#frobismith

[elkbway]

I took a video of Ben Whishaw singing his solo song in Mary Poppins Returns and now I'm gonna listen and cry to it while thinking about Frobismith

[rainbow-pirate]

honestly tho I could never have imagined so much of my happiness would come to depend on a brunette kissing a blondie

[fronkhaspower]

[ricebees]

When Sixsmith saw the clerk wearing his vest of course he wouldve known immediately just how bad things were, not just financially but psychologically, for Frobisher.

He’d said in an earlier letter that by wearing his waistcoat he felt close to him. For Frobisher to give that up, it shows that he’s giving up his wordly connections. Shows how overcome he is by his genius and the fulfilment of its use.

By giving away the waistcoat Frobisher was essentially signing his suicide note

[tamquamm]

half-finished love affair

One of the things that hurts most about Cloud Atlas is the “half-finished love affair” quote because it’s so metaphorical in so many way. The obvious one being that it eludes to the book structure (gets a little lost in the movie but oh well) and how we only get half the story (for now). But it also foreshadows Forbisher and Sixsmith’s relationship. It truly is a literal half-finished love affair. 

Which leads me deeper into looking at how Frobisher and Sixsmith are, romantically and sexually speaking, polar representations yet find in each other their only and sole true love. While Frobisher has gratuitous romantic infatuations and sexual encounters, Sixsmith never marries and (as hinted) never has another serious relationship (aside from his life’s work), which we see when he tells Luisa that he’s “been married to science all [his] life” (96). I mean, Frobs, in his final moments, says, “don’t let ‘em say I killed myself for love, Sixsmith, that would be too ridiculous...we both know in our hearts who is the sole love of my short, bright life” (470). Then forty something years later Sixsmith still recognizes Frobisher as his “first love, and if [he’s] honest, [his] last” (111). Robert is a fire that spiked and peaked in its passion whilst Rufus is a simmer that burns its warmth slowly. Yet both were sparked and fed by their undying love for one another. 

Anyhow, their “love affair” is cut short and thus “half-finished” once Frobisher pulls the trigger. He promises to see Sixsmith again in another life. It’s a promise to finish their story and find closure in their love story. Just as Frobisher finds the second half of The Pacific Journal (and just as the novel wraps up each story, despite halting five of them in their middles), Frobisher and Sixsmith will find their ending at a later time. Half-finished does not signify that it’s done. It signifies a delayed ending, delayed closure. Perhaps in a better world that’s waiting for them on the other side. 

[tamquamm]

15 & 22 Frobismith pleeaasseee :)

Oh my god, anon, the angst, my hearttttt. #15 is on the way, but here’s #22!

[Prompt] Frobismith #22: things you said after it was over

“You’re a complete arse, I hope you know that,” Sixsmith accuses. He’s completely soaked through at this point the rain having no mercy on his thin jacket. But Sixsmith is partially grateful for the steady downpour. It helps excuse the wet streaks shamelessly decorating his face.

“Of all the dumb things you’ve done. Of all the selfish things,” Sixsmith continues, “and trust me, there’s been plenty of each. I don’t know how one man manages to cause so much trouble. Anyhow, this is by far the worst.”

Sixsmith has to pause, choking on his own voice, his emotions taking the better of him.

“I could’ve helped you, could’ve saved you. And you knew it. I know you did, you said so yourself. Why couldn’t you just let me? We’ve could’ve run away together. Europe is on the edge of killing itself, anyway. We would’ve had nothing. But that’s enough to be everything to me. The ‘we,’ I mean. The ‘we’ would be enough to be my everything.

“Your brilliance shines so brightly, Frobisher… Robert. Forget all the posh bastards with their reputations and their words. You’ll prove everyone wrong, I’ll make sure of it. I have no idea what your transcripts mean but I can feel you within them. I can feel your essence in those sheets as if you’re there, standing right next to me.

“I can hear your voice and feel your touch. My heart refuses to accept that you’re gone. No matter how much the feeling of your blood stains my hands, no matter how many times I close my eyes, only to see you lifeless, pooling in your own beauty. My heart refuses to stop throbbing, yearning for you,” Sixsmith throws the pitifully soggy bouquet at the headstone in an angry flare of frustration. He can imagine Frobisher carelessly throwing the bouquet aside, laughing at the ridiculous show of affection. He’d say it’s endearing but hilarious nonetheless. Sixsmith knows he would’ve flushes, embarrassed, but Frobisher would peck him on the cheek and thank him, anyway. It’s a nice gesture, after all.

“I forgive you for everything, even the things I know you wouldn’t even think to feign an apology over. I forgive you, anyway. I’ll always forgive you, it’s impossible for me to ever hold you in contempt. Your warmth and your embrace overpower anything negative I could ever muster toward you.

“I love you with every piece of my being, Robert Frobisher. And I always will.”

The sun long gone and the rain threatening to worsen, it takes all of Sixsmith’s energy to leave the cemetery. He refuses to say goodbye.

[tamquamm]

Frobismith! 19 and/or 14 :)

I’ll do #14, too, but here’s #19 for now :)

[Prompt] Frobismith #19: things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

“Come on, Sixsmith, where’s your sense of adventure? You have plenty of life left to rot away in a lab, indulge me for once,” Robert grins mischievously. His hair is tousled in the familiar carefree mess of half-hearted styling. Rufus can’t help but match his smile. Maybe his friend is right. Or maybe Rufus just wants an excuse to just be with Robert.

“Fine, but I’m not coming willingly,” Rufus’s light tone gives away his fib, “you’re kidnapping me.”

“Am not. You like it,” Robert tosses him his jacket and flings his trilby like a frisbee. Rufus barely manages to catch it, pouting as he puts it on. When he looks up, Robert is already halfway out the window.

“Don’t you dare leave me behind, Frobisher,” Rufus shouts after him. The only reply is a soft staccato of footfalls and a melismatic giggle. That cheeky little shit.

“I’m not playing this game again,” Rufus grumbles more to himself than to Robert. The grounds of Caius College are well kept and neat, pompous shrubs styled into a decorative maze of grandiose figureheads. He stalks off in the direction he saw Robert go off in, his search rather desultory.

Which is how Robert manages to jump out from a bush unnoticed, tackling Rufus to the ground. He laughs and laughs when Rufus startles and shouts.

“You’re ruthless,” Rufus pouts, his breath evening and his annoyance fading into exasperated but unadulterated affection. He grins in his own wicked way before he rolls, flipping them. Robert yelps, leaves falling from his hair. Now it’s Rufus’s turn to laugh, picking out the remaining foliage from Robert’s messy waves.

“And you’re absolutely breathtaking,” Robert exhales, their eyes meeting with an intoxicating connection. Rufus feels his heart beat faster and his stomach flip. Robert takes the moment to grasp the lapels of Rufus’s jacket, pulling his down. Rufus, ever the anxious, glances around quickly before he gives in.

The kiss is chaste and quick but they both feel something deeper resonating from it, threading them together in a perfect harmony.

Rufus falls to the side, ungracefully thumping directly next to Robert. He glances around yet again and decidedly pulls Robert into his arms, letting him rest his head on his chest. Rufus watches him rise and fall with his chest. Watches Robert gaze into the stars, defiantly drawing his own patterns into the sky.

“I could stay here forever, I think,” Robert quietly admits, “I can’t stand this hellhole and I can’t stand that bastard Mackerras, but I’d stay here just for this.”

Rufus just hums his agreement, his hand lazily snaking its way to massage Robert’s head, fingers playfully entwining with the loose strands.

“I’ve been with many people, you know. I could assemble a full orchestra with my infatuations,” Robert’s tone is still prideful, but there’s a vulnerable rawness to it that Rufus desperately latches onto, “but I think you’re the only one worthy of a solo.”

Rufus chuckles, his other hand fishing out one of Robert’s and squeezing it tightly.

“I do believe you’re the only person who’s ever been able to pull me from my research so willingly,” Rufus murmurs, thumb rubbing circles on Robert’s hand. Robert laughs, shuffling closer to Rufus, resting his ear over his heart.

Robert sighs and closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of just being with Rufus. It’s a new feeling, something unfamiliar. Uncharted territory. It’s exhilarating and frightening all at once. For once, his groin isn’t controlling his thinking.

It’s his heart.

[wildeoscars]

okay but someone should rp frobismith with me. i’ve got a plot bunny in my head i’m dying to use