life by the pint

Noir subgenres

- Fantasy noir: Pour another one, Joe. My dragon left me for some clean-shaven cape-wearing foreign hero with an accent so thick you could hear the fake passport in his voice.

- Existential noir: these are mean streets to have an empty life in, kid. Thinkers nurse a hangover from their disgust of life for fifty years then roll over and die. This is how we run things in our city. Play it again, will you.

- Southern Gothic Noir: look at yourself, boy. They’ve got names for people who carry the Bible like that. They’ve got names for everything around here. And if you don’t get it the first time the walls will whisper it back to you.

– Noir Mythology: She was a priestess at some local temple. One of those temple only people who pray for a pint of bourbon and a life insurance go to. And she had a face that meant trouble, make no mistake. But not after Zeus turned her into a cow. Not after Zeus turned her into a cow.

- Noir meta-Shakespeare: Characters like us, Horatio. We weren’t born to grow old and mean. We faff around, we mix a stiff one, and then we die. But when we die, we die hard and we make sure we bring the whole damn city down with us.

- Noir Milton: Heaven looked high class from fifty feet away but from five feet away it looked like the kind of place meant to be seen from fifty feet away. Stay there long enough you get a double pint of Hell’s Bells. Real hell is my business now. Real hell is how I make my nickel.

- Noir William Blake: She was the sort of tiger a bishop would paint crosses on his front door against. You can’t tell anything from tigers like that. She could have had the sheriff in the back room. She could have been making millions. But you could tell she burned bright in all the right places. Oh, she burned bright all right.

- Noir Dylan Thomas: Alright, old man. Amateur hour is over. You go down kicking and screaming or you don’t go down at all, you get my meaning?

- Noir Keats: Outside, the Autumn smelled of politics: it asked only for the highest types of men and had nothing to offer them but bleating lambs and the song of crickets. The sort of autumn that shares his smokes and his wife with the maturing sun. “I don’t like Spring,” the kid said. “That’s all right, sonny boy. I ain’t selling it.”

- Noir Edgar Allan Poe: You could tell from the way he sauntered in the bird meant business. He had the kind of beak that could drive a nail through your forehead. Didn’t string more than two words together but he knew all the right ones all the same. He knew which ones stung. “I don’t want no birds in my room,” I said, loud enough for hell to hear. But birds like that don’t just scram. Birds like that stick to you like a bad divorce from a Hollywood diva.


“I do have the ability to explore life and to be over the moon at the smallest thing - a few pints and a craic in the pub and I’m in heaven. But I have a melancholy side to me as well. Acting allows me to feel things, it kind of buys me human experience. And I don’t mean this as acting as higher cause, because it’s not, but it does kind of have a higher awareness emotionally.”


I do have the ability to explore life and to be over the moon at the smallest thing - a few pints and a craic in the pub and I’m in heaven. But I have a melancholy side to me as well. Acting allows me to feel things, it kind of buys me human experience. And I don’t mean this as acting as higher cause, because it’s not, but it does kind of have a higher awareness emotionally.


Anova stuff! Captain Buo, one of Rajenlo’s oldest. She’s extremely by-the-book and responsible, a little destructively so, she tends to be really firm but well-intentioned though she loses her temper with Bri (Buo had trained most of her life to be a chalkurite baron and when Pint got assigned to Bri she got SUPER pissed) Buo is a lynx caste and can induce command aura through pheromones (ie. like making Bri keel over at her whim to stop her from being a smartass) + Pint going nuclear demigod out of anger it seems.

I wish we’d stop telling each other - and ourselves - that there’s a point at which we’re too old for fandom.

I spent every year from 14 to 25 telling myself that eventually I’d grow out of fandom: I would get too old to cosplay and I would write my own original stories instead of ‘just’ fanfiction.  After all, adults don’t write fanfic and adults don’t make costumes for themselves.  Adults get married and have kids and make costumes for their kids and write real stories and get published.

I’m 32 now and I’ve realized I’m probably never leaving fandom. I like cosplaying and I can’t wait until I’m old enough to pull off movie!Elrond without aging makeup; I love writing fanfiction. It’s how I absorb and interact with media I enjoy, and I’m happy here.

I now see the pressure I put on myself for what it was: internalized misogyny and buying into the adulting narrative of the generations before us millennials.  But that narrative still continues, telling the current crop of teens - especially female-bodied teens - that at some point they must put down their fun and focus on their careers, focus on growing up, get married, get promotions, have kids, and sacrifice their enjoyment for their family or their salary.

When I see teens talking about how they want adults to get out of fandom as a whole*, I see teens telling themselves they have to get out of fandom, that they’d feel pathetic if they were 30 and still writing fanfic, that they believe their days of fun are numbered.  I see them projecting their own expectations out on the people around them, and it makes me sad to see they feel like they have to stop someday.

Adulting isn’t just doing bills and chasing a life partner: it also isn’t just the right to decide to eat a pint of ice cream for dinner or grocery shopping for 37 frozen pizzas because why not. It’s also getting to decide what you spend your free time on with no restraint. It’s the right to fandom until the end of your life, or not.

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Big ol' prayer request

So it would appear I have hemochromatosis. It means I have an overabundance of iron in my blood.

Having too much iron damages your organs and if left untreated can be fatal. But!! If caught and treated early, you can go on to lead a full life.

The treatment is kind of unfortunate though. You have to get a pint of blood drawn once (or more, depending on the severity) a week until your numbers go back down to normal. After that, you get the blood drawn every few months.

You have to have your iron levels carefully monitored and have periodic phlebotomy sessions for the rest of your life.

I don’t know how long I’ve had it, or if any damage has been done to my organs. I’m really scared.

Please pray that we caught it early and i can live a full life. Better yet, pray for a miracle.

At times you come across people in Tolkien fandom who seem to think Éowyn’s ending, her becoming the Princess of Ithilien and marrying Faramir, is somehow not a good conclusion to her story. To tell you the truth I often I get the feeling it’s because people are projecting what they want her to be instead of observing what her motivations actually are and what is her storyline. In good part, her marrying Faramir and moving to live in Ithilien being somehow a lacking ending seems to stem from this idea that’s prevalent in a lot of fiction that you can only be strong and badass and worthwhile if you’re this mighty soldier type who slays left and right. In this point of view, being - or becoming - soft and kind and committing yourself to healing doesn’t bring much glory, and thus it must be a bad ending especially for a woman. I guess it’s inevitable in this age when films and tv seem to be striving to create the ultimate epic scene with maximum drama and huge explosions all around.

Which is really against what Tolkien is about. In the core of his story, what his heroes are fighting for, is the celebration of the simple and quiet life. Yes, Tolkien describes some massive battles, but they are not the endgame (Frodo and Sam are), and they are not what the story really is about. Tolkien’s heroes are not heroes because they strive for glory - they achieve greatness because they do what they must, sometimes even at a great personal cost. Éowyn doesn’t become a hero because she rode to the Pelennor fields - she’s a hero because she tries to protect her beloved uncle against an overwhelming enemy. Another notable instance of Tolkien’s described heroism are those four little hobbits coming to save the world not because they are great and powerful, but because they are trying to save their Shire and their seemingly small way of life.

And why does Éowyn go to the battlefield before the walls of Minas Tirith? It’s because she’s so full of despair, because she feels caged in her life, and because she thirsts for the idea of glory in battle (which makes sense, considering Rohirrim are a warrior people). It’s also the idea of glory that she loves in Aragorn. But though she wins the greatest renown in the Battle of Pelennor fields when she slays the Witch-king, she doesn’t feel any less empty when she wakes up in the Houses of Healing. War doesn’t end her unhappiness, and how could it, anyway? Only when she starts to seek peace and a life of healing does she find a way out of her despair. And that is a beautiful thing in itself. The ending of Sauron doesn’t mean that she spends rest of her days in idleness. It’s told Ithilien has long been neglected and parts of it are stained by Sauron and his servants. But together with Faramir, Éowyn settles down there and wishes to become a healer in a land that needs just that: healing. And who can understand it better than her? She went into darkness but came back and was healed. As such, Éowyn has an unique perspective to mending what has been broken by and in war.

I think a lot of people who live now don’t really understand where Éowyn comes from and what her change of heart signifies – what it means that she desires to put aside the sword and tend to living things. Tolkien was a veteran of the First World War and he had seen what war could be. He saw the other side of the idea of battle glory. But in later years he took pleasure in nature and simple joys of life, be it a pipe or a pint of good beer. He even stated he’s a hobbit in all but size. In my opinion, this is very telling if you consider Éowyn’s character.

And this is also where, I think, one of the things Lord of the Rings draws its beauty and its bittersweet spirit. It is also another way in which Tolkien’s legendarium is unique not just in fantasy genre. This is a story that, in the end, celebrates the value of peace and good, simple things in life, but at the same time it shows just how fragile they are and how easily they can be lost. Tolkien had witnessed this intimately, both in his personal life and in a larger scale. In fact, if you consider Éowyn’s character arc as a whole you might argue she gets one of the happiest endings in the entire story. Éowyn begins as this dissatisfied, shut-in-herself, trapped person whose despair grows so bad that it becomes a deathwish. However, after her ordeals she gets to heal, to leave behind her despair and darkness. She learns to understand herself and her feelings, and she rediscovers the joy of living. She doesn’t need glory any more to validate herself. She goes to live in a beautiful, rich land where she can work to make it better not just for herself but others, too. She gets to love a wonderful man who returns her feelings, and she is given a chance to be a part of rebuilding the world. How this can be considered a “poor ending” for her, I will never know.

Éowyn deserves happiness, and that is exactly what Tolkien gives her, never mind people who think a woman’s story can’t be valid and good if she marries a man and settles down to live a life of peace.

Infinity Times

a/n: I made a deal with @midnigtartist for every space themed Taz drawing she’d do I’d write a drabble so here we are. Some lyrics/ theme inspired by Sun from Sleeping at Last. Here is Lup.
Summary: Lup goes through with her and Barry’s Lich initiation. She had underestimated the strain she forced herself into, her mind spirals as she desperately clings to the most important moments in her life. The moments that made her feel alive, all the while her lover and brother wait for her.

Lup had no fears.

At least that’s what she told herself. Fear meant there was a moment she was unsure of herself. Unsure of her own prowess and if she allowed herself that moment of uncertainty…then someone would pay. Lup wouldn’t let anyone she loved pay for her uncertainties. She learned while being wild, young and on the run with her brother that life takes away so much. Family, home, security but Lup stopped worrying about the things life took and focused on the things love gave her. A twin whom she loved more than life itself, a boy she wanted to love for all her life, a group of friends that made up for a lifetime of dead-end family.

These bonds she built here, they built here. Were perfectly woven into her heart with golden strings. It was why she slept easy the night before her normal life would end. She slept well also knowing Taako would sleep none. He took on the burden of her woes, making an itemized list of what could go wrong and how many backup plans it would take to fix it. It was what he did best. Taako would weasel himself out of anything, death would be no different.

The morning came and Lup faced the day with a zeal, a glow to her as anticipation crippled most she pushed on.  She was doing this for something bigger than herself, which was how she was raised. Perhaps it was also the idea she had no idea what was going to happen. She had a rough understanding of the ritual but what to feel and expect were all just up in the air.

When the moment came, at dusk, she and Barry stood in front of the whale tooth ontop of the hill she felt it. The first wave of worry not for her, no she felt more than ready to handle anything. But Barry, her Barry, sweet Barry…she wondered how this task would weigh on him. Over the time they had been together, both officially and not, he had changed. What was once a weak willed constitution was replaced by something sturdier but even then she couldn’t help but worry for her bespectacled sweetheart. With a kiss she eased her worry and perhaps his, pulling away with a hand lingering on his cheek.

“You Ready?” She looked into his eyes and felt another nerve rip through her. If he wanted out, she would too. She’d back out for Barry…perhaps…she wanted to back out now too. “A-Are you sure you’re gonna be able to keep it together once you turn?”

Without hesitation Barry nodded, “Yeah” he smiled. “I got this.”  

There was a moment where Lup’s mind went blank. She didn’t remember what happened to her or what it looked like when Barry and her entered the runed circle. They touched hands and Barry channeled something strong. The moment she picked up on this spike of arcane power coming off him, the world went black.

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Imagine having a bad day and Chris comforting you.

“Babe, I’m home.” Chris called out to you as he entered the front door. Silence filled the air instead of the usual sounds; like you calling “welcome home!” or “I’m in here!” from the kitchen or the living room, and Dodger’s scuttling feet as he sprinted to greet his best friend at the door. “Y/N?” He called again as he locked and turned away from the front door.

He knew you were home because you had texted him a couple hours ago- when he’d just started his photo shoot for Vogue’s November cover- telling him you’d finished at your dessert bar and was headed home. That, and he saw your car in the driveway and your keys on the table by the front door.

You had heard him come in but was too physically and emotionally tired to answer him. You knew he was going to find you eventually; just like he was going to find the article eventually, and the mean tweets and Instagram posts from his fans. You never usually allowed things like that to bother you because you knew what being with an actor meant, but after a long day, your tolerance had decreased significantly.


Judging by the distance of his voice, he was in the living room and would soon find you in the kitchen. You were sitting on the cold hardwood floor, behind the marble bar counter with Dodger, as well as a pint of cookie dough ice-cream and a spoon; you had the tendency to turn to food when you were upset.

“There are my two biggest loves,” Chris entered the kitchen’s threshold with a wide smile that faded when you looked up. “Hey,” his brows furrowed with concern at your tired eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You simply shook your head because after years of being together, he knew you well enough to answer that question himself.

“Alright.” He lowered himself onto the floor next to you; he shuffled as close to you as possible then lifted his arm and wrapped it around you. “C'mere boo bear,” he cooed, hoping he’d draw a smile from you; he didn’t. “Is it work?” He asked gently, watching as you spooned more ice-cream into your mouth. “Did you have another asshole walk into the shop? Tell me who it is and I’ll fight ‘em. I don’t care if it’s a boy girl man or woman I will fight ‘em,” he asserted fiercely without punctuation. “Let’s go right now, I’ll drive to their house-”

“Stop,” you chuckled softly, pushing him back down before he got to his feet; he smiled because his bid cracked you. “I’m fine, okay? It’s nothing, it’s just that-” You stopped yourself and huffed, “nothing.”

His eyes narrowed at your behavior then he remembered the call he got from Anne, his publicist, wanting to give him, and you a heads up; she had found a few upsetting articles, and fan reactions regarding his recent engagement with you. He heaved a sigh when he realized that was what must have been upsetting you.

“Did you happen to pass the magazine rack while you were at the grocery store?” He asked. “Or maybe go on Twitter and Instagram?”

“No,” you mumbled sheepishly.

“Sweetheart,” he chuckled and squeezed you tightly against him, pressing his lips to your hair. “How many times do I have to tell you to avoid that crap?”

“I’m usually fine with it,” you defended yourself. “In fact- I enjoying reading and laughing at articles like that, as well as the fan reactions and memes they make. It is- crazy funny to me.”

“Not when you’re tired,” he shook his head. “You know what you’re like after a long day, you should know better than to burden yourself with that bullshit.”

“How am I meant to avoid it when we’re headlining?” You frowned. “We are literally on every cover. Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N recently engaged but already on the rocks, will they make it to the alter?” You recited the headline for him and he sighed. “Some of your little fan girls even found me at the shop, they were-” you stopped yourself before you cussed out fifteen year olds.

“Okay,” he gently rubbed your arm and you ate another spoonful of ice-cream. “You’re going to try and take a breath. Come on, in and out.”

You rolled your eyes and mockingly did as he instructed, drawing light laughter from him. You poked your spoon into your ice-cream and played it with, upset with the media and fans, and yourself for letting it bother you.

“Y/N, who cares what people think?” He asked rhetorically. “Are we on the rocks? No,” he answered before you could. “I have never been happier. They are judging us and our relationship when they know nothing about either. They are basing their whole article on one photo, a photo that has zero content.”

You remembered that day the photo was taken, the two of you were having dinner at the restaurant Jack’s Place. It was all smiles and laughter until you got a phone call from your brother about your nephew who got into a car accident and had been admitted into the hospital. The two of you wanted to rush home so the next flight out to Australia could be booked, but the paps surrounded you and Chris the second they spotted you leaving the restaurant. They blocked the path to his car and drowned the two of you with stupid questions. Of course both of you looked upset.

“So why are you letting it bother you?” He chuckled. “We both know why we looked upset and it had nothing to do with us as a couple.”

“I know but-”

“Let it go,” he chuckled and took the spoon from you with one hand and scooped while you held the pint. “You know I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If the ring on your finger isn’t big enough to remind you of that then- let’s go back to Tiffany’s,” he teased and you giggled. “Screw all of 'em, because as long as we’re happy with each other, who cares what the public thinks? Our opinions are what matters here, not theirs.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “I’ve already struck the lottery with you, I shouldn’t be greedy about the little things.” You leaned your head against his chest and Dodger nuzzled his head under your hand. “I’m happy here and that’s what’s important. Plus-” you chuckled, “the important ones have already given their approval.”

“Your grandfather hasn’t.” He reminded you and chuckled when you groaned. “I know he likes me but- I don’t know if he wants to see me with you for the rest of your life.” He lowered the pint onto the floor. “I think he thinks you’re too young for me.”

“We’re only twelve years apart.”

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “But I’m not too worried, he’s dated his fair share of younger women so he doesn’t really have a moral high ground.”

“Oh my God.” You burst into laughter and he did the same as you pulled away from him and sat up straight. “Don’t you dare say that in front of him,” you turned and told Chris, chuckling. “Because he will shoot you and no one will be able to stop him.” He laughed harder, doing his signature 'left boob grab’ and you smiled, wondering how you got so lucky with him.

“I know I’m stupid but I’m not that stupid,” he said then chuckled when you did. “Do you want to go to bed?” He beckoned his head in the direction of the stairs. “It’s getting pretty late and we’ve got another long day tomorrow.”

You leaned in and pressed your lips against his, kissing him tenderly but passionately. He smiled and kiss you back, letting his arm snake around your waist. He tasted like you did; of cookie dough ice-cream. His beard scratched your face but you were so used to it that it didn’t bother you anymore. Your hand moved up to his neck and your thumb brushed his jawline as he deepened the kiss. His other hand moved under your knees and he lifted you onto his lap, not once breaking away from the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, humming softly against his lips. You broke the kiss to catch your breath and you heard him audibly whined as he leaned forward to catch your lips again. You chuckled softly then pressed your forehead against his, gazing deeply into his pretty blues.

“I love you,” you whispered and watched his smile reach his eyes.

“And I love you,” he whispered back and you felt your own smile reach your eyes.

Full Moon Wish Spell

This is a lovely little spell that will harness the energy of the moon for whatever purpose you wish. Or you can cast this to help bring something unexpected into your life. All you need is:

• A clear jar, at least a pint in size
• Pure water
• A silver coin
• A bell
• A white or silver candle

You’ll have to do this spell at night where you can have a clear view of the moon. It can be through a window if necessary but doing it outside is better.

Fill the jar with water and light your candle near where you are doing the spell. Sit under the moon and enjoy it’s bright light for a few minutes. Then drop the coin into the jar. Let the water settle until it’s smooth again and sit so that the reflection of the moon in the water seems to sit right on the coin. You might have to move around for this.

Gaze at the reflection and the coin together, and ring the bell three times. Speak your wish out loud, or just ask the moon to bring you some general good fortune. Bring everything back indoors and leave the coin in the water jar until the next full moon, or until you feel your wish has been granted.