#he is SO pompous and SO critical and CLEARLY thinks only he really knows the good Doctor Who or how to write it and what it's LACKING

[doverstar]

suffered through a rewatch of Power of Three and Dinosaurs on a Spaceship last night and I wanted to scream the entire time. I am nobody and have never run a 60-year-old television show. but. Chris Chibnall does not know how to write. he is bad at it. he is bad at it. who gave him control of the entirety of Doctor Who? why? he had Amy narrate the first and last scenes of Power of Three like she's in some kind of early-2000's romcom because he doesn't know how to write dialogue or how to show-not-tell. the last line of Power of Three sounds like a preteen who has no idea how to end her oneshot fanfic and I know this because I have been one and I would never have let 12-year-old me write a single episode of an actual show on tv. the Silurians are a crutch. the Doctor got sucked into a Wii game? Kate Lethbridge-Stewart has zero personality outside of the Brigadier. Brian is an empty, emotional-exposition robot. who let this man run the entire show for years, I want names and addresses-

[disappointingyet]

Between The Lines

Director Joan Micklin Silver Stars Lindsay Crouse, John Heard, Jeff Goldblum, Jill Eikenberry, Bruno Kirby, Gwen Welles, Stephen Collins USA 1977 Language English 1hr 41mins Colour 

Classic indie ensemble piece – before that was a thing

If you’d seen this at the time, which of the male actors do you think you would have picked out as the future movie star? The obvious thing to say is one of the rectangular-headed blonde guys, especially because John Heard is sort-of the male romantic lead here. But then again, this is the 1970s, the era of Al and Bobby, so maybe you go for Bruno Kirby – the short Italian guy who had actually shared scenes with De Niro in The Godfather Part II.

Watching in 2023, we know it's the tall, weirdly magnetic Jewish dude who seems all limbs who would become much more famous than the rest. The film ends with the camera locked on Jeff Goldblum and he’s fully formed here – the day after I saw Between The Lines, I watched an episode of Search Party from last year that he’s in, and if the mannerisms are a little more extreme now, they were certainly already there. 

It’s a formidable cast of then up-and-comers. Maybe not quite a 1970s equivalent of Short Term 12, but almost all of these people went on to have good careers: Kirby and Heard as beloved character actors and Jill Eikenberry and Stephen Collins as leads on hit TV shows (as was Marilu Henner, who has a memorable few scenes in this film). Maybe I think of Crouse as bigger than she is because House Of Games was a very-much-talked-about film back in the day and she was a Columbo villain, which puts her in the company of Donald Pleasance, Janet Leigh, Rip Torn and Johnny Cash. (She’s also in the worst Buffy The Vampire Slayer storyline, but that’s not her fault.)

Never imagined John Heard and Lindsay Crouse as a cute couple

And it’s Crouse who gets the most screen time in this packed ensemble. She plays Abbie, a photographer working for the Back Bay Mainline, an alternative weekly newspaper in Boston. Heard is Harry, one of the paper’s star writers and her sometime boyfriend. Goldblum is Max, the rock critic. Collins and Gwen Welles are Michael and Laura, both writers, but he’s the one working on a pompous-sounding book and she’s struggling with being in his shadow. Kirby (27 but looking much younger) is the newly joined boy reporter and Eikenberry is the long-suffering office manager. 

In a lot of ways, this a classic American indie movie about a bunch of bright young folk (eg, the already mentioned Short Term 12). Only that wasn’t really a thing yet in 1977. There were plenty of  films at the time, though, shot in scruffy, believable locations with sprawling casts (indeed, a few of the stars of this had been in Robert Altman pics). It was in the 1980s, I guess, that things started to separate out again. It was shot in only two weeks so I’m assuming the budget was pretty low – there are a couple of aerial shots that feel designed to make you sense this is proper movie.

And it’s a good example of the ensemble movie, a movie that makes us feel immersed in this little world, a very likeable film, funny in places, sharply written. And I don’t think it wrong to say Joan Micklin Silver is clearly bringing a woman’s perspective here – it’s easy to imagine a film that would have indulged and glorified Harry and Michael, rather than exposing their fragile egos. (There’s also a couple of good exchanges between Laura and Abbie that prefigure the Sally/Marie ‘I don’t think he’s ever going to leave her’ riff in When Harry Met Sally.)

Between The Lines treads fairly lightly in boomer regret and nostalgia – there’s a bit of stuff about the passing of the counterculture, references to the early days of the paper as part of the underground press and the idealism of that moment, contrasted with the mid-1970s when it’s professional enough to be the target of a takeover by a guy who in that earlier moment would have been described as a breadhead.  But that never becomes the main theme — this isn’t the Return Of The Secaucus Seven or The Big Chill. Maybe it was a bit too early for that, and that's probably a good thing.

What feels like it was maybe intended as the movie’s marketing trump card is the presence of Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, who were famous as Bruce Springsteen’s mates. They are on the soundtrack, mentioned in the plot and then play at a party. Never really been a fan – they represent the brassy bar band side of Springsteendom that I like less – but it’s kind of fun to have them here. 

At the time I write this, MUBI have a bunch of Joan Micklin Silver films up, aiming to get a serious consideration of her career. This is the first one I have seen, and I’m fully sold. 

[misstrashchan]

What just gets me, and I almost hate to admit it, but it's really only Watts who could've pushed Cinder like that in this episode. Like, he's clearly known her for a long time and worked with her before, apparently knows enough about her that he's aware that she's suffered, implying he does have some idea of her past. But he's neither someone above her that she fears (like Salem) or someone beneath her who can be controlled or intimidated by her power (like Em, Merc or Neo), and is willing to call her out, but can't be dismissed as insane or creepy (like Tyrian)

And of course it's precisely because he's such an unsympathetic arrogant ass that he laughs at her, refuses to be intimidated by a show of power and keeps digging at her even when she's literally holding his life in her hands. And the thing is that these are all things Cinder needs to hear, even though you know who Watts is and where he's coming from means that he's absolutely right, but for the wrong reasons.

Like, he's really criticizing Cinder for being entitled to power because she suffered, as if his own motive for vengeance isn't driven by being petty that his science project didn't get chosen. As well as criticizing Cinder for not being smart when, she is actually right that having Penny self destructing is incredibly dumb when, even after opening the vault, keeping her alive would still be in their best interests, but his own vendetta against Pietro comes before that I guess. And yes, Cinder does need to grow into the role of Fall Maiden as someone worthy, but I'm fairly sure Watts' definition of what makes someone "worthy" of that role is very different.

And it's just... it's this incredibly carthatic moment, but the most satisfying part of it is Cinder's response. Watts is everything that Cinder hates, a pompous Atlesian Elite who refuses to respect or take her seriously, who has constantly mocked and belittled her at every turn. She's threatening to kill him if he doesn't do what she wants, but it's not working and in her mind she has every reason to follow up on her threat to just drop him and watch him die an insignificant death and go to the vault herself.

And then she... doesn't. She pulls him back instead. All the fury and rage just fizzles out in a singular instance and she walks away to sit down and simply... cries.

It's a moment that she's so tired and frustrated, pushed over so that she drops all her bravado at once, her sparing Watts, crying alone, it's all because beneath her facade she truly is filled with such a strong self loathing that deep down she believes everything Watts says.

It's also an interesting parallel to Watts and Ironwood from v7, when Watts mocks him as he's being held by his neck, threatening to drop him. Afterwards we see Ironwood spiralling further into his own paranoid controlling nature, refusing to admit to his own fears and vulnerabilities.

But with Cinder? We see her being emotionally vulnerable. A moment of acceptance and reflection, which, yes, while it sucks it stems from a place of deep self loathing, the fact that she is shown capable of that kind of introspection is still incredibly important at making it clear between Ironwood and Cinder which villain is closer to being like Salem and losing their humanity.

Watts' reaction to Cinder crying also just sets in stone how humanizing a moment this is for her too. This should be a carthatic moment. He should be smug and prodding that Cinder spared him because she knew he was right, or because she realised she needed him. But his smug persona drops as well, and he looks almost ashamed, or uncertain. It's almost like he's a stand in for every Cinder hater in the RWBY FNDM because you can see the suprise, see he's thinking she isn't supposed to be reacting like this. Cinder isn't supposed to have feelings. And that is by far, is the most gratifying part of the scene for me.

[cuttoothed]

Getting this in just under the wire for day 1 of @jonmartinweek prompt “Comfy Jumpers”. I get so much joy from writing these two in s1 and thinking “lol you idiots are going to be in love some day.”

*

Martin knows that Jon doesn’t approve of the way he dresses.

It’s not exactly a surprise. Jon doesn’t approve of much about Martin: his report-writing, his Latin translations, even his very existence seems to irk Jon at times. Frankly, the feeling is mutual. Martin was perfectly happy working in the library, where his boss wasn’t an overbearing perfectionist arsehole, and if he’d been given a choice in the matter he’d still be shelving books and updating the filing systems, not getting glared at for his clothing choices. He’s well aware that Jon never wanted him in the Archives either, but they’re here now, so Mister Head Archivist is just going to have to live with it. They’re both going to have to.

Jon isn’t subtle about his displeasure; it’s difficult to miss his pointed scowls at Martin’s scuffed trainers and graphic-print t-shirts. And considering that Sasha wears jeans and t-shirts some days as well—though admittedly she tends to plain colors or muted prints, rather than retro video game characters—it’s pretty clear that it’s less about the clothes than it is the person wearing them.

Well, Jon can scowl all he wants, because everything Martin wears technically falls within the Institute’s dress code and there’s not a word Jon can say to him.

Martin has always run hot, so as winter closes in and other people are bundling up in heavy coats and jumpers, he throws hoodies over his t-shirts and zips them up only far enough that the bright graphic prints are still clearly visible to Jon’s critical eye.

Yeah, he thinks sometimes when he walks into Jon’s office, get an eyeful of Yoshi and see how you like it.

Jon, for his part, seems determined to outlast the winter in his usual dress shirt and tweed jacket combo. Martin knows that Jon isn’t particularly warm blooded—he’s seen the way the man huddles into his jacket like a tortoise in its shell until the central heating warms the basement up in the mornings—but he still refuses to add so much as an argyle sweater vest to his outfit in deference to the season.

The only concession Jon makes to the weather is a voluminous gray overcoat and a dark purple scarf, which he takes off the moment he gets into the office, regardless of how cold it is before the ancient heating system creaks to life.

And, well, it’s none of Martin’s business if his boss is too much of a pompous arse to dress appropriately for the weather. If he wants to freeze his backside off to maintain his academic dignity, far be it from Martin to intervene. Martin doesn’t feel sorry for him, when he sees Jon blowing on his fingers to warm them up, or briskly rubbing his arms while he waits for the kettle to boil and he thinks nobody else is around. Not in the slightest.

It’s below zero on the day in December when the central heating finally gives up the ghost. Even Martin can feel the chill in the Archives this morning, keeps his hoodie zipped up all the way even when he runs into Jon in the kitchenette. Jon looks miserably cold, his shoulders hunched and his movements stiff as he makes his tea.

“Morning, Jon,” Martin says cheerfully. “Bit nippy, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” says Jon sardonically. Somewhere overhead, there’s a metallic clanking as the heating system starts up.

“Finally,” Jon mutters, casting his eyes upward. The pipes creak and clank some more, and there’s an odd whirring sound that Martin’s fairly sure isn’t normal, and then a long, descending groan into silence.

“Oh,” says Martin. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Bloody hell,” says Jon, and storms off to his office. A while later, he sends an email to inform them all that he’s spoken to Elias and the heating is out for the whole building, and that they should all feel free to work from home for the rest of the day if they choose. Sasha and Tim waste no time packing up, but Martin lingers, agonizing over which notes and references he should take with him. He’s never before had a job where working from home was an option, and he isn’t Tim or Sasha, isn’t someone Jon trusts and actually wanted to work with. Martin needs to make sure he gets it right.

At last he thinks he has everything he needs, but still Martin is hesitating, fiddling with the strap of his satchel. Maybe he should just check in with Jon before he leaves, make sure there isn’t anything else he needs to do. Make sure Jon knows I’m going to be working today, not just skiving off.

The door to Jon’s office is standing ajar; Martin taps on it, and pokes his head in without waiting for a response.

Jon looks up as he walks in, his expression startled. He is wearing a jumper. A chunky knit jumper in a warm maroon color, with a Christmas tree and several reindeer on the front. One of the reindeer has a red bobble for a nose. The jumper is oversized, the ends of the sleeves falling past Jon’s wrists.

It’s...incredibly cute, which is not a term that Martin ever expected to associate with his arsehole boss. Attractive, in a severe, unattainable way, sure, but not cute. Yet somehow, here they are.

“Ah, Martin,” Jon says, looking flustered. “I, uh, I thought you’d left with the others?”

“I was—I just wanted to check in with you first, make sure you didn’t need anything. You should head home too, it’s freezing in here.”

“I—I’m perfectly fine.” Jon plucks at the front of the jumper, looking embarrassed. “This is, ah, I bought this for the Institute Christmas party, but it’s surprisingly warm—and quite comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s, uh, that’s not part of your usual wardrobe then?” Martin hazards a chuckle, and to his relief, Jon huffs an amused breath. He raises a hand to adjust his glasses, but his sleeve gets in the way; he pushes both sleeves up to the elbows, and oh no, that’s even cuter.

“No, not—not usually,” he says. Martin frowns, suddenly remembering.

“You didn’t wear it at the party last week, though?”

“No, it’s—it was from the previous year, when I was in Research. It-it didn’t seem appropriate this year, being in a management role. Fortunately I still had it in a box, though I, uh, I didn’t really expect anyone to see me in it.”

Martin feels a sudden pang of something that might be sympathy. He understands how it feels, the desperate pressure to be professional, to be taken seriously, the constant second guessing of what you’re doing, whether you’re giving away something you shouldn’t. It’s hardly the same, of course: Jon’s not likely to be fired for wearing a silly jumper. But...Martin gets it.

“Actually,” he lies, “I, uh, I have to meet with Sophie up in the library later, so I’m around for the day. I was just going to go out and pick up some early lunch. Thought I’d see if you want anything?”

“Oh, ah, where are you going?” Jon asks tentatively, looking surprised at the offer.

“I was thinking of that cafe just around the corner—maybe get some soup and a sandwich?”

“That would be...very nice, actually. If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did,” says Martin, and takes the ten pound note Jon offers him.

“Thank you, Martin,” says Jon, and it’s the probably the most sincere thing Martin’s ever heard him say. He finds himself smiling without meaning to.

“Not a problem.”

It’s too early for lunch, really, but Martin knows Jon never eats breakfast and he missed it himself this morning. He gets two portions of steaming tomato and basil soup and toasted cheese sandwiches from the cafe, and when he gets back, Jon’s found a small space heater to plug in, so his office is marginally warmer than the rest of the Archives. They sit on opposite sides of Jon’s desk to eat, talking about the case that Martin’s working on. It’s the first time Martin’s actually had the chance to properly discuss a case, rather than stumbling through his report while Jon watches expectantly; Jon listens, and asks questions, and even offers some helpful suggestions for Martin’s follow up. It’s...oddly nice.

(Jon also continues to look unreasonably cute in his oversized Christmas jumper, but Martin carefully ignores that.)

The heating gets fixed by early afternoon, and the Archives warm up to the point where Martin can unzip his hoodie. When he drops off his finished case report to Jon’s office, Jon is back in his shirt and jacket, the maroon jumper packed away out of sight. He looks perfectly staid and professional once again. I saw you looking cute, though, Martin thinks, and then tries to pretend he didn’t; he is not going down that route.

Jon glances up when Martin comes in, taking in the “Marvin the Martian” t-shirt that’s now visible beneath his hoodie. Instead of a disapproving scowl, however, he gives a small, hesitant smile.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says as he takes the report, and something flutters warm in Martin’s chest.

Oh no, he thinks.

[vrishchikawrites]

I dont think these fanon takes are a minor thing, I think its more of a cql thing, if people have watched the drama first/only, their perspective is heavily influenced by it, its no fault of the actors but the script heavily does change stuff, WWX is made to cry 82 times in cql? In novel its 2 at most, JZXs death and when he returns from the dead, his resilience trait is..gone. Jiang Wanyin is shown as soft instead of brash/impulsive that he is, JYL has a fixation on family stuff 1/2

Which is more subtle in the novel, to remove WWX remembering LWJ in burial mounds they add lotus pond scenes, this instead shows that WWX missed 'home' or 'regretted' his actions, in novel he never once did, he wasn't bitter/guilty because he knew he was in the right, and Wens were grateful to him, the public hanging of Wens??? I mean, the whole arc was what rumor mongering does, no one knew they were innocent people because this was hidden from them, people like LXC and NMJwouldNOTstandforit2/?

What is up with Mian Mian being from a bigger sect when she worked hard in a smaller sect to gain a high position and then discarded it for righteousness? ? What about JZX? His arc has him an only child thus influence on his pompous behaviour, and he steps up to save Mian Mian 'daughter of a servant' not his close friend, it highlights him not care about status when looking at people, and sure JWN throw the person down the cliff your sister died saving, what a way to honor her sacrifice 4/?

How they changed JWN into a 'soft' person (with emotional scenes on screen)when he is brash/impulsive fixation on yunmeng trio, JYL with family, WWX never regretted his decision, ever, hes in the right thats why, he doesn't throw the seal into the crowd, he dies from the backlash of destroying the seal because of the very reason he knows they'll use it to harm others which he didnt want. It seems more like scrip writers didnt address mxtxs work as an adaptation they were adapting 5/?

Anon, I'm assuming you said what you wanted to say? Idk, but let me reply to these?

Bear in mind, I watched the series once and actually fast forwarded a few scenes.

I agree that CQL has colored people's opinion on the characters. But I still don't get the takes. Even if CQL softened JC significantly, his actions are still Very bad.

Even in CQL, he-

1. Owes a debt to the Wens and refuses to disclose it.

2. Knows people in the BM are harmless and there's a child there.

3. Doesn't support WWX at critical times, showing division instead of solidarity.

4. Lets the woman he was intent on courting burn before his very eyes.

5. Participates in a seige against his martial brother.

6. Helps that martial brother commit su*cide.

7. Threatens a resurrected wwx multiple times.

8. Tries to fight wwx when he was legit bleeding and swaying in front of him.

9. Goes 'what of my mother, father, sister,' during the whole GC conversation at the temple.

10. Treats his nephew like shit.

11. Benefits immensely from WWX's death.

This is just from the top of my head. Just CQL material.

So, all of these things aren't subtle. They're not nuanced actions of discreet character that you need to dig into. All of these incidences are significant events, clearly described and showcased in CQL.

Blaming CQL is well and good, it has a lot of flaws. I agree with everything you mentioned. But, my thing is, CQL JC is almost worst. CQL WWX is actually more innocent. CQL goes solidly white vs. black morality. LWJ and WWX on the right side, everyone else (juniors and wn not included) on the wrong side. It can't be clearer even in that, somewhat clumsy, adaptation.

What I think is happening is people are overly identifying with a foil character. Instead of thinking, "Well, this is how this character works, these are his actions" they go, "this is how the author, unjustly, crafted my fav character. His actions are the author's fault and really, he is better deep down inside of him. You just don't understand him like I do. Really, the author was unfair to him."

All the while, they forget this is a fictional character crafted from the author's imagination and not a real, dynamic person.

The case with MianMian is ridiculous. Her character is compelling in many ways and CQL definitely messed it up. JZX would've benefited from that nuance. I won't comment on how much I hate the low self-esteem so prevalent in WWX's CQL characterization because it makes me scream.

But even then, WWX is shown as competent, confident, and so done with everyone's bs. He clearly reached a point where he only cares about LWJ. It is pretty obvious that in his opinion, everyone else (aside from juniors and wn) sucks.

CQL may be iffy, it isn't fully to blame. Fanon takes are... well, just some people deciding they wanna ignore the source material and believe their fav character is different. Which, sure. I don't mind.

Still doesn't change the fact that they chose to interpret characters in a certain way despite all evidence to the contrary.

[maldito-arbol]

Let’s talk about the GP zodiacs (Part 2)

HOLSY HSIT I LOVE THE GP KIDS SO MUCH AND THEIR SIGNS ARE SO INTERESTING

Thank u to puff-poff for shooting me with an ask about the gp kids, I think our brains just assimilated

One more note: I should’ve mentioned this in my last post but compatibility between signs doesn’t only apply to romantic relationships, it applies to any kind of relationship like friendships, family relations, etc. It’s just that when it comes to more platonic relationships, wholly incompatible signs are more likely to be able to work something out together. As an example, I’m a Gemini, and I’m about 300% certain I could never ever in my life date a Pisces, but I do have a few Pisces friends that I get along well enough with.

Okay same drill—sign, element, infodump, GO

Violet

Birthdate: June 12th

Sign: Gemini

Element: Air

Overview: SQUEALS GUYS ITS VIOLET MY BELOVED. WE’RE BOTH GEMINIS THEREFORE WE ARE THE SAME PERSON. I’m kidding but no, Violet being a Gemini makes her 100x easier to project onto. So I mentioned before that Air signs are the least in tune with their emotions, are the thinkers before they act, are horribly indecisive, and these very much apply to Geminis as well. However, the most iconic trait of a Gemini is the ability to switch personalities at the drop of a hat whenever it services the group of people they’re in—what most people call the ‘two-faced’ part of Geminis. Hey, I promise you that being two-faced is actually a pretty cool and useful asset when in the hands of a decent human being. It means we get along well with a lot of different people, and if we don’t, we can act like we do as if it’s nothing. This asset, however, can turn into a curse of sorts in that a lot of us have...NO IDEA what our actual personality is. We reshape and remold ourselves and copy traits from other signs to fit in so much that we lose sight of who we are as an individual, and therefore we have a very hard time figuring out what we truly want. This is where the indecisiveness comes into play—ask a Gemini what they want for lunch and you’ll get a “what? Huh? Oh, you pick. I’m fine with whatever.” I know Geminis best because I am one, pls forgive me for rambling so much more about them than the other signssss.

Okay so first of all, let’s talk about Violet adapting to other characters to ‘fit in’. It’s not as obvious because Violet DOES seem to have one very fixed personality, but Violet prefers to speak through actions rather than words, so I would call her following Emma to help the children at GP a Gemini move. She could’ve simply dragged her to Lucas—she’s probably strong enough to do so, but instead she decided to go along with her. This isn’t to say there’s no pushback of course, as Air signs Geminis aren’t idiots, so they’ll often try to reason with others (particularly fire signs cough cough) to try to bring logic and critical thinking into the conversation. However, when that fails, they can still be counted on to support their friends even if they disagree. This is why Geminis and Leos are soulmates you heard it here, the stars said Violemma is the way. BUT ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW VIOLET’S THE ONE ADAM LISTENS TO DURING THE LEUVIS BATTLE. YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT BEING ABLE TO GET ALONG WITH A LOT OF PEOPLE, THERE YOU GO.

Anyway it’s also very much worth noting that while Violet can seem very harsh at times (bc Geminis will put you in your PLACE), bringing her logical kind of advice into conversations can be a very helpful comforter.

On another note this scene is so gay?

Compatibility and ships: hellooooooo Air sign Violet you are compatible with other Air signs (Aquarius, Libra, and Gemini) as well as Fire signs (Leo, Sagittarius, and Aries). Usually you’ll see Aquarius and Sagittarius as the most compatible with Geminis but I disagree with that because I have never met a Sagittarius I like so I’m still pointing fervently at Leos and the fact that Emma is a Leo. Listen. Violemma is the way. I am determined to convert all of you to Violemma if it’s the last thing I do. Geminis simply cannot help themselves around Leos they fall like a fucking anvil for that bright, golden-hearted dumbass energy. If there’s any Leos in the tpn fandom let me know I might just propose to you.

Oliver

Birthdate: October 25th

Sign: Scorpio

Element: Water

Overview: the first time I looked up Oliver’s birthday I went “Scorpio???? REALLY????” but then this is another case where the more I think about it, it does indeed make sense. If Leos are the natural leaders of the Fire signs, then Scorpios are the natural leaders of the Water signs. Where Cancers and Pisces will often lose themselves to their emotions, Scorpios have a very strong handle on them. I mentioned before that Water signs are at the highest emotional level, but Scorpios are a bit of an interesting case because you oftentimes won’t even notice that they’re very emotional people. They try to act like Air signs in that way, but their true colors are always there, waiting to be coaxed out.

For Oliver, you can clearly tell that his emotional bond with his friends and especially with Lucas is very high—but even so, he doesn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment or his ability to adapt to the situation at hand. Where earth signs are very fixed and difficult to move, water signs are always moving and changing to find solutions best suited for new circumstances. The best example I can give is the part where the music plays early, and despite internally panicking about it, Oliver is the one who naturally steps up to calm everyone down.

Scorpios are great at handling others’ emotions as well as their own, which makes them marvelously empathetic leaders. We stan.

Compatibility and ships: as a Water sign, Oliver is compatible with other Water signs (Cancer, Pisces, and Scorpio) as well as Earth signs (Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn) so speaking broadly that makes him compatible with Pepe (a Pisces) and Zack (a Cancer) but narrowing it down, Scorpios are usually best with Tauruses and Cancers. Idk if I’m the only one who ships Oliver with Pepe but I know there’s a few people who ship him with Zack—so congrats to you guys, you won the stars’ approval.

Lucas

Birthdate: November 28th

Sign: Sagittarius

Element: Fire

Overview: yall,,,, when I found out Lucas was a Saggy Titty I legitimately guffawed out loud. Lucas and Sagittarius is so funny.... because it’s so wrong. Saggy Titties are the definition of chaos, they’re brazen, impulsive, and constantly changing. Like think of a frat boy in a house full of beer and pool tables and hot girls and you get Sagittarius. This is why I have never met a Sagittarius I like—because they have frat boy energy, and even non-male Sagittariuses require wayyy too much energy for me to handle. I guess the only time Lucas really does act like a Sagittarius is in his childhood with Yuugo, and the way he’s a lot bolder and outgoing versus the quieter older Lucas we have now.

It is important to note that Lucas has been through a lot of trauma and lost a lot of comrades which could very well change the a person’s entire outlook and turn their personality 180 degrees—that could be a large factor, although on the flip side, Yuugo still fits his Capricorn sign even after going through what he’s been through. Different events affect different people differently. Lucas was most likely knocked entirely off his Sagittarius high-horse very quickly when he arrived in Goldy Pond. But if I had no prior knowledge of who he was beforehand, I very well might’ve pegged him a Leo like Emma or even another subtle Aries like Norman. So yes, he does indeed have fire energy, it’s just generally very lackluster and farrrr away from Sagittarius’ level.

Compatibility and ships: okay so I know the only Lucas ship with any weight to it in this fandom is Yuucas, and here’s the thing,,, A Sagittarius and Capricorn combo is the most horrifying fucking couple imaginable and I’m stan so hard. Realistically speaking, your Capricorns would try to put a leash on their Sagittariuses because man. I forgot to mention how childish Sagittariuses can be (though the frat boy comparison should’ve been a clue), and holy shit that poor Capricorn is gonna get ripped to shreds by their Sagittarius. Imagine like a super pompous cowboy trying to ride a furious bull that’s trying to buck him off like there’s no tomorrow. Capricorns are people who want complete control over themselves and their partners, while Sagittariuses,, Saggy Titties just want to see the world burn. Put them together and you could probably cause the End Times Apocalypse. But you know what? Good for them. I think Yuugo and Lucas love each other enough that the toxicity that comes with typical pairups with these two signs is about nonexistent between them. But I fully believe they could still destroy an entire planet and that’s valid of them to do so. Anyway moving on!

you wanna talk about another Sagittarius that makes absolutely no sense?

Paula

Birthdate: December 9th

Sign: Sagittarius

Element: Fire

Overview: My authors I am begging you, stop putting character birthdays in the Sagittarius zone you clearly don’t know what a Sagittarius is.

Since I refuse to acknowledge Paula as a Sagittarius, let’s talk about what sign she actually acts like because I said so. Paula’s a Virgo. Fight me Shirai. (Also im sus that shirai is virgophobic because where the fuck are my virgos. There’s like zero major characters that are virgos, and the characters that ARE don’t even act like virgos. I’m coming for your small intestine Shirai) so as earth signs, virgos are generally pretty resourceful and of course level-headed. They’re kinda shy and reserved, but they’re also very hard workers you can count on when you need to get a job done. Nary will you find a Virgo that procrastinates or attempts to weasel their way out of a mission they’ve been given. The unmovable earth in virgos shows through in how committed they are, and we can see all these traits in Paula. Though she’s a quieter member of the GP resistance, you can tell just how much of an asset she is to them. She doesn’t run, doesn’t lose her cool, and she’s good at pointing out important details.

Pls let me decide your characters’ birthdays for you Shirai I promise I am good at it.

Compatibility and ships: I guess, astrologically speaking, as a Sagittarius, Paula does fit pretty well with Sonya because she’s a Gemini. I actually know next to nothing about Paula ships but I do know she’s lesbian and her and Sonya are cute but I also ship her with Barbara because reasons don’t ask questions I WILL bite you anyway they’re compatible too because barb’s also a Gemini.

Lot of Geminis, don’t you think? Yes I do. Let’s talk about them.

Sonya and Sandy

Birthdates: June 3rd and May 22nd respectively

Signs: Gemini

Element: Air

Overview: these two are what I call the gemini twins bECAUSE THEYRE ALWAYS HANGING OUT AND ITS SO TRUE GEMINIS LOVE EACH OTHER BUT ALSO ITS SO WEIRD THAT WE GET ALONG. imagine like two of those one way mirrors facing each other where it just goes on and on and on for infinite mirror and that’s what two Geminis hanging out is like. Look, they’re literally thinking the same thing and it’s so great

Anyway there isn’t a whole lot of Sandy and Sonya content to go off of in the first place, but them being Geminis seems reasonable to me—at the very least they are indeed meant to get along well and they’re so in sync I could cry. Plus they’re pretty intuitive and able to think right on the spot as they’re facing Nous and Nouma (at least at first) My man Shirai also.. really likes Geminis for some reason because they keep popping up. So instead of one Spider-Man meme it looks more like this,

Compatibility and ships: not gonna dwell too long on this section because from previous ones you may already recall they’re compatible with each other and I guess with Paula as well as I must begrudgingly accept the fact that shes canonically a Sagittarius.

Pepe

Birthdate: February 19th

Sign: Pisces

Element: Water

Overview: so I mentioned before that water signs are at about the highest emotion level, which makes Pisces a very sensitive group like Cancers. But Pisces in general are known for being the kindest and most accepting people as well, which means they’re able to make a lot of friends very easily. They’re basically that one person you sat next to in class who started a conversation with you just to be nice. Now again, there’s not a whole lot of Pepe content to go off of, but we can tell he’s kind and loving to his friends and the other kids in GP. One thing I can mention is that Pisces usually are the one of the nosiest of the signs, and they get very bothered by lies and secrets (this is true for a lot of water signs, but Pisces are the worst in my experience) so we got this single piece that may have a little bit of the Pisces in Pepe showing:

Compatibility and ships: So as a Pisces, Pepe is only compatible with Oliver and Zack considering they’re also water signs. Everyone else is Fire and Air, funnily enough, but the Pepe ships with those two are super cute I think so it’s ok.

Zack

Birthdate: July 7th

Sign: Cancer

Element: Water

Overview: so do I think Zack fits his sign? Yes, in a way I do. I already went into Cancers when I explained Don, so quick recap: Cancers are some of the most sensitive and empathetic, so their loyalty to their loved ones is pretty close to on-par with an Aries. And while Zack isn’t as outwardly emotional as someone like Don, the Cancer in him shows up well in that he’s constantly taking extremely difficult missions he doesn’t want his friends to risk, and he shrugs off any injury to himself.

This might just be a me thing but almost every Cancer I’ve met has a habit of doing That. I am so concerned for their safety. I guess though, if I hadn’t known his sign beforehand, I 100% would’ve pegged him an Aries.

Compatibility and ships: I already went over this with Pepe, but Zack is compatible with Pepe and Oliver. Y’all ok listen to me. OT3. Make it happen. Between them they have every sign in the element of water. They’d be unstoppable.

Gillian

Birthdate: September 30th

Sign: Libra

Element: Air

Overview: here’s a fun one. So as I previously stated, air signs are usually out of tune with their emotions, but where that causes Aquariuses and Geminis to repress or hide them, Libras,,,, just dump them everywhere. Listen I know Libras are supposed to be the sign of the balance scales and they have a thing about the world being perfectly balanced which makes them more prone to revenge bUT ALSO. MY first and foremost takeaway from Libras is that they all suffer from Rich Bitch syndrome, in which they obsess over material items and every Libra has a thing about cute girly stuff change my mind. HOWEVER, they’re often very chaotic as well, the kinda Sagittarius of the Air signs. So like a super cute and seemingly fun girl who will probably murder you in your sleep.



I’m sorry I can’t take it I’ve been laughing at this for the past fifteen minutes it’s too funny. Anyway, Gillian’s Rich Bitch Syndrome appears through her fashion statement. Her PINS. omg. Gillian your Libra is showing.

Compatibility and ships: as a Libra Gillian is compatible with other Air signs (Aquarius, Gemini, Libra) as well as Fire signs (Aries, Sagittarius, Leo) but she’s most compatible with Aries and Sagittarius so—— Paula yes, but also Nigel because he’s an Aries! Speaking of Nigel,

Nigel

Birthdate: March 27th

Sign: Aries

Element: Fire

Overview: Aries Nigel doesn’t come as a surprise, let’s be real here. I delved into Aries before with Norman, so just as a recap: Aries are so intensely loyal to the ones they love and would do absolutely anything for them even at the cost of their lives, and this can make them prone to outbursts of anger and/or impulsivity. Here’s your one image of Aries Nigel, I don’t even have to explain:

Compatibility and ships: so I already said this but Nigel is at his most compatible with Gillian. Are there other Nigel ships?? Pls let me know I’m very curious.

Aw, it’s over now :(

I loved talking about the GP kids they fill the void in my heart. Now to move onto talking about the demons because the silliest idiot requested it and I am beyond ecstatic to spout pure headcanon bullshit. If you’re feelin excited then feel free to keep sending characters my way I will be happy to ramble about their canon zodiac or my headcanon for their zodiac

Edit: i forgot to link part 1 to anyone who wants it and doesn’t want to stalk my profile to find it

[bastardtetsu]

critical thinking | ch①

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 1.9k

warnings: swearing, being a theatre major 

※ mlist | ● ② ③ ④

you knew it was a dumb bitch move to procrastinate on your science requirement.

trying to schedule gen-eds around the demanding requirements of your theatre degree was already a nightmare, and your aversion to maths and sciences makes it even more difficult to find classes that both fit in your schedule AND don’t make you want to actively drop out of school. you weren’t sure why you thought putting off your one and only science credit until your final semester was going to solve any of that. so, you couldn’t be shocked when your only option to graduate on time ended up being 9am chemistry 1. on a monday, no less.

the first class is just as bad as you expect. the lecture drags on for ages, and as much as you will your sleepy morning brain to wrap your head around the concepts being thrown at you, no amount of caffeine, color-coded notes, or mental gymnastics can ford the river of brain-muddling frustration standing between you and a passing grade - the one you need to graduate.

panic begins to set in as you visualize all the hard work you put into your degree rendered useless, all because of a class that doesn’t even have to do with your field of study. who decided there had to be a science requirement anyway? i don’t need fucking chemistry to get a theatre degree??

“if you’re having trouble with anything,” your professor announces, bringing your attention back to the lecture that's finally wrapping up, “the tutoring center on campus is a great resource. i also hold office hours at the times listed on the syllabus. that’s our time for today folks, have a good week.”

you check the syllabus - all of the professor’s office hours conflict with your other classes, of course. asking your classmates is out of the question, seeing as you’re the lone arts major in a sea of STEM and pre-med. as annoying as it is to have to add another item to your schedule, tutoring seems like the only option if you want any hope of graduating. luckily you have some time before your next class, so you pack up your things and head for the tutoring center.

you pray that a decent chem tutor is available during any of your limited free time as you approach the lady at the desk of the tutoring office. she informs you of several with hours later in the week, none of which align with your schedule, and one who is available for the next hour. you figure tutoring right after class isn’t a bad deal - especially considering it’s your only option. the woman gives you a classroom number and a name - kuroo tetsuro - and you set out.

it doesn’t take you long to find the right classroom, but you aren’t prepared for the sight that is waiting for you there. a strong jawline and a mess of black hair that appears to stick up on its own catch your eye first as he taps away at his phone screen, his bored slouch doing nothing to hide his imposing height.

“um... hi, kuroo?” you say tentatively. his eyes glance up from his phone, slightly startled.

“oh, hey,” he responds, sitting up a bit, “you here for tutoring?”

“i am,” you reply with a half smile, “y/n.”

“kuroo. nice to meet you, y/n,” he pulls out the chair next to him as an invitation, “what year are you?”

“i’m a senior,” you say as you make your way over and sit down, “i’m in chem 1.” he definitely seems taller up close, even sitting down.

“chem 1? as a senior?” he asks derisively, his lips curling into a smirk. embarrassment and annoyance shoot through your chest.

“i’m a theatre major, alright,” you respond dryly, “i’m just trying to get my science credit and go.”

“left it ‘til the last minute, huh?” that smirk is still on his face.

“yeah, not my best decision,” you reply, trying not to let your annoyance seep through, “but i’m just trying to pass this class so i can graduate.”

“well, hopefully i can help with that,” he says smugly, “i may be a lowly business major, but i’m pretty good with chem if i do say so myself.”

a business major. of course. you’re familiar with the future capitalist machinery of the business school from your limited experience with the frat parties they so densely populated. needless to say, the impression was not good.

“so what do you need help with?”

“um...” you pondered, “all of it?” he snickered.

“you’re gonna have to be more specific if you wanna get anywhere.” his tone is dripping with amusement. is he trying to piss you off?

“ugh,” you let out an exasperated grunt, suddenly averse to showing any kind of weakness to this jerk. you pull out your notebook and flip to the page where you had attempted to take notes earlier. “this stuff.”

he leans over to take a look at your notes, and as his eyes scan the page you suddenly notice his smell - some fancy-smelling cologne with like, sandalwood or some shit - and his strong but elegant bone structure. i could cut myself on those cheekbones, you think.

“these notes are terrible.”

annnndddd he ruined it.

“well i can’t exactly take good notes if i have no clue what’s going on,” you counter, “isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me with?”

“i can try,” he says with an amused grin, “but I’ve never seen someone struggle this much with the basics on day one.”

now, you could put up with a lot of shit, but the one thing you cannot stand is being condescended to. especially not by some egotistical capitalist fucker who barely knows you.

“look,” you say pointedly, holding back the urge to throat punch him right then and there, “i’m really busy, and i just wanna pass this class, so if you could help me without being a dick about it i’d really appreciate it.”

“aw, but where’s the fun in that?”

his lips twist back into that patronizing smirk - he’s definitely trying to get a rise out of you.

“fuck off,” you say with a roll of your eyes, refusing to take his bait, “are you gonna teach me chemistry or not?”

he chuckles quietly again, thoroughly entertained. “sure. only because I’m so kind, and i could use the challenge.”

you scoff, but hold yourself back from retorting. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

at first, it’s excruciating. you loathe this douchey business bro getting off on being condescending while explaining chemistry to you like you don’t understand anything - which, to be fair, you don’t. but that somehow makes you resent him more.

granted, once you actually get down to business, kuroo is actually a pretty good tutor. he’s not actively annoying when he’s actually trying to teach you something, and he’s surprisingly patient and good at breaking things down. dude is smart, there’s no denying that.

nevertheless, even when he’s not being snarky, every correction he makes seems to fluster you more. you hate looking stupid in front of others, and something about kuroo seems to amplify that feeling by a thousand. you blame his attitude.

as you fumble trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar numbers, symbols, & formulas, you’re simultaneously attempting to maintain a shred of dignity in front of this man who clearly thinks of you as the dumbest bitch on the planet. and the more you struggle, the more you worry he’s right.

“seeeee? i told you it wasn’t that hard!” he hums as you finish off another homework question you’d been struggling with. he can’t seem to praise you without being patronizing as fuck, either. you look up from your page momentarily to shoot him a glare.

frustration and embarrassment simmer inside of you with each of his snide remarks, but you hold yourself together and divert the attention back to studying each time. the restraint it takes not to deck him right in his pretty face is honestly deserving of a nobel peace prize.

“not bad,” he muses as you finally finish off the last of your homework, “and it only took you two and a half hours!”

“i’m floored,” you deadpan. your brain is too exhausted to formulate a more clever comeback. then you suddenly realize - “hang on... has it actually been two and a half hours? i thought you were only available for one??”

“technically,” he shrugs, “that’s when my tutoring hours end. but I wasn’t doing anything after, and you seemed like you needed the extra help.” that shitty smile is back. you can feel your blood boiling, but at the same time that... is actually pretty nice of him?

“ah... th-thanks,” you mumble, still resistant to showing any signs of weakness - much less gratitude - to the messy-haired prick.

“so, should i expect you back next week?” his stare reminds you of a cat sizing up its prey.

“uh... maybe,” you say. you honestly don’t have an answer yet. “i have to run though, i’ve got another class to get to.”

“don’t be a stranger,” he grins, “you’re gonna need a lot of help if you wanna graduate.”

you shoot him another glare as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“i’ll think about it.”

he's still smirking at you as you walk out the door.

—

as much as you’d like to deny it, there’s not much to think about. none of the other chem tutors are available when you are, and there’s no way you’re passing the class without the extra help. and, as insufferable as he is, kuroo did help you get through your entire first week of homework successfully.

of course, you still resent having to rely on some nasty ass, pompous business major to mansplain chemistry to you every week so you can graduate. well, technically it’s not mansplaining since you don’t actually know anything about chemistry. and you technically also asked him to do it. but god, does he have to be such a dick about it??

it’s just an hour or two once a week, you reassure yourself, you can put up with it.

this is easier said than done, of course. the following monday, you begrudgingly approach the same classroom, empty except for one (1) chickenhead douchebag, who promptly stares you down with the most shiteating smile you’ve ever seen.

“oya oya~ look who decided to come back!” he croons.

“don’t flatter yourself, it’s not like I had much of a choice,” you respond flatly. why is he still looking at me with that dumb expression?

“true, there’s no way you’re passing on your own.”

“listen,” you reply pointedly, “some people have better things to do than worry about how many neutrons are on hydrogen or whatever”

“hydrogen doesn’t have any neutrons.”

“COOL!!!! i just want to graduate!!”

“well then you’re gonna need to know that hydrogen doesn’t have any neutr-”

“ALRIGHT, i got it,” you huff, “can you just… help me figure out this balancing equations shit? WITHOUT being an asshole about it?”

“hmm… sorry, i can only accept one request at a time.”

this is gonna be a long fucking semester.

a/n: eeeeee this is the first time i’ve actually wholeheartedly attempted to write a fic in lord knows how long (possibly ever?? idk them memories repressed) and my first time posting my own writing so i hope y’all like it !! everybody who’s ready to see me trash talk k*roo t*tsuro say way ho

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (7)

I really just want to say thanks. I love this fandom, and I love this story…just the overwhelming excitement for this fic makes me so so happy. Everything that happens is really just me saying ‘whatever, I want to see this’. Does it make sense? Not always. Is everyone completely in character? Maybe. Am I having a blast? Absolutely! 

Thank you for all the comments and kudos! 

And sorry for the wait. Wedding planning! 

In Which Gabriel is Serenaded

(Ao3 | FF.net)

—

Day three, Adrien awoke on the pillow. He was used to it now, officially. How scary a thought! 

Plagg had laid out his outfit, thankfully so Adrien could approve, or at least warm up to the idea. 

It was one of the shirts that Marinette had Frankensteined together from the pieces they had found. Absolutely gaudy, atrocious, and a pain to look at. Stripes, polka dots, plaid, little patterns of flowers, all saturated as far top right of the Hue/Sat scale as possible. 

It would make his father cry. It would set the media into a frenzy. It was glorious, and that scared Adrien. 

It scared him that he was starting to come around. He was starting to enjoy this reckless abandon. It was cathartic to watch his world shift and change into something more chaotic, and yet somehow pleasant. Organized Chaos. 

Plagg came out of the bathroom, devoid of mohawks or any other bizarre hairstyle he could have done. His hair was just swept to the side, combed, but not gelled, into place. 

The perfect amount of wild. 

“You don’t have to wake up when I do.” Plagg stated. “I’ll just drop you in my pocket.” 

“It’s alright,” Adrien assured, yawning. “I’m used to waking up this early.”

Plagg dressed quickly, and just as he slid into his moccasins, the room glowed red, and heavy bars slammed shut over the windows. 

Both Adrien and Plagg jolted in surprise, Adrien falling into panic.

Plagg just scooped him up, and held him to his chest. “Hey kid, it’s alright. You can phase through things. You can escape if you need too.” 

This helped calm him down slightly, if ever so minutely. Plagg tucked him into his pocket, and confidently walked downstairs. 

Gabriel and Nathalie were waiting for him in the foyer. 

“What's the deal, old man?” Plagg asked, bluntly. “Akuma attack?”

“No,” replied Gabriel, his head held high. “You’re grounded. No school. No friends. Nothing.” 

Plagg scoffed. “I’m under literal house arrest?! Come on! I have a sleepover at Nino’s tonight!”

“Did you ask if you could attend this sleepover?” 

“No. You were going to say no anyways. Better to beg forgiveness then ask permission and all that.”

“Well, that really solidifies my decision to ground you then. You clearly show a clear lack of critical and mature thinking.” 

“Ah, a pompous way of calling me stupid, hmm?”

Gabriel frowned harder, a line forming at the corner of his mouth. “I am not calling you stupid. I just don’t see you making good decisions.” 

“Gabriel, before this, I wasn’t making any decisions. Everything I did was according to your will. How can you be mad at me at being bad at something I have no practice doing?” 

Gabriel’s eye twitched. “First, do not call me by my first name. Second, I have already made up my mind. If I say you’re grounded, then you’re grounded. Deal with it.” 

Oh that was not a good answer. He may have well just said, ‘because I say so.’ 

And Plagg would not stand for it. He wasn’t standing for it anyway, but he’d at least be willing to bargain with Gabriel if he was offering some excuse about safety for his well being or something.

This was just a power trip.

“Fine,” Plagg smiled maliciously. “Lock me in. But you’re locked in with me. And you’re going to hate it.” 

“I don’t have time to entertain you, Adrien, go to your room.” 

As a kwami who spent most days in Adrien’s bag, Plagg consumed a lot of media. A pair of headphones, an external battery, and a phone that connected to the school’s wifi, Plagg had days to binge all the things that Adrien was interested in. 

And some things that Adrien didn’t care about, like historical dramas, documentaries, and recently, musicals. Especially for time periods that he had witnessed and experienced. He wasn’t omnipotent, so seeing what the humans had thought was important during these periods was fascinating.

But I digress.

The point was that Plagg had a song stuck in his head from a musical and the perfect opportunity to use it had just presented itself.

Gabriel had deemed the conversation over and started to walk back to his office.

“Close every door to me,” Plagg sang, in Adrien’s sweet voice.

Gabriel halted, but did not turn around.

“Hide all the world from me.” Plagg took a step towards him, still singing softly. “Bar all the windows and shut out the light.”

Gabriel turned, raising an eyebrow. “If you think serenading me is going to make me change my—“ 

But Plagg cut him off, raising his voice slightly, “Do what you want with me, hate me and laugh at me.”

Gabriel just stared, and listened.

“Darken my daytime and torture my night…” Plagg came closer, singing with feeling, trying to convey, even for an instance, a flicker of the emotions that Adrien had.

“If my life were important I would ask ‘will I live or die?’ but I know the answers lie far from this world.”

This was horrifying to Gabriel, apparently, as he protested. “Of course your life is important! Why do you think I—“

“Close every door to me, keep those I love from me. Children of Israel are never alone.”

“Children of—what? We’re not even Jewish. What are you singing about?”

“For I know I shall find my own peace of mind. For I have been promised a land of my own.”

Confused, Gabriel just scoffed and started back to his office. Plagg stayed hot on his heels.

“Close every door to me, hide all the world from me.”

Even Gabriel saw the irony of slamming the office door in Adrien’s face, so he resisted, and let his son continue to serenade him into his office. 

“Bar all the windows and shut out the light.”

Gabriel stood at his workstation, determined to ignore his son’s weird emotional outburst, and opened his recent project. 

“Just give me a number instead of my name. Forget all about me and let me decay.”

Plagg fought the smile of victory when Gabriel hunched his shoulders. Was that guilt on his face? Perhaps Gabriel wasn’t as shallow as Plagg had thought and lyrics like this would get through to him. 

“I do not matter, I'm only one person. Destroy me completely, then throw me away.”

And Gabriel sat, staring with his wide gray eyes. His full attention on his son. 

“If my life were important I would ask ‘will I live or die?’ But I know the answers lie far from this world.”

Plagg pounded his fists on the workspace, crying out the words with passion, actually making Gabriel jump. 

“Close every door to me! Keep those I love from me!” He leapt up on a coffee table, putting his entire body, his very soul into this performance. “Children of Israel are never alone!”

Gabriel couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move?

“For we know we shall find our own peace of mind! For we have been promised a land of our own!” He held out that final note, letting it hang in the air, as Gabriel continued to stare, mouth slightly open. 

Truth me told, Plagg was just intending to annoy him to freedom, but had the song choice done more? Did Gabriel finally understand? 

“Well,” Gabriel adjusted his glasses. “That was...certainly something. If I knew you could sing like that, I would have tried to find a use for it. Never mind, I’ll add it to your resume now.” 

No. It seemed that Gabriel was as stubborn and obtuse as ever. 

“Close every door to me,” Plagg began again. 

“No no no,” Gabriel spoke over him. “One performance is more than enough.” 

“Hide all the world from me.” 

“Adrien!” 

“Darken my daytime, and torture my night.” 

Gabriel groaned, and made an effort to ignore Plagg again. A real effort this time, with no eye contact and no facial expression. When that didn’t work, he moved from his workstation and went to grab Adrien. But Plagg evaded him, continuing to sing, with every grasp.

How many times did he cycle through the song? His throat hurt, as every time he reached the climax, he belted out the notes with passion. 

It would be surprising if no one outside could hear him. 

He climbed up on a table. “If my life were important I would ask will I live or die—“ 

“Enough! Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!” Gabriel shouted. “I can’t take this anymore!” He bolted over to the security control panel, and shut off the lock down. The bars on the windows disappeared. 

“Go...please, just go.” Gabriel said desperately. 

“Cool, thanks dad!” Plagg said cheerfully, skipping out of the room. 

Gabriel collapsed onto his workstation. 

Whatever tricks Adrien had learned, whatever manipulation guru he had visited, he was good. Very very good. It would take a while to get him back under his thumb. And he might need to resort to more drastic measures. 

What was more drastic than putting the house into lockdown? He’d need a little while to contemplate that.

—

Plagg had missed several morning classes thanks to Gabriel’s stunt, but his friends heaved a relaxed sigh when he arrived.  

“Hey hey hey!” He sang, coming in the door. “What’s happening, party people?” 

“Mr. Agreste!” Miss Mendeleev barked. “You better have a good excuse for being tardy!” 

“A great excuse! My dad shut the house down to ground me, and I had to annoy him with Broadway until he opened up. He was a lot more patient than I expected.” 

“Are you serious?” Miss Mendeleev asked. 

“Madam, do you really think that my father, fashion mogul, would allow me to leave the house like this?” He gestured to his mismatched outfit.

“Point taken. You may take your seat.” 

Plagg shot a thumbs up to his friends. 

—

After school, the group of four piled into Nino’s family car and headed over to his house. 

“I’m so excited! My first sleepover!” The excitement was genuine, as this truly was Plagg’s first sleepover. Of course, his whole life had consisted in sleeping in different places that weren’t his home (the Miracle Box) but the concept of going to a friends house to eat food and gossip all night long was novel and exciting. 

“What curfew do you girls have?” Mrs. Lahiffe asked. 

“I have until 11,” beamed Alya. 

“I have to leave at 9,” Marinette pouted. “I have to help my parents in the bakery tomorrow.” 

It was also Ladybug’s solo patrol tonight, Plagg noted to himself. Kind of a saving grace, since Chat certainly wasn’t going to be on it. 

“I’ll be sure to count you both for dinner then!” Mrs. Lahiffe chirped. 

Adrien had been to Nino’s house a handful of times, all under the pretense of working on homework of course. And it wasn’t a house either, it was an apartment, like most residences in Paris. It was warm, not always clean, and the smell of their cat’s litter was just a hint in the air. 

Major Tom was a right good cat. An old gray tabby, who was far too wise for his own good. Plagg had met this family member in person, since the cat was still pretty curious in his age. 

As soon as the group of friends entered the apartment, Major Tom stretched and trotted toward them, toward Plagg, and rubbed against his leg. 

“Hi Tommy,” Plagg smiled, an inside joke passing between them. 

“I swear,” said Nino with defeat. “Major Tom likes you more than anyone else in this house...and you’ve barely met him.” 

Plagg just shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a pussy magnet.” 

“DUDE! My mom is right there!” 

Mrs. Lahiffe was not amused, but the furious giggling from behind him made it all worth it, he supposed.

“Sorry mom, Adrien’s going through a rebellious streak. He doesn’t usually make jokes like that.” 

“Yeah, sorry, Uh...I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” 

Mrs. Lahiffe shook her head. “I noticed your outfit was rather...daring. Is that from your father’s new collection?” 

“Nope! This is a Marinette original!” 

Marinette smacked him in the arm. “I told you not to associate me with that abomination!” She turned to Mrs. Lahiffe and quickly clarified, “He designed it and I carried out the deed.” 

“Oh you kids are so funny!” She laughed. “Well, you didn’t come over to entertain me! Go have fun, I’ll get pizza around 6?” 

“Thanks mom!” 

“Thanks Mrs. Lahiffe!” 

On the way to Nino’s room, he asked. “What movie do you guys want to watch tonight?”

Plagg grinned, “Have you ever seen Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat?” 

—

Chapter is kind of short, but I have delayed it long enough, and sleepover shenanigans need their own chapter.

The song Plagg sang was ‘Close Every Door’ from Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat.

[knightimehopes]

The Conversation.

Ult Dirk: …

Ult Dirk: I know you’re here, and listening.

Ult Dirk: You have no choice but to listen to this, so save yourself the trouble and show yourself.

Ult Dirk: We need to talk, and I’m not interested in you being a whiny, adamant little shit about it.

Ult Dirk: There you go, the young Prince finally got his ass in gear.

Ult Dirk: It took you long enough, I had thought I’d needed to taunt you out like one of those seductive pole dancers that old Earth apparently liked. Of course, nobody actually cares about that.

Ult Dirk: The web of realities finally connect to bring us to this very moment, tying together into a tapestry of universes showing off our huge ass face as if we needed a huge display of our collective ego any more than we did.

Ult Dirk: Which I did of course.

Ult Dirk: We were meant to speak again, in order to get to the true fucking culspe of our narrative importance.

Dirk: (Jesus fucking Christ.)

Ult Dirk: Look, I’ll get to the point.

Dirk: That’s a first.

Dirk: Thought you were going to suck off your own dick of infinite splinters for fifty hours so you can spout shit about random philosophy I’m pretty sure you don’t actually give a flying fuck about.

Ult Dirk: Do you really want to go down the road of selfcest?

Ult Dirk: I know you hate me, but let’s have mercy on the both of us and not bring that topic into this.

Ult Dirk: I’m not a fan.

Dirk: Aren’t you the motherfucker who said, and I quote;

Dirk: “I had thought I’d needed to taunt you out like one of those seductive pole dancers that old Earth apparently liked.”?

Dirk: I wasn’t the one who began to say the creepiest shit to a sixteen year old version of myself.

Dirk: So grow the fuck up and get to the point.

Ult Dirk: I won’t fall for your childish insults, because you clearly have no idea about the importance of this conversation.

Ult Dirk: I’m pretty sure this is the only point you’ll actually find any relevance in any timeline, and even that is a stretch.

Ult Dirk: You’re not something of worth because of your own actions, and you should honestly be thanking me that I brought you here.

Ult Dirk: Limelight finally shines upon your insignificant self, for the third time mind you.

Ult Dirk: This is your last chance to accept my offer, and I will tell you one. Last. Time.

Ult Dirk: I want you to allow me to use your body as my vessel in your universe.

Ult Dirk: I have my limits on where my influence can get to, as you know. I actually only cared about this timeline having my control dominationg it, at first.

Ult Dirk: But I had an epiphany.

Ult Dirk: Your timeline, among others, is within the Alpha timeline, as surprising as I’m sure you think it is.

Ult Dirk: A gleaming beacon shining through the god damn garbage of dumbass timelines that have no bearing on anyone or anything.

Ult Dirk: So I thought this;

Ult Dirk: You can help me bring your timeline, and universe along with it, to true narrative supremacy alongside mine.

Ult Dirk: Disagree with me if you want, go on ahead, but consider my offer before you decide to make yourself a fucking waste.

Ult Dirk: Everyone benefits from an actual point for existing, Dirk. Your friends are hellbound towards meaninglessness and redundancy, repeating the same old actions and the same old routine. You’ll get sick of it eventually, all of you will.

Ult Dirk: This cannot be stressed enough, you just can’t give up my chance to attain continuous relevancy. People won’t watch a story without enlarged stakes, and my supreme domination with thousands of stories to come will keep us in the public eye for a long, long while.

Ult Dirk: Make your choice wise-

Dirk: Okay, shut the everloving fuck up, please.

Dirk: I’ve had my patience with you the first two times.

Dirk: But it’s worn thin.

Dirk: Nobody is interested in an out of character incel who’s decided that the only way he’ll look appealing is if he cosplays in the worst Kamina cosplay anyone’s seen in decades.

Dirk: No one, and I mean no one, is going to give a fuck about what some random pompous poofy pants asshole says in his psychotic ramblings about some “Narrative” or whatever the fuck you keep spouting on and on with.

Dirk: Speaking of, what the fuck even is this long winded metaphor of yours that you keep on mentioning with readers and stories anyways? It’s gotten old after the first fucking mention of it.

Dirk: There is no goddamn point to anything you’re even saying with it, at least I have a method to the shitty fucking madness that is my life that I put all my friends through.

Dirk: You’re just spouting shit and acting out without even understanding the ramifications or even acknowledging how much of a shithead you come off as instead of how you want to be seen.

Dirk: Everybody knows you’re just putting on the act of being an all knowing holier than thou smug prick, but the only thing you are is a coward who can’t come to terms with anything.

Dirk: We’ve talked too many times, and you told me everything you did, and the only thing you accomplished is disgusting me more and more.

Dirk: I don’t know what got you to this point, how you got so far off the path we promised for ourselves.

Dirk: To be frank, I stopped giving a fuck when you told me what you did to our friends.

Dirk: You turned Jane into a facist Republican propaganda piece with your absolutely deplorable bullshit “narration” powers, you reduced Jake to a goddamn manchild who can’t even stand in front of a crowd without shitting himself.

Dirk: And I don’t even know if this is your fault or Roxy somehow was forced to lose brain cells, but for your Roxy, they’ve been essentially simplified into pink Dave at this goddamn point, not to mention that you’ve insulted them by not even dignifying their identity.

Dirk: That’s not even the beginning, mind you. But the fact that you decided that the people we loved for years deserved to be riduculed, infantalized, demonized, and reduced to imbeciles by your hand is something that you remotely deemed okay? That’s a transgression I can’t be anything but disgusted with you for.

Ult Dirk: You clearly misunderstand how inconsequential all you just criticized me for was and still is.

Ult Dirk: Dirk, misgendering and manipulation means nothing compared to what I have in store.

Ult Dirk: You don’t even have any proof to show that I did it in any case, all everyone knows is that I left on some mission that nobody fucking knows jack on.

Ult Dirk: How bad can I truly be, with just those as my only crimes?

Dirk: Perfect segway into how you kidnapped Rose, corrupted her, and manipulated her wife into believing everything I just stated and more was fucking okay by her when she clearly didn’t, and now she wants to fucking murder you, and so on.

Dirk: Not to mention, John Egbert.

Ult Dirk: I didn’t do anything to John.

Ult Dirk: Bare in mind that it still was useful for getting the Seer of Mind on my side, regardless of the blame for his death. Seriously, how the hell did I do anything to a guy far out of my reach?

Dirk: Sure, because you totally didn’t bullshit the concept of “Cherub Poison” that essentially one shot kills god tiers and completely bypasses our complete bullshit deus ex machina known as conditional immortality.

Dirk: Either way, doesn’t excuse that you used his death to manipulate a grieving woman either. I can go on, but seriously.

Dirk: It baffles me that you think any of this fucking shit is remotely excuseable. We’re done here.

Dirk: Get a life, you sorry sack of shit. You don’t even deserve any of the similes turned defemations or symbolic insults I can come up with right now.

Ult Dirk: You go when I say you go.

Ult Dirk: You want to play a game?

Ult Dirk: Fine.

Ult Dirk: I’ll humor you.

Ult Dirk: I want to-

Dirk: -Play a game in which I’m still a piece of shit trying to manipulate another person around him into his twisted schemes.

Dirk: That’s what you should have gone on to end it with. Because we know it’s the truth.

Dirk: Real fucking original line, by the way. Want to pull out the bro vs. bro strife drama out of your ass to add on to the shitty callback cake? Just sprinkle that shit on there?

Ult Dirk: You’ll never understand, will you?

Dirk: I could honestly say the same to you, especially when you try to look like the king of the weaboo neckbeards.

Ult Dirk: Don’t compare me to Tegiri Kalbur.

Dirk: Who the hell even is that? You know what, don’t care.

Dirk: What I’m saying is that despite your reasoning of this being all important because you’re suddenly the villain now out of left field, doesn’t explain how this has remotely any point to even happen in the first place.

Dirk: If you wanted relevance through this Sburb session you’re trying to set up, then think about it. Would anyone have complained about you going off to make some new alien species on a new planet? I doubt they actually would have, if you didn’t go off and specifically piss off everyone in your five hundred thousand mile vicinity.

Dirk: Hell, I guarantee some people would have wanted to help you out with some of this shit, it probably would have been an entertaining experience for some of the more scientifically minded folks in our social circle.

Dirk: Not that you care, you’ve made that pretty evident.

Ult Dirk: I’m not letting you leave.

Ult Dirk: This decision has long left your capability to effect it. I gave you your chances to assimilate with me willingly, and you chose to shit on my offers time and time again.

Ult Dirk: So you’ve left me no choice but to beat you down myself, and make sure you finally understand your place, and your role in the frameworks of my greatest masterpiece.

Ult Dirk: My words explaining to you how you don’t understand weren’t me flexing the muscles of my ego in your face, Dirk. It was an explanation on how futile your resistance truly is.

Ult Dirk: Come at me bro. We’ll make this happen.

Dirk: Finally, some words we can agree on.

Ult Dirk: And I’ll cut this off for the dumbass posting this to Tumblr of all places with a nice, shoddily made callback.

Seriously, Tumblr? You have a fanfic you can just as easily post all this to on AO3, you could have made your own website, but you chose Tumblr. This is what I get when I let a sixteen year old have the reigns.

If you want some context on this motherfucker, too bad. I’m not promoting shit for this child who thinks that my work is child’s play written by a band of idiots. They can do it themselves.

The next page will be up soon, so you can truly see who’s in charge here.

Until this bastard finishes the art, Dirk Strider, signing off. (God, that was the most moronic sentence I’ve had the displeasure to say. Of course they need me to sign off this way.)

Pg 1. You are Here

Pg 2. Coming Soon

Divergent Reality so far:

[s13e06]

Until the Moment I Die

Draco Malfoy / Female Reader

Harry Potter AU

Summary: “I’ll continue to love you every year from now, until the moment I die… and even after that”

Warnings: mentions of bullying, blood, death, and other unpleasant things.

Words: 10.1K

-

You remembered it clearly. The first time you had met him.

It had been your first year at Hogwarts and although you were excited, a deep anxious feeling was settled into your gut. Being muggle-born meant that everything you were seeing was new to you. Every enchantment, ghost, and moving staircase. Every day at the castle was thrilling in its own way.

Despite entering a world full of wonder that you had never known before, not all was peachy. You quickly learned that like any society the wizarding world had its own separation of classes. As quickly as you had learned of it, you fell victim to an endless barrage of criticism and insults. Apparently in this world being a muggle-born witch or wizard was the worst crime you could unknowingly commit.

Just as you had found yourself diving deep into the wonders of this world you were roughly dragged to the surface and reminded of a place you never knew you held.

The bullying at school wasn’t as bad as it could be, you supposed. It mostly consisted of petty insults and shoulder jabs in the hallway. Anything that they could do to rile you really. Your tormentors ranged from various boys and girls in your year, some even being from the years above. Typically they were those of the Slytherin house but it didn’t matter to you, people were cruel because that’s how they were raised to be. Not because of what house they were in; that aspect simply served as an excuse for cruel behavior and a justification for the other houses to hate them in particular.

It was a ridiculous thought though… to simply stand by and let these people treat you like human trash. Over something that you couldn’t even help. You decided rather early in your first year that you wouldn’t let yourself be their victim.

This particular day, however, the tormenting had been quite persistent. You were simply trying to make your way to your Potions class on time but a group of second-year snobs was making it a difficult task.

“Hey, there filthy mud blood” one of them called to you with a sneer. “Where are you headed to in such a hurry?” they asked while pushing you into a wall.

Two of them cornered you while the other stood behind them throwing insult after insult.

You only glared at them as they pathetically attempted to slander you. The whole act was growing rather boring and deciding that you had better places to be than listen to them ramble on, you pushed yourself past them.

Saying nothing as you barreled forward in anger you heard their quick footsteps rush up to you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” They called after you, slightly out of breath from trying to keep up.

“Anywhere where you lot of idiots aren’t” you growled angrily back at them.

You were sick of them and sick of this game. You didn’t have time for their foolishness.

Turning corner after corner in an effort to lose them you finally found yourself nearing the dungeons and the trio of dickheads were finally off your tail.

Luckily you still had a few minutes to get to potions class; due to the fact that you pretty much jogged the whole way there.

Your eyes were fixated on the ground as you slowly made your way down the steps. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t even notice the sound of someone else coming down the stairs until they knocked into you. Then the next thing you knew instead of seeing your feet you were looking up at the ceiling.

Realizing that you had just tumbled down the stairs you felt a rush of embarrassment course through you. Luckily you were almost at the bottom so it was unlikely you’d be hurt aside from a little bruising.

A little dazed but mostly just fearful of how many people watched you fly down the stairs, you stood up and glanced around.

There standing at the bottom of the stairs was someone you knew. You didn’t know him personally but you knew what he looked like and the reputation that he held.

It was Draco Malfoy. He was a second-year that you had heard plenty about. Even though you had only been at Hogwarts for a few months you found that news and rumors traveled fast. You heard people in your year whisper stories about him as he passed in the hallway and none of it was ever good.

He was staring at you with a shocked look on his face as his eyes slowly scanned your disheveled appearance up and down.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that he was the reason you fell considering there was no one else in the hallway aside from the two of you.

You knew what this was. What exactly was going on. He was notorious for bullying any muggle-born witch and wizard. Always boasting about his own pureblood status and his Slytherin house. Even though you were a first-year it wouldn’t surprise you if he knew who you were simply from word of mouth. The twats around here must have kept a list of all the people they deemed worth picking on.

There was no way you were going to let this pompous little shit get the better of you. Not here, not now, and not ever.

Glaring at him with the angriest look you could muster, you stepped towards him; feet stomping heavily on the ground. The look on his face was almost comical as it seemed he didn’t even know what to say.

“Listen here you stuck up arse! I won’t just stand by and let you knock me around. I already get enough shit from your little pureblood cult friends or whatever” you told him while jabbing your finger dangerously close to his chest.

“So don’t ever come near me again or I’ll beat the piss out of you” you spat at him while bringing your hands to your hips.

You stood there in front of him for a moment more as his face twisted into utter disbelief. He just stared at you slack-jawed as you awaited a response from him.

“Whatever,” you told him as you turned and made your way to your potions class. You didn’t have time to deal with people like him.

 -

Halfway through your third year, it had happened... You realized that you liked him.

By your third year at Hogwarts, you had built a kind of reputation for not being messed with. You were never violent or intentionally rude to anyone, at least not to those who didn’t deserve it. No, in fact, you were only tough on those that bothered to give you a hard time. To everyone else you were kind, funny, and a reliable friend.

Life at Hogwarts was really coming together for you. You had your own group of friends, your studies were going well, and due to your tough nature, even the bullying had died down significantly.  

But despite your generally comfortable day to day life at the school. You also had a little bit of a secret…

You had made a sort of habit out of visiting the astronomy tower. It was usually late at night when you would venture out, always careful to avoid the prefects on patrol. The first time you went there it was simply to get some time to yourself. You wanted a place where you could be alone in your thoughts. Sometimes it felt good to just look out into the night and think freely.

This particular night you find yourself sitting alone in the tower feeling rather distressed. As tough as you were and as much as you tried. You couldn’t protect yourself entirely. Sometimes the harsh words and self-doubt would creep up on you. Making you wish that you could be back home… and on nights like these. You even wished deep down that you’d never left.

Looking out into the darkness you wondered what it would feel like to be a tree. The thought might sound silly at first, sure. But you thought that in a way it would be nice. Standing tall and firm. Leaves swaying in the wind as the world moved and burst with life around you. To see things change and develop as a mere watcher. Simply existing in silence, unbothered, and eternally peaceful.

Yes, it really was one of those nights that you just wanted to exist in silence.

“Oh… sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be here” you heard a voice speak from behind you.

Your heart raced at the sudden intrusion, scared totally shitless from someone sneaking up on you so quietly.

Whipping your head around to see who it was you were met with the image of the last person you expected to see.

It was Draco Malfoy, standing in front of you looking mildly annoyed in all his stuck up glory.

“Oh… it’s you” was all you responded with before rolling your eyes and turning back around.

As soon as you did so however you heard a rather distinct and nasty scoff come from behind you.

“What in the hell did I ever do to you?” He questioned.

A rush of irritation came over you as you took in the situation. Of course on the one night you wanted to be alone…

“Well, I don’t know… How about that time you pushed me down the stairs?” you shot back rhetorically.

It was silent for a moment… the air around you suddenly becoming cold and stiff.

“You know…” he spoke quieter now as you heard the sound of his footsteps approaching you. “I didn’t actually do that to you on purpose. You were just quick to accuse me”.

The scowl on your face instantly vanished as you processed his words. Was he really trying to tell you that he had never meant to push you? That it was an all accident? That he probably didn’t even know who you were but you had been quick to assume and cuss him out?

Suddenly… you felt quite ashamed.

“You really didn’t mean to?” you asked him, not daring to glance to your side where he now stood.

“No, not at all. In fact, I didn’t even have the slightest idea of who you were before that incident” he laughed a little. “But now I do... You’re Y/L/N, aren’t you? A muggle-born girl from what I hear. I suppose you weren’t entirely in the wrong to assume that I’d come after you”.

“I’m sorry for assuming you pushed me on purpose then. But… from the way I see it you probably would have tormented me eventually so at least I beat you to it,” you told him sternly.

He only hummed in response before you felt the way his eyes were studying the side of your face. You couldn’t see how this situation could possibly get more uncomfortable. But then… it did.

Before you could even blink Draco had sat down beside you. He still said nothing to you but you noticed how his gaze drifted out into the darkness just as you had been doing before.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him while shifting slightly to meet his eyes as they looked back at yours.

“I came up to think by myself. I have the right you know” he replied with an unreadable expression. “Besides, what are you doing here?” he questioned, mimicking your tone from earlier.

Frowning a little at his childish behavior you sighed before giving him his answer. “I also came up here to think.” You said while rolling your eyes at him. “By myself” you added.

He scowled at you then. Certainly not taking kindly to your attitude. Yet, he didn’t leave.

But then again… neither did you.

Several silent minutes passed as you both sat by each other looking out at the quiet grounds. The silence was uncomfortable but maybe it was better than talking, you thought. But just as you considered this his voice broke through the air.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked you rather quietly. From the corner of your eye, you could see that he was still looking ahead and not at you.

“Wondering what it would be like to be a tree” you admitted to him without much thought.

His body shifted to look at you then. You turned to face him as well as he gave you a very questioning look.

“Why on earth would you be wondering about such a thing?” he asked you in disbelief, although you could sense the slightest bit of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, wouldn’t it be kind of nice?” you asked him smiling a little bit at the look of bewilderment on his face.

“I don’t see how so,” he told you with a look that said you might be crazy.

“That’s alright… It’s just what I was thinking about” you replied, a little amused by the conversation.

You thought that maybe you should elaborate on what you meant. But his confusion was too amusing to pass up. How often would you get the opportunity to see this puzzled look on Draco Malfoy’s face? Usually, he’d only bother to express looks of disgust, anger, or cockiness. So, indeed, this was refreshing.

It was an odd thing though, this moment. Sat in the astronomy tower with the last person you’d imagine. Something else was strange too… as the moments passed you found that the feeling of being there with him wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

A smile crept onto your face at the realization of it all… what a weird night.

After your encounter in the astronomy tower, it became a kind of unspoken habit that the two of you would find yourselves alone there in the middle of the night. Neither of you spoke about why you kept meeting nor did you question the other’s motive for being there.

But the strangest thing of all was that a sort of friendship had sparked between the two of you. Spending several hours a night chatting about this and that was actually quite a decent way to befriend someone. You didn’t think that either of you saw it coming but one night it was like you’d just found yourselves lost in conversation. Laughing and joking as though you’d been friends for years.

When you got to know him, Draco really wasn’t all that bad.

Under all those snide remarks and nasty glares was just another boy desperately seeking the approval of his family and his peers. He didn’t like to speak about it much, but you knew that deep down he was very lost… and maybe even a little bit lonely.

He’d often ramble to you about childhood stories, Quidditch fiascos, and the latest “Potter” rumors going around. Sometimes you actually found the way he got so worked up over trivial things… a little cute.

Then, one night as you both sat down looking out into the night you asked him something you’d often wondered.

“Hey, Malfoy… when you look out into the night… at times like these” you began while turning to face him. “What is it that you’re thinking about?” you asked while slightly leaning towards him to hear his response.

He blinked once, then raised an eyebrow as he glanced from you to the vast darkness spreading as far as the eye could see.

“I suppose… when I look at it now… I feel grateful to be here with you. Instead of looking at it alone… feeling as though the darkness is all around me” he whispered to you.

It was then, as you absorbed his words that you realized something far greater than you’d ever learned before. A truth much more intense than whatever lies out in the never-ending darkness.

You liked Draco… and it was much more than some silly little infatuation. You were sure that you very genuinely fancied him and in a way… that scared you.

“I’m glad to be here with you as well,” you told him while forcing a smile onto your uneasy face.

Some things may have been better left unsaid. At least, for now.

 -

When you were in your sixth year you finally made the confession you’d been holding onto for the last three years and to your surprise… he said it back.

You just wished more than anything… it could have been under better circumstances.

By the time you were in your fifth year, you had spent the last two years with Draco becoming quite the inseparable pair. To most, you made the most unusual pair of friends. You weren’t sure if it was because he was a Slytherin or because he was Draco Malfoy. Most likely both. But, it didn’t matter, because no one had to understand, and neither of you felt like explaining it.

You supported each other, confided in one another, and always trusted that the other would be there when it was most important.

That’s why when things started to change, you noticed immediately.

Draco had come back different… He wouldn’t tell you what was wrong or if anything had happened. He wouldn’t chat with you long after class or meet with you in the courtyard anymore. He was distancing himself to the point it was worrying you.

Eventually, you noticed him changing physically. He was getting paler, thinner, and any sign of life in his silver eyes seemed to have vanished altogether.

Despite all this, every night you would wait in the astronomy tower. Because even though he was ignoring you, refusing your help, and avoiding eye contact. You still held hope that one night he would show up.

But he never did.

This pattern continued for longer than you could even recall. The days melted into weeks which fused with the months. Time seemed to be whizzing by around you and all the while it was like you couldn’t even breathe.

By this point, you hadn’t spoken to Draco in what felt like years. He looked physically terrible and you could tell by his attitude that his mental health was far from better. Whatever he was dealing with was worse than you initially thought. Your mind raced with all the possibilities of what it could be. But of course, you never found an answer.

Then one day it was like your worst fears had been realized.

The scene before you was so shocking that you were sure parts of it had been blocked from your mind, just to save even apiece of the heartache.

Draco was there. Looking more dead than alive as blood seeped through the front of his white dress shirt. Snape was there too, seeming taking control over whatever had happened as you saw him quickly whisk Draco away to the hospital wing.

You don’t know how long you stood there. It was as if time had completely frozen still. From the moment you saw them coming down the hallway, it was like your feet had turned to stone. All you could do was replay the image you had just seen over and over in your head.

A lot of emotions overcame you at that time. The first was shock. Shock at what you had seen and heard around you in that quick moment. The second was confusion. The questions were flying through your mind. What had happened? Who had done this? Why? Was he okay? Then the third and final emotion… was fear.

A sick twisting pain tore through your gut as the severity of the situation dawned on you and although it scared you more than anything… a thought crossed your mind. Was he even alive?

Before you had time to think about what that meant your feet were already carrying you to the hospital wing as fast as they could. Not caring about anyone or anything else in that moment.

When you had reached the hospital wing you were out of breath and panting frantically. Partially from running but mostly because I kind of terrifying panic had started to overcome you.

You must have been louder than you thought because in an instant Madam Pomfrey was standing before you with a concerned look on her face.

“My, my, child. What is with the hysterics? Do calm down now” she spoke to you reassuringly while patting a hand on your back.

It was then you realized that you had been crying.

You stared to breathe even harder as you looked into her concerned eyes. You tried to speak clearly but only choked sobs came out.

“P-please t-tell me. Is h-he o-ok?” you cried to her desperately.

Her face twisted into a look of pity.

“Are you asking about the Malfoy boy?” she asked slowly.

You only nodded your head as more hot tears streamed down your face.

“He’ll be okay, don’t you worry. I’ve already done what I came for him and he’s resting now” she replied while giving you a warm smile.

“May I p-please see him?” you begged with blurry eyes.

She scrunched her face at your words, carefully thinking it over before she gave a little sigh.

“You may wait for him until he wakes up on his own but you have to be quiet now, you hear? Don’t want to disturb him with those loud cries of yours” she replied softly.

You took in a deep breath as you tried to collect yourself.

“I won’t be a bother, I promise. I just need to be with him, please” you said while wiping the last tears from your eyes.

Madam Pomfrey gave you a little pat on the shoulder in response as she opened the door for you to walk in. Gesturing over to the side you saw Draco’s body lying there in a deep sleep.

As you drew closer you fought the urge to let out another pitiful sob as you took in his appearance.

Although he was sleeping it was obvious that he had been through a tremendous ordeal. His body looked weak and broken, a hollow shell of his former self.

But as you studied his sleeping face you saw that the boy you knew was still in there somewhere, he looked so peaceful as he rested. Even though you wanted to cry over him, hug him, and even curse him for giving you such a fright. You simply pulled up a chair next to his bed, took his hand in yours, and let him sleep.

Sometime later you were awoken by the feeling of someone tapping at your shoulder. You jolted your head up in surprise, not even realizing that you had fallen asleep.

As your eyes adjusted to your surroundings you were met with the sight of Draco staring back at you. He had a frown set into his face as he did so.

Looking down you saw that your hand still tightly gripped his.

Feeling a little embarrassed you pulled it away before looking up at him again.

“Y-you’re awake,” you said with a small gasp.

Examining his appearance you found that although still a shell of his former self it would seem that he looked much more rested. Judging by the expression on his face he wasn’t particularly thrilled t you being here and that thought alone sent a painful jab through your heart.

“I was so worried, Draco. I know we haven’t spoken in a while and you may not want to see me but when I saw Snape carrying you off like that I-I didn’t know what t-to do” you finished with a little choke as the all too familiar rush of tears rushed down your face, throat constricting painfully as they did so.

His face softened a little as he let out a kind of a defeated sigh, giving you a sad little smile as he did so.

“I’m sorry to have worried you” he responded calmly.

“That’s all you have to say?!” you said to him slightly raising your voice as the various emotions you’d felt before came over you once again in one big rush. “I thought that maybe you… you would be dead. You don’t understand what that felt like. I… I can’t live without you.” You admitted weakly.

Your eyes were so watery with tears that you couldn’t see clearly anymore however, the next thing you knew. You were being pulled into a tight embrace.

All the fear you had held over the last few hours started washing away from you as you wrapped your arms around Draco timidly. Wishing that for once in your life you really could stop time. Right at this moment. Where nothing else seemed to matter except for the way he held you.

“Draco… I have to tell you that I… that I lo-“ but before you could finish your confession he squeezed you tighter with a hush.

“Don’t say it. Not now. Don’t you dare tell me that” he told you firmly. But you could sense the slightest bit of wavering in his voice.

You weren’t sure why he stopped you from confessing. Maybe he didn’t feel the same and was saving you the embarrassment. Maybe he simply couldn’t handle to process those emotions right now. But for whatever the reason may be, you didn’t pay it another mind.

“Okay” you whispered to him as another lone tear dripped down your face.

When you pulled away from each other you saw that his eyes were a literal watery. You wondered if maybe he had been about to cry… but you decided it’d be best not to ask.

“Draco, promise me you won’t scare me like that again” you pleaded with him softly.

“I can’t make such promises Y/N. I also can’t see you anymore… not for a while at least. Maybe ever… I can’t explain but it’s best if you just stay away from me.” He told you with a sad expression. “Please” he added while casting his eyes down to avoid your own.

His words hurt. There was no denying that. He didn’t want to see you… he was rejecting you completely and he couldn’t even say why. You felt as though all the thoughts left your mind at that moment. Like a deafening silence surrounded you and all you could see was white light. Was this heartbreak? You weren’t sure. But one thing was certain, the pounding and shredding of your heart was proof you were still alive.

Swallowing the lump in your throat as you fought back the urge to cry once more, you looked to a far corner of the room and gave him the answer you knew he wanted.

“Okay”

More time went by after that and in a weird turn of events, it was you who started to look ill. You couldn’t sleep anymore. Couldn’t eat a proper meal. Hell, you couldn’t even focus on your studies.

It was like there was no escape from the pain. That’s what it was really. Insufferable and undeniable pain. The pain of rejection, of not knowing, and of being abandoned. You had never felt more alone in all your life.

Only adding to the torment, of course, was the fact that you hadn’t seen Draco at all since that time in the hospital wing. You were sure he was around somewhere… he had to be. You figured this meant that he was avoiding you…

You sent hours trying to find the answers as to why he wanted you nowhere near him. His strange behavior before he was injured only added to the mystery and the more you thought about it the more confused you became.

Your friends begged you to move on. Pleaded with you to forget about it… to do something else, to eat something, and of course, their biggest cry of all was for you to just snap out of it.

Many months had passed. But nothing changed, and nothing got better. The person you were seemed to leave along with him. It may have been ridiculous… to love someone so intensely and not even know if they ever cared for you to begin with. To never have even been able to admit it to him. Maybe if you had said it sooner, before he had distanced himself. Maybe things could be different…

You never thought you’d see him again. Had even given up on the thought that he’d ever speak to you again… But then one day in your 6th year he came rushing towards you in the hallway, a look of fear adorning his face.

Completely in shock, as he dragged you into a nearby empty classroom, you said nothing as he began to speak.

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me” he began slightly out of breath. “You need to find somewhere in this room and hide. Don’t leave. Not until you know for certain that it’s safe. I can’t say what’s about to happen but I need you to promise me that you won’t come out, please!” he pleaded to you with worried eyes.

“I-I don’t understand what’s happening, Draco,” you said while still trying to process his words. You weren’t sure at all what was happening but you knew by the look on his face that this was serious.  

“I know you don’t. But I need you to trust me, ok?” he asked while taking a firm hold on your shoulder in an effort to get you to look him in the eye.

“I trust you… and I promise. I’ll hide…” you whispered to him weakly, unable to look him in the eye for so long without feeling sorrowful.

He gave you a sort of sad smile before pulling away from you. He was turning to leave but you were so afraid. So afraid that this was going to be the last time you’d ever see him. You had to tell him everything that he meant to you. You had to tell him how much you’ve been dying without him. Had to tell him something…

“Draco, wait!” you called out just before he reached the door.

His extended arm hesitated midair as he turned back to look at you.

“I love you,” you said loudly with a burst of confidence you didn’t know you had. “I’ve loved you for the last three years and I’ll continue loving you whether you feel the same way or not. Every year from now, until the moment I die… and even after that” you ended with your voice almost inaudible as the nerves began to take over you.

He seemed lost for words, standing there completely motionless as his mouth fell open slightly in surprise. The silence was growing unbearable as you began to question if you’d maybe said a little too much. Looking away from him was the only way to recollect yourself.

But then before you could even process what was happening, he was walking back towards you. He was moving quickly with a look you’d never seen before. Then in the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours.

Your eyes stayed open at first, completely taken back. But quickly you closed them as well as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his body to you desperately.

The kiss was soft at first, even a little bit timid. Then it became desperate and emotional as you both pulled the other closer. All the worries in the world seemed to leave you at that moment. As though you were the only two people in existence.

Breaking apart with staggered breathing you looked into his eyes and saw that same odd expression as before. You were about to ask him what he was thinking and what this all meant but he beat you to it.

“I love you too, Y/N. I’ve loved you for the last three years and I’ll never stop” he told you as little droplets of tears began to trickle from his eyes.

You had never seen him cry before. Not once in all the time that you’d known him and before you could stop it, you began to cry as well.

In any other circumstance, this would have been a happy moment. Two people finally admitting their love for one another after all this time. Finally joined together in eternal bliss.

But the situation was anything but blissful. Because when you looked at his crying face you knew he was emotional not for finally confessing to you. But because he was about to leave you… and that’s just what he did.

After one last passionate kiss, he urged you to hide quickly, making you promise once more not to leave.

Then he turned to the door, looked back at you with a reassuring smile upon his face, and left.

 -

It was much later when you finally met him again.

Life was a lot different after the war. Like many others you didn’t return to Hogwarts, your parents wouldn’t allow it. Although they were muggles they heard all about what had happened and insisted you simply test out of your final years and start working. Although you reassured them that the school would have been safe after the defeat of Voldemort, there was no arguing with them.

So that’s just what you did. You took all the required exams in one go and started your new life as a member of the working class. You began working at the ministry in the Improper Use of Magic office. It was tedious work at times but you didn’t mind it.

Any work was a good distraction from the things you had heard that day. The people you had lost… and the one person who you had never seen again.

You tried not to think about him too often. Although you were sure your record was maybe two days. It was simply impossible to forget him. The feelings you still kept for him and the endless thoughts of what could have been.

You heard about him… every now and then. Learned all about what had become of his father and him during their trials. Taking what you knew now and looking back at what had transpired between the two of you, you couldn’t blame him for pushing you away like he did. It was a heavy burden for anyone to carry, let alone a teenage boy.

Come to think of it, so much time had passed that you couldn’t even believe how quickly life seemed to move on without you. It had been about three years since the battle. Three years since you had last been at that school. Three years since you had told him you loved him… and three years since he had said it back.

Letting out a little frustrated sigh you quickly stood from your desk. Your coworkers eyed you suspiciously as you made quite the dramatic show of slumping your shoulders in self-pity. You were feeling particularly mopey today as all those memories from three years ago came flooding back. As much as you hated to admit it… you got like this often.

“I’m going to head out for some air” you spoke into the room of people, none of them really paying you much mind. That didn’t really bother you though.

Stepping out into the hustle and bustle of the wizarding world was always a little fascinating despite all the years you’d spent living in it. No matter how common the sights in front of you became, they never really ceased to amaze you. However, today rather than be amused by it all you found yourself wanting to run away from it.

Usually, at times like these when you needed a place to relax by yourself, you’d simply walk through the ministry in a daze. But today was different…for some reason you had the urge to walk above ground amongst the muggles.

Maybe a part of you as feeling a little homesick. Or maybe you just wanted to exist somewhere where nothing could you remind you of the suffering anymore. To live as a muggle was to live in ignorance. Completely unaware of the mysterious world around you and when all you could do was agonize over the past… the thought of living in ignorance too was more tempting than ever.

Of course, you knew you couldn’t actually abandon your life here. But it didn’t hurt to fantasize about it…

When you made your way to the surface, surrounded by the common folk of London you took in a deep breath of relief. Up here no one could drag you down to that dark place. To these people, you hardly even existed.

As you walked down the street you curiously glanced from shop to shop. Person to person. Wondering what it is you should do to distance yourself from the world for a while. To complete disassociate from the painful thoughts that constantly invaded your mind.

That’s when you spotted it. A quaint little book shop. It stood on the corner of the street, old and fading, but none the less inviting.

When you entered through the door you were met with the smell of old books and coffee. It wasn’t a café but you had the inkling that the owners must indulge themselves with a secret pot in the back.

As you walked through the little store you marveled at the way the giant bookshelves were arranged. Towering all around you like some kind of maze. You examined the spines of the books as you walked by them. Everything from fantasy books to TV repair guides adorned the shelves around you.

Something was so peaceful about being in there. Surrounded by giant shelves of old books, as though they were shielding you in from the outside world. Keeping you safe…

While you were busy perusing you failed to notice the presence of another person next to you. So enthralled in the dusty shelves that if it wasn’t for your hand touching their own while reaching for the same copy of “Lord of The Flies”.

You apologized with a mumbled excuse me without looking up at the person. He didn’t respond, simply withdrew his hand from the shelf. Judging by their hand you assumed it was a man and given his disinterest in you, you figured it wasn’t the owner.

But as you turned to walk away from the man there was a voice screaming in your head to turn around and look at him. You didn’t know why you were so curious but it was like you’d never stop eating at yourself until you just looked.

So that’s what you did. In one swift motion, you turned your body to face him. Only when you saw the man in front of you… you couldn’t help the loud gasp that escaped your lips.

It was Draco Malfoy. You couldn’t believe your eyes and briefly even thought you might be mistaken. But there was no way it was a trick. It was definitely him. He had aged some of course in the last few years but physically he didn’t look that different from what you remembered. Just the sight of him was enough to cause your heart to pound. Just like when you were back at school all those years ago.

Upon hearing your gasp Draco turned to look at you. He had been contently eyeing the books on the shelf in front of him when disrupted the silence. But when his eyes met yours you saw how they widened in disbelief.

The silence in the air was growing in intensity and suddenly you could make out the smell of dust better than ever as your senses seemed to become hyper-aware.

For a moment neither if you said a word. Just stood there staring at each other in shock. Probably looking quite foolish to anyone who might have witnessed it.

He was the first to speak.

“Y/N… it’s really you isn’t it?” he asked while letting out an airy sort of laugh.

You could only bring yourself to nod your head slowly at him. Unable to pull the words from your throat is it constricted painfully. Hearing his voice again after so long was surreal… and before you knew it.  You were crying in front of him. Just like you had the last time you’d seen him. What a reunion you thought to yourself.

A look of panic swept across his face as he watched you cry in front of him. It was clear he didn’t know what to do or say at that moment he awkwardly reached his hands to you before awkwardly pulling them away.

“Please don’t cry. Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry. Just please don’t cry” he pleaded with you in a whisper. Suddenly being reminded that you were currently in a very small and quiet muggle bookstore.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” you said in a shaky voice.

His eyes were filled with sorrow as he frowned slightly down at you. You didn’t know if he was displeased at the situation or maybe himself.

“Neither did I” he admitted to you with a hint of shame in his voice.

You had so much to tell him, so much that needed to be said. You needed answers from him as well. After all this time you needed to know everything. The whole story and all its ugly truths, not just what the papers told you.

“Can we go somewhere else to talk?” you asked him quietly.

The look on his face told you that he understood what you meant. You wanted to talk away from the muggles, somewhere safer for the two people like you.

As you both made your way out of the bookstore you quickly looked around t make sure no one was watching. After assuring you were unseen you both slipped into an alleyway and without much thought, you took his hand and apparated the both of you into your flat.

As you both came to stand in your kitchen you quickly removed your hand from his, feeling a little bit awkward about everything.

Draco was looking around your small flat quite curiously as you lead him to the couch. His eyes raked over every piece of furniture and every photo in a frame. You gestured for him to sit but he seemed to be caught up in looking at one photo in particular. Coming to stand by his side you knew exactly which one he was looking at.

It was a picture of you and your old housemate, Maria. You two were quite close back at Hogwarts. She was your dearest friend aside from Draco. In this particular photo, you could see the two of you at a Quidditch match. Covered in face paint and cheering happily as jumped up and down in the stands. It was one of your favorite photos. The two of you were so carefree back then…

She hadn’t survived the battle, unfortunately.

Smiling sadly as you both looked at the picture replay itself over and over you heard him let out a little sob beside you. Turning to him with a look of worry you saw that his face was twisted with anguish as tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

“It’s all my fault you know. I’m the reason they’re all dead. I don’t even deserve to be here right now. It should have been me who died that day. Not… not all of them” he said as the tears finally began to fall.

Without second-guessing, you pulled Draco into a tight embrace. Your hands lightly stroked his back in a soothing manner as you shushed him carefully.

You had always wondered what he’d been up to since the battle. How he was handling it and how it might have changed him. You figured it couldn’t be easy but you didn’t know that he blamed himself to this extent. To think that he was hurting this much all these years… it broke your heart.

“It’s not your fault. You know that right? What happened wasn’t your fault.” You told him while squeezing him tighter.

“You don’t understand, Y/N… you don’t know what I did. It’s my fault and everyone knows it. People still want me dead for what happened and honestly they aren’t wrong for wishing it” he whispered to you.

You pulled away from him slightly, still keeping your hands placed securely onto his back.

“If I don’t understand then tell me. Tell me everything that happened. Everything you had to do and everything you’ve had to live with since. I wat to know...” you begged him with a hint of desperation in your voice.

“Okay” was his simple reply as he let you lead him to sit on the couch where he began to tell you everything that had happened. Starting with the time that he began to distance himself from you all those years ago.

His story was sad and full of regret. As you listened to him explain everything he was forced to do you understood why he was so scared back then. The papers merely scraped the surface of the reality he was forced to live in at that time. You wished you could’ve helped him somehow. You knew that you couldn’t have really done anything but just the thought that while you were sad about being ignored he was dealing with the thought of being killed. You didn’t blame him anymore for pushing you away. If the roles were reversed you were sure you would have done the same. Because in your eyes he was everything and the thought of losing him meant you had nothing left to live for.

That’s how the last three years had really felt anyways. Like you’d lost everything you had to live for. Left in that classroom all that time ago.

As he finished his story set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Wishing that there was a way to express everything you felt right now into words.

“I know you feel like the whole world is against you now. I know that there are still those out there who seek to see you perish. But for whatever it’s worth… I don’t blame you. I never really did actually. I knew you weren’t capable of being the monster that the media made you out to be. That wasn’t the Draco I knew. Even if everyone else turns their back on you just know that I never have and I never will. I’ve waited all this time hoping that I’d see you again one day. I didn’t know how to find you or if you even wanted me to… but I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped loving you” you confessed to him with bated breath.

“I never stopped loving you either, Y/N” he admitted to you quickly. “I thought about you every day since that time in the classroom. I wanted to find you after I’d been pardoned but I was afraid you thought I was a monster. I was afraid that you hated me too” he whispered meekly.

He looked down at his hands as you watched him with pitiful eyes. Right here in this moment, confessing to each other all over again. It was like you were back in that classroom. Back at Hogwarts. Back to the times when you would spend countless hours with each other, elation always bursting through your chest.

Moving a gentle hand to cup his face you lifted it to meet yours.

“Whatever the reasons where that kept us apart for so long… the only thing that matters to me is being here with you right now. We may have wasted a few years out of fear. But let’s not waste another second” you finished as you brought your lips to his in a soft kiss.

His hands shyly made their way around your waist as the kiss grew more passionate. Your breathing grew heavy and labored as you kissed him with all the emotions you’d felt while he was gone.

Clinging to him desperately, you were afraid that he might disappear.

But he didn’t.

 -

The happiest moment in your life had been when you’d both said: “I do”.

“Oh stop fussing with it!” your best friend cried at you as you continued to move pieces of hair around your face.

“But it’s just not quite perfect yet” you argued while frowning in the mirror.

“Please, you look absolutely fine. I don’t think Draco or anyone else in there will care about a few misplaced hairs” she huffed.

Realistically you knew she was right. You knew you were just being nitpicky. But there was no better day to agonize over every minute detail than this one.

It was your wedding day after all.

“Fine, you’re right! I’ll just walk in there looking like a disaster I suppose” you replied childishly.

She only gave you a knowing look before walking to the other side of the room to grab something.

You knew it was just the nerves getting to you. They had you lashing out and second-guessing every aspect of your appearance. You fully intended to apologize to her later for your ill behavior. But at this moment you were too busy spiraling into self-induced panic.

Your friend returned to your side with a sigh as she held your veil in her hands. You looked at it nervously as you imagined what was soon to come.

“Y/N, I know you’re nervous now. But trust me… pretty soon you won’t be able to stop grinning” she told you reassuringly.

You gave her a forced smile as she placed the veil over your head. Looking at your reflection was such an odd experience. The person looking back at you was definitely you. But at the same time, you’d never looked more different. You couldn’t tell if this was good or bad though.

“Ready?” she asked from behind you. Her face smiling at you warmly from the mirror.

“As I’ll ever be” you shakily laughed.

When you came to stand in front of the large brown doors you realized that this was the moment that would change everything. This was the start of a new chapter in your life. The beginning to your forever.

As the doors swung open and you made your way slowly down the aisle you could hear the distinct sounds of gasps and whispers coming from all around you. Your heart was beating fiercely against your chest as the nerves devoured you. Maybe if you just focused on one thing instead of everything around you it would be less nerve-wracking.

So that’s just what you did. Scanning your eyes anxiously ahead they landed on Draco. He was standing there, waiting for you at the end of the aisle with the most dazzling grin on his face. He was looking at you with eyes of pure adoration and at that moment you could’ve sworn you felt yourself blushing a little. It was like everyone else disappeared around you. It was just you and him, together, forever.

When you came to stand next to him at the alter you couldn’t stop the smile from growing on your face. This really was the happiest moment of your life.

As Draco reached forward to lift your veil you were met with the clear sight if his beautiful face looking at you with all the love in the world. Your heart swelled with the thought that this was actually happening. You were marrying the man of your dreams. The one you’d loved for so many years and many more to come.

You felt yourself becoming a little antsy as it came time to exchange your vows. You had made the decision before that you’d recite yours first and although you were terrified you had never been so sure about anything before.

“Draco, there were so many times in my life when I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I knew who I was and what was important to me. I thought that I was ok with being alone and I figured I’d never know anything about that true love nonsense” you said with a little laugh. Draco laughed too at this as well as a few people from the seats. “But after I met you I realized that I didn’t really know anything. I didn’t know who I was, what I wanted, or what true happiness felt like. I never imagined in all my life that I’d grow to love someone as much as I love you. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs in our relationship. We didn’t see each other for years after our first confession. But when we found each other again in that dusty muggle bookstore two years ago… I knew that it was fate. I know that may sound ridiculous to some. I myself never really believed in such a thing as fate before. But when I think back to what we went through and how we found each other again… I just know that it was meant to be. I was meant to find you in this life and the next. I first realized I loved you all those years ago when we would sneak up to the astronomy tower in the dead of night. Ever since then I’ve only grown to love you more. Everything I am is thanks to you, Draco. You’re my one and only. My forever and always... and I’ll continue to love you every year from now, until the moment I die… and even after that.” you finished as a tear made its way slowly down your face.

Draco’s eyes were watery as he beamed at you. The whole building was silent as your heavy words hung in the air.

Draco cleared his throat a little before taking your hands into his and looking deep into your eyes.

“Y/N, just like you, I thought I knew who I was. I was certain of my role in life and what that meant for me. I thought I knew what love felt like and how you showed it. But after meeting you it was like my world turned upside down. I instantly knew that everything I had thought was true couldn’t be more wrong. You taught me that I was more than what I was told to be. You showed me what it was like to live freely and express myself truthfully. You were the first person I ever trusted and the first person I ever truly loved. Because of you, I have a reason to wake up every morning. You were always there to save me from my darkest times without even realizing it. You have no idea just how much you mean to me. How much I adore you. You are the light of my life and the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I wish we hadn’t wasted so many years being apart. But as a wise person once told me, the only thing that matters to me is being here with you right now… and I never intend to leave your side. I promise to love you now and forever. My reason for existing and moving forward, experiencing life and all its beauty. It’s all thanks to you, my dearest love. From now, until the moment I die… and even after that” he ended with a soft smile.

You both cried softly then and there, with huge grins on your faces, in front of all your guests as you held each other’s hands. The moment was more than you could have ever hoped for. More than you ever deserved.

Any other words that were spoken were completely lost in the moment as the only thing you remember happening next was saying “I do”.

 -

The air was unusually cold as you made your way home from work. You felt yourself shiver slightly at the icy breeze as you rounded the corner to your street. Something was amiss though. You couldn’t tell what or why but you had this terrible feeling of dread sitting in your gut as you walked down the road.

You didn’t know if it was your imagination but even the neighborhood itself seemed a little darker tonight. The feeling that something was wrong only grew more intense as you drew closer to your house.

As you stood in front of your door you felt the unmistakable sensation of fear wash over you as you froze. Something was very wrong and you could feel it.

Suddenly you were too scared to even open the door. The absolute silence coming from the house made you sick to your stomach. You knew that Draco was supposed to be him and yet it felt as though there was no life coming from the house at all.

When you reached to unlock the door, however, a sick wave of terror spread over you as you realized it was already unlocked.

Both you and Draco always made sure the house was properly locked even when someone was home. The constant threat to Draco’s life from radical groups always made you nervous despite his reassurance that they’d never have the nerve to harm in.

Raising your wand up as you slowly entered your home you were mentally preparing yourself to fight an intruder of some kind.

But when you walked in you didn’t find an intruder. Instead you were met with the darkness of the night spreading throughout the whole house as a single light illuminated from the kitchen.

You slowly made your way towards it unsure of what might be there. You noticed as you passed that there was a dinner freshly set on the dining room table. Draco must have been meaning to surprise you with it.

But where was he?

Before you even had time to think of the possibilities you were met with the answer.

Your wand fell from your hand as you stared down at the floor in front of you.

There was Draco.

But he wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t breathing either.

His body laid there cold and lifeless on the ground and as you stared at him it was like your mind refused to accept the reality of what it was seeing.

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. This all had to be some kind of joke. Yes, that was it. Just a cruel joke played at your expense. Pretty soon someone would come out to yell “got you” as Draco would rise from the floor having a good laugh as well.

But he didn’t… and he wouldn’t

“No…no, no, no. OH GOD PLEASE NO!” you screamed as your mind finally came to terms with what you were seeing.

Draco was dead. He was there on your kitchen floor, pale and unmoving as his wide empty eyes looked up at the ceiling.

You fell to your knees and began to wail as your body shook violently. Slowly you crawled over to his side and shakily placed a hand on his chest as your tears began to fall on his still body.

“Please n-no. T-this can’t be happening. Please c-come b-back t-to me. P-please t-take m-me instead” you pleaded to no one.

Looking frantically around him as your breathing began to grow frantic and uneven you were seeing the signs of a struggle. There were smashed dishes and bits of food scattered across the floor around him as his wand lay on the floor beside his hand.

You took in heavy fast breathes as your mind tried to comprehend the scene before you.

Brining your gaze to his face you felt yourself begin to dry heave as you looked at it. He was dead and you were too late to save him. He was dead and you’d never see him again. He was dead… and you hadn’t been there to save him. You hadn’t been there for him…

Bringing your trembling hand to his face you closed his eyelids as more violent sobs and heaves left your body.

“I’m s-sorry. This i-is all m-my f-fault. I should’ve been here. I s-should’ve been here…”

You stayed there sobbing over him, choking on every breathe as your blood ran cold. Everything around you seemed to be spinning as you desperately tried to steady yourself even a little.

But it was hopeless. He was gone and you’d never see him again. Never hear his laugh, see his smile, or feel his gentle reassuring touch ever again… and as you slowly began to lose all sense of reality above his stiff cold body you recited in your head the only words you seemed to remember anymore.

“From now, until the moment I die… and even after that.”

---

Author’s Note: I already know that you guys probably hate me right now. Trust me, I spent days working on this and like halfway through I really wanted to just give them a happy ending. But, in the end, I didn’t want to stray from my original idea. This story was a lot of fun to write and by the end of it I was actually making myself sad... sorry if it’s kind of a jumbled mess. Let me know what you all think! Thanks for the continued support and feedback! :)

[silveranjyil]

It’s not about Right or Wrong

The biggest raging debate in the RWBY community is: who is right?  The lines are clearly split between team RWBY and co, and Ironwood, with many feeling that RWBY is being wrong and hypocritical. It is amazing to see that people are missing the point.

 Neither are wrong or right.  They are both being human—and actually, team RWBY is being more human that Ironwood right now.  This is on par with Magneto and Professor X from X-men.  Their goals are the same, but they are following vastly different paths towards that goal and their ideals are completely different based on their own experiences.

 I have done a whole expo on Ironwood and I don’t think I need to add to that.  But I do want to look at RWBY’s perspective in this.

 One thing that has been established is that team RWBY and the others are in the same boat as Ozpin: they want to protect the PEOPLE, and not just a few.  They have come to view life as precious and are not willing to throw it aside as the only way.  A lot of people cite the Apathy messing with their reaction to Jinn’s reveal of the truth, but they were too far from the farm town for that to happen just yet.  Their reactions were genuine—and human, but they did not let their emotions completely destroy their belief in saving people.  That was why they all signed up to be hunters and huntress: to make the world better.

 All of them have had their trust shattered and faced betrayal by people very dear to them, or by people whom they never would have expected.  Ruby saw a supposed huntress-in-training destroy her home, unleash Grimm all over Beacon, and kill one of her friends in cold blood.  Yang’s mother abandoned her, and later sided with the bad guys to get the relic, and Blake did abandon her at one point (seems like they are still working through that).  Poor Blake has been betrayed by her lover and her best friend. Qrow’s experiences are probably uncountable, but his sister was probably a big one.  The biggest one we have for team JNPR is Pyrrha’s death, caused by same reasons and Ozpin.  So to call them children, or naïve, is a disservice to what they have already endured up to this point.  They are still learning, bu they are no longer children, nor are they naïve.

 The headmaster at Haven was the final straw to break any illusions in that.  They trusted him, as did Qrow, up until things started falling into place.  By the time they get to Atlas, face off with a pompous official, and nearly die a few times, they get it.  The world is not perfect, it isn’t a fairy tail, and they can not trust everyone. But they want to.  They really want to trust Ironwood, to have someone with experience in being an authority take the reigns and let them have a break.

 When the team arrive in Atlas, they discover that there is a military-enforced curfew.  People are afraid, hungry, miserable, and restless.  That would be my FIRST red flag that something is not right with the person in charge.  If you want to know what kind of person you are dealing with, look at the people around them and the consequence of their actions.  Ironwood said he wanted to help protect the people, but how was he SHOWING that?

 What makes things even more conflicting is that Ruby and Yang remember the General as someone who supported them and encouraged them: he praised Ruby during Dance Dance, somewhat tried to listen to Yang after her encounter in V3 and even sent her a new arm.  But the town was not how it should be, even Weiss commented on how this “wasn’t right.” In other words, it had never been like this before.  The people had freedom to move around and no curfew, no binge drinking in the streets, etc. How is this protecting the people?

Ironwood greets them as a host—but it seems off.  Him hugging Qrow, for one.  Qrow and he were always at each other’s throats for differences of opinions.  I admit, he probably was glad to see a familiar face, but…

 In any case, Ironwood gave them a LOT of things.  Made them official hunters and huntresses, top of the line training grounds, returning the lamp to them.  He assigns them to his Right-hand Yes-men, not to earn trust, but to sway them.  The Ace-Corps is always talking about how they need to follow orders, that emotional connections and such are unnecessary, etc.  Did you see the reaction from RWBY and team?  Winter is also in on this as well, but we see this mostly with Penny.  Weiss has already heard all this before during her training to control her semblance, after all.  Ironwood was a wonderful host who was trying to lure them into his side with “gifts of gold and jewels”. But he would never listen to them.  He would not consider their ideas, opinions or fears, and the people were still suffering.  And THEN they meet Robin, who gives them a little bit more of the picture.  Why isn’t the wall being repaired to protect the people? Why all the secrecy?  They kind of understand, but things are not adding up.

 You see, a long time ago, in Volume 3, Ironwood gave them a choice.  Fight to protect your school, or protect yourselves. The teams are starting to see that Ironwood is leaning more to the latter, and it bothers them.  We are seeing a dynamic clash of perspectives here, and Ren acts as the gateway to show how both sides could be right.

 But here is the thing.  Here is where we talk about why it isn’t about right or wrong, but about being human. In Volume 3, Ozpin shows both remorse and apprehension about utilizing Pyrrha as a guinea pig to possibly save the powers of the Maiden from the corrupt hands of Cinder.  He weighs everything meticulously, admits to his faults, and you can see the burden of time on him.

 Ruby and her teammates also show this same heavy burden.  They are conflicted about the hard choices they have to make, talking to each other and trying to figure it out.  They don’t try to justify it, either.  They WANT to trust and tell him, but experience has been a cruel teacher to them.  Weiss and Penny show true human feelings about what the plan is for the Winter Maiden, especially Penny.  They have always recognized and felt that just because it was logical did not make it the best path, or even the right path.  They questioned it, but they were always shut down.

 Ironwood has no qualms about this.  He does not show remorse, he does not show apprehension.  He had walled up his heart a long time ago.  He says do it and he expects his soldiers to comply.  And none of them can speak up against him, despite their feelings.  They try to crush their own emotions as well.  1 death?  1000 deaths? The general ordered it, so be it. They have fallen to the mantra of “the greater good”.  What is really interesting is, in a real world sense, there have been some studies that suggest that emotions are CRITICAL in making logical decisions.  Too much logic and reason without the support of emotion tends to make things worse, actually.  Spock was proven wrong many times in Star Trek, despite his “logic”, and this was also explored in that movie “I Robot” where the Robot logically chose Smith over the little girl, even though emotionally and species-wise, the little girl would have been the more appropriate choice to save.  I love how in this volume, they really outline how useless logic is without emotion, and they use Penny as a pillar for that exploration.  Anyway...

 People will say that Ruby should have told him earlier, before things got out of hand. Based on previous evidence in an earlier post, I can guarantee the result would not have been any different. He had already written off half the world.  And the funny thing is, the only result would have been a brief window of safety for himself and maybe those closest to him.  None of his actions would have saved the world or many people, only a select few.

 As team RWBY began to understand this, see it play out, it was too late.  He had already cut off most of Mantle and was preparing to sacrifice them.  For the “greater good” of course.  The fact that Ironwood had NO intention of talking to Robin in any way showed more of how untrustworthy he was.  Robin was fighting for the people with the knowledge she had.  She would have been an invaluable ally to them and would have been able to help in managing the people and the resources.  But Ironwood knew that he would never be able to control her.  She would question his authority.  He can not have that.  That is why Yang and Blake disobeyed him.  They had presented this possibility, and he had shot them down like a bullet train.  He was keeping his secrets until HE was ready to release them.  Any loss of control was unacceptable to him.

 If it hadn’t been for Penny, Winter or Cinder would have gotten the powers. Winter would have been nothing but a puppet for Ironwood and would eventually be responsible for more deaths under his watch.  We already know what Cinder would do.

 I will be honest.  Had I been in Team RWBY’s shoes, I would have done the same thing.  I wouldn’t have told him until he proved that he was trustworthy.  Kicking the people down like he had been doing since before we came would make me less likely to trust him.  The fact that he could have had a very good ally, but he wouldn’t accept it at all would also make me hesitate.  Anyone giving me all this good stuff--upgrades, licenses, etc—for almost no reason would make me question their motives.

 But RWBY not telling Ironwood is no worse than him not telling him many things.  He did not share all of his plans, only the highlights.  Enough to keep them content.  We all have to be mindful of the words we say and to whom we tell them to.  And RWBY technically did not lie to Ironwood.  It was a small scene, but the point where Nora and Ruby were discussing the possibility that she might be killable in another sense from Ozpin’s question means that they haven’t lost hope yet. They believe that they will find a way, somehow, but they do not know where to start.  There is also the fact that they know Ozpin has been fighting this for a long time, and somewhere in his past he might have tried some of these things.  If he isn’t doing that now, it was probably for a reason.  Team RWBY are not as dumb as people would like them to be, and they are being cautious, which is a necessity in these situations.

 If they had come out and said that they would do everything they could to kill Salem, etc—THAT might be lying, but they didn’t.  They just asked how they could help him.

 Fear is a cruel master.  Team RWBY have worked through some of their fears, and part of that was probably thanks to the Apathy that magnified their emotions and doubts.  Ironwood has allowed his fears to consume him.

 And by the way, Ironwood did mention how sometimes certain things still held you from long ago during his pep-talk with Yang after she was framed for busting Mercury’s legs.  Something tells me that was a precursor for this as well.

 Anyway, those are my thoughts on that.

[bouvillea]

a dense G24 Part 2 Essay

Here is my Part 1 Essay. Like before, I would like to talk about some parts of G24 Part 2 that I found interesting first. Feel free to skip ahead to around the fourth paragraph my discussion of the plot. Spoilers ahead.

The atmosphere is very similar to G20. I don't know about how others felt when they played through G20, but the uncertainty about who you could trust (Talvish...) was emphasized to the point where I, the player, couldn't make a sound decision either. G24 Part 2 revolved a lot around the fact that the Milletian and those that help the Milletian couldn't parse why and what was happening in Erinn. There was just a constant stream of dread and bitterness and an uncertainty about the Milletian themselves; the replies we were allowed to choose reflects that. Is the Milletian really good for the sake of Erinn's future? More on this later.

Part 2 opens with Hunter being, for once, very vulnerable to the Aces and the Milletian. He reveals to us his nightmares about his past and Fodla's past. We continue to see these bonding moments between the Aces, the Expeditionary Force, and the Milletian.* Starlet plays a bigger role now as a counterpoint to Fodla. One moves minds and hearts with persuasion and charisma, the other directly manipulates memories and emotions. The Aces clearly serve as the opposing undercurrent to Vayne's prediction at the end of Part 1. The Milletian will always have friends and supporters that cherishes them. Whether or not that is enough to stop the Milletian from spiraling into angst is another story.

*The Milletian really needs some after care...no one asks how the Milletian is feeling after all of this...

Ultimately, a lot of loose ends and story plots were tied up in Part 2, most of them very bittersweet and only vaguely hopeful at best. These back stories served to make us sympathize with the antagonists and make their motives understandable.

For that reason, I cannot come to hate Fodla. She had a very contrived method of protecting Hunter--her little brother. In a pact she made with Hymerark, Hunter's memories of her and his past were mostly sealed away. To make up for the fact that her little sister, Eriu, was sacrificed and succumbed to the curse, Fodla took in Deirbhile. She was a substitute that Fodla loved, but even in her last moments, Fodla wanted her real sibling. Deirbhile is truly a tragic character. She is a personality made and shaped by Fodla. Whoever she was before is probably buried deep in the recesses of her mind. Judging by the last scenes, Deirbhile cannot exist or function normally without Fodla.

Speaking of which, did Deirbhile make an oath with Hymerark, too? What for? We won't know unless we knew who she was before she met Fodla...

Thanks to Merlin, we now know that a Geas is a pact with a god, a pact that cannot be broken easily. If, in Part 1, the Milletian seeks out Vayne in Bangor and speaks to him wearing one of the Geas armors, he speaks about the dangers of being bound under a Geas: "You become bathed in the absolute authority of his will, which grants tremendous gifts and metes out terrible punishments".* Going against the orders of Hymerark will invoke a punishment. And so Vayne insinuates that he still needs to pay for abandoning his duties on the first night to hang out with the Milletian, and the Incubus King does his best to subvert the Geas in order to help.

*Thank you to Mita on twitter for supplying me with the extra dialogue I missed.

Speaking of which, the Incubus King really went full on angst and drama when he had to separate from his wife and Eiren, huh? He gave away his powers, haphazardly made a deal with Hymerark so he could have a dark, gloomy sarcophagus to dream about his time with his wife and child. Even Eiren made an off-handed remark about how lame it all was. It feels like the developers and writers realized that his motivations were very tropey so they decided to make fun of it. And then Eiren followed up with "he sort of...melted away into the darkness like summer snow". Oh. Okay. Goodbye, papa.

I'm going to continue off-tangent here and talk about Manannan, too. He comes back, all salty that the Milletian is busting into his temple uninvited (he does say another uninvited visitor, so was there someone before the Milletian?). But Manannan is so Cat Mom to the Far Darrigs that he can't maintain his pompous god-like demeanor in front of them and the Milletian. He can't bear to frighten the squishy Far Darrigs. It's nice to see that the Far Darrig's love and trust of Manannan isn't misplaced and is reciprocated. I don't think the Far Darrigs were there when Manannan met Scathach, so did he pick them up when he was heartbroken over her? Pure speculation, but that would be really something... Manannan tries to exit the conversation with the Milletian gracefully but then the Far Darrigs ruin it by letting us know that he's going to play with them. Hah. Glad to see his character getting fleshed out like this.

The Far Darrigs also "uwu" at me so there was that. Okay, back to critical analysis.

Human* greed and corruption is a repeating theme for the gods. Manannan said it in regards to the Fairy Queen's reason for leaving, and Vayne, a former Evil God, said the same to the Milletian during their fight. Even Morrighan and Talvish accused the Milletian of claiming powers out of greed and selfishness. The Milletian is a god-like being with human needs and motivations. They see the world in a much smaller frame than the gods do, but possess powers to rival the lowest gods. Make a mistake as a Milletian, and you might as well make a mistake for the whole world. And yet, the Milletian is not recognized as a deity by the gods, and not as a human by the mortals. They're an outsider.

*I will be using human synonymously for "mortal" since there are multiple races in Erinn

And being an outsider is a vexation for the Milletian brought to the front of the mind during this arc. They are always reminded that they are not one of them, that they are a special existence. Vayne's words wheedle into the mind every time they help someone out of kindness. Admiration will turn to fear, fear will turn to hate. The elves and giants forgetting the Milletian and blaming them, albeit artificially stimulated, was a taste of that. Fodla's nightmarish illusion also put the Milletian in the state of being a stranger. They stand at a distance, listening in on a conversation they aren't a part of.  And when they are noticed, there is nothing they can do to deter the hate, or prevent the blood on their hands. The worst part was that the Milletian's friends do zero damage to them. It was a cruel, one-sided fight.

But maybe this is all a trial for the Milletian, too. To steel their heart and understand who are really their friends and what role they play in Erinn. Piran said that Hymerark's trials for the people of Erinn have gotten more out of hand since Hymerark recognized the Milletian's existence. Then, perhaps, the Milletian isn't an outsider anymore. The trials are meant to be completed with the Milletian's help accounted for. These trials will unify the people of Erinn against the Order of the Black Moon.

Which, when you think about it, is not very dissimilar to Talvish's idea to unify the people against a common cause. You'll also have to admit that Vayne's/Hymerark's plan is a lot better than Talvish's. Piran also mentioned that Aton Cimeni and Talvish both condone chaos, so it explains why Talvish hasn't popped out to help the Milletian yet, or to defend them from a very persistent Vayne. He tried helping a little in G22 and then again during G23 but it seems like he got told off and instead sent Merlin to protect Erinn and protect the Milletian. Talvish is definitely on the Milletian's side though, and is probably hoping that they stay true to themselves and continue to help others.

If the goal of Hymerark was to make the Milletian to feel as helpless as possible and then chase them out of Erinn, he wouldn't need to go through such lengths. He could simply pop the Milletian into the Soul Stream and get rid of them there. Cichol did it, I don't see why one of the Three Gods couldn't. Or perhaps Hymerark's original plan was to get rid of the Milletian, but Vayne's oath with him prevented that. Vayne would want trials for the Milletian to overcome so they would become strong enough to defeat him. On the same note, since the trials are getting more intense due to the Milletian (different, I would say, than the trials are happening because of the Milletian), is the Milletian really good for the future of Erinn? I imagine the turmoil the Milletian is going through has something to do with this. Would the trials have been easier if the Milletian wasn't there? Would less people have died and gotten hurt if they did not step into Erinn?

Very briefly, on Cethlenn and Marleid. I had an inkling for a while that they knew each other (thank you, KR Twitter) but due to circumstances, they had forgotten one another. Marleid took on his name, and Cethlenn isn't his real name. So...did he pick "Cethlenn" or did someone name him that? Or did he just switch names with "Marleid"? If Vayne named him Cethlenn...well then. That's the name of Mythological Figure Balor's wife so...writers what are you thinking? (Or, more likely, Fodla named him to change him and meeting his childhood friend with his old name was the biggest trigger to disrupt her abilities.)

Anyway, things aren't looking good for Cethlenn. Or Tani. Tani's last letter to the Milletian had Morse code that vaguely translated to "please letmeout".* Upsetting, especially now that it's implied that Hymerark will use her body to descend to the mortal world. I'm just waiting for Aton Cimeni to pop into the Milletian's body to tell everyone to stop it and shut up.

*Other interesting implications regarding how Milletians work. They can sleep, but do not dream. Nao remembers every Milletian and they can chose to leave whenever or never return.

After all that has happened in G24, I hope we can get some good closure. And I hope the Milletian gets a nice break.

[donnerpartyofone]

i just got a whole bunch of new followers on letterboxd, and checking out who they all are really reminded me of why i don’t follow too many people on letterboxd. bad amateur writing is hard to enjoy even ironically, but there’s something about bad film writing that’s really harmful. i have hate-read so many of this one guy’s reviews that i feel embarrassed about it now. he describes himself as an “arthouse manager”, which i assume means he runs a theater, but it bothers me because nobody says “let’s go out to the arthouse tonight” without the word “theater” in there, it’s just unnatural and pretentious. so that’s red flag #1 right in his description, which is followed by red flag #2 about how he hates modern media, as if being a luddite or nostalgia freak automatically means you’re a sensitive genius. it’s probably worth mentioning a sub-red flag, which is that he also says he’s 27 years old, which has to mean that he either wants to be congratulated for being precocious somehow, or he thinks he’s going to get laid off this movie website where you can’t even post pictures of yourself, or both, i mean who fucking cares how old you are anyway, for what reason? then the first review is of DAYS OF BEING WILD, in which he describes Wong Kar-Wai as “seeking to understand what draws women to shitty, emotionally unavailable men”; i mean imagine being so full of shit that you project your own sullen incel-y “UGH WHY DO GIRLS ONLY LIKE BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH” garbage onto whatever revered works of art show up on your tv screen? this guy goes on to reveal himself in almost a strip tease fashion across many of his reviews, breaking up his pompous analyses with macho mindbenders like “i have often said that being horny is the point of life” and biographical information like about his manipulative alcoholic father. i’m not trying to say that everybody with a delinquent or dysfunctional parent is destined to have idiotic and serial killerish attitudes about intimacy, because that would condemn pretty much all of us. but, i am sadly familiar with solipsistic assholes who brandish their alleged intellectual superiority in one fist while beating the dust out of their childhood traumas with the other, and just seeing his smug letterboxd reviews tells me everything i need to know about him. hopefully he just followed me in a spammy way to get attention and will never interact, or maybe i’ll say something he finds politically disagreeable and he’ll go away.

honestly finding anybody worth following on letterboxd is kind of hard. it can be nice to read stuff by people who are just having fun and shooting straight about what they’re watching, but the site is filled with wannabe J Hobermans and Lester Bangses who are just out to prove that they own a thesaurus. they’re practically all dudes, you can smell the old spice and maker’s mark wafting out of your laptop fan when you read some of this chest-pounding nonsense. not all of them have such toxic things to say as the aforementioned douchebag, but there’s a real preponderance of users who seem to think they’re reinventing the language. the sad thing is when they really like MY writing. there’s this guy i follow who i think used to write fairly clearly, but now everything he posts looks like a burroughs cut-up with really avant garde ideas about punctuation and adjectives, and unfortunately, i think it’s on purpose. i’d unfollow him, but i feel like i can’t, because he is as nice as literally anyone has ever been about my writing. he goes so far as to give me a hard time about why i’m not a professional film critic, he’s like a ~fan~...and then i gotta ask myself, how much is my writing like HIS writing? this is where the difficulties of letterboxd start to feel worth while, in a masochistic kind of way. like, how often do i write in the same wanky bombastic fashion as these shitty little internet valedictorians who i hate so much? probably a lot! i don’t like feeling that way but i have to admit that i’m grateful for the opportunity to check myself, and possibly improve.

however good or bad i am, letterboxd is still a better place to write than tumblr. i mean tumblr is less than optimal for long form writing anyway, but it’s also a question of who the majority population is here. the other day i got a comment on a pretty old post i wrote about ANNIHILATION, a movie i found kind of smarmy and shallow. the commenter said that my points about the movie were good, BUT they would all be negated by the content of the novels on which the movie is based, and they wanted to know why i deliberately omitted this material from my analysis, as if this were a conspiracy to be unraveled. they actually asked me what the point of my post was, like what was my goal in writing only what i wrote and leaving all kinds of things out. basically. this person COULD NOT UNDERSTAND THE IDEA OF A MOVIE REVIEW. i answered them, because they had tried hard to be polite, that my movie review blog is just for movie reviews, in which i talk about what i think about movies i watch. i’m not pursuing everything related to certain intellectual properties, nor am i invested in the logic and content of Extended Universes of whatever individual movies i’m watching. i’m not mad at this person, who was asking an honest question, but i was completely dumbfounded by the question itself. i mean imagine being SO INVESTED in fandom as like a type of lifestyle that you don’t know what a movie review is anymore? like every piece of media is regarded as some sort of municipality, that belongs to a state, and is governed by certain people, and its characters are like Real People who are available for friendship, dating and more. no piece of media is just entertainment, or even an artistic statement anymore. for this person, watching a movie is something like studying civic infrastructure, except with more DIY alterations and more fetishizing of gay men. i keep trying to imagine reading three paragraphs about some middling hollywood movie that amounts to something like “i did not enjoy watching this film,” and just having no personal frame of reference AT ALL for what it means when somebody writes that down. like just not knowing what a movie review is at all, and asking the author to explain the meaning of the bizarre behavior of saying you thought some movie sucked.

why DOES anybody write about movies though? if i don’t find it normal or desirable to watch everything with an exclusive filter for who do you want to fuck and who do you want to see fucking each other, then what else am i getting at? surely i don’t see myself as a potential roger ebert or leonard maltin, especially considering the extremely limited number of celebrity film critics in the history of mankind. i’m also not Pro- the idea of sorting all movies according to some rigid standards of technical quality and deservingness, like anybody needs me to grade them after they’ve performed the nearly impossible-seeming task of even making one single movie to begin with. sometimes i stupidly start complaining about stupid responses to my writing that i get once in a while from the internet, and my shrink asks me, “what are you up to when you post this writing?” she always says i’m “up to something” when i seem to be following but willfully ignoring my subconscious drives, which i think is pretty funny. but i don’t think i’m pursuing feelings of superiority, over movies or other writers. i think i’m just trying to figure out what movies are trying to say about human existence--and they all are trying to say something, are motivated by some angst, even the really insulting ones that only offer up wish fulfillment pablum. i’m constantly trying and failing to figure out my own existence, and i must sense that attempting to decipher movies is one way of getting closer to decoding my own experiences.

and on that note, now i have to complain about the fact that Lyft’s driver rating system includes “fun conversation” as one of the four factors in giving someone five stars. i rarely want a stranger to try to force me to talk to them, especially at 4am when i’m headed to the airport under a miserable pile of luggage. even so, i recently got into a car in such a state, with a guy who was clearly going for that five star rating, babbling loudly and convulsively at me all the way to my terminal. it would be one thing if he were just trying to be nice, but he was giving me shit about everything from my pickup location to what i had done in his fair city for a week and a half. i did not immediately volunteer how many movies i had seen at the festival i attended, because i probably intuited that when he did make me tell him, he would inform me that he doesn’t need to watch movies, because “I WATCH *LIFE*, MAN!!!” the irony was that this guy clearly didn’t watch life at all; he didn’t even have the ability to discern that i didn’t want to talk, or that i didn’t want him to insult my favorite leisure activity, and that probably NOBODY wants to listen to him talk about his shitty generic blues rock band for half an hour before 5am. so that’s the one thing i can say for even the most obnoxious reviewer on letterboxd--that probably they are TRYING to hone the art of observation, a dying skill. probably they are TRYING to train themselves to be an active audience that engages thoughtfully with the movie instead of just hucking rotten tomatoes at the screen OR passively allowing it to wash over them. even if i often hate the results, at least some of these guys seem be making an effort.

[in-flagrante]

The wait is over

THE TIARAS HAVE BEEN DUSTED OFF AND THE PEARLS POLISHED. FOUR LONG YEARS AFTER THE FINAL INSTALMENT OF DOWNTON ABBEY, IT’S BACK, THIS TIME ON THE BIG SCREEN. BEN LAWRENCE WENT ON SET TO UNCOVER SOME FAMILY SECRETS

The Daily Telegraph

31 Aug 2019

As Downton Abbey sweeps majestically on to the big screen, Ben Lawrence joins the cast reunion on set

It is a crisp, clear morning at Wentworth Woodhouse, the stately home in South Yorkshire. Built by the 1st Marquess of Rockingham, it has the widest façade in Europe, boasts at least 365 rooms (no one is certain of the exact number), and represents two and a half acres of building. This perfect specimen of English baroque is the setting for the new Downton Abbey film – in which George V and Queen Mary tour the north of England (which also includes a visit to Downton itself, filmed as usual at Highclere Castle in Berkshire) – and today they are shooting a grand ball at the home of the Countess of Harewood in the film, attended by the royal couple and Downton’s Crawley family.

Inside the house, a production unit zigzags in and out of huge vaulted rooms with cables and film cameras, while extras in 1920s ball attire chat nonchalantly on makeshift chairs. Meanwhile in the ballroom – a giant marble space, adorned with deep-red damask wallpaper and enormous flower arrangements – Maggie Smith and Penelope Wilton (two of the stars of the original series) slip through the lines of dancing couples in diaphanous silks, as a small orchestra plays a waltz. In the background, an assistant producer is being told off by one of the volunteers of Wentworth Woodhouse for wandering into a disused room. This isn’t jobsworthiness. The carpet in some rooms is nearly 300 years old and will disintegrate

if anyone breathes on it. The wallpaper, meanwhile, is laced with arsenic (as was the fashion at the time) in order to make it a certain shade of green.

Away from the action, Michelle Dockery, who plays Lady Mary (the eldest Crawley daughter), is sitting in her trailer, her sharp features accentuated by period make-up, feeling slightly in awe of the whole process. ‘It was during my costume fitting when it hit me. I got really emotional.’

Downton Abbey made Dockery and many of her fellow cast members international names, and no wonder. The ITV series, which ran from 2010 to 2015 and followed the lives of the aristocratic Crawley family and their servants, was sold to 220 territories worldwide, achieved a global audience of 120 million and was nominated for 53 International Emmys. In America, it became the most successful British drama import of all time. It also set the bar for costume dramas, at least in terms of visual sheen. The Crown, Netflix’s lavish regal series (which returns this autumn), has clearly been influenced by Julian Fellowes’ series, which cost, on average, £1 million per episode to make.

Everyone expected that a film would be made, but it was quite a feat getting the cast together. ‘It was like herding cats,’ says Dockery. ‘But I just love it. It’s so familiar and doesn’t feel like work.’

Despite rumours to the contrary, Maggie Smith is back as the Dowager Countess, famous for her

‘When we finished the series, we didn’t envisage a film. We had a party at The Ivy and everyone cried’

withering put-downs, as are Hugh Bonneville’s paterfamilias the Earl of Grantham, his American wife Cora (played by Elizabeth Mcgovern) and his two surviving daughters, Lady Mary, of course, and Laura Carmichael’s Lady Edith. Others involved include Penelope Wilton’s sensible cousin Isobel and many of the downstairs staff: Jim Carter’s stentorian Mr Carson and his wife, the no-nonsense housekeeper Mrs Hughes (Phyllis Logan); Mrs Patmore (Lesley Nicol), the plainspeaking cook with Escoffier abilities, and her protégée, the occasionally mutinous Daisy (Sophie Mcshera).

When I talk to Fellowes though, he is adamant that a film was never inevitable. Rumours circulated about a prequel, following Robert’s courting of Cora for her money and subsequently falling in love with her, but nothing came of it. ‘When we finished the series, we didn’t envisage a film. We had a lovely party at The Ivy and everyone cried, but that was it as far as I was concerned. Then, as the years rolled by, there was a sense that people hadn’t quite finished with it, and eventually I formed an idea for a feature film.’

The Downton Abbey film, directed by Michael Engler, is set in 1927, just over a year after the series ended, and focuses on the Crawleys and their servants as they prepare for a royal visit. It causes much excitement below stairs, but the staff soon find the monarch’s entourage taking over – including a temperamental French chef (played by Philippe Spall) and a pompous head butler, played by David Haig, who refers to himself as the ‘King’s page of the back stairs’. Other new cast members include Simon Jones and Geraldine James as the King and Queen, Imelda Staunton (real-life wife of Carter) as Lady Bagshaw, lady-in-waiting to the Queen and a relative of the Crawleys, and Tuppence Middleton as her mysterious lady’s maid, Lucy.

Fellowes was inspired, in part, by a book he had read called Black Diamonds by Catherine Bailey, which details a 1912 visit by King George V and Queen Mary to South Yorkshire. As well as tucking into lavish 13-course dinners, which included puddings served in sugar baskets that took four days to weave, they also met local miners and toured pit villages. Although the film is set 15 years later, the King and Queen did make similar, unlikely tours around the country, as Fellowes explains. ‘After the First World War, there was a period of unsettled feelings about things – not least the monarchy. It had to re-establish itself as many members of European royalty had disappeared – the German Emperor, the Austrian Emperor, the Tsar of Russia. The structure had to be restated as having an integral role in society and they [George and Mary] were very successful in doing so. By 1930, the Crown was back at the heart of English life.’

For Dockery, making the film was not only a chance to catch up with old friends, but also to further develop a character that the nation took to their hearts.

‘Mary is so complex. We met her at 18 and she was this rebellious teenager – she was bored, and

‘It is pompous, but if you are recreating the ’20s you may as well get it right’

because she was a girl, she wasn’t what her father wanted [an heir to Downton]. Ultimately he became very proud of her, though, and I think everyone really responded to that. Seeing her journey was what hooked people.’

Now we see Lady Mary very much in control, happily married (to Matthew Goode’s Henry Talbot) and more than capable of taking over the ancestral pile when the time comes.

‘Julian writes really well for women and I think that has something to do with his wife, Emma [a descendant of Lord Kitchener]. I see a lot of her in Mary, just her expressions and things,’ she says.

Dockery has had a particularly successful career post-downton. She brought rigour and a dash of fun to her part as an ambitious TV exec in Network (the National Theatre production based on the acclaimed ’70s film), and a sort of watchfulness to the role of a hard-edged widow in Netflix’s warped western Godless. Next year, she will be showing her versatility further in Guy Ritchie’s film The Gentlemen, in which she plays the wife of a drug lord (played by Matthew Mcconaughey).

One character who has a particularly meaty storyline in the film is gay footman Thomas, played by Robert James-collier. We meet at Shepperton Studios, where the kitchen scenes are being filmed. It’s a cavernous setting which production designer Donal Woods describes as ‘like a noirish, Scandi film, as opposed to the glorious technicolor of upstairs’. For the TV series, the servants’ quarters were created at Ealing Studios, but the set has been flat-packed and sent over, as have the copper jelly moulds, kettles and pans.

This time, we see Thomas befriend a footman from the Royal household (played by Max Brown), and he ends up in an illicit gay drinking den in York. This was an era when homosexuality could result in a prison sentence, but, says James-collier, for one brief moment his somewhat malevolent character is liberated.

‘He is introduced to this other world that he doesn’t know exists, and there is this sense of relief, this sudden realisation that there are kindred spirits and that he is not this “foul individual” as Mr Carson once described him.’

The irony that Downton Abbey has been sold to countries where homosexuality can be punished by death is not lost on James-collier, and he feels a grave sense of responsibility about his role. ‘I have received letters from young men who say that watching Thomas’s journey has helped them. All I can say is that it’s an utter privilege. It’s the reason why I do it.’

The film’s 1927 setting marks a period in Britain when country houses such as Downton were beginning to feel the austerity of the interwar years. Death duties had to be paid and households streamlined, which meant that many servants lost their jobs. Meanwhile, the General Strike of 1926 – in which the TUC fought against worsening conditions for the country’s miners – underlined a growing sense of solidarity among the working class. In the film, however, there are no such concerns, and that reflects the point that Downton is in many ways a fantasy. One criticism of the original scripts was that the Crawleys were too benign as employers, that the relationship between master and servant was much more remote, without any of the Earl of Grantham’s well-meaning paternalism. Fellowes disagrees.

‘This notion that people were horrible to their servants is wrong. Most of us, if you think about it logically, and putting aside the moral view that that life should exist at all, would want to get on with the valet or lady’s maid. When you see a character snarling at his butler, you think this isn’t a way of life. None of us would want to be in a position of speaking to people you disliked.’

If Fellowes is the arbiter of psychological accuracy, then Alastair Bruce is the gatekeeper of protocol. He was Downton’s historical adviser at the beginning and describes himself, among other things, as the posture monitor.

He explains. ‘The cast tend to put their bums here on the seat,’ he says indicating the back of his chair. ‘But in those days, you didn’t – you would sit at the front. Also, [people’s] shoulders have fallen forward because everyone is on their mobile phone all the time.’

Bruce also helps the actors with their diction and mentions the word ‘room’. Many tended to accentuate the ‘o’s when it fact it should be shortened, so they sound very nearly like a ‘u’.

‘It is pompous bollocks, but if you are recreating the ’20s you may as well get it right,’ Bruce adds. ‘Michelle would quite happily let me describe her evolution in life as a long way from Downton Abbey, but I have some pretty grandiose friends who can’t believe this is the case. I am very proud of the fact that she now has this incredible poise – you never see a curve in her back – and her accent is on point.’

Several months later, I ask Fellowes whether he has plans for a sequel (although in truth, certain scenes in the film suggest a full stop rather than a pause). ‘There is never any point in answering that,’ he says. ‘In this business as soon as someone says that’s the last time I’ll put on my ballet shoes, there they are, a year later, dancing Giselle.’ Downton Abbey is released on 13 September

[hedwigsaardvark]

From the Telegraph.

The wait is over: Downton Abbey hits the big screen - and a visit to the set uncovers family secrets 

By Ben Lawrence

30 AUGUST 2019

Harry Hadden-Paton, director Michael Engler and Matthew Goode CREDIT: CHARLIE GRAY

CREDIT: CHARLIE GRAY

It is a crisp, clear morning at Wentworth Woodhouse, the stately home in South Yorkshire. Built by the 1st Marquess of Rockingham, it has the widest façade in Europe, boasts at least 365 rooms (no one is certain of the exact number), and represents two and a half acres of building.

The tiaras have been dusted off and the pearls polished. Four long years after the final instalment of Downton Abbey, it’s back, this time on the big screen. 

This perfect specimen of English baroque is the setting for the new Downton Abbey film – in which George V and Queen Mary tour the north of England (which also includes a visit to Downton itself, filmed as usual at Highclere Castle in Berkshire) – and today they are shooting a grand ball at the home of the Countess of Harewood in the film, attended by the royal couple and Downton’s Crawley family. 

Inside the house, a production unit zigzags in and out of huge vaulted rooms with cables and film cameras, while extras in 1920s ball attire chat nonchalantly on makeshift chairs. Meanwhile in the ballroom – a giant marble space, adorned with deep-red damask wallpaper and enormous flower arrangements – Maggie Smith and Penelope Wilton(two of the stars of the original series) slip through the lines of dancing couples in diaphanous silks, as a small orchestra plays a waltz.

In the background, an assistant producer is being told off by one of the volunteers of Wentworth Woodhouse for wandering into a disused room. This isn’t jobsworthiness. The carpet in some rooms is nearly 300 years old and will disintegrate if anyone breathes on it. The wallpaper, meanwhile, is laced with arsenic (as was the fashion at the time) in order to make it a certain shade of green.

Away from the action, Michelle Dockery, who plays Lady Mary (the eldest Crawley daughter), is sitting in her trailer, her sharp features accentuated by period make-up, feeling slightly in awe of the whole process. ‘It was during my costume fitting when it hit me. I got really emotional.’

Downton Abbey made Dockery and many of her fellow cast members international names, and no wonder. The ITV series, which ran from 2010 to 2015 and followed the lives of the aristocratic Crawley family and their servants, was sold to 220 territories worldwide, achieved a global audience of 120 million and was nominated for 53 International Emmys.

In America, it became the most successful British drama import of all time. It also set the bar for costume dramas, at least in terms of visual sheen. The Crown, Netflix’s lavish regal series (which returns this autumn), has clearly been influenced by Julian Fellowes’ series, which cost, on average, £1 million per episode to make.

Everyone expected that a film would be made, but it was quite a feat getting the cast together. ‘It was like herding cats,’ says Dockery. ‘But I just love it. It’s so familiar and doesn’t feel like work.’

Despite rumours to the contrary, Maggie Smith is back as the Dowager Countess, famous for her withering put-downs, as are Hugh Bonneville’s paterfamilias the Earl of Grantham, his American wife Cora (played by Elizabeth McGovern) and his two surviving daughters, Lady Mary, of course, and Laura Carmichael’s Lady Edith. 

Others involved include Penelope Wilton’s sensible cousin Isobel and many of the downstairs staff: Jim Carter’s stentorian Mr Carson and his wife, the no-nonsense housekeeper Mrs Hughes (Phyllis Logan); Mrs Patmore (Lesley Nicol), the plain-speaking cook with Escoffierabilities, and her protégée, the occasionally mutinous Daisy (Sophie McShera).

When I talk to Fellowes though, he is adamant that a film was never inevitable. Rumours circulated about a prequel, following Robert’s courting of Cora for her money and subsequently  falling in love with her, but nothing came of it. ‘When we finished the series, we didn’t envisage a film. We had a lovely party at The Ivy and everyone cried, but that was it as far as I was concerned. Then, as the years rolled by, there was a sense that people hadn’t quite finished with it, and eventually I formed an idea for a feature film.’

The Downton Abbey film, directed by Michael Engler, is set in 1927, just over a year after the series ended, and focuses on the Crawleys and their servants as they prepare for a royal visit. It causes much excitement below stairs, but the staff soon find the monarch’s entourage taking over – including a temperamental French chef (played by Philippe Spall) and a pompous head butler, played by David Haig, who refers to himself as the ‘King’s page of the back stairs’.

Other new cast members include Simon Jones and Geraldine James as the King and Queen, Imelda Staunton (real-life wife of Carter) as Lady Bagshaw, lady-in-waiting to the Queen and a relative of the Crawleys, and Tuppence Middleton as her mysterious lady’s maid, Lucy.

Fellowes was inspired, in part, by a book he had read called Black Diamonds by Catherine Bailey, which details a 1912 visit by King George V and Queen Mary to South Yorkshire. As well as tucking into lavish 13-course dinners, which included puddings served in sugar baskets that took four days to weave, they also met local miners and toured  pit villages.

Although the film is set 15 years later, the King and Queen did make similar, unlikely tours around the country, as Fellowes explains. ‘After the First World War, there was a period of unsettled feelings about things – not least the monarchy. It had to re-establish itself as many members of European royalty had disappeared – the German Emperor, the Austrian Emperor, the Tsar of Russia. The structure had to be restated as having an integral role in society and they [George and Mary] were very successful in doing so. By 1930, the Crown was back at the heart of English life.’

For Dockery, making the film was not only a chance to catch up with old friends, but also to further develop a character that the nation took to their hearts. 

‘Mary is so complex. We met her at 18 and she was this rebellious teenager – she was bored, and because she was a girl, she wasn’t what her father wanted [an heir to Downton]. Ultimately he became very proud of her, though, and I think  everyone really responded to that. Seeing her journey was what hooked people.’

Now we see Lady Mary very much in control, happily married (to Matthew Goode’s Henry  Talbot) and more than capable of taking over the ancestral pile when the time comes.

‘Julian writes really well for women and I think that has something to do with his wife, Emma [a descendant of Lord Kitchener]. I see a lot of her in Mary, just her expressions and things,’ she says.

Dockery has had a particularly successful career post-Downton. She brought rigour and a dash of fun to her part as an ambitious TV exec in Network (the National Theatre production based on the acclaimed ’70s film), and a sort of watchfulness to the role of a hard-edged widow in Netflix’s warped western Godless. Next year, she will be showing her versatility further in Guy Ritchie’s film The Gentlemen, in which she plays the wife of a drug lord (played by Matthew McConaughey).

One character who has a particularly meaty  storyline in the film is gay footman Thomas, played by Robert James-Collier. We meet at Shepperton Studios, where the kitchen scenes are being filmed. It’s a cavernous setting which production designer Donal Woods describes as ‘like a noirish, Scandi film, as opposed to the glorious technicolor of upstairs’. For the TV series, the servants’ quarters were created at Ealing Studios, but the set has been flat-packed and sent over, as have the copper jelly moulds, kettles and pans. 

This time, we see Thomas befriend a footman from the Royal household (played by Max Brown), and he ends up in an illicit gay drinking den in York. This was  an era when homosexuality could result in a prison sentence, but, says James-Collier, for one brief moment his somewhat malevolent character is liberated.

‘He is introduced to this other world that he doesn’t know exists, and there is this sense of relief, this sudden realisation that there are  kindred spirits and that he is not this “foul individual” as Mr Carson once described him.’

The irony that Downton Abbey has been sold to countries where homosexuality can be punished by death is not lost on James-Collier, and he feels a grave sense of responsibility about his role.  ‘I have received letters from young men who say that watching Thomas’s journey has helped them. All I can say is that it’s an utter privilege. It’s the reason why I do it.’

The film’s 1927 setting marks a period in Britain when country houses such as Downton were beginning to feel the austerity of the interwar years. Death duties had to be paid and households streamlined, which meant that many servants lost their jobs. Meanwhile, the General Strike of 1926 – in which the TUC fought against worsening conditions for the country’s miners – underlined a growing sense of solidarity among the working class.

In the film, however, there are no such concerns, and that reflects the point that Downton is in many ways a fantasy. One criticism of the original scripts was that the Crawleys were too benign as employers, that the relationship between master and servant was much more remote, without any of the Earl of Grantham’s well-meaning paternalism. Fellowes disagrees.

‘This notion that people were horrible to their servants is wrong. Most of us, if you think about it logically, and putting aside the moral view that that life should exist at all, would want to get on with the valet or lady’s maid. When you see a character snarling at his butler, you think this isn’t a way of life. None of us would want to be in  a position of speaking to people you disliked.’

If Fellowes is the arbiter of psychological accuracy, then Alastair Bruce is the gatekeeper of  protocol. He was Downton’s historical adviser at the beginning and describes himself, among other things, as the posture monitor.

He explains. ‘The cast tend to put their bums here on the seat,’ he says indicating the back of his chair. ‘But in those days, you didn’t – you would sit at the front. Also, [people’s] shoulders have fallen forward because everyone is on their mobile phone all the time.’

Bruce also helps the actors with their diction and mentions the word ‘room’. Many tended to accentuate the ‘o’s when it fact it should be shortened, so they sound very nearly like a ‘u’.

‘It is pompous bollocks, but if you are recreating the ’20s you may as well get it right,’ Bruce adds. ‘Michelle would quite happily let me describe her evolution in life as a long way from Downton Abbey, but I have some pretty grandiose friends who can’t believe this is the case. I am very proud of the fact that she now has this incredible poise – you never see a curve in her back – and her accent is on point.’

Several months later, I ask Fellowes whether he has plans for a sequel (although in truth, certain scenes in the film suggest a full stop rather than a pause). ‘There is never any point in answering that,’ he says. ‘In this business as soon as someone says that’s the last time I’ll put on my ballet shoes, there they are, a year later, dancing Giselle.’

Downton Abbey is released on 13 September 

Source and copyright The Telegraph

[fierywizardmonarchived]

The meeting pt 2

Don reaches for one of Chester’s hand, holding it “You're a fucking--” giving up mid-sentence, he turns over and starts running, dragging Chester along “where's the nearest exit?!”

Chester looks around the tavern “I'd say the nearest is to the left, sharp turn so watch out… also if you didn't like ‘em, dunno why you stopped me from beating the data outta them”

“Okay, first of all, you're out of your mind. Second of all, you're out of your fucking mind, we have to get out before they--”

“Listen I'm not outta my mind, that was the only way out the restroom, you idiot. I had to do something to give us a way out!”

Sounds of plates crashing and some commotion and the tank-looking digimon getting up and DemiDevimon screaming something about a "get him"

They reach a side door and slam it open only to be noticed by three Knightmons at the front entrance. Don mutters under his breath “... oh for fuck's sake”

Chester raises an eyebrow towards the Knightmons “Are those knightmon for me or you?” all the while his hand that's free is slowly going to his match stick on his side.

“Of course they're--” he stops, blinking, then looks at Chester “... why would they be after you?”

“No reason.” he says as he rips his hand away from Donovan's grip and then winds up his matchstick, scrapping it roughly against the floor of the tavern making it catch fire and throws the powerful flame streak hurtling at the knightmon.

Don stays motionless for a moment of silence due to sheer shock, then sighs “...great, talk about a commotion. And I was hoping to reach the East port quietly. Uuugh…” he reaches inside his coat, taking out a Tommy gun and aiming at the MechaNorimon, who was finally making their way to the duo“I'll distract the Mecha - assholemon, you make a nice sturdy firewall between us and the knights so we can escape from this mess. Got it?”

“Sure, got it.” he shoves him roughly before taking the other match with his hand scraping them on the floor and taking another strike making a blazing wall of heat “AND HOW DO YA THINK YOU'RE GONNA GO QUIETLY WHEN THERE'S THREE KNIGHTMON RIGHT THERE. YA AIN'T!”

“Ever heard of stealth, or does your head shine way too brightly for you to even grasp the concept?” the bullets from Don’s gun start firing, muffling his own voice alongside the noises and screams. The bullets ricochet against the Mechanorimon's armor, giving the tank-looking digimon enough time to swing their long arm towards Don. Chester takes cover by a nearby table, flailing all the way when the bullets come back to his direction. Don, however, is unable to avoid the Mechanorimon’s attack, and the Astamon takes a hard hit on the side, crashing against the wall behind him.

“Yep. Escape time. Ow” the world dances around him and he struggles to get up, as Mechanorimon returns his arm back and is preparing to hit him again.

Chester stops for a moment before looking at the exit and grabbed don roughly, dragging him out the tavern “Come on, I know a way off the path that we can stay away a while!”

“Watch the scarf, watch the scarf!” Don scrambles to his feet to follow Chester, another arm from the Mecha slashing a table as they run past it and off the tavern “I can't believe I'm trusting you with this, but... lead the way. I guess”

Chester starts to run straight before dashing suddenly to his right and into the woods. Don takes the opportunity to fire another bullet hell behind them, stopping the knightmons in their tracks. Meanwhile, they keep moving, Chester making zigzags in his path before going left coming to a small clearing within the forest.

Chester then takes his hands off of Donovan's wrist and walks a bit away from him.

"Should have lost ‘em cause I doubt they could keep up with all that weight."

"they-- they're not... the fast types, yeah." he says between breaths "how come you know this area so well? Do..." another breath intake "Do you live around here?"

Chester just looks at Donovan and gives him a pat on the back before he answers "Yeah I live around the area, been so for a while now." He gives a shrug  "I go to that tavern pretty often, get kicked out sometimes hence why I've seen knightmon before."

Don lets out a sharp breath before adjusting his coat and scarf "good, maybe your recklessness and overall poor behavior can be used as a red herring. Just gotta buy a few digimons in the area so NeoDevimon doesn't come straight to this town" he gives out a long breath, straightening his back “By the way, I believe a different place to spend the night is needed now… any suggestions?”

Chester narrowed his eyes at the pompous digimon “NeoDevimon?” he questioned scratching at his head “How’d you get into shit with a type like that?” Chester then paused before he waved his hand to dismiss the question “I don’t really know to be honest with you, I have a SHELTER but I don’t know about housing two. We could try though.”

Don lifts his arms “I don’t have much of a choice at the moment, the choice I used to have is now on fire. Besides, I suppose I can tell you my story while we make our way to your place…” Donovan finally eyes the other digimon with a raised eyebrow “Wizardmon, you said? The one Wizardmon I’ve met was… quite a different type, not gonna lie”

The flame on top of his head seemed to resurge with life when he heard the choice being on fire now. Though he knew Donovan was blaming him he bit his tongue for now as a means to know more why he was in such deep trouble.

“Well, not all digimon are the same you know. Different lines of evolution, types, yadda yadda.” Chester then shrugged after the comment “Just how I am, Wizardmon is all about lightning and stuff, I’m just an eternal flame. It’s how it is.”

“Cute” he patted his coat and offered a gloved hand for a handshake “although I can’t quite disagree with that. Astamon, but I prefer the name Donovan. A proper, fitting name instead of the generic label it’s added onto us the moment we hatch. Not that I expect the likes of you to understand something like that”

Chester stared at the Astamon, taking out his blue match and leaned on it keeping eye contact the whole time. “Donovan, huh?” he repeated before tapping on his match for a moment with the fire on his hat calming down. “Yeah sure, assume I wouldn’t. Names Chester, actually.” Giving a smug sewed smile at the newly named Donovan.

“Chester?” Don gave him a puzzled expression, but by the looks of the digimon’s face it was unlikely he was going to get an explanation “alright, I guess I stand corrected. Bit of an odd name, though, if I do say so myself, but to each their own - may you show me the way to your ‘shelter’, Chester? Staying still while being pursued isn’t exactly a good idea” he looked around, the black mask that covered half his face nearly invisible in the darkness.

“Yeah, it’s not too far away, well for my standards. Don’t know about you.” he said keeping the smug attitude and straightening up as he put his match away. Readjusting his hat the flame reignited with a new goal in mind.

“Hopefully you can keep up with me.” Chester then took Donovan’s hand and started to guide him through the wooded area. To Donovan, it just looked like erratic movement and change in direction, though that could take someone off their trail this wasn’t ideal for escaping if they got lost.

Mid running he looked back at Donovan “How are ya doing there?”

“I’m fine.” he says between gritted teeth “my coat is just not suitable for this environment, my scarf keeps getting stuck in the bushes. Gods, it’s gonna take me days to pluck all the leaves…” he complains, but despite the whining he does his best to follow the Wizardmon’s pace - Chester’s hand was hot surrounding his, which was expected, but Don couldn’t help but remember how cold the last hand he held felt against his own glove.

Like she wasn’t alive at all…

“Are… we there yet” he asks, clearly out of breath again, in an attempt to push his thoughts away from that train of thought.

Chester though asked didn’t exactly keep his gaze at Don for too long obviously since he needed to pay attention to the path ahead. “Yeah we got through the thick of it.”  he said as they both found themselves outside the thicket and into just a lightly wooded area with a cliff side looking over the waters. He released Donovan's wrist and started to walk “Under the cliff is where I usually stay, not too comfortable but it does well enough.” he took a big inhale “Also as far as I know not many digimon can find this place.”

“I sure hope you’re right…” Don said after regaining his composure, his eyes very obviously judging the ‘shelter’, if one could call it that as it was mostly just the natural digibiodiversity doing the job there “it’s hard enough to hide with a living torch beside me…” after a pause, he added “and not gonna lie, this is indeed a pretty sad excuse for a home”

“I didn't ask for your opinion”

“How long have you been living here…?”

Chester shrugs

“A while. Didn't keep track of time”

“Gods… oh well” he adjusts his coat yet again after the run, a habit that seemed nearly automatic “we should be out of here the moment the digiSun rises. It will be tricky to get to the port without any problems along the way but I’m hoping for a better strategy than the one at the Inn” he had a clear critical tone while glancing at Chester “the people we are dealing with can’t be stopped with a simple fire”

“Who are those people anyway?”

The Astamon scratches the muzzle that makes up for his mask, eyes drifting.

“Old coworkers, so to speak” he finally says “we didn’t end our last contract in a good note, so now they want me to, uh, pay for the contract breach, so to speak”

“That’s a lot of so-to-speaks… how much do you owe them?”

“I cannot pay them back as of yet” Don continues, ignoring Chester altogether “that is why I need to reach the File Island while avoiding them and their network, which isn’t easy since they have eyes everywhere”