#and just damn. it feels so profound to me every single time i REALLY sit and pick that song apart.

[maraeffect]

ohhhhhhh i feel an mcr kick coming on..........

[maul-of-shame]

Okay so spicy rant because I keep seeing stuff over here and in fandoms and I need to say something 💀

You know what REALLY grinds my gears? People who take it upon themselves to discourage writers, whether they're experienced authors or roleplayers just trying to have some fun. What is it with these self-appointed gatekeepers who think it's their sacred duty to trash anyone else's creative efforts? It's like they've got nothing better to do than sit on their high horses, casting judgment on everything they see, never lifting their pinkies to do anything.

First off: these so-called "critics" who love to bash writing prompts. "This again?" "This prompt is so cliché" Oh, excuse me for daring to use a prompt that’s been around the block a few dang times. Newsflash: originality isn't about finding a prompt no one's ever heard of. It's about what you do with it. If a writer finds inspiration in something that sparks their creativity, who are you to sneer at it? Just because you think it's been "overused" doesn't mean it can't produce something unique and worthwhile.

Guess what, genius? Every single story, from the dawn of storytelling, builds on something that came before. There are no new ideas, only new ways of telling them. If someone wants to write yet another vampire romance or a dystopian saga, let them! The coffeeshop AU with the bartender falling in love with the client? Let's go! The tensed enemies to lovers finally getting on with it? Awesome!! The magic is in the execution, not the premise.

But no, these critics have to swoop in with their unsolicited opinions, acting like they're the arbiters of taste. "Oh, that’s so cliché" "Really? Another story about a lost princess? Who cares?" Listen Linda, if you don’t like it, don’t fucking read it. It’s that simple. You don’t have to ruin someone else’s enthusiasm just because it doesn’t match your narrow definition of what’s acceptable. No-freaking-one is forcing you to read it.

These detractors love to throw around the word "cringe" like it’s some ultimate verdict. Well, what’s truly cringe-worthy is your need to belittle others to feel superior. It’s pathetic. There’s nothing cool or insightful about discouraging someone from pursuing their passion. If anything, it shows a profound lack of empathy, imagination, kindness and just basic decency on your part.

And let's not forget the classic line: "You should be writing something more serious." Oh, should I now? And who made you the judge of what's serious or worthwhile? Writing isn't a one-size-fits-all endeavor, never has been. Some people write for fun, some for catharsis, some to explore their own minds, some to fix the ending of a series, and some to entertain. Every piece of writing has value to the person who wrote it, and often to many others as well.

I just have 6 words to say. Get off your damn high horse. If you can’t offer constructive criticism or, heaven forbid, encouragement, maybe it’s time to keep your opinions to yourself. Writers don’t need your negativity. They need support, constructive feedback, and the freedom to explore their creativity without the fear of being mocked or belittled. If you don't like the prompts, the characters, cool that's your stuff and taste. Doesn't mean you have to be mean about it. You can scroll, block, filter and so on.

In the end, the joke's on you. While you're busy being a critic without a cause, those writers you're so eager to dismiss are actually creating something. They’re putting themselves out there, taking risks, and growing in ways you’ll never understand. And they're brave for doing so. Can't say the same about you. So who’s really cringing now?

[ban-joey]

ok im posting this. uh this is like, a pretty unhinged barely organized essay/stream of consciousness. I compiled a lot of this during a trip to my grandparent’s with a glass of good whiskey and brand new headphones, just after the release of the andor finale. I finished it when the rest of the soundtrack was released. I have a google doc of my notes, where I basically just gave every single track my undivided attention and made various connections here and there. this is specifically about cellos in the soundtrack.

(If you like music theory and loved the Andor soundtrack, I really recommend listening to Kirk Hamilton’s episode about it on his podcast Strong Songs. He also guested in an episode of A More Civilized Age which is a podcast that’s totally taken over my listening time and utterly Star Wars pilled me as soon as it started. Kirk does a really wonderful job taking you through music step-by-step and pulling out specific things you might not notice on your own, and really enjoys doing it. It’s a lot of fun and I’ve learned a lot listening to him.)

anyway.

STAR WARS: ANDOR and The Cello as a Character Device (and just a good instrument)

I just put my earbuds in. My phone is still on the track “My Name is Kino Loy,” just at the very end, when I turned my car off after getting home and sitting in it for a bit to finish out the song. It’s one of my favorites on the soundtrack, utterly spellbinding from beginning to end. It’s killer. The sheer amount of emotion in it even without the context of the scene it’s in is just phenomenal. 

The entirety of the released Andor score is about 2 hours and 40 minutes of some of the most engaging and interesting soundtrack I’ve had the pleasure of listening to way too often.

Andor (Main Title Theme) - Episode 1. The engine guns, the cellos are flying this ship. Everyone’s talked about how good this theme is. The fact that Britell composed so many versions of it, resulting in a core identifier of the show. A changing introduction every episode, setting the tone of what’s to come.

When I started watching this show, I was pretty instantly blown away by everything, but music is always the thing that reels me in for the long haul. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard cellos as the main focus in a score. I can’t think of a TV show or movie that uses them so prominently. In things that I’ve listened to and watched, cellos are used for solos in moments that are meant to invoke some strong emotion. They’re an instrument you feel in your chest, not meant to be the main feature throughout.

As I watched, I just couldn’t get this out of my head, that Cassian Andor and the cello are entwined in some way. I started to think about how he moves, how he speaks, the pitch of his voice, and then started really paying attention to when the cello shows up. As soon as I started listening to the soundtrack on the regular as it was released, I figured out what was going on.

“Rix Road” is firmly on my list of top tracks. It starts up right after the Time Grappler in the show, blending with the final few blows on that gigantic metal slab. The camera follows Cassian through Ferrix. We get a shot of his back as the cello comes in, and he seamlessly merges into the crowd while the cello is nearly entirely absorbed into the layers of this beautiful piece of music. The cello plays what we will soon recognize as a theme central to the community of Ferrix. 

(if you are my friend and you haven’t watched past the Aldhani arc don’t read the rest of this kthx) 

The musical identity of this place is delivered to us along with these extraordinary sets, costumes, details of a bustling community united in its work and each other. The music ties it all together in such a profound way—this specific melody, a funeral dirge, is played while Cassian walks down Rix Road. Where the Empire hung his father. God damn.

I unpacked my viola after having it stored away for months and learned how to play that solo shortly after hearing it, because how could I not? It’s gorgeous. At the time, I had no idea what it would grow into.

After I watched that scene, I decided the cello is Cassian. Diego Luna’s voice makes it work, frequently hitting that same register. More specifically, though, I noticed cellos really bring out moments of quiet for Cassian, bringing pieces of his internal identity to the fore in really interesting ways. Cellos only get a feature when Cassian is present in a scene.

Like, “The Night Before.” We get this gorgeous cello (I’m so biased, it’s always gorgeous, I love this instrument beyond words), this tremulous, high-pitched back-and-forth across the strings. Cassian sits alone in Maarva and Clem’s old ship, holding his father’s gun and spending the night awake. Waiting it out. Again, we only get the cello when he’s on screen. 

The cellos in the soundtrack are never confined to just one melody, they’re dynamic as all hell. They play counter to each other frequently, as in the theme for the second episode—which, to me, sounds like three or four different melodies struggling to unite in some larger identity, and almost reaching it, but they’re cut off too soon to resolve. Knowing what we do about Cassian, there’s definitely something there. How well does he know himself? How much is he afraid to confront about what makes him who he is, his past, his emotions, his pain, everything unresolved about Kenari? Is having so many separate pieces of self-identity part of what makes him so good at playing a role? It’s just the song having a few different cellos doing different stuff, it’s probably not intentional on the part of the composer, but the point is that it made me think and it’s just the intro music. It’s about 50 seconds long, but it made me think about the character in a new way, and I just think that’s really cool.

My number one track is the one that’s better as it is unmixed in the show. Pilgrim. I have pointed out a bazillion times that this track comes in after the line “If you can’t find it here, it’s not worth finding” because I am insane about this. Instantly, the cello, attacking the strings in a steady, hacking beat, absolutely sawing, taking us into the full orchestra, absorbed as we go. The camera pans down to Ferrix and the drums start in, to find Cassian walking through the scrap yard, fitting in to the world around him as the cello merges into the strings and we get that absolute banger of a drum solo. He walks in time with the beat. The cellos reemerge, soaring high in the theme and shifting even higher in a wail as the screen goes to black. It’s insane. It makes me foam at the mouth. Garage drums in Star Wars. It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.

And again—that idea of Cassian blending into his environment, enhanced by the cello doing the same thing. Love it. 

“Past/Present Suite” is another on the list of all-timers. The ticking clock of the beginning, this slow build. The cellos begin as a quiet drone beneath violins and violas, and then the solos shine through with the main theme and counter-melody. The other strings are there, pushing everything forward, the percussion is there, there’s this driving bass that’s really good, the synth blends everything together in such a fantastic way, but the cellos are the stars of the show in the end. At first, they’re just repeating the same phrase. The brass comes in, taking over for the cellos, and the cellos take back command of the melody, driving forward in what I view as Ferrix’s theme. That funeral dirge.

And then, by the end, this culmination of astonishing emotion. The cello keens above everything else as the strings and brass and percussion fall away, Ferrix dropping away beneath the Fondor, taking an unwilling Cassian away from home. The interplay of his kidnapping from Kenari is striking, and that high tone of the cello is just heartbreaking. How painful must it be, to watch your life repeat itself in this way? The cellos pull that out, giving you an insight into Cassian’s emotional state that is driven and pinpointed by Diego Luna’s performance. 

After the first three episodes, we get way less cello. They’re still present in the intros, but not so much in the rest. Makes sense—the following arcs are less about Cassian as a person and more specifically about the world we’re in and how our cast responds to it, the roles they play, the institutions they serve. Cellos are of course still there, at least whenever the soundtrack falls back into a traditional orchestra. You can’t cut cellos out of that, they’re the best instrument. But, they’re not the main feature for a while.

So, like, obviously as soon as the cellos hit at the end of “My Name is Kino Loy” hand-in-hand with the brass I was knocked off my ass. That one’s on my top whatever list. An incredible blend to finish out (I THOUGHT) an episode that ripped my fucking guts out. And then we descend into the depths of Coruscant. Bye bye cello. Hello oh my god where are we and WHAT is Luthen wearing and oh holy shit

Anyway then the cellos show up again in “Heroes” because, duh, Cassian is back. The cellos are up front here, plus these absolutely bonkers horns and CRAZY triumphant drum hits, and finally it’s the end of the episode and it was a WILD fucking ride and this song does not dim the adrenaline rush that was that entire 40 minutes of top-tier television as we close out episode 10.

Also, worth mentioning, the cellos are barely in the intro for episode 11. It’s very sexy considering the musical end of the episode. When I say sexy I mean it makes me cry a lot. 

And, yeah, that musical end is “Your Mother Is Dead,” which is the entire reason I started typing this out. Nine cellos. NINE CELLOS. The barest hint of other strings behind them, but it’s all cellos. And it’s just Cassian, by the end. All alone. At the water’s edge. White-knuckled grip on his bag. It’s just grief. That’s the entirety of this song. It’s unending, profound, overlapping, waves of grief that just keep crashing down. It’s so painful. You get one look at his face in this scene and it’s so clear what he’s feeling, he can just barely lie, say that everything’s fine, but he chokes on it. (Diego Luna I am shaking your hand)

Episode 12 is all brass. I don’t need to say more about that. Y’all already know. Funnily enough, it’s actually violas that show up when we see Cassian on Ferrix again, which I love. It’s almost like the cellos were fully spent after the last episode, all of that emotion so overwhelming. But “Clem’s Stone” is just as cutting a piece as “Your Mother Is Dead”. On top of the grief, it’s achingly hopeful. It’s on my list as well. It’s only 2 minutes long, and remarkably effective.

The last place we hear the cello is in “Cassian Will Find Us”, for obvious reasons. It feels like a goodbye. I hope we see these characters again, but I don’t know. It’s blending in, not the focus at all, with all these other instruments and melodies that have been featured throughout the show—some of them not for a while! The percussion unique to the Aldhani arc comes back, tying a neat little bow on everything that’s happened to this character this season. Combining it all in droves, in a relatively unassuming piece of music, completing Cassian’s arc in this season, uniting him with everything he’s gone through and learned and lost.

It makes sense that the cello would be the main instrument to follow Cassian through a scene, considering it’s the lead in the main theme, and he’s, y’know, that’s his name. But, I’m so used to Star Wars soundtrack maintaining character themes only, to the point of overuse post-og trilogy. Having a specific instrument for a specific character, an instrument that is in itself so versatile and malleable, just like the character? Fucking rules. Having that instrument specifically single out his identity within and outside of groups of people and planets as well as his deeply internalized struggles and barely outwardly expressed emotion that’s boiling over? I go crazy for Nicholas Britell.

Anyway. I love this show dearly. It’s been really fun to watch and listen to, and I can’t wait to see what kind of musical lines they draw in the second season. I’ve feasted and I’m satisfied with this, but I am so eager for more.

[mindsmade]

@afraidofchange / meme: propose, sender proposes to receiver.

The Pacific's waves are lapping at the shore. There's not a sound but the hiss of that water to be heard, apart from the occasional seagull squawking overhead. He sits in silence with Miranda at his side, on this beach that's finally been cleared of the rubble — of the aircraft panelling, pieces of armour torn from soldier's bodies, buildings torn apart and flung miles from their foundations, and who knows what types of organic waste.

Bodies. So many bodies — he should've been one of them, by rights.

But he isn't. He was pulled from a towering pile of that same type of rubble back in London himself months ago, hauled into a clinic and nursed back to health again. Somehow it feels no different being dragged back from the cusp of death than from its deepest reaches.

Well, almost no different. This time, he feels more at peace than he ever has. The galaxy lay in shambles upon his awakening, but it was in better condition than he left it in, somehow.

The same can be said for himself — and, again, at Miranda's hands. Though her involvement in his recovery didn't kick in till weeks after the Crucible's deployment, her influence was felt in every cybernetic holding his body together from the start.

He tries not to think of it too often, really, but it's pretty damned hard when his life is centred around his recovery, still. Even here, or perhaps especially here, with nothing to do but to bask and allegedly empty his mind, he struggles to keep his retrospection at bay.

Aiden sees her shift in the corner of his eye though, just to his right. His head turns to face her, to take in the wind tousling her hair, but all he winds up seeing truly are those deep blues peering right back at him for a good, long while.

Even the breakers seem quiet now.

And then Miranda isn't — quiet, that is. Her tone may be hushed, but the words it carries across hit him like a flashbang grenade. Intense at first, and then all turns to white. Not a moment later, the cogs in his head start spinning.

A proposal? The first thought that crosses his mind is a resounding yes, followed by the question whether he shouldn't have been doing the proposing. His delight ( a word he'd never think to apply to describe his mood with ) crushes his self-doubt in the blink of an eye though, and his face lights up from its original astonishment no later.

❛  You're serious? I mean,  ❜ he shifts in the sand, scrambling to kneel beside her crossed legs. It's not as quick and as fluent a movement as it would've been before the thorough beating he took all those months ago, but he manages.

He cleans the sand off his palms on his shorts before taking her face between both hands. ❛  There's not a single person alive I'd rather spend the rest of my life with, Lawson.  ❜ Towards her he leans, simultaneously pulling her in for a smile-tinged kiss.

It's in that moment of contact that his unadulterated joy makes punctures his composure in a more confound way. He's not about to cry, but he could. He's touched to profound enough an extent that he's afraid of just what his expression might betray if he pulls back too far. But he's no coward, and if anyone's permitted to see past the stoic helmet he always wear, it's Miranda.

So he pulls back, just far enough for his eyes to be able to focus on hers. ❛  Sure know how to keep me on my toes, Miranda ... You about ready for happily ever after?  ❜

[hummingbee-lievable]

I have lost track of my nerves and they have decided that

dancing in wild fractures is

the only way.

I remember the texture of your lips

but I don't remember the colour of your eyes

or the way your breath smelled in the morning

(even though I know it was a scent I enjoyed, to my surprise).

I remember that when the sun went down you would

pause everything to sip your tea (two sugars, no milk)

and stand on the balcony (and I wasn't to say one. single. word.)

and that you hated how meticulous I was with washing dishes

(just put them in the dishwasher, for goodness' sake!)

(you would never say 'god', you didn't want to lean into a concept you refused to entertain, even peripherally)

but I've forgotten the way your shirts lined the closet and which direction you put your shoes at the door.

I've forgotten the way your arms felt around me when I was at my most tired

when I was nothing but weary feet and a queasy stomach and you let me sink into you.

I've forgotten how that feels and only know that it is a betrayal that I have.

Sometimes when it's dark enough and quiet enough, I think I hear the clink of a bottle being surreptitiously put back under the washroom cabinet

as though I would not know.

My favourite memory of you, the one run I run over my tongue when every other taste is curdled milk and shadows

is of you waiting.

It never mattered what you were waiting for, or how long you had to sit in a hard-backed bench in the dreary cold or at what godless (I think 'god' has long stopped meaning the way it was once held, I think now it is just a scream) time of day you had to wake up in order to make the train (always fifteen minutes to spare, at least)

you were so good at waiting. You would simply sit, and settle in, and for that time, the world was your home. I have never seen that peaceful anywhere else, not even in your casket

but I suppose you were done waiting, by then.

I won't pretend I was good for you.

But I think we destroyed each other nicely.

After the police left, I didn't move for 3 days. (You would think I might have been found. You would be wrong.)

The only thing that roused me was that the sun coming in through the god-damned blinds (you always did forget to pull them closed at night- you said the room was better with starlight and even as I tossed and turned, I had to agree).

It was 3 months later, standing in the grocery store with a handful of radishes and a candy bar that I heard the Mountain Goats' 'Woke Up New':

'The first time I made coffee for just myself I made too much of it But I drank it all just 'cause you hate it when I let things go to waste'

and I realised I was still living with you.

Even now, I keep thinking that you're in every flick of my needle (mocking a stray stitch)

at every corner (waiting to surprise me with another awful dinner)

behind every door (and had you remembered to turn on the lights this time)

(and every other cliché we can foist into this cavalcade)

and I think I've decided:

I'm okay with you.

When my cousin's ex-girlfriend died

(I still think about how once she promised to kiss me goodnight and I laid awake, excited, because I really thought she might; I wonder if my knack for naïve hope in ridiculous situations serves me now, but I can't imagine it matters either way; I think you would still be here regardless)

I asked him how he wanted it to feel, when he looked back on this pain.

He said: 'I want it to always feel profound'.

It shocked me then; it seemed almost weak to want to cling to what could only hurt.

But that was then.

And I like the stories that don't end well, the ones that leave you with this bittersweet tang-

(because aren't we just pendulums swinging back around to where we started? And wasn't our beginning nothing?)

and I like knowing that when I go to sleep, you will once have slept next to me

and that if someday that spot ever morphs to someone else's impression, you will still have been there.

And I like that I didn't win (that I use the dishwasher now- they say it uses less water, after all)

that you didn't triumph over every affront (that the blinds are drawn now)

that the story didn't resolve into sugar-sweet (lips on lips on lips on lips)

and that we broke against each other (glass or bones, you choose).

I like that we were real.

'It didn't change anything. It didn't save anyone...

but it still matters that the love was there.'

@starpeace, thank you for your words.

*

words by @starpeace

[mystic-shadows42]

Infiltrate

Pairing: Hvitserk x reader x Ivar

Warnings: Language

Summary: Hvitserk is in love with the reader who happens to be married to Ivar. Loyalty is tested and jealousy spikes.

The men brought forth Hvitserk to present to Ivar. A new member to join their fight.

Ivar looked rather surprised to see Hvitserk there. They hadn’t left on good terms but he wanted to hear him out regardless. 

“Hello, brother. I see you’ve decided to join me.”

Hvitserk was about to answer until he saw movement from behind Ivar. He saw your flowing dress headed towards them. Even in front of Ivar, he could hardly take his eyes off of you.

“Yeah,” he just barely whispered.

Ivar noticed he was distracted and turned around in time to see you. He smiled and embraced you in his arms. This time Ivar let his mouth linger on you as he peppered your lips with kisses.

“Ivar, not in front of your brother,” you whispered into his ear and he smiled into your neck.

Ivar loosened his hold on your hips but let his hands roam over your arms and waist.

“Hello, Hvitserk. I’m glad you’re here to support us.”

“I’m here for whatever you need.”

You nodded your head in satisfaction while Ivar noticed the subtle hint. Hvitserk had his entire attention rooted to you. There was a tension in his stare that didn’t sit well with Ivar.

He squinted at his brother and was about to make a remark when someone came up and whispered in his ear. Ivar’s face hardened at whatever news he got.

“Excuse me. I am needed elsewhere. My love, try not to cause any trouble.”

You smiled at Ivar and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“How can I promise such a thing?”

Ivar had left along with his group of followers who hardly ever left his side. So now it was just you and Hvitserk.

You watched Ivar leave and didn’t notice that Hvitserk had moved closer.

“Since when have you been married to my brother?”

You sighed and turned to face him.

“Since he asked me to be his wife.”

“To be queen? Is that it?”

You tilted your head at Hvitserk not liking his reason for you marrying his brother. There was a time you didn’t care for Ivar but he was relentless in trying to win you over.

He was sweet and patient vying for your affection. He showed you a different side and that’s what made you fall for him. 

“I’m with Ivar because I love him, not because of a mere title. So whatever you’re getting at Hvitserk, don’t. If you’re not here to support Ivar, then what are you here for?”

Hvitserk looked around the place making sure no one was around. He licked his lips then contemplated what it’d mean if he said what he felt out loud. He was in his brother’s camp. He knew there’d be spies everywhere but he was willing to risk it.

“Why do you think I came? Rumors spread that you were going to marry my brother. I had to see it for myself.”

You shook your head at Hvitserk. He didn’t have to come all the way here just to figure that out.

“Then you wasted your time.” You moved closer to him so he could hear you better. “If Ivar were to hear you.” You didn’t finish as you allowed him to think on that thought alone. Ivar got jealous easily. He may have a better hold on his temper but that never stopped him from still acting out every now and then.

Hvitserk got closer to you, holding your hands in his. 

“I don’t care. I came back for you.”

You quickly moved your hands away from his.

“Your feelings are misplaced.”

“Are they?”

You tilted your head while looking at Hvitserk.

“Yes. There’s nothing here, you understand? You are my brother by marriage, nothing more.”

You began to walk away not wanting to make a scene in case somebody were to walk by. He didn’t seem to get the hint as he kept up with your pace.

“Does Ivar know that you warmed my bed for months during the winter nights?”

You were quick to turn to him hitting his chest. “How dare you!” You whispered, harshly. “Even if he does know, he doesn’t mention it. You’re a fling of the past Hvitserk. Ivar is my present and future. I don’t expect anything but your loyalty to Ivar.”

Hvitserk allowed you to walk on but kept a safe distance and saw you enter a barn. He was about to enter but stopped upon hearing you speak to someone else. He snuck to the side of the barn and watched through the cracks.

Ivar was in there with you and he had his head placed on your shoulder. You had your hands rubbing down his arms in a soothing notion of comfort.

“It’s starting to ache.”

“I’m here. Remember, don’t focus on the pain. Just focus on me.”

You interlaced your fingers with his and kissed him. The barn was your place to be intimate with each other but whenever the pain would be too much for Ivar to bear, you’d simply lie with one another until he had to leave.

It was moments like this when just being in complete silence with each other was enough. Ivar didn’t have to do anything, his presence was enough. He had your heart completely.

“I have to go,” he said lowly.

“You’ve only just got here.”

“I’m king remember,” he smiled at you and cupped your face. “Know that there’s no greater prize than you as my queen.”

You smiled and kissed his lips one last time. Hvitserk watched and waited. Ivar would be busy so this was his chance with you. His hand hovered over the entryway. Against his better judgment, he entered.

He closed the doors behind him and looked at your surprised face.

“Get out of here, Hvitserk.”

Your heart started to race when he didn’t say anything back. His intentions weren’t good that much you could tell.

You watched him as you tried stepping around his large frame. He held his arm out blocking you.

“I’m not going to leave.”

“Then I’ll scream.” You tried once more evading him but he placed his hands on your arms holding you in place.

“I’m not going to leave you.”

You crinkled your brows at him, not understanding. He had no obligation to stay.

“There’s nothing here for you. Why can’t you just leave it all in the past?”

“I love you.”

You froze in your spot. Love wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“You’re in love with the idea of me,” you spoke in a softer voice this time. Perhaps he was still hurting from his past.

“Did Ivar ever tell you what he’s done to the women I’ve loved?” His voice sounded strained but he held firm. You knew of the losses he’s endured. It was a hard thought to accept that Hvitserk lost the women he’s cared for in his life. All gone at the hands of your husband.

“I’ve heard stories.” It was something you didn’t like but it was part of Ivar’s past.

Hvitserk let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t suppose he ever told you how exactly he rid of them.” He took your devote silence as his answer. “Tragic. Ivar’s killed every woman that I’ve ever loved, brutally. Every single one. Except you.”

There was a hushed silence after he spoke. His chest heaved and his eyes held a new profound fury in them. It was one that wasn’t for you but rather a fury that had been long pent up before he even came here. 

This anger was for Ivar.

“So what? You’re trying to get even with him by messing with me?” You shrugged. “What Ivar did was wrong, we both know that. You’re brothers. Speak to him. He’ll listen, I know he will.”

Hvitserk shook his head. He already made up his mind. He didn’t want to have a civil conversation with his brother.

“I can give you everything Ivar can’t.”

You shook your head at him. It was hard to get your point across when he didn’t even bother to listen.

“Ivar is all I want. I love him. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Because nobody loves Ivar. They fear him and he uses everyone’s fear to his advantage.”

“Well not with me. He’s changed since the last time you saw him.”

“Really?” He scoffed in disbelief getting closer.

“Really,” you stated trying so hard to stand firm and appear confident in front of him. Usually, you’d be able to read Hvitserk but he was different. He was unpredictable now.

Hvitserk placed his hands on your lower back before pulling you forward to kiss you. He held your head to him so you wouldn’t pull away. You tried moving his hands from you until you kicked his shin and pulled back.

“Why’d you do that?!” You huffed watching as he was bent over with a smile on his face. “Just leave me alone.”

“Is that an order by the queen?” He mocked. You ignored him and left him.

It was starting to become evident to Hvitserk that your loyalty lies with Ivar.

He saw the way you proudly stood by his side and consoled him when his bones started to ache.

You were both good for each other but that wouldn’t stop him from trying again. His brothers all seemed to get the women they wanted. They married and were committed to only one. He wanted that now.

He’d be damned if he let his brother take this from him. Time had passed as Hvitserk was deep in thought. The incident earlier was fresh on his mind even with Ivar in front of him going over plans.

Ivar had stopped speaking when he saw his brother’s attention was diverted when pushing his food away. His men had informed him of the incident in the farm and he wasn’t too happy about it.

“I see the way you look at her.”

“Look at who?” Hvitserk questioned without looking at his brother. He knew Ivar was smart, he just wanted to play dumb to see what he knew so far.

Ivar scoffed and shook his head at his brother.

“The way you look at my wife. I can see in your eyes what you want to do to her.”

“She’s your wife Ivar. She’s yours. It doesn’t exactly matter what I think.”

Ivar nodded. “You’re right, she is my wife.” Ivar got closer to Hvitserk so he could whisper in his ear. “I don’t share. Frankly, I get jealous. I don’t like the way you look at my wife neither the impure thoughts you’re thinking.”

Hvitserk humorlessly chuckled. “What would you like me to do then, brother?”

“I’m not speaking to you as my brother. I’m speaking to you as your king. Leave my wife alone or so help me Hvitserk, I’ll kill you.”

“You forget that I am fighting for you.”

“You’re only here because you were curious how things were here. You jumped ship for her, not me. I know you’ve had her before so as far as I’m concerned you’re loyalty isn’t with me. At least, not completely.”

Hvitserk pushed his food aside and clasped his hands together turning his full attention to Ivar. Something changed in his eyes which made Ivar tense.

“You need me Ivar. Only I know how to get you a bigger army. I know the layout of the land you want to raid and I also know where we can get silver.”

Ivar’s lip twitched in amusement.

“I can achieve all of that without you, brother.”

This time it was Hvitserk’s turn to have a condescending smirk. 

“No, you can’t. You know it and I know it. I have terms for each one I help you achieve.”

“Terms? What is it that you want Hvitserk?”

“I want your wife.”

Ivar tilted his head to the side. “No, you don’t.”

“I want her Ivar.”

“What are your terms? Come on,” he urged.

“My answer will remain the same. I want your wife.”

“You can’t have my wife. I can give you anything but her.”

Hvitserk took his sword out and pierced it into the ground. He twisted the handle turning it in the dirt.

“What you fail to realize Ivar is that you don’t really hold any real power. You don’t believe I would come here and make demands without actually having a plan of my own, do you?”

He looked up to see Ivar knitting his brow in confusion.

“What do you speak of?”

“I’ve allied myself with an army. We want the same as you. So we can either be allies or we can destroy everything you worked so hard to gain.”

“You infiltrated my camp?!” Ivar all but growled out.

Hvitserk smiled nodding his head once. He was calm which was a new look for him. Ivar was about to stand up with the help of his crutch but Hvitserk stood up and held his shoulder down.

“I’ll have your wife regardless of the decision you make. You’ve taken all that I love. Now I’ll take someone you love. You’re going to take me to her Ivar. I want you to tell her my terms.” Hvitserk lowered himself closer so Ivar could hear every word he was about to say. “I want you there when your wife gives herself to me willingly. I want you to watch as I fuck her from behind. I know how you get off just by watching.”

Hvitserk stood up straight then patted his brother’s shoulder before walking off.

Tagged: @belovedcherry​ @lordsexmachine​ @lol-haha-joke​ @mariaenchanted​ @ethereallysimple​ @bababasti​ @ir-abelas-telanadas​

[ultraimaginez]

What’s In a Name - [Diavolo x Reader]

Fandom: Obey Me!

Character: Diavolo

A/N: This is honestly more of a character study of Diavolo being soft than anything else. I just love one (1) future demon king who just wants to be included god damn it. Please someone let Diavolo be a part of the gang. Anyway this has now inspired me to write more Diavolo content so send an ask if you have suggestions lol

_________________________________________

An honorific can be such a powerful and yet profoundly lonely thing.

It’s been a long time since anyone has addressed Diavolo without putting the word “Lord” before his name. His lordship is just as much a part of who he is now as any other bit of him. Even his two closest friends address him as “Lord Diavolo” -- and before the exchange program that truly didn’t feel all that odd. It was simply the way things were.

And then you arrived...

________________________________________

Diavolo does his best to be diplomatic and levelheaded in his day to day interactions, but he’s just as much a demon prone to his vices as any other. Watching the way you so casually interact with the brothers of House Lamentation stirs envy in his gut and reminds him of his own isolation in a way he hasn’t felt for a very long time.

He’s always wanted what Lucifer had with his brothers-- that closeness with another person. An intimacy greater than lust, one built on a casual closeness and unspoken understanding that you seem to fall into so naturally. 

He notices it in little ways. 

It’s the way Levi embraces your physical proximity in a way he’s never seen him do with any other person in all the centuries he’s known him. It’s the way Asmodeus, who has purposely never invited him to one of his parties, makes a point to involve you in every single thing he does. It’s the way Mammon goes out of his way to give to you after a lifetime in the devildom of withholding everything he can get his hands on.

If Diavolo is being honest he can’t really tell who he’s actually jealous of. It’s difficult to pinpoint whether he’s envious of you, who has formed a connection with these boys in less than a year when he hasn’t been able to in literally millennia. Or maybe he’s envious of them, who have developed this casual  closeness with you he could never have.

Well, at least he thinks he could never have that.

________________________________________

But you don’t seem to be privy to the unspoken rules that surround Lord Diavolo, and if you are then you certainly don’t seem to care. 

The first time you call him by a nickname he’s almost positive Lucifer is about to fly into his demon form and murder you.

You walk into his office where he’s been chatting with Lucifer and make yourself at home in one of the seats across from his desk. “Hey! What’s good, D-man? Do you have a sec? I’ve got a question.”

He has to physically throw up a hand into Lucifer’s chest to stop him from ruining what might be the first taste he’s had of the sort of relaxed friendliness Lucifer gets to see every day.

The eldest brother is still snarling as he seems to barely register Lord Diavolo’s hand. “MC. I’ve told you. It’s L-”

Diavolo cuts Lucifer off with a look and the black haired demon just stares at him with a look of equal parts confusion and irritation.

“For you? I’ve got several seconds.” He beams at you and then move to lean across the desk. “What seems to be the problem?” He asks, completely ignoring his friend who he can now tell has gone from seething, to confused, to something altogether unreadable. He doesn’t think about it too long though as all of his attention turns to you.

________________________________________

And he assumes that this will (unfortunately) be a one off incident since there’s no way Lucifer did not freak out on you the second the two of you were back home.

He is pleasantly surprised to find that it is not.

At first it feels strange to hear himself referred to anything other as Lord Diavolo but as time goes on you seem to make a game of coming up with as many absurd names as possible. D, D-man, Diav, DD, Volvo, Volvo XC90, Volvo S60... (at some point they just sort of devolve into you trying to name as many makes and models of Volvo cars as you can.) And it makes Lucifer furious which is honestly half the fun. Because for once he’s a part of the inside joke. He knows how it must feel to be one of the brothers. He is a part of the inner world of the House Lamentation instead of being the source of conflict within it.

And he knows that if it were anybody else that this would be an attempt at mockery-- and he wouldn’t hesitate to strike them down. Everyone in the Devildom knows what he’s capable of, even you despite the fact that you willfully ignore it. 

But there is a profound difference when you call him a nickname because it’s never at his expense. He can tell you’re trying to make him smile-- and it works. 

You are so genuine, so authentic, it’s almost hard for him to take. He has been so used to bureaucracy for so long and his goals of unity have overshadowed the importance of genuine connection for himself. You remind him why is dream is worth achieving...

________________________________________

His dream is worth it for the moments like the one he’s having now, where you sit across from him in his office and rattle on about your classes. These “meetings” had started as an excuse for him to “get a better idea of how you were integrating into the school” but now they happen every single day and there’s no way he can continue to operate under the pretext that they’re for the exchange program when he literally does not do this with anybody else.

 “-and then in potions class I was working on my assignment and you’ll never guess what Mammon did! He literally just-” you spastically flail your arms simulating your earlier experience “freaks out because he was checking his phone and realized he lost a shit ton of money on some stupid sports gambling app and knocks ALL my ingredients into the cauldron at once so then KABOOM! It goes everywhere! ........ hey.... are you even listening to me?? Yo! Earth to Diavolo? Come in, Diavolo...”

He shakes himself out of his own inner monologue and smiles at you, laughing and trying to make his brain and heart and everything else catch up on the same page again. “Sounds like classic Mammon.” He says and he watches as your skeptical glance in his direction softens again.

“Well you’re NEVER going to guess what happened next-”

_____________________________________

He wonders if you’re aware of the impact you’ve had on everyone around you or if you’re just naively altering their world without much thought about it at all. He guesses it’s the latter. You don’t seem to see the effect you have on him or the brothers. 

Maybe that’s for the best. 

He’s not sure he could put his gratitude for the small moments you share into words. In part because he does not have the words to do so, and in part because he could never bring himself to be that vulnerable. But he knows that Barbatos and Lucifer can see it. They don’t say anything-- probably because they care too deeply for him to see him struggle through articulating what’s on his mind-- but it’s clear to everyone but you. 

You’ve managed to give the Future King of the Devildom a reprieve from his isolation when no one else could.

[madlymiho]

Hellooo, 👋🏼 thank you for randomly selecting me, haha. :D May I request an Ace scenario, where he and fem! Reader are just having a chaotic snowball fight and then later, after getting just so tired out, go in for a nice warm bath together and perhaps leads to some nsfw in the end? It’s up to you, to how soft or rough it can be, because either one would be just as interesting. Hopefully this is the right amount of detail— and please take your time! 🥰 thank you so much again!! 🤍🥺☺️

Hello there! 🥰🙈 it sounds like a nice idea! I don't know what's the matter with those snowball fights but it all put you in a naughty mood! 😈😈

I'm on it! 😋

Winter Event #3

Words: 1740

Warning: NSFW content - foreplays - edging

Informations: fem! reader

Warm Up

It’s freezing but you won’t certainly let you guard down! You feel the coldness bites the tip of your fingers, as you begin to gather more snow, cupping and pressing your hands together to create the perfect round shape, soft but strong enough to gently harm your victim. You let loose a profound sigh, focused, as you stand back up and target your enemy. You don’t even have time to properly throw it that you receive a large snowball right on your nose in a loud splash, earning another gasp from you, as you both laugh and growl because you don’t know how to react anymore.

“Hey that’s bullshit!” You hiss as you wipe the melting snow from your features. “You can’t use your power to pulse yourself in the air, Ace! You’re cheating!”

You hear his bright and happy laugh echoing in the valley, as he’s floating a few meters above the ground, watching you with his playful dark eyes, and raising an eyebrow.

“I messaged the Corporation of Snowball Fights, and they haven’t updated the rules regarding the use of devil fruit powers!” He raises his index, giving you a lecture, as you definitely feel the everlasting teasing tone.

You cross your arms impatiently around your chest, steam coming out of your lips.

“Well did you ask the Corporation of Bullshit about your attitude?!”

You definitely see the mischief gleaming in the back of his eyes, as Ace decides to mess around with you a little bit more, rushing on you and throwing you into the soft pile of snow behind you, covering your face with the white powder. You scream and fight back, wiggling your legs and arms as you feel the snow entering your clothes, touching your bare skin as you chirp that it’s enough! What a damn kid, this one! You laugh brightly, but you feel so tired now, and frozen, and you really wish to come inside the ship and get warm before your stupid boyfriend would eventually kill you with all that snow sneaking inside of your supposedly warm coat. You kiss him to ring the truce, your cold lips immediately reacting to the natural warmness of his body; and you feel it increasing slightly, as the snowflakes around your bodies are going back to their liquid form.

“I’m too cold to stay here…” You mumble against his lips, and close your eyes, appreciating the warmth sensation emanating from his body. “I need to warm up.”

He flushes slightly, his dark eyes locked on your features as eventually open your eyelids to see the flames suddenly surrounding his shoulders.

“Not like that!” You protest, even if there’s a big smile plastered on your lips. “Last time you burnt my favorite sweatshirt, I demand to have a bath, anything, but not your dangerous flames on my body!”

He rolls his eyes and helps you get back on your feet flushing you right away against his chest as he devours the crook of your neck.

“Are you really complaining?” He mumbles against your skin, peppering the area with the softest smooshes, as you wonder for a bit if you won’t be the one making the snow melt around you right now. “Last time, I clearly remember that you wanted me to try that thing on you…”

The soft purr of his voice is enough to put you in a second state, a very needy one, but as you definitely believe you shouldn’t stay outside one more second, you eventually find the courage to push on his chest to silently ask him to step back. He kisses the tip of your nose as an answer, and then tugs a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Fine, let’s go have a bath.” He offers after a moment, squeezing your frozen fingers between his warm hands.

A few minutes later, you’re finally both sharing a bit of intimacy on the ship. A lot of the Whitebeard’s pirates are busy elsewhere, probably looting for their future Christmas gifts, as everyone is preparing the season. Thatch gave enough instructions to bring back wagons of food for the big feast, and for once, both of you have been exempted of duties. You understood it was somehow an early Christmas gift, since you have been quite depraved of any kind of intimacy in the past few weeks. Both hidden in that little warm cocoon, inside the bathroom, you both feel that desperate need to touch the other one. As the water is filling the bathtub, covering the mirrors with a cloud of steam, you’re both standing in the middle of the room. Ace is slowly undressing you, layer after layer, throwing your clothes on the floor as his mouth is attacking every single inch of your body, his skillful fingers traveling everywhere. He squeezes your hips with the gentlest gesture, his mouth nibbling your neck, his hands cupping your breasts when they are eventually free from your bra. Your next kiss is hungry, but terribly slow, enjoying that more than needed reward, tongues dancing together as you unbuckle his pants, and slide them down his thighs, grabbing his underwear in the same motion. He’s erected. You definitely understand that he wants to have more, and you’re clearly not in the mood to deny him. A soft breath escapes your lips as you roll your digits around his shaft, slowly coming up and down, as you can’t miss the shiver coming from his body. After a moment, though, he eventually put a hand over your wrist, kissing your cheek tenderly.

“Jump in the bath first. You’re trembling.” He murmurs, voice so romantic and caring that you remember how tender he can be despite his childish attitude sometimes.

You nod, your nipples so hard that they are almost hurting you, both because of the general cold atmosphere, but also your deep excitement. You carefully enter the warm water, a soft growl rolling in your throat, feeling at ease for sure. Ace doesn’t waste anymore time as well, and quickly joins you, sitting slowly while he takes place behind your back. He knows it’s a bit unfair for you, yet he has always preferred to play a bit with your emotions and your body, and clearly he wants to have the lead once more.

As soon as you’re both comfortable, you see one his hand moving from the edge of the bathtub to disappear under the ills of bubbles and soap, already looking for something to touch. He lingers his fingers on your belly, slowly, so slowly, coming up to eventually cup your right breast, his thumb rolling on your hard nipple, his mouth teasing your earlobe with the tip of his careful tongue. It feels like the water is slightly warming up, perhaps a side effect of his own body, even if Ace is quite less efficient in that kind of area; the water drains a good amount of his energy. However, it doesn’t stop him from wanting to please you, his other hand entering the dance, bolder than the other one. He presses it on your thigh, silently intimating you the order to open your legs a bit more, enough for him to slide his slender fingers up and down, always skimming the most sensitive part of your body, without truly touching it.

“Always messing around…” You sigh, eyes lidded, your head resting against his chest as you tilt it slightly, offering him more space for his mouth to explore your skin. “Whether it’d be a snowball fight or a bath, you’re always so unfair…”

“Am I not a pirate after all?” He hums, and chuckles, his voice vibrating against your ear. His hand is now pressed against your core, his index toying your sensitive lips. “I never play by the book. It’s boring to follow the rules.”

You wish to answer him, but nothing can leave your throat as you feel the sudden pressure of his thumb on your clit, and one of his fingers sliding inside of you. Your arch your back, one of your hands gripping the edge of the bathtub, the other one attacking your own breast to massage it. An invitation Ace doesn’t miss for sure, his own erection twitching behind your back.

“If you really want to play with something…” He whispers, rolling his thumb harder over your swelling clit, guiding your hand on your breast to his erect cock. “You can have fun with that.”

You nod, slowly losing the notion of time and space, eyes closed to feel everything. Fingers wrapped around his shaft, you’re jerking him at the same pace he’s fingering you, sometimes gasping when he suddenly increases his pace, or adds another finger. With his other hand, he plays with your breasts, groping them, massaging them, until he eventually slides his digits up to grip your chin and turn your head to steal a very sloppy kiss. At this point, your lips never go apart, his movements down there becoming even more intense. He doesn’t let you think about anything else but his digits playing with you so actively, as you feel his own excitement growing thanks to your ministrations. He bucks his hips from time to time, when your thumb so cockily gathers the precum oozing from his head. Each time you’re trying to push the game, each time he’s punishing you by edging you a bit more.

“Ace… Ace…” You moan as it becomes unbearable to feel him this way, your clit so swollen that you can burst at any moment. “Please, I want to come so badly…”

“Are you conceding another victory, Name?” He groans, his own cock becoming painful. Fuck he can’t control himself anymore as well. “I guess we can have a draw for once.”

Both of your movements are becoming even more passionate, the water sometimes splashing out of the bathtub, feeling the orgasm coming. Lips sealed one more time, moans swallowed in the other one’s throat, you eventually reach Nirvana, sweat and water dripping down from your faces, both of your chest raising up and down in the same erratic motion. You both slump in the bathtub, completely drained for a few seconds. He eventually chuckles, his voice weaker than before ; truly you’ll have to leave the bath soon before he would collapse.

“I guess that was a good way to warm you up.” He teases, offering you another of his everlasting playing smile.

[jackiearbs]

things that rwrb characters have said that i will never forget, a thread:

alex claremont-diaz, giving off dumbass™ energy (he has the most on this thread, for obvious reasons) 

- "put them in my room, put them in my room, put them in my room-" 

-  “Jesus Christ, it’s like they can see into your soul. cornbread knows my sins, Henry. cornbread knows what I have done, and he is here to make me atone.”   

- "do it for the 'gram"

- "leading member of korean pop band bts kim nam-june" 

- "whatever, fine. henry is annoyingly attractive. that’s always been a thing, objectively. it’s fine.”

- "see attached bibliography"

- "i said, you look great, baby!”

- "yo there’s a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe"

- "awesome, fuckin' love doing things out of spite.”

-”Huge Raging Headache Prince Henry of Who Cares”

-”it is amazing you can sit down to write emails with that gigantic royal stick up your ass.” 

- “who names a dog David? He sounds like a tax attorney.”

-” “Do I go on your side of the cubicle and turn off your Dropkick Murphys Spotify station, no matter how much I want to?” Alex demands. “No, Hunter, I don’t.”

- “for fuck's sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me good-night.”

- “Bake Off makes Chopped look like the fucking Manson tapes.”

- “THEY KNOW. THEY KNOW I HAVE ROBBED THEM OF FIVE-STAR ACCOMMODATIONS TO SIT IN A CAGE IN MY ROOM, AND THE MINUTE I TURN MY BACK THEY ARE GOING TO FEAST ON MY FLESH.”

- “You’re from Boston, Hunter. You really want to talk about all the places bigotry comes from?” (he really hates hunter goddamn) 

-”so, what? you want me to quit politics and go become a princess? that’s not very feminist of you.” 

hrh prince dickhead😎  - "the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed. O, fathers of my bloodline! O, ye kings of olde! Take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil. If only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when American boys with chin dimples are mean to him.”

-"“I’ve been gay as a maypole since the day I came out of Mum, Philip.”

-”i will turn this car around.”

- “yes, the cocaine, alex.” 

-”i am a delight!”

-”have i mentioned lately that you’re a demon?” 

- “are you psychoanalyzing me? i don't think royal guests are allowed to do that.”

- "i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.”

-“the phrase ‘see attached bibliography’ is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me.”

-"i just mean to say, you know, Philip is the heir and I'm the spare, and if that nervy bastard has a heart attack at thirty five and I've got malaria, whither the spare?”

- “they wanted something less fruity than the truth, but truly, what is gayer than a woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown every day of her life, for the drama?”

- “You are a delinquent and a plague. Please come?”

- “fat and sexually conquered, snuffed out in the spring of my youth. Here lies Prince Henry of Wales. He died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.”

june:  “- that is a clear quartz crystal for good vibes do not @ me.” 

- “He’s just so frail, it’d only take one good push-”

- “ugh! men! no emotional vocabulary. i can’t believe our ancestors survived centuries of wars and plagues and genocide just to wind up with your sorry ass.” 

nora: 

-”sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again? my bad. hello, would you like to come out to me? im listening. hi.” 

“prince henry is a biscuit. let him sop you up.”  

- “you’ve been, like, Draco Malfoy–level obsessed with Henry for years.”

- “i don’t know, man. I was in my junior year of high school, and I touched a boob. It wasn’t very profound. Nobody’s gonna write an Off-Broadway play about it.”

dahra: 

- “You need to get back to fucking England now, and if anyone sees you leave, I will personally end you. Ask me if I’m afraid of the crown.”

- “both sides need to come out of this looking like your little slap-fight at the wedding was some homoerotic frat bro mishap, okay? So, you can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing.”

-”come on, you backyard-shooting-range motherfuckers,”

ellen (should i say PRESIDENT claremont) 

- “Diaz, you insane, hopeless romantic little shit"

-  “I had Planned Parenthood send over all these pamphlets, take one! They sent a bike messenger and everything!”

- ”where? Are you hiding a turkey habitat up your ass, son? Where, in our historically protected house, am I going to put a couple of turkeys until I pardon them tomorrow?”

-“As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn’t your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term.”

PEZ !!!

- “frolic naked in the hills, frighten the sheep, return to the house for the usual: tea, biscuits, casting ourselves onto the Thighmaster of love to moan about the Claremont-Diaz siblings, which has become tragically one-sided since Henry took it up with you. It used to be all bottles of cognac and shared malaise and ‘When will they notice us’-” 

-”-and now i just ask henry, ‘what is your secret?’ and he says, ‘i insult alex all the time, and that seems to work.’” 

**extra: nicer quotes from alex and henry 

alex heartthrob diaz  - "never tell me the odds"

-"we were not afforded that liberty."

-“I hate this so much. I know. But we’re gonna do it together. And we’re gonna make it work. You and me and history, remember? We’re just gonna fucking fight. Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you. So, I promise you, one day we’ll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.”

- “On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

- “history, huh? Bet we could make some.”

- “But the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.”

-“Take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.”

- “Someone else’s choice doesn’t change who you are.”

- “I am the First Son of the United States, and I'm bisexual. History will remember us.”

- “America: He is my choice.”

- “Give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart, There's so much of you.”

- the entire list of the things he loves about henry. i would die 

henry: 

-”i’ll be damned but i miss you.” 

- “when you rang me at truly shocking hours of the night, I loved you. When you kissed me in disgusting public toilets and pouted in hotel bars and made me happy in ways in which it had never even occurred to me that a mangled-up, locked-up person like me could be happy, I loved you. and then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it?”

- “it sounds like you did your best.”

- “I’ve bloody well had it. I’ve sat about long enough letting you and Gran and the weight of the damned world keep me pinned, and I’m finished. I don’t care. You can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, Philip. I’m done.”

- “Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all?”

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 01

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: some profanity, a side character who is a dick about Reid, set in season 06, self beta’d

Word Count: 2437

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

--

Chapter 01

--

March 2010

--

Dr. Spencer Reid

(Current Tenure: California Institute of Technology): Fred Kavli Professor of Theoretical Physics and Mathematics; Director, Walter Burke Institute for Theoretical Physics, Department Head of Mathematics, Physics, and Astronomy at Caltech.

- (Degrees, in order) Ph.D. Mathematics, Caltech, 1995; Ph.D. Chemistry, Caltech, 1997; M.A. Nuclear Science, MIT, 1999; Ph.D. Engineering, MIT, 2000; M.A. Sociology, Columbia University, 2001; M.A. Philosophy, Georgetown, 2001; Ph.D. Psychology, Georgetown, 2002; M.A. Applied Analytics, Columbia University, 2003; M.A. Socio Economic Statistics, MIT, 2004; M.A. Geology, Caltech, 2006; Ph.D. Geography, Caltech, 2006; M.A. Economics, Caltech, 2008; M.A. Brain and Cognitive Sciences, Caltech, 2009

- (Teaching positions, in order) Professor of Mathematics, Caltech, 1995-1997, Professor of Mathematics and Statistical Analysis, MIT, 1998-2005, Visiting Associate, Georgetown, 1999-2002; Professor of Chemical Engineering, MIT, 2002-05; Kavli Professor, Mathematics, Caltech, 2005-; Professor of Theoretical Physics and Mathematics, 2006-; Deputy Chair, 2005-; Director, 2008-.

“Jesus.”

The dossier is just an information sheet; no photo ID, no news articles beyond text component pieces, but it is a thick stack of correspondence and case consultations that S.S.A Aaron Hotchner holds in his hands.

“Five Ph.D.’s and eight separate M.A.’s in fourteen years? What was he doing before that?”

“Who knows? You don’t earn a Ph.D. overnight, even if his accommodation sheet makes ‘em look like they pop up like mushrooms,” Mark Anderson says, audibly tired through the phone speaker on his desk. He was one of the Unit Chief's from the teams at the FBI L.A. field office, who’s phone number was given to him by an old friend, Sam Cooper -- another BAU team leader. Hotch had hit dead end after dead end on this case, and sitting at his desk in Quantico, Virginia, he looks down at the recommended consultant’s extensive list of degrees and teaching positions with a building headache behind his dark eyes. He wasn’t a fan of Anderson, or his briskness, but at this point he’d take anything he could get. “I’m pretty sure that man has never lived outside an academic field. He’s a handful, runs my agents up the damn wall, but he knows his stuff.”

“I hope so. I’ve been on the phone the past three days trying to find someone with a background in Obscure Cognitive Linguistics,” Hotch reads from a separate file, filled with violent images and depraved acts described in morbid detail. “Our unsub sites a very particular thesis about a Study of Language from a Cognitive and Developmental Law, and I keep getting sent to experts in adjacent fields. I don’t see anything in this Dr. Reid’s background about language.”

“Oh, trust me, Hotch -- you’ll get more than you bargained for. This is your guy. He’s basically an expert on everything, and if he doesn’t know anything about languages I’ll eat my tie. He never shuts up.”

Frowning at the speaker phone, Hotch keeps his comments to himself. He’s sure that Anderson probably doesn’t appreciate having an old professor puttering around the field office, but that didn’t mean he had to insult the man. Especially when he was there as a consultant. 

“Okay, fine. Thank you. I’ll give him a call now-”

“Oh, you don’t want to do that. Just send him an email. Trust me.” Anderson all but groans like a petulant child. Graining on Hotch’s nerves excruciatingly.

“I’m sure he’s busy enough with his students, he doesn’t need to be fielding emails from the FBI,” Hotch hedged, still frowning. 

“Not too busy to write you a dissertation in reply, I’m sure, but you’ll at least get the answers you need. You could be on the phone with him a half hour before you get to what you called about. Hopefully it won’t take you too long to sift through.” 

Alright, now he is done listening to the other agent.

“Right. Thanks, Mark.”

“Anyti-” Hotch hangs up on him before the man could make any other remarks. His patience is non-existent after the past week and this extremely brutal case that only seems to compound exponentially in it’s viciousness with each passing day. If Anderson felt like being an asshole to some old man with nothing better to do than rack up Ph.D.’s, he could do it on his own time. Hotch needed help, and this man seemed to be the only person around who might be able to finally do so.

Dr. Reid’s office number is in front of him, as well as about three different lab location phone numbers, and one email address connected to the school faculty. He considers for a moment just ignoring Anderson’s advice and calling the old professor, but he has a meeting with his Department Chief, Strauss, in twenty minutes and the team would be arriving from canvasing the dumpsites soon. 

So with a suffering sigh, Hotch pulls up a new email (for what feels like the millionth time for this case) and composes a standard correspondence introduction. Who he is, credentials, case numbers and specifics as far as clearance rates for civilians go, and then finally the questions he needs answered. There is something about this particular thesis that has to be very tongue in cheek to the unsub, saying something that isn’t really there, and this could just be another dead end -- but if it led to them saving a victim from becoming another dead body, he is willing to give it one last try. 

Thank you for your time,  S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner Unit Chief, Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI Quantico, VA. 

Then he hits send, and leaves the response up to the universe.

-

The team came up with nothing fruitful. Strauss proceeded to ream Hotch six ways from Sunday for wasting valuable bureau resources and coming up with zero results. His day was spinning down the drain in a hellish cyclone when he sits down behind his desk in his office an hour after leaving it. Case files still piled to one side, grotesque photos stacked within them, and Aaron Hotchner wants nothing more than for them to disappear. For the case to be solved and to be able to go home to his son and his quiet house. But there was no break in sight, no new information, nothing.

Except a new email in his inbox.

Agent Hotchner, 

I know that thesis paper well. I can help you.

All air seems to have been sucked from the room as Hotch reads the words a couple of times, not quite comprehending after the morning he has had that someone wasn’t giving him more bad news. That this Dr. Reid said he could help him. 

 A single click of the email opens up the correspondence reply, and the agent is met with a giant wall of text. Scrolling down for pages, and a quick skim of the material shows such a complex, comprehensive amount of information that there is no way it’s just copy and pasted from any one source. Or even several. It’s a long email spanning a vast number of pages, covering every topic he had asked about (and then some).

The thesis paper, the tongue-in-cheek citation from the unsub, how this killer is acting like he’s being clever when it’s really ‘very obvious what he’s doing, as long as you know the paper’ and detailed links and quotations and references to locations and side tangents on items mentioned that could be evidence to look for or weapons of choice, and so much else Hotch’s head feels like it’s spinning. Like reading the cliffnotes of a complex spy novel, with all the spoilers in one place. 

It takes him half an hour to read through everything Dr. Reid sent, meaning the professor had to have been typing a million words a minute from the moment Hotch had emailed him to get everything replied so quickly, and Hotch was baffled to realize that an old man with a handful of Ph.D.’s and no FBI training just solved his case.

Not a figment of speech.

Dr. Reid just solved the case, without even holding the file in his hands.

Hotch is dialing a phone number on his speed dial without even looking away from the screen. 

“Garcia? Call the team into the briefing room, and phone SWAT to mobilize. We’re going down to the riverfront in thirty minutes.”

“--Wait, what are you talking about? Did you figure out the unsub’s code?”

Not me, Aaron thought to himself, standing up and printing Dr. Reid’s email after forwarding it to the entire team and their tech analyst, Penelope Garcia. He didn’t have time to explain it that many times, and the amount of information in that single email would be enough to send any of them tumbling heels over head. But it solved every aspect of their case. Hook, line, and sinker.

And the clock was ticking. 

“Now, Garcia.”

He rushes from the room with the stack of files in his hands and his laptop open to Dr. Reid’s email. Not even thinking to thank the man for his help as he heads across the bullpen with profound determination.

They have work to do.

-

They catch the unsub that very day. 

Quick, efficient, completely by surprise. They saved Amanda Sutton and another girl they hadn’t even known was missing. No one died. None of his team was hurt. The unsub hadn’t confessed, but Rossi and Morgan had played him like a fiddle in interrogation and now all of his team members were walking to the elevators leaving for a long weekend where they wouldn’t have to worry about serial killers or another dead soul on their conscience. Today was a win. As close to a win as they ever can get, in their line of work. 

And it isn’t until he’s back at his desk, the hours ticking into the night, that he opens up his email and there in his inbox is the very reply that started everything. Dr. Spencer Reid. CalTech Department Head. Professor of everything under the sun. Expert on anything, even the obscure. 

The reason Hotch will get to spend the weekend with his son, without the overbearing aftershocks of a case gone so horribly bad plaguing him. 

His hands are moving before he can stop them. Opening up the email, typing out a response to Dr. Reid thanking him for his help. Relaying what happened, detail by detail much in the same fashion he had completed the paperwork piled on his desk. Letting him know that his information really did end up helping them. All of it. Even the side tangents. 

I don’t know how I can ever thank you for the extensive consideration you gave this case, or how to explain how it solved it so seamlessly, but your time and effort does not go unnoticed by me. 

Okay, so maybe he fluffs it up a bit more than the dreadful bullet-point list descriptions required by the Deputy Chief and the Director and SWAT Team justification reports. Just so it doesn’t look so inadequate in comparison to the man’s thesis-paper-length email he sent to aide Hotch and his team. The passion he has for his work leaps off the page, but it was a lot -- and if the old man put that much dedication into a basic FBI correspondence email, then he was probably used to it being a thankless effort. 

Hotch sends the reply, and continues with his work. He always takes a bulk of the paperwork, so his team can go home and rest and recharge. He needs them at their best for each case, and if that means he spends a couple hours longer after when they finish a case, it is worth every minute. But this time, once he finishes, he gets to take the coveted time off as well. 

It’s as he’s finishing up, everything stacked neatly and ready to be dropped at records, in the mailroom, Strauss’s office, the director’s, and he’s about to log off his laptop that he sees a surprise -- Dr. Reid replied to him, again.

It’s much more brief this time.

Agent Hotchner,

I’m so glad I was able to help you. 

You are one of the only agents to reach out and tell me how the case went after my consultation, and I’m very grateful to know that my information actually helped your team catch the killer. I know I tend to spout facts at random, but I do have methods to my madness and it’s such a nice change to correspond with someone who understands that. 

My services are always at your disposal. Anytime. Whatever I can do to help.

Sincerely, Dr. Spencer Reid

Hotch types out a brief reply. Thanking him for his offer, for lending him his expertise, and letting him know in not so many words --

I’ll have to take you up on that. 

He’d be a fool not to. Someone with that much knowledge and the ability to connect it all in the way Dr. Reid had in the span of an hour? He could be a real asset to the BAU, as a permanent consultant, even through email correspondence. 

He sends the reply just as he stands to leave. Turning off his office light, and his chest feels lighter for the interaction. For giving the professor that sense of assurance that what he had to say did in fact do some real good. Hotch even finds himself smiling softly, sadly, that he has also found a little bit of solace in helping another lonely old man across the country find a sense of purpose that night. Who was working late, as well, despite it being the end of the week. Speaking to not much waiting for him back at home, in whatever shape ‘home’ takes for the man. But Hotch can relate to that, too. Jack is at Jessica’s until the morning, and there is nothing at his apartment to greet him but silence and bare walls and memories he’d rather not dote on. Maybe this Dr. Spencer Reid is in a similar boat, finding comfort in his work when he can. He certainly seems to, with the amount of time he’s poured into his doctorates and degrees. In the number of departments he runs and monitors. 

Hotch can’t help but feel a connection, a companionship between empty offices. Thousands of miles apart, but maybe -- possibly -- at least similar in that aspect.

Not so alone, even if only for a brief moment.

-

(tbc...)

-

Tagged list: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: “It’s a New Day”: THR Drama Actress Roundtable

THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER: Gillian Anderson had been dreading this. A tripod had arrived at her home in the U.K., along with a mess of lights and, really, just the thought of having to sit through an hour-plus on Zoom had her practically reeling. But then the woman who stuns as Margaret Thatcher in the most recent season of Netflix’s The Crown got talking — about pigeonholing and pay equity, about grieving and giving oneself over — and soon she didn’t want to stop talking. And neither did anyone else — The Queen’s Gambit‘s Anya Taylor-Joy, Pose‘s Mj Rodriguez, Genius: Aretha‘s Cynthia Erivo, WandaVision’s Elizabeth Olsen and Ratched‘s Sarah Paulson — at THR’s annual (virtual) Drama Actress Roundtable.

Let’s start easy. Complete this sentence: On set, I’m the one who is most likely to be …

GILLIAN ANDERSON Hiding in a corner. (Laughter.)

ANYA TAYLOR-JOY Pacing whilst moving my hands like this (waving above) trying to figure out what it is that I’m doing.

SARAH PAULSON Bossing everyone around.

ELIZABETH OLSEN Probably trying to make the crew laugh.

At the same time, you’re also inhabiting characters for long stretches and often they require you to go to dark or heavy places. What happens when a director yells, “Cut”? Do they come home with you?

MJ RODRIGUEZ I try to separate myself from Blanca as much as possible, especially [because we’re] dealing with immense trauma. So, when I go home, it’s Michaela Jaé going home, and I bring Blanca to the set. It’s easier that way because it can weigh on you otherwise and wash off on your family.

TAYLOR-JOY I wish I had as much control over it. For me, there are some characters that you can very easily snap in and out of and then there are other ones like Beth in The Queen’s Gambit. I’d worked back-to-back on two projects with one day off in between, so by the time I got to filming the show, I was exhausted and there was no energy to create a barrier. And that was potentially the toughest thing about the show, because it was a wonderful experience as an actor to be able to not have to reach for any emotion, but then you also have to go through the psychological warfare of figuring out, “Why do I feel so awful in the morning?” Like, “What is happening?” And then you go, “Oh, it’s not my feelings,” but I have to sit in them all day and I have to be aware enough to go, “You are not depressed, the character is depressed, and at some point that will leave you.” But I do think a bath every single night — being able to have the visual representation of washing yourself clean of something — helps.

OLSEN Regardless of what exactly the day requires of you, emotionally, you’re just tired. And so you try to be patient and professional and kind, and then when you go home, that’s when your fuse is just … smaller. (Laughter.)

TAYLOR-JOY You should date us, we’re fabulous.

CYNTHIA ERIVO I did, it was a real ugly cry. After playing [Harriet Tubman in the 2019 film], I went straight to see my mother in London and I don’t know what happened, but I just broke. You know the visual representation of shattering glass? That was what was happening to me. All the stuff I had to dig through to play her, all that heartbreaking stuff didn’t leave me when I finished, and it took time to just dissipate. And it was the same with Aretha — unfortunately, the pandemic hit when we were in the middle of shooting, so I couldn’t completely get rid of her during the six-month hiatus, and then I had to go right back into playing her. And it’s little things, like mannerisms, that stick with you. The lilt in her voice when she’s speaking to people. Like, that’s not me but I was stuck with that for a bit. And I was recording an album at the same time, so there was no space between one and the other. It took me a while before I could listen to an Aretha song again.

ANDERSON I certainly had that experience doing X-Files for nine seasons. I had a good couple of mini breakdowns during that, and at the end, could not talk about it, could not see it, could not see pictures, could not. I needed to immerse immediately in theater in another country. And then after a while, I was able to embrace it again, but when I started to embrace it, it was almost like I separated myself so much that I was looking at the image as if it was another person. When you immerse yourself so entirely as we can and we do for such long periods of time, there’s not going to be no consequence to that. Of course, there’s going to be consequence to that.

TAYLOR-JOY May I pose a question to the group?

Please do.

TAYLOR-JOY It’s so wonderful hearing you two talk about this, because I’ve always felt really crazy for the depressions that you go into after you leave a character and not being able to necessarily connect with yourself. And I’m really curious to hear what your relationship is with something being seen. Because when I first started working, I convinced myself that filmmaking was a very private practice with a private group of people and that no one was ever going to see it. And I thought I’d grow out of that, and I haven’t. Every project I have to sit myself down about two months after it’s finished and go, “People are going to see this and have access to it whenever they want.” How do you guys work [handle that]? Because for Queen’s Gambit, I had to go through a grieving period. It was grief, genuinely, to think, “Oh goodness, this thing that I loved so much is not mine anymore.”

ANDERSON I had that experience after doing Blanche in Streetcar [Named Desire] here in the U.K. and then in New York.

OLSEN I saw your last performance in New York. You were fabulous.

PAULSON Fucking phenomenal.

ANDERSON I felt like I’d lost my best friend. I was grieving. Some friends of mine in New York had a brunch for me the weekend after [I finished my run], and I arrived like a complete wreck. It was so profound. I also knew it was unlikely I was going to do it again because I knew that I’d probably lose my mind. I got really close. Like, I’d survived by the skin of my teeth and if I did it again out of ego or attachment or not wanting to let her go, there would be consequences. So I knew it was the end, and it was so sad.

ERIVO Do you know what’s so crazy? I listen to you and I’m like, “Oh my God, that’s what was happening to me during The Color Purple.” It was the last show and I started grieving in the show, knowing that it was coming to an end. There’s one last song and I couldn’t get through it. And then the show ends and I buckled under the sadness of it. But there was no way I could have continued playing Celie on that stage. It [had been] 14 months and I had to let her go. The line between me and her had disappeared. But to answer your question, Anya, I’ve never had an issue with people seeing things. I usually have an issue seeing it after it’s done.

PAULSON This happened when I did Marcia Clark [for The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story]. I felt a profound connection to her and I felt protective of her, and the experience had been so tectonic plate-shifting for me, both as a performer and as a human, and I thought, “If I watch it, I’m going to pick apart everything.” She was left-handed, so every time I use my right hand, I’m going to think, “God damn it, why did they use that?” So, the only way to protect myself from that is to detach from what the world will experience with it. And I’ve maintained that for a long time now — I really don’t watch [things I’m in] because I don’t have the strength, first of all, to bear the sight of my face and, also, I find it really confronting. The preciousness of the thing you were creating with these other people is what I want to be the indelible thing for me and not how it was edited.

TAYLOR-JOY Mm-hmm.

PAULSON All that does is make me furious because I don’t have the power to go in and go, “Hi, um, could you choose take six? It’s infinitely better.” (Laughter.) And when you don’t have that ability and you’re at the mercy of someone else’s opinion of what is the finest work that you’ve done, which doesn’t always line up with what you feel, it’s really jarring and you feel so powerless to do anything about it. So, I have to just sage it all out and let my experience be the only thing that governs the way I feel about it.

RODRIGUEZ When the first two seasons of Pose came out, I didn’t watch them at first because I was just so nervous about how the world would receive it. It was a story that a lot of people haven’t gotten to see, and it was a whole bunch of trans women of color finally getting their shot. It’s a lot of responsibility. And on top of that, it’s a story that’s filled with trauma and things that a lot of us trans women have gone through, so it was hard for me to watch all of those things back.

Gillian, in your career you’ve also been a champion for pay equity. But even as you were promoting a book you co-authored on female empowerment a few years ago, you acknowledged that you were nervous speaking up about being paid less than your male co-star. What do you think you were scared of, and how have the conversations for you changed since?

ANDERSON I just need to point out that I first fought for pay equity way back when it was audacious by anybody’s standards, because I was a nobody when we started to do that series. But when I really spoke up about it was when it happened again, four or five years ago, after the career I’d already had post-X-Files. We were going back to do another season and Fox came to me to offer, I don’t know, a 10th of what my co-star [David Duchovny] was being offered. That was the point where I was like, “Fuck this. I’m actually going to talk about this [publicly].” And since then, it hasn’t really come up. I mean, I haven’t worked with a lot of men, so that hasn’t been an issue. (Laughs.) I’m certainly tuned to it, and were it something now, I’d address it. But I have so much admiration for anyone who stands up for their right either to be paid or to be hired, period. And look, they weren’t going to fire me on The X-Files. The stakes weren’t that high. I put my foot down, not because the stakes weren’t high, but if they were going to fire me, some people were going to have some things to say about that. It’s very different for a young woman going into a job situation with a boss who’s overbearing and asking for a pay raise.

Sure, you had leverage.

ANDERSON Yeah.

For the rest of you, when have you spoken up in your careers?

ERIVO I mean, the obvious is I’m a Black woman, and that has a lot to do with how you’re paid, how you’re hired, if you’re hired, the way you’re hired — it affects everything. I’m lucky enough to have a team behind me that is brave enough to ask the questions I’d like asked: What I’m being paid compared to the leading man in the show, or if I’m being paid a lot less, whether or not they are willing to come up so it becomes equal. And about little things in my contract that just make it easier to exist on a set. For me, it’s about having the guts to stick with it and to keep asking and keep fighting. And there are definitely times where you’re like, “I am so exhausted from asking the same thing.” Like, if we could please have this makeup artist with me because usually there are no Black makeup artists on a set and you’re the only one who needs one, and I’ve had to have that fight every single time I’ve gone onto a set: “I need to hire these two people because they are the only people that understand how to do my face or my hair.” It isn’t about vanity, it’s about making sure that whoever I’m playing is represented in the right way because they understand how to work with my skin tone and my hair. But you keep sticking with it because it’s not just me having my way, it’s me being able to employ two other people. And then maybe I’m asking, “Can we have a DP who understands lighting that works on my skin tone?” So it’s constantly being OK with asking the questions. And there is a bit of fear, like, “Am I going to be seen as difficult?” And yes, there are times where I’ve had someone say they’ve heard I was difficult, but usually, it’s because I’ve asked a question that will make for a better surrounding or a better show. And if I keep asking the questions and if other ladies like myself keep asking the questions, and we keep trying to better our spaces, it just becomes the norm — because at some point it has to just become the norm.

Elizabeth, I believe you had a saying in your house growing up, “No is a full sentence.” When do you find you use it?

OLSEN I use it a lot. (Laughs.) I use it when I’m on set. I mean, I want to be a part of every department when I’m on set. I want to understand the schedule. I want to understand everything. I produced a TV show [Sorry for Your Loss] that didn’t get too much light of day because it was on Facebook, which, whatever … but as a producer on it, it was really important for me to be a voice of everything you’re saying, Cynthia, and have heads of departments feel like and look like the freakin’ world. And just from having a taste of that for two seasons, I can’t [go back]. So when I go to do Dr. Strange 2 in England, I guess I use it when I just can’t shake it even though [the production is] so much bigger than me. I don’t know, my opinions are vast and everyone hears them, from the first AD to the EP. I think I’m like a representative of anyone having a hard time on set. … (Laughs.)

PAULSON You’re the Equity rep, I love it.

OLSEN Oh my God. (Laughter.)

When you think about your careers, is there someone else’s that you look at and go, “Ooh, yeah, I’d love that”?

OLSEN Gillian’s, Sarah’s …

ERIVO Yeah, Sarah, you’re that for me. You’re fucking incredible.

PAULSON You saying that to me makes me want to cry because sometimes you feel like you’re doing this in a bubble and you don’t even know if anything you’re doing ever has any meaning or impact to anyone.

ERIVO It does. From my heart, it does. And I hope I get to work with you one day.

PAULSON I’d give my eyeteeth. (Laughs.) For me, it’s Gillian — somebody being on a TV program for a long time that’s wildly successful and then retreats to another country to be onstage, to reconnect yourself to the very things that inspired you and made you want to be a part of this. It all gets very confusing in terms of how to navigate [this business]because you do want to make a living, but you also want to follow your heart. And there does come a time where you can become quite depleted from the constant output without any input. And if you’re a woman of a certain age, which I certainly am, I feel like I’ve got one foot on one window frame and I’ve got the other one over here and I’m just trying to insist that they stay open for as long as possible. And some of that is beyond my control, but when I look at Gillian’s career I just go, “Well, I want that.”

ANDERSON Thank you for saying that. On the one hand, I feel like there is some degree of design, but I’ve also never really gone after things. And when I finished with X-Files, I didn’t know if I wanted to be on a set again ever. So aside from having grown up in the U.K. and wanting to go back, I knew it would take time before I could, if I was going to. And in London, you could move between theater and TV, and that was always my dream. But every actor has the thing that they’d want more than the thing that they have, and I’m a cinephile, and so I [wonder], “Why do I keep doing TV? All I want to do is do film.” And I’m still doing TV. (Laughs.) But I’ve had such amazing opportunities that, coming from Scully, I even questioned people, like, “Why are you offering this to me? What makes you think that I can do this?” I’ll also say that as soon as you have kids, kids are the priority. So, I say to people, “I’m gonna be such a pain in the ass for you to hire. But if you think I’m this person, I’m gonna need to work during this period of time and then have time with my kids. And it’s going to be expensive for you. If you are willing to do that, then I’m your girl, and if you’re not, you need to find somebody else.”

Anya, Queen’s Gambit became a global juggernaut. How have your opportunities and choices changed? Is there pressure to strike while the iron is hot?

TAYLOR-JOY I think I’ve always followed character and only recently did I start following directors as well, but it’s always been about, “Do I feel like I’m the right person to tell this story? Do I think I can tell this story correctly?” And if you look at something like Queen’s Gambit, it was not supposed to be the white-hot show; it’s a show about a girl that plays chess for seven hours, but I felt so compelled to tell that story. So, it sounds cheesy, but I really just keep following my heart. OK, wait, I take that back. Something I’m also learning is that you give yourself to this person for three to six months, and I never used to think about this before, but now I start thinking, “Am I ready to give up my life for this person? Do I need to tell this story so badly that I’m going to do that?” I try not to think about what other people will think, because it’s your life at the end of the day. And as we all know, you’re that [character] every hour of the day, and when you go home it’s difficult to let go of them, so you have to really love them.

Mj, you’ve talked about how significant this show was for you and for the visibility of the trans community. How have the opportunities being presented to you post-Pose changed?

RODRIGUEZ In the middle of the third season, I started figuring out my worth, and it’s scary. I was nervous. I didn’t expect to actually book my next job after Pose.

ERIVO I did.

PAULSON We all did.

RODRIGUEZ And see, that’s my insecurity and that’s something I have to fix. I didn’t think it was possible. To get an opportunity like Pose and have myself centered in the story and to end it with hope, and then to get another opportunity with an iconic actress [an Apple TV+ comedy co-starring Maya Rudolph] was surreal. But if I’m still feeling the need for protection as far as my Blackness, my Latina-ness and my trans-ness go, that means there is more work to be done.

Are there doors still not open to the rest of you? Parts you’d love to play if only Hollywood would see you that way?

PAULSON No one has asked me to do a comedy, and I’m a little frustrated about that.

ERIVO And you’re funny as fuck.

PAULSON I spend a lot of time in these worlds where I’m either running or crying or screaming or playing a real person and trying to get their physicality, and I’d really like to do a nice road picture with me and a couple of chicks.

ANDERSON Ooh, I’ll go with you!

PAULSON How about all of us just in a road movie — like, get a Winnebago and let’s go?

ERIVO I’m down.

RODRIGUEZ Yeah, count me in.

ANDERSON I’m 53, Sarah, and I’ve really only been offered comedy in the last three years of my life, and I don’t think that’s because I’m any funnier than I used to be. I think a lot of it is that people just couldn’t fathom it, whether it was that Scully was still in their minds or it was someone else, because I’ve played a lot of dark characters, too. And so they just weren’t coming. And then came [Netflix comedy] Sex Education — and I passed when it first came to me because I didn’t think it was right. It was my partner who proverbially dug it out of the trash.

ERIVO I’ve yet to see a Call Me by Your Name for a Black woman, I have yet to see a piece that allows a woman of color to be sensual and soft and loving and be loved. I’ve just not seen it, and I desperately want to experience that, just because I want to be able to be in that space of vulnerability and lilt. I really want to do that. And that hasn’t come my way. A comedy hasn’t come my way either.

RODRIGUEZ Same. It’s been so hard when it comes to trans women being loved in a sensual way, and I’d love to do something like that.

Elizabeth and Anya, to Sarah’s point, Hollywood likes to keep actors in a lane. How have you avoided that kind of pigeonholing in your careers to date?

TAYLOR-JOY I’ve been saved from a lot of things in my life from pure innocence and naivete, genuinely. My first movie was called The Witch, I got a script immediately afterward that was about, you guessed it, a witch, and I figured, “Wow, why do they want to see me do this again?” So, I was immediately like, “Can I not do anymore witch movies, please?” And my agent was like, “OK. Sure, whatever you say.” I wonder how many people agree with me here because I certainly want to please, but in order to please, I don’t have to give up myself, and actually it’s more important to please myself than it is to please anybody else. I’m giving my heart, my body, my soul, everything to this character, I’m not going to do something because somebody wants me to do it. That doesn’t make any sense and, also, it makes me miserable and then I can’t do my best work. And so if I feel the opportunities that are being given to me aren’t the right ones, then I have to stick my neck out and go, “Hey, I think I could maybe do this, if you’ll give me the opportunity to try.”

How about you, Elizabeth?

OLSEN [In the beginning,] I was just trying so hard to not be put in a box that that’s what was guiding my choices. I knew that I didn’t want to be an actor who was thought of as “youthful and beautiful” and whatever that attachment people like to put onto young women, and so I did everything in my power not [to be seen as] that. But I didn’t have my own pillars of why I wanted to do things beyond just the character. That started to solidify only in the last five years. So I made a lot of odd decisions [after theater school at NYU] because I didn’t know enough about film and the machine of it. Right, Sarah? You were there for that time. We were in Martha Marcy May Marlene, and I remember someone asked me, “You had Sarah Paulson with you, didn’t you know it could be a film people saw?” And I was like …

PAULSON You were like, “Who the fuck is Sarah Paulson?” (Laughter.)

OLSEN No, but independent cinema to me was just, like, going to Quad Cinema in New York and seeing a movie. The theater world is all I understood. So I feel like a moron for going back to theater only once in 10 years. And this conversation with Gillian right now is inspiring.

In light of Elizabeth’s concern about the trap of being perceived as “youthful and beautiful,” how would you all complete this sentence: I wish our male counterparts also had to …

OLSEN Deal with lighting and hair and makeup before doing press. I don’t know what I’m doing.

ERIVO Deal with people believing that you’ve lost your sexuality after the age of 30.

TAYLOR-JOY Had an understanding of what it was like to walk into a room and sometimes have to enforce yourself for people to take you seriously. That ability to just walk into a room and go, “I am valid, I own my space and everybody respects me” — it would be good if they knew what it was like to not have that.

ERIVO And on the flip side, to not have to deal with walking into the room and trying to make sure people aren’t scared of you when you get there.

What do you all know now that you wish you could have told yourself at the beginning of your career?

PAULSON I would like to have told myself that I didn’t need to excise myself from the experience. I was very focused on looking at other actors who had careers that I admired when I was first starting out and wondering what it was about them that made it possible for them to be chosen or employed and I’d often try, in an audition or a social setting, to mimic what I imagined was the desired effect, taking me out of the scenario. And there’s this beautiful Martha Graham-to-Agnes de Mille letter that I used to keep in a dressing room any time I was doing a play, about how there is only one you in all of time and space and that what you see and how you experience things is unique to you. And if you block it, the world will not have it. And as a young person, I thought, “Mute me, mute my opinions, my thoughts, my assessments and try to fill it with other things,” and now I think it’s the exact opposite, so I wish I had known that earlier. But I’ll take knowing it now [over] never knowing it at all.

RODRIGUEZ I would have told my younger self that my existence is worth it. When I was younger, I tried to fit into this mold of what a woman should do — you know, keep your legs crossed, always bow down to a man. But we don’t have to live in that world anymore. It’s a new day.

It is, and that’s a good place to end. Thank you all for sharing your time and your stories.

ERIVO I know we’re supposed to finish, but do you know what’s occurred to me as I’ve listened to every one of you? I remember where I was when I watched every single one of you — and I remember what I was dealing with or going through. I was watching you, Sarah, when I was shooting Aretha. I was watching you, Elizabeth, when I was in London on my own, and you, Anya, when I was in Atlanta. Mj, I remember watching a season of Pose while I was shooting The Outsider. And Gillian, I watched you when I was in a hotel with my partner outside of London. And I remember what happened. And so your performances aren’t just brilliant, your performances get to be Post-its in all of our lives, and so I thank you for that.

PAULSON That’s a very beautiful way to put it …

ANDERSON It also brings us back full circle to what Anya said at the beginning, which is, “Oh my God, I have to keep reminding myself that people are going to watch this.” But actually, thank God that people are watching it, because we’ve touched each other’s lives and numerous other people’s lives just by focusing on the thing that we love most.

TAYLOR-JOY And the importance of these conversations is the honesty, because it’s very easy for us to get locked into our own heads of this as an individual experience — “There’s something wrong with me,” or “Everybody else is doing really great and nobody else grieves their characters,” or whatever your version of that is in whatever industry you’re in. But having honest conversations with people who are willing to be vulnerable just makes me feel so much less alone.

PAULSON The next time you feel that way, text me. I’ll remind you. I’d also like to say that there’s this [perception] of women being pitted against one another and not being there for one another, and this conversation is diametrically opposed, in that what we are actually saying is that each of us has been buoyed by and inspired by the work of everyone here. So, I may not watch anything I do, but I sure as hell am watching all of you.

Press: “It’s a New Day”: THR Drama Actress Roundtable was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[dothwrites]

97, maybe? For the prompts? :)

---

#97--When you smile, I fall apart

---

Dean watches silently as Cas rolls yet another t-shirt before putting it into his suitcase. Neither of them have spoken in what feels like days but has only been several hours. Their silence isn’t angry, nor is it comfortable. Dean doesn’t bother to pretend like he isn’t watching Cas’ every move as he carefully removes every part of himself from their dorm room. 

His posters have already been taken down and rolled carefully. Cas told Dean he could sell them or throw them away, and Dean had nodded like he was agreeing, but Cas’ posters are currently taking up some prime real estate in the back of his closet, where they’ll stay for damn near forever. Cas’ pens, pencils, and other various supplies are carefully hidden in his desk, while his furniture sits, forlorn, on his side of the room. His mattress is stripped bare. The only thing which remains is for Cas to empty his drawers, which is a task becoming shorter with each shirt that disappears into his suitcase. 

With a sensation like feeling his chest rip in half, Dean watches Cas examine each drawer. He closes them with a sense of finality before he turns to his suitcase. Tight lines of tension hold his shoulders in a defensive posture as he zips the case closed. Afterward, he continues facing away from Dean, his gaze fixed on the blank wall. His fingers curl into the stiff fabric of his suitcase, but he doesn’t speak. 

That task falls to Dean. 

“So, I guess this is it, huh?” Dean’s voice is too loud even to his ears, harsh and discordant in the silence of the room. “E.T. goes home.”

“Not particularly,” Cas answers. He keeps his face turned away, giving no indication to his mood. “It’s not home. Not really.” 

“It’s not stopping you from going back.” Dean knows his voice is surly and hurt, but he can’t stop himself. Maybe if he hadn’t held all of this in, Cas wouldn’t be leaving. 

“We’ve talked about this. I have to.” 

Dean clenches his jaw and says nothing. All of his arguments--Your parents never cared about you, what difference does it make whether you go home or not, you shouldn’t throw away your future for people who don’t give a shit about you--have already fallen on deaf ears. 

What tortures him are the unspoken arguments, the ones that have never been spoken aloud except to an empty room. 

Please don’t leave me. 

I love you. 

Dean bites his lower lip to keep those words stoppered within him. He won’t say it, not now. Those words are like blackmail. If he said then, then he’d be no better than Cas’ shitty family, using ties of loyalty and obligation to force him into a decision. If Cas doesn’t decide to stay on his own merits, then Dean doesn’t want it at all. And Cas hasn’t decided to stay. 

Three years, two of them as unlikely roommates, countless all-nighters and drunken binges, several extremely dicey situations, some of which made Dean think that maybe his interest in Castiel wasn’t as unrequited as he originally thought, and it all ends here. On an unremarkable Wednesday afternoon, with Cas’ bags packed and them waiting for the Uber that will take Cas away to the airport and out of Dean’s life. 

“It’s not forever,” Cas finally says. “I’ll be back.” 

“To visit,” Dean says, unwilling to be bought with pretty lies. 

“To stay,” Cas insists. Dean wishes he would turn around. Cas is a difficult guy to read on the best of days, harder when all Dean has to go on is the shift of his shoulders. 

“Yeah. Whatever.” 

The second Cas got the call from his brother, Dean knew it was over. Cas’ father was dying and Cas’ presence was expected. He wouldn’t be able to finish the semester and would be forced to take an incomplete. His scholarships were in jeopardy, his re-admission status in peril. Cas had told him all of this and somehow managed to sound hopeful about this whole thing, but Dean had heard the unspoken truth underneath the words.

It was over. Cas wasn’t coming back.  

“Dean.” 

Dean looks up and meets brilliant blue eyes. Now, as always, he’s taken aback by their hue and the emotion which shines out of them. For all the times he’s accused Cas of being a robot, when you get down to it, Cas doesn’t have a damn poker face. He can keep his expression as stoic as he wants, but those baby blues betray him every single time. Right now, his eyes are welling over with an overabundance of emotion. 

Dean’s breath catches in his throat with a painful hitch. He can’t do this right now. Not when his heart is ripping in two and Cas is standing less than an inch away from him. “Cas,” he says, trying for jovial and failing miserably, “your Uber is gonna be here soon, man.” 

“That’s why I have to do this now.” 

Dean opens his mouth and closes it, like a particularly stupid goldfish. For all of his reticence and silence, Cas has a habit of dropping hard truths right out of the blue, like the time they were in sophomore year and a little bit drunk and Cas grabbed his shoulder and stared him down with all the intensity of a slightly tipsy robot. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Cas had said, his normally rough voice gone subsonic. “We share a profound bond,” he continued, over Dean’s protests. 

So Dean’s a little leery now that Cas is looking at him like he hears the ticking clock and that he realizes this is very much a go big or go home moment. 

“I know that you don’t believe me, but I will be back.” Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Cas steamrollers directly over his objections by cupping Dean’s cheek. His hands are huge against Dean’s face, sturdy and warm. They’re hands Dean could trust, hands Dean wants to catch him every time he stumbles. 

“This isn’t what I want. Dean, I know...” Cas falters, his thumb rubbing at the soft skin underneath Dean’s eye. “I know it’s a shitty time to do it, and I would understand if you tell me to leave and don’t want to talk to me anymore, but I...” 

Dean can’t ever recall a time when Castiel had to grope for words. It’s happened twice in the past thirty seconds. Then Cas looks at him, his eyes like blue steel, and Dean gets ready for some hard truths to be dropped on him like an anvil on Wil. E. Coyote. 

“You are the best person I’ve ever met. Everything about you--your kindness, your humor, your generosity--Dean, you’re my best friend.” 

Dean’s heart sinks at that, but apparently Cas isn’t done dropping anvils. “And it’s stupid to want anything more, but I do, Dean. Dean, I want...” 

Three times now that he’s rendered Cas speechless, but Cas has never been one to lose gracefully. Cas renders him speechless, thoughtless, weightless, and dozens of other ‘lesses’ as he leans forward and presses his lips gently to Dean’s. 

It isn’t until Cas starts to pull away that Dean regains any semblance of rational thought. The thought of Cas leaving him is incomprehensible, unthinkable. Dean curls his fingers in Cas’ shirt and pulls him closer. 

Cas’ lips are just as stupidly chapped and rough as he thought they would be, but he never could have imagined how soft they would feel underneath his. Even in his wildest fantasies, he never could have conjured up the rough, needy sound rumbling up from Cas’ throat as Dean licks across the seam of his lips. Cas opens his mouth and deepens their kiss, his fingers pushing into Dean’s hair as he pulls them closer. 

“Oh, Dean,” Cas whispers. He doesn’t move from where he’s perched atop Dean, his forehead pressing into Dean’s. “I’m so sorry it took me this long to pull my head out of my ass. If I’d been thinking correctly, I would have told you how I felt years ago.” He tilts his head to kiss Dean’s cheek.

Dean’s heart cracks. 

“You stupid idiot,” Dean says, before he takes Cas’ lips in an almost brutal kiss. “You could get so much better than me.” 

“Impossible,” Cas tells him. “I could never want anyone else other than you.” He places a soft kiss at the corner of Dean’s lips. “Every time you smile, I fall apart.” 

Dean lunges forward, wrapping Cas in a tight embrace. He wants to pull Cas into him, wants to wrap himself around Cas in such irreparable ways that Cas will never be able to scrub himself clean of Dean’s influence. 

Dean’s arms wrap around Cas’ shoulders, as he grabs at the short hair at the back of Cas’ head. He licks into Cas’ mouth, determined to get to the root of him. He’s just pushing forward, Cas softening to accept him, when Cas’ phone rings. 

It’s like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. Dean pulls back, staring in muted horror at Castiel’s pocket. 

His phone is ringing. Cas’ Uber is here. 

“Cas,” Dean says helplessly, pulling Cas towards him. Their kiss is messy and desperate, teeth and tongues clashing as their fingers yank and tug. “Cas, don’t go, please don’t go--” 

Cas’ hands frame Dean’s face, forcing Dean to look at him. “I’m coming back,” Cas promises. He grips Dean’s hair almost to the point of pain, but it keeps Dean’s mind from shattering. “Dean, you have to believe me. I’m coming back.” 

He stares at Dean for one long, eternal moment, before he kisses him. Dean melts into Cas, clutching him so tightly that it’s a mystery as to how Cas winds up at the door, but he does. Dean leans towards him, feeling empty and cold. 

Cas turns and looks at him. A dozen expressions cross his face as he allows his eyes to roam over Dean one last time. A thousand words swell in Dean’s chest--Don’t go, come back, don’t forget me, I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU--

But then the door closes and Cas is gone. 

Dean collapses back on Cas’ bed, its mattress scratchy and uncomfortable without a covering or sheets. He curls into himself, knees pressed to his chest, and settles in to wait. 

---

Three months later, Dean is awoken by the sound of the door creaking. He groans and shoves his face deeper into his pillow. “Benny, if you need your shit, it can wait until tomorrow. For now, I am asleep.” He drags his comforter up over his shoulder to punctuate the statement. 

He thinks that is the end of it. That should be the end of it. Benny, while occasionally wildly inappropriate, will usually fuck off when told to fuck off. However, his hypothesis is shattered when his bed dips at the middle with the weight of someone settling onto his mattress. 

“Benny, what the fuck--” He rolls over, freezing when he sees the silhouette of the person sitting on his bed. 

Benny doesn’t have that particular level of messy bedhead. Or those shoulders, tapering down into strong arms, almost delicate wrists, and elegant fingers. Benny certainly doesn’t have a thousand yard stare that manages to pierce through him even when the lights are off and the only available source of illumination are the faint lights from the sidewalk three floors below. 

Dean chokes on nothing but air and scrambles to sit up. His heart is beating a million miles a minute as it tries to crawl through his chest and out of his mouth. 

“Cas?” he finally chokes, clutching his comforter to his chest like a quivering Victorian heroine. 

A flash of white, a grin in the darkness. A strong warm hand, a hand that Dean can trust to catch him and lead him through the world, rests on his bicep. Dean feels the heat of it through his t-shirt. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. 

[shijiujun]

NTTD is a masterpiece!!!! Spoilers below but combing through Casino Royale to No Time to Die

Q and Bond

Like we’ve all shipped 00q since Skyfall and for good reason - as Ben Whishaw said there’s affection even though between Q and 007 there’s irritation and annoyance, exasperation. And yes Q has a potential boyfriend in NTTD and ahhh still doesn’t stop me from shipping em both as an old 00q shipper.

They’re so consistent in every movie - I love Ben Whishaw’s Q and how they went from sitting in a museum looking at the painting of a sinking ship, of Q’s sassy and exasperated ‘Bond’s, and to the very last, panicked ‘James get out of there’. Although canon-wise we don’t get a lot of 00q moments but at the very least their friendship is profound and Q cares deeply for him. We don’t get to see it, going from Skyfall to Spectre to NTTD, but he must’ve been in Bond’s ears for years, and their very last hurrah together was fitting.

Q in Bond’s ears, the very last person to standing right at his back, yelling at him to get out of there, wanting to see him off the island safely and seeing probably his favorite and least favorite agent through on his last mission - that meant more to me throughout this entire franchise than anything else. Everything was just nice.

(Now time to go find all my fix-it fics and revisit some of my fave 00q ones)

Bond and Everyone Else 

Wish we had more badass Moneypenny but glad she was there nonetheless - Mallory as always playing the in between white and black, and Tanner being the flustered, stressed out admin that needs a break. Nomi, who stood equally next to Bond and accompanied him on his very last mission. And perhaps it was also fitting that Felix Leiter went out with him, earlier than he, but since the start they stood shoulder to shoulder, a man Bond was glad to call his friend.

And these five movies gave Bond the dysfunctional family he never wanted but had to some extent - after Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace he truly was, even if he thought he was, never alone. Quite an anti-thesis to the suave, solo Bond that seems to we had until Skyfall. And contrary to the belief that he would die alone without anyone to remember him, he does. He truly does. And they are the ones who count.

Bond and Madeleine + Matilde

I thought I’d hate this token wife and kid and happy ending thing but I don’t. I really don’t. I love the different side we got to see for Madeleine, and Matilde was hilariously cute in several ways. It didn’t feel forced, like Casino Royale’s kind offff did. I love that they gave her characterization and that she was always generous with her emotions - of her longing for Bond on the train, of her anger, of how tough she was, and at the end.

Bond + The Villain + Safin

The only thing that kind of gets me is that Safin kind of came out of nowhere, doesn’t actually have much beef with Bond, and I can’t really tell what his obsession with Madeleine and Matilde is. I guess the moral of the story is that it’s always the same old story with villains right and that there’s always another one of Safin, but it’s almost hilarious how Safin doesn’t really have it coming for Bond. Blofeld’s antics were... just antics, and it’s almost like there was no true villain for this entire story, which is almost poetic.

Pacing + Other Things

We’ve come full circle from Casino Royal, Quantum of Solace to Skyfall (where I feel like Daniel Craig’s Bond really flourished) and then Spectre and No Time to Die - The storytelling is consistent throughout 15 years of run time and I’m glad we went from the cacophony of betrayal and trust issues, emo sadass i’m-gonna-die-alone vibes in every movie.

To be honest I thought it was going to be drawn out and cliched and it was to some extent but in all the nice ways - Daniel Craig really sang his swan song with NTTD and we had it all - the sort of happy ending he got with the love of his life and leaving behind a child, a part of him, with a strange professional but the closest thing to a family he ever had with Mallory and Tanner and Moneypenny, Q. He had the hero’s shot in the sunset at his very last moments, and not wanting to die but realizing at the moment that it was, to some degree, the end he was waiting for if he had no other choice. 

He got to die as 007 - and it was never just a number to him, and I’m glad he got to die with it. He got to die after using up all his shiny gadgets from Q, after saying goodbye to the love of his life, after having at least one day and night as a normal, actual family with Madeleine and Matilde. 

Did I think his death was necessary? I think it was fitting. I’d loved for him to get the happy ending truly, but this was a fitting way to go and as one review said “this eliminates any possibility of him having to come back and do a role he’s been wanting to drop since forever”. It was so fitting. His death was almost a quiet, peaceful and calm one, but at the same time he literally did go out with a bang as he probably thought he always would - he had both, and he had regrets but it truly was time and he was content with that.

Humour was on point too - softened Bond around the edges, made him seem not so emo and destructive (like he was at the beginning of Skyfall) anymore. A good mellowing out. 

I also loved that they came back to the betrayal trope but didn’t go too much into it because we’ve had that for every single 007 movie so far. Loved that Ana de Armas came out as a hilariously anxious but also weirdly confident and exceptionally competent interjection to the whole movie - Bond gets to work with gorgeous women all the time and he’s almost slept with all so it’s so nice to see Paloma and Nomi like going ‘nopeeeeee gotta do ma job cool thanks’ - no standard Casino Royale situation.

(I’m still amused that he went to infiltrate the island with like a navy knit sweater and a thin white shirt damn man)

Plenty of regrets of course - if he didn’t let Madeleine go five years ago he would have gotten five more years of family time with her and Matilde but I suppose trouble would have come knocking sooner or later, and I’m glad he had some soft tender moments with the sunlight behind him - we didn’t get much or any of these in the first three movies. 

NTTD was softer in all the right ways and every single loose end was tied up. I’d have loved for some mention of Judy Dench M or that pitbull figurine thing, but every box was checked, from Vesper to Felix to everyone else.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Heroic Incompetence.”

Wrote this at the suggestion of an anonymous reader :) Hope you all like it and have a great day :)

He sat next to her on the bed, legs crossed and a book in his lap. Wearing only shorts and a T- shirt, he looked significantly smaller than he usually did, either in his uniform or in his trademark jacket and jeans. It also made him look significantly younger with his scruffy blond hair sticking up in all directions. And now that he had finally shaved and gotten some sleep, he was looking even better than he had when he found her.

Her perception probably wasn’t helped by the stack of graphic novels he had sitting beside his right knee, most of them star wars themed all of them sci-fi. He had taken the day off to sit with her since the drugs were still not cleared from her system, and krill had demanded that she rest.

She had only been a little surprised when he insisted that she take his bed, which he argued was much bigger and more comfortable than the crew quarters. Also he had a TV.

She was surprised he would be so brash about something like that, but she supposed after almost losing her he would be a little more lax on their secret. She sighed deeply half napping half awake as he flipped through his books. She had a sneaking suspicion that he also wanted to be close by her to monitor her mental state after what had happened. She didn’t blame him, though at this point it was all just seeming like some sort of horrible dream.

She felt disconnected, far away, and her only reminder that it had actually happened came from the silver vambrace on her am  covering the spot where her carapace would never grow again 

Eventually she cracked an eye and glanced down at him.

He was looking at her with a concerned expression.

She sighed, “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you were thinking.”

“Well stop trying to read my mind then.”

The two of them grew quiet, “So what did I miss while I was gone…. How did you find me, what happened?”

He sat up, puffing out his chest rather proudly, “Well I have you know I was a stoic badass the entire time. After I clawed my way out of the sand, I marched across the desert with single minded determination not an ounce of hopelessness or self pity ever entering my mind.”

***

One month prior

-

It was Hopeless!

He had never felt self pity this profound in his entire life! He had lost her1 He had been so close to finding her and he had gone and lost her! He was hopeless and pathetic. If he had only just held on for a little longer than maybe he would have been able to save her. His feet burned in the scorching desert sand and he staggered aimlessly from one side to the next burning up in the scorching heat. His was so tired, and his throat was so dry, like sand. He felt like choking, a few times he staggered to his knees and screamed at the yellow green sky in anger and frustration,but no one ever hard him.

He had to get her back, somehow he had to get her back.

The desert sand was awash with light blue, like the sky and it seemed to be the same in all directions he looked, every dune and hill just like the last, yet the implant in his arm told him he was heading in the right direction. How long had he chased her before he had fallen into the sand. He just wanted to lay down for a minute, lay down for a minute and scream, but he had to keep going.

He pushed himself up the nearest sand dune hoping beyond hope that he would see the city over the next rise.

That is when he heard it, just from behind him.

The roaring of shuttle engines.

He turned on the spot down to stare at the shuttles. He wanted to yell  and wave his arms, to run to them and beg them to help find Sunny, but NO, he couldn’t, he couldnt be like this.

Kicking himself internally for his weakness, he straightened up and forced himself to focus as the shuttles landed. He was going to find Sunny, he was going to find her and bring her back no matter the cost. There was nothing, not in this universe, not in heaven nor hell that could stop him.

Even if he had to fight angels and shake hands with the devil.

The shuttles landed, and he marched forward head down brows furrowed downward like thunderheads brushing past the marines and onto the shuttle. He was going to to find whoever had one this and they were going to pay.

***

Sunny snorted and raised a brow over one eye, “Oh really.”

“Damn straight.” He said, setting down his book and turning to look at her. He had a shallow cut across one cheek given to him during a fight in some not so distant past, but his smile was as bright as ever.

He leaned forward, crawling over on hands and knees to lay next to her resting his hands behind his head.

“So after your stoic badassery in the desert, what happened.”

He rolled onto his side to look at her, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a jaunty smile. “Well, I admit that I was a little bit down, obviously. I mean what does someone do without the best part of their life.” He waved a hand dismissively, “But I persevered. I kept my emotions in check sure not a tear would escape past me until I found you, and even then, only if I was too late.” he looked at herein that moment very seriously, “You know, because real men don’t cry.”

Sunny just smirked.

***

One month Prior

-

He couldn't stop crying. While he could suppress the racking sobs that threatened to tear him in half, nothing he tried could prevent the tears from rolling down his face on hot and heavy streams. Where was it all coming from! He was positive that by now his entire body should be nothing more than a mummified corpse with all of the tears he had shed, yet they just would not stop, likely draining down through his sinuses and reabsorbing back into his body for another go.

Still, the collar of his shirt was soaked, and his face was sticky with tears eyelashes crusted with salt.

His head pounded.

Ever since she had vanished, he just couldn’t keep his emotions in check. He admitted to himself that he often played fast and loose with his own feelings, but this was just ridiculous. Holding himself together for the crew was all he could do though beyond that he was a quivering mess, hiding on the bridge in the observation room, or in his own room where no one could see him.

Now he was standing on the observation deck, the tears rolling down his face and into the scruffy five o clock shadow just sprouting on his cheeks and chin.

Light filtered in from behind him, and in that light, he could detect the movement of shadows, two tall shadows and one very short shadow. He knew that the were watching him, and so kept his back straight and hands clasped behind his back so as to seem hard and contemplative.

Inside, he was forcing himself to calm, forbidding the tears to fall anymore and, hopefully, dry on his face before anyone could come and speak with him. He needed to remain calm and professional. He needed to convince the others that he was in charge, and that everything would be ok.

The moment they saw him believing otherwise was the moment that it would be true. As their commanding officer…. As their admiral, he was what stood between them and hopeless defeat at the hands of their own morale.”

***

She shifted a little in her place, and he helped to adjust the pillow behind her. He sat up against the headboard, and she made the executive decision, leaning her head down to rest on his lap. He wrapped an arm around her, resting his hand on her back, while the other was leaned up against the top of the headboard where a jar of moon rocks and mars dirt sat

He stroked his fingers over the side of her cheek and she hummed softly, “So You were an emotionless badass superhero out for revenge against those who had wronged you, and in the shadows you brooded and waited as you scoured the universe for me?”

He smirked, “PRretty much.”

She hummed again deep in her throat adjusting her head against the warmth of his body, “Right…. A righteous warrior of justice. And I assume during all of this you remained in tortuous silence of our secret, unable to tell anyone of your private pain for fear of what might happen if you let something slip.”

He was quiet for a moment, and she cracked an eye to look up at him.

His one eye was very wide, like a deer caught in the headlights.

She shut her eyes and hummed.

“Yes of course, I wallowed heroically in silence my emotions bottled up, locked like a vault inside my heart with the key tossed into the darkest abyss of the ocean where no one migh find it. I couldn’t tell anyone.”

***

One Month prior

-

He had to tell someone. He had to, it was just too much to keep a secret. It was just too much for someone not to know what he was feeling. Just one person, if he could just share with one person maybe he would feel better. 

Keeping himself…. Like this was just torture…. No one could expect…

He had to do it.

Standing behind him in the darkness, he could sense Ramirez’s eyes on him, watching him.

So he turned, his eyes clear but the words heavy as lead on his tongue. The other man stared at him, his expression hard to read in the darkness.

He felt as if he was slipping out of his body, seeing himself from the outsider rather than viewing the next words he spoke from the inside as he normally should, “I...Love her Ramirez… I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

The words rolled from his tongue and spilled onto reality…. He had finally admitted it, finally admitted it to his best friend.

What would he do.

How would he react?

Staring at the man’s face, he was surprised to find that he didn't appear to be phased in the slightest. It was as if he had just told him that the earth turns, and some birds fly south for the winter. He acted as if it was the most natural predictable phenomena in the universe.

There was only a slight pressure as Ramirez squeezed his shoulder, “I know… I know.”

Adam stepped back in near surprise.

Ramirez almost rolled his eyes, “Adam you have all but SAID those words. I think everyone on the ship, or at least everyone from the original Harbinger knows by now. You guys aren’t exactly discreet about your feelings towards each other. This shouldn’t surprise you.

He sat there mouth opening and closing with surprise.

But he supposed the more he thought about it the more he had to admit Ramirez was right.

There were signs.

And he had always been bad at keeping secrets.

It made complete sense.

He dropped his head, “that obvious huh.”

“Does the moon orbit the earth?”

He took a seat dropping his head into his hands, “You must think I’m nuts.”

Ramirez sat next to him placing a hand on his shoulder, “Seriously, ‘me’ think ‘you’ crazy. Adam, c’mon, I have dated people way crazier than Sunny, and that’s a fact. No one can beat me when it comes to psycho exes.

When he didn’t respond, Ramirez placed a hand on his shoulder, “We are going to find her Adam. I promise. If anyone in this galaxy has the connections, or the know how to find her, it is you.”

He nodded.

He had to believe it, he just had to.

***

Sunny reached up wrapping her fingers through his, five to four, “A tragic hero indeed.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “You know, that's me.”

“How did you eventually find me anyway, after all, it is a big universe, and even with all your resources, it couldn’t have been easy.”

He shook his head, “No, it wasn’t. For the first few weeks we had no leads at all, but it was actually your brother who came up with the final lead that led me to you. Turns out your big brother has connections that I didn’t know about, and they led us to a fence hiding out in some grimy hotel downtown in noctropolis.”

“Oh, and how did you manage to swing all that? You and my brother went in guns blazing did you?”

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “We were a well oiled machine, a precision instrument of stealth and intimidation. No one has even been more synchronized than us. The operation could not have gone more smoothly.” 

***

About a week and a half earlier

-

They were a fucking wreck.

And this night was a wreck to go right along with it.

They were stuck in the seedy elevator of an even seedier hotel jammed up together against Kanan’s immense bulk as he was crunched against the ceiling above in the tiny elevator.

Adam grunted, his face pressed against the elevator’s interior mirror, the metal of the iron eye suit jammed into his back.

“Your fat ass broke the elevator.”

“I didn’t break it.” Kanan complained, “the Weight limit says 800 lbs.”

“They are Tesraki Kanan they LIED.”

“Well why didn’t you think of this before we got in the damn elevator. I’m not from somewhere where we have an elevator.”

Kanan shifted and he was squished further into the wall choking and gasping, “Just pry the damn door open you big lug.”

“I can’t reach.”

“Uh Fine, I’ll do it just let me….”

What followed was a very uncoordinated hustle of grumbling pushing flailing and grunting as the two maneuvered around each other in the most horrible game of twister that ever existed, with entirely to many arms, and pointy bits, until Adam was in the right position to jam the fingers of the iron-eye suit into the cracks and then pull.

The elevator groaned and the metal screeched in protest, but at some point the locking mechanism gave way and he was able to shove the elevator doors open. It was just then when Kanan could no longer hold his position and stumbled forward, knocking into Adam who, in turn burst from the elevator and flew headfirst into an unsuspecting Tesraki, who only had a moment to let off the first notes of a scream before being slammed into the wall and completely knocked out.

An explosion of towels fell to the floor around them as Adam sat up on his knees staring down at the Tesraki, completely knocked out, their tongue hanging out of their mouth.

“Shit.”

He patted the Tesraki on the cheek, “Uh wake up.” The Tesraki’s head fell to the side, tongue still lolling.

“Shit.” He said again as Kanan pried himself from the elevator nearly tripping over a towel and landing on top of the two of them for a second time. He did manage to avoid falling on them, but in his haste, to avoid doing just that, he tripped over Adam and went pitching into the floor sending up another wave of towels.

Adam glowered at him, “Are you serious right now.”

Kanan sat up rubbing his head.

“Help me fold these towels.” Adam snarled, awkwardly propping the unconscious Tesraki against the wall before grabbing a pile of fallen towels.

Kanan took one of the towels and stared at it, fiddling around for a moment.

Adam stared at him again, “You have four arms, Kanan, seriously.’

The Drev flipped him a rude gesture.

After a while they had one unconscious Tesraki, and a stack of poorly folded towels leaning heavily against the wall in an uneven pile.

Adam stood and brushed off his hands, staring down at the floppy Tesraki and their shoddy work.

“Er…. hm.” Then a grim smile split his face, “I have an idea.”

A few moments later the two of them waddled down the hall carrying stacks of towels, leaving the Tesraki to slowly slump to the floor skidding slowly down the wall with the soft brushing noise of fur.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Kanan muttered from behind his stack of towels, “I wouldn’t believe it.”

‘It’ll be fine, I promise”, he said as he raised his hand to knock on the waiting door.

***

Sunny couldn’t stop from snorting. And he stared down at her with his brows furrowed as she began to laugh, “You jest, but its true.”

She continued to laugh, and eventually he joined in with her.”

“So how about the boarding party, how did that go.”

He shrugged, “it was pretty straightforward. We found where their ship was located, deployed the gravity grapples, and then had our AI hack their airlock to open it for us. When we got inside kanan and I did a quick sweep with the marines covering us from behind. Of course you know the rest.’

She smiled a bit, “I kind of like you when your angry. That part where you smashed the saw into his foot….well I have never found you so attractive.”

The two of them laughed again.

And he leaned further back against his pillows.

The room went quiet for a moment.

She looked up at him.

“That was all a lie wasn’t it.”

“Yep.”

“You crawled out of that sand hopeless and miserable didn’t you?”

“yeah , I have to admit that I wasn’t doing too good. Kind of hard not to be hopeless in the scorching desert heat. But I did mange to pull myself together when we got back on the shuttles.”

“You cried like a baby didn’t you.”

“You would think after like an entire day of on and off tears, at some point the body wouldn’t be able to produce any more water.” He shook his head, “But no, as it turns out it just squeezes out more water while simultaneously giving you the more horrible headache you can possibly imagine. Even Waffles got tired of it after some point, and she has the patience of a saint.”

Sunny couldn’t help but laugh. Of course the thought of Adam so upset was horrible but, but there was just something so funny about it all, about him, about the way he had bounced back from all of that.”

“Let me guess, Ramirez knows?”

Adam sighed, “yeah, he knows, but he told me that the entire ship pretty much knows and to stop deluding ourselves into thinking we are good at keeping secrets.”

Sunny turned her head to look at him, “And he is just fine with this?”

“This IS Ramirez we are talking about Sunny. I could be dating the tentacle monster and he wouldn't bat an eye, probably say something about how he’s seen weirder, or talk about some guy he dated that might as well have had tentacles.”

“How about that thing with you and my brother?”

Adam snorted, “it wasn’t funny at the time, but looking back on it, the sheer incompetence that the two of us managed to pull off and STILL rescue you is absolutely astounding.”

She continued to laugh, pulling him closer in the process.

He laughed with her, and she decided once and for all that that washer favorite sound. No matter what, It was a sound she would never get tired of, and spent a few moments basking in the glow.

After a moment, she paused and sat up to lean against him nuzzling the hair on his head lightly with her cheek, “Adam?

“Yes.”

“Not to make this too serious or anything, but I just… well I need you to know you aret incompetent.”

He looked up at her eyebrow slanted slightly up, seeming surprised.

“You aren’t incompitent, you’re a hero and a warrior, and you should remember that.”

A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth, “Well how could I possibly disagree with you”

“You can’t.” She rested a hand on his, “Like you always say, It’s not stupid if it works.”

[beetlemancy]

I was very uninterested during the aeor arc and was hoping another arc would start after that I would be interesting in. I disliked Molly as a character so while I'm glad that people are happy about this I have zero emotional investment in it at all. Next episode might change my stance but right now still not feeling great.

So, let's unpack that for a sec because I'm actually kind of curious and nothing about what you said is coming from hostility unlike other asks I've been sent about this or takes I've seen, so thank you for that. Like, srsly its refreshing lol. So, because of that, please don't take what I say next personally, its really more me using this as a springboard because its been on my mind (and you did also, like, make a point to tell me about your disappointments lol)

Why do you think the Aeor arc wasn't interesting to you? For me, it was one of the MOST interesting, but I also really love exploring new places in Matt's world. I would sit for an entire month or more of lore drop/architecture description. A lot of people really have been vocal about hating the Eiselcross arc and I've had a theory that it might be because it has been slightly less RP focused, as in like between the PCs? There's been more RP walk-n-talk - like the West Wing of DnD.

I am also not a big Molly fan. I didn't like him when he was alive and I didn't like dead fanon Molly even more. But there's something really profound about the impact he had on the M9 regardless of my own personal issues with his character and his resurrection this way was so god damn poetic. I love that for the cast too! Look how happy they were! I'm curious why some people can't look past that inherent dislike and see the story for what it is, or at least enjoy the improbability of how it all played out?

I guess I have a hard time understanding like,, I dunno. I don't know how people, many people, can sit through almost 550+ hours (add another 447 for cr1) but only be 'satisfied' altogether if you personally vibe with every single hour of it? every single arc?

Like. I know I'm supposed to say that I 'understand' why people might feel disappointed, and I do when it comes to sadness the campaign is ending and that we won't get to see these characters as much outside oneshots, but I genuinely don't understand the disappointment in storylines that maybe you just don't generally enjoy when you have THAT much content to sift through.

[bored-storyteller]

How would the the dorm leaders react to a mc having a mental breakdown from stress? Please.🙇‍♀️💕

So, for convenience I divide this request into two parts (I will do it for all requests concerning all leaders), so this is the first part with the first three leaders! 🌸

Furthermore, as far as mental breakdown is concerned, in reality reactions and symptoms can be manifold, I remained on something light (if we mean the same thing). I hope you like it anyway! ❤️

13- Twisted Wonderland- Dorm Leaders x down!s/o pt. 1

Riddle Rosehearts

· Riddle is basically used to being under stress and is used to keeping people around him under stress, so he doesn't immediately notice the problem of s/o, or at least he doesn't connect to the fact that maybe they are too stressed.

· He perhaps notes that the body of s/o becomes thinner and at the same time tense. He wonders if s/o is following a proper diet and every now and then he might even scold them for not eating properly.

·It may be disadvantageous to have relationships with him in a similar situation. Just because he loves and appreciates s/o, Riddle could expect a lot from them, and between the study, the school responsibilities and also the orders and rules of the leader, life cannot be simple at all.

· In recent times, Riddle's heart may have become a little more worried when he sees s/o's eyes more dull than usual, and with heavy dark circles under their lower eyelids. But since it is the tests period he can imagine that it is because of the night study. Still, s/o should close the books at night.

All of Riddle's rigidity, however, collapses when he glimpses the figure of s/o in the library, curled up on itself, trembling and shaken by violent sobs that apparently cannot hold back. He hasn't figured out what's going on yet, but he rushes to them with concern.

"S/o, what happens?"

The question naturally comes from his lips, immediate, perhaps too hasty to show empathy, but still, he feels as if that tears were his fault even if he doesn't know the cause.

"I can’t."

The trembling voice of s/o responds as soon as it reaches them, and Riddle suddenly hears it the world collapsing on him. Even if they replied they don't seem to really realize that he is there, they seem destroyed.

"I can't do it anymore. I can't pass the tests, I can't meet all deadlines. They will reject me, they will hate me ..."

The crying does not end, and what worries Riddle the most is that they are on the book of their favorite subject! It is certain that they could not fail the test even if they wanted to! How much did they have to endure to break where the problem isn't there?

He is ashamed of himself. Has he never noticed this situation? What kind of leader is he? He doesn't really know what to do, but he knows he has to do something.

A little hesitant, he puts a reassuring hand on their shoulder, and he is amazed at how violent their tremor is.

"You will make it. You have always been strong ... here ... it is a difficult time for everyone."

He certainly can't be convincing, Trey would be much better than he is. But he can't let himself go with s/o, he doesn't want them to be ruined. So, he try to think of the words that would have made him feel better if he had found himself so alone, as it seems to be s/o.

"I am proud of you and I am proud even if you sometimes fail."

It's probably the most beautiful and profound thing Riddle can say to someone in need.

Carefully squeezes the shoulder of s/o. Slowly their eyes land on him, moist but somehow raised.

"Sorry ..." they murmur, sitting down on the chair again.

Riddle does not get too upset, but remains there with them until they have finished studying, leaning against the back of their chair, pretending to absently read a book that does not interest him at all.

Leona Kingscholar

· Ok the relaxation with which Leona seems (seems) to take everything that happens stresses practically everyone around him. He does not show that it has really big requests despite continuous orders, but the simple fact that he is present - even if he sleeps - requires that everything goes exactly as he wants.

· Well, there are people who know how to bear it, like Ruggie, but while s/o suffer the weight of the tests on their shoulders the simple presence of the prince (however much they may love him) becomes unbearable for them. But obviously they would never dare to tell him or deny him something

·The way out of that period seems increasingly distant, almost non-existent. Also a little problem becomes giant for s/o and more and more often they lack their breath for no reason, nor are they able to sleep without having nightmares. Some nightmares concern the Savanaclaw leader. Although they have never been reprimanded by Leona, the anxiety that came from his presence has now turned into fear.

· S/o cannot please Leona, they cannot pass the tests, they cannot perform the tasks of Professor Crewel or those of Professor Trein. They don't feel the strength to do all this, nor do they feel the skills. They feel as if every second someone is looking at them and judging them. Their muscles are always tense and they can't help being alert.

· Obviously Leona doesn't notice anything. S/o have always done everything alone, he doesn't really see the problem. In short, everyone is stressed during the tests.

S/o hope that the fresh solitary air of that point in the garden and the music in the ears can erase a possible failure from their mind, while the book of ancient curses lies open on their legs.

But as sweet and relaxing the music can be, it has the effect of isolating them even more from the world, a world that now scares them too much. When something touches their shoulder it is as if everything breaks: their mind and body are shattered.

S/o screams.

No, it's not a simple scream. This is a scream of pure terror, which makes them jump on their feet and then curls them on the ground. Not even Leona can predict a similar reaction to his touch. For a moment he thought his hand had burned them.

“Calm down, herbivore!” He exclaims reflexively. He didn't even understand that he was the cause. He remains there, still staring at the curled up figure of s/o with his heart beating fast in his chest and his ears flat against his head.

"I can't do it, ok ?!" The voice of s/o is high and distressed as they hold their hair in their hands "I can't do what you ask me! I can't pass this stupid test and I can't get out of this school ever again! Don't get angry! It doesn't matter how much I try, I will never be able to do all this ... "

Leona's ears barely move. Damn, why don't people talk from the start? He barely growls as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm not angry, stupid herbivore."

The words are not so kind, but his voice is softer than usual. It's not that he doesn't understand that feeling at all. He met it long ago.

"Listen to me, nobody ever died from failing a test, so please get your little head in order."

With those words he bends slightly to carefully take the arms of s/o, to help them get up. It's a gentle touch to be Leona's touch.

He gently drives s/o back lean against the tree trunk and then, as if he always does, sits next to them, leaning over the study book to see the topic addressed.

"What are your problems? It seems to me that you answer the questions well ..." he doesn't wait for the sobs of s/o to subside completely, he let them explain their problems to him with a broken voice, but he remains patient, even if he can't help yawning occasionally or nodding boredly.

But on the other hand, at the end of the day he heard over thirty pages of ancient curses repeated aloud, he is not to blame. In truth, his job is to take care of the puppies, isn't it?

"You will pass it for sure, and you will pass the rest too, so stop worrying."

With one last big yawn Leona gets up, and after having playfully stroked s/o's head he goes towards the school.

It is strange, even if the tests have not passed yet, s/o feel more calm, right?

They smile, and before Leona disappears from view they turn to him with a new charge of energy: "Tomorrow I will buy you lunch for you!"

Azul Ashengrotto

· S/o spend a lot of time at the Monster Lounge during the testing period. The tension they feel about this is such a lot that they do everything to try to relieve it a little.

· The local staff don't mind; they are a polite and kind person. Even if they spend a lot of time there, it's not a problem. In addition, they never forget to bring a good income to the club, whether they are there with friends or in solitude.

· But the closer the test time approaches, the more problems in the s/o's head begin to weigh and their insecurities surface. They feel a total nullity. They will never be able to overcome everything. Never. All the commitments accumulate in a single suffocating week that will never end. They hate it, they can never do it.

· S/o don't know, but their long visits have not left Octavinelle's dorm leader indifferent. He always has an eye for them, they are loyal customers after all.

· Although he will not admit it, but Azul also has a certain eye for certain attitudes. He knows the insecurity and perceives it in the gaze of s/o and in their tired body, of those who cannot rest well at night because of a thousand thoughts.

Is the day before the test most hated by s/o. They studied a lot, but their mind refused to learn. They have faced a thousand chores in the last few days, Grim more than once had put them in trouble, and now they no longer feel the strength. And everything has yet to begin.

There is no way that they can pass tomorrow's test, nor the others, nor that they can satisfy everyone and fulfill all their duties. How can one person do everything? They are nothing but a failure.

In the Monster Lounge s/o hoped to forget this fear that lurked in their stomach, but it was useless.

Even sitting at the table in front of a glass and two empty cups their lips continue to try to repeat what they need to know, and every time the words are missing panic increases dramatically.

At the last block s/o they can no longer bear themselves, and covering their faces with their hands they collapse into a silent cry. If they could, they would like to disappear from there.

"We're going to close." The voice of the founder of the place only worsens the situation.

Oh no, what are they up to? Raising their faces in terror, they realize that they are the only ones left in there.

They would like to apologize and rush out, but terror and tears prevent them.

The arms return to cover the face while they curl up on the table, unable to do anything else. They would like to scream, but they cannot, they are already pathetic like this.

"Oh dear, I can't let a customer react like this in my cafe." His voice is quiet, perhaps even a little amused as he sits next to the sad trembling figure.

His proximity makes s/o feel even more oppressed. Being under the eyes of others is the worst thing that could have happened at that time, yet the crying only becomes louder.

What will happen? He will propose them a kind of deal? Will he blackmail them? Or will he just laugh at them?

"Please don't say anything! Pretend I don't exist! I beg you ... I can't do it! I can't do it!"

The words from their lips come out like a prayer, but Azul smiles as if nothing had happened.

"Come on, why don't you explain to me what reduced you to such a pitiful state? I'm not bad at helping people."

He has already heard them, he knows what was whispering coming out of their lips. So even if they don't answer his question, he kindly hands them the handkerchief.

"Let's make a deal between us. I will help you study, so that at the end of this horrendous session you have passed all the written tests."

The eyes of s/o open in panic. No no no, they can't stand it. What will he ever ask? To work there? They could never! They are not capable enough.

But before s/o can open his mouth to refuse Azul laughs, simply messing up their hair. His face seems decidedly amused, even pleased.

"Don't make that scared face, you don't need it. I wouldn't mind if you just sat a little near the counter. You know, I'm sure you would bring more money than you already do."

Before s/o can even accept, the hated test subject book is already open on the table in front of them. Azul holds the sign with his finger.

"Obviously this if you pass the test, but believe me, you just need not to panic. I know you can do it."