The Most Beautiful Man In The World, Who Lives In My Building And Only Ever Sees Me When I Look Disgusting
The Most Beautiful Man In The World lives in my building. i don’t know his name. we met on a bus, when i smiled WAY too brightly at him for strangers because, honest to god, my whole heart lit up in a way that made me think, “oh, i must know that guy!!” no. i didn’t. he’s just The Most Beautiful Man In The World.
what does The Most Beautiful Man In The World look like? i will tell you:
like the way the sun spills over water at dusk
like the way food smells when you’re hungry
like the sound angels make when they’re doing folk covers of pop songs on their heavenly harps
and also kind of like the guy who played Chad in “high school musical,” if the guy who played Chad in “high school musical” was the most beautiful man in the world.
i tell you this not only to brag that i live in the same apartment complex as The Most Beautiful Man In The World but also because i want to know WHY, if there even IS A GOD, every single time i run into The Most Beautiful Man In The World i look like a LITERAL DUMPSTER TROLL that has just CRAWLED OUT OF ITS GARBAGE HOUSE in search of FREE WIFI AND A SLURPEE. i want to know why i can never just BE COOL with The Most Beautiful Man In The World when we ride the elevator together, which is!!!! kind of often!!!!!
DID YOU GUYS KNOW that sometimes i look nice?? sometimes i actually look like a FUNCTIONING ADULT!!! sometimes i would go so far as to say i am an ATTRACTIVE INDIVIDUAL!!!!!
you know who DOESN’T know any of that???
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MAN IN THE WORLD, WHO LIVES IN MY BUILDING!!!
here’s a quick rundown of the last few times i ran into The Most Beautiful Man In The World:
i was wearing a maxi dress i had very cleverly biked home in, without a helmet* (*don’t try that at home, kids), in the VERY HOT AFTERNOON SUN, so i was a GROSS SWEAT MONSTER but without any OBVIOUS INDICATOR that there was a normal reason for it, and i couldn’t stand to look at him so i just glared at my phone while he probably wondered, alarmed, whether i was fleeing the scene of a crime
i was wearing a white shirt that i had not SECONDS before spilled salsa ALL OVER in a big red stain right down the front like a KINDERGARTNER
i was carrying two armfuls of ENORMOUS bags of popcorn with a three musketeers bar literally in my mouth and he overheard me say through my stuffed candy cheeks to my doorman, “oh, no, i’m not having a party, this is literally all for me”
i dropped my backpack while opening my mail and said to it, defeatedly, “why? why did you do that when i explicitly told you not to? do you like being on the floor?”
i fell into and then off of the elevator
why??? why does this happen??? what vengeful god has orchestrated it so the ONLY TIMES i ever run into The Most Beautiful Man In The World are when i could easily be mistaken for a child’s doll that has been put through the wash by accident, or a dollar bill that has been stained by years of being in people’s sweaty palms, or a mop with eyes???
whatever. everything costs money and everyone you love disappoints you. Mop Eyes out.
so maleficent is the good fairy here, right, and the three
fairies are the bad ones, so like fae do they each appear to be what they’re
not. and aurora, given fae gifts and raised by fae, is nearly fae herself.
maleficent knows that only an elf could hope to sway a fae heart, because elves
are impervious to their glamour. maleficent kidnaps the young prince philip,
and brings him to the elven realm. she tries to bargain a prince for a prince,
but the king is unswayed. a human prince, he declared, is only worth an elvish
servant, so that’s what she gets.
maleficent takes the servant and puts him in philip’s place,
gives him that name, and watches as the servant elf is made a prince among
mortals, watches as he eventually captures aurora’s heart, and saves her from
her living death. watches as the elf servant turned prince becomes a king, as
the almost-fae princess aurora becomes queen, and their two kingdoms become one
and they rule the land of men together.
this, of course, begs the question – what happens to our
dear human philip?
he is not the first child that has been bargained away to
the elves, and elf queen thalia settles the young boy on her hip and raises an
eyebrow at her husband, waiting. the child awakens by degrees, until he’s
clutching her neck and blinking at the gathered elves. thalia is only grateful
that he hasn’t started screaming, like so many of his kind do.
normally the children that are bargained to them are put to
work in the castle, where they’re safe, where their clumsiness and their
ignorance and their mistakes will be glossed over, where she and the king will
ensure they will be politely ignored rather than harassed. they’ve lost a
servant boy, and so she’s sure a servant boy is what this young human is meant
except a woman of the court steps forward, and she’s old,
old enough that it shows, that her curly hair has gone silver and wrinkles are
etched deep in her face. lady ember is older than the forests they reside in,
is older than her grandmother, than her great grandmother. everyone’s lost track
of her exact age, but she’s the oldest elf in village. thalia likes her – she and
lady ember have skin of the same dark shade. thalia hopes that if she is to
live long enough, she and lady ember would look alike.
“i would like the child,” she says, eyes like amber, and for
the moment she appears younger than she ever has. there’s something eager in
her, and it brings a life to her that thalia hasn’t seen in a long time.
thalia looks to her husband, and king celedor gives a
minuscule twitch to his lip which is an equivalent to a shrug. she sets the
young human on the ground, and ember holds out a single hand. the child looks
behind him, then in front him, and takes cautious steps forward. he steps until
he can take her hand, his own looking small and pale in hers. “it’s been a long
time since i was able raise a child,” ember says, “i would like to do so again.
will you come home with me?”
and thalia understands. elf children take many hundreds of
year to mature, and ember would not risk dying on a child before it could take
care of itself. but humans are candles that burn at both ends – hot, and fast.
within a decade or two the child in front of them will be able to survive on
his own, will not need lady ember to coddle him for centuries.
he nods, and finally opens his mouth to say, “i am philip.”
“hello philip,” lady ember smiles, “i am lady ember of the mother
tree. now you are lord philip of the ember tree.”
they are elves. they don’t do something as gauche as gasp,
but the sentiment comes out just the same. celedor’s mouth drops open a millimeter
and thalia’s right index finger twitches. raise a human child like a beloved
pet they could all understand – but to adopt one, to truly adopt one that she’d
just met and didn’t know and bequeath to him the estate and title the noble name
of the mother tree?
lady ember leads her new son away, and the gathered elves
can do nothing but stare.
prince elion – eli, to everyone who doesn’t want the prince
of the elves nursing a personal grudge against them – comes home in the dead of
night, when he can slip past the guards and the fawning people on the street
and sneak into the royal quarters.
“mother,” he greets as he enters the library. his father
sleeps early, but his mother doesn’t go to bed until nearly dawn. he kneels by
her side, and she runs a hand through his hair, tugging the leather tie off
when it gets in her way. his mass of dark curly hair tumbles around his head,
and as he shakes it out leaves other debris fall out. thalia sighs, but doesn’t
remark on it.
“your hunt went well?” she asks, although she knows the
answer. eli is one of the best hunters in the kingdom, and his hunting parties –
comprised of the strongest and best among the noble families – are notoriously
he grins, teeth extra white against his skin, “of course,
mother. did anything interesting happen while i was away?”
“the faerie maleficent came and bargained away a human
prince,” she says, “she wanted you in return. your father gave her a servant
eli laughs, too loud and boisterous, in a way he would never
allow himself to laugh around his father or his subjects.
philip thinks perhaps he should be screaming, or crying, or
causing some sort of fuss about this new life and this old woman who insists
she’s his mother now. but he’s never had a mother before, and this new place is
beautiful. they live in palace carved out of an enormous tree – the mother tree
that their name comes from – and philip is given a lot more freedom as an elf
lordling than he was as a prince.
he hopes the boy who took his place is nice to his father,
and doesn’t mind long evenings with only the servants for company. being a
prince can be very lonely. he knows from experience.
ember gives him rooms and toys, but warns him that he has a
lot of work ahead of him. as a human, he’s at a severe disadvantage here at the
elf court. elves are faster than humans, stronger and smarter and wiser. “it
sounds to me,” philip says, “that maybe they’re just older. if i had hundreds
of years, I could be all those things too.”
ember’s eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, and he returns it.
philip knows hard work. he was set to rule a whole nation,
was set to lead whole armies. he knows training and learning and patience.
learning to become an elf lord seems like it will be a lot easier than being a
lady ember and her servants are harsh, but fair. in their
home, in the mother tree, he is a pampered lord. out of it, however – he acquires
many scars from training, from falling and failing. ember and her staff run him
ragged into the ground, because he must be able to keep up with elves.
they have hundreds and hundreds of years to practice, to
become strong and smart and fast. philip doesn’t have that long, so his mother
forces him to do more, train harder, learn faster than would be expected of any
so he learns. the first time he beats his trainer at an
archery competition, he feels a swell of pride like nothing he’s felt before.
as he inches his way to the level of his teachers, and then surpasses them, the
they’ve always been kind to him. but as his skill grows,
they come to respect him, and that’s far more valuable.
eli hears of the human that lady ember of the mother tree
took as her own – of course he does, it’s all anyone can talk about. but he
doesn’t actually get a chance to see the boy, because lady ember keeps him safe
on her lands, in her tree that none of them dare trespass on. so he assumes,
like many, that she keeps him coddled and safe, away from those who would seek
him harm, away from a world that would seek him harm.
then, two decades from when she gave young philip her name,
lady ember finds him at court. she tilts her head, and he bows. he may be
higher in rank, but he was raised to respect his elders, and lady ember is
certainly that. “prince eli,” she says, “your next hunt is coming up, isn’t it?”
“yes, my lady,” he answers, wondering if she has a request.
he doesn’t mind tracking down a certain type of meat or pelt for her – he likes
the challenge, and likes lady ember.
she smiles at him, and for some reason he feels as if he’s staring
into the jaws of a dragon. “excellent. might my son join you? he grows bored of
hunting on his own.”
the last thing in the world eli wants to do is keep an eye
on a bumbling, spoiled human. but this human is also the lord of the mother
tree, and he can think of no response that wouldn’t bring his mother’s wrath
down on his head. “of course, lady ember.”
You will come upon people who are a wolf in sheeps clothing,
And you will meet people who are sheep in wolves clothing.
My darling what’s so beautiful about you, is that you bare your heart on your sleeve and you wear your mind like a crown.
You are neither a sheep nor a wolf, you are a brutally soft woman with the courage of a lioness.
In a world full of the unadorned, you have always been deeply unparalleled.
indieluhv, “Unorthodox has never looked so beautiful”
“Her favorite book is actually the story [Belle]’s going to live,” Lin-Manuel Miranda added. “So there’s this crazy bit of foreshadowing that’s happening, but it’s also that interrupting your thought to say how excited you are, is the kind of sophisticated, character-revealing lyric writing that [lyricist and Menken collaborator] Howard Ashman was so good at.”
i have fallen out of love with my art, or else she has fallen out of love with me. how pretty she was outside, when she touched every part of me. how selfish i was to kiss her, to take her in. i should have enjoyed her slowly. there had been so much hiding between her shoulder blades and i devoured her in wolfbites. or else i was never hers. i know this, logically. she loves others so easily. but i always feel special when she honors me. if she honors me, and doesn’t just fuck me. what i’m saying is nothing i write is beautiful and i can’t stop thinking you didn’t mean it when you kissed me. what i’m saying is that you’re beautiful and now my writing looks ugly. what i’m saying is that i’m worried anything i write won’t be good enough to look at. the ink is gone. don’t come for me.
What does the average person think of when they think of Arthurian legend? The new Beauty and the Beast movie has Belle smirk when she sees Beast reading Malory. “It’s a romance,” she says – but whose? Arthur’s and Guinevere’s? Guinevere’s and Lancelot’s? Tristan’s and Isolde’s? Gawain’s and his bed? I know everyone thinks of “knights” but which knights?
And when Belle said the line, did she know romance didn’t really mean a love story? I mean, it could! But it also could just mean it’s about adventure! And Belle “want[s] adventure in the great wide somewhere.” Which adventure does she want? A Grail quest? The Knight in the Cart? Which one?
And did Belle know that Arthurian legend is a tragedy? So when she’s flirting with the Beast, does she realize that she’s basically flirting with a romance that only ends in tears? Is Gaston Mordred?
What romance does every non-medievalist think she’s mentioning?
My darling, you can’t see it, can you? How like the moon you are. Both of you so timid in yourselves; hiding pieces from the world. Then there are those rare moments when you both are full, and it becomes hard to look away. You are beautiful.
Is it just me or Magnus' I love you too sounds like he is still in disbelief that Alec loves him?
When you look back at it, it was always clear that Magnus already knew that he loved Alec. And I think he was for a moment really taken aback when Alec told him that he loved him. I mean look at Magnus’ expression. He stares at Alec like…. wait what?! I somehow can’t shake off the thought that when Alec started talking he actually feared that Alec might break up with him. Instead he confesses his love to Magnus. Magnus then silently shakes his head, trying to let these words sink into him in utter disbelief before saying “I love you, too” back to Alec in such a calm and composed way like it is the most obvious thing in the world. And to Magnus it is. Because as I said, he already knew it a long, long time ago.
Prompt: Y/N’s life with Lin, told through her ever-changing hair color.
Pairing: Lin x reader
A/N: I want to say thanks to my beta, Sarah (@how-could-i-do-this) <3! Go over and send her some love, she helped me out so much! I hope you guys enjoy!
Lin stands at the threshold of the bathroom door, silent.
You run a shaky hand through your hair, unsettled over the new length. Your once waist-length blonde hair was now cropped, reaching right below your chin. You turn to face him, ignoring his sunken and watery eyes, and smile.
“Well? Do you like it?”
He stares at you for a bit longer, scanning your face.
You playfully pout and bring your hands to your hips. “Lin.”
He snaps out of it and reaches for you, bringing you into his arms. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
You giggle and kiss his cheeks. “Good, I’m glad you like it. I finally have an excuse to experiment on some new looks.”
His arms tighten around you and he says nothing.
“H-here?” Lin whispers as you tug him into the costume closet at the Richard Rodger’s Theatre.
“Yup,” you reply, popping the ‘p’.
You push him against the door once you close it, enjoying the surprised look on his face. “Here’s to opening night,” you whisper, pressing your lips against his.
He chuckles, hands burrowing into your bright red hair, and returns the kiss. “To opening night,” he murmurs against your lips.
His eyebrows comically shoot up towards his forehead when you slide down to your knees.
You make sure you hold his gaze when you unbuckle his belt.
“Let’s make sure it’s a memorable one.”
You tie the red ribbon around your braided hair, pleased at how your lilac tresses complimented your skin. You wrap your green scarf around your neck, completing your cosplay for Bulma, your favorite character from Dragon Ball Z.
You twist and turn in front of your mirror, admiring how nicely the crop top shirt and yellow shorts hug your frame.
Lin whistles when he enters. “Looking good,” he sings.
He joins you in front of the mirror, dressed in a pink button-up shirt and khaki pants. You suppress your giggle when you inspect his hair, his short locks practically defying gravity.
He groans, pulling at his spiky hair. “I look ridiculous.”
Today there was a huge cosplay convention happening in New York City, and somehow you convinced Lin to accompany you and to dress up as Vegeta.
“Thank you for putting up with me,” you coo, kissing his cheek.
He rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but the obvious gleam of happiness betrays him.
“You’re my wife, I have no choice.”
After a short walk through the neighborhood, you got winded, so Lin suggested a rest at the park. The two of you sat on a bench, watching as children ran around and played.
You rest your head against Lin’s shoulder, your wavy dark green hair spilling over your thighs. “So this is it,” you say.
“We’ve lived here for so long…” he trails off, sighing.
You loop your arm through his and intertwine your fingers, wanting to soothe his worries of moving to London for Mary Poppins. “I think it’ll be a nice change,” you say, “plus I’ll be right there with you.”
“You’re right. As long as we’re together,” Lin gulps, voice wavering, “I think I can handle anything.”
Unshed tears flood your vision. “I’ll always be by your side no matter what, Lin.”
Lin adjusts the blanket over the both of you. “Cold?” he asks, voice hoarse.
You snuggle against him and breathe in his scent, your eyes half-closed. “A little.”
You smile as he lightheartedly rubs your head, playing with the short black strands. “I think this is your best look yet.”
You look up at him, chuckling. “You have more hair than I do. I think this look is a disaster. I miss my wigs.”
He laughs, but the sound is empty and hollow.
After a moment of silence, he speaks.
“You think you’ll be able to stay up a little longer?”
“I’ll try my best,” you sigh, fighting against the pull of sleep.
“I’ll be here in the morning,” he whispers, voice weak.
BREAKING NEWS: EGOT STAR, LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA BREAKS HIS SILENCE
After months of battling ovarian cancer, Lin-Manuel Miranda’s wife of three years has passed. Today, after weeks of being absent from social media, he finally breaks his silence. The recent EGOT posted a heart-wrenching picture of his last moments with Y/N. Y/N, dressed in a hospital gown, looked beautiful wrapped in Miranda’s arms. He writes: “My beautiful wife, may you finally rest in peace. I know you’ll be watching me and cheering me on, like you always have. I’ll make you proud. Wait for me.”