#famously obsessed with these two dumbasses

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Canary, Part 6

First

Previous

Tim had been watching her out of the corner of his eyes for a long time. It wasn’t that he was trying to be creepy or anything, he just… didn’t know why she was there. It didn’t make sense. She was relatively low on funds according to what he and Oracle had dredged up, and even Tim in all his billionaire-ness recognized that this place was more expensive than average…

So, why had she come? It wasn’t even close to the motel she was staying at.

The vaguely paranoid -- cautious, he was cautious -- part of him worried that she had somehow known he was there, but there was no way she should have been able to know that. Hell, he hadn’t known he was going to this particular cafe until he’d gotten to work and realized that there were now cameras in the breakroom and his office to make sure he didn’t drink too much.

But, really, it seemed like she was just using the free wifi that the cafe provided to write up a resume.

He relaxed and sunk back in his chair with his laptop while he did his work.

… he didn’t get to work for long.

He picked up on the slight gravel of someone putting on a voice with ease. It was high and sweet, a voice he commonly heard from customer service workers. He chanced a look back at the barista and frowned when he saw her on her phone. Not her, then.

He looked around the tiny coffee shop and cringed a little when he realized what was going on. Shady guy approaches a woman who’s drinking coffee alone? Yeah, that’s never a good thing.

He pushed his laptop into his bag quickly, slung it over his shoulders, put the cap back on his coffee cup so the guy wouldn’t be able to tell that Tim had been there for a while, and rushed over.

He rested his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Hey, bud, she said no.”

Tim watched both of them tense and their gazes were pulled to him in an instant.

Marinette glanced him up and down once. He watched her eyes lock onto his coffee cup for a second and he carefully turned his hand a little so she could see the name.

She smiled. “You’re late, Timmy. Don’t tell me you got caught up in another meeting?”

He shrugged innocently. “You know how it is.” Then, he split into a grin. “Maybe I should be the one that’s upset, though. Can’t believe you didn’t save me a spot.”

“I tried!” She whined. “He insisted!”

The man chuckled awkwardly. “I see. I’m sorry, I thought you were alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t. Can you move, though?”

“Actually,” Tim said, because he didn’t want to sit in the window where Duke might happen to see him while on patrols. “There’s a free table back this way.”

Marinette tipped her head to the side a little before nodding. “Sure.”

She closed her laptop with a snap, gathered her things into her bag, and followed him back to his table.

That should have been the end of it. Unfortunately, the guy was still watching them. It looked like they weren’t going to be able to do work for a while if they wanted to keep up the pretense that they were friends.

She seemed to know it, too, because she sighed and rested her head on her hand with a small frown. “Guess we have to talk.”

He huffed. “Don’t have to sound so upset about it.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“Not sounding much more excited.”

She rolled her eyes and then brought a bright smile to her face. “Sure, Timmy, sounds great! Can’t wait to have a super fun conversation with you!”

“... nevermind. That’s weird. Why did that almost convince me? I knew it was fake.”

She let herself lean back in her chair, her face falling back to a slightly smug grin. “I’m Parisian,” she said simply.

Yeah. That made sense. Every Parisian Tim had had the (dis?)pleasure of meeting had had an almost unnerving amount of control over the way they presented their emotions.

He snickered. “Why the hell would you move here, then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Our psychopath was so boring. Like, dude, we get it, your wife died or whatever, that sounds like a you problem. Now, a guy deciding to become a jewel thief purely for the gimmick? Way more interesting.”

“Moral grayness is so twenty years ago,” Tim joked.

“Exactly! Give me dumbasses who are evil purely to be evil and good to be good!”

He grinned. “I can see why you like Harry Potter.”

She blinked.

He motioned to her cup. Scrawled across it in the barista’s messy handwriting was ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’.

She relaxed a little, grinning. “I just finished the books so I’m a bit obsessed. Also, every time I tell them that my name is Marinette they misspell it.”

“Don’t feel too bad, baristas are just like that. Heck, they’ve misspelled my name before.”

“... your name is Tim.”

“They spelled it with a y.”

“... why?”

“Yes. Exactly. A y.”

She giggled a little. “No, I mean why would they do that?”

“Oh. No clue. I hope they were just messing with me.”

~

The barista was wiping down the tables. It was nearing closing time and Marinette was feeling more and more sorry for the poor workers the longer they stayed. She knew that, when she had used to work at the bakery, she had always especially hated customers that were there around closing time.

Only two tables remained occupied.

She sighed when she glanced over and saw the guy was still there.

Oh well.

She looked over at Tim. “Care to walk me a few blocks in a random direction to see if we can get rid of him?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“‘Certainly’? I may not be super great with American customs yet but even I know that’s weird,” she teased.

He huffed a little. “Listen.”

“I’m listening.”

His nose scrunched. “No, wait, you weren’t supposed to call me out on the fact that I didn’t have an excuse.”

“Oh. Okay, we can try again.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said again, this time in a tone that mocked the one he’d said it in the first time.

Convenient. She was intent on mocking him, too: “I’m listening.”

“You’re the worst,” he complained.

She laughed. “I am so not. Joker exists.”

“You’re worse than him,” he said in his most serious voice.

She laughed harder. “No one is worse than him.”

He grinned. “I thought you liked people that were evil purely for being evil.”

“But he’s not,” she argued. “The man just decided one day that he liked the weird guy who dressed like a bat and figured that the best way to get that guy’s attention was to murder people.”

“Gotta admit, it works,” said Tim.

She shrugged, grinning. “Yeah, it does. Makes me wonder what would happen if the Big Bad Bat didn’t come, though.”

He tipped his head to the side slightly and then shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. He usually stops it in time.”

“I think he’d freak out.”

“Absolutely.”

She grinned and stretched lazily, head tipping back.

“He’s still following us, isn’t he?” Asked Tim.

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’.

He groaned a little. “Great. Looks like we’re heading to the library.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You go to libraries? You could probably buy every ebook in existence and have a few billion left over.”

“One of my sisters works there, I can ask her to get rid of the guy,” he explained. “But I like libraries. There’s something quaint about them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s nice to see how the common folk live sometimes.”

He returned her eye roll. “Not like that. I spend a lot of time staring at screens, I have a special appreciation for regular old books.”

“That’s nice. I wish I had time to sit down with a physical copy like that.”

“You see, I have this genius strategy for making time: not taking care of myself.”

“Go on, this is intriguing.”

“Well, eating and sleeping, right? Everyone thinks they’re totally necessary things otherwise you’d die or whatever. But, listen, that’s just a hoax made up by the government to perpetuate capitalism.”

She nodded eagerly. “Totally totally totally. What’s your solution?”

“Coffee communism.”

“Yes, you should use your rich boy money to lobby Congress.”

He grinned. “I totally should. But I can’t run it by my family.”

“No way! You never know who's capitalist anymore, they could be plants placed by the sleep industry to ensure that you don’t go through with it.”

He gasped. “No! You think? My own family?!”

She nodded grimly. “It’s always the ones closest to you that betray you.”

And then he broke character, snickering behind his hand. She beamed.

They reached the library and he smiled as he held the door open for her. He asked her to wait while he talked to his sister and she waved him off casually, telling him to take his time.

She pulled out her phone and pressed her lips together thinly as she made a note to head over later that night to give the man -- Henry -- his money. She’d give him a little tip because, for a moment there, she’d almost forgotten that they were just acting. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to purposely trigger herself for the sake of believability but, hey, if she was going to try and dupe one of the smartest businessmen alive into talking to her, she needed to go all out.

Speaking of Tim, she updated the file of Tim’s favorite cafes plus the probabilities of him visiting each one. It was for his oldest brother, Richie Wayne. She didn’t know why Richie was the one to ask for it seeing as he spent most of his time in Bludhaven and therefore likely wouldn’t find much use in it, but no one ever really knew why Richie Wayne did anything. The man famously had almost as much cotton between his ears as his father.

But, Richie Wayne was also just as rich as his father, so… she’d give him his file later that night after checking her math with her favorite graphing calculator.

A redhead in a wheelchair rolled past Marinette and she absently held the door open for her, only to be surprised when she cursed out Henry.

She watched as Henry held his hands up and started backing away from the woman in the wheelchair, and then he ran down the nearest alley.

(… she’d give Henry a bigger tip. The man had just wanted a tiny side job to help pay for his wife and kids that wasn’t being a henchman, he didn’t deserve this.)

She opened the door for the woman on her way back inside and mumbled her thanks. The woman nodded once and continued on her way.

Marinette leaned back against the wall again and scrolled through Twitter as she waited for Tim to reappear. Apparently, Poison Ivy was already back in Arkham. Something about an intern at the botanical gardens watering plants wrong. Wild.

Marinette felt someone sidle up beside her and, after a quick glance confirmed that it was Tim, pocketed her phone.

He smiled at her, a tote bag over his shoulder.

“Did you go grocery shopping while I wasn’t looking, somehow?”

He hesitated before holding it out to her. “It’s the French dubs of the Harry Potter movies.”

She blinked as the bag was thrust into her hands and looked down at it. Yep, that was Harry Potter in French. She also, vaguely, noted the tiny slip of paper his phone number scrawled across it.

She slung the bag over her shoulder.

“I’m never going to return these. You’re going to rack up so much debt.”

~~~

NightwingsAss9384: does anyone know why nightwing and canary hate each other?

ScareCrane: She stabbed Batman once on accident and somehow got away with blaming it on him

Daylightwing: She refuses to let B adopt her.

RiddleMeThis: They think it’s funny when their stans fight.

SignalOfficial: They said ‘I’m the only flippy bitch allowed in New Jersey’ and have been fighting ever since

Yummmmmm: He has to or else Robin will get jealous because he’s the only stabby sibling allowed

Oracle: They’re fighting over who gets to change their name to ‘The Dodo’ first.

DeadHood: Nightwing is jealous that Canary was the first one of us to think to have a full-on bird mask.

TheBetterCanary: every time i go into the batfam tag to try and avoid them all i see is his fancams

SpoilerAlert: they’re both convinced that they’re the hottest bachelor/bachelorette in gotham

NightwingsAss9384: im beginning to think no ones going to tell me.

BlackBat: :)

~~~~~

Next

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram @iloontjeboontje

[boykisserbuckley]

2 but with yours and megs graphic novel bc I wanna clown again

2. give short descriptions of all the main characters for [WIP].

i love you for this but there’s...a lot of them. this will be long. i have pinterest boards. 

Meg:

- love of my life. light of my world. bastard woman. she’s a demon, she’s Eliot’s gf (read: the only woman he will ever love), she has super sexy magic and she’s badass and she loves her friends so much she doesn’t even know how to handle it!! she’s not big on showing her affection in super obvious ways, but it’s in the little things. she knows their coffee orders, she remembers their fav movies, she orders an extra egg roll for Parker when they get takeout bc otherwise he’ll steal hers. you know how it is

https://www.pinterest.ca/nymikaarts/meg/

Eliot:

- this motherfucker is my boyyyy i love him. i love him so much. he’s a vampire, he’s Meg’s bf, he’s a little stressed a little depressed but he’s handling it!! he’s Parker’s best friend, ride or die for real,,, he loves leather jackets and he’s the dad friend and he Really Just Wants His Friends to Stop Dying, Okay? he’s also bisexual bc that’s very sexy if i do say so myself

https://www.pinterest.ca/nymikaarts/eliot/

Parker:

- an absolute fool of a man!! he’s goofy and rides a skateboard and can be kind of a dumbass in the “i didn’t think this plan of action through” kind of way, but it’s cool. he hasn’t died yet. he skateboards and he’s one of (3) cishet people in this story which i think is hilarious :) he’s the reckless-and-brave type, the jump-headfirst-without-thinking type, and if Eliot could physically age he would have gone grey by now over the stunts this idiot pulls sometimes honestly

https://www.pinterest.ca/beckytarasick/parker/

Nearly:

- technically his full name is Nearly-Never but he’s just Nearly tbh. he’s a baby but also a little shit and i love that for him personally :) he’s Meg’s adopted little brother, also a demon. he’s a thief and a pacifist and an unlabeled “i don’t swing” type of kid who is smart but a little naïve sometimes, and gets in over his own head. he and Parker become fast friends when they meet and the chaotic energy of the two of them...unparalleled

https://www.pinterest.ca/beckytarasick/nearly-never/

Theo:

- This Is My Son. My Love. My Baby. he’s bisexual and a witch and a very soft little man who just wants to love his friends and make fun of Felix,,, he’s a lil depressed but surviving, you know how it is. maybe this is projection. what about it. he dresses like a bisexual hipster obviously and he’s 100% in love with Felix, his best friend, so the pining is Exceptional :) he also has a cat who he names Felix for the aforementioned “making fun of Felix” reasons

https://www.pinterest.ca/beckytarasick/theo/

Felix:

- the sexiest man alive. i’m only kidding a little bit. also a witch, taller than Theo bc we love a height difference, lots of tattoos, a gay disaster but he dresses to impress!! he’s bffs with Theo and Dani, they’re roommates for uni in a lil townhouse (and they were roommates...) he’s got daddy issues but he’s dealing with ‘em, for Plot Reasons, and he’s a dramatic bitch but we love him for it

https://www.pinterest.ca/beckytarasick/felix/

Dani:

- a sweet child, sunflower girl,,, a witch, she’s a little obsessed with plants and hates wearing shoes unless absolutely required to. she works in a flower shop, lives with Theo and Felix, and she’s asexual!! she and Nearly will be getting along famously after they meet lmao cuz she’s the kind of character who can be passive and chill and sweet until you fuck with her friends family and then she’s going to end your entire career

https://www.pinterest.ca/beckytarasick/dani/

Shelley:

- my wife’s a bitch and i love her so much!!! she’s hot and she knows it, pink is her colour, she will Cut A Bitch but she’s also the kindest woman you’ll ever meet tbh. again, a witch, Ezra is her bf and they’re perfect for each other, she’s loud and rowdy and fun and she doesn’t take any shit. she and Ezra live next door to the other three!!

https://www.pinterest.ca/beckytarasick/shelley/

Ezra:

- very tall but very quiet. kinda the opposite of Shelley? he’s a great cook and his love language is feeding his friends lmao so they always got smthn tasty cooking in that kitchen :) he’s also a witch with a focus on teleportation magic, and his arms are Big And Strong For Hugging :))

https://www.pinterest.ca/beckytarasick/ezra/

this is way longer than it should have been for “short” descriptions aksjnf but anyway. ily

[hell-heron]

The mighty crusaders 1957 - Liveblog

First of all this is a terrible title, second can't believe this is really the only adaptation available. I really have been spoiled by all the previous classics-related obsessions. But yeah, because I hate myself I decided to watch this extremely weird and unfaithful movie, thankfully not mute nor black and white but in English and unsubbed so I'll try I guess 

- We open on a war council. Goffredo is good, Rinaldo is a fuckin brat, nothing new. Then we cut to Tancred leading his troops + war prisoners back to the camp. Tancredi is cute enough, he's slightly mean to Erminia bc when a Muslim soldier tries to escape he blames her saying she should have prevented him and save his life which?? How?? But overall he's nice enough, which is important because really so many girls fall for him just because he's pretty, honorable, nice and overall boyfriend goals. Erminia just gives him an half smile before being scolded by some old man for fraternizing with the enemy but oh well. Erminia's character is actually quite well presented. She has a very melancoly line about how for a soldier life as a prisoner is worth nothing, but she as a woman has no such pride which really feels like something she might say in the poem. Going back to Tancredi, because he is nice, he allows a groups of Muslim (?) merchants to spend the night in their camp under his protection. Among the merchants is Clorinda, in incognito, who Erminia calls the daughter of King of Persia (No???). She and Tancred banter a little with the usual "This is no place for a woman" "I'm used to danger" schtik. Obviously everyone involved is snow-white but whatever, its the fifties

- "You should not trouble your pretty head with matters of war" and then he asks her out to dinner... Tancredi... It turns out Clorinda actually wanted this to get the battle plans, which is...weird bc why would you send the famous warrior literally everyone knows to spy? But she says only Erminia will recognize her and she won't snitch... cut to Erminia snitching. Slander, bc Erminia takes seven years to make any decision and she and Clorinda are bros but fine I guess. At least she asks him not to harm her. Also Tancredi has a tiger skin hung in his tent which miiiiight be foreshadowing but I'm sure Clorinda will not get to wear her awesome tiger helmet so whatevs. The costumes are pretty nice tbh, I love Erminia's dress. Less Tancredi's sparkly emerald green doublet but eh.

- The dinner date is HORRIFYING Movie Tancredi: "A woman with your elegance is wasted in battle. You were born to help man live not to let them die" Poem Tancred: *sees Clorinda* "We don't have to fight here is my chest for you stab you I'm glad to die if it's you my heart is already yours take it out would you like me to take my plate off so it's easier baby I'm all' yours"

- "It was not my choice to be the only child of the King of Persia but I have my duties" HELLO???? "Your words are strange for a soldier" "What, because I have the needs of a man?" AAAAAAAH The two dumbasses remember that if they meet again it will be in war and there is a brief pissing contest where he slashes stuff open and she throws knives around, which is a welcome reprieve.

- Random guy: "We were waiting for your arrival to give the final assault" Tancredi: "Don't be overconfident, my arrival won't make it any easier" Away from Clorinda he sounds vaguely more like himself. Though they are equally good Rinaldo is the action hero, not Tancred and that is important. Passing on the Christian side, Clorinda looks way better in armor and badass red cloak than in a dress, though still no tiger imagery to be seen, Olindo and Sofronia look like they're out a terrible R&J movie, Clorinda proposes to trade them for Erminia (who is here the king's niece) which is a concept the learnt from Tancredi apparently bc no one else knows how war works.

- We meet Argante. He's bald and a dick but has an interesting moustache. He and Clorinda have a chat. Clorinda: "I'm sure you would kill and woman in your captivity who denied you her favors". Because that's you talk about your best friends. Argante: "You refused to marry me and I didn't kill you." Yup. I would like to say "Ugh, the fifties." But frankly what I really must say is "Where has all the willingness to let men and women be purely platonic close friends gone in the last 4 centuries" because it's not like it's any better now. Pity because their relationship in the poem was so lovely. OH WAIT no so Clorinda is BETHROTHED to Argante by her father, the king of Persia, who is a person that exists and raised Clorinda, his actual daughter, alright, but the marriage will only be valid if celebrated on free land, so he will have to wait until Jerusalem is, uh, delivered. Argante then says something about if she leave him for another man it will be trouble -FORESHADOWING

- Tancredi: "You can return to your people! Aren't you happy?!" Erminia: *sobs*. Cut to her, who famously is an oversensitive, tormented shy nerd who understandably is conflicted about her feelings and keeps everything to herself, babbling everything to Clorinda, saying he would have been hers had Clorinda not come along. Clorinda is not amused. Then an harem dancer with a terrible accent announces Argante. We can see, unlike Tancredi, Argante is a dick because, unlike Tancredi, he is glad Clorinda is a worthy fighter and considers her an equal. Also because he's the only visibly darkskinned person despite being probably the one with less reason, being from *googles* the Northern Dead Sea area. Also Clorinda "I didn't get enough melee fighting today, must compensate with arson" is """"tired of fighting"""". Yeah. Poem Argante: No, no, thy fellow have I been in arms/And will be still, in praise, in death, in harms Movie Argante: "If you don't love me its the same thing as if you despised me He also suspects Clorinda might fancy a Christian, but changes the subject and proposes a plan to kill Rinaldo. Meanwhile Rinaldo, who is Tancredi's best bro and absolutely not a reckless teenage nuisance, is bantering with the aforementioned as a messanger announces Argante's attack. Battle scene. Irrelevant stuff happens, they do NOT kill Rinaldo, but Tancredi and Clorinda (who now wears a badass leopard skin tunic) meet. He disarms her way too easily and asks her to promise he'll leave fighting to the warriors and stop endangering herself. She tries to set him up with Erminia to get rid of him, no use. He keeps insisting on his love, she demures, they kiss, she goes away but he said he won't give up on her.

 - They celebrate a funeral for some dude named, I shit you not, Dudone and Rinaldo swears revenge. This person was killed by Argante with a blue steel sword taken from a murdered Christian and a big deal is made of it but it's absolutely not, to my memory, in the poem so?? Rinaldo and Goffredo fight because Goffredo is not enough of a dumb reckless bitch, apparently. Cut to Argante shit talking Rinaldo. My boy never disappoints. The king (I know this is not a dumb movie thing but I can't bear to call him Aladin) proposes to use Armida, witch slash seductress in hot flowy sleeves, to sow discord. Argante says women in war are only useful if they know how to fight like Clorinda. Armida has a surprisingly feminist speech affirming the contrary. Clorinda, who was introduced to us as an undercover spy, says it would be unfair to use such deceitful means, the king says Armida is not a warrior and she's not honest (rude) so no other way, she goes

- Armida, all in virginal white but tiddies out, goes to Rinaldo who is disputing with Gernando who will take Dudone"s army. "Your great generosity is known even to us" EHM.... She gives a slightly different story but to the same effect, that she turned Christian so now Aladin is persecuting her native town of Damascus and the Crusaders have to help them. Rinaldo compelled by chivalry and the power of pussy accepts but no one listens to him. I can't understand if Tancredi is present or not because all the dudes look alike to me. I can set apart Rinaldo just because he is dressed in white to emphasize his nonexistent youth. More drama goes on, Rinaldo kills Gernando way too ungruesomely, but he will be mourned because he had style. We lose Tancredi trying to Relate To The Youth providing Rinaldo with unsolicited advice, instead he just advises him to run away.

- Clorinda talks to Erminia and says she doesn't want to fight because the enemy is too virtuous and generous... again? This is really not how it goes, neither of the too really gets a lesson about peace from falling in love. This is not Romeo and Juliet, it's not a completely senseless feud, it is a war that by Tasso's point of view being a guy in a religious crisis writing during the counter-reform, needs to be fought and, on both sides, is virtuous. That's why the love is tragic and doomed. But whatevs. Someone snitches about her feelings at Argante, Argante snitches at Aladin and requests to fight Tancredi in single combat. The duel is boring and they both fight dirty in an out of character fashion. I changed my mind about Erminia, she's so fucking bratty and horribly butchered. Then she gets her illumination (obviously no monologuing about her femininety and powerlessness bc why valorize the nice moment of real empathy and sensitivity from a male author) puts on Clorinda's armor and goes to look for Tancred. She's chased away, Tancred goes to look for her, he finds out about Armida's trap. Things go a bit different for Erminia than in the poem, instead of finding the shepherds she joins the Christian camp and then Piero, the priest, sends her to to the shepherds. Clorinda (horrifyingly) gives Tancredi information to find Rinaldo so he goes away telling no one. The discussion with Argante re: postponing the duel happens and Raymond, bless the old man, is appropriately badass. Argante botches the treaty and the king insults him, though in the poem he was like this kindly old man who kept hugging the warriors in inappropriate moments

- Cut to Armida's palace with beautiful visuals, horrifyingly skinny harem dancers and HUGE dubcon undertones by Armida to Rinaldo but I still like her, though any real magic and wonder is completely stripped from the whole situation. Tbh I'm not invested in this plotline enough to bitch much.Tancredi sneaks in and lasts in his disguise about three seconds before starting murdering people. I might start spiteshipping him with Rinaldo, so much I dislike the situation with Clorinda. Armida hits on Rinaldo once more then lets them go.

- Clorinda: "You forget they are fighting for a cause they are dedicated to and would die for their leader without hesitation" again... so would the Muslims it's kind of the point... She and Argante have a little sweet conversation that contrasts horribly with the rest of their relationship, but her feelings are like... general presentment of dying, no thirst of glory, desire of doing more, feeling of inadequacy and everything else. Also it's HIS idea to destroy the siege tower which Ugh. I'm frankly gonna skip the siege until the duel now. It's clear that we are going to miss Erminia's time with the shepherds, the reveal about Clorinda's identity and tbh all' her beautiful relationship with her adoptive father, so che changes faith just because cute crusader is cute I guess and based on the time remaining, nothing of Tancredi's complete, poetic, heartwrenching mental breakdown either. Nice. The duel is in a nice location but all fucked up, it's not wild and energetic at all, no simbolism of it lasting dusk to dawn, none of all the raw dialogue, not even "What do you bring" "War and death" "Death and war you will have of you pray for them", no Clorinda refusing to reveal her name and claim her glory to reveal how her priorities have shifted, Tancredi recognizes Clorinda as soon as she falls so no moment where he thinks she's just some random guy but he still is moved to tears from her desire to convert and is willing to forgive her (which is imho what led Clorinda to fall in love with him). They exchange a few words but no hand holding in sign of peace which I guess wasnt necessary when it’s not the only tragic, bittersweet touch they’ll ever exchange but still :( and overall I just feel nothing. At least they don't kiss. Also I feel like there is something very compelling about Tancredi shutting in and saying nothing for the whole scene and it's lost here. Also he can't push everything inside and then let it out when Clorinda dies bc when Clorinda dies Argante comes and they duel right here so we also lose the BADASS scene of eberyone mourning Clorinda and him swearing revenge. One bright note is we get to see Tancredi dramatically fainting as he is famous for at least once, but it's from Argante's wounds, not Clorinda's, which is meh. Then Erminia finds him and there's some sort of victory celebration where Erminia and Tancredi are implied to be getting together. Yay. What the fuck happened to the Armida plotline?? Well, no matter. This is over, we have learned that being clingy and selfish but traditionally feminine gets you the man, and everyone is happy

[soulful-ofevans]

It’s Hopeless - Sebastian Stan Imagine

warnings: angst, fluff, Chris!Best Friend,  

request: The reader is best friends with Chris, but in love with Sebastian. She goes to Chris for advice on how to let Seb know how she feels. - @ theimpossibleg1rl

words: 1700+

masterlist 

“What the fuck are you doin’ here!” You ran towards your best friend at full speed, knowing he can take your impact easily.

“Chris! I missed you!” Your voice was muffled by the neck of his Cap suit.

Chris kissed your hair, holding it flat with his large palm. His arm was wrapped around your waist, keeping you lifted off the ground, and stuck in his arms.  

“I missed you too, Honeypot.”  

You had flown down to surprise Chris while he shot Civil War in Atlanta. He’d been moaning for months about how he was so bored and homesick that you decided to shut him up. For a little bit, at least.

Setting you back on Earth, he bared a grin when whilst holding you away from his body. He was looking for any change to your appearance since he’d last saw you, which was five months ago. A lot can happen in five months, and Chris was always so diligent in knowing every detail of your face and appearance. He could spot your hair cut an inch shorter, or you wore a new outfit. It was nice to have a best friend who took notice in the effort you put into looking presentable.

“Well, what are you fuckin’ doin’ here? When’d you get in?” Chris slung one arm over your shoulder and guided you towards the crafts table, where a selection of decorous food was lying.

“Lisa ringed me the other week beggin’ me to take spring vacation to come visit you! I guess I was the only one fit to shut up your whining and begging.” Chris chuckled and nodded in acknowledgment. He knew he had been on the, rather, complaining side in his tone for the last few months. He just missed his family so much. He missed seeing Miles, Lucy, and Noah. He missed not being able to go to his parent’s house on Thursdays for spaghetti dinner.

“Like always, she was right. You are the only human being beside her that could make me feel like I’m home with just your presence.”

You felt so much love for your best friend, and now you felt even more. He was so sweet and benevolent in nature. He’d been that way since the day you met him, 26 years ago. He was just a scrawny 9 years old, terrified to go down the slide on the playground. You were an adventurous 8-year-old and told Chris he could hold your hand while going down the slide together. He agreed and ever since then you two have held each other’s hands through the worst of times and the best of times.

“It can’t be! No way!” Booming from across the lot, you saw Mackie waving his hands frantically at you while jogging over. There had been a companion with him, a brunette you had only heard about before. The brunette didn’t join Mackie when he ran over to you, though. He just set foot in a slow pace walk, almost looking uneager to meet the mysterious best friend of Chris’.

Anthony pulled you into a big hug when he finally reached you and Chris, both pigging out at the table of goodies. “Big Mack! How goes it?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Not too bad. Livin’ good down in A.T.L., aren’t we Evans?”

“You are, Mr. Life of The Party.” Anthony gawked at Chris and slapped his shoulder. “Don’t try and pretend that you ain’t out at the clubs, talkin’ to the ladies, now. We don’t wanna be tellin’ lies to our friends now do we?” You giggled at shook your head, turning back towards the donuts.

You held a chocolate glazed one to your mouth when you heard an unfamiliar voice from behind.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Those have been baking in the sun for a good fifteen hours.”

Sebastian had his blue eyes cast towards you, with a warm smile upon his lips. Chuckling nervously, you agreed and laid the donut back on the tray.

“Thank you. Wouldn’t have wanted to catch food poisoning my first day here.” Sebastian just broadened his grin that, swear to god, was twinkling in the sunlight. He stuck out his hand and you met him halfway.

“Sebastian.”

“Y/N. Chris’ best friend.”

Ever since that moment, you had been hooked to Sebastian Stan. Hopelessly, carelessly devoted to a man who didn’t even know you felt so much towards.

One Month Later

Lunch was always the best time to talk to Chris while he was shooting in Atlanta. Any other waking moment besides the hour he gets for lunch were spent in a costume or spent fast asleep in his bed.

He was starting to become suspicious of your actions as of late. You don’t blame him though, you were acting a little mentally unhinged. Since you were crashing at Chris’s he saw the weird quirks that were signs of your anxiety rising.

You would eat cereal in the middle of the night and forget to put away the milk. You slept in peculiar hours of the day, and awake at night during the strangest times. Your bed was always disheveled, which was odd since you were exactly like Chris; almost obsessive about having your home clean.

He’d tried poking you for an answer the other night over Chinese food but you held an iron front. The last thing you wanted him to know was that you were unhealthily attracted to Chris’s workmate, Sebastian Stan.

But it was becoming overwhelming, your crush on Sebastian. Every time you two would talk without Chris, edged you closer to the cliff that was asking him out. You hated the thought of it, even the idea of saying those words to him caused your stomach to clench and your cheeks to burn.

It was famously known that you were hopelessly terrible with men. It was almost embarrassing, the level of awkwardness you showed whenever you spoke to a guy you liked.

This time, if you were going to conquer your worst fear, you couldn’t take a chance on screwing it up with anxiety. Which leads us to the final route; You had to ask Chris for help.

“Y/N? Where’s your signature Friday burrito?” Chris’s voice caused you to almost jump out of your skin. Luckily, you pulled yourself together fast and held up a strong posterior.

“I um, forgot.”

Chris shook his head and plopped down on the leather couch next to you, “You aren’t yourself lately Peanut. What’s goin’ on? And don’t try to fool me, I’m an expert at you, ya know?”

He held a gentle smile. You felt him grasp your knee, as a gentle reminder he was there for you, no matter what.

“No, no… you’re right, I…I haven’t been myself lately because…I, um. Well-”

“Hey, hey come on Smalls… it’s me, I ain’t gonna judge.” You looked up at his warm features and took in a deep breath. I guess it’s now or never,

“I like your co-worker, Sebastian Stan but I didn’t want to tell you because I know that it makes it super awkward for you but I can’t help it and I need your help because I want to just jump off the cliff and tell him what do you think?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to see the shock on his face.

“Seriously, I thought you were better than this!” Your heart plummeted into the dirt.

“I know, but I- he’s just so funny and kind and sweet I’m so sorry. I don’t want to make things awkward for you. I can pack up my stuff and head up north.” You went to stand but were pulled back down by a rough hand.

“Now hang on, I’m not talkin’ about that!”

“You’re not?” Chris looked exasperated. “No! I’m talkin’ about the fact you went haywire crazy over just some guy! What happened to the tomboy who kicked my ass in seventh grade in front of Samantha Webster?”

Your mouth resembled just a gaping hole. What the hell, he was mad because you weren’t being ‘feministiskt’ like before?

“Wait, you’re mad… because I was concerned about asking Sebastian out?”

Chris threw his hands in the air, “Yes!”

“Well it’s different, I really like him, Chris. I know that I shouldn’t be this concerned but I don’t want to fuck this up by making a fool out of myself.”

Chris’s features softened with your confession. Processing all of this he know that this was serious. You had never gotten crazy about a boy before.

Chris knew that you couldn’t talk to guys for shit. Unless they were a part of the Evans family, strangely. He grabbed your hand and held it gently, struggling to find the right words on how to help your debacle.

“You know that you are beautiful and funny, and kind and sweet and just an amazing person right?”

“Chris, I don’t want compliments-” “No, no. Hear me out. Sweetheart, you are an amazing, courageous, strong woman. You and Seb would make a fantastic couple. You don’t need me to guide you through this. Your heart knows what to do. Just ask him out! Seb is a simple guy, believe it or not. He would appreciate just a damn cup of coffee! You are wonderful and if he can’t see that, he’s a dumbass. Don’t let your anxiety hold you back from love. Go out and get that delicious man.”

You slapped your best friend‘s chest but followed it with a hug. The world looked blurry through your weepy eyes. Pulling away you sniffled and wiped away the gathering tears of love. Giggling, you nodded with a suddenly exhilarating determination.

Walking out of Chris’s trailer towards Sebastian’s, you paused for second, peaking back in Chris’s, “If things do not go well, can you pick up the required Ben and Jerry’s for me?”

Chris smiled softly at me, “Consider it done, Smalls.”

A/N: BAH! It’s been so long my dearies. But I’ve been working on this one for a while and I feel a bit rusty so apologies to the requester if this isn’t all that you thought it was cracked up to be! Please message me with any concerns with it, Sweets, I’m more than willing to edit it for you <3

THis could potentially have a part two, I’m not super sure but if you want one and actually read author notes let me know, lol. - R.xx

[chroniclesofawkwardness]

Page 61

From the time I was very young, I had an obsession with leveling up. Somehow, someway, I had to be better, I was never quite good enough. There was always someone bigger, faster, smarter, or stronger than me.

In first grade, we got certificates based on how many rules we’d followed that week. More often than not, I had to settle for the Boss award instead of the top prize, the Superstar. I broke the same rule every week by talking without raising my hand. I can’t say if I was genuinely trying not to give a fuck as a seven-year-old, but it’s more likely I was genuinely disappointed since I’d come so close to perfection only to fail again and again. I wish I’d accepted long ago that Lucy only loves Charlie Brown when he’s trying to kick the football.

Even when I had more control of my destiny by engaging in my favorite childhood pastime, playing Nintendo (When did it become classic?) I still had to deal with the temptation of risk vs. reward. You start out small. If you manage not to run headlong into the first Goomba (Kuribo in Japan) you see, you have the option of giving your character an 8-bit concussion by voluntarily jumping up and smashing a mystery box (marked with (?)). One of the first rewards is a mushroom that, if you touch it, significantly increases the size of your character.

Maybe the intention of the game’s creators was to show that bigger is better or to simply give the player a reward almost immediately so he or she would keep playing. If only I’d known how much my early life would turn out like one of the side-scrolling video games I gave so much of my time to. I believed that if I played by all the rules, kept going straight ahead, and timed my jumps just right, I’d zip down the flagpole like Mario, and be rewarded with fireworks for my accomplishments. Yet even a video game from the 1980s, the decade of material excess and Reagan famously turning the bull loose, had ways of tempering one’s enthusiasm, of keeping you hooked. The princess was almost always in another castle.

In first grade it was certificates. In second grade it was learning to write in cursive. In third grade it was marbles in a jar, and so on. We were all Pavlov’s dogs, salivating at the ring of a bell. Nobody knew what was really going on. Nobody knew that we were being conditioned how to talk, act, and think. There’s nothing wrong with celebrating an achievement, but life gets messy when the celebration becomes the focus rather than the hard work that led up to it. I used to believe the validation of a “Good Job!” scratch-and-sniff sticker or the clink of another marble in our classroom jar was good enough, but I also once believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and Jesus.

Why is it that when I think of the happiest moments of my life, they are all tied to some sort of achievement, some sort of validation that I was right?

In high school, I was convinced that I’d answered every question correctly on the 1998 National Latin Exam for Latin II. I’d just wanted Sister Dympna to be proud of me. My heart sank when the initial results came back, and I found out I’d answered only 39 of 40 questions correctly. Sister had been telling us for months that if someone got a perfect score, Latin II was usually when they did it. I was so taken aback by the initial return that I almost immediately began to insist someone recheck my exam by hand. I still remember the day they called me into the guidance office after what seemed like an emperor’s reign of anxious waiting. Mrs. Shields told me that my score was, in fact, perfect, and I was the first student in school history to accomplish such a feat. I wanted to run down the hallway screaming, “Fuck Yeah!” to anyone within earshot, but I didn’t. Instead, I remembered the story of Cincinnatus. Sister Dympna, one of the installers of my try-hard driver, once told me Cincinnatus was a simple Roman farmer who was twice offered a dictatorship, only to turn it down both times in favor of returning to his plow. Like Cincinnatus, I deferred my glory and returned to English class.

Chances are, the story of Cincinnatus isn’t true. It’s probably nothing more than a tale Roman parents told their children in the hope of turning them into humble, obedient, and dutiful citizens. These parents, of course, had no idea that the same tale would be passed down through the ages for more than 2,000 years. 

When I defended my master’s thesis nine years later, I thought I’d pulled out all the stops. Never one to skimp on Balkan hospitality, I put on a suit and lugged around a backpack with a coffee pot and Napolitanke wafers (thanks Croatian confectionary company, Kraš) for the members of my defense committee. I had to level up to the next sequential academic abbreviation behind my name if I wanted a chance to work for any number of alphabet agencies within the government. I had to find a way to atone for destroying my own section of Brazilian rainforest by printing out my thesis so many times. If I noticed an ill-timed comma, a misplaced dash, or an extra space at the end of a line, a war of attrition was on. Instead of not giving a fuck, I started giving too many.

After my defense, I had to sit out in the hallway for what seemed like another eternity while the committee deliberated my fate. Dr. H. (finally) telling me that I’d passed was one of the happiest moments of my life. When the second year of my two-year master’s program started, I wasn’t even sure if I’d get funding to pay for it. There were fifteen fellowships available that year. I’d gone from being one of the first ones out (no. 18) to one of the last ones in. And now, there I was, at the top of another flagpole. After picking up my diploma, I must have sat in the papasan chair that my mom’s now-ex-husband would later use for cumshot target practice holding that precious, validating piece of paper in my hands for fifteen minutes of contented silence. It’s the kind of silence only accomplishment can bring, before the panic of not knowing exactly what to do next sets in.

I can’t remember the first time I noticed an at on page 61 of my thesis where an at didn’t belong. I was crushed. I couldn’t believe I’d missed it while I was chopping away at the rainforest. My crowning achievement (there’s that A-word again) had been forever tarnished by a renegade preposition that had somehow managed to steal itself away from the obsessive, approval-seeking eyes of its creator. I had flashbacks to my freshman year of undergrad when I’d left a works cited page off the first paper I’d ever written for English class. Both oversights were poetic justice in works of academic prose. (Im)perfect bookends to six years of higher education. I had visions of becoming the laughingstock of the department, the butt of a sick joke by future generations of curious graduate students searching for scholarly works on the soundtrack to the demise of brotherhood and unity, the destruction of the failed idea of Yugoslavia.

I beat myself up for years over that at. Whenever someone would tell me it’s no big deal, I’d turn on my default, self-deprecating sense of humor and say things like, “But I know it’s there.” No one has ever called me a dumbass over a two-letter word that should have been deleted long before Dr. H. signed the title page of my thesis. I did it to myself. It took me a long time to not internalize my own imperfections, and simply learn from my mistakes rather than defining myself by them. First, it was certificates, then learning to write in cursive, then marbles in jars. I’d had enough. 

I’m not quite at the point where I can just laugh about the error in page 61, but I don’t beat myself up over it anymore. I know it’s there, but I don’t let it tarnish my A-word. It’s okay to strive for perfection, but obsessions make life messy. They say if you really want to know how you got to feel and think a certain way about things, you should write a book about them. I’ll keep going after the sixty-first page. There’s lots more to be said. If the devil’s in the details, I’ll side with Tom Waits, who pointed out in Heartattack And Vine: Don’t you know there ain’t no devil/That’s just God when he’s drunk. I’d been drunk on chasing perfection for too long. I’m still not sure about Jesus, so you won’t find me in church on Sundays. You might find me at a keyboard, pounding away at tales of imperfection rather than imperfection itself. Instead of trying to be perfect, I’ll just be. I can live, and write, with that.