#Tit for tat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imthefailedartist · 6 months ago

Text

Penelope is finally out of new baby yellow and neon pink and looking like a woman and not an adult baby. I could cry.

I'm having the same problem this season as I had last season: Too much of everyone else, not enough of the seasons couple. And I say that liking the side plots this season (minus Simon's friends. Why are they here? I say with love I like them, but they have no connection to anyone)

Why not include more of Colin's writing. A tit for tat deal. Penelope helps him with his writing. He helps her land a husband. Bam! That's how you get them in the same room together more often.

It helps for the reveal later that Penelope is Whistledown. He might not feel so blindsided if he has intimate knowledge of her passion for writing.

If you gon change the plot, change the plot.

Pen asks for the kiss. They kiss. Colin is sprung but still has to help her while pretending he's not sprung.

Let them wax poetic about their friendship, but have Colin recontextualize it. Realize what he's been missing about her.

I was also expecting a Cyrano plot. He tells her something to say to Lord Debling, but he's really saying it himself to her.

Penelope is getting serious about Lord Debling, thinking there's nothing with Colin. Let Debling see Colin yearning for Pen, and he yields courting her. Then ba bam, Colin hits her with the truth ➡️ Carriage scene.

Also, I was expecting more wallflower hijinks. The season opens with Whistledown talking up the wallflower girls. I would've thought we'd have more of Penelope helping her overlooked sistren get noticed or hitched.

Have people forgotten how to do romance hijinks?

Daphne and Simon, as proof of concept, got to play out every trope in the romance lexicon. Let the others. I think the show runners are too focused on making it a show and are forgetting that it's a ROMANCE first.

Also, I would have loved if this season opened with him falling off the horse. We had a dream sequence, give us a flashback.

I knew they would focus too much on Franchesca when they recast her. I wish she'd have had her season off camera, and this takes place immediately after her marriage, as she's whisked off to her honeymoon in the off-season. Fewer balls & parties means Pen and Colin get to marriage plot and edit more often.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but bring back Daphne. She is the perfect Violet surrogate. She's a grade-A meddler and their older, happily married sister. They will talk to her faster than they'll talk to Violet. Imagine her spotting Colin staring at Penelope through the window.

That said, I still enjoyed it and will watch again and again. Nothing is perfect, I never expect perfection.

Dear god, I can't wait to see Prudence and Phillipa pregnant together. They are going to drive Portia to the mad house.

His fingers. I can't. Colin!

Also, I want Violet to have a hot girl spring. She did marriage. This is about lust. I'm not saying she's bussin it wide open for everybody, but a gentleman caller or two sneaking out the Bridgerton estate would be nice. Even that footman. But I do think it's funny that she's lusting after Lady Danbury's brother. A real "you fuck my dad. I fuck your brother" situation.

19 notes · View notes

chopzoe · 2 months ago

Text

a new old backstory piece of Tit for Tat from Levi's perspective; where Levi escapes a prison cell and tries to heal someone from Farlan's gang

“I said to boil the water before we drink it!” she grumbled, watching Jonah sigh and roll his eyes.

“This one time isn’t going to make a difference,” he retorted, merely wiping his mouth with his arm.

Angrily, Levi tightened her lips and decided to not say anything further, turning just to catch Farlan staring at her, tilting his head in understanding appeasement. “I gotcha.”

-an unknown amount of time later-

Fucking rat.

It was the first thought Levi had when she opened her eyes and recognised the dark ceiling above herself as belonging to one of a prison cell, hopefully still underground as the last thing she could need now on top of all was having to escape from surface prison, in broad daylight in the absolute worst case. It was meant to be a simple robbery. They had it all planned - Farlan, that is - and it was going well, just a quick raid through an armoury until someone from the gang, Jonah that filthy motherfucker, decided not to give a rat’s ass and play a hasty lone hand instead. Running straight into the arms of a MP. And guess who got the shit end of the stick? Not Jonah.

Levi just moved, craning her head to orient herself further and wanting to rise from the hard sleeping bench, when an unforeseeable blow struck her back down again, leaving her mouth fill up instantly with the taste of blood.

“This one’s for Oliver, scum!”

Oh. She almost forgot. So the pig she had beaten the crap out of was named Oliver. What a stupid name.

Her jaw protested when she twisted her mouth to spit out the warm metallic fluid, making her hope it wasn’t broken. “That pussy punch is all you got?” she murmured, the sarcasm passing her lips that suffered a bit as well, stinging in harsh protest from being moved.

“I won’t risk my job for doing worse to a lowlife like you,” the guy snapped, fidgeting with his hand - he wasn’t used to punching people, something Levi took in with a scoff, and to be honest, the look she managed to get of that uniformed beanpole now only further confirmed the assessment, he probably has just been doing paperwork all his life. “The punishment you will get for what you and your accomplices did is more than fitting.”

“Mhh,” she sighed, “Right.”

At that moment, the cell door began to open, revealing another MP who started to enter. Apparently, fate or whatever else that was in charge for all of that was happening decided to be a little more gentle with her today. The second one was not that different from his colleague - he waddled a few short steps inside the cell, breathless from the way, even though he wasn’t fat in the slightest, which had her come to the conclusion that he was simply just unathletic. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the very welcoming task of coiling herself out of the shackles, hiding them behind her back, cautious not to attract attention from the two sweethearts that were supposed to guard her cell and began discussing the further procedure of when and how they would be bringing her before the judge.

She had luck, the metal allowed her slim wrists to slide through; the usual guests in this establishment were twice as tall as her and weighed considerably more - the latter had only intensified, as they had trouble getting their hands on proper food lately, which prompted this raid to begin with. To be fair, they wanted to get their hands on gas and weapons as well, but food was priority. This better be worth it.

“Hey,” the other now snapped at her, beginning to step closer, “Don’t sleep, the judge is awaiting you.”

It was the last sound the guy made; just when he bowed down to get her, Levi yanked the loose shackles upwards, coiling them around the neck of the MP and having him very unkindly meet her knee, the force of which it collided with his nose had him knocked out, slumping onto the edge of the bench on which she squatted to get the higher ground. The attack caused the first MP to scramble for his rifle, but she already heaved the unconscious colleague - who by the way reeked of cigarettes and old sweat - and threw him at the other, buying her enough time to dash off the bench and towards him, landing a blow with her clenched fist and beating him unconscious after a short scuffle.

Standing in the cell, Levi tried to flatten her breath, having to admit the fight did take its toll on her. She spent a split of a second eying her sore knuckles, furrowing her brows and sighing, though not regretting it as much as the red splotches on her white shirt. There weren’t any noises coming from outside, luckily enough, but there was no guarantee no one would come check the cell, as two MPs who were supposed to escort her to the courtroom disappeared. Examining the beanpole, she quickly decided it would be best to put on his uniform, even though it definitely won’t fit. The other option was even worse, however. The imagination of having old sweat and stale cigarette smoke on her skin was enough to fill her with the urge to gag.

Swiftly, her fingers went on to pull the clothes off the guy, feeling her skin prickle with the sight of that fucking green horse on the back of the jacket, but donning the pieces on anyway, as it was the best strategy to have more time to sneak out of the building and disappear back into the tunnels as a whole.

Tightening the belt as far as it allowed to prevent the pants from slipping, she finished her disguise with the rifle, swinging it over her shoulder and beginning to make a move out of the complex, clenching her jaw at the feeling of sweat making the fabric cling to her all too hot skin. The boots were way too fucking big, having her feet appear like those of a child in comparison, but fortunately, her own boots were similar enough not to strike attention, not on the first look at least, if anyone even were to inspect her boots to begin with. She wore the pieces of her own clothes underneath as well, buttoning up the shirt higher than she would normally prefer in order to hide the blood stains on the collar of her own shirt, and even though it wasn’t summer, it started to become damned uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, the way out was stupidly easy, no one even questioned her, despite the ill-fitting uniform. Levi tried to look as unimpressed as always, forcing herself to ease her features enough to look calm and composed and not like someone who beat three MPs in the last twenty-four hours. The taste of blood and stinging of her knuckles reminded herself enough already.

The streets were familiar, and the further she got, the more nonchalant she felt, letting down her guard a bit. No one of the residents in this area of Stohess would be able to recognise her anyway or even question anything. And it’s been a while since she last saw any green horse bastards.

She just passed a group of people, meandering through the spaces between them, when a tall man met her tracks as unfazed as her, causing her to come to a stand suddenly as he did the same. For a millisecond, her breath stopped as well, but not without smelling the aftershave first, leaving her irritatingly dizzy.

“Pardon,” she only uttered, not wanting to attract any more attention and stepping aside to continue going down the street immediately. Yet, something made her turn and look at who she almost bumped into. Not having anticipated the stranger staring back. Weirdly enough, the keen blue eyes were most noticeable besides his imposingly tall stature and well-groomed blonde hair. Perhaps it was because of the mix of this knowing look and odd and misplaced curious smile that had her heart halt in alarmed shock for a moment.

Quickly, she turned on her heels, accelerating her steps but not so fast so she appeared as if she was fleeing. He didn’t come after her, in the end, and even though it lifted the dread off her shoulders, when she made her descent to the Underground City, the remaining feeling of alertness remained. He was wearing a uniform, but he wasn’t a MP or one of the Garrison.

Those freaks usually don’t wear the Wings of Freedom on their backs.

When everything had settled, her suspicion would turn out to be justified.

As he returned, Farlan looked at Levi, the grim expression was enough to let her know. “It’s happening again.”

She stood from her chair, starting to walk to the room Jonah lay in. It had started with stomach cramps and vomiting, but in a matter of only a few hours, his condition rapidly got worse, leaving the man only a husk of his former self. Hearing the retching noises made her halter, tensing her jaw. Mechanically, Levi pulled the kerchief hanging around her neck up to cover her mouth and nose, pulling on a decent pair of gloves before turning the knob and opening the door to the separate room.

As low as her sympathy was towards the man, the condition he was in managed to stir a very uncomfortable memory. Her eyes trailed the sunken eyes and pale skin before they set on the bucket standing next to the bed, regarding its content with a slight alarmed pinch of her eyebrows. Her skin crawled at the ghastly sight - a white mess, weirdly odourless, looking almost like thin soup.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, “Should have listened to you after all.”

Jonah muttered even more diffuse words, hard for her to make out, which didn’t make any sense in the end anyway. She had made a decision, whose success was highly hypothetical.

“I’ll go find a doctor."

“Levi-”

“Listen to me,” she said, muffled by the cloth she still wore across her face, “I’m not letting you croak here. I’ll get my hands on some meds.”

“No one… is going to help,” he rasped, sneering. "Especially not you.”

Her eyes stared at him, unimpressed by the surrender in his words, though she had to admit there was some amount of truth in his last words. The amount of people around here who were able to recognise her by appearance was not as small anymore as everyone from the nameless orphan to the merchant selling his goods at absurd prices kept talking about the small woman, knowing whenever she was around there were most likely some faces needing to be rearranged.

The hood of her cloak was drawn down to veil her from the stares of the cripples waiting inside the waiting room of the small surgery. With a bit of luck, no one would even question it, as she could just be someone hiding a festering rash. It smelled horrible, of piss and disease, and she felt her breath halt not only from the smells but also from the protesting burst knuckles she had almost forgotten, forcing her hands to ease.

For a while, she tried to suppress her compulsion, keeping herself from pacing about; the longer the wait the higher the probability Jonah wouldn’t be even alive anymore upon her return. If she even managed to get her hands on the right meds.

When the next patient was called and a humpback started to rise and walk to the front, that’s when she walked as well, stretching out her hand and getting a hold of the guy’s hood, rudely stopping him in his tracks, only hearing a startled choke and using the surprise to move on in his stead.

As she was making her way through the surgery, a pair of clean bandages and a small flask of alcohol disappeared inside of her deep pockets. When she got to the doctor, she straightforwardly got to the matter.

“I need medicine.”

“Would you please take off your hood?” the man kindly asked, unfazed by her blunt appearance.

Her hands rose to her face and lifted the hood away, prompting the doctor to speak the words she definitely expected.

“You are free to exit the surgery immediately.”

“I’m not here to do anyone harm,” she stated, even though it was a lie, as she was still feeling the need to grip the handle of the knife that was resting inside her pocket with its foreboding weight. “I just want to help a guy I know.”

“I have to see the patient to give a diagnosis,” the doctor insisted, “And without a diagnosis, there is no proper cure.”

“He’s vomiting and shitting,” she went on, “Three days ago, he drank water from a ditch, and it’s been like that since then. He isn’t eating or moving for that matter, I think he’s gonna kick the bucket.”

“Give him water and mix it with some salt. Give him any kind of juice. He desperately needs water, and nutrients,” the doctor explained, crossing his arms dryly. “The rest is up to him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. There has to be some kind of medicine.”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

Her patience ran out; in the blink of an eye, her hand grabbed the knife from her pocket, holding it up and she could see how every colour drained from the man’s face, and with that, his stance grew defensive and frightened. “Get your notebook and write a prescription.”

Fortunately, and yet with very trembling hands, he did do what she told him, ripping the note out of the book and holding it out.

“Thank you,” she uttered, out of place with the knife pointed towards the man who treated the sick and hurt, making her feel like crap for doing this but quickly pushing the thought aside and snatching the prescription away, smacking a handful of money on the desk.

It was so much worse. He didn’t even react when she stepped to the bed this time, his eyes mere slits, directed to the dark ceiling in a vacant stare.

Without wasting any more time, Levi turned on her heel, beginning to storm back out of the surgery. The humpback from before began to puff himself threateningly, but seeing her unconcealed face, he hastily shuffled back, the quiet grunt of fear being the only sound coming out of him. She relied on her agitation to guide her back, hoping it would not be too late by the time she arrived.

“You need to drink this,” she muttered, lifting the cup to the man’s lips, trying to encourage him to take a sip, but he wouldn’t, doing what she wouldn’t have anticipated instead - in what seemed to be the last spark of strength he had left, Jonah pushed her, as he went limp, his eyes rolling back, the fluid spilling onto the linen instead.

She felt her hands shake, calling him a final time.

“Levi,” she heard Farlan, feeling his hands tug at her, starting to guide her away from the unresponding man, humming what she knew herself, “He’s dead.”

Levi breathed, staring at the haggard figure in front of her.

#tit for tat #fem!levi #erwin smith #farlan church #original characters #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #my writing

4 notes · View notes