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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #394

“just want one thing / just to play the king / but the castle’s crumbled and you’re left with just a name / where’s your crown, king nothing?”

Do you have your ears pierced more than once? Yeah; I have two in my earlobes and my right tragus pierced. I used to have a cartilage and anti-tragus piercing, but they closed when I had to take them out at the hospital. -_- Do you use an electric toothbrush? Yep. Have you ever seen a queen bee outside its hive? I don't believe so? Have you ever used Duolingo? No. Do you think the number 13 is unlucky? No. Which Clue (or Cluedo) character is your favourite? I always played Scarlet because I thought she was pretty. Do you have any novelty ice cube trays? No. Have you ever had a bad experience meeting a bf’s/gf’s parents? No. Do you get sick of eating turkey during the holidays? I don't eat turkey because I don't like it. I have honey spiral ham instead. Have you ever danced on a table? No. Did you have a lot of fun as a little kid? Yeah. Is there someone you can talk to all day, never running out of stuff to say? Some days. Ham or turkey? Ham. Would you rather eat nothing but fruits or nothing but cheese sandwiches? Fruit. What’s the last song you sung along to? I think Shinedown's "Get Up" while I was in the car. You get to be in any tv series or movie. (old/new) What are you choosing? Let's seeee... maybe Wonderland! Do you meditate? No; it actually stresses me out because I can't completely clear my head. What’s your go-to song when you’re angry? "Headache" by Motionless In White is a good one. What do you think about the most? My weight, honestly. It's at least an itching thought in my head at ALL times. Just being able to feel that I'm overweight and simply glimpsing a fatty part of my body is so, so upsetting. I usually look in the mirror to see if my face is slimmer whenever I pass one, or I'll grasp a part of my body to just feel if I've lost weight there. I could really go on and on about this, but I'd rather not, given it's depressing me talking about it. Have you ever visited any celebrity gravesites? No. How do you feel about archaeology? It's extremely fascinating to me. Any animals whose behaviors you find particularly interesting? ALL animals! Meerkats, however, quite obviously top my list. I love love love social animals, and their behaviors and deep connections remind me of just how human animals really can be, but honestly better half the time. What are your thoughts on gun control? There MUST be reform. I don't think entirely taking away the right to bear arms is the answer, but there needs, needs, NEEDS to be some serious tidying up regarding it. I believe it should be much more difficult to legally obtain a firearm with very extensive background checks and things of the like. I firmly do believe it would help SOME to prevent gun violence. Nothing is ever going to completely stop it unless firearms just cease to exist, but anything that helps reduce it is worth it. Would you have a big cat (like a tiger) for a pet if you could? Absolutely not. Big cats are extremely dangerous with strong hunting instincts, and besides putting my life at risk, I am not forcing a large animal into a small space. Do you like animals better than most humans? Sure as hell do. What simple things in life bring you the most joy? Hearing birds chirping in the morning, crickets and toads at night, starting my soda for the day (rip), watching snow fall, feeling a cool breeze on a nice day with the windows open, my pets wanting to cuddle... just to name a few. I massively appreciate the small things, so I could make this a very long list. What are your favorite smells? Cinnamon rolls, coffee, fresh baked bread, lilac, honeysuckles, etc. Ever found anything cool at a thrift store? What was it? Yeah! I've found some dragon figurines I use for decor, but the absolute coolest has to be this shipwreck lamp that I bought. I love flea markets. How do you find new music to listen to when you want it? YouTube recommendations, usually. Do you like all those dystopian future books/movies? They're all right. If you collect anything, what is your favorite piece of that collection? I collect two types of things: meerkat-oriented and Silent Hill stuff. My favorite part of my meerkat collection is Rebel, my super cute plushy that Jason got me. I slept with it for years and even now that we're done, I still hold the little guy very dear to me. My favorite SH piece I have is a limited edition, Japanese flyer for Silent Hill: Revelation that I won in a giveaway. How did you meet your significant other (if you have one)? N/A How did you meet your best friend? Via YouTube. Your favorite place to be aside from your home? Sara's house. Do you have any favorite books you’d like to have signed by the author? It'd be dooooope if I could have Tim Clutton-Brock sign my copy of Flower's biography. Do you like any board games or card games? I mean yeah. Not a lot, but some. What is your least favorite beverage? Of the things I've tried, probably black coffee. Do you like Breaking Benjamin? I do! What kind of music do you like? Metal, rock, alternative, and indie. Do you like guys with long hair? Yes. Have you ever seen an elephant? Yes. How many people of the opposite sex have you told you loved them? One, if you mean romantically. Do you and your mom get along? Yeah, we're really close. Have you ever had to change your phone number? Twice that I recall. I got a creepy text once, and another with threats. Ever been bitten by a spider? Not to my knowledge. When you were little did you jump in puddles? Oh, absolutely. Bugs: Cool or gross. Even though I'm scared of some of them, they're certainly still cool. Well, most. Do you wear a toe ring? No, I don't find those attractive at all. Have you ever had to babysit before? Twice, even though I didn't want to. Do you actually eat your fortune cookie, if you get one? Yeah, I like 'em. What's your favorite thing about cats? I enjoy how calm and independent they are. Salt, or pepper? I like both, but I prefer to have salt. Think of an ex. What's his favorite color? Jason's were green and purple. Which is better, the taste, or smell of coffee? I only like the smell. What item appears the most in your room? Meerkat stuff. Liquid eyeliner, is good, or totally sucks? My hands are WAY too shaky for that. Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? No. Do you currently have any bug bites? No. Do you multitask well? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Do you know what an "AMV" is? Yes, because I used to make them and am considering getting back into it. What’s one award show you have to watch every year? None. Who do you like more: the Batman or the Joker? The Joker. Have you ever had a pet rock? I don't recall, actually? I might have as a little kid. Haha, there was one April Fool's Day that Mark sold rocks with his mustached "M" on them, and I SO wanted one. He gave all the earnings to a charity that I can't remember, so that also really made me wanna get one, but yeah, I was NOT asking Mom for even a small amount of money for a rock, haha. She woulda been so fucking confused. Do you know anyone with a lazy eye? Knew, rather. Did your parents let you have pets when you were a kid? Yes. What band was on the last band t-shirt you wore? Ummmm... I'm not sure. Maybe Korn? What’s the last movie you watched at a friend’s house? Elf, I believe? Do you have any tattoos on your arms? Yep. Do you own a teapot? No. Did you have a GI Joe when you were a kid? No. What is the origin of your last name? Irish. Do you ever use the "n"-word? NO. What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? It would depend on the person, but probably some sort of lip ring(s). What is your salad dressing of choice? Ranch, or the kind from Olive Garden. Have you ever written anything longer than 10 pages? Yes. I wrote a massive essay on toxic masculinity during my last college attempt. I got WAY more into it than I thought I would.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''king nothing'' by metallica

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neuxue · 4 years

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 5

Gawyn tries his hand at a murder mystery and relationship negotiation, Graendal tries her hand at wolf-hunting, and Moridin is, as ever, a Situation.

Chapter 5: Writings

Gawyn? Must we? Though there’s a Forsaken chapter icon so I hold out some hope for this chapter.

And Sleete’s back, it would seem. And okay Gawyn your description of him is rather detailed and lingers lovingly on his ruggedness, grace, and cheekbones. Maybe you should ask him out and leave Egwene alone.

Oh, I see; we’re doing a murder mystery. Mesaana? Is that you?

“Do you really think you’ll find anything the sisters did not, Trakand?” Chubain asked, folding his arms.

“I’m looking for different things,” Gawyn said

Sorry Gawyn, but I don’t think you’ll find any critical thinking skills beneath that rug. You never know, though! Or maybe it’s hiding that sense of purpose you left behind in Andor?

Jokes aside, I think I know what’s going on here: we’re setting up a murder mystery so that Gawyn can solve it where no one else could and, in doing so, redeem himself in Egwene’s and I suppose theoretically the reader’s eyes as well.

Meh. It feels a little contrived, but that might just be because my patience with Gawyn ran out a book or two ago.

Or maybe because he was actually more interesting to me, in a kind of character-study sense, when he was falling, and I’m just not that interested in watching him rise.

[The guards] weren’t as antagonistic towards [Sleete] as they tended to be towards Gawyn. He still hadn’t figured out why they were like that with him.

Wow, Gawyn, I wonder why that could possibly be. Maybe because Sleete’s a Warder and also doesn’t go about antagonising the Amyrlin Seat and demanding to be let into places and annoying everyone within earshot? And also changing sides several times – and okay, yes, Gawyn picked the ‘right’ side in the end, but from the perspective of the guards… really, Gawyn? You can’t think why they might not like you?

At least he can figure out that this is probably not the Black Ajah’s work.

Why did nobody sense channelling from the places where the women were killed?

So this still fits with it being Mesaana but it reminds me of something that I’ve wondered about a few times: if Mesaana is masquerading as an Aes Sedai, how does no one notice her strength, if she’s not hiding her ability, or the fact that she apparently can’t channel, if she is? Or is it possible to partially mask the ability to channel?

When Egwene had told Gawyn he could visit the scenes of the murders if he wished, he’d asked if he could bring Sleete with him.

Good first date ideas: visit a murder scene!

(To be fair that’s basically the plot of most crime dramas, so)

True, he didn’t know much about gateways yet, and people could reportedly make them hang above the ground so they didn’t cut anything. But why would the Black Ajah care about that?

Because not all villains like to chew scenery? It’s awfully gristly, you know.

Also to avoid leaving evidence and make forensics harder. Come on, Gawyn, you’re going to have to step up your detective game a little bit here.

I am with Gawyn, though, on feeling itchy at the thought of setting up a desk that seats you with your back towards the door. How are you supposed to tab away from the embarrassing fanfic you’re writing on the shared family computer in time when someone can just walk in and see your screen? Clearly this Aes Sedai did not grow up in the early 2000s.

Aes Sedai, for all their cunning, sometimes seemed to have remarkably underdeveloped senses of self-preservation.

Gawyn. Please. No one in this series has a functioning sense of self-preservation, with the possible exception of Moghedien.

“But why kill with a knife?” Gawyn said. All four had been killed that way.

Ah. Not Mesaana, then; sounds more like one of the Seanchan bloodknives has thus far avoided notice or death. So we are setting up a victory for Gawyn. Fine. If we must.

Sleete thus far actually seems better at thinking things through and generally playing the detective game, but no doubt Gawyn’s going to get by on instinct and ‘it just doesn’t feel right’. Yes, I am probably being too hard on him. No I don’t care.

A part of him thought that if he could aid Egwene in this, maybe she would soften towards him. Perhaps forgive him for rescuing her from the Tower during the Seanchan attack.

Well, you’re in luck, Gawyn; that seems to be exactly what this narrative arc is being set up for.

Chubain really doesn’t like him. Shame, Chubain; he thinks you’re handsome.

Insufferable man! Gawyn thought. Does he have to be so dismissive towards me? I should—

No. Gawyn forced himself to keep his temper. Once, that hadn’t been nearly so hard.

Why was Chubain so hostile towards him? Gawyn found himself wondering how his mother would have handled such a man as this.

Character growth!

Seriously, though, this is a step in the right direction for Gawyn. To be able to think past that sense of anger and…entitlement, I suppose. To take a step back and think about the situation from another perspective, and think about how best to handle it, rather than just pressing forward with his first instinct. And to consider the wisdom of others who have experience in dealing with things like this, and learn from them.

Though he segues straight into blind rage over Rand al’Thor, Dragon Reborn and murderer extraordinaire, so we’ve still got a little ways to go.

In his heart, Gawyn wanted to meet al’Thor with sword in hand and ram steel through him

Pretty sure that’s not a euphemism.

Also, Ishamael tried that once. Didn’t work out too well for him. Not sure you’d fare any better.

Light! Gawyn thought as Chubain shot him a hostile glance. He thinks I’m trying to take his position.

The triumph of critical thinking! Okay okay, I give Gawyn a lot of shit, but this is the sort of thing he’s not actually bad at, when he takes half a second to do it. It’s just that for the majority of the last several books he’s been jumping to premature conclusions and acting on them without a second thought, assuming he knows best, refusing to listen to others or consider their perspectives, and trying to play his role as he thinks it should be, rather than as it is.

Gawyn’s reasonably clever and reasonably perceptive and generally reasonably competent; his downfall is that he thought he knew his place in the world, and the world didn’t comply. He was the fairytale prince, the noble hero, brother to a future queen and loyal to his oaths and son of a great nation and he knew how all of that fit together, knew his place in it, understood and embraced it.

Only this isn’t his story, and the world went ‘nope, fuck you’ and he’s spent the last several books scrambling to find his footing and not quite understanding that the world isn’t reading from the same script he was handed at age four.

(I think I’ve said elsewhere that it’s like he’s reading, say, Romeo’s lines in a production of The Tempest, and not understanding why nothing makes sense).

Gawyn could have been First Prince of the Sword—should have been First Prince of the Sword—leader of Andor’s armies and protector of the Queen.

And yet, you’re not. How lightly you take that broken oath, Gawyn.

Also, he thinks that makes it laughable that he would want Chubain’s position, but let’s continue to look at it from someone else’s perspective. The man who should have been First Prince of the Sword for some reason isn’t, and you have no idea why, and now he’s here doing some kind of independent investigation and trying to talk to the Amyrlin at every opportunity, having deserted an opposing force that he was commanding. Wouldn’t you be a little confused as to what he actually wants? He clearly doesn’t want the role you assumed he’d hold, so who’s to say he doesn’t want yours?

To give him credit, though, he handles the ensuing conversation with Chubain rather well. Keeps his temper, makes it clear without shaming Chubain that he’s not interested in usurping his role, and thanks Chubain graciously as a way of basically saying ‘I submit to your authority here, or at least I will recognise it and not challenge it’. Well done.

“I don’t think this is the work of the Black Ajah,” Gawyn said. “I think it might be a Grey Man, or some other kind of assassin.”

Yeah I think you’re actually right. Or close, anyway. My money’s on Bloodknives.

Especially now that Sleete’s found a scrap of black silk. What is this, Cluedo?

“I think this is more proof. I mean, it seems odd that nobody has actually seen these Black sisters. We’re making a lot of assumptions.”

Since when has that ever stopped you?

Egwene’s clearly still giving Gawyn something of the cold shoulder, and Gawyn’s being somewhat petulant about it and no, Gawyn, letting Hattori bond you in order to make Egwene jealous is probably not a wise move, but you know that.

It had not been easy to decide to give up Andor—not to mention the Younglings—for her. Yet she still refused to bond him.

Yeah, funny thing about choosing to make sacrifices for someone: if they haven’t asked it of you, it doesn’t actually entitle you to anything in return. A measure of respect or thanks, perhaps, but beyond that, they were your choices, Gawyn, and that’s kind of the point here.

Silviana’s clearly running interference for Egwene, telling Gawyn to wait while she writes a letter which probably means trying to teach him patience and what it actually means to date the Amyrlin.

Egwene saw him. She kept her face Aes Sedai serene—she’d grown good at that so quickly—and he found himself feeling awkward.

Good. You should.

Gawyn’s pursuit of Egwene just makes me want to hit my head against a wall repeatedly, in no small part because I’ve been on the receiving end of something similar and it is Not Fun.

Then again Egwene actually likes Gawyn, which… Egwene you could do so much better. But fine. Sure. Whatever. Sigh.

“Burn me, Egwene. Do you have to show me the Amyrlin every time we speak? Once in a while, can’t I see Egwene?”

“I show you the Amyrlin,” Egwene said, “because you refuse to accept her. Once you do so, perhaps we can move beyond that.”

YES. DRAG HIM.

But, my delight in this aside, this is exactly the point Gawyn needs to get through his head. She is the Amyrlin, and he has to actually understand that, and right now he still… doesn’t. I mean okay, being in a relationship with someone like a head of state is probably not exactly easy, but this is important water to be able to navigate. She is the Amyrlin, and he has to understand that sometimes that’s who she needs to be, and that he doesn’t get to ignore that just because he also knows Egwene. He needs to understand where those boundaries are between Egwene and Amyrlin, public and private, lines he can cross and lines he can’t, and when and how and where. Is that fair? Eh, maybe, maybe not. But it’s the reality, and if he can’t deal with it then maybe dating the Amyrlin Seat is not for him.

“Light! You’ve learned to talk like one of them.”

“That’s because I am one of them,” she said.

He still doesn’t get it. This isn’t just an act she’s putting on for fun, or something she can drop whenever she pleases. He doesn’t get all-hours access to Egwene al’Vere of Emond’s Field, because her role means she can’t be that all the time. She isn’t just that anymore. That’s what she’s trying to tell him here: just as Rand is both himself and Lews Therin, shepherd and Dragon Reborn, both and not separate, she is Egwene al’Vere the girl he first met but also the Amyrlin Seat, innkeeper’s daughter and Aes Sedai. That’s a part of her now, not just decoration (and not a distinct personality she can toggle on and off).

Gawyn sees her as playing a role, when in reality she is that role. And you know what they say: if you love someone you have to accept them for who they are. Or something like that. I wouldn’t know.

“I accept you,” Gawyn said. “I do, Egwene.”

Oh, if saying it made it so.

“But isn’t it important to have people who know you for yourself and not the title?”

Yes. Critically so. But you’re still missing a key part of that: it’s important to have people who know her for herself, but who also understand the title, and understand the necessity of it, and what it means for her.

Like Nynaeve and Elayne: they accept her authority as Amyrlin, and know that when she gives them commands as Amrylin to Aes Sedai, it doesn’t impinge on their friendship. And they also know that there are times to be her friend, and times not to be.

It’s about balance: the point of having people who know her for herself is to have an anchor, a steadying force. But Gawyn doesn’t see the balance; he’s just looking at a single part of her and trying to make that into the whole.

And again: it’s not easy! This is not going to be a simple relationship to navigate! But it’s not going to work if he can’t respect her day job that actually demands quite a lot of her and is sort of a little bit important and sometimes means he’s going to have to take a step back and let her be Amyrlin.

Right now, though, he’s still acting as if… as if he knows better. Which has kind of been the tone of their relationship all along, and is probably part of why it grates on me so much. He listens when he wants to, but as soon as he thinks he knows better he just ignores her. And so even this point he makes comes across as a form of entitlement: ‘play at Amyrlin, but I Know Better, so you should keep me around’.

(Also, how much does he really know her for herself? For one thing they never actually spent much time together, and for another he continually underestimates her, questions her judgement, sides against her because he doesn’t realise she’s not just a helpless child caught up in politics…I could go on).

Anyway. Point being: you still have to accept the title.

Her face softened. “You aren’t ready yet, Gawyn. I’m sorry.”

He set his jaw. Don’t overreact, he told himself. “Very well. Then, about the assassinations.”

Okay, credit where it’s due: this is exactly the right response.

Because this is, in effect, treating her like the Amyrlin. This is listening to her, much as he doesn’t like what he hears. Rather than pushing back again with hollow claims of accepting her, rather than saying ‘I am too ready’, he accepts, however grudgingly, the chastisement and also the framing of the conversation. She is speaking to him as Amyrlin, and so he pushes everything else aside and responds in kind.

Which is exactly the point she’s been trying to make, so… we’ll go ahead and call it progress.

And now he’s rewarded narratively by getting to make a point she apparently hasn’t considered: that there aren’t enough Warders given they’re heading into the Last Battle.

“The choosing and keeping of a Warder is a very personal and intimate decision. No woman should be forced to it.”

“Well,” Gawyn said, refusing to be intimidated, “the choice to go to war is very ‘personal’ and ‘intimate’ as well—yet all across the land, men are called into it. Sometimes, feelings aren’t as important as survival.”

I have…very mixed feelings on this particular argument, and kind of don’t want to go into that right now because I know a can of worms when I see one, but it sets my teeth on edge a bit.

I also don’t want Gawyn to get to score any points right now just because he managed to react the right way one time, but I can accept that this is, in fact, petty of me.

Egwene is less petty than I am and says she’ll consider it.

And I have to say, the two of them are actually navigating this whole conversation rather well. Gawyn’s trying his best to interact with her as the Amyrlin Seat, and Egwene, probably because of that, is answering his questions as much as she can. They’re establishing a working relationship, basically; they can work on their personal one next.

“You’re keeping secrets,” he said. “Not just from me. From the entire Tower.”

“Secrets are needed sometimes, Gawyn.”

“Can’t you trust me with them?” He hesitated. “I’m worried that the assassin will come for you, Egwene.”

Okay that’s toeing the line a bit, but again, he at least asks for her trust here now, rather than demanding it. Expresses his concerns, but in a way that feels more like open communication than like ‘I know best’.

And that earns him a measure of that trust, moments later:

“One of the Forsaken is in the White Tower.”

True, but I actually think Egwene is perhaps mistaken about her being the assassin. Which again annoys me because I’m petty and don’t want Gawyn to be right where she’s wrong, but hey at least I acknowledge it, right?

Point being, Gawyn, that you have to earn the trust you’re asking for, but you’re on the right track, and so you get a part of it.

And she even explains a bit of why she’s keeping it secret. This is the most openly and honestly these two have communicated with each other in… uh… ever. Round of applause.

Light, a Forsaken in the Tower seemed more plausible than Egwene being the Amyrlin Seat!

Damn it Gawyn, you were doing so well. This is the kind of thinking you need to train yourself out of. This is exactly what Egwene is referring to when she says you don’t accept her as Amyrlin. Yes, she was an unlikely appointee to that seat. Yes, she’s young and wasn’t even Aes Sedai when she was raised. Yes, it’s hard to believe. But you need to get past that now, because this just comes across as… incredibly condescending, honestly.

“For now, there is something I need of you.”

“If it is within my power, Egwene.” He took a step towards her. “You know that.”

“Is that so?” she asked dryly. “Very well. I want you to stop guarding my door at night.”

“What? Egwene, no!”

She shook her head. ��You see? Your first reaction is to challenge me.”

“It is the duty of a Warder to offer challenge, in private, where his Aes Sedai is concerned!” Hammar had taught him that.

“You are not my Warder, Gawyn.”

That brought him up short.

YES. GOOD.

It is… a rather excellent demonstration of her point. They’ve made some progress here, but this… she makes an open request and he immediately promises anything in his power. But then, Gawyn’s made other promises before, and doesn’t exactly have a perfect track record of keeping them, when it comes down to it.

What he means is: ‘if it is within my power, and if I want to’.

His challenging of her request is almost secondary; the real issue here is that he says one thing (‘if it is within my power’) but immediately shows that he doesn’t actually mean it. Just as he says he accepts her as Amyrlin, but when it comes down to it, he still doesn’t. And that’s the part that erodes trust; that’s the part that means he’s not ready.

A challenge to that request—or perhaps a question as to why she’s asking it—is not completely out of line here. Like, leaving aside the question of whether or not Egwene needs a guard, or of whether he should get to guard her door when she hasn’t actually asked him to, if he hadn’t promised blindly to do whatever she asks, it would be more or less fair to ask why, before agreeing.

But he doesn’t. He makes that empty promise—so like his empty words that he does accept her as Amyrlin, really, I swear—and then immediately goes back on it. Shows that he’ll only actually listen to her when it suits him, and that he still thinks he’s free to do whatever the fuck he wants when he thinks He Knows Better. That he doesn’t actually trust her, or listen to her, when he doesn’t want to.

Turns out Egwene is literally setting herself up as bait, hence not wanting a guard. And again, challenging her on that is, I think, fair. It’s a pretty big risk! It is arguably kind of reckless! And that’s the sort of thing he could and should be able to do as someone who (supposedly) knows her as more than just Amyrlin: say ‘are you sure’ and ‘I don’t like this’.

That’s not the problem. The problem is that he doesn’t approach it that way at all: he approaches it with a blank-cheque promise that he then pulls back as soon as he realises what she’s actually asking, because in his view he only needs to listen to her when he wants to.

It's not a good look, Gawyn.

“Exposing myself is only one of my plans—and you are right, it is dangerous. But my precautions have been extensive.”

“I don’t like it at all.”

“Your approval is not required.” She eyed him. “You will have to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” he said.

“All I ask is that you show it for once.”

That’s pretty much it. It’s easy to say ‘I trust you’ or ‘I accept you’ or ‘anything within my power’. But those words have to mean something, and unfortunately he’s shown that they don’t. And so in this case she needs to see that he can obey her as Amyrlin, because this is a plan she is making as Amyrlin.

And Gawyn, you’d probably be better able to protect her if you demonstrated that trust once in a while, because then she’d know she can let you in on her plans without worrying about you going rogue and doing something against them. Then she’d know she can actually rely on you. Then your challenges – if you’re no longer challenging everything she says – would probably carry more weight, because she’d know they’re not just coming from a place of ‘I know better and I’m not listening’.

Well. They’ll get there. Maybe.

***

Over to Egwene now, which means I have to deal with the fact that she does actually like him and feels emotions and things when he’s around. Why, Egwene? Why?

That passion of his was entrancing

Trust me, it’s vastly overrated.

And it was important that she have people she could rely upon to contradict her, in private. People who knew her as Egwene, rather than the Amyrlin.

But Gawyn was too loose, too untrusting, yet.

That’s kind of what I was getting at. Because it is sort of ironic: he wants to be let into her confidence and be able to protect her and challenge her—and they’re both right that she needs people to do that! But she has to be able to trust him, and has to know that he understands her and her role, in order for him to be able to do that in a meaningful way. She has to know that it’s not just him refusing to listen, or not understanding what her role as Amyrlin actually demands of her. And has to know that she can trust his judgement when it comes down to it, and weigh up how he feels for her as Egwene vs what she needs as Amyrlin.

She looked over her letter to the new King of Tear, explaining that Rand was threatening to break the seals. Her plan to stop him would depend on her gathering support from people he trusted.

Ha. Speaking of trust. I am certain the placement of this is entirely intentional.

I’m still rather uneasy about this, but I also think there’s a decent chance that it’s not so far from what Rand actually expects or even wants. Because even if her intention right now is to ‘stop’ him, if she can get all the rulers behind her and get everyone to the right place at the right time…

But it could also go so badly. I have a feeling this is going to be one of those razor-edge kinds of moments, where the world hangs in the balance and the thing that will tip it one way or another is whether or not Egwene and Rand can in the end trust one another.

***

Oh hey it’s Graendal! Is this my reward for putting up with Gawyn? (For a certain definition of ‘putting up with’…)

Poor Graendal, having to make due with a mere cavern, in which she’s still managing to lounge on a silk chaise. I weep for you, really, I do.

Moridin stood inside his black stone palace.

YES! GOOD! MORIDIN!

Er. I mean. Oh no, scary, evil, bad. Listen, I love him.

“Aran’gar is dead, lost to us—and after the Great Lord transmigrated her soul the last time. One might think you are making a habit of this sort of thing, Graendal.”

THE CHOSEN DWINDLE, DEMANDRED. BECAUSE GRAENDAL FOUND A SNIPER RIFLE.

Anyway, whatever Moridin is here for, it’s not to play Graendal’s games. Sorry, Graendal; you’re good but he’s kind of… quite literally operating on an entirely different level here.

He’s a bit more…direct here than he usually is, and I can’t tell if that’s just Sanderson or if it’s because he’s bored of these petty games he has to play with the others and impatient with them and it’s time to move things into position for the ending so he doesn’t have time to deal with their bullshit. Probably a bit of both.

“Moridin, don’t you see? How will Lews Therin react to what he has done? Destroying an entire fortress, a miniature city of its own, with hundreds of occupants? Killing innocents to reach his goal? Will that sit easily within him?”

Moridin hesitated. No, he had not considered that.

But I wonder: did he?

Graendal is…not wrong, here, in what Natrin’s Barrow very nearly did to Rand. Did do, really; he was so close to the edge there at the end, repressing everything because if he allowed himself to feel the reality of it, it would break him. And so it drove him, ultimately, to Dragonmount, and nearly to destroying the world.

Graendal and Semirhage did their parts very, very well in that regard, even if Graendal is er… playing up how intentional it was on her side. It’s just that, at the last, Rand understood something deeper.

But how much of that whole process did Moridin himself feel? He and Rand are linked, after all, and I’m all but certain some of his existential despair crossed that link to Rand, so could he feel Rand’s suppression of emotions, and his anger and despair and everything else that threatened to overwhelm him? (Or is Moridin all too familiar with that, or simply too practiced at his own form of apathy, to even feel it as a difference?)

‘He must know pain of heart’, Moridin said; I don’t think he is as naïve here as Graendal seems to believe.

And still, I have to wonder if he felt anything, anything at all, of Rand’s remembrance of hope on Dragonmount. Or if, as the Betrayer of Hope, that is too far lost to him.

She could vaguely remember what it had been like, taking those first few steps towards the Shadow. Had she ever felt that foolish pain? Yes, unfortunately.

DAMN IT you can’t just TEASE me with things like this! That’s rude! It’s unfair! I need this story now! This is where I live! Turning points and the pain of them and your logic destroyed you, didn’t it and crossing thresholds that lead too far and losing yourself along the way but reforging something else until that loss no longer hurts and and and

But others of them had taken different paths to the Shadow, including Ishamael.

YOUR LOGIC DESTROYED YOU, DIDN’T IT.

CALLED FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF EVERYTHING.

BETRAYER OF HOPE.

(Did you betray hope or did it betray you).

I’m fine.

She could see the memories, so distant, in Moridin’s eyes. Once, she had not been sure who this man was, but now she was. The face was different, but the soul the same. Yes, he knew exactly what al’Thor was feeling.

Yeah. That. He… very much does, I think, and maybe even more so than you realise. (But if he can know the anguish why can he not know the hope—).

Also the face was different, but the soul the same is pretty and reminds me of men wear many names, many faces; different faces yet always the same man except that in this context there’s a sadness to it: as if that soul, that self, is something he cannot escape. Which, of course, seems to be exactly what Moridin himself believes: that so long as the Wheel turns, this is his fate. To be the Betrayer, the Shadow’s Champion, the one whose role is always to fight, always to oppose, and always to fall. The one for whom there is no hope except nothingness, and so that is his goal.

And it’s so close to Rand’s thoughts, there on Dragonmount just before that moment of epiphany. Why keep fighting, if all it means is another fight? What does it matter? It will only demand his soul and his self and his life over and over, and the Light’s victory only means another battle and the Shadow’s victory means annihilation so why even try?

Rand, in the end, has love and enough light to draw him back. The hint of a promise of a future that will come, even if he does not live to see it this time around. He has something – though he has had to struggle to see it – that he is fighting for. What is Moridin (Ishamael, Elan) fighting for? What does he have left to fight for? Nothing – for him there is nothing but darkness and despair and perhaps, if he is lucky, the nothingness of oblivion. For him there is no promise – and perhaps not even a memory – of Light. This is how he sees it, this is his role, and he does not see an alternative.

And so once again I have to wonder if he felt anything at all when Rand stood on Dragonmount and remembered the hope that Elan once betrayed. Perhaps not.

Sorry. I just. This is where I live and Moridin is a Situation for me and we all just have to accept that.

Anyway, Moridin may or may not be able to communicate – or at least be communicated to – directly by the Great Lord, so that’s a thing.

And Graendal’s going after Perrin now. Everyone’s set on a Perrin Aybara collision course this book, it would seem. Better get your levelling up done quickly, Perrin; she’s not exactly an easy opponent.

“He’s important,” Graendal said. “The prophecies—”

“I know the prophecies,” Moridin said softly.

Oh, and how. Knows them, knows—or certainly knows what he believes to be—his own role in them. And sees in them no way out, except the annihilation of everything.

Moridin’s not too confident in Graendal’s ability to take down Perrin.

And also has an entire storage unit full of objects of Power. That’s…interesting and terrifying, and I am keeping careful track of the mentioned inventory.

A dreamspike? That sounds…ominous, and also very much like something suited to a Perrin-centric storyline. So that should be fun.

It also comes with a very clear warning to not use it against Moridin or the others, and I’d recommend sticking to that advice, Graendal, because he will destroy you.

Then again, if he gets his way and you all achieve your victory, that will destroy you too. So, you know. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Oh and Slayer as well! Buy one object of power, get one wildcard villain free!

That voice of his… it sounded, just faintly, like that of the Great Lord.

Are his eyes on fire yet though?

But it would seem both Champions have well and truly been chosen, and invested with their power now. Rand can make crops grow with a thought and warp the air to light around him and hold a room in thrall; Moridin can speak with and almost as the Great Lord and wield the True Power and orchestrate annihilation.

“If you do succeed, the Great Lord will be pleased. Very pleased. That which has been granted you in sparseness will be heaped upon you in glory.”

She licked her dry lips. In front of her, Moridin’s expression grew distant.

Distant as those promises are empty, for I don’t think there will be any rewards or glory in the aftermath of a true success for the Great Lord. All that will remain is chaos, forever. And still, none of the Chosen but Moridin seem to quite…get that. Selfishness, Verin said, and it blinds them here.

(Which is not to say Moridin is free of that selfishness; I just think what he wants is…different).

Oh hey dark prophecies.

“They have long been known to me,” Moridin said softly, still studying the book. “But not to many others, not even the Chosen. The women and men who spoke these were isolated and held alone. The Light must never know of these words. We know of their prophecies, but they will never know all of ours.”

(But what do these prophecies say of you, Moridin? Or what do they demand?)

Interesting to have these referenced now, though, especially when we don’t actually get any of the actual text of them. Where do these come from? Are the like the Prophecies of the Light: true, but not always in the way they seem to mean, and not a guarantee but merely a possibility?

“But this…” she said, rereading the passage. “This says Aybara will die!”

“There can be many interpretations of any prophecy,” Moridin said. “But yes. This Foretelling promises that Aybara will die by our hand.”

Hm. Which of course immediately makes me think it absolutely does not promise that, but it’s a little annoying to have this as a kind of… supposed-to-be-ominous foreshadowing without actually having anything of the wording there to pick apart and see what it might really mean. That’s where the fun of a lot of the other prophecies and fortellings and viewings lies: in knowing it doesn’t always mean what the characters think it does, and trying to look at it from another angle.

Whereas here, all I can really say is ‘okay Perrin’s probably not going to die by their hand’ but I don’t get to have any reasoning or justification or ‘oh, maybe it means this’ other than ‘that doesn’t feel like where the story is going’.

Meh, oh well.

Next (ToM ch 6) Previous (ToM ch 4)

#weird POV combination but okay #I guess they both start with G?#wheel of time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

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alice-beaumont-ravenclaw · 4 years

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CMDN

A/N #1: So I got a request on my main blog to write a fic using “Fluff #12 and Misc #16 (or both!!)” from this list by @honeyboychangbin a week or two ago. Now, writing a regular fic takes time (way more time than a musical fic), and I obviously had to come up with something using one or both of those sentence starters. I went for both. This fic is actually actually part of my “A Week at Penny’s” series (Part 1 | Part 2). Also, two songs kinda inspired me while I was writing: “LDN” by Lily Allen and “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper.

------------------

After the traumatic night they had experienced, Alice, Rowan, and Penny woke up with bags under their eyes. Ben and Tonks were already with the rest of Penny’s family eating breakfast.

“Took you long enough to wake up,” said Tonks between two bites of her toast.

“Wonder why,” replied Penny as she glared at Tonks along with the other two girls.

“Oh… Right…” replied Tonks, flustered, as she remembered what had happened the previous night.

“I had a very weird dream last night,” said Ben, eating his cereal, as the other girls took their seat around the table. “Filch had the body of a teenage girl…”

“Keep telling yourself it was a dream,” muttered Penny, still glaring at Tonks, who had taken a page from the newspaper to hide behind.

“What?” asked Ben, turning to Penny.

“Nothing, nothing,” said Alice before Penny could reply. “Anyway, what are the plans for today?”

“I don’t know… Maybe we could visit a neighbourhood in London?” suggested Penny.

“You don’t say! I thought we would visit a neighbourhood in Glasgow,” said Tonks, her mouth full of bread and jam.

“You could use the Floo powder if you want to,” offered Penny’s mother.

“It’s ok, Mum. Nymphadora was just being sarcastic,” said Penny, smirking as she noticed Tonks scowling.

“Ok, dear. Well, I’m off to do some shopping with Beatrice. See you this evening,” said Penny’s mother as she left the flat with Beatrice.

“So, where should we go?” asked Penny.

“What about the British Museum?” suggested Rowan. “I’ve always wanted to see the Rosetta Stone!”

“Oh, please, no! Not a stuffy museum. We do enough learning during our time at Hogwarts, I just want to have some fun during the summer!” exclaimed Tonks.

“Come on, Rowan, there’s gotta be a neighbourhood in London you want to see?” asked Alice to her best friend. “And don’t say the neighbourhood of the British Museum,” added Alice as she noticed Rowan was about to say something before closing her mouth again.

“What about Camden? I heard it’s really edgy and there are loads of vintage clothes available that are dirt cheap!” suggested Tonks.

“Camden? I don’t know… Not really the safest area in London,” replied Ben.

“Camden? The British Museum is in the Borough of Camden,” chimed in Rowan.

“Yeah, but I think Tonks meant Camden Town, not the entire borough. The British Museum is in Bloomsbury,” explained Alice. “I think Camden Town would be fun. It would give me a reason to wear the Doc Martens Andre gave me for my birthday. I can’t really see myself walking around Chelsea with them.”

“But I heard there are drug dealers hanging outside the station,” said Ben.

“Ben, they won’t force you to buy anything, if they approach you at all,” reassured Penny, patting his hand.

“Not to mention my pink hair will fit right in,” chimed in Tonks, tousling her hair.

“I don’t know…” said Rowan, rubbing her arm as she looked away, worried.

“Awww, come on, Rowan. There are second-hand bookstalls…” said Alice, wiggling her eyebrows.

Rowan’s eyes lit up at the mention of books. “Really? Why didn’t you say that sooner?”

Alice shrugged before looking at all her friends. “So, what do you guys say? Are you ready for a fun day in Camden Town?”

Everyone slowly turned to look at Ben, who looked defeated. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice…”

“That’s the spirit,” exclaimed Tonks, slapping Ben on the back.

Once they were done eating breakfast, the girls went back to Penny’s room to get ready while Ben headed to the bathroom. Rowan and Ben were the first two ready and they waited for the others in the living room.

“What is taking so long?” asked Ben, looking at his watch.

“Well, they were styling Alice’s hair into two buns at the top of her head before I came here, and I did hear Tonks say something about makeup, though Alice didn’t seem too keen…” started saying Rowan before being interrupted by a scream coming from Penny’s bedroom.

“YOU SAID TO BE HONEST! STOP HITTING ME!” they heard Tonks shouting.

Penny popped her head in the living room, her hair in a high half ponytail, looking slightly embarrassed. “Won’t be much longer now. Just need to remove the makeup from Alice’s face…” As she walked away, Rowan heard her mumbling under her breath: “Tonks will definitely not become a makeup artist…”

Ten minutes later, the three girls arrived in the living room, all dressed up for Camden. Penny was wearing a denim miniskirt, with an off-the-shoulder neon top, paired with loose leg warmers and white sneakers. Tonks’ look was going for punk. She was wearing a Queens t-shirt, ripped denim shorts, fishnet stockings, and heavy-duty boots. She was also sporting a heavy dose of dark eyeshadow and black eyeliner. As for Alice, she was wearing a Beatles t-shirt, a slightly ripped pair of denim shorts, her Doc Marten boots in which Minnie Mouse socks were peeking out of. She also had a black and blue oversized checked flannel shirt tied around her waist.

“What the… Tonks, are you going to a costume party?” asked Rowan, staring at her friend.

“What? No! I just want to look like someone who hangs out in Camden all the time.”

“You look more like a tourist trying to pass off as a local,” pointed out Alice.

“And you look like a Sloane Ranger trying to pass off as edgy,” retorted Tonks.

“Ok, you two, we don’t need another argument like with Mario and Cluedo. Let’s get a move on, otherwise, we’ll be in Camden next year,” said Penny as she pushed Alice and Tonks toward the door, followed by Rowan and Ben.

They headed toward Highgate Station. As they waited for the tube on the platform, Tonks took out a little mirror from her pocket and started to frown as she looked at her reflection.

“I think I overdid it on the eyeshadow,” said Tonks.

“You think?” replied Penny, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s not the only thing you overdid,” muttered Alice as she handed Tonks a tissue.

“Thanks,” grumbled Tonks, taking the tissue and trying to rub off the eyeshadow. Unfortunately, she handed up looking more like a raccoon than anything else. “Ugh! If only I could use Scourgify!”

“We are not allowed to use magic outside of school. Remember, we have the Trace,” reminded Rowan.

“More like the Curse if you ask me,” grumbled Tonks as Alice handed her a pair of sunglasses.

“I’m sure there’s a Boots in Camden where we can get our hands on some make-up remover,” said Alice as the train arrived.

“People keep make-up remover in their boots?” asked Tonks, but no one heard her due to the train.

They embarked on the train, and, four stations and some escalators later, found themselves outside Camden Town Station.

“So… Do I ask some random person wearing boots for some makeup remover?” asked Tonks looking around at the passersby.

“What? No! Boots is the name of a store! Really, Tonks, do you think Muggles keep various products in their boots,” said Penny, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t know! I literally just saw one take out a little bag of pills from his boots and handing it to someone,” said Tonks, pointing toward a shady looking man near the station’s entrance.

“Eeek! Drug dealer!” exclaimed Ben before running toward the Boots.

“Tonks! Don’t point!” whispered Alice as she pulled Tonks’ arm down. As she glanced behind her, she noticed the strange man staring at them. “Ok. Everyone, just act normal and let’s walk quickly to Boots.”

Once inside Boots, Alice went to buy makeup remover while Penny was busy reassuring Ben and admonishing Tonks for her behaviour.

“It’s not that it’s a particularly dangerous neighbourhood, but please don’t point at people doing strange stuff. They can be quite unpredictable.”

“I knew we should have gone to the British Museum,” grumbled Rowan.

“It would be much safer,” agreed Ben.

“Penny already said it. Camden isn’t dangerous, but, like anywhere else in London, there are some unsavoury characters that are better left unprovoked,” explained Alice as she was putting her wallet back in her bag. “Now, let’s go out and enjoy our day, okay?” she added as she poured some make-up remover on a tissue and started getting the makeup off of Tonks’ eyes.

Once Tonks didn’t look like a raccoon anymore, they made their way toward Camden Market. Rowan and Alice stopped at a secondhand bookstall, while Tonks made a beeline to a vintage clothing store. Penny looked at the various crafts being sold while Ben stayed close to her. Eventually, they all joined up at the store where Tonks was, as she was still busy trying on clothes. The store’s employee seemed vaguely annoyed by all the clothes piling up in front of her fitting room.

“He’s so gorgeous, I think I’m gonna faint,” whispered Penny to Alice as she looked at the employee with a smile.

“Really?” replied Alice, only briefly glancing at him as she kept looking at clothes flying out of Tonks’ fitting room.

“Too bad there aren’t any guys like that at Hogwarts,” whispered Penny with a gleam in her eyes.

“That’s because they graduated. That guy is old. He’s probably, like, 20?” said Alice before returning her attention to Tonks. “Tonks! Are you going to choose something or are you trying to try every piece of clothing in the store?”

“Oh! I already picked what I want to buy for myself. Now, I’m trying to find some clothes that will traumatize Andre. His reactions anytime someone wears something he considers unfashionable are priceless!” explained Tonks, popping her head from behind the curtain.

Alice looked at her for a moment, remembering all the times Andre had judged her outfits, including the time he threw the September issue of Vogue at her and it landed on her head. “Take your time.”

With that, Tonks took twenty more minutes of trying on clothes, before making her final selection and buying it. Alice and Penny also convinced Ben to buy a t-shirt that looked good on him and Rowan had gone and bought a bagful of books. They then headed off to eat lunch at a fish and chip shop.

After lunch, they explored a bit more of the market and walked down Chalk Farm Road. Alice had placed some of the books Rowan had bought in her Boots bag as it was getting a bit heavy for Rowan to carry everything she had bought. Penny kept an eye on Ben who was very far from his comfort zone. The people he saw in Camden were miles away from what he was used to seeing in his town. Hairs of multiple colours, clothes with holes in them, ostentatious makeup, piercings in places other than ears, tattoos. Tonks looked perfectly normal compared to everything he was seeing. To the local crowd of Camden, Tonks did look like a tourist trying to pass off as local, just like Alice had said. As for Alice, Tonks was right. She mostly looked like a well-to-do girl having a slightly rebellious phase. Unfortunately, said phase wasn’t rebellious enough to let Tonks get a tattoo, as Rowan witnessed Alice dragging Tonks out of a tattoo parlour while she waited for Penny outside a vintage store.

“Awww, come on! I would look so cool with a tattoo!” complained Tonks as Alice pulled her out by the collar.

“You are 14, Nymphadora!”

“Don’t call me that! And I’m sure Tulip would approve!”

“Yeah, because little Miss Dungbomb is a paragon of reasonability… Anyway, can’t you make a tattoo appear on yourself with your whole Metamorphmagus abilities?”

Tonks stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Alice, blinking. Alice stared back for a moment before her eyes widened just as a smile was spreading across Tonks’ face.

“Oh no…”

“Thanks, mate! I never thought of that!” exclaimed Tonks, as she stared at her arm and started to concentrate.

“Wait! Not here! Muggles could see you,” whispered Alice between her clenched teeth as she grabbed Tonks forearm and dragged her inside the vintage store where Penny was.

“Please don’t tell me she plans on buying more clothes,” said Penny as she saw Tonks enter.

“No, I had to get her away from prying eyes while she was trying to give herself a tattoo,” said Alice loud enough for the store clerk to hear. She stared at her. She stared back, suddenly realizing how odd it sounded. “With a Sharpie,” added Alice before letting out a nervous laugh.

The clerk just raised an eyebrow before returning to what she was doing.

“That was a closed one… But how did she get the idea?” whispered Penny.

“Well…” Alice started, looking away.

“Alice…” said Penny, pursing her lips.

“I might have pointed out she didn’t need to go to a tattoo parlour to get a tattoo, her being a Metamorphmagus and all,” whispered Alice.

“Oh, Alice…” started saying Penny, pinching the bridge of her nose, before being interrupted by Tonks who was proudly showing her right wrist.

“Look! I gave myself a tattoo!” she exclaimed, resulting in the store clerk to stare at them again.

“What the… A duck?!” said Alice, too startled to notice the clerk staring.

“Why would you give yourself a duck?” asked Penny, also staring.

“I don’t know… It’s the first thing that came to mind…” grumbled Tonks.

“Woah! You got mad skills with a Sharpie!” exclaimed the store clerk as she looked over Penny’s shoulder.

“GAH!” let out Alice, startled. Merlin, they would be sent to Azkaban for breaking the Statute of Secrecy just because Tonks gave herself a duck tattoo!

“A Sharpie?” asked Tonks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh. Ummmm… You know, a permanent marker. Sorry, she’s really bad with brand names. Now, Alice, why don’t you take Tonks outside where Rowan is, while I pay for this shirt,” said Penny as she pushed her two friends towards the exit.

“Don’t forget your friend who’s hiding in the fitting room,” said the clerk, pointing at the closed fitting room from which you could see Ben’s sneakers peeking out from under the curtain.

A few moments later, Penny exited the store, holding a small bag as well as Ben’s arm.

“Ok, I think we can call it a day because I don’t think Ben can last any longer,” said Penny, glancing at Ben’s pale face.

“Sounds good to me,” said Alice, letting out a sigh of relief. Watching over Tonks in the Muggle world could be a handful.

They made their way back to Camden Town Station, where the drug dealer from earlier still was. As they passed him, they all avoided eye contact, except for Tonks, who waved at him, showing off her duck tattoo in the process. Once inside the station, they made their way to the platform but had to stop Ben from getting on a train heading in the wrong direction, as he was in such a hurry to leave Camden, he didn’t notice it was heading toward Edgware instead of High Barnet.

When they finally returned to Penny’s flat, Penny and Alice let themselves fall on the couch, looking tired. As Rowan went to drop her books in the bedroom, and Tonks and Ben settled down with Alice and Penny, Penny’s mother inquired about their day as she was preparing dinner in the kitchen. The two London natives looked at each other before saying: “It was… interesting.”

“I got a duck tattoo!” exclaimed Tonks.

Penny’s father looked up from his newspaper in astonishment, staring straight at the tattoo.

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A/N #2: First, here’s Alice’s outfit. Second, I feel like the quality of this fic is a bit of a rollercoaster. There were moments where I would be inspired and then, nothing, but the fic was far from being finished. Writing about wizards in the Muggle world is fun, but that story was coming to me in blurbs and music sequences. Oh, and this takes place in during the summer before their 4th year, hence why Ben is scared of everything.

#hphm fanfic #hogwarts mystery fanfic #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery mc #jacob’s sibling #alice beaumont #penny haywood #rowan khanna #nymphadora tonks #ben copper #beatrice haywood #request #camden #london

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viper-official · 5 years

Note

Mycroft Holmes!

Oh I love him! Here we go!

OTP for them: I don’t discuss it a lot, but I am a die hard Mystrade shipper.

BROTP: Sherlock. I know he’s his actual brother, but hear me out. Not so much in the first two seasons, but the relationship between them is so unique and important. You really start to see how similar they are and how much they depend on each other, even if they’d rather not admit it.

Other ships: I don’t know whats you’d call it, but I love the dynamic between Mycroft and Mrs. H. (Though it does feel forced and a bit artificial in the writing at times.)

What kind of fic I’d write about them: My boy needs a happy ending. He has little moments, such as whatever that was with the lady who’s name I can never remember, but most of the set up for any happy ending for him are dropped, including that one. The only thing we really get at the end of S4 is that he’s now really close with Sherlock -- and his mother is willing to hold his hand after basically calling him a fuck up and saying that he ruined their family. (That scene is infuriating -- what were they thinking?!) I don’t know. He just deserves some sort of happiness and so if I write a fic for him at some point, that will be the sole purpose.

Favourite canon moment: OPERATION (closely followed by “scuttle”)

Color that reminds me of them: Intensely dark blue. It’s an overbearing and empowering colour just on the brink of black (total darkness).

Song that reminds me of them: For some reason, Bad Guy by Billie Eilish came to mind...and it somehow works

A headcanon about them: He and Sherlock once did not speak for several weeks because of a falling out over Cluedo (I spelled it that way for continuity, but, seriously, why is called that in Euro??). He thought Professor Plum was killed by a hitman in the library, but Sherlock insisted that he was pushed from the balcony.

A random AU I think up on the spot for them: Well, I’ve already made him a wizard in WoT. But, I do have idea for how he would fit into the MCU, including: being part of the government that sees the heroes as necessary, but need to be controlled and used to their benefit; would end up on opposite sides as Sherlock in Civil War because of it; he’s secrectly a super, but was never interested in the hero portion like Sherlock (or the anti-hero/villian portion like Euros); would finally show off his powers at the Endgame final battle and would shock the hell out of everyone; WOULD HAVE A FUCKING HAPPY ENDING

Anything else: His character arc is so underrated, but so important. Honestly, his character arc, his backstory, and the blunt brotherly love he has for Sherlock was the best part of S4. I mean, he was willing to die so that Sherlock wouldn’t go through the pain of losing a best friend again. I’m crying.

Thanks for the ask!

I’m really enjoying this ask game, so please send more!

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rose-of-gabriel · 6 years

Text

Reprieve (2/3)

Okay, so I may have added another chapter. What can you do?

Ao3 link

Gar’s silent for all of ten seconds after Dick and Kory leave. Rachel is almost impressed. Then he’s bounding into the living room and launching himself onto the couch. The game controller he’d left there – despite Dick’s multiple reminders to put it away – goes flying into the air. Gar catches it with one hand and offers it to Rachel.

“Wanna play?” he says, trying so hard to act casual Rachel almost laughs.

She really doesn’t want to. She wants to crawl back into bed and sulk for the next week, but Gar looks so damn hopeful, and even though they’re not here, Rachel feels like Dick and Kory would want her to try, so she does.

“What are we playing?” she says.

Gar’s whole expression perks up. “Whatever you want.” He starts rummaging through the not-so-modest collection of games he’s accumulated in the cabinet under their T.V. “You strike me as a quest-driven kind of girl.” He holds up some game called Left for Dead 2.

Rachel shrugs. She sits beside him on the couch and barely catches the controller when he tosses it to her. Her fingers feel awkward over the buttons and she has a sinking feeling that this is going to suck. But Gar is so happy. What kind of jerk would she be if she ruined this for him?

Gar flips through the menu screen and starts the game. One advantage of growing up with a demon alter-ego is that stuff like video game zombies don’t scare her in the slightest. Gar keeps talking over the cut scenes, and Rachel nods along with mild interest.

The gameplay is pretty simple. They’re just running around an abandoned town, killing different kinds of zombies – because that’s apparently a thing. Rachel accidentally shoots Gar twice as much as she shoots an actual zombie. Gar is sweet about it, though, which almost makes it worse.

“Wish this game had a friendly-fire option.” He laughs after she kills him for the third time.

Her cheeks burn with embarrassment. They get to a horde of zombies that Gar nearly decimates on his own, but it’s not enough. They die two tries in a row and Rachel’s actually getting pretty frustrated. Gar notices and pauses the game, shifting on the couch so that he’s facing her.

“You’re not having fun, are you?”

“Of course I am!” Rachel smiles, but it’s stiff and unconvincing. Gar raises an eyebrow and she sighs. “Sorry, I’m just… I don’t really like video games.”

Gar doesn’t look mad, or even a little bit annoyed. He just shrugs, eyes curious. “What kind of games do you like?”

Rachel thinks for a moment, surprised by the fondness that blossoms in her chest. “Melissa had all of these old board games: Cluedo, Monopoly, Scrabble.” She giggles a little to herself. “It was missing a lot of vowels and instead of replacing them, we just made up words that had like three k’s and an x.”

Gar grins. “That’s cool. Which one was your favorite?”

Rachel thinks. “Battleship.”

“Really?”

She shrugs. “I could always tell where Melissa put her pieces, so I always won.”

“You cheated!” he gasps, utterly delighted.

“I didn’t even know I had powers at that point.”

“Still.” He teases. He thinks for a moment and his expression sobers. When he speaks, his voice is tentative and small. “My mom taught me a lot of card games.”

Rachel’s heart tightens in empathy. She moves so that her head is resting on his thigh, her legs dangling over the arm of the couch. Gar chuckles a bit.

“Do you have a deck?” She asks. “You could teach me how to play.”

Gar shakes his head. “I had a few decks back at Dr. Caulder’s.”

Rachel frowns. She lifts her head, eyes zeroing in on the stack of money Dick left on the counter. She pulls herself off the couch and holds out her hands. Gar raises an eyebrow.

“Come on.” She says, and he allows her to pull him up.

“What are we doing?”

Rachel grabs her hoodie off the coat rack, then goes into the kitchen and shoves the cash into her pocket. “We’re going out.”

The night air bites at Gar’s cheeks, but he doesn’t mind. His body is humming with excitement as Rachel leads him through the city streets. She won’t tell him where they’re going, which makes it even better. Her hood is pulled tight around her face and she looks more alive than Gar has seen her in days.

He was the one who found her. She was in the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles were white. Her breathing was loud and ragged, her eyes shut tight like she was scared to open them. He said her name so she’d hear him approach. He put his hand on her shoulder and she’d flinched – not because he hurt her, but because she was afraid of hurting him.

Gar startles and realizes that Rachel has stopped several feet behind him. She raises her eyebrow mockingly. He laughs sheepishly and trots back toward her.

“Sorry, started thinking ‘bout something.”

��Did it hurt?” She teases and he playfully shoves her. “We’re here.”

Gar turns to where she’s looking: an old store front with Ami’s Games and Jokes painted on the door. The display windows show vintage comics, tinker toys, puzzle games, and posters.

“What is this place?” Gar says, spellbound. “And where have I been?”

Rachel laughs. “Come on.”

She takes him by the arm and pulls him into the store. A bell above the door clangs as they enter. If Gar’s eyes had been wide before, they’re gaping, now. Rachel can’t contain her excitement, either. She’s passed this place dozens of times but never ventured inside.

Everything looks like some sort of beautiful safety hazard: shelves overflowing with games and action figures, boxes of books and consoles, everything you could ever think to put in a toy shop. There’s a bucket full of dice siting on a giant Jenga set with a sign that says 4 for $1.

An elderly woman with short peppered hair and huge glasses stops dusting the cash register and smiles brightly at them. “Evening.” Gar and Rachel give awkward little nods. “Domino sets are buy one, get one 50% off.”

“Thanks.” Rachel says, turning to Gar, but he’s already perusing the vintage board games.

“Dude,” he gawks, running his hands along the sides of the boxes, “this is sick.”

Rachel joins him. “I figured your little nerd heart would like this place.”

“Oh, my little nerd heart very much likes this place.” Something catches his eye at the back of the shop. He squawks excitedly and disappears into the maze of shelves.

Rachel looks to make sure he’s out of sight before commencing her search. Her eyes scan the shelves, zeroing in on a box of discount card decks. She starts sifting through it when the old woman – who she assumes is Ami – wanders over to her, dusting as she goes.

“Fan of cards?” she asks, curious.

“Not really,” Rachel says, keeping her voice down. “They’re a gift.”

“For your friend with the funny hair?”

She grins. “Yeah.”

To her surprise, Ami glances quickly to the side, as if to make sure no one is watching – which is easy, since they’re the only ones in here. She gestures for Rachel to follow her to the counter. Rachel obliges hesitantly as Ami roots around for something. After a moment of searching, she pulls out an unassuming box. She pushes it toward Rachel.

Inside are card decks, some in clear plastic containers, others wrapped in leather pouches. The artwork on each deck is detailed and unique. Rachel examines one that is illustrated with classic fairytale characters.

“That one was from my first trip to Saint Petersburg.” Ami says proudly. “A treat to myself after I finished graduate school.”

“It’s beautiful.” Rachel says as she continues browsing. She picks up a blue deck with white flowers and a golden sun emblem.

“Ah, Buenos Aires. This was one of my first decks. I did an exchange program when I was a teenager.”

Rachel smiles, but it’s stiff. She’s always a little jealous when people talk about their world travels. She picks up one of the leather pouches and gingerly removes the deck. She lets out a gasp, sifting through one card after another. Each is a different animal, the illustrations so detailed they look more like miniature paintings than playing cards.

“Kyoto.” Ami says wistfully. “Such a beautiful city, so much history. Now that art style is very interesting. It’s called Ukiyo-e.”

“Wow.” Rachel says, unable to take her eyes away from the cards.

Ami appraises her for a moment, then says. “Ten dollars.”

Rachel blinks. “What?” The woman repeats herself. Rachel shakes her head. “No, no I can’t buy these from you.”

Ami grunts a laugh. “Fifteen, then.” Rachel’s expression sours. “Oh, come on, this is my game shop, isn’t it?”

“But these are yours. All of your travels.”

Ami’s smile becomes soft. She extends out her hand and Rachel turns over the cards and the leather pouch.

“You take them, dear.” she says, fitting the cards back into the pouch and tying it shut. “It gives me an excuse to go back.”

Rachel smiles, feeling a little humbled, and pulls fifteen dollars out of her pocket. She stashes the cards away just in time before Gar comes bounding back into the front of the store.

“See anything you like?” She asks innocently.

“Um… everything. How about you?”

Rachel shrugs and can feel Ami grin smugly. “Let’s go.” She says quickly.

Gar nods, giving the woman an appreciative nod and they head toward the door.

“Come again soon, little bird.”

Rachel freezes and looks over her shoulder, but Ami has gone back to dusting. She and Gar share a questioning look but silently agree to drop it. They head back the way they came, but Rachel stops when they get to the street corner.

Gar pauses. “What’s up?”

Rachel looks around intently for a second, then says. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

He grins. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

Rachel pretends to think about it. “I could really go for some french fries, right now.”

Gar knows the place she’s talking about and takes off in a run. She yelps in surprise and takes off after him, their laughter echoing down the street.

#titans #titans 2018 #fanfiction #rachel roth #garfield logan #raven #beast boy

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ohlayarfp · 3 years

Text

Production Design: Knives Out

Link to the article:

https://www.setdecorators.org/?name=KNIVES-OUT&art=section-index&SHOW=SetDecor_Film_KNIVES_OUT

set decorator David Schlesinger SDSA production designer David Crank

Knives out tells us a story about Detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) is mysteriously enlisted to investigate the death of a renowned crime novelist Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) who was found dead at his estate just after his 85th birthday. From Harlan’s dysfunctional family to his devoted staff, Blanc sifts through a web of red herrings and self-serving lies to uncover the truth behind Harlan’s untimely death. As stated by Lionsgate, KNIVES OUT is a witty and stylish whodunnit guaranteed to keep audiences guessing, laughing and gasping until the very end.

According to the article, it is said that Writer/Director Rian Johnson and Producer Ram Bergman wisely relied on Production Designer David Crank, Set Decorator David Schlesinger SDSA and their teams to set the bar high.

Just looking at the poster, I saw how the art department managed to play with the colours based on their costumes. Looking at that, I quickly assume that the production design was going to be great. After watching it, I can definitely agree to that.

While watching the film, I enjoyed discovering clues and interesting facts from the props and set designs. The eye catching prop of the whole film which was the ‘throne’ with all the knifes pointing at the centre, when i looked into it reminded me of a donut (a reference to what Benoit kept on using as his analogy). The knife that Ransom used in the end was also a reference to the quote Harlan mentioned earlier in the film when he was talking to Marta about some people not realising the difference between an actual knife and a stage prop knife. Just noticing these facts made me eager to read what the set decorators and production designer had in mind.

Based on the article, Schlesinger talked about his process when he first got the script. He did research by gathering up as many images of how he thinks the set should look and feel, and then share with the production designer. Often the designer has their own batch of research. The designer and him then compare and contrast, their next step is to consolidate the visual research, present to the director, and insure that they are all on the same page. Visual Reference was his best way of make sure that all of them were on the same page.

He then laid out a shopping plan/strategy. In the case of KNIVES OUT, he knew that they needed a lot of pieces and that their budget would be tight. His solution was to work with vendors with large inventories and make wholesale type of deals with them. Vendors tend to give you better deals when you are renting truckloads instead of one of few things.

His rule of thumb throughout the whole process of creating the look for the sets was “How does this object relate to one of Harlan’s Books?”

Schlesinger said “The Designer-Decorator relationship with David was my favorite kind. He set an overall tone, created the geography of the movie, interreacted with Rian, and was a great sounding board/editor of ideas I had. We had a great collaborative process.”

He was afraid of visual noise as there were too many set dressing. Because of that he direct his focus on objects with scale and that had colors that would stand out from the background of the set. Objects for purely decorative reasons irk him, especially on this film. Everything we put on set, needed a story behind it. Even as viewers we can see how this house was decorated with various kinds of weird artifacts and props. Even one of the detectives mentioned about the house looking like a Cluedo board.

During Schlesinger’s first meeting with Rian, the director suggested displaying Harlan’s books alongside a key object involved in the Mystery. So, Schlesinger gathered up a selection of Key Objects, and Rian created book titles to coordinate with it. The Art Department created the hero books, along with 2 titles for every year Harlan had been writing.

As I mentioned about the ‘throne’ before, the art team for the film calls it the Wheel of Knives. And this what the set decorator had to say about it:

Initially, the Wheel of Knives was meant to be a display over the mantel in the library. When we tech-scouted, Rian and Steve [DP Steve Yedlin] blocked the scenes with the idea that the knives would form a halo/background behind the various characters being interrogated. They specifically wanted something that would not be solid, so light would come through. Rian wanted a sense of movement in the knives, as if they were all being thrown toward the center.

It was a challenging set of problems. We created several prototypes, but nothing was really hitting the mark with Rian. Eventually we came up with building an armature to hold the knives and hanging it off of chain from the balcony. Rebecca Greene was really responsible for making it all happen and was able to find a preexisting metal circle. My only real instruction to her was “treat it like sculpture”, which she did. The end result was beautiful, and of course it has a huge part on the movie.

He also claimed that Rian and Ram Bergman were incredibly supportive and informative. Rian’s clarity of the look of the film and who the characters are was exceptional, and more importantly he effectively communicates what was in his head. He was clear about what he liked and disliked.

Everything with the look of KNIVES OUT is about the details and layers. Just like a good mystery, the more you look and explore an object, the deeper the mystery becomes.

According to the article, the Thrombey estate consisted of two separate locations and a built set. The art department team spent weeks shooting in each of the locations. Schlesinger said that each of these spaces had unique challenges. The Living Room, Sitting Room with the Stash Clock, Exteriors, and Harlan’s Office were shot in a private home that had many truly priceless items in it. That was a monumental task for Shann and his team. They inventoried every item in the areas of the house we would be shooting in. They then identified with the homeowner which items would be removed be Art Handlers, by Set Dressing, or we would keep and use. Many things had to be removed just because of their importance to the family and delicate nature of old objects. The removal process took a couple of weeks. Then we started dressing. It’s always challenging to maintain a set when you shoot over a period of time, but the crew was really understanding of the nature of things and remained well-behaved. He give a lot of credit to our on-set dresser, the fabulous Kip Bartlett.

Quotes from the Cast and Crew:

David Crank said his design plan was to build to a crescendo, “The idea was that with each level you go up, things get stranger and stranger, each room getting more eccentric and more colorful than the last until you reach Harlan's domain...his hallway, bedroom and study...”

Don Johnson recalls... “I don't think that there was a day I showed up for work that I didn’t see something new in the house, something I didn't notice the day before. It was not only a fun place to explore. It had a remarkable ability to snap you right into the time, place, and the spirit of the material.”

Riki Lindhome, who plays Donna Thrombey says, “One of the most fun things about working on KNIVES OUT is that every time you walked into a new room, there were wild treasures everywhere. I remember the first time I sat down in the chair in the library when I realized the chair had two owls for arm rests... The closer you would get to any object, the more you’d realize something was just a little bit off. I love that. It reflects the whole tone of the movie, where you think you are in this beautiful estate with a family that has everything, but then you realize there is something amiss with them.”

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reflectionrobyn · 4 years

Text

James Joyce, 16th June, 1904 , Ulysses, 4-5pm, Dublin.

Who are all of these characters and what do they mean?

Has someone been killed? Pray for him?

Reminds me of Cluedo, group of friends with a mystery murder?

I imagine Miss Kennedy, Miss Douce and Miss Bronze as close friends, with heartbreak but also bitching about poor men and the way they look.

These 3 names stick out to me the most, who are these 3 women and why do they think they're better than the men?

Who is poor Greaseabloom?

How does this relate to my sentence?

0 notes

raywritesthings · 7 years

Text

For Him

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor, Sylvia Noble, Wilfred Mott Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: Donna decides to take the lead in celebrating for a change, much to her Spaceman's surprise. Slightly NSFW. AO3 link

After a few days of running, it was always good to take a bit of time to relax. That was Donna’s view, anyway, and she’d been rather successful at bringing the Doctor round to her way of thinking. That probably had something to do with her method of persuasion, but he hadn’t even put up much fight when she suggested a break that did not include their bedroom this morning.

“Just a visit?” Her Spaceman checked as the TARDIS shuddered along on another journey through the Vortex.

“No, I’m leaving you for one of the local boys,” said Donna, rolling her eyes.

“Donna.”

“Oh, quit whining! How many times do I have to tell you I’m not going anywhere till you believe me?” She circled round to his side of the console and pecked him on the cheek. “Should just be Gramps today. If we’re quick, we’ll only have to chat with mum for an hour.”

“Good plan,” he agreed, leaning away from the controls kiss her lips. The whole ship seemed to tilt slightly slightly with the motion.

“Oi!”

“Whoops!” The Doctor broke away, and he quickly worked to regain control. Donna shook her head. What was she going to do with him?

“Hey, here they are, the happy couple!” Her Gramps cheered when he met them at the door.

Donna hugged him and reciprocated his kiss to the cheek before standing aside to let him and the Doctor shake hands.

“Mum out, then?”

“Yeah, she won’t be back for a while.”

“Well, you did pick a good time,” the Doctor muttered in her ear, and Donna swatted at his arm lightly. She couldn’t hide her grin, though.

They were trying to come over more frequently now, in the hopes that if Donna’s mum saw her and the Doctor together often enough, she’d be less opposed to the idea that they were actually together — whenever they got around to telling her, that was.

To that end, Spaceman got to work fixing the telly, which had apparently stopped displaying anything last Thursday, while Donna made them all tea in the kitchen.

“So how’ve you been? It’s not been too long since we visited, has it?”

“Oh no, just a couple weeks,” said her Gramps. “It’s, uh, the 13th — no, the 14th today.”

“The 14th?” Donna raised her head, unable to help a note of dread in her voice. “And it’s still February?”

Her grandad’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah. Well, that’s nice you came in today then, isn’t it?”

Donna groaned. “Oh, don’t tell him.” Figured the TARDIS had picked this one date out of any other in February to land; it was how she got her kicks, Donna just knew it.

“Eh? Something wrong with you two?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just if he knows it’s today he’ll want to make a whole fuss, and you know I don’t hold with it.” Sometimes it was hard to believe she was the human in this relationship, seeing how she couldn’t care less for any of her own holidays while he seemed to revel in celebrating them.

“Donna, I know you haven’t always had the best Valentine’s Day—”

“Shh!” Donna listened for any sound or sign that the Time Lord had heard in the next room, but all she picked up was the continued buzzing of the sonic.

“But what would be so bad about this one?”

She didn’t have a good answer to that, not one that explained her current behavior, anyway. The Doctor certainly wasn’t like any of the boyfriends she’d had on those past Valentine’s Days. And it wasn’t as if she’d hated the Christmases they’d shared, both before and after becoming a couple.

“I just don’t see the need for a fuss. I mean, I know he likes it.”

“Well, some people do,” said her Gramps with a shrug.

Donna grimaced. “I sound so ungrateful right now. I mean, here I’ve got an alien genius who takes me to all these amazing places and adores me — God knows what for — and I can’t even be bothered with Valentine’s Day.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the occasional pampering. But sometimes the sheer volume of gifts and compliments he gave her was overwhelming, seeing as half the time she couldn’t see what she’d done to even earn them. He’d pull out all the stops on a day like today, and she’d be liable to get flustered and call him an idiot in return. She definitely knew she didn’t want that for their first Valentine’s.

“—and it might not be my business saying, but he adores you for just the sort of person you are, sweetheart,” her grandad was saying. “You make him happy any day of the year. So if you don’t want a fuss, I’m sure that’d be alright with him.”

“No, but he likes one,” she repeated. “And after everything he’s done for me, it just wouldn’t be right if I...oh, Gramps, I’ve got it!”

“What was that?” The Doctor called from the sitting room. “Donna, did you need something?”

“No!” She hollered back. Then she made sure to keep her voice lowered when she turned back to her Gramps. “Look, I need you to keep him occupied while I go out for some things. And make sure he doesn’t go to the TARDIS for anything cos I’ll need time to put dinner together.”

“A surprise, eh?” He asked, grinning.

“Yeah, should be a nice change, me pulling one on him.” All the places he’d taken her and dates he’d set up, and now she could return the favor. That didn’t sound like a bad Valentine’s Day at all.

Donna crept towards the back door, and Gramps helped her ease it open so it wouldn’t creak. “Good luck, my darling,” he told her.

“Thanks. Love you.”

Donna snuck around the side of the house, only straightening up properly once she’d gotten halfway down the road. She couldn’t help a slight fit of the giggles; maybe it wasn’t intergalactic espionage, but she was making a pretty good spy so far!

At the shops, she brought up a mental list of what they had on the TARDIS and what she’d need. She’d make something light. He had a sweet tooth more than anything else, so dessert would be more important anyway. What did she know how to make with bananas?

Donna also thought it’d be good to investigate whether the TARDIS had another room for eating things rather than a kitchen. Not that there was anything wrong with the kitchen, mind, but she was aiming for a little more romantic than that since she couldn’t exactly afford taking them somewhere fancy.

She remembered the candles she’d bought at that alien bazaar a few weeks back. There was one that just gave off a nice soft red glow. That’d be good for the table. The others were supposed to effuse a room with a sort of relaxing atmosphere. She’d been saving them to use in the bath sometime, but depending on how their night went...yeah, those could do quite nice for later.

Donna picked up a bottle of wine, thinking that would be simplest. He had a small collection on board, of course, but the idea was that she was putting the effort in here. She went a little more expensive than usual, but it wasn’t as if she was spending her money on much else these days.

So, food, drink, dessert, candles. Not bad for short notice. Although if she was trying to set a mood, she’d probably need to change her clothes, she realized, looking down at her plain jumper and jeans. Sure, he was a bit dense about these things, but he’d realize something was going on with the right visual cue. She’d packed a dress she liked herself in well enough, so that spared having to search through the wardrobe room.

Donna thought about putting her hair up. That always drove him crazy, taking it down before they fell into bed together.

But did she want to just fall into bed? This was supposed to be special. She needed something a little extra, then.

Her footsteps had slowed and then stopped in front of the lingerie shop. Donna had been inside before once or twice, though she’d never bought anything. Actually, she’d put in an order for her honeymoon with Lance, but that had ended up canceled with all the rest. Best not to dwell on it. She’d long moved on from the likes of him.

She entered the shop, hoping to God she didn’t run into anyone she knew inside. That’d be a brilliant way for her mum to find out about them; Nerys phoning to say she’d seen Donna buying fancy knickers.

But she’d risk it for the Doctor. That Spaceman was about to have the best Valentine’s Day of his life by the time she was done.

—-

Today was not shaping up to be a good day at all.

After many valiant attempts at troubleshooting, the Doctor had realized the problem was simply that the telly was not plugged in. Wilfred had apparently forgotten to do so after Sylvia had had him move the whole apparatus to the side and then back again so she could hoover. Fair enough; Donna had to remind him which pocket he’d last put his TARDIS key in several times a week.

He’d entered the kitchen to announce his findings to Donna and her grandfather, only to realize that she was missing. “Where’s Donna?”

Wilf had looked up from the table. “Oh, ah, Sylvia called and asked her to go pick up a few extra things from the shops.”

“Oh.” The Doctor’s shoulders had slumped. “When is she getting back?”

“Couldn’t say. But I’m sure we can find something to do in the meantime. Where have you two been to lately?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy spending time with Wilfred. It was just that he enjoyed it even more when Donna was there with him. Telling the man about their various adventures and the brilliant role she’d had to play in them was alright, but it was no substitute for her actual presence.

He’d got through all their latest travels — well, not the platinum suite on the Losrana, but that was far too personal a night to share with anyone, much less Donna’s grandfather. Wilfred had gone in search of Cluedo. And Donna still wasn’t back.

The front door opened, and he jumped up, but it was Sylvia in the hall.

“Oh,” the Doctor said, unable to hide his disappointment. Right, they were trying to improve relations. “Did you need some help with those?” He gestured to her bag-laden arms, wondering what was so important that Donna had to go buy when it looked as if her mother had brought the whole store home.

Her nose wrinkled. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I expect. Waiting for Donna to get back.”

Sylvia scoffed, moving past him into the kitchen. “You think I have nothing better to do than sit around days on end for her ladyship to turn up? I never even know when she’s coming round, not since she took up with you.”

“No, but you knew she was in today,” the Doctor argued with a frown. “That’s why she’s been out this whole time.”

“What are you talking about?”

Before he could answer, Wilfred shuffled into view in the archway. “Sylvia, is that you, love?”

“Who else would it be? Well,” she corrected, giving him a look, “suppose you’ve seen her, then.”

“Sylvia says she never phoned Donna to get anything,” the Doctor stated.

“Oh?” Wilf shuffled in place a bit. “Must have been Veena. I got mixed up, I suppose. Ha.”

He liked Wilf, certainly, but he couldn’t help a rather critical look. How had he confused one of Donna’s casual friends for his own daughter? Wilf was wringing his hands together and his smile seemed weaker than usual under the scrutiny.

“She could be out having tea with the Queen, and I wouldn’t have any idea,” Sylvia complained, making about as much noise as possible with all her bags.

The Doctor had a thought, and it wasn’t a good one. He motioned for Wilf to follow him back to the sitting room, out of Sylvia’s earshot. “Or it might have been someone you both thought was Sylvia.”

“Eh?” It was Wilf’s turn to give him a doubtful look.

“Think about it. Sylvia calls, asks Donna to head out on errands, Donna goes out on her own. It’s the perfect set up. That’s how they work.”

“Who does?”

“Autons. Zygons. Could be another Sontaran clone, but why would they come back so soon?” It didn’t really matter; whoever it was had lured Donna into a trap. Finding her was first on the list. He could figure out the rest as he went.

The Doctor pulled his overcoat on. “The TARDIS can try to locate her by scanning for residual artron energy in the area.”

“The TARDIS?” Wilf echoed, looking rather nervous. Right, those were probably a lot of terms he wasn’t understanding.

“When people travel through the Vortex, even in a capsule they receive a low, non-harmful level of radiation. Should be unique enough to find Donna with. We’ll start with the immediate area, don’t want to pick up Martha by accident—”

“Er, Doctor—”

“—though that might not be a bad idea if we end up needing UNIT—”

“I could try phoning her,” Wilfred offered, mobile in his hand.

The Doctor paused, halfway to the door. “Oh.”

Wilf hit a couple buttons and the Doctor tried to keep a respectful distance as they both waited for Donna to answer.

“Don’t mention clones, or other aliens,” the Doctor advised. “Someone could be monitoring her calls.”

Wilf gave a hesitant nod before saying into the phone, “Donna, love, it’s me. Yeah, I know you’re busy, it’s just, er, I’ve forgot where you went off to, and the Doctor’s a bit worried is all.”

He could hear Donna’s voice, even if he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. Wilf shot him a nervous glance.

“Alright, I’ll tell him. Love you.”

He hung up.

“Donna says she shouldn’t be too long and, er, not to worry.”

“She said something a bit ruder than that, didn’t she?” He guessed.

Wilfred chuckled. “Well, that’s our girl, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” If Donna was giving that kind of attitude, she couldn’t really be in danger. And he suspected he’d be in for it if he kept on. The Doctor sighed. “So, Cluedo?”

Cluedo proved difficult. The first game he guessed the murderer after only one round. He and Wilf determined it was best not to give him any cards at all so that he started with nothing to go on. Then he got a bit preoccupied with the logistics of the secret passages.

“No, but they would intersect here, so, logically, you should be able to travel through all four rooms,” he said, pointing at the spot with emphasis. “Unless one was built to go underneath the other, but they would have had to dig pretty deep to ensure the structural integrity of the upper passage. And that’s assuming the whole thing hasn’t compromised the foundation of the house.”

“Well, it’s a bit of cardboard.”

“Right, but what I’m saying is in reality—”

Sylvia’s voice from the kitchen interrupted his train of thought. “And just where have you been off to, lady?”

They both perked up at that. The Doctor led the way to find Donna had, in fact, returned. Only he was fairly sure she’d not been wearing that dress this morning. He thought he’d remember a thing like that.

“Had some things I needed to take care of in town,” she was saying before she flashed him a quick smile. “We’ll probably be off now, if that’s alright.”

“Fine, you don’t have to tell me what you’ve been up to. Just get him out of here. He’s been pestering dad all afternoon.”

“Oh, I didn’t mind,” said Wilf, though he waved them on nonetheless. “Have fun, you two.”

“Thanks, Gramps. I’ll be back next week for a proper visit,” Donna promised. She took his hand and began pulling him to the door.

“Er, be seeing you,” said the Doctor as they left. “Donna, what’s going on? You barely got to see your family.”

“It’s alright, I’ll make up for it next week.”

Now that they were walking along side-by-side he couldn’t help noticing she’d put on that perfume he’d got her at Maracon Five.

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Just home,” she answered, and indeed she led the way into the TARDIS. But she continued right on past the controls and up the corridor.

“Donna, where are we going?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bit impatient?”

“Plenty. Still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Well, good thing we’re here, then.” She pushed open a door on the left, and he followed her into a totally unfamiliar space.

Hardwood flooring and deep red walls with a couple paintings hung up he’d thought he’d misplaced centuries ago. There was a little table with a lit candle he thought he recognized from somewhere.

“Is this a dining room? We have one of those?”

“Apparently.” Donna shrugged. “I asked her, and she showed me this.”

Two places were set for dinner, which looked to be a homemade pasta dish of some sort, and two glasses of wine had been poured.

The Doctor felt remarkably out of his element. He was not used to surprises, or at least not the sort that weren’t sudden invasions or attempts on his life.

“Donna, what’s going on?”

“You landed us on Valentine’s Day, you prawn,” she informed him.

“I did?” Stupid Doctor, why hadn’t he checked the date when they arrived? “Donna, I’m so sorry. If I’d known—”

“Calm down, that was the whole point,” she huffed. Donna took a seat, and he followed her example. “Never really been much of one for it, but I know how much you like a holiday.”

“So you made us dinner,” he realized.

“Yeah, and we’d better eat it before it goes cold.”

Dutifully, he twirled a bit of pasta around his fork and dug in. “I don’t think you’ve ever made this before. It’s delicious, really.” He probably ought to say something more, like that her dress made her eyes bluer than usual, but he was having trouble phrasing it in proper compliment terms.

“Yeah, I might not be Top Chef, but I reckon it’s alright for short notice,” she said.

He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Donna had done all this and completely without his notice.

“Hold on,” he said, a thought occurring to him. “Did Wilf know about this?”

She smirked around the rim of her wine glass. “I might have asked him to keep you occupied.”

“Oh, I should’ve known! Soon as Sylvia came home and didn’t have any idea what he was talking about.”

Donna shook her head. “Figures mum would almost blow the whole thing. I couldn’t believe you had him call me!”

“Well, I thought something was wrong! And of course he wasn’t worried at all. Had us playing Cluedo!”

Donna burst out laughing. “You’re kidding!”

“There’s something not right about those secret passages,” was all he managed before joining in Donna’s giggles. He probably would have been embarrassed had it been anyone else to fool him like this. But Donna and Wilf were a special pair.

Distantly, he thought he heard the oven beep.

“That’ll be dessert,” she said, getting up from the table.

The Doctor swallowed his current mouthful of food. “Dessert?”

“Yeah, and you better finish that if you want any.”

Donna left the room and the Doctor was a little glad for it because he was starting to feel overwhelmed. Here Donna had put together all this just for him, and he hadn’t gotten her anything. She said she didn’t want any of that, but it was hard to grasp that he deserved this sort of attention after sitting around all day doing nothing. Donna always took care of him, of course, but this was far above and beyond the call.

She returned soon after. “Still needs a few minutes to cool.”

“You arranged for all this in one day,” he marveled. “Not even a day.”

“Yeah, well, managing other people’s schedules for years makes it easy to figure out how to spend your time wisely.”

“Not just anyone can do that,” he said, unwilling to let her dismiss the compliment. “This has been brilliant. Really.”

She didn’t argue the point any further, and they both made quick work of finishing their dinners. “I’ll cut us both a piece,” she said, taking his dishes before he could even offer to help. She was so on top of things the Doctor barely knew what to do with himself.

Donna came back with two plates. It looked like a bread pudding with chocolate chips. He speared a bit with his fork and took a bite. “Is that banana?”

“Well duh,” she answered. “You’re not exactly subtle about loving them.”

“I love you,” he said, grinning. Donna scoffed, but he could see her trying not to smile. He felt rather giddy himself. It wasn’t as if Donna had never cooked for him before, but this felt different somehow. Knowing she’d done it all just to see him happy was better even than the banana. Telling her honestly how he felt about her seemed the bare minimum of reciprocation.

They ate their dessert in companionable silence. Donna had also refilled their glasses, and he wasn’t sure whether it was the wine or the food or just her that left him feeling so warm.

When she got up to clear the rest of the dishes away, however, he caught her hand. “Leave it for tomorrow,” the Doctor insisted.

“It’ll only take a minute, silly.”

“Donna, you’re brilliant, really. And this is already the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.” It was also the only one he’d ever had, or had someone give him. “I just want to spend the rest of the night with you.” If she did one more thing for him he thought he might have a nervous fit.

She relented, using their joined hands to pull him up from the table. He went right in for a kiss that left a chocolate smear on Donna’s bottom lip when he’d pulled away.

“Oops.” The Doctor quickly grabbed a couple napkins for them both, feeling his face grow a bit hot as she laughed again.

Donna walked arm in arm with him back down the corridor to their room and let him hold the door for her. Then he followed her inside.

He should have realized she had planned ahead.

She hadn’t even bothered with the lights because a scattering of candles about the room already cast a warm glow. When he breathed in, he could feel a wave of calm wash over him.

“Are those from the Dreenax Bazaar?” Now he knew why the candle at dinner had seemed familiar; Donna had bought a few on their trip to the planet’s market. These ones in particular he knew she’d gotten herself as a special treat for their relaxing properties. “Oh, Donna, you didn’t have to.”

“No, but I wanted to.” When he turned to her, she was watching him with such a soft and compassionate look he thought she could see right through to his hearts. “Might not be diamond coral reefs, but I thought someone ought to show you a good time for once.”

Oh. The Doctor couldn’t seem to find any words for once. If not for the candles and their calming influence, his emotions might have overtaken him entirely.

As it was, the only thing he could think to do was pull her into a hug. “Thank you.” If his voice sounded a little thick to his ears, well, it was only Donna who heard. His Donna, who made him feel so loved with just a few simple words or a gesture that no one else might have thought of.

The Doctor leaned back and tilted his head down to capture her lips. Donna’s hands rose into his hair, and the warmth he felt had coalesced into a simmering desire somewhere below his stomach. Everything else was for once totally quiet in this moment, and making love to this brilliant woman was the one thought in his head.

He was only permitted to nose along her jawline for a moment before she was backing out of his arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just need a minute,” she said, tilting her head towards the door to the en suite. Her cheeks were bright pink and there was a sort of gleam in her eyes that had his hearts speeding up just a little. “You wait right there,” Donna added with point to the bed. She was slipping through the door before he could reply.

The Doctor shrugged out of his jacket and set that aside, then undid his trainers and removed his socks. He sat back against the headboard to wait as Donna had instructed, breathing in the faint vanilla that wafted from the candles. It kept his wondering as to what sort of surprise Donna could possibly have hidden away in the bathroom of all places to an idle buzz in his mind.

“You ready for me, Spaceman?” The door opened at last, and Donna stepped out into the low light. All the air left his lungs in a great rush as he took in the sight of her.

Gone was the dress. She’d put on...he didn’t know what to call it. Something thin and short and made primarily of lace or a synthetic material that mimicked it, which left nothing to the imagination — not that he needed imagination with an eidetic memory. But it certainly brought those memories to the fore.

“It’s not too much, is it?” She was chewing at her lip, waiting on his reaction.

The Doctor had to swallow once before he could even attempt a reply. “Donna, it’s lovely. You’re lovely.” He scooted down to the end of the bed, arms held out. “Come here, please.”

She did, slowly, a sway to her hips with every step that his eyes couldn’t help but to track.

“You have no idea what this is, do you?” She asked, picking at a bit of the lace. He shook his head, causing her to laugh. “Welcome to the world of women’s undergarments, Time Boy.”

His brow furrowed, more than a little confused. Yes, he saw how what she was wearing could just barely qualify as covering up the designated private areas of the human body — though now that she’d approached and he could see just how sheer the material was, the Doctor considered revising that assessment — but he couldn’t picture Donna wearing such a thing in the day to day. She hated being cold.

“Not very practical, is it?” He asked, reaching to rub a bit of it between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Donna replied rather airily. “I’d say it’s doing its job just fine.”

“Hm?” The Doctor managed to drag his eyes up from her chest to catch her smirking at him. Before he could try to make up some reasonable excuse, she was leaning down to kiss him.

He licked at her lips, greedy for more, and her mouth opened to him. It took a couple gentle pushes on his shoulders for him to get the hint to move back, but his hands went to her waist to make sure she came with him, his thumbs brushing against lace.

Donna placed one knee on the mattress and swung her other leg over, and he moaned into her mouth when she settled into his lap. Through the barely-there material he could feel the heat of her. It sent what felt like a fire coursing through him.

Her hips rolled as he pressed up into her, and Donna broke the kiss off with a gasp. “You know, I might be coming round to this whole holiday thing after all.”

The Doctor raised his hands to cup her cheeks. “Donna Noble. My Valentine.”

She kissed him through the goofy smile on his face, and showed him far more than a good time that night.

#ten x donna #doctor x donna #donna noble #tenth doctor #doctor who #the doctor #wilfred mott #sylvia noble #my writing

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hawksmoor17 · 7 years

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Suicide as Murder: How the Cluedo Metaphor Bookends ASiP

I’ve been thinking about it all year and haven’t really seen anyone talking about it yet so here we go —

Garridebs has been implied to be John’s suicide attempt pretty thoroughly by this point, (see: this), but to compound that even further, or to bring it into clearer focus thematically I guess, something I really think is central to the show’s overall message about LGBT suicide is the whole Cluedo/Clue metaphor that begins in S2.

(Just to preface this, I feel like it’s important to add on here that John is obviously not going to die — this show is just The Princess Bride, after all. Although this is a bleak discussion it’s all preceding a happy ending.)

In THoB we’re given Sherlock insisting that the murder in he and John’s game of Cluedo was actually a suicide because it’s the only possible solution, which John then argues is incorrect ‘Because it’s not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that’s why! ... It’s in the rules’ — ‘Well then the rules are wrong!’

Then in S4 we’re given the freeze frame ending at the end of TFP from the Clue film as well as the ‘It’s not (just) a game anymore’ tagline that was used for both Clue’s marketing and S4′s. Clue of course is infamous for its multiple endings, however in the ‘true’ ending, the film finishes with the reveal that everyone is guilty. This can be seen as linking in with TLD’s Drearcliff House case and the ‘One murder - ten suspects’ line.

Combine all of those Cluedo references and you pretty much get the plot to ASiP: suicide as murder. Jefferson Hope takes advantage of characters who are in a bad place mentally due to being LGBT, and then pushes them to taking their own lives because they’re vulnerable.

This is why John embodies all of the different attributes of each of the ASiP victims. The Clue metaphor that extends from S3 to S4 implies that John’s attempted suicide would actually be murder, and that there are ten or more guilty parties.

Funnily enough this theme reminds me a bit of ‘13 Reasons Why’. I'm not even going to bother to explain the parallels there, but if you consider it critically it’s pretty interesting how similar they are ideologically — obviously Sherlock makes a much more powerful statement. Compared to 13RW’s romanticisation of death and focus on blame, Sherlock reminds me a lot more of something like Wong Kar-wai’s ‘In the Mood for Love’ — characters caught in a place where they both feel unable to act upon their desires due to social and psychological pressures, although with arguably higher stakes.

Especially with Sherlock’s focus on determinism and predestination in S4 (see: Appointment in Samarra + the web allegory) the show seems incredibly melancholy in the fact that it’s almost as if all roads lead back to ASiP — Sherlock and John having to save each other from death despite all the forces in their lives that contributed to them feeling like that would always be their inevitable destination. Conversely this is also what makes the show and Sherlock and John’s finding of each other against all odds feel so hopeful.

I can’t see into the future, or perfectly interpret character intentions at this point, however just purely off of speculation, like in real life I can’t imagine that all ‘guilty’ characters within Sherlock actually have bad intentions.

Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, at least, are aware of John’s feelings towards Sherlock, although don’t really understand what he’s going through — whereas Mycroft has been puppeting Sherlock and John from the start, with ambiguous intentions that I lean towards being to protect Sherlock. I’m not even sure what Molly’s intentions are at this point, but from the S3 promo pictures it looked like she was involved with Mary somehow. She knows of Sherlock’s feelings towards John, but possibly not John’s reciprocated feelings.

Then there’s Sherlock, who due to his own still unresolved emotional trauma, is unable to confess his feelings in order to comfort John, and is unaware just how important this is. And of course Mary, who plays Jefferson Hope in his situation — an opportunistic sociopath looking to capitalise upon other people’s suffering for their own gain. If the mirror is really that on the nose, it might even be related to a deal made with Moriarty to provide money or security for her own secret family or children, because she knows she will die soon, paralleling Jefferson Hope’s brain aneurysm and Emelia Ricoletti’s sacrifice due to already being dying of consumption.

Again, these are just speculations, however it all links back to the fact that suicide is repeatedly coded as murder, especially that of LGBT people, over the course of the show and is the underlying thematic link that connects all episodes.

It’s pretty interesting when you consider the real world implications of this. Not everyone is a bigot, or outright spiteful. It makes me think of how these tiny forces slowly add up and subtly shape the way you move through the world.

#sherlock meta #tjlc #tfhc #this is such a long time coming lmao

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seven-oomen · 4 years

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I JUST SAW THE NEW PREVIEW AND I AM SCREAMING!!!!!!! I’m so ridiculously excited to read the full scene! It’s entirely possible some of the noises I made were not entirely in the normal human register. There was probably some blushing and flailing (read: there was definitely some blushing and flailing.) Peter being all shy and trying to cover it with sass. Chris being so confused about just what the implication of the offer was. Noah being amused at both of them but also not even fully letting Peter ask before bursting out with an emphatic yes. My precious awkward turtles, I love all of them so!

And if you would like my perspective as an American who would have been just a few years behind the boys in school, I will say that it’s highly likely they would have known about some methods of contraception and such, even if their parents weren’t the type to bring it up. In that sort of post-emergence of the AIDS crisis time period, safe sex became a thing that was hammered into you in health classes, after-school specials, etc, unless you lived in the much more rural, conservative areas (so I guess with Chris it would depend partially on where all he lived growing up?) Now their ability to (legally) access anything like condoms, etc, would have been much more iffy (though the idea of John, Talia, or Deuc offering to get some for Peter is hysterical to imagine.) How much they would have cared about/been stopped by this lack of access is really a matter of character interpretation, though :D

I’m so down for attempted family prank shenanigans. (Also, side note, the best way to find Linden’s Insta is actually through links from his Twitter. He had to do one of the variation things, like Hoechlin, because someone was already using his name for one. His vibe is pretty much a combo of aging surfer dude and MASSIVE dad energy.) Actually speaking of family shenanigans, may I put forth the idea of game nights? Can you imagine them sitting around playing Apples to Apples or Monopoly (and how many fights between Stiles and Jackson this might cause)? Or even better, when the younger kids are off at a sleepover, or at least busy in another room, the older kids and the parents sitting around playing Cards Against Humanity? Seeing who can manage to make the group break through card chosen or the reading of said card (and boy are there some doozies to choose from)? I feel like the best at maintaining a complete deadpan presentation or reaction would be Noah, Jordan, Erica, and Lydia.

I had to look up some of those music ideas (and boy are my YouTube algorithms probably confused right now), but yes, I love all of those. Especially Peter’s, because it reminds me of a headcanon/scene I thought of for a fic I will never actually write because I am a coward where Noah wanders into the kitchen one morning to find Peter making breakfast and full-on rocking out to Wham’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” in nothing but an ancient BH Sheriff’s Dept t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. With Chris I just keep going back to the ball thing because one of the few Nickelback songs I know is “Something in Your Mouth”. XD So, I have a fun story for “Never Gonna Give You Up”! When two of my friends got married, they had a friend of the groom’s be the officiant. Rgiht before he got to the part with the vows and having them repeat after him, it only took me like one or two lines into his lead in speech to go “…wait a minute this sounds familiar…”, at which point he began having them recite the lyrics to that song as their wedding vows. Pretty sure everyone was cracking up (I mean, the ceremony took place in the middle of a zombie walk with all of us in full costume. no one was expecting anything normal, but still. that was hilarious.) But oh god, can you imagine if any of the kids ever figured out Chris liked that song? The sheer amount of rick-rolling that would occur boggles the mind. The things Jackson could try to talk Danny into using his tech skills to do. It might be one of the things Stiles and Jackson could bond over. For Noah, maybe he heard them while he had some kid pulled over one day and was like “well that’s stupidly catchy” (because it is), or maybe Stiles had some of their albums at one point, and he kept hearing them and realized he rather liked it, so snuck in and burned himself a copy at some point? I also considered suggesting ABBA, because that also seems like one of those out of left field choices. And omg, yes, on the Caramelldansen. I feel like they’d play it up even more once they notice how horrified their older kids were, because they’re assholes like that. (Related if you want it to be note: Did you know YouTube has a 10 hour loop of the Swedish version?)

The funniest thing to me with the kids eating the dog cookies is how often it happens and how rarely it gets noticed. And they always pick the nastiest ones, too. If they’re gonna do it, they should wait until Christmas, that’s when we get the ones that are basically like the blandest sugar-style cookies ever (I will neither conform nor deny having taken a plate of those to a party once, because I, too, am sometimes an asshole) And yeah, I don’t get the cat water thing either, particularly since the tap water in our area is actually really good quality. Some other entertaining stories I forgot last time:

1) Our corporate office told us we had to start carrying snakes, so now we have a ball python named Julius Squeezer.

2) Speaking of eating weird things, we once had a group of college kids come in on a scavenger hunt and one of them bought and ate a feeder fish to check an item off their list.

3) A guy who worked in one of the other businesses apparently lost a bet of some kind and had to come up to our front doors after hours, dressed as a cat, and rub all over them and generally act like a cat wanting back in the house. We know this because the whole thing was caught on one of the security cameras, and it ended up getting shown at the company holiday party, and one of our cashiers was like “Hey I recognize him.”

4) We have a cardboard stand-up of Rachel Ray (a celebrity chef) that we have to have out because we just started carrying her pet food, and this thing is the stuff of nightmares. It is technically life-size in that it is about as tall as I am, but the proportions aren’t quite right. All the employees are weirded out by it. Every time you walk past it, you can feel it’s soulless gaze following you, mocking you with it’s dead eyes and rictus grin. Recently it got damaged, and my boss had to temporarily move it until it could be repaired. Unfortunately (and perhaps coincidentally) the spot he chose was directly across from the employee entrance, so that was the first thing they’d see entering the building. I witnessed some great reactions that day. I wish I’d gotten to see the ones from when he took my suggestion back when we first received it to slide it behind one of our propped open warehouse doors so that the face was right where the little window in the door is. Apparently one of my coworkers jumped a solid two feet when someone pointed it out to him. I was probably more proud of myself for suggesting it than I should have been, but oh well.

Glad you were spared having to attempt public transport. I can’t imagine how nerve-wracking that would be right now. Hope your day has somewhat improved (I know other people who work tech support, I understand there’s only so far up that part of it can go), at least!

That makes me so happy!

No seriously, my workday was absolute shite and I come out of work and I see this wonderful message and my god my friend. You made me smile today. I smiled for the first time today when I read this.

I’m so excited to read your response to this chapter, I’m just so excited and that’s what’s keeping me going. Because I really feel like crying and giving up for a bit. But this, this means so much to me. Thank you <3

I’m definitely going to need people to have a little bit of suspension of disbelief I guess. I mean, yeah, teenagers can do very stupid things and technically only Chris & Peter did the stupid thing, but I might need a little bit of suspension of disbelief. Now that I read how well-known birth control was in the US during that time. I know it was a big thing in The Netherlands (where I’m from) but I wasn’t sure about the US.

I like to think werewolves would be pretty open about these things and Talia and John were definitely like; wrap it up. Deuc definitely bought Peter a whole box of condoms after they found out Chris and Noah were knocked up. ‘Just to be helpful’.

Talia definitely talked to Chris and Noah about birth control more and educated Chris on sex and what’s going to happen now that he’s pregnant. I might actually include that in the story somewhere or in the prequel. I like to imagine that due to moving so much he never really got much education on everything and when he did he was probably tired from hunting and couldn’t focus much on school.

DUDE

I wanted to put Cards against Humanity in the story but the game doesn’t come out until May 2011, the story takes place in January XD

But yeah, game nights are definitely a thing, especially CAH, Monopoly, Life, Clue (Cluedo in Europe), Trivia Pursuit (Stiles, Lydia, and Noah rock that one), I actually don’t know Apples to Apples but it looks like fun and definitely something they might play!

During Monopoly, they have the general rule that no-one can flip the board and Allison is the bank. (she’s the fairest and most level headed during Monopoly.) Although that role is passed to Kira when she starts playing.

Noah wanders into the kitchen one morning to find Peter making breakfast and full-on rocking out to Wham’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” in nothing but an ancient BH Sheriff’s Dept t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs.

This is one image where I’m like, yeah, this is going into the story because it is awesome! I need it more than life itself.

Also, I can see the three of them swapping clothes quite often too. Like Chris wears Noah’s BH Sheriff’s dept jacket or cap and Peter’s Stanford Hoodie, Peter wears Noah’s worn BH Sheriff’s dept t-shirt and Chris’s worn Metalica/Green Day sleeping shirts, Noah tends to wear Peter’s leather jackets and Chris’s sunglasses. (Because Chris’s shirts are a little too tight for him and his pants too short. He does occasionally steal those loose sleeping shorts from Chris)

Occasionally he’ll take Chris’s weird pens (from Argent Arms or places like BK that Chris collects) with him on patrol. His favorite Pen to steal is a pink feathery one while on late DUI patrols where he can write tickets with them.

And dude the rickroll at the wedding is brilliant! I should have done that at my friend’s wedding.. damn.

But yeah Jackson would enlist Danny into helping them. Stiles still pitches Derek shirtless to use as leverage against Danny. (Which to me is extra funny because Derek is actually their cousin.) Derek is okay with it because he gets to extract revenge on Uncle Peter for that time where Uncle Peter gave him the talk by just throwing condoms at him.

At some point there’s just a rickroll VS Carameldanssen battle, it needs to happen XD

All of these stories are wonderful, honestly, they really made me smile and if I wasn’t this tired I would’ve shared some from my vet tech days too. Those days were wild man. But I do want you to know, I’ve read all of them and tell Rachel Ray she’s awesome and Julius Squeezer he’s a ball and I love him <3

#ben says stuff #once upon a time comments #submission

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