#oh. and FRIDA. fuck. poor FRIDA.
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Samuel Riegel how dare you make me weep over my least favorite character in this campaign. The Changebringer better give FCG a special spot by her side.
#a well played move. a smart move. fuck it hurts#oh. and FRIDA. fuck. poor FRIDA.#god damn you and your martyr behavior. fuck. fuck. I'll miss you you awful little therapy bot#sam riegel#critical role spoilers#critical role#fcg
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Break Point — Finished Episode 5
OKAY BREAK IT DOWN *DJ TURNTABLE EFFECT*
OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS FOR HILDA 3'S FIRST 5 EPISODES BELOW
Episode 1.
THE WAY I WAS JUMPSCARED BY DAVID'S VOICE. HOW OLD ARE THEY NOW??? LIKE IT'S GOTTA BE TEEN YEARS BECAUSE GODDAMN PUBERTY BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF MY GUY. MY GUY. MY GUY WHY IS HE SO TALL?????? DAVHDISD??????
Frida's new clothes are so cute she's my baby she's bmy baby no-one can speak ill of her EVER stay WAWAY HSISSSS HISSSSS
Trans flag doormat in Astrid's house. oh my god. oh my gos.sh. trans grandma...
TONTU BEING A TOURIST??? IS KILLING ME??? HE'S GOT THE HAWAIIAN SHIRT AND EVERYTHING I. HELP
Alfur. Alfur I Don't Like This Foreshadowing. Alfur. Alfur Stop Playing The Board Game. ALFUR.
+ of COURSE tontu is the shit-eating smug gamemaster that beats everyones asses no remorse. i'm going go murder this walking hairball (affectionate) ❤️
I'm glad they were straight up with Astrid's "oh, hi, yeah, no I'm not a witch I just really like witchcraft." LIKE IT'S SO REAL??
not to be that guy but why's Astrid kinda fuckigjgn. ADORABLE. please. please. please. just one chance
I'm Normal
Episode 2.
okay but the writers did SUCH a good job portraying what folklore towns are like here. Like everyone KNOWS things but none of them are accurate. also?? just in general a REALLY well-done montage. I do wish I knew what sauce Hilda picked for her ice cream though /hj
Johanna traumatised as fuck (We all saw this coming ❤️)
Thaose are NOT FAIRIES‼️monsterlovers come get your food though
shroom aliens. just in general a very eerie atmosphere done very well
PORTALS??? TO OTHER LIKE. FAE REALMS. I MEAN I'M NOT LIKE. SURPRISED. BUT. WHRHOUH??
mmmm HILDA SAW SOMETHING AND NOW SHE'S BEING FOLLOWED. i'm guessing its something to do with Johanna's "thank goodness they didnt see you :)" because. I mean initially you think it's about the mushroom creatures but it VERY EVIDENTLY IS NOT. aough
Episode 3.
ALTERNATE REALITIES ARE NOT ONLY REAL BUT ALSO ACCESSIBLE
woodman is just the caretaker of ancient trees i guess. ALSO HIS SASS AT THE BOOK "well i'm not in there :/" guess what i'm in love with you
the animation in this episode was absolutely GORGEOUS. literally no 2D animated show has ever done flame-ridden scenery in such a perfect, gorgeous way before I think.
HILDA WITH A SWORD HILDA WITH A SWORD HILDA HAS A SWORD YEAHHHHH!!! bisexuals rule da woooorld
oh. oh the. the giantslayer is a k- oh... oh noooo...
oh he's very. passionate i wonder wh-
holy shit. that poor fucking kid (´;︵;`) like that was. that was so much. oh my god??? jesus christ. this season is getting progressively more unnerving with it's darker themes.
ALTHOUGH IT WAS A WOODMAN EPISODE!!!! WIN!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THAT BARK CREATURE SO MUCH!! PLEASE LETS. BE OKAY
i LOOOVE the snow sister's voice so much. she's wife to me.
Not sure if it was done on purpose or not but every time it played that boom sound whenever Hilda turned back to look at the flaming tree it. it made me laugh. it made me giggle. it was so stupid looking, gave me IZ:ETF energy and really let me calm down from the emotional ride of the last few minutes
seeing more giants is really neat. the sound design for when they jumped away was MAD..in general this season feels like it was made to be listened to on a surround sound speaker system tbh
GOOD EPISODE. uh oh now there's Guys I Think
Episode 4.
Nah this guy boutta be a tumblr sexyman 😦
OKAY OFF THE BAT I ADORE LOUISE. LOUISE IS MY GIRL. I LOVE THEM. I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE. THEIR ENERGY IS SO SWEET??? BUT LIKE I WAS SCREAMING INTERNALLY THE WHOLE TIME BEING LIKE "oh my god. oh my god why are you LYING TO HER and treating her like a Normal Person she's very clearly a little freak like you. oh my god."
AND THEN WHEN THAT WAS BROUGHT UP BY THE MERMAN-- "Oh, you think Louise is SO innocent..." like??? ok first of all THAT LINE DELIVERY?? massive props to the VA. secondly YESSSSS SPIT THE TRUTH. and then Louise does speak up and its like. fr. fr. i love you. be a main character be a main character plrase lpease plea
STOOOPPP... stop THE MERMAN'S a theater kid?? i'm going to start , having feelings AND I DON'T WANT IT!!!
that animation change for the musical number(s) is so good. like..oh my god. oh my GOD the animation is gorgeous. very much a "i wonder if the creators have been on hallucinogens before" kind of thing though adgasjskfwheg
generally just another REALLY GOOD REALLY COOL EPISODE.
my only criticism though this is to Literally All Kids Media Ever is that no-one knows how to write accurate bullying/exclusionary activity (in this episode regarding the ginger kid and his scout group). no kids act like that. please i was bullied so hard i should know
spinning in circles WHEE WHEEEE I WANTT. im gonna download the merman's song. put it on streaming platforms Now‼️
Episode 5.
WELL. THAT'S ONE QUESTION TIED THE FUCK UP ISN'T IT?????????? I'M STILL PROCESSING. OH MY GOD THOUFH. OH MY GOD???
"I just kind of assumed he died when you were a baby..."
"I thought it was some tragic accident!"
FRIDA AND DAVID THAT'S SO REAL OF YOU. thank you for being The Fandom. I love you. I love you. I l
YEESH. um.. Johanna's beef is so. real. and human. oough. this show has GOTTA stop making episodes about my childhood man!!! that's not fair
Alfur immediately not liking his vibes got me 😶 cause like. yk the elf has that autism intuition. so
THE. THE COMMUNICATION BETWEEN HILDA AND THE TROLL..ONCE AGAIN. every time without fail. the trolls are just. they're nor angry creatures they're just kind of. Done With Human Shit™ and want them to stop interfering lmao (don't we all)
Johanna and Hilda having that Moment™ at the end where they have to acknowledge his shortcomings but like..the ONE time that Hilda has to face something like this is the ONE time it's actually not his fault. Like straight up sorey babygirls but he got yoinked by the dementors. um.
Okay on another note. anders has kind of got that dilf swag? not like. as a dad. but as a loser. you know losers. help me help help help help help *clawing at the floor as i get dragged to hell for enjoying a character i absolutely should be seeing red flags for*
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C3E58 - reaction
I am very entertained that they are fighting a creature with many mouths who causes psychic damage from the sounds, considering I'm in the gibbering mouther section of my C2 rewatch and about to get to the laughing hand, so it's all just fucked up mouths for me XD
LOL the fact that FCG has started consistently fucking with who doesn't get bonded and it's an issue each time. I love it! Though I'm worried about their stress points, I'm also kinda looking forwards to a little blow up.
I saw a few spoilers about the episode before I watched so I WASN'T terrified when Fearne went down and got swallowed, but holy fuck if I hadn't known she lived for a threesome, that would have been so stressful!
I'm so glad we got to see at least a tiny glimpse of the wolf-king! I want Matt to post a picture of it on twitter please! Please please just for me!
Huzzah for bag of holding! Great with the notes and harness and rod for plot development, good for funds for refilling some pockets, especially because ...well, I don't even know what the funds status is of this group. VM was rich AF, M9 was poor AF, I have no clue where BH falls. Especially because a lot of it is based on RP (I think M9 probably had as much as BH, but rped as much poorer - nope I lied, counting today's haul, BH has like double the amount that M9 had by the same episode)
Wish we could have gotten more from the FRIDA moment, interesting that Matt has Christian be much more active in the rolls and directions, whereas with Ashton and Fearne's dad (not Birdie, I can't remember his name) they were much more passive while Imogen and FCG/Laura and Sam really took the lead. Confirmation of Aeor though! Sounds like they got smited by the gods though I don't think we had any idea previously that some Aeorians were against using the malleus factorum. Not surprising once I think about it for like, two seconds, but never considered it before.
THREESOME!!!!! Oh I SO hope that Fearne holds to her early game comment and does 'work her way through all of them'. PLS PLS PLS. Anyhow, a touching and mostly hilarious moment, I loved every second of it. I'm also pleased that the first kiss and first sex scenes were from PCs that it seemed like the fans went out of their way to desexualize, I love it.
All the gifts! Hoodies were adorable, and then two wooden gifts from Chet! With how frequently the table gave each other game related gifts out of game previously, I do enjoy how much it's a lot of in-game gifts now.
Oh fuck those scenes with the Changebringer and Dawnfather were INTENSE. HOLY SHIT. I am very hyped, for the gods to just force visions and make demands (at varying levels of demandingness)!!! I wonder how many non-PCs are also receiving these visions? Did Caduceus get one? Fjord? Pike and Vex and Scanlan? Random other clerics and paladins of the world?
Seriously, I am so hype. C3 took me a bit to settle it, but it is a very easy second place for me out of the three campaigns! Still won't beat C2 for me, but I'm pretty sure that's because 1) it was my first campaign and 2) it's when I really hit hyperfocus on CR and could watch two and a half to three episodes a day. ...yeah, I binged HARD on C2. Started late January 21 and finished in time to watch the finale live.
I'm also intrigued to see how all this is going to go. They physically CAN'T have Aabria and Christian playing once everyone is back together, there's just no room at the table. What is going to be the thing that splits them up? I wonder if it'll end up coming down to an NPC having to be 'group regulars go to this location, group guests go to this location' to have a natural and realistic separation.
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[ HAVEN ] receiver wakes up in the morning to find sender asleep on their couch because sender felt safer with them. // semi x ygor
if anyone, ygor would be the one to tell her how to feel better about herself. this wasn't her ideal setup, not really, to have your best friend sleeping in your couch only because you were too much of a hassle last night scream fighting him not to leave your house after you got so drunk you puked your stomach out after he gave on an entire speech about how great of a person you they were. semi wasn't on her right mind, at all, and she couldn't believe her coworkers would let her go in such proximity to alcohol again after the last fiasco she masterminded by sneaking into the company building at 2am in hopes — and she quotes — "to tell zeev he is the best leader of the 10th gen of kpop", being quite adamant about it too. they made fun of her for at least a week and every so often they'd remember all the embarrassing and absurd stuff she did, not even once daring to stop her if she was such a hassle! but then again, it was always her fault for rushing everyone to their favorite bar at the end of every week or so, moving them with her words saying how much they deserved a break after the week they just had. ridiculous, she would always regret it.
it was on her quirky agenda when she began working at ong entertainment just as she got her masters in arts by the seoul university, to be as utterly annoying as she possible could just to have everyone not expect much from her and the deliver the best she could, to surpass expectations every time. but now, years going in, everyone already knew pretty much of what semi was capable of, and often coming off as the brain for the most ludicrous and utterly expansive ideas, she did deliver every single time and she fucking loved doing so. but oh hell, who would expect it would all come at the expanse of losing the majority of her social life, romantic relationships being as inexistent as ever? semi was content to have the best friends she could possibly have, even when they were butting heads in the office fighting for what color should best define the outline of powerpoint presentation. and heavens she actually never dated anyone in her life! having her first kiss at age fourteen stolen by one of the ugliest boys in school just because she offer him an act of kindness wasn't the most romantic tale of all, so instead, she would flourish it by telling how she dated this boy, who wasn't all that pretty but would compensate with how much he doted her. — amazing at telling lies and best at keeping everyone believing her.
none of it matter when she knew the truth, telling herself that maybe she was the problem after all. semi wasn't quite as pretty as her famous friends or as special as the people she managed, not even as cool as her friends, she was just funny and average. she was okay with that most of her life, it made her relatable and good at her job but the years were passing and she feared she was taking for granted the time she had to choose to do something different with her life. hence the reason she cried on her best friend's shoulder last night, giving the poor boy no spare time to formally form a sentence without interrupting him by asking if he loved her, by telling how he was the only one for her ever, by asking if she was going to die alone and if he would die with her, dragging him to her apartment because she was too drunk to remember her own address and — i repeat — going as far as jumping on his back to keep him from leaving her alone in her misery on her small apartment that felt inexplicably enormous last night. by all accounts semi did believe ygor was the only person who would ever come to know her as herself in her life, there couldn't be anyone like him in this world. he was kind, talented, courteous, gentle, a little bit too handsome for a boy his age, and also had the cutest laugh she ever heard — so why the hell was he alone on a friday night choosing to spend it sleeping on his best friend's couch, semi couldn't comprehend.
obviously, she should have felt guilty about it and embarrassed too, but when it came to her crossing her living room to her bedroom, she couldn't help but stop midway staring lovingly at the way his eyes were peacefully shut, how he was clinging to the blanket he knew where to find after having similar situations happened before. if at least the boy she brought to her apartment did romance her in any way, but no, ygor would care for her and sleep on her couch. sometimes she wasn't even that drunk, sometimes they were just working, and sometimes he would say her apartment was closest to their work when she knew from his home address that this was a lie, but she indulged herself in the fact that maybe he just didn't like to have the path to work alone — she didn't either. they were best friends, best friends who would sneak each other glances at their tables, know each other's lunches by heart, go as far as finish each other's sentences, and filling in for every other significant role in their lives. well, now it was saturday morning and she was hungry, her best friend was the best company she could ever have to have brunch together. semi was already filling her mind with how they could stroll around town for a "field-day" — which they so affectionately called the days where they would run away from the office to walk outside and mad endlessly stupid trips for all kinds of places, just to have their creativity strike or just to piss everyone that they could leave and use the excuse that they were working — have brunch at an expansive place saying they would put on the company card and then not doing so because they were two chickens, maybe even sharing ice cream, semi wasn't a fan of sweets but she knew ygor would like it.
thoughts running through her mind for god knows how many minutes since she had been standing in her living room, a side smile on her face still watching him, suddenly being taken back by his eyes opening slightly while fighting to adjust it to the sunlight on his face. semi quickly darted back to reality, making a one hundred and eight degrees back to the room from which she came from, forgetting why she was standing there in the first place. not to be bothered by him calling her name when she nonchalantly picked up her jacket from the floor, pretending she was tidying up her apartment after the mess she left last night. "and of course, i took off this many clothes and it was not for sex." she wasn't poking on anything really, her mouth was just going on as it did and she wasn't in any point of regretting what she said until she remembers everything she just thought of ygor and how he might have to take it. how would he though? — no, no, not going there. — she handled herself before going any further with futile ideas. "i'm so hungry, get up and let's eat!" she was up in a second, finally making way to the bathroom and shutting the door, the time out wasn't an excuse, she really needed a shower after last night and the moment she just had too. a shameless, idiotic, unspeakable woman who lives alone in her dream world finding inspiration in the most humane man able to break into her dreamland.
#semi x ygor#semi.#this is waaaaaaaay longer then what i anticipated#its too exemplify how stressed i was today#i actually quite love this#imma leave you with this#e vou pra academia#goodnight xoxo
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Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 65
Oh dear gods Sam what the sweet fuck are you doing? I mean ... "Matt has actual DRAGON HAIR!" Um ... what? Wait ... six foot THREE? I don't remember you being THAT tall, Samuel ... Oh, a Scottish accent? Here we go. Beat that, Sam. Liam: "You want direction? This is it. Give me fucking Scottish." Sam proceeds yo THOROUGHLY butcher his delivery in the worst way. Nice ...
The Third Seal has been opened ... O.O
Chetney Pock'O'Pea dice? Watch Travis' face INSTANTLY light up ...
Wow, way to send Marisha into total hysterical laughing collapse, Travis ... XD
Okay ... back to business as usual at the table. How long will THIS last, I wonder?
Orym: "You look different, Letters." No shit, right? That is gonna make any serious stuff REALLY HARD to get into the frame of mind for ...
Ah yes. The threesome ...
Wow, Laudna is getting REALLY worked up over this ... yeah, Bor'Dor has REALLY fucked her up. I don't blame her at all.
Oh yeah, it's true, Imogen was FRANTIC the whole time, Laudna.
YES!!! Ashton's onto something there. Unwind! Definitely! Just CHILL OUT!!!
Wow, Chetney is actually offering himself up ad a sexual release mechanism ... okay then ...
Laudna: "We have the Harness." Ashton: "Was that part of the sex thing?"
Chetney really is so hung up on the Angel fight, it's a little hilarious ...
Next moves, then? What's the plan?
What ARE Laudna's hands doing?
Wait, go to Zephrah? Right now? I mean Orym has a point, they need to check in on Keyleth ...
Imogen essentially calling Orym an object from Zephrah ... Ashton: "She's objectifying you."
The goat ... that exploded ... yeah ... poor Gerry ...
FCG: "Hey! I feel guilty! That's like a human emotion!"
A Plane Shifting key to the Feywild? Hmmmm ...
Eidolons! Yes! And the Map? Hmmmmm ... yes, pooling information, cool, they can do that now! Yeah ... and the Harness ...
Laura: "What does that mean?" Matt: "I don't know, we're all having a mild stroke right now."
FCG: "We've seen you ask nicely, and it's not nice." Ashton: "Well, we had shit to do."
Imogen: "Where are you going?" Laudna: "Wherever YOU'RE going." Awwww ... and then Laudna bursts into tears because she loves the corset so much. :3
Milo! Hey!
Oh yeah, Milo's magic ... yup, it's on the fritz a bit like with everybody else. And he's all kinds of WURED right now ... Ashton: "Were your meds arcane? I can't remember."
What's in the note? Seriously? Don't tease us, mate! Day and a half? What even IS THIS?!!! Whoa ... his HAMMER?!!! That's a big deal ...
That's true, Ashton in a good mood is just unnerving ...
Ashton: "I don't wanna be worthless right now. This is not a time to be worthless."
Telling Ashton about FRIDA ... and his reaction is ADORABLE. Wow, he is really just SO HAPPY for his friend finally getting what he needs ...
IS Ashton actually the smartest person in the group? I mean it could well be true, but still ...
Imogen and Laudna now? Oh, here we go ...
Oh for the gods' sake, Samuel ... that bloody flask ... XD
Back to Zhudanna's place! A genuine homecoming ...
Awwwww ... I love this old girl so much ... yes! Hugs! "I'm fragile!" :3
Wow, she's PAINTING now? Oh, that's so cool ... and she's GOOD too, clearly.
They're gonna go do her shopping, that's so sweet! Yeah ... cauliflower, potatoes, lemons ... TWO loaves of bread? AND lavender oil?
Making up ... awwww ...
Imogen: "Can I kiss you?" WHAT?!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!!
SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK?!!! IS IT HAPPENING?!!! IT'S HAPPENING?!!! IT'S FUCKING HAPPENING!!!
Laudna: "I don't think you realise how much of an anchor you are for me, and when you weren't there, I was adrift."
ANOTHER kiss! Aaaaaaaah!
Yeah, Dead Girl needs healing BIG TIME for the Bor'Dor aftermath, and Imogen is exactly what she needs. Help her, Imogen!
Imogen: "He attacked you, first of all, so FUCK HIM." YES. "Power's very tempting. I won't judge you either way."
Awwwww ... gods they're both so adorable and I am SO HAPPY they're finally there ...
Oh shit ... who the fuck ... oh shit, tell me it's not ... LUDINUS, YOU FUCKER!!!
Yeah, this is totally giving me Masters of the Universe movie vibes from the Skeletor projections ... shit, and this crap is starting to SINK IN with some people? Fuck ...
Oh boy, dress shopping for Laudna, yay ... so cool ... and this is getting SO ADORABLE now ... Regency romance era? Awwwwwww ... that's so cute ... I'm sorry, blacks can CLASH?!!! How's that work? Victorian Spooky too? :3 Yes. Nice ...
Weave Piercer Gloves? Sweet ... Nice! Yes, Laudna can totally make that work ...
The Pate house! As a BACKPACK?!!! Awesome ... I love that so much ... yeah, Laudna's new look sounds FANTASTIC ...
On to Chetney, Fearne snd Orym ...
Ajit Daahl, hello ... yup, looks like things are different HERE too ... hmmmm ...
Here we go, Orym fills him in, then. Yup ...
Oh yeah, hello there, mister Platinum Dragon ... XD I love a good name drop ...
Crap, more magical prison escapes? Nuts ...
Ah, what does HE think is happening? Lovely ...
Eidolons? Oh yeah ... he doesn't know them? Fearne is ACTUALLY making an insight check? Whoa, WHISPERS?!!! Really?
Oh, he can point them to somebody to get a read on the old magic stuff? Hmmm ... oh, who's THIS?
Daramom? Okay ... wow, this dude is OLD ...
21? As if Orym COULD roll bad on a Perception check ...
The Harness has stumped him. Of course ... and now he's gone back to his soup ... XD
Chetney: "Anything else, Fearne?" Fearne: "No. I thought I was onto something, but turns out I ... wasn't."
Chetney's magnetism grows ... DAY BY DAY ... "Hey baby, this face is a curse."
Little kid: "Why is she so furry?" Fearne: "I don't know, why are you so hairless?"
They're being followed? Hmmm ... what ... the smell of MEAT PIES?!!! What?
Oh, so it's NOT actually a good smell? Okay, now I'm suspicious ...
And now it's making him HUNGRY?!!! A wisdom check? Oh shit ... and now he's GONE!!! Crap ... chase him!
A short cloaked man? With a pouch? Oh boy ... IT'S A TRAP!!! FUCK!!!
A net? Crap ... a SILVER NET?!!! SHIT ... Matt: "And that's where we're gonna go to break!" WHAT?!!! NOW?!!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!
And we're back ... to riotous laughter ... yup ...
An elderly dwarven gentleman? Hmmm ...
Wow, Fearne just BLIGHTS him on the spot! Of course she does ... 31 points of damage? Ouch!
Dwarf: "It's just business." Fearne: "Fuck. Off. This IS my business." Matt: "Roll for initiative." Yeah, that's about right ...
Chetney's up first ... Blood Curse of Bloated Agony? Oooooooh ... and a strength check? 19? Okay ... WHAT?!!! That's NOT enough?
Orym slides under Fearne's legs and then comes in for a seriously sweet leg sweep ... oh nice! And a second one with his sword ... Nice again! Badass, wee man!
A "problematic cursed beast"? What the hell?
Even with the Bloated Agony this guy STILL gets a hit in? Whoa ... and now he's trying to drag Chet off ...
A silver warhammer? SERIOUSLY?!!!
A last kiss? Persuasion or deception? 26? Impressive indeed, Fearne! Stone Skin? Hmmm ... oh yeah, definitely, against the silver? Smart!
Mister! Yeah! Do something, monkey man!
Aha! Turmoil! But he's still all tangled up in the net ... Shatter? Okay ...
Orym flips onto his feet again and CUTS THE NET!!! And Chetney ... yeah ... 9 damage, but it's worth it. Not free yet, but getting there ...
Indomitable ... and EVEN THEN Orym fails his Wisdom save ... fuck, and now he's CHARMED!!! Crap!
Scorching Ray! Burn his arse, Fearne! Third level ... six D6 of fire damage ... 23? Oof ... and then Mister uses Fiery Teleportation to jump in and attack? Sweet!
Tuyen? Who?
AND they trashed the net! Nice!
The shopkeeper from the Prism Emporium? Really? So this is like some SUPER PETTY shit?
And now Chetney's invisible. Perfect. Shimmying into cover ...
He just Misty Steps away? Crap ...
Oh well, at least that's over with. But what the fuck was that even about? Oh yeah, the threat ... that's right, he did ... yeah, Chetney's not entirely blameless in this ...
So, on to the Duskmaven's temple in the Smoulder Spire, then ...
Well they're not locked up, at least. That's probably a good sign. In theory ...
Fancy looking priest, definitely ... quite friendly underneath that hood, too. Hmmm ...
"The skein is tangled, and the threads are knotted.," Hmmmm ...
Oh yeah, clearly they're having as much trouble keeping in touch with their god too. Hmmm ... but they do still FEEL her, so ... yeah ...
Drink the waters? Okay ...
It's very cold ... but refreshing. In a chilly way ... hmmm ...
Invisible Chetney slurping Holy water really loudly ... OH MY GODS ... XD
Sam: "Did someone summon a root?"
So ... they all gad some kind of weird subtle spiritual experience, then?
A DEEP RED SKY?!!! Crap ... Oh! Of course! It's some crazy vision ... okay ...
A period of MOURNING?!!! For who? One of the gods? Who?
Orym blessing his shield with the waters ... yeah, smart ...
Heading out again ... back to the others, then ...
Back at the Spire By Fire ...
Laudna's parading her new outfit and I don't blame her at all. It's adorable.
Pate: "Hey Imogen! I saw what you did!" Snitch!
FCG baked Laudna some goodies! Oooooh!
Laudna: "Wait, the meat pie ambushed you?"
So this means that Vax is still technically THERE, he's just trapped. Okay ... so then there's hope ...
Yes. Get to Keyleth, get her advice. Smart move.
Snd now FCG's trying to convert the others to his Changebringer faith ...
Chetney's still being alive is a miracle now, apparently ... XD
Oh hello, moody Ashton is back with a vengeance, it seems. "I'm here to save US." Yup, that's about right. "I'm not gonna pick a god. They can pick ME."
Laudna: "Why do I have to have faith in the gods? Can't I just have faith in all of you?" YES!!! EXACTLY!!!
Yeah, this really isn't going to be solved anytime soon ...
Laudna: "it sounds like the harness ... was harnessing ... fuck, I lost thd thread!"
Fearne and FCG BOTH planning on Scrying on Ludinus and Lillianna ...
Cool, so Fearne is like TOTALLY channeling through nature to find that big scary bastard now ... and finds NOTHING. Crap. No joy, then ... yeah, he's totally blocking any attempts, then ...
Meanwhile FCG attempting Imogen's mum, instead ... oh, okay, is it WORKING? Cool ... oh, the dream, the dust storm dream again! Okay ... yes! That's her! And somebody else ... oh shit! It's Ludinus! There he is! They're together! Where are they?
Holy fuck are they ... THEY ARE!!! THEY'RE ON THE FUCKING MOON!!! THEY'RE ON RUIDUS!!!
I love it. FCG's mind is blown because he's just received irrefutable proof that Exandria IS ROUND!!! XD
Yup, sometime they're gonna go to the moon. It's like a foregone conclusion now ... I can't wait ...
So rest, then to Zephrah, right?
Not enough charge ... crap ... okay, waiting an extra day, then. Never mind ...
Ashton's hammer has been UPGRADED?!!! Sweet ... so they've used the cavern crystals to turn it into a chaos weapon? Awesome ...
Orym tries to send a message to Caleb ... D100? Bollocks ...
Imogen Sending to Ira ... okay ... D100 again? Balls ... same again ...
FCG tries to Scry on him ... he's out there, but can't see him ... okay then...
Fearne tries instead ... oh wait ... oh, it's WORKING?!!! Wow ... trudging through a dust storm? A RED dust storm? Holy fuck ... so does that mean IRA'S on Ruidus too? Oh, there's someone else there too? Who is it?
Whoa ... so what ... was that a Reilora?
Okay. Sleep. Then Zephrah!
Right, charge the staff, then ... and ... here we go ... whoosh! All right ... mountains, trees ... a precipice? Yes, that's it ... yeah, they're there, definitely ...
The tree! Yay! And THIS is where Matt chooses to close the episode ... Nice. Perfect place for it ...
#critical role#crit role campaign 3#crit role spoilers#campaign 3 spoilers#campaign 3 episode 65#matt mercer#marisha ray#laudna#travis willingham#chetney pock o'pea#laura bailey#imogen temult#liam o'brien#orym of the air ashari#ashley johnson#fearne calloway#taliesin jaffe#ashton greymoore#sam riegel#fresh cut grass
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Smoke in the Grass
Summary: Bob catches his dad in the throes of a stress high......literally
Warning: Weed references but that’s about it
Bob snoozed away in the hammock on the porch, his glasses lopsided on his face and himself, too lazy to take them off. God it had been a day.....another stressful, fuck of a day.
First there had been the calf that had decided to grace everyone with its presence at three in the morning. Sure, Bob had helped his dad deliver a calf before, but the little shit couldn’t decide if it was coming or going. It didn’t take long for the calf to come, but Bob had been the poor unfortunate soul that had to reach in and get him.
Then there had been Shaw Finster, that detestable excuse of a preacher and his nasty little wife, Frida, the bane of every resident’s fucking existence in the town of Cheyenne Falls. The minute that little prick had started giving bob and his father grief about their life choices, Bo swore he was going to let one of the bulls loose and chase them both all the way to Oklahoma City.
Bob snoozed away, letting all the stress wash off him with ease until a familiar smell roused him from his nap. Shit....he thought. Skunks are probably under the porch again......
But then there was the trail of smoke, snaking into the air from one corner of the yard where the grass was already waist high.
Bob sighed and pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to get up and still heavy with sleep.
“Rooster!” he shouted. “I swear to God if you burn this field you’re gonna pay for every scorched acre.......Oh come-fucking-on!!”
As soon as he had parted the grass, there was the last person Bob had expected to see, his father.....his own fucking father, sitting Indian style in the grass with a small glass bowl in his hand, smoking away at the only other thing that seemed to bring him relief on days like this.
“Hey Bobby,” his father greeted. “You wanna sit for a minute? I was gonna put on some John Lee Hooker and smoke this.”
Bob groaned and plopped himself right down in the grass next to Joe. “How long have you been out here?”
“Long enough to know that I fuckin needed this,” Joe chuckled before he inhaled.
“What’s in pain now?” Bob asked him. “Hands? Fingers?”
“Goddamned knee,” Joe answered, blowing the smoke out of his nose in a long, white trail.
Bob lay on his back, staring thoughtfully for a moment up at that vast expanse of blue until he got a weird feeling creeping into his nerves. “Mind if I?” he asked.
“Go right ahead,” Joe said, handing him the bowl.
Bob took a hit and let it out in one breath. “You know?” he said. “It could be worse.”
“How so?”
“Well,” Bob said. “I’m smoking a bowl in the back field with my dad for one thing.”
“And that’s a bad thing why?” Joe asked him.
The two of them had a few good laughs, sharing a bit of Joe’s stash as the stress of the day really began to lift off their shoulders. Sometimes that’s all they really needed......just the two of them and nothing else to bother them.
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Imogen chilling in 2 feet deep snow in shorts and with a shirt wrapped around her hands. Girl ur magic, hug fearne, something lmao
Also imigen sending to laudna that second time, broke my heart and made me cry for two weeks
Laura's face when fcg just ran up to the lizard was hilarious
Aabria is so cool and so cute hell yeahhhhg
There's so much shit going on, the solstice, chetney backstory, aormatons... All popping off lmaooo
Blankie imogen, she's like me forreal
Omg the hat. aabria is a tresure a menace and i want her to poke at chetney forever. And Travis' reactions are the best hell yeah hell yeah
AWWWW FEARNE AND IMOGEN blanking up together, i wanna see thousand of fanarts right now thank you
Aabria just shows up to show fucked up romantic relationships and mess with men from the main cast and i love her for it
Oh!! Dawnfather? Connected to the sun tree??
Aww this episode is just heartwarming and ahh, frida is so cute tooooop
And fucked up
YOU'RE THE MAIN CHARACTER. SAM! That's so mean, Laura looks so distraught poor woman the online is shot :(
LEGS??
Oh matt says Imogen's markings aren't scars? I shall chose to ignore this bit of canon information lmao
Also ooo canonically creeping up to the neck, i shall take this bit of canonical information and magnify it hahah
Shitty parents bingo once again, sorry for ur kids deana lmao
Thank you laura for the titties check. Thank you matt for saying yes. Titty lightning.
Oh god that scream Ashley! I felt in my bones!! Girl is terrified! Wants her girl safe! Ahhhhhh
She just saved her ass with that slap
Fearne i love you you're so right. she's so mad and scared and ashley came for my guts good job.
She loves her so much so much so much
Matts being grossed out by the ai talk is so real thanks man
Robot werewolf??????
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Critical Role - C3E52 (before break)
Its so weird to have just 4 people on the table I'm squirming
Poor Imogen just keeps taking L's man my girl can't catch a break
That little "please be okay" 🥺
Very worried about both imogen and laudna whenever they're separated but I guess that's precisely the point
And these are some damn good combinations
Already miss orym, ashton and laudna tho :(
I have a feeling the leylines are going haywire right now and that's why magic can't travel long distances
And/Or they're in the Shadowfell and it's hard for it to go to a different realm right now
Not even Dorian??? Yep, it's the leylines
I LOVE shoebills! Google their call, it sounds like a machine gun
Why do they keep getting attacked by subterranean monsters?? I swear it's a pattern at this point
Oooooo we're in a pretty snowy battlescape i love getting to fight in Santa's backyard
I love ashley's surprised little "ooooh! Oooh!" everytime she has to go
Yesss dominate beast!
Love how they always think matt's abominations are cute, i get it, it IS kinda cute
Damnit i thought we could get a pet :(
NO FCG! No, don't- don't do it- FUCK WHY
42 POINTS OF DAMAGE?? WHAT IN THE NAME OF-
Ya'll what if half the party TPKs. What then?
Imogen continues to be the hottest, like yes babe blow. Shit. Up
Yesssssss we have guests!!
It's Christian and Aabria!!!!!!!!
It's so cute all of them hugging 🥺🥺
Does this mean we're officially not gonna see the others until April??? Kinda sad I'm not gonna lie but I get it
These are COOL FUCKING CHARACTERS
Buff automaton 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯
Nick Jonas spiritual weapon 🤣🤣🤣
The hottest legendary mage ever you heard it first here folks
Aabria is always so fun she's my girl too
I always get lost staring longingly at her tho
She's just so prettyyy
EXU was a doozy for my gay self with all the pretty makeup she had as a DM
It's going to be so fun to see FCG finally meet another automaton
Why do i get a feeling he's gonna be horny towards this buff robot? It's something in his eyes, he's plotting some bullshit
AAAAAND my girl fearne gets the hdywtdt
"Oooh, hello!"
I love her sm obliterate him queen
Old lover??? I love Deanna already 😍
Fcg and this robit rn:
Omg fcg is such a little shit stirrer
Fearne is gonna end up banging the new gnome isn't she
I feel like she's gonna bang the gnome
Oh it's been HUNDREDS of years??? I keep forgetting Chet is OLD old
I'm getting worried yall
The gods are being affected by this already?? A day ago??? I'm scareeed
I hate/love that flesh tongue is now canon, sams bullshit always gets carried away from even him i swear
The robot is a flirt 🤣🤣
The energy at the table right now is WILD
Not the HAT 😂😂😂 I am BAwLInG why is aabria so good at being a petty scorned lover 🤣🤣
Awn poor deanna 😞
This is gonna be awesome we now have this character that has been so close to divinity and can show them so much abt the perspective of life and death
Love the backstory dump
Feel like im walking around the hub in a videogame asking every NPC a 1000 questions
Oh my god this robot is so sweet 🥺🥺 i love him
Also VERY obviously sentient and emotional I'm SO interested to understand more abt the great awakening of the bots
Like, why would it happen? Who or what did this??
Oooooh that's what frida means??
I'm SO curious to know what FCG rrally means if anything
Love the cadence Christian gave this robot, i feel like the movements and voice are pretty monotone but not so much that it even feels robotic?? But it's still like something A.I would probably create? Like google translate voice but better.
Also I ship f.r.i.d.a and deanna a lot btw
Chet is going through it right now and honestly i feel like he deserves it 😂
FCG is such a little toddler trying to understand like and it never fails to be both adorable and terrifying
A killer robot with an existential crisis just does not feel good to me fellas
Love the confusing time frames at weekly d&d tables we really could be doing this for a month or a year we have no clue
Yall i'm nervousss there's GOTTA be another shoe about to drop
Like there HAS to be, right? It can't all be alright?? We saw shit blow up, we saw the key go off, so what happened?!
What do you mean imogen's scars are turning red???
#critical role#cr spoilers#cr3#critical role spoilers#bells hells#critical role c3#clara watches cr3
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"I hope the exit is joyful and hope never to return." - Frida Kahlo
"Love one another." - George Harrison
"I'm bored." - James Baldwin
"Fuck you." - Tupac Shakur
"Utter Nonsense" - Eleanor Roosevelet
"I'm in no pain. No pain. Don't cry for me, Rahaman. I'm going to be with Allah. I made peace with God, I'm OK. Rahaman, how do I look?" - Muhammad Ali
"I don't want to die." - Amy Winehouse
"I'm going to the bathroom to read." - Elvis Presley
"I want nothing but death." - Jane Austen
"Last words are for fools who haven't said enough." - Karl Marx
"Don't you dare ask God to help me." - Joan Crawford
"I finally get to see Marilyn." - Joe Dimaggio
"I must go in, the fog is rising." - Emily Dickinson
"One last drink, please." - Jack Daniel
"I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have." - Leonardo Da Vinci
"You see, this is how you die." - Coco Chanel
"Oh, you young people act like old men. You are no fun." - Josephine Baker
"Don't lift me." - Robert F. Kennedy
"Tomorrow, I shall no longer be here." - Nostradamus
"I'm going away tonight." - James Brown
"Goodbye, kid. Hurry back." - Humphrey Bogart
"One never knows the ending. One has to die to know exactly what happens after death, although Catholics have their hopes." - Alfred Hitchcock
"Goodnight, my kitten." - Ernest Hemingway
"I'm bored with it all." - Winston Churchill
"Shoot, coward, you are only going to kill a man." - Che Guevara
"Is it not meningitis?" - Louisa May Alcott
"A dying man can do nothing easy." - Benjamin Franklin
"You are wonderful." - Arthur Conan Doyle
"Swing low, sweet chariot." - Harriet Tubman
"I feel something that is not of this earth." - Mozart
"This is no way to live!" - Groucho Marx
"Every damn fool thing you do in this life you pay for." - Edith Piaf
"God damn the whole friggin' world and everyone in it but you, Carlotta." - W.C. Fields
"Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow." - Steve Jobs
"Don't let it end like this. Tell them I said something." - Pancho Villa
"This isn't Hamlet, you know. It's not meant to go in my bloody ear." - Laurence Olivier
"Lord help my poor soul." - Edgar Allan Poe
"Remember, Honey, don't forget what I told you. Put in my coffin a deck of cards, a mashie niblick, and a pretty blonde." - Chico Marx
"Back in no time." - William S. Burroughs
"Now is not the time for making new enemies." - Voltaire, after being asked by a priest to renounce Satan.
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Any Teen Hilda Headcanons?
Hell yeah babey
- I wrote this into my first teen!kids post, but Hilda grows no taller than 5 foot 4 inches. She’s short and will remain that way for the rest of her life.
- Johanna is now in-the-know about Hilda’s adventures. After the whole Changeling-ification in Stone Forest, Hilda resolved to let her mother know what she’s up to so them getting thrown into somewhere unsavory doesn’t happen again. (Frida being a witch was a bit of a surprise, but it makes sense)
- She’s a Changeling! Being a fan of the Tales of Arcadia trilogy, my thoughts are that, as long as the Troll she got swapped with is okay, Hilda is able to switch between human and Troll forms at will.
- Being a Familiar, she knows some magic specific to Familiars. Telepathy with her witch, for example, as well as some defense spells.
- She knows Troll magic, too! Mostly illusion magic, but there’s some offensive spells she knows, too- like how to shape stone to her needs. earthbending
- Now that she’s a Changeling, she can go outside the wall after dark and not have to worry as much. She’s one of the Trolls now, so they don’t bother her as much.
- As she gets older, she starts to get more piercings. Her ears, first, then her nose, then more on her ears.
- For that matter, I’d imagine that Hilda gets more GNC as she gets older. No makeup (she doesn’t have time for that), less “girly” clothes (not conducive for adventuring), and cuts her hair short.
- She keeps the beret, though! And the blue-red-yellow color scheme (I want to draw adult!Hilda at some point soon- I have some ideas as to what she’d look like)
- I’m shipper trash, so perhaps,,,, Frilda??
- IT’D BE SO CUTE THOUGH
- Hilda doesn’t even realize she’s got a crush on Frida until it’s pointed out to her
- Like, maybe Alfur’s like, “Oh, your crush on Frida is so cute!” And poor Hilda’s like, “What?? No. I don’t have a crush on Frida- oh fuck.”
- Alfur tells David, and the two of them try to find out if Frida has a crush on Hilda
- (She does)
- sjksdjhdslk I’m just a dumb shipper who wants the girls to hold hands leAVE ME BE
- Tildy gives Hilda a sword.
- Everyone thinks it’s a bad idea save for Hilda
- Twig!! He gets Big
- Y’know how his father- the Deerfox with the big antlers- was, like, Big? Yeah.
- He’s big enough to ride!!
- Being magic now, Hilda figures out how to access Nowhere Space on her own. It makes travel easier, and it’s useful in a fight.
- This annoys the hell out of Tontu.
- Leave your adoptive brother be, Hilda.
- I think I’m out for right now lol.
#hilda the series#hilda the show#hilda netflix#hilda season 2#hilda season two#hilda#hilda (hilda)#beans answers#fuck I think im starting to hyperfixate#anyway woooo headcanons!
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Garden: Chapter 1
Astrid Hofferson/Viggo Grimborn: hoping you never find out who i really am, cause i love you, just how you are.
Chapter one:
Ysir was only sixteen when she was married to Arne Hofferson, who at the time, was twenty-nine. She did not know the man well, aside from the fact that he would come and visit her father during the weekends and she would have to serve them mead. He was quite young, she would think, and quite handsome as well. These thoughts were innocent, she wouldn’t have expected her father to call her in one day and announce to the family that he was planning on getting her married to Arne, with her consent, of course. Her father had told her that Arne was a good man and would take care of her well, but she knew that he was really just saying that she was just a burden, and getting rid of her would leave him with one less family member to worry about feeding. She tried not to think much about it, because honestly, it made sense. They were a big family - one man running the house, with ten children to feed. Her family was poor, and she was often reminded of this fact at her husband's home:
Be thankful. When you came here, you had nothing.
And this was said to her by Frida, Arne's first wife, his first love. When Ysir had questioned Arne on why he decided to marry again, he explained to her that Frida was who he loved, and she was where his loyalties lie. He married her simply because she could give birth, and Frida could not.
Ysir often felt like Frida could throw her out of this house at any time, and what would happen then? Where would she go? Her father would never agree to take her back, not with so many mouths to feed. Bloody hell! She first thought, her eyes prickling with tears as she tried to figure out a way to get Frida out of the house. She could always throw Frida out of the house - the house did now belong to her, considering she held more power and a better position in the family because she could give birth, but then Arne would kick her out and bring Frida back in. She just couldn't think hard enough.
Eventually, she gave up, and came to realize that she didn't really care if her husband didn't love her, and saw her as an tool he would use to produce offsprings. She didn't even love her husband, heck, she barley even knew the man! So she came to a decision that she would play her role as a wife and take care of the house and bear him children in return for a comfortable bed, good food, and a roof that doesn't leak over her head.
But it wasn't so easy. Living with another woman in the house came with some complications, from the awkward conversation they'd have while preparing dinner to the uncomfortable eye contact they would make from time to time. Frida was beautiful. She had a strong face, with her cheekbones being the most noticeable feature on her face. Her brick-red hair was parted in the middle and formed into perfect waves that reached her waist. Her hazel eyes were carefully lined with kohl. In comparison to that, Ysir had a chubby face, short shaggy black hair, and bright blue eyes. There wasn't much you could say about her.
She felt like an uninvited quest in the house, moving around the house, around the bedroom, in which she slept alone most days for Arne usually slept with Frida in a bigger bedroom, upstairs. She felt like a fly, unwanted and annoying. That is, until now. Everything would be different with the birth of this baby, she assured herself. She would no longer feel ill at ease, no longer insecure.
Almost against her will, Ysir glanced towards the doorway, where Frida stood, a hand on her hip. For an instant, the two women locked gazes. The air around them felt thick and slightly yeasty, like rising dough. They had shared a room for twelve hours, with Frida helping the midwife with towels and water. Frida averted her gaze. She nodded towards the baby.
"Why doesn't she make a sound?" Frida said, with a hardness on her face that hadn't been there before.
"Yes. Is there something wrong?" Ysir turned ashen. Having had six miscarriages in only a few years, each more devastating than the last and harder to forget, she had been extremely careful throughout this pregnancy.
"Can I hold her?" Asked Ysir, holding the sides of her hair softly, an anxious habit she had picked up over the past year. "She...she's not crying. Why is she not crying?"
"Oh, she will cry, this girl," the midwife said in a decisive tone and instantly bit her tongue. She herself was worried. Her words echoed like a dark omen.
An awkward silence settled over the room as the first wife, the second wife and the midwife all stared at the baby with expectant eyes.
The midwife took the baby to the other side of curtain, and Ysir could hear rapid movement alongside the midwife's heavy breathing.
"Please," Ysir sighed, speaking to no one in particular as she rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. "Please!" She cried out again. Every night since she found out she was pregnant, she would talk herself to sleep. It was comforting. Just to mumble things to her self, especially about the baby.
My baby will be kind, and loving. Everyone will love you. She would speak to her slightly swollen belly, happily. My baby will be beautiful. You will make a difference. You will be gentle and soft. You will be beautiful. I will love you. You will love me. We will be happy.
But it was different today, she was crying. After months of being cautious with every step she took and after months of isolating her self in her room to stay away from all that was toxic - Frida and Arne- just so this baby would live. Just so this baby could arrive safe and healthy. "Please!" She cried out. My baby will survive.
At last! Whoever it was she was crying out to had answered her prayers. The baby had started crying- shrieking. The baby had started shrieking. The voice of the child echoed around the house and into the neighbor's house. A series of "Thank Thor!" And sighs of relief could be heard from the other room, where Arne and his family with a couple of his friends were waiting.
The midwife began to panic as the fierce baby began to move uncontrollably in her arms, kicking and waving her arms and legs in the air. The midwife clumsily handed the baby to Ysir, whose eyes were filled with tears.
The baby stopped crying and her big blue eyes had widened as it stared at the women above who was smiling down at her. The baby blinked and her head shifted a little to right, now staring at the Frida, who now stood next to Ysir. Then her gaze went back to Ysir and again she began crying.
You see, while Ysir was screaming in agony for the past twelve hours, this little one was conversing with herself instead of trying of escape from the womb.
What is wrong with you? Her heart said. They're all waiting for you! Come one! Kick!
Her gut said, Oh, I like it here. It's warm and cozy. I don't want to go!
Her heart protested, Don't be silly! Why stay in a place where nothing happens? It's so boring.
But why leave a place where nothing happens? It's safe here. Her gut said.
Sometimes where you feel most safe is where you least belong. Her heart countered. No turning back.
No turning back.
She finally reached a conclusion, she would go with the heart. And finally when she pushed out, and was taken behind the curtain, and the midwife had slapped her bottom once, twice and she began crying. She hadn't expected it to be this fucking cold! She began shrieking.
Ysir chuckled at the exchange she had with her baby when she had quieted down. Frida had opened the door and slipped outside - no doubt to give the news to her husband - their husband.
A couple of minutes later, Arne entered the room. Smiling, he approached the bed. He looked at the baby, at the second wife, at the midwife, at the first wife, nodding at her, and finally back at the baby.
"Odin! I thank you! You've accepted my prayers."
"A girl," Ysir said softly, in case he was not yet aware.
"I know. The next one will be a boy. We will name him Eric." He ran his fingers across the baby's forehead. "All that matters is she is healthy. Thank Odin! This baby is not mine, nor is she yours. She was sent a gift."
Ysir stared at him with pure confusion in her eyes. Suddenly, she was seized by a feeling of apprehension, like a wild animal that was about the walk into a trap. She glanced at Frida, who was standing by the entrance, lips pursed so tight they were almost white as her foot tapped impatiently against the floorboard. Something about her demeanor suggested that she was overjoyed and excited, suspiciously excited.
"This baby was gifted to us by the the Gods!" Arne said.
"All babies are," murmured the midwife.
Arne then held his younger wife's hand and look her straight in the eyes. "We'll give this baby to Frida."
"What in Thor's name are you talking about?" Ysir rasped.
"Let Frida raise her. She'll do an excellent job. You and I will make more children."
"No!"
"You don't want more kids?"
"I am not going to let that woman take my daughter."
Arne drew in a breath, then released it slowly.
"Don't be selfish. The Gods have given you this baby. Be grateful. You were barley scraping by when you came to this house. Come on, It's not-"
"This was her idea, wasn't it?" Ysir interrupted him - something she had never done before. "Did she come up with this?" Or have you two been plotting for months? Behind me back."
"Don't be stupid. You are young. Frida is getting old. She will never have a child of her own. Give her a gift."
Ysir shook her head, and kept doing so. Arne sighed and leaned over and held her by the shoulders, pulling her close to him. Only then she became still.
"You're not being rational." Arne said, his palm softly rubbing Ysir's back. "We're all in the same house. You'll see your daughter everyday. It's not like she will be going away, for Thor's sake."
Trembling to hold back the pain ripping through her chest, Ysir covered her face with the palm of her hands. "And who will my daughter call 'Mummy'?"
"What difference does it make? Frida can be Mummy, and you'll be Auntie. We'll tell her the truth when she gets older, no need to confuse her little head now. When we have more kids, they will all be brothers and sisters anyway. They'll be running riot in the house. You won't be able to tell who belongs to who. We'll all be one big family."
"And who is going to nurse the baby?" Asked the midwife. "The mummy or the auntie?"
Arne's head shot up towards the midwife as he stared at the nosy woman with annoyance. He sighed and dug into his pocket, bringing out a small sack of five gold coins.
"Here." He handed her the sack. "A token of our gratitude."
The midwife smiled and nodded, stepping back.
"Let me name her." Ysir said. If she wasn't going to raise the child as her own she could at least live happily with the knowledge that she was the one that named her.
"Well alright then." Arne said. "We will make the decision together."
"I was thinking," Frida said, her eyes fixated on the baby, "For the past few months, that if it was a boy, we would name it Erik, like Arne said. But since, she's a girl, we could name her Camicazi. It's a beautiful name."
"Oh, that's quite a lovely name. I like that." Arne said, happily, and the midwife nodded in agreement, standing behind him.
Ysir blinked. It was a beautiful name. But she wasn't going to give Frida the privilege of naming her own baby.
"No." Ysir said, strong and clear. "I will name her. By myself.
Arne and Frida exchanged glances.
"Oh." Frida sighed, "Of course." She then sat down on a chair, pushing it towards the right, so she could be next to her husband.
Ysir felt pressure as the midwife, her husband, and his wife stared at her, waiting for her to decide.
She looked at her baby, who was staring back at her. She is beautiful. Ysir thought. The baby rolled around, the sunlight reflecting on her rosy cheeks.
"Astrid." Ysir said. "It was also my grandmother's name. And...she's beautiful, just like her."
"Astrid..." Arne repeated and then looked at Frida who nodded back at him in approval. "I like it. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
"Astrid!" He said again as he took the baby from Ysir's arms and lifted her in air. Frida laughed, "Be careful! She's not toy!"
Arne and Frida laughed as they took turns in holding the baby. Ysir sighed and leaned her head back, silent tears dropping down her face. She wish she could be as happy as them.
Arne held Astrid and opened the door, walking to the other room, where the rest of the relatives and his friends were waiting. His voice echoed around Ysir's head.
"Astrid Hofferson!" Arne happily yelled. "Her name is Astrid Hofferson!"
#astrid hofferson#astrid#rtte viggo#viggo grimborn#race to the edge#viggstrid#httyd#fanfiction#writing#vigstrid
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Starstruck: Part 4
Brian May x Fem!Reader
This is Part 4 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)
Masterpost / Part 3 / Part 5
Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.
Warnings: swearing
Historical Inaccuracies:
Brian did not live just down the road from Freddie, at least not in 1975, as far as I’m aware :)
Word Count: 7k
⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺
The next morning, Sunday, you woke up in a sunny mood, which was a great contrast to the melancholy of the previous morning. Maybe it was because you’d actually been able to fall asleep last night. Or maybe your dreams had been better, or something. You didn’t quite know, but it was a lovely feeling to sit up in your bed and breathe in the morning air contentedly.
The air this morning smelled of rain, and looking out the window, you could see that your senses had not betrayed you; your mood may have been sunny, but the ground outside was dark with water. Droplets of rain pattered against the roof of your building and the neighbouring ones.
You had the impression that you’d slept in, and your alarm clock confirmed your suspicions, reading 10:37, midmorning.
Throwing off your covers, you looked over to see if Heather was still wrapped up in her usual cocoon of blankets. But you quickly remembered, with a smirk, that she was presently sleeping at Roger’s, though the amount of rest they actually got was up for debate.
“Y/N? Are you up yet?” It was one of your other housemates, Kate, wrapping on your door.
“Yeah, I’m up!”
“Can I come in?” asked Kate.
You glanced at your navy blue pyjamas. Decent enough. “Yeah.”
“Sorry,” said Kate as the door opened to reveal the small girl with her mousy brown hair and gentle manner. “I’ve got a Freddie, uh, Mercury on the phone for you?”
You smiled. Some day, one day, no one would stumble over that name. It would be as commonplace as John Lennon or Frida Kahlo.
“Sorry, I’m not sure why he called the house phone. I told him my extension. I’ll be right there.”
Kate waved a hand. “It’s fine. Men, right?”
Your smile grew wider. “Not what you’re thinking, Katie.”
Kate crossed her thin arms. “So he’s not the reason why you’re suddenly acting like a morning person?”
“Ha! No. I’ve known Freddie for years, and no one, not even him with his energy, is going to make me into a morning person.”
“Okay, then,” said Kate, but her tone was still dubious. “Your unusually good mood shall remain a mystery… Phone in the kitchen.” She disappeared down the hall.
In the kitchen, you picked up the receiver, absently winding the coiled cord around your fingers. “Freddie?”
“Y/N, darling?”
“This is she.”
“Whyever have you just gotten up? Your musical education is going to take effort, you know.”
“Really, Freddie,” you said. “It’s only ten in the morning.”
“Half-past ten,” Freddie sniffed. “I’d like my records back, and I’d like you to take some of my other ones in exchange.”
“Oh, yes,” you remembered. “Though I still don’t see why you’re calling this early. We never discussed a day or time.”
“Now’s as good as any, dearie. Get dressed and skip on down to my flat, will you?”
“How did you know I was still in my pyjamas?”
“Intuition. Just hurry up. I’m bored,” said Freddie and you heard him put down the phone with a click.
“Ridiculous,” you told the silent line, putting down your own phone. You shuffled back down the corridor to your room to change so that you could gobble a slice of toast, down a cup of tea, and be on your way before the impatient Mr. Mercury tipped over the edge.
⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺
You had taken the tube as per usual, and were glad of your raincoat, umbrella, and wellies, because the streets of London were a puddled mess and the sky remained tearful and grey as ever.
Leaving Kensington station, you pulled your hood over your head, because the rain was really so aggressive now that the umbrella simply was not enough on its own.
Halfway to Freddie’s place, you noticed a miserable soul across the street from you.
The fellow had neither rain-suited shoes nor an umbrella, only a velvety jacket that clung, drenched, to his skin in the same manner that his curls were matted to his forehead— wait a second…
“Brian!”
He raised his poodle-y head toward the sound of your voice, his face and gait nearly as dreary as the weather he walked in, but his posture improved greatly as he spotted you.
“Y/N!” he said happily.
Scanning for cars, you found the street clear and hurried across, one hand pressed against the satchel in which you carried Queen’s records.
“Oh, you’re soaking,” you looked him up and down.
“I guess it’s just rain and I’m not made of sugar, but you’re not wrong.”
“That poor jacket has been through so much already,” you said, hoisting your umbrella higher so that its protective shield also extended to Brian, “what with keeping you warm in lieu of your scarf the other day. I still have that by the way. Oh, this isn’t really working, is it?” You frowned at the way the water still ran in rivulets down Bri’s face because your reach wasn’t far enough to hold the umbrella properly over his head.
“No, not particularly,” he said with faint amusement, brushing a raindrop from where it had splattered directly onto his eyelashes. He held out a hand for the umbrella. “Here, let me take that—”
“What? And let me get my lower half completely drenched?” You were joking, but he shook his head in earnest, little droplets of water flying from his hair in the process. You almost laughed; he really did look like a poodle now.
“Absolutely not. Take my arm.”
You blinked at him, not quite understanding how this was going to work out.
“Y/N,” he sighed, pulling the umbrella handle from your grip. He linked his left arm in your right, transferred the umbrella to his left hand, and used his right to place your hand on his forearm. “There,” he said cheerfully, with the pleased air of someone who had just completed an arduous task.
You rolled your eyes and began to walk along, your side nestled against his in a little pocket of warmth away from the coldness of the world.
“Where are you going, anyway?” you asked. “This is all good and well, but if you’re going in the opposite direction to me…”
“I was on my way to Freddie’s, actually, so if you’re not busy, maybe you’d like to join me for a bit?”
Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. No doubt Freddie had invited the both of you along at the same time, all part of his strange master plan to get the two of you to spend more time together.
“You know,” you said, “that’s precisely where I was going too.”
“Really?” said Brian. “How odd. Rather nice coincidence, though. Maybe you can give me some derivative pointers along the way,” he nudged your side with a grin.
“I’m beginning to think the only reason you keep me around is to leech off of my incredible brain power,” you sighed dramatically.
“Oh fuck.” He peered at you guiltily. “You’ve seen through me.”
“If there was a wall to push you off of, I would’ve made use of it by now,” you answered dryly.
“Honestly, Y/N,” Brian patted your hand with slender fingers. They felt like butterfly wings upon your skin. “I should be asking why you keep me around.”
You pushed him rightwards to prevent him from stepping into a rather deep puddle; it was clear his clogs weren’t made for this weather, though you doubted they made for fashion either.
“Thank you,” he murmured as you pulled him back to your side, having cleared the treacherous dip in the path.
You squeezed his arm. “Isn’t it obvious why I keep you around?”
“Hm?”
“For warmth, m’dear.”
His laughter tickled your rosy cheeks.
⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺
“Why, hello darlings,” Freddie already held the door open as you left the main path for his little front garden. “You two look cosy.”
“Necessary evil,” you said, winking to Freddie.
“You don’t look cosy, Fred,” returned Brian, eyeing the rain that was angled by the roof so that it had begun to soak the floor just inside of Freddie’s flat.
Freddie shuddered. “No, and I don’t quite feel it either. Got another one of your favourite scarves to spare?”
You looked at Brian. “You lent me your favourite scarf? And it’s still winter! Have you got another one? You can have the rainbow one back on Thursday, I promise.”
But not even a whisper of Brian’s supposedly legendary temper rose at the fact that you had not returned a belonging of his. He was all nonchalance.
“You make me sound like a child. Of course I have another scarf, and I’m not in the slightest worried about getting the other one back. You don’t exactly strike me as a kleptomaniac,” he said.
“Helloooo?” Freddie waved at the two of you where you stood idly between his snowdrops and cyclamen. “Seeing as neither of you are willing to lend me a scarf, please get inside because it’s just too fucking cold out here.” Freddie disappeared into his house, leaving the door ajar for you and Brian.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Brian muttered and you stifled a laugh. “Go on in,” he said to you. “I’ll just shake out your umbrella.”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that. My umbrella, y’know.”
“Which I so ungraciously borrowed. If you so covet the warmth as you say you do,” he spoke theatrically, “go inside and I’ll attend to the umbrella.”
Sliding your arm from his, it only felt right to bow your head in gratitude. It’s only right, it's only right. “My lord,” you said, joining in his dramatics.
His character nearly slipped; the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
“My lady,” he answered with equal regality, and you followed the path Freddie had taken through the house.
You found Freddie in the living room where he resided often, reclined on a settee that afforded him as much nobility as any king or queen. Montserrat Caballé poured her heart out to you from the record player, and Freddie had his eyes closed as he listened to the music.
“Hiya—”
“Hush a moment.”
You snapped your mouth shut immediately.
Caballé’s voice reached a beautifully quavering crescendo, and Freddie mimed conducting.
You heard the front door close, and wooden footsteps before Brian’s voice behind you.
“He’s doing it again, isn’t he?” Bri whispered, standing awfully close to you. You didn’t mind his proximity, though; he radiated that undying warmth of his.
You nodded slowly, then assumed a low voice. “Here we see a Freddie in his natural habitat, frolicking amongst the opera singers and the royalty like a peacock, because essentially, that’s what he is.”
Brian snorted in laughter, and Freddie opened his eyes abruptly.
“You come into my house and you laugh at me,” he said.
“You, on the other hand, don’t even go to people’s houses,” Brian said. “You just laugh at them on the spot.”
Freddie pouted. “I hate you, you know.”
“You may hate me, but I’m not wrong,” Brian asserted, departing your side and selecting one of Freddie’s many armchairs to curl up in.
“Just another reason for me to hate you, Brimi,” Freddie replied easily. You could tell that this was a regular occurrence, the two of them snapping retorts at one another in good humour, though an outsider might have mistaken their bickering for actual disagreement. “Sit down, dearie,” Freddie addressed you, gesturing to the extensive options of sofa-like furniture housed in his living room.
You looked across the sea of overstuffed armchairs and patterned sofas slung with colourful crocheted blankets. None stood out to you in particular, until you saw a large wingback chair, upholstered in a deep blue velvet and accentuated by pins that were silver, like stars.
It was only an added bonus that it occupied the space beside the armchair Brian had cuddled into.
Making your choice, you slid into the chair, and Freddie, sitting across from you and Brian, smirked as though he were reading a book in which he understood the dramatic irony that you and Brian, as characters, did not.
Taking off your messenger bag, you remembered why you’d brought it with you.
“Records,” you said, standing. You made your way over to Freddie and handed him Queen’s records.
“Did she take good care of you?” Freddie asked the records.
“‘Course I did,” you said, returning to your chair. “Music is art, and who the hell is careless with art?”
“Did you hear that, Brian? She called us art!”
“Good taste,” Brian nodded at you.
You rolled your eyes. “The arrogance—”
“Confidence, darling,” Freddie corrected. “It’s confidence.”
Brian slipped off his clogs, tucking his socked feet beneath him where he sat. “Did you have any favourites? Song from our albums, I mean.”
You grimaced. “I don’t know that I can pick favourites. Everything you guys have written is just amazing. I’ve never heard anything like it,” you said honestly.
“Oh, indulge me,” said Brian. “Top six? Two from each album?”
It was lucky you’d memorised the tracklists by now. “Alright, then. But don’t murder me, either of you,” you cast them pointed looks.
“No promises,” came the chorused reply.
“It’s a wonder I am indulging you, Bri,” you mumbled.
“Start with the first album,” Freddie said giddily, as though he were opening presents instead of waiting for your opinion on his music.
“Okay…” You thought a moment about what songs had stood out to you. “‘The Night Comes Down’, and… ‘Son and Daughter’.”
Freddie eyed you peculiarly. Brian’s face remained neutral.
“Second album?” asked Freddie.
“‘Seven Seas of Rhye’, definitely—”
“Ha-HA!” said Freddie.
“—and ‘White Queen (As It Began)’.”
Freddie’s expression dampened, but it was now Brian’s turn to smile curiously. His fingers brushed the side of his nose.
“Third album?” said Freddie, tone dry.
You thought they were both being rather odd. “‘Brighton Rock’ and ‘Now I’m Here’,” you finished cautiously.
“Fuck if that’s it, darling.”
Brian burst into laughter.
“What?” you said finally.
Brian’s laughter turned into a sputter which then became a cough, and Freddie grumbled,
“It’s not funny, you prick.”
“What?!” you said again.
Brian continued coughing, patting his chest. At last, he took a proper breath. “All but one,” he said.
“All but one what?”
Brian smiled. “All but one of those are my songs. Fred’s just grumpy that only one of six was his.”
“You’re right I am,” said Freddie pettily. “The betrayal, Y/N!”
“Well, maybe it’s because I’m musically uneducated,” you quoted Freddie’s own words, and he perked up.
“Oh yes, obviously! Fantastical that I didn’t think of that before,” he said. “I think this is the perfect time at which to give you some other records.” He sprang up from his sofa and began rifling through his grand collection.
“Musically uneducated,” Brian scoffed. “Y/N, did I not just say you had good taste?”
“Shush,” commanded Freddie. “What Aretha Franklin record should I lend her?”
Brian sighed, then ambled over to help Freddie pick a record. “This one,” he said, selecting one from a crate. “And then that one,” he pulled another record from the midst.
“Ooh, good one,” Freddie agreed. “And then this one.”
Freddie approached you with three records. “There you are. Have them back in a week? We’re going to need rigour if we’re ever going to get you up to speed.”
“Okay, Freddie,” you said, accepting your fate. There was no use arguing that you already did listen to a variety of music.
In your hands you now held Lady Soul, Imagine, and Let It Bleed.
Tucking the records into your messenger bag, you asked the joking question you’d wanted to ask for days. “So, how was the pyjama party at Bri’s the other night? You know, the one you didn’t invite me to.”
Brian shook his head and Freddie sighed. “The brawl, which I’m sure Brian’s already told you all about, was the ticket to the party. No fight, no rest.”
You raised your eyebrows. “What happened to no rest for the wicked?”
“I certainly didn’t get any sleep,” Brian broke in, “what with you lot repeatedly getting up during the night to raid my kitchen cupboards for painkillers.”
“You never sleep anyway,” Freddie shrugged. “And besides, fair is fair; you didn’t fight either.”
“Nor did you!” said Brian.
“Well, the fight was about me, so that counts,” Freddie asserted.
Brian blinked. “Does not.”
“Does too.”
“Here we go,” you said, to no one but yourself. And to a cat, it would appear. One of Freddie’s many pets had wandered into the living room to see what all the ruckus was about, and she— her collar read Dorothy— mewed up at you from the floor.
“Does not!” repeated Brian.
“Does TOO!”
“Does NOT!”
The cat mewed at you again.
“DOES—”
“Hey!” you swept the cat into your arms, pressing her to your chest. “You’re upsetting the cat.”
“Oh, precious Tiffany,” cooed Freddie, reaching out his arms.
“Uh, pretty sure her collar says Dorothy, Freddie.” You petted the cat in your lap; you’d earned the privilege of a cat’s presence. Freddie would have to wait his turn.
“Oops,” said Freddie. “That’s definitely Tiffany. Must’ve given her the wrong collar.”
“You’ve got too many cats,” said Brian.
“Nonsense!” Freddie cried. “You simply haven’t got enough cats to empathise.”
“You have cats?” you asked Bri.
“Had one cat in my childhood. Used to have another, early on after I’d moved away from home. Never more than one at a time, though.”
“Oh, don’t ask about his cats,” said Freddie. He continued in a stage-whisper, “He’ll just get all upset about Pixie…”
“Pixie?”
“Do you have any pets, Y/N?” Brian turned the conversation to you.
“My family has a dog named Selkie,” you said slowly, suspicious of the sudden change of subject, “but I’ve always wanted to get a cat, maybe a black one, and call it Gravity.”
“Gravity?” Freddie said. “Oh, you are a scientist.”
“Astrophysicist, actually,” Brian amended Freddie’s statement. “She’ll be an astrophysicist.”
“Why would you call a cat Gravity?” Freddie ignored Bri.
You smiled. “Because when you told that cat off, or called it, everyone around you would have a good laugh. Can you imagine— Gravity, no! Bad Gravity!”
Brian laughed, tipping his head back. “Oh, yes,” he said. “I’d get a kick out of that, for sure.”
“Maybe we’ll have to co-parent a cat, or something,” you laughed.
Brian smiled at you, hazel eyes warm with amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. His teeth caught on his lower lip. “Maybe,” he said.
“Good god,” said Freddie. “Stop flirting right in front of me.”
“Excuse me?” you said at the same time as Brian said “What?”
“No, don’t look at me,” Freddie lifted his hands. “Look at each other. But then please get out of my living room.”
You took no notice of most of what Freddie said, seeing as he was being ridiculous, only shrugged, feigning a hurt tone when you spoke. “If you wanted me to leave so badly, then you should just have said so.” You pet Tiffany once more, then deposited her gently in yet another cosy chair on your right. You pushed yourself up from your own chair. “Friendship is built on honesty, Fred.”
“Where in the world do you think you’re going, Y/N?” said Freddie, now in all seriousness. “You do know I was only teasing, darling, don’t you?”
“Of course, Freddie. But I’ve actually got things to do. Can’t just sit around all day, as much as I’d like to,” you smiled apologetically.
“What’ve you got to do?” Freddie asked. “Studying?”
“Mm-hm,” you nodded, slinging your messenger bag over your shoulder again.
“Bet Brian could help you with that.”
“I’m right here, you know,” said Bri, and you looked at him.
“I don’t know, Freddie…” you tilted your head to one side. “He’s terrible at maths, poor thing.”
“HEy,” said Brian indignantly. “Bad at derivatives, not maths in general; give me at least a little credit!”
You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, still surveying Bri. “Hm, do you deserve it, though… What do you think, Freddie?”
“Mm,” Freddie pretended to consider. “It’s certainly a topic for discussion.”
“Still here,” said Brian.
“Yes, you are, aren’t you, darling, but maybe you should bugger off so that Y/N and I can have a proper chat.”
Brian crossed his legs and folded his arms. “About what, exactly?”
Freddie winked at him. “That’s for us to know and for you to… well, not.”
Brian pursed his lips, and in the slant of his mouth you wondered now if that legendary temper would arise, provoked by Freddie touching on some invisible pressure point with a joke taken too far. You decided to find out.
“Oh, Freddie, he looks so sad with those big eyes… Can we keep him, please?”
“Very funny, Y/N,” muttered Brian, brushing fallen curls from his eyes with a slender hand. “Very funny.”
“Don’t know if there’s room in the budget, dearie,” Freddie teased.
Brian threw his hands into the air and you were surprised by the grim set to his face. “Oh, have it your way.” He got up and strode from the room.
“Oh no, don’t, Bri,” you called, eyes following him as he brushed past. “We were only joking.”
“Y/N,” said Freddie, and his manner was oddly serious as he picked up Tiffany, who had wandered over.
“Yes?”
“I’d go after him if I were you. Sometimes these things get to him, jokes or not, and it’s hard to tell what sort of day he’s having.”
You frowned, tugging on the strap of your bag. “Is he… Is he alright?”
Freddie’s jaw twitched. “Y’know, lovey,” he said, “sometimes, I just don’t know.”
Something twisted in your chest. “Can I help?” you asked.
“I think you’d be just the person,” Freddie gave you a small smile. “Run along, then. And enjoy your records.”
“Thanks, Freddie. I’ll bring them back soon.” You patted the fabric of your now-heavy bag.
“And I’ll have a whole new stack for you!” Freddie gestured dramatically, and Tiffany’s eyes grew wide at the motion.
You waved and he blew you the usual kiss.
In the hall, you grabbed your raincoat from the coat rack, and your umbrella from where it had been carefully leaned against the wall. The person who had taken such care to ensure the safety of your umbrella was nowhere to be found.
“Why didn’t you take the umbrella, silly,” you said to the empty hall. “It’s still pouring.”
You hastened back out into the rain with your coat not quite buttoned, hoping to catch Brian before he disappeared completely.
Through the heavy downpour you squinted, and the water began to plaster your hair to every part of your face. Finally, you spotted him, on the other side of the road once more.
You dashed across, barely looking both ways.
“Not exactly boots made for walking, Brian!”
He stopped, and you hurried to catch up with him before some flight of fancy changed his mind. Not that he would change his mind; he had no reason to be cross with you, or anything.
You made it to his side and pushed the umbrella into his hand, drawing your arm through his again. “You didn’t think I’d let my warmth get away so easily, did you?”
He accepted the umbrella, though you supposed you had rather forced his hand, and he opened it above your heads. “Hoped you’d be a little more persistent than that,” he said, and you smiled up at him.
Then you remembered why you’d chased him out here. Evidently, whatever it was that had occupied his thoughts was still on his mind, because he hadn’t yet begun walking again. He seemed distant, though your hand rested upon his arm. “Is everything okay?”
“I— yeah. Everything’s alright.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” you said, without missing a beat. You could have answered your own question, though, because he wasn’t meeting your eyes.
“Because no one ever really means that everything is alright when they say it is,” he answered with surprising honesty.
You hesitated, then decided to trade honesty for honesty. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Nor would I. Shall we walk?”
You were baffled. You’d really never known anyone to speak so plainly.
All you could do was nod, and so Brian started walking.
You walked with him in silence for but the reliable rain and the echoing sound of shoes on cement.
At one point, you wondered why the expression was head in the clouds and not head in the stars, because had you had to describe Brian, those would have been your words.
Then abruptly, Brian halted.
“What is it?” you asked, seeing his contorted expression.
He raised his arm to point to a small shabby shadow that lay by the kerbside.
“Bird,” he said softly. He handed you the umbrella and dashed forward, crouching by the little bird and murmuring quietly. He pulled off his jacket, then scooped the creature into his hands and nestled it into the velvet.
You walked forward slowly, so as to not frighten the bird which Bri now cradled in his arms.
“Broken wing,” he told you, and the sadness in his voice was palpable. He looked at you. “Come with me? I live just down the street.”
You nodded, and he set off quickly in the direction you’d already been going before.
You jogged a little to keep up with him. His legs were most of him, really, and he set quite the pace.
Not two minutes later, you followed Bri through a garden gate and past low-hanging tree branches. You rounded the corner of a white-brick house with a red door whose colour was bright, even in the gloom of the weather.
Brian stopped at the doorstep of the back entrance, the rain running down his face.
“Oh,” he said. “Well, this is inconvenient…” He grimaced. “Um, my keys are in my pocket.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Which pocket?”
“Front left trouser pocket.”
“Could’ve been worse,” you said.
“What? Don’t feel like running your hands all over me?” His smile was debonair.
“Brian!”
“Okay, okay, that was a bit cheeky,” he conceded. “Would you get the keys for me, please? It’s not so much that I’m soaking wet, it’s just, our birdie here seems to be rather in a state of shock, so I’m not too willing to set her down right now.”
You deposited the umbrella on the ground and approached Brian. You didn’t look at him as you lifted the material of his shirt, blushing slightly when your fingertips brushed soft skin, when he inhaled at your touch; you didn’t look at him as you withdrew the keys from his pocket.
You unlocked the door, tugging off your wellies before you went in and held the door for Bri.
“Thank you,” he said and you shut the door behind him.
“Now what?” you said. You’d never rescued a bird before, but Brian seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
“We’re going to need a shoebox and a small towel, to start,” he said. “Bird duty or gathering duty?” he asked you.
You considered. Brian knew his house better than you, obviously, but he also still held the shivering bird in his hands. You discarded your raincoat over the back of a dining table chair.
“Birdie seems to like you,” you said. “Tell me where to find things and I will.”
“Right,” he nodded. He gave you rapid-fire instructions, “Bathroom’s just down the hall, first right. It’s joined to the laundry room, and if you go in there, the towels are in the cupboard by the sink. Take one from the left of the stack because those are smaller. Then go back to the hallway and go into the first room on the left. There’s a shoebox on the desk, filled with papers. Just take out the papers and leave them on the desk.”
You almost thought he’d say go, but that much was left to your imagination.
“I’ll be right back,” you said, and began the treasure hunt that was finding specific objects in another person’s house.
You found the bathroom easily enough, the laundry room, the cupboard, the towels, and then returned to the hallway to seek the second room.
The door was only slightly ajar and seemed to rest on old, heavy hinges, so you gave the wood a hefty shove and entered.
The first thing you noticed about the room was the fact that the ceiling was covered in plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars, hundreds of them. It seemed that there were intricate constellations and solar systems and galaxies patterned out above you. You could actually identify a few of the constellations. There was Aquila and Lyra and Orion, Draco and Cassiopeia, Cancer, Virgo, and Leo— in fact, oddly, Leo seemed to be depicted twice.
Then there was the fact that books lined nearly every surface. Volumes were properly arranged on floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stacked in enormous piles on the floor, leaning against one another in the windowsill, lying on the bedside table, lying on the bed.
This was Brian’s bedroom.
Where there weren’t books or stars, there were records or plants, or developed photographs, and it appeared that everywhere you looked, another piece of Bri’s soul was laid bare.
You smiled upon seeing the three Jimi Hendrix posters above his bed, the Beatles poster above his desk.
And in the corner, between the window and the bed, there sat a collection of guitars.
There was a black Fender Telecaster, an acoustic guitar crafted in caramel coloured wood and adorned with an opal-like pick guard, and finally, another electric guitar, cherry toned and beautiful.
The Red Special, Freddie had told you.
Your fingers itched to pick up the guitar, but you disliked people touching your guitar, so you imagined that Brian would hate people touching his.
“Y/N?” Bri called. “Are you lost?”
You’d completely forgotten about the shoebox.
“Uh, no! Just a second!” You picked the shoebox up from the desk and gently placed the papers atop a stack of books. The papers, you noticed in passing, were drafts of songs.
You left the room with a sigh, feeling like a child who’d been discouraged from exploring. You’d have to ask Bri about his stars and his books and his records and plants and photographs and guitars some other time.
You hurried back down the hall and found the kitchen, setting the shoebox on the small dining table and lining it with the towel because you’d read enough books to know to do as much.
“Thank you,” said Brian softly from where he sat in an aged rocking chair in the corner. “Don’t think Birdie liked me yelling much,” he stood up from the creaking rocking chair.
“Don’t think anyone likes you yelling much, Mister A Bit Of A Temper,” you joked.
“Don’t you start,” grumbled Brian. With a gentle hand, he separated the bird from his jacket, easing the injured creature into its new cocoon.
“If we don’t make fun of you, who will?” you said.
“I don’t know,” Bri murmured, placing the bird’s broken wing against its side and wrapping the bird in the folds of the towel. “Maybe you should all just appreciate me for a change.”
“May-Bri,” you continued to wind him up.
He sighed, and you remembered Freddie’s comment about Brian’s changing dispositions.
“I appreciate that you’re going to help me become as godly at guitar as you,” you winked when he looked up from the bird.
He smiled. “Well, thank goodness I have you, Y/N.”
Warmth spread through your chest; you had such lovely friends.
“What now?” you asked of the situation pertaining to the bird. Brian closed the lid to the box, which you saw already had holes punched in it, as if he rescued animals in distress on a regular basis. He probably did. His personality seemed to house a tendency for selfless heroism.
“Well,” he crossed the room and turned on the tap in the kitchen sink, “I’ve got a friend who works at an aviary, actually. I’ll give him a call, and he’ll take the dear little thing in.”
“How come you know so many interesting people?” you wondered aloud.
“I could ask the same of you, to be quite honest. Friends with an entire rock band? And with an up-and-coming fashion designer?”
“Ah, you’ve been talking to Roger.” The fashion designer was Heather, who specialised in silver-threaded embroidery and all sorts of glamorous grandeur.
“Mm,” said Bri. “Talks about his girlfriend an awful lot.”
“They’re that invested?”
“Yes, it’s rather out of character. For both of them, I gather.”
You nodded. Heather and Rog were of the type to love— and to lust— easily, and rarely stuck with the same person for very long at a time.
“I’ll just make that call,” Brian gestured to the orange phone that hung on the wall, and you nodded again.
The call was quick, and when it was finished, Brian announced, “He’ll come past to pick up our little friend in a couple of hours.” He transferred the bird to his laundry room, “away from too much noise”, and left it with water and birdseed.
When he came back, he regarded you from the doorway. You must have looked rather dishevelled and from the rain because he said, “I’d offer you to borrow my hairdryer, but it’s broken.”
You scoffed. “How does a rockstar, with such magnificent hair, not own a working hairdryer?”
He lifted his chin ever-so-slightly at the compliment. “Oh, a tragedy, I know. May I offer you a hot chocolate instead, to warm up?”
“That sounds wonderful,” you said.
“Lovely. I’ll do that, then.” He set to retrieving cups and cocoa powder, and you thought you heard him humming to himself as he pottered about the small kitchen.
“Here you are,” he said soon enough, handing you a steaming cup that radiated as much warmth as he himself normally did. You thanked him. “Living room?” Brian gestured down the hall.
“Yes,” you said, “I’d like to see the only room I haven’t visited.”
“There’s actually another bedroom, but it’s just filled with boxes,” he informed you. “No skeletons in closets here.”
“Oh, but I didn’t check…”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/N.” His fingers curled around your forearm lightly, and he steered you down the hall.
In the living room, he took one sofa and you took the one that faced it.
“Wow, imagine having this much space in a house all to yourself,” you said, stretching your legs out on the couch and wriggling your socked toes.
Bri chuckled. “It’s honestly too quiet sometimes. Needs more people, at least one. Maybe children.” His tone was wistful.
“You want children?”
He nodded. “I’d like to be as good a father as mine was and is to me.” He swirled his hot chocolate. “Even if he doesn’t approve of what I’m doing.”
That was a surprise. His father didn’t approve? You couldn’t imagine a parent who had more reason to be proud of their child than Brian’s.
“Does he not?” you asked gently.
“No, he doesn’t. Mum’s always told me to do whatever I felt was right, but dad... not so much. I’ll change his mind, though.” Brian flashed you a small smile, but you could see that his pain lay close to the surface.
You decided to change the subject. “You obviously love animals though, so why not get a pet, another cat maybe, while you wait for somebody to love?”
“I’m sure Freddie would agree,” Brian said. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll name it Gravity,” he winked.
“So you’re not the type to name succeeding pets the same name? No Pixie the Second?”
“You’re on thin ice, Miss Andrews,” he warned at the mention of Pixie.
“Oh no,” you said sarcastically. “Talking about Pixie is off the table, then?”
“Eh, not anymore. Freddie was just being dramatic. I did love that cat, though.”
“A lot?”
“A lot,” he nodded emphatically. “I never had any siblings. Pixie was the closest thing I had, really. She was my confidante.”
“Confidante?” you said, amused.
“Yeah, y’know. I’d tell the cat my worries, my hopes and dreams…”
“Oh, no one tells their siblings that,” you laughed.
“You have siblings?”
“I have two brothers. One younger, Billy, and one older, Frank. Billy’s off at boarding school, but Frank lives in Surrey, on our parents’ land.”
“Oh?” Brian said, blowing on his hot chocolate before taking a sip. “Your turn, then. Tell me about your family.”
“Well,” you began, “it’s me and Billy and Frank, and mum and dad, and chickens and cows and horses and that sort of thing.”
“You grew up on a farm?”
“Yeah,” you said. “Ridge Farm, in Surrey. My parents and Frank still live there, and Billy, when he comes home.”
“But then you went off to live in the Big Smoke?” Brian asked. “That’s quite the change of scenery.”
You shrugged. “I felt like an adventure, and if I wanted to study astrophysics, it seemed that Imperial College was the place to do it.”
“That’s very lucky indeed,” Bri mused.
“How do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, “I would certainly never have met you, if you’d stayed in the countryside.”
“And how the hell else are you supposed to learn to derive those bloody derivatives?” you grinned.
“If you were sitting over here, I’d shove you,” he said.
“What’d I do?”
“I said to give me a little more credit; maybe you should afford yourself some too.”
You touched a hand to your heart. “That’s the most considerate thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Brian shook his head. “You have terrible friends.”
“I don’t know about that… You’re all quite glamorous.”
“Doesn’t necessarily make us good friends, though.”
But your thoughts had wandered down another path entirely. “If the four of you, as Queen, continue this way… Well, there’s no telling what you’ll become. To think, you could be anything, anything at all.” You finished your hot chocolate with a sigh.
“You know what I think?” said Brian, pulling his legs to his chest.
“No, Bri, what do you think?”
“I think that’s the absolute loveliest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he murmured, resting his chin on his knees as he looked at you. “To us,” he corrected himself.
But you held his eyes. “To you,” you corrected him. “You’re the only one here.”
For some reason, your words felt heavier than their face value. Yes, Brian was the only one there, but somehow this felt significant, like there was a reason he was the only one there. This was something other than circumstantial, something effervescent, cosmic.
And there was an otherworldly serenity in Brian— you noticed now because it seemed to amplify the unearthliness of your words. Serenity resided in the curve of his mouth, the arc of his brow, the crescent moon shape of his nails against his fingers, in the way he held himself, as though he were not really touching the ground.
You could only stare.
Brian’s lips parted and you felt dizzy. Your thoughts would not remain linear; they spiralled around non sequentially. Your breathing had grown shallow, and you found it hard to return it to normal— your breathing, like everything else around and about you, felt suddenly out of your control.
Brian stammered, “I—I’d better go check on Birdie.” Unable to respond, you bobbed your head in a poor imitation of a yes. Bri swung his long legs off of the couch and departed the room, not meeting your eyes again.
Unsettled by whatever it was that had just passed, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, pulling at a little thread that had for the life of it done no wrong but come loose.
When Brian returned, your gaze caught on his eyes, and he looked away.
You found that it was time to leave.
“I’ve, uh, got to go. I promised my mum I’d call her today, and I need to get some studying done before then.”
You weren’t lying, but you weren’t exactly divulging the whole truth either— you would be calling your mum much later, and studying precisely now was not strictly necessary. But the mellow atmosphere of Brian’s home seemed suddenly claustrophobic, and your breathing was still off, a little laboured. You wondered if perhaps you were coming down with something.
“Of course,” Brian nodded understandingly. He was always so understanding. Right now, it frustrated you. You had to get out.
“Thank you for the hot chocolate.”
“Thank you for sharing your umbrella with me.” His manner was almost shy now, his shoulders bent, his hands winding around each other, his head bowed. Then, his discomfort became painfully obvious when his finger brushed over the side of his nose.
“See you Thursday?” you said tentatively.
“Yes— wait, no.” He passed a hand over his eyes and the shadows beneath them. “I’m sorry, I’m having dinner with my parents this Thursday.”
“Oh.”
“Next Thursday, though?”
“Yeah, what time?”
“Hmm. You know what? I’ll call you before then. You can give me your address then, too. I don’t think I can remember the way from when I walked you home.”
“It was rather dark,” you provided his excuse.
He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Though not nearly dark enough to see all the stars we wanted to.”
An involuntary smile stole across your lips. “Not even close.”
⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺
You walked home in the rain alone. You didn’t even take the tube. Subsequently, it took you nearly two hours to get home.
And when you shut the door behind you, you felt you had shut out the world.
⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺
A/N: as usual, send me an ask or a message if you’d like to be added to the taglist! also, please give me feedback, if you have the time; validate me 🥺
taglist: @melting-obelisks @hgmercury39 @stardust-killer-queen @topsecretdeacon
Masterpost / Part 3 / Part 5
#tina’s writing#starstruck#brian may#brian may x reader#brian may x y/n#brian may x you#queen#freddie mercury#roger taylor#john deacon#queen fanfiction#1975#1970s#ridge farm#fic
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It’s a Mad House
Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Summary: Just a Halloween party at yours and Tommy’s house
“Jeez Tom, slow down on the smokes, this room is cloudy enough already”
You softly scold him as you’re helping Mary put out more food, Tommy hasn’t been a big fan of Halloween, well at least in his adult years, his brothers being more enthusiastic than him, his nieces and nephews were more than excited that the party would be hosted at your house, the mansion meant more space for hide and seek and playing practical jokes on the stuffy grown ups that would most likely be there from Tommy’s business.
“I don’t see why we have to have it here, the kids will most likely make a big mess, and run around like chickens with their heads cut off, candy and cupcake wrappers everywhere , just more mess for the poor staff to clean up, I apologize in advance Mary and give my sympathy to Frida and Sharon”
The older woman gives a genuine smile and shakes her head
“It’s my job Mr. Shelby, and it’s a party with children involved, so I expect there to be a mess, really it’s fine, I’ll go finish setting up the decorations”
“Thank you Mary”
She gives you a bow of her head and leaves the big room where the party will be held, leaving you and your husband to stare each other down before you finally speak up
“Thank you baby, I just wanted the kids to have a little fun, and I want them to be around each other more, I don’t want our nieces and nephews growing up barely knowing one another”
He nods and walks over to you, putting an arm around your shoulder and giving you a kiss on the temple
“I know love, I know you mean well and you care about them, believe me I do too but... I don’t know, we hardly ever see each other so it’ll feel strange”
“That’s why this is a good thing, now would you mind helping the maids finish up while I go put on my costume”
“Yeah, sure”
“Wish you would dress up”
“You’re lucky I agreed to have this party, don’t push it” he jokes
You laugh and make your way upstairs to get ready, meanwhile he meets Mary halfway with a heavy box in her hand
“I’ll get that”
“Thank you Mr. Shelby, and cheer up I’m sure you’ll have fun”
She walks back into the kitchen and he looks down into the box filled with the spooky decor for tonight’s festivities, he sighs and shakes his head
“The things I do for the woman that I love”
.................
“Well the children are having a ball, good job with putting everything together”
Polly complements him with a slight shove with her elbow, she isn’t dressed in anything too spectacular, just an old dress from the late 1870s, well in her words it wasn’t but she looked like a queen, especially with the crown that came with it.
“I can’t take all of the credit, YN and a devoted staff helped”
“Oh yes, the great Mrs. YN Shelby, it was a good idea for her to throw this all together, the kids are having fun, I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever seen them play together”
“Neither do I...fuck”
“What is it?”
“They tore through the cupcakes that fast?”
“They’re children Tom, are you that surprised?”
“More surprised that no one is complaining of a tummy ache”
“I’m sure they will by the end of the night”
“As long as they vomit at home and not on any of my good carpets”
Polly rolls her eyes and goes to get some more to drink
“Uncle Tommy, Uncle Tommy, Uncle Tommy!”
Karl runs over in his pirate costume and waving his toy sword around
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s some weird man outside arguing with Uncle Arthur, he keeps saying how he’s going to kill him”
Tommy immediately runs behind Karl to follow him to where all the chaos was, as he gets closer and closer he hears the voices get louder
Soon enough once outside he sees his brother trying to push a tall man away who looks to be wearing a cloak
“Alright, What the fuck is going on?”
“Thomas Shelby, you have been a very naughty boy...and deserve to be punished”
“Okay, get the fuck off of my property, go on!”
He man just stands there for a while not saying anything, soon enough he hears footsteps come up behind him followed by the sound of your voice
“Tommy, what’s going on?”
“Get Karl and go back inside, the rest of you inside now!”
“Tommy”
You grab his arm in a shaken voice as the man gets closer
“Stay back I mean it!”
“Karl, inside hurry”
You tell him but he’s frozen in place
The cloaked man runs up to Karl in an attempt to snatch him but he’s not fast enough as Tommy reaches for his gun in his holster and pulls the trigger...only for water to squirt out
“What the fuck?” He says in confusion and pulls the trigger again
Everyone that’s outside laughs and the man pulls off his cloak to reveal himself to be your father
“Oh my...what?”
He puts his face in his hands and you go to hug him
“Baby, it’s alright it’s a joke”
“Liven up boy, you needed a good old fashioned laugh”
“Am I laughing?”
“No but we are”
“How....my gun how?”
“I switched it when you went to go change for the party, Karl let me borrow his”
He looks over at his nephew who shrugged and smiles
“Come on Uncle Tommy, give us a smile”
He doesn’t smile right away but goes to chase him
“Come here you little bugger you were behind this too?!”
When he finally grabs him he spins him around then tackles him to the ground to tickle him
Ada walks up beside you and giggles to herself
“My boy got him like he said he would”
“Seeee I told you he was a mastermind, and even got him to laugh, when is the last time Tommy laughed?”
“We have to do this again next year, well the party at least, he’ll see a prank coming for sure”
“Oh, most definitely”
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never-ending survey :: Nyx
RULES: Repost, do not reblog. Tag 10 blogs!
tagged by: @blood-of-the-dragons
tagging: @thorcatte @kyrie-silverwings @mai-takeda @lareine-kira @lillies-n-lilacs @elegie-de-sang @yuki-yukichan @herohikara-wol @beasthuntergalvus @kazexvoss
BASICS.
FULL NAME: Niqesse de Nox || Soul Name: Nyx
NICKNAME: Nini, Black Rose, Nox, Queen
AGE: 25
BIRTHDAY: 12th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon
ETHNIC GROUP: Garlean/ Elezen
NATIONALITY: Ishgardian
LANGUAGE/S: Common, the old elezen tongue, Draconic, learning Hingan
SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Heterosexual
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Heteromantic.
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single.
HOME TOWN / AREA: Ishgard, Coerthas
CURRENT HOME: Nox Manor.
PROFESSION: Magic Researcher, Duellist, getting into trouble, WoL/D
PHYSICAL.
HAIR: Long Ashblond.
EYES: Grey/Blue
FACE: Heart/ Oval, Freckles.
LIPS: Smooth, Full.
COMPLEXION: Pale.
BLEMISHES: light dark circles under her eyes.
SCARS: around her throat, over her abdomen, around her left pinky
TATTOOS: lilac half Moon Tattoo on her neck
HEIGHT: 5′7″.
WEIGHT: 75kg
BUILD: Pear Shaped, Hourglass in certain outfits
FEATURES: garlean 3. eye, pointy ears
ALLERGIES: Nuts.
USUAL HAIR STYLE: Open or Braided.
USUAL FACE LOOK : Arrogant. bitchface
USUAL CLOTHING: Dark clothes, long Dresses, Boots, Corset, red Jewel.
PSYCHOLOGY.
FEAR/S: losing her Friends, Mind and Memories; to be miss treated ‘cause of being a half blood; Spiders - giant spider.
ASPIRATION/S: Saving People, Hunting things; finding out the truth and forbidden knowledge
POSITIVE TRAITS: strong willed, intelligent, knowlege, knowledgeable
NEGATIVE TRAITS: reckless, vengeful, confused 24/7, impulsive
TEMPERAMENT: Choleric/ Sanguine
SOUL TYPE/S: Priest
ANIMALS: Cat.
VICE HABIT/S: Danger, Wine
FAITH: unclear
GHOSTS?: Yes.
AFTERLIFE?: Yes.
REINCARNATION?: Totally.
POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Sits in between chairs, but will do anything for her people.
EDUCATION LEVEL: Well educated, as a noble in Ishgard.
FAMILY.
FATHER : Viscount Shirrot-Ashent de Nox, Elezen
MOTHERS : Frida de Nox (before she married - lux Luna), Garlean
SIBLINGS : None.
EXTENDED FAMILY: Grandmother.
NAME MEANING/S: Ice Flower /Night
HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: Yes, as for the Soul name.
FAVORITES.
BOOK: History, Horror
DEITY: unlcear
HOLIDAY: Saints wake
MONTH: November
SEASON: Winter/ Spring
PLACE: Garden.
WEATHER: Clear Night Sky
SOUND / S: Classic Music.
SCENT / S: Roses.
TASTE / S: Sweets, Wine.
FEEL / S: Soft skin, Velvet
ANIMAL / S: Ravens, Cats, Rabbits ect
NUMBER: 9
COLORS: Black. Red. Silver.
EXTRA.
TALENTS: Magic, Drawing...maybe.
BAD AT: physical combat, staying healthy/save
TURN ONS: Rivalry. Tension. Battle-highs. Skill and physique. Rough hands on soft skin. Height Difference. Confidence. Scars.
TURN OFFS: Lack of intelligence, Being Ignored. Poor Grooming Habits
HOBBIES: Drawing, Singing
TROPES: The High Queen. The Cynic.
QUOTES : “Pray excuse thee?!” “OH...” “What is it this time?” “My Leylines!!!”
MUN QUESTIONS.
Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?
A1 : It would be a Horror movie and have the title of my url “Under the Blood Moonlight” ...Something supernatural, but I would need to thing really long about a good plot, because there are a lot of... bad ... bad movies with supernatual themes >.>
Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?
A2 : dark orchestral, classic, and metal.
Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?
A3 : Hm good question. So her basic idea is around 10 years old, i think, and when i started to join the RP community I wanted a character that I feel comfortable with ... yeah thats it i think :D
Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?
A4 : The dark aesthetic. Magic, the supernatural ect ect thats right up my ally.
Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.
A5 : Atm i don’t know, sometimes i get the feeling that everything is wrong with her and then i dislike her complettely.
Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?
A6 : Bit of the looks and we are both shy af. yeah fuck
Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?
A7 : “Sister?!? Do I have a Sister?!” She would force me to read more...
Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?
A8 : Everyone. We always get in trouble. Sort of. something is always happening and she seems to attract suspicious people.
Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse ?
A9 : I dont know. I’m just rolling with it and i like it. thats...it?
Q10 : How long did this take you to complete ?
A10 : too long man, too long. I mean, I did a few Titania runs in between and a few others. 4 hours. It took 4 hours.
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Oh, oh you thought they had cut away from Angetha and Frida? No! This is the crazy shit they put out there.
What kind of fourth wall breaking meta-textual shit is going on here?
Who the fuck and Agnetha and Frida supposed to be singing to? They are facing the direction the fucking box came from!! Is this is supposed to be for the benefit of the forklift driver?
Meanwhile those poor workman are literally carrying the piano while Benny plays away and Björn does whatever the fuck it is Björn is supposed to be doing. Following Benny so the back up instruments are together? Maybe? I don’t get it.
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The last reblog on the frida kahlo post is from sapphic matriarchy, a transmisogynist.
oh fuck, I'm gonna steal the post then and cut them out because the info still needs said
EDIT: oh okay i have piss poor reading comprehension skills and I'll reblog it before that person's commentary. thank you!
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