#quentin my husband

[mystycalypso]

You're never investigating alone in Ravenbrooks :)

[tortoisesshells]

852.

[eliseinmemphis]

IM SAYING IT NOW FOR POSTERITY

but i am convinced austin is who tarantino has in mind for his last movie

he wants an american actor who is around 30-35, and who hasn’t been a leading man for him before,,, plus!!!! we all know tarantino loves reusing actors

and austin: is an american actor who is around 30-35, who has worked with tarantino, but never as a lead

i have no evidence other than what i feel in my gut, pussy, and bones but mark my words

[sinningsprinkles]

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

a brief look at their daily life & random family’ moments

pairing: dad & husband! wriothesley, cyno, kaveh x fem! reader

cw: different timelines. original characters, maternity, pregnant reader in wriothesley's part, parenthood, use of endearment names, arabic terms & fluff stuff. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

x

Wriothesley

Amid the quiet hum of daily tasks, you and Wriothesley shared a comfortable silence in his office, broken only by the soft rustling of papers and the scratch of his pen against documents.

The movements in your womb were a gentle reminder of the life growing within you, but it was the swelling in your feet that caused the most discomfort. Taking advantage of a moment to relax, you reclined on the new sofa your husband had thoughtfully bought, balancing a stack of papers on your belly. While you worked through a few revisions, your true attention was drawn to a crossword puzzle from The Steambird newspaper resting atop the pile.

“Wrio, quick—seven letters. Known as Liyue’s enlightened beasts or gods,” you asked, glancing up from the puzzle with a spark of curiosity.

Wriothesley looked up from his form, his lips curving into a smirk as he replied confidently, “Easy. Adeptus.”

You beamed, grateful for his quick answer, and eagerly scribbled it into the puzzle. Before you could move on to the next clue, a soft knock on the door caught your attention. Wriothesley called for the visitor to enter, and the door creaked open to reveal your teenage son.

“Mum, Dad. Are you busy?” Cameron asked, peeking shyly into the room.

“Never for you, sweetheart,” you replied warmly, setting aside the puzzle and placing the papers on the tea table in front of you. You gestured for him to come closer, and Cameron’s shy smile turned radiant as he walked over to sit beside you, quickly enveloped in your affection.

“Is something wrong, buddy? I thought you were in the city with Quentin,” Wriothesley inquired.

“Oh, no, everything’s fine,” Cameron reassured him. “Quentin forgot that today was his parents’ performance day, so Corinne picked him up while we were at the beach. Éveline is busy too, so I decided to come home.”

Both you and Wriothesley nodded in understanding. Rising from his desk, Wriothesley announced, “I’ll make some tea for all of us.”

As he left, Cameron nestled into your embrace while you returned to your puzzle, never letting go of your son. The peace was short-lived, however, as your daughter, still in your womb, seemed to sense her brother’s presence. She began kicking energetically, demanding attention of her own.

Cameron chuckled, watching the movements. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” you replied with a laugh. “Sometimes it feels like she thinks my belly is a playground, and even my ribs don’t escape her antics. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Smiling, Cameron gently placed his hands over your belly, where your baby's tiny feet were stretching. His soft touch seemed to calm her, and the powerful kicks gradually eased into gentle nudges. You sighed in relief.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Cameron said softly, his voice full of anticipation.

You kissed the top of his head, your heart full. “She’s looking forward to meeting you too.”

A few minutes later, Wriothesley returned with a tray of tea and a few treats, the sight of his wife and son greeting him with warmth. As he joined you, the love and contentment in the room seemed to swell.

Even after all these years, Wriothesley couldn’t help but marvel at the simple beauty of his family. You, Cameron, and the little one on the way—his heart overflowed with gratitude for the life you had built together.

Cyno

The General Mahamatra was escorting the Lesser Lord Kusanali back to the Sanctuary of Surasthana after a lengthy meeting with the sages and the Akademiya's scribe when a familiar sight caught his eye—you, leaving the Grand Bazaar with the twins by your side.

A faint sparkle crossed his usually composed gaze, a flicker of warmth that most would miss—especially those who would go out of their way to avoid catching the matra's attention. However, the perceptive little dendro archon wasn’t most people. With a soft giggle, she turned to Cyno and suggested he end his day early to spend the afternoon with his family.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, her tone light and reassuring. “I’ll take a quick look around and be back home before dark.”

Cyno hesitated, concern briefly knitting his brow. As a protector, it wasn’t in his nature to leave the young archon unattended. He began to decline, promising to join his family at the end of the day. But Nahida, with her characteristic blend of wisdom and playfulness—and perhaps a subtle flex of her authority—persisted.

Eventually, Cyno relented, expressing his gratitude before bidding her farewell and making his way to you.

It was Isaar who first sensed his father’s approach, the boy turning to greet Cyno with a wide smile and an enthusiastic wave that quickly caught both Aryan’s and your attention.

“Cyno,” you greeted warmly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. His ears tinged red, though his stoic demeanor didn’t waver. Amused by his reaction, you chuckled softly as the twins ran up for their customary pats on the head.

“Hey, Baba, guess what!” Isaar exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. “We’re having Shawarma Wrap for dinner tonight!”

Cyno blinked, his brow arching in curiosity as he glanced at you. “That’s unusual. Any special occasion?”

Grinning, Isaar puffed out his chest. “I won three rounds against Yan in Invokation TCG! We bet that the winner could pick a special dinner, and I got to order from Mama!”

Cyno nodded in understanding while Aryan sighed, the quieter twin clearly disappointed. “I really wanted to eat Mama’s Panipuri,” he murmured, his tone soft and wistful. “Grandpa Cyrus even helped me pick the best potatoes for them.”

Your heart melted at his words. Smiling, you leaned closer to him, your hand gently stroking his face. “I’ll make them next time, Ary,” you promised in a quiet voice meant just for him. “I’ll even make double the amount, just for you.”

Aryan’s eyes brightened as he nodded, comforted by your assurance. Cyno, overhearing the exchange, couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Once again, you had effortlessly resolved a situation that others might dismiss as trivial, yet to you, every detail of your children’s happiness mattered deeply.

Without a word, Cyno relieved you of the shopping bags, holding them in one hand while his other reached for yours. Intertwining your fingers, he began leading you home, his quiet presence grounding and reassuring.

The twins walked a few paces ahead, deeply engaged in a lively conversation in their unique language—a secret code they only shared with each other. Even as they chatted, they never strayed far from their parents’ watchful eyes.

Moments like this were rare, given your respective duties, but Cyno savored every second. The simplicity of walking hand-in-hand with you, watching the twins chatter animatedly, filled him with a quiet, profound joy. These were the moments that reminded him of what truly mattered.

Perhaps, he thought, as his grip on your hand tightened slightly, he should ask Nahida for a holiday. Just maybe.

Kaveh

“Daddy, daddy, daddy! I’m going to marry Hakim!”

Those were the enthusiastic words your sweet little girl announced as she bounded into the kitchen. You paused mid-preparation of lunch, glancing over your shoulder, while Kaveh, comfortably sipping his wine, choked violently on the drink.

Concerned but mildly amused, you hurried to help him recover from the coughing fit that erupted—not from the wine itself, but from Zahra’s startling declaration.

“Princess,” Kaveh managed to say after a deep breath, his voice still raspy, “I thought you were going to marry daddy.” He gave her a shaky smile, clearly hoping her young heart still belonged solely to him.

You snorted softly, shaking your head as you turned back to your work.

“No! Daddy is already married to Mommy,” Zahra explained matter-of-factly, placing her hands on her hips like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Also, look how beautiful this drawing Hakim made for me!”

She held up a colorful, childlike but remarkably detailed drawing of the Palace of Alcazarzaray. Even Kaveh, reluctant to admit it, couldn’t deny the talent evident in the work. Hakim, it seemed, though a miniature replica of his father, had his own gifts.

“Oh my! It’s so beautiful, Zaza,” you praised as you leaned over to admire the drawing. “Did you thank him properly?”

“Yes! I gave him a rose,” Zahra replied proudly, her chest puffed out.

Kaveh’s heart softened at her response.

Zahra truly was a thoughtful, kind-hearted child. Every day, he watched her grow into a bright, beautiful girl, reflecting the best qualities of both her parents. She was his little princess, the light of his life, and Kaveh would protect that light fiercely. The thought of anything—or anyone—taking away her happiness made his chest tighten.

“Daddy is still against this marriage, though,” Kaveh suddenly declared, snapping out of his reverie. He crossed his arms, attempting to look stern. “You’re too young, and I highly doubt Hakim has the resources—or the qualities—to provide you with a good home. Besides, men, in general, are terrible.” He paused, then added smugly, “But daddy isn’t. Daddy is the best. So daddy is still the best choice!”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a pinch on the cheek. Kaveh pouted dramatically at the gesture, though he didn’t pull away.

“Let kids be kids, Kav,” you said with a fond smile.

Zahra, meanwhile, seemed neither disheartened nor discouraged by her father’s objections. Instead, her little brow furrowed in thought before she confidently replied, “But daddy, Hakim promised we’d get married when we’re big like you and mommy, and his mama and papa. He said that when he grows up, he’ll be a great house artist like you, and then he’ll build a house for us to live in. You can visit us all the time!”

Kaveh was internally horrified. They were already making plans for the future, and Zahra hadn’t even turned seven yet. The idea was unacceptable. Intolerable. His sweet baby girl couldn’t possibly—no, wouldn’t—grow up so fast.

But as he looked into her sparkling golden eyes and saw the genuine joy in her smile, he couldn’t bring himself to crush her whimsical dream. With a dramatic sigh, he relented—though not without setting a few conditions.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But you’re not getting married until you’re fifty-nine. And Hakim has to build a palace with many rooms and a beautiful garden. And I’ll visit every day!”

Zahra clapped her hands with glee, her delighted giggles echoing in the kitchen as she threw her arms around him.

Meanwhile, you watched the exchange with mild amusement, a warm sense of comfort filling your heart.

If only Kaveh realized how common the “childhood friends to lovers” trope was, you thought with a grin, he’d surely take back everything he’d just said.

.

.

a/n: i planned to write a part for kazuha and alhaitham but i'm a little bit tired so in the next update? we'll see...

please let me know if there are any mistakes ;)

edited: dec/2024

[writemekpop]

Love Drunk | Lee Donghyuck (Haechan)

Summary: When Haechan accidentally proposes to you during sex, you don’t know how to react. 

Genre: Established relationship AU, fluff

Word count: <1k

“Oh yes, right there,” Haechan sighed as your bodies rocked in time with each other.

His strong hand stroked up and down your waist, resting possessively on your butt. It sent a shiver through your thin T-shirt to your skin.

“Marry me, Y/n,” he gasped. 

You froze, staring at Haechan. 

He opened his eyes wide and stared back at you. 

“What did you just say?” you whispered, moving away from him. 

“Nothing – whatever – I was babbling,” Haechan said. 

“No you weren’t. You said… you wanted to marry me.” You wrapped your arms over your knees and stared at them in disbelief.

“People say that!” Haechan said. “It’s like, a sex thing. You don’t really mean it.”

You frowned. “’Choke me’ is a sex thing, Haechan. Not marry me.” 

You felt the pit in your stomach grow and grow. “Please go, Haechan. Just get out of my room,” you managed to say before your throat closed up. 

As soon as Haechan closed the door behind him, the tears welled in your eyes. 

This was meant to be a casual relationship, just for a year or so until you graduated. You still had so much to do. You were meant to make your first feature film, get an internship with a studio, and buy your own place before you even thought about marriage.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. 

You opened the door for Haechan, then sat on the floor. He came and sat quietly next to you. 

“You know, when someone asks you to marry them, it’s usually considered a good thing,” he said, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

You laughed. “So you were asking me, huh?” 

Haechan shook his head, his eyebrows coming together. “No. But really, is the idea of marrying me so terrible?” 

You looked at Haechan for a long moment, then shook your head. 

“No, it’s not,” you said. “That’s the problem. Marrying you would be amazing. You cook the best Chinese, you let me talk about Quentin Tarantino all day, and you think I’m beautiful even when I look like this,” you say, wiping your nose. 

“Right. That sounds like a decent reason to cry,” Haechan said gravely, so you punched him in the shoulder. 

“Everything’s all wrong. I wasn’t meant to find a husband at the age of twenty-two!” 

“You- seriously want to marry me?” Haechan said, his eyes widening. 

“Yes,” you said. “Do you seriously want to marry me?” 

Haechan nodded.

Haechan cupped the side of your face and kissed you. His lips were softer and plumper than imagination. You felt like the room was spinning all around you. You were going to get married. You were going to get married!

You said, “Then that means…”

When you pulled away, you were still dizzy.

“You do want to marry me, right? That wasn’t just ‘a sex thing’?” you said, grinning. 

Haechan nodded, grinning. “I do.” 

--

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[vigilskeep]

Oooh could you elaborate on your feeling about Aveline? (Nobody really talks about her)

i think aveline is on paper really quite an interesting character because of her bizarre worldview, in which “rightfully stolen” property counts as a real claim, her guards are people she needs to protect rather than make protect others, and she truly believes herself to be the long-suffering lawful character when first thing after rolling up in kirkwall you can ask her to pull a knife on a merchant so you can get a job smuggling

however on a personal level i find her pretty grating, and her unshakeable belief that she is always in the right even more so. what doesn’t help is the lack of narrative consequences for her corruption (having failed to do her duty for the elves at the end of act 2 who were forced to turn to murder for justice and the qun for safety, because one of aveline’s guards went unpunished for raping their sister) or her inaction (openly making fun of emeric’s three-year investigation into quentin’s murders as soon as it caused her inconvenience, and asking hawke to get rid of the annoyance for her, while the murderer went on to kill hawke’s mother, for which aveline angrily refuses to take any responsibility). it’s almost impossible to make her leave the party at the end of the game, and the only way to really affect her state of mind is to not get her a husband, which in itself is a pretty sexist and dismissive thing for her story to be based around rather than the issues of morality and justice at hand, making her personal quests hard to engage with

sometimes i try to to take her around more, to learn more about her. but i find the entire experience pretty disheartening and usually give up quickly. frankly she’s very judgemental and i don’t like the way she talks to me or my friends

[kalinara]

So aside from the "Scott in a speedo" bit, (which I've seen folks dismiss as a joke, but honestly, never really sure how that works as joke that those two characters would make, but okay), there's one scene that, to me, makes the Throuple explicitly canon.

So these are two pages from X-Force #18. And it may be surprising to see me positively reference a Ben Percy comic, since his work generally isn't to my taste, but there you go.

So on its face, this is a pretty standard Ben Percy, Logan and Jean scene. There's some cute banter/flirtation and a bit of making out. Logan's theoretically got plans but he doesn't seem averse to some additional activity first.

But there's also a LOT to unpack here.

First: This cute makeout session is taking place on the Moon. You know, THAT Moon. In the Summer House. And Scott, as we see at the bottom, is physically present.

So if the impending make-out session hadn't been interrupted by Quentin Quire shenanigans, it might well have resulted in a trip to one of the bedrooms.

You know. The adjoining bedrooms. With no doors.

Second: Scott appears to be dressed for bed when he comes in. He asks Jean if she's coming to bed. Indicating that they likely had plans to sleep together, at least in the same bed.

Which means, Jean was making out with Logan right before she goes to bed with her husband. And again, if not for Quentin Quire's nonsense, it might have continued. Again, right before her plans to go to bed with her husband. The logical interpretation then is that her next step would likely have been to ask Logan to join them.

Third: As annoying as I've always found Logan's entitlement toward Jean to be, I generally think he's portrayed as too honorable to make out with a woman in the house she shares with her husband.

I note also that Scott's position in the doorway, and the lighting, makes it unlikely that he wouldn't have seen them making out before they pulled apart. He seems pretty unbothered.

Now naturally this only proves polyamory, but even if you go with the official stance that this is just a V situation, ne'er shall the penii touch. There's a lot of weird implied voyeurism here. Which leads to:

Fourth: Scott asks Jean if she's coming to bed. With Logan here. He wasn't present to hear Logan talk about vampires, so he doesn't really know if Logan is staying or leaving. Which means that he's happy sleeping with his wife, with Logan in an adjoining room with no door. (He's also a polite guy, he has to realize the next logical step would be Jean asking the man she's making out with to join them, he seems fine with that idea too.)

Even if they're not directly fucking, there's a three way relationship here. Personally, though, I'm taking this to mean they're all three fucking. It's just that the men are too...men to talk directly to each other about the whole thing.

[holylulusworld]

Jerk next door (6) - Two new players

Summary: You move in next door to a jerk after a bad breakup.

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Characters: Destroyer!Chris, Captain Syverson

Warnings: angst, mentions of past domestic violence (implied), mentions of divorce, mentions of past physical abuse, scared reader, mentions of past alcohol abuse, rueful Andy, mentions of murder

A/N: It's been a while, huh.

Jerk next door masterlist 

<< Jerk next door (5)

“No,” you violently shake your head. “I won’t set foot into his house. Let Quentin come and kill me. It’s better than being under the care of this man.” 

“Miss,” Chris sighs. He’s fucking tired of taking care of other people’s problems. “I’m tired, my head hurts like hell and I haven’t slept for a week. Please give me a break.”

“Oh,” considering his words you look at the stranger in your house again. He looks tired and sick. “Wait, have a seat. Do you want some water? I got not much food left, but I can make you a sandwich.”

“I came here for a reason, miss.”

“Y/N,” you offer a weak smile. “I’m sorry for barking at you. It’s his fault, not yours. You only try to help me.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs and takes the offered seat in your kitchen. “I get that you are mad at Barber. He’s a handful.”

“So, uh-Mr…” you furrow your brow. “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Just Chris,” he takes the glass of water you placed on the table and chugs it down. “I’m sorry too. It was a rough month…or rather year.”

Chris closes his eyes for a moment and sighs deeply.

“Maybe you should stay out of this shitshow. I already packed the most important things. I’ll try to start anew somewhere else.”

“He will follow you everywhere you go, miss,” Chris opens his eyes. His blue eyes hold your gaze as you try to find a way to keep him out of your problems. “Quentin Beck is the kind of bastard not letting go. He doesn’t love you but won’t let you live your life without him.”

“He will kill me,” you whisper. “Quentin told me so when I finally found the strength to file for divorce. I embarrassed him by revealing what he did to me. Though, no one was there to help me. They all turned a blind eye to my injuries and his behavior.”

“No man should put their hands on a woman,” Chris sneers. “I will make sure he’ll never get close to you, Y/N.”

“Quentin won’t give up.”

“Let him come,” Chris gets up from his chair because you’re rubbing your arms and your teeth chatter. “You’re freezing.”

“I-I’m scared, is all,” you reply. 

“No. You’re cold,” he shrugs his jacket off and puts it around your shoulders. “You need to calm down. I know Andy was a jerk, but he’s our only chance to keep you safe.”

“I don’t want to hide at his place,” you sniffle. “He’s as bad as my ex-husband.”

“Andy would never hurt a woman,” Chris softly speaks to you. “Laurie got him good. She broke something inside of him. Jerk or not, he will do anything to keep you safe.”

“Promised?” You look up at Chris.

“Promised.”

“Bedroom, bathroom,” Andy nervously points at the bed in his bedroom. “I’ll take the guestroom. This one is bigger.”

“This is ridiculous,” you huff and cross your arms over your chest. “If only you left me alone. I didn’t do anything wrong to make you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, sweets,” he sighs and runs one hand down his face. Andy is fucking tired too. “Please let me at least try to make things up to you.”

“You put me in harm's line!” You throw your hands up. “I finally found a peaceful place and you had to ruin it for me. Even if he believes I left town, Beck will come back. If he sinks his teeth in your flesh, you are his next meal.”

Andy smirks. “Let him come. I’m not the tame and friendly lawyer if you fuck with me.” He cocks his head and watches you sit on his bed. Andy clears his throat and softens his voice. “I changed the sheets, and in the bathroom are fresh towels. I brought all your clothes into the walk-in wardrobe. It’s right through that door.”

Andy points at the door next to the bathroom.

“You can put them on the left side. It’s…empty,” he shrugs when you watch him with curiosity. “A habit.” He adds. “My ex-wife used to occupy the left side. I kinda never changed that. It’s empty since I moved in here.”

“I did the opposite,” you admit. “Quentin used the left side, and I put the silliest things on his side.” You grin. “He would so hate it.”

“Hmm…” Andy nods thoughtfully. “We removed any trace you lived at your house. A friend of mine will take your place. I had an emergency meeting with all the neighbors. They know about you, and Beck. Doris and Peter offered to have an eye on the house.”

“You make it sound so easily,” you wipe your wet eyes. “I used my real name, Andy. Sooner than later Quentin will find my employer, and I’m done for. He will come when I least expect it and…”

You look away. 

“He won’t,” Andy suddenly stands in front of the bed. “I don’t give a shit that he’s a cop. I’m an attorney lawyer, Chris is an ex-cop, and—” 

“And I was the leader of a special forces unit,” another man casually walks inside Andy’s bedroom. “Hello, sugar. Andy told me so much about you.”

“Hi,” you choke the word out, unable to think while crowded by the two of them.

The man holds out his hand. “Oh, she’s shy,” he hums and steps closer to look down at you. He looks even bigger than Andy and Chris. His blue eyes are soft, but his large hand promises more than a friendly handshake if you mess with him. “Captain Syverson, or Sy to you.“

„Hi,“ you squeak as he grabs your hand to shake it. His grip is firm, but you know, this is only a fraction of his strength. “I’m Y/N.”

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” he smirks, still holding your hand. “Andy told me so much about you, but forgot to tell me that you are the sweetest dame I ever laid eyes on.”

“Sy, can you just not?” Chris joins the party. He immediately glares at Syverson, not liking said man is still holding your hand. “We have a lot on our plate. Quentin Beck is sniffing around town. We got to stop him.”

“Let me break his neck then,” Sy grumbles. “Problem solved.”

“We are talking about murder in that case,” Andy ever the lawyer retorts. “We can’t just kill him, okay. All we have to do is convince him that Y/N left town.”

“All we gotta do is rip him a new one,” Chris bites back. “That piece of shit deserves to be punished for the crimes he committed. He’s hiding behind his badge.”

“I did a background check of Mr. Wonderful,” Syverson draws your attention back toward him, and away from Chris. “Y/N wasn’t the first woman he has hurt. Three of his former girlfriends reported him to the police.”

“Let me guess, the reports disappeared,” Chris makes a face. “I told you, he’s a piece of shit and had it coming for a long time.”

“Chris, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we can’t run around and kill random people. Bastard or not,” Andy stops the two men from conspiring. Both are skilled and undoubtedly able to take Quentin down. “We need to do this the right way.”

“Well, no shit Sherlock,” Syverson grunts. “The other women tried to do it the right way. No one helped them. The reports disappeared, and his colleagues made sure that they didn’t try to file another report.”

Andy scowls at Syverson. “I get it. He’s not a sweetheart and we are on our own. Let’s make sure he’ll never hurt a woman without killing him then.”

You rock back and forth while the men decide on your ex-husband’s fate.

Whatever is going to happen, you are too weak to stop them or Quentin…

Part 7

Tags in reblog.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 15A: Dreams

Wilmington, North Carolina

Labor Day Weekend, 1988

I'm hung up on dreams I'll never see Help me baby, or this will surely be the end of me…

 - Dreams, The Allman Brothers Band (1969) [click here to listen]

“I’ll be upstairs in just a few minutes. Did you finish your reading?”

Ten-year-old William MacKenzie shook his head. “I was going to, but that’s when Daddy arrived with Jamie and Claire – I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. And then it was time for dinner, and then - ”

Gillian Duncan MacKenzie bent to kiss her son’s forehead. “All right then. Why don’t you get yourself all caught up?”

William’s eyes darted over to Claire, seated across from his mother at the kitchen table, sipping sweet tea.

“Jamie and I will be here all weekend,” she smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk with him about music tomorrow.”

His face brightened. “OK! See you in the morning!”

Claire couldn’t help but smile as William darted out of the room, footsteps quickly thudding on the stairs.

Gillian turned to face her guest. “He’s so excited. It’s not every day that a bona fide rock star is here in sleepy Wilmington.”

“Thank you for asking him to not tell his friends at school. I’m used to the attention now – ”

Gillian raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you?”

Claire shrugged. “Well – no. I don’t know if I ever will be. But one thing that won’t change is how much we value our privacy. So – thank you.”

“Of course, Claire. Privacy and discretion are what I do professionally – how could I not extend the same courtesy to you, when you’re a guest in my home?”

“Still. Thank you.”

A beat. Claire sipped the sweet tea Gillian had made – the same recipe she’d grown to love, those months at The Ridge. Gillian gently pulled Claire’s left hand across the table, studying her rings.

“You said this was his grandmother’s engagement ring?”

Claire nodded. “He inherited it when she died. His sister Jenny kept it for him, until he asked her for it. Called her the day he got home from The Ridge, and went to see her the next day. He gave it to me a few weeks later.”

“A man who knows what he wants.”

Claire smiled. “And I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”

Gillian returned the smile, then focused on the wide band next to the engagement ring.

“I love how solid and simple your ring is. Silver?”

“Platinum. His is the same. Wide enough for an inscription on the inside.”

“I do,” she had whispered. Smiling through the tears. Thinking he looked just a bit ridiculous in his suit. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Love” across his knuckle.

“I do,” he had whispered. Eyes burning, full of awe. Agape at the simple gray dress she had chosen, his mother’s pearls around her throat. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Heart” onto her finger.

“I am so pleased to…” Professor Quentin Lambert Beauchamp loudly blew his nose into a polka-dotted handkerchief. “Excuse me. I am so pleased to pronounce you husband and wife. Jamie, you may kiss your bride.”

He did. To the applause of the ten dear friends gathered in Joe and Gail Abernathy’s Boston backyard.

“That’s beautiful.” Gillian lay her own left hand on the table, adorned only by a thin gold ring. “Dougal never gave me an engagement ring, and he insisted I have the gold band for our marriage. His is silver. He had just sunk all of his money into building The Ridge, and we couldn’t even afford flowers at the reception.”

“That’s beautiful, too, Gillian. And I understand why you wouldn’t want to upgrade. Because what you have now, is that much more meaningful.”

“I was sitting here, when Joe and Gail staged the intervention.” Jamie looked over at his wife – his wife!! – gazing up into the arbor behind the house. “The vines were heavy with grapes. I remember thinking, how appropriate that I’m looking at what could be wine.”

He pulled her closer against his side, and kissed the top of her head. Careful of the tortoiseshell combs that Jenny had so lovingly placed in Claire’s hair as she got ready this afternoon.

“Ian confronted me in a hotel room in…Sacramento, I think. I had been so wasted on stage the night before, slurring through half the songs. Jenny had come to see Ian, and she was so scared for me. She had already done the research, made a few phone calls. I puked the whole flight across country to North Carolina.”

“It’s always the ones we love who we hurt the most,” she murmured.

“I’m never going to hurt you, Claire. You know that, right?”

She turned to face her husband – her husband!! – and smiled. Reassuring.

“I do. And you know I’m never going to hurt you, Jamie. Right?”

He nodded. Couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Ah!”

Dougal MacKenzie and Alec MacMahon turned the corner, and cheered. “Here you are! Come on – don’t let us have all the fun without you. Can’t miss your own wedding reception!”

Gillian nodded. “I don’t need it. I have the life we’ve built together, and our son, and a man who somehow thinks the sun rises and sets with me. I’ll never understand it.”

Claire swallowed.

Of course Gillian noticed.

“Don’t ever doubt how much he loves you, Claire. I’ve seen you two together – you’re so natural with each other. That’s never going to change.”

She clenched her hand into a fist. Centering herself.

“It’s…it’s just so…intense, with him,” she whispered.

“We don’t have to tonight, Jamie. We have forever, now.”

His hands shook as his thumb softly, softly traced down her neck, across the pearls, and settled into the cleft between her breasts.

“I want to, Claire. I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. I just…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gillian asked gently. “I can be your therapist, or I can be your friend. But I will listen.”

Claire took a deep, calming breath. “Being on tour – I see now how he developed the addictions. Every aspect of it is so stressful. He feels so much pressure to lead his band, to write music, to live up to the fans’ expectations. And he has to deal with the label and the tour manager and the production guys, and do media, and somehow find time to eat and shower and sleep on top of all of that.” Her thumb twisted her wedding ring. “He’d use the drugs to come up, and the alcohol to come down. And the women to just forget about everything for a while.”

“Are those groupies?”

Colum had organized a small gathering for the band and crew to celebrate the first show of the acoustic tour. No alcohol or drugs in the room – though Claire quickly learned that the rules by no means extended to hallways and bathrooms and storage rooms at the venue.

Jamie squeezed her hand, standing side by side in the corner, both of them holding a can of Tab.

“Yeah. I can ask them to leave, if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

“No need.” She dropped his hand and quietly approached the four women giggling on the other side of the room.

“Ladies. I’m Claire Beauchamp. I’m with him.”

She turned slightly, looked at Jamie over her shoulder, and then turned back to her audience.

“So?” A girl wearing a strategically ripped Def Leppard t-shirt popped her gum. “That’s not what I heard about the last time he was here.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “That was then. This is now. I will say this only one time. If you even think about flashing a boob, or smiling at him, or trying to get him alone? I will end you.”

The girls gaped.

“Tell all your friends here in Albuquerque, please. Are we clear?”

“And now, that you’re there with him?”

Claire smiled. “He’s eating and sleeping a lot better. Has a lot more energy. He so desperately wants to do everything right. And I’m not going to lie, Gillian – seeing him perform the songs he wrote for me at The Ridge, and then being there when he comes off stage, all keyed up from singing and playing the guitar…”

“It sounds like in many respects he’s replaced his additions with you.”

Claire looked up, meeting Gillian’ gaze. “Of course he has. The album and lead single will be called She’s My Addiction. Doesn’t get any more obvious than that.”

“And how do you feel about that, Claire?”

She lay her hands flat on the table. “I’ve never felt more…loved, and cherished, than when I’m with Jamie.”

She frowned and opened her eyes when he stopped brushing her hair, one morning in Minneapolis.

“What – ”

The pads of his fingers swept the left side of her neck, still a bit tender from his kisses after last night’s show. “I bruised you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. I’m not.”

She swallowed. “But it’s so, so hard sometimes. He loves me for who I am, but I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up. And he stresses over so much that he doesn’t have to. Gillian, he’s been having panic attacks all tour.”

“My God. Is he seeing anyone to help with that?”

Claire sighed. “You’re looking at her. Thank God I did that psych rotation when I was in med school. I’ve helped him recognize the signs, and he knows enough to tell me when it’s happening so that we can get away and I can help him through it. But I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t be everything he needs. He has to do a lot of work to explore what’s triggering him, so that he can manage that. Because after we take the break at the end of the year, we’ll be on the road for most of ’89. The label has booked more than a hundred shows.”

“And you’ll be with him?”

“Of course. He’s the air I breathe. I know this sounds insane, but we want to try for a baby next year. That way he can be off the road, off touring, to be with me if the timing lines up.” She sighed. “So I’ve talked to him about bringing a therapist with us on tour. He needs to have that kind of support from someone other than me. Especially when we’re in Europe and he’s playing soccer stadiums and dealing with a next level of bullshit.”

“Do you want some recommendations? Between Dougal and I, we can definitely help you find someone.”

Claire smiled thinly. “That would be wonderful. It has to be someone we both trust. Who can deal with all the craziness.”

Gillian nodded. “Consider it our wedding gift to you. I – we – really want to help you. You know this, Claire – getting sober is hard, but staying sober is so, so much harder. It does and doesn’t get easier with time. Dougal would say the same thing.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

She settled her chin into his shoulder, nestled securely in his lap. Together they watched the cornfields of Iowa glide by, thousands of feet below.

“No. Not really. The pills helped me deaden the pain. And my life doesn’t have that kind of pain at all, now.”

The private plane had four clusters of four seats, two seats on each side facing each other with a table in between. Jamie and Claire always had a cluster to themselves. Ian, his bass tech, Jamie’s guitar tech Arch, and Angus’ drum tech always sat together. Colum kept to himself. Leaving Angus in the final cluster – which he shared with the two groupies he’d been surprisingly faithful to since Albuquerque. He hated flying, but the girls certainly made it easier for him – plying him with snacks, rubbing his back, squeezing him between them in the big seat.

Claire turned slightly, and inhaled at his temple. Kissed his earlobe as he shivered. “I know you miss it, Jamie. And it’s OK.”

His grip tightened on her hip. “You taste so much better,” he whispered. Eyes far away.

Claire wiped the corners of her eyes. “I just love him, Gillian. So fucking much.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so proud of him, for everything he’s done, and for the man he’s worked so hard to become. I’m not going to lie – sometimes it’s so damn hard to deal with everything. With all of his past shit, and how he still lets it mess with his head. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him that none of it bothers me. Not the drugs, or the alcohol, or the destroyed hotel rooms, or what is probably hundreds of women. I can’t let any of that bother me, because that’s not the Jamie I know. But Gillian…”

Gillian reached across the table and took Claire’s hand.

“He makes everything so fucking hard sometimes. He starts to spiral, and he worries that I’ll have had enough and walk away. But then we just take a deep breath, and we look at each other, and all the bullshit is gone, and it’s just so easy again.”

“You need a day off!”

Jamie rubbed his hands over his face, exasperated. “I do have a day off tomorrow, Claire. You know as well as I do that there isn’t a show.”

She huffed, hands on her hips. “Not the point, Jamie. I saw the call sheet for tomorrow. You’re meeting with the label, and then with Colum to talk to the merch guy, and then the lighting team, and then you’re doing some local radio spots. That’s NOT a day off!”

He shrugged. “At least we can get dinner together and it won’t be shitty venue food.”

She pursed her lips, trying so hard not to scream. “Do you not remember the panic attack last night? You were sobbing in my arms, Jamie. It was really, really bad. And then you were so exhausted, but you wanted to be a hero and do the show anyway, and then you tripped over your fucking amp when you went on stage and could have broken your arm. Where would that leave us, hmm?”

He reached out to her – and she stepped back.

Not done with him yet. 

“You need rest, Jamie. Your body is going to shut down. And that won’t be good for anybody.”

“Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Beauchamp?”

A hint of a smile. Good.

“Yes. I’m your personal physician. I’m prescribing a day in bed, sleeping.”

He smirked. “OK. But only if you’re in it, too.”

She shrugged. “I’m not making any sense.”

“Yes you are,” Gillian smiled. “You said it’s intense between you – there’s no way it couldn’t be. Set aside his being a musician, and being in just about the biggest band in the world right now. Think about how and when you met. What had happened to both of you beforehand. All the changes you’ve made in both of your lives, in a relatively short timeframe. It’s overwhelming. And being on the road with him this summer had to have just upped that intensity.”

“We’re together non-stop. Which has been great, because we have so much time. We have what nobody else has, and I treasure that, I really do. But it’s also exhausting sometimes.” Claire paused, considering. “Nobody else knows what I’m about to tell you, but it’s another factor. We…we didn’t…” She closed her eyes. “We waited until our wedding night.”

Gillian’s silence was a gift.

“We were both so scared. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I think we were worried that…that it wouldn’t be good, for some reason. And it was good, Gillian. So fucking good. We both cried.”

“You’re everything.” He kissed her nose and cheeks and forehead and mouth over and over and over again, his tears mixing with hers. “My heart is going to burst.”

She hugged him tighter, nails digging into the flames tattooed on his shoulders. “Love you,” she whispered, breathless. “Love you love you love you love you…”

“I don’t need to tell you this, Claire, but I will anyway. It’s been a really good decision to spend so much time together, to really get to know each other, before you were married. Both of you deliberately wanted your relationship to be different from anything you’d known or done before. And now that last barrier is gone between you. So everything has changed, am I right?”

Indianapolis. Married one week. He couldn’t stop smiling at her, standing side stage during the show. She couldn’t stop giggling when he found her after the encore, threw her over his shoulder, and ran to his dressing room. His breath hot against her lips, breathlessly pleading for her to stay quiet, as they loved each other on the sofa and the techs and roadies and catering people and production staff bustled by the locked door.

“It has, Gillian. But in many ways it hasn’t. It feels like yesterday, and it feels like forever.”

New Haven. Married two weeks. The morning after a powerhouse show at the Coliseum. A penthouse suite overlooking the water. She had slipped out of bed in the dark, opened the curtains wide. Watched him watch her as she returned to bed. Held his gaze as they loved each other, dawn breaking over their faces.

“I get that. You’ve introduced another layer to your relationship. Probably the most complex layer that there is.”

Providence. Married two weeks and two days. Holding each other in a bath, Jamie’s hand splayed across her belly, Claire’s nose buried in the curtain of his hair.

“So, be patient with yourself, Claire. Cut yourself a break.” Gillian reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “And just enjoy yourself! My God – what an incredible life you have.”

Claire’s smile was the widest Gillian had ever seen.

“Holy shit. I married a rock star.”

“I heard that!”

And then Jamie was there, smiling, and kissing Claire’s smile.

Dougal hung back in the doorway. Exchanging smiles with his own wife.

“Come on, rock star. You said you’d help me hook up the new CD player.”

Jamie pulled back. Rubbed his nose against Claire’s.

“Hey, Dougal?”

Dougal crossed his arms. “What?”

Jamie stood. Squeezed Claire’s hands. Kissed her wedding ring.

“Love is a much better high than any drug.”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “I’ll put that on the new pamphlets we’re printing up for The Ridge. But the stereo won’t install itself. Help out, and I’ll even let you play that new stuff you brought.”

[mystycalypso]

Despite the fact he gets some screen time in the game, what are you two thoughts on quentin?

Also how wild would been if Aaron was adopted by him, instead of what we got in the end of HN2.

Oh my god I'm so sorry Anon I totally forgot I didn't answer this

Which is dumb because every time I saw your ask I remember going "oh this poor fool has no idea"

For context, I (Jack)...have... uh- a non hatred for Quentin

These posts have been buried in- more Hello Neighbor shitposting, but for context, here are some non hatred posts I made about him

Quentin art I made (that's my phone homescreen rn)

And general Quentin stupidity

For context, Anon, when Hello Guest released, it was not the guest that made me interested enough to take look-sies at Hello Neighbor again, it was being drawn to this cowardly beautiful man that I wanted to both kiss and be

I love Quentin. I would kill for this coffee addicted bastard.

But anyway, I think going the adoption route might be interesting for season 2 if for no reason other than A. The best boy and Aaron get screen time, and B. It gives us an ending to Hello Neighbor 2 basically (which is something I don't even know if we have in the current patch)

Also if it means after Aaron gets dragged away from Ravenbrooks to the big city Quentin works in, it explains why him and Nicky never got to- heal per say

Plus I'm not against Quentin taking a fatherly role as uh- as seen in my Quentin Roth theory (which Tinybuild shut down very thoroughly with the "Mr. Peterson's Guest" clip lol)

The only thing I'd say would be holding me back on it is- a reason why. I'd need to see Quentin's side of things in universe rather than just get told he had this deep need to help Aaron and adopt him after it all, yknow? Like, don't expect viewers to have played hn2 and understand Quentin's investigation, yknow?

I don't think the adoption thing is the route they'll take because of that, I mean, they'd basically have to tell the events of s1 and beforehand again just from Quentin's perspective for that.

Alternative thought, it'd be kind of funny if Nicky sees Aaron again, and he's with Quentin, and Nicky's like "who tf is this" and Aaron is like "He saved me from the basement! :D" and Nicky dies because he basically got traumatized for nothing and gets no credit for saving his bff

[dr-chosenberg]

On my recent rewatch I felt the inspiration to design my headcanon for what Dr. Potterswheel's late wife might have looked like! Born Marie-Thérèse Praxineaux, her maiden name is based off of the Praxinoscope which is an animation device that came after the Zoetrope

Voice: https://youtu.be/2MaiJtecGmI?si=H6h5nLCUQsk9039K

CW: Dr Potterswheel's gore fetish, infection, death, miscarriage,

She moved to Moralton because you know The War and was shunned because of the rumors around town of her being a foreigner and France being a place of sin and lust. The librarian there gave her a job because she assumed no moralton man was going to be interested because of her reputation and took pity on her. Oh another reason the moraltons hate her lol, France is a majority Catholic country. Marie was part of the minority there that was Protestant but obviously the Moraltons didn’t care.

In comes a young Quentin.

He was studying for his medical school exams and often came in, staying the often inaccurate statesotan medical books for long hours. Sometimes when it was just the librarian and the two of them she would avoid him at all costs, not wanting to further her reputation.

He was aware of Marie-Therese, she was pretty and always helpful when she knew where to find a book he needed.

One day some kind of accident happened, not serious enough that she was in any real danger but enough that she needed medical assistance. Maybe a bookcase fell on her and she needed some stitches?

M-T was not one to speak up or make a fuss, but Quentin had a handsome deep voice and spoke with so much authority. He did his best to reassure her she would be ok and in a sense it coaxed the words right out of her. She had a way with words and could describe her pain like she was painting a picture, I like to think she enjoyed writing poetry, but you and I both know that’s not why it attracted him so intensely.

Despite the town doing its best to shun her she still attended church every Sunday and every Sunday Quentin would inquire about her wounds progress and ask to see it. One day a few weeks after her wound had healed they were conversing and Marie-Therese joked sadly that they could no longer be seen together as she didn’t have the excuse of being his practice patent.

At which point Quentin proposed. It wasn’t the most romantic affair to most, he said it matter of factly as he does most things. But that was ok, she would have the bedside manner and the way with words for them both.

Their relationship itself….well they had a foot up on many Moralton couples as they were truly in love. Many would consider Marie a fool as he was not the most romantic man. He was soft when she would fuss or worry (think about the way he spoke to Bloberta when she said her wound was bad) but when she really took issue with something he wouldn’t get more emotional, but even less, she found herself at times disheartened at the way he would dismiss her worries and talk down to her. She insisted to her newfound housewife friends that they just didn’t know him like she did, which was *sort* of true.

She honestly didn’t mind his “preferences” she assumed that taking charge was what a husband was meant to do in the bedroom, and that a “little” pain was just what a good Christian woman had to put up with after a life of chastity. When she had other wounds and he would take a bit too much of a vested interest she thought it was just his way of showing he cared. She never understood why he would discourage what he called “unnecessary” medications like, allergy meds, antacids, etc. always feeding her a line about the lord helping those who help themselves.

She tried her best to become more like the other wives of Moralton, she even took up sewing and embroidery. She made a comment once about how she was just like him, sewing up patients. He stroked her head and smiled, “How cute. You’d worry yourself sick if anything important was counting on your little stick ‘n’ pokes.”

Things got better when they got the wonderful news that Marie was pregnant. Her pregnancy was very rough, unlike anything Quentin had ever seen. He would comfort her by telling her of the many strong mothers he had seen in his career so far, if she couldn’t handle the pain of the pregnancy how could she handle the birth? The smile he would give her when she would nod in agreement was all the soothing she needed.

She was nearing the worst of it when she used the last of her energy to embroider a handkerchief for him, with his initials on it. Sometimes he would use it to clean her face when she would cough up one thing or another, or wet it to soothe her forehead.

Of course she wasn’t *just* facing pregnancy complications, she had caught a whole other sickness entirely, an infection. The days went by and Quentin got more desperate. Out of love for his wife? Out of a need to prove his abilities as a doctor? Who knows. He would never admit fault for anything let alone a patient, he sure as hell wasn’t going to take the blame for losing the woman he cares for. He tried everything, except actual medical science.

Finally he relented and began to give her painkillers. I believe it would be more in character if he didn’t tell her. Visitors from the town and a young Reverend Putty suspected it but she was none the wiser. She used to say things like, “Ma moitié having you pray for me and care for me is so healing, I am feeling better already.”

When she could form full coherent sentences.

With the way medicine was at the time while some painkillers are safe for pregnant women these probably weren’t, but they weren’t what took her. It got to the point that she wasn’t herself anymore but spent her days lying in bed in a haze, barely awake.

She swore sometimes that she could see Quentin there at her side, watching her, even feel him stroke her hand. But when she got her eyes to focus he wasn’t there anymore.

One day Quentin went in for a morning check up and the sheets were covered in blood. He had lost his wife and his child in one fell swoop.

It was a horrific scene but she looked so serene. So comfortable. She was clutching his handkerchief.

Notes:

This takes place with the assumption that Moralton is not modern day, I headcanon Quentin to be around 50

This was fun, nothing is set in stone truly as this was part of a stream of consciousness conversation with my friend @cheonsa-n I’m fully up for criticism if anything seems out of character. I’m also happy to explain the reasoning behind certain choices!

I don’t personally buy the idea that Quentin killed his wife on purpose, a man with Quentin’s disposition who actually committed a murder wouldn’t resort to almost stabbing the man who accused him of it, that’s how you get people to think you killed your wife on purpose lol.

I hope you guys enjoy what I came up with. Their relationship isn’t fully this way as he was attracted to her and subjected her to some of the same treatment we saw Bloberta go through, but their marriage in my mind had a bit of a Madonna-whore complex flavoring to it. I also believe this is somewhat of an origin story for his habit of treating everything with almost exclusively painkillers. Marie-Thérèse couldn’t be saved but she was, as Quentin puts it, very comfortable when she passed.

In the AU where she lives she still suffered a miscarriage and Clay calls Dr. Potterswheel a babykiller instead. She is still as sweet as the day she and Quentin met but she isn’t particularly keen on giving Orel the time and attention he needs either, it’s too painful. When she does give him advice she tends to advise him to wait things out and not rock the boat. She tells him that good things come to those who wait.

[fresm-ay]

according to my tradition -

✨️women✨️

I like to think that re!Freddy (Frensis?) would be a preschool teacher rather than a gardener.

og!Frensis will kill her husband when he discovers her secret, re!Frensis after her husband deprives her of the opportunity to become a mother(he beat her). Later re!Frensis will move to Springwood. Poor thing lost everything she ever had..Child, Husband, Home.. Employer would take her to work in Badham preschool and, out of pity for her fate, they would allow her to live in the basement (at least for a while).

"Good old times. Checking out the class work with Nancy and Quentin." I just can't think of suitable names for them

Well, here's my thoughts. What do you think?👀

[chaos0pikachu]

So @doyou000me sent me an ask about the film making of Love for Love's Sake (which I have learned is based on a novel and now I'm very interested in reading it lol) so having watched the currently available episodes the big thing I noticed was the shows use of Aspect Ratio.

"In simple terms, the aspect ratio of a movie is how wide the frame of the movie is versus how tall it is, usually expressed as a ratio. For example, most TVs and computer monitors are 1.77:1 (more often expressed on consumer packaging as 16:9), which means the screen itself is 1.77 times as wide as it is tall. The higher the first number in this ratio is, the wider the screen will be." (source)

I know, nerd math.

Basically you know those black bars you sometimes see on the top and bottom of the screen when watching a film or tv show? That's a director filming in a specific aspect ratio:

(source)

Film makers use aspect ratios in a ton of ways, there's a lot of examples out there from Hateful Eight (Quentin Tarantino), and Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan) where the former used aspect ratio to invoke the film making style of old westerns, while Nolan used a taller aspect ratio for fight/action scenes to give the scene more physical impact.

A recent example that I've seen that I think applies really well to Love for Love's Sake is Marry My Husband:

See how the first scene has black bars above and below? The director is using a different aspect ratio than in the second shot (these are both taken from ep01). What does this signify in the story?

Flashbacks. Flashbacks in Marry My Husband are always filmed in a different aspect ratio than scenes in the "present" storyline of the show. Perfect Marriage Revenge also uses aspect ratios this way.

Love for Love's Sake does something similar but instead of flashbacks it uses aspect ratio to denote between "worlds".

The game world is filmed in a longer aspect ratio than the "real" world which is filed in a different ratio (not a standard full screen but it does have a taller ratio than the game world):

This, so far, has been consistent in the four episodes that are out. We have another return to the "real" world in I believe ep03 and we see this same aspect ratio dynamic.

Another thing I noticed is the "real" world's color saturation is much higher and warmer than the "game" world, but it's also (ironically) much more enclosed - this could honestly be a story choice or a budget issue - and boxed in. Something I don't see discussed a lot in terms of cinematography in BL is the use of Lines and Shapes in film and how they add to the composition of a shot.

I really like this video on the subject though it focuses mostly on animation it's still relevant:

Now if you look at the "real" world scene in Love for Love's Sake we see that the protagonist, before we even know who he is, or anything about him, is in a highly saturated room, warmly lit, but also boxed in:

The warmer saturation denotes a sense of intimacy, which makes sense in a bar setting, but the boxed in frame around him gives us a sense of tightness, tension even, maybe a sense that he feels trapped. We later learn through dialogue he's unhappy with his life and unhappy with the way the novel story he read has played out.

Then, when the scene transitions into the "game" world, the protagonist is in a different aspect ratio, the color grading is now more desaturated and has a higher blue hue to it, the character is also in an open space and filmed front forward facing instead of from behind:

This all works well because the audience knows, even before the character does, they are in another "world" and its very different from their own. It creates to specific aesthetics which help set the worlds apart from one another.

For more on color theory, this is one of my favorite videos on the topic which has more to do with like, hue and saturation rather than "the blue curtains mean xyz" which is a singular and narrative heavy way to focus on color theory instead of how color adds to the tone, emotion, and world building of a piece of media.

I think the first episode of Love for Love's Sake is the best filmed of the episodes so far, the budget starts to chip away in other episodes but I do want to give them their roses b/c they do work within their budget well. There's a lot of interesting visuals used especially with the game pop ups that I really like, and some nice camera work. The editing is a bit weak at times but there's been some good choices too.

I also really liked the scene with Yeo Woon running and how his feet lit up and how that aligned with his affection points going up. The editing for that was well done.

So yeah, those are my film making thoughts on the show for now lol

Check out other posts in the series:

Film Making? In My BL? - The Sign ep01 Edition | Aspect Ratio in Love for Love's Sake | Cinematography in My BL - Our Skyy2 vs kinnporsche, 2gether vs semantic error, 1000 Stars vs The Sign | How The Sign Uses CGI

[like these posts? drop me a couple pennies on ko-fi]

[freneticfloetry]

fic pride friday

I finally get to start a tag game! Saw this one go by in the wild, and though I couldn’t grab the exact post to reblog, I wanted to bring the concept over to my go-to folks.

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

There’s a little slice of Husbands Era from words to get off his chest (911 / 911 Lone Star):

Times like this, TK honestly thinks he lives for the second that Carlos settles back and lets go. He hopes that feeling never gets old — the way he sinks back into his arms, just a bit, and his limbs lose the last of their tension, like he’s found the exact space where he fits and can exhale with his whole body.

There’s this Carlos and Iris truth swap from to build a home (911 Lone Star):

I think you're my new favorite person, she'd said — soft but sure, like it wasn't something wondrous after losing her dad, just laid in his lap like a gift — and he'd swallowed and said the only thing he could think of that might've been worth as much in return. I think I'm gay. She'd turned her head and smiled into his shoulder, slipping her arm around his to slot their fingers together and squeeze. Fine, she'd said, warm and wry and completely without surprise. I'll drop my 'think' if you will.

There’s this Met Gala moment from scenes from an unfinished story (The Magicians)

Really, he'd said flatly, when El had first shared the idea, you want to go as The Little Mermaid. Eliot had rolled his eyes. Well not the neutered Disney version, he'd answered, the Hans Christian Andersen original. In all its forbidden gay glory. Quentin had blinked, thoroughly confused, and El had given him a look he never did decipher. He wrote it as a love letter, Q, he'd explained, soft and sad, to a man he couldn't have.

There’s this moment before a bittersweet reunion from What Baking Can Do (The Magicians)

He's technically seen El… since; there's a copy made of clay back at the cottage, lying silent and too still in Eliot's bed. But this is the form he knows — towering and full of grace, even bent over a workbench, brows drawn together, sifting flour into a big wooden bowl. Quentin's clearly caught him mid-setup, a telltale line of little clay vessels arranged across one side of the table, and it's sort of fascinating to watch the way he's adapted, the duality of the picture it paints — a faded apron slung over some sort of sheer, gauzy shirt that's tied at his side, sleeves rolled at each cuff to the elbow and hands stripped free of rings, the room's worn wood and stone an unadorned backdrop for the drama of the dark crown of gems that still circles his head. It's an image Quentin doesn't think he could forget, but there's the strangest urge to frame it, hang it, label it in bronze: High King Humbled, 2017. Flesh and bone.

There’s this truly unfortunate timing from Confidence Man (What’s Your Number?)

The Imperial March is impossible to ignore in the best of situations, much less mid-cunnilingus, but trying to would be significantly easier without the subsequent knock on the door. She stiffens, fingers tightening in his hair, thighs clamping down around his head like a vice. "Oh, fuck," she moans, in a way that's meant to be mortified but, to his ears and his brain and every one of his nerve endings, still sounds like she's seconds from flying off a fucking cliff. "Ally, I swear to god," he says, locked between her legs, "if I come in my pants with your mother outside I may never maintain an erection again."

There’s this reflection on the past and present from Ashes and Flame (Every You and Every Me) (The Hunger Games)

I want it to be as it was. A purging of everything that haunts me, down to the smallest detail. But when I'm done, there's only space and shadow in living color, more abstract than anything that came before it. A fiery sunset over the Meadow grass, the shape of mockingjay wings. And two silhouettes on the horizon, together but separate, forever moving forward, and backward, and nowhere at all.

And finally, there’s this unbalanced negotiation from By Any Other (Lucky Number Slevin), which is maybe my favorite cold opening to anything I’ve ever written.

"You need a name." She spreads out the stack of takeout menus she's stolen from the front desk, sprawled on her stomach on their third motel bed in a week. The wallpaper is the worst she's seen yet, and is still somehow better than what was in her old bathroom. "What about Indian?" "As names go? It's a little tongue-in-cheek." He flops to his back beside her, scratching at his stomach and squashing half the pile. "I could go for some Chinese." She wrinkles her nose, wrestling the menus free. "No Chinese. I hate Chinese." "You are Chinese." "Yeah, it's tragic, they revoked my membership and everything."

Tagging in @liminalmemories21, @paperstorm, @carlos-in-glasses, @reyesstrand, @rmd-writes, @lemonlyman-dotcom , and @welcometololaland !

[celestemona]

What types of jobs do each of the wifes have or had? (Because from what we know so far, Hakim's mama is a teacher in the akademiya and Quentin and Corinne mama is a dancer so This made me wonder which other professionals the others wifes have and sorry for the bad english)

Anon, you don't know for how long I've been waiting for someone to ask me this!! I'm so whipped for my ocs children yes, but I'm a whore for their mamas too hahah

Okay just like you've guessed, Hakim's mom is indeed a History & Literature professor at Akademiya. She's also a mage but I won't elaborate too much about it because she decided to follow only the conventional education path.

occupations: professor, historian, writer, mage

Lyney's wife, as you've mentioned, is a dancer. Currently, she is performing as an aerial silk pro at her husband's shows and she's pretty popular because of her skills.

occupations: troupe member, dancer, aerial silk pro, lyney's assistant

Kaveh's wife's job is to be rich hahahah She doesn't depend entirely on her sister fund because she is the owner of a huge construction & mining excavation company. How do you think she met her husband?

occupations: ceo, ningguang's right hand, kaveh's account manager

I've to say I struggled a lil bit to come up with a background for the Kaedehara's matriarch. However Mama reader here is a highly skilled adventurer. Just like her husband, she loves to travel, explore and she collect artifacts. Our Lara Croft I'd say hahaha

occupations: adventurer, treasures' collector, archeologist

Éveline's mom is a very fluent merchant. I must say I'm keeping the idea of her being a "former smuggler" from one of my previous fanfics for Neuvi. She's pretty smart and she can get a lot of informations around Teyvat which, sometimes, contributes to her husband's work.

occupation: merchant, former smuggler, former informant

Cyno's wife is an eremite and she used to do some illegal stuffs, that's the main reason why she crossed his way. But now that she's married to Akademiya's mahamatra and has two sons with him, she works at tavern as a bartender. Although sometimes she also does some temporary jobs as bodyguard for those who dare to explore the desert.

occupations: self-employed worker, bartender, bodyguard, former mercenary

And finally we have Wriothesley's wife who works together with him to maintain the Fortress of Meropide organized & safe. Most of the documents and archives tasks are her responsabilities. Howeveeer, if the surface needs someone for interrogation or if something serious happens inside the prison and the guards need a hand, she is the one they trust for this service.

occupations: duchess, fortress of meropide's second administrator, interrogator, executer