Scar huffed in fright and turned around to see the hulking figure of Doc standing behind him.
“An elf indeed.” Scar replied, putting a hand to his heart to calm himself. “You scared me, Doc. You can’t do that to me!”
“Would the elf like some company?” Doc asked. In the moonlight, it was hard to make the man out, besides the red light of his mechanical eye.
“Sure.”
Doc mumbled and huffed to himself, taking off his wings and his armor and easing himself to sit on the leaves next to Scar. There was some mechanical groaning and buzzing, and then silence. Scar looked over at Doc with his ever-present smile.
“So, Mr. DocM, I’m a bit surprised to see you out and about at this time of night. I mean, its always a delight, but still a surprise.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Doc replied. “Mechanical parts were aching, and my mind was racing anyway.”
Scar chuckled softly. “I can understand that. Well, besides the mechanical parts, that is.”
Silence fell between the two. It was amicable and comfortable. They didn’t often run in the same circles, but that didn’t really matter. The breeze up here on top of Scar’s tree was sweet and forgiving, and there is nothing greater then the bond of two people who can’t sleep just existing together.
“So why an elf?” Doc said after a while, turning to look at Scar. “I mean, I think it’s a wonderful look for you, and I love how you’re going for a bit more of a tits-out approach. Are you trying to copy your biggest fashion hero, me? Very flattering.”
Scar snorted, rearranging his green robes. “Oh Doc, you may be a master of redstone, but you dress like a natural disaster.” He flashed Doc a grin. “But yeah, an elf. I don’t know, really. My hair was growing while in the void, and I couldn’t stop thinking about trees. Thought I’d never see one again, in the darkest moments. Alright, throwing it back to you- why the horns?” He reached out a slender finger and traced it along the curves of one of the horns on Doc’s head.
“Just kind of came with me, I suppose.” Doc leaned into the touch just a little bit. “A bit like you and your hair. But a bit more permanent.” He was quiet again, letting Scar trace his horn, thinking. “I think it’s punishment, in a way, for what me and Ren did.”
Scar paused. “What did you do? I don’t recall.”
“It’s complicated.” Doc said. “But we did kill a lot of the hermits to get their heads to surround what we thought was some kind of moon rock.”
“Yeah, that sounds complicated.” Scar chuckled. “But then again, who hasn’t killed, huh?” Doc shot him a look, but didn’t say anything. “We live odd lives, Doc. Even in the most purest of senses, you and I move and create worlds. Break it down to its most key components, and then build it up even better. You always impress me, Doc, if that means anything.”
Doc laughed. “Are you kidding me? I’m like your biggest fan! The things you can do with dirt and stone is incredible! I can’t stop looking at this tree!”
Scar bowed his head humbly and smiled. Doc watched him, watched as the smile slowly faded from the other man’s face as he thought about something.
“The moon… it really had more of an effect on us then we realized, didn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.
“I suppose so.” Doc looked up at their moon. It seemed so small now. So innocent up there. “The people in this world are not the beings I saw leaving the last one, thats for sure.”
Scar nodded. “It’s interesting, the way that we break and come back together.” He smiled at Doc again. “Even if we aren’t the same, we still come back.” He didn’t speak another word, and neither did Doc. They both just watched the sky slowly get lighter, into the elegant colors of morning.
If you’re feeling blah about your current fandom try interacting with a new one. It can be scary af joining a fandom but it’s so worth it. Finding new friends! Reading new fanfics! Indulging in new eye candy! It’s like a breath of fresh air!!!
I feel like Goemon’s hair color changes with the seasons. A inky black fades into a dark brown with the spring and the summer sun bleaching certain strands to a warm hazel. His summer hair is only a hue darker than his own skin. While the winter’s black juts out intimidatingly, complimenting his harsh cheekbones and deathly stare. The humid summer heat fries and frizzes it to a poofy mass atop his skull. It adds a certain softness to his shoulders, helping to sand down his face.
Ashton scoffed and put the fresh towel down on the counter, not bothered the slightest by the fact that you were currently sitting in the bathtub, naked and only covered by bubbles.
“Relax, it’s just a towel,” his eyes bore into yours as he leaned against the doorframe, and you tried to be as small as possible, painfully aware what one wrong move can do.
Ashton sighed heavily as he pushed away from the door and came closer, crouching down next to the tub, eyes still looking at only your face. He crossed his arms and rested them on the edge, fingers dangling into the water, fingertips swirling the bubbles around next to your knee.
“I don’t know what they’ve told you… but you gotta believe me: I’m not the bad guy here,” there was something in his eyes, something strange but familiar, yet it still made you uneasy. “You know me.”
“Do I?” you whispered, gaze dropping down. “8 years passed and you just… just fell back into my life, out of nowhere, and they tell me you are…”
You couldn’t finish, you felt your throat hurting, not being able to form words, the thought of Ashton being someone other than the person you knew was making you terrified. He flicked his wrist, droplets of water flying towards you as he sighed again, standing up and drying his wet hand on his dark jeans.
“Believe what you want,” he stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind his back. “But you gotta stay with me. They might say I’m dangerous, but trust me: there are worse monsters than me out there, all hunting for you.”
Mr. Colbourne bet Mrs. Wheatley that Charlotte wouldn’t last the week. Is that just because he didn’t have faith in Charlotte or does that speak to his own insecurities?
Nobody stays. Nobody thinks the Colbourne family worth putting up with. The pretty, forthright Miss Heywood will be gone just like the rest…
Listen Ben Lloyd-Hughes is an actor that gets Austen. He understands that subtext is king in these kinds of stories. Love hearing him talk about how acting a scene is about saying one thing with words but another with the eyes or body language. And boy does this understanding shine through in his scenes.
Take the argument about the spinet. Alexander enters and gets upset about Charlotte playing it. This could have been a simple one note emotional scene. AC is angry. But instead we get this really rich nuanced series of emotions.
He comes to the door and looks surprised and confused. He doesn’t immediately stop her. Then he seems to remember himself and takes a hesitant step forward. He says “Stop” but not in a commanding shout. It’s this half-strangled thing. As if he is choked with emotion and he needs her to stop because he doesn’t want to keep feeling that emotion.
Then he is in the room, the music stops, he is still talking in that lowered tone. Until he turns to Augusta, then it grows stronger and stronger still when Leo comes racing in (goodness I love those girls!). Now we get the grumpy, angry guardian but not for long.
Then we jump to the library and there is more bickering but Charlotte is more upset than he is (and this isn’t about Rose Williams but she also does amazing!). Indeed it’s like he can feel her slipping away, he has had this conversation with many other governesses before.
But this time he wants her to stay. He doesn’t want her to leave and it’s so clear in the way he asks her if she wishes to leave. Like there were so many ways to say that line and he picked the one that makes him sound just a little bit scared at the thought.
And THEN we get three syllables that probably weren’t meant to become some kind of fandom call but GUYS. “Tomorrow then” is gonna be on shirts and stickers because it’s ICONIC. And that is a 100% down to the way he says it. Just. YEah.
