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pleasereadmeok · 3 years ago

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This ‘Wonderland’ Interview to promote A Single Man is a gem. Matthew Goode is a bit of a handful and swears his way through this interview with his mate Nic Hoult. It’s very funny. It’s often quoted (including his description of Colin Firth’s kissing technique!) but it’s difficult to find a clean scan of the whole interview. This scan (from Natalie/ Fairchilds on ohnotheydidnt) isn’t very clear to read so I did a transcript several years ago - here:-

Wonderland Interview

Based on the 1964 novel by Christopher Isherwood, A Single Man marks the screenwriting and directing debut of fashion icon, Tom Ford. Having debuted earlier this year at the Venice Film Festival to a standing ovation, the film has continued to impress audiences during screening at the Toronto and London Film Festivals.

Joining lead actor, Colin Firth, on screen are fellow Brits Matthew Goode and Nicholas Hoult who discuss the film, Tom Ford and being British in LA.

ON A SINGLE MAN

Nicholas Hoult: The only time I saw Matthew was when we were getting our spray tans.

Matthew Goode: Which were more regular than we were expecting. I got on a plane with Colin [Firth] and then literally the moment we arrived, got in the car together, went to the hotel and suddenly – it’s like ten thirty at night – we have to go to Colin’s room where we’re having our spray tans . Colin Firth is in his pants, I’m in my pants and it stays that way for an hour whilst we wait for this stuff to set. He’s fucking great. I love Colin.

We [Nic’ and he] never had a scene together but we were there the whole time. I was only really fitting in around these guys. Nic had a damn sight more to do than I did.

NH: No I just did more.

MG: [Laughs] It was a really fun shoot. I mean, maybe I’m looking back with rose tinted spectacles, but …

NH: It was a good fun shoot. Everyone enjoyed it. I remember the night in Venice after seeing it in front of all those people and just lying in bed thinking ‘that’s something I’m proud of’.

MG: It’s seriously impressive. You watch it and you care and, it doesn’t happen to me a lot, but I watched it and thought ‘I’m in something that doesn’t stink!’. I’m proud of that.

NH: That’s a nice feeling when you’ve done something and you can say ‘yeah, proud of that’.

MG: Fucking hell – sorry to interrupt – but I was reading a magazine or a paper or something the other day and it said “A Single Man obviously being screened and whenever Nic Hoult was on screen there were gasps over his beauty” [laughs]. And I was thinking, fucking Hoult is going to LA and get so laid! [Laughs]. He is going to be turning bush away left right and centre!

NH: It’s all down to the fake tan again. That’s where the performance stems for me.

MG: That is a review!

NH: Nothing about the acting, right?

MG: They didn’t review the film. It just said “I saw it. I’m going to be reviewing it at some point, but let me tell you there were gasps over Nick Hoult’s beauty!”

ON TOM FORD

MG: Tom is immediately interesting. If it’s all about someone’s cannon of work then most of the time you wouldn’t work with a first ime director, but if the script is good and you have a chat with them and they know which end is up and which is down, then great.

NH: I didn’t know who Tom was when I met him.

MG: Nick “fashion forward” Hoult!

NH: I’d gone over to LA got off a plane and had dinner with him. And I asked him how he’d got into directing and why he was doing this!

MG: I love that. Isn’t that great? And that’s also like Tom. He’s not the sort of person who is like, ‘well fuck you!’.

NH: He explained very humbly what he had done and I thought OK. And then I looked him up after dinner and was ‘oh jesus! He’s actually accomplished quite a lot’ so probably quite a stupid question, but he was very honest and modest and made a great director.

MG: It’s so good. And so good for Colin. And Julianne [Moore] is bloody great in it as well. But the real star of it, it has to be said, is Tom. It silences immediately the people who were going ‘you self indulgent cunt.’ It’s like two massive fingers up to them as it is very, very accomplished.

NH: It’s very personal to him as well.

MG: Hugely personal as the main story sort of mirror images the relationship between him and Richard. There’s a similar age gap.

NH: He would always say my character is him when he was 18. He’s connected to every character and he knows them.

MG: And he wrote the screenplay and it’s starkly different from the book.

NH: Matthew’s read the book, so –

MG: That’s right! I have. It is different. I am always about the script, really. But one of the really nice things about being involved is that it is a love poem to Tom’s partner, Richard.

NH: Tom is very good in the sense that he is an actor’s director and knows what he wants you to do but is very giving to let you go off and explore things and try stuff out. And you don’t feel too much pressure of failure.

MG: That’s very true.

NH: ‘Cause the second you’re on set – especially when there’s only 20 days to shoot – to not feel the pressure, that’s a good atmosphere he created. Something his assistant was saying the other day was that he’s very good at holding his hands up and would admit when he wasn’t sure what he was doing and kept everyone on side and made it a really great team effort.

MG: I love it when someone’s like that. It’s so far away from self indulgent as well when someone’s shooting into the 19th hour of the day and the ship isn’t sinking, but there’s a leak and it’s far better to say we do have a leak and I’m trying to sort it out rather than leaning on one side and saying everything is fine. He is fucking great.

ON COLIN FIRTH

MG: Colin was great. I knew he was going to be good. The moment I read the script, I was like, ‘this is something you haven’t done in a long time’ – just something he could really get his teeth into. He’s such a subtle actor and it’s been a long time since I can remember him having something that central and serious.

NH: It was a great moment when we went to the Venice Film Festival and got the message Colin was winning the best actor award.

MG: I know. The previous evening we had sat there and we knew it had gone down well because there was a NINE minute standing ovation. And particularly when you’re not in the film as much as I am, then I feel like a fucking charlatan. I stood there and am looking down and smiling and embarrassed. Colin’s quite emotional and I tell you what – four minutes of a standing ovation gets a bit uncomfortable, but NINE? ‘OK, Colin… fucking move. Let’s go. Let’s leave.’ And he couldn’t tell us that he had won and so he was being shy about it.

NH: Yeah, he kept it very quiet.

MG: The moment we found out and we were on the boat we were like ‘What the fuck? You’ve won and you didn’t tell us!? And he was like ‘ I know, I didn’t wanna.’ He was humble.

NH: It was great. It was a bit of an odd first day like you had in the sense that I had to strip off in front of Colin on my first day. It sounds a bit seedy when I say ‘strip off in front of him’.

MG: It does!

NH: It’s part of the film, I swear! And it’s handled a lot more tastefully that that might seem, but yeah it was a bit of an odd first day.

MG: Everyone is going to say ‘oh it’s a gay movie’ which we then counteract with ‘no it’s not, it’s a film about love.’ But there is nudity and a bit of man kissing. Frankly Colin kisses like a nymphomaniac on death row, but it was a real pleasure!

NH: He’s got a lot of love!

ON JULIANNE MOORE

MG: She’s a fucking hero. She’s lovely. I didn’t have any scenes with her. I mean I’m only in flashback, so all my stuff was with Colin.

NH: All my stuff is with Colin as well. The first time I met Julianne was in Venice.

MG: Yeah, she was probably in the middle of juggling six projects or something, you know, she never stops working. She came in and shot two scenes, which were about 20 odd minutes of the film, and they did that in two evenings so she was in and out. I never got a chance to meet her until I was at some party in LA and she is just fantastic. And she’s married to a guy called Bart Freadlich who is a director in his own right.

NH: He’s a hero.

MG: He is actually fabulous! My girlfriend spent the whole evening calling him Bert instead of Bart and he was like ‘you know, actually I prefer Bert! Don’t worry about it’. He’s lovely. They could throw their weight around, but they are actually family people and live in New York – they’re kind of anti Hollywood.

ON THE LIFE OF AN ACTOR

MG: There are a lot of Brits and Aussies at the moment who are working. I don’t know what that means. But we never think of ourselves. When you get off the plane and you’re in America they ask ‘what’s the best thing about being a movie star?’ I am a jobbing actor, they have no idea! They make it sound like I get 500 scripts and am sitting there going through them all. If something comes up and they are stupid enough to give it to us or you love the script and audition but someone of a huge stature can come in and take it like Brad Pitt. Or Judi [Dench] – we’ve been up against each other a couple of times.

NH: I’ve never lost out to Judi yet.

MG: Only in a drinking contest! The vicious alcoholic that she is!

NH: Sam Worthington was telling me when he was in LA someone asked him why there were so many Aussies over there doing so well and his response was that it’s an awful long way to go to fail and not give it your best shot, basically.

MG: Oh. I was expecting some sort of knob gag in there, but yeah.

NH: It’s very true. I just got back from LA and every TV series has an English guy in the lead. Joseph Fiennes, Matthew Reece [RHYS]

MG: We’re good. We’re quite good…

N H: I can’t say it’s the training, because I don’t have any.

MG: You’re doing well! You make people gasp! You complete cunt. I hate that!

NH: You’re coming across very eloquent.

MG: That’s very nice of you. OK, who used to live with Ewan McGregor and Jude Law and he has a TV show? You’re right about that. Though it makes it sound like ‘Oh you’re English. Have a TV show’. I’m sure they all have about ten auditions.

NH: I had an interesting day recently when I was at a BBQ and Jimmy Page and Roger Daltrey were there.

MG: Wow!

NH: I sat there and was very quiet because I thought if I speak to them I’ll make a fool of myself so it’s best to keep out of the way and then they can’t have any bad thoughts although they probably didn’t know I was there. But I knew they were there so it was a good BBQ for me.

MG: I’d love to learn guitar. It’s one of those things I’d love to do. Though it’s not like I don’t have the time…

NH: [Laughs]

MG: I’d like to know all the chords.

NH: It’s difficult to get the fingering right… That’s what she said.

MG: And back to Dame Judi!

NH: [Laughs]

MG: It depends if you have a high action or a low action in terms of the strings. It hurts. You’ve got to build up the calluses. If you get a low action one that would be easier.

NH: Are we still talking about women?

MG: Yes! [Laughs] I remember Billy Crudup got the part in Almost Famous and he had lessons with Peter Frampton but had to have lessons on the side because Peter was like ‘you are fucking terrible’. But that’s one of the nice accidents of the job is you can get training in things. And random travel.

NH: I got to do archery.

MG: You did! That was The Weatherman!

NH: No, for Clash of the Titans. I didn’t use it once.

MG: Oh yes, it was the daughter in The Weatherman.

NH: Yeah man, keep up.

MG: Sorry mate. That’s how pretty you are. I confused you with the female lead.

NH: He’s seen all my work.

MG: I have! I’ve got to learn how to do it. You are a master. I did a Spanish film and it was all in Spanish [!] – I learnt it phonetically. Jesus, that’s my only skill. The major skill I picked up is I can pay my rent. The older you get the more you realize there are a lot of people who hate their jobs. I’m so glad I’m not – ha! Famous last words! – it does seem to be going OK for now. But bringing it back to what do you like about acting – to be honest, everything.

ON BRITISH TALENT

MG: I think there is an element that we’re just so happy to work. Certainly as for getting into film it was such an accident because I hadn’t worked in front of a camera. For a while it was like what is the secret code to working on screen? I have no idea what it is… but even ten films in I’m still sitting here renting and not owning a house. I think that keeps you grounded. As opposed to some American actors who are on a hundred thousand dollars doing some TV.

NH: You don’t get comfortable so you feel you’ve got to keep on striving.

MG: I think we’re overrated. [Laughs]. There is an element over there if you walk into a room of Americans that they’re suddenly like ‘oh fuck they’re British and we’re steeped in tradition.

NH: It’s odd that Tom got so many English actors for the film – we’re both playing American.

MG: And Julianne is playing English.

NH: it’s good he trusts in us to pull of the American accents.

MG: Yeah, I mean – idiot! In fairness you’ve done it before and I have done it a couple of times. But it is odd. If you think who he probably could have had –

NH: He probably could have done better than us!

MG: I’m sure he could have convinced someone with a much higher stature. I think it was just we were willing to work for free, effectively. And that’s also what makes Britain great. We want to work and we want to please the director and often at times, yes we might have strong thoughts on character and script, but we turn up and are like, this is your vision and you are the director and we know where we fit in. Certainly the Brits, I find, we want to be told what to do or how it’s going to work rather than, ‘I’m the fucking star!’ I tend to find we leave our ego at the door. We tend not to pussyfoot around. We all like a drink. We’re steeped in that tradition as well. There’s a certain forbidden thing in America if you drink you’re an alcoholic. No I’m not, and I generally wait until at least half past one.

NH: On weekends. Weekdays, 11.

MG: There is a reason pubs are opened at 11 and it’s because you are allowed to start drinking at that time. Otherwise, they wouldn’t do it! Christ, can you remember back to when – you might not remember, actually. I gasp at your beauty as I try to remember!

NH:[laughs] I’m never going to live this down!

MG:Do you remember when pubs shut on Sundays at, like, 1 for two or three hours? Maybe I’m showing my age now. That is fucking madness. There would be a riot now.

NH: So basically, we haven’t found a conclusion to what makes Britain great… You’re a big X Factor fan though, aren’t you?

MG: My girlfriend loves it. She’s got me into it. I mean it’s fucking hilarious. You literally sit there and you don’t know any of these people but the music comes up and they get selected and you can be in tears and so happy that these people have been selected for the live shows. I really like the over 25’s this year. They’re fucking great.

NH: Matthew Goode on The X Factor!

MG: ‘He’s very much into the over 25s and what is funny is they are all male’. But it is great. But then it’s such a machine. There is such a turn around. Sometimes the winner gets completely forgotten and they have no career and then, obviously, sometimes they go shooting up. But it is great telly! Saturday night, a couple of beers and The X Factor.

[Pics - My edit of Ben Rayner photos/scan by Natalie Fairchild.]

#matthew goode #nic hoult #a single man #a discovery of witches #adow #just in case ADOW fans are interested - it's a stretch I know.........

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diavolosthots · 4 years ago

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Hi there! I love your writing so much, your angst is one of my favorites to read because they always hit me in the feels. Can I request a hc or imagine (I can’t remember what they’re called) about Diavolo x Satan where Satan feels insecure because he thinks that Diavolo is with him as he was once a part of Lucifer, who doesn’t hold romantic love for Diavolo. You can add some smut if you want, I’m perfectly okay with the angst either way 😁!

I wrote this and posted it on AO3 first but here it is. Hope you like it anyway!

Warning: like 1 dust crump of slight NSFW if you look hard enough

Love's Poem (SATAN X DIAVOLO)

Love is such an unpredictable thing.It comes so unexpectedly and knocks you over, or it will come gently and embrace you in its arms. Love is also odd. You may feel it strongly, almost too overwhelming, you will find peace in it, almost as if a blanket is draped over your shoulders. Love may come in full force, or it will come agonizingly slow. In Satan’s case, love could’ve been anything, but it was always there, he noted. Despite his exterior and the picture people painted of him, he always wanted to feel it, to experience it, to have it… and only in his books did he ever find it. It’s almost sad, really, pathetic. Or at least, Satan thinks so. A millennia old being holding on to such a childish dream, and yet… he can’t seem to let go of it. He has hope for it and he longs for it, but he isn’t foolish. He won’t blindly reach out for it. “Patience is a virtue.” he says, even if he finds it hard to be patient for a lot of things. He craves to be in love so desperately, laying there day and night with his nose buried in a book that tells of things he has yet to experience. A poem. A poem is what he yearns to create with someone else; a poem of their lives together.

In all his yearning and waiting and desperation, though, he failed to realize that the poem had long started to be written. He failed to realize its soft touches, its gentle glances, and its sweet words calling out to him. He was so preoccupied with the paper it was supposed to be written on that he failed to notice the ink creating words on it. When he finally did notice, though, it was neither calm nor overwhelming. It was there, and Satan felt as if it had always been, because it had been. Still, when he realized whom he held it for, he was taken aback. Diavolo was never someone he excessively thought about… or so he thought. Diavolo, too, took a while to see Satan in such a new light and only when the two of them shared a moment over some literature did the Demon Lord realize just how deeply he could feel for the fourth born.

But Satan was unsure. He was questioning the demon’s motives, and quite honestly, he was scared. Scared of giving his all only to be left in the dust. To him, as much confidence as he bears and he truly does, coming from the Avatar of Pride himself and all, to himself, Satan was no one special. He’s attractive, very much so, and of course highly intelligent, but he also realizes how much of a brat he can be, or a bore, depending on the day. Diavolo was a manchild with insecurities, and Satan had said that more than once. Yet, their relationship blossomed and Satan found himself quite attached to the man, and vice versa. Diavolo felt like he had someone to confide in, someone who gave it to him straight but also comforted him. Someone he could experience things with and have a calm, peaceful evening with every night. Satan appreciated being brought out of his room, in which he would otherwise have been holed up in, and although he wasn’t after Diavolo for the money, status, or fame, he also appreciated the extravagance that his life brought to him. They balanced each other out, in the most unlikely ways, and both of them knew it.

Still, on one some days, Satan felt more like a shadow than anything. “Lucifer will come by today” again. “You won’t believe what Lucifer told me earlier” yes he will. “Lucifer” this “Lucifer” that. He understands that the two of them are close, after all Diavolo considers the first born his best friend. It angered Satan, though. Was he not enough? Does Diavolo still have to bring up Lucifer when he knows how the former feels about him? It’s not for a lack of communication, either. Satan has voiced his distaste quite a lot and changed the subject on more than one occasion, but a part of him also feels terrible for wanting to keep the Prince’s best friend away. “Satan!” especially when the guy so happily calls his name. “Hm?” It was nice outside, although when is it not in the Devildom. It rarely ever rains or snows or storms, and the temperature is always perfect to the demons. Satan was sitting under one of the trees in the courtyard at the House of Lamentation, reading one of his many books although he had a feeling that won’t last long. “Hm? That’s all I’m getting?” The pout that graced the Prince’s lips made Satan smile and a soft blush tint his cheeks. He looks up at the man, pursing his lips up into a kiss and waiting for Diavolo to take it. This is what he means when he says he wants a romance like in the books he reads.

Diavolo leaned down to give one to him happily before falling into the grass. Somewhere behind them, they could hear Barbatos gasp, probably because the butler knows just how clumsy his Lord could be, but Diavolo waved him off and laid his head in Satan’s lap, who laid his book on top of Diavolo’s face. “Hey! I came all the way here and I got the cold book?” “You disrupted my reading” all meant in good humor, of course. Diavolo pushed the book off of his face and reached a hand up to brush along Satan’s cheek, which made the latter blush deeply. He’s still not fully used to this type of affection. “Hm… you look so handsome today. Did you do anything special to yourself?” Satan rolled his eyes although he did manage to turn his head and kiss Diavolo’s hand before it moved behind Satan’s ear to scratch it. Satan groaned softly, shivering slightly. Diavolo knows damn well that that is one of his weak spots. “There it is…. Good kitten.” Satan knows it’s a mock and although he’s blushing profusely, he’s also flicking Diavolo’s forehead, making him laugh. “Watch it. Kitten’s can claw.” Diavolo only growled playfully in response.

“Can you believe us? A few months ago you didn’t even like me.” That’s not entirely true, he was just vary of the Demon Lord for over a few millennia, “and then Lucifer told me to just go for it.” Ah yes, Lucifer. Satan held back the urge to roll his eyes. “And then he said ‘Lord Diavolo, you would be not only blind but also a fool if you let this opportunity pass’ because he knew way more than either of us did.” The hell he did. “And you know what I said?” No, but he’s sure that Diavolo’s about to tell him. “I said, ‘Lucifer, my friend, don’t you worry. I will never take your beloved brother and son without first asking for permission’” Satan’s eye is twitching now and he finally found it in himself to say something, too, “is that all?” Diavolo’s smile slowly dropped when he saw Satan’s reaction and he was genuinely confused, slowly lifting his head from the guy’s lap and looking at him confused, “yes? Is something the matter?” He’s trying. He’s trying so hard not to snap right now so he just closes his eyes and just breathes for a couple of moments, “you know Lucifer said that when you--!”

A growl escaped Satan and this time he actually did snap, whipping his head around to look at Diavolo. “Yeah? He said that? Must be nice. Anything else he said? Anything else he would like to add to our relationship or does he want to include himself next?!” Diavolo just stared at him blankly for a moment, unsure on how to approach this, “what? No. No, it’ll always be just us.” Blatant. Fucking. Lie. “apparently not! It’s Lucifer this, Lucifer that, and if you want Lucifer that badly, you can go and get him. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know that he ruined yet another thing!” anger is getting to him and the next thing he says was neither thought out nor actually meant to ever leave his lips, “you’re probably just with me to get back at Lucifer, am I right? Poor little Lucifer wouldn’t give you his heart so you go to the next best thing; me!” Diavolo was taken aback by that last statement and for a moment he just stared at Satan, his mouth hanging open, but it soon turned into a glare.

“Is that what you think? That my feelings are a lie? If you believe me to be such a liar, why are you with me?” Because he loves him, duh. He hates how much he feels for him but he can’t stop it, that’s why constantly hearing about Lucifer drives him insane. “I only want you, Satan, and I thought I made that pretty clear, but apparently not.” Diavolo sat up on his knees and for a moment he thought the guy was going to get up and leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he slammed his hands flat against the tree Satan was leaning against, glaring down at the fourth born before his eyes soften. “Stop being so jealous of your brother.” “I’m not jealous! You’re the one who only ever talks about him when your attention should be on me!” No matter how nice Diavolo was being right now, Satan is still glaring at the Lord, who turned his head and nodded at Barbatos. For what, Satan didn’t know, but it was for something. “Look at me Satan.” His eyes turned back up to look into Diavolo’s gold ones, holding so much softness and love, “I love you and only you.”

Satan rolled his eyes and he was about to push Diavolo off and away, but the latter cupped the blond’s face and kissed him softly before resting his head against his. “Lucifer is my best friend, yes, but you’re my lover and if I wanted to pursue anyone other than you, I would’ve, but I didn’t. Don’t be angry.” Although it is hot when Satan gets angry and if this wasn’t such a serious discussion, Diavolo would’ve definitely made a move. The blush returned to Satan’s cheeks and he tried turning his head away, but Diavolo wouldn’t let him. “No. Say it back. I know you do.” Satan mumbled it under his breath because he knows he loves the guy too. “What? What’s that?” “I love you too…” “a little louder, Satan.” The blond glared at him and Diavolo couldn’t help but laugh, kissing him again, this time a bit deeper before he grabbed Satan’s hips and fell back into the grass with him, making sure the demon landed on top. “I said I love you too…” He’s been atop Diavolo so many times, but every time he feels like it’s the first time. “There you go. It’s way easier being honest, isn’t it?” Diavolo’s hips playfully snapped up against Satan’s and the blond’s blush deepened, barely able to steady himself on Diavolo’s chest.

“Whatever… Just don’t forget I’m your only one.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #shall we date satan #obey me satan #satan obey me #satan avatar of wrath #obey me lord diavolo #shall we date diavolo #obey me diavolo #diavolo x satan

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what-the-witch-stuff · 3 years ago

Text

Landings Through the Grapevine

Chapter 2: Unfulfilled Expectations

Masterpost: here Go to: Ch.1 | Ch.2 |

_________________________

"I have news for you. One good, one bad" Shane said hours after the dance, when everyone was busy cleaning the place up. "Wait! Help me with that table first...Allright. Shoot". Shane grabbed the other side of the table and together they heaved it off the ground to carry it back to Marnie's farm. The path that led to the narrow bridge which divided the forest clearing from the rest of the village, was not large enough for them to carry the table side by side. So Shane volunteered to walk backwards while Riley gave directions. For a few moments Shane didn't say anything but occasionally looked at something over her shoulder. Then he lowered his voice:

"Ok, so...Mr. Darcy" – that was code for Elliott – "has been mingling with my aunt for almost the entire festival and now they both keep looking over at you".

"What?"

"Don't look! I didn't want to say it earlier, because I wasn't sure. But given how Marnie has been really chatty today, I bet she's playing matchmaker again"

"Oh for fuck's sake! What about Elliott?"

"Don't know, maybe he finally figured out that you don't understand his poems, or something"

"Shane!"

„I'm kidding. Don't act so horrified. Also, it's true!"

„No! It's not."

„Okay. Remember the poem he 'gifted' you at the Feast of the Winter Star? What was that about?"

Riley was preparing to answer him in a know-it-all manner but soon realised that she had actually no idea what to say. She hoped her death glare would shut him up for good. Alas, it didn't.

„You can give me the evil eye all you want. I already cringed to death when he started performing it in front of the goddam tree."

„Maybe a few metaphors and references go over my head sometimes, but that's because I never read much poetry before.

„Or maybe his writing is as inflated as his ego"

„Stop! For Yoba's sake, just tell me what's up with him!

„How should I know?"

„Then why tell me?"

"I thought you would want to know these things"

"Well, what does he look like? Does he look upset or anything?"

"Ehm",– at that Shane peeked back over her shoulder, looking rather pained as he tried to awaken his interpersonal skills: "Well he looks like a schmock, so nothing new there. Maybe that's just his –oh shit!"

"What?!"

"He's coming"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Stop! Jesus, Riley have you never been to highschool? You don't look at people you're talking shit about."

"Ok! ok, act natural !"

"You're the only one acting like a headless chicken", he hissed under his breath.

"Well, maybe I would be calmer if you –"

Shane dropped his side of the table. It came to the ground with a soft thud and Riley almost lost her footing from the sudden yank it caused on her side, forcing them to an immediate stop shortly before the bridge. This interrupted Riley's tirade and in hindsight saved her some embarrassment, as Elliott appeared by her side soon after, brushing a strain of hair behind his ear : "Good day, you two. I am so very sorry I didn't get to chat with you sooner. Can I help you with that?", he asked, having seen them struggle but obviously mistaking the situation at hand. Before Riley could even say anything, Shane intervened again : "Glad that you ask!" he said in an overly friendly manner while stretching theatrically and making a face: "My back is killing me! If you don't mind, I'd rather go see if I can help with something else" and with the blink of an eye, Shane and Elliott had switched places.

"You're welcome!", Shane murmured while brushing past her and he was gone. Meanwhile Elliott was getting into position and testing the table's weight while Riley could do nothing but watch him dumbfounded. When he noticed her staring, Elliot winked: "Shall we then?"

"YES! I mean, sure. Thanks for the help", If Riley's face looked as flushed as it felt right then and there, Elliott was gentleman enough to pretend not to notice. "Please, don't thank me! I should have been more involved with the preparations to begin with. I was just so caught up with my newest draft, that I had forgotten all about the dance until a few days ago. Oh, also, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything between you and Shane?", he added, leaning slightly towards her in mock-conspiracy.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it did look like you've been arguing, before I came over. I hope it was nothing serious"

"Ehm... I was just worried. His, eh... his 'back pain' is quite bad, but he didn't want to bother Harvey during a holiday", Riley lied between her teeth, as they made their way over the narrow bridge.

"Poor fellow, no wonder he seemed rather miffed today. But he danced like a champ!", Elliott stated sympathetically.

"Yes, he knows how much it means to Emily and didn't want to let her down"

"See, I was wondering about that a little. I did expect the two of you to be dancing today"

At that, Riley tripped over nothing, looking at Elliott with such astonishment that she almost forgot to warn him about the slight slope the path would be taking, shortly after the bridge.

"Sorry, who?"

"Well, you and Shane….?"

"Huh?"

Elliott then must have come to some sort of realisation, for it was now his turn to look flushed and embarrassed.

"Oh, Let the greater part of the news thou hearest be the least part of what thou believest." he exclaimed ruefully and smiled at her apologetically: " I should have known better than to make assumptions. I am sorry, Riley. It was something I overheard, please pay no mind to it!"

Riley suppressed the urge to ask him if he had been quoting Shakespeare again, as in 5 times out of 7 she had already been wrong. And by now, she had the nagging suspicion that Elliott chose anything but Shakespeare, just to mess with her. Instead, she stammered: "N-No, it's fine! Shane and I are close, but we are just friends...'', and almost Riley would have given into the temptation of adding something like: '...just as you and Leah, if I am not mistaken?'. But she discarded that idea as soon as it came to her. Too obvious. Though Riley was dying to get her hands on any piece of information about what kind of relationship he and the artist were cultivating, she had to be careful. The last thing she needed was the awkwardness of unrequited feelings or the loss of a friendship because of it. However, remembering Shane's assumption regarding Marnie, she continued : "...Though I do believe Marnie wouldn't mind me as her niece-in-law. But neither Shane or I see that ever happening,". She then laughed. But, following her gut instinct, she kept an eye out for Elliott's reaction, who, still dealing with his own embarrassment, couldn't help but wince slightly.

Bingo.

Shane's words were practically echoing in the back of her mind: I bet she's playing matchmaker again.

– ‘Yes she is and you won't like to find out with whom exactly', Riley thought grimly.

To say this was news to her would be a lie, sadly. Last year it had been just a few questions, if Riley was seeing someone, or if she fancied someone from the village already. Before long, Marnie had gotten more obvious about her actual motivation: "Have you met my nephew, yet? Shane. He is from Zuzu-City too. Oh, I need to introduce you to each other, next time you visit."

But said introduction flopped big-time. It had been difficult. Well, Shane had been. But Riley now knew that this wasn't anything personal. She had involuntarily witnessed his downward spiral until the fateful day at the cliffs, where Shane had finally hit rock bottom. Since then he was getting the help he needed and they could manage having a conversation that wasn't ending in a disaster. Nevertheless, as she and Shane clearly never hit it off, Riley thought that Marnie had moved on and was satisfied with talking her up to some other bachelor instead. Apparently, she had been wrong. "Please, do not believe that I usually engage in petty gossip." Elliott exclaimed and Riley knew, if his hands were free, he would probably underline his words with some dramatic gesture: " This is not why I wanted to talk to you. I would never bother you with such shallow conversation!". They finally reached Marnie's farmhouse and were greeted by Gunther and Clint, who were busy sorting Marnie's belongings back to where they belonged. Soon Elliott and Riley were relieved of their task and hurriedly shooed away. "Riley, you did enough! You've been here all day and surely your farm does not run itself", Gunther called over his shoulder as he and Clint disappeared into the house, leaving Elliott and Riley to themselves. „Well, I don't want to keep you from your duties..." Elliott eventually said rather deflated, after some seconds of them just standing there.

„It's fine! Really. I have time to chat."

„Are you sure? I would hate to inconvenience you", though Riley could easily tell that Elliott was just saying that to stay polite.

„You aren't, believe me. What did you want to talk about originally?"

Elliott immediately straightened his posture, his demeanour getting more relaxed as Riley's question offered him the chance to return their conversation back towards familiar territory.

He suspensefully cleared his throat.

"I wanted to thank you, for you have played a significant role regarding my latest draft. Well, draft is a bit much. It's more of an outline, actually."

"Really?!", Riley could not believe her ears. This was like the beginning of some obscure fever dream, where Elliott would finally announce her as his muse and declare his undying love for her…. Totally hypothetically of course, because Riley would never fantasize about such a corny situation! Ever.

"Yes! For as much as I frequent the library, I just recently noticed the marvellous collection of exhibits you have been providing to the museum. I would've never thought for our tiny valley to be such a place of wonder and history! I must be honest, my latest works were getting nowhere and I dreaded starting a new manuscript. I had gotten quite far with my latest piece. But all these treasures have ignited a new spark within me. Now I can hardly put my pen to rest. But I need more inspiration!". Elliott got more excited the more he talked. It was no longer just polite enthusiasm but an almost childlike delight that made his eyes sparkle in a way she rarely got to see on him.

"Oh that's wonderful! But how can I help you with that?" Riley was getting somewhat confused. If Elliott needed more information on the artifacts, he would be better off talking to Guntehr instead. And following that line of thought, Riley couldn't really fathom what Elliott needed of her, to fuel his newfound inspiration.

"It's about this Adventurer's Guild..."

The answer was: absolutely nothing.

"Oh", Riley tried not to sound or even look unhappy about this revelation and Elliott seemed too fixated on his own issues to notice anything, for he continued talking: "I have seen you standing next to that older gentleman, today. What was his name again?"

"Marlon?"

"Yes! He is the guild's leader, I suppose ?"

"Eh, yes, you could call him that."

"I would like to ask him a few questions. I would love to hear some of his adventures. He looks like a man who has many stories to tell. However, I struggle to get a hold of him!

Surely, I tried asking around. But before today, I didn't even know whose company he keeps. I have never seen him in town either, other than during holidays, which is why I had hoped to talk to him today. But shortly after the dance I lost sight of him and he was gone! I could tear my hair out, Riley! That man is like a ghost. How am I supposed to write about fantastic tales of danger, when I have no authentic experience to write from?!" Elliott had talked himself into such a frenzy, that he ended up being short of breath. While he needed a moment to collect himself, Riley used this pause to talk some sense into him.

"Well, you will be happy to hear that the guild building is actually very easy to find. It's right next to the entrance to the mines.", she informed him, trying to push away the feeling of disappointment. "Office hours are between 2 pm to 10 pm. Normally, entrance is only allowed for adventurers only, but technically you would be considered a potential client. And If you really cannot get in, then Clint, Willy and I see Marlon often enough that we can relay a message to him." "Is that so? Thank you so much, I knew I could count on you! I will seek him out first thing tomorrow!". With that he made his goodbyes and hurried back towards the meadow, presumably to find Leah and share his progress with her. She looked after him until his silhouette disappeared from her sight and with a groan Riley decided that it was indeed time to head back to her farm. The gleeful excitement she had felt at the prospect of being alone with Elliott, had vanished to sober disillusion. She wasn't even in the mood to get worked up over the whole Marnie-situation. Therefore, she decided to no longer think about whatever had transpired today. That would be future-her's issue to deal with. When Riley entered the premises to her own farm, the sight of the seemingly endless plot of land filled her with awe, like it did everytime. Proudly, she watched her cows, chicken and ducks peacefully napping in the sun and listened to the faint rustling of leaves above her head, as she finally made her way towards home.

#stardew valley elliott #stardew elliott #stardew valley #sdv fanfic #sdv farmer #elliott stardew valley #elliott x reader #sdv elliott #original female character #stardew valley farmer #elliot sdv

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antigoneblue · 3 years ago

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quick, non-poemmic updates!

i wasn’t going to do this, but then realised that it’s TRULY been a while, so maybe something like this isn’t totally out of order :’)

some of you might’ve noticed that my old sideblog, @redeyecyanide, no longer exists / is no longer accessible. i figured i’d explain that, so that nobody worries about me or worries that something bad might’ve happened that resulted in that.

i’m also kind of in a new era of my life, so i figured we’d talk that through, as well. i’m happy & content & in a good place - a better place to be in than i’d hoped at this point in time, and it’s something i am grateful for.

and i just want, you know, if anyone’s been reading my work and relating to the despair in some of those poems, or the grief, or the sadness, or any of that - it gets better. it’s getting better for me. it might not feel like it, but it will get better for you too. you just have to be more stubborn than the things that are getting you down - easier said than done, but doable. and so, so worth it.

stuff re: old blog down below!

so well, here’s the whole deal w/ redeyecyanide. while i did not grow up on the internet to the same extent some of my peers did, i was definitely extremely online from when i was around 15 onwards. i don’t regret any of it and i think for the most part i had relatively healthy boundaries going - with a few exceptions, which i can confidently say i have learnt from.

keeping that aside, as it usually happens when you are 15, and when you come back 7 years later, is that a lot of your beliefs change. i owned redeyecyanide and was active on there primarly when i was ... 18 / 19 / 20, but i was still in the process of learning & unlearning a lot of things. i often made statements that were... not accurate, with sweeping confidence, because i thought i was right. i sometimes generalised things in problematic ways, or made commentary based on my opinions which did not in any way represent how i felt about other people’s opinions. i was honestly very angry at the injustice present in the world, and learning to live with that anger and channel it into something more sustainable, productive, useful and healthy. that wasn’t the easiest thing and in some instances i feel i could’ve handled a lot of things in better and in more objective/calmer ways.

basically, i deleted that blog because it felt like a very “there’s a lot to unpack but let’s throw away the whole suitcase” kind of moment. my values are still the same, i’m still firmly anti bigotry, but i’m also 100% sex positive / anti swerf, provided there’s informed consent btwn people who can consent & all that good stuff - which is a value i always believed in but, at the time, i hadn’t done enough unlearning to be as sex positive as i wanted. kink-shaming doesn’t make sense to me anymore, esp not under the guise of “social justice”.

since we’re on tumblr, i unfortunately need to add that assuming people are p*dophiles at the drop of a hat, just because someone said so, definitely does not sit right with me. that’s a serious, serious allegation, and it’s important not to throw around allegations like that over... somebody shipping drarry, or whatever the new ship that everyone hates is. let’s not make callout posts for everyone under the sun, moon & solar system, please. save it for when it’s important.

i’m also 100% radically inclusive when it comes to lgbtq+ identities. i support any and all good faith identity & pronouns (and by good faith i mean, identities that are sincere/genuine and not made to poke fun at people or be degrading) and i honestly think most lgbt+ discourse is unnecessary because another person’s gender/sexuality is not your business - which is something i have always believed, but now i know that if i have to choose sides, i choose the people who are quietly existing, rather than the people who believe they shouldn’t exist or should exist elsewhere.

i identify as “queer”, i do not identify as “lgbt” or “lgbtq” or “lgbtqia” or any other acronym. no shade at people who prefer those, just doesn’t work for me anymore.

yeah, that’s about it. thanks for reading all the way, if you did :’) hope everyone’s doing well!

#not a poem #i was a little on the fence about posting this and i still sort of am #but hey.......... it's growth #i think that's important #now im logging out again. see y'all in another couple of months

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recurring-polynya · 3 years ago

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Hey this is for our Redhead's bday. Its like a fluff and angst with a happy ending. Is it possible to make a Renruki based on Hanahaki disease? Do you know about this fanfic trope? Its like a person who doesn't know or think their love is requited, will cough up petals. They can only be saved with a confession or accept that they cannot be together with their love interest. I don't want it to sound too morbid. Let me know if its possible.

Wikipedia description for better understanding:

Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. There is no set time for how long this disease lasts but it may last from 2 weeks to 3 months, in rare cases up to 18 months, until the victim dies unless the feelings are returned or the plants are surgically removed. There is also no set flower that blossoms in the lungs but it may be the enamoured’s favourite flower or favourite colour. Hanahaki can be cured through surgical removal of the plants' roots, but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient’s feelings for and memories of the enamoured. It can also be cured by the reciprocation of the victim's feelings. These feelings cannot be feelings of friendship but must be feelings of genuine love. The victim may also develop Hanahaki Disease if they believe the love to be one-sided but once the enamoured returns the feelings, they will be cured. In some literature, other symptoms can be fever, uncontrollable shaking, loss of appetite, low body temperature, and hallucinations. Even after curing, with or without surgery, there can be irreversible damage to the lungs and, although very rare, in some cases the disease cannot be cured.

Ha ha ha, of course I have heard of Hanahaki disease, my brain is 100% rotted by fanfic.

I. hate. Hanahaki disease. It is probably my #1 most hated trope, up there with every single soulmate thing that treats love like some sort of inescapable destiny and strips the characters of any agency. To me, falling in love may be more or less involuntary, but the choice of whether or not to pursue it is the very crux of romance.

In any case, I was just going to... not do this one, except that I walked around mad for half a day and then wrote this up in, like, two hours. This sounds terrible, but this is actually an ideal day for a writer! I am really happy with how it came out! Thanks for the prompt!! I mean this with absolute sincerity!

Warning: Bad language, because Renruki aren’t any happier about any of this than I am.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

🌺 🌺 🌺

“How the fuck,” asked Rukia, “did you get that into my house?”

Sitting on Byakuya’s good tea table was a heavy green glass bottle of Rukongai’s worst rotgut. And two saucers.

Sitting cross legged and cross on the other side of the table was Abarai Renji.

“I told the captain it was necessary. Sit down.”

Usually, Rukia would take being ordered around like that as an invitation to call him names, but there was something angry and serious in Renji’s tone, so she sat instead, and let Renji pour each of them a saucer of something that smelled like lamp oil. Silently, they tossed back their drinks.

“You want to tell me what this is about?” Rukia asked as Renji refilled.

Without speaking, Renji pulled a carefully folded handkerchief out of his kosode and slid it across the table.

Rukia’s hands clenched into fists.

“Go ahead,” Renji said offhandedly, sipping his sake.

She didn’t want to. She knew what it would be. But she did it anyway, reached over and flipped open the handkerchief to reveal a handful of mangled, half-rotted flower petals. Hot rage ran through her veins. “Are you going through my trash now?” she demanded.

“No, I asked the captain to,” Renji replied coolly. “I assume he had someone do it for him, but he didn’t say.”

“Fuck you,” Rukia snapped.

Renji stared at her, his eyes cold and angry. “That night we camped in Hueco Mundo. Before we caught up with Ichigo and the others. You coughed up half a camellia and a good inch of stem in your sleep. I… figured we had more pressing concerns at the time, but I asked your brother to keep an eye on you after we got home.”

Rukia took a gulp of her drink. “Well, congratulations, Detective Abarai, you cracked the case. You’re so smart that I’m sure you know how these things end, so we don’t need to discuss it.”

Renji squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them again. “It doesn’t… it doesn’t have to be a death sentence, you know?”

“It’s complicated,” Rukia grumbled. “I’m not explaining it to you, but it’s not… solvable, and I can’t… I won’t give up. Not this time.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Renji continued, his voice quieter. “There are ways to… manage it. Live with it.”

Rukia’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a disease of the soul, y’know, not the body, which is why humans don’t get it. With a strong enough will, you can keep it in check. The key, the thing that really lets it get ahold of your lungs, is when you start to lose hope.”

“You want me to live in denial, then?”

“No, not quite. But there’s some… techniques. We live a really long time, Rukia. Things may seem one way now, but… but who’s to say how they’ll be in sixty or seventy years, right? I mean, it’s not easy, but if you can imagine sort of… jarring up your feelings and packing them away for later.”

“Like pickles.”

“Yeah, like pickles.”

Rukia finished her saucer and reached for the bottle.

“Another thing that works sometimes is to try to…” Renji gestured helplessly. “Reframe it. I’m sure you’ve read poems about courtly love.”

Rukia made a face. “I fail to see how reading old-timey thirst poetry about wasting away from wanting to sleep with someone else’s wife is going to help anything.”

Renji’s face took on a pained cast. “Yeah, I guess some of them are like that. But being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back doesn’t mean your life is...meaningless. There can be something really beautiful and noble and sorta romantic in and of itself about loving with no hope of reciprocation. That you can still be of… of service to a person, even if they never notice you.”

“Renji, that’s fucking nonsense,” Rukia informed him, topping up his drink as well. “Where do you get these ideas?”

“Or you can just really absorb yourself in some goal. Be so busy you don’t have time to worry about love. Time passes quickly when--”

“Renji, just stop. I know you’re trying to help, but I’m… I’m sick and no amount of made-up wishful thinking is going to make me better.”

Renji’s face rapidly cycled through a number of emotions, like he kept coming up with things to say and then biting his tongue instead. “It’s not fucking made up, okay? People have lived with it for years, you know. Decades. Fuck, Rukia do you know selfish this is?”

“‘Selfish’?” Rukia echoed incredulously. The alcohol was starting to hit, and it made her feel unmoored, a raft floating in a sea of her own grief and anger. What did he know anyway? He was married to his job and his duty. The truest companion, the most generous soul, so free with his heart to everyone he called friend, but he didn’t know jack shit about being in love. Renji was the most transparent person in Soul Society. If he had ever fallen in love, it would have been public knowledge. Maybe his heart didn’t even work that way. What the Hell did he know?

“Yeah,” Renji spat back. “Selfish and cruel. How can you love someone-- even if they don’t love you back-- and-- and-- let yourself die from it? What kind of a monster would do that? You can hold on, Rukia. You’re so strong, I know you can. Just… just listen to me, for once. I can help you.”

Rukia felt her eyes burning, so she grabbed the bottle and took a long drink from it until her whole face burned. “Fuck. Off,” she replied, slamming it down on the table.

“I won’t,” Renji growled. “Ichigo cares a lot for you and it would kill him, Rukia, you hear me? You can’t do this to him, or-- or the rest of us, either.”

Rukia stared at Renji uncomprehendingly. The room was starting to swim. “What the fuck does any of this have to do with Ichigo?” She suddenly felt very tired, so she folded her arms and put her head down on them. “You fucking dumbass.”

#renji's birthday 2k21 #my writing #why isn't there a camellia emoji?? i used hibiscuses because they kinda look like camellias but imagine they are camellias #i think the primary driver behind me writing this was just an excuse to get back on my camellia bullshit

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derireo · 5 years ago

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The way I SMILED at the nicknames from Autumn Troupe, especially at NYAM AND PUDDING T^T Im curious about the other troupes now, if it's okay;;

yes!! the nicknames i chose for juza are really cute– i rlly wish we could get sound clips of the va saying them tbh LOL. sry this one took a bit of time, i had difficult figuring out the other troupes,, for those who haven't seen it yet, here's autumn troupe's!

Spring, Summer, Winter Troupes: Pet Names

He doesn't understand how pet names work!

He'll probably just call you _______ Chan!

Okay, but fr lol,,. I don't really see him using pet names? The way he speaks is already affectionate as it is and he uses the Chan honorific a lot with you in a sweet manner. Maybe when he's older and feels more comfortable, he'll call you something like Babe!

Babe (public & private)

Baby ("")

My love ("")

It's cheesy, all of them, but he makes it work somehow??? There is just so much love in his voice when he calls you by any of these names, so much so that it even stuns the other members and people around him, haha. You know that heart animation when Izumi does the bare minimum? That's what he looks like when he calls for you.

Dude (public & private)

Babe ("")

Sweetheart {"")

Calls you by your name most of the time, says Dude when he's playing a video game or something– not that you mind too much. Is normally whining when he's using a pet name, but don't worry, he is very affectionate with them as well. Whenever he comes back from work, he mutters a soft, but tired: "I'm home, Sweetheart." and it's sho cute!

Princess (public & private)

My love ("")

Sweetheart ("")

Truly, a prince. These pet names are all used very playfully, but serious at the same time. He's not shy to use them and he gets really confused when he sees how flustered you get after calling for you. He wishes you wouldn't though, he truly sees you as a princess!! He's really close to asking you to marry him!!!!!

Cutie (private)

Bun (private)

Tsuzuru does not like using pet names outside of private life. From what I remember from the story, he doesn't share a lot about himself with the others and even gets upset with Kazunari when he mentions something without his permission. Tsuzuru really likes you, no doubt, but he prefers to be all sweet and loving to you when nobody's looking. In a way, nicknames have become really special between you guys.

He'll pass out before he even gets a word in

I'm not even joking, he reads so much shoujo manga that he'd get super excited to be having this chance. He'd think of something super romantic to say as he like did a fucking kabedon on you lol but legit he'll black out before anything happens LMAOO

No nicknames for u LOL

He would barf if he was forced to call u something other than ur name. He'll probably just stick with 'idiot" and leave it at that; don't expect too much from Yuki 😔

Stubborn brat,,,,, He Will get really embarrassed if you ask him to call you something cute, and he'll relent, but seriously? He'll never do it again unless You Beg.

Cutie (public)

He gets flustered easily, he's not going to be able to call you anything else LMAO!!! He may act all cool but his game is Weak, so don't let his acting chops fool you, baby. Cutie is mostly used in a teasing manner, but he really means it. He thinks you are awfully cute, d'aw come here and let me give u a hug

Saan! (public & private)

Kaku! ("")

Literally just triangle, he's not too creative, but he likes the ring to it. He only uses these when he hasn't seen you the whole day and he spots you across the room or something. He'll call for you all of a sudden and it'll startle everyone who is within a 10-mile radius from him. (idk how far that reaches im canadian)

Beb (private)

Hon (strictly– no honey. public & private)

Beb is a sups affectionate nickname and it sounds so much better than 'babe' when it comes out of his mouth! He only uses it in private though because he thinks it's super adorable how you respond when he says it. Also, Honey is too long of a word (too many syllables) and Hon totally suits his style! It really goes BAM for him and that's wickedt

'Mello (public & private)

Floofs (private)

He likes soft things. 'Mello being the last part of marshmallow and Floofs because he Loves resting his head in your lap cause ur thighs go squish and then he go night night. Doesn't really see the point in nicknames tbh, but he gets really lazy calling your own name sometimes. + he thinks he embarrasses you when he calls you by your pet name.

Beloved (public & private)

Sweetheart ("")

Love ("")

He's got a lot to call you. He is a poet, but I am not so I can't give you anything better than this! It's romantic though isn't it, haha. You're his muse, so a lot of his poems are inspired by the daily things you two do together. Beloved is probably one of his favourite things to call you because it rolls off his tongue so nicely, he uses this nickname the most. Love and Sweetheart are used in whispers or when he wants only you to hear it when having a conversation in public.

Bud, probably (i hate him. public)

Sweetheart (when he's feeling like a bad bitch! private)

Baby (private)

I've got this love-hate thing with Tasuku, but don't worry, I don't actually hate him. Nicknames aren't really his thing, hence the Bud only being used in public. Baby is the nickname he uses when he is feeling very affectionate and loving, but Sweetheart is his greatest weapon of all. He uses it with his low voice, using that rumble from his chest as he holds you in his arms, his large hands trailing up your body. When Sweetheart is uttered, the lilt in his voice shows how amused he is by your trembling.

Petal (public & private)

Buttercup ("")

So sweet. What a sweet boy. Considering he loves flowers, I wouldn't put it past him to call you Petal or Buttercup. And he loves loves loves using them too! Petal is used when he's addressing you during a conversation or just wanting to catch your attention. Buttercup is mostly used when he's greeting you with a hello or goodbye! He even laughs sometimes when he uses your nicknames, but they make him feel all soft and fuzzy inside!

Little Bunny (private)

Pup (private)

Baby (public)

Honey/Hon (public)

He's got so much of these up his sleeve, you better prepare your funeral in advance because He's Not Paying lmao. He really likes the animal nicknames though, they're very cute and suit you quite well.... A little erotic though so he's sparse when he uses them lol. Baby and Honey sounds so nice coming from him, his voice is so decadent and slow and he smirks a little when he uses it on you!

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! imagines #a3! actor training game #sakuya sakuma #masumi usui #itaru chigasaki #citron a3!#tsuzuru minagi #tenma sumeragi #yuki rurikawa #muku sakisaka #misumi ikaruga #kazunari miyoshi #hisoka mikage #homare arisugawa #tasuku takato #azuma yukishiro #tsumugi tsukioka

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mrs-nate-humphrey · 4 years ago

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ok so we have seen over and over again people's assumptions about how gg main characters's instagrams would look like but how do you think their secret tumblr blogs would be? 👀

hmm! i just went over tumblr in general, because i don’t think all of them would have ‘secret’ tumblrs per say? everyone’s thing under the cut, cause it got SO long. i did not mention chuck because i don’t rlly see chuck as having a tumblr in any universe tbh - i feel like he would think it takes away from his businessy vibe or something.

dan's main would be something with a ts eliot url, like, a snippet from one of his poems, or it would be a whitman url, a snippet from a poem again (i see him with a whitman url of some kind & maybe his blog title is an eliot reference.) dan would 100% have the whole dark academia thing going in some ways, i think his blog would be organised as a grid, and he would reblog pictures of libraries, museums, occasionally of art, and also, quotes. so many quotes. so much literature. if you've been on tumblr long enough you know exactly the kind of blog i'm talking about.

dan's tumblr sideblog, on the contrary, would have nothing to link it to him. it'd probably be the tumblr default theme, pastel colours or something... i feel like dan is the specific genre of trans kid who uses a different set of pronouns online for anonymity purposes and then goes "wait a minute i like these pronouns BETTER". his url would be something extremely mundane and random like coffeeaddict779 or something, and it would be all #vent and #dont reblog. nobody who's following his sideblog knows what his main is, and vice versa.

serena would i think have one of those "be kind, do no harm :)" kind of hipster tumblr blogs, except she's incredibly sincere. she wouldn't have a sideblog, i don't think? and i don't think she'd attach her name to it in any way, probably just pronouns in bio and maybe a 'call me S'. she and dan would be mutuals on dan's main! her blog will be very, uh. aesthetic pictures, reblogs of dolphin videos and music and WIP art videos and anything else that'll catch her eye. she'll tag blair in fashion vids, nate in sailing posts, dan in literary stuff, and vanessa in film related/photography related things. she's having fun! every now and then she'll post a vent post but it's extremely vague and it's either something everyone who knows her irl already knows about her ('i hate my mom so much') or something that says practically nothing ('i am so worried about my brother and wish i could do more to help him.')

jenny's fashion inspo blog!!!! what more do you want me to say. she'd make it big in the fashion community and get anons all the time and she'd probably also have an etsy where she sells things she's sewn and made. everyone sort of knows she's an up and coming designer and she'd find a good community online hopefully!!! her blog would be something simple, with a url like jennydesigns or something (i bet that's taken rn, i havent checked) and her theme would be one of those themes that allows for u to have big images. she would probably post vents in the same way serena does, tag them #personal or #rambles, and have that neat code that allows for the tag to be filtered out whenever anyone views her page on desktop, you know?

i think eric would not have anything specific that he posts. he would just reblog random things - memes, things he finds interesting, jenny's original posts, stuff serena tags him in, cat videos, lgbtq+ positivity, etc. he'd try and stay out of drama (i think he'd turn anon off eventually.) he’d also post a lot of music reblogs or links, i feel?

vanessa's main blog would be one where she posts her own photos and films. because she's professional about it, it'd probably just be @ vanessaabrams. she'd have a sideblog specifically for reblogging other people’s work because she wants to support other artists, and it would be vanessareblogs or something like that, and her bio would mention “main tumblr @ vanessaabrams”. she’d be much adored in the photo/film community and just in general, because she’s one of the few people who hypes up other creators all the time and leaves nice comments in tags and all that. every now and then serena reblogs vanessa’s photography onto her blog and it almost always blows up, but vanessa doesn’t mind. i don’t think vanessa would have a vent blog or even a personal tag, she gives me big ‘i wanna keep my business totally off the net’ kind of vibes.

nate’s blog would be a lot like serena’s except, uh, more openly wanderlusty i think. a LOT of ocean reblogs. every now and then he reblogs keroauc quotes from dan which the girls find extremely hilarious. he talks a lot about sailing and gets a lot of sailing anons. he’d reblog a lot of positivity (mostly because he knows his friends are following him and he wants to brighten up their dash.) dan and vanessa jokingly dm him weed aesthetic posts all the time, but every time they do he reblogs and tags it ‘sent to me’ or somehting like that, and they cant decide whether to be flattered or embarrased. i think nate would also attract a lot of anons who ask for advice and it is something he never expected people coming to him for, but he definitely listens and shares whatever he’s got to say all the same. he’s this blog who should be weirdly niche but everyone sort of knows him and likes him.

saving the best for the last, lol. i have SO many thoughts about blair’s tumblrs.

i think she’d have a main tumblr that’s solely for classic film stuff (audrey! and more) and that’d be @ blairwaldorf, because, well, duh. i think she’d pay for a tumblr theme and get one of those really fancy and cute ones, like a floralcodes ms paint theme. i think she’d also have a sideblog that’s less serious, where she’d reblog things from tv shows, reblog things serena or nate have tagged her in, write her own meta for fandoms she’s in, just generally be a multifandom mess with a #personal tag but nothing too personal. it would still be classy, because she’s blair, but on this blog, she’s just a girl having fun.

and then she’d have a THIRD blog, a sideblog that doubles up as a vent blog. and this one isn’t linked to her other two in an obvious way, nobody knows it’s her, etc. on here she’d probably post a lot about her ed (but i think in a ‘i am struggling and i want to bitch’ way, not in a thinspo way - that’s a whole conversation i have no spoons for, so let’s not go there), she’d post about her insecurities and worries but it would be extremely untraceable. she’d have a fancy theme on this one too, despite it being a vent blog.

hm. now im thinking of the potential of like. dan and blair interacting super frequently on their vent blogs and neither of them knowing it’s the other person!

#meta #this was fun! thanks for the ask #i was initally gonna edit graphics #who knows i still may #but i realised that would take WAYYY too long #so have my words instead #anon #tumblr au #so i can find later if i need it

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justkeeptrekkin · 6 years ago

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If you’re still doing ineffable husbands prompts??? Something with Crowley and being self conscious bout his eyes pls. It’s a weakness of mine lol

I had way too much fun writing this… I hope you enjoy!! Tagging my mate @mikudave, who also requested some snake Crowley.

***

“Crowley, dear, where are you hiding?”

Crowley cracks open one snake eye. Technically, he isn’t hiding. He had been napping, until Aziraphale’s sing-song voice woke him up. Naps are always significantly better when you can be a snake and curl up in some quiet nook somewhere. No bed required. No judgment. Because, unsurprisingly, people don’t tend to judge snakes that happen to be asleep behind a bookcase- they just scream and run away.

Crowley pokes his snakehead around the edge of said bookcase and darts his tongue. He can taste Aziraphale’s cologne in the air. Out of sight, somewhere in the room, Aziraphale sighs wearily, but affectionately.

“Oh, come now, there’s no need for that. If you want to ignore me then don’t go to sleep in my bookshop.”

He stretches his head out further, and he sees him- stepping slowly into the room, looking about the place with a small smile and a twinkle in his eye. His neck craned backwards so he can gaze up into the light that pours through the glass dome above. Bathing in it like the day he was born- how all angels are born, in the light of God’s smile.

All angels including Crowley, once upon a time.

Crowley lets his snake eyes stare at him from afar, just for a moment longer. Then, he gathers his limited energy and slithers into view. He likes a good slither. Slithering is much more satisfying than walking, which involves using too many joints, and hips getting in the way. Just as he’s about to sneak up behind Aziraphale’s back, the angel turns and peers down. He sighs again, straightening his waist-coat thoughtlessly.

“Oh there you are, my love.” Crowley’s cold blood warms at those words. He curls around Aziraphale’s leg like a vine, wrapping around his waist and coming to rest his head on his shoulder. Aziraphale peers over at him with narrowed eyes and raised brows, a furtive smile. “Where have you been, then? Scare any customers away?”

“Yesssssss. Jusssst a couple. One of them almost called animal control.”

“Wonderful. Hang on- actually,” Aziraphale double takes, planted on the spot now that he has a giant python wrapped around him. “Not all that wonderful, Crowley. I do very much appreciate that you’re- uhm-”

“Sssssstanding guard,” he supplies.

“Fine, standing guard, however you want to call it. I admit that it was getting exhausting miracling all the customers away, and I do love you for doing this, but- I don’t know how many times I can convince the RSPCA that ‘no, there’s no python here, everything’s just fine, tickety boo, nothing to worry about, officer, thank you very much, have a nice day’. And all that.”

The chastising look he’s getting from Aziraphale isn’t very intimidating- actually, it’s a bit comical, particularly with his face this close to Crowley’s. He can only see him with one eye, anyway- the other eye, on the other side of his snake head, is facing Aziraphale’s desk and surveying the half drunk bottle of whisky with interest.

Thinking that perhaps he ought to give Aziraphale a chance to have a real conversation face to face, he makes a sussurating, serpentine sigh and takes his human form. By the time scales have become skin and the tail has become limbs, he’s still wrapped around Aziraphale, albeit with his feet on the ground. His arms are around Aziraphale’s waist, clinging. His face buried in the soft cashmere of his jacket. His breath hot on his face, trapped between the material and his lips. He lets himself hang there.

Aziraphale feels like home.

It makes Crowley angry sometimes, thinking of all the times he could have held him like this, felt like this. All the times he could have been braver and said those three simple words.

“Have you been sleeping all morning?” Aziraphale asks gently, rubbing his back.

“Sleepy,” he grumbles.

“Oh, dear.” The way Aziraphale says this is like he’s consoling a moody toddler.

“S’fine. Just that it’s cold outside and your shop’s warm.”

“Mmm, yes. I turned the heating on the day before yesterday. Such strange weather we’re having at the moment. Do you know, British Gas rang me yesterday and tried to tell me that I haven’t been paying my bills. Can you believe it?”

Crowley snorts, lifts his head up and leans back from their embrace a little. Soft, but stern pale eyes scan over Crowley’s face.

“What did you say?”

Aziraphale blinks at him. “Well, obviously I found my log books and gave them a thorough run down of my payments. As if I don’t keep track of my bills. Really.”

“Really,” he agrees with amusement.

There had, of course, been the time when Aziraphale had been visited by the Tax Man for being so suspiciously good at balancing his books. Truth is, he really is just that diligent. Crowley briefly feels sorry for the British Gas employee who must have been on the other end of that phone call- they must have had their ear talked off. Gotten a proper lecture, just like the Tax Man. And then, Crowley is bizarrely overwhelmed by how proud he is of Aziraphale for being so unceasingly irritating.

This thought process is interrupted as Crowley registers the dreamy look on Aziraphale’s face. A sweet smile and pinched brows.

“What is it,” he asks warily. Aziraphale’s soppy expressions usually indicate when Crowley’s unintentionally done something nice. Or romantic.

Well, at least, it’s very rarely intentional.

“Nothing, my dear.” Aziraphale pats his chest with a coy smile. Implying it’s not nothing at all, and he’s about to expand any second-

“It’s just,” the angel continues, gaze peering at him through his lashes. “You have such lovely eyes. Sometimes, it just catches me off guard.”

Of all the things for Aziraphale to say, he hadn’t expected that at all.

And after all the years that the two of them have known each other, his compliments still make Crowley twitch.

“Don’t be stupid,” he mutters. He hates how he sounds.

And he loves that Aziraphale is unfazed by the sneer that’s most probably on his face right now.

“You do. They’re really, truly beautiful, my dear.”

“Stop it.”

“I am being totally serious.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re right.”

“Oh- I may be a bit daft at times, but I’m right about some things, and this is one of them.”

“God you’re- you’re insufferable-”

“You’re beautiful, Crowley-”

“Aziraphale.”

“Your eyes are golden like Autumn leaves-”

“Jesus. I’m- I am genuinely considering becoming a snake just to strangle you, you do realise that-?”

“Shining like distant suns-”

“I will leave you.”

“Do you not see that you have nice eyes, Crowley?”

“They’re fine. They’re eyes. Serve their purpose.”

“Yes but- they’re golden. They’re remarkable. Some would even say angelic.”

“Except they’re not, are they?”

The teasing smile on Aziraphale’s expression falls a little. The teasing tone in Crowley’s voice turns bitter. And Aziraphale’s hands hold onto the lapel of Crowley’s jacket. The gesture is strangely protective.

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, Crowley. I hadn’t realised you were self-conscious,” Aziraphale says quietly. Just for them to hear, even though they’re alone in the bookshop.

And Crowley doesn’t look back, even though he feels Aziraphale’s eyes on him. He refuses to look back. Something in him makes him want to run away. He doesn’t- instead, he grinds his teeth and breathes loudly through his nose, staring at the pile of E. M. Forster books on the table adjacent.

He could stand here silently and ignore that statement, or he could argue (and lose that battle, because there’s no use arguing with Aziraphale). Instead, he sighs.

“They’re not angelic, though, are they. They’re the one thing about my form I can’t change. If I discorporate, I could have any other body, but I would still have these eyes.” And he thinks he’s finished, except he hasn’t, because the words tumble out of his mouth like he’s drunk. “Just- you know, a fun reminder of that little mistake I made, when I was young and reckless- and hung out with the wrong crowd, like any stupid kid does. A warning to everyone else that I’m wily. And bad and cruel and untrustworthy. Because, obviously, you know, people deserve to have their mistakes literally branded on them for the rest of eternity.”

And then he really is finished, so he swallows and sighs, turning his gaze to Aziraphale’s bow tie. It’s not tartan today, but it’s just as poncy. Meanwhile, Aziraphale is quiet. Like he’s been embarrassed into silence for putting his foot so thoroughly in it, Crowley thinks.

But then, Aziraphale always manages to surprise Crowley, just a little.

“I know just the thing.”

With one more comforting pat on Crowley’s chest, Aziraphale untangles himself and disappears behind some bookshelves. The shop feels almost frighteningly large- without Aziraphale’s close presence, without the tight nook of a bookshelf as a bed. Crowley peers over his shoulder to see him fussing, tutting to himself as he peruses a pile of dusty first editions. Moving one pile out of the way to make room for the next, bending down to find something in particular, it seems.

“What you looking for, angel,” he asks, a little gruffly in his confusion.

Aziraphale doesn’t answer, which is his way of telling Crowley to be patient and bear with him. Eventually, he makes a pleased little hum, and pulls out a book from the bottom of the very last pile.

Aziraphale twirls around theatrically to face Crowley, book open in one hand and the other clutching his chest.

“Golden Eyes,” he announces, with his best thespian voice. “A poem by Laurence Hope.”

“No,” is all Crowley says in response.

“Oh Amber Eyes, oh Golden Eyes! Oh Eyes so softly gay!”

“Christ.”

“Wherein swift fancies fall and rise, Grow dark and fade away!” Aziraphale begins to pace the room, book hand extended like he’s reading from a script. Like he’s one of Shakespeare’s actors, only, miraculously, even more ridiculous. “Eyes like a little limpid pool That holds a sunset sky, While on its surface, calm and cool, Blue water lilies lie-”

“You can stop now,” Crowley argues, a smile creeping up on him.

Aziraphale seems to pick up on his amusement, because he bounds over with dramatically wide eyes, and is now, God help him, making whimsical hand gestures to accompany his performance. He’s enjoying this too much. “Oh Tender Eyes, oh Wistful Eyes, You smiled on me one day, And all my life, in glad surprise, Leapt up and pleaded ‘Stay!’ Ooh, now, hang on,” he interrupts himself, “let me just find my favourite bit…”

“You- don’t. You don’t have to.”

“I do, and I shall,” he replies primly, putting on his reading glasses and tilting his head upwards so he can read the pages a little better. “Ah! Here we are- are you ready?”

“No.”

“Ah laughing, ever-brilliant eyes, These things men may not know, But something in your radiance lies, That, centuries ago, Lit up my life in one wild blaze Of infinite desire To revel in your golden rays, Or in your light expire.”

And- yeah, alright, that is quite nice, Crowley thinks. Maybe he can put up with being serenaded every now and then, so long as he gets to roll his eyes and pretend he hates it. And Aziraphale’s bashfulness finally seems to catch up with him as he approaches Crowley slowly, eyes fixed on the book and a small, self-conscious smile on his lips.

He continues, softly.

“If this, oh Strange Ringed Eyes, be true, That through all changing lives This longing love I have for you Eternally survives-”

Crowley reaches out a hand to find Aziraphale’s, to run along his arm.

“May I not sometimes dare to dream In some far time to be Your softly golden eyes may gleam Responsively on me?”

And at that, Aziraphale sighs. He looks away from the page and Crowley takes the book from him, lays it on the table behind him.

“Well?” Aziraphale asks quietly. A little coquettishly. “May I dare to dream?”

Crowley huffs and shakes his head. He lays a hand on Aziraphale’s cheek, watches the angel’s eyes flutter closed.

“You silly sod,” he whispers, just so he doesn’t have to hear himself choke.

With that said, he answers Aziraphale’s question- he answers in a kiss. Soft, sure, and more eloquent than any words he’d ever be able to stumble through.

#good omens #my writing #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #prompts #fic prompt

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bemused-writer · 4 years ago

Text

The Great Roland Comparison

I've been meaning to write this for, um, ages now (I finished the poem, "Song of Roland" last year), but I wasn't completely sure how I wanted to organize the comparison. Did I want to investigate each stanza? Separate it into specific important moments? But what I've decided to do is break it down more loosely by pertinent character relationships and plot points in the poem and see if any of those are actually relevant to our manga counterpart. Roland & Aude The relationship between these two is actually somewhat important in the poem and completely missing from the manga. Aude is Olivier's sister and Roland's fiancee, so she's of relevance to both men. That does not mean she is given a great deal of character development (although I would hesitate to say anyone in this poem was), but she is utterly devoted to Roland and, in fact, dies upon learning of his own death. I'd say she also serves as a way of emphasizing how close Roland and Olivier are. They're best friends and Roland is actually about to join Olivier's family. But as I said, Aude is not in VNC and Roland definitely isn't acting like he's engaged to anybody considering Olivier has remarked on his numerous failed relationships. I think we can also safely say Roland isn't engaged to Olivier's sister given how flippant he was about the whole thing. This kind of fits in with how these two are more... comrades than typical friends in the manga. If Roland were engaged to Olivier's sister in the manga, I think they'd need a drastically different relationship. There would hopefully be less pseudo-antagonism at the very least. Which brings us to: Roland & Olivier These two are in both versions with a few changes. In the poem, Olivier takes Roland's lead on things. He's not a servant exactly, but there's no doubt that Roland is in charge. His opinion of Roland in the poem isn't wildly different from the manga, though. XD When Roland says he will take care of their war he replies with, "'That shall you not,' Count Oliver let loose; 'You're high of heart and stubborn of your mood, you'd land yourself, I warrant, in some feud.'" (Bold is mine.) I mean, yeah, that sounds like our Roland. XD He maintains a lot of cheer in the manga, but he seeks out trouble without hesitation. Olivier has reason to worry in both versions. And, likewise, in both versions Roland's decisions directly impact Olivier. In the poem, Olivier dies at his side, in the manga, Olivier is afraid of the repercussions Roland's decisions will have on him because, much like his poem counterpart, he is loyal to Roland, even if we can't quite say why in this version. It seems like, while Olivier goes out of his way to help Roland in the manga, Olivier is the one in a position of power more so than Roland is in contrast to the poem. Even so, I have no doubt that Roland is going to get his way more often than not. I am curious why this is, though. As I said earlier, Roland isn't engaged to Olivier's sister, so there isn't that familial bond to connect them. We know they've known each other for years, but how did they meet? In the church more generally? Or only after they became chasseurs? I get the impression Roland hails from a lower income class than Olivier, and considering how fussy people were about different classes interacting at this point, it seems unlikely they would have met casually, but who knows?

Roland & Astolfo Astolfo was nowhere to be found in the poem, so there isn't any comparison I can do there. What I can say is that Astolfo is serving as a way to show us a different side of Roland: a more serious, somber side. Roland saved him from a miserable death at the hands of vampires, but rather than bring them closer together this is the wedge that keeps them apart. Astolfo resents Roland for saving him instead of his sister, despises how relaxed he acts around others, and probably doesn't enjoy the fact he gets none of that treatment himself. (I'm making an assumption there. If he does, he probably hates being treated like a child, so Roland isn't going to win either way.) I think Astolfo will show us how far Roland's kindness goes. We know he has several siblings, but does he see Astolfo as one of them? Or merely a misguided paladin with too much power and an irresponsible nature? Roland & the Church This is probably the most important facet of Roland's personality both in the poem and the manga: his loyalty to the Church. The poem paints him as zealous, loyal, a bit hardheaded, but ultimately the absolute image of a hero. No one doubts him. Likewise, in the manga, Roland is seen as extremely faithful, but Olivier casts doubt on his faith. He says Roland doesn't really believe in God so much as he believes in himself, and that is a stark contrast to the Roland of the poem. I have no doubt poem!Roland had a lot of self-confidence. Indeed, he probably had too much given Olivier's opinion of him in it, but no one was suggesting he had more faith in himself than God. I should clarify that Olivier said he believes in himself "as a follower of God." And what that's saying is that Roland believes in God, yes, but in his own interpretation of God, not that of the Church's. That goes a long way towards explaining why he could change his perception of vampires at the drop of a hat. It would also make him a threat to the Church; he's a powerful paladin who is willing to follow his own beliefs above those of his superiors. In the poem, Roland dies defending the French people and the Christian faith. But I sincerely doubt that's how it's going to go down in the manga. I'm pretty well convinced he's going to die, but my guess is he will die in opposition to the Church, but in full faith that he has served God the way he was meant to. In other words, I wouldn't be surprised if he dies helping Noé and Vanitas. Already he has mentioned he wants to protect Vanitas, that he worries for him, and rightly so. Olivier also died in the poem, and honestly, I don't think he's getting out of it in the manga either. In the poem, he died at Roland's side, with him to the last. In the manga, I suspect he will also die by Roland's side, though perhaps more reluctantly than in the poem. He keeps helping Roland despite knowing how bad this is going to look for him in the future. He wants Roland to remain loyal to the Church and to stop doing all his suspicious activities, but I think they both know that isn't going to happen, so his only hope is that Roland will keep it under wraps, which, well, he's tried, but other chasseurs are already suspicious. This isn't going to end well for either of them. There's always a slim chance Olivier will "betray" Roland and side with the Church, but based off of what we've seen so far, that seems an unlikely resolution. I'd say the main takeaway I have from the poem in regards to the manga is that the themes of the poem, loyalty to God and country, are going to be inspected more thoroughly. What does it mean to be faithful to God? Or yourself or your country for that matter? Those are the questions Roland will have to contend with while Olivier will have to contend with where his loyalties lie: Roland or the Church itself.

#vanitas no carte #vnc meta #Bemused's post

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thisbluespirit · 4 years ago

Text

Fic writer interview

I was tagged by @captain-aralias to do this, so here I am:

Name: thisbluespirit. I previously went by lost_spook and also a very long time ago as vvj5. (You don’t get my real name, because unfortunately, it’s comparatively uncommon & too easy to find online).

Fandoms: I’m very multi-fannish. I like the challenge of writing for different fandoms and getting the tone right and so on, and I also love exchanges, which often leads to writing unexpected gifts and treats when somebody’s prompt bites me hard. As a result, I have quite a ridiculous number of fandoms, but my main ones are probably Doctor Who, Sapphire & Steel, Blake’s 7, Once Upon A Time, Spooks, The Librarians, Adam Adamant Lives! and a lot of very old British TV I love that few others do, like The Shadow of the Tower, the 1968 Dracula, Enemy at the Door, The Power Game and Public Eye and so on. Recently I fell into the Star Wars Prequels fandom, which was a bit scary but very nice (it’s generally a friendly & very pretty corner of the GFFA) and I definitely want to write some more things for it, and not just Obidala.

Where you post: My fic? To AO3, and before that (when I was much more mono-fannish) the Doctor Who archive, A Teaspoon and an Open Mind (which we refer to as “Teaspoon” - something that confuses non-DW people). I once posted three non-DW works to ff.net, which I found so difficult and awkward, I never tried it again, especially not after it later on ate my scene breaks. (ff.net’s war against scene breaks is apparently eternal and baffling). Although I used LJ a lot (it was my primary fannish platform for years, and Dreamwidth still is), I was on it for the social and community aspect and find it strange to think of archiving fic there. I only posted it there if it was for a particular comm or meme or challenge being run there.

Most popular one-shot: By kudos, this is my Yuletide treat where Miss Marple is a genius loci, and by hits, this is my flash ficlet where Miss Marple dusts Dracula. I write hardly any Miss Marple, but when I die, she’ll be on my fannish tombstone and, at the end of the day, that’s probably a nice way to be remembered!

Most popular multi-chapter: This is impossible to say. Since I’ve been so ill (for ten years now, much as I hate to say that aloud), I’ve written about 3 multi-chapter works, and only one of them was posted in progress, the others were posted complete. The rest are very old and are either still only on Teaspoon, or I posted them to AO3 but backdated them, so these just aren’t comparable things. None of them, being rare fandoms or in OW or backdated Doctor Who works, are popular in any case. The one with the most kudos is a Yuletide fic, The Poison Tree, for Dracula (1968).

Fic you were nervous to post: Lots of them! The most nerve-wracking are gifts for exchanges, especially if they were serious or shippy, where I have to wait to find out if the recip liked them. If I’ve written something fun and humorous I tend to know instinctively if it works or not, but when it’s serious, I just feel... terribly stupid and exposed until that comment from the recip, or someone at least, comes at last!

I think, particularly, some of the historical ones and the two Shakespeare ones, understandably, because it would be so easy to go out on a limb and just make a fool of yourself falling off: i love the rose both red and white, (sotT/15th C) his wonders to perform (even though it wasn’t for an exchange- it was a bit outside my usual and I’m still not sure if it really worked) (15th C RPF); movements of the mind (Twelfth Night) and Vigil (Measure For Measure). The last two proved quite popular-for-Yuletide & I had some of my nicest comments ever on both, though, so obviously I did something right! \o/

How do you choose your titles? Well, either something comes, or I find a poem or song or proverbs quote or I just go dammit and come up with something simple. Remix is easier because you play on the original fic’s title, the fic and your fic, and that always seems to work.

I would worry about this, but I posted a whole bunch of meme fic that I just called “AU Meme: [Character’s Name]” and the summary for each one is “10 AU scenarios for [character] in a Dreamwidth meme” and people read those more than plenty of the others, which does kind of put the whole thing into slightly ironic perspective.

Do you outline? If it’s a long fic, to a certain extent, but only a few notes, or jotting down the ending and so on. With shorter pieces (which most of mine are), less so, but usually the same things - this scene, or the ending or this line, or a research note or two where needed.

Complete: Number of completed works? 596 on AO3 (599 on my dash, but three are fanvids), but there are more at Teaspoon that I’ve never transferred over.

Do you take prompts? I write nothing else these days, one way or another, most of the time - bingo squares, random generators, prompt tables, fests, exchanges, writing memes. I just don’t take them generally, because I am still working on my last writing meme... from April (among other things). But, yes. I love prompts.

In progress: 0. Well, no, actually, I tell a lie, there is one abandoned WIP on Teaspoon, which I started just before I became so ill, a Fifth Doctor crossover with the William Monk & Hester crime series. Since it is abandoned, though, I don’t think it counts.

Coming soon: My Yule-fic. Hopefully the last two from the AU Meme before the year is out, maybe a long origfic for Rainbowfic/genprompt_bingo I’ve been working on for ages, which is still in the editing stage, and I’ve a Good Omens/Doctor Who crossover in my notebook that I want to type up soon. (I promised astrogirl on Dreamwidth I would.)

Tagging: whoever would like to do this and hasn’t been tagged yet - @allegoriesinmediasres @pers-books @human-nxture @luthienebonyx @scarletmanuka @maryellencarter & whoever wants to, feel tagged! And if you’ve been tagged and you don’t want to, that’s okay, you’re excused.

#writing #meme #fannish nonsense #my fanfic #captain-aralias

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noirandchocolate · 4 years ago

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So back in the late 90s my dad--a vry srs lawyer just like me, as you’ll see--developed a special interest in what’s commonly called “Classical Music” (a genre which record stores didn’t confine to the true Classical period, and I trust you know what I mean and won’t get pedantic at me please). He proceeded to spend about two years buying CD after CD and reading book after book (keeping one book out of the library for months of renewals at a time) about famous composers, and then bringing the CDs to work and playing them in his office.

Dad had a couple of pals in the office who he infodumped on in emails about what he’d be playing and what he thought about each composer and their music. These emails developed running gags, mainly how much Dad hated Stravinsky and loved Dvorak, booze jokes about The Five, Tchaikovsky being The Five’s enemy, and practically everyone being a “poseur.”

Recently Dad found printouts of some of these emails, as well as a document titled “Top 50 Composers of All Time.” And this, I am about to share with you below the cut, because it is silly and fun.*

*Disclaimer: These are my Dad’s opinions not mine (he was actually worried I’d be offended by his rating of Vivaldi!), and I’m sharing them because they’re funny, not because I want to start a serious discussion about which composers are best. So, thank you in advance for taking this in the spirit it is offered, and not yelling at me unless you’re yelling in an equally irreverent manner.

TOP 50 COMPOSERS OF ALL TIME (by KidK’s Dad)

1. DVORAK--He never wrote anything less than brilliant. There can be no debate, he is the Greatest of All Time!!

2. Beethoven--Overall, the best symphony writer ever. The true Hammer of the Gods.

3. Mussorgsky--Pictures at an Exhibition is the single best piece of music ever written. Could outdrink any of The Five.

4. Borodin--In the Steppes of Central Asia is the second best piece of music ever written. A chemist by trade, he designed sobriety tests for The Five, which they all repeatedly failed.

5. Prokofiev. Alexander Nevsky is the best music that’s ever been in a movie. His First Symphony is, well, “Classical.”

6. Mozart--Wrote the most consistently pleasant music of all time, all of it exactly the same. Gets points for writing choral music you can actually listen to.

7. Brahms--Four great symphonies, dozens of stirring Hungarian Dances, one nasty temperament. Coolest beard of any composer.

8. Sibelius--Drunken maverick of the North Country. Laughs out loud at the mere mention of Stravinsky.

9. Saint-Saens--Danse Macabre is the best piece of devil music ever. Would be higher, but he tried to defend Stravinsky.

10. Smetana--If there was no DVORAK, he would be in the top three. The Moldau is great!

11. Bach--Ranks this high because of the sheer number of pieces he wrote, even though they were all variations of the same eight notes. Loses points for having a bunch of relatives who also thought they were composers. Result: The Bachs were the Jackson 5 of the 1600s, with C.P.E. in the role of Tito.

12. Ravel--Bolero is what every piece of music should be, repetitive but compelling. Also helped Mussorgsky out on Pictures. Liking Stravinsky was his only flaw.

13. Rimsky-Korsakov--Wrote the wonderful Scheherazade and helped Mussorgsky with Bald Mountain. Designated driver for The Five.

14. Grieg--Next to Brahms, wrote more music for cartoons than just about anyone. The Hall of the Mountain King would be great even if it wasn’t mentioned in Eric Burdon’s Spill the Wine.

15. Liszt--Superb tone poems, great Hungarian Rhapsodies, had Roger Daltrey play him in the movies.

16. Debussy--In the Top 20 even though michael Jackson told Barbara Walters he is one guy he would like to meet. La Mer is excellent!

17. Mahler--Ranks this high for two reasons: (1) the first three minutes of The Titan and (2) the fact that he wore eyeglasses that are now considered cool. Had too much singing in his symphonies to challenge the leaders.

18. Mendelssohn--A Midsummer Night’s Dream is dreamy and his Italian Symphony is spicy without leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

19. Berlioz--The idea for Symphonie Fantastique was better than the actual music, but it’s still good enough to place Hector in the Top 20.

20. Tchaikovsky--Enemy of The Five. But wrote better holiday music than Handel.

21. Haydn--More fun than Bach, but essentially copied what Bach did. His titles for his over 100 symphonies are examples of poseury at its worst.

22. Handel--Calling his pieces Water Music and Fireworks Music even made Haydn laugh. The Messiah though is very good for choral music.

23. Telemann--Another Bach disciple, but wrote great trumpet and flute music. Less of a poseur than Bach, Haydn and Handel. Would rank higher if he had written more.

24. Janacek--Worthy follower of DVORAK. Would be welcome at picnics held by The Five.

25. Rossini--Wrote terrific overture music like William Tell and the Barber of Seville. Not as big of a poseur as Verdi.

26. Copland--A favorite of Emerson Lake & Palmer, so he gets a Top 30 spot. Fanfare and Rodeo are toe-tappers and the rest of his stuff won’t sicken you.

27. Verdi--Overall, the best opera composer, but who can truthfully stand all that aimless singing?

28. Vaugh Williams--Somewhat boring, but always pleasurable. Songs like Greensleeves are the best the Island Nation of England can offer.

29. Offenbach--The Can Can was the Macarena of its day. Fun music!

30. Balakirev--President of The Five. Would be in the Top 20 but, late in life, he actually said hello to Tchaikovsky. Islamey, though, is stunning.

31. Wagner--Must have had a tremendous press agent. Most of The Ring cycle is cumbersome and impenetrable.

32. Chopin--A poseur with a piano. Did write the great Funeral March, but couldn’t orchestrate his music to save his life, or the ears of his listeners.

33. Schumann--A poseur. Ranks this high only because he ran a music newspaper that criticized other people for being poseurs.

34. Schubert--Left his Symphony unfinished, but was nevertheless a complete poseur. Actually named one of his pieces “The Trout.”

35. Richard Strauss--Without him, Elvis would have had no introductory music. Next to Wagner and Stravinsky, the most overrated composer of all time.

36. Rachmaninoff--On first listen, he’s in the Top 10. On second hearing, he starts falling like a lead zeppelin. Would be even lower, but I stopped listening.

37. Bruckner--Has almost nothing going for him, let someone else name his Symphony “The Romantic,” but is still able to laugh at Stravinsky. It’s sure a strange world.

38. Shostakovich--Ponderous posturings for little purpose. Makes no impact whatsoever on the listener. A disappointment.

39. Respighi--Did wonderful things with old music of unknown composers. Would be ranked higher if he had redone Bach.

40. Holst--Only on the list at all to appease certain readers. Called his epic work “The Planets,” yet left out Earth and stuck with Uranus. More famous for “striking a pose” than Madonna.

41. Vivaldi--Poseur in a big ugly powdered wig. Wrote The Four Seasons, then basically issued the same music over and over again, giving it different names.

42. Cui--Have never heard anything this guy did. But, he was one of The Five and that gets him into this Top 50.

43. Elgar--Even more boring than Vaughn Williams. Did write Pomp and Circumstance, but he’ll never graduate to the Top 40.

44. Hindemith--You can listen to this stuff, but like Schumann and Schubert, you instantly forget you did.

45. Bizet--Wrote Carmen, which unfortunately for him is opera. Got beat by a guy who no one has ever heard.

46. Bartok--Actually tried to be as bad as Stravinsky but, like everything else he did in life, he failed miserably.

47. Satie--Was ranked higher until it was learned that he was part of a group of poseurs called Les Six, who worshipped Tchaikovsky, sworn enemy of The Five. Did write music for Blood, Sweat and Tears.

48. Johann Strauss--The Waltz King: Wrote exclusively merry-go-round music. A joke.

49. Gershwin--The Johann Strauss of his era. Whatever this music is, it isn’t Classical.

50. Stravinsky--Listen to a jackhammer pounding away on your teeth , while the J.V. football team plays tubas, and it will still sound better than this guy. No one was worse, EVER.

#kidk says stuff #long post #classical music #for the record i'd rank vivaldi much higher and would also rank schumann higher because i enjoy his scenes from childhood for piano #also for the record dad just likes writing things like this #and none of this should really be taken seriously #i'm posting this to entertain some people pls don't make me regret it

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seriouslyhooked · 5 years ago

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Feels Like This (Part 2)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1 Here. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Oh my god, guys, I am not going to lie, I am having so much fun writing this fic! I have missed having new stories to explore so much, and I am so eternally grateful for all of you who kept pushing me to do another Royal AU. I didn’t realize how much I was going to love doing this again until I started, and now I have so much I want to explore, and so much fluff and cuteness in my head I can’t wait to share with you all. I hope you will enjoy this chapter. Keep in mind, I know it’s been a slower burn so far, but I promise the pay off will be perfect. In the meantime, you’ll see where Killian is in this fic, and the people in his life who will become important characters to the rest of the story. Some are based on the show, some are added additions as you’ll see. For example, I always name Killian’s mom ‘Meera’ in my fics, I know it kind of sounds like Milah, but they’re not the same and I chose that name originally because of its meaning and because of a poem I read long ago – the sounds was coincidence. Anyway, that being said, I hope you will enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

“Well, mates, we’ve finally done it. Our twelve-month stint is complete and all our sorry asses are heading home. Never thought I’d see the day.”

The words from Will Scarlet hung between Killian and his friends where they sat in the cargo hold of a military aircraft flying over the last piece of the sea that separated them all from home. They had just finished their active deployment in a classified location, and it had been immersive and seemingly unending. With limited contact to the outside world, and a constant goal of getting their mission done, these officers and their subordinates had worked hard to serve their country and its citizens. It had been trying times, and the task at hand was hard, but this was what they trained for. The Montenarro elite naval force was as selective as it was distinguished, and every man and woman serving in it was considered a national hero. But Killian hated that term, and he hated it more than anything when it was used in conjunction with his other loathed title – prince.

“You nearly didn’t make it, Scar-boy. If you hadn’t had Hook watching your back, you’d be dead ten times over.”

Killian smirked at the bit of teasing from Robin. That nickname for Scarlet was classic and well earned, given how many near misses he’d had with a tragic, awful death. But the boy part was bestowed thanks to Scarlet’s enduring childishness. His old friend always brought a laugh, and he could sober up when things got serious, but he couldn’t apply that sense of military discipline or responsibility to the rest of his life. He was a man child: unruly and a bit manic, but now that they were coming home, Killian hoped Will might figure things out. Meanwhile, Killian’s nickname, Hook, had at one time been a huge resentment for him. He’d earned the moniker in a notorious fight off base years ago just upon entering the royal command. The man he laid out with a single punch was a right jack ass, who’d made a show of harassing women and spewing all kinds of ignorant crap the whole bloody night, but the headline of the moment was that the ‘rebel prince’ had struck again. His superiors were furious, and he was punished accordingly, but it was his brother, the King, who had dealt the harshest blow.

“You set one more foot out of line and I will bring you back home. If you’re going to make a spectacle of yourself, you’ll damn well do it somewhere our mother doesn’t have to worry about your safety.”

That was enough to set Killian to rights, because despite the seemingly charmed nature of his life, home was synonymous with hardship and discomfort. Being royalty was a constant burden of saving face and proper manners. He loved his brother, his mother, and his Gran, but they fit into that world with ease and a natural charm he didn’t possess. They loved shaking hands and kissing babies, took great pride in parades and national addresses, and knew how to ‘operate society.’ Killian, on the other hand, couldn’t stand it. He never blended well, never trusted easy. He’d met one too many snakes in Montenarro’s royal court and he didn’t need any more lessons on the hidden intentions people carried. It would sound mad to the average person, but there was a similar sense of dread he shared on deployment and at home, and on the good days, when he and his men were all safe with a job well done, he was vastly happier in his profession than in his personal life at home. At least he felt like he was serving something, and participating in a duty that was bigger than hollow gestures and picture perfect moments.

“The most important thing is no one’s dead,” Tink murmured from her spot on the other side of the hold. She was damn right about that. “We made it through another tour and I, for one, am out of here.”

“Olive will be glad to have you home, love,” Graham stated, patting their friend on the arm a few times in a signal to her extra sacrifice made these long months.

The mention of Tink’s daughter made her smile and in any other person tears no doubt would have shown in their eyes at the mention of such a reunion, but not Tink. This woman might be the smallest of their platoon but she was the fiercest and honestly the smartest. She was also brave as could be and composed at every moment. He’d asked her once how she could manage that, given everything that they saw and went through. Every one of them had moments of grave impact, where the stress or straight out fear crept in and took root, but not Tink. Her response was simply stated though it seemed impossible to comprehend:

‘When you have a reason to get home, a part of you that needs you, you don’t have the luxury of breaking down. Everything I have needs to go towards one thing – surviving. I have to get back for her and she matters more than everything else. No matter what I see here, she’s my beacon home.”

“The day I left, I promised her that this was my last tour,” Tink said, surprising everyone except for Killian with the revelation. She’d confided in him about her plan to leave their unit a few months back, and when the paperwork needed to get to higher ups to unenlist from front-line duty he helped her, knowing she was owed that after years of faithful service to the crown. “I didn’t want to mention it because I knew exactly what you’d all say.”

“You’re leaving us?” Will asked and the tone in his voice was like someone had kicked him in the gut. For someone so full of bluster, he caved in quick, and while Graham and Robin didn’t sound quite so stricken, they too were surprised.

“I took a land command. You’re looking at the royal navy’s newest pencil pusher,” she said with a huge grin. “Six years ago I’d have laughed in your face if you told me how happy that would make me.”

“But that was before,” Killian said, understanding her instinct to be with her daughter and the change she needed to make her family whole again.

“You always get it, Cap. But what about you – you think you’ve got another tour left in you?”

Ah shit. Here was the moment of truth. He couldn’t lie when faced with Tink’s question, but he had been denying the inevitable even to himself for so long. Every tour his brother told him this would be the last one, but every time he waivered when Killian returned and asked to leave once more. Killian had been serving for more than fifteen years now, a decorated Captain who had earned his own way and proven his merit. He knew he was well respected and highly capable, but that would stop meaning anything to Liam soon. No matter how good a Captain Killian was, his duty, as Liam saw it, was to be the prince and the second in line. He had obligations at home, and as loathed as that life was, Killian considered himself lucky. His family had given him the freedom of finding something more like normal all these years. Here, with his crew, he was normal. He wasn’t a monarch, but a man, part of a team even if he was a leader, and there was no bull shit muss or fuss. Now that would likely end, but despite wishing he could come back, Killian was grateful for what he’d been able to do and the friends he’d been able to meet.

“I serve at the pleasure of the King,” Killian hedged. “But I think it likely my assignments will be changing this go around.”

“What he means to say is he’ll be dodging the ladies at court and fending off those investment cats always vying for access to the royal purse,” Graham joked. Killian only shrugged, not able to contradict the man, as he was probably dead on.

“I’d take the desert twice over before I took that shit,” Will said, and for once, Killian had to agree with him, but it didn’t matter either way.

Soon enough the plane that was flying them back to base was prepared to land. Their descent was easy, but the feelings that Killian grappled with were not. There was relief of course when the doors opened and they were back on land. They’d been serving in dangerous places, running on borrowed time with too many close calls. Even the plain façade of their base near the capital couldn’t hide the beauty of Montenarro. Many people called this country too small to notice, but what it lacked for in size, it made up for in location. Nestled on the Mediterranean, with a range of coastlines and mountain range, this nation lived in a world that was warm and where the sun shone brightly and often. Today, the coast was clear and glorious, but the mountains weren’t far and the foot hills were lush this time of year. The greenery around them was a luxury compared to the barren wastelands they’d been encamped in, but beyond the walls of this military compound lay his real life. When he left this place, he stopped being Hook, or Cap, or even Killian. He had to be someone else, and the weight of that shifted the peace within him to something frenzied and on guard.

With a swift but genuine regard he bid all his brothers and sister in arms goodbye, and handed in his papers and his weapons with the higher-ups. By the time he made it outside, headed to his personal barracks where he needed to collect some personal items, a royal enclave was ready for him and their head of security, Jefferson, was already waiting.

“Your things have been gathered, Your Highness. We’re ready to ship out.”

“So help me Jefferson if you start that Highness crap already -,”

“Sorry, sir.”

Killian sighed at the lingering formality but it was a small improvement and it wasn’t actually Jefferson’s fault. If the man waivered from formal titles surely Liam would hear of it, and his elder brother was no fan of abandoning tradition. Why he’d even let Killian serve all these years was beyond him, but Killian expected Liam knew that without an outlet and a feeling of normalcy, Killian would have lost himself long ago.

The ride through the city’s center was long, but Killian barely took it in despite looking out his window. He’d seen this route a million times, and it might be lovely, but it was a signal of returning to a state he didn’t like. The only part of the drive he found favor in was seeing the people around them, and from all looks and appearance, the citizens of their small nation were happy and well. People were out and about, children were playing, families were gathered and enjoying the spring day. Everyone was partaking in this first sweet taste of summer and their worlds seemed calm and bright. As a ruler that was the only thing a King could wish for, and Killian felt that call too even as Prince. Their roles meant nothing if the people were not served – but under Liam’s watchful and ever attentive eye, it made sense that they would be happy. They were surely headed towards another prosperous year, and, as Killian had always known, the nation had never been in better, more capable hands.

By the time they reached the city’s far edge and the golden gates of his family’s castle rose before them, Killian was at war with himself. On the one hand he was edgy from what was yet to come, but he was also glad to be back, to see his mother and grandmother, and even his brother. At the end of the day he loved his family, he knew that they worried for him every day he’d been away, and he’d be glad that coming home could bring them comfort. He mindfully made the choice to choose their happiness over his own for the time being, and as he exited the limousine, he schooled his features in a smile which widened at the sight of who was waiting at the door.

“Oh, my little Killy. You’re home at last.”

To the rest of the world, his grandmother was the dowager Queen and a force to be reckoned with. She was a high society lady, the former ruler of this nation, and a fierce advocate for the throne, but to Killian she was just his Gran, a charming, insightful, sometimes crafty older woman with too much love in her heart to ever perish. She was pushing 90 years old but here she was, the first to greet him and moving about like she was thirty years younger. She came straight to Killian, ignoring his polite bow and instead pulling him in for a warm embrace. How a woman so tiny could still possess such strength, he’d never know, but he had a fleeting though that she and Tink would get along before his grandmother pulled back with a mist of tears in her eyes.

“Did you miss me that much, Gran?” he teased, fending off his own wayward emotion at being reunited with one of his favorite people. “I thought I was just a load of trouble wrapped up in a charming giftwrap.”

“Oh hush. I said that to you one time – one time! And you never let me forget it. I mean truly, my dear, what was I supposed to say? You got into your cousin Sienna’s wedding cake and ate damn near half on your own before the reception could even start. Chef nearly perished at the sight of it.”

“I was a kid, Gran.”

“You were old enough to know better. But you could see what a menace that foolish Count was, no doubt. Can’t say I blame you for your actions now, given everything.”

Everything in this case was a huge scandal strewn across the tabloids. Sienna, who was actually quite a distant cousin, but still of royal lineage, was a rather stand-offish woman who had married more for status than for love. Unfortunately that status was tarnished less than ten years later when her now ex-husband was revealed as a philanderer and not a cautious one. It was a mess of paparazzi fodder, but to Killian it wasn’t all that bad, not after what they’d gone through with his father.

“Honestly I just wanted cake,” Killian admitted, shaking off thoughts of the man who’d wronged them long ago and his Gran grinned, none the wiser.

“Well there will be plenty of it now that you’re home. Your mother has planned a whole host of events, and before you get all stodgy and upset, you remember what every day has been like since you were last home. Poor Meera’s been fussing with that rosary damn near twenty times a day.”

Killian felt a pang of guilt hearing that, but his grandmother ignored his stricken look, pulling him inside. Immediately in the entryway he found his mother and Liam and the rest of the household staff set to greet them. He saw the joy in his mother’s eyes, and a clear sense of relief in Liam’s and he knew, even without words or actions, that he was truly missed and very much loved. Still he glanced back at his Gran, quirking up a brow to silently ask her why she wasn’t part of the precession.

“When you get to be my age, my dear, the formalities start to seem rather pointless. I wasn’t waiting an extra second to see my grandson, and your brother has the good sense to let me be.”

“Anyone who lacked that sense risks a fate worse than death, I’m sure,” Liam said dryly, but he spared a smile for their Gran all the same and allowed the old woman to swat at his arm like he was a pesky fly instead of the reigning monarch. “It’s good to see you home, brother.”

“It’s good to be with you all again,” Killian said, choosing his words carefully. He was not interested in lying to his family. They had enough to grapple with from the world around them, the least they owed each other was transparency. His mother certainly seemed to agree, and the tears she’d no doubt held in for months streamed down her still lovely face as she pulled him in close and hugged him far tighter than a royal mother should. Here was his mother in truth, not the part she played in public spaces, and despite their appearance in front of the staff, she doted on him like any good Mum should.

“You’re okay, darling? No bad scrapes this time?” Her tone grew warbly and Killian again felt the tug of guilt for what he put his family through in doing what he loved. He couldn’t regret his choice to serve and stake his own path, but he knew what a toll it took on his mother, and that was regrettable. On one of his first deployments he’d been injured pretty badly and he bore the scars along his back and side to prove it, but nothing vital had been hit, thank god, and as soon as he was healed he’d been ready to go out again. It almost broke his mother, but she was a strong woman, stronger than any he had ever known.

“A few nicks, Mum. Nothing serious.”

“Oh thank God. And now you’re home for good at last.”

Killian looked to Liam for confirmation and his brother shook his head. “Let’s not go there yet.” Liam pulled him in for a hug of his own, one of a special design they’d shared since he was but a boy and again Killian felt the true affection of his brother. They may be men of very different stripes, but Liam was a part of him and who he was. He was his elder brother and the closest thing Killian had to a father figure. His love meant the world to him, and so too did his approval.

“So, Gran mentioned some festivities. Have I time before the circus, or will it descend immediately?”

“Circus?” His mother asked, clearly confused before looking at her mother-in-law with amusement. “I think your grandmother is up to her old tricks. We don’t have anything planned. It’s just us and your favorite dinner. Just how you like it.”

Thank God for that, Killian thought to himself before turning to his grandmother who looked like a spoiled tyke at Christmas. She was so pleased with her little fake-out, she actually clasped her hands together.

“The Americans call it ‘punking’ someone. Such a garish word, but it does have its merits.”

“Still no hobbies to be found, Gran?” Killian asked, knowing that his grandmother was a busy body, and she needed a lot of occupation or she risked being… well, like this.

“Who needs the bloody things?” Gran said, swearing so brashly it made Killian choke on his drink and his mother gasp. “I do what is needed. You needed a good joke upon arriving home so I did what I could to provide one.”

“Gran’s taken to jokes of late,” Liam explained and Killian suddenly wanted very much to know what the old bird had been up to. From his brother’s expression, she’d gotten him good, and Killian would pay to see that.

“I tried to get it on tape, but that blasted Jefferson took my phone spouting all sorts of nonsense about royal protocol,” his Gran said, reading his mind. “But regardless, your dear brother knows perfectly well that I have plenty of occupation with the foundation. So much work that needs doing there. It must be constantly tended to, just like your mother’s roses.”

“I don’t remember it being so much,” Killian remarked, not even really remembering that the family had a foundation at all. It was more an endowment, a way to give the vastness of their wealth to worthy causes. But writing checks surely couldn’t take such effort.

“Well I’ve had to change it, haven’t I? If I was going to build something worthy of your attention, it had to do real good. It’s much more hands on now, you see. I might be in my twilight years, but I can still get my hands dirty.”

And there it was. He was wondering what the plan would be. He assumed he’d be added to Liam’s counsels and propped up as a family focal piece, the returning hero back home at last. But even without fully understanding the intention, Killian could see an earnest excitement in his grandmother’s eyes. Whatever the foundation had become, she was trying to build something for him, and if he could have a purpose beyond the face of a royal family, he’d be eternally grateful.

“So I really am home for good then?” Killian asked, broaching the uncomfortable topic once more as Liam considered him from the other end of the table. After a beat of quiet, Liam replied.

“I’ve spoken with our heads of command. The conflicts we’re involved in are winding down and while the Americans continue their crusade in the Middle East, our time of service there is drawing to a close. We’re shifting back to more diplomatic measures, and what’s left to fight can be handled by your fellow soldiers I think.”

“The country is in good hands,” Killian agreed and though it hurt to think that he was truly finished with his service, he was prepared for such an outcome. Liam would not demand that Killian leave. He was never so authoritarian, but this suggestion spoke volumes and Killian, much as he might be tempted, would not go against his brothers wishes.

“If they’ve been trained by you then it certainly is,” his mother agreed fiercely and Killian laughed. Her statement was not at all based in first-hand knowledge. She had never seen him in the field, rarely even seen him in his military context at all, but she still staunchly believed in him. It was appreciated, but comical all the same.

“And the foundation? What exactly is it doing these days?”

“Well by god, what aren’t we doing? There’s so much to do you see. We’ve been funding all sorts of new energies so we can be ‘green and clean,’” His Gran chirped happily. “We’ve expanded our species protection efforts with the ministry of parks and wildlife. I went on a whale watch with the Duchess of Mandrey. It was just marvelous. We wore, oh what, do they call them…? Oh right, ponchos! We’re working with the ministry of health to create community gardens not just to teach the children but to feed the people. You should see what we’ve done in the cities, Killy. We’ve built these centers with the soil and the supplies. The little ones love it -,”

“Clearly there’s quite a few balls in the air as it were,” Killian’s mother said, gently interrupting his grandmother’s exuberant storytelling. “But we were thinking, I mean if it works for you, that whenever you’re settled back in you might look at one particular part of the organization. Get a more hands on feel for something and truly learn the workings of the charity.”

“Did you have an idea of which one?”

“The Montenarro Children’s Sanctuary,” his Gran replied with total assuredness, and to his amazement, she produced a pamphlet (would wonders ever cease?) from somewhere under the table to hand to him. “Got that from the front desk last week. It’s all in there, dear, and the children are just precious. You’ve always loved the little ones, so it’s a perfect fit.”

“Have I?” Killian asked, not sure if he’d ever shown that predisposition. He always liked interacting with the children in the extended family when they came for holidays and events, but that was hardly a background in working with kids.

“Of course you have. You have such a way with them, and these children, well my dear, they just need someone like you so much. It’s a wonderful opportunity to make a difference.”

Killian knew she must be right, and he felt, despite his hesitations and the urge to reject someone else planning out his life, that this may indeed be a good fit for him for now. He never would have chosen such a charity first, thinking himself a bit understudied in the ways of children, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to give it a try, and his family was right, he needed something to do, something that actually felt like it mattered. After living for years with a purpose he couldn’t waste his time doing things he felt were frivolous. If he did he might go mad.

“I’ll go on one condition,” Killian said and they all considered him, clearly surprised he would accept at all and that he was handling his military retirement so well. “No one at that organization is calling me Prince Killian, Your Highness or any of that. I’ll go by Killian. That’s it.”

“But dear that’s -,”

“Before you say it’s not possible, Mum, just think for a minute about the work they do there and the kids in that scenario. This is a home for orphans and children who can’t be cared for in traditional means. They don’t have present families, they don’t have anything to call their own. They might know I am prince, but I don’t want them to feel the difference between us. You want me to help somehow? I don’t know how to truly help people when we’re separate or unequal. I never mastered that. It’s not how I work.”

“It’s just a title, Killy,” his Gran said sadly but he was holding firm. He wanted this for the kids and for himself. He’d dedicate himself to helping in this way, but he wanted at least a feeling of something normal, something that was his and not the crown’s. He looked to Liam, awaiting his brother’s verdict, and after a brief consideration his brother nodded.

“It seems reasonable enough. But only at the foundation. To the rest of the world you are, and always will be, Prince.”

“Fair enough,” Killian agreed. “Now, any chance we’ve got some cake?”

At the joke, everyone laughed, but low and behold there was cake to be had. And though his life was shifting radically, and he might not be on the most solid of ground right now, Killian felt hopeful that things might just work out in the end. Soon enough he’d be a part of something again, and he hoped quite sincerely to make a difference and make a change for the people he served, and in truth, for himself as well.

…………………..

Hours after their meal, and long after her son had headed up to his wing of the palace, Queen Meera looked out her large antique window to the full moon out tonight. She thanked the heavens that her son was back home safe. After so many years of fighting, and being in the thick of too many international skirmishes, he was finally back and all in one piece. Every night she’d prayed for his safety and for his health. She prayed he would be protected and smart out there doing God knows what. But she also prayed that he would feel peace, when she knew peace was a luxury for her youngest boy he wasn’t usually graced with. Recently she’d added a few more prayers as well, ones that would keep him open to the changes coming in all of their lives. She was grateful at dinner that he was receptive to the prospect put before him of working for the family foundation. So far the plan was working, and she sent up another prayer that the rest would fall into place too.

Perhaps it would be strange to some that she was doing this, trying to craft a future for her beloved son when he was a fully-grown man, but she knew down in her soul that Killian needed the guidance. He was a good man, a strong man, a man bound by honor and compassion, but her son was always closed off, especially when it came to matters of the heart. There were many reasons for that, a few near-misses in love, and all the attention that their family brought forward, but the real reason underneath it all stemmed from the sins of his father, a man Meera once felt love for, who blessed her with two children and promptly threw the life they built together all away.

Prince Brennan had always been notorious. A party boy, a man of mischief. He never met trouble he didn’t like the look of, but his people and his family still believed him to be fundamentally good if a bit lacking in maturity. He was set to inherit the throne as the only child of the King and Queen, and through a twist of fate Meera and him had met and fallen in love. Meera was a common girl, with no connections, and no wealth to speak of, but it hadn’t mattered to Brennan. In fact, in hindsight, he probably wanted her even more because of it. They stole away as many moments as they could, and then one day he told her they were getting married. He never asked, he just informed her, and she went along with it, knowing she loved him even if she was scared of trying to be part of his world. She thought he’d bring her home to meet his family, thought he’d seek their approval, but Brennan had a mind of his own, and that night they eloped.

Only when they were legally man and wife did he bring her home and the fall out had been immense. His father, King Rupert, was furious, but the ire never was directed at her. It was Brennan who the King and Queen were mad at, and Meera couldn’t understand why. If King Rupert and Queen Eleanor truly liked her, why be so angry? Why chastise him as they did? Only a year later, after the birth of her eldest son, Liam, did she realize why; Brennan was flighty and irresponsible. He couldn’t commit to things, he never devoted himself to anything forever. He was bad at making decisions, at paying attention, and he had a total disregard for his impending role as ruler of Montenarro. If someone even hinted at his impending responsibility to the people of this country he went running as fast and as far as he could. Still Meera believed he loved her and that even if he couldn’t give all of himself to his duty, he could be there for her and their children. After trying for seven more years to give Liam some siblings, they were blessed to have Killian, and only after her second son’s birth did the truth fully come into focus. Marriage hadn’t actually meant to Brennan what it meant to her. In her eyes, they were meant to be partners, meant to love each other, and honor each other, but he couldn’t do it. He grew resentful and unruly, and ultimately, unfaithful.

It was an awful time, to be sure, and for Killian, it ended up being all he knew of his father. She kept everything she could from both of her sons, but somehow things always got out. The media had a field day at each and every instance, and then, when it got so bad and so brutal, Meera decided she must go. She and her sons could stay here no longer. Not with Brennan here. Shockingly, when she told Eleanor and Rupert of her plans they told her it was not her place to leave. It was Brennan who must make a choice – shape up and make amends to his wife and to his family, or leave, forsaking his thrown, his power, and all inheritance as he did. Brennan knew in an instant what he wanted, and so he left, but not before Killian and Liam heard him yelling and carrying on. At only six years of age Killian watched his father leave them all, with nothing like regret, and then, a few days later they found that Brennan had died in an accident, the product of reckless choices finally catching up with him.

Explaining to her sons how their father’s actions had no influence on who they were was so hard. Liam seemed to know this, but he channeled his pain into being the perfect heir. He put so much pressure on himself to be a wonderful king and a wonderful son. She worried about that and she was trying every day to help manage that as best she could. But Killian was far more sensitive. He was sweet and thoughtful and bold all at once. He had the biggest heart and he wanted so badly to wear it on his sleeve. But he didn’t. He closed himself off, and then he’d gone into the royal navy and Meera was devastated. She was always worried sick for her son, but what could she say? She saw in him a burst of that vitality and that light in his eyes when he was away. Even in the midst of chaos, Killian was at peace. Why? Because he could be himself. He’d found a place he felt safe, in some of the most unsafe places around the world. Now, though, he was coming back and this was not a place he felt that freedom. With them of course he had trust, but with everyone else she knew his walls would come right back up, steadfast as ever and impenetrable to most.

That was why she was doing this. She wanted a chance to open Killian up to more, to prompt her son towards something he deserved but had always run from: love. She knew he’d be hesitant, and only the perfect kind of woman could bring him to a place where he could be himself, so she’d been looking. It was practically her job to meet people all the time, to come into contact with royals and commoners alike, but she never had much hope. No one felt right, no one seemed perfect until a few weeks ago. Eleanor had returned from one of her outings with the foundation, from the children’s sanctuary, and slapped down a folder with a simple statement.

“I found the girl. Killian’s sweetheart. I know she’s the one.”

Meera was so excited, and she opened the folder without second thought. Sure enough the woman in the file was beautiful, and surprising. She was an American and pretty as could be, clearly smart as she was here on a fellowship grant from the local University. And she had a son. There were all sorts of details about how the school had made arrangements for them because she was such a promising fellow. She was gifted with children and had her own experience with being an orphan as well. Meera planned to go the next day with Eleanor to see for herself, but Eleanor said she wasn’t there. When Meera realized Eleanor never even seen the girl she was horrified. It was one thing to be looking for potential suitors for her son, but people they’d never even met? That seemed like a bridge too far.

“She’ll be here in two weeks. The Sanctuary director couldn’t stop talking about how excited they were for this year’s candidate and one thing lead to another… but that’s the way these things go sometimes.”

It was not the way things usually went, and Meera knew that, but she had never regretted following Eleanor’s instincts before. If her mother-in-law believed in this, then she felt that she should too. And besides, their goal here was a good one – all they wanted was two worthy people to fall in love, after all. What was really the harm in that? Meera just didn’t know, and that was the problem which had been keeping her up for more than a few nights now.

“You are worrying too much, Meera. It will all turn out exactly as it’s meant to,” Eleanor said, having walked into the room with such silence Meera never once detected her.

“You really think it’ll happen?” Meera asked, not even bothering to hide her anxiety.

“Think it’ll happen? My love, he’s as handsome as can be, a Captain of the navy, a hero of war, and has a heart of gold. Any woman worth her salt is going to take one look at him and fall straight in love. Meanwhile he’s going to take one look at this Swan girl and you know what he’s going to do? He’s going to see forever in an instant. His heart will beat for her, and love will stake a claim from the very first moment. Cupid will have quite a simple task of it, you mark my words.”

“You make it all sound so…”

“Romantic? Blissful?”

“I was going to say theatrical.”

“Love at first sight has long been slandered, but still it exists. People find it every day, and many times when they know, they just know.”

“I just want him to be happy,” Meera admitted looking down at her hands. That was all she ever wanted as a mother, for her sons to be well and whole and good.

“And he will be,” Eleanor said, grasping Meera’s hand in a sign of comfort. “He will be happy. He will find exactly what he’s missing. You just have to trust and believe, my dear. It’s all any of us can do.”

Meera nodded, deciding to believe that this would work, and to accept the older woman’s sage counsel, despite its fairytale influence. She wished that with this tiny little push in the right direction, her son would find his happiness with a woman of substance, and good will, and heart. From what they’d discovered, Meera truly believed such a love could be found with this one special woman, Emma Swan, and she only hoped that Killian and Emma were ready and willing to take a chance. But alas, nothing but time would tell, and now all they could do was wait and see…

Post-Note: So there we have it. It was a lot of background I know, about Killian and his family and his past. But I hope you’ll see a bit more of the world I’m building and that it will eventually add to the meeting CS will have coming in the next chapter. As for Killian’s meddling Mom and Gran… what can I say? I missed having some meddlers in my AUs. I have lots still left in store for this story, and as always I can’t wait to see what you guys think. Thanks again so much for reading, and I hope you all have a lovely rest of your day!

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