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rearranging-deck-chairs · 4 months

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the thing with doctor who i think is that it gets better the more you know. maybe this is true of all writing but i only know doctor who so we'll focus on that. but i think it gets better the more you know this is why my fic is not very good. i dont know many things. i think if you have a background in like, just any field you can use you can make your doctor who stories more interesting. like linguistics maths physics and music are things that come to mind for me that i would like to know to make my doctor who stories more interesting but i think it can work with, like, almost anything. biology stuff also works well adds a lot. sociology stuff history. if you know how to sew really well or youve worked in meat factories. just, if you have deep knowledge about something this will enrich your doctor who stories (again, might be true for literally every writing)

but also things you can know that are just lived and not books. like i said with that post about different countries' doctor whos, every country would bring its own history and values and perspective to the stories. but also like for example the class stuff or the queer stuff you see with rtds stories like anything a writer Knows will make their stories more interesting

and thats why doctor who could literally be so good If They Diversified Their Fucking Staff. in every sense of the word. you need disabled people, trans people, racialised people, people with different religions but you need people who know other things than writing too! which i get is difficult because theyre mostly working in their fields and not writing but like there are writers who are not or have not only ever just been writers. or just get writers with some weird fucking hobbies!

even in the most basic way even if you keep your entire show white christian able-bodied man, if you have more of those you will have better stories. it will still suck! but like, less than if you only have 1 guy writing right? thats not a novel concept artists know this writers know this thats why they work together. and i get that making tv is very complex and theres a lot of interests and a lot of choices being made that arent even to do with the stories but i find it so frustrating to think about how good doctor who could be if they let other people in to put their knowledge and their perspective in the stories

#and not just in the writing but in Every Department Obviously #i just dotn know how television is made so i dont know. like. what those are #the secret good disabled trans decolonialist doctor who that lives in my head man #like you know that feeling when an artist like...........Gets a certain theme or smth #like Knows what to do with it bc they have a certain own experience or knowledge #like when an artist truly fucking knows what theyre doing #you know that feeling? when youre like this SAYS something abt the theme/trope/idea/whatevs #you know?#doctor who is so full of unused potential #i feel like we're spinning our wheels a little bit #and maybe others feel that too bc showrunners keep being like WE NEED NEW SHOCK BIG NEW #but like. youre not gonna get that with the same old perspectives!#for truly new good refreshing you need some new good refreshing people on the mic #anyway. just. frustrates me #10 to the master but it's me to doctor who the show: you could be so much more!#like 13 and 15 are fun right? with the idk new outfit and the rwandan proverb on the sonic. fucks. but #to use rtds own words. ridiculous craven feeble gesture also a little bit. i want like. substantially good stories #i want to feel like the writer knows what theyre talking about you know?#you know that feeling #anyway #you get what im saying #the secret good doctor who that lives in my head man #except. it doesnt live in my head. bc it lives in many otherp eoples head. by definition #but sometimes i read like fic by friends who fucking Know things and im like damn #damn!!!!! doctor who could be so much better!!!!!!#i also think when youre a writer whos only a writer theres the risk of chasing your own tail a bit #in that th elonger youre a writer the more you only start writing about writing bc thats what you Know #i think thats a risk #also not a novel concept pretty sure professional writers are aware of that one gfhkjghgjg theyre not stupid

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casuallivi · 1 year

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The Midnight Kiss

Summary: When your future boyfriend appears with a girlfriend, that is not you, there’s nothing you can do but date her ex, right?...Right?

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 1: Feeling like general Dan in that one scene from Forest Gump

The expression “this party turned into a funeral” never made more sense to Elain than now.

“This is my girlfriend, Morrigan.” He announced with a satisfied grin, a possessive arm draped around Morrigan’s waist.

Pharrell Williams’ Happy blasted on the background, Nuala singing along awfully off pitch. Her choice of song would have been terribly funny had Elain not been feeling the floor swaying under her feet. The man cleared his throat oddly, and Elain realized she had not reacted to the news. It cost everything she had to get herself moving, to reach for the woman's stretched hand and say, “Nice to meet you.”

The words tasted sour in her tongue, bile threatening to rise up as the gorgeous blonde with blood red lips and killer features spoke, probably greeting her back, but Elain could not hear a word she was saying, the sound of her own heart shattering clogging her ears.

He got a girlfriend.

Cassian Marino, her handsome Greek god of a boss –actually, he was her boss’s boss– who she had a crush on since joining her new company, who had a playboy reputation, who was the biggest one-night-stand-only enthusiast she had ever met, who was extremely anti-dating, who ‘would not be caught dead with a girlfriend’ –his words, not hers– was now proudly calling a woman, who was not Elain, his girlfriend.

Elain eyed the woman Cassian called Morrigan, cataloging everything about her, from her perfect posture and educated manners to the gorgeous dress outlining her perfect body. Morrigan’s translucent pearl dress shimmed over her curves ending just above her ass, toned bronzed legs ending in high heels so thin she could use them as needles, impeccable pin straight beach blonde strands pulled over her left shoulder. A sense of familiarity downed on her, brown eyes nearly popping of their sockets when she connected the dots. It was her. His girlfriend was the model selected for last month's pictorial.

Beside her, Cassian shined simple by being his usual smiley handsome self, dressed in casual tee, cargo and flip flops combo, tying his shoulder-length hair back, the act highlighting every curve of his biceps and strong pectoral. He kissed the blonde’s neck and Elain turned back, beginning to remove her silly accessories.

She pushed the silly glittered glasses spelling 2022 inside the back pocket of her shorts –which where currently hidden under an even sillier pink tutu she found on the fantasy box. Why was it, that the model was the one overdressed to a casual party, and yet, somehow, Elain was the one who ended up feeling out of place? It was a karaoke party on Cerridwen’s backyard, for crying out loud! Why this one had to dress like a star attending the Grammys?

Elain considered herself a person with great self-esteem and a high sense of value, not once feeling jealous of the numerous models she photographed for the magazine in the last year. They were all gorgeous women with killer bodies that came out stunning after passing through her lenses, but Elain loved herself and admired her non-model curves all the same. Tonight was different. Tonight, she felt jealous of a model for the first time, cursing herself for not doing those daily squats to grow her butt a little as she said she would on her last year’s resolution…

“Hey, we match.” Cassian’s jolly voice reached her as he tugged his tee.

“Yeah,” Elain laughed awkwardly, hands quickly working to remove the bright red clown nose from her face. ’How fitting’. She thought bitterly.

On the front of her tee, there where two cartoonish sunflowers wearing sunglasses and hi-fiving, the phrase, “hey there, bud!”, written underneath; a twin to the one she gifted him on Secret Santa. On the rare occasions he appeared on the shooting site he made her thrilled. They formed a friendship based on the bad habit of exchanging terrible puns, making lots of inappropriate jokes. Elain thought they were closer than a priest and a choir boy backstage, so she purposefully ordered them matching white tees, knowing he would be tempted to use it on New Year’s Eve; the same day she intended to confess her feelings. Damn it.

His comment earned Morrigan’s attention, who looked at Elain with new interest, while the photographer was distracted, trying to pin a similarity between the two of them. They both had brown eyes and that was it. The problem was Elain’s turned terribly dull and extremely boring putting side by side with Morrigan’s shimmering ember ones. Elain wanted to groan. Life was bitch.

“I’m thirsty.” The model said, running a hand over Cassian’s chest.

“Come on, let’s grab you a drink.”

The couple bid her a quick farewell, Elain pouting as Cassian tow his girlfriend toward other party member, proudly presenting her to every single one of their coworkers and friends. She forced herself to stop watching, marching to the temporary stage, searching for fantasy box with more colorful accessories. Imaging dozens of fake scenarios where she was the one in his arms, she shimmed out of the pink tutu, throwing it inside with a little more strength than necessary, the box nearly tipping to the side.

“Let’s sing ABBA!” Nuala screeched, materializing behind her, beer slouching in Elain’s arms as she was swayed form side to side.

“Later. I need to go to the bathroom.” Elain tapped her friend and slipped away.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you.” Then she turned back and pointed at a man. “You! Let’s sing ABBA!”

Right now Elain didn’t give a flying carrot about ABBA, her mind busy replaying the same scene over and over again.

This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan.

She moved across the synthetic grass with robotic steps, sliding inside the house and finding the bathroom with pure muscle memory. Elain stared at her distressed image in the mirror, face flushed from dancing, golden glitter sparkling across her nose and cheeks, braid disheveled from the earlier singing session. Oh my god, she greeted Cassian’s hot girlfriend looking like a toddler high on sugar. Elain stuck her finger in her hair and pulled hard, groaning at her own inability to sit quiet and enjoy a gathering like a composed adult. Nooo, she just had to give into the karaoke and do a crazy redemption of “I Will Survive” because Nuala dared her to do it.

This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan. This is my girlfriend, Morrigan.

On her tiptoes she reached for the upper cabinet, searching blindly for the facial soap, working to remove the glitter with the help of cold water, then she moved to undo the braid, trying look a little more presentable. As she worked to untangle the hair, her anger was redirected from the model for being hot, to Cassian for being an ass and getting a girlfriend.

He said he didn't do girlfriends!

“Don’t do girlfriend my ass.”

Someone pounded on the door.

“Coming!”

Elain practiced an unbothered expression and a happy smile two more times and opened the door, a drunk girl darting by her straight to the toilet. Taking deep breaths she returned to the garden, choosing one of the jumble beanbags to sit on. Elain tried not to look at the couple, she really did, but her eyes kept betraying her and tracking everything they did. God, it was like she was a glutton for punishment.

“You are staring.”

He dropped himself beside her without ceremony, the sudden movement undulating the beanbag, Elain bracing herself on his leg by reflex. Damn, his thigh was solid as a rock. Elain collected her hand quickly, discreetly trying to put space between them.

Azriel sipped his drink side-eyeing her tee, then Cassian’s, judgment all over his usually stoic face.

“Planned a little number, I see.”

“It was a coincidence.” She denied a little too fast, blushing for getting caught.

Elain and the Managing Editor had never really clicked, Azriel getting on her nerves since the first day with his stoic expression and crude orders. Just because he was her boss didn’t mean he get to order her around all the time… well, it did, but he didn’t have to be so obnoxious about it. Most of her previous jobs where freelancer gigs, making Elain used to a certain degree of liberty that was brutally ripped from her hands once she signed an exclusivity contract with Marinos, Azriel being the responsible for destroying her old habits and put her line.

Elain usually did her best to hide her dislike for the he-devil who tormented her working days. She was actually surprise to see him here. Never in her wildest imagination she would picture their soulless manager hanging with his subordinates in a karaoke party on the last day of the year. He had never attendant one of the gathering she went to, all work and no play this one. Sometimes she wondered if he had a single fun bone in his body… probably not. Maybe he had no friends to hang out with. Knowing his terrible personality, that’s was probably the answer. She fought hard to control her evil smile.

Azriel’s short midnight hair was combed back, suit pants without a wrinkle in sight, freshly shined shoes matching the black button down with sleeves rolled to his elbows – the man was wearing all black, for New Year’s Eve. Gee. Elain scrunched her nose; he was the farthest thing from her type in this place. She liked her man carefree, with long hair and lewd jokes.

"Ten minutes for midnight, guys!" Cassian's voice boomed, then he kissed Morrigan red lips, making Elain’s stomach churn with jealousy.

It could have been her getting kisses and being adored by him. It should have been her. Sighing, she turned to ask Azriel what he wanted, only to catch him observing the same pair, hazel eyes flickering with the same emotion Elain had been trying to hide the whole night.

“Do you know her?” Her big fat mouth worked faster than her brain. She was curious about the look he was giving the couple, but she knew better than to try to start a conversation with Azriel.

“She modeled for us last month.” He spoke to her as if she was dumb.

See? This is why she didn't talk to him outside work.

“I meant before that. Did you already know her?”

“This industry isn’t really that big, Archeron.”

His sarcasm was not enough to hide the hint of emotional coming to light; annoyance, irritation, and deflection. Her senses prickled. My, my, would you look at that. He was totally deflecting.

“You're friends?” she probed.

“No.” This time his answer came with a harsh bite to it. “We are not friends.”

“You like her.” She decided triumphantly, a Cheshire’s smile stretching in her lips.

“I Like her,” he mocked her tone, making a hideous face. “What’s this? Seventh grade?”

“Oh, don’t patronize me, you know what I mean.”

“You mean like you ‘like’ my brother?” He emphasized the word like with a taunting end to it, whipping her smile.

"I don’t – what – I’m not – what,”

Elain tried to save her face, but Azriel only sneered at her mumbling, sipping his drink.

“Was I obvious?” she asked after a beat of silence.

“Painfully.”

“Ohmygod.” She groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Someone, please, open a hole and bury her in the earth, now.

“My brother is used to women swooning over him.”

“God, that makes it worse.”

“Relax. You’ll survive.” He mocked a tune, winking at her, making allusion to the music she sang earlier.

Wait a minute. Did Azriel Marino make a joke? What was going on? And why was he sitting here in the first place? Talking to her about non-work-related things, which he never did before? Clarity hit her like a truck. Jealousy. He must have recognized her jealousy, seeing the woman he was interested in the arms of another, his brother nonetheless. Empathy flooded inside her. People were the same when their hearts were broken.

“It’s fine, it was just a crush.” No, it wasn’t. She had been into him for a year. “I just have to like someone else, someone available for starts. Hey, that’s a good New Year’s resolution. Date someone who can take Cassian out of my mind!” Elain laughed nervously.

Just then Nuala passed by with hands full of small tubes containing confetti. She handed one to Elain and one to Azriel, blowing a plastic whistle on their faces.

“You surprise me Archeron. I didn’t know you can turn your feelings off that easily.” He commented when she was gone.

“I can’t, but I have to begin somewhere.”

Azriel only looked forward, Morrigan catching his eyes briefly, offering him a friendly smile as if she had not been in his bed the night before. He doesn't smile back. He can't bring himself to pretend his happy for this new development. Putting a green hat on his brother was not one of his proudest moment, but Azriel had always had difficulty in saying no to the pretty blonde dangling from Cassian’s arm. Ten years. Ten years he stayed in her call back and forth.

“I’m not ready for a relationship yet.”

“I finally booked my first runaway.”

“I need to focus on my career first.”

“You know I’m not seeing him anymore; what does it matter how we call ourselves if we are exclusive again?”

“I finally booked my first cover.”

Morrigan always had a new milestone to achieve, a new tittle to conquer. Azriel understood her, she was a career-driven woman, and he was really proud of her for everything she conquered, but he was also tired, so fucking tired of being played. Azriel truly loved one woman his entire life, a woman who said she loved him as well... Just not more than her career.

That’s why they broke up for the last time. He had enough when she was photographed with another man, this time in a cozy diner in Spain, her companion an indie movie director.

“That's sensationalism, you know that right? I was not in a date with this man. He offered me a role in his movie, acting Az! Can you imagine that, me as an actress?”

He said he was happy for her, but he did not want to continue in this relationship anymore.

“Are you breaking up with me?” She sobbed with tearful eyes.

“How can I break up with you if we never in a relationship?"

She cried and begged and promise to compromise. Azriel believed none of it, they had danced that same dance one too many times for him to have any faith. It was relationship doomed to end.

Now he was here, in a party he would not have attended in normal circumstances, guilty churn in his stomach. Maybe he should tell Cass about last night. Azriel saw Morrigan for the first time again a month ago when she was casted to appear in the cover of Marinos. He also saw the way his brother’s eyes lit up looking at her, heard all about his instant infatuation, about his Christmas proposal, about her saying yes to be his girlfriend, a yes, she never gave Azriel. He could solemn blame the excessive drinking for opening the door to her, letting her in. Deep down he knew whose fault it was.

His fault.

He was an idiot. And a idiot who blabbed when drunk. For fuck sakes, in a few minutes of conversation he practically admitted his feelings for his brother’s girlfriend to the woman who he had done nothing but fight in the last year.

Elain Archeron was a great photographer, a little green for the fashion industry, but her quick wit and capacity to adapt had taken the magazine quality to another level. She didn’t know this, but Azriel was the one who suggested his brother signed an exclusivity contract, despite their first Collab being a horror show. At the time they had hired her for a freelancer job, their photographer was in the hospital and they needed to reshoot the cover asap. Nuala, from advertisement, said she had a friend available, and so Azriel meet Elain. Her style was different from their usual, her creative process clashing with Azriel’s style and his aptitude to stick to the pre-established program. Elain was freestyler. He hated freestyle.

They clashed hard, so hard he screamed at her to do her job right, she screamed at him to take the stick out of his ass, and Nuala paled, thinking she would lose her job for recommending an explosive substitute. In the end Azriel ended up with a winter cover that went viral online, increasing their sales by 2,5%. Elain Archeron was a nasty thing with unruly hair and a questionable amount of overalls, but she did her job right. He could respect that. Azriel liked passionate people - even when they were crazy freestylers.

“You should do the same, you know.” Elain proposed, twisting the miniature confetti tube. “Why do they get to be all happy while we sit here mopping? No, no. Let’s break free from these chains of love.”

Elain stood up, making a victory fist. Her resolution was ready! She had a good job now, a stable job, she just needed to stop pinning for her unavailable boss, preferably by finding a boyfriend who loved her very, very, much, and everything would be perfect. Her new fantasies of world domination were shattered by Azriel’s throaty laughter.

He actually laughed at her. How dare him.

“I’m being serious.”

“Sure.” Azriel said.

“I am! Stay there pinning for you crush if you want, but I will find myself a lover.”

“A lover?”

“A lover.”

“Oh, and pray tell how you intent to do that?”

Elain paused. Good question. How did she intended to do that?

“One minute for midnight!” Someone yelled, lighting a lamp in her brain.

Every good New Year’s resolution starts at midnight. Elain sat again, smirking at Azriel.

"When the clock strike midnight, I'll leave this old pinning Elain behind and make out with the first man that looks my way." She announced puffing her chest.

"And how would that work exactly? You think you'll fall in love with the first guy you kiss after spending years pinning from my brother?"

Years? Elain frowned. She had only known Cassian for a year. Besides, his words sound a little too harsh and bitter for her taste.

"I don't know.” She said carefully. “Maybe, maybe not. But it will be a start. I have to start somewhere. You can’t expect to change your life doing the same thing you always did.”

Silence stretched between them, but Elain’s attention was snagged to the ‘ten seconds before midnight’ counting starting.

[…]

Three,

Two,

“Okay.” Azriel said quietly as the counting reached ‘one’.

Fireworks, confetti, cheers, and wishes of “happy new year” exploded everywhere, yet Elain didn’t feel festive at all. As she watched Cassian deep his girlfriend and give her a sinful kiss, Elain felt more like general Dan in that one scene from Forest Gump; frozen in perpetual agony while everyone else celebrated around her. Was this what torture felt like?

Elain was so busy drowning in self-pity she didn’t notice Azriel's decision until it was too late, a decision that would change both their lives forever, because he went and did the most unbelievable and inexplicable thing in the story of the universe. Azriel, the man who she constantly butted head with, placed both hands on her face and planted a kiss on her lips.

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