#this shook me because hamlet was my favorite Shakespeare play

[demonicseries]

Hamlet is based on WHAT

[high-functioning-lokipath]

RPF - Tom x Reader - He's attempting to be in disguise and you run into him at a library and recognize him. - Words: 1,152

A/N: Alright, so for clarification sake, there is a text message conversation in this imagine. You, as the reader, your texts are in blue text. The other person's texts are in green. I simply do not have the skill to make bubbles lol

Also Y/F/D means Your Favorite Drink

Now, without further ado....

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" You whisper to the lady behind the desk. She seems to be ignoring you though so you whisper louder. "Hello!"

"What do you want?" She snarks, finally paying attention to you.

"Where do you have your classic literature?"

"Ya mean like Shakespeare an’ that?" She asked, obviously disinterested. You nod and she points to the back corner of the building. Thanking her, somewhat half-heartedly, you walk off in search of a copy of your new favorite Shakespeare play. You'd never read it in full but, after seeing a spectacular performance of it, you wanted to read it yourself. Finding the correct aisle, you saw another person was looking at the same area. You tried to get a look at him but he had a knit cap on, pulled down, covering his hair and part of his face. He also had his jacket collar turned up shielding the rest of his face from view. You just shrugged it off and started scanning down the shelf looking for the right book.

"All's Well That Ends Well, Antony and Cleopatra," You read quietly, running your hand down the spines. "As You Like It, Comedy of Errors."

"King Lear, King John, Julius Caesar," The Man muttered to himself, working towards you on the same shelf. He hadn't seemed to have noticed you yet. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him though. "Henry 6, 5, 4, Hamlet."

"Ah ha!" You exclaimed. As you reached for the book you were searching for, his hand bumped yours reaching for it too.

"Sorry," He immediately said, pulling his hand back from yours.

"It's alright," You replied, trying to get a look at his face. Much to your disappointment, however, he was wearing dark glasses.

"Coriolanus is a fine play. Have you ever read it?" He asked.

"Not yet," You admitted. "I saw a spectacular production of it from National Theater though and-" you cut yourself off, finally recognizing the badly disguised voice and the not horribly disguised face.

"Uh, I," He stuttered. "Perhaps I should go."

"No!" You immediately said. "I mean, don't worry about it. I won't tell on you." You smiled abit shyly, surprised you've been able to keep yourself together long enough to form a sentence. "You've obviously gone through a lot of trouble to get here quietly, so," You shrugged. "I shouldn't ruin that for you."

"Well, thanks," He smiled. "Sorry about trying to take your book," He apologized.

"Oh no worries," You replied. "Here," You held it out to him. "I'll just re-read Hamlet for now." He took the book and looked at it for a moment. Then he looked back at you and smiled again.

"Aren't you going to ask for a picture or something?"

"No," You shook your head. "I'm not going to impose on you. Now if you offered," You teased. "Not going to lie, I really really want to but-"

"Give me your phone," He interrupted, holding out his hand. You handed him your phone, unlocked and on camera, and he took off his hat and sunglasses and ruffled his hair a bit to get rid of matting from his hat. Turning to stand next to you, he leaned over a little and held up the phone for a selfie. "Smile!" Once he took it, he brought it up on the gallery to make sure it looked alright. He tapped a couple of things and then showed you the picture. "What do you think?"

"Oh!" You said, finally finding your voice again. "Perfect! Thanks so much, Tom."

"You're welcome. Look, I have to go take care of something real quick. Are you going to be here for a while?"

"Probably."

"Ok, I'll see you again in a few minutes, alright?" You nodded happily, a silly grin working its way on your face. He turned to walk away but stopped and faced you again. "Oh, I forgot to ask, what's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Would it be too cliché of me to say that's a lovely name for a lovely lady? Because it's true." You giggled, blushing furiously and shook your head. He took your hand and kissed it, grinning mischievously. "Y/N, adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave." And with that he left. In a bit of a daze you grabbed the Hamlet book off the shelf and sat on one of the comfy sofas in the corner. After quickly making your new selfie your background on your phone, you settled in to read. About 5 minutes later, though, your phone buzzed.

"This better be important," You grumbled.

Hey, what would you

like to drink? Coffee?

Tea? Frappuccino? Let

me know.

Tom?

Yes? 🙂

"Holy crap," You gulped. Scrolling up slightly, you saw he had texted himself your selfie together.

Sorry if that was a bit too forward. I can just delete your number. I'd just ask that you don't publish my information anywhere.

NO!

It's fine. Actually, kinda funny. Usually I'm the one who has to tell people to ask me first before giving out my number 🤣 I'm not on social media, by the way.

Good for you. It can get messy. Now you haven't answered my question.

Oh! Yeah! Lol Uh, well, I usually get Y/F/D if that's not too much trouble. 🙃

No trouble at all. ☕🍵

[Image attached] (pic of drinks)

Heading back! I have a surprise for you! 😉

Lol 😂 Ok! Can't wait!

"Hi there," He said, peeking around the corner of a bookshelf a few minutes later.

"Hi," You squeaked. He handed you one of the cups in his hand and then sat down next to you.

“Oh, this is for you.” He handed you a smaller package in a brown paper wrapper. You opened it quickly and saw the copy of Coriolanus that had been on the shelf.

“I don’t understand,” you said, a bit confused.

“Well, I may have taken it to the desk and bought it,” He admitted. You stared at him wide eyed. “Open the front cover. I hope you don’t mind.”

For Y/N

Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.

Love, Tom Hiddleston

“You didn’t have to do that, Tom!” You exclaimed. “I-wow! Thank you! That’s a great line too! I haven’t read it before but like I said, I saw a wonderful production of it,” you teased. He laughed and took a sip of his tea.

“Maybe we should read it together,” He suggested slyly, another mischievous glint in his eyes. “And then, perhaps, if you’re agreeable to it, we could go to one of my favorite restaurants a few blocks away and have dinner?”

“I would most certainly be agreeable to that!”

“Wonderful!” He smiled. “Now shall we begin? I have a few favorite scenes that I’m sure we would quite enjoy acting out as well.”

“Indeed. Let’s get started!”

[marvelsimp]

The New Kid: Friend or Foe

The New Kid Masterlist

Ch. 5

Genre: Fluff? Pairing: Peter & Lesbian!reader, Avengers & Reader, (eventual Wanda x Reader it’s a slow burn) Warnings: violence(training), blood, stabbed, strong language Description: Y/n is getting used to living in the tower and makes an unlikely friend Reader’s Powers: Healer, telepath, and empath. Word Count: 2278

“You can’t pull your punches, Y/n/n.  In a real fight, you’re gonna have to fight for your life.”

“You know my whole power set is pacifist.”

“That’s why I have to train you,” said the slightly annoyed red-haired woman. “Now get your head in the game and let’s go again.”

You scoffed; you were frustrated that you had to do this.  That you had to learn how to hurt people.  You took a moment to stretch and you both went back into your fighting stances to start again.

You went to punch her face, but she dodged, she then raised her leg and tried to kick but you caught her foot.  She quickly got her foot free before you could do anything with it.  This went on for a while, you both got some good punches and kicks.  You did land on your ass a few times, but you got up each time and went back to it.

“Time out”

Thank god.

Steve walked in. Oh god no. You knew what was coming, you were gonna have to fight Steve.  You very dramatically fell on the floor and spread out. “Come on, Nat. This is creeping up on child abuse,” you laugh.

You earned a chuckle out of both of them.  Steve stood above you and offered you his hand to which you accepted. Nat went onto showing you some simple moves to help you fight someone bigger than you after about an hour you finally got to go and get a shower and really start your day.

The last week and a half passed by quickly.  Peter stayed at the tower for the first few nights but went back home once school started.  But he would come after patrol and he still video called during homework, like usual.  

Most of your time was spent in one of the labs.  You have been helping Tony with one of his suits as a way for him to familiarize you with the machines and programs.  Bruce did less hands-on work he worked on calculations for his own projects and did some work for SHEILD.  You went down to the Med Lab a few times to give Dr. Cho some blood samples or some information about your powers.  She took a small sample of skin, fat, and muscle from your thigh, but it healed within a minute like nothing ever happened.  

You also spent some time in the gym, which you hated but the others made it a little more fun.  You were really only doing it to get ready for training with Nat.  When you first went in you had no clue what you were doing.  Sam, Bucky, and Steve were doing some training exercise when you entered but Sam quickly saw your very clueless face and walked over to help.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hi.”

“I’m assuming you have no clue what you’re doing?  You look as clueless as I would if I went up to the Tech Lab.”

“That obvious?”

He let out a chuckle.  Sam gave you some stretches to warm up and then showed you how to use some of the machines.  He gave you advice on how long to use each machine and told you that if you needed anything just yell.  The rest of your time in the gym you watched the three men do whatever they were doing.  Sam and Bucky’s bickering was very entertaining and so was Steve yelling at them to focus. You were there for around an hour every day until Nat started to train you.  You very quickly learned that you grew muscle faster than the average person and you weren’t sore for very long.  

When you weren’t in the lab or the gym you were probably in your room playing a game or you were talking to Wanda while she was making a meal. “So, are you the assigned cook?” you joked.  You’d only ever seen Wanda prepare meals since you got here.

Wanda just shook her head, “Not really.  I just enjoy it, so I usually am the one to cook.  But Bruce sometimes cooks and so do Steve and Bucky. When I first joined I helped Steve add a bit of flavor to his meals.  Thank god I didn’t live in the 40s.” She laughed a little, you love her laugh and smile, they seem to make the room a little brighter.

You weren’t a cook yourself so you didn’t help too much, but you would talk to her and get her something if she needed it but usually, she’d just use her powers.  

That’s really the only time that you see Wanda, most of her day is spent training.  She’s Strange’s apprentice.  You still haven’t met him, for someone who can make portals you’d think he’d pop in at some point.  You asked Wanda about seeing him, but she told you that you need to be invited or it needs to be something important.  She warned against pissing him off because it takes a while to get back on his good side.  But she told you she’d mention it to him.

You got into a rhythm of training, breakfast, tech lab, lunch, med lab, tech lab, supper, and Video games, the library, or more time in the tech lab.  It was rarely thrown off.  Every few days someone would go out for a mission or return from one.  Nat only missed two training sessions, so Bucky stood in.  You enjoyed training with Nat, but Bucky made sure to put some fun into it.   At first, he seemed so cold but after some warming up, he really was just a big Teddy Bear.  He can still be an ass though.

Your days stayed on this loop for another week until Thor returned with Loki.  No one fully trusted Loki so Stark ended up putting a tracker on him that Wanda enchanted so that Loki couldn’t remove or deactivate it… he was not impressed.  Well, he was, just not pleased.

“You must be Lady Y/n,” Loki smirked.

Thor whacked the back of Loki’s head. “Be good,” he whispered.

Loki just let out a mischievous laugh, “Don’t worry brother.”  Loki turned back to you, “So you’re the one who discovered me? I wouldn’t expect a mere mortal would be able to find me out... not even THE Scarlet Witch did.”

“You’re impressed?” you scoffed. “Or maybe a little jealous.” You knew that he’s the god of mischief and you aren’t gonna deal with any of his shit, you’ve got enough going on.

“No,” he defended, “Just interested.”

“I’m a telepath and empath,” you explained, “and a healer.”

“Oh! So, you cheated!”

“What do you mean cheat? Your thoughts were so loud you were giving me a headache!”

“I will get my revenge.”

He’s going to so annoying, isn’t he?

Loki was surprisingly quiet over the next week until you went to the tower’s library.  

The library itself is a whole floor, it has a copy of every book you could think of.  It even has a librarian who is almost constantly putting up new releases.  It’s a bookworm’s dream.  

You wanted to find a physics book or two and you weren’t against finding a new queer fantasy book.  You returned your books and asked Mx. Anderson where you could find what you were looking for and they quickly gave you directions and suggestions.

You found and picked out a few physics books and then made your way to the young adult section. The queer books have a rainbow sticker on the spine.  You picked out a few then headed to leave, you walked into the “classics” section and there was Loki on a couch reading with a pile of books next to him.

“Hey,” you smiled.

“Hello,” said the Asgardian who didn’t even look up from his book.

You bent down a little to sew the cover of the surprisingly thin book. “Oh, you’re reading Shakespeare!” He was reading Hamlet.  “My favorite is Romeo and Juliet. Have you read it yet?” He finally looked up from his book.  “No,” he seemed a little confused, “But I did read a few others of his work and I think that is in my stack.” He turned to find it. “It has such odd language compared to the rest of you.”

“They were written like four hundred years ago,” you explained, sitting next to him.

“Ah, language does change quite quickly.”

You nodded in agreement.

“What are you reading?” he said pointing at your stack of books.

“Oh, uh um. These big books are physics books, and these smaller ones are fantasy romance.”

“Hmm, you don’t seem to be one who reads romance.”

“Well, I’m really more into it for the fantasy elements but I do enjoy a good romance.”

He gave you a smirk,” Besides Romeo and Juliet and any of Shakespeare’s works. Do you have any recommendations for me?”

You went on to recommend some classics and some more recent books.  He listened to every word and asked a few questions.  You didn’t stay long; you were tired and just wanted to dive into one of your books.  You would usually be in the lab at this time, but it was nice to have a few hours to yourself before dinner.  

“Knock, knock,” said a voice at your door.

“Hm?” you looked up. “Peter!” you set down your book and ran to him for a hug.  It had been a while since Peter had come to the tower.  He hadn’t even been introduced to Loki, formally that is.  ‘How’s my favorite bug!”

Peter let out a laugh, “Good! You’re acting like we don’t talk every day.”

“Video calls and in-person are completely different things! Anyways what are you doing here?”

“It’s Thursday aka movie night.”

“Oh, yeah!”

You and Peter walked out of your room and went to the common space to eat dinner.

“Lady Y/n,” said a booming voice.

“Yes, Thor!”

“Would you and the Man of Spiders like to sit next to me and my brother?”

“Yes, we’d love that,” you laughed.

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve never had ice cream!” you practically yelled at Loki.

Everyone was surprised with how comfortable you and the trickster were with each other, especially Peter.  

“What’s with you and him?” Peter whispered.

“We bonded over books,” you whispered back. “Your girlfriend would like him.”

Peter smiled, he’s pleased that you’re getting along with everyone and most of all that you’re happy.  

The rest of the night was nice, it was just like the last two movie nights.  Dinner, talking, movie, and then Peter had to leave to finish his homework or go on patrol.  

The next week was just like you had gotten there but Loki had decided that it was a perfect time to really embrace his title.  He started to pull little pranks, nothing too bad or really anything that went beyond a little annoyance.  Or at least he didn’t until today.  

It was Saturday so you slept in because you thankfully did not have to go to training.  You were about to leave when you noticed a box on your desk.  It was about the size of a backpack.  So, you decided to open it and when you looked inside there was a black cat with emerald eyes.  Who got you a cat? You like cats and like…thanks?  But still, who would get you a cat out of nowhere? You picked up the cat and as soon as you did it started to transform, and you felt a sharp pain in your side.  The cat continued to transform into of course… Loki.  The raven hair man quickly sprinted out of your room to the common area.

You looked down and there was a fucking kitchen knife in your side.

“You bitch! I like this shirt!” you yelled while running out of your room.

When you entered the common room, Loki was nowhere to be seen.  But Nat, Bucky, and Steve were there.  “Where did he go?”

“Who?” Nat turned around and saw the knife in your side.  Her eyes widened, then she looked fucking pissed.  “What the fuck! Are you okay?”  The men's emotions followed the same track.

“Oh yeah,” you said nonchalantly.  You pulled the bloody knife out of your side.  Some blood soaked into your shirt’s fabric, but you weren’t worried.  But you do like this shirt… that bitch is gonna pay.

“Do you want me to kill him?” said the brunette man bluntly.

“Don’t worry, I got this.” You rushed into the elevator and told Friday to take you to Loki.

The elevator lowered to the Library. Of course.

“Sorry, Mx. Anderson!” you yelled while running by their desk. “There will be yelling and possibly blood shed!”  You already know where he is.  He’s in the classics.  

There he was sitting on the couch, nonchalantly reading the Iliad.

“You’re a fucking bitch you know?  I really like this shirt!” you waved the knife in your hand around.

“Oh please.  You’re a healer, you’ll be fine.”

You crossed your arms, “LOKI. My fucking shirt.”

He raised his arms in defense. “It just a blood and a slight rip.”

You walked up to Loki and took off your shirt, thankfully you were wearing an undershirt that you didn’t care about.  You handed the shirt to him.  “Fix it then.”

He accepted the shirt and scoffed. “Fine.” He waved his hand over the shirt and it was now good as new.

“See, that was easy.” You grabbed the shirt and started to walk away.  “And don’t stab me again! I think two assassins would very happily kill you!”

NEXT CHAPTER 

Ice Cream or Blood

[certifiedskywalker]

Fools - Loki Laufeyson

When Loki visits Earth, you try to make the most of it. Only, Loki doesn’t like Earth. He likes you. 

AN: This is written without a lot of background plot so just keep an open mind! Trust me, this is soooo sweet!

“Shakespeare?”

“Read it.”

“It? You mean…”

“All of them.”

“Every play?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

Loki looked up from the book he had been studying to meet your eyes. His features were relaxed, for the first time in a long time. “Every play.”

You let out a hum and nodded as Loki peered at you. Ever since he had arrived, he had been watching you and you certainly felt it. It seemed as if every place you took him, Loki could have cared less. After trying the new cafe near your house and a failed attempt at getting Loki to paint pottery, you had resorted to your fail-safe: Dove’s Quill.

The cramped, musty bookstore had caught your eye the day after Loki left the first time. After he had zapped off Earth’s material plane, you had let yourself wander the streets to replay the memories of his stay in your head. You were across the street when you caught sight of the sign and worn, leather books in the window that reeked of mystery. In that instant, you knew you had to take Loki inside whenever he returned.

And judging by the softest of smiles you have ever seen on his thin lips, you knew you had been right. “Which is your favorite?”

“Hm,” Loki placed an old looking book back on the shelf before him. “That is difficult to pinpoint.”

“Really?” You squinted your eyes at him as you took slow steps towards him. It was funny stern his profile looked as you grew closer. His jaw was clenched, strained as he focused his gaze on the books in front of him. Almost as if he were trying not to watch you. 

“Yes,” Loki replied flatly. His eyes were still faced forward, away from you, and his jaw was still tense. You leaned against the shelved and tried to steal a glance at his face. Loki’s bright blue eyes were glued to the same spine of a hardcover book, rereading the title over and over again. You clicked your tongue and shook your head.

“You have a favorite,” you teased, “you just don’t want to tell me.” Your accusation pulled Loki’s eyes to yours for a split second. His pupils were blown when he saw how close you were but he quickly focused on a new book and let out a chuckle.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because,” you stepped towards him again, “you’re not looking at me. You’re lying.”

You leaned in towards Loki as you spoke in the hopes of teasing him further. When Loki turned his head he met your gaze with cold eyes. You waited for him to protest, tell you that you were wrong to assume such a thing and rattle off the titles of Shakespeare’s plays to taunt you.

“I don…” Loki’s eyes softened and his furrowed brow relaxed once more. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him and you saw his chilled expression melt away entirely.

“Care to finish that sentence?”

Loki grinned and turned his eyes back to the shelf. “No, I don’t.”

“Macbeth, maybe? I could see you enjoying the drama of it all.” You watched as Loki pulled a novel from the shelf and how he pretended to read the introduction. 

“No,” Loki sighed as his long fingers flicked through the pages. You narrowed your eyes at him and, as if he sensed your more pointed gaze, Loki looked up. 

“What is it?”

“Hamlet,” you mused, “it must be Hamlet.” The instant the title fell from your lips, Loki’s brow furrowed. It didn’t hit you until he spoke up.

“Too true to life for my taste, murderous brothers and all.” He waves a hand in the air as if gesturing towards the realm of his home. Loki and spared you most of the details but given you enough to know what you needed. 

“Aren’t you the murderous brother?” You pointed a teasing finger at Loki who, unamused, crossed his arms over his chest. The material of his black shirt stretched with the motion and you tore your eyes away from his shoulders. 

“Aren’t you smart enough to know better than to mock a god?” You stifled a laugh and dared to meet his eyes. There was a coldness in Loki’s features that, even when warmed, never entirely left him; but when you looked at him, you saw past it. He wanted to smile.

“Maybe the bookstore wasn’t my brightest idea,” you sighed and pushed yourself off of the shelves. Books shook with the absence of your weight and Loki gave the old wooden shelves a wary glance. 

“Everything on this horrible planet is broken, weak,” he poked at the splintering shelf and sighed. “I need some air.”

You only nodded in response and followed Loki out of Dove’s Quill. The older man with large, salt-and-pepper beard thanked you, but Loki didn’t say a word. You gave the kind shop owner a nod before you stepped outside. The nerves in your stomach and the worries in your head were as swirled at the colors of the dusk sky above your head.

Loki, on the other hand, could have cared less. “I assume you have a new location you wish to share with me?”

A frown made its way to your lips and you racked your brain for any spot nearby that might, at the very least, put Loki in a non-hostile mood. Sadly, you glanced back at the door of Dove’s Quill and silently cursed yourself. You had hoped Loki’s love for literature and knowledge would have overshadowed his disdain for Earth’s inferiority. Although, you imagined if you had grown up spoiled by the richness Loki had at his young disposal, a crumby bookstore would have little glory in your eyes. So with a defeated sigh, you shook your head.

“I don’t.” Loki turned to face you with a quirked brow.

“You don’t?”

“I’ve shown you every place worth knowing.” You shrugged and shoved your hands in your jacket pocket. “Where do you want to go?”

Loki’s lips parted with some readied retort but nothing came your way. Instead, Loki pressed his mouth into a thin line and let his eyes fall to the pavement. He was relaxed but not happy. If he hated Earth so much, why did he insist on coming back to it? Just as you prepared to let the question go free off your tongue, Loki stepped towards you.

The scent of the bookstore still clung to his dark clothes and it took all you had not to lean into him. “Where do you want to go?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Loki pressed. “Where do you want to go, Y/N?” 

His eyes were searching yours, urged to find the answer before you yourself could even think of one. Loki took another small step towards you and you felt your cheeks warm. He was so close now. You weren’t sure if it was the setting sun that made you shiver in the newfound chill or Loki himself. It must have been the latter. 

“I-I, I don’t know.”

“Here. Give me your hand.” Loki’s palm laid flat in front of you. As you placed your hand on top of his, another shiver ran down your spine. “Now, close your eyes. Let your mind go blank. Let a place come to you.”

“Is this some Asgardian meditation practice?” You asked wryly. Loki gave you an unamused look and you closed your eyes. “Fine.”

Loki’s hand was soft and cold to the touch. You were overjoyed that your eyes were closed when his grip on your hand tightened. Your cheeks were warm despite the coolness of Loki’s presence and you knew he was watching you. It was impossible not to feel Loki’s gaze, especially when you were so close to him.

“Let your mind go,” Loki said, his voice so soothing you feared you might get drowsy. “Don’t think.”

You wanted to tell him that was impossible. Tell him that there was no way you would be able to silence your racing thoughts with him so close to you. All you could think about was how you wanted to fall into him or scream at him for making you feel that way. Yet, you stayed quiet and tried to lean into the sound of his voice.

The moment you did, a flood of warmth wrapped around your body. Even with the chill, evening air, you felt as if someone had kicked on a small heater in your chest. You tried to search for its source, think of how you could feel so warm, but your mind was blank. Only wisps of green danced under your eyelids and it was then you found the strength to open them.

“What was….that?” When you opened your eyes, Loki was there but the street you had been standing on was not. “What did you do?”

“I brought you to where you wanted to go,” Loki said flatly. As he took in the sight around him, his dark hair fell off his shoulders. “Where exactly is that?”

You too looked around and let out a heavy breath. The sky was a purple-pink now as night began to fall, completely hugging the city in darkness. You knew exactly where you were as you peered over the tops of oak trees to gaze up at the stars.

“The park.”

“The park?” You tore your eyes from the sky and looked at Loki. With a raised brow, he studied you, undoubtedly trying to surmise why you wanted to go to a park of all places.  

“I mean, had I known you could just zap us anywhere, the park wouldn’t have been my first choice.” Loki sighed and it was then you remembered he was still holding your hand. Your eyes found his and Loki let his hand fall to his side immediately. So much for that. 

“But why this park?” Loki raised his hands and gestured to the path before you. It was a local park, nothing special aside from a few educational plaques near particular bushes and trees. Other than a few benches, lamp posts, and the paved path that cut through the man-made forest, there was little evidence that the park was made for people to use. 

“It’s quiet here,” you mused aloud. You walked towards a nearby bench that was illuminated under the yellow glow of a streetlamp. “Peaceful.”

“Perhaps,” Loki agreed, his arms now crossed over his chest. You sat down on the bench, the wood was still warm from the sun which was now set on the horizon. As you made yourself comfortable, you looked up and met Loki’s gaze.

His blue eyes were glued on you, waiting and watching. You gave him a soft smile and scooted over enough to give him space to sit. Loki remained still, watching you watch him. Before you felt your cheeks heat up anymore, you turned your attention back on the stars. With your gaze averted, you could only hear Loki’s footfalls as he walked over to take the seat beside you. 

“So you can just...go anywhere?” You asked, eyes still focused on tracing random constellations in the sky. 

“Anywhere,” Loki replied and you looked to the side to steal a glance at him. Only, when you did, you saw that he was looking at you rather than the sky.

“Then why do you come back here?” Your breath made a little cloud in the darkness when you asked and Loki gave you a half-smile.

“You’re the one that brought us here,” he jabbed and you shook your head.

“No, I mean, here, like Earth in general.” Loki’s charming smile faded in an instant. He turned his attention to the sky to avoid your eyes. A new quiet fell over the two of you and you couldn’t help but frown. When Loki visited, you tried everything to make sure he saw the best that Earth, that mortal life, had to offer. Perhaps you simply weren’t enough.

The silence seemed to stretch on and on until you shifted in your seat. You readied to stand on your shaky legs and start the walk home. Loki would be leaving soon anyway, what was the point?

“Romeo and Juliet.”

You gave Loki a puzzled look but when he turned his head to meet your gaze, you were smiling. “Romeo and Juliet?”

“It’s the peak of satire, in my opinion, dueling houses and all.” Loki let out a breath and let his eyes fall to his lap. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

“You’re lying again,” you teased and leaned back against the bench once more.

“I am not,” Loki said, blue eyes widening at the claim. “I thoroughly enjoy Romeo and Juliet.” You squinted and held his gaze.

“That’s not what you were lying about,” you continued, “you like the romance.” Loki cringed and made a sound of disgust.

“No, I find that deplorable.”

“I’m sure you do,” you played along with a grin. Silence returned, only this time it was more comfortable. 

“It is simply foolish to fall in love so quickly. To keep coming back to something you don't understand." Loki’s comment hung in the air between you and made your heartache. Something about his tone was wistful yet it was mocking. Why must he be so hard to read?

You were fed up, filled with emotions that had nowhere to go. Anger at Loki but love towards Loki were muddled in your brain. How could he be so blind yet so bright? Why hadn’t he answered your question from before?

“Then why do you keep coming back to Earth?” You pressed the question again, even going as far as to lean towards Loki. His blue eyes lifted from his lap and met your eyes. The softness you saw in them was scary. You had never seen that before. 

“Because I want to understand you, Y/N.” Never once did he look away. Loki held your gaze like a lifeline. He wasn’t lying or joking or tricking; he was telling you the truth.

“Loki, are you saying that-”

“I fell in love too quickly?” He raised a brow and you swallowed hard, but the joke came back up your throat.

“I was going to ask if that makes you Romeo or Juliet,” you teased, “but that works too.”

Loki let out a breathy laugh, something that was so rare you thought you had imagined it at first. “That makes me a fool.”

“We’re both fools then,” you replied. The humor your tone once held had been replaced with the same tenderness you saw in Loki’s eyes. He was still staring at you, the stars above your heads long forgotten now. He held out his hand to you and you took it. “Are you planning to take me somewhere?”

“Wherever you want to go, darling,” Loki drawled before he placed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ll take you there.”

[holdmyowos]

The Lion King (Hitoshi x Reader Fluff)

A/N sorry this is short I just did not have any more ideas

"It's my favorite movie, if I'm being honest. I'm disappointed that I couldn't get a role in the play. I've watched it over a hundred and fifty times, and that's not an exaggeration. Well, a few of the parts were pretty different from the movie, and I would have had to sing, so..." He said, laughing, as if he was admitting something embarrassing, holding his neck. You loved it when he did that. It was such a cute pose for him. Your class was doing a play for the School Festival. Since another class, class 1-B, perhaps? You were not sure. They were doing Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet, a Shakespeare play, your class wanted to do a more lighthearted play. The Lion King, to be more precise. You did not get a role either, like Hitoshi, so the two of you had to dress up as Simba and Nala, the main characters, and pose with little kids. "It's just a distraction, though, on my goal to try and get into the hero corse and become a hero." His expression hardened. Hitoshi did not really have any friends in the school, but two teachers, Mic and Aizawa seemed to be nearly friends with him. If you could show him you were friend material (or perhaps a bit more), you would have not only him, but also two teachers on your side.

His expression softened whenever the kids came to take pictures with him dressed up in a costume as Simba, the cute lion cub. One of the kids remarked, "I like ya kicks, Simba!" You had never seen him like that before, his grin from ear to ear. "You like them? They're new." Your heart melted. He was so cute with them. Hitoshi was so good with the children, being kind and only growling slightly when they pulled on his ears. It was not a very exciting job to have, but at least it gave you an excuse to be with your crush for a little bit. Your other classmates were rehearsing or selling tickets with Present Mic, who was doing a very good job of yelling at the customers to come see the presentation.

"You look good in that," Hitoshi said, matter of factly. You look around. There was no one else, not even a child. "You mean me?" You asked unironically, pointing to yourself with a confused expression. He laughed. "Of course. You look so cute, kitty." You hoped he could not see you blush under the makeup you had to put on. Had he called you kitty on accident, or was it because you were wearing a large cat costume? That was a pet name, right? Your crush had just came up with a nickname for you! You were so busy thinking about that, a tiny boy came over to you with his mom and sister. The mom snapped a picture of the four of you, the flash taking you out of your daze. "Hey, why don't you two kiss? Aren't you supposed to be in love?" The kid says. You pause, unsure what to do, laugh at the mom slightly, but when she does not do anything, you bend down to level with the kid. "You're right, Simba and Nala are in love, but they're lions, and lions don't kiss." The kid looked like he was going to start bawling. "Mommy! It's a lie, the lions aren't in love. I'm going to tell my friends that class 1-C's play is terrible." You were not even supposed to have to be an actor. You sighed. "Ok, ok. Come on, I can get you a toy from the souvenir stand, will that help?" You said. He shook his head no. His sister seemed sad too. "Come on, we have to do something," Hitoshi whispered. "We can't have a kid crying before the play has even started," You sighed, out of ideas. "I'll do it," Hitoshi said gruffly. "Do what?" Before you knew what was happening, he nuzzles your face gently, not enough to mess with the makeup, and leaves you blushing. The close contact with you ended too quickly. You touched the spot where his breath went over you. "Oh, guess they're cool. Come on, Shiro! Let's go," the little boy sped off with his sister. Was Hitoshi hitting on you? He had complimented your looks and had just been up in your face. He did not even ask. Did he know you had a crush on him as well? Hitoshi waved at the siblings as they went into the distance, then turned to look at you.

"I'm sorry if I didn't respect your personal space. I did not mean to violate your space. I should have asked first. It's whatever, though, right? It's in the past, and you have to leave the past behind you." He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking nervous. You waved your hands at him, trying to express how you felt. "Oh, no, it was great. I mean, oh it's okay. It's fine." Oops. You looked down at your feet. It was great? Why did you say that? What did that even mean? He nodded, and went back to what he was doing, satisfied with your answer. When the play was over, Hitoshi started to take off the costume. You watched, assuming that he had a shirt or hoodie underneath. Seeing his bare chest made you realize this was not the case, and you panicked and turned away to respect his privacy. "Hitoshi, a bit of a warning next time before you strip, please!" You said. He just chuckled. "I still have my pants on, so why's it matter?" Your face got red with the possibility of seeing him without a shirt. No. No. No. You told yourself. You did not want to be seen as a pervert in Hitoshi's book. You were not peeking. As he left, he had put on a black hoodie and pulled the hoodie over his head.

You went around, helping other classes take down their decorations from the festival. Your one chance to do something with Hitoshi, and you had acted uninterested, even when he made physical contact with your face. Like a kiss. Well, there's always later, right? You could try talking to him or class, if you somehow got the courage of a lion. Or next year. Unless he joins the hero course... maybe you should make your move sooner rather than later.

[lusty-loki]

I Can Read Your Lips Pt. 2

Chapter/Oneshot: Pt 2 (final)

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Deaf!Reader 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2988

A/N: i had a lot of fun writing this second part. i wanted to make it all fluffy and address how much of a gentleman Loki is. (he was raised a prince after all) 

“I quite like her.” Loki said before taking a drink of water. Tony let out a hmph sound and rolled his eyes, walking over to sit on the couch.

“You better not do anything with her.” Loki laughed and set his cup down.

“And why is that Stark? Are you planning to share a bed with her?” Loki raised an eyebrow as he taunted the billionaire. Tony had a retort on his tongue, but just settled on flipping him off. Loki hopped up on a bar-stool and drummed his fingers against the table, looking over at Clint.

“Tell me archer, how did she lose her hearing?” Loki asked. Apparently, that was the wrong question, because everyone in the room stiffened. Clint looked away and Wanda coughed around her water, almost spitting it out. “Oh… Not a pleasant story, is it?” Natasha shook her head as she went behind the counter to grab a bottle of whiskey.

“No. And it’s not our story to tell, either.”  Once Natasha had finished pouring her drink she put down the bottle and looked at Loki, of whom was looking at her with raised eyebrows. “When Y/n trusts you, she will tell you on her own time. Until then, we won’t talk about it.” Loki looked down at his water with now-furrowed brows and nodded. Once she had walked away, Loki got up and decided he would hit the library.

Once Loki found the book he wanted, he sat down in a plush black chair, and opened it up to the first page. It was an old book, more specifically the play Hamlet. Loki loved all of Shakespeare's writing, and was happy that he found this one first. He settled into the book and forgot about the world around him.

A few hours later, Loki heard someone snapping their fingers behind him. He turned his head to see you dressed in black sweatpants and a grey thin strapped tank-top. You sat down in a chair across from Loki and smiled.

“What are you reading?” You asked with your hands. Loki held up the book and smiled back at you, showing that he was reading Hamlet. You nodded and smiled. “Ah. Shakespeare is one of my favorite writers.” Loki smiled and set it to the side. The god started to sign then dropped his hands and bit his lip. You tilted your head in a silent question, but then the god resumed his signing.

“Thor said you are a magic wielder, yes?” You nodded and opened up your hand to show blue light swirling around your fingertips. You smiled down at it, but then closed your fist, making it go away. Loki’s jaw was almost to the floor.

“I was experimented on much like Wanda. But I was also given a version of Steve’s Super Soldier Serum. But pretty lights is not all I can do.” You lost your smile as you signed the last sentence, and Loki tilted head, asking you to elaborate. “Well. My magic is a bitch. As long as I kill someone, I won’t die. Somehow, I gain their years, but something is taken away from me. I didn’t have a choice of what it took. It took what I had left of my hearing.” You looked down at the ground as you clenched your jaw. “Hydra made me kill a lot of people, so I have a few hundred years left on my life.” Loki leaned forward and put his hand on your knee, rubbing circles to soothe you. You took a deep breath and looked up, flashing a smile. You hated explaining it, but telling Loki didn’t feel wrong. You were surprised that he didn’t shy away from what you said. You remembered telling Bruce and Thor. They stayed away from you for a while, and had you depressed for weeks. Later they had come around, but it still had stung.

“I’ve killed quite a few as well.” Loki signed. The god looked down and clenched his jaw. His shoulders rose and fell with a big sigh. For the first time since you had lost you hearing, you were sad that you didn’t have it. You hated signing, and you wanted to hear yourself tell him that everything would be alright. But instead you placed a hand on his, and squeezed. He looked back up, his blue eyes meeting yours. You gave him a small smile of which he returned. Suddenly, the light to your left shifted and you swung your head around to see Natasha opening the door. You quickly moved your hands from Loki, and he did the same. Nat saw you move, and gave a questioning look.

“Tony needs help in the kitchen. He tried making your famous bacon macaroni and cheese, but he completely failed.” You and Nat smiled together as you stood, giving a quick nod. You turned to Loki who was also slightly smiling. A blush crept up your cheeks at the sight. It amazed you at how quickly Loki could go from being vulnerable, to smiling. But then it hit that he had probably hid his emotions his whole life. Your smile faltered, but you hid it for his sake.

“I would love it if you would join me. Cooking with the Avengers is actually pretty fun.” Loki shrugged and stood, dog-earing the book he was reading. It took all of two minutes to get to the kitchen to see Tony with an exasperated face and the others laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’ve seen her make it before, I thought I was doing it right!” Tony said to the others. You clapped your hands to get everyone’s attention and smiled.

“No matter how many times you see me make this you will never make it as good as I do. Face it Tony, you’re just not a chef.” You shrugged and smiled as you saw the rest of the team laugh. You walked over to the counter and coughed, using your hands to shoo away smoke. The dish was smoking, and was burnt on the top. Tony just tried to smile and shrug his shoulders.

“Alright, first things first. You gotta toss this out.” You pushed the dish away from you and saw James shake his head, taking it before Tony could get sad. You set to work, grabbing elbow noodles, bacon, and other ingredients.

The whole rest of the night had been spent laughing, cooking and eating. Loki didn’t even shy away from any conversation, signed or spoken. Most of the speaking was about how Loki had been, how the Asgardian people were, and in turn how the Avengers had been. Thor spoke of the most recent arms dealers bust, while Loki sent small signals to you, making you snort. Thor raised an eyebrow, but you just shook your head, playing it off as a weird sneeze.

After everyone had eaten, and the dishes were put in the dishwasher, people started to file out and into their rooms. Soon, it was 12:38, and your eyes were starting to close. Loki noticed, and walked over to the couch you were on.

“Y/n, come on. It’s time for bed.” Your heavy eyes looked up, and in an attempt to be funny, you raised your arms like you wanted to be carried. You saw the god smirk and roll his eyes before actually picking you up, his arms sliding around your body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and laid your head on his shoulder as he walked, breathing in his scent. Somewhere along the way, you actually fell asleep.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” Loki whispered.

The next few months went by smoothly. You woke and trained with the Avengers before going off and doing personal things. Sometimes you would end up in the library, or the pool. Other times you’d find yourself of missions for S.H.I.E.L.D. But whatever you did, Loki was right by your side. You two were practically joined at the hip. You went to parties together, stayed up until the ungodly hours of the night together, and everything else.

Overtime, you started to develop feelings for the God of Mischief and Lies. You found that his gazes were just a little too long, and his fingers brushed against your knuckles, or back way too often. You started to like these little gestures, and even returned them. Tonight, you decided to do something about it.

"Clint Barton, I swear to god if you say one more thing-!" You whirled around from looking at yourself in the mirror. Clint was standing in the doorway to your room in a tuxedo, and a smile. The Avenger laughed and shook his head, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay. I won't say a damn thing." Clint then pulled his phone from his pocket. "But that doesn't mean I can't text him!!" He signed. You tried to run to grab the phone, but you forgot about the skin tight dress you were wearing, and missed his phone by mere centimeters.

"Damnit Barton! Please, I will tell Loki on my own!" You gave the archer a pleading look. You knew if you wanted to do anything, or get anywhere with Loki, it would have to come from you. No games. No little notes passed by the others. Clint nodded softly and smiled, placing his phone back in his pocket.

“I’m sorry. I won’t say a word.” Clint smiled and pulled your in for a hug. You sighed and then pulled away, giving yourself one last look in the mirror. You were wearing a form-fitting emerald dress, with a low cut front. For a while you were worried about the reactions that you would receive from it, but the only person you wanted to impress was Loki. You had a green smokey eye to match, and your hair was up in an elegant do, giving you the look of a princess. The whole outfit, makeup and hairdo had been planned by Natasha and Clint. You had originally just planned to get the god alone in the library, or somewhere else and tell him but Natasha had protested.

“If you are going to tell someone about your feelings for them, you need to make it romantic and memorable.” She had signed. Clint had more-or-less been stuffing his face with cookies when he nodded along to her statement. So here you were, on your way upstairs to one of Tony’s parties, arm linked with Clint’s. The archer kept his eyes forward, scanning the halls until you got to the designated floor. He opened the door for you, and you curtsied. Once inside, you immediately found Loki. He was at the bar chatting up a young woman in a soft shade of yellow. But the girl’s jaw dropped when she saw you, causing the god to turn. Loki almost dropped his drink as his eyes trailed your body. You saw his jaw clench as he fought to hide a smile, settling for a smirk instead. Clint’s hand touched your back, guiding you over towards the bar to get a drink. After taking a sip, you found a certain someone at your back, leaning over so their lips were by your ear.

You shivered and turned, seeing Loki with a soft smile on his face.

“You look absolutely beautiful tonight Y/n.” You blushed and pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thank you, Loki.” Loki grabbed your drink and set it down and took your hand. You didn’t protest as he dragged you towards a balcony that overlooked the city. Lights twinkled as the silent music from inside played, but it was just you and Loki out here. The god looked you up and down once before grabbing your hand and connecting it with his, while laying the other one on your waist. You looked up, a little confused and saw him roll his eyes.

“If you are going to be wearing that dress, and out here with me- you need to dance. I wouldn’t want this to go to waste.” He mouthed.

“I’m not sure if you forgot or not, but i’m deaf. I can’t even hear the music or feel the beat.” You protested. Loki just shook his head, his smile growing wider.

“You can trust me, Y/n. I will lead you.” You shook your head and took a deep breath, placing your hands in the correct spots. The song from inside changed to something slower- and you allowed Loki to take the lead.

His eyes never left yours as you both waltzed. Everything else seemed to fall away: the cold air was no longer cold, your breath was no longer tight in your throat, and your nerves no longer existed.

It was just you, and Loki.

You laid your head on Loki’s chest, closing your eyes and relying solely on him to guide you. You could feel his heart, and was amazed at how calm it was. After thirty minutes of nonstop slow dancing, you stepped away. Taking a deep breath you smiled, taking Loki’s hand and guiding him to the railing. You looked out over the city as you tried to form the words to say to Loki in your head. But before you could do anything, Loki started to sign to you.

“Y/n… I’ve been thinking about this for about the past month or so-” He began. “I don’t know how to phrase this… I think this might be the first time in my life I haven’t been able to get the right words so i’ll just- say it.” Loki turned to face you, his slightly worried look melting away to a soft yet confident smile. “I am so deeply in love with you. I have been captivated by you every since I met you. The way you hold yourself- and how strong you are! You’re so amazingly smart, yet sarcastic and funny. You can hold your own, but you’re soft. You’re just-” Loki dropped his hands before mouthing the last word. “-perfect.” Loki looked down at his hands as you stood there in shock. You had hoped and wished that he felt the same as you did, but actually seeing it filled you with joy. Your fingers brushed Loki’s chin, making him look at you. You smiled and mouthed back to him.

“Well, looks like you beat me to it.” A little chuckle left the both of you. Loki’s hand cupped your cheek and you leaned into his touch. His palm fit perfectly against your face, like he was made for you. Without another thought, you leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against Loki’s soft ones. Your eyes fluttered shut as the god pulled you closer. His body and lips were warm against the cold New York City air, and you welcomed them. For a moment, he pulled away, just to look at you and smirk, but then Loki pulled you back into another hungrier kiss.

His lips seemed desperate, like he needed yours now. Your fingers went to the nape of his neck to be tangled in his raven locks as his hands stayed on your waist. You only pulled away when you felt a flashing light. Your eyes opened to see Clint and Natasha each with a camera, snapping away. You hid your face in Loki’s shoulder, and felt Loki laugh. Once the flashing stopped. Loki placed a kiss on your neck, and steered you both in the direction on the party. Guests were murmuring as you both walked in, blush evident on both of your cheeks. Natasha bumped her shoulder with yours and held up the camera, sticking out her tongue. You just shook your head, knowing very well that arguing with Natasha Romanoff would be fruitless. Loki took your hand in his again, and laid his hand on your waist to dance yet again. Thankfully, you could feel the base through the floor, so you knew the beat, and were able to dance without his lead.

Loki and you danced for a few songs before Tony walked over and grabbed your hands, more-or-less prying you from Loki’s grip. You let out a chuckle at the defeated god, and danced with Tony. He looked at you before taking a deep breath.

“Please, Y/n. Be safe. That’s all I ask.” Tony’s eyebrows were furrowed in a worried look, and you nodded.

“Yes Dad, I will wear a condom.” You said back. You saw Tony’s shoulders shake in a laugh, and you smiled along.

“But seriously. I care about you, and I trust you. Make good decisions.” And with that, the billionaire playboy philanthropist bowed his head and walked away.  Your eyes were trained on Tony’s back until Loki’s hand touched yours. His look held the silent question of “are you ready to leave?” You nodded and walked from the room, to the elevator and down to the floor with your room. Once you got through the door, Loki plopped down on the bed, having already magically changed into sweatpants.

You took your time with taking off your dress and makeup. Once your hair had been brushed through, and everything hung back up you made your way over to the bed, crawling in right beside Loki. He wrapped his muscled arms around you, pulling your chest up against his. You trailed your fingers down his jaw and up again, memorizing each line of his face. Loki smiled and kissed your forehead.

“I have waited a long time to lay in this bed with you.” Loki mouthed. You smiled and kissed his lips quickly.

“Well you better make the best of it, because you’re getting out of it in the morning.” You replied sarcastically. Loki’s body shook with laughter as he covered you both with your black comforter.

“Get some sleep, love.” He replied.

===================

taglist:

@phantomofhogwarts

@fandom-and-feminism

@crossroadsandloudmusic

@blackirisposts

@hannah-aureum

@anti-socialslytherin

@lokiphan

@saucystiles

@wrappedinlokisarms

@pinkieperil

@yurio-plisetksy

if there is a line through your user, it’s because i couldn’t find you! 

[aionimica]

bookstore AU!

“You really don’t want to read that.”

Rey looked up suddenly from her coffee and her book at the sudden stranger who stood next to her in the Classics aisle of Shuttles&Nobles.

“Faulkner.” He gestured to the copy of A Light in August under her arm with a scowl. “You’d be better off reading Hemingway.”

“Hemingway was a dick,” Rey said without even looking him in the eye. It wasn’t hard. He was tall with thick black hair that fell just past his chin and a line of stubble threatening to become facial hair hanging around his jaw and chin. But it wasn’t this that caught her attention, no. It was those eyes that watched her curiously: wondering what the hell she was doing with Faulkner.

He shrugged. “A dick who knew what he was doing. He knew story and thematics and could use a fucking comma.”

Before she could protest, he handed her a copy off the shelf and pressed it into her hands. “Trust me on this. I know you’ll feel it to.”

Rey watched as he strode away, the extra copy of The Old Man and the Sea teetering on her Faulkner. She almost set it down, but curiosity made her keep onto it. As she made her way to the checkout line, she pulled out her phone and texted Finn.

Well. Today got weird.

He must be a regular because Rey saw him again when she sat down a few days later with a  new copy of Pride and Prejudice at one of the tables in the coffee shop attached in the corner.

“Let me guess, Faulkner?” He prompted, that shit-eating grin starting to curl across his lips, like he already knew what she was going to say.

“Was terrible,” Rey finished.

The stranger almost smiled. Almost before Rey clarified. “And Hemingway is still a dick.”

She slid the copy of Hemingway back to him. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Why do people like Austen better? Bronte is a perfectly acceptably substitute–”

Rey slammed the book shut, but he didn’t even flinch. “I can’t believe this, you’re doing this again?” Rey leaned back in disbelief. “I don’t even know you and –”

He pulled out his wallet and slipped a business card onto the table.

Ben SoloChief Editor of Kylo Ren BooksAn Extension of First Order Publishing

She narrowed her eyes and took a sip of her coffee as she twisted the cardstock in her fingers. “I’ll play along, I’m Rey. Now I want to you to chose your next words about this classic, very carefully.”

His heavy brown eyes flicked from her to the book and back, his mouth mulling over words not yet spoken. “You’ve got to widen your mind, if you think this is the penultimate piece of fiction to come out of that time period, the Bronte–”

“Hang on, I’m not talking about them– Did you ever finish it?”

He stopped, confused before answering, “Not exactly.”

“If you buy me coffee and actually manage to finish Pride and Prejudice, I’ll let you tell me what books to read.” She pulled out her planner and circled the next time she’d be in the store, before tearing it out and handing it to him. “One chapter per book recommendation.”

His hands dwarfed hers as he took it from her and folded it crisply “Deal.”

Later she texted Finn.

Still not a date. Ha!

She wouldn’t stare at his lips.

She wouldn’t stare at his lips.

She wouldn’t stare at his lips.

“–Hamlet is overrated, there are so many better works of Shakespeare, not to mention from that time period, but no. Everyone has to always talk about fucking Hamlet. Or Macbeth please let me never hear about that one again.”

Rey wouldn’t stare at those perfect lips on that perfect mouth of his as he continued to rant about Hamlet and every other popular Shakespeare play. She sighed and definitely didn’t focus right to the side of those lips, at the mole on his check, or his dimples that pulled with he managed to get particularly passionate.

“Well you’re wrong,” she said eventually when she stretched. “Hamlet is a classic and its easily accessible by a multitude of audiences, which makes it fun for all ages and learning levels, not to mention when performed correctly, it’s the funniest and saddest thing.”

“But nobody performs it correctly,” he moaned and ran his hands through his hair.

Rey shook her head. Leaning back, she looked at her phone and frowned. “Shit, it was only one week, how far into Pride and Prejudice did you get?”

Ben looked down at his copy with little sticky notes feathering the side. He’d bought it the last time they met – the cover was one of Rey’s favorites. “I don’t know, Lizzy is staying at her friends house. It’s about the same place I stopped the last time.”

Rey held back a smile. “Keep going. My favorite part is coming up. Anyways, you’ve been talking for twenty minutes.”

“I have a lot of opinions,” Ben said with a shrug.

“Ok, but what about mine?” Rey pressed.

Ben acquiesced and after a quick pause to gather a second round of caffeine, the tables turned. “Thoughts on Tolstoy?”

Easy. “Too long, there are other things I’d rather read.”

He stared at her like she had three heads and was wielding a laser sword. “Alright… Bronte vs Austen?”

“You really won’t let this go? Fine.” Rey leaned forward on the table, bracing against her elbows until she was mere inches from him. From those lips that looked way too damn good as they drank from a coffee mug. “Austen, since Northanger Abbey is freakishly underrated, and Catherine Moreland is a modern day heroine.”

His jaw worked back and forth as his gaze sized her up. “Sci-fi?”

Rey grinned triumphantly. “Mary Shelley is my queen, Dracula is overrated and no matter how much I want to say it’s overrated, I can’t seem to ever hate Dune.”

He looked at her with an unprecedented softness in his eyes, the harsh lines of his jaw suddenly rounded and despite their slight height difference, he looked up to her from propped up on his elbows. “Marry me,” he said under his breath.

Rey nearly spit out her coffee and laughed. “What?”

“Do you want to get coffee?” Ben sputtered and his ears turned red, his cheeks redder as he stood up suddenly, his thighs banging against the table. “Fuck, ignore me, that was totally not what I meant, I swear I don’t want to marry you because that’s insane.”

He looked up to Rey’s deadpan as sweat formed on his brown. “But I would like to get coffee, like real coffee?”

Rey watched him, amused as she blatantly took a sip of her own coffee.

“Or dinner?”

“I might be able to be convinced of dinner,” Rey said eventually. She reached into her planner and circled the day she was free and wrote her number beneath it, before slipping it into his copy of Pride and Prejudice. It was marked with his handwriting, annotated in small, scratchy print. She hoped she managed to slip it into her favorite scene coming up. She pressed the book into his hand and held onto it tight.

He swallowed as she walked away.

She texted Finn.

Don’t you say a word.

[astridthevalkyrie]

Axe to the Heart: Chapter 2

Astrid Hofferson/Steve Harrington. “Maybe I hate a lot of things here in Hawkins but I suppose you’re not one of them.”

Chapter 1

Edit: Thank you very much to @warrior-of-httyd and @ashleybenlove for giving this trash pair a chance and for the lovely reviews. :D

The next few days became worse and worse. She did nothing but paperwork at the station, the only one who really acknowledged her there was Florence (who said to call her Flo), school was getting tougher by the day (what could she expect, it was senior year), and for some Thorforsaken fucking reason, Steve Harrington was still walking around like someone killed his cat (honestly, what a drama queen).

And Astrid hated the gut feeling she had that paperwork was all she’d ever do in her life, her grades would find a way to mess up eventually, and that she was the one who murdered the fucking kitten.

She was working her ass off to try to get past the first two problems. She could not let her grades slip, or her parents would take an interest in her, but not in a good way. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get Chief Hopper’s seal of approval.

The Steve Harrington thing she could just forget. Right? Right?

Wrong. Apparently, fate was working against her.

“Byers and Campbell, Harrington and Hofferson, Jackson and Brown…”

Everything, Astrid decided as she saw Harrington coming towards her, was shit. Her teacher, and this project in general were part of that everything.

Harrington dropped his bag and slumped in the chair next to her, before looking at her expectantly. She bit back a grimace and shifted her seat closer.

“I hope you know what we’re doing, Hofferson, because I have no clue what the hell she just said.”

Astrid snorted despite herself. Typical.

“We need to choose any Shakespearean work and act out a five minute scene of something we believed should have happened. That was the basic stuff. Everything else was her telling us in fancy terms how much she’d love to fail us if we screwed this up.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you spoke Shakespeare.” He flashed a grin at her, and Astrid bit her lip to stop a sigh of relief from escaping her.

He didn’t hold hard feelings - whatever he was upset about had nothing to do with her.

But then, maybe that was worse. Now she felt even more guilty, because he didn’t hold a grudge. Couldn't he just hate her and get on with it?

“So, when do you want to meet up to plan this thing?”

Astrid thought about what she had remembered last night. For someone who was dubbed a king, he sure didn't have that many friends. Since she'd been here she’d only seen him sitting with Nancy Wheeler, but yesterday, Nancy had sat with Jonathan, and Astrid had seen Harrington sitting by himself. There wasn't any need for him to - half the girls in the school would be more than willing to help him move on.

But what the hell. They might as well just spend the period together. She certainly didn't have anyone vying for her attention.

“Why don't we do it at lunch?” Then, to clear it up lest he think she watched him while she ate, she quickly said, “If you're not too busy.”

“Nah. I'm not. You know...too busy dreaming about girls who like photography nerds.” He shot her a smirk. Asshole. “I’ll find you there, then?” Harrington extended a hand.

He still looked like a fucking wreck. Astrid shook his hand and they didn’t say anymore to each other for the last five minutes of class.

They could have planned right then, but honestly...Astrid was looking forward to not sitting alone at lunch, and when she threw a quick glance to Harrington who was smiling at his phone, she thought he might be too.

“So…”

“So.”

“Why don’t we choose a book?” Astrid suggested, taking out her notebook and pencil. “We’ve read - well, I’ve read - most of them.”

“Hey,” Harrington cut in, looking affronted, “I’ve read them too. I’ve read...Romeo and Juliet. Oh, and Macbeth.”

“Hamlet? Midsummer Night’s Dream? Julius Caesar?” Astrid raised a brow at him as she listed some of her favorites (there was a reason she was in Shakespearean Literature and it wasn’t because she needed the credits).

“Maybe we could stick to Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth?” he asked, looking hopeful. Astrid nearly laughed - but she caught herself.

“Fine. Any ideas?” She bent down, ready to write. They could probably jot down notes and maybe even start a script by the end of the period.

“Not a one.”

Astrid snapped her head up and blew her bangs out of her face as she stared at him. “Okay, so I’ll be doing the work. Whatever. Just practice your lines when I give you them.” She stood up with her tray, taking her things in the other hand (and realized she really should have put her things in her bag before she stood up. She blamed Harrington and his floofy hair for distracting her).

“Hey, hey, no, I’ll help!” He stood up so quickly and with such wide eyes that Astrid relented (she relented? She relented? Just when the fuck was the last time she relented to anyone?) and sat down. Harrington sat back down as well, looking satisfied. “Okay, so I think we should do Romeo and Juliet. It’s everyone’s favorite.”

“But if it’s everyone’s favorite, everyone will be doing it. Maybe we should go with Macbeth.” She leaned back before realizing there was no wall behind her.

Okay, whatever this new idiotic side of her was, it needed to stop popping up in front of Steve fucking Harrington. First she had the gall to feel guilty, and now she was doing dumb stuff like relenting - if she didn’t look out she might start joking around with him.

“What scene could we add to Macbeth?”

“What scene could we add to Romeo and Juliet?” Astrid shot back. If he said that they should show the sex scene in greater detail then Thor help him, she would murder him.

“Maybe a scene with the parents mourning. You could be Lady Capulet and I’d be Lord Montague since Lady Montague died.”

It...wasn’t a bad idea. It was okay. More than she expected.

“Okay…” She wrote the idea down. “Mourning parents. I can work with that.”

“We can work with that,” Harrington insisted, leaning forward and reading her notes upside down. “You know, Lady Capulet really suits you.”

Astrid looked up at him. There was a small smile on his face and testily she asked, “Why do you say that?”

He shook his head, seemingly holding back a laugh. “Lady Capulet was stuffy as hell, you’d play her really well.”

Astrid glared at him, stuffed her notebook and pencil in her bag (ha, she thought ahead this time), and stood up, storming away from him.

Five people. Five people in the whole world were allowed to make fun of her about her personality...her “stuffiness.” And Harrington wasn’t one of those five people. So he could go screw himself.

“Hey...hey!”

She ignored him, leaving the lunch room even though she heard whispers. Astrid didn’t want anyone whispering about her, but if she turned around and snapped at him in front of everyone, whispers would be the least of her problems.

It was when she stopped at her locker that Harrington caught up with her. “Okay. I’m sorry. Be Montague. Lady Montague, that is. We can bring her back from the dead. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Astrid snarled - could he let her be irritated with him in piece? - as she shoved her bag in the locker and took out what she would need for the next period. “Tell me I’m being a drama queen and go away.”

“Hey, I’m the queen of drama queens.” He peered at her and gave her a charming grin (which, damn it all to hell, was pretty charming). “Just don’t stop talk - uh, brainstorming with me. Please? I just...really wanna work hard to get this grade.”

What the hell was wrong with him? Usually guys called her out for being a bitch or being dramatic, which she usually was. On purpose. The only guy who hadn’t done that who she’d been romantically involved with was Hiccup, and no one was like him. Certainly not King Steve.

Astrid slammed her locker shut and looked up at him (she blamed his hair for the extra foot he had on her). “Don’t call me stuffy again.”

“Won’t.” He looked completely serious. “Definitely...will not. At all. Um...I don’t think we should go back to the cafeteria because there are people who saw us leave -”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Romeo.”

“ - Welcome, Lady Montague. Hey, maybe we should have that instead! A scene between Romeo and his mom where they talk some stuff out.”

Astrid shook her head, hiding her smile as she hugged her books close to her chest. Well, that was strange. All the anger had evaporated. But he had called her stuffy. And he wasn’t allowed to.

But it wasn’t as though she was suddenly close to him, it was just nice to...talk to someone like this again. Like a friend.

“Next.”

“A scene between Nurse and some random cook and we just make it pure comedy.”

“Next!”

“Secretly Paris was having an affair with Paris from the Iliad.”

“Next!”

I have never written a second chapter this quickly, do you need any more proof that this ship owns my body and soul now?

[queencamellia]

“His” Fiance, Choosing (Ch.3)

Summary: [TCT, spoilers for recent chapters] Confronted with the truth, she chooses. (or: Lizzy is faced with a decision to accept her past or move forward, and looking at her two Ciels in the eye has never been harder)

Chapter 1 Link

Chapter 2 Link

I’ve been late with this because I’ve fallen in love with Charles Grey/Lizzy and am unabashedly writing a much longer, more well-written story about the two of them at the moment. ^^ Sorry.

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Lizzy woke up to the sound of birds chirping. Immediately, she sat up and scanned the room warily, and to her relief, it was empty. Light streamed in the bedroom through a single window, and to her side laid a single stuffed animal. It was a rabbit (rabbits had always been one of her favorite animals), and its resemblance to Ciel almost made bile rise to her throat.

She couldn’t do this.

Lizzy couldn’t face him: not now, not after meeting the other Ciel.

“The other Ciel”, hah. Wasn’t that a funny thought? After all, “the other Ciel” had always just been “Ciel” in the past. She was hit by a sudden turbulent wave of emotions: anger, fear, guilt, sadness, hope, and confusion. It seemed as if the entire emotional spectrum had somehow managed to overwhelm her senses.

She had no doubt that Sebastian was somewhere nearby. In fact, she could faintly hear voices from downstairs. One of the voices sounded suspiciously like her brother.

Edward.

God, she couldn’t do this. Not yet.

Lizzy had to leave. And if she wanted to leave without getting caught, she’d have to do so quickly before Sebastian came upstairs to check on her. Silently mustering all the agility she could, Lizzy pulled off several of the bedsheets and began to work. Hands nimbly weaving the fabric together, each satisfying knot distracted her from further thought and emotion. All that existed in her tiny world was her and the bedsheets: twist, tie, secure. Twist, tie, secure.

“Okay,” she whispered quietly, her voice sounding hoarse and nearly inaudible in the bedroom. Lizzy, you can do this. She scooted over to the side of the bed, securing her makeshift rope around the bedpost. Gingerly, her feet stepped onto the bedroom floor. Ensuring that the wood would not creak, Lizzy made her way to the window and slid it open.

Throwing the rope out of the window, Lizzy hesitated for a split second and glanced back.

Ciel will be furious.

“Maybe next time,” she murmured, nimbly scaling down the wall nearly effortlessly.

And so she ran away.

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She didn’t want to face either of them. Not now, at least.

Lizzy trudged through the streets of London with a purpose.

“Nina,” she greeted, exuding as much authority as she could. Lizzy tried to emulate the intimidating aura that Ciel and her mother often used whenever they meant serious business. “A pleasure to see you, again.”

The dressmaker, who had been in the middle of pinning a cloth to a mannequin, froze and promptly dropped her sewing needle. “Oh my, Lady Midford. Please...why don’t you take a seat?”

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Within three hours, Lizzy was well-fed, properly dressed, and warmed to the core. At the moment, she sat on a fashionable Oriental chair in Nina’s backroom, sipping some tea and ignoring Nina’s pressing stares. To her relief, the dressmaker hadn’t questioned her sudden reappearance or state of unkemptness, instead fussing over her and remarking about how “cute girls like her needed to take better care of their complexion and clothes”.

Feeling as though the woman needed some semblance of repayment, Lizzy cleared her throat. “I’ve been avoiding Ciel.”

“Ah, I’m well aware,” Nina replied cheerily. “After all, he kept sending men to ask me if you ever came by. Not to mention the Sphere Music Hall nonsense.”

Lizzy flinched at the invocation of the place. Just thinking of the atrocities that...that occurred there made her want to vomit. Vomiting, as her mother once told her, definitely was not ladylike (much less the proper thing to do when being received by somebody in their own workspace).

“I see,” Lizzy said simply, taking another sip of tea. Carefully, she asked, “What did Ciel tell you about me?”

“If you mean to ask how much did he tell about me, young Lady Midford, you shan’t worry,” Nina assured her. “The young Lord Phantomhive doesn’t like discussing such matters with somebody like me, the little brat. But don’t worry, I won’t inform the young Lord of your presence. I can basically gather what’s going on, anyways.”

Trying not to flinch or show any signs of panic, Lizzy gave a somewhat noncommittal hum of acknowledgment. “And your conclusions?”

“A lover’s quarrel, of course!” Nina declared confidently, causing Lizzy to spit out some of the tea she was drinking.

“L-lovers’ quarrel?” She sputtered, blinking rapidly. “What even...why would you ever think such a thing?”

“The young Lord Phantomhive, as adorable as he might be, is not the most tactful of lovers, m’lady,” Nina sighed dramatically, and if it were any other situation, Lizzy might have burst into laughter and probably would’ve agreed. Instead, she bit her lip.

“If…” Lizzy started. “Just...suppose, Nina, that there is a woman who loves a man. She loves him with all her heart, but then she learns that he isn’t the man who she thought he was. What should she do? P-purely hypothetical, of course.” The last fragment was added as a nervous sidenote.

“Purely hypothetically, you say?” Nina pondered. “Well, whoever you love, you love. Love is a fickle thing, m’lady. It’s the man’s actions that matter, not his name nor words. What was that quote I liked again? From that play by William Shakespeare.”

“Hamlet?” Lizzy offered, recalling Edward’s near fanatic reverence of the play.

“No, no. The one with the lovesick teenagers.”

Lizzy blinked for a moment, searching through her memory for several seconds before finally remembering the title. “Ah, Romeo and Juliet.” Something about her expression seemed to darken, which Nina caught.

“Is it not to your taste, m’lady?” Nina questioned curiously. “I would’ve pinned you as the type to swoon at such romance.”

“The play ended as a tragedy,” Lizzy explained shortly, biting her lip. “I don’t like tragedy.”

Ah, the amount of irony that went into that statement was astounding. Sometimes Lizzy felt as if she were one of the characters in a tragedy of her own.

“There was a quote that I took a liking to in that play,” Nina hummed, procuring a plate of biscuits and offering one to Lizzy. She shook her head politely, content with her tea. “It was about roses.”

“Perhaps you are referring to the balcony scene?” Lizzy suggested. Juliet’s speech had resounded with her many years ago when Lizzy first viewed the play. She quoted quietly, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

“Ah, yes. That was what I was thinking of!” Nina confirmed, bobbing her head excitedly. “Even if we called a rose something else, it still retains the same qualities. I would think that the same applies to this lover of yours, Lady Midford.”

“Hypothetical situation, Nina,” Lizzy insisted, but the dressmaker looked unconvinced.

It was slightly interesting to see the dressmaker act so normal. Usually, the eccentric woman always portrayed herself as a rather exuberant and over excited fool, if she were to quote Ciel. Then again, considering the time period, Lizzy supposed there must have been a well-educated and rational side to the woman. Not anybody could own a dress-shop, not in this society where women were supposed to take care of the household and educate their children.

Mother had drilled it into Lizzy’s head since as long as she could remember: if you’re a woman and want to survive in this “man’s world”, you must be strong.

“Well, Lady Midford...if you need a place to stay for the moment, you may stay with me,” Nina said kindly, reaching over and petting Lizzy’s hands gently. “I don’t know exactly why you and Lord Phantomhive are fighting, but I understand that a girl has to have some space every once in awhile. You’ll be alright, dear.”

The amount of warmth leaking into the woman’s voice was almost enough to make Lizzy’s expression crumble completely. Instead, throat constricted and voice somewhat raspy, she mumbled, “...Lizzy.”

“Pardon me?”

“Please just call me Lizzy,” she said in a louder voice, offering the woman a small smile. “And...um, if you need any help with your shop, I’ve learned a bit of sewing here and there from my etiquette lessons.”

Nina returned her look with a grin of her own. “As you wish, Lizzy. Now, why don’t I show you one of my new designs I’ve been working on for a client? Actually, your figure is about the same as the girl I’m designing it for. Would you mind being my model?”

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Over the next week, Lizzy learned the ins and outs of sewing and had reached the point where Nina would actually entrust some minor details to her. (She had spent the first few days practicing on scrap fabric and acting as a mannequin: Nina had high standards for her clothing, and Lizzy’s mediocre sewing skills were not enough to impress her.)

Now, Lizzy was sitting on a bed that Nina graciously granted her. Emerald eyes glancing out of the window and towards the dreary gray sky, Lizzy pondered. She thought and pondered and ruminated over the same thing over and over and over:

What should she do?

Ciel (the one with the eyepatch, the one who had gone through so many experiences with her) wasn’t really “Ciel Phantomhive”. And, on the flip side, her old Ciel wasn’t the same Ciel anymore, either. Not-Ciel (because she refused to call her former childhood playmate “Ciel” when all he did was smirk evilly and look remarkably like Uncle Vincent all day) was planning something, like always.

Not only that: he was associating with shady groups that Aunt Rachel would’ve been horrified to even hear about, much less speak to. She could understand not-Ciel’s anger: his name, title, fiance, future stolen by the person he trusted most.

Then again, he was dead. Or he had been dead. Not-Ciel hadn’t offered much of an explanation to her, but Lizzy knew that when Ciel had returned from whatever hellhole he found Sebastian, not-Ciel had been dead. When Ciel returned to her, he had looked tired. Lost, broken...as if he had lost his twin.

Not-Ciel had returned from the dead.

Was there any laws barring the dead from reclaiming their titles? Lizzy wasn’t even sure: legal matters never interested her in the past. Maybe that was something she should look into. On the other hand, were there any laws against Ciel remaining the heir to the Phantomhive family? It wasn’t as if reanimated corpses were something Queen Victoria worried about on a daily basis. (Then again, maybe she did worry about them: after all, she had heard the whispers about Ciel, the “Queen’s Watchdog”. She had no doubt that the Queen was informed of the Campania incident.)

And moving on to her next problem: rather than what should she do...what did she want?

Did she want not-Ciel to reclaim his title? Did she want Ciel to remain “Ciel Phantomhive”, even though that was a lie?

Who should she side with? Who would she side with?

Lizzy swallowed, feeling a lump rise in her throat. Not-Ciel had been her childhood playmate. He had been her first love, her best friend, the ray of sunshine that penetrated through her worries. Not-Ciel had loved her back, and had been unafraid to show it. Even now, he still cared about her.

She could tell: from the way his gaze would follow her across the room to the scent of strawberries in the room he arranged from her. (He had always done those kind of little actions. She noticed. Not-Ciel always kept her likes and dislikes in mind when doing anything. He was thoughtful like that.)

(He had been thoughtful towards Ciel, back in the day, too. Lizzy remembered Aunt Rachel talking about how not-Ciel would often stay inside for his sickly brother.)

(Lizzy once again kicked herself for not realizing sooner. Stupid Ciel, hiding his asthma like he was some cool protagonist of a novel.)

Ciel, on the other hand, was the kind of person to cause anxiety and worry. He was rough and callous with his words. He lied to her, pushed her away, and refused to listen to her.

But...she knew that somewhere deep inside, Ciel cared.

Ciel had been the person to accept her strong side. Ciel tried to protect her from harm, Ciel was the one who comforted her. Ciel had been the person who obliged to her selfish requests, from dancing to the Campania (the latter ending in disaster).

Did she love him?

Ciel had been the person who she wore her low-heeled shoes for. Ciel had been the person who she fought for. Ciel had been the person who she accepted all sides of, just like how he accepted every part of her.

But did she love him?

Even though she could describe Ciel with so many derogatory terms — callous, rude, tactless, and socially inept to name a few — he still was Ciel. Beneath his prickly exterior was Ciel: caring but shy, kind but awkward, weak yet strong. And even though he was such a dork whenever he tried to do anything remotely kind, Lizzy knew that he cared.

And sometimes, that was enough.

Not-Ciel had confided in her about his plans. Not everything — oh, no, not-Ciel would never tell his dainty cousin all of his plans — but enough for her to figure out her next plan of action.

Lizzy was going to put a stop to this act.

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[donalsgirl]

Oscar Isaac’s Mom Died. Now He’s Working Out His Grief in ‘Hamlet.’

Oscar Isaac spent most of the fall and winter at a hospital in Florida, caring for his dying mother, Eugenia. As her condition deteriorated, he found himself reading aloud to her from “Hamlet.”

“I would just read the play all the time, do bits for her,” Mr. Isaac said.

An Elizabethan revenge tragedy with a substantial body count and heavy existential dread isn’t obvious bedside comfort. But Mr. Isaac, his mother and his sister were all Shakespeare obsessives. When he was growing up, they watched Franco Zeffirelli’s “Romeo and Juliet” over and over. “Me doing Shakespeare was her favorite thing,” Mr. Isaac said.

So reciting “Hamlet” to her at the hospital felt like the right thing. Sometimes it felt like the only thing. “I didn’t know how to process any of this, but this I knew how to do,” he said.

As her health declined, Shakespearean questions that had seemed abstract — What drives the dissolution of a family? How do you overcome crippling loss? — felt immediate and real, he said.

Continue reading the main story

“I know it happens to everybody, but it’d never happened to me,” he said. “I know people’s mothers have died, but this was mine.”

Mr. Isaac’s mother died in February, but “Hamlet” is still with him. For most of this heat-struck summer, he is performing as the tortured prince grieving the death of his father, six times a week for nearly four hours a throw at the Public Theater.

Mr. Isaac certainly has other ways to spend his days. For one, his first child, a son, was born in April. And his film career is booming. In a few short years, he’s graduated from indie artisan, with films like “Inside Llewyn Davis,” to bona fide star with roles in “X-Men: Apocalypse” and “Star Wars: The Force Awakens.” He can probably take whatever theater job he wants to or not take any theater job at all.

That said, “Hamlet” is a play that exerts a strange pull on a lot of movie and television stars (Benedict Cumberbatch, David Tennant, Jude Law, Ethan Hawke), and it’s a role just about any classically trained actor and plenty of actresses have dreamed of playing.

But it’s also a tragedy that asks Mr. Isaac to relive the anguished death of a parent at every performance. In Sam Gold’s rowdy, deconstructionist staging, every time Mr. Isaac mud-wrestles, or lofts a prop skull or performs a mad scene in just a T-shirt and briefs, he seems to be working through his own loss, transforming raw private grief into riveting public performance.

“It’s for my mom that I’m doing it,” he said. “It’s to honor her life, but also her death, which was so awful.”

ON A RECENT WEEKDAY, an hour before rehearsal, Mr. Isaac hunched in a booth at the back of the Library, the Public’s restaurant. Looking slighter in person than onscreen, he was sitting underneath a skull-bedizened poster for an earlier production of “Hamlet.” His black warm-up jacket was a modish update of Hamlet’s “inky cloak.” It wouldn’t have been a huge surprise if he had drawn a sword from underneath the table or spotted a ghost over by the bar.

This symbolic brazenness seemed like a joke; Mr. Isaac was probably in on it. He has a roguish sense of mischief that underlies even his more serious roles (“Ex Machina,” “A Most Violent Year”). And he’s one of the few actors of his generation who can combine the unrestrained volatility of a Method actor with pedigreed classical chops.

His Hamlet is antic, mercurial, unpredictable, but each line of verse comes across clearly, almost conversationally. As Oskar Eustis, the artistic director of the Public Theater — who helped cast a Juilliard-fresh Mr. Isaac in “Two Gentlemen of Verona” in 2005 and “Romeo and Juliet” two years later — said, “That combination, particularly in such a handsome man, it’s amazing.”

It’s that charisma that helped the “Star Wars” director J. J. Abrams decide not to kill off his character, Poe Dameron, who will reappear in the coming “Star Wars: The Last Jedi.” “The idea of Oscar Isaac as Poe coming back into the movie and being an ally to the cause got my blood pumping,” Mr. Abrams wrote in an email.

MR. ISAAC LOVED THEATER early. Born in Guatemala and raised by evangelical Christian parents in Miami, he had his first roles in religious plays. Even then, he played antiheroes. His first lead? The Devil. He devised an entrance from underneath the bleachers, scaring an adored teacher and exciting the interest of the popular girl he had a crush on.

“For that little moment, I thought, this is what I want to do,” he said.

Eventually he fell away from the church, and though his parents supported his acting ambitions, for a while he stopped that, too. He turned to music, migrating from soft rock to grunge rock to heavy metal, before landing in third-wave ska groups like the Worms and Blinking Underdogs, which attracted a local following.

Still, he never really shook theater. He studied it at community college and apprenticed at Area Stage Company in Miami. The artistic director got him reading Shakespeare again. “I didn’t really understand it,” Mr. Isaac said, “but I liked it a lot.”

He even developed an infatuation with the film soundtrack to the Zeffirelli “Hamlet.” On an impulse, he auditioned for Juilliard, using a monologue from Shakespeare’s “Henry IV” and arguing about its interpretation with the head of the drama division in the middle of his callback.

Richard Feldman, one of Mr. Isaac’s Juilliard teachers, remembered sensing in him “the best kind of artistic ambition,” adding: “I’m not talking about fame, I’m not talking about fortune. I’m talking about the hunger to be really good.”

At Juilliard, he met Mr. Gold, at the time a directing student. Mr. Gold was immediately struck by Mr. Isaac’s “easy energy and an easy relationship to his talent and having an incredible amount of talent” and a shared belief that “acting shouldn’t look hard,” Mr. Gold said.

The two of them fooled around with some comic scenes from “Hamlet,” making a pact to work together one day on the whole play. They both got “bit by it and obsessed by it,” Mr. Gold said, speaking by phone. Those talks continued, and two years ago, Mr. Isaac signed on, saying he felt he had to do it “before the knees give out.”

“You can only be so old and be upset that your mom remarried,” he said.

Once he’d agreed, Mr. Isaac began reading academic books, watching famous past performances, playing a recording of John Gielgud’s Hamlet “and just listening to the beauty of that man’s voice,” he said. After creative tensions with the production’s original home, Theater for a New Audience, “Hamlet” shifted to the Public Theater, where Mr. Isaac had made his post-Juilliard debut, and dates were set.

But then his mother got sick and his partner, the documentary filmmaker Elvira Lind, got pregnant, and suddenly “there were a lot of things that really connected on a very personal level,” he said. As Mr. Isaac explained, performing has always helped him come to terms with his emotions. “This is how I’m able to function,” he said. “The only way that I’m really able to process stuff is through reflecting it.”

Some of the visual language that he and Mr. Gold settled on — the syringes, the IVs, the PICC lines — make his memories and associations even more visceral. His Hamlet wears rumpled clothes and has a 5 o’clock shadow (if you’ve seen Mr. Isaac’s movies, you know his facial hair is a key to character) to approximate “the look and feel of spending long hours visiting a loved one at the hospital,” he said.

In the first days of rehearsal, Mr. Gold worried “that there would be things in this play that would be such deep triggers that he wouldn’t be able to make it through the show,” he said. But he watched Mr. Isaac use the play’s words “to contextualize what he was going through,” he said.

Mr. Isaac didn’t worry about making a timeworn speech like “To be or not to be” sound new. As soon as he says the words, he is instantly reminded of his personal loss and “the feeling that grief can just make you want to stop,” he said.

At the same time, he never really discussed that personal life in the rehearsal room. “It was always a very subtle thing hovering in the air, ” Mr. Gold said. Instead, he threw himself into experimenting with the role — physically, vocally — and worked on making his colleagues laugh.

Keegan-Michael Key, who plays Hamlet’s pal Horatio, noted that Mr. Isaac, who bought a Ping-Pong table for the rehearsal room, “likes to have fun.” Onstage he’ll often monkey with a pronunciation or arch an eyebrow just to get a rise out of a cast mate.

“He’ll do it on purpose just to keep everyone on their toes,” Mr. Key said. “The more alive it is, the more uncertain it is, the more dynamic it is.���

Mr. Isaac said that performing the play hasn’t felt especially dour. When he comes offstage after four hours he feels energized, he said.

That’s in part because the play isn’t only for his mother. When he acts, he’s also thinking of his 2-month-old son, Eugene, named after her. The baby has Eugenia’s lips, he said, and her hands.

He brought Eugene to the first run-through (“I think some of the more philosophical and theological aspects of the play were above his head,” Mr. Gold joked), and it’s Eugene he thinks of when reciting the “to be” part of the “to be or not to be” soliloquy.

As Mr. Isaac explains, the speech is about dying — that’s the “not to be” part — but it’s also about choosing to go on living. And Mr. Isaac has better reasons to go on than Hamlet does.

“You have a child,” he said, “and you must — you must for their sake — you must say yes to life.”

Source

[destination-kalafina]

Chapter 1 “Old Flames”

Author’s note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HIKARU!!!

I know it is a few hours past her birthday in Japan, but it is now July 2 in the US, so let’s keep the celebration going!! I had made it my goal about a week ago to get this story up in time for Hi-chan’s birthday, and luckily, I actually got it completed! The past week has been so busy, with working and moving into a new home, that I was afraid it wouldn’t be done in time, but I had to make sure it happened for our adorable cinnamon roll.

I will never be able to thank this woman enough, for catching my attention with her fierceness and being the sole reason I looked further into Kalafina. I am forever grateful to her and so glad that she was born onto this earth to slay our hearts with her talent. May her 30th year of life be filled with joy, laughter, success, and LOTS of anime!!（╹◡╹）♡

Disclaimer: This story has an entirely fictional character, who DOES NOT exist in real life in any way, shape, or form. The male MC is only a figment of my imagination! Also, shoutout to one of my best friends irl @hanjurg for giving me editing suggestions and letting me steal her ideas!

Chapter One

“Ohayoo, Hikaru-san! Ohayoo, Hikaru-san! Okiru jikan dayo!” [Translation: Good morning, Hikaru-san! Good morning, Hikaru-san! It’s time to get up!]

The sound of Hikaru’s morning alarm clock resonated throughout her bedroom, an obnoxious blaring that never failed to wake her up. She had set it to be a loud ringing noise accompanied by a speaking voice, something she couldn’t sleep through even if she tried.

Hikaru’s eyes slowly opened to the bright sunshine gleaming through her window and filling her room with light. As the alarm continued to go off, she ruffled around in her bed, pulling the sheets over her head and groaning internally. Groggily, she reached out one hand out from under the blanket to grab her phone, turning off the alarm clock.

It’s only 8:00… It can’t be time to get up already, she thought, sighing.

Wanting to lay there for a few more minutes, Hikaru closed her eyes again. Being the sleep lover that she is, she always felt a little sad inside when it was time for her to wake up, no matter what the time was. It usually took a lot out of her to find the motivation to get up and start her day.

That is unless… there was something she was really looking forward to.

Remembering why she had set her alarm so early, Hikaru bolted up from her bed and threw the covers off of herself.

Today is the day!!

Excitedly, Hikaru quickly showered and dressed, throwing on a casual and comfortable outfit. She glanced in the mirror, making sure she looked at least a little decent before venturing outside, and then ran into the kitchen to grab a small breakfast that would hold her over for a couple of hours. After turning off all her lights, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

It was the day that a new manga series was debuting, one that she had been looking forward to ever since it was announced back in early January. It was now the beginning of November, and Hikaru had been awaiting this moment for months.

Hikaru hopped in her car, started the engine, and took off. She was very fortunate to have learned how to drive because it had become very useful, despite there being numerous modes of public transportation all across Japan. As crazy as it may have sounded, the young girl still lived with her parents a little on the outskirts of Tokyo, and the use of a car became quite helpful at times, especially when she was in a rush like now. When she first joined Kalafina, they decided it would be best and most affordable for the whole family if they all moved closer to the city together, and even up until the present, they had become used to this way of living.

Hikaru didn’t mind it. Rather, with all the traveling Kalafina did yearly, it would have been foolish for her to have gotten an apartment on her own and always have been gone from it. 

While driving, the excited girl turned on the radio to her favorite local station.

“…and the renowned author of the long-awaited manga is expected to be here at any moment. The event doesn’t start for another three hours, but the crowds have already begun to fill up quickly. At this rate, if people don’t arrive in the next hour, there won’t be enough limited copies for them!”

Hikaru’s eyes widened, and she stepped on the gas a little more. There weren’t many things that could get Hikaru up bright and early, but a limited edition manga release where the author was present to debut it was definitely one of them. The other exception was, of course, Kalafina events, but luckily, today was a day off from work. This was a particularly rare moment for Hikaru, to be free from her job while something like this was going on, and she was going to be there no matter what.

There is no way I can miss this!!

Hikaru arrived at the bookstore in due time and was greeted by a swarm of people just like she had heard not too long ago. The radio definitely wasn’t exaggerating when it said there were a million fans waiting for the event.

The crowd was huge and the line was nearly a mile out the door, but Hikaru wasn’t expecting anything less before she came to the store. After all, it was only today when you could get this limited copy of the manga, and moreover get it signed by the author himself. 

As she got into the line, Hikaru sighed a little, relieved that she made it in time. All there was to do now was wait.

Several hours later, Hikaru stood near the exit of the store, holding a copy of the newly released manga, one with a bonus edition toward the end with a detailed publication on how the story came into idea. She couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear while gazing over the glossy signature.

Even though the event took nearly 3 hours of waiting and standing around, Hikaru couldn’t have felt more energized and elated. She was quirky like that, finding joy out of ordinary hobbies many people wouldn’t find this exciting. It had always been this way with her.

I can’t wait to get home and start, she said to herself, deciding she was going to spend the rest of the day dedicated to reading and re-reading the manga, as well as the bonus at the end. I really got lucky, didn’t I?

Hikaru carefully tucked the book away in her bag, making sure it was wrapped and safe from damage. As she was about to disperse from the crowd and make her way out of the bookstore, a certain shelf to her right caught her eye.

“Shakespeare”

There was a huge sign for the section, and the sight of it reminded Hikaru of something important. She walked over to the shelf and began browsing the works, running her fingers over the novels.

Hikaru had forgotten that she made it one of her goals to read another Shakespeare play this year, the plan having gotten lost among all the Kalafina schedules and events. Now that the year was almost over and she had just remembered her goal, she really had to buckle down and complete the resolution.

The avid reader contemplated which work she should read next, glancing over the names on the spines. She pulled out a copy of A Midsummer’s Night Dream, and began reading over the first few pages.

Deep in thought, Hikaru didn’t notice that someone had come up behind her during her time perusing the shelf. Out of nowhere, a male’s voice spoke up.

“Reading the English version, are you? That’s impressive.”

Startled, Hikaru shut the book and turned around. She faced a handsome-looking man with a gentle face, perhaps a few inches taller than she was. He had short, dark hair with strong facial features. Even at first glance, one could really see the kindness in his eyes and smile.

“Oh!” Hikaru replied, blushing slightly. “It’s nothing… I just try to read the original version every now and then to enhance my English knowledge some…”

“That’s pretty cool,” the man said, walking up to the bookshelf himself and taking out a copy of Hamlet. “Masai Hikaru-san, isn’t it?” he asked, nonchalantly looking at his book.

Surprised that this stranger knew who she was, Hikaru turned her head toward him again upon hearing her own name.

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, slightly embarrassed about the acknowledgement for whatever reason. “How do you know…?”

Hikaru trailed off, perplexed by the situation. The amused man looked up from his book and smirked.

“You do know you sing in a group who performs the songs of one of the most famous anime music producers in the country, right?” he noted, laughing.

Hikaru smiled sheepishly. Despite being a member of a popular girl group in Japan, the young woman was always shocked when people recognized her in public, or knew about Kalafina for that matter. Even after all these years, it still amazed her, to know that people she has never met before knew about her.

“Ah, yes, I do…” Hikaru said shyly.

The man glanced back down and turned the page. “And besides that…” he took a small pause. “We were in the same class back in high school.”

Caught off guard by the sudden claim, Hikaru seemed to be frozen in time for a few seconds. It had been nearly a decade since she attended high school and it wasn’t a time she often thought about.

Hikaru searched the depths of her brain, trying to match a name to the face she was looking at. She was not one to forget things easily. In fact, she had a great memory and retained information very quickly. For some reason, however, this one kept escaping her.

Amused by the girl’s silence, the man chuckled and finally closed the book shut, directing all of his attention to the person standing in front of him.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked.

Hikaru scratched the back of her neck, embarrassed and slightly frustrated that she could not recall his identity. She shook her head slowly and frowned, a look of apologeticness clearly written across her face.

“Remember the last school festival…? Before the fireworks…” he began, trying to jog her memory some.

Somehow, those few words were all it took. All of a sudden, all the faded memories from Hikaru’s years in high school came flooding back to her.

“Ken?! Hitoshi Ken?” she exclaimed.

The man smiled and nodded, confirming Hikaru’s assumptions. “So you do remember…”

Speechless, Hikaru stood there, mouth half open. She tried to think of something to say, but the words kept escaping her.

This was Hitoshi Ken. The first boy to ever have confessed his love to her.

Back in her high school days, Hikaru was an extremely shy and quiet girl, significantly more than she was now. She was also incredibly studious and disciplined, so much that she focused all of her time on preparing for her future. In her youth, Hikaru had always known that she wanted to become a singer, and it was around her time in high school that she began to make this dream a reality.

Because of this, Hikaru limited herself from many activities a typical teenager would do and missed out on a lot of experiences, among these the opportunity to date and fall in love. Her mother had told her that it was best not to get romantically involved with anyone, since Hikaru never knew where her singing career might take her. Following her mother’s advice, Hikaru guarded herself and turned down many boys at the time, not allowing herself to get caught up in young relationships.

One of these boys was the man standing in front of her currently. Hikaru didn’t think she would ever face the problem, since she never truly built a stable friendship with any of her male classmates. However, one night, she was completely surprised, by a bold classmate who caught her the night of their last school festival in high school, right before the fireworks show at the end. She remembered standing in an open field by herself, having momentarily slipped away from all the people at the celebration. She was enjoying the night sky that was soon about to be filled with exploding lights when someone came up to her, interrupting her solitude.

“Hitoshi-san! What are you doing here? You should be back with the rest of the school,” she had said to him.

“Masai-san… I am sorry to have followed you all the way out here but is it okay if I ask you something?” he said, nervously fidgeting around his hands.

“Oh, sure! What is it?”

There was a short pause, but the words after that came quickly.

“You see… I have had a crush on you for the longest time! I have always admired your scholarliness and determination! There’s just something about you I can’t stop thinking about and well… I was wondering…” he looked down, still playing with his hands. “…if you would be interested in going on a date sometime?”

Similar to how she was now, at the time, Hikaru was speechless. She didn’t know how to react, shocked that someone actually felt that way about her. Although there were several more incidents like this that occurred, it was the first time anyone ever confessed his feelings to her. In the end, she responded the only way she could.

“Oh, Hitoshi-san. I am so flattered, but I’m afraid for certain reasons, I just can’t have that kind of relationship right now…”

The rejection clearly hurt the young boy at the time, and it saddened Hikaru to an extent too. Part of her wanted to say yes and to be able to have a normal teenage love experience; however, the other part of her knew that under her circumstances, she had to stay true to her dream of becoming a singer.

Hikaru continued to stare at the man in front of her, finally being able to process everything that was happening slowly. Could it really be…?

It was no wonder it had taken her so long to remember who he was. It was a memory she buried deep down in her mind because of the unpleasantness, along with all the memories similar to it.

After what seemed like forever, Hikaru snapped back to reality and found her voice again. “Hitoshi-san… It’s been years, hasn’t it? I never would have expected to see you, especially at an event like this? Are you a fan of this author’s work?”

Ken shifted in his spot and rubbed the back of his head, chuckling. “Well, if I’m being honest, I had no idea this event was going on. I came here by chance to pick up a novel I’ve been wanting to read and was met with this massive crowd.”

“Oh, I see,” Hikaru replied. “Did you manage to get the book?”

Ken put the copy of Hamlet he was holding back on the shelf and looked back at Hikaru.

“I actually just got here not too long ago, so I haven’t looked. I saw you out of the corner of my eye and didn’t want to miss the opportunity to have a chat so I came over here first. Like you said, it has been years after all,” he commented, smiling.  

Watching his face, Hikaru couldn’t help but smile back. “Well, Hitoshi-san, I have to admit it is quite a shock to see one of my old acquaintances from so long ago.”

“It is a surprise for me too…” the man answered.

There was a short silence, Ken thinking about what he wanted to say next. After a moment, he gathered his thoughts again.

“Listen, about what happened back in high school… I was young and naive then, I didn’t know what I was saying or what I wanted. It kind of makes me cringe just thinking about it, the audacity I had to chase after a girl I never talked to,” Ken shuddered playfully.

Hikaru laughed. He definitely is amusing.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I don’t think anyone knows what they want at that age, and I didn’t hold anything against you. I was young and naive myself. I always wished I put myself out there more and got to know people better back then,” she said, reminiscing about the past.

Ken continued. “Well, I know you are extremely busy, but if you ever have a moment to spare…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small name card, handing it to her.

“I’d love to catch up sometime.”

[likegston-blog]

 shows  up  10  years  late w/  an  intro/info  post .     as  we  all  well  know  from  the  ooc  blog :  i’m  cosbo !     i  still  play  pokemon  go ,  i  create  things  you  never  asked  for  in  photoshop ,  i’ve  been  in  love  with  gaston  since  the  age  of  four ,  &  i  don’t  think  i’ve  ever  once  gotten  enough  sleep  in  my  life .     under  the  cut  i’ll  give  you  a  rundown  on  your  favorite  self  absorbed  french  asshole  &  how  i’m  playing  him  +  an  important  note  regarding  my  activity  in  the  upcoming  weeks !

MY  WHAT  A  GUY ,  THAT  GASTON !

 if  you’ve  heard  the  catchy  song  you  probably  know  that  no  one  does  literally  anything  quite  like  gaston .     &  true  enough  gaston  is  talented  plus  he’s  probably  one  of  the  most  handsome  people  you  will  ever  meet  but  the  downside  to  that  fact  is  he  is  fully  aware  of  it .     gaston  thinks  he  shits  gold  probably .     he  shows  up  to  birthday  parties  with  no  present  &  say  his  presence  alone  is  a  present .    he’s  the  king  of  entitled  white  boys .     &  unfortunately  he’s  not  quite  familiar  with  the  word  NO .     if  he  thinks  your  pretty ,  he  may  lay  some  moves  on  you  &  if  you  try  to  turn  him  down  honestly  he’ll  just  be  more  interested  just  ask  belle .     this  mainly  goes  for  just  girls  but  am  i  gonna  sit  here  &  say  he  can’t  appreciate  a  pretty  man ?     you  bet  your  sweet  ass  i’m  not .     no  one’s  bi  like  gaston !     however ,  he  does  come  from  a  time  where  any  form  of  non  heterosexuality  was  highly  frowned  upon  so  …  he’s  coming  to  terms  w/  that  one .     it’s  fine  he’ll  get  there .

 GASTON’S  PAST :     we  don’t  know  much  about  gaston’s  past  other  than  he  did  fight  in  a  war  ( given  the  timeline  of  beauty  &  the  beast  being  mid  18th  century  there’s  a  few  possibilities  in  which  war  he  fought  in  but  we’re  gonna  say  it  was  either  the  war  of  austrian  succession (1740 - 1748)  or  it  was  the  seven  years  war (1754 - 1763) )   &  he  became  a  war  hero  &  an  army  captain .     it  was  also  stated  by  luke  evans  in  an  interview  that  gaston’s  celebrity  status  in  the  little  village  of  villeneuve  comes  from  the  fact  he  protected  the  village  from  a  pack  of  portuguese  marauders  in  1740  when  he  was  just  16 .     in  the  book  it  also  states  that  this  war  he  fought  in  &  became  a  hero  in  was  12  years  prior  to  the  story .     what  baffles  me  the  most  abt  that  is  he  still  wears  his  uniform .   who  has  clothes  that  still  fit  &  look  pristine  for  12  years ????     anyway .     speaking  of  his  uniform  an  interesting  thing  to  note  is  that  gaston’s  war  uniform  is  bright  red .     in  the  18th  century  ...  the  french  army  wore  blue .     the  red  coats  were  the  british  so  ...  from  that  we  can  assume  gaston  fought  with  the  british  army  which  i’ll  have  more  on  that  deal  in  the  family  section  of  the  intro  post  but  what  i  wanna  talk  about  here  is  on  one  hand  we  can  believe  gaston  was  a  british  war  hero  who  had  ties  to  france  that  had  him  live  there .     on  the  other ,  &  i  think  this  better  fits  gaston’s  horrid  personality ,  gaston  could  be  a  deserter  from  the  british  army  who  stabbed  the  british  in  the  back ,  turning  on  them  &  becoming  a   war  hero  for  france .     he  is  fond  of  stabbing  backs  it  seems  like  him .   now !     moving  on !     gaston  does  have  ptsd  from  the  war  ,  even  luke  said  this  in  an  interview ,  though  he  keeps  it  under  wraps  by  feeding  off  the  praise  he  gets ,  making  himself  feel  useful  &  wanted  rather  than  focusing  on  how  empty  his  life’s  been  since  the  war ,  &  burying  it  under  his  inflated  ego .     underneath  that ,  however ?     yeah ,  he’s  pretty  broken ,  jaded ,  &  when  he  doesn’t  get  what  he  wants  his  anger  comes  forth  in  a  very  militaristic  fashion  that  seeks  to  destroy  anything  in  his  path  to  what  he  wants  due  to  the  fact  that  part  of  him  is  still  seeking  to  return  to  the  war .     not  even  tweleve  whole  years  have  shaken  the  battle  out  of  gaston  &  his  mind  since  it  just  hasn’t  been  able  to  settle  back .      some  part  of  him  has  wired  itself  to  live  on  the  adrenaline  &  action  of  the  war  &  his  frustration  with  his  inability  to  settle  back  into  a  peaceful  life  has  made  him  crave  the  war .     he  seeks  for  the  thrill ,  the  high ,  of  war  similiar  situations  &  while  most  once  shook  their  head  at  this  they  would  come  to  find  out  that  his  war  hungry  half  can  be  something  more  far  more  dangerous  when  his  anger  is  tested  along  with  it .     it’s  times  like  that  when  gaston  hardly  realizes  he’s  partly  acting  on  his  frustration  &  anger  with  mundane  life  &  subconscious  need  for  the  chaos  of  war .

 GASTON’S  FAMILY :     we  know  nothing  of  gaston’s  parents  …  but  one  can  assume  he’s  probably  from  a  well  off  family  &  he’s  most  definitely  an  only  child .     one  headcanon  i  do  have  is  that  while  gaston’s  mother  was  french ,  his  father ,  though  of  french  decent  hence  the  surname  legume ,  was  from  england .     in  the  2017  film ,  lefou  says  ‘je  ne  sais  quoi ?’   &  gaston  responds  that  he  doesn’t  know  what  that  means .     pretty  sad  for  a  french  guy ,  yeah ?     they  way  i  headcanon  it  is  that  gaston  was  born  in  england  &  his  family  moved  to  france  with  but  his  mother  soon  left  he  &  his  father  when  gaston  was  still  very  young .     so  gaston’s  british ,  technically .     he  &  his  father  simply  didn’t  move  after  his  mother  left ,  it  was  too  much  a  hassle ,  &  gaston’s  father  spoke  most  only  english  &  also  sought  gaston  out  an  english  tutor .     from  living  in  france ,  yes ,  gaston  has  indeed  picked  up  some  french  but  he’s  actually  not  fluent .     he  knows  a  good  amount  of  basic  conversation  &  could  hold  a  decent  one  &  then  he  also  knows  military  commands  but  that’s  about  it .     through  most  his  life ,  when  having  trouble  with  the  languge  be  that  trouble  speaking  it  or  listening  to  it ,  he  would  often  turn  to  lefou  to  translate .     anyhow ,  back  on  topic ,  much  of  gaston’s  personality  comes  from  his  extreme  need  for  attention  as  a  child  &  his  father’s  spoiling  of  him  in  addition  to  his  father’s  insanely  sexist  view  on  masculinity  which  he  inherited .

 GASTON  IN  THE  ENCHANTED  FOREST :     we  all  know  how  beauty  &  the  beast  ends  for  gaston .     he  does  a  cheep  shot  at  the  beast  from  behind  then ,  afterwards ,  the  structure  he  was  standing  on  crumbles  &  he  falls  to  his  death .     well ,  the  last  thing  gaston  remembers  is  falling .     that  is  the  point  of  beauty  &  the  beast  that  i’ve  taken  him  from .     that  being  said ,  this  mean’s  gaston’s  anger  &  deranged  violent  nature  is  at  critical  level .     tick  him  off ?     you’re  getting  hit .     he’s  extremely  angry  at  belle … yet  still  wants  to  marry  her  because  now  it’s  just  a  matter  of  pride  kinda  thing .     if  you  bring  up   the  beast  or  just  anything  about  his  story ,  probably ,  he  will  snap  a  bit .

 MISCELLANEOUS HEADCANONS :

 yes ,  gaston  can  read !    unlike  his  cartoon  counterpart  who  only  likes  picture  books .     now ,  he  doesn’t  read  any  of  the  books  they  have  in  the  village ,  of  course ,  as  they’re  all  in  french   ( save  for  romeo  &  juliet  as  it’s  by  an  english  playwright  but  gaston  would  not  subject  himself  to  reading  gooey  romance  shakespear  when  things  such  as  hamlet  &  macbeth  exist )   &  he’s  even  less  terrific  at  reading  french  than  he  is  at  speaking  it .     mostly  he  reads  only  from  his  father’s  small  collection  of  books  which  he  grew  up  with  &  has  now  inherited .     his  favorite  is  actually  macbeth ,  seeing  as  he  quotes  it  in  the  mob  song .

he  really  loves  breakfast  food  you  guys .     does  he  really  eat  5  dozen  eggs  a  day ?     may  have  been  an  exaggeration .     but !     he  does  eat  a  good  heap  of  eggs  every  morning  &  it’s  at  least  slightly  concerning .

 most  of  the  time  he  will  only  do  things  that  somehow  benefit  him .     this  is  how  he  is  &  if  he  doesn’t  see  gain  in  his  end  in  whatever  you’re  asking  him  to  do  he’ll  most  likely  turn  it  down .

 if  doing  something  will  get  him  adoring  fans  he’ll  do  it  &  he  won’t  let  anyone  else  help .     he  lives  for  praise .     oh  there’s  a  child  in  a  burning  building ?     you’re  going  to  save  it ?     not  anymore  he’ll  tie  you  to  a  tree  so  that  he  can  do  it  &  get  the  glory .     he’s  a  very  bad  team  player  for  sure .

 WANTED  CONNECTIONS :    i.  LEFOU .   connection  taken !    gaston  abanoned  lefou ,  who  only  spent  his  days  adoring  gaston  &  being  in  literal  love  w/  him ,  to  die  after  using  him  as  a  human  sheild  &  letting  him  crushed  by  candenza .    as  horrible  as  gaston  was  to  lefou  in  the  end  he  does  know  that  lefou  is  his  biggest  fan  &  before  his  jealousy  &  anger  took  him  over  he  was  genuinely  friends  with  lefou .     lefou  has  been  his  friend  since  he  was  young  &  fought  in  the  war  beside  him .     guaranteed  to  anyone  who  brings  me  a  lefou :  heartbreaking  plots ,  many  tears ,  my  constant  bothering  of  you ,  sad  headcanons ,  MY ETERNAL LOVE!!!!! ,  any  gif  icons  or  static  icons  of  lefou  you  may  need  i  will  make  them  for  you ,  &  more !     a  josh  gad  fc  would  be  preferred  but  ik  he  doesn’t  have  the  most  abundant  of  resources  so  if  you  have  someone  else  in  mind  that’s  fine  but  like  just  hmu  first  if  you’re  using  someone  else .     i  seriously  will  make  you  static  &  gif  icons  if  you  use  josh ,  though ,  like  i  will  make  resources  for  you .     LISTEN  I’D  JUST  LOVE  A  LEFOU  SO  MUCH ! 

+  COSBO’S  ACTIVITY  NOTE  6/3 !

 i’m  moving  in  two  weeks !     yeah ,  i  joined  a  rpg  at  not  the  best  time  but  it’s  fine .     see ,  you  may  notice  that  on  my  app  i  say  i’m  in  pacific  time !     well ,  i’m  actually  currently  in  central  standard  time  at  the  current  moment .     but  i’m  going  to  be  moving  literally  across  the  country  to  california !     i  put  pacific  time  on  my  app  though  because  i  thought  it  pointless  to  put  the  timezone  of  somewhere  i’m  not  even  gonna  be  for  much  longer .     this  means  i  will  be  packing ,  routing  my  trip ,  trying  to  get  a  new  job ,  working  at  my  two  current  jobs ,  &  spending  time  with  friends  before  i  leave  all  in  the  upcoming  two  weeks !     i’m  very  busy  but  i  will  try  to  get  on  here  as  much  as  i  possibly  can .     if  worse  comes  to  worse  then  i  will  request  a  semi  hiatus  until  i’m  successfully  across  the  country !

***UPDATE :   I’VE  MOVED  SO  NO  WORRIES  ABT  THIS  NOW  LMAO

[queenie-ohqueenie]

Evens on the Shakespeare ask!

lyric omg i miss you 💞  

2. a line that gets stuck in your head

“i would eat his heart in the marketplace” from much ado

also very specifically my favorite professor playing lady macbeth and her “out damn spot” monologue because FUCK it shook me to my core

also also the shared lines in that richard / anne scene when she SPITS IN HIS FACE MY QUEEN

4. A character you’d fantasize about playing

god someone let me play mercutio or hamlet or sebastian

also i want to play all the fools (esp puck, ariel, and the fool from lear) 

6. A character you would fight

PROTEUS FROM TWO GENTS HE’S THE FUCKING WORST

8. The play you’ve never seen performed that you most want to (alternately: the play you’ve never seen performed well that you most want to)

oh god like once upon a time this was as you but now for sure its twelfth night, i’ve somehow never seen that. i’ve seen fuckin winter’s tale but not twelfth night.

10. Your favorite film version

i LIVE for joss whedon’s as you sorry not sorry

12. A dreamcast for stage or screen

tbh i can’t even decide which play i wanna do 

14. An underperformed/underrated play

the histories man (also julius ceasar) like richard is so much??? there’s so much drama??? it’s so compelling??? why do people never know the histories

16. A line you quote too much in casual conversation  

oh god i quote bits of julia’s “o hateful hands to tear such loving words” monologue and rosalind’s “who might be your mother” monologue CONSTANTLY

18. The question you’d ask William Shakespeare if you were drinking in a pub

WHO’S GAY