He’s 19 he should be at the club!
Him at the club:
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Esquire apparently asked "five tremendously talented writers" to submit works of short fiction contained on cocktail napkins with the prompt “write a story set at an office holiday party.” One of those writers was Chris Pine. Here's his entry, in his own handwriting:
Bruce Decker contemplates the stapler in front of him. Frank Sinatra plays on speakers down the hall. Somewhere near the heat of the party. But Bruce is, at the moment, most concerned with the stapler. Simple. Perfect, really. And it's right here, next to him. Before fax machines, cellular phones, pagers (he never saw the point), the internet, emails, digital paper trails, concurrent with the Rolodex and pneumatic tubes (he was thankful the building hadn't taken them out), there was the stapler. The proud general of the office supply corps. All clean lines. Distilled in purpose.
He's 80. Bruce is far past retirement. Somehow through solid work, an affable demeanor, a head of hair that remains steadfastly salt and pepper (leaning more dark brown than white—and that's not arrogance, that's honesty), a determined, thoughtful elegance (he's never worn another watch besides his grandfather's Hamilton), Bruce Decker is still standing. And so, he stands. No, not in the heat of the party. But close enough. Here, by the window which radiates a chill. There are snowflakes outside. Big, beautiful, cinematic ones.
He sees his reflection. It's faint, the outline of his body, the detail of his suit, but he can still make out a glint in the caverns of his eyes, the burgundy of his pocket square.
He hears laughter. A woman's laugh. It warms the back of his eyes, his neck. And he remembers he must buy flowers before the drive tomorrow. Yes, before the drive.
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On rewatching Emma (2009) I have come to the decision that Mr. Knightley is the most masculine of Jane Austen's men, and my absolute favorite. I will not be taking criticism. Thank you.
Independent, consistent, honest and straightforward, dutiful, honorable, concerned with the well-being of those around him, a guiding hand to the woman he loves, morally upright...
Ladies, this is the kind of man you need to be looking for.
Gentlemen, this is the kind of man to be.
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Randomly thinkin about Chilchuck today, and how he tries sooooo hard to self sabotage
like for example, other half foots on the island think that he's a greedy asshole who only cares about money, and he does nothing to try to disprove that
but then there's this omake at the end of book 9 that shows that people treat half foots fucking TERRIBLY and chilchuck started a union to protect them
and then in the bicorn chapter, he doesn't want Marcille to keep digging into his personal business so he tells her he CHEATED ON HIS WIFE
but he just COMPLETELY fuckin lied about that and made himself sound so much worse than he is bc he's afraid of being vulnerable with people and would rather everyone believes he's a shitty person so he can keep them at a distance
and the thing that's memed so often is that he refuses to help with fighting most of the time because it's not part of his contract
but if you take this lore into account (not gonna add those particular images to this post simply bc I've used them in so many posts already LMAO) along with this tidbit from the world guide:
then it's like. yeah he has to keep his weight low so if he gets killed or severely injured and has to be healed, that could be really dangerous for him. and even if he was healed at that point he'd end up being a burden to the party after that point, he would be too dangerously thin/sickly to be able to help.
Like, Chilchuck has so many things about him that APPEAR to be character flaws, but every single one of them has a very reasonable explanation. He just leans into the mischaracterization bc he's emotionally withholding and can handle people thinking he's an asshole more than he can handle opening up to anyone. he's such a well thought out and interesting character
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Absolutely head-over-boots in love, he’s the kinda guy you wanna get lost with. Like I don’t get half the crap he talks about but I’m always like fuck yeah baby, you go off about that there damn truck. And darn tootn’ baby, you’re the absolute man. Makes me tip my damn hat at people now cause it makes him smile. And I’ll be damnned cause he’s the man of my damn dreams
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🤎🤎🤎 I am a garden. Water me and I’ll nourish you forever my love
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