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magnimoon · 1 year ago

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Chapter 18: The avoidable future - A Cullevelyan fic

You can read it on AO3 as well as the rest of the episodes!

Summary:

This is the mission "In Hushed Whispers". This is the start of the friendship Bryony has with Dorian.

The rest of the episode under the cut

“You know, for someone who traveled into a grim future like this… you seem pretty calm and excited about it.” Said Bryony to Dorian.

Dorian was analyzing the infrastructure of the chamber they fell into. There was a clear spark in his eyes while gazing at the cracks, the red lyrium overflowing from the walls and the pessimistic aura from the place. He immediately deduced that they traveled into the future and not the past. He helped with the formula for the spell, after all. Plus no one has ever mentioned red lyrium on Redcliffe. Not yet. There was a bit of pride in his smirk, amazed by what he and Alexius managed to fulfill.

“And you look at the verge of having a panic attack. Someone has to take us alive from this mess. Alas, the poor Tevinter mage needs to save the day. That is not the typical thing to do for my people, mind you. When do I get to try conquer the world?” Dorian answered to Bryony while inspecting her face.

Bryony was trying so hard to stay calm. But there was a wild shakiness on her hands holding her staff, her back was a bit stiff as well. Dorian has seen her in combat, she is way flexible and confident when doing so. Clearly this event shook her in many ways. Part of the blame goes to the fact that she rarely stepped outside from her Circle in Ostwick. So, suddenly being transported into the ruined and catastrophic Redcliffe, it had such a negative impact on the mage.

“Maybe once this is over, steal the pendant from Alexius and… I don’t know, go to the Golden City or something like that.” Bryony tried to avoid the situation with a bit of humor while exploring and looting as much as they could.

“And have no creativity? If I’m going to conquer the world, it must have some novelty, maybe in a flashier way.” Dorian looked goofily offended, clearly not meaning he was feeling that way.

“Invite me, I want to see how you’ll force your terrible fashion style into others.” Bryony finished looting the last guy, finding successfully a bunch of items she could sell once she returns to the past. If she returns that is.

“Ah, getting sassy. I like that.” Dorian opened the door for her as a nice gesture. He did promise to protect her, not that she needs it.

For a time, the couple of mages were exploring their whereabouts, trying to figure out in which part of the castle they were sent to. While fighting some Venatori, blood mages and demons here and there, Bryony knew she could trust Dorian. Dorian, on the other hand, knew that she was trusting her back to him.

Eventually, they reached a pair of cells filled with people way far gone. Their minds were already consumed by the whispers and songs of the lyrium. Among one of them, was Bryony’s future favorite dwarf, at least not in this timeline.

Following his humming, they found Varric in a tiny cell, surrounded by lyrium and, by the looks of it, covered in lyrium. There was an unpleasant red aura radiating from his body. But even if his eyes were glowing unnaturally, Varric kept his usual charming personality. Maybe lyrium hadn’t affected him yet, at least not his mind.

As distorted his voice was, he filled in some details about what was about to happen. Demon armies, the death of the Empress Celine and invasions caused by this “Elder One”, the usual stuff for Ferelden. Bryony joked about being lucky of missing all of those events, in her mind however, she was now getting an idea of what possibly she will be facing once she returns.

“Hey, don’t get nervous, we’ll figure it out once we are back.” Reassured Dorian after he saw her frowning while heading back to the corridor. He could pat her shoulder, but he was too prideful to do so.

“Well, it sounds like the Inquisition won’t be resting for a while.” Bryony sighed. She felt a bit better thanks to him.

“I know, looks like you guys will get all the fun.” He snorted.

“Feel free to join us, the Inquisition is always looking for crazy guys who know how to fight.”

“I can confirm.” Varric groaned while answering.

If Varric was found in a cell, Bryony thought that maybe the same scenario happened to Cassandra, so she didn’t exit before searching thoroughly. Fortunately, they did find her in another chamber, praying one of the Andrastian chants. Maybe her faith helped keep her mind from the songs of the red poison. But she was destroyed by her guilt, according to her she couldn’t protect Bryony, which caused all this demise and doom.

“While we are here, is there anything else we should know about the future? Anything about our team?” Bryony asked Varric and Cassandra while they were heading towards the throne room, since that’s where Alexius was hiding. She did this to distract the Seeker from her thoughts.

“We know nothing about Solas, he just disappeared. Vivienne returned to her palace to defend herself, but was obliterated in a few days.” Cassandra answered.

“Tiny returned to the qun and Hero succumbed to the lyrium, maybe it had to do with his Warden things. As for Buttercup… she ran out of arrows in middle of the fight.” Varric added, sounding a bit grim. There was more information regarding some of his friends from Kirkwall. But since only he knew them, that information was meant for him alone.

“Shit, well then, let’s make this worth it.” Bryony’s steps became faster and everyone followed.

Dorian knew none of them, but judging by her demeanor, they were close to her enough to care.

Surprisingly, the gang found Fiona in an almost devasted state, one quarter elf, three quarters of red lyrium already. The information given was almost superficial, such as being exactly one year in the future. But from the situation, Bryony only knew one thing: if they don’t help the mages right now, they might end just like Fiona. That is a fate meant for no one.

They also learned that Leliana was incarcerated somewhere in the castle, so their priority headed towards finding her. They needed to return to their present, but getting to know more about the future, plus having someone who might know where the throne room is, could put the odds in their favor.

Once they found her… it was not was they expected. These year has been harsh for everyone, but Leliana really suffered heavy tortures and betrayal. Enough to make her the perfect spymaster who believes in no one, not even the Warden whom she befriended years ago. That Leliana was gone, her face reflected the blight she had been injected or forced to consume, wrinkles of decay filling her once sleek and smooth forehead and cheeks. But the heaviest blow for Bryony was received when hearing upon Leliana’s now hate or at least fear for mages.

Given what has happened with her, with Redcliffe and possibly the rest of Ferelden, or even Thedas, no one can blame Leliana.

Dorian wanted more information about the future, but Leliana didn’t cooperate. Nothing could sway her from revealing more information since it was irrelevant, all that mattered was Alexius. Bryony wanted so badly to ask about Cullen, what could’ve happened to him in this cursed future. But given the situation, it would be pointless to ask. Leliana and she crossed eyes for a moment, and the Spymaster could guess what the Herald was thinking. So, the Spymaster only shook her head, indifferently shoving away any unnecessary curiosity.

After one of their many fights, Dorian approaches the Herald. “Are you alright?” he asks to Bryony since she seemed very tense after getting rid of some shades.

“Those ones were humas, did you hear them?” She answered, flinching at his voice.

The others were making sure there were no more mages on sight, Leliana was lockpicking the next door.

“Yes, I did, what about them?” Dorian got closer to her as if to make sure the others weren’t listening.

“One was called Linnea, we used to live in the same tower. Back in Ostwick.”

“Were you close?” Dorian looked at what was left from their corpses, thinking he was the one who burned them at the end. Kaffas, did I obliterate a dear friend of her?

“Quite the opposite, she always hated me for ‘being better than her’. But she only blamed everyone for her own faults.” She faintly grimed, recovering a bit of her poise.

“Ah. You also got one of those. Welcome, my friend.” He blurted without thinking at the mage. He was smiling in a bitter way. Bryony noticed that.

“What about you? Are you alright?” She asked. Dorian sighed; he was frustrated.

“This is madness.” He looked at the dock of the room they now were, there was a single boat. “Alexius can’t have wanted this.”

Bryony heard the door opening, Leliana was standing up, waiting for the others to rejoin the group.

“There is only one way to know. Come on, the sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll get our answers.” Bryony patted his shoulder as to comfort him. “Oh, I forgot to ask. To the mage that hated you… you also kicked his or her face when they challenged you?” She tried to distract his mind.

“Let’s say I made sure he wouldn’t pester me again.” The Tevinter mage sounded cocky, he remembered getting locked in a tower for his misbehavior afterwards.

“Then, let’s make sure this doesn’t happen once we get back.” Bryony regained a bit of her spirit.

She was going to exit this nightmare, one way or another

........

It feels like Bryony hasn’t breathe fresh and clean air like this for years, yet it was only a few hours the time she spent in that cursed future. For everyone else, it was probably between a second or minute the time she was away. Guess I’m hours older than before. She dryly chuckled while gripping the balustrade’s edge on Redcliffe castle.

She was looking down onto everyone, gazing at the scenery. The soldiers sent by the Inquisition were restraining Alexius and sending him to their headquarters. Probably someone would give him a trial eventually. Per Bryony’s petition, Felix wasn’t captured. She allowed him to return to Tevinter, so that he could spend his last moments in peace before the Blight consumed him. She watched him leave peacefully, free of guilt. Dorian wasn’t with him, guess that both already said their goodbyes. I wonder if those two were together at some point.

There was also Fiona near the main gate, gathering the mages. They would soon depart from Redcliffe towards Haven alongside Bryony. The Herald was supposed to get ready as well, but how could she get ready? She brought nothing and there was nothing to settle. Plus, she could return to the Hinterlands anytime she wanted.

Queen Anora did ask her to leave immediately since she had to bring back Teagan and restore the order disturbed by the mages. Probably for quite some time, the mages would have a terrible reputation in Redcliffe, once more. And it didn’t help that Bryony decided to treat them as allies instead of prisoners, opposing to the popular idea. However, Anora wasn’t a complete devil and gave the troops some rations, water and even some time for Bryony for just… rest. Which is what she is doing. In a few more minutes, she would depart.

“Ah, there you are. We are all ready to leave.” Dorian approached her so casually, he didn’t lean his body against the balustrade, he just stood at her side.

“Hey, Dorian. I’ll be there in a while. I’m just… thinking.” Bryony gazed at him momentarily before reassuming her thoughts.

Dorian knew she wasn’t feeling completely well, as to why it was, he had to ask.

“Do you regret your actions?” He referred to allying with the mages. He was a bit worried it might the case, since he has been fully supportive of them, even if they did wrong.

“What? No, no! I’m happy we could make the mages our allies. Is just… everything that happened beforehand.” Her hands were shaking a bit.

“Ah, the ugly future.” He wanted to say more but he refrained from doing so.

Now he knew she wasn’t referring to the whole trip to messed-up-land. It was heavily implied that her trauma was due to that last hour before returning. Seeing her comrades die couldn’t have been easy, she almost ran towards them when the demons dragged Varric’s corpse into the hall. Dorian doesn’t know how much she knew them, but it was enough to scar her mind.

“But now, we are back. What happened there is not real anymore.” He didn’t know what to say exactly.

“Yeah, thanks. There’s nothing else to do here, for now. I better return to the Inquisition. I can already hear the Commander’s rambling about this.” She sighed while massaging her temples, just like Cullen would do.

As much as she likes him, the Commander can be a pain in the ass with the issue regarding the templars and mages. Why he had to be a templar? Why? This is what I get for finding them attractive. She thought.

“Not very supportive of mages, I assume.” He joked about it.

“More like not letting the templars down, you were there.”

“True.” Dorian laughed now that he remembered the golden hair of the Commander, then he looked at the Herald without her knowing. He had a troublesome smile.

While the couple of mages were exiting the building, Bryony was thinking about Leliana. After all, she was the one killed in front of her eyes. But most important, what she asked before the chaos started was still lingering in her mind.

After Varric and Cassandra left the hall to protect them, Bryony approached the Spymaster. She still had a few seconds before Dorian started the ritual. “Leliana, I know that this future will be avoided and it won’t matter anymore but…” she trembled for a few seconds, “what happened to Cullen?”

Leliana, cold blooded, knowing this will be the last time they would meet, finally comply. She groaned while loading her arrow. “It is better if you don’t know.” She silenced herself for a few seconds before dead looking at Bryony. “But, whatever happens, don’t let the Commander near lyrium, nor a man named Samson.”

At that was the last thing she knew before starting the ritual. Whatever that meant, it kept Bryony worried about the Commander. There is still a long ahead before she could admit to herself what she actually felt for Cullen, but this is a start.

What she didn’t know is that Dorian heard that conversation, while he was preparing the ritual. And now he wonders how close the Herald and the Commander are.

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#cullen rutherford #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor trevelyan #commander cullen #cullen stanton rutherford #cullevelyan

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thisweekingundamwing · 2 years ago

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This Week in Gundam Wing 11-31 December 2022

Here’s the roundup! December 11th - December 31st!

Remember to give your content creators some love! Be sure to join in on the events at the bottom! And remember to send in any new works you see or make next week!

~Mod Hel

PS: So sorry everyone! This is late even for this week, but between being sick and then just busy, and being the forgetful nut that I am... Well, here’s the end of 2022’s round up!

Fanfiction/Ideas/Snippets:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

Christmas Saved (Ch.8-12) https://archiveofourown.org/works/43366266/chapters/109501035

F/M, Heero Yuy/Reader, Mentionings of Duo Maxwell/Relena Peacecraft

Heero Yuy, Reader, Duo Maxwell, Relena Peacecraft, OCs

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Romance, Drama, Angst, Fluff, Christmas, Holidays, Trauma, mentionings of domestic abuse, Violence, Lime, Family

In order to nurse your broken heart, you chose solitude. Your family’s cabin in the mountains, far away from the civilized world, seemed perfect to spend the winter. Why celebrate Christmas when you needed to find yourself again? But when you find a wounded man in a snow storm, you need to reevaluate your choices. He might just be what you need this Christmas…

@miyurinq

Heart (Ch.19) https://archiveofourown.org/works/40914714/chapters/110064336

M/M, Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner

Quatre Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton, Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Post-Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz, Minor Violence, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

All Quatre wants is to help. Even when the war is over, so many people suffer because of the consequences. Helping rebuild is the least he can do. But he seems unlucky, things go wrong all the time and people get hurt.

Trowa hardly recognizes Quatre. He has changed and seems to have problems. He reluctantly tells him about his bad luck, but Trowa doubts that it's just "bad luck" and decides to investigate.

Arts/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@ghost-proof

https://ghost-proof.tumblr.com/post/703679304090976256/gifsets-of-sephiroth-from-crisis-core-final

Duo Maxwell, fanart

@gladyscontrerasart

https://gladyscontrerasart.tumblr.com/post/705025504722419712/an-old-gundamwing-doodle-of-dorothy-being-super

Dorothy Catalonia, fanart

@keiko1183

https://keiko1183.tumblr.com/post/704985537162952704/in-the-mood-for-a-badass-quatre-edit-i-added

Quatre Winner, fanart

@noromax

https://noromax.tumblr.com/post/702101234060001280/%E3%82%AF%E3%83%AA%E3%82%B9%E3%83%9E%E3%82%B9%E3%82%92%E7%A5%9D%E3%81%86%E3%81%AB%E3%81%AF%E3%81%BE%E3%81%A0%E6%97%A9%E3%81%84%E3%81%A8%E6%80%9D%E3%81%84%E3%81%BE%E3%81%99

Heero Yuy, fanart

@nullphysics

https://www.tumblr.com/nullphysics/704183401153986560/another-zine-drawing-no-longer-available-for-a

G-Boys, fanart

https://www.tumblr.com/nullphysics/704123899778039809

Trowa/Heero, fanart

@rxntwo

https://rxntwo.tumblr.com/post/705084563908640768/post-mission-nap-in-some-vague-timeline-where

Heero/Duo, fanart

https://rxntwo.tumblr.com/post/704543900990308352/smooch

Heero/Duo, fanart

@the-reanimated-bhg

https://www.tumblr.com/the-reanimated-bhg/703984263645839360/i-would-gladly-go-into-battle-for-senpai-treize

Treize & Une, photomanipulation

https://www.tumblr.com/the-reanimated-bhg/704034384376889344/if-they-had-a-real-sibling-relationship

Milliardo & Relena, photomanipulation

https://www.tumblr.com/the-reanimated-bhg/703671792964927488

Zechs & Howard, photomanipulation

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@janaverse

https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/704983707038138368/morning-thoughts-always-still-wishing-for-the

Heero Yuy, Sims, screenshot

https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/704275865839845376/a-complete-gathering

G-Boys, Sims, screenshot

https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/703913914022395904/my-what-big-ears-you-have

Trowa & WuFei, Sims, screenshot

https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/703451417079316480/bbq-ribs

Heero Yuy, Sims, screenshot

Fandom Discourse:

@bryony-rebb

https://bryony-rebb.tumblr.com/post/704001721047908352/today-i-am-daydreaming-about-an-au-in-which-the

Today I am daydreaming about an AU in which the fall of Cinq did not happen. I’m finding it very entertaining, although it is not something I can fathom ever writing.

@fallenwingzero

https://fallenwingzero.tumblr.com/post/704216327020298240/do-you-mind-if-i-ask-about-what-happened-after

Ask & Answer over Battlefield of Pacifists

@gamerzylo

https://gamerzylo.tumblr.com/post/703718465298644992

Gundam Wing, Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball Z, poster

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/704924722376392704/howard-i-went-to-l2-recently-and-a-7-year-old

Howard, Sweeper, & Professor G

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/178736562794/wufei-every-talk-i-have-with-you-people-gets-more

WuFei & Duo

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/705015262530977792/heero-dont-do-anything-i-wouldnt-do-trowa-that

Heero & Trowa

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/704834111053971456/sally-you-have-a-way-of-saying-thank-you-that

Sally & WuFei

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/705196538075463680/duo-new-year-same-me-im-perfect

Duo

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/178079511594/wufeichristmas-is-cancelled-duo-you-cant

WuFei & Duo

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/181132848339/trowa-comes-home-and-sees-duo-wrapped-up-in

Trowa & Duo

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/704018703777447936/duo-bitches-b-like-im-baby-but-have-childhood

Duo

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/703837562124615680/duo-you-know-that-voice-in-your-head-that-tells

Duo & Heero

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/703928136029569024/au-duo-on-my-second-date-with-wufei-we-were-in

Duo

Calendar Events:

@gundamzine

Battle Scars and Kitchen Cabinets

Applicatons Open~ https://gundamzine.tumblr.com/post/705258971113619456/applications-are-open-to-apply-fill-in-the

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, January 6th! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/705147307073617920/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-january

In need of prompts!

@thisweekingundamevents

Events Calendar https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/644080386309275648/events-calendar-update

If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!

GW Holiday Gift Exchange 2022

Rules https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/giftexchange

Can’t wait to see everyone’s gifts posted up between January 8th and 14th!

#Gundam Wing #This Week in Gundam Wing #Weekly Roundup #11-31 December 2022

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burritoscully · 3 years ago

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A Creator Year in Review

Thank you @frogsmulder for tagging me!!

Rules: choose 5-10 favourite works you created this year (fics, art edits, meta, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2021. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you can (fanart or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work!

Original Art (that is on Tumblr.)

1. Light: I originally did not like this but now I really like the way the colours blend into one another and I really love the vibe it gives off.

2. Pop Art Pussy: I know who sent me this anon because we joked about it and the result was unexpected but I actually really like it. It was also my first time drawing a cat and it turned out surprisingly well.

Fanart

3. @frogsmulder’s profile pic. In wanting to jump on a challenge, I started to paint a few profile pictures. This one had a colour palette chosen by Bryony themself and there’s something about the vibe that I love

4. Fire: Ironically the entry that the least amount of people liked but it is my all-time favourite entry I did, tied with Squeeze. I had so much fun doing this and although the composition isn’t the best, I love the execution

5. Squeeze: I hated this entry when I first did this, I thought the paint looked fluorescent and I hated it but Squeeze is one of my favourite episodes so I can’t help loving it. I also love the newspapers and I’m low-key disappointed that all my other attempts to include them in other entries have failed

6. The Paintings but I can’t find the links to them. I love doing them so much! They take a lot of time to make but I don’t, know, there’s just something about gifting them to my friends and seeing their reaction that brings me so much joy.

Fic/Meta

7. A Dash of Courage: This fic/character study took a lot to write and it’s been a plan to write it ever since I decided on my headcanon in 2020 but I’m so glad I did and that’s all thanks to my amazing friends here in the fandom

Ok, so here are the people I’m tagging, don’t feel obligated to do this if you don’t want to!

@scullysexual @baronessblixen @agirlcallednarelle @silhouetteofacedar @freckleslikestars

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phanfictioncatalogue · 3 years ago

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Barista!Dan (2) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: September 18th, 2022

part one

awestruck (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Dan might meet his best customer at the end of his worst day, and get a little more

Black Coffee And Black Hair - georgiabread

Summary: soulmate!au where you and your soulmate share the same tattoo.

Florist (ao3) - dnovep

Summary: Phil’s a florist - he hates it.

colors in the gray (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: In a different world living a different life, Dan works at Starbucks and is about to publish his first novel when Phil (literally) steals his way into Dan’s life.

hearts made of coffee - softnerds

Summary: while working in a coffee shop, dan continues to be visited by an interesting stranger who refuses to tell dan his real name, only pseudonyms related to his interests.

If It Tastes This Sweet (ao3) - ellehcorx

Summary: Dan is a lost 25 year-old working as a barista. He has a hopeless crush on a customer who comes into the cafe daily. His co-worker thinks he’s being a good friend by writing down Dan’s name and number on his crush’s coffee cup. Unfortunately, he gives it to the wrong black haired man with blue eyes and glasses.

Just Like Heaven (ao3) - Allthephils

Summary: Dan is a barista and Phil is the best part of his job.

Make Me Espresso Many Feelings (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan doesn’t like being a barista. The pay’s bad, the work’s boring and his co-workers acts like the proverbial devil sometimes. The only good thing about it is the really cute hipster that comes by sometimes.

- “Hey, what can I get for you today?” he says, putting on his patented “hello I am a good employee” smile, but it drops off his face when he realises who’s standing in front of him, his heart sinking. Phil’s wearing a different beanie - red, today - and a sweater and Dan just. He can’t help but stare at Phil, at his slightly flushed cheeks, the way he pushes his glasses up his nose with one fingers, the way he shifts his weight from one foot to another.

“I’d like a cappuccino? The one I had the other day was pretty good,” Phil says, voice soft as he puts the money on the counter. “My name’s Phil, I don’t know if you remember.”

“Oh believe me,” Dan breathes out before he can stop himself. “I remember.”

Promise? (ao3) - gravityplant

Summary: A young man ends up in the hospital and the celebrity Phil is to blame... right?

Sleepless (ao3) - SweetDreamsDarling

Summary: Phil is at an all time low, when a new 24 hour coffee shop opens he's more than happy to stay the night there. While he's there, he meets the new night worker - Daniel. Phil needs a job. The coffee shop is hiring. But what about when unspoken feelings mix with sadness? And will it ever work between them?

The faint whispers of a caged bird (ao3) - gravityplant

Summary: After being offered a room in Phil's house things starts to change. Dan's old life seems to have caught up in his footsteps. Phil acts strange and it seems there's more to him than Dan first thought. Dan seems to have set something in motion, faint whispers which have been buried for so long.

The Starbucks Game (ao3) - aby55al (abyssa1)

Summary: Rich boy Phil puts an inappropriate word for his name at Starbucks and his barista Dan gets embarrassed having to say it. Then they have sex.

The Sweet Tooth and Bitter Disappointments (ao3) - bakingphaninmymind

Summary: Five times that Phil went out for bad Tinder dates and the one time a Tinder date came to him. A.K.A. the story about Phil getting fed up with his loneliness. Our boy starts swiping.

What Friends Are For (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: Dan and Phil work as barista’s at Starbucks. But, after a night out with friends, Dan wakes up with a pounding headache and to make things worse, he realizes that he’s late for work. Luckily, his best friend is there to make the day better for him.

when everything is new (zero o'clock) (ao3) - dayevsphil

Summary: Phil doesn’t understand the K-pop themed café that Bryony keeps raving about, but he does understand that the barista is unbelievably cute.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #au #coffeeshop #barista #barista!dan #barista!dan masterlist #work

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theblogtini · 3 years ago

Note

The differ variations of the “suicide” is extremely disturbing. First it was mention, no help offered... Where were her doctors? And yet to HR? Really? NOW she it was she didn’t want to kill herself because it would hurt him? For all these “tell-all’s” there’s no transparency or clarity. Just a jumble of isolated situations and stories with nothing but holes and disassociation from each other.

I think Meghan was - as she always is - very careful during the Oprah interview. To quote her exactly, she said: I was ashamed to say it at the time and ashamed to have to admit it to Harry, especially because I know how much loss he's suffered. But I knew that if I didn't say it, then I would do it. I just didn't want to be alive anymore. That was clear and real and frightening and constant thought."

She never said she was suicidal. She never said she was having suicidal ideations. She said she "didn't want to be alive anymore" and that "she would do it." And I don't want to speak for everyone in the world, but many, many people in dark moments say "God I just wish I wasn't alive right now" or have a fleeting thought of "maybe this would be easier for everyone else if i I wasn't here." Now, Meghan says that it was a "constant" thought that she says.

She implied she was suicidal on international television but she never explicitly said it. She knew people would interpret that as what she meant - there's only so many ways you possibly could. She knew that telling her husband she didn't want to be alive would be interpreted as being suicidal. But at this point - and I feel disgusting for saying this - but at this point I genuinely wonder if she was truly depressed and suicidal or if she was just feeling overwhelmed and stressed and like she needed a TEMPORARY way out.......

Listen - to be 100% transparent after my first son was born it was REALLY ROUGH for me. I was diagnosed with PTSD due to the traumatic circumstances of his birth and I had very bad anxiety and OCD (diagnosed, which I have been seeing a therapist and psychiatrist for since 2012). I used to sit in my closet on the floor crying so that my husband couldn't hear me and think of what I would do to just be done with it all. (This went on until he was about 12 weeks old.) I had a little plan in my head. But I NEVER EVER WOULD HAVE ACTUALLY EVER KILLED MYSELF. And I would never describe myself - in that moment or now - as suicidal. Some days were so hard and so difficult that I would just sit there and think "I need a way out of this." That it would just be better for everyone else if I was just out of the way so they could carry on being normal humans without worrying about the idiot crying in her closet because she couldn't handle taking care of a 6lb baby that slept most of the time. I used to feel awful because my husband - who had never even been around kids - was trying to figure out how to be a dad AND how to take care of me and just making it work every day while all I did was make it harder for him. But I never ACTUALLY wanted to kill myself. I just wanted - in those moments - to not have to deal with the shit in my head and in my world.

And I kind of wonder if that's where Meghan was. She was stressed and tired and hormonal and she just wanted to be DONE with it all. And she told Harry that... and nearly 2 years later they decided to run with it in an internationally televised interview.

Because again - Meghan and Harry said they went to *human resources* for help. Then they called a journalist (Bryony Gordon) to do an interview about it. They never... called her doctor? I was in my psychiatrists office 3 days after coming home from the hospital b/c I told my husband I was losing it and he was like "Well, let's go get you help." We left my EIGHT DAY OLD BABY home with my mother so that I could go get help - and my psychiatrist diagnosed me with PTSD, said my anxiety and OCD were getting the best of me, upped my prescriptions of things, and then sent me to the hospital for some testing (b/c of the pregnancy complications I was actually sick in addition to feeling like I was losing my mind).

Things my husband did NOT do in that moment: tell me that he had somewhere else to be or tell me that I had to get over it and get dressed. HE TOOK ME TO A FUCKING DOCTOR. We didn't have an appointment - mind you. He picked up my cell phone and found my doctors number and called her and was like "I need you to see her immediately. She is not okay." And my doctor - being A GOOD DOCTOR - did.

So - I don't know. Nothing they say EVER makes sense and - IMO - that's because nothing they say happened actually happened... or happed in the way they want us to believe it did. They aren't taking notes on the lies and embellishments they're telling. They keep contradicting themselves and each other.

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emptying-my-head-and-my-heart · 3 years ago

Text

The Last Race Day

It started like any other summer Saturday morning at our house in Virginia. The temperature gauge already read 93 degrees and it was just barely 8:00 AM. However, the heavy stench of sweat and humidity in the air meant it was definitely much warmer than that. All around the house, the buzz of cicadas and mosquitos singing their own version of “Summer Lovin” drifts through on the sunrise air. Today was race day. As my sisters and I prepared for our last summer swim meet of the season, I was filled with many mixed emotions. At 16, this was going to be my last swim as a member of the Bradley Farm Waves. This was going to be my last swim before my life was going to change forever. With a quick glance at the clock, I knew that in exactly 49 hours 37 minutes, moving trucks would arrive and begin to pack up everything in my life into little, tiny boxes, load them onto a ginormous shipping container and ship my entire life half a planet away, to a new foreign country for the 3rd time in my short life.

“Emily! Let’s GO! The national anthem isn’t going to play itself!”

Bethany has always been strong headed and a little insufferable at times. She is a perfectionist on race day. Every minute of the entire day planned out to a tea. She could make a German train engineer blush with her meticulous preparation. She is the best 11-12 butterfly swimmer our team has ever seen. She is built for it. Strong legs like a dolphin tale to propel her through the water. Wide shoulders that looked like they could carry the world if she needed to. The combination of these three things makes her unstoppable. I think she could be an Olympian if she had the discipline. My daddy likes to call her “pure God given talent with no passion.” She hates swim season. Yes, she is an amazing swimmer, but her heart is not in it. Bethany is a people person. She loves being around people. Girls, boys, adults, babies. Bethany loves people and people love her and competing makes her uncomfortable, actually, I think it is the winning that does.

I need to get downstairs before she flips out. She may be my little sister, but what they say about the middle child is 100% true. As I open my bedroom door, the long hallway to the stairs seems further than normal. Like in horror movies where the hallway stretches away from you. I’m not ready. Physically? Of course, I am. I have trained and practiced and perfected my craft all summer, and every summer for as long as I can remember. Emotionally? I am terrified. Australia generates the greatest swimmers in the world. Here in small town Virginia, I am a big fish in a little pond, but over there I am the krill that whale eats up without thinking about it. I am nothing but another swimmer with a dream of being something bigger than myself. Is it wrong that I want to hold onto my success here a little while longer? I want to hold onto the picturesque all-American high school romance movie idea that I have built for myself just a few minutes longer. As soon as I walk downstairs to the car, the finale of this season of my life is about to begin.

“Emmy? Can you help me find my goggles? I can’t find my pink goggles. They’re my lucky goggles. I can’t swim without my lucky goggles!”

“Don’t worry Bry! I’m coming…”

Oh Bryony. The family’s baby. Nothing phases Bryony and I wish I were more like her. I miss being young like her with no cares, no worries, just pure childhood joy. To her, swimming was just something fun she gets to do between playing Barbies or running through the sprinklers. She is good too. Not Bethany great, but there was definitely natural talent hidden inside her that maybe one day she would tap into. But for now, swimming was fun. I remember when swimming was just fun for me too. There is a wistfulness about her carefree attitude that I envy. But she is my baby sister, and she looks up to me. She tells me almost every day, ‘I can’t wait to be just like you one day Emmy.’ I know she means it. I want to be a good example for my sisters so I can’t fall apart. I can’t fall apart today. Not yet and certainly not here laying on the floor looking under her bed for my hand-me-down goggles.

“Found them!”

“Girls! Time to get in the car! Crocker Wagon rolls out in t-minus 2 minutes!”

“Coming!”

The familiar all girl trio chorus floats down the stairs through the hot sticky summer air. I’m going to miss that most. The house may be big like every northern Virginia colonial house, but it’s my home. It’s where I snuck out for the first time to kiss boy. It’s where I cried on the couch in my mom’s arms a week later after that same boy broke my heart. It’s where I grew up and it’s the place I wanted to continue to grow up. It was supposed to be the place that my future husband would ask my parents for permission to marry me. The staircase that I walk down every day was supposed to be the place we would all pose for pictures for high school dances, and holidays and graduations. This is my home and I’m not ready to leave yet. This is the last race day for the Crocker girls. This is the last time I will play the national anthem on my flute for my team. This is the last time I will swim in the blue and black suit that makes me feel like a penguin, sleek and soft.

At the bottom of the stairs, all the swim bags are packed. A blue towel for me, green for Bethany and pink for Bryony. We are the Powerpuff Girls of the swimming pool. Each of us is responsible for our own gear on race day. Mom and Dad have too much on their plates so it’s our job to make sure we have everything we need because once we leave, we can’t run home because something was forgotten. Mom is head timer and Dad is the head official. They are all business today so there is no time for emotions. No time for my emotions. I don’t want to go out that door. The pool is my safe place and today I am running from it. Avoiding it like the plague because today is the last race day. The pool is where I go to work out my emotions, to think in the silence in the underwater abyss. I can hear my sisters hurdling down the stairs behind me towards the car. I grab my bag and follow them outside to the front steps and I try to take it all in. Bethany with her headphones in, shutting out the world getting into the zone like the serious athlete she is. Bryony running around using her swim bag as a cape like a little superhero, laughing as Dad tries to wrangle her into the car. It smells like summer and chlorinated swim meets and my childhood.

The car starts up with the familiar purr of its old Ford engine. “Emily! Get in the car! We’re going to miss warmups!” Ugh, Bethany and her German-esque punctuality.

“I’m coming!”

I don’t want to get in the car. I’m not ready for it to be over. I’m not ready to move away. No chance to turn away now. My bag is packed, my towel is folded, and my goggles are clean. Do I have my swim cap? Check, it’s here. Do I have my sheet music? Yup, it’s in my flute case. The reasons to stay are running out. What if I fake sick? No, then I’m going to miss everything. A gust of wind blows past my face, rustling my hair over my shoulders. Oh no! A hair elastic? Oh, it’s on my wrist, of course it is, that’s where it always is. The honk of the car horn makes me jump.

“Emily, hun? Are you ok? You’re really lagging today.”

“I’m fine Mom! Still trying to wake up. It is 8:15 in the morning on a Saturday you know? Teenagers like me are supposed to be asleep right now.” I can’t help but chuckle at my thought of being asleep right now. As I load by stuff into the back of the car I take a mental picture of my family, all loaded up and ready to go. Bethany, ignoring everything going on around her. Bryony watching the wind play with the leaves on the tree in the front yard. My dad in the driver’s seat, checking his Blackberry, probably making sure his soccer team is doing well. My mom, riding shotgun, digging through her purse for something, most likely her sunglasses, she always loses her sunglasses in that huge black hole of a “mom-bag”. I climb into the back seat beside Beth, and she shifts over to make sure I have room to buckle up. With the sound of the door closing, my dad puts his Blackberry in the cup holder and turns to the three of us.

“Ready?” he says to me.

“Yeah, let’s go.” There’s no turning back now. It’s time to go. It’s time to swim.

#memoir #the last day #swimming #family

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harryandmeghansussex · 5 years ago

Text

When Bryony met Meghan..

In a small, sparse room at the back of a bakery on the urban streets of Camden, north London, the Duchess of Sussex is comforting a crying woman.

Tanya’s tears fall over the scars that will remain on her cheeks for the rest of her life; stark reminders of the violent ex partner who is now serving a lengthy prison sentence after he stabbed her repeatedly.

Tanya is explaining what this, the bakery that doubles as a social enterprise, has done for her since that terrible day back in 2016. By a cruel twist of fate it was International Women’s Day when her attacker lay in wait for her outside the doors of the London university she was studying at.

Tanya had been a victim of domestic violence for a decade. “Society judges women for staying in abusive relationships,” she says to me and the Duchess. “But I don’t ever feel judged here. I feel I can be free. I feel I can be myself.”

Here is the Luminary Bakery, a small, grass roots organisation that helps to empower disadvantaged women through training and employment opportunities.The Duchess has been a supporter of the enterprise for some time; featuring them in the issue of Vogue that she guest-edited, and today she has invited me to join her on a private visit to the bakery’s newly-opened second branch, to meet some of the inspirational women that Luminary supports.

In this small room, I watch as the Duchess puts Tanya and her friend Giselle at ease.

“One of the things I have realised since being here [in the UK],” begins Meghan, “is that people have an expectation when I’m coming somewhere, so I’m like, let’s just be really relaxed, keep everyone nice and chilled, because at the end of the day we’re all just women. We all have a story to tell, and I feel honoured that I am getting to hear yours.”

The effect on Giselle and Tania is immediate. Giselle tells us about her history of drug abuse and homelessness, about ending up in prison, and about how coming here to train gave her a much needed opportunity to turn things around. The duchess, or Meghan as she prefers to be called, listens intently.

When was the first moment you thought ‘this is going to change me, on the inside ?” She asks Giselle. “When you realised that this was not just about learning to bake, that there was another element to it?”

It was the moment when the girls around me told me that it was OK for me to be hurt,” says Giselle. “That it was ok for me to show them that I was hurt, and that I was struggling.”

“They gave you permission, right?” Asks Meghan. Giselle nods her head vigorously, smiling.

I first met Meghan Markle eighteen months ago, shortly before she married Prince Harry. We went for lunch at a restaurant in London, sitting in a corner where she went unnoticed and undisturbed. She ate monkfish, offering me some when I expressed my food envy, and we discussed some of our shared passions: mental health, running, yoga.

It was, bar the odd talk of the impending royal wedding, no different to many of the lunches I have with girlfriends, and when people asked me afterwards what she was like, I felt a little disappointed to have to answer honestly that she was really not that much different from the rest of us.

We kept in touch. It was Meghan who had encouraged her then boyfriend to do the podcast about his mental health with me, and I felt we were on the same wave-length.

I saw her a couple of weeks before the Tom Bradby interview came out, just after they had got back from their tour of Africa.

Then, as in the interview, her eyes glistened when I asked her how she was. But if I have learnt anything about Meghan in the time I have known her, it is that she is a doer, not a wallflower. She lives in the solution, not the problem. She told me that she didn’t want people to love her - she just wanted them to be able to hear her. I have found that this is what the Duchess of Sussex stands for: using her voice to help give one to people less privileged than her.

So that is what we set out to do.

Certain sections of our still buttoned-up society may not like it, but the Duchess of Sussex is, by giving the kind of open interview she did to Bradby, also giving the women she is meeting today permission to be open.

There is a point where Tanya apologises for her tears. Meghan reaches for a box of tissues and hands them to her. In this room, these apologies are not necessary. For the Duchess of Sussex, showing vulnerability is not a weakness. On the contrary - it is one of humanity’s greatest strengths.

“I was talking about this with someone the other day,” continues Meghan. “We get into this habit of wanting things done immediately nowadays. There’s a culture of instant gratification, of the instant fix. But we aren’t mechanical objects that need to be fixed. You’re a wounded creature that needs to be healed, and that takes time. And that’s what I love about this place. It gives you the support to heal.”

The Duchess’s critics will no doubt turn their noses up at this language of healing. But the Duchess is not doing this for them. She is doing this for women like Tanya and Giselle.

Women like Monica, who came to Luminary after being trafficked and beaten to within an inch of her life, and who now shares her apron with the Duchess so that she can join her while baking. Women like Halimot, a victim of child exploitation who, thanks to Luminary, can proudly show Meghan the business cards she has just had printed out bearing the name of her new catering company.

These are the people who matter to Meghan Markle.

In the days since the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s interview with Tom Bradby, there has been much speculation about the couple. They are in torment. They are at breaking point. They are planning to flee the country and move to America.

In reality, though, the situation is not quite so attention grabbing. For one, there is the not so small matter of a six month old baby to deal with, and all that this entails (weaning, feeding, an almost permanent state of exhaustion - Meghan tells me that while her husband has flown to Japan in his role as a patron for the RFU, she and Archie will be watching the final tomorrow morning, Archie in an England babygro. “Go England!” she beams).

But secondly, I get the distinct impression that Meghan has accepted the strange situation in which she finds herself: she is damned if she does, and she is damned is she doesn’t, and being the kind of person she is, she’s going to carry on doing, thank you very much.

Back in the Luminary Bakery, Giselle is telling us how seen she felt when she first came here. “Joining the Luminary project changed my life,” she says.

“I had spent so long feeling alone in a crowded room, but for the first time I truly felt that I was being heard. For the first time I felt no judgement for my past decisions or my mental condition and most importantly of all, through Luminary, I found a way to accept my own condition and past choices. It was hugely empowering, to be accepted, because sometimes it feels like we live in a world where nobody wants to accept anybody.”

It is true that we seem to have taken several steps back when it comes to striking for a culture of acceptance and tolerance.

It is hard to believe, in the current climate, that just two and a bit years ago, when I did my podcast with Prince Harry, he was lauded for speaking openly and honestly about his feelings, and how close he came to a breakdown. Now that same openness he was once praised for is - in some quarters at least - being used against him.

Whereas in 2017 he was a huge force for good, helping men in particular to realise that mental health issues can happen to anyone (suicide is still the biggest killer of young males in this country), now he stands accused of being too privileged to be allowed to express anything other than endless gratitude.

But there is no doubting that this openness and honesty helps the couple to connect with people on a level that other royals might struggle to reach.

Meghan, in jeans, Adidas trainers and a shirt today, is pretty quickly absorbed into the task in hand, rolling up sleeves, decorating cakes, and taking time with each woman to hear their story.

“I find that when you strip all the layers away, as people, and especially as women, we can find deep connection with each other, and a shared understanding,” she says.

Our lives may be different, our backgrounds, our experiences, all varied, but I find that in these moments of connection it becomes abundantly clear that our hopes, our fears, our insecurities, the things that make us tick…. well, those are very much the same. And there’s comfort in that.”

Later, as I make my way home from the bakery, I think about her ability to transcend pomp and circumstance. Some accuse of her of being too Hollywood about her royal duties, but I don’t think that really nails it. I think she is probably just a bit too human about them.

“I’m a child of nobody,” says Halimot. “And you are a somebody. It means so much that I can meet you.”

Meghan smiles at the woman. “Oh no,” she says beaming widely, and taking the woman in her arms. “It means so much that I can meet you.”

It is a small gesture, but a genuine one. And for the women of the Luminary Bakery who came here today, it will not be forgotten.

#meghan markle #duchess of sussex #bryony gordon #meg x bry

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panharmonium · 5 years ago

Text

For Want of a Woodwright (Parts 1-3)

[I DON’T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED; DON’T ASK ME; JUST ROLL WITH IT]

i come bearing gifts - here are some snippets inspired by the web of “will comes to camelot” AU ideas spawned by this lovely anon ask, which i cannot appreciate enough :) thank you very much to the anon who sent those messages, and to everybody else who jumped in the sandbox - i had fun with this, and i hope you do too!

(also, anon - if this is an idea you are ever planning on writing yourself, the title is all yours. feel free to take it back anytime! i am using it here just to pay tribute to your idea and to the original title you sent me, but it belongs to you for life, and i will change this post header in a heartbeat if you need it for your own purposes! :D )

author’s note: these are VERY rough, not meticulously edited, and not even remotely close to final drafts. they are hardly even first drafts, in fact. they are not necessarily connected to each other, or in order, or part of any actual coherent plot, and they do not directly adhere to the plan laid out in the original post, either; they are just snapshots of fragmentary scenes that popped out of me yesterday when i wasn’t paying attention. ¯\_(��)_/¯

and now, everybody can have a little AU, as a treat!

1. divine providence

“I can’t see anything wrong with him, Merlin.”

Gaius rinsed his hands in a basin of water, his wide sleeves pushed back to the elbows. Will, perched on a stool, pulled his shirt back over his head, looking starkly out of place in the center of Gaius’s spacious circular chambers.

“It looks to be healing quite well,” Gaius continued. “I don’t see anything to worry about.”

“But on the inside, though,” Merlin said, attempting to drag Will’s tunic up again. “What if - there could be something wrong underneath, couldn’t there?”

“The man can’t look at my insides, Merlin,” hissed Will, wresting his shirt out of Merlin’s grip. “Get out of it.”

“I’m only saying - ”

Gaius interrupted Merlin’s nervous rant with a precisely-cocked eyebrow. “Merlin, if you do not trust my medical opinion, then I am afraid I am going to have to refer you out, though I think you may have a difficult time explaining the facts of this case to Ephram or Hildegard, considering the circumstances.” He looked at Will. “Would you like someone else to examine you, young man?”

“No, sir,” Will said, with a pointed look at Merlin. “I’ve done without physicians my entire life. I think I’ll manage.”

“I only mean - ” Merlin was vibrating in place, a bundle of frustrated energy; he looked like his fingers itched to make another grab for Will’s shirt. “I’m not sure what I did. It might not have mended properly, Gaius. What if I did something wrong?”

Gaius replaced the cover to his medicine bag. “I’m not entirely sure you did anything at all, Merlin.”

Merlin exchanged a glance with Will, then looked uncomprehendingly back to Gaius. “But I must have done. He - well, he - ” Merlin fumbled over this deceptively simple explanation as if attempting to climb an extremely slippery slope whose peak he did not want to reach in the first place. “He was - well. You know.”

“I was dying,” Will said, ignoring the way this made Merlin look like he was going to be sick all over the floor. “Definitely. I mean, I could tell.”

“I believe you,” Gaius agreed, frowning at Will’s chest. “That’s not a very good spot for a penetrating wound, young man.”

Will turned a little bit red. “Yeah, well,” he muttered. “It’s not as if I planned it that way or anything.”

“Gaius,” Merlin interrupted, as if he were clinging to the very last thread of his patience. “What did you mean, I didn’t do anything?”

Gaius just shook his head and dried his hands on a clean piece of cloth. “A mortal wound could not have been healed by magic or conventional means, Merlin. And it certainly could not have been healed by you.”

This appeared to jar Merlin out of his jittery state, as his mouth popped open in an offended ‘o.’ “Why not by me?”

Gaius sighed. “Merlin, the healing arts are not simply a matter of willing a patient well again. If you took any interest in my work at all, you would know - ”

“I am interested in your work. I’m just - ” Merlin gestured helplessly with his hands. “You know. Busy.”

“With what?” Will scoffed. “His Majesty’s royal washing?”

Merlin turned a ferocious glare on Will, but Gaius interceded before the two of them could start bickering. “Busy you may be, Merlin, but even someone as busy as you ought to know by now that any attempt at magical healing requires an exact understanding of anatomy and physiology. How can you possibly expect to mend something when you don’t know what it is supposed to look like, or how it is supposed to work?”

Will gave Merlin a sage look and nodded like this was the most sensible thing in the world. Merlin wanted to thump him over the head.

“I don’t see why I couldn’t have helped,” Merlin said stubbornly. “I felt something.”

“Oh, did you, now?” Gaius gestured at Merlin’s own chest. “Very well, then, Merlin. What can you tell us about the heart?”

“It’s - ” Merlin cast a glance around the room, as if hoping to see a helpful diagram pasted up on the walls somewhere. “It circulates the blood.”

“And how exactly does it accomplish this vital function?”

“It - well, it sort of...squeezes, like.”

“Would you care to elaborate on that?”

“Erm. No. I don’t think so.”

Gaius did not look impressed. “And can you perhaps tell us what the healthy human heart is meant to look like?”

“It’s - you know. It’s got sort of...different bits to it.”

Gaius raised his eyebrows.

Will rubbed at his chest, frowning. “Maybe I ought to have some other bloke look me over after all.”

Merlin did thump him that time, a single solid smack across the back of the head.

Gaius folded his arms, the picture of long-suffering exasperation. “I am simply saying, Merlin, that you do not possess the requisite knowledge to mend anyone in any such way that would result in the living, breathing human being seated here before me.”

“Cheers,” Will said.

Merlin looked vaguely ill. He watched Will out the corner of his eye as if expecting him to drop dead at any moment.

“Then what?” Merlin asked. “I did something, Gaius. I felt it.”

“Perhaps,” Gaius conceded. “But certain death cannot be averted by any magic known to men. Only through the intercession of powerful, external forces are such things accomplished.”

That got Merlin and Will’s attentions. “Come again?” Will said dubiously.

Gaius put a thoughtful hand to his chin, considering the perfectly healthy human being sitting on his stool. “Does it pain you at all?”

“No.”

“He’s lying,” Merlin said immediately. “He’s always grimacing when he uses that arm - ”

“I’m always grimacing when I use any of my arms, because you’re always talking rubbish at me while I’m trying to work - ”

Gaius crossed between the two of them, cutting off another potential argument. “I’ll compound something for the inflammation. I expect any lingering soreness will pass, in time.” He opened the various cupboards on the other side of the room and began rooting through them. “Perhaps you two might like to take a walk,” he suggested, pulling out a vial to inspect its yellowing label, “unless, of course, you’d like to stay and help me, which I can’t imagine would be the case - Merlin, you can take an herb sack, I’ll be low on arnica once I’ve finished with this - ”

“Gaius - ”

“And if you’re going down through the market, you can stop by Benegar and Beata’s. I’ve ordered an ounce of black bryony through them twice now, and not heard a blessed thing about whether it’s arrived or not - ”

“Gaius,” Merlin repeated. “I don’t understand. What did I do?”

Gaius finally turned to look at him, a clear vial clasped in one hand and a bundle of dried leaves in the other. “I’ve no idea, Merlin,” he said frankly. “But whatever it was, I am certain you did not do it on your own.” He eyed Will, a curious look on his face. “Perhaps you simply asked for the right favor at the right time.”

Gaius hung there for another moment, considering, then laid his ingredients down on the table and crossed to the supply closet, opening the door and stepping inside. Will and Merlin, unable to think of anything else to ask him, watched Gaius’s back as he rummaged, Will with a deeply skeptical look on his face, and Merlin looking pale.

“Will you get a grip?” Will muttered out the corner of his mouth. “You look like you’re the one he ought to be examining.”

Merlin said nothing, but lifted his fingers and brushed them against the place he had made Gaius check too many times, the place Gaius had said was so bad for penetrating wounds, the place where Will hated being poked and prodded. There was a heart under there, one that circulated blood, one that had different bits to it, one that squeezed. Merlin could not have sketched its anatomy, or described its functionality, but he knew exactly what it was supposed to feel like under his fingers.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Merlin murmured, feeling for the steady beat, beat, beat.

2. blackmail

“I ought to have the man hanged!”

Arthur’s padded aketon went flying across the room, snagging on a weapons rack beside the fireplace and rattling the upright row of spears. Merlin ignored the mess-in-the-making, instead continuing to do up Arthur’s bed. If the item of clothing hadn’t come flying at his head, it wasn’t his problem.

“You could have him hanged,” Merlin said mildly, tugging a new sheet into place. “If that’s what you really want.”

Arthur rounded on him, stabbing at Merlin with one pointed finger. “What on earth would you bring him here for? What possessed you?”

“I didn’t bring him anywhere. He came on his own.”

“To Camelot?” Arthur’s eyes were wild with disbelief. “A sorcerer? For what purpose?

Merlin fought down a prickly wave of irritation. “For me.”

Arthur looked Merlin up and down in a faintly skeptical way. Merlin bit his tongue to avoid saying something that would land him or Will in deeper trouble. “Are you going to report him to your father?” he asked instead.

“I ought to,” Arthur growled, his face thunderously shadowed.

Merlin picked up one of Arthur’s pillows from the bed and removed its dirty casing with a flick of his wrist. “You can, if you like.” There was a pause as Merlin denuded each of the pillows in turn. Then he added, “Course, then you’d also have to explain what you were reporting him for. And then you’d have to explain to your father that you did cross the border into Cenred’s kingdom, after he explicitly told you not to.”

Arthur shot Merlin a poisonous glare.

“You could have started a war, you know,” Merlin remarked, tossing dirty pillowcases over his shoulder and retrieving a set of clean cases from a nearby basket. “Can’t imagine your father would have been too pleased to have his precious treaty annulled by your hand. And then you went and dragged Morgana into it as well - ”

“You appear to be misremembering, Merlin,” Arthur said thinly. “As I recall, Morgana left for Ealdor before I did.”

Merlin pasted a puzzled look onto his face. “Did she?”

Arthur’s eyebrows climbed up to his hairline. “Are you braindead? She left with you!”

Merlin shrugged vaguely. “I’m not sure I remember it that way. That’s not how she’s telling it, anyhow.”

Arthur ground his teeth together. “And how, exactly, is she telling it?”

“I’m not sure,” Merlin mused, tossing the re-cased cushions back onto the bed in an unappealing jumble. “Something about you preying on her compassionate and kind nature to goad her into aiding an enemy village over the king’s objections.”

Arthur stared out the window. He appeared to be measuring the distance from his own chambers to Morgana’s, gauging whether a crossbow fired from this distance would be accurate enough to find its mark, or powerful enough to do the kind of damage he was hoping for.

“Of course,” Merlin continued, “I suppose you could just go ahead and give Uther your version. It’s not as if he’s more likely to believe Morgana than you, yeah?” Merlin shuffled Arthur’s dirty pillowcases across the floor with his feet, kicking them under the chest next to the door. Then he laughed. “I mean to say - he’s besotted with her, obviously - ”

“Merlin.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Shut up.”

Merlin closed his mouth, and waited.

Arthur continued to stare out the window. He appeared intensely focused on the row of stained glass portals lining the great hall on the opposite side of the palace. Down below, Merlin could hear an argument escalating between the pantler and one of the castle’s suppliers, who was unloading wagons through the postern gate of the minor courtyard.

“I don’t want to see him within the walls of this citadel,” Arthur said finally. “He is not to wander this place outside your line of sight, and he is not to engage in any sort of...any unnatural activity, under any circumstances, at any time. And by no means is he to come anywhere near my father, is that understood?

“I can’t imagine William has any interest in meeting your father, sire.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin linked his hands together behind his back. “I understand, sire.”

Arthur nodded infinitesimally. He was still completely fixated on the pantler’s progressively wilder gesticulations, though Merlin couldn’t understand why. It was the same show every week.

“Will that be all, sire?” Merlin asked.

“Yes,” Arthur said.

Merlin bowed and turned to go. Then Arthur spoke once again, arresting Merlin’s exit. “Find him something useful to do,” he said, still gazing out the window.

Merlin hesitated with a hand on the door. “More useful than saving your life, my lord?”

“Get out, Merlin.”

“Yes, my lord.”

3. where you lead

“How long are you going to stay?”

Will picked at the grain of the table. “Sick of me already?”

Merlin shook his head, feeling the suffocatingly pressing need for an extra second to formulate his response.

Gaius had gone out to do his evening rounds, and for once he had not insisted that Merlin accompany him, which meant that Merlin had made supper for himself and Will, and the two of them had eaten together, but it had not been like a typical evening back home. Will had seemed to have very little to say, and Merlin had not been able to come up with a successful way to coax him into conversation, and they had passed an uncomfortably stilted evening, with Will spending most of the meal gazing at cluttered instruments on Gaius’s workbench, scientific diagrams plastered to the walls, tattered books stacked in every corner - anywhere but Merlin’s face.

Now Merlin swallowed the last of his dinner and set down his spoon, pushing the bowl aside. “I never said that,” he said uncertainly. “Why would you think that?”

Will continued his inspection of the surface of the table. After a moment, he replied, “You came here alone.”

Merlin’s supper wriggled in his stomach. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

Will traced the outline of a knot in the wood with one of his fingers. Merlin tried to think of something to say in response, but he had no excuses to make for himself. It was too complicated.

“It’s fine, Merlin,” Will said, before Merlin could open his mouth and attempt a weak explanation.

Merlin did not think so. But he could not figure out how to say what he needed to say about it just now, so he latched onto something he was sure of. “This is dangerous for you.”

“It’s dangerous for you,” Will countered. “I’m only pretending; it’s no skin off my back if someone thinks I have magic.”

“Pretend sorcerers can still end up on the block, Will.”

“And actual sorcerers?” Will said. “What happens to them, Merlin?”

Merlin turned his spoon over and over on the table, watching Will from the corner of his eye. The light from the wall sconces bent through clusters of glass vials and lit Will’s face in an interesting way, a pattern Merlin had never seen before. There had never been any glass in Ealdor.

“Nothing happens to them,” Merlin replied. “Not when they’re hiding behind their friends.”

Will looked away. The watery glass-glow painting his face made it difficult to pick out his flush, but Merlin knew Will well enough to make his own assumptions.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Merlin said, his voice suddenly very untrustworthy, and he shut his mouth before he could stumble into something soft and wobbly and very un-put-together.

Will shook his head, gazing fixedly at a collection of animal skulls lining one side of Gaius’s bookcase. “It’s done, Merlin.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you. But here you are, and here I am, and maybe we ought to just let it lie, yeah? I know you think I’m happy to lock horns with anyone who cares to try me, but this has been a godsawful, stupid shambles of a summer, and believe it or not, I’m tired of rowing with you.”

Merlin was quiet for a long moment. “I wasn’t trying to make you upset,” he said finally.

“I’m not upset,” Will said. He was having a staring contest with the eyeless, empty skull of some ruminant or another. “I’m just saying.”

The fire crackled alongside them, no doubt gluing the remnants of their supper to the inside of the kettle. Merlin glanced out the window at the rising moon. Gaius would be coming home soon.

“How long are you staying?” Merlin asked Will again. Before Will could bristle a second time, Merlin added, “I’m not saying that to get rid of you. I’m asking because it’s - complicated, here, with your - with the situation. And I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

Will gazed into the shadowy eye sockets of the skull on the shelf, much as if he had not heard Merlin’s question.

“Will?” Merlin prodded.

Will looked away from the hollow hunk of bone. “What?”

“Did you hear me?”

Will did not reply. He pulled Merlin’s empty bowl toward himself and pushed himself back from the table, then, dishes in hand, rose from his seat, but he suddenly appeared to realize that he did not even know where to go to do the washing-up in this place. He clapped the bowls down onto the table again with an under-his-breath oath and plopped back down on the bench. “Hear what?”

“When are you leaving?”

Will sighed heavily, his eyes permanently fixed somewhere off to one side. "When do you want me to go, Merlin?”

The answer popped out of Merlin before he could stop himself. “I don’t. I don’t want you to.”

Will stopped rubbing unconsciously at the left side of his chest. He stopped everything, in fact. He was abruptly frozen, like the kind of animal that one of the little skulls on the top shelf had once been - spooked into stillness. “Come again?” he said.

Merlin took a deep breath. “Stay.”

“You want me to stay here?”

“Yes.”

“In Camelot.”

“Yes.”

“Where the only people I’ve ever met think I’m a sorcerer.”

“Yes.”

“Where I haven’t got any money.”

“Yes.”

“Where I haven’t got any land or livestock or anything.”

Merlin hesitated. He had no right to ask for this. But he couldn’t lie, either, however selfish and insensitive it made him seem. Lying to Will was not something he remembered how to do. “Yes.”

A long silence stretched between them. Outside, the royal hunting hounds yapped for their suppers.

“I’m not asking you to do it,” Merlin said quietly. He had never been nervous around Will before, but lately that seemed to be the only thing their relationship could manage - unsettled stomachs and treacherous footing, pitfall traps marring what had once had been a solid plain of understanding. “I’m just answering your question.”

Will did not say anything in response. Merlin resisted the urge to wipe sweaty palms on his trousers and continued. “I haven’t got any right to ask that of you. I know I haven’t. It’s my fault we’re in this mess to begin with.”

Merlin did not clarify, exactly, what ‘mess’ he was referring to; he hoped Will would understand that he meant more than their current case of mistaken magical identities. “You don’t owe me anything,” he added.

Will shook his head at that. “I owe you my life.”

“No,” Merlin corrected. “I owe you mine.”

“Oi,” Will said tiredly. “Haven’t I just told you I’m sick of rowing with you?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied, surrendering to a small smile. “But you’re so easy.”

Will scowled at him.

It was a nice look. A normal look.

Before Merlin could say anything else, the door to the hallway banged open.

“Ah,” Gaius said. “Gentlemen. Good evening.” He swung the door closed behind him, laying his medicine bag on the workbench and divesting himself of his cloak. “Arthur is looking for you, Merlin. You’d better go and see what he wants.” He ambled past the kettle, leaning over it to have a sniff on his way by. “I see you’ve made supper - I assume it’s too much to hope that you’ve left something in that pot for me.”

Merlin hurriedly got up and scraped together a third plate, then gathered the remaining dirty bowls in his hands and hovered by the edge of the table. “Erm - listen - ” he said to Will in a low voice.

“Sir Thickhead’s looking for you,” Will interrupted, tipping his chin at the door. “Don’t you have to go and unbuckle his boots or something?”

“Yeah, I - what? No, I mean - he can unbuckle his own boots, Will; he’s not entirely stupid.”

Unbidden, a memory arose in Merlin’s mind of Arthur storming out of a Council session with his shirt on back-to-front and his tightly-clasped belt keeping the situation from being rectified, the prong bent out of place by some blow or another and stuck at the fourth notch. “Most of the time, I mean. It doesn’t matter. He’s not - ”

Not important just now, Merlin thought.

Arthur’s boots could wait.

He leaned over the table, closer to Will, so that Gaius, who had settled down at a different workbench with his supper and his books, could not hear. “Listen,” Merlin said in an undertone. “Forget what I said. I wouldn’t have brought it up, only you asked. It wasn’t fair of me to even mention it. Don’t think on it.”

Something in Will’s face made Merlin hesitate, though. He furrowed his brow, not wanting to give in to the sudden spark of inconceivable hope that had just lit up inside his chest. “I mean, unless - you’re not - ?”

“Why don’t you go and put his royal majesty to bed,” Will suggested pointedly.

“Right, yeah - but we were just talking, though - ”

Will shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere, am I?”

Merlin took a half step to the door, then turned around and bent quickly over the table again. “Hang on,” he muttered, “sorry, er - you mean just now? Or - ”

Will met Merlin’s eyes levelly. “I’m not going to do a runner on you, Merlin.”

Not like you did on me. Merlin heard the unspoken thought clearly enough. But Will didn’t voice it, this time, and that was something.

“Right,” Merlin said, his head buzzing with possibilities. “Okay, then. We’ll talk later. Erm.”

Gaius was giving him a pointed look. “I’m going!” Merlin exclaimed, and bolted for the door before Arthur could start hollering Merlin’s name from the bottom of the stairs.

Not that anyone would care if Arthur yelled himself hoarse, Merlin thought, taking the spiral steps two at a time. Merlin found the hollering more amusing than anything - he didn’t understand how the prince could fail to see the embarrassment inherent in stalking down corridors with his tunic undone and his trousers unlaced, bellowing for a servant to come and (yes, all right, fine, Will had probably been right) unbuckle his boots.

But Merlin didn’t think Arthur’s bellowing would do much to convince Will to extend his visit.

And so, perhaps, Merlin thought, popping out of the stairwell at the appropriate floor and speeding down the corridor, dodging a page tending to the wall sconces - perhaps it would be better if Merlin took it at a bit of a run, today.

[TBC, maybe! if i continue to feel like playing around in here - we’ll see what happens!]

#the once and future slowburn #fic #no kings no masters #for want of a woodwright #next up gwen and morgana and kilgharrah; if i have the inclination to keep going #we'll see #there's more of this in my head #but i'm not used to just writing random scenes and i definitely am not used to AU's #so this is like....the undiscovered country #boldly going where [lots of people] have gone before #but it's the first time for me #also uh THIS PREMISE WAS A COMEDY???#and it's becoming...not that #like there's still elements that are definitely that but the boys have Baggage to check also #i don't know #i don't consciously do these things i just...go where they go #they are driving the bus; i am just along for the ride #anyway #fORREAL THIS WAS SO FUN #i've been creatively in a weird place #now that the big fic that gave my life structure and a schedule and a general sense of purpose for the last year is finished #but this booted me into writing like 9 pages in one day so #I HAD A GREAT TIME WOO

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letswritefanfiction · 4 years ago

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Mistakes Were Made

A series of disconnected oneshots that poke fun at the fandom hivemind, canon, and past!me. I’m taking things that I’ve either observed or done myself and reframing them in parody where hopefully we can just all have some low stakes fun and, at best, maybe learn something about our favorite characters and writing.

Read on ffnet here.

Chapter Two- Hair Color

Or the carpet matches the drapes because those drapes are natural, hunty.

"Iris, what are you doing?"

Cilan watched as Iris lay on her back on a creek bed, her hair the only thing in the water. She was currently inching further into the water, trying to get all the way up to the roots wet apparently without dousing the rest of herself. However, face up, it was easy to look up at the tall man with wide eyes as though she was surprised to see him there.

"Oh, Cilan. I thought you were cooking lunch?"

"I was, but someone never showed up with the water."

"Sorry about that," Iris said as she reached her hands into the water to get the rest of her hairline damp. "I did get the water, but I just wanted to do this first before leaving the creek."

Cilan did see that there was a full bucket of water next to her, and that was also when he noticed a number of other items. He picked up what looked like a paintbrush and held it over Iris's face so that she could see it. "What is all of this, Iris?"

"That's a color brush," Iris said as she started raising her body out of the creek. Cilan's thin brows raised at the casual show of abdominal strength she showed as she did so. Iris had a ton of hair; it had to weigh twenty pounds when sopping wet like that. And here she was doing a sit-up in perfect form, spine and neck perfectly straight, as she tried to keep her drenched hair from slapping her back.

"What's a color brush?"

Iris snatched the tool back from him and put it with everything else as she replied, "It helps you keep your hair dye evenly distributed."

"Hair dye‽" Cilan exclaimed. "What do you need hair dye for?"

"To keep my hair purple, dummy," Iris explained as she wrung the excess water from her hair. "My hair is almost black naturally. What's yours? True blond or is it more of a dirty blond? You can't be brunette with eyebrows like those."

Cilan's hand flew to his right eyebrow rubbing the fine hairs a little bit. "My hair's…green," he said, mystified as to how they'd gotten here.

Cilan, Iris, and Ash had been traveling together for months now and never had Cilan seen Iris with any of the tools she now had splayed out on the bank. None of them seemed remotely like something Iris would even think about carrying. She was more a 'if it can't fit in my pockets I'm not taking it' kind of girl than…this.

"Psh, yeah, right," Iris replied as she reached for a brush with a thin handle and began running its point through her hair. "Humans can totally have green hair. You've spent enough time with your Pansage that you've evolved to share the trait. All totally possible."

The sarcasm dripping from Iris's voice didn't go unnoticed by Cilan. Though he still had no idea where it was coming from. "Yes," he replied. "My hair's green, Chili's is red, and Cress's is blue. What's your point?"

"Eh, Chili's could be natural, I guess. It's a little too primary red to be believable, but I guess he could get away with a chalk or a tint and upkeep would be pretty easy. But you and Cress? Uh-uh. You're talking crazy, my friend."

"I'm talking…" Cilan shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was more absurdity than he was prepared to take. "You know what? Thank you for collecting the water, Iris. I'm going to add it to the stew before my vegetables burn."

"Good move," Iris said. "I hope you left Pansage watching it and not Ash. He's such a little kid it's probably already burned."

"Thanks, Iris!" Cilan called again as he hurried back to camp.

It turned out that the vegetables were not burned, thankfully, though they would probably prove to be overcooked by the time the stew was cooked down. He'd have to be careful not to add too much water and lengthen the process.

An hour passed. Maybe more. The stew was done and sitting comfortably in the bellies of Cilan, Ash, and their Pokémon with one serving left in the pot for Iris. Originally, Cilan had asked Ash's Tepig to keep the fire going on low to keep Iris's portion warm, but after the sides of the pot began to scorch, Cilan decided he didn't want to clean up that mess and Iris could eat it cold if she wanted to.

"Cilan," Ash whined. "I've got to earn my next badge. Can't we get back on the road?"

Cilan shook his head, trying to hide his own irritation. "I told you, I have no idea what Iris was up to, but I don't think our rushing her would be of any help. Although, I am beginning to get worried…"

"Here I am!"

Just then, Iris appeared in front of them wearing an old, raggy t-shirt with stains all over it and a pair of black leggings. Cilan swore that hadn't been what she'd been wearing back when he'd first seen her, nor had those clothes been anywhere to be seen. Nevertheless, that wasn't what his eyes were focused on.

Her hair was soaked, reaching now to the ground without any ponytails or volume to hold it up. It was straight and had soaked through much of her shirt, leaving it with watercolor rings of purple. And, as promised, it was a vibrant purple from top to bottom. But then…hadn't it always been?

"Hey, Iris!" Ash said, perking up at seeing her. Evidently his frustration from a moment ago had vanished. "Washed your hair?"

"And then some," Iris answered vaguely as she was drawn to the now very cold stew Cilan had made. "Mm, looks good, Cilan!"

"Yeah…it was," he said, trying to temper all lingering irritation out of his own voice.

The boys watched her dig into the pot with a spoon—a bowl wasn't necessary, since the last serving was just for her, but Cilan still would have preferred it. There was nothing much to do now but wait until she was done before picking up and heading to the next town.

"So…Iris?" Ash began, still eyeing her sopping wet hair. "How are you gonna put your hair up again?"

Moral: There are certain cartoon threads you don't want to pull on, even if you're trying to incorporate realism into your story. By all means, let characters get injured by fire attacks and let the seasons change if you want. But I've seen too many stories with May asking Drew how he has green hair or something and it doesn't really work. You'll never be able to explain away Iris having purple hair or Ursula having red eyes via logic or Punnett squares. You'll probably never explain why Cilan and his brothers or Misty and her sisters all have such drastically different hair colors. It will just cause you problems to bring it up. So don't. Unless…

Exception: In my story Zenith (which you should check out! Just finished a couple weeks ago!) I specify that Aliana, Bryony, Celosia, and Mable (the female Team Flare scientists) all dye their hair and wear contacts. But I gave the reasoning that they're quadruplets and wanted to stand out. If you have a good reason and can defend it within the laws of the anime world, go ahead. Otherwise, return to the moral.

#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #iris #cilan #ash ketchum #best wishes #unova

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mediaeval-muse · 4 years ago

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Book Review

Not Quite A Husband. By Sherry Thomas. New York: Bantam, 2009.

Rating: 1.5/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Marsdens #2

Summary: Their marriage lasted only slightly longer than the honeymoon—to no one’s surprise, not even Bryony Asquith’s. A man as talented, handsome, and sought after by society as Leo Marsden couldn't possibly want to spend his entire life with a woman who rebelled against propriety by becoming a doctor. Why, then, three years after their annulment and half a world away, does he track her down at her clinic in the remotest corner of India? Leo has no reason to think Bryony could ever forgive him for the way he treated her, but he won’t rest until he’s delivered an urgent message from her sister—and fulfilled his duty by escorting her safely back to England. But as they risk their lives for each other on the journey home, will the biggest danger be the treacherous war around them—or their rekindling passion?

***Full review under the cut.***

Content/Trigger Warnings: dubious consent, infidelity, blood, animal death

Overview: I originally picked this book up because it was on Bustle’s list of feminist romances. I had some success with this list before - I adored The Suffragette Scandal and had a lot of respect for The Raven Prince, so the story of a female doctor defying societal expectations sounded up my alley. Unfortunately, that was the only thing I liked about this book. In general, Not Quite A Husband is not written with a strong sense of direction, and I don’t think it qualifies as “feminist” due to the lack of clear consent during some of the intimate scenes. I didn’t give this book zero or one star because I did like Bryony as a doctor, and her personality was different than a lot of romance heroines I’ve read, but on the whole, I found this book very difficult to enjoy.

Writing: Thomas’ prose is rather plain. While I don’t think romances need to have high brow, poetic, literary prose, I do think they still need to evoke the setting and emotion in order to immerse the reader in the story. While Thomas did have some phrases that did so, much of the book felt like a list of facts or telling rather than showing. The prose didn’t linger on emotional of physical sensations, so the emotional moments didn’t feel weighty and the intimate moments felt robotic. While we get flashbacks so we can see where characters are coming from, we are mostly told rather than shown how characters are feeling in the current moment. For example: “Shame. Self-loathing. Frustration They churned in him, enough to drown him outright” (p. 146). While the hydraulic imagery is nice, I don’t exactly *feel* the hero’s anguish in this passage. Nothing of his inner monologue or POV builds on the feeling of being overwhelmed or unsettled, especially since the scene promptly moves on to dialogue and some exposition.

The scenes themselves also felt awkwardly structured. Thomas had the tendency to end a scene and move on to the next section without giving the reader a sense of purpose or closure. For example, there is one scene where the characters take a break from traveling; our heroine thinks about the region and how she doesn’t want to leave the hero. She becomes overheated, so she fans herself, and our hero speaks to her about the weather. The scene ends with him thinking how beautiful she is. To me, these scenes felt awkward because they didn’t revolve around a milestone in the relationship or reveal much about the characters. The characters don’t discuss the heroine’s feelings about parting, nor does she contemplate how her desire to remain with him are complicated, and we already know the hero is attracted to the heroine at this point, so nothing new is revealed. It just felt like a scene that went nowhere and was just inserted to fill space.

Along similar lines, I think the flashbacks cut in at awkward times. Flashbacks are set apart from the main narrative of this book by italics, and frequently, these italics would interrupt the flow of a scene. I like flashbacks when they are done with a sense of purpose, informing the present action in ways that make the story richer. To me, it felt like flashbacks were inserted randomly in this book.

Plot: This book primarily follows our heroine, Bryony, as she and her ex-husband, Leo, travel back to England from India. Bryony’s sister has asked Leo to track Bryony down because their father is ill, and Leo agrees. The summary on the back of the book suggests that India is a war torn, or that the geography itself is threatening. While we do get some of that, I don’t think the travel narrative was all that exciting. The characters travel, it’s hot, they stop and instruct their guides/staff to make food, and they make puppy eyes at each other while thinking about their pasts. There wasn’t really a feeling of suspense because scenes didn’t build on one another - they just sort of happened, and there were few (if any) external forces that kept Bryony and Leo apart. As a result, I found the travel plot rather dull.

I also don’t think the travel narrative made for a good frame regarding the characters’ backstories. This book makes clear that it’s awkward for Bryony and Leo to travel together because they used to be married, but some event caused them to obtain an annulment and separate. On top of that, Bryony and Leo used to be childhood friends, and both have exciting lives as a doctor and a mathematics professor. None of this backstory seemed to be enriched by the travel narrative - characters weren’t prompted to speak or contemplate their pasts based on events happening in the present, so it felt like things were brought up randomly and for no other purpose than there was nothing else to do. For example, Leo brings out a chess board at one point and the two play a game, but it doesn’t prompt much discussion other than “I didn’t know you played” and “usually men won’t play with a woman who is better than they are.” I wanted to know more - is Bryony a calculating person? Is this a commentary on her life as a doctor/how men underestimate her? I didn’t get the sense that it was, and so many scenes felt empty because the travel narrative and the backstories didn’t line up. Granted, it could have been done differently; characters could have found the journey so boring that they have little else to do but ruminate on their thoughts, but because the writing didn’t evoke the feeling of boredom, I didn’t get the impression that this was the case.

About 2/3 through the book, our protagonists get caught up in one of the uprisings of 1897 in the Swat Valley. Things get a little more interesting from here, but in my opinion, the groundwork wasn’t laid very well to make the uprisings seem like a threat from the get go. I would have liked to have seen Bryony thinking more about how she wants to help people in such a conflict-torn area, or maybe more talk from the Indian characters about how the conflict has affected them. At the very least, I think the conflict could have been built up as the characters travelled, perhaps by them talking more about what they’ve heard about the area as well as the politics involved. Granted, the premise itself is complicated, as we’re following two British characters as they travel through India (there’s some colonial stuff there to untangle), but though I didn’t get the sense that India was being especially exoticized, I also didn’t get the sense that the setting was very important, either. Bryony and Leo could have been in any other location and I don’t think the basic narrative would have changed.

Characters: Bryony, our heroine, is a competent female physician with an aloof personality that is interpreted as cold. For the most part, I liked that Bryony didn’t fit the mold of romance heroines with more whimsical or warm personalities. It made for a different kind of reading experience. However, I don’t think enough was done to show Bryony as a complex character. Her coldness is connected to her childhood trauma and failed marriage, which could have been handled well if we were able to get inside Bryony’s head more. Because of the telling (as opposed to showing), it was hard to determine exactly how the past impacted Bryony in the present. I also would have liked to see Bryony in her job as a physician more, showing off her competence and connecting with patients to show that she’s not truly cold, she just shows emotion differently.

Leo, our hero, is somewhat bland. He’s apparently a mathematics genius, but he barely ever talks or thinks about math. He is shown to be good at running a household and handling logistics, as he plans the whole trip out of India and took care of staff and scheduling while married to Bryony. I wish he had more of an interest or background in using those skills (perhaps by running a business), and that these skills complemented Bryony’s more so that their relationship felt more complimentary. Instead, it seems to get brought up at random, so Leo’s defining characteristic seems to be that he’s attractive.

Bryony and Leo don’t get much interaction with secondary characters for a good chunk of the book. Bryony’s sister and father are like ghostly specters, heard but not seen until 2/3 through the story. The same is true of Leo’s family in that they are apparently very important to Leo, but we are told rather than shown that. By far the strangest choice regarding characters was the fact that during the entire trip out of India, Bryony and Leo are accompanied by a number of guides and staff, but I can’t recall a single line of direct speech from any of them. Given that barely anything happens on this trip, I thought it could have been an interesting opportunity for Indian characters to talk about their lives, or, at the very least, start building a sense of dread or suspense about the ongoing conflicts in the area. Having silent companions felt awkward because, well, we’re in India, but there are few interactions with Indian characters. They’re just there to be hired hands.

Other: I was not a fan of the romance in this book for one reason: neither character seemed to think it was important to get consent before engaging in sexual activities. I’m not saying that all intimate scenes need an explicit “can we have sex?” “Yes” exchange; what I mean is that I want it to be clear that when characters engage in such activity, it’s because they both want to do so. In Bryony and Leo’s case, there were many scenes where consent was unclear. The first time they have sex, Leo is delirious with fever and he just grabs her and penetrates her without thinking. Bryony goes along with it, but I was still very uncomfortable. Bryony likewise goes to Leo’s tent and starts having sex with him while he is asleep. Later, some flashbacks tell us that Leo used to have sex with Bryony despite her showing clear signs of not wanting to do so, and it got to the point where he would start having sex with her while she was asleep, so Bryony would lock her door at night. I hated this so much. I think the point was to show that Leo was trying to make Bryony less cold towards him, but it honestly felt like rape.

In addition to the dubious consent, I couldn’t quite get on board with the characters’ reasons for wanting to be with each other. It seemed that Leo was in love with Bryony in part because he idolized her when they were children, and in part because he wanted to bring her out of her shell. It would have been ok if Bryony’s flaws were actually flaws, and if he had used methods other than what I described above. Bryony, by contrast, just seemed to like Leo because he is attractive. The book states multiple times that she didn’t notice Leo that much as a child, and she only married him because she hoped his popularity would lend her credibility as a female doctor. They ultimately decide to love one another once they have a near-death experience, so all the real growth happens in the last 1/3 of the book.

It gets worse once it’s revealed that Bryony’s coldness stems from the fact that she caught Leo cheating during their engagement. Leo insists it was only one time, and I think that was done sincerely. I honestly wouldn’t have minded a plot where a hero has to gain his love interest’s trust back after such a thing. Where this went wrong for me is that Leo seemed to blame Bryony for the affair by saying she should have stopped him or called off the wedding, and instead of proving to her that he is sorry, he simply focuses on how much pain he is in. Granted, Leo does say that he did wrong and there was no excuse, but I didn’t see him as a kind, considerate enough lover to believe that he had learned or that he was putting Bryony’s well being ahead of his own desires.

Overall, I was disappointed in this book. Not only was the prose and structure rather lackluster, but the dubious consent was enough to put me off, and I’m still not sure if the author meant to portray Indians rebelling against the British as bad or just a thrilling adventure.

#book reviews

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royal-family-lover · 5 years ago

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Prince Harry and Bryony Gordon’s Telegraph interview.

Prince Harry on his new show with Oprah: 'Your podcast made me realise what an impact sharing my story could have'

Bryony Gordon

The Duke of Sussex tells Bryony Gordon how opening up about his own mental health on her podcast helped to spark a new project with Oprah

The Duke of Sussex has a few things going on at the moment. There’s the upcoming tour of Africa, the charitable foundation to launch with his wife, the campaign he is doing with the military and then, of course, the not-so-small matter of new parenthood.

But the thing that is occupying much of Prince Harry’s headspace right now is mental health. His own, of course, but also everybody else’s, and how much better life is when you look after it. It is the narrative that runs through absolutely everything he does, a subject he is so passionate about that he is currently working on a groundbreaking new documentary series on it with Oprah Winfrey, details of which the Telegraph is able to reveal today.

The series will focus on breaking down the stigma and shame surrounding mental illness – showing examples of the “human spirit fighting back from the darkest places,” as the Duke puts it. Alongside Oprah, he is co-creator and co-executive producer on the venture, which will launch on the new Apple TV+ streaming service next year.

It is a matter of great importance to the Duke that he gets this right – that the series is meticulously researched and based in fact and evidence, as well as being human and relatable, too. “When I did your podcast two years ago,” he tells me, “the response made me realise what an impact sharing my story could have, and what an impact other stories can have for so many who are suffering silently. If the viewers can relate to the pain and perhaps the experience, then it could save lives, as we will focus on prevention and positive outcomes.”

This is an endeavour, he is keen to add, that is born out of much research. “We are assembling subject matter experts as an advisory board to the series, the main reason being we appreciate this is a multi-faceted subject – and we have a huge responsibility to get this right. “In this process, I’ve already learned just how many studies have been done, and how much information is out there which isn’t reaching the general public. The facts and science exist, and we deserve to know it all.”

In a world where high profile people hitch themselves to causes such as mental health out of a desire for publicity rather than change, the Duke’s genuine dedication to the cause is both exciting and refreshing. He understands instinctively that mental health is not a single issue, but rather one which underpins almost every other issue.

As he told me in Kensington Palace in 2017, when we sat down for our podcast chat about his own mental health, and how close he came to a breakdown after the death of his mother, it is the thread that runs through all of the young royals’ charity work.

“Whether it’s homelessness, whether it’s kids and early intervention stuff like that, and obviously my connection with the veterans… everywhere we go there is a conversation that happens with someone that we’ve spoken to that links it into a mental health conversation of sorts. It [mental health] is linked into so many different things… the experience I have had is that once you start talking about it you suddenly realise you’re actually part of quite a big club.” And once he started talking about it, he realised that there was no escaping the very real need to carry on talking about it.

At a recent event for the mental health crisis text line, Shout, which was launched as a legacy of the royals’ Heads Together campaign, the Duke asked me when we would next be doing a podcast about the stuff in our heads. “We could do it right now?” I only half-joked. But his message to me was clear: there is so much more to say on the matter, so much more to do.

While recently it has been suggested that the Duke has been seduced by a life of glitzy holidays, his real work often takes place in a tent in Africa, which he considers his second home – running his HIV charity Sentebale, pursuing his passion for conservation.

He also carries on his mother’s work in demining – next Thursday, the fourth day of the Sussexes’ Africa tour, he will travel alone to Huambo, Angola, to visit the location where she was photographed in the months before her death in 1997, prompting worldwide efforts to restrict the use of mines in war.

These are the things that ground him – working as hard as he can to maximise the opportunity his position gives him to make a real difference to the causes close to his heart. Traditionalists may not like it, but his almost unique ability to connect with the public is undimmed, and he is still the most popular royal after the Queen. His commitment to talking about mental health, and more importantly his natural empathy around the subject, is at the heart of this.

Two years on from the podcast we recorded together, it is easy to forget how genuinely groundbreaking his admission of being close to a “complete breakdown” was. As part of a family that had long reigned with a stiff upper lip, his openness was a watershed moment and gave many people – and in particular, young men – permission to say the previously unsayable.

But that merely marked the start of the conversation, and it is one that the Duke is far from finished with – be it via his work with veterans through Invictus, his support of the crisis text line Shout, or this new documentary project for Apple. When he met Oprah Winfrey, and realised their shared passion for mental health, the idea for the series was born. And he has been hands on ever since, with the Duke hosting numerous meetings in London with Oprah, and helping to select the creative team behind it, which was announced on Monday evening.

The series will be helmed by Kahane Cooperman, who produced The Daily Show with John Stewart in the US, and feature episodes directed and produced by the likes of Dawn Porter, an American filmmaker who has created documentaries about segregation and anti-abortion laws, and Asif Kapadia, who was behind the Oscar-winning documentary Amy, about Amy Winehouse, and the Bafta-winning feature Senna, about the life of the late Formula One driver Ayrton Senna. Both films were acclaimed for their intimate and moving portrayals of people whose lives had previously been shrouded in mystery.

Like so many campaigners, the Duke’s work in the sector is linked inextricably with the way he lives his life personally. “I’m very much still on my own path,” he says. “What I have learned and I continue to learn in the space of mental health, mental illness and self-awareness is that all roads lead back to our mental well-being, how we look after ourselves and each other.”

#Prince Harry #bryonygordon #telegraph #mental health #oprah winfrey

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fragmentedshards · 5 years ago

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The Final Curtain, Chapter Seventeen

Disclosing Not His Lover

The night of the party arrived more swiftly than they expected. With the addition of the servants, their party had grown considerably. It was decided that Bryony would stay at the manor and help Tanaka care for Ephraim, and since Snake had no interest in attending a fancy ball, he took on the task of looking after the ballerina. The others would all go as one; Ciel, Elizabeth, Prince Soma, Lau, Ran Mao, Sebastian, Paula, Agni, Bardroy, Mei Rin, Finny, Matilda, and to Matilda’s great surprise and joy, Undertaker himself.

“You’ll really attend?” she exclaimed happily when he ventured to the manor to tell her the news.

“Of course dearie,” he chuckled. “I might not be one to frequent these parties myself, but as your husband and escort, I ought to go and keep watch, oughtn’t I?”

Matilda rushed to embrace the mortician gleefully, then looked up at him through his bangs. “What about Grell, is she coming?”

Undertaker stroked Matilda’s hair, which she had taken to wearing tied back these days rather than letting her curls explode like she ordinarily did. “I think William stuck her with some paperwork. Besides,” he added dolefully. “I don’t think she enjoys these as much anymore, partly because she remembers Madam Red, and partly because she can’t wear dresses the way she wants to.”

“I’ve been working on something that may help her!” the maid grinned, cupping her husband’s face. He smiled down at her, full of admiration. “Tell her to just hold on!”

Paula helped Lady Elizabeth into her favorite crimson dress, adding a white mask with tiny red roses around the eyes. “Oh, Paula, don’t forget,” the young lady reminded her maid, who smiled coyly at her before reaching for Lady Elizabeth’s secret weapon to hide it in the back of her dress.

“I’m so happy to see you finally putting all that training to use,” Paula gushed as she tied all of Lady Elizabeth’s many fastenings. “It’s been torturous to watch you pushed aside all this time, milady, simply torturous.”

Elizabeth smiled at her faithful Paula, trying to shake away her nervousness.

Meanwhile in another room, Ciel glowered at his reflection as Sebastian dressed him. Viscount Druitt’s party was not so much a costume ball as it was a masquerade ball, so instead of wearing a full costume the earl merely donned fine evening clothing with a black lace mask over the top half of his face.

“Frankly, it’s a relief to have this off from time to time,” he said as he undid the string of his eyepatch. “I may as well leave it off when I’m at home, now that everyone knows. At any rate, this mask covers my eyes well enough so nobody can tell.”

Sebastian, having finished dressing the earl, bowed and headed downstairs to don his red mask and cloak. Before reaching his room, he spotted Mei Rin sitting on her bed and puzzling over her eyeglasses. Tentatively, he knocked on the door. “Is everything alright?”

Mei Rin glanced up momentarily at the knock, then returned to what she was doing. “I’m torn,” she admitted. “These were a gift from the young master. They helped me hide my ability. But... they created lots of problems, didn’t they?”

Sebastian, to his own surprise, smiled fondly as he remembered Mei Rin’s numerous housekeeping blunders. “We did offer to get your prescription changed, more than once,” he reminded her.

She gave a soft laugh, but not out of humor. Then, without warning, she broke the glass out of the lenses, sending shards scattering onto the floor. Sebastian’s jaw fell open, unsure what to do until he saw the blood on the maid’s fingers, which she seemed not to have noticed herself. Stepping into the room, he brought the water basin from the dresser to the bed and gently placed her hands in it, taking care to delicately search for any pieces of glass that may have stuck in her fingers.

“Mei Rin, honestly,” he chided as he worked. “Why do you always break things?”

Rather than be insulted, Mei Rin laughed. “At least this time it was on purpose,” she replied, getting a laugh from the butler. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. Sebastian was never this careful with anyone but the young master, and yet here he was checking her fingers for glass and wiping away blood with his handkerchief. She hadn’t even seen where he had produced the bandages from, but next thing she knew the cuts on her fingers were wrapped up and the butler was staring at her, exasperated but satisfied.

Just then Bardroy rounded the corner, snapping them back to life. “Oi, Mei Rin, are you-” Seeming to notice Sebastian for the first time, he turned red and backed away silently.

“There,” Sebastian sighed, placing Mei Rin’s hands back in her lap. “Those should hold nicely, and I doubt they will be visible through evening gloves. I’ll leave you to get ready now.” As he was leaving, glass crunching beneath his shoes, he turned and added, “You could always use the eyeglass frames for your mask, if you chose. Though, I think we have all become quite accustomed to seeing you with them, so it wouldn’t be much of a mask.”

When the group arrived to the party, the moon was already high in the velvet sky, and lively music pervaded Viscount Druitt’s home.

Lau guided Ran Mao through the sea of people, saying to her “I suspect this will be even more interesting than the last costume ball we attended. What do you think, Ran Mao?”

Instead of answering his question, Ran Mao muttered, “This is not a costume ball.”

The Viscount was easily spotted among his guests, wearing a garish mask of all colors, with feathers and other adornments all over it. Elizabeth grasped Soma’s hand and nodded her head in the direction of the Viscount, whispering a hasty summary of her plan to him.

“I’ll strike up a conversation with him about something unassuming, such as clothing,” she whispered as the two danced awkwardly. “With any luck, he will ask me to dance, and then I can get closer to him, allowing me to investigate further.”

The prince nodded, spinning her with more grace than she expected as the music stopped. Viscount Druitt had noticed them and was walking towards them from the far side of the ballroom. “What do I do?” Soma whispered back, pretending to kiss her cheek.

“Find someone else to dance with, or better yet, you and Agni create a diversion with traditional Bengali dancing!” Elizabeth whispered just as the Viscount reached them.

“You both dance most intriguingly, young ones,” he smiled down at them, placing his hands together. “Watching you was fascinating.”

Elizabeth curtsied, nudging Prince Soma to bow. “Thank you very much, my lord,” she said, making her voice as sickly-sweet as she could manage. “I’m so flattered that you noticed. And this party is, naturally, as wonderful as your other ones.”

“Oh?” the Viscount tilted his head slightly to the side. “Have you been to my previous balls? I cannot discern your face through your mask, my dear.”

“Certainly you don’t expect me to remove this mask without a dance first, my lord?” Elizabeth ran a finger over the edge of her mask and smiled coyly.

The Viscount smirked. “Sir,” he addressed Prince Soma. “Might I borrow this young lady for the next dance?”

“Be my guest, Viscount Druitt,” the prince bowed again, smiling as he turned to leave. He glanced back at Elizabeth, who winked at him through her mask.

Ciel scoffed. “A silly ball with people I hate and where Lizzy is dancing with a creepy man who I want to kill. Somehow this seems familiar.” he rolled his eyes at his own sarcasm. He was glaring at Elizabeth and the Viscount when he felt Sebastian’s hand on his shoulder.

“Young Master,” he whispered. “Your... er, well, demon shadow... it grows and billows when you become enraged,” he explained. “I need to teach you how to control it.” Sebastian sighed when Ciel just continued to stare at him. “Sir, do not worry. Lady Elizabeth is in no danger. She is surrounded by friends, family, demons, reapers, and whatever Matilda is. She will be perfectly safe at all times.”

The earl scoffed again and looked back at Elizabeth flirting with the Viscount. A moment later his eyes widened and he turned back to his butler. “Wait. You said whatever Matilda is. So you also get the feeling she is inhuman?”

“Yes sir,” the butler confirmed. “I cannot tell what she is... and I assume neither can you. But, she is here to help us, whatever she is. We will find out one day, young master. After all, you and I have all the time in the world now, even until the final curtain falls on this world.”

Ciel stared at the throng of dancing people. “They’ll all be dead one day,” he said, watching as Agni and Prince Soma clapped their hands and commanded everybody’s attention for their performance. “I’ve always known this, but it feels different knowing they will all die and you and I will live on. Well, and I suppose Undertaker and Matilda will live on, also.” he turned to Sebastian. “What do you think happens to shinigami when the world ends?”

“My theory would be that nothing happens to them, my lord, and that they continue with their work as before.” Seeing the earl’s confused expression, Sebastian smiled and raised one eyebrow. “Young Master, surely you aren’t so arrogant as to believe that there is only one world?”

The earl wanted to ask more, but he noticed Prince Soma’s very pointed looks at him and the head tilt towards Elizabeth and the viscount. Lizzy had one hand behind her back and one hand holding her fan in front of her mouth, looking coquettishly at Viscount Druitt. When he bowed to her and offered her his hand, she took it, giggling, and let him lead her outside into the gardens. Before walking out the door, she shot a look to Ciel and Soma that clearly meant Now.

Ciel and Sebastian looked at each other. “This is an order; make sure everyone is in place in the gardens for the next phase of the plan. Within the next few minutes, Viscount Druitt should be right where we want him.”

Sebastian smirked. Finally. He bowed with his hand over his heart. “Yes, my lord.”

Elizabeth had her hands full trying to keep the Viscount on the hook while avoiding his touch as much as she could. She flirtatiously waved her fan. “My lord, are you absolutely certain this is appropriate?” she giggled. “We mustn’t forget ourselves.”

“No danger in that, my little cardinal,” Viscount Druitt smiled down at her, and something in his smirk made Elizabeth squirm. “My my, you remind me so much of a lovely little robin I once knew. But there is no need to dwell on past loves tonight. For this night, though my mansion is full of people, we are all alone in this paradise. We are in Eden together, my cardinal, free to explore as Adam and Eve.”

They walked together during his pompous speech until they reached the fountain in the center of the garden. It was a strangely simple fountain for such a grand garden, with four herrings spraying water into a pool. As soon as they neared it, Elizabeth snickered to herself. “We’re not as alone as you think,” she said with a short laugh.

Suddenly she reached to her back and drew a sword which Paula had neatly hidden, pointing the tip directly under the viscount’s chin. “It’s time for your true reckoning, Aleistor Chamber!” Elizabeth declared, unmoved by the fear in Viscount Druitt’s face. Seemingly out of nowhere, Agni, Sebastian, Ran Mao, Matilda, and Mei Rin emerged like spirits from the bushes, wrapping long ropes around the viscount’s body and securing him tightly to the fountain. From all around, the rest of the party appeared from the hedges; Undertaker, Bard, Finny, Prince Soma, Lau, Paula, and Ciel. Elizabeth approached Viscount Druitt and traced the point of her sword over his jugular. Smirking, she removed her mask and tossed it into the fountain at his feet.

#fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #write #writer #writing #black butler #black butler fanfiction #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji fanfiction #the final curtain #sebaciel #matilda livesey #undertaker x oc #sebastian x meyrin #soma x lizzy #ciel x lizzy #viscount druitt

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ollyarchive · 5 years ago

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Years & Years frontman Olly Alexander leads the cast of Russell T Davies' new 1980s AIDS drama Boys as filming gets underway in Manchester

By BRYONY JEWELL FOR MAILONLINE

PUBLISHED: 17:20 EDT, 8 October 2019 | UPDATED: 17:23 EDT, 8 October 2019

He's best known for his vocals in band Years & Years, but now singing sensation Olly Alexander is working with one of the UK's greatest TV writers.

And the musician looked right at home as he led the cast of Russell T Davies' new Channel 4 drama Boys on set in Manchester on Tuesday.

Olly, 29, will play 18-year-old gay man Ritchie Tozer in the new five-part drama which follows three pals who move to London in 1981 and grow up in the shadow of AIDS.

On Set: Singer Olly Alexander, 29, led the cast of upcoming drama Boys, which was written by Russell T Davies, as filming got started in Manchester on Tuesday

The star stood out in an over sized blue puffer jacket and bold red top as he chatted with other people on set.

To complete his 1980s inspired ensemble he wore a pair of blue denim jeans, which were turned up at the ankles, and a pair of white trainers.

The signer-turned-actor also donned a thin gold chain around his neck and quiffed his hair.

Happy filming: Lydia West, who has previously been in BBC show Years And Years, wore a thin yellow jumper, midi skirt and white socks with black shoes for her 80s look +21 Happy filming: Lydia West, who has previously been in BBC show Years And Years, wore a thin yellow jumper, midi skirt and white socks with black shoes for her 80s look

Actress Lydia West was full of smiles as she walked around the set styled in a thin yellow knitted top which had a delicate pattern across the front.

Her pastel top was paired with a navy blue striped and pleated skirt which came down just past her knees.

The Years and Years actress, who played Bethany Bisme-Lyons in the six-part show and will take on the role of straight-talking Jill Baxter in Boys, also wore a pair of white ankle socks and black shoes with a tiny kitten heel.

Star: Olly looked right at home on set in Manchester Singer: The star will play one of the three main characters in Boys Acting career: Singer Olly looked right at home on the set in Manchester and will play on of the three main friends in Boys, which will air on Channel 4 in 2020

Other cast members spotted on Tuesday included newcomer Omari Douglas who looked confident as he rocked a t-shirt off one shoulder and a purple scarf around his head.

The actor, who will play wild party boy Roscoe Babatunde, 17, in Boys, also donned several necklaces, including a studded one, and two bracelets.

Also joining the star-studded cast is Keeley Hawes, Shaun Dooley, Neil Patrick Harris, Stephen Fry and Tracy Ann Oberman.

Looking good: Nathaniel threw back his long hair and posed for a photo +21 1980s: Nathaniel looked happy as he wrapped his arm around another actor +21 Looking good: Actor Nathaniel Curtis, who plays faithful pal Ash in the new show, stopped for a photo during filming

The show will follow young men Ritchie (Olly Alexander), Roscoe (Omari Douglas) and Colin (Callum Scott Howells) who move to London in 1981.

Strangers at first, these young gay lads, and their best friend Jill (Lydia West), find themselves thrown together, and soon share each other's adventures.

However their lives are soon tested and as the decade passes, and they grow up in the shadow of AIDS, they're determined to live and love more fiercely than ever.

Dolled up: An actress looked glamorous with bouffant hair +21 In character: The loud pattern of this actor's jumper was kept under control by his brown jacket +21 80s style: Actors rocked bouffant hair, brown jackets and bold prints on the 1980s themed set

All about the accessories: Olly and another actor wore thin chains around their necks on set +21 All about the accessories: Olly and another actor wore thin chains around their necks on set

Denim duo: An actor accessorised his vest with some smart brown shoes +21 Filming fuel: This actor stopped for a coffee during filming +21 Denim duo: Several people were seen rocking denim as the cast and crew filmed Boys, which will be set in London during the 80s

Olly Alexander said he felt like 'the luckiest boy in the world' to be part of Boys.

He said: 'I've been a fan of Russell T Davies ever since I watched Queer As Folk in secret at 14 years old.

'His work helped shape my identity as a gay person so I'm absolutely over the moon we'll be working together.

'The script was amazing to read, I laughed and I cried a lot, it's a privilege to be helping to tell this story and I'm so excited.'

Big fan: Singer Olly, left, said Russell's work 'helped shape my identity as a gay person so I'm absolutely over the moon we'll be working together'

How I Met Your Mother star Neil Patrick Harris said: 'I'm so pleased, and incredibly proud, to be a part of Russell T Davies' new series.

'This drama, Boys, is two things: it is an irresistible, funny, jubilant story of young people discovering their true identities and the unalloyed joy of living life to the fullest, it is also a deeply resonant exploration of a decade when so many of these lives were cut short by the devastating effects of the nascent AIDS pandemic.

'Russell's scripts chart the highs and lows of this time so beautifully and deftly, it's an honour to help tell this story.'

Script writer Russell T Davies has also worked on shows Queer As Folk, which was also set in Manchester, A Very English Scandal, Years and Years and Doctor Who.

#olly alexander #years & years #yearsandyears #boys #filming #articles #acting #tv #television #russelldavies #dailymail

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