the crap outta me so i'm past the point of having a reasonable excuse to chicken out (and i know myself and if i don't do it today then i likely won't do it at all)

anyway words actually cannot express how obsessed i am with post-o66 aus in which they stay together (largely because i so completely refuse to believe they'd be willing to split up after THAT, ESPECIALLY that soon) so yeah shoutout to the softest fluffiest gut-punch-iest pair in the galaxy to whom everything bad has happened but who stay silly despite the horrors

[divorcedfiddleford]

and you may say to yourself: "my god! what have i done?" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful wife!" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful house!" and you may ask yourself: "well, how did i get here?"

time isn't holding up, time isn't after us, time is a pony ride! (images described in alt text)

[jojo-schmo]

I'm updating my personal ref sheets and it's really hitting me just how SMOL Kirby, Bandee, and Elfilis really are compared to the rest of the cast.