otp — Mary Stuart + Bash
T H E F R A R Y T A L E N E T W O R K
I decided to create a Reign network because I’ve recently become obsessed with this
absolutely amazing, perfect, god sentshow and I know we all have a lot of feelings we need to share. Also, since season 2 is coming up I thought this would be the perfect time to go for it. RULES:WHAT WE'RE LOOKING FOR:
- reign blogs (multifandom is fine as long as reign is one of the main fandoms)
- clean blogs, easy to navigate (tags system is a major plus)
- nice bloggers
- avid frary shippersBENEFITS:
- new followers
- cool new people to follow
- bitchin’ friends to fangirl with
- a spot on the network page
- notes on your edits, selfies, etc
- help with anything you might needIF ACCEPTED:
- you’ll be mentioned in a post along with the rest of the members
- you’ll receive a message welcoming you to the network
- you’ll have to follow all the members
- you’ll need to be willing to share your email address with me
- and send me or maddie an icon and a small description for the network pageADDITIONAL INFO:
- you’ll have until September 19th to enter
- this post must reach a minimum of 30 notes
or it never happened
- around 20 members will be chosen, more depending on the notes
- the members will be announced the week after the deadline
Track the tag #frarytalenet for any developments. If you have any questions or just wanna chat, feel free to come and talk to us :)
Since the TFIOS movie became available On Demand and for digital download and people can now pause and zoom in and stuff, many people have asked who wrote the pages of An Imperial Affliction that appear in the movie.
I did. Executive producer Isaac Klausner asked me to write four pages (the two you see here and the final two pages of the book) for the movie edition of An Imperial Affliction, so I did. In this passage, Anna is recalling intense pain breaking through her high doses of narcotic pain medication.
The book that Hazel reads in the movie is just the four pages I wrote printed over and over again hundreds of times. I have a copy of it in my house; it’s my only souvenir from the movie set.
“Augustus Waters was a self-aggrandizing bastard. But we forgive him. We forgive him not because he had a heart as figuratively good as his literal one sucked, or because he knew more about how to hold a cigarette than any nonsmoker in history, or because he got eighteen years when he should’ve gotten more. Augustus Waters talked so much that he’d interupt you at his own funeral. And he was pretentious: Sweet Jesus Christ, that kid never took a piss without pondering the abundant metaphorical resonances of human waste production. And he was vain: I do not believe I have ever met a more physically attractive person who was more acutely aware of his own physical attractiveness. But I will say this: When the scientists of the future show up at my house with robot eyes and they tell me to try them on, I will tell the scientists to screw off, because I do not want to see a world without him.”
Augustus Waters died eight days after his prefuneral, at Memorial, in the ICU, when the cancer, which was made of him, finally stopped his heart, which was also made of him. He was with his mom and dad and sisters. His mom called me at three thirty in the morning. I’d known, of course, that he was going. <…> The only person I really wanted to talk to about Augustus Waters’s death was Augustus Waters. My parents stayed in my room forever until it was morning and finally Dad said, “Do you want to be alone?” and I nodded and Mom said, “We’ll be right outside the door,” me thinking, I don’t doubt it. It was unbearable. The whole thing. Every second worse than the last. I just kept thinking about calling him, wondering what would happen, if anyone would answer. In the last weeks, we’d been reduced to spending our time together in recollection, but that was not nothing: The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we’d done were less real and important than they had been hours before.