#and hugh laurie said he’d be into it

[starlightseraph]

y’all before talking about jokes in house md that wouldn’t fly today, i beg you to check the writers first.

much (not all, but much) of house md was written by the gays themselves, and they deserve to have their work understood in its full context before it’s assumed to be genuinely homophobic.

there is, of course, nuance regarding how the majority of people would have received these lines and how the writers were certainly aware of that. but, still, a good amount of house md was meant to have in-jokes, made by queer writers for queer viewers.

[baublefobbersleuth]

From Darkness Into the Light

A disgraced politician once promised his followers he’d win so much they’d get tired of all the winning. “Always remember any idiot can win,” Hugh Laurie’s father, an Olympic rowing medalist, told his son. “What he meant,” said Laurie, “was that winning doesn’t really teach you anything. If you’re a constant winner, you go through life without really being touched…, without ever learning…

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part 3 (Mycroft Holmes x Reader)

AN- Thank you for the patience for this one! My little boy has been unwell so it has taken a little longer than I had hoped but here is the third instalment! It’s a little shorter than the others but that’s because I wanted to contain the angsty part in one chapter, the next ones will hopefully be longer..

This one is a little more angsty, a lot more emotional, but I’m quite happy with the outcome and I hope you are too! As usual, please let me know any thoughts/feedback! And enjoy!

Word Count: 2510

"Is it just me that finds Stephen Fry a bit.. sexy?" You spoke, watching the television as Young Ones' Scumbag College competed on University Challenge. "I don't know what it is about him. He's just.. got such a lovely voice, and he's so sodding clever and his CLOTHES- got much better looking with age, mind." Mycroft only hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Hmm.. He's not really my type." You laughed and petted his head fondly.

"You don't have to be gay to find another man attractive Myc." You mused. "Me and Greg talk about it all the time, though he fancies Hugh Laurie more, especially in Blackadder." You laughed, thinking back on the memory of Greg's fondness of George in the Blackadder Goes Forth series.

"I'm aware that sexuality and attraction are not the same, Y/N. I am comfortable enough in my own heterosexuality to appreciate another man's features. In fact, I very much agree with Gregory's view on Mr Laurie. Stephen, however, is not my type. The few people that did speak to me in University used to tell me I reminded them of him in the way I behaved but, and I quote, 'without even a lick of his humour, you miserable bastard.' Thus, I cannot look at him in that way." He laughed a little and you cleared your throat.

"Oh.. uh, yeah I guess that makes sense. Not the humour part though, you're actually hilarious and they missed out big time." You tried to avoid the point where you'd deemed Stephen Fry sexy in every way he was similar to the man who was laying in your lap, and just hoped he wouldn't bring that up.

"He definitely got the looks side of things though, particularly as General Melchett in Goes Forth, though I am not particularly fond of the facial hair." He screwed up his nose in distaste, you fighting every ounce of your control to not say he looked a bit cute. "And certainly didn't have the waistline that 21 year old Mycroft had."

"Speaking in the third person now, are we? Well, Mycroft, Y/N is comfortable enough in her friendship that Y/N thinks Mycroft can be sexy in his own ways too." You teased, partly embarrassed, but equally just trying any way to improve the man's confidence, even by a little. Mycroft choked a little on his own saliva and had to sit up to regain his own breath. Too far? "Sorry." He shook his head 'no' but didn't speak. In his moments of regaining his composure, Mycroft watched you. Processed in his head what you had said- 'was it a joke?', he couldn't read anything on you that would suggest that, though his eyes were glassy from the choking- watched as you panicked, then subsiding the panic to concern as you made sure he was okay. All these things, he thought, he didn't deserve. He took a deep breath and reached for the television remote, pausing the show and settling back on the other side of the sofa. It had to be done now. Done while his brain was allowing it, before he got attached... before he got attached even more. He couldn't keep pretending it was okay, keep accepting your compliments and your kindness, couldn't allow himself to go any further in his.. attraction?

It was always unspoken between the two of you- your not so subtle hints to Mycroft over the last few years hadn't got unnoticed, Mycroft would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he felt the same way, though this was perhaps the most open you had been; he would always put it off, try to think of reasons why you shouldn't be more than whatever you are now- most of the time it circles back to work, your busy schedule at the Yard and his unpredictable working hours mostly, saying to himself that it would simply be pointless, that you wouldn't see each other. But he knew that was a lie- you see him as often as you can, even if it's just for an hour on lunch, and everyone knows he would do his best to move empires to have you over for dinner had it been a while, quite literally actually.

Then there was age, you were in your mid-to-late twenties, he in his forties, though that argument also fell flat after you had mentioned your last long term relationship had been with a man your elder, amongst many of your interests in celebrity males that you had mentioned being closer to his age than yours- and, on his behalf, it was usual for a Politician to walk into formal dinners with a younger woman on arm. In the end, it all went back to the real reason Mycroft put everything off, a reason he hated admitting to even himself. Mycroft was scared.

Having been the age he is with no sexual experience, no previous relationships, and not even many friendships, he was terrified he would humiliate himself and you would leave him completely. You were both adults, both clever, you both knew there was always 'something' there, but without you ever acting upon it, Mycroft decided to live his life keeping you as a friend rather than risk not having you at all. He felt guilty enough having you here anyway. He couldn't allow you to keep stroking his hair like that, or letting you sleep in his bed with him, hold him as he snored, when it was for completely other desires in his own mind, not without speaking to you. No, that wouldn't be fair- even if he didn't fully understand everything himself and was still incredibly scared. You needed to know the truth, about everything, and, if there were the slightest chance you'd forgive him, he had decided he couldn't wait any longer, couldn't put it off anymore, he wanted you to carry on doing those things, wanted to continue the nights you would stay in his bed. But Mycroft wanted it to change, he wanted to be able to start the night with a ghost of his hand on your hip, without waiting until you were asleep to bring himself to have that courage, to wake up next to you and not feel the awkward need to move so soon, just to stay a little longer. Christ, Mycroft wanted every cliché in the book with you, and it took him until yesterday to realise how much he wanted that, after nearly losing you. And he needed you to know, even if it risked it all.

"Y/N I-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I took it too far I was just messing about.. Not that I didn't mean it, I wasn't joking about you.. You are very attractive, but it was inappropriate.. I shouldn't have said it.. I just wanted to help.. though I don't think it did, might have made it worse, actually.. Didn't want to say anything and let you find out.. like that.. not that it matters.. because I AM happy JUST being your friend, over the moon, actually.. so I don't want you to think I ruined that... Because I know you don't feel.. like that.. and you're not saying anything which is scaring me a little because you're always talking.. Not that I don't like that.. I love you talking to me, you've got a lovely voice.. and.. and I'm going to shut up again.. sorry.. again.." You rambled, a lot, too much.. far too much. Mycroft tried to process everything, his eyes closing at every word. You were making this so much harder for him, admitting everything like that. Mycroft hunched forward in his position and braced his elbows on his knees, index and middle finger of each hand holding the weight of his head by his temples.

"No just.. Just stop talking for a moment." Mycroft snapped, cutting you off as your mouth opened to speak a little, the small jump back made his gaze soften. "Please." He spoke softer, apologetic. "I can't.. talk about that.. not yet. Not until you know.." You went to speak again but his head tilted, eyes containing a rare glaze of vulnerability, trying to stay in contact with your own but constantly dropping back to his lap- a silent plea to stay quiet, be patient and just give him a moment. And you did. Turning your body completely sideways, you crossed your legs on the sofa, hands resting folded in your lap as you encouraged him to continue with a brief nod of your head. "I fear if I don't tell you of yesterday's happenings in this very moment that I never shall, and that is far too selfish, even of me." He took a deep breath in. "But I just.. need a moment. A few, likely, throughout." You nodded your head again.

From there, Mycroft began to explain everything that had happened, told you of his sister, where she had taken him, Sherlock and John, what she spoke about, what she tried to get them to do. His voice cracked every so often, knuckles whitened as his fists clenches, creases formed in his trousers where he squeezed his hand on them, but you listened to every word and stayed silent- eyes welling with small tears. Mycroft spoke of the screen, told you of the snipers that were out there, targeting Ms Hudson and Molly. Your body stiffened as he added Lestrade to the list, feeling your throat tighten a little at the mere thought of losing Greg. Mycroft pressed on, told you about how Eurus tried to make Sherlock choose between him and John, told you how he'd tried to convince Sherlock to just shoot him, how Sherlock refused and threatened to shoot himself. His voice went breathless at the end of that, the idea of losing his brother so easily still fresh in his mind. You loosened your sitting position and leaned over, taking Mycroft's hand in your own and squeezing. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't." He whispered, trying to fold his hand into a fist to escape your embrace. You didn't let go and offered your other hand on his back in support as you watched a stray tear fall down his cheek. "I said don't!" He shouted, moving from your touch and standing up from the sofa, beginning to pace as his face contorted into more pain, another tear following the path of the last. You sat back, watched him, didn't take the anger to heart. "It was my fault! All of it!" He ran his hands through his hair and tugged, moving them after to wipe the droplets from his cheek.

"Myc it's ok-"

"It isn't okay Y/N! No part of any of this is even remotely close to okay!" He stilled now, posture going back rigid as he looked at you, eyes bloodshot and glassy. He told you of his Birthday present to Eurus- five unsupervised minutes with Moriarty- and started his pacing again. "A man died yesterday because of me. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly. They all almost died yesterday. You almost... you almost died yesterday." His breath hitched again, lip softly quivering at the end of his words. You tensed a little and frowned, confused and urging him to elaborate. "They weren't the only people on the screens, not the only ones with a red dot on their heads, Y/N." Gaze avoiding you now, turned completely to face the wall rather than look at you at all- giving him a chance to compose himself, steadying his voice. "I saw you, you were happy, just dancing and making tea, but at any moment you could have... and it would have been my fault. And I know I should have told you yesterday, it was selfish of me using you the way that I have without letting you know everything. You could have been gone before I could tell you everything, before I could explain how I feel about you, and it all came rushing to me the moment I saw your face on that screen. I’m so sorry, for everything, for ignoring everything, for being the reason you almost-" The last thing Mycroft had expected was the feeling of arms around his waist, the feeling of a head resting between his shoulder blades, soaking the shirt with tears. You sniffed, holding onto him tighter as you cried into his back.

"It's okay Mycroft." You spoke, voice croaking from tears. "They're okay.. I'm okay. And you're going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere." The relief Mycroft felt from your words ran through his body as he slumped a little, left hand holding on to where yours joined on his stomach, his right lifting to his eyes where, in a very rare moment, he allowed himself to weep.

***

Neither of you were too sure on how long you stayed like that, Mycroft being held in your arms as he quietly cried into his hand, you into his back, but it was long enough that your feet were beginning to ache and Mycroft had become silent a short while ago. You attempted to loosen your grip but Mycroft quickly grabbed back at your hands, holding them to him again. You changed your tactic and instead circled round until your hands remained together on his back, you now at his front and you gave him one last squeeze before guiding him backwards to the sofa, taking your place next to him but keeping your arms around him.

"I'm sorry." His voice was broken, quieter than usual. You shook your head and fought the urge to cry again.

"Don't." You spoke, sliding a hand down to hold his own that rested on his thigh. "Don't apologise Myc. You didn't do anything on purpose, you were just trying to be a good person.. a good brother. We're both still alive. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly, they're all fine, and I have no doubt that it was partly due to you that they are still okay- whatever the three of you did in there, it worked, and that's all that matters to me." Mycroft shifted, his eyes finding yours once more, scanning, searching, trying to find anything that showed you were lying, that you didn't trust him anymore, but he couldn't find anything.

"But I-" You placed a hand at the back of his neck and leaned forward slightly, your lips meeting his briefly for a few seconds before pulling back. It wasn't desperate, or longing, or out of lust- it was everything Mycroft needed. Everything that let him know that you weren't going anywhere, that you still wanted to be around him, to be with him. He relaxed but didn't speak, his hand beneath yours just turning to allow your fingers to lace together as he let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling softly as you felt his own rest atop yours before falling into a comfortable silence.

[samnyangie]

Rsl TMI

I was bored and thought I it’d be fun to gather up some unnecessary facts of rsl but they’re very necessary for me. If any of the information are wrong please correct me and if you want to add more to it please join in:)

Robert Sean Leonard’s actual name is Robert Lawrence Leonard(Sean is his brother’s name which he borrowed it as his stage name)

He’s the youngest in the family with a sister and a brother

His zodiac sign is Pisces and eastern sign is earth rooster

Left handed

Once dated Gwyneth Paltrow(and possibly Winona Ryder but I’m not sure)

Is(or used to but still is probably) boycotting academy awards since 1987 because they gave the best actor’s award to Paul Newman instead of James Woods

Had produced a kid’s musical, he’d written the numbers/directed/acted in it( https://rsl-daily.livejournal.com/377909.html?view=comments)

Once in interview he claimed he loves to travel whereas several years later in another, he stated he hates it.

Has two dogs, Happy and Bradley(he seems to be a dog person)

The roles he’d like to play are: Richard the iii(which he accomplished), Bluntschli from Arms and the man and maybe Konstantin from The seagull

Was compared as Eeyore by Hugh Laurie

Hates young men in Shakespeare’s plays

Favourite book is Moby Dick (but only on Wednesdayssss)

There’re few roles he’d almost played: Patrick Bateman from American Psycho and Rose’s fiancé from Titanic

If he’d never become an actor he’d have became a teacher, his subject would be history

Has a weird sarcastic sense of humour(e.g Lamby tapes)

Had never really properly learned acting, he did had few acting classes but mostly he learned it through experience on stage

His list of theatrical career is nearly twice as much longer than his filmography

Stephen Sondheim once told him that he belongs to theatrical stage than musicals

Had once said: what his daughter’d do at her school’s talent show interests him more than the future of his career

According to the internet, his MBTI is INFJ, but personally as INFJ myself, I’m not entirely convinced but it’s just me

Once he lied to his daughter that he works at a Supreme Court

On the day when he received his tony award, he told the news to his father. His father asked ‘who was the tony winner last year?’, he answered, ‘I don’t know’

Loves Vienna fingers

Has collection of his rock heroes’s albums(or pics/posters…?) on his wall, Tom Petty being one of them

For now this is all I can think of

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

12 for Takumi and Yuji

12. “What’s the magic word?”

This is probably best read while listening to “St. James Infirmary”--there are a lot of different versions, but I like Hugh Laurie’s.

First: they’re at the docks, walking together, talking about the problems they’ve encountered. Kiba says he’s not sure Kusaka is trustworthy, and Takumi nods and doesn’t say anything in response, because he definitely could say a few things, but he’s not sure if Kiba’s trustworthy either.

You should tell him, says a voice in his mind that he’s grown very accustomed to ignoring. You should tell him everything. He’d understand.

Which, you know, sure. Sure he would. Because people just understand that sort of thing, instead of screaming and running in the other direction.

“Inui?” Kiba says, and he snaps out of it. “Are you all right?”

He’s not, but it’s hardly Kiba’s business, or for that matter a problem he deserves to have to deal with. And, Takumi realizes, he’s been staring at Kiba this whole time, which naturally leads to him saying, “I was kind of thinking about kissing you,” instead of issuing a standard insistence that everything’s fine.

Kiba blinks, and then smiles, and says, “That’d be nice, I will if you ask me to.”

Unexpected. “I mean that--ask you?”

“That’s what I said.” Kiba almost looks like he’s making a joke, except that Takumi’s fairly sure he wouldn’t joke about this. “You know. What’s the magic word?”

Takumi scowls, then tries not to scowl because that’s not the face you should make when you’re asking someone to kiss them, and then says, “Please kiss me.”

--

Second: they’re sitting on the temple steps, side by side, and Yuuji hates feeling so uncertain. And there’s a lot of uncertainty in his life lately, a lot of stress and, yes, sometimes fear. He’s even uncertain of where he stands with Inui, which is a difficult thing to contemplate, that they’re very nearly--and yet--

The weather is nice today. “There’s a good breeze,” he says, which is about as good as saying nothing, and wishes he could rest for a moment and lean his head on Inui’s shoulder.

“Mm,” is Inui’s non-committal sound. Then, “Something’s bugging you.”

“Plenty of things bug me.” Yuuji stares into the distance, watches as a slightly-blurry cloud changes shape and wonders vaguely if he should consider getting glasses. “That’s hardly your fault.”

“You know, I think you might be the angriest person I know.”

Yuuji feels his eyebrows go up. “You live with Kusaka Masato and you’re saying that to me?”

“Yeah, how do you think I can tell? He’s not really angry, he’s just...pissy. Like a mean cat. But I’m pretty sure you’re angry all the time, and the reason you look so calm is because if you didn’t then you’d completely lose your shit.”

It’s Inui’s flat, matter-of-fact tone more than anything that makes Yuuji realize that he’s right. He’s not saying it to be unkind, he’s just stating a fact, the way he might remark on the color of Yuuji’s shirt. It’s weirdly comforting.

The silence goes on long enough that Yuuji’s about to say something when Inui continues. “It’s actually something I like about you. How you want stuff enough to be angry about it.”

How does one respond to a statement like that? “If you like me so much, maybe you should kiss me.”

He sees the corner of Inui’s mouth twitch. “Sure, if you ask me to. What’s the magic word?”

“I like you too.”

A further twitch, a tiny escaping laugh. “Not what I meant, but that works.”

--

Takumi doesn’t dream much. Once in a while, but not with any frequency. Maybe it’s an Orphenoch thing, who knows. He’s been dreaming more lately, though, since they were done with everything, and the dreams are really weird, too lucid to be restful. He’s got an idea of what that might mean, but he hasn’t mentioned it to anyone.

He rolls over in his small bed at the laundry and dreams of Kiba Yuuji, smiling the way he used to, no gel in his hair, no slick suit. Standing at the docks, waiting for him so they can walk together.

His vision's been getting blurrier every day, but when he dreams he can always see clearly.

They walk through several places in succession, because it’s a dream, and when they stop walking they’re in that industrial park again. The one where Yuuji died. Fortunately nobody else is there in the dream, there isn’t a fight going on. It’s just them.

“Maybe you should have told me everything to begin with,” Yuuji says, cheerfully, hands in his pockets. “And then I could have told you everything too.”

“Sure, and maybe we could’ve put a bell around Kusaka’s neck so everyone could hear when he was sneaking around pulling bullshit.”

The real Yuuji would probably have laughed at that, but this is a dream, so instead he says, “Maybe that would have worked.”

“Maybe we should stop talking about stuff and you should kiss me.”

“What’s the magic word?”

Takumi thinks about it for a long time, and then says, “See you soon,” and kisses him, and wakes up.

[incomingalbatross]

So my mom and dad and I were talking last night, and we fell upon an EXCELLENT Muppet adaptation idea...

Muppet Jeeves and Wooster.

Didn't get everything down, obviously, but here's what we brainstormed:

The Electric Mayhem as miscellaneous Drones (Animal in particular would really shine in that role, I think)

Statler and Waldorf are somewhere they can hang around being mean--not sure EXACTLY what part to give them, but they honestly don't need much alteration

The Swedish Chef as Anatole, of course

Gonzo as Gussie Fink-Nottle (though I think he'd also make a good Bingo) because as my dad said, "Just substitute the newts with chickens"

I don't think we had a solid role for Fozzie, but obviously he'd be one of the nicer characters... Maybe HE was Bingo...

Miss Piggy as whoever the main girl of the story is (she'd fit Honoria quite well, but she'd also give us a HILARIOUS interpretation of Madeleine... It's a struggle)

Kermit as Bertie, of course (the Bertie/Whoever-Kermit/Piggy parallels are what sparked this whole thing!)

And finally, the one human-in-a-prominent-role would be Jeeves, played by... Hugh Laurie

[sociopath-analysis]

Sociopath Profile: Dr. House

Real name: Gregory “Greg” House, M.D. From the television series House (2004-2012) Played by Hugh Laurie Requested by @goldenautomaton​ and thanks to them for helping with research.

The eponymous character definitely has a knack for his profession. He has sociopathic traits, but he is trying to do the best for his patients and help solve their problems. He tries to be a productive member of society... That said, he’s extremely self-important, tends to be rather reckless in how he operates, has an almost active disregard for other’s feelings, and is generally not the kindest person around. While he’s not fully sociopathic in a clinical sense, he’s definitely close to the character-type.

As I mentioned, he’s incredibly prideful in how he carries himself. He often acts like the entire hospital wouldn’t run without him. While he is indispensable, his contribution is not outweighed by the several instances of misconduct that occur under his watch. He does have reason to be proud of himself. He’s good at what he does and gets several chances to show that throughout the series. It’s just that the way he decides to show this pride is often used to put others down in the process, whether intentional (most likely) or not. Usually people that annoy him. And the number of patients he blatantly belittles while helping them happens to be a rather long list. Even when they have life-threatening illnesses.

“Hello, sick people and their loved ones! In the interest of saving time and avoiding a lot of boring chit-chat later, I’m Dr. Gregory House. You can call me Greg. I’m one of three doctors staffing this clinic this morning. [...] I am a board certified diagnostician with a double specialty of infectious disease and nephrology. I’m also the only doctor employed at this clinic who’s force to be here against his will.“

Contradictory to his profession, House also shows a blatant disregard for the well-being of his patients. If it isn’t a challenge to him, he won’t take it as seriously even if he is trying to help them. This can usually be on display by the fact that he tends to mess with his patients or, in one instance, playing Metroid on his Gameboy while waiting for Dr. Cuddy in front of a patient. Other times, it can be way worse. Such as trying to use very dangerous (and very illegal) forms of treatment to help them. This extends to his coworkers as well. He has slipped amphetamines to Wilson just for his own amusement. More than once. When Wilson confronts him, House talks about it like he’s doing him a favor. In another time, he does this to Wilson and Cuddy’s mother and doesn’t bother trying to justify that one. He just wanted to get out of a dinner with her mother.

He also happens to have an issue with ethics. As mentioned, he shows some rather blatant recklessness. Many treatments he gives would realistically have his medical license revoked and would constitute for the repeated criminal behavior noted in many real cases of ASPD. In the middle of a hostage situation when someone forces him at gunpoint to diagnose him, he tries to slip a tranquilizer to one of the other patients to trick him into taking it so he thinks it’s safe. Had the guy not passed out earlier, it would have worked. In addition to other’s lives, he also has a disregard for his own safety since he gave the gun back to the man to keep up the hostage situation until he could diagnose him, showing more interest in solving the puzzle of this man’s illness. One thing that is also notable is his addictive tendencies - also something common in ASPD cases. Most notably, his addiction to painkillers.

“If you’re particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this. This is Vicodin. It’s mine. You can’t have any. And no, I do not have a pain management problem. I have a pain problem.”

And House mostly views his job as a game to prove his intelligence. He seeks satisfaction out of being right and solving a puzzle rather than saving lives more often than not. There’s also the numerous things that he does to mess with people just for his entertainment. Many of which are already detailed above. In addition to that, he also seems to enjoy preying on peoples insecurities for his amusement as well. His coworkers can probably attest to this, but a very blatant example was when he was in a psych ward. He pinpointed the things that made them uncomfortable and used it to blatantly antagonize them - including implicitly tempting a girl with suicidal tendencies into killing herself again.

Most of the guilt he displays tends to be over fear of the consequences rather than actual guilt. Considering the fact that he often tries to hide what he’s doing when he’s about to do something dangerous with a patient, he knows he could get into serious trouble for it and doesn’t do it more since he’d just get caught for it. This is also the case for what happens when he starts getting hit on by an underage girl and she starts stalking him. He knows that he could go to jail for having a relationship with her, but he still engages with her flirty banter. And when he realizes her horniness is due to an illness she contracted that lowers inhibitions, he only laments the missed opportunity while writing her a prescription for the ailment.

While he is an amazing diagnostic doctor who has no doubt saved many lives, his sociopathy still shows through in many moments even when he’s trying to help people. There are some implications that he does have some capacity for empathy towards others and genuine moments of emotions. However, this seems to be drowned out by the many instances of reckless and sometimes life-threatening actions he commits rather often.

See more profiles here.

[drjackandmissjo]

Roses are Red, Tattoos are Forever

Chapter 3 --- previous chapter

Feysand masterlist

The Sherlock Conundrum

Florist and tattoo artist Au, Modern Day

“Can you please stop with this madness? Hugh Laurie is clearly the best Sherlock ever!”

They were both sitting on the couch of his living room. Really close to each other. She had her left knee under her body and was fully facing him. He had been throwing glances at her way the whole time she’s been there, and now was admiring her everything as they bantered lovingly.

After a particularly rough client, that had taken her nearly seven hours to finish, she came into his shop claiming: “We’re both closing earlier, I need to rest and so do you.”

At his attempt to tell her off, cause “I don’t need to rest I am in pristine fit every second of every minute”, she simply replied with an elongated ‘Please’ and a pair of puppy dog eyes that would’ve put a Labrador to shame.

Useless to say, they ended up on his couch half an hour later, a marathon of the fourth season of House M.D. on the television and chips and popcorn all around.

Feyre is harder than she looks, tougher. She likes to drink whiskey and burning liquor and beer.

Rhys, on the other hand, is a refined rosé man. He drinks fruity drinks and cocktails and vodka. He tried the same stuff that she drinks, once, when they went out with the rest of the inner circle after Az had received a promotion. It didn’t end well.

Feyre and Cassian will forever tease him about it.

Since their taste in alcohol was on such a wide spectrum, they decided to settle for some sparkly Coca-Cola for that fine night.

About halfway through episode six, the debate had begun. The show was soon forgotten and left as a white noise machine that lulled them into their silliness.

“Feyre Darling. You are being delusional. Dr House’s got nothing on RDJ’s Sherlock. Just cause the character was inspired by Conan Doyle’s work it doesn’t mean it can be considered a Sherlock.”

She laughed. A delicious sound that was filling his days more and more each morning. “Do you know that Conan Doyle based Shelly on a doctor, right? Also, yeah Jude Law’s better than Wilson, that is true.”

“Can we just agree that Cumberbatch and Freeman are equally amazing.”

“Yeah, duh! But, controversial opinion: I don’t actually ship Jonhlock romantically.”

“More like platonic soul-mates? Makes complete sense. They are not interested in each other at all. You are right, Fey-ruh Acheron.”

‘HOW DARE SHE...’, he thought severely displeased.

“Oh please don’t be pissed at me. I like them together and everything, but in my mind, Sherlock is pretty much ace-aro. I mean, Cumberbatch was also Smaug. Which in the books is described as a dragon while the movies decided to portray him like a vixen...” He solemnly nodded.

That is, indeed, a severe problem in mainstream media.

“That is, indeed, a severe problem in today mainstream media. We live in a world where people don’t know the difference between one another! Daenerys Mother of Dragons? More like Dany The Soccer Mom of three cool lizards. That would be more appropriate!”

“Don’t talk to me about Dany, I’m still pissed about Jonerys. I mean, fan-service much? Okay, I can deal with that. But don’t freaking kill Viserion and try to make us all believe that HIS MOTHER WOULD FUCK HER NEPHEW THIRTY MINUTES LATER!”

She laughed again.

‘Gods above and below,’ he thought, ‘how much can a person love another?’

“Agree 100% on Viserion, though Jon after Ygrit should’ve just zipped up his pants and close business. You experience that kind of love once in your screentime. And when you do, Martin kills the counterpart off immediately after the big scene. You know that sadist is gonna kill you off, so just spare him the dirty deeds to write.”

“The dirty deeds are the reasons he is taking so much to finish that freaking book. Also, salty much?"

"You dare calling me salty? It’s been years and you still weep over Robb’s body.”

“Excuse you, it is a very fine body. Have you seen Richard Madden lately? With that kilt at Kit and Rose’s wedding? Fine AF.”

She was now scooting over, moving closer to his face to find a reaction.

“Fine, you’re right. But Darling, you know damn well I am attracted to that man, you can’t just casually throw his name around! That would be like me, saying that Misha has aged like a fine whisky.”

“And where would a lie hide in that sentence?”

“ANYWAY. We were talking of something terrifically important.”

He decided to add a Meaningful Pause to give himself some dramatic effect...

“How can you say you don’t ship Jonhlock romantically?”

‘Honesly I love that woman. She is my other half, I would die for her and with her. My life without her has no meaning.

But if her answer doesn’t please me then so help me God I will suffer through a meaningless life with the strength of my ships.’ His mind said.

“I told you before the 'The Hobbit/Game of Thrones' parenthesis. When I read the books I thought of Sherlock as a madman who cared about Watson profoundly, but mostly cares about himself and his work. Someone who doesn’t dwell into feelings, doesn’t really enjoy sexual times and, truly, a modern-day asexual and aromantic asshole with a kink for unofficial police work. Yes, He and Watson are amazing together, and especially with RDJ and Jude Law I saw the sexual tension, which then I also saw in the BBC’s version. But for me, since I read the books first, Jonhlock will always be the exact relationship shown by House and Wilson. Sorry to disappoint.”

She was so close to him, he could smell her shampoo and count the freckles across her nose. She was staring directly into his soul. Rhys was fully clothed in an old tee and some pants and yet he’d never felt more naked.

“You never disappoint me. As a matter of fact, you never cess to amaze me, Feyre Acheron. You are perfect and beautiful both on the inside as well as on the outside. Here I was, looking for a polite way to kick you out of my apartment after you say you don’t ship one of my OTPs and now, here still I am trying not to be drowned into you and trying not to get lost into your eyes and I love you so fucking much that it physically hurts.”

His inner monologue at the time? ‘Fuck. FUCK. What the fuck did I just say???’

She had managed to fry his whole brain with her smart reasoning and perfect voice and now he had ruined a perfect moment by saying cheesy stuff to a girl that didn’t particularly care for cheese.

That was the end of Rhysand Sphera as we all know and love him.

Cause of death: killed by Feyre Acheron as result of saying something completely idiotic.

Only...

“Do you really mean that?”

She sounded hopeful and scared at the same time. The horrors she had to face in the past came running back to her and were written all over her face. Rhys took her hands in his. They were both trembling.

His mouth had probably never been that dry and yet aching to speak at the same time. He could only nod and pray she reciprocated.

That was the moment of truth.

“Of course I mean it. All of it. Each unsaid sentence and each shared glances. Every time I bring you coffee or a send you a picture of a dog that walks into my shop with its owner even though I’m terrified of them. The dog, not the owner. Even though some owners of dogs are terrifying. I have been in love with you for so long, I forgot how it feels not loving you. I look back at those times when you were not in my life and even back then I knew I was missing something. And when he-who-must-not-be-named showed up and swept you off your feet away from me, I was broken beyond repair. But you came back and made me hope that maybe, maybe all my dreams could become true. But you were hurt and also broken, and you needed time to heal. You still do. I shouldn’t have said anything, but you’re just so fucking amazing that I struggle to not scream ‘I Love You’ every time you breathe. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you. I understand if you still need time to heal or would rather be with someone else. But I said it, and I do not intend on taking it back.”

She was kneeling on the couch, her hands still clutching his, tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t take it back.”

Rhys thought he had heard what he wanted, so he had to ask, “What?”, a dumbstruck disbelieving-his-luck expression plastered on his face.

“I said don’t take it back. I feel the same way. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you too. I thought you hated me after, well, Tamlin. It is pleasant knowing we reciprocate each other’s feelings.”

Feyre laughed again, breaking the spell between them. Only, now the deed was done. Neither of them could hold their emotions in any longer. Feyre leaned in and so did Rhys, and their lips met halfway in a once in a lifetime, epic romance, Full on Princess Bride type of kiss.

After they both ran out of breath, they simply remained connected in every way possible given their awkward position. Foreheads never leaving each other, hands clasped together, lips barely touching. That spell, though, didn’t last for long. Soon they yearned to touch each other’s skin and feel each other’s bodies.

They were never going to have enough of each other.

[elizadoolittlethings]

Rupert Graves: 'If I need cash I'll do anything, I don't really care'

Telegraph

The twinkly-eyed actor talks to Benji Wilson about his new role in hit drama Last Tango in Halifax, as well as his previous career as a circus clown

By Benji Wilson

7:00AM GMT 29 Dec 2014

It was Peter O’Toole who once suggested that we “should pity the pretty”. The actor perhaps felt that his looks had hindered his career. Rupert Graves, however, disagrees. “I think that’s nonsense. I think if you’re good-looking you get more advantages.”

It’s not said with any self-regard – Graves has none. Luckily for him at 51 he is still pretty, as countless fan sites attest. When I meet him his hair has been dyed black from its usual grey. He assures me it’s for a role and that he will be “undying” it the minute that role is finished. He is not bothered about ageing.

“I’m just reaching middle age. I’m getting older - that’s what happens. I’m actually quite pragmatic about it.”

The grey stays too for his new role in Last Tango in Halifax, playing a date for Nicola Walker’s Gillian called Gary, who in an early reveal turns out to be Derek Jacobi’s unknown son. Graves is plainly delighted to be joining not only an established hit but one written by Happy Valley’s Sally Wainwright, whom he calls “our greatest television writer”.

“She’s a proper bona fide genius. She is theatrical and absolutely human and true and has a very strong individual voice. It’s her warmth I like really – the latitude she gives to human error. All the characters are beautifully flawed, but also she’s properly funny.”

With his deep dark eyes and winning grin Graves is recognisably the same boy who caught the world’s eye in Merchant Ivory’s 1985 A Room with a View – including the famous scene in which he and Simon Callow dispensed with their clothes and cavorted naked in a pool.

“I remember I had to come in and say, ‘Anybody want to bathe?’ and I thought, ‘Oh no, that sounds so poncey and stupid. If you see the scene again I’m actually blushing but that’s not acting: that’s because I was frightened.”

Because he shot to very early fame in two Merchant Ivory films, A Room with a View and Maurice, it is tempting to assume that he must be posh totty. That he must have gone to Eton and Oxbridge, then Rada with perhaps a stint at the RSC before Merchant Ivory gave him his break.

But Graves is nothing like that and he never has been.

“Do you know Weston Super Mare?” he asks me. “It’s a s***hole. Bill Bryson said it was the worst place he’d ever been.” Rupert Graves grew up in Weston Super Mare.

“I like it because it’s such a s***hole. I like the West Country humour and slyness. I went to a shocking school. I didn’t have any kind of career path – I wasn’t going to be a professional. There was no chance of me getting into university or anything, my childhood wasn’t like that.”

It was an upbringing that gave him what he calls a certain recklessness. At 16 he left school to join the circus. It sounds like something from a penny romance but Graves really was a performing clown.

“It seemed like something I wanted to do so I did it. The circus was run by a Mr Thompson whose first name I never found out. They lost Rudy the Clown and Mr Thompson thought, ‘I don’t have to pay, I can do it through the YTS,’ so he got the government to sponsor a trainee clown which was me. I wanted to be an actor by then anyway. I kind of thought it might be a good thing.”

Thinking something might be a good thing and therefore doing it is an anti-method that has seen him through an entire career. He was a punk at 14 (“I had ripped jeans and a shirt with probably a bit of writing on it and choppy hair and a little bit of pink in there somewhere.”) He worked at Butlins, got an agent from the back of The Stage, was cast in Dennis Potter’s Sufficient Carbohydrate at Hampstead, that went to the West End from where he was spotted and cast in A Room with a View, aged 21. All of a sudden the punkish clown from Weston Super Mare was a star.

“Obviously the good part was that it gave me a profile. But I certainly didn’t take advantage of that profile - I was slightly embarrassed, probably, about the attention. And I felt I hadn’t earned it, I hadn’t earned the acting jobs, I hadn’t trained and I felt very insecure about all that.”

Rupert Graves starred alongside Helena Bonham-Carter in A Room with a View in 1985 (PHOTO: Alamy)

Graves retreated to the theatre to learn his craft, and when he came back to the screen it was TV and indie movies rather than big-budget feature films that became his natural berth. Gradually, via The Forsyte Saga, Scott & Bailey, The White Queen and Sherlock (he plays DI Lestrade) he has worked his way to something of a mid-career renaissance.

Not that he would even recognise the notion of a career trajectory.

“If I need cash I’ll do anything, I don’t really care. That’s how I earn money and I have my family [five children between the ages of four and 11] and I don’t have anything else.”

Of all the many, many jobs he takes to earn that money (on top of Last Tango he is filming three small films and an American TV mini-series, all for release in 2015) – it is Sherlock that has become the most high profile.

What’s struck him most about playing Lestrade in Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss’s hit reworking is that it brings with it a new type of recognition.

“Sherlock is the first thing I’ve been in where its fandom is fuelled by Twitter and social media. That has made a huge difference – people can talk to actors and each other directly, they can whip themselves into an absolute fury. It’s bizarre. The strength of it has surprised me.”

He has even found himself exposed to a particularly modern malaise.

“I’ve got somebody who is pretending to be me on Twitter, talking to friends of mine and insulting them – and then showing pictures of children’s legs saying, ‘this is my child sleeping.’ So I went on Twitter and said that’s not me. I did that for a couple of weeks but then it struck me that it’s such a narcissistic thing for an actor to do. I’m not that sort of person.”

That is not very nice. On the other hand, the kind of exposure that Sherlock and now Last Tango will bring – both shows have a large American following - has set Graves up for castings in the US, that place where under-valued British actors go to pay off over-sized British mortgages. He is ambivalent at the prospect at best.

“I tell you what, I really don’t like LA. Every time we do LA I’ve felt depressed. For someone who’s not a very strategic person it’s an extremely strategic industry town. But I have to do it and I’m tempted to go over next year just for a month, have a little sniff and see if I can get something.”

You could easily see Graves doing a Hugh Laurie or a Damian Lewis, turning up as a grizzled American cop or doc and suddenly becoming the global star he was all set to be when he was 21. Equally, you could envisage him continuing to pop up in all manner of British productions, turning in quietly engaging performances and then moving on, twinkly-eyed, to the next one. Either would be worth watching.

[athena1138]

3, 7, 9, 12 for Asena or Marynn

By “or” you mean “and” right? 

3. If they made a five song playlist, what songs would they want on it and why?

Oof, yeah I deserved that lol 

Asena

The Devil You Know by Kovacs, because though she’s a very controlled person, she just wants to go apeshit every now and then, and something about Kovacs’s voice just touches that emotion in her. Plus Kovacs is really attractive

Hallelujah I Love Her So by Hugh Laurie, because she likes swing-y music like that, and it’s hella relatable 

Soon We’ll Be Found by Sia, because it’s a good, slow kitchen-dancing beat 

The Way by Kehlani, because it’s fun to sing, and it’s a good degree of pop but it isn’t too over the top in any one direction of emotion so she can jam to it p much whenever. 

Tous Les Mêmes from Stromae, because Stromae’s voice, French, the presentation and representation of gender fluidity, the duality of man, the entire fucking thing is a masterpiece, and it’s fitting that Stromae gets his stage name from Maestro. (And his design brand name Mostrae, but eh) 

Marynn

Tough Lover from Christina Aguilera, becase... cmon. 

Voodoo by Godsmack, because even though she’s never pursued it, she’s a little interested in magic, and she’s also smol and angery and it satisfies. 

Midnight by Swingrowers because it’s a hella beat and 11/10 can get TURNT UP. 

Money by Ivy Levan, because firstly, angery, secondly, the video is a MOOD, thirdly, Marynn is pretty much all about the money (albeit, so she can help others, but still.) 

Secrets by Mary Lambert because it... it all applies, pretty much every word. 

7. Out of an impulsive decision your OC dyes their hair and gets a whole new outfit, what do they now look like?

Ooh

Asena would dye her hair a bright fire-color, like yellow at the ends and bright orange at the top in a sort of ombre, 2-tone gradient type thing.

like this  

(And an undercut isn’t... out of the question.) In-game, she’d switch it up from the white-tunic and brown-pant type of Inq. clothes to something more dramatic, like a long coat that cinches at the waist and a big shiny belt which she’d hang a sword that she’ll never use off of. In-story, she normally wears pretty down-to-earth shit outside of work (hoodies, jeans, expensive but not ugly sneakers.) She might upgrade a little, invest in some nicer jeans, start wearing boots, skip the hoodies and go for tank tops and things to show off her amazing mascles. 

Dying Marynn’s hair would be tricky because her beard grows in so fast, it would have to either go with it, or she’d have to keep up with shaving and that’s a Chore(tm.) She might dye it a dark green

like this 

Firstly, a new wardrobe for Marynn would have to 1) be functional for her efforts as a rogue, and 2) she’d like to have clothes that actually... fit? Her pants and boots are literally just human clothes because she couldn’t find any dwarven shit in a decent price range after leaving Markihm. The tits-out look is a favorite, for obvious reasons, but she might invest in something a little more reserved? If she’s dying he hair green, she might want it to be a warm color so she doesn’t get washed out, maybe a maroon-ish dark red? Probably a tank top, and a black cloak that she’ll almost definitely have to hem to her height, and black pants with well-fit boots for a change. 

9. Your OC makes a poster and ships it to their best friend, what does the poster have on it and how does their best friend respond?

Asena’s best friends are Gemma and Bull. For Gemma, it’d be a play on the Fine Dwarven Crafts Direct from Orzammar, except it’d be a picture of Gemma’s face on it because Gemma is a fine Dwarven craft and is from Orzammar. Gemma would lose her shit and hang it on her door. Bull’s would be a little one, just a quick doodle of his and her horns that says “horns up” between them, maybe with a bunch of little symbols to represent the Chargers scattered about. He’d love it and probably keep it folded up in his pack. 

Marynn’s non-Flora best friend was this one waitress named Ingra who’d worked at her father’s tavern with her for years, and she’d send her something with a stupid limerick on it, like a super detailed drawing of a lovely sight line and the limerick would say something like, “There once was a girl from Markihm, who decided to leave on a whim. She traveled so far, met a cute girl in a bar, who said her beard needs a trim,” with a little angry face at the end. The friend would hang it in the tavern bc Marynn was well-liked by pretty much everyone who frequented lol. FOR FLORA THOUGH? Bruh, it’d be a drawing of a bunch of flowers scattered about and at the bottom it’d say something stupid and corny like, “They told me to get you a rose so I got you a whole damn field” because she’s really bad at the flirting but fuck she wants to try so hard. How she reacts? Hopefully well? :D? 

12. If your OC has to describe their best friend, how would they describe them?

Asena frequently describes hers lol. Gemma is a tiny, irresponsible, foul-mouthed, asshole of a woman, but gods she’s so easy to love. Bull is the same, but taller. 

Marynn would say Ingra is one of the stupidest bitches in all of Markihm, hands down dumber than the barrels of ale she serves every day, and she loves the fuck out of her. Flora? Marynn would just kinda... break down because Holy Fucking Dumathoin, she’s incredible. 

[bixbythemartian]

I love Colin so much but I also think he’d be so much better at, like, hapless victim or Lestrade (he’s so funny when he fails at things)

and I also submit that you need at least one proper British accent in the thing to keep it funny

and I think the absolutely funniest option in the chosen age range (Ryan is literally a few *months* older) is Hugh Laurie.

he’s fucking hilarious (I know Jeeves and Wooster is lowkey a tumblr darling, but I much prefer him in the Black Adder series, Black Adder Goes Forth most specifically)

I think *he* would think it was hilarious, since House was a Holmes send up

he’s also particularly tall, but a bit shorter than Ryan

also if we’re doing a comedy sherlock holmes then I humbly believe that Jack Black should be in consideration for Watson, but I remember seeing someone else suggest Wayne Brady and that would also be completely acceptable.

here’s what I’m thinking:

Every reason Sherlock gives for his deduction is just completely fallacious. It makes no logical sense. Just off the wall.

He must also be proven right, every time. His logic is nonsensical, but his conclusion is correct.

it doesn’t matter how absolutely zany his logic is, Watson appears impressed by his logical deductions and takes notes

there’s a simple case at the beginning which demonstrates this

Moriarty, for contrast, doesn’t explain his reasoning. He occasionally gives veiled threats when asked for his reasoning. (People who ask me questions sometimes find their guns misfire. Be careful of yours.)

Sherlock, when he disguises himself for some reason, is always played by someone else. Is he portraying an old woman? It’s Dame Judy Dench.

When he shrugs out of the clothes, Watson exclaims how he should have known it was Sherlock all along.

When we see Watson alone, we realize that he’s been having a low key melt down. He knows that nothing Sherlock does makes sense. He’s six and a half feet tall and can sneak in anywhere, he’s a master of disguise, he solves every case using troll logic, and Watson cannot make any sense of it

Watson has been lying in all the stories he’s written by making the logic take some semblance of order and he knows Sherlock has read them but hasn’t said anything and he doesn’t know why

Watson occasionally thinks Sherlock is following him because some random bystander happens to be going the same way he is. Sherlock could be anybody.

Lestrade is the only one he’s talked to about it and while Lestrade is a touch bitter at how he often comes off in the stories he’s more than willing to commiserate with Watson

At one point Sherlock grabs a coat of a uniform off a waiter and walks through a crowded ballroom where they’ve been warned he’s gonna get shot at and nobody even notices him there. Shots of the ballroom exclude him entirely.

He gets out and he’s still wearing the coat over the rest of his clothes. It doesn’t even *fit*

A veiled threat Moriarty made to an underling earlier comes to fruition- the gun misfires and takes out someone’s eye

Moriarty and Sherlock keep missing each other because they always seem to know where the other one is going to be or something

Lestrade and Watson work on some minor case and they solve it just fine using normal logic, and Watson decides to bring it to Sherlock to see what he says and Sherlock guesses the right conclusion but his logic has nothing to do with earth logic

he and Lestrade have a silent beer while they try to deal with how that even is possible

Sherlock knew things he couldn’t have *possibly* known

the only time we actually see Sherlock without Watson around is when he’s fighting Moriarty at the falls, and at some point he says how he’s gonna win because of [logic fail] and Moriarty stops entirely

and Moriarty stops and is like ‘wait that makes no sense at all, I’m gonna win because your knees are starting to hurt and I think I’m still game for a bit longer’

sherlock admits his knees are troubling him but he thinks he’s got the edge because Moriarty has broken several toes and keeps slipping a little

there’s some back and forth and they figure out that they both lowkey have like psychic powers, they can make people believe they look different and can generally pick up thoughts and feelings and that’s how they always know what’s up and can get around without being seen if they want to

(if you know about Doyle’s belief in mysticism this is extra funny)

Sherlock has to make a show of it because he’s got an audience but Moriarty can get away with threatening people. he doesn’t even actually hurt them, he just is a little bit precog and can tell when they’re about to experience some amount of misfortune and claims to be the source of it

they’re actually having quite a nice chat about the pros and cons of being psychic when Watson calls down that he’s coming to save Sherlock and they both move like they’re gonna fake a fight

as soon as Watson comes around the corner they are fake struggling and Moriarty slips and Sherlock grabs for him and they both end up pratfalling into the falls

fin

Please acknowledge this revelation I just had.

Update: 

[starlightseraph]

so Idk if this is fandom lore, but while I used to watch and love House while it was airing, it wasn't until yesterday I really started looking into fandom and fanfic...but what's this all about RSL being the biggest Hilson hater, and Hugh Laurie being the biggest Hilson fan about??

basically it’s a running joke in the fandom about a bunch of interviews from during the show’s run in which rsl got super annoyed by anything that could, by any stretch of the imagination, imply hilson. and hugh laurie would always try to shut him up and very directly imply hilson.

from very early on in the show, hugh laurie said that he’d be fine with canon hilson as long as it was well written, and that he expected house to “go through” cameron, cuddy, and wilson if the show were to go on long enough.

rsl, on the other hand, started like a cat every time someone mentioned even the possibility of hilson, which i find hilarious considering it’s partially his fault.

these are the most famous examples:

there are many more examples, both of hugh laurie basically waving a pride flag (quite literally saying “romantic love”) and of robert sean leonard panicking, and then some more of them both being really weird about the whole thing (as in just being strange as people lol).

[koganphrancis]

Ian Used To Do Better Stuff With Vans OR There’s Another Hour Of My Life I Won’t Get Back

This episode was dumb dumb dumb as fuck-and even more pointless than that.  The ONLY redeeming quality in it was that it was completely Terror-free.  Read on, if you dare.  My recap of Season H8 Episode Dear God Why Isn’t It Over Yet-or 11, if you want to keep it short.

As usual, I’ll get the others out of the way as quickly as I possibly can. 

Carl’s still illegally under-aged married, and this week he tells Kasammi, “I don’t think there’s any skin left on my dick.”  Yeah, they made that point last year when they had to keep taking it off after his misguided circumcision.  Not that the show is referring to THAT, of course.  They refuse to acknowledge any plot point that has gone before.  He and Kas take a wild tour through his before the show started past and I have no idea what the point is-is it to show us she’s truly insane because none of the horrors of life on the mean streets scare her?  Or to show us that Generation Z doesn’t experience reality because their whole lives have been instantly posted on screens of electronic devices?  I don’t know and I don’t care-quit trying to be fake deep, Shameless, if you even are.  I can’t tell.  The only (maybe) pertinent point of Carl’s story this week is he tells Kasammi after her hundredth shit fit on the subject that he won’t go back to military school and in the previews for next week it looks like the family (or at least Frank) will try to help him sneak away to do just that.  Yawn.

Debbie loses three toes-Frank chops them off for her.  Before that, Debbie is shown signing her 16 year old self out of the hospital-WHAT?  She’d need a parent or guardian for that.  Anyway, apparently Debbie’s not on any kind of welfare or insurance.  And doesn’t know that Ian could’ve gotten the money for her expensive surgery to attempt to save the toes by going down on the old couple just twice.  What is it with this show and cutting off toes?  They’ve done this before with the body they got to stand in for Aunt Ginger.  I’m so sick of the recycled plot points!

Speaking of which-Snore’s old man is out of prison so Lip gets him to fight him to violate his parole and send him back-did this new writer guy not see Yevgeny’s christening episode or is he just really into plagiarism?  It was such a fizzle to a going nowhere story to begin with.  I think the guy playing Snore’s version of Terry even had some of the same lines but I’m too lazy to rewatch and try to catch them.  If we were supposed to hate this guy like we hate Terry, it didn’t work.  And Lip was no Mickey showing up to defend people that mean something to him either-it was all a weak as fuck imitation.  And it was odd that Lip chose to call the guy out for “beating women” when he lets himself get beaten when he has sex with Eddy.  Who the fuck is he to judge?  Maybe ten year old Snore didn’t get that her parents were having consensual rough sex that got too violent and ended in death-but the show’s not that deep.

Snore’s telling of her mother’s death once again played like someone complaining about not getting the last bottle of nail polish in their favorite shade at Walgreens or something.  If she’s been so traumatized that she can’t put any emotion into the horrific memories that’s fine, but then I would argue that she wouldn’t be terrified of her dad coming after her either.  Snore just can’t emote OR imagine what it would be like to be in that setting, I’m sorry.  

And here’s what had me super pissed-Snore tells Lip she was 10 when her mom was killed in front of witnesses (Snore and her brother-she specifically says they both testified against him) and her dad’s already out on parole?  We don’t know how old Snore is now, but surely no older than 25 (and probably not even that old, but whatever), so the show is saying her dad got out in 15 years max, which is the time Mickey was sentenced to for NOT killing Sammi?  Fuck off.  

Also, why would the cops not even consider the father’s side of the story that Lip instigated the fight?  Lip has Eddy’s niece record the fight on his phone, and after it’s over he goes over to her and asks her how it looks or whatever, and she says Snore’s father threw the first punch.  Wouldn’t the cops question why a little girl was filming two men on a porch BEFORE a fight started?  Snore’s father must have Mickey’s public defender for a lawyer.  Fucking show should’ve shocked us all by having Lip get locked up for premeditated assault.  

Fiona meets with a lawyer (Janice from Friends, but she’s not as funny in this, sadly) and as soon as she said Fiona could lose both the apartment building and the Gallagher house I knew that storyline had jumped the shark and somehow next week all will be miraculously fixed-no way will the Gallaghers ever lose the house, that’s another plot point that’s been done to death.  At first I was thinking they’ll either come up with some fortuitous traffic camera footage showing that the guy jumped off the roof intentionally, or that Hugh Laurie would show up in a cameo as Dr. House and say that if a man “fell” off a roof that high, he’d have a hell of a lot more damage than one broken ankle, but no, the show isn’t going to even get that clever-they’re just gonna have the family cave and be willing to settle with Fiona if they get custody of her dog that suddenly she’s so worried about in this week’s episode.  She’s never shown that level of concern for any of her siblings.  

Frank has a tedious, boring couple of scenes about his “retirement plan”-he has a baggie of 3 stolen Social Security cards and anyone can see a mile off that the cards would’ve just been replaced by their original owners-they’re not like a set of fingerprints and you only get one for life and if you lose it someone else has your entire identity.  THEN they set up next week’s recycled/stolen plot to have Liam and Frank rip off Liam’s rich friend’s family just like Carl and Frank ripped off Liam and Carl’s gay foster dads-it didn’t work then, it won’t work now (and why didn’t Frank do hard time for that grand theft?).  

Svetlana and Vee and Kevin have a scene at a fancy (but not as fancy as the show was trying to tell us it was) bar that was a pathetic echo of both Ian and Mickey’s hotel bar scam AND of how funny the show used to be able to be.  Later Svet goes to humble herself to the other hand whore to find out how she snagged a rich fiance and discovers that the dude she’s about to marry is senile as fuck and Svet is going to step in to replace her, which is what I predicted the first time the hand whore showed up.  I will give Shameless credit for making me laugh unintentionally-since I’ve been picturing the “old rich dude” Svet was going to wind up with as John Wells’ fantasy version of himself, seeing the old dude in an adult diaper and thinking he’s Wells was very satisfying.  

Do I finally get to Ian now?  Do I have to talk about his bullshit?  There’s a scene of him in bed alone while the newlyweds are having sex in the same room, signalling that he’d rather be there than at Terror’s house, LOL.  Then it’s the next morning and he goes down to breakfast with his Bible in hand, but no pills.  Is that supposed to be significant?  We may never know...

He gets to the “Church Of Gay Jesus” and there’s so many “fans” there it’s like Beatles or One Direction footage.  The minister guy gets through the crowd to him with a big young guy and tells Ian the rando is “Bic” and he wants to help (I didn’t know the guy’s name till I saw it in the closing credits, I really thought his name was “Dick” and they were making a “big dick” joke, but no, I guess they were making a “Bic lighter” joke instead).  Ian and Bic instantly have more chemistry than Ian and Terror but it’s unintentional I’m sure-the actor playing Bic probably has taken acting classes and knows to look an acting partner in the eye, instantly making him more engaged than Terror’s ever been in a scene.  

The minister guy tells Ian, “Your life is no longer your own.”  Which first of all, I’m just not buying that all these youths have just been waiting for a messiah to show up and they’ll follow him anywhere, and secondly why was being with Mickey not Ian anymore, but he’ll give away his entire life for strangers?  Fuck you, Shameless.  (and speaking of his entire life, does he never have to go to work anymore?  Also, Fiona turned him down when he asked for a ride to the church-for once she had a good reason, that she had to pick up Debbie-but why is the show acting like Fi does things for him all of the sudden?  She DID give him a ride last week, and that was very OOC of her.)

There’s a kid trying to get Ian’s attention-he needs help getting away from his parents who have hired men to get him back.  At some point in the proceedings some guys jump out of a van and drag the kid into it.  Ian runs to the front of the van before it can pull away and goes all Chris Pratt in Jurassic Park, holding up his arms and not letting it advance.  The unintentional humor here amused me no end.  Then Ian lays down in front of the van and I actually said aloud to my TV, “Just run him over.”  I’m that done with this storyline and this show-just kill Ian off at this point, it’d be a mercy.  

Ian’s there on the ground with his arms thrown up over his head (not that the driver could even see him down there, right in front of the van) and we see that this time Shameless didn’t bother covering up Cam’s real life Sailor Moon tattoo.  SO LAZY.  All the other kids lay down around the van too so it can’t go anywhere  The 3 dudes in the van give up and let the kid get out.

The kid is 14 and the minister guy tries to talk sense into Ian, saying the parents have a legal right to their kid and they, more specifically Ian, can’t keep the kid.  Ian agrees to talk to the kid’s dad who tells him the parents aren’t bigots, they don’t care that their son’s not heterosexual, but he’s been living on the streets, doing drugs, and prostituting himself.  Then the father says, “We believe he may be mentally ill,” and Cameron (and yes, I mean Cameron, not Ian) makes a reaction face to that, but what it means, again, nobody knows.

Ian goes to talk to the kid where they have him hidden away in the Mickey Wedding Venue basement.  Ian tells him what the father told him, and the kid says they keep bringing him to a church (is that Ian’s trigger?  Churches? and if so, why?), plus they have him see shrinks who have put him on meds that knock him on his ass and he can’t get an erection.  He adds, “That’s what they really want-so I can’t have sex with another boy, you know?  Ever.”  Ian says, “Well you can’t stay here.  You have to find someplace where you can be safe, where you can be yourself.”  WHAT?  I don’t understand.  For one thing, isn’t that LITERALLY TERROR’S JOB?  To take runaways and provide them with a safe place to stay and a plan to get their lives back on terms that they can live with?  I don’t ever want to have to side with Terror, but this episode is basically saying that Terror’s way is right and Ian’s way is oh so wrong and misguided.  What the fuck?  Secondly, isn’t that what Ian THINKS he’s doing?  Why is he telling the kid HE has to find someplace safe?  Ian has literally been in this kid’s shoes-he knows there’s no safe places for someone even younger than he was when he got back from the army, living on the streets.  Anyway, after Ian’s lines the kid says, “Will you help me?” but Ian doesn’t answer one way or the other.  

I totally didn’t get this scene-why the writer had Ian say nothing.  I could see if it was to show Ian was getting more and more manic and now is on the downside of that and is becoming too depressed to speak to people-but then where’s his energy for doing anything coming from, plus the story isn’t SAYING he’s manic or depressed, and Cam and John Wells said Ian’s storyline is bold, audacious, great, etc and I don’t think either of them would’ve said those things if the payoff is just going to be that Ian needed his meds adjusted.  And why does Ian maybe believe what the kid is saying and not the dad?  Again, this IS Ian’s story!  Mentally ill, unable to help himself, and unwilling to take his pills!  I wondered why Ian didn’t at least give him a version of the Monica “you don’t have to change for them” speech, or his own “you don’t have to fix me because I’m not broken” speech or why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t he tell the kid, “I’ve been exactly where you are-on meds that were supposed to help but made me feel like crap plus I couldn’t get it up-but that’s because they take time-you need to take them to get stable and then you’ll find what works for you and have no problems having sex again (since apparently Ian’s never had an issue since beating Mickey up at the dugouts).”  AND the kid’s only 14-does Ian maybe want to advise him that feeling like he needs to be having sex that young to the point where he’s willing to run away and do it with anyone might be part of his symptoms?  

Ian COULD be so helpful here, but no.  At this point he is literally putting at risk kids at even greater risk.  

Later Rando Bic shows Ian that the van’s back behind the church.  Ian says, “Get the kid,” like he’s The Penguin and Bic’s his trusty lieutenant.  It was so dumb.  The kid is used as bait, and when the 3 guys jump out of the van Ian pops up behind the group and starts yelling.  “My god’s a faggot!  My god’s a dyke!  My god is trans, a junkie, a whore!’  Then the van blows up.  “We will not be victims!”  

What the hell is he on about?  That’s a serious question.  None of this is making sense.  God isn’t human, so Ian giving the Christian god human attributes makes no sense.  “We won’t be victims” of WHAT?  Gay conversion?  This kid’s dad said he isn’t trying to convert his gay son.  What is all the yelling and the explosion about?  And to get back to the explosion for a moment: That had to be Ian’s brilliant plan, and it just makes me miss Mickey talking him down from stupid shit like that all the more.  Bic is the one that actually lights the fire (get it?  BIC?) but how did they even know that all 3 guys would get out of the van this time?  Based on the first failed attempt to drive off with the kid, wouldn’t it make more sense that one of the guys would stay at the wheel and keep the van running and they’d take off the minute they shoved the kid inside before all of Ian’s disciples could block it again?   Before I rewatched the scene this morning I actually wondered if the story is going to be Ian is guilty of killing one of the guys, but then I saw it again and all 3 did get out-but I still don’t think Bic could’ve seen them from where he snuck around to light it up.  And I bet we don’t see Bic again-he was randomly thrown in because of course Terror wouldn’t have helped Ian carry out any plan that wasn’t his own.  But it’s funny that they couldn’t have him in the episode because everyone, even the shitty writers, know there’s no way Terror could talk Ian out of it like Mickey would be able to.   

In the scenes for next week, Terror shows up and asks, “Is Ian around?” and Debbie answers, “He’s not here.”  Terror says, “There’s a warrant out for his arrest.”  Wouldn’t the cops have gone to Ian’s house FIRST?  Where would they have even found Terror to be asking about Ian since Ian doesn’t officially work for the Youth Center or the Church of Gay Jesus.  More lazy writing, can’t wait for the whimpering end to this crapfest of a season.  

[snowflakechallenge]

Fandom Snowflake Challenge #3

Introduction Post* Meet the Mods Post * Master Post * Challenge #1 * Challenge #2

Remember that there is no official deadline, so feel free to join in at any time, or go back and do challenges you've missed.

One of the things I love about fandom is our endless capacity for imagination, and riffing with fandom friends about how we think characters would react in new situations is just...*chef's kiss.* We also frequently find ourselves discussing creators of favorite canons -- we swoon over delightful costume and set design, we analyze authors' and directors' choices, we squee when actors obviously delight in bringing a canon character to life. So...what if you could have them over for dinner?

Challenge #3

In your own space, tell us who, from one of your fandoms, would you most want to have dinner with (or tea, or a random afternoon visit), And why? This could be a creator, an actor, a costumer, a set designer, a director, a character, a composer, anybody! What would you talk about? What are you dying to know? Leave a comment in today’s post at The Fandom Snowflake Challenge on DW saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.

My 13-year-old said she'd love to hang out with MCU-Thor for an afternoon, because he'd be really fun. I, personally, am having a hard time choosing -- there are a fair number of characters I'd like to have over for dinner because I'd like to just *fuss* over them (looking at you, Elric brothers), and characters I'd love to just visit with (like Gandalf, and Shuri, and Korg). There's a number of people I would love to talk to about their creations (like Stephen King, and Martha Wells, and George Miller), and several actors I'd enjoy visiting with (Hugh Laurie, and Ming-Na Wen, and the more I learn about what an enormous nerd Henry Cavill is, the more I'd like to nerd with him). There's also a fair number of fellow fans who I would LOVE to feed a delicious meal, for all the fabulous fic and art they've shared.

Just like there's no restrictions for time, space, or pesky reality, there's no pandemic restrictions, either. Who would you love to show up for a visit?

Check out the comments for all the awesome participants of the challenge and visit their journals/challenge responses to comment on their posts and cheer them on.

And just as a reminder: this is a low pressure, fun challenge. If you aren't comfortable doing a particular challenge, then don't. We aren't keeping track of who does what.

(If you want us to reblog your response here at our Tumblr, we’re tracking: snowflakechallenge2021.)

[the-drakeboys]

sAMUEL. 

This. chapter. mURDERED. ME. 

What?!? In the world?! oh my GOD?! This man?! is TELLING HER TO - Okay. Allow me to collect myself here. samuel drake you terrible, beautiful, awful man, what is wrong with you? why are you doing this?

It’s just ridiculous, how invested I am at this point. I’m almost angry about it.

okay, first off, sam, why are you not talking in the cab ride over?? why?? just- TALK TO HER PLEASE. 

and she sounds like she looked so amazing lmao, I’m a big fan.

also can I say that reading “Wow. This is where shit gets spicy, y’all.” gave me a solid heart attack, I was just like ......oh no. 

“Partners usually tell each other what’s going on before a job.” YEAH. No shit, Samuel, what are you d o i n g?

And then the fact that he just keeps her in the dark for as long as he can, I swear to god I want to punch this man. And the way he said “You should wear dresses more often.” Do not flirt with me while you’re doing this, sir, I am INFURIATED. 

Thigh holsters are hot. Just saying. 

Samuel really put himself down as Victor Sullivan, I cannot with this man -- 😂😂

but oKAY. WHEN THE GUY SAID “This one looks expensive,” I swear I AUDIBLY gasped. How dare he - this?! was his plan?! the whole time!? Definitely could’ve fkng told her!! What is this nonsense!?! I’m beside myself. This is some BULLSHIT

“Looks like Dr. House with a beard.” LMAO. got it. hugh laurie with a big ol’ beard. brilliant. 

I love her, btw, especially with the “I have had it up ‘till here, okay? You have ten seconds to tell me what’s going on or I am out.” PREACH IT, SISTER. KICK HIS ASS. 

“His weak point is always a pretty face.” Fucking hell. I am so nervous about this, I seriously feel nauseous, like Sam is puttin’ her ass in so much danger with this creep of a man - just because she can handle herself doesn’t make it okay for him to throw her to the wolves. What is wrong with him? And how does he not discuss this with her first? I swear, he deserves a good kicking. UNBELIEVABLE. 

“’Can you gimme that?’ he prodded gently, lightly squeezing your arms. Your eyes flickered, left and right between his warm hazel ones and you slowly nodded at him in a sort of surrender. He gave you a smile, ‘Okay?’” 

This. Part. Dude. hOW DARE YOU MAKE ME FEEL SOFT FOR YOU WHEN YOU’RE PULLING THIS FUCKERY, SAMUEL. The disrespect. I am furious. God help me, he’s- ugh. 

And “Sam paused to look at you. God, he hated doing this to you. As far as he knew, he’d be damned to let anyone touch you in that way but it was his only option.” I actually melted, this isn’t fair. He’s- this is stupid, I hate how much I love him and hate what he’s doing, this is. GODDAMN YOU FOR MAKING ME FEEL.

aND OF COURSE. The ending. Holy shit. Her tugging the ring from her finger. What a moment. A powerful, emotional, scary moment because it can seriously only go downhill from here, things are going to get crazy. I can tell. I just fucking pRAY that Connor never runs into/finds her when she’s not wearing it. I can’t take that. D: 

I love this?? story?? so much?? and i AM DYING for the next installment. PLEASE. 

Love you :) 

REDAMANCY. (Sam Drake x Reader) Part 2

A/N: Wow. This is where shit gets spicy, y'all. Literally the beginning of disaster. Buckle up!

Tags: @the-winchesterboys , @the-drakeboys , @missdictatorme , @elledrake , @s4mdrake , @samdrakeftw , @ghost-of-the-oldwest , @hrgnm , @purplezebra68

Word count: 2,042

(PROLOGUE, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Keep reading

[avalindin]

California King Bed

Tom Hiddleston fic

Part 1: Issues

 *A/N: This is a mini sequel to Friend request pending...

________

Wednesday

She smiled from ear to ear. She hadn’t been truly happy in so long or as long as she could go back to remember. Her hands wrapped around one another. Her eyes closed, feeling the plane descend and touch down on the sunny lit evening of San Diego.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have successfully landed in San Diego, California. You are now free to use your electronic devices. Please stay remained in your seats until the plane has come to a complete stop. Check around your seat for any trash and personal items. From everyone at American Airlines, we thank you for flying with us.”

Aubery rubbed the raised button sized bit of flesh through her freshly dyed tangerine hair. It was a party favor from a car accident nearly a year passed that took a great amount of memories instead of her life but this, San Diego was always a dream she remembered. She was up and out of her seat with her hand clutching her shoulder strap on her bag. Her boots took her forward one step at a time until she ended at the carousel for her luggage.

The anticipation of waiting made her ignore the many chirps of her phone. Some were from a friend she knew was living in the area. They had plans for dinner and drinks with some memories that maybe she could grasp again. A full minute of non-stop chirps and looks from other passengers made her cave in as she reached for her phone.

I’m sorry.

Please talk to me.

I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry if it was something I said.

“If? That’s a big ass if…”

She rubbed the bump again out of instinct, trying to force herself to forget instead of having her mother’s words burned into her head.

“Aubery, you are not getting any younger.”

She pushed her food across the plate, wishing her mother would finish their little get together. For the many years she tolerated her words, her semi near-death experience was able to give her some clarity. Aubery was hoping it would be given to her own mother in the parking lot but in public would do just fine.

“Is this one of the things I’m supposed to remember? Hang on. I think I need to write this down for later.”

“How about you not be such a smartass? You’ve always been this way since you went off and did that movie, calling yourself Arbidy.”

There were flashes. Dena, she remembered, the smell of leather fabric and a bar bathroom stall.

“I do have offers from people I don’t know. Dena still helps.”

“She won’t be around forever.”

“Thank you, I know that.”

“I thought you were going into nursing like we talked about.”

“Like you talked about. I’m not.”

“I’m not bailing you out like last time.”

“Last time? You fucking kidding me?”

“Can I get you ladies anything else?”

Aubery sighed, knowing by now she would have teared up. Instead, she only smiled.

“We’re done. She’s paying.”

“Aubery Danielle!”

“No, really. We’re done, Maggie. I can’t remember dick and you are having a gay old time, giving me nothing but shitty memories and always putting me down. Lee is gone. He left you, he left me and that’s it. Try and have some dignity to move on instead of blaming everything on everyone else like the bitter old hermit you are.”

“You’re acting this way because of Lucius.”

“Lucius was just like you, caring, manipulative and a total asshole. He put my personal business out in the open just like you did when I was younger. Now, I’m taking a page out of Lee’s book and leaving you behind.”

She got up from her seat and yanked the large packaged envelope from her mother’s purse.

“It’s not that I don’t love our little talks. It’s just that… I don’t.”

She had no idea where the words came from but they felt so right. She turned on her heel and made her way home. In the small space she called her own, she opened the envelope and grinned as an average sized blue box with the Comic Con logo fell heavy into her hand.

Another chirp from her phone got her attention as she looked down to a random number. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember who it belonged to. Every once in a while, she’d get a text, choosing only to ignore it but this time she figured what the hell.

Did you land safely?

“Now that’s just creepy.”

Her thumb pressed the call button just so she could know. The line automatically picked up as she heard laughing background noises on the other end.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

“Hello? Nicholas’ phone.”

There was a gasp instantly drowned out by the intercom above her. Aubery plugged her ear to listen for her mouth breather.

“Look, man. If you don’t say anything, I’ll never know how perverted you really are. I don’t have this contact saved and not only do you keep sending; I don’t answer.”

There was something that could have been a sigh.

“Okay, whatever. Greetings from the West Coast, bitch.”

She ended the call as the conveyer belt shifted to life. She wasn’t bothered by the phone call. Her eyes zeroed in on the green grandma’s sofa fabric of her suitcase rolling back towards her. Her hand wrapped the handle, making her press forward to the sliding doors, planting her feet for a moment in the shining setting sun of California.

“Tom! You alright?”

Tom inhaled as quickly and calmly as he could with a forced smile to his face. Mark’s hand at his shoulder had pulled him back from his daze.

“Yes, all good.”

“Cool. When does your flight leave?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Mine’s in the morning. We’ll see you there.”

Tom nodded his head, making his way to his room alone. His door slammed behind him, leaving him to open his hand to the still lit screen. A while thirty seconds of hearing her voice after two years the last time he saw her. His heart thundered remembering the purple tie dye dress that slid down her shoulders, the neon pink heels that echoed his head after all that time.

He pushed back the lump in his throat and tried to focus on packing the last of his things. She was in San Diego and the next day he would be too. He shut off his lights and sank to his bed.

Such a big bed and she would have fit perfectly. He closed his eyes praying to find her, to hold her, something he never got to do.

“Okay. I got to do this right.”

Aubery kicked off her flats and turned herself, adjusting for maximum landing. She launched herself back as her whole body hit the king size bed. Her laughter failed to quiet as she peeled off her tights and what was left of her traveling clothes, giving in to her exhaustion thanks to the soft mattress.

“Worth the money,” she sighed.

-

Friday

Her hand wrapped around her long island iced tea and she knew soon it would kick in and reflect her life choices. If anything, it would help her remember. The hidden booth in the corner was perfect for dinner and the drinks that led into the evening. Her friend did what she could but nothing new came to her and she was grateful for the memories she did retain. Long after the check was paid, she was left alone with the drink she was nursing. The waitresses let her be. Aubery knew she couldn’t stay in the booth forever.

There was still so much that she had to do. First, was sleep off her emotions. Her lucky wouldn’t allow her to attend the Con for the full time but there was California waiting for her. There was always the beach. She edged her way out of the booth as it gave her goosebumps, swearing she could feel someone there with their hand on her leg.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry. I was wondering if I could move this to the bar. I know it’s late but I don’t want to hog the booth.”

“Sure thing.”

The waitress grabbed her drink and led her to the bar to the only empty seat. She cleared the high stool, knocking her bag into the leg of the gentleman next to her. Her inebriated stat made her clear her throat, quick fast and in a hurry.

“Shit, sorry!”

Smooth.

“It’s okay.”

He turned with a flashing grin to her as she returned it.

“Good.”

“Here’s your drink, ma’am. Anything I can get for you, sir?”

He pointed to Aubery’s drink.

“That actually looks good. What’re you having?”

“Long Island Iced Tea, I presume or what’s left of it. I may get another.”

“Then I will take one and one for her too.”

“Coming up, Mr. Ruffalo.”

“Wait, what?”

Aubery’s face reddened more as Mark chuckled.

“That must be strong because I thought you would have said something by now,” he waved off.

“How the hell did I not put that together?”

“Half of your drink.”

“Smart man. It is definitely strong. The east coast could take some notes.”

“Are they really weak over there?”

“Yeah, that’s why our states are red.”

“Ugh, damn American politics.”

“I second that.”

Aubery turned to the new voice behind her. She only had a moment to look at his face before it filled with happiness.

“Arbidy!”

Aubery felt his arms nearly crush her, making Mark laugh. She wiggled away, chuckling nervously.

“I really don’t mean to sound like a bitch but how do you know that name?”

“Au- It’s me, Luke! We worked The Night Manager together. We’re both friends with Dena.”

“Oh, um,” she never enjoyed explaining but it had to be done, “I was in an accident last year. I cracked my head open and don’t really remember much.”

“Shit, I am so sorry!”

“No, it fine. I got this cool bump as a keepsake. Wanna touch it?”

“I’m fine.”

“I do,” said Mark as he reached for her dyed hair.

She faked a sharp wince, making Mark and Luke jump.

“I’m sorry,” she chortled, “but I never got to do that!”

Luke sat in the next available seat and raced through his phone.

“Okay, do you remember this?”

He’d brought up a folder of pictures with Aubery smiling as her neck was wrapped in a pink feather boa.

“Oh, God.”

Tears filled her eyes as she remembered Dena dragging her to a rave scared but leaving with a smile and a sweet-smelling boa she was gifted from the locals.

“That explains why I keep finding pink feathers in my things.”

“Hugh still asks about you.”

“Hugh. Jackman?”

“Laurie.”

“I know House?! Wow…”

Luke wrapped his arm around her shoulder, easing her a little as a few memories began to come back with a vengeance.

Saturday

Tom stepped out of his elevator, wonder if a drink at 2am was the best. He wandered the lobby, looking to the desk, thinking back to the training he did for The Night Manager. Something told him to stop and he did as he looked up to the emptying bar.

“Tom!”

Luke wrapped his hand around Tom’s wrist and led him in the direction of the bar. It would explain why Luke wasn’t in his room. His eyes found Mark and the many empty glassed in front of him and the woman in a light sundress. She pulled the edge of her dress down to cover her shorts. She turned her tangerine hair, knocking the wind from his chest.

“Arbidy.”

It was a single breath that he needed from her again. She was so different. He’d missed her so much. Aubery checked her phone.

2:43am

Nothing good ever happened but she’d make an exception as she sipped more of her brought drink.

“Aubery,” shouted Luke, “You can’t tell me you don’t remember this one!”

Tom lunged forward wrapping his arms around her waist, nearly to his level. He pressed his lips to hers, filling his veins with two years of emotion. Aubery wasn’t sure what was happening. She held onto the bar behind her with her head spinning on a full axis. She shoved Tom away and took a moment to look up. When she did, her blood ran cold.

“Aubery?”

She’d seen his face but it didn’t click until then. It was his hand at the booth that was on her leg. Her heels that clicked toward him. The eyes that burned into her were ones that had taken forever to notice her. A memory filled her head as Tom also remembered. It was too late.

“Asshole.”

“Wait…”

“I waited for 12 hours, you dick.”

“Aubery. You okay?”

“No but it was nice drinking with you guys.”

“Plea…”

Aubery grabbed what was left of her drink and tossed it into Tom’s face. She pushed her way out of her seat and stumbled to the door with Mark following a few seconds behind her. She left them and her phone behind with Luke to break the silence.

“What was that?”

“What part? The drink of the way she looked at me like she didn’t know who I was?”

“Tom. There’s something you need to know.”

Aubery tried to steady her breath as she looked in her bag for her phone.

“Arbidy, wait!”

Tom rushed outside with the phone she’d left behind. Mark was already with her to make sure she was safe.

“Let’s everyone try to calm down.”

Aubery was busy mouthing drink curses to Tom over Mark’s shoulder and he knew he deserved every one of them.

“Can I just explain?”

“No,” huffed Aubery.

“Look. Tom, we have somewhere to be in a few hours. Go get some sleep and I’ll get her a ride.”

“I’m not leaving her. I’ve already made that mistake.”

“I’m not telling you where I’m staying Nicholas Sparks.”

“Fine. New plan. She’ll come with us. We’ll use Luke’s badge to get her in as long as she keeps quiet.”

“Just don’t leave me alone with him.”

Aubery felt it was more for her because even though she was infuriated with Tom, she didn’t trust herself with what she felt for him. She kept her mouth shut and her head down as Mark led her to wherever that were going.

“Here!”

Mark flipped on a light to a conference room with cots spread out from wall to wall.

“Restroom’s there. You need a bucket.”

“No. I can hold my liquor. That I always remember.”

“You can rest here until you wake up. You never know with certain drivers.”

“I appreciate it,” she blushed, giving the badge back.

“Yeah, well, try not to thank me. You will once you talk it out.”

Mark slipped out the door, shoving Tom inside. She rolled her eyes at the sound of the locking door behind Tom. He held out her phone as she snatched it away.

“Can we talk?”

“May as well. Try and tell me the truth. No one else will.”

“Okay, uh…”

“I’ll start. Why’d you leave me in that lobby for 12 hours?”

He started to open his mouth again.

“Seriously, no bullshit. Five words or less.”

“I was scared.”

“Alright.”

“What?”

She ignored him and reached for the nearest blanket.

“I thought you were a good guy, Tom. Like I really liked you from the moment I saw you. It took eight months for you to figure out I was there and even then, I had to torture myself in those damn heels and open my legs for you to get your head out of your ass!”

“You walked into that bar by your choice!”

“Dena told me. I threw myself at you and you run away like a coward.”

“I’m here now, Goddammit!”

“Whatever,” she huffed.

She wrapped herself in the blanket and chose the farthest cot to roll herself onto. He kept some distance between them as he sat next to her cot.

“They all said you had an accident.”

“Just more drama in my life,” she murmured, “the more I try to walk away from it, it always ends up finding me.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Made Freud proud and found someone fucked up like my mother. I told him I wanted to take a break, he lost his shit. It was causing trouble on set so I decided to bow out. When he found out, he jumped in front of my car and I crashed. A light pole hit the top of the car and my head.”

She grabbed his hand and led it to the bump.

“Shit.”

“I was in a coma for maybe nine days. There are some things I do remember, some I don’t.”

She let his hand go but it was comforting feeling his hand on hers. Tom laid his head on the cot next to hers.

“You didn’t remember me, maybe it was for the best.”

She couldn’t help but smile.

“I remember how you made me feel. The stall, the booth. I could never stop smiling. I never knew why.”

It was killing him but he stayed put.

“Arbidy?”

“No, Arbidy was… reckless, bold, mostly trouble. I think I’ll go back to Aubery for a while.”

Her eyes drifted shut. She turned to her other side so that she faced the wall.

“Maybe I was too bold for you, Tom. Should’ve taken things slow…”

She was drifting quick and he couldn’t hold himself any longer. He moved onto the cot next to Aubery and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Aubery.”

He couldn’t believe he had been a coward to her.

“Mmm.”

“I am truly sorry.”

“S’Okay…”

He buried his nose into her hair, wanting to be given a chance he knew he didn’t deserve.

“Aubery?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I keep you? Please?”

He wanted as Aubery fell asleep tucked between the blanket, the wall and himself. He would move eventually to take off their shoes and wash out as much alcohol he could from his shirt but he wanted to moment to last, just is case. He’d let her slip away once before and he never wanted to do it again.

-

Her head didn’t hurt from drinking and she considered herself lucky. Her side did ache and she knew to flip to her other side. The cot under her was heavy as she felt something roll into her. She already knew who it was.

“You could have picked another cot.”

“All taken, I’m afraid.”

She opened a single eye over Tom’s shoulder, seeing mountains of sleeping heaps on the other cots. She closed her eye and lowered her voice to not disturb anyone.

“Nice. What happened to the floor?”

“Terribly uncomfortable but you can always sleep on me if you wish. I would have done no more than cuddling. I swear.”

“Yeah, you wish.”

The AC made her chilly as she snuggled closer to Tom. She didn’t feel as mad anymore and he was so warm.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“It means you are a source of heat.”

“Here. Take my jacket.”

It helped as the leather jacket was wrapped around her shoulder but she wanted more. She tucked her head down into his chest, smelling nothing but him. Tom smiled, pulling her just a bit closer. When she didn’t fight him, he shifted so that she was laying on top of him.

“I remember how much you loved the leather. Is this better?”

She turned her head up as his hand drifted to her stomach. She could feel him hesitating. It was cute. She took his hand and formed it to the front of her chest as his fingers curled on their own.

“Yeah but I would have done more.”

Her knee shifted up, brushing near the inside of his thigh. It hurt, it hurt so much and he was surrounded on all sides to try and make a move. Shame that his body wouldn’t listen to his head. His hand reached up and brushed back the orange strands that fell from her ponytail.

All she wanted to do was sleep and she knew what he was doing. The bastard was trying to be bold.

Aubery opened her eyes as his burned into hers.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered.

“No, I shouldn’t have to. Just don’t get us caught.”

A smile stretched across his face. He leaned forward and kissed her without making a noise. Though it would be a challenge and some fun, he wanted her too badly. She pushed herself from the wall and pressed herself against Tom. He shifted his hips slowly into her thigh, careful to not make the cot creak underneath him.

The AC above them kicked on and was able to hide their sighs and soft laughter.

“You may not like it but I miss you being bold.”

He didn’t wait for her to say anything smartass as he slipped his hand past her dress and down her shorts. Her button came undone by itself, giving his hand more room to meet the in between of her legs. Aubery was quick to bury her face into Tom’s neck and indulge herself by grinding her hips on his finger.

Tom felt it safe to bite his lower lip so he wouldn’t gasp from Aubery’s open and welcome legs to him. He traced her with his longest finger to her folds and dipped his finger into her. His own memories came flooding back from the time they were together. He forced himself to stop and pulled his hand away. Aubery pulled her face away in time to see Tom suck on the finger he’d teased her with. His eyes had sunken shut, needing very much to have her again, even if it meant pulling to the bathroom with 10 other sleep people in their way.

He turned her to her back, making the cot creak only once. He pulled the front ties of her dress apart and buried his face into her chest. His finger rubbed her roughly through the shorts. Her fingers curled into his hair to pull him off her breast. He let go, giving her warm skin a single lick.

“No. Not here,” she whispered, “If you want me, then I deserve a real bed.”

“Consider it done.”

He opened his eyes, smiling mischievously as Aubery reached for his belt.

“My turn. Come here.”

Tom almost gave them away as Aubery closed her front teeth around his ear lobe and her hand around his cock at the same time. There was some strength to her grip, enough that he didn’t want her to let go. His heart raced, fighting his deeper urges to push his pants lower. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he heard the cots creak slowly behind him. So unprofessional to how he looked under his and Aubery’s blanket but he knew it was worth it.

Aubery let him go and traced her nails slowly up his stomach. She enjoyed torturing him, so much closer to him than they were in the bathroom stall. She closed his pants and lazily rubbed him through his jeans. Her grips gave made him calm as his thumb brushed across her bare chest.

“You need to sleep.”

“Will you be here when I wake?”

“What’ll happen then?”

“I want you to wait for me.”

Aubery stopped her hand.

“I am serious. I’ll only be a few hours but I don’t want to lose you again.”

She pulled her hand to her chest.

“Was I ever yours to begin with?”

“You will be now.”

Tom wrapped his hands around Aubery, encasing her with his body warm so she knew that he was going nowhere. He had a chance to prove himself and he was willing to make sure that he wasn’t going to fuck it up.

His eyes closed, hearing his phone vibrate. It was going to be a long day but as long as she was waiting for him, that would be all that mattered. As he slept, someone had gotten off the cot and given him room to turn on his other side. He felt her arm wrap around him. His deep sleep prevented him from reaching back and grabbing ahold of her hand. He had to have been dreaming as her warmth slowly started to disappear.

Wake up! Wake up!

“Smile!”

Laughter made him shift as his eyes opened. He looked up to Mark as he finished taking another picture of him sleep. He rubbed his eyes, looking to his costars waking on the cots around him.

“Ugh. What time is it?”

He rolled to his back, hitting his elbow on the bare wall. That was when he forced his eyes open.

“Where is she?”

Tom rolled to the floor, seeing his jacket folded neatly next to him with a piece of paper on top. He flipped the piece of torn paper open and felt his heart rip from his chest.

I’m sorry.

Mark squatted down so that they wouldn’t be heard.

“She was gone when I got here and that was at least an hour and a half ago. I’m sorry, man.”

He forced himself up and calmly closed himself off in the unoccupied bathroom. He crashed to the floor, shaking, completely out of touch with reality without Aubery there. He kept his mouth closed but he could only cry.

______

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