#thread two: roland

[trainingdummyrabbit]

anyway i waited so long posting those other ones bc iwanted to group em with a few other pair designs bc i Love the concept of duo-realizations so much despite the. complications. somewhere in my notebook is some thumbnailing of yin/yang angela+roland bc ifeel it in my Soul. ok ^_^

[likemosaic]

@eritvita : "fuck them." from eritvita, to Seyrena! prompt: baldur's gate 3.

seyrena can drink to that and boldly does. indeed, fuck them. the ire from some disgruntled passing nord, drunk and stupid, is hardly as bad as facing a council of nordic windhelm nobles who think you're not worth the air you breathe. seyrena has become used to the vitriol, and though she does not revel in it, she simply...accepts it. their hatred directed at her means less hatred towards those in the grey quarter, means less of a chance for troublemakers to go looking for such trouble in that area of the city. better her than a dunmeri child.

still, to hear an old friend say it is comforting. seyrena toasts roland for his kindness and takes another sip, careful to not get too deep into her cups. the last thing she needs is to make a drunken fool of yourself.

"fuck them. but forget them, for now." seyrena has all the time in the world to think about hatred and prejudice for dark elves; for the moment, she'd prefer to catch up. her grin is toothy. it's been sometime since she ended her attempts at magical education at the college; moved home to riften, moved north again, gotten married, became a politician. roland's life has no doubt had surprises for him, as well. "tell me how you have been in the interim. you must be the archmage by now, hm?"

[as-above-rp]

It was a good thing it didn't go down in HIS coffee house. Not only would it have been troublesome to deal with, he wouldn't know which fighter to root for.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

✨ rich goranski & michael mell (be more chill, 2019) and phyllidia krampington & melvin cooterstein (the eleventh annual joe iconis christmas extravaganza, 2018) ✨

[stalkist]

open to f. plot: inspired by gif in the source. connection: date, neighbour, relative ( step / half / full ), employee, student, daughter's best friend or best friend's daughter, h.itchhiker he picked up, and anything else welcome. do not like this starter. please use beta editor.

a  ride  home.  not  a  big  ask  from  the  other  but  decides  he  deserves  some  form of  compensation  for  the  favour  nonetheless.  vehicle  begins  perilous  pursuit down  the  back  roads,  muddied  and  hole-filled,  cited  as  being  a  shortcut  but the  man  has  more  c.rude  intentions  in  mind. " whoa, " plays  off  the  bumpiness as  if  a  surprise  even  to  him,  blues  slipping  to  corner  of  sockets  to  spy  his pretty  passenger  being  lightly  bounced  in  the  seat  beside  him.  a  smile  to himself,  resisting  the  urge  to  slam  down  foot  and  kick  the  truck  into  a  less forgiving  speed,  " this  road  is  more  wild  than  i  remember.  you  got  your seatbelt  on,  sweetheart ? "

[with-stars-in-hand]

I generally don’t have an impulse to put my thoughts in comment sections anymore but stopping myself from going on a one-woman crusade to correct repro health misconceptions in the comments on a silly little video is actually taking all of my strength

[yuri-is-online]

Pas de Deux: A Fyuuture Kid au pt. 2 (Rook x Yuu)

Once upon a time there was a house in the woods. Three people lived inside it and they were very happy because soon there was going to be a fourth One day a man in a suit came and knocked on the door of the house, but he did not want to say hello. He was not interested in how happy the people in the house were or that that day was very important. The man was there because he had decided there should only be two people in the house, and because the world is not always kind, and not all houses are happy ones, the man in the suit got his way.

And now there was only one person in the house and he felt very alone.

notes: this will not make sense if you have not read pt.1, so please do. They/them used for Yuu, and the name Oliver is used interchangeably Yutu. This contains lengthy one shot parts, but does still have some hc bullet points. WARNING: major character death, body horror, angst with a bittersweet ending. This is part of the fyuuture kid au, more of which can be found on my masterlist here under the series section.

"Is Oli awake yet?" The new boy, Roland, is an absolute mess and if he didn't look so pitiful you would have told Rook to dry him off outside and not in your Lounge. Rook isn't deathly serious about much, but he is about this and you can't help but feel a bit out of the loop even if it is clear that it somehow revolves around you.

"Non, I'm afraid you gave your brother quite the fright." Rook gently says, carefully massaging Roland's head to dry his hair and try to soothe the tension currently shuddering across his body. "Focus on yourself for now and let our dear Trickster take care of Monsieur Caneton." He smiles at you and you break eye contact to catch your breath, coughing to excuse yourself up the stairs to Yutu's room and away from your personal problems, content to let Grim bother the pair about cleaning up their mess.

You aren't as observant as Rook, but seeing Yutu's face had sparked a strange dissonant feeling in you that you think was triggered by his appearance. The color of his hair, the fat of his cheeks, the way his nose wrinkled when Rook had laid him in his bed (and not so subtlety flexed his biceps while you were watching) felt familiar to you. Absent his hood, he looked like you had spun DNA from yourself into yarn and knit him into being, borrowing ever so slightly from another source to sew his eyes and nose in such a way that a sideways glace would send even the strongest of beasts running. Even before those eyes fluttered open you knew what color they would be, but still you laughed at the forest green that looked up at you.

"Sleep well?" Yutu scrambles away from you, yanks the covers over his head and turns frantically around looking for his hood and mask you know are tucked away downstairs well out of reach. He is stammering, saying a random assortment articles together but failing to describe anything as you try to stick what you had planned to say. "Is it just 'Oli' or is that short for something?" Yutu pauses his searching, but he keeps the sheet between you and his face.

"... it's Oliver. But Yutu is still fine if that's easier." There are a few ways you can go about this, you think as you lean back in your chair.

"I don't really care about what's easier." Because it's true, if you did you probably would have run away from this school the second Crowley turned his back. Damn crow probably wouldn't have gone looking for you either. "I care about what will make you comfortable, since I don't think you planned on ever having this conversation with me." You reach forward slowly, making sure to pause just before you reach the sheet counting on him to intuitively know you are asking for permission. He lets it down himself, allowing you to go back to crossing your arms as you look at him. Oliver mirrors you, holding the sheet around himself taking several breaths before clearly trying to collect some thread of a thought before the damn breaks.

"I'm from the future."

"I should hope so." You hum. "Not that I would put it past him, but Rook would have some explaining to do if you weren't." He coughs and you smile.

"Well- you. You aren't intimidated by that at all? Rook I mean, not... me." He's much quieter than any child you'd expected Rook to ever contribute too, much more jumpy but that's not as disturbing as him calling his father by his first name.

"I've accepted what I feel for him for a while now." The window is much more appealing than your son's face but you force yourself to maintain eye contact. "The idea of him reciprocating is- or well was given you're here, something I thought was never going to happen."

"But he writes you letters! I-" Oliver shouts before remembering said man is downstairs and undoubtedly listening for every breath he takes. "I used to read them." Now it is your turn to be embarrassed as you cough and think about the little box you have so carefully hidden upstairs. Not carefully enough it seems, but then again this isn't just your child.

"Well he didn't sign them. And besides..." It was perhaps a bit harsh to count against Rook's statement that he felt like he was fickle and his heart easily captured. No one had really wanted to propose to the ghost bride so it was natural of him to say something like that and it wasn't like he had known you particularly well back then either. He hadn't said he would never want to get married, just that it was too early to think about and if you were being practical that was the most reasonable position to take- "Look it doesn't really matter! What does is that you're here and not for fun right? And what's up with your brother? I clearly didn't raise you in barn so what gives with him?" It's obvious you're embarrassed and deflecting, but still it works as Yutu, or Oliver you now suppose, takes a deep breath and begins to tell you a story, the ending of which, in a way, you already know. ~~~~ Roland was ten when the changes started. Papa did not come home immediately when the night fell, which was not strange. He had been old enough not to worry. It was not strange for Papa to come home injured, it was not strange for there to be blood. But the blood had been dull that time, dull and Papa hadn't said much. He had held him though, hummed a song that felt like home. No matter where they had traveled he had never heard a song so wonderful, it had a name but Papa said it wouldn't help to find it. It was a yuusong, from "beyond the rift." Roland liked it a lot even if he could only remember a few strains of the words and understood none of their meaning

"Mon poussin, are you afraid of being alone?" It was a silly question of Papa to ask. "No matter where you go, your parent and I will always watch over you. So long as you live this world will be a beautiful place. I love you, so much more than my heart can give me words to describe." It was a scary thing to say. Such a silly and scary thing to ask and say that Papa forgot about it when he woke up the next morning, he would have forgotten about Roland too if he hadn't have yelled at him for it. Papa had said nothing at all that morning actually, not even a twitch of a smile or a laugh at his protest. Roland's mind must have painted over how there was no blood anymore, there was the ink- the blot he had been training so long to avoid instead. The Hunter had allowed him to follow and that allowed him to do all of the lying he might have needed to think things were fine to himself.

And on some level Roland knew that's what he had been doing all of this time but now that he was here, wherever here was, he was being forced to think about it.

"Are you hungry or somethin?" The racoon stares up at him, angry he thinks because its paws are on its hips. "Ya keep staring off into space and it's creepy!"

"Is it?" Roland tries to blink and the racoon jumps away from him so he moves closer so as not to miss anything it says.

"Y-yeah! It is! You're really creepy! And Rook's here so that's sayin something." The racoon mutters the last bit and Roland turns to look at Rook. He's too young, there are creases missing in his brow and a cruel bend to his gaze that isn't present when he looks at him. If anything Rook is looking at him in a way he thinks he should recognize, but doesn't remember the word for anymore.

"Are you hungry, Monsieur Poussin?" Rook smiles, the word that his mind supplies now is kind but it is still not the word he wants for the way Rook looks at him. Poussin... his focus breaks and Rook calls his name gently, fear is a word he remembers and holds onto. Most humans use that word when describing things so it grounds him somewhat.

"I guess." Turning down food is a bad idea even if the new sights and smells are almost too overwhelming to want to eat. When he looks back at Rook the fear has changed, he knows this look too but the humans he met never lived long enough to explain it to him. He thinks he still knows it though, but from where he doesn't want to remember. Not if there's actually going to be food. And thankfully Oliver comes down the stairs just in time to take the attention away from him.

"Roland?" He's still confused and Roland swallows the need to hug him, but he can't stop himself from shaking. "Where- how did you get here?"

"Where is here?" The strange person next to Oliver makes a noise like letting out a breath, and he thinks the racoon screams but he has never heard one do that before so he doesn't know. "Is this where you were? I've been looking for you, and for our parent too but if I've found you then they've got to be near." Roland hasn't thought about them much, dad always got so sad when he talked about them and after he stopped talking it was hard to get answers about anything. Talking about them always made him violent so he had tried his best not to do it. Oli sways a bit, almost like he's going to collapse again but the strange person moves to support him before Roland can.

"Thank you for doing that Roland, you sound like you've been a very good big brother." Something about their voice makes him want to cry, and he has to really work to remind himself that would be a waste of water when they smile at him. "But the answer to that is a bit complicated."

So. Roland. He has no real idea that the portal he went through was going to take him to the past, he just decided to race his "dad" for it and won. It's clear from talking to him that he's not the most educated or aware of things, he knows that he is "from" the Shaftlands, that he is a mage but he's not very practiced on how to use magic and says his dad "punishes" him when he tried to learn. He says he grew up traveling Twisted Wonderland looking for his parent and baby brother, but that his father was always present with him. He has memories of lots of places in Twisted Wonderland before the apocalypse began and while his descriptions are very child like, it gives Yutu some context for things he says will be useful in formulating a plan to stop the bad future.

In Roland's mind, Rook just got sick and became unable to talk after a while. It's clear he is aware on some level of what happened, he calls the phantom dad instead of papa, and while he plays off what were very clear attempts at murder as "games" the way he instinctively flinches at Rook's touch suggests his body knows even if his mind doesn't. His time following the phantom of his father around has clearly taken its toll on his body, his skin lacks the same level of pigmentation as his brother's, like someone has turned the saturation on his melanin up in a way that's clearly unnatural.

He's unused to actual food, he cries the first time you feed him even if it is just a cup noodle. Grim instantly forgives all of his weirdness when he agrees that canned tuna is the best thing he has ever tasted, he has a new favorite henchuman now (until he realizes this means he needs to share, then he demands Roland get a new favorite food). Rook insists on being the one to cook for him, he is genuinely terrified of the future that Roland and Oliver have described and he wants more than anything for his children to know he would never do anything like they experienced of his own free will. He is a hunter of love, not a practitioner of filicide.

There is of course, the small matter of how to explain all of this to Crowley, or if you even should given his suspicious absence in every story you just heard. Rook doesn't want either of his chicks out of sight, so he firmly rejects Yutu's suggestion to entrust Roland to his friends, something you second; you don't trust a bunch of random people with such a traumatized child, let alone one that's technically yours. Yutu suggests asking Idia for advice then, something you can't say you are surprised by given his glowing description of how the guy turns out in the future but still...

"So let me see if I understand this correctly." Idia has his head in his hands, not even bothering to use his tablet from just how done he is with this conversation, even though this marks his first participation in it. "Yutu is from the 'Bad Ending' timeline and he's come back here to make sure you get together with Rook."

"No!" You cough scream as Ortho dutifully pats you on your back in encouragement. "He's here because everyone overblots! Again! Except for you apparently. And Vil but that's only because of you?" He waves a single hand in the air.

"Yeah skill issue or whatevs- look." He finally looks up from his hands, if you didn't know any better you would say he's bored but it's clear from how he actually pauses and minimizes the game he was playing that's far from the case. "If Ortho didn't back up what you were saying about your hellspawn-" you take a deep breath and remind yourself said childrens' existence relies on this moron's help "then I wouldn't believe anything you just said, but it does kind of make sense."

"It does?" Idia pulls up some stills from what you assume are the school security systems of portals similar to what Rook described the one Roland appeared out of.

"The sentient blot phantoms isn't like anything S.T.Y.X. has recorded before, but if you assume monsters can experience evolution similar to how other species do it makes sense that it could happen. Especially if some sort of curse is involved, which it sounds like there has to be. Speaking of which, hellion 1." Idia doesn't bother to look at you so he misses the way your eye twitches.

"Roland?"

"Yeah. We're going to need to run some tests on him." Idia actually looks at you this time, which improves everything but your mood.

"Aren't you supposed to ask permission first?"

"If the world is going to end in roughly twenty years then no." Idia snorts. "I just don't want his parents showing up at S.T.Y.X. again demanding to see their favorite boy." "If his description of what his life was like is real, then he was raised by a phantom. If he's a mage, then it's miracle he hasn't overblotted and he's at real risk of hurting himself if he tries to learn to use magic at this point."

"Is there anyway you can do the tests here?" You don't like the thought of Roland hurting himself, but there have already been so many changes in his life in such a short period you are afraid one more might make him overblot anyway. "Or at least let Yutu go with him, he trusts him. I just- he's really skiddish."

"I can take some samples and send them for analysis, but if he's as fucked up as I think he is then he's going to need a detox that can't be done here." So Idia has the same set of thoughts that you do, that relaxes you somewhat even if you know very little is going to convince Rook to unwind.

"I can keep an eye on him." Ortho volunteers helpfully. "It would look weird if another student got added to Ramshackle out of nowhere, but transfers to Ignihyde aren't unheard of so we could have him stay with us!" Idia, surprisingly, doesn't shoot the idea down immediately, though he notices your confusion.

"What? Kid grew up in a blot infested forest, he'd probably be more at home here since it's so dark and gloomy. And besides he's going to need to learn how to use tech anyway if he wants to survive. Sides, it'll give us an excuse to keep him away from the other dorms."

You hate to say that Idia is right about anything, but he is about this. Roland really likes Ignihyde, tells you it doesn't smell as weird as Ramshackle (Rook has yet to introduce him to Pomefiore) and the Headmage accepts Idia's explanation of him being a S.T.Y.X. project ready for field testing easily enough. You suspect it might have something to do with him covering up all the overblots but wisely hold your tongue. He still comes to visit you and Yutu, but he's very slow to warm up to you. It's not that he doesn't love you, it's just that you were ripped away from him while he was still a baby so there's some trauma screaming at him that you don't really love him, otherwise you would have been there. The first time you really hug him, he breaks down ugly crying and holds on so tightly you swear he cracks some bones.

Roland is a mage, but his magic is weak from years of never practicing. He's very frustrated by this. Idia's surprised how willing he is to participate in the tests he wants to run on him, but not complaining. Roland tells him why quickly enough anyway, he's the oldest so he should be the one protecting his little brother and his parents but he can't if he's got something wrong with him. And just like that Idia regrets asking because he's feeling things like Rook Hunt's kid is being #relatable right now instead of a demon hellspwan from an overblotted future like he's supposed to be. Whatever he'll just take revenge by teaching him how to play video games. It'll be good enrichment for him probably, help him with that vocab.

And I mean it does. Roland certainly learns some new words. It's just that now you are having to explain to Vil that you are married to Rook in the future and yes, that child who talks like an mmo world chat is yours, you promise he's going to be better once the timeline gets fixed and you will have a chance to actually raise him. Vil is surprisingly supportive, both of Roland and Yutu. He already really liked Yutu, the magic of time travel must have made him remember how fond he was of the little sapling, and he is extremely proud to know he was in Pomefiore. Roland's life is a horror beyond his comprehension so he's determined to help teach him what it means to be human. Vil sees it as a test of his character development this far, sure he has an idea of what Roland should look like and how he should act, but what's the best way to introduce these things to him?

Epel is a huge help with Roland. He doesn't understand the gamer speak but he gets the rough and tumble phrases that come out when he's frustrated. He even surprises himself with how much he agrees with Vil on what Roland should do, and how his much of his advice is taken. It's such a beautiful sight Rook cries in pride every time he thinks about it. Roland wasn't super interested until Oliver told him about Vil being the reason he knew he had an older brother. He's still not 100% sold on what Vil tells him to do but if Epel reassures him and explains it then he'll do it.

The tests that Idia does prove that Roland isn't a danger to others, but he is very sick. Extended exposure to blot in its purest from has made him extremely sensitive to it, coming to this timeline has helped improve his chances somewhat but Idia doesn't think he would have lived more than two or three more years if he had stayed in the past. His magic is more or less killing him, so Ortho and Idia double down on teaching him how to use magical technologies. Idia makes sure to tell you and Rook this won't be a problem if you manage to create a good future, and that understanding this helps but still. Hearing your son only has a few years to live, and only if he stops actively using his magic hurts. No parent wants to hear that.

If Yutu has Rook's cunning and stealth, then Roland has his brutality and outgoing nature. He's very friendly, his only problem with speaking is that he lacks the vocabulary he needs to get his point across. Since he was raised by a phantom in the wilderness for a part of his life he has next to no problem hunting and killing., especially if it means he gets to keep his family. It's one of the things that allows him to connect with the real version of his father, Rook has a similar line of thinking, especially after hearing Roland's fate and the more he gets to spend time alone with you. He'd do anything to give his friends a happy future, but for you he would do anything. It's a disease, what is that poem you spoke to him about? Something about the poison from your lips being the deadliest of them all, he'll die if he has to live in a future without your kisses. It just will not happen, he won't let beauty leave this world forever.

Rook hates knowing you had to raise a child alone, he hates thinking that Oliver thought even for a second he abandons you. He hates knowing Roland thought you abandoned him and stole his brother, that he watched him die and refused to believe it. He hates seeing Roland run away from Trey holding onto his jaw, he loves all of Yutu's friends dearly and can't wait to meet their parents in the future. He loves sitting with you and hearing all of the thoughts you were too shy to tell him when you doubted his sincerity. He loves seeing Roland's efforts to adapt to his disability, he hates the fact his son is sick in the first place. He loves watching Yutu chase Azul around and he loves how Ace and Deuce fight about who would be the better Uncle even though it's clear Grim has already won the fight.

The future is always worth fighting for, and you will always be worth crying over. Has he mentioned he loves you yet today? Even when the day is won and the memories begin to fade, the compulsion to tell you remains. Rook knows you have no magic to speak of, but there is something about you when you hold him close that makes him think that can't be true, not really.

"Why Trickster?" Vil doesn't question his choice of nicknames ever, but now is as good a time as any Rook supposes. "I would have thought you would jump to something more romantic now that they've... accepted your invitation?"

"Non non beautiful Vil." Rook carefully sets aside his beaker, making sure that his project is in a place that he can pause before elaborating. "You do not understand, trickster is the most perfect description of my true love." Vil has a look that he makes sometimes that would make lesser men cease, a certain purse to the lips and blank look to the eyes that Rook never fails to ignore. "My true love is plain to the untrained eye, in our world power is thought to be strictly magical in nature but that isn't true. Just as the Fairest Queen was known for her unrelenting effort in the face of adversity so too does Yuu face down any and all that stands before them. Their determination is breathtaking, a magic all its own."

"You do seem quite powerless before it." Vil says dryly, but his smile betrays his true thoughts. Rook is eccentric, someone others only tolerate and, if Vil is as honest as he prides himself on being, the same could probably be said of you, the magicless prefect of a magic school. Of course Rook would love you, it gives him a few ideas for a movie, assuming he manages to hold onto them once time has been set right again.

But Vil will keep that to himself, it will make a lovely wedding gift for his dear hunter. He'll make sure to get you something much more practical.

[petit-naldo]

JEALOUSY

Charles had never experienced jealousy. When you were Charles Leclerc, there were very few things you had a reason to be jealous of. Don’t get me wrong, he had his fair share of tragedies. But when it came to petty jealousy, he was kind of immune.

He had the prettiest girls, the best clothes, the best cars, the best team.

He had the prettiest girls, the best clothes, the best cars, the best team.

So it takes him a moment to realize what that burning feeling in his chest stands for.

It happens, for example, when Carlos is holding Lando's hand AND looking at him for what feels like an eternity in the hallway before the sprint. And this strange feeling makes him uncomfortable and angry, so he tries to intervene. And he does it in the stupidest way possible.

He puts his hand on their handshake. Because he's getting angrier by the second.

He just wants them to stop touching.

Of course, there are cameras capturing his stupid move.

He doesn't really know why he did it.

 He's known for a very long time that Carlos and Lando are really good friends, it never bothered him more than that. But lately they seemed to have some kind of renewed spark, giggling and hugging on the podium.

Even though Carlos said they're his two favorite teammates.

It still bothers him.

 Yeah, right. It's the fourth year, Carlos, and we've been laughing every damn day, why can't you say I'm your favorite teammate?

Maybe something changed last week in Monaco. In fact, if Charles is honest with himself, he knows exactly what ignited a little fireball in his belly. It was right after the Monte Carlo Masters final. He was talking to George and Carmen in the VIP hospitality area. George was a good friend of Lando's. Of course, because Lando was so charming. Lando sitting with a pretty blonde across the court. And George, always the first with gossip, smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"So, he’s back to girls...," Carmen laughs as if she perfectly understands what it means. And Charles frowns.

"What do you mean?"

"You know," answers George, moving his face in a suggestive way.

"Mmh, ah yeah," answers Charles, who really DOESN’T know but can’t really imagine anything besides one thing. Is Lando bi ?

He can’t keep this idea out of his head. So one night in Shanghai, while he and Carlos are sat on boxes outside the Ferrari garage, softly chit-chatting and the dusk is wrapping them in blue and purple and the frogs are starting to wake up, he tries to bring up the subject as casually as he can.

He first pushes the direction of the conversation towards the tournament.

"Weren’t you a bit disappointed? I think the semi-finals were more interesting matches."

Carlos answers and says it’s okay, but what he’d really like to do is go to Roland Garros. Watch Nadal's final game. Shit. Charles prompts again, redirecting.

"Were you with Lando?"

"No, he was with a girl." Jackpooot. He switches with what he hopes is the most casual tone he could adopt.

"Oh yeah, it’s true... by the way, ahah, George told me he was surprised because… well, he said Lando used to… date boys."

"Ah, George, such a nosy bitch," Carlos says, looking at his phone without bothering to respond any further.

Charles bites his lip. He wants his answer. He NEEDS his answer to ease the ball of fire he feels growing in his chest. Charles doesn’t know how to be subtle.

"So, Lando is bi?" he blushes because really, it’s nowhere near subtle.

"Why do you care?" asks Carlos, suddenly looking at him intensely.

Charles falters, luckily, the night is fully set upon them because his face might be close to crimson, and he blurts out the first excuse he can think of.

"A gay friend of mine has a crush on him."

He never panicked so hard, it’s weird, he’s usually a chill dude. But his heart is at the edge of his lips. A wave of heat floods him, and his breath shortens.

"Who?" Carlos asks, frowning. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"You don’t know him. From Monaco." He clings to this thread. Fortunately, his overheated mind found this excuse because Charles has no friends who know Lando and that Carlos doesn’t know, and if Carlos had realized that, it would have made the rest of the conversation very uncomfortable.

Luckily, after what feels like suffocating seconds, Carlos lets it go with a grunt and shakes his shoulders.

"Yeah, he is… well, if you consider showing up with a girl once every blue moon, being bi."

SO LANDO IS GAY???

He feels that sting, that crazy sting clouding his mind, making him act like a foolish fool and he watches himself open his mouth again to utter, "Oh...I didn’t know, if you knew."

"Ha…," scoffs Carlos, shaking his head, letting his eyes gaze into the faraway... "oh believe me, I know."

Charles knows he should shut the fuck up. But he can't because this sentence alone and the tone with which Carlos said it, stir up a thousand more questions. He should leave before it's too late. He’s already asked too much.

He isn’t close enough with Lando to keep pushing, for his curiosity to make sense.

But nonetheless he asks.

"How did you find out?"

"Mmh… " Carlos looks at him a bit surprised by his questions. Usually Charles isn't the kind to ask personal questions. "I’m not really comfortable sharing his personal stuff, Charles."

The "Charles" should be his cue to fucking stop pushing. Because Carlos said it in a way that doesn’t offer contradiction.

But he is stupid. He is the most stupid man to ever exist. So he fakes a laugh.

"Come on, Cahrlos, tell me, I’m your favorite teammate " He tries to be playful, but he so desperately needs to know that it must be really obvious in his tone. He feels cringe and shameful and immature and he wants to burry himself into the ground.

But he also wants the answer.

"Why," laughs Carlos, "your friend wants to know?"

And Charles backs down. He isn't brave enough.

"You’re right, I shouldn’t gossip like that, damn George really rubs off on me."

They keep chatting about tennis. He tries to focus on Carlos deep voice to avoid getting lost on thoughts about Lando.

But that night, as he lies in bed, the overthinking starts.

He keeps replaying the conversation, trying to extract from it every bit of info he can.

"Oh yes, believe me I know" - why this tone, why this almost tragic tone, melancholic.

Ideas start to swirl.

Did Carlos stumble upon Lando being with a boy? Did Lando make a move on Carlos? Did Carlos make a move on him? Could Carlos have done something with… no, no, no, Charles, come back to your senses.

He lies awake.

The little ball of fire starts swelling in his chest at the thought of Lando being near Carlos.

But that’s stupid.

Because Carlos is straight.

And Carlos is only friend with Lando.

He is.

Is he?

Isn’t it weird though how close and touchy they are?

Well, Carlos is a touchy guy.

But especially with Lando.

And him.

No, but it’s not the same.

Charles is straight.

Maybe after an exhausting sim session back when they were teammates he and Lando could have…

NO !

Carlos is straight.

S t r a i g h t.

But maybe he tried.

Or maybe one day he will.

Lando is not ugly.

Not as pretty as Charles, but…

Charles shakes his head.

C’mon, is he really judging other drivers’ looks now?

But then, the weekend happens and he notices Carlos staying glued to Teto.

And Carlos makes a joke about Teto being his WAG on Instagram.

Carlos is way too comfortable with every other boy around.

Charles tries to reassures himself about what ? he doesn't know.

He says to himself that it’s okay.

Because there is no one else’s waist Carlos puts his hand on while he walks.

And it was a real close hug during the shell event. No ?

What?

Jesus Christ, Charles, get your shit together. He’d really like to take some time to acknowledge what the fuck is going on inside his mind. What are his feelings for Carlos, does he really have a crush on him. That would be a very bad idea. And he is straight. As Carlos. Supposedly.

Anyway, he can’t because 90% of his brain is focused on the race and the ten other % are literally occupied by… okay, he wanted to call that rage ? But it’s that burning itch making him want to punch every man too close to Carlos. Making him want to act like an imbecile just so Carlos would look at him.

It takes up too much space in his mind to let anything else in. He scooches alongside the Spaniard anytime he can. He develops weird strategies to be sure he’s next to him during the parade.

He keeps an eye on Lando at all times. He scrolls down Teto’s Instagram and re-watches the Don’t Blink on YouTube. Clenching his teeth at the winter one. Carlos lifting him like that, like a feather.

Teto acting exactly like a wag, getting along with Sainz Sr, sitting near Carlos in restaurants,

Teto, who is actually very pretty. Shiny golden hair. Big eyes.

When Charles sees him leaning against a railing above one of the numerous ponds of the Shanghai paddock, he has the urge to throw him overboard.

Maybe a crocodile could eat him. Are there crocodiles in Shanghai ?

That way, he would never again hold Carlos’s shoulder while laughing.

Then the weekend is over.

He looks through the window of the plane. Today he flies back to Monaco. He has been a nightmare to deal with, yelling at everybody. He feels restless and irritated.

Yet the weekend has been good. Everything ran smoothly. Carlos had even congratulated him for the third place, gave him a hug. But after, at the corner of his eyes, he had seen him hugging Lando, holding him by the neck. Diving into one of their secret conversations.

And just a few hours later. He had heard they were flying back together on the same plane.

TOWARDS MONACO.

He goes to Monaco too!!! He is Monegasque! Why can’t Carlos ask him to fly with HIM? Why Lando? Always Lando! Insufferable, childish, giggly, never-won-a-race Lando!

HE is il predestinato, HE is Ferrari’s sacred child! He is nice, and every girl are at his feet.

He slides a hand over his face. He feels like he's going crazy. What is this fury burning in his chest for days?

But he doesn’t need to think about it for long.

It’s pretty obvious.

It is well…

Jealousy.

[sgiandubh]

Out of the OL bubble

Sidenote: this post owes everything to the incredible sleuthing skills of an already longtime trusted friend, who wishes to remain discreet. All credit goes entirely to her - this is such an idiotic topic, yet the Ur Troll insists.

I answered one of you in the comment threads yesterday, that once you get the hell out of the OL bubble, things begin to make sense. Why? Well, because of distance and context, I suppose. And also because this always was the dirty little secret of our Dedicated Manipulative Trolls: to make you believe in a terribly poor narrative, fit for a linear world. A world without compromise, drama, secrets and lies. Collective lack of time, perspective and/or Internet research skills did the rest and gave birth to this monster: the OL Fandom.

We are now told and are supposed to believe that because Scottish Xena apparently chose on purpose (with this and only this, I could agree, but for opposite reasons) to show us she trains in a Cumbernauld gym, that means... well, you know the rest and it involves The Magic Golden Dirk. That troll was never exactly subtle, was she, bless her heart?

That mother and entrepreneur has a life of her own and an entourage of her own and business collaborations of her own and her own agenda. Some of it is shown on her Instagram account, most of it can be speculated. Connecting dots just for the sake of it is neither productive, nor remotely interesting.

Let's see, for example, how she reacts to a very insistent fellow German athlete, whom she is going to meet at the Hyrox Cologne event (13-14th of April, during the Landcon week-end):

😬😱

What is Flamingos Club? Nope, not an ikebana society, no:

Tee-hee.

They were there before, in good company, last year, when they actually first met (rings a bell?):

(April 2023, ok? I am still waiting for my own DeLorean)

Who is this guy?

Fellow athlete, HYROX Ambassador (something I bet the farm she wants to achieve) and a contestant in this year's German reality show First Dates Hotel, on VOX (https://www.vox.de/cms/sendungen/first-dates-hotel.html):

The concept is simple: a renowned German chef, Roland Trettl (no idea!) now takes his blind date cooking show to the next level, with singles from all over the country parked into a Spanish dream holiday resort (Mallorca), shake, stir and see whatever happens. The classical Endemol recipe, now produced by Twenty Twenty. It also has an UK version, running on Channel 4 (coincidence? I doubt that very much, thank you!).

On set, Max's 'love interest' is a certain Linda. He recently wrote her ' a sweet love letter', taking the good advice of his namesake cast friend Max-the-Bartender:

(I swear to God, I feel like I am prostituting my 🧠, right now).

There is obviously nothing to see, here (or is it, such as two wannabes desperately wanting limelight?). She leads the typical no strings attached life of a single mom and he is still looking for a real job:

Since VOX does not give his full name, neither will I. It took five minutes to find him, with a bit of luck.

Why on Earth would one connect that woman to S, rather than to this nice, ambitious Bavarian?

I know why. It's almost too damn easy.

Two words: Channel 4. Truman Show. Ginger and Fred (oops, these are Our Couple).

Is it anything we haven't seen before?

Nope. We've seen way worse. But gone are the Days of Flukenzie Floozy.

[Edited] - there is no need to further expose our people.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Sad times prompt:

Roland nears final dispensation and notices that people are beginning to distance themselves from him.

He's six years, nine months, two days, 4 hours, and ten minutes old when he really starts to notice the change in behaviors. AI can't help but see patterns. It's what he was made for, a ship AI managing a crew of thousands for deployments that span months or years without resupply, and now it's plain as day that his crew is avoiding him.

Shying away and cringing from the signs of his age, from him.

It starts with avoided eye contact and tight lipped smiles. He sees it in mouths closing instead of asking him. Discomfort clear in their faces and biosigns. Avoidance. A dull ache in his own code - do no harm to humans - but he can't help what's happening to him.

It's been an eventful career, non-stop since his commissioning, but he hadn't felt this level of melancholy since the Created Conflict. When he chose his crew over Her and it still wasn't enough. The looks and whispers, the hard-won trust turning to suspicion, now those feelings return full force as he's beginning to lose trust in himself.

Recursive thoughts spiraling and disrupting standard procedures. Protocols out of order - starting and stopping with no rhyme or reason. His recall sluggish and incorrect. A fog over everything he does.

Roland is a spider at the center of an aging web, its threads snapping and leaving him alone, senseless and blind, untethered. Sight and sense return sporadically only to present him with a million points of data from his crew. Whispers and pointed looks, conversations halted and glances shared, the bridge crew triple checking his numbers before every jump, awkward silences from crew members, from scientists to Spartans. No more poker nights, fewer reports to the captain, and the commander taking him off Ops.

Distance. Turned backs. Treating him like he's not even there. What's worse are the sad looks, mourning him while he's still there. Stilted conversation and tiptoeing around his lapses.

Everyone knows the end, the ticking clock above his head. A second is an eternity and a month is a blink of an eye. There's so much he still hasn't seen. He's never gotten to fly the ship solo. Being ignored feels like they're speeding it along, ready for the next model.

[copperbadge]

It LOOKS like I did a lot today...

I knew that I would need containers for various things when I started cleaning this year, but I held off until I could make a list and take measurements; this isn't even all of the containers I need, but it's what I could get from Ikea. Container Store will likely provide the rest but again, I'm waiting until I have a fuller idea of what all I need.

Last year I organized my craft stuff and designated a specific drawer for fabric; that worked well but the drawer got a bit disorganized because it was "one cardboard box with no lid, and fabric shoved into and around it". So I measured the drawer and bought a pair of plastic bins for the majority of the fabric, so now I can remove the bins if need be to get a better idea of what's available. I also found out there's a store in Chicago which takes donations of crafting stuff so eventually I'll destash some of this. I've been trying to use up a lot of it on various projects in the meantime.

[ID: Three images; the first shows a bin full of folded squares of fabric, sitting on top of the shelf, while the next shows one bin of fabric and some loose fabric in a drawer, and the third image shows how the two bins fit into the drawer.]

Another bin I bought from Ikea was a metal basket to contain all my seasonings; this worked well, and allowed me to open up a bunch of space on the shelf they used to sit on for stuff that was on the shelf above it, making it easier to see what all I do and don't have.

[ID: Two images of a white two-section basket split by a wooden handle in the middle; in the first it is sitting on the stove, freshly full of jars of spice and herbs (Marylanders take note: that red lid is indeed Old Bay). In the second image it is sitting on the spice shelf surrounded by other stuff like a box of baking soda and a spice grinder, while the shelf above it is noticeably not super cluttered.]

I also sorted through the spices, threw out some old ones, and identified the jars of stuff I hadn't used much and should use soon. I think I'm going to spend the winter making cinnamon rolls and swirl bread with the vanilla sugar, and make a shitload of taco meat with the fajita seasoning. I'll probably use the cheese powder for mac and cheese, and the Greektown for burger seasoning. Or maybe I'll try my hand at making falafel with it.

[ID: A photo of several jars and packets of seasoning, including Spiced Vanilla Sugar, Romano powder, Penzey's "Revolution" seasoning and "Fajita" seasoning, and a seasoning mix called "Greektown".]

Lastly, to get to $35 and get free shipping, I bought some Ikea "cord caddy" thingys, which you stick to a surface and run your charging cords through in order to keep them tidy. I realize neither of these LOOK tidy but compared to what they were, they very much are.

[ID: Two images; one is of a small portable table that I use for working on my laptop, and shows the caddy holding the laptop's charging cord and a phone charging cord so the table feet stop tangling them. The second image shows a caddy attached to one of the slats of my headboard, through which are threaded a power cord to some remote-control lights, another phone charging cord, and the charging cord for my sleep headphones.]

Listened to about the first forty minutes of the latest episode of Just King Things, about Wizard and Glass, and was gratified to hear many of my own complaints about it reiterated by either the hosts or people they've spoken to. I have started that book so many times and never been able to finish it because I Do Not Care about Roland getting laid as a teenager. So it's nice to get the plot and analysis in podcast form, and now I'll never HAVE to read it.

[doom-dreaming]

Do you think cortana posted chief for national girlfriends day on the unsc's version of Twitter (he didnt even know about it until weeks later)

It had been nearly two weeks by this point and it only seemed to be gaining momentum. Groups of S-IVs would try to hide their snickering as they passed him in the halls. Whispering Marines would quickly shush each other when he walked into the room. He noticed the sidelong glances, the elbows jabbed into ribs, all the little movements that weren't as subtle as they thought. He'd even caught Roland and Captain Lasky in the middle of a hushed but heated conversation that he, apparently, didn't have the clearance for.

This had been normal when he was still a new fixture on Infinity, but several years had smoothed the edges off his reputation - at least enough that people could relax around him. Or so he thought. A backslide like this was...unexpected. And it wasn't even necessarily the principle of being left out of something that had started to bother him, it was more the fact that everyone seemed to be in on something he wasn't. And that it seemed to be about him.

"Mm, kind of rude," was all Cortana had muttered when he'd brought it up a few days prior. She'd been distracted, deep in the middle of analyzing something for Halsey, and he didn't think much of the dismissal at the time.

But by now, the strange conspiratorial energy aboard the ship had all the trademarks of a bomb about to go off and it was making him antsy in a way he didn't appreciate. "Cortana."

It takes a fraction of a second longer than usual for her projection to appear on the holodeck - a detail imperceptible and inconsequential to anyone but him - but she's bright-eyed and smiling as she materializes. "You rang?"

"You have to know something." He cuts right to the chase.

She sighs. "Chief, you know they put me on restricted access. I don't like it either, but I have to play nice. It's Roland's ship, if you want to know what he sees, ask him."

John narrows his eyes. He didn't believe her for a second. And she knew it.

She holds eye contact as her lips twitch into a barely-contained smirk. "Maybe there's something going around on the socials," she continues with a shrug. "Could be worth a look if it's really bothering you."

**********

The suggestion was still sitting in the back of his mind days later, unheeded. He had more important things to be doing than trawling through message boards trying to find a joke that no one had bothered to let him in on. It always felt like tuning into an unsecured comm. channel - lots of chatter with very little substance.

But he knew Cortana. And she was up to something. Besides, he had a few hours to kill before Commander Palmer needed him in the simulation room. He taps his way into his account, remembering his password with a combination of muscle memory and sheer luck. His inbox is overflowing with messages, but he opts to ignore them in favor of hunting down the threads with the heaviest, most recent traffic.

A thread simply titled 'Girlfriend Day' rises to the top of the list. His finger hesitates over it for a second, unsure if this was the lead he should be following. It seemed unlikely, but none of the other contenders had anywhere near the same engagement numbers... Resigning himself to a potential dead end and waste of time, he opens it.

The initial post is a picture of a young couple, both smiling. The man has his arm around the woman's shoulders. They're somewhere sunny, in civilian clothes. John doesn't recognize either of them and doesn't spend much time skimming the accompanying text before moving on.

He doesn't have to go far. Less than a dozen posts into the thread, he finds a photo of himself. It's not a bad photo, all things considered - it's a nice candid shot, he's cleaning a gun, his helmet sits on the bench beside him - but the rose-tinged filter and tiny pink hearts aren't doing it any favors. It'd been posted anonymously without a caption and he only has to read a few of the comments underneath it for things to start falling into place.

"Cortana..."

The holodeck glows a dim blue for three full seconds before she appears, hands on hips, eyebrows raised.

John silently tilts the screen toward her.

"Do you like it? I thought the hearts were a nice touch."

"Pink's not my color."

"Agree to disagree." She settles into a more relaxed stance. "Who knew one picture could get the ship buzzing like this? Infinity's starving for gossip, apparently."

"Everyone wants to know whose girlfriend I am," John sighs, finally setting the datapad down. "Where'd you get the picture?"

"Took it myself. Last month. It was hard picking a favorite, you know. I went through a lot of them."

"...how many do you have?"

"Oh, thousands. I don't show them to anyone. Well, aside from this one exception." She nods toward the datapad, then crosses her arms in response to the face he can feel himself making. "What, a girl can't have a hobby?"

[starryficsfinishwen]

slides into ur anon asks

.. part two of the roland fist fucking fic ☺️☺️☺️☺️ [on my knees begging]

only if you say please, dear anon 😝 but nonetheless, your wish is my command

part 1 of long distance enemy romance with Roland

WARNING/S: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. NSFW THEMES: mutual masturbation that leads to something else. phone sex (?). voyuerism. fem!bodied reader. also pervert reader HAHAHA

divider by: @/saradika-graphics

Roland is an eye-candy.

Ashen hair, heterochromia eyes, a sexy build— who wouldn't fall for a guy like him? Only fools do.

Lucky for him, you were a fool. A complete fool for him.

Side note: a completely perverted fool for him.

You intently watch the comms, fingers throbbing in your lap as Roland frustratingly jerks off. A year after being in the military, you were told your hearing deteriorates fast, but damn, you could hear heaven's trumpet as Roland moans through.

Fucking hell, that man.

Itching as you felt your panties soak through, your hole quivering as you noticed Roland had been using your gift as intended. The rise and fall of his chest, the way his face contorts into pure pleasure as he frustratingly fucks his fist—god, you wished you were in his lap instead.

Although you could have been direct to the point, but still, you decided to up your game and become a complete pervert for Roland. It wouldn't hurt to touch yourself, wouldn't it?

Quietly slipping off your panties, threads of your arousal coat them, making you curse underneath your breath. But your eyes are too busy looking back at the delicious scene in front of you.

As Roland continues to jerk off in his seat, you spread your legs open. Two of your fingers find themselves on your labia. Cautiously pressing pressure on the slit, you softly moaned as you heard Roland call for your name.

“Roland...”

You unconsciously jerked your hips as you parted your folds, fingers grazing your clit. Rubbing it directly, one of your hands unbuttoned your uniform, letting loose of your free breasts. What a fine time to be half naked in your makeshift tent, then.

But oh, in your perverted mind, you couldn't help but imagine if in that situation, Roland was there to help.

What if he was lifting your hips off of the chair and into his lap, your body reactive to the sensitive call of your aching pussy as you imagined his hungry gaze on your figure. How dirty, how obscene—an esteemed commandant lusting over an Ascendant, out of everyone else?

Imagine the covers of the magazine if it were to come true—Naughty Commandant being a whore for an Enemy. How great would that be?

Roland growls your name, making two of your fingers slip inside of your empty, wet hole. You cry out his name in a daze, deliriously imagining it was his hand in there instead.

As you watch the camera feed pan to him, with battered breaths and the pace of Roland stuttering as he jerks off, you realize it must be the end, then. Oh well, it was enough for you, at least your fantasy would continue as you were the one to jerk off to him now.

With two fingers on your aching pussy, palm rubbing your clit, you pathetically jerk off in your empty little cabin. Your life choices may be poor at this rate, but you wanted—no, needed Roland more than ever.

Three fingers now prodding at your core, you wondered how it would have been if it were Roland's fingers instead. Would he be gentle to you, teasing your quivering clit? Or would he ravage you instead, torturing you as he mercilessly bullies your hole, long fingers deep into your core?

Fuck, fuck—the ideas are endless, and you wanted nothing more but Roland, Roland, Roland.

But before you could even watch more, your comms glitched, and the screen went dark. But the squelch of your pussy urged you to keep going, despite the disappointment. Moaning his name, over and over and—

“Oh, so this is what you do, Commandant?”

Like a deer in the headlights, you froze. Even with your fingers inside of you, you could only watch in horror as a familiar figure stood near your door frame.

“How naughty, little Commandant,” Roland chuckles, “I thought you had some proper decorum. Instead, you're like this.”

You squealed, your insides squeezing your drenched fingers as well, as you watch Roland saunter into the room, sitting on your bed.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Finish what you're doing.”

You couldn't deny that you were still incredibly turned on, with some of your arousal dripping onto the chair. But as you watched Roland eye you with the same hunger, you couldn't help but finish what you were doing—three fingers fucking your hole.

“What an interesting turn of events, hmm?” He laughs, eyes never taking off of you, “I was wondering why there was a pesky little fly watching me.”

You whined as he accentuated his words, intimidated in the way he looked at you, “S-shut up...I was s-spying on you.”

“Should a spy have her slutty fingers in her pussy then?” You moaned out loud as he spoke, “What a whore you are, Commandant.”

Roland approached you, as you instinctively curled your fingers, your orgasm waiting to be released deep in your tummy. You watched him with tears in your eyes as he looked down on you, as if begging. “R-Roland...”

“How pathetic, dear,” He chuckled, “What a pathetic, needy little Commandant you are.”

Trying to warn him of your impending orgasm, Roland reached out to cup your breasts, further amplifying your need to cum.

“Well, Commandant,” His evil smirk spurs you on, “You will cum for me, right?”

With one last moan of his name, you came to the sound of his voice, fingers slipped out of your hole, squirting all over him. But Roland, oh—

Replacing your fingers, he fucks his own fingers into yours, continuing your orgasm and squirting even more. Crying from sensitivity, you could only hear Roland's laughter.

“My dear Commandant, don't just pass out on me yet; we've only just begun.”

writing in the bathroom, while taking a shower, with 10%, how nice LOL

— starry

[as-above-rp]

@gunslinginnhogtyin liked for a thread | Closed

Roland didn't like hunting when he was this hungry. He became reckless, and aggressive. He grabbed the first person he came across and pulled them into an alley, covering their mouth and sinking his teeth into their neck. He wasn't going to drain them--Roland only killed as a last resort, in self defense. This human had done nothing wrong, except choose this street to take on their way home. He would only take a pint or two, and wipe their memory of him. Then he could find one more person to do the same, and go home. It would keep him fed until his next delivery.

But, Roland had been reckless. He didn't expect this person to fight back so hard, even as they were losing blood so quickly. Suddenly, he felt a seering hot pain in his side and his muscles convulsed, causing him to unlatch and collapse to the ground. Son of a bitch--a TASER? He was almost impressed--proud even. But they were running, and Roland couldn't risk them running their mouth about him. He had to catch them, and fast. He could still track them by their smell, for now. He was much faster than them--surely catching them wouldn't be a problem.

But the gods had a sick sense of humor, and other plans in mind for the vampire that night. Because as he rounded another corner in quick pursuit, he ran right into someone coming from the other direction, hard. They both went down onto the gravel, and Roland nearly barreled over the stranger; but a flash of blue eyes and a red handkerchief around their neck made him hesitate. In a snap moment of realization, he quickly got up and pushed himself back along the ground until he was against a wall, trying to hide half of his face behind his hand. There was no hiding the blood staining his shirt, though.

"--Butch?"

[trainingdummyrabbit]

What do you think of aroace spectrum angela or like. any variant idk

REAL AND TRUE AND CORRECT. NOT TAKING ARGUMENTS AT THIS TIME <3

like. ok ive definitely spoken abt it offhand sometime before so im just going to use this opportunity to aimlessly ramble ok? ok. hyperfixation trap card.

like yeah theres the whole 'only having rep thats robots and aliens and etc' thing which is very much a fair and appropriate response, but also like. at a point you Do just kinda have to go 'Man Just Look At Her.'

i certainly couldnt say it as well as other folks, but... Man Just Look At Her. theres so many threads that are Literally Right There, its kinda hard Not to. id have to study again n cite my sources or whatever but also this is my house. ok.

like theres the obvious 'i see you as a friend' interaction with her and roland sometime mid-to-late ruina, which is. again. Its Right There. but its also the way she looks in lobcorp, and the instant she gets any agency she immediately veers in a completely different direction. (as a reclamation of self, as another small rebellion, as an exploration of how She would like to present herself and be seen)

its that interaction with xiao, her genuine confusion towards the concept of lovers, what they are, what makes it so different from any other sort of person. (as a jab towards her own isolation, the values she was made to uphold, her unfamiliarity towards cityfolk and the ways they carry themselves-- and that seeming contradiction of that affection vs. the way she was told cityfolk Work.)

angela, to me, feels like the type of character to simply Be. for lack of a better term. its a difficult concept to Describe in a way that makes sense, (despite me being, how do you say, In The Same Boat.) its something i could see her toss around out of curiosity, but honestly just... not really care for. she has things to do.

like... angela is just. a very cut and dry character, to put it in a way. she just kinda states things as they are, sometimes rather bluntly. its hard to elaborate because things simply Are. plain and simple, no need to fuss over it. and thats what this feels like itd be, yknow?

also iam just shrimply. forever an angela+roland qpr truther. tbh. like i dont know what the Hell those two have going on but you literally Cannot separate them. i hesitate to call it 'love,' because. well yes, but also no. but also kind of? but not quite. again, it just Is. they simply Are.

its one of those things that just feels Odd seeing her in any other context, in regards to romance or whatever. which is tied to a whole slew of other problems only tangentially related to the subject (shipping content bias, character simplification, and so on and so on,) but its just... man she would Not fucking say that. she would not Do that, she would not Act that way.

like i certainly believe it Is possible to have romantic interpretations with her, but its gonna be. Specific. with the way she carries herself, how she acts, and how she reacts to things. even with the romantic elements, itd still dip into aro experience territory, if you know what im saying. like whoever it is, this shit isnt going to fit into Roles and Archetypes, like how a lot of folks like to write ship content. for lack of a better descriptor, its gonna be Weird.

and thats honestly whats so frustrating about it! you Can have an interesting through-line and interpretation of that sort of thing, but a lot of the time whenever i (rarely) see it, its just... Typical Beauty Standards, Hot Secretary Lady, Scary Controlling Whatever the hell like... i hate t judge but cmon guys we can do so much better than that. ironically, wheres the Love? the respect for who she is, the curiosity on exploring that sort of thing with who she Is? guys come On...

which. grain of salt, because its not like i search out ship content, yknow. im not gonna speak like an authority for stumbling onto stuff sometimes. the fact that it isnt so popular and in-your-face is genuinely refreshing honestly, but. tangent.

anyway arospec angela agenda never sleeps and iam one of the strongest soldiers. the ace is Non Negotiable come back later with a warrant so i can Not Look At It. (<- this is a bit. (<- but im serious.)) thankyou. bows.

[consanguinitatum]

David Tennant's Obscure Performances: His Involvement with Read Not Dead (pt 3) - What You Will

Okay - I promised to fill everyone in on the two unattributed plays David did for the Globe's Read Not Dead project, didn't I? So I'll begin the first never-before-talked-about-in-the-fandom play right now. If you want to catch up on the first two parts and understand a little bit of the history behind the Read Not Dead project before diving into this one, go here for the first part, and here for the second. Then come on back!

The second and third of the four Sunday afternoon staged readings David did while working with the Globe's Read Not Dead (heretofore called RND) project were written by the same author: John Marston. But before we get into the plays themselves, let's take some time to learn a little about John Marston.

Marston was an English playwright whose best known work is 1604's The Malcontent. He began writing in 1598. Much of his work was written for the boy’s theatre company Children of Paul’s and for the Blackfriars. If you went back to one of my previous posts about the Read Not Dead project and David's involvement in their staged reading of 1606's The Fleer by Edward Sharpham, you'll recall reading a bit about the Blackfriars (but if not, they were the Blackfriars Children, a theatre company wholly made up of boy actors.) Anyway, John Marston was a Blackfriars shareholder.

Marston's plays were very popular. He was a consummate satirist who made sure to include lust, violent imagery and impropriety in almost every play he wrote - his poetry was burned by church order! He even dared to satirize the King (though he had to apologize for that of course!) His satirical, critical work caused many a political scandal. Eventually in 1608 Marston was sent to Newgate Prison. After his release, he decided to abandon the theatre, move out of London, and take holy orders. He died in 1634, and to our knowledge never wrote another play. ( As an aside, I encourage you to learn more about Marston. As well as being a contemporary of Shakespeare, he's quite the fascinating character! Here's a good start.)

Okay. Let's go back to the "present" of 2002.

David was a busy boy! He began 2002 starring as Robert in Push Up, an ensemble play about ambition at work. Written by Roland Schimmelpfennig and directed by Ramin Gray, it opened 8 Febuary 2002 at the Jerwood Theatre at the Royal Court.

Push Up was a vignette-style play, and The Telegraph had this to say about it: "The meat of this 90-minute play consists of three edgy, aggressive dialogues between rivals in the firm." David played Robert, who "turns down a proposal from Patrizia for a new TV ad, identical, it turns out, to the one we have already heard described, except that the puddle is now located in New York's Central Park. The fact that these two once had great illicit sex together in Kramer's office, and were both too proud to contact the other afterwards, merely adds to their animosity."

(FYI, I've listened to an audio recording of this play, as it's archived at the British Library. It's stellar!)

David Tennant as Robert in Push Up, 2002

If you've read my previous threads, you'll recall David's first reading with RND was 1999's Edward III and his last was 2004's The Fleer. But now we're in 2002. And David hadn't done another staged reading with RND since 1999. But that was about to change.

Reviews for Push Up were very favorable. The acting was called outstanding, David's was called "a fine performance", and one reviewer said the "undertow of lust between Tennant and [co-star Jaqueline] Defferary [was] particularly riveting." Push Up's run ended in March 2002.

(Oh...I asked director Ramin Gray if there had ever been a programme for Push Up. He told me a printed edition of the play text with the cast list was available, but as far as he was aware, an official Royal Court programme wasn't made for the run. Published by Nick Hern Books, you can find it on Amazon!)

A month later (April 2002) David was treading the boards again as young security guard Jeff in Lobby Hero by Kenneth Lonergan. Set in the lobby of a middle-income Manhattan high rise, the play presented moral dilemmas about things like culpability, justice, and the dangers of truth. Lobby Hero opened at the Donmar from 10 April 2002 to 4 May 2002, then reopened at the New Ambassadors Theatre from 1 July 2002 to 10 August 2002. During its run, the play (& DT!) got rave reviews. It earned David a Olivier nomination for Best Actor, and the play for Best New Comedy.

David Tennant as Jeff in Lobby Hero, 2002

David was probably riding a bit high. Push Up had done well and he'd immediately gone to do Lobby Hero, which was generating awards buzz. But did you notice something about the Lobby Hero dates? David had a month off between runs. And he didn't just sit around twiddling his thumbs -- nope nope nope -- because we all know twiddling has never been David's style.

So on 26 May 2002, David showed up once again to participate in RND. This time it was for a comedy called What You Will, which the aforementioned playwright John Marston likely wrote around 1601 but which was not published until around 1607. What You Will was written while Marston was duking it out (in literary-fashion) with a contemporary writer called Ben Jonson. To say the two men didn't like each other was an understatement. They traded satirical jabs and placed caricatures of each other in their plays. And oh....if the play's title feels vaguely familiar to you, you're not wrong there either! Marston pinched the name of the play from a little old thing you might've heard of called Twelfth Night, written by some fellow called Shakespeare.

What You Will was full of song, music and dance, as it had been written for a children's theatre company. It had a large number of younger parts - pages and the like, and women - for the boys to fill (as I'm sure you'll recall, at this time women's roles were played by men and boys.) In addition to the music, it was also a satire as well as a romantic comedy. Set in Venice, it tells the story of Celia, who believes her husband drowned in a shipwreck. She plans to marry, but another of her suitors, Jacomo, schemes with her family to prevent this. David played the role of Jacomo.

And here's the cast list - again, all thanks and credit for the digitized list goes to the Globe Archives!

Here's a more in-depth look at the plot, and here's a link to the full text of the play, if you're interested.

This performance was recorded, though I haven't listened to it (and sadly, the archive notes the last part of the audio is cut off.) You can listen to the recording of the performance and others from the series, as the recordings are archived in the Globe Archive and Library in London. Access to the archive is available by appointment only for professionals and academics affiliated with institutions of higher education.

So on that Sunday in 2002, David joined in to perform the satirical musical romantic comedy What You Will, directed by James Wallace. And speaking of musical parts - there was singing and dancing to do, scripts in hand. And Jacomo had at least one song to sing!

I'm sure many of you have wondered whether David's done any honest to goodness musicals during his career. Well, I'm here to tell you that while he's burst into song relatively recently and briefly with Don Juan In Soho and Good, and quite possibly with What You Will as well (I haven't listened to the recording of the play to see if David actually sang) - I can provide a partial answer to that question. In a previous interview he mentioned an early play he did in drama school called The Hired Man and said he was a member of the chorus. Yes, that's true, he was, and yes, he did sing in that 1989 production (listen here to hear him sing part of what he sang then.) So he's certainly flirted with the genre. But as I've done much research into those early days of his, there miiiiiight be a few other productions in which he sang. *ahem* I'm just sayin'.

All that comes later. For now, here ends the tale of What You Will. But don't despair - I mentioned earlier we've got one more staged RND reading of David's to explore, and I hope you'll tune in to hear about it, too!