#keep calm and love Alan Rickman

[muiitoloko]

Had an idea for an Alan Rickman story. He and his girlfriend or wife, she’s either the same age or younger as I don’t know what age he could be, find out she is pregnant with their first child. Obviously overjoyed that they are having this child and the story goes through snippets of the 9 months. Like how she is coping during the pregnancy, buying clothes and furniture for the baby, the classes etc. Then it gets to where the baby arrives, could be a little early or the due date. Then to get ahead of the paparazzi breaking the news to the world, they choose to do it instead.

Just an idea.

Title: Tiny Fingers, Big Love

Summary: As Alan meets his newborn child, he is overcome with awe, humor, and the terrifying realization that he is completely at its mercy.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request. I hope you like it.

Also read on Ao3

Alan sat beside you on the bed, his fingers wrapped tightly around yours, warm and reassuring, but you could feel the tension in his grip. He was nervous. So were you. The pregnancy test lay on the nightstand, its small screen face-down, as if that would somehow keep the answer at bay.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribs. “How much longer?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

Alan glanced at his watch, his hazel eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Another minute,” he murmured, his baritone voice steady, but you could hear the way he cleared his throat, the telltale sign of his own nerves.

You exhaled slowly, squeezing his hand in return. “I hate this part.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’d say I enjoy the suspense, but I’d be lying.” His thumb traced small, absentminded circles against your palm. “Feels a bit like waiting for reviews after a premiere. You hope for the best, brace for the worst, and pretend you’re not absolutely terrified.”

You huffed out a weak laugh. “I don’t think critics ever made you cry in the bathroom, though.”

Alan made a thoughtful noise. “Oh, I don’t know. There was that one time The Guardian called my performance ‘alarmingly unsexy.’ Nearly broke my spirit.” His voice was teasing, but there was a softness beneath it, a quiet attempt to ease the weight pressing down on you both.

You leaned into him, letting the familiar scent of him calm you. “They were clearly blind. And tasteless.”

Alan chuckled, a low, soothing rumble. “A woman after my own heart.” His lips pressed briefly against your temple before he sighed. “You do feel different this time, don’t you?” His voice was quieter now, hesitant. “The dizziness, the nausea, the… the late period.” He didn’t say it out loud, but you both knew what he meant. The hope.

You nodded, though fear still twisted in your chest. “I do. But I felt it before, too.”

Alan’s jaw tensed, and you could see the way he was schooling his expression, keeping his emotions carefully in check. “Yes,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “But if it’s not this time, it will be the next. And if not the next, then the one after. We will get there.” His words were firm, but his voice carried a weight, as if he were convincing himself as much as you.

You let out a small sigh, forcing a smirk as you nudged Alan’s shoulder. “Well, at least the process was enjoyable.”

Alan’s lips quirked into a half-smile, his fingers still entwined with yours. “Mmm,” he mused, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt. “I suppose if we must endure such hardship, we might as well take pleasure in the—shall we say—methodology.” He lifted an eyebrow, feigning seriousness. “Perhaps we simply need to work a little harder. You know, make it longer. More thorough.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head as warmth spread through your chest. “Oh, for science, of course.”

“Precisely.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, though he pressed his lips together as if to maintain a stern facade. “Diligence is key. Can’t rush perfection.”

You playfully smacked his arm, but before you could respond, your phone’s timer erupted with a sharp chime, slicing through the moment.

Your heart stuttered, the room suddenly thick with silence despite the alarm still vibrating on the nightstand. Alan inhaled deeply but didn’t move. His fingers around yours twitched, betraying his carefully controlled composure.

You swallowed hard. “Do you want to look, or should I?”

Alan’s jaw flexed, and for a brief second, he hesitated, but then he shook his head. “Together.”

With your free hand, you reached for the test, fingers trembling as you turned it over. Your breath hitched. The tiny screen displayed a single, simple word.

Pregnant.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, time slowing to a crawl as the weight of the word settled between you. Alan’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you finally turned to look at him, you found him staring at the test, his expression unreadable.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, a breathless laugh escaped his lips—soft, disbelieving, utterly overwhelmed. “Oh, love,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, raw with emotion. “We did it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, a choked laugh bubbling up as you nodded. “We did.”

Alan exhaled sharply, as if the breath had been stolen from him. And then he was pulling you into his arms, burying his face against your neck, his hold almost crushing in its intensity. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered, his voice thick.

You clung to him, feeling the way his body shook ever so slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “Me neither.”

He pulled back just enough to cup your face, his thumbs sweeping gently over your cheeks. His hazel eyes burned with something fierce—something indescribable. “You’re going to be a mother,” he murmured, wonder lacing every syllable.

“And you’re going to be a father,” you whispered back, watching as the words settled into his soul, into the very core of him.

Alan let out a shaky laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “God, I love you.”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. “I love you too.”

His lips captured yours in a kiss that was all-consuming—filled with joy, relief, and something else, something deeper. A promise. When he pulled back, his hands drifted to your stomach, hesitant, reverent. “Hello in there,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet awe. “I hope you like Shakespeare, because you’re going to hear a lot of it.”

You let out a watery laugh, placing your hands over his. “I think they’ll love it.”

Alan let out a breathless laugh, his hazel eyes shining with unrestrained joy as he pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. "Do you realize what this means?" he asked, his baritone voice thick with emotion. "Our child will have absolutely no sense of style because I will let them wear whatever they bloody well please." His lips curled into a grin, his fingers brushing over your cheeks. "Even if it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. Stripes and polka dots? Sure. A cape to the grocery store? Why the hell not?"

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in your chest as you pulled him into a tight embrace. "Oh, Alan, you’re going to be the most indulgent father, aren’t you?"

"Completely," he admitted without hesitation, his arms tightening around you. "I’ll be utterly hopeless. A lost cause. Our child will walk all over me, and I won’t even mind." His breath hitched slightly as he pressed a kiss against your temple. "God, I can’t wait to meet them."

And just like that, time began to move differently. The days blurred into weeks, and the weeks into months, each one filled with small moments that built the life you were creating together.

The first few weeks passed in a haze of disbelief and quiet excitement, as if speaking about the pregnancy too loudly might shatter its fragile reality. Alan, despite his usually unshakable composure, was almost reverent in his cautious joy, watching you like you might vanish if he blinked too long. He doted on you in quiet, thoughtful ways—bringing you ginger tea when the morning sickness hit, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your lower back when you winced after standing too long, murmuring Shakespearean sonnets against your skin as you drifted off to sleep.

By the time you reached the second trimester, the secrecy became a delicate dance, a thrilling little game between the two of you. Every time you stepped outside, Alan was meticulously careful, positioning himself in front of you when necessary, offering you his coat when your growing belly threatened to show. It was both frustrating and endearing—especially when he got too into character. “I feel like I’m sneaking around with a forbidden lover,” you teased one evening as he maneuvered you behind a strategically placed café menu.

Alan smirked, his hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. “A scandalous affair, indeed,” he mused, fingers brushing the back of your hand beneath the table. “Perhaps I should start wearing disguises. A trench coat, dark glasses, a terribly suspicious hat…” His voice dropped into a low, theatrical whisper. “You can be my femme fatale.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the grin tugging at your lips.

At home, though, there was no need for secrecy. The nursery became an ongoing project, one that Alan approached with his usual meticulous attention to detail. He spent hours assembling furniture, grumbling under his breath when instructions were less than clear, though you caught the satisfied glint in his eye every time he finished a piece.

“You’re really quite good at this,” you mused one evening, watching as he stepped back to admire the crib he’d just finished assembling.

Alan arched an eyebrow. “Are you implying I had no prior experience with a screwdriver?”

“Not at all,” you said sweetly. “Just that I’ve never seen someone read an instruction manual with such… dramatic intensity.”

He hummed thoughtfully, folding his arms. “It’s all about commitment, love. If one is going to build a crib, one must do it with the same passion as, say, delivering Hamlet’s soliloquy.”

Your laughter filled the nursery, and when Alan pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple, you felt a warmth settle deep in your chest—contentment, love, the quiet joy of building something together.

As your belly grew, so did Alan’s fascination with it. He would rest his hand over the gentle swell while the two of you lay in bed, murmuring quiet endearments, his baritone voice lulling you to sleep. When the baby first kicked, his reaction was immediate—a sharp inhale, followed by a look of pure, unfiltered wonder.

“Again,” he whispered, pressing his palm more firmly against your skin. “Do it again, little one.”

And when the baby did, Alan laughed—a deep, breathless sound that made your heart clench with love.

The parenting classes were another adventure entirely. Alan, ever the perfectionist, took diligent notes, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he practiced swaddling the dolls provided by the instructor.

“This,” he declared one evening after another failed attempt, holding up the lopsided burrito he had made out of a practice blanket, “is utterly humiliating.”

You tried—and failed—not to laugh. “I think our baby will appreciate the effort.”

“Our baby,” Alan muttered darkly, “will escape this swaddle in mere seconds and proceed to judge me for the rest of my days.”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll just have to practice, won’t we?”

And practice he did. He swaddled dolls. He swaddled pillows. One night, you woke up to find him swaddling a loaf of bread in the kitchen. “Don’t say a word,” he warned, but his lips twitched when you burst into giggles.

By the third trimester, everything was becoming real. The nursery was ready, the tiny clothes neatly folded in drawers, the baby’s arrival no longer just a distant dream but an imminent reality. Alan still read to your belly every night, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns over your skin, his voice soft and reverent.

One evening, after a particularly strong kick, he sighed dramatically. “Our child is already protesting my monologues. A true critic before even being born.”

You grinned, placing your hands over his. “Or maybe they just want a different story.”

Alan huffed, pretending to be deeply offended. “Impossible. What could be better than Shakespeare?”

“Winnie the Pooh?”

He gasped, scandalized. “Blasphemy.”

The media had no idea. Despite every public appearance, every carefully coordinated outing, no one suspected a thing. You and Alan relished the secrecy, knowing that when the world finally found out, it would be because your child was already safely in your arms.

And as the final weeks approached, as Alan held you close every night, his hands never far from the life you carried, you knew one thing with absolute certainty—this baby would be loved beyond measure.

The day of the birth arrived faster than either of you had expected. One moment, you were waking up in the middle of the night to a sharp, unmistakable pain, and the next, Alan was a flurry of action—grabbing the hospital bag, helping you into the car, muttering half-coherent reassurances in between trying not to panic. By the time you arrived, his composure was hanging by a thread, though he refused to let it show. He stayed by your side the entire time, dressed from head to toe in hospital scrubs, his hazel eyes sharp with a mix of worry and awe.

“You’re doing brilliantly, love,” he murmured, squeezing your hand, though his own grip was noticeably clammy. “Far better than me, in fact. I think I might faint.”

Despite the pain, you let out a breathy laugh. “You better not. I need you conscious.”

Alan swallowed hard, nodding quickly, before turning his attention back to the doctor. “Yes, quite right. Conscious. Very necessary.” But even as he spoke, his free hand rubbed absentmindedly at his chest, as if he were trying to steady the frantic beat of his own heart.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, a sharp, piercing cry filled the room, and suddenly, the world shifted. Alan froze, his entire body going rigid as he turned toward the tiny, wriggling form now being cradled by the doctor.

A girl. A beautiful, perfect baby girl.

Alan barely breathed as they wrapped her in a blanket, his gaze locked onto the impossibly tiny creature, his brain struggling to reconcile the enormity of what had just happened. When the nurse turned to him expectantly, offering the baby, Alan took an instinctive step back.

“Oh. No, no, I—” He gestured weakly toward you, looking slightly horrified. “She should hold her first. I—I’ll just… watch.”

The nurse blinked, clearly confused, but then nodded, carefully placing the baby in your arms. Alan let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like relief, though his eyes never left his daughter’s face.

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered, overwhelmed with emotion as you traced a finger over her impossibly soft cheek.

Alan exhaled sharply, nodding. “Yes. Quite alarmingly so.” His voice was thick, hoarse, barely above a whisper. “God, she’s… she’s ours.”

You turned to look at him, expecting to see pride, wonder—perhaps even tears. But instead, Alan looked absolutely, utterly terrified.

He wanted to hold her, you could tell. It was there in the way his hands twitched, the way his gaze remained locked onto her tiny fingers. But he wouldn’t do it. Not yet. He was too afraid—afraid of hurting her, of doing something wrong, of being too big, too clumsy for something so delicate.

“Alan,” you murmured softly, nudging him.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, then he cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders as if he could will himself into confidence. “Later,” he murmured. “I’ll hold her later.”

And you knew he would. When the fear gave way to something bigger, something deeper, he would hold her, and he would never let go.

The baby had been taken to the nursery for routine tests and cleaning, and as much as you wanted to keep her in your arms, exhaustion was pulling you under. You knew Alan wouldn’t leave your side voluntarily, not when your body was still being tended to, so you gave him a pointed look and whispered, “Go with her, Alan. Make sure she’s alright.”

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around yours, hazel eyes flickering with uncertainty. “Are you sure? I can stay—”

“Go,” you insisted, squeezing his hand. “She needs her father.”

That seemed to shake him. Alan let out a slow breath, nodded, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Alright, love. But if they try to take any of your organs while I’m gone, do let me know.”

You snorted at his deadpan delivery, but it was enough to ease the tension in his face before he reluctantly let go of your hand. A nurse helped him out of the hospital scrubs, murmuring reassurances as he stumbled slightly, clearly still overwhelmed.

Once free of the disposable blue gown, Alan strode out of the delivery room, his long legs carrying him down the hallway at a clipped pace. He was a man on a mission. And outside the nursery, waiting for him, was a familiar figure.

Emma Thompson.

One of the very few people who had known about the pregnancy.

She was leaning casually against the wall, her face lighting up when she saw him. “There he is. The new father.”

Alan exhaled, a breathless, still-dazed sort of laugh escaping him as he approached. “Christ, Emma,” he muttered, running a hand over his face before pulling her into a tight hug. “You came.”

Emma squeezed him just as tightly, murmuring against his shoulder, “Of course I did, you idiot. You think I’d miss this?”

Alan let out a breath, stepping back, his hand still gripping her arm as if grounding himself. “She’s perfect,” he said, his voice thick with wonder. “Absolutely perfect. And I know every father says that about their child, but in this case, it’s objectively true.”

Emma smirked. “Naturally.”

“She’s got the tiniest fingers—impossibly small, really—and she makes these little noises—” Alan made a vague, helpless gesture, his eyes shining. “I don’t understand how something so small can exist.”

Emma laughed. “Alan, darling, that’s how babies work.”

Alan ignored her teasing, his expression suddenly turning serious. “She has my nose, though,” he admitted, grimacing slightly. “Poor thing.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Your nose is distinguished.”

“Mm. That’s one way to put it.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Come on, you have to see her.”

Together, they approached the nursery, Alan practically pressing himself against the glass, scanning the rows of newborns with growing urgency. His hazel eyes darted from one tiny, swaddled form to another, searching, searching—until his brows furrowed. His chest tightened.

Where was she?

Panic flickered in his eyes. His hands braced against the glass. “Where—where is she?” His voice was sharp, tinged with something close to desperation. “Emma, I don’t see her—what if—” His voice dropped, horrified. “What if she was switched?”

Emma blinked at him. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

Alan’s fingers twitched. “They wear bracelets, don’t they? There are supposed to be bracelets!”

Emma barely suppressed a laugh. “Yes, Alan. They didn’t just dump them in a pile and hope for the best.”

Alan, however, was already turning toward the nurse on duty, his expression a mix of commanding and barely restrained hysteria. “Excuse me,” he said, his baritone voice dropping into that sharp, unmistakable timbre that made directors go silent on set. “Where is my daughter? She was just brought in, and I—”

The nurse, thoroughly unbothered by his dramatics, simply gestured toward the far end of the room. “Right there, Mr. Rickman. Second from the left.”

Alan turned—and his entire body sagged with relief.

There she was.

Tiny, wrapped snugly in a soft white blanket, her tiny fist curled against her cheek. The little plastic bracelet on her wrist read Baby Girl Rickman.

Alan let out a shaky breath. “Oh. Oh, thank God.”

Emma snickered. “That was genuinely one of the most unhinged things I’ve ever seen.”

Alan ignored her, his eyes glued to his daughter. “She’s alright,” he murmured, his fingers touching the glass, as if he could reach through it. “She’s perfect.”

Emma softened. “Yeah, she really is.”

They stood there for a long moment, Alan utterly transfixed, his fear melting into something else entirely. Something deeper.

“I’m going to be completely useless,” he muttered after a while. “Utterly wrapped around her little finger.”

Emma grinned. “Oh, obviously.”

Alan inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling as he exhaled. Then, after a pause, he turned to Emma with a smirk. “Would now be a bad time to tell the world?”

Emma laughed. “You mean before your wife even gets a chance to recover?”

Alan hummed, considering. “Perhaps. But I am rather eager to let the world know that my daughter is the most exquisite creature to have ever graced the earth.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Then go on, Shakespeare. Make your grand announcement.”

Alan smirked. “Don’t mind if I do.”

[augustheads]

wait!!!!! what if ‘tis the damn season is about emma thompson’s character in Love Actually (2003)

she finds out that her husband (alan rickman’s character) bought a gold necklace for a young secretary at his work. she has a famous scene where she figures this all out and goes by herself to the master bedroom cry silently to blue by joni mitchell to not alarm their kids and try to keep a calm, happy night as it was so close to christmas!

[onlydreamofmysoul]

So this is super off topic of makeup and the amazing discussions going on on your blog but I was wondering how you got into writing and like how you find the inspiration and creativity to write the amazing stories and drabbles that you do? It's super awesome and inspiring and yeah I just was thinking about that and wanted to know. And may I just say that your blog is giving me life rn! I love how it's open for anyone to come and ask and talk and it's incredible!! 💙💙💙

Oh my goodness thank you so so much this really was the nicest thing!!! I’m not even sure how I came into writing I think it was always something I did subconsciously. I have an aunt who would take me to the library every single week without fail and I would get ten books (nearly always Enid blyton again and again and again I was obsessed. I still know the plots of all the famous five by heart and don’t get me started on Mallory towers!) and at night going to bed I would dream up little scenarios I liked or wanted to happen. I also used to do athletics and during cross country season which is just literally what it sounds like, running through fields etc but like, quite long distances and your lungs are burning and your legs are dead (yet I still loved it) and I would dream up head cannons for Percy and Annabeth (they were my first ever ship!)

After that I don’t know. I started reading fanfiction and then I was like hey I could do this! So I did. I started on wattpad (oh my god I found that recently and I cringed so hard) and I moved to AO3 at some point. (That reminds me some of my old fics really need to be touched up cause damn my writing has improved since) I loved English in school. I don’t know if I was good at it because I loved it or if I loved it because I was good at it but I used to actually enjoy writing essays. My mom loves all those pride and Prejudice and sense and sensibility etc movies and I used to watch them with her even when I didn’t have a clue what was happening half the time but I loved them and I still do! I love the books now too. (The pride and Prejudice with Keira knightly dominates and you can’t tell me otherwise. Also Alan rickman was iconic in sense and sensibility)

I’m not sure where I get the inspiration from, just from life in general I think. Cub cuddles was partly inspired by the fact that I too am a light sleeper and often get up before most. Long walk home came literally from a walk I went on earlier that day and I was like wow this is really nice. Sometimes other writing clicks something in my brain. Sometimes I get inspired by TV shows (bake off anyone?) and sometimes it’s just the things that go on in my brain.

This is gonna sound cheesy but I just really like words. I have a quotes on my walls. I have a diary/journal thing. I love the act of physically writing it really calms me. I write handwritten letters to people and I keep any I receive in return safe. This got really really super long but I think this just proves the point that I tend to waffle on instead of giving direct answers 😂😂😂

Thank you so much from your message it was so so lovely and you’re always very welcome to come chat to me some more 💕

[tiphprince]

It’s weird because I see that scene brought up so many times as “proof” that Snape is a creep, but... I never saw it like that.

I mean, I don’t see what’s wrong in grieving the death of the one person you ever loved. The Snape in that scene is so overcome with pain, the moment he sees her body he falls down like he’s not even capable of walking anymore.

That’s the level of agony he’s in. His body is shutting down under the weight of his pain, grief and guilt. The only thing that matters is Lily. He doesn’t see Harry, doesn’t hear him, and even if he did he wouldn’t have been able to function enough to even care, let alone do something to help.

Because his reason for living (”I wish I were dead”) is lying lifeless on the floor. In some ways it’s even worse in the context of the movies alone, because for a decade we got used to the emotionless Snape played by Alan Rickman. Up until his death he keeps himself so composed, so calm, that it makes that scene in Godric’s Hollow hit a lot harder. For one scene (and the one after) we’re allowed to finally see Snape as a human being, as someone vulnerable, who was broken by what happened.

People who reduce it to “eW hE HuGgEd A dEaD wOmAn’S bOdY” are idiots.

Although Snape hugging Lily's body is a movie scene and non canon, people often complain about him ignoring a crying Harry in the background. I believe it's likely that Snape cannot see Harry, because the boy was alive and invisible under Fidelius charm.

[the-witch-and-her-husbands]

Night Terrors

Jil actually woke herself up with sobbing her heart out.

A heartbeat later, a pair of strong arms was around her and she was being held tightly to her husband’s chest. She must have woken him. A deep voice purred softly, reassuringly. ‘I’ve got you. It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Shh. I’m here.’

Gradually, she began to calm down as stroked her back and rocked her as if she were one of their boys. She clung to him as if she were drowning at sea and he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

'Alan,’ she managed to choke out at last.

'I’m here. I’ve got you. What’s wrong, baby? Do you want to talk to me about it?’ He continued to scratch her back as he talked.

'It’s just…I had the most horrible dream. But not just the usual one. It was…it was awful.’ She had her abandonment issues, which he was well aware of. Most of her nightmares tended to centre around fears of him leaving her, abandoning her for someone else, someone prettier and more interesting. No matter how many times he tried to reassure her, the feeling just wouldn’t go. But he was a kind and loving husband, so he was happy to reassure her as much as it took.

'Do you want to tell me about it? Maybe I can reassure you, make the nightmare go away, if you tell me what it was about.’ His hand stroked her hair reassuringly.

'Well, for starters…you told me you were…bi. That you were attracted to men, as well as women.’ Her voice was tiny.

'What?!’ He chuckled a little at the absurdity of her statement.

'Yeah. But that wasn’t the worst of it.’ She’d pressed her head so hard against his chest that her voice was muffled.

'What was, then? Talk to me, baby. I’m here for you. You can tell me ANYTHING. I won’t get upset, or judge you. I promise.’ He stuck his hand under her chin and gently pulled her head up so she would have to look him in the eye.

'You…you said you didn’t want to be with me anymore. I think, it’s all so confused in my head. You said that I wanted…wanted sex too much, and you didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about you. And we had too many children. And you can’t talk to me about anything without me getting upset, and I was stopping you from acting and travelling the world…and it was like…it was like you HATED me. Resented me. And like I don’t love you, like I’m using you and I only want you for sex and babies and to buy me things…and…and…’ And now she was crying too hard to form a coherent sentence.

'Whoa. Jil. Jilomena. Calm down, baby. It’s okay. Calm down.’ He held her close, kissing her forehead and her cheeks and her eyebrows and her nose, trying to reassure her.

Gradually, she began to quieten down again. 'That was part of it,’ she mumbled. 'You never wanted to kiss me or be affectionate.’

'Well, I’m kissing you now, so you KNOW that’s not true,’ he murmured softly as he continued to cover her face in delicate little kisses. 'None of it is. Not a little bit of it. None. I love you. You’re my girl. My one and only. I love you to tiny little pieces, and I love our boys. I don’t regret a single one of them, including the precious life you’re carrying in your precious body right now. All I have to do is take a look at you, and baby, you take my breath away. No, I don’t want you as much as I did when I first laid eyes on you…I want you even MORE. Baby, I’m amazed by you. And I’m never going to leave you. Never, ever. You’re never. Getting. Rid. Of. Me.’ Each of these last words was punctuated by a kiss.

'Honestly?’ She snaked a tentative hand into his hair, eyes streaked with tears as she searched his face for the truth.

'Honestly honestly. I love you…so much. But I am annoyed about one thing.’ He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

'What’s that?’ Her voice was tiny and she looked scared half to death.

'You’ve forced my hand. I wanted to surprise you over dinner one night. Hold on. I’m only going into the wardrobe, I’ll be right back, I SWEAR.’ With kisses and promises he extricated himself from her arms and walked into the wardrobe.

He came back a moment later bearing a small black velvet box. He helped her to sit up, and handed it to her. 'Next year, we’ll be married thirty years. And I know you want us to renew our vows.’ He opened the box with her, which contained a gorgeous round-cut diamond in a twisted platinum setting comprised of smaller diamonds. It was truly stunning as it sparkled in the dim light. He got down on one knee next to the bedside, and took her hands in his. 'Jilomena Rickman. Will you marry me…again?’

She was crying too hard to speak, but nodded and threw her arms around his neck by way of reply.

'I take it that’s a yes?’ he chuckled, holding her tight.

'Yes! Yes!’ she managed to choke out at last.

Eventually, she loosened her grip so he could slip the ring onto her right hand.

A perfect fit, and now a ceremony to look forward to, as well as a new baby.

She was almost glad for the dream, since it had led to his proposal.

Almost.

[anyorderofus]

I prefer the film

Hello everybody and welcome to Sunday(’s blog).

Hope you have had lovely, sunny weeks. If not, hopefully, we can shed some light on this week’s week with our blog. 

No? No matter we suppose...we’ll be back next week with: Polls.

For now, enjoy. After all, both blogs have a mention of Harry Potter this week. 

Alexandra & Nico|Nico & Alexandra 

ALEXANDRA

Hello everyone. I have decided this week, to talk in a little detail – or as much detail as 500 words will allow – about a film I liked more than the book on which it was based, one I liked a lot less and one that I liked just the same. I wonder if you’ll agree/disagree/not give a flying pickle.

The film I liked less than the book

This is probably the easiest of the three to think about. Dare I say most books are better than their cinematic successors but of course opinions differ. My key example for this point is Harry Potter. You might have heard of him.

Now, I am a MASSIVE Potterhead. I love and quote the films more than the next bloke and I like them as an aside to the (perfect) books but they just miss out so much detail. They’re even guilty of making some bits up and putting them in in place of arguably better bits from the books.

Little makes me more cringe more than watching the eyes of a so-called ‘massive Harry Potter fan’ glaze over when you mention names like Ludo Bagman, Teddy Lupin or Cousin Barney Weasley. It’s okay if you have only seen the films – but don’t lie about it!

The film I liked just as much as the book

Because some films and books are just as good (or bad) as each other. I think, judging by the examples I thought of with this particular category in mind, this is due to the screenplays being written by the original book authors. Stephen Chbosky wrote the screenplay and book of The Perks of Being a Wallflower and I – happy to be corrected – have struggled to find many differences between the two. I really like the two too.

I’m not suggesting that everyone who writes a book and then a screenplay version is guaranteed a success; it is a very different skill, writing the detail required by a novel VS the scraped back, ‘show, don’t tell’ technique more suited to screenwriting. Perhaps it is the magic that seeps through, into a screenplay, that comes from the original creator having a greater agency over an original story.

The film I liked more than the book

Yes. It’s rare but it has happened. I couldn’t tell you why but I remember really liking the film, The Reader – the one with Kate Winslet – but being sadly disappointed by the book which I think I read after watching the film. Maybe I just needed to see her in the role to ‘get it’?

I do think reading a book after seeing the film version offers up a risk. I remember taking ages to read one particular book involving a tiger and a boat after seeing the film although this, arguably introduces another category: The film I disliked the same amount as I couldn’t be bothered with the book.

I just didn’t have enough words to include much detail to that category.

NICO

Here’s a brief quiz on a couple of situations when this might be said by you or someone else and how you should handle it. Answers at the bottom. Remember, don’t peek. If the lads from Brokeback Mountain can’t get away with cheating, neither can you!!

1. You mention Hitman, Assassin’s Creed, Max Payne (or Metal Gear Solid if you live in the future) in conversation and someone who doesn’t know a DualShock from a JoyStick utters it in a ‘I don’t have time for video games kind of way’. Do you:

A. Ask why and await the ill-informed response.

B. Smuggly talk in l33t speak with any other gamers in the room for the rest of the night whilst laughing nasally and huddling with your heads too close together secretly worrying who will get septic arthritis in their fingers first, lost to a fate of watching YouTube playthroughs for the rest of their days.

C. Remain calm and explain that a long form immersive experience where the audience member is an active participant as opposed to a passive observer can often be the most effective way of telling a fuller fleshed out story where the viewer ends up feeling more involved and therefore takes away more from the experience of being part of an original idea than they might from watching a film that acts as a marketing tool for a corporation relying on the popularity of an existing product to boost cinema ticket sales and company stock prices.

2. You’ve just seen the local amateur dramatic group stutter and mug their way through Trainspotting, A Clockwork Orange, or One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest (they did an episode of Only Fools and Horses last year and wanted to do something with more female characters). You’re in the pub with them afterwards do you:

A. Be ‘that person’ and say ‘I prefer the film’ just to wait for the reaction.

B. Accept it’s a bit of harmless fun and a great way to get people together and celebrate a great piece of literature as well as inspire new audience members to seek out and explore the classic cinema counterparts.

C. Run home as fast as you can and watch said titles over and over and over and over again until you’ve completely erased any memory of Begbie being played by a BTECer with a fake moustache, a director acting like “Clockwork” is a bold choice in 2017 or somebodies elderly mother playing the part of Chief Bromden because she already had ‘the hair’ and owned enough nighties to use as hospital gown costumes.

3. Somebody mentions Harry Potter books, someone else says ‘I prefer the films’. Do you:

A. Do nothing. They’re dead to you.

B. Check they’ve actually read them by asking what their favourite thing about Ludo Bagman is.

C. Keep a very cool head and use it to turn the conversation to appreciating Alan Rickman.

Answers!

1. C

2. B

3. C, he was amazing.

[muiitoloko]

Could you please write an imagine bring Alan’s gf and he has a meet and greet with a photo op and you surprise him. At first he doesn’t really notice who’s next in line, perhaps he’s preoccupied with something? Maybe checking his phone between fans because you haven’t been answering him and he looks up to see you’re waiting for him

Title: The Queue for You

Summary: Alan Rickman is thrown off-guard when his girlfriend secretly joins his fan line, proving that even celebrities aren’t immune to playful surprises.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for your request!

Also read on Ao3

The bright lights of the venue reflected off Alan Rickman’s distinguished features as he adjusted his scarf and prepared for the next fan to approach. The meet-and-greet had been planned weeks in advance, and despite his love for his fans, today his heart simply wasn’t in it. His mind was somewhere else—on you.

The line of fans extended far out the door, each one holding books, DVDs, and memorabilia from his long and celebrated career. Alan did his best to keep his charm intact, smiling warmly as the next fan, a young woman clutching a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, stepped forward.

“Oh, Mr. Rickman! It’s such an honor to meet you,” she gushed, her voice trembling with excitement. “Your portrayal of Professor Snape was... it was just so perfect. No one else could have done it like you.”

Alan forced a polite smile, his baritone voice steady. “That’s very kind of you to say. Though I must admit, Snape’s wardrobe wasn’t exactly designed for comfort. I often wondered if he secretly wanted to join Gryffindor, just for a lighter wardrobe.”

The fan laughed, clearly enchanted, and Alan dutifully posed for the photograph as the professional photographer clicked away. He tilted his head slightly, ensuring the fan was framed in the best light.

“Thank you so much!” the fan said as she stepped away, clutching her autographed book like a priceless treasure.

“You’re most welcome,” Alan replied, his tone gentle, though his heart wasn’t entirely present.

As the next fan approached, Alan glanced at his phone on the table beside him. Still nothing. You hadn’t replied to his good morning message, and now, by the afternoon, he was nearly unraveling with worry. He told himself he was being irrational. After all, you’d only been dating for a short while—just a few weeks. But Alan, ever the private romantic, had fallen for you faster and deeper than he cared to admit. And your silence gnawed at him.

The next fan was a middle-aged man holding a well-loved DVD of Die Hard. Alan immediately slipped into his professional charm.

“Yippee-ki-yay, I assume?” Alan quipped, his wry humor drawing a laugh from the man.

“Yes! You were the best villain in film history,” the man declared.

Alan chuckled softly, though it was slightly forced. “Hans Gruber was certainly... resourceful. Though, between you and me, I think he overcomplicated things. A good cup of tea would have solved many of his problems.”

The man beamed as the camera clicked, and Alan shook his hand firmly before gesturing for the next fan to step forward. His gaze flickered back to his phone for a brief moment. Still no message. His stomach tightened.

Another fan, this one dressed as Snape, approached with an elaborate costume and a wand in hand. The fan dramatically flicked the wand, reciting a spell with a mock serious expression. Alan smiled faintly, playing along. “I see Severus is here to make sure I haven’t forgotten my lines. Very kind of you.”

The fan laughed, and Alan posed for the photo, his mind wandering back to you even as he maintained his composed exterior. What if he’d said something wrong? What if his feelings for you were already too much? Too fast? He chastised himself silently.

As the fan moved on, Alan reached for his water glass, taking a small sip to calm his nerves. The meet-and-greet continued, a parade of enthusiastic faces, heartfelt compliments, and eager requests for selfies. Alan appreciated every one of his fans, but today, their energy couldn’t pierce the fog of his anxiety.

Finally, during a brief break, he discreetly checked his phone again. Still nothing. His fingers hovered over the screen, tempted to call you, but he resisted. He didn’t want to appear overbearing. He placed the phone face down on the table with a sigh, forcing his focus back to the line of waiting fans.

The next in line was a teenage girl clutching a framed photograph of Alan as Colonel Brandon. “This is my mum’s favorite movie,” she said shyly. “She couldn’t come today, so I’m here to get this signed for her.”

Alan’s expression softened, his natural warmth breaking through his worry. “A thoughtful daughter and good taste in films. Your mother raised you well.”

The girl blushed, smiling as Alan signed the photograph and posed for the picture. He noticed how her hands shook slightly, and his baritone voice softened further. “Do tell your mum I said hello. And thank her for her love of Jane Austen.”

“I will!” the girl said, her smile radiant as she stepped away.

His attention wasn’t on the fan waiting nearby or even on the polite thank-yous that rolled off his tongue. His focus was on the cell phone in his hand. He glanced at it for what felt like the hundredth time, still no reply from you. His thumb hovered over your contact name.

Would he seem pathetic if he called you now? It wasn’t even midday.

The murmur of the line shifted slightly, a fan stepping forward to stand before him. Alan only registered her presence when she spoke, her tone enthusiastic but warm. “You looked amazing in Gambit, Mr. Rickman. That movie is one of my favorites.”

Alan thanked her absentmindedly, his voice kind but distant as he tapped out a quick message to you: “Just checking in. Hope your day’s going well.” His attention was so split that her next comment hit him like a rogue gust of wind.

“And I must say,” she continued with a playful smirk, “your ass looked great on the big screen.”

Alan froze mid-message, his thumb hovering over the send button as her audacious words registered. Slowly, deliberately, he put the phone down and turned his full attention to the fan in front of him.

His hazel eyes widened slightly in surprise as they landed on you. There you stood, smiling mischievously, an amused glint in your eyes as if daring him to respond. Alan’s mind scrambled to reconcile the casual, flirty line with the image of his girlfriend standing in a fan queue.

“[Your Name],” he said, his baritone voice tinged with disbelief. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Your smile grew wider, the glint in your eye softening. “I thought I’d surprise you. Spent hours in that line, too. You wouldn’t believe how many fans tried to cut in front of me.”

Alan leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as his initial shock gave way to a chuckle. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or concerned that my own girlfriend stood in line with my fans to see me.”

“You should be both,” you teased, stepping closer to the table. “I’m serious about that Gambit comment, though. Never thought I’d see my boyfriend’s backside with a whole audience.”

Alan laughed, a deep, genuine sound that turned a few heads in the queue. He shook his head in disbelief, his signature wry humor kicking in. “If I’d known, I might have reconsidered the scene entirely. Though I suppose the film had its moments.”

You leaned on the edge of his table, ignoring the curious glances from nearby fans. “Its moments? Alan, it was art. The whole scene was practically Shakespearean.”

Alan’s lips twitched into a sly smile. “I think Shakespeare would roll in his grave if he heard that comparison. Though, I admit, this is the best review I’ve had all day.”

The fans behind you began whispering amongst themselves, some even recognizing you from your own work. Alan noticed but didn’t seem to care. His attention was locked on you, his hand brushing over yours as he leaned closer.

“I don’t believe you waited in that line,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a more private register. “You could have just called me.”

You shrugged, grinning. “And miss the chance to surprise you? Where’s the fun in that?”

Alan tilted his head, his hazel eyes warm and full of affection. “You do have a flair for the dramatic. Perhaps we should find you a role in one of my next projects.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you replied, leaning closer. “Now, are you going to sign my photo or not?”

Alan laughed again, shaking his head as he reached for a blank headshot. “If I don’t, I imagine I’ll never hear the end of it.”

As he signed, he glanced up at you, his eyes filled with quiet gratitude. “Thank you for this,” he said softly. “For waiting, for showing up. I needed this more than I realized.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Anytime, Alan. Always.”

The fan queue began murmuring more audibly, some snapping pictures of the sweet exchange. Alan ignored them, his focus entirely on you. For the rest of the day, his mood remained noticeably lighter, and he couldn’t help but glance toward the spot where you now lingered nearby, a supportive presence amidst the whirlwind of fans.

Later, as the event wrapped up, Alan made a point to slip away and find you. Together, you walked through the quieting venue, his arm draped over your shoulders as he murmured, “Next time, don’t stand in line for hours. Just come straight to me.”

You smirked, leaning into him. “And miss the chance to tell you in front of all your fans that your ass is great? Never.”

Alan chuckled, shaking his head as his grip on you tightened. “You’re insufferable,” he said affectionately.

“And you love it,” you quipped, earning another laugh from the man who hadn’t stopped smiling since you arrived.

[daleisgreat]

Die Hard

Now, now, do not act surprised to see an entry devoted to the iconic 1988 action film, Die Hard (trailer) as Christmas draws near. It has been long debated among film fans that if Die Hard is truly a Christmas movie or merely a film that takes place at Christmas. I feel that it is both. Nearly the entire feature focuses around a Christmas party at the Nakatomi Building where sinister German terrorists headed up by one Hans Gruber (Alan Rickman) seize control of the building and attempt to penetrate its vaults filled with countless riches. The film’s cast is consistently humming/singing Christmas songs throughout and there is various Christmas lingo and jargon peppered in throughout. Protagonist and NYPD officer John McClane (Bruce Willis) who is assisted by the affable,Twinkie-loving LAPD officer Winslow….er I mean officer Powell (Reginald VelJohnson) are among those belting out Christmas tunes and references throughout and both are endlessly fun to root for throughout Die Hard’s just over two hour runtime. I have an odd history with the Die Hard films. I was always aware of the initial trilogy being much-revered action films, but until last year, yes 2017, I did not get around to watching them until I mentioned that fact to a friend and we then proceeded to knock them out over that summer. I did see the fourth and fifth films when they hit theaters this century, and while Live Free or Die Hard was solid, I very much detested A Good Day to Die Hard and it soured me on the series….until watching the initial trilogy last year turned me back on to the series (minus Die Harder anyways). I loved the first movie so much that earlier this year it wound up being the first movie I picked up on 4K BluRay! I do not have a 4K TV, but it was the only version Target had when I went there to get it, and that version came with a regular BluRay that I was thrilled to make use of yesterday as the final film in a six-movie Christmas marathon with friends this past weekend. I could not think of a better Christmas film to finish off the night with!

Part of me is still surprised I came out of the original Die Hard such a big fan knowing all the high critical acclaim and praise for it going in. I had no choice but to go in with high expectations and that usually comes back to bite me when I am late to the party to a much-buzzed about movie. Longtime readers here probably know I am a sucker for the cliché 80s and 90s action movies, both of high and low budget fares. It only helps that Die Hard was a pioneer for establishing a specific formula of action films where a big gang of thugs/terrorists (of whom almost all have their own unique personalities, moments and even are named throughout the film other than the typical ‘terrorist #6’) overtake a high-stakes building with many hostages and leaves it up to a low-level everyman cop to overcome the odds and slowly work his way through the lower tiered terrorists before having a climactic clash with the ringleader of the pack. Top if off with countless well-produced exchanges of gunfire, explosions, epic stunts and plenty of time to space in moments of character development for Powell, Gruber and McClane that includes classic one-liners that I do not need to remind you of because they are repeated ubiquitously to this day.

Another reason why the first Die Hard is special that is lost in most of the other installments other than With a Vengeance is that McClane takes a beating throughout the film. Taking out Gruber’s goons has taken a toll on him as McClane is a bloody, limping mess by the final act which resulted in me getting behind him even more as he worked his way up Nakatomi Tower. McClane’s relationship with Powell helping him on the outside of the tower is also fantastic to see unfold throughout as Powell represents the viewer at home constantly in McClane’s ear through the CB radio encouraging him to keep hanging in there and how everyone is rooting for him down there despite those pesky FBI officials attempts to interfere. It all culminates in a great payoff towards the finale where McClane has a personal exchange with Powell earlier that foreshadows Powell overcoming his personal demons and taking justice into his own hands! The final reason why Die Hard lived up to the hype for me is that it has one of the quintessential villains in Hans Gruber. Alan Rickman delivered a masterful performance as this antagonist who remains cool, confident and calm throughout no matter what obstacles McClane overcomes to attempt to thwart his heist. He has a few classic moments throughout which shows how ruthless he is to get the prize he desires. Much like McClane interacting with Powell, watching Gruber command his troops and maintain order amongst McClane’s chaos is an irresistible force to get swept up in. If I were to relate this to sports it would be like McClane representing the weakened and throttled underdog team late in a game overcoming insurmountable odds to make an unbelievable comeback to defeat the heavily-favored competitor.

I cannot attest for how great the 4K UHD looks because I do not have a 4K TV, but the BluRay still looks stunning in HD….for a remastered film from 1988 that is. Other than that there is a smattering of extra features available. There are eight minutes of newscasts scenes taken from the film and also contain unused newscast updates and outtakes from the anchors in a nice extra. There is a ten minute slide show of stills and production shots and a ton of trailers. The only standout extras are ‘subtitle commentary’ from various cast and crew members and feature-length audio commentary with director John McTiernan and production designer Jackson DeGovia. The subtitle track is similar to pop-up factoid tracks I have seen in other films, but it is better at having a constant flow of quotes from the cast and crew relative to the scene playing. Watching the subtitle track along with the audio commentary was a vastly insightful experience. McTiernam and DeGovia have a lot of nonstop facts and stories from the production with some highlights being callbacks to props used in their other films, making the heavies stand out by intentionally casting European models to portray the goons and McTeirnan explaining how the ideal movie shoot is done in under 80 days and how he was doomed for going over that like he did with Last Action Hero. Die Hard easily ranks among one of my all time favorite action films. That is not nostalgia talking either because as I stated earlier, even though 2018 is the 30th anniversary of Die Hard, I did not watch it for the first time until last year. For a movie that old to be that timeless, especially in a genre where special effects goes a long way in proving how special Die Hard truly is. Regardless of whether you have seen this Bruce Willis classic countless times or never before, go out of your way to watch it now and show to your friends how it is the perfect Christmas movie! Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed Deck the Halls Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Guardians of the Galaxy Hercules: Reborn Hitman Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Man of Steel Man on the Moon Marine 3-6 Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Days of Future Past

[badwolf1988-blog]

Once Upon a Time in London: Chapter Eighteen

Disclaimer: With Arms Wide Open is copyright © Creed. I make no claims of ownership because I've heard their lead singer is a whack job.

The next day, Charlie and Tom did all the touristy things that were expected of a newlywed couple visiting Paris. They went to the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was beautiful – you could see a great deal of the city of love from the top – but it was also bitterly cold. After only ten minutes at the top, they had both lost feeling in their faces and been forced back down to ground level least they got frost bite. From there, they went shopping – which also didn't last very long because shopping wasn't shopping that either one of them particularly enjoyed. Tom was a typical guy and Charlie had just never been girly in that way. When Carly would drag her on shopping trips when they were teenagers it was always like a lesson in torture for her. They had only enjoyed visiting one shop – a boutique that sold baby clothes. Charlie would admit that they both went a little nuts when they found a rack containing sarcastic and funny onesies. Their unborn child now had an extensive collection with sayings such as: Resisting A Rest, I Crawl the Line, and Daddy, Keep Calm and Call Mommy. Charlie had hidden the onesie that she bought that was printed with the Slytherin House crest on the back and an image of Alan Rickman's Snape on the front to surprise Tom with in the event their baby was a boy.

It really took Charlie aback that she was getting so into the idea of being a mother. It was never something that she had wished for in her life and now that her child was a reality she wondered why. Pregnancy, while uncomfortable and, at times, very annoying was a beautiful, magical experience. The idea that her body was playing host to another soul, a soul that she and Tom had created out of (drunken) love, boggled her mind and felt very empowering.

“What are you thinking about?”

They were back in their room, curled up together on the small loveseat as Tom's phone played a 90's rock station on Pandora.

“How much I enjoy being pregnant.” She answered as she cuddled into his shoulder.

“Noted,” Tom placed his hand on her swollen stomach (it seemed like she had woken up the other day and it had popped out over night). “To keep you happy, keep you preggers.”

Charlie laughed and smacked his stomach playfully as she felt a small fluttering feeling (like a loose butterfly) in her stomach. When Tom started a bit, she looked up at him. “Did you just feel that too?”

He nodded and grinned. “Was that the baby?”

“I think so,” She nodded and giggled. “It seems like he or she already knows their Daddy's voice and was hello.”

Tom pulled away from her and leaned down to her belly, “Hey, there, little one. We're looking forward to meeting you. Just do your old man a favor and don't come out acting like any character that I have ever played...you're mummy is an amazing woman who in no way deserves that.”

Charlie ran her fingers through his hair as he continued his little conversation with their baby and Creed was serenading them with the perfect song for the moment.

“Well, I just heard the news today.

It seems my life is going to change.

I close my eyes, begin to pray,

Then tears of joy stream down my face...

With arms wide open,

Under the sunlight,

Welcome to this place,

I'll show you everything,

With arms wide open,

With arms wide open.

Well, I don't know if I'm ready,

To be the man I have to be.

I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side,

We stand in awe, we've created life...”

As the song ended, so did the conversation between father and baby. Tom placed a gentle kiss on her bump before moving back up to look in her eyes. “Thank you, angel.” Was all he said before capturing her lips with his own.

CHAPTER INDEX

MY WEBSITE

[itsiotrecords-blog]

http://ift.tt/2rbzwhk

Whether we mean to or not, we probably all spend way too much time looking at and reading about viral pictures on the internet. We’ll be sitting at our desks and relaxing on our lunch breaks and decide to take out our phones and look at our Facebook and Twitter accounts — “just for a minute,” we all tell ourselves (as we bold-facedly lie to ourselves). Then we see some outrageous picture and cannot manage to rip our eyes from it. “Is that Bigfoot?” “Who is that with Marilyn Monroe?” “THERE IS NO WAY THEY WILL BE ABLE TO CATCH THAT BEAR!” Much to our annoyance (and sometimes displeasure, or relief, or frustration), many of these pictures are fakes. They’re often real pictures that have been doctored in some way, filters or angles making things look more real than they truly were, or digital editing software making us all the butt end of a practical joke. Over the years of phony photos populating our social media accounts, some of us have come to believe that any picture we scroll through — unless it has our close friends in it — is probably a fake. But that’s not fair either because many of the pictures we’re seeing are incredibly real; we’re just too skeptical to believe that an awesome photographer caught the perfect picture at just the right moment. So let’s clear some of the fog and call them out, once and for all. Here are 20 popular viral photos, both the fake and the real:

#1 REAL This picture is very real, and we love that it went viral. It’s a picture of a window washer at Joe DiMaggio Children’s Hospital giving a little fist bump to a kid that certainly needs it, no matter what’s gotten him stuck inside. These photos started going viral a few years ago when a window washer dressed up for Halloween and gave all the kids inside a magical experience. Ever since then, window washers have been teaming up to make lives a little bit brighter for children stuck in hospital rooms. How cool is it to see Spiderman or Captain America or Superman just outside your window? Even if you were mortally ill, you couldn’t help but smile a bit at these ordinary heroes! Here’s to the window washers all over the world who’ve become copycats to the original superhero window washer, making children smile one hospital room window at a time.

#2 FAKE Just as a blanket statement: you aren’t going to be seeing a whole lot of new pictures of Marilyn Monroe. In case you didn’t know, Marilyn’s not really modeling anymore — mostly because she died a long time ago. Most of her work has been out there for years and seen by millions over and over again. So if you’re seeing a new picture of Marilyn Monroe for the very first time, odds are that it’s fake. Same goes for Elvis Presley. So when everyone saw this picture of the two together, chilling on a rooftop, they should have immediately questioned its authenticity. Two photos were mashed together in a good, but not overwhelmingly believable composition, though it would be really cool to think of the two of these crazy kids just savoring the city air and kicking back between living the high life. Just because it’s in black and white doesn’t mean it’s real!

#3 REAL Yes. That is indeed a bear falling from a tree. When the picture was released, everyone immediately thought that it was a fake. To be fair, it did look like someone just photoshopped a picture of a bear into a normal shot of police officers standing around and looking at something. A really lazy photoshopper, too — it looks like there was a picture of a bear standing upright that was shrunken down and tilted diagonally. Well, sadly, this is a real picture! A wild bear had wandered into the suburbs and animal control was called in, shortly followed by police. The bear had retreated into a tree because it was scared, but of course, they couldn’t allow it to stay there. Animal control shot a tranquilizer at the bear and, when he could no longer resist sleep, he fell from the tree onto a giant mat. The bear was taken back into the wilderness and lived on to grumble about us lousy humans.

#4 FAKE Really, guys? Did you not know that this one was a fake? To be fair, the picture itself is real. To the keen eye, it kind of looks like the picture was photoshopped and like the image on the left side of the sign was conveniently pressed up against the image on the right side, just well enough to match the body up at the waist. But the picture is real! However, it was crazy staged! It was taken to commemorate the many criminals who have met this sort of fate. The picture was taken long ago, back in 1939 — way before people were talking about building giant walls and making those we were keeping out pay for it. It was also taken to discuss how problematic the border is between El Paso and Juarez. Imagine how much more problematic that border will be if we have an 18-foot high wall separating the United States from Mexico…

#5 REAL This adorably sad picture is, to our disappointment, real. It’s a picture that a nanny took one sad day when she wanted to take one of her toddlers to the zoo. Back in 2013, we suffered a government shutdown that really gave a scare to almost everyone in the United States. Everything closed, from post offices to museums to zoos. This nanny wasn’t aware of the closures, and this child was so horribly disappointed that he climbed onto the gates of the Smithsonian zoo and hoped that maybe, just maybe, if he looked pitiful enough, someone would come and let him in. No one did, and the picture caught fire and spread around the internet with people asking to “please open the government again.” Funny how people value government so much, but only when it goes away or stops providing their many services.

#6 REAL Teeheehee. It would be a darn shame if this picture weren’t real. It’s just so cute and innocent and ridiculous that it would have been such a grand disappointment if someone had just messed with the child’s face! But NOPE! This picture is of a mega-excited little girl who has just spent so much time blowing bubbles and is overwhelmingly excited to move on to the next thing. The picture caught fire on the internet for no good reason. She’s just so adorably excited, and her little chubby grin is too much to resist. The picture quickly became a target of memes everywhere for all trollers, with captions running across it like “GOTTA GET BREAD AND MILK, IT’S GONNA SNOW,” “IT’S BLACK FRIDAY, I NEED PRINGLES,” “DALLAS COWBOYS BE LIKE RUN, THE EAGLES ARE COMING,” “REALIZING THERE ARE MORE TOASTER STRUDELS,” and our current personal favorite, “BETTER RUN, HERE COMES JOSH DUGGAR!”

#7 FAKE Okay. We need to talk about this one. For a lot of reasons. Alan Rickman, who played Professor Snape in the Harry Potter movie series, passed away not too long ago. He was such a beloved member of the cast and of the series that his death hit all of his fans hard. If you were a fan of either the books or movies, you likely remember these quotes, and you might want to tear up at how sweet and beautiful they are. But don’t. Because Alan never said this. A Tumblr user, mypatronusisyou123437597309, actually posted a variation of the quote in July of 2010, and in 2016, when the supposed Rickman quote went viral, she clarified that she really was the source of the quote. That Rickman said it is a load of crap.

#8 FAKE What did we say about Marilyn Monroe pictures? If you’ve never seen it before, that’s probably because it’s a new picture — and if it’s a new picture, it’s a fake picture. This photo was edited in the exact same way that the last photo featuring Marilyn Monroe with Elvis Presley was, and it, hilariously enough, even used a picture from the same series of those taken of Marilyn that the last fake photo poster used! SHE’S WEARING THE SAME DRESS! This doctor of photography was even lazier than the last, simply pasting a picture of James Dean from East of Eden over Marilyn’s original photo. Cute to think that these young troubled souls were smoking and drinking away their problems atop skyscrapers in The Big Apple together, and maybe they were, but this picture is certainly no evidence of that. You can never trust an unfamiliar Marilyn Monroe picture…

#9 REAL Yes, this absolutely hilarious picture of a dog playing underwater is real! Photographer Seth Casteel is a real dog lover and has already made a living for himself taking pictures of pups and other animals and pets. But he had an extra special creative idea: to wait underwater while dogs jumped into swimming pools, chasing after toys or treats or just excited to take a dip, then to take snapshots of the goobers upon entry to the water. And the reactions he got were priceless! He released a book containing the photo series called Underwater Dogs and has gotten even more money since the series went absolutely viral. There were some adorably hilarious pups that he managed to capture on camera, and for that, we thank him, his underwater camera, and his impeccable timing. But someone get this dog a towel and a big treat for his hard day of work!

#10 FAKE Not so real: this gentleman’s guide to amputation. This viral picture of an 1800s poster was released not too long ago when the craze of gentlemanly behavior (including ridiculous mustaches, odd facial hair, and weird facial hair care products were blowing up the market) was just getting going. The picture depicts a step by step guide on how to amputate a limb, including two calm gentlemen sawing off an arm like it’s just another day at work. After the men finish severing the limb from one man’s body, the two share a glass of brandy in celebration of their accomplishment. Well, of course, the poster is fake. Turns out, it was someone’s school project (what kind of school are they going to?), and someone spread it around as if it were authentically from the civil war era. Though we’re relieved to hear it’s a joke, we also kind of want to hang it in every doctor’s office…

#11 REAL This viral picture went all over the internet shortly after one of the biggest missions of the Obama Administration was completed: the takedown of Osama Bin Laden. Some people guessed that the photo was a fake when they initially saw it because rarely are the president, the vice president, and the secretary of state all in the same room — what if something were to happen that took all three out of commission? Fortunately, nothing of that nature happened, and we all had huge reasons to celebrate that evening. However, before we were parading through the streets with American flags waving and cheers abounding, these White House officials were all crowding around a table, awaiting what would either be a wonderful evening of victory or a tragic failure of the administration. The victory was one of the proudest moments of the Obama administration, alongside the passing of the affordable care act and all of the wonderful advancements made on addressing pollution and global climate change.

#12 FAKE Obama’s administration has been succeeded by the Trump administration — though we’ve got our strong opinions on the matter, we’ll just say that the two administrations are VERY different. When Trump was running for office against Hillary Clinton, America was very divided (edit: America is still divided over the issue to this day). There were rallies in support of candidates and against others, and many times, these rallying groups collided, and things got a little physical. One Trump supporter posted this picture saying that “loving and docile democrats assailed a Trump supporter, causing this damage.” Well, not only was this supporter a liar — he or she was also a lazy and bad liar. This picture is of actress Samara Weaving, who starred in the show Ash vs. Evil Dead and was only taking a picture of herself in makeup for the show. Once the photo was unveiled as a fake, the Trump supporters got harangued for lying, abusing social media, and perpetuating fake news.

#13 REAL This must be one of the funniest pictures of the transition between the Obama and Trump administrations. In fact, it was SO funny that a lot of us didn’t believe that it could be real at first. The photo was released right after President Obama had a meeting with his soon-to-be-successor, Donald Trump. Obviously, Barack was pulling for Hillary Clinton in the election: he loudly supported her campaign and even trash-talked Trump a bit to try to get his point across. Well… things didn’t work out the way he’d liked. At all. And in this picture, where Obama is pretty much forced to shake the hand of a man he doesn’t trust, doesn’t like, and doesn’t have faith in, Barack could not hide just how much he hated everything. But at least his expression is better than Donald’s — it’s not an arm-wrestling contest, Trump.

#14 FAKE So, we’ll admit — this one is a bit of a cheat. This is one of those pictures that borders on meme because the picture itself means very little — the wording on it says a lot, though. Very recently, this picture surfaced and spread around the internet like wildfire. It’s a quote from Thomas Jefferson saying, “The two enemies of the people are criminals and government, so let us tie the second down with the chains of the constitution so the second will not become the legalized version of the first.” Yeah, okay… except Thomas Jefferson never said that. Actually, Jeffersonian scholars say there’s no record of him ever saying ANYTHING like that and that if this quote were actually from anyone famous, it’s really a loose translation of an Ayn Rand quote!

#15 REAL This is no statue, this is no piece of art, and this is no demonstration — this is a nightmare, a tragedy, and a sadness to anyone with a heart. This is a real live dog from Argentina that was doused in tar by abusive humans. Two young boys found the pitiful pup in this state and took him home, carefully cleaning and scouring the dog until the tar was removed. The dog has indeed been restored to health and is now a proud pet of good owners, but the world shuddered in horror as we saw what sick and horrible people can do to innocent and harmless animals. How could anyone deign to commit such a horrible act to something so kind and small and pure? It was just another example of how cruel this world can be and how people can be cruel in either grand measures or in tiny and seemingly unimportant cases.

#16 FAKE Donald Trump and his supporters are… well, let’s just say that there has never been anyone quite like him. A lot of nasty things have been said at Trump rallies by fans, supporters and the big boss himself. But we have to be honest, and so do you: Trump supporters are humans, too, with consciences and reasons behind their logic and hopes and dreams. Remember when Trump supporters posted that fake picture of a woman getting beaten up by Clinton supporters? Well, this was essentially retaliation from the Clinton side. The third woman from the left was wearing a shirt that said “GREAT,” not “WHITE.” But it was so easy to photoshop the photo that we really are not surprised someone did. Everyone bought the fake picture for a while, but come on — nobody is that cruel, right? Maybe they’re bigots that are thinking that, but no one would get shirts for that…

#17 REAL Could this actually be a picture of two of our all-time heroes talking philosophically, sharing their wisdom and experiences? Or is it just two pictures of these amazing men doctored and brought together like the many pictures of Marilyn Monroe with Elvis Presley and James Dean were? Most people thought that the latter was the more believable response in this case, but this picture is actually real! Leonardo is very passionate about the effects and impacts of climate change, which was one of Barack Obama’s greatest concerns while in office. After Leonardo made an address on the lawn of the White House, the two had long conversations about what had to be done, what could be done, and how soon we could do it. They spent a long time talking about these topics, proving just how amazing both of these guys are.

#18 FAKE Last year (actually, almost exactly a year ago — how crazy is that?), this picture was posted by a man as he was road-tripping through Canada. He was a United States citizen, and even though the U.S. is getting a lot better about cutting down on homophobia, we have a long way to go before LGBTQ+ issues are commonly accepted and not constantly labeled and harassed and attacked. So, as this fellow was driving through the gorgeous Canadian countryside, he paused when he saw a baby moose on the side of the road. Adorable! But also a great photoshop opportunity… he easily pasted a LGBTQ+ Pride flag in the photo, and everyone lost their minds over this adorable baby moose that was concerned about topical social issues. Almost everyone could spot that it was a fake pretty early on, since it was such a simple editing job… but darn it all; it was so dang cute.

#19 REAL What are we even looking at here? A weird statue of a man? Why is his face like that? Is this an ice sculpture in a lake? Forget it, we’re bored and confused. Scroll away, scroll away… Actually, this picture is real, and it’s one of the most gorgeous feats we’ve ever seen. The picture was taken by a photographer named Francois-Xavier Marit, who was waiting underwater as Olympic athletes in Rio were taking their dives into the water. He perfectly caught Britain’s Thomas Daley as he entered the water and began to push the water away from him before reemerging to the surface. Look: his feet haven’t even entered the water yet! Thomas is still probably worried about and focused on his form, not on any photographers that are chilling underwater! This was immaculately timed, and we hope that the artistry encourages more swimmers to consider the art of diving in the future.

Source: TheRichest