#abbie watches gentleman jack

[marzipanandminutiae]

Could you spill the tea about the very specific discourse because I love historical costuming and hate radfems just. What are they getting mad about now? Is it corsets again?

it's the Abby Cox video criticizing the NLOG undertones in a lot of modern historical fiction

which, to be fair, I have seen non-t*rfs get upset about! their arguments were still wildly misinterpreting the video, but they were not transphobes, so! there's that!

someone was judging it based solely on the thumbnail and then refusing to watch it because "I don't want to lose the braincells" and "you have to refuse to engage with people who bend over backwards to defend the corset"

except her argument (that Cox somehow hates masc-presenting women or thinks they never existed historically) was directly contradicted by the actual content of the video, which praised the show Gentleman Jack for realistically depicting the conflict between a masc Georgian woman's desire for personal expression and need to appease society to have any kind of a tenable life, and discussed George Sand and other women who did choose to present masc at least some of the time IRL

womp womp

[cainnleacghlovers]

Stupid Chilly - MM

Pairing: Mason amount X Fem!Reader

Summary: The famous Ben Chilwell throws a party. What happens when a specific boy catches your eye.

Warnings: Smut

“Noooooo. Don’t make me go. Pleaseeeeee.”

You did want to go, really, but that time between when you finished getting ready and heading out the door had settled in, and the thought of taking off your slippers, and replacing them with your heels made you shudder.

“I didn’t let you use my charlotte tilbury foundation for you to not go.” Your best friend stated. Hands on her hips as she looked you up and down. You lay on the floor, in a star fish position. She bent down to help you up, and you graciously accepted. She handed you your heels, and you nodded in thanks.

How could you describe Ben Chilwell. He was definitely a character. He bordered the line of his jokes being offensive, and he most definitely crossed the line of not knowing when to just, well how could you say this? Shut his mouth.

You’d known Ben ages, well 2 years. You’d met him after a dramatic sprint in the rain to your car, your Uni books slightly blurring your vision. You couldn’t find your car keys, and deciding that wet hair was better than wet course work, you gave up. He was driving past, and like a gentleman stuck his head out the window, asking if you wanted to sit in his car. Looking back, that was probably a bad idea, but you’d grown to love the boy. And your best friend had definitely grown to love him.

Heels were strapped, and lipstick had been reapplied. Taking a few selfies in the mirror, and quickly adding them to your story, you and your best friend headed out the door. Ben only lived a short distance from you, and you two had just decided to walk. Broke Uni students could not afford taxis.

It was a mild evening in April. Not warm, not cold.

“Do you think Ben actually likes me. Or does he just like my tits?” Abbie said. You couldn’t help but laugh at her. Abbie was the sort of girl who fell in love after one glance. You knew Ben, and you knew what he was like.

“Abbie. Ab. My bestest friend in the whole wide world-”

“Cut the crap. Just tell me.” She said, her words harsher than what she meant. You knew she didn’t mean it.

“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted.”

You laughed, giving her a light push. As much as she tried not to, she grinned too.

“Ah yes. Abbie. Ab. My bestest friend in the whole wide world. You my dear, are absolutely gorgeous, and if he doesn’t see that. What a fucking loss.”

She smiled. You two knew each other too well. You were grateful for her.

“You always know what to say.” She put her arm around your shoulder, and you relaxed into her. A comfortable silence fell between the both of you.

“Just letting you know, I so plan on getting laid tonight.” You grinned, earning a laugh from her.

“Same here babe. Same here.”

—

Some random song played, the beat echoing through your whole body as you headed into the kitchen for another drink of whatever Ben had concocted. What was it last time? Oh yes, Chelsea surprise as he called it. Vodka, Gin, and Whiskey all in one. Absolutely rank.

Pouring yourself a drink, you crowd watched. Something you often found yourself doing at parties. You liked her dress, hated his shoes, wanted to know her lip combo, man his shirt was tight. You scanned the crowd, sipping your drink as you watched. You didn’t realise a figure had swept in beside you.

“Yep they’ll definitely have makeup sex when they go home.” Said a voice. You jumped slightly, and turned to face this mysterious person. Recognising him, you two were mutals on Instagram. A like here and there.

Mason Mount. To quote Jack Grealish, ‘the greatest thing since sliced bread.’

“Jesus. Way to give someone a heart attack.” You scold, not really cross.

“And no. She’ll dump his ugly arse, and block him on everything. Including spotify. I forgot to block an ex one time on spotify. He made playlists called ‘Unblock me.’ I don’t know whether that was dedicated or just weird.”

You didn’t even realise you were talking his ear off, one ounce of alcohol and you seemed to tell everyone your deepest secrets.

“Has anyone ever told you, you talk some shite.” He laughed, swigging his drink. You admired the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. There was a tinging between your legs. Shit.

He caught you looking and smirked.

“Like what you see darling.”

“Yeah Ben’s cabinet. It’s really nice. Top quality really.” You indicated to the kitchen cabinet behind him. He pretended to admire it, nodding and scratching his chin. Like it was some amazing art piece.

“It really is isn’t it. Simply divine.” You snorted at his comment, and covering your face in embarrassment.

“GCSE english all over again. Pigs from animal farm.” You joked, you were thankful he got the joke.

“Major was some lad wasn’t he.” He follows along with the joke, you liked that he didn’t embarrass you.

“He was the man. Or the pig.” He laughed, and the sensation came back again.

“So how’d you end up here? Not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m Mason by the way.” He introduced himself. You of course, already knew him. He didn’t have to know that though.

“Ben’s a friend. I’m Y/N.” He nodded as he listened to you. An active listener. Hmm. Nice.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl.” Anyone else who used that cliche, would have you bent over the toilet bowl in pure disgust, but the alcohol and the sheer fact, this man was hot, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Well. This pretty girl with a pretty name wants to dance.” You stuck your hand out, and he went to grab it. You pulled away, winking at him. Play the game, or the game plays you. Mason being the game in this weird analogy.

“A teaser? I should’ve known Miss Y/L/N.” He smirked. So he knew who you were.

“Let’s see what those hips can do then Mason.”

He followed you onto the makeshift dance floor, in the middle of Bens living room. Sober you would’ve worried about the mess Ben would have to clean up, slightly tipsy you laughed at the mess Ben would have to clean up.

Somehow, Tammy Abraham got ahold of the aux, and that song from despicable me started playing. ‘Where them girls at.’ What a tune.

You began to sway your hips, probably out of time with the best. But who fucking cares what beats playing when Mason Mount had his hands on your hips in front of you. Tossing your hair around, you catch him staring at your chest.

“My eyes are up here Mason.” You chastise.

“I can stare at both, doesn’t bother me. Both are stunning.” That sentence doesn’t really make sense. But he’s tipsy, and he’s flirting with you. So keep talking rubbish Mason.

You two sway to the music, eventually ending with your bum having his crotch. You feel something press into your back, and smirk as you turn around. A new found confidence.

“Little Mason has made an appearance.”

He practically growled into your ear.

“Little Mason isn’t so little darling.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach, as you felt heat pool between your legs.

“Well. Let me be the judge of that.” He smirked.

“Gladly.”

—

Dragging you up the stairs, past who knows who making out on the stair case. Enjoy that back cramp in the morning babe. He checks one room, his hand not leaving yours, as he swings the door open, only to be met with a butt naked Ben Chilwell. Ass hanging in the hair like your mums washing line. Jesus, why is he so pale?

“Sorry man. Don’t let me disturb you.” Ben didn’t even hear Mason, as he shut the door. You wonder if the girl was Abbie, having not seen her downstairs. Probably was her.

He checks a second room, and finds it empty, and pulls you in. Slamming your body against the door handle, as he fumbles with the lock. His lips find yours, and you become dazed from the passion of his kiss. He bites your bottom lip, a way of saying ‘open that fucking mouth’ and who were you too decline?

You open your mouth, and he slides his tongue in. Exploring your mouth. You groan into his mouth, and you feel Little Mason, sorry, not so little Mason become even harder under you.

“Keeping moaning like that baby, and the whole house will know what I’m doing to you. Making you feel this good already.” You moan at his words, not used to someone talking to you like this. And god, you like it.

As his tongue continues to explore your mouth, his uses his knee to spread your legs, and puts his thigh in between them. Letting you use his thigh for leverage. And you needed it, his kiss making you weak. His hands left your hips, and found the back of your thighs, tapping them slightly. Signalling for you to jump. You obliged, and his large hands grubbed the back of your thighs. Your dress hiking up to expose even more skin to the boy.

His lips leave yours, as they find your neck. Moving up and down feverishly like he can’t get enough of you. Your hands find his hair, and you tug slightly on it, guiding him to where you want him. He find that sweet spot, just above your collar bone, and earns a groan from you.

“Fuck baby. You’re making me feel like i’m 16 again.”

He groaned into your neck, and your legs found the edge of Bens spare room. You’d slept in here, and now you were going to, well. Have sex with Mason in here.

Lying down, he climbed on top of you. And began to push the sleeves off your dress off of you. Looking at you for consent. You have him a nod, which he didn’t take.

“Gonna need you to be vocal with me baby. Tell me what you want, but tell me what you don’t want. Can you do that for me?”

Unable to answer him, you have him a nod.

“What’d I say about using words hmm? You going to be a baf girl. You know what we do to bad girls don’t you baby.”

Not wanting him to stop touching you, you breathed out a response.

“Yes Mason. Please keep going.” Pathetic that you’d resulted to begging, and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it baby?” He shot a devilish grin at you, as he pushed your sleeves down. You shimmied out of your dress, it getting caught at your hips.

“Dress has to come off over the head.” You said.

He helped you get the dress off, struggling to get it over your head, you both laughed a little. As you lay there in front oh him, in your bra and pants, you cursed yourself for not wearing a matching set.

“So damn beautiful.” He whispered against your stomach, as he began to kiss up and down it. His hands rubbing your hips, and he worked his way to the top of your panties.

“It’s hardly fair that i’m half naked and you’re not.” You pouted, and he struggled out of his shirt.

“Happy now baby? Hmm?”

You moaned in appreciation, as he slipped his jean covered leg between yours. You rubbed yourself against his jeans, the rough fabric of the denim making you moan.

“So needy baby. Use my thigh hmm. Keep going doll. Just like that.”

As you continued to move again his thigh, he gave you another feverish kiss. Grabbing his hair, to pull him impossibly closer he moaned into your mouth. You wanted to record the sound, and never ever stop hearing it.

He moved his thigh, and before you could complain about the lack of contact. He slipped one finger in you, and began to move at a steady pace. Your hips bucked up against his, and your back arched to get, again, impossibly closer to him.

“Mason, p-please.”

“Please what baby. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.”

You groaned, knowing he wanted you to beg.

“Please Mason, a-another finger.”

“Another finger where baby? Your hair? Your arm? Your back?”

You groaned again, as he slowed his movements, and used his other hand to push your hips back into the bed.

“You know where.” You managed to get out, seeing stars at the pleasure this man was giving you.

“I don’t know actually.” He had you around his finger, well quite literally.

“Another finger here. P-please.” You moved his and into your throbbing pussy.

“That’s all you had to do. Wasn’t that easy?” He teased you, as he plunged another finger into you.

You moaned loudly, grabbing his bicep for support. You thought you were gonna pass out as he found your sweet spot. Hitting it perfectly every thrust of his hand. He curled his fingers in you, and your back moved off of the bed, as his chest met yours.

“Cum for me baby? Cum all around my fingers and show me how good I make you feel.” He whispered into your ear, and his lips found your neck. He definitely was going to leave a mark, having to find some sort of hack on tiktok to cover it. Newsflash, whisks. Do. Not. Work.

His thumb found your clit, as he moved a third finger inside you. Rubbing in a circular motion, you gave one last moan, and came all over his fingers.

He took his hand out, licking his fingers clean, not giving you anytime to catch your breath as he attacked your lips once again. You were gonna die. Imagine that on your gravestone. Cause of death, Mason Mounts legendary fingers.

You worked on the zip of his jeans, getting impatient when you couldn’t figure it out. Curse your foggy brain, from the way he made you cum.

“Let me help you darling.” The way he said darling made you moan out loud, earning a light chuckle from him, as he kicked off his jeans. That’s when you seen Little Mason, and little Mason was not little, at all. Wasting no time, he rid himself of his boxers, and threw them somewhere. Who knows where; who cares where.

You traced the line of his abs, to his v-line. Hearing his breath hitch as you got closer to his dick. You palmed him a few times, and he leant down to moan in your ear.

“Baby. God. If you keep doing that i’m not gonna last. W-wanna be inside your pretty pussy.”

You moaned at his words, moving your hand into his hair, and he lined himself up with your entrance.

“This okay?” He asked you, looking at you with his dark eyes. Pupils completely blown out.

“More than okay Mason.” That was all he needed, and he pushed inside you. Allowing you to adjust to his length, he lingered, before he pulled out.

“Shit. Condom.” He looked at you, waiting for your response.

“As long as you don’t have something that i’d have to explain to the doctor absolutely mortified. continue. please.”

He nodded, laughing slightly before pushing back into you. Both of you moaning into each others mouths.

He moved slowly, and he knew he had you like putty under him.

“Mason. P-please. Faster.” You’d be embarrassed in the morning when you remembered everything you said tonight, problem for another day.

He sped up, his hips moving into yours, as your hands found his hair, and his hands toyed with your bra.

He slid the straps down, and you took your hands out of his hair to remove the back. Your tits bounced free, and he wasted no time attaching his mouth to them. Licking the right nipple, as his hand toyed with the left one. Taking it between his fingers. You moaned into his mouth, breathing deeply into his. You smelt alcohol off of his, somehow you found this pleasant.

He moved his mouth to lick a strip down your breast canal, as his mouth found your left one, and his hand found your right one. Never had your boobs ever gotten this much attention. I’m sure they were loving it.

“You feel so fucking good inside me baby. Could do this all day. Wanna fuck this pussy all day.”

He moaned into your hair, your hips bucking as his pace increased. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Uh no. I don’t think so doll. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He made you look at him, your eyes meeting his dark, lust filled ones. Your eyes scanned where his dick slipped inside your soaking pussy.

“Mase. You feel so good.” You praised him.

“I know baby. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

You groaned at his words, not able to describe the pleasure he was giving you.

“Making me feel so good Mase. N-never felt like this before.”

He moaned at your words, obviously enjoying the praise.

“No dick has ever been as good as this one. And to think you called him Little Mason.”

He thrusted into you powerfully, and you felt that knot in your stomach again.

“Mase. I’m gonna cum.”

“I know you are baby. I can feel you clenching against me. Taking me well.” His hand moved from your hair, as he rubbed your clit, in the previous circular motion. That was enough, and your back arched off of the bed, as your orgasm washed over you. Your head slightly dizzy. The sight before him, was enough for Mason, and he pulled out of you, cumming all over your body.

He stayed on top of you, his hands at either side of your head as he looked down at you. Smiling. Giving you another kiss. But not like the ones before, this one was sweet.

He fell beside you, taking your hand in his as he rubbed circular motions on it. Bringing it to his mouth, and pressing a kiss against it.

“You look so pretty with my cum all over you.” He teased, giving you another kiss before getting up to find something to clean you with. Ben being on his way too big salary, of course had a walk in wardrobe on every room, so Mason nicked the towel, and cleaned you himself. Pressing kisses against all the spots were dark, purple bruises were forming.

“I didn’t hurt you, did i?” He looked at you worriedly. You simply shook your head, giving him another kiss.

“No. You were perfect.” He smiled, before throwing the towel somewhere on the floor. Lovely surprise for Ben in the morning.

He lay beside you, playing with a strand of your hair. Touching your hair made it greasy, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. A content sigh passed your lips.

“I gotta pee Mason.” You stated, knowing the importance of peeing after sex.

You got up, walking to the bathroom, and feeling a hand slap your arse.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, peeking your head outside the bathroom door:

“Sorry baby. Your arse is really slappable.” He threw you a wink, and as you finished your business in the bathroom, you lay beside him. He turned to face you.

“This was totally a one time thing, wasn’t it?” You asked him.

“Definitely.” He replied, you detected a hint of lies in his quiet voice. Tiredness, making him yawn. He snuggled into your side, and your hand found his chest.

You had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a one time thing. And you were more than okay with that.

First time writing smut. I refuse to reread this for mistakes because i’ll cringe and delete the whole thing🥰 anywho, hope you enjoyed! Leave your requests for me!

[morgan-aleghieri]

Did y'all even watch the damn video???

This is the thing, Abby is very specifically a scholar of historical fashion. For whatever other foibles she may have as a person, she is incredibly knowledgable about modes of dress for the times referenced, and while she's only looking at a few examples in this video, there is a Loooong laundry list of period dramas that have abysmal costuming choices.

See also, the great Frock Flicks, and their annual "Snark Week" . (Recommended, it's a great time if you're into historical costuming)

Abby pointing out the inaccuracies in costuming in these movies isn't an insecurity about confident women, it is a very confident conclusion from someone who has done enough research to have produced multiple books on the subject.

edited to add: she's pro Gentleman Jack, the costumes in that were hella good.

the fact two of these are masculine women... die actually

[moonlitfool]

OP of the post about the “historical NLOG” video is a TERF and the video actually talks about historical masc women in a positive light (also the YouTuber liked Gentleman Jack and said a lot of good things about it). Just FYI

thanks for sending this in and i will delete the rb (but post a screenshot of my tags cuz i think they are important) but im gonna play a little devils advocate here:

i took a look at op's blog and simply searched "trans" for any posts like that and could not find outwardly hostile posts about trans people. definitely some that made me raise an eyebrow, but i couldn't find one similar to what you wrote about. to be fair, i only looked for a couple of minutes as i only saw these asks right as i went into work (which im still at when writing this, so sorry if this is a bit jumbled)

i havent watched the abby cox video myself both bc i hate the discourse around nlog stuff and i dont watch many historical shows.

again, thanks for reaching out as i appreciate ppl telling me if something i rbed is posted by a terf, but maybe this might just be the tism but i appreciate it even more when claims of ppl saying awful shit can be backed up via links n shit.

[morgana-pendragon]

going through the five stages of grief speedrunning gentleman jack this afternoon

[disneydatass]

Gentleman jack imo was as good as its been for us so far. I was crushed it got cancelled, but then I watched Abbi Jacobson’s spin on “a league of their own” and it is aligning all my chakras, clearing my skin, stopping my menstrual cramps, watering my crops, baking my bread, paying my debts…it is literally my perfect show!

[femslashrevolution]

Changes to the Popular Pairing List

Over nearly 9 years of Femslash Revolution, we have watched the popularity of many, many pairings rise and fall again. In order to better reflect this, we have decided to switch how we define our popular pairing list, which determines which pairings are too popular to be posted on Rarepair Thursdays.

Previously, posts were added to the list when they had appeared on the blog over 20 times across its whole duration. Under the new system, we will look at the number of appearances in the 10,000 most recent posts, which reflects approximately the last 18 months of content. Any pairing with more than 10 posts in that time span will be added to the list, while older pairings which no longer receive so many posts will be removed.

The full contents of the new Popular Pairing List appears below the cut.

Abby Holland x Harper Caldwell (Happiest Season)

Abigail x Tallie (The World to Come)

Addy Hanlon x Beth Cassidy (Dare Me)

Adena El Amin x Kat Edison (The Bold Type)

Adora x Catra (She Ra: Princess of Power)

Aerith Gainsborough x Tifa Lockhart (Final Fantasy)

Aino Minako x Hino Rei (Sailor Moon)

AJ Campos x Paige Evans (Crush)

Alana Bloom x Margot Verger (Hannibal)

Alex Danvers x Kelly Olsen (Supergirl)

Alex Nunez x Paige Michalchuk (Degrassi: The Next Generation)

Alexis Rose x Twyla Sands (Schitt’s Creek)

Alicia x Leighton (The Sex Lives of College Girls)

Alina Starkov x Genya Safin (Shadow and Bone)

Allison Argent x Lydia Martin (Teen Wolf)

Allison McRoberts x Patty O'Connor (Kevin Can F**k Himself)

Alyssa Greene x Emma Nolan (The Prom)

Amae Rali x Elida Al Feyr (Vagrant Queen)

Amalia True x Penance Adair (The Nevers)

Amanda Clarke x Emily Thorne (Revenge)

Amanita Caplan x Nomi Marks (Sense8)

Amity Blight x Luz Noceda (The Owl House)

Amy Silva x Kirsten Longacre (Vigil)

Ana Servin x Mariana Herrera (Madre solo hay dos)

Andi Agosti x Emília Alo (Rebelde)

Andi Mack x Buffy Driscoll (Andi Mack)

Andrea Sachs x Miranda Priestly (The Devil Wears Prada)

Andromache of Scythia x Quynh (The Old Guard)

Aneela x Delle Seyah Kendry (Killjoys)

Anissa Pierce x Grace Choi (Black Lightning; DCU)

Ann Walker x Anne Lister (Gentleman Jack)

Anne Shirley x Diana Barry (Anne of Green Gables; Anne With An E)

Anne Shirley x Diana Barry x Ruby Gillis (Anne With An E)

April Stevens x Sterling Wesley (Teenage Bounty Hunters)

April Young x Rebekah Mikaelson (The Vampire Diaries)

Arizona Robbins x Callie Torres (Grey’s Anatomy)

Asahina Aoi x Ogami Sakura (Dangan Ronpa)

Asami Sato x Korra (The Legend of Korra)

Aster Flores x Ellie Chu (The Half Of It)

Audrey Jensen x Emma Duval (MTV Scream)

Aurora x Mulan (Once Upon A Time)

Ava Daniels x Deborah Vance (Hacks)

Ava Sharpe x Sara Lance (Legends of Tomorrow)

Ava Silva x Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun)

Barbara Howard x Melissa Schemmenti (Abbott Elementary)

Beauregard Lionett x Jester Lavorre (Critical Role)

Beauregard Lionett x Yasha Nydoorin (Critical Role)

Beca Mitchell x Chloe Beale (Pitch Perfect)

Becky Baker x Imogen Moreno (Degrassi: The Next Generation)

Bella Swan x Rosalie Hale (Twilight)

Bellatrix Lestrange x Hermione Granger (Harry Potter)

Bernadetta von Varley x Edelgard von Hresvelg (Fire Emblem)

Blair Waldorf x Jenny Humphrey (Gossip Girl)

Blake Belladonna x Yang Xiao Long (RWBY)

Bobbie Draper x Chrisjen Avasarala (The Expanse)

Bonnibel Bubblegum x Marceline Abadeer (Adventure Time)

Bonnie Bennett x Nora Hildegard (The Vampire Diaries)

Bradley Jackson x Laura Peterson (The Morning Show)

Brittany Pierce x Santana Lopez (Glee)

Buffy Summers x Faith Lehane (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Caitlin Snow x Iris West (The Flash)

Caitlyn x Vi (Arcane: League of Legends; League of Legends)

Calliope Burns x Juliette Fairmont (First Kill)

Cameron Howe x Donna Clark (Halt and Catch Fire)

Camina Drummer x Naomi Nagata (The Expanse)

Candace Powell x Lilly Fortenberry (Astrid and Lilly Save The World)

Carina Deluca x Maya Bishop (Station 19)

Carol Danvers x Maria Rambeau (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Caroline Forbes x Valerie Tulle (The Vampire Diaries)

Carrie x Flynn (Julie and the Phantoms)

Casey Gardner x Izzie (Atypical)

Cassandra x Rapunzel (Disney Princesses)

Charlotte Murchison x Mary Anning (Ammonite)

Cheryl Blossom x Toni Topaz (Riverdale)

Christina Braithwhite x Ruby Baptiste (Lovecraft Country)

Christine Chapel x Nyota Uhura (Star Trek: The Original Series)

Claire Novak x Kaia Nieves (Wayward Sisters)

Clarke Griffin x Lexa (The 100)

Clary Fray x Isabelle Lightwood (The Mortal Instruments)

Cora Hale x Lydia Martin (Teen Wolf)

Cosima Niehaus x Delphine Cormier (Orphan Black)

Cristina Soto x Joana Bianchi (Skam Spain)

Dana x Rachel (Mythic Quest)

Dani Clayton x Jamie (The Haunting of Bly Manor)

Dani Núñez x Gigi Ghorbani (The L Word)

Dani Ramos x Grace (Terminator: Dark Fate)

Daphne Blake x Velma Dinkley (Scooby Doo)

Debbie Ocean x Lou (Ocean’s Eight)

Deena Johnson x Samantha Fraser (Fear Street)

Dina x Ellie (The Last of Us)

Dina x Sydney Novak (I Am Not Okay With This)

Dinah Lance x Helena Bertinelli (DCU)

Dot Campbell x Fatin Jadmani (The Wilds)

Eleanor Shellstrop x Tahani Al Jamil (The Good Place)

Eleven x Max Mayfield (Stranger Things)

Ellen Waverly x Pam Horton (For All Mankind)

Elphaba Thropp x Glinda Upland (Wicked)

Elsa x Honeymaren (Disney Princesses)

Emily Dickinson x Sue Gilbert (Dickinson; Wild Nights With Emily)

Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau (Criminal Minds)

Emma Swan x Regina Mills (Once Upon A Time)

Eve x Mazikeen (Lucifer)

Eve Polastri x Villanelle (Killing Eve)

Fatin Jadmani x Leah Rilke (The Wilds)

Fatou Jallow x Kieu My Vu (Druck)

Finch x Josie Saltzman (Legacies)

Fleur Delacour x Hermione Granger (Harry Potter)

Flynn x Julie Molina (Julie and the Phantoms)

Fran x Marla Grayson (I Care A Lot)

Francesca Findabair x Fringilla Vigo (The Witcher)

Frankie Bergstein x Grace Hanson (Grace and Frankie)

Gabrielle x Xena (Xena: Warrior Princess)

Ginny Weasley x Hermione Granger (Harry Potter)

Ginny Weasley x Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter)

Greta Moreno x Riley Luo (Generation)

Gwendolyn Briggs x Mildred Ratched (Ratched)

Haniwa x Wren (See)

Hannah Miller x Sarah Fier (Fear Street)

Harleen Quinzel x Pamela Isley (DCU)

Helen Sinclair x Liv Chenka (Doctor Who)

Helena Wells x Myka Bering (Warehouse 13)

Héloïse x Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire)

Hen Wilson x Karen Wilson (911)

Hermione Granger x Narcissa Malfoy (Harry Potter)

Hermione Granger x Pansy Parkinson (Harry Potter)

Himemiya Anthy x Tenjou Utena (Revolutionary Girl Utena)

Hope Mikaelson x Josie Saltzman (Legacies)

Hope Mikaelson x Lizzie Saltzman (Legacies)

Imogen Temult x Laudna (Critical Role)

Jackie x Shauna Shipman (Yellowjackets)

Jadzia Dax x Kira Nerys (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine)

Jen Harding x Judy Hale (Dead to Me)

Jennifer Check x Needy Lesnicki (Jennifer’s Body)

Jeong Seo hyeon x Suzy Choi (Mine)

Joan x Zoey Clarke (Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist)

Joann Owosekun x Keyla Detmer (Star Trek: Discovery)

Jules Thomas x Ophelia Mayer (Sweet Vicious)

Jules Vaughn x Rue Bennett (Euphoria)

Kaioh Michiru x Tenoh Haruka (Sailor Moon)

Kara Danvers x Lena Luthor (Supergirl)

Karolina Dean x Nico Minoru (Marvel Comics; Runaways)

Kate Whistler x Lucy Tara (NCIS: Hawai'i)

Kathryn Janeway x Seven of Nine (Star Trek: Voyager)

Keeley Jones x Rebecca Welton (Ted Lasso)

Kelly x Yorkie (Black Mirror)

Kim Kelly x Lindsay Weir (Freaks and Geeks)

Kira Yukimura x Malia Tate (Teen Wolf)

Lady Hideko x Sook Hee (The Handmaiden)

Lauren Bloom x Leyla Shinwari (New Amsterdam)

Lavender Brown x Parvati Patil (Harry Potter)

Lucy Westenra x Mina Murray (Dracula)

Margaery Tyrell x Sansa Stark (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Maria Hill x Natasha Romanoff (Marvel Cinematic Universe; Marvel Comics)

Max Baker x Sophie Sanchez (Ginny & Georgia)

Maya Hart x Riley Matthews (Girl Meets World)

Mencía Blanco Commerford x Rebeka Parrilla de Bormujo Ávalos (Elite)

Michael Burnham x Philippa Georgiou (Star Trek: Discovery)

Moiraine Damodred x Siuan Sanche (Wheel of Time)

Molly x Nick (No Good Nick)

Namaari x Raya (Raya and the Last Dragon)

Nancy Wheeler x Robin Buckley (Stranger Things)

Neopolitan x Yang Xiao Long (RWBY)

Nicole Haught x Waverly Earp (Wynonna Earp)

Nyota Uhura x T'Pring (Star Trek)

Nyssa al Ghul x Sara Lance (Arrow)

Paris Geller x Rory Gilmore (Gilmore Girls)

Raelle Collar x Scylla Ramshorn (Motherland: Fort Salem)

Raffi Musiker x Seven of Nine (Star Trek: Picard)

Regina Mills x Ruby (Once Upon A Time)

Rey x Rose Tico (Star Wars)

River Song x Thirteenth Doctor (Doctor Who)

Root x Sameen Shaw (Person of Interest)

Ryan Wilder x Sophie Moore (Batwoman)

Seo Ji wan x Yoon Sol (Nevertheless)

Shane McCutcheon x Tess Van De Berg (The L Word)

Shelby Goodkind x Toni Shalifoe (The Wilds)

Tara Maclay x Willow Rosenberg (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Thirteenth Doctor x Yasmin Khan (Doctor Who)

Tissaia de Vries x Yennefer of Vengerberg (The Witcher)

Vivian Shing x Wilhelmina Pang (Saving Face)

Weiss Schnee x Yang Xiao Long (RWBY)

[gayverlyearp]

Do you have any gay show recommendations? Any and all!

i apologize this has taken me forever to answer so happy pride month!! here’s some of my recs:

-work in progress (if i had ONE rec, it would be this one, abby deals with depression and a whole host of other things in this queerest of queer shows, semi-autobiographical, it’s a comedy!)

-feel good (another semi-autobiographical comedy, this one about addiction and love, staring mae martin, who is bi and non-binary)

-betty (skateboarders in new york city, very slice of life)

-one mississippi (we’re back to another semi-autobiographical comedy about struggling and falling in love. tig notaro and stephanie allyne play versions of themselves)

-special (guess what? semi-autobiographical comedy! ryan is gay, has cerebral palsy, and is starting to make moves to break away from his dead end jobs and codependency with his mom)

-it’s a sin (watch if you want to cry)

-teenage bounty hunters (best teen comedy, sadly cancelled on a cliffhanger so that’s a big caveat)

-the things you probably know about but are worth mentioning: dickinson, hacks, gentleman jack, heartstopper

**if anyone wants to add recs, i’ll add them and reblog!!

[365days365movies]

April 5, 2021: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) (Recap: Part One)

Yeah, so...Spectrum exploded last night.

So, I'm unfortunately a little behind. BUT NEVER FEAR! I'll get back on time before you know it! So, uh...where were we last time? OH RIGHT! Let's talk about black comedy. And I don't mean black-and-white comedies, or comedies prominently featuring African-American culture and demographic. No, I mean dark comedies.

The "black comedy" functions off of macabre or taboo humor and jokes, and is often closely associated with biting satire and commentary in film. That definition is loose as hell, I know, but it's all about the subject matter. The most common subject matter for dark humor is death, of course, and related subjects to death. War, murder, strife, madness, and violence are also common topics here.

Some of the best comedies are black comedies, though. For example, Brazil (1985; dir. Terry Gilliam) focuses on themes of depression, dreams, terrorism, totalitarian governments, and madness. And it's GREAT. How about The Death of Stalin (2018; dir. Armando Iannucci)? The title ALONE should tell you everything you need to know about the tone and topic, AND YET...

It's HILARIOUS. And also informative! If you haven't seen it, I definitely recommend it. And again, that film is about, well...the death of Stalin, and the fallout of his disastrous and murderous regime. Dark, DARK topic, but very funny movie.

Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is about war; Fargo is about murder in North Dakota; Heathers is about a toxic relationship and the death and murder of teenagers; Birdman, or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance is about an actor's existential crisis and complete mental breakdown; and Trainspotting is about the devastating effects of drug addiction and features a DEAD BABY FOR CHRIST'S SAKE...and yet they're all full of laughs! Except for the baby scene. Fuck me, the baby scene in Trainspotting.

So, yeah, these are a diverse group of films, that's for sure. But where does it all start? There's 1942's To Be or Not to Be (dir. Ernst Lubitsch), which is about a Polish theatre company who need to escape in the midst of...well, 1942 Poland. If you don't get why that's dark, you should probably look up some history, bud. Charlie Chaplin would dip into the role in 1947's Monsieur Verdoux, which I mentioned last time. And there's the seldom-talked-about Kind Hearts and Coronets (dir. Robert Hamer), a 1949 film about murder for status, essentially.

But it's hard to argue that the most prominent early black comedy is 1944's Cary Grant vehicle, Arsenic and Old Lace.

Directed by Frank Capra, this film was based on a 1941 stage play, and is about...well, we'll get to it. While its prominence as a black comedy is one reason I'm watching this movie, the other is...well, to be honest, this is a movie I heard about CONSTANTLY from my Mom, as this is one of her favorites. And yet, like Dirty Dancing, I've somehow never seen it! Let's remedy that.

So, without further ado, let's get into it! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The film starts off with a BANG, as a man calls me a “big simp” to my face! Actually, he’s screaming at a Brooklyn Dodgers game, where a massive fight breaks out. This fight quickly transitions to a city hall, where a line of people are waiting to file marriage licenses. Amongst the line is Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) and Elaine Harper (Priscilla Lane).

Brewster is hiding from the press, as he’s a famous reviewer, and author of the Bachelor’s Bible, and it would be quite the scandal for him to get married. And yet, he’s head over heels in love with Elaine. After going through an existential crisis about the whole thing, he gives into Elaine’s sweet demeanor, and the two file their marriage license officially.

It’s Halloween day, and we move from the city to the suburbs of Brooklyn, where two policemen, O’Hara (Jack Carson) and Sanders (John RIdgely) are on patrol. Sanders tells O’Hara of the kindly Brewster Sisters, the sweetest women on Earth, both of whom live in the neighborhood. Currently, they are being visited by Reverend Harper (Grant Mitchell), Elaine’s father. He’s speaking with Abby (Josephine Hull) and Martha Brewster (Jean Adair), the kindly aunts of Mortimer. 

Also living there is Mortimer’s brother Teddy Brewster (John Alexander), who apparently believes that he’s Teddy Roosevelt, which is...hilarious. Dude is hilarious, seriously. The cops come over to visit the two, and collect some clothes and toys for local charity. Also, Teddy only leaves a room by screaming “CHAAAAARGE!!!”, and running up the stairs, and I love Teddy a lot.

Reverend Harper and the cops leave for the night, and the sisters settle down for the evening. Abby and Martha state that their plans for Elaine and Mortimer should go as scheduled, which is probably talking about their marriage. Abby also mentions that she’s done something while she was away, to Martha’s delight and surprise. They tell Teddy that he’ll soon be digging a new lock for the Panama Canal...whatever that means.

Martha’s about to go to the basement to see what Abby’s done, but she states that because she was all by herself, the surprise is in the window seat. As she’s about to look at the surprise, Elaine shows up in the window, and the two arrive to give the happy news that they’re married. Elaine goes to tell her father of the news, while Mortimer goes to tell his sweet aunts. Afterwards, the two will be on their honeymoon, going to Niagara Falls. And I should say, they’re quite a sweet couple.

After telling the news to his aunts, he asks them where his notes are for his new controversial book, Mind Over Matrimony. They go to look for it around the house, and Teddy comes downstairs, dressed up in attire to “go to Panama.” Aunt Abby comes across a childhood picture of Jonathan, Mortimer’s brother and apparently a violent sociopath or some sort. She goes to burn the picture (geez), and Mortimer continues to look for the notes. He goes to the window seat.

Yup! It’s a body! Looks like Abby and Martha’s sweet old lady act is a guise for some myurder! Which I know, just because it’s the most famous thing about the movie. However, Mortimer thinks the murderer is Teddy, and tells his sweet old aunts about the body, asking that he gets put into an asylum. But Abby notes that Teddy didn’t kill the man, and they already know about the body!

Which, yeah, surprises Mortimer, obviously.

Abby cheerfully admits that the man, Mr. Hoskins, was poisoned by a tainted glass of elderberry wine, and that they did so on purpose, hiding the body before the Reverend came for a visit. The whole thing isn’t a big deal; it’s just Abby and Martha’s little secret!

After they leave, and brush off the whole thing as easy as needlepoint or macramé as a hobby, Mortimer, is completely broken by the whole affair, and is partially convinced that he’s dreaming. All the while, Elaine’s trying to get Mortimer to come over and speak with her father. But Mortimer can’t exactly forget about this whole silly murder thing, and goes to confront his aunts about it. He learns that Teddy’s digging not a lock, but a grave in the cellar. As he’s done with 10 other bodies. Or maybe it’s 11 others?

After picking up a phone call from Elaine, then hanging up abruptly (and understandably), Mortimer finds out how this whole thing started. See, the two have a “Renters Wanted” sign in their front lawn, and the neighborhood thinks that it’s there so the two sweet old ladies can offer help to anyone in need, even though they aren’t actually renting to anyone. In reality...well, they do it for another reason.

See, an older gentleman stopped by a bit ago, and he had a heart attack right there in the living room. After seeing how peaceful he looked, the two decided to bring in other lonely old men and bring in the same kind of peace. And from there...well, yeah, you get the general idea. They’ve been poisoning them with arsenic, strychnine, and cyanide mixed in with elderberry wine. Apparently, Martha’s got the mixture just right so that it tastes delicious. With all this explained, they offer Mortimer a sip of wine. Which he’s understandably nervous about.

But with all of that done, Elaine comes over to check in on him. But he’s not able to tell her anything, which greatly (and understandably) confuses her. He basically kicks her out (which enrages her, once again understandably), and calls a judge with the intent to frame the whole affair on Teddy, who’s always been.unstable. Which, for the record, is not even SLIGHTLY going to solve the problem.

But as he’s on the phone, a man named Gibbs (Edward McWade) comes in to rent an apartment. He’s all alone in the world, with nobody to care for him. And of course, this leads to the women trying to poison him with the wine. It’s a funny yet tense moment as he stops just short of drinking the wine, distracted by Mortimer’s freakout over the phone. But Mortimer gets off the phone JUST in time to scare Gibbs away and stop him from drinking the wine. And it is...VERY funny, goddamn.

As Mortimer tries to tell the aunts exactly what’s wrong with what they’re doing, the phone rings. It’s a call from Witherspoon (Edward Everett Horton), who runs an asylum that Mortimer wants Teddy committed into. However, they don’t quite have room for him, as they have too many Theodore Roosevelts at present. However, they do need more Napoleon Bonapartes. I love this goddamn movie.

Still, Witherspoon agrees to take him in despite that, and Mortimer head out to get the paperwork done. However, he asks his aunts to not do anything until he gets back, and he also proises that he’ll attend the “services” for their latest victim. He leaves, and kinda steals a cabbie’s car in the process (I love this movie, I’m telling you), and Abby and Martha start shutting things down for the night. However, as they do, they get a mysterious knock on the door. They pretend not to be home...only for a man with an ominous scar to enter the room regardless.

Let’s pause here, shall we? See you in Part 2!

[marzipanandminutiae]

I think the line between representing gnc women in the past and interpreting the NLOG trope as applying to any gnc woman in fiction is difficult to chart—I don’t deny that authors do this, but the thing is that real historical women did feel like this for very legitimate reasons, even if they come off as condescending today (I’d be pissed too if I was told I Had to wear skirts and corsets, and I am someone who personally really enjoys wearing skirts and corsets). Representing women who did not conform to gender norms on various different ways is important, and I don’t think Cox’s critique of any of her chosen movies/shows is particularly convincing in part because she does not acknowledge this at all—and while not every YouTube video essay has to be all things to all people, this is a touchy topic and some effort on her part would’ve been really appreciated, because it very much comes off as “gnc women make me uncomfortable” more than anything else.

See, I really don't get where the whole "she doesn't talk about real GNC women!!" thing comes from

because I am literally watching the video right now and, direct quote, "while rejecting traditional gender norms of their era happened, that doesn't mean it can only be expressed in the rejection of distinctly feminine articles of clothing..."

"And while I'm not saying there's anything wrong with breaking gender norms in historical dramas...Gentleman Jack is a good example of this...I'm frustrated with the reliance on 'Girly Bad! Boy Good!' clothing defaults...without what seems to be a second thought on how problematic it can actually be."

"The idea of creating the bloomers and the trousers could have come from this very genuine place of like 'I want...to be able to run...without having to deal with all these skirts around my legs.' And that is fair..."

and the big part, prefacing AN ENTIRE SECTION OF THE VIDEO: "Now, all that being said, I want to acknowledge the historic reality of women who did dress in masculine clothing." She actually goes further than I would in using they/them pronouns for George Sand (I have a "pronouns they used in life" policy, personally), and discusses in detail some examples of women who presented masculine at various times, for various reasons. She also gets in-depth about Gentleman Jack, and why the show was more authentic to Anne Lister's life (as a distinctly butch woman in the 1830s) for showing her having to bend slightly to accepted feminine modes of dress rather than just...sticking her in anachronistic pants all the time.

I don't think the video is perfect- it's clear what presentation Abby herself prefers, and thus she can sometimes muddy her own message. For example, to me it's clear that she's not saying it would be BAD for a suffragist character to be GNC, but it would be UNREALISTIC due to the emphasis the actual suffrage movement had to place on conventionally feminine attire to avoid distracting the press from their own message. But I can see how it might come off as "feminine suffragist character good, masc suffragist character bad" to someone with less baseline knowledge of the speaker's general views.

(It could also be hard to get that she's not decrying the rejection of feminine attire wholesale in criticizing Anne W*th an E, but rather saying that it's unfaithful to the character as originally written. Also she could have been clearer that the issue with Miss Stacy is that she would be INSTA-FIRED if, as a small-town teacher in the 1890s, she showed up to a town hall meeting in trousers. Like. I cannot overstate how fired she would get from any position overseeing children's education, as an outsider and not even an "accepted local eccentric," in a backwater like Avonlea.)

In short, while it has its issues, I don't really see that it's as horrible and prescriptivist a video as everyone makes it out to be. But you're entitled to your opinions, just as I am to mine.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Sleepy Holloween, Part 2

A/N: Muse unexpectedly decided Ichabbie’s Halloween story needed to continue, so here we are with more floof and cutesyness. Part 1 found here.  Also on AO3.

Abbie poured the leftover candy into a Ziploc bag to take to the office in the morning, thinking over the day as her Captain rinsed out their wine glasses and left them to soak in the sink. Quite a few years had passed since she'd squeezed so much Halloween celebrating into one day. The jack-o-lantern carvings, the pumpkin seed and cookie baking, passing out candy while sipping a nice Merlot, showing Hocus Pocus to Ichabod for the first time. Which reminded her... "You know...I really thought you'd relate to the movie more," she mused aloud. Ichabod snatched the towel from the oven handle and faced her as he dried his hands. "Oh?" She nodded, then motioned for him to follow her. "Yeah, there are a lot of things I thought you might empathize with." She opened the front door and pointed to the fiery jack-o-lanterns adorning their porch steps. "We need to put these out," she explained. "By my recollection, you only allowed me three grievances," he recalled, pausing to follow her lead and blow out a candle inside of one of the pumpkins. "And no discussion with which to further detail my deeper sentiments about it and the many aspects that reminded me of myself." She put out another candle. "My apologies, Captain," she demurred. "I'd very much..." She extinguished the last candle with a puff of air. "…like to hear your thoughts on the ways you identified with Hocus Pocus." He held the front door open for her, and she went back inside, him following closely behind. He locked the deadbolt, then stood at military attention, a fine seamen specimen if she'd ever seen one.

"Are you referring to how I resemble Master Butcherson, who was called out of his grave by some witch's spell into a world that couldn't possibly comprehend what that experience is like?" Abbie heard the seriousness hidden in his self-deprecation but couldn't resist teasing him. "Aww, come on, babe, you look infinitely better than Billy Butcherson did. Your centuries sleeping did a body good." 

Her flirtatious gaze traveled from his sailor-capped head to his booted feet, and he watched her perusal of him, prepared to counter her move. "You get no points for that one," he scolded. "Even as a benevolent soul, the man was a walking, rotted corpse with moths festering in his mouth."

"My point exactly: I definitely wouldn't've kissed him! But you..." She reached for him, one hand curling around the back of his neck, drawing him down to kiss her briefly before she moved away. He stared longingly after her but continued the conversation. "Then perhaps you meant I'm like the Sanderson sisters." Noting the intent to tease him written on her face, he threw his finger up in the air. "Not in purpose or lack of intellect or gender," he rushed to indicate before she had a chance to cut in, "or—again—re-emergence because of a witch's spell, but in their struggle to understand the modern world, even with supernatural forces and a guidebook in their arsenal." Abbie hadn't considered that angle and smiled indulgently at him. "Fair. Though you've done considerably better than those three. Combined." He dipped his head once in thanks, then continued. "May I also present my resemblance to young Master Binx." "An old, mangy, black-for-bad-luck cat?" Her disgusted look morphed into something sultry. "Ohh, or the knowledgeable pussycat of a relic who wants nothing more than to protect the people he cares about from evil?" She slid her hand from his shoulder to his wrist as she strutted by him, heading towards the stairs. "Madam, I'll have you know—” "Mistress," she corrected him, throwing a flirty look over her shoulder. She wanted to play now, did she? His gaze turned predatory, and he slowly trailed her up the stairs, several steps behind. "Mistress..." he repeated dutifully. She'd reached the second floor landing and turned to face him. "Yes, Captain?" His foot froze mid-step as he drank in the sight of her regal air, fetching dress, petite frame, innocent smile. His beautifully stunning wife who'd procured a costume just for him that had taunted him all night. He promptly lost all train of thought. Abbie saw his eyes glaze over as he stood in awe of her. At least the feeling was mutual. She'd just had a lot more practice at open flirtation than he had and could still function while stunned by him. She waited a moment, indulging in his open attraction to her, before helping him out. "So far, you've compared yourself to a zombie, a trio of witches, and a cursed cat." His eyes narrowed at her as she amusedly reduced his comparisons to their most basic elements. "While you clearly don't think that highly of yourself, I, my dear one, do. Would you like me to tell you who I think you resemble, Captain?" "Most assuredly," he affirmed, holding himself in check a few moments longer. "Have you considered that you're most like Max, the hero of the tale? A gentleman who finds himself in the same country but a new place that doesn't quite feel like home? Interested in a woman who doesn't know what to make of him at first?" Her voice turned dramatic as she continued. "He's harassed by the locals as he tries to find his way in the world, gets wrapped up in something he didn't know could be true, then fights like hell to protect himself, his family, the world, and the woman he loves from evil—not to mention witches—bent on destroying them. And in the end, he saves them all. And gets the girl he's pined after and loves." She dramatically clasped her hands over her heart with a flourish. His eyes never leaving hers, he recovered only enough to move towards her, slowly stalking her again. "You think I'm the hero, do you?" A contented, sweet smile breaks over her face as she walks backwards at his same pace, the sight of him in his sailor's costume trailing after her making her heart beat fast. "Ummhmm."

"And the girl..." "A ravishing beauty," she stated cheekily, throwing the back of her hand up to her forehead in a fainting pose. "Never disputed." His eyes wantonly swept over her as she continued playfully leading him towards their bedroom, the colonial gown far less revealing than her normal wear and all the more tantalizing for it. "Strong and intelligent and wildly brave...a heroine in her own right." "Undoubtedly," she agreed as her back connected with the bedroom door. She absently reached for the doorknob and twisted it, flipping on the bedroom light as she continued backing away from him. "Deserving of some kind of reward, I'd say." "As much as her Captain deserves a warm hero's welcome." He turned off the hallway light as he entered the bedroom, the shadows and light playing deliciously over his devilishly handsome features, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. "If that's all he wants..." Abbie stopped in the middle of the room, waiting for him to reach her. "That's only the beginning," he promised with a low growl as he approached her. "I seem to recall..." He ran the backside of his finger along her cheek, soft and cool to the touch, dropping his hand to her collarbone and running his fingertips across her bare skin as he prowled around her. "Telling you..." His hand never leaving her, his touch trailed heat across the back of her neck. "How I couldn't wait to take this off of you." His whispered breath teased over the skin beneath her ear, the sensuality of it heightened because she couldn't see him, didn't know what to expect next. Still, he barely touched her, his fingers slowly grazing their way around her shoulder and back to her collarbone as he completed his rotation around her. She peered up at him heatedly, anticipating, yearning for his next move. 'Crane on the brain,' she'd called it once--and had had it ever since. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, satisfaction and desire written on his face, and he leaned down towards her. She tipped her head up, craving his kiss and everything that came after it, but he stopped a hair's-breath from touching his maddening lips to hers. "How does that sound?" he whispered, tantalizing her with his breath against her lips instead of his mouth. "Exquisite," she breathed on a sigh, willing herself to wait for him to ravish her. She was on the edge, as was he—she could feel it. She wouldn't have to wait long. "Enticing. Hot." He couldn't wait any longer, silencing her with his lips, gently at first, then more insistently as she drew his hat off his head, dropped it to the floor, and ran her fingers through his hair. She moaned, and the sound her passion vibrated through him, his hands roaming down her sides and hips to then splay across her back, drawing her into him. His hands set her ablaze, and she expected him to make light work of the dress since he'd wanted to divest her of it all night. Instead, he lingered, his kiss ardent and sensual, his touch exploratory and slow. He reached for the back of her dress where the stays were...should be. His fingers found a zipper instead. "Mm, how very modern," he murmured appreciatively as he withdrew from her, again moving behind her. Abbie waited, senses alert, body tingling, wondering what his clever mind and hands had in store for her.

His finger traced her skin along the back neckline of her dress, sending gooseflesh racing up and down her spine. He kissed her neck, and her head fell to the side, allowing him more access.

“Tell me,” he whispered near her ear. “What does a hero’s welcome look like?”

She eased away from him only far enough to turn around. “Like this.” She collided with him, pressing against him, drawing him down to kiss her as together they moved towards the bed. She felt the corded muscles of his arms and shoulders, his back, his leanness belying his strength.

As they reached the bed, Abbie laid her hand flat against his chest, and he let her push him lightly, falling to his seat He reached for her, his hands gripping her waist as he peered up at her and the satisfied look on her face.

“Do all captains receive this treatment?” he queried.

“Not from me. But you’re lucky.” She winked at him, threading her hands through his hair, mesmerized by her forever-military man.

“Well…not yet,” he smirked at her with a lifted eyebrow.

"If the boat's a'rockin..."

He gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head. “Nevermind, Captain. Just kiss me.”

“As you wish, Mistress.” And he did.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Howbout a story where everyone is out of the studio and they get to go back to their families?

Summary: Recovery is hard when you feel disconnected from the world around you.

---

[[MORE]]

In total, Henry had spent an entire 5 years stuck inside the seemingly never-ending loop that Joey had designated as the Cycle. It was absolutely surreal to the old cartoonist, reading his ex-childhood friend turned tormentor's notes and studies on the subject matter. The neat cursive detailing mad ramblings that could pass off as the musings of an overzealous researcher observing terrified mice in a booby-trapped maze. Studying their patterns, the subsequent changes of them upon additional stimuli being added to their environment, and other insane practices that completely threw morality out of the proverbial window.

Each beginning and ending of a year, another marked failure upon a calendar oversaturated by Joey Drew's overwhelming lack of satisfaction.

Even so, as much as it ached to think about lost time, 5 years wasn't much compared to what everyone else had to endure. 20 years of inky hell were nothing to shrug about, and Henry wasn't planning on just throwing everyone out into the streets to fend for themselves.

The house so close to the mountains, an inheritance he'd never really thought would come in handy, was the only reprive these shells of people had ever had in the span of two decades full of torment. His attention the only positive social interaction that they could recall with their broken minds.

Their recovery was not his responsibility, but he felt that he owed it to them regardless of the fact. Joey's descent was entirely on the man (his heinous crimes as well), but it didn't sit well with Henry to just not do anything to help fix some of the damages of the world.

And god if it didn't fill him with hope when he watched them slowly go into the road of recovery. People on the mend, shedding their old skins to become less the product of a cruel fiddler's ambitions, and more of their old selves, albeit newer in certain aspects.

The angels remained so, with little nubby horns and skin papery white. Tired eyes of sepia toned yellows, and scars from horrors he couldn't hope to understand. That he'd seen mere shadows of while briefly imprisoned himself.

Sammy fluctuated, stuck in a cycle of trying to find himself now that he felt like he was neither Samuel Lawrence Jr, nor the Prophet that worshipped the Ink Demon. Sometimes more close to human, other times coated in thick tarry skin that reflected oddly in the light. The closest he got to his old self was very close to the truth, but his once curly blond locks were now a messy tangle of raven curls that made him look so much paler than he should be. His teeth were sharp, his eyes far too yellow, and he refused to walk around barefoot even while indoors.

Tom and Buddy were still hound-like cartoon wolves, although now the feeling of fuzz was less a tactile illusion and more of a reality. Thick winter coats and soft summer furs. The shedding was absurd, but at least if they were spotted during the day they could pass off as very big dogs just frolicking in the woods. The same could not be said for the Searchers, Lost Ones and other cartoon characters that were slowly transitioning into less revolting forms. Jack had recently become a Lost One, consistent enough to wear clothing, but still having a hard time grasping speech.

Shawn too had passed onto the Lost One phase, but his tremendous size as the largest searcher with a mighty fine top hat, had followed him into his transition. He was over 9 feet tall and (albeit more wordy than most others of his kind) surprisingly bothered by his new height. Finding clothes that fit him would be a terrible pain.

Bertrum, Lacie and Norman were a difficult topic. Their mechanical parts had ensured their forms were stable and static. They couldn't become more human in appearence, and that in turn hindered their psychological recovery considerably. Still they were fighting that uphill battle, even if very slowly.

20 whole years of suffering, and still here they were, defying Joey Drew by getting to a point where they could begin to believe they were people again.

Henry Stein couldn't be prouder.

-

A lot of the crew had little to no remaining family. It was somewhat devastating to both him and Linda, as they poured their all into locating the studio employees's living relatives, only to find obituaries and tracks leading absolutely nowhere.

Buddy's case hurt the most, seeing the kid so heartbroken standing over his families's graves and his own empty one, had certainly put things into perspective. Illness had taken his mother just shy of a year of their escape... It wasn't fair.

Susie was much the same, crying thick tears as she left flowers on her poor mama's grave. She prayed her last years had been full of kindness despite her daughter having all but vanished into thin air.

Contacting the Pendles took a few days, and Tom refused to contact any of his own relatives, as he hadn't had that good of a relationship with his extended family to begin with. The only people that ever mattered were dead well before the machine had been built. Henry found that to be an overall theme for nearly everyone, really.

Joey Drew Studios had been built upon the hardships of social outcasts and dreamers. Joey's preferred prey had been those he deemed easily manipulated. People that wouldn't be missed too terribly.

The two largest exceptions being Sammy and Norman, and even then the both of them were not easy cases when it came to family reunions.

Henry had no idea where to look for Sammy's sister, as he couldn't find records of an Abigail Marie Lawrence after a certain amount of years (perhaps she'd married and taken on her husband's name?), and Norman... Well... The Projectionist didn't like strangers.

That alone made Norman exceedingly opposed to seeking anyone out. He was scared that he might have an "episode" and bring harm to whatever family member was out there missing him. A painful choice, as the want for home was clear in his gestures, his signed words, his dreams...

Henry would just have to focus on those that could be brought back home. For now at least.

-

The day Jack's face returned to him was the very same one where he saw his husband for the first time in two decades.

He'd been a complete jitterbug, fearful that his lovely hat and wedding ring wouldn't be enough for his beloved to recognize him. Lost Ones were people shaped but still very unnatural to look upon, even if Jack's form was considerably less emaciated and his words were slowly returning to him.

Nearly chickened out too, once an older gentleman was welcomed inside and briefly spoken to by Henry. Theo had come knowing Jack wasn't completely the same, but there was no revulsion, no regrets in getting his hopes up.

Just from body language alone, Theo had seen his husband in the round figure with sad glowing eyes and a battered bowler hat that still smelled mildly of sewage. Everyone had practically melted with delight as both held each other and cried happy tears at being reunited.

And then the ink of Jack's face began to melt off. Sepia skin and dark inky eyes, a round face framed by poofy locks. Peace of mind had let the biggest wounds heal. His voice was still not completely back, but both he and Theo had always held silent conversations. This wasn't an issue.

Saying goodbye was hard, but it gave everyone hope. If Jack who'd been something as mindless as a Searcher, could heal and move on, then nothing was stopping anyone else from living their best lives as well.

The will to live was further renewed.

-

Linda ends up being the one to ultimately find Sammy's younger sister. To their surprise, it brings a slice of the Polk family right to them as well.

Abigail Marie Lawrence was only such by blood. By name, she was now a Polk herself.

Married to Nelson, one of Norman's many nephews, and a childhood friend of hers.

Together they had a son. A tired looking young man with an uncanny resemblance to his uncle of all things. Mostly in the eyes. The hazel coloration that Sammy and Abby once shared had passed on to Lucian Polk.

Meeting them was... Awkward.

And very heated.

20 years of unexpected separation had brought up a lot of turmoils that neither knew how to deal with. In the end Linda and Henry had to separate the screaming pair, enough so that both hot-headed folk could cool down and then rush back to hug each other tightly and cry. Regretful and remorseful words spilling out with the tears and snot.

Overall, not something Henry ever wanted to get caught up in ever again. The Lawrence children were a little too intense for his taste.

When asked about Norman however... Well... Henry would have rather been stuck between a screaming match than be forced to explain about the Projectionist...

Avoidance brought him questioning looks, but a simple nod and a look that silenced any further questions. Nelson Polk was a gracious man that accepted when others needed time to themselves. He was only a brute by appearence after all.

He'd stated calmly that if Norman ever felt ready, he'd be welcomed with open arms regardless of whatever twisted form he may have taken on.

Layer that same day, Sammy told Henry that upon being told this, the Projectionist seemed happier in some way.

-

Recovery is hard when you feel disconnected from the world around you. For a long while, Henry feared that the gap between the years of their freedom, imprisonment, and subsequent rescue, would prove too much for everyone who'd become an inky abomination.

Was he ever so glad to be mistaken.

While there were many bumps on the proverbial road, and many a trial to face, everyone was thriving. Getting used to a world that was alien to them in some ways, but full of possibilities for them to explore.

Some were greatly limited by their conditions, but they too were managing.

Lacie had been steadily repaired and updated with her and Tom's combined efforts, and together they'd eventually figured out how to give Bertrum a better quality of life, through slowly converting his amusement ride body into something of a spider-like mobile unit. A little frightening at first, but progress towards constructing him an animatronic body perhaps? The world was their oyster. Their terrifying mechanical oyster.

Sammy's human form had eventually stabilized to where he only became his inky self when at his very limit, and Norman's mental faculties had return to a point where he finally felt safe reuniting with his family. They were initially quite horrified by the state of him, but didn't reject him. Merely fretted that he may be in pain.

His wife had long since remarried, but that wasn't much of an issue for him. Norman liked her new wife, she was everything the mother of his children deserved! And he'd thanked her as best he could for looking after his little ones when he couldn't.

Through a lot of home-schooling (bless Linda for being an excellent teacher), Buddy had finished the studies he'd abandoned to provide for his family. While he couldn't exactly get a job, it felt good to accomplish a goal he'd thought impossible.

He became a bit of an honorary Stein once Linda and the girls took a shine to him. It hurt that he couldn't live with them back in the city, but he liked the freedom the woodland location gave him. He was a wolf after all, even if at heart he was a young lad full of artistic ambition.

Susie and Allison were the easiest to rehabilitate in the end. They fought their demons and they came to terms with who they were. While Susie still had a few issues with her image and identity, she was doing formidably well in the writing industry.

Disguising her tale as a story of fiction as a means to vent, had sparked a talent she'd never thought she had.

Allison in turn took up the chore of making their home self-sustaining. Gardening, water filtration, the works. She processed her pain and grief through hard work and physical activities. Then when she was satisfied, she'd sit under the stars and reflect.

Many times she was joined by others who found the stars to be great listeners to their own plights. The company felt comfortable.

It felt good to trust again. Felt even better when a certain wolf sat besides her and admire the expanses of their freedom right beside her.

Yes, Henry Stein was truly proud of everyone's progress. He was glad he'd stuck around to witness it.

[nicollekidman]

Abby, have you watched Gentleman Jack? If so do you reckon it’s worth a watch? I am here for 18th century lesbians, but I am Tired™ of good concepts being bad shows.

i watched almost all of it but couldn’t keep up with it week to week and got too distracted to finish! but even so, i’d recommend it! it’s good quality so if the story interests you i’d check it out

[winterscaptain]

spitting images. chapter i

Arthur receives a letter. His axis tilts. 

originally posted on ao3 here 

“Arthur!” Tilly called across the camp, running lightly to meet him as he dismounted his horse. She approached him, a few letters in her hand, only a little out of breath. “It was addressed to you. Not Tacitus Kilgore or anything. You.” She passed one of the folded papers to him. “I would make sure you fixed that in your response ��� Dutch doesn’t want us using our names, you know.”

He nodded gravely. “I know. Thank you, Miss Tilly. I’ll get right on it.”

She smiled widely, and continued on her errand, calling for Micah next, the damned bastard.

Arthur walked purposefully to his tent, where he sat and ripped the fine wax seal on the trifold.

Arthur,

I heard tell of a man in town with your bearing, and I wasn’t sure if it was you, but I had to send this now for fear I would never run into you again.

I think it is very possible that you don’t remember me, but I aided in the birth of Isaac, and I wrote you the letter informing of Eliza’s passing after that terrible day. I know it was not the most traditional union between two people, but I always had faith you loved her and would settle down if you were able to. She was a sister to me, and your son a nephew. I was devastated by their loss, as we all were.

I have learned of a couple things since then that don’t quite add up, and I would like to share them with you. I live in a homestead about 5 miles northwest of Rhodes, between there and Valentine in the Heartlands. Please post your response to the Valentine post office, where I receive my weekly groceries. I anxiously await your response and hope you are well.

Respectfully,

Emma Wilson neé Evans

Arthur folded the letter and heaved a sigh. Between this and Mary, he was sure the women he loved would kill him one day. He scrubbed a hand down his face and tore a page from his journal, quickly jotting a response.

Mrs. Wilson,

Thank you for your letter. I am near Rhodes now and plan to be for some time. In the interest of security, please address letters to a Tacitus Kilgore. I receive mail in Rhodes and Saint Denis.

I will visit within the next week, giving time for you to receive this letter.

Many thanks,

A. Morgan/T. Kilgore

Arthur didn’t have time to beautify it, only to send the immediate details. He trusted Emma would not do anything foolish. If she was anything like Eliza, she would understand his situation easily. He only hoped that was the case. If it wasn’t, well, it wouldn’t be Dutch’s fault that they were moving, this time around.

He folded, addressed, and sealed the envelope with some hot wax from the candle by his bedside. Standing and leaving his tent, he found Mrs. Grimshaw knitting by the fire scowling at Karen, who was crossly picking at faulty stitches. As usual, Karen was in an inappropriate state of undress, her breasts practically hanging out of her slip, with a bottle of rum open next to her. Arthur did his best to avert his eyes, focusing on the always-upright Mrs. Grimshaw.

“Susan, I have a letter to be posted the next time someone goes to town. Would that be too much trouble for one of your ladies to handle?” He offered the folded paper with the barest hint of a smile, hoping at least to warm her sour mood.

Mrs. Grimshaw snatched the letter from Arthur, stuffing it roughly into the bag at her feet. Se didn’t even look at him. He cringed. “I’ll get on it on our next outing if any of them decide to grow a brain between now and then.” She shot another look at Karen, who bit the inside of her cheeks and slunk further into her mending.

Arthur raised his eyebrows before schooling his expression into something warmer, more neutral. “Sure. Thank you, Mrs. Grimshaw. I appreciate it.”

“I’m sure you do.” Her needle stabbed in and out of the yarn.

He suddenly felt bad for Dutch, who'd been on the receiving end of this since for decades. Arthur turned on his heel and left to find Abigail and Jack, down by the river. He caught the eye of Mary-Beth, who was returning with the laundry. She smiled warmly at him, and he gestured purposefully to Mrs. Grimshaw, a meaningful look in his eye. Mary-Beth nodded, and about-faced toward the river once more, in search of another activity to make her look busy.

After a moment, he found Abby and her boy near the water. He watched them from a distance. Abigail knelt beside Jack, her skirts trailing in the mud as she demonstrated how to find a skipping rock and the best way to hold it. She threw a couple herself, staying on Jack’s level as she directed his attention to the way the rocks spun across the water.

Arthur often forgot how young Abigail was. She was a teenager when they’d picked her up.

She’d started to undress quickly taking off her outer frock before turning and shucking his gun belt and satchel from his shoulders. He reached up and stilled her, his hands on his arms. “Just hold on a minute, sit down.”

“Are you serious?” She sat on the edge of the bed, her long braid hanging over her right shoulder. Her round face and kind jaw was cocked to the side, and the corners of her lips turned up. “You paid fifteen dollars.”

Arthur shrugged, letting his coat fall from his shoulders. “Just wanted some company, is all.” He was noncommittal, and Abigail snorted. Who was this guy? Who pays for a prostitute and then doesn’t use her?

“Quite the gentleman then, alright.” Her mouth quirked, pursing her lips. Thinking. “What do you do for a living, Tacitus?” If he wasn’t going to unpack her, she would unpack him.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “That’s not really my name, you know.” He tossed his coat on the back of the chair in the corner.

“Oh, I know. Nobody’s got a name like that.” She laughed.  Abigail had seen her share of outlaws and men who lived in sin. In fact, they were her primary customers.

Her laugh made his chest warm. He suddenly remembered Eliza, the way she looked when she laughed at rowdy saloon patrons. Abigail must have been around her age, maybe sixteen or seventeen at most.

“I’m Arthur.” He offered her a hand. She took it, and he kissed her knuckles.

She looked up at him through her lashes, red from her chest to her ears. “Arthur, could I convince you into anything unsavory?”

He laughed. “Not even a little, Miss Abigail. C’mon. Let’s get some rest. I’m sure you need it. You’re a working woman, after all.”

Not sure if he was teasing her or not, she turned down her corner of the bed and stripped to her underslip (for fun, she reasoned). Abigail was beautiful, but he didn’t make a habit out of sinning with anyone under twenty. Except maybe John. But killing was different.

She turned to face him after the light was out and they were tucked up and warm.

“You’re a good man Arthur. Where you from?”

“Around. You’re welcome to come with if you’d like.”

To his surprise, when he woke up in the morning and she was there, hair up and boots on, she did just that.

The Abigail of today still had a round face, but John’s yearlong “adventure” had worn lines around her mouth and eyes. They hadn’t quite settled in like Arthur’s, and he figured they gave her a stern and distinguished look. However, he was certain she would disagree.

Jack tried his hand at skipping a rock, but it just landed in the water with a hollow plunk. Arthur wandered toward them as Abigail took her son’s hand in hers, giving him scaffolding to find the technique.

That stone managed three skips before it sunk. Arthur crept behind Abigail, reaching for a smooth, flat rock. He weighed it in his hand, and

He threw it, and it skipped six times before sinking. Abigail just about leapt out of her skin. She lost her footing, falling backward into the mud and cursing loudly. She immediately blushed and slapped a hand over her mouth. Her wide eyes stared up at Arthur, and he wasn’t sure if she was pissed or laughing.

Jack collapsed into laughter, and Arthur caught him and hefted him on his shoulders. “Good work, boy. I think you’ve just about got it.”

By the time Jack cooled off, Abby had collected herself, rising from the mud and wiping her hands on her skirt. Mrs. Grimshaw was going to have a field day with that one. It would almost be better to go to the hotel in town and wash it herself, at that point. “You startled me, jackass.” She was still red from neckline to forehead, but her color was returning to normal as she swatted at Arthur’s hunting jacket.

Arthur was still laughing and Abigail continued to beat on his chest, and he felt Jack’s little hands in his too-long hair, holding tight and close to the roots.

“Now you don’t want to yank on the mane, son. You want to just hold on, nice and close to the neck so you can get a good grip without botherin’ too much.”

Jack nodded, his feathery brown hair floating around in the slight breeze. He was three next week, but already becoming a smart and serious boy, far more insightful than Arthur was at thirty. The boy tangled his impossibly small hands into Boadicea’s mane, following Arthur’s instructions exactly.

They were out in the meadow, walking around bareback. Arthur figured it was never too early to get a child on a horse, but he made sure Jack was safe and secure in front, between his legs and literally tied around his waist with a slat of leather. He kept a hand on his chubby thigh the whole time, a grip that was tight and protective without suffocating.

Abigail was watching from a distance, her fingernails worrying her lower lip. She offered a wave when she saw Arthur checking in. He smiled at her.

Boadicea was a good girl, calm and gentle. She and Arthur had a conversation earlier that day, and he was confident she understood the importance of her cargo today. He’d run her across the county tomorrow, but today she was playing babysitter. She seemed to enjoy it alright, remaining patient with Jack as he’d smacked her withers and pulled her hair. She’d even avoided sneezing when his fingers found their way up her nose.

“Well as long as your delicate sensibilities aren’t wilting, I can deal with my son.” Abigail reached up for Jack, but he only leaned further into the back of Arthur’s neck, his hands wandering around to his forehead. “Really? You’re gonna leave me for him now?”

“I can see everything up here,” Jack explained simply. “It’s much better than the ground.”

She couldn’t fault him for that. Her cheerful eyes met Arthur’s warm ones. “Just return him whenever he’s finished. I’ll be avoiding Mrs. Grimshaw if you’re looking for me.”

Arthur smiled. “Sure thing.” He reached out quickly, snagging her sleeve. “I would like to talk to you about something in a while though. When you have ears to yourself.”

She nodded. “Of course. Anything you need.” She slipped her arm out of his grasp and caught his fingers, squeezing twice before letting go.

He returned his hold to Jack’s tiny ankles and returned to camp. He actively avoided Micah, Javier, and Bill, who were all staring at the pair like they’d grown another set of legs, each.

“The way you treat that boy, Morgan, you’d think he was yours,” Bill jabbed at him from across the yard, where Arthur had an infant Jack wrapped in his coat.

He returned the comment with a dark glare. Jack had just fallen asleep, and he was giving Abigail a much-needed hand. They were short a pair of arms, after all.

“You know, he kind of looks like you, Arthur.” Javier, who Arthur hadn’t noticed, leaned on the side of his tent, arms crossed and a smirk on his lips.

Arthur heaved a sigh and chose to ignore them, focusing on the tiny set of fingers that clung tightly to his thumb. Jack’s round lips bobbed up and down while he slept, making little spit bubbles that trailed down his chin. Arthur mopped it up with his shirt. He was glad he wore cotton today. It was the only thing he owned soft enough for Jack’s delicate skin.

“Fooling around with Marston’s girl, weren’t you?” Bill had wandered over, lowly taunting. “I bet that’s why he left. He told me.”

Yeah, sure he did. Arthur slowed his breathing and leaned back against his wagon, firmly planted in his bed. He’d done this with Isaac too, leaning back and sleeping anywhere, not moving too much. Jack hardly stirred in his arms.

“She’s a good fuck, but you and I both know that.” Javier’s crude remark slithered past a shit-eating smirk.

Arthur couldn’t help himself. “Too bad she got sick of you then, you asshole.” It was as low as a growl. He simply couldn’t afford to wake Jack. Not now.

Javier snorted. “C’mon Bill. We’ll never get a rise out of him. He’s too busy with his bastard.”

A well of anger pooled in Arthur’s chest, but he fought it and closed his eyes. A few minutes passed in silence, where the peaceful crackling of the dying fire kept Arthur from leaving Jack in his cot in favor of his hunting knife. Javier and Bill knew where they could stick that. .

He felt the edge of his cot dip, and he cracked an eye. A tearful Abigail was there, wrapped in a blanket. She gave him a watery smile that told him all he needed to know. She’d heard everything. She was puffy, heavy from the weight of her pregnancy and her sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She hiccupped and swiped at her eyes.

Arthur shut his eyes again. “Don’t you dare.” He released his thumb from Jack’s grip and extended a hand to her. She held on to it like a lifeline. They fell asleep sitting up, next to each other.

He ran into John on his way to the horses.

“Arthur!” John crowed.

Jack wiggled on his shoulders, and Arthur swung him down, planting him firmly in the dirt. He ran immediately to his father, who picked him up and set him on his hip. “How was your hunting?”

“You’ll put me to shame, so I won’t bother telling you.”

Arthur shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. “Just make sure it all gets to Pearson so he can make something edible.”

“God forbid Abigail gets her hands on it.” John laughed. Jack laughed too, wrinkling his nose. The boy was lucky – he’d only heard tell of his mother’s poor cooking, but he was happy to be in on the joke.

Arthur checked his pocket watch. The sun would set soon, but Karen and Mary-Beth were headed into town with Charles, his letter with them. They would likely be back before dark. He would set out at the end of the week for Emma’s home. He was more anxious by the moment for what he would find waiting there.

He returned to the fire, where Javier had retired with his guitar. He hummed softly as he absentmindedly sung. Micah sat with his blade, picking at the dirt under his fingernails. Arthur hoped the blade slipped one of this days, leaving him without a hand, the bastard.

Arthur took up the last unoccupied log, closest to Dutch’s tent, where he was likely reading aloud to Molly. He was relieved the fighting between them had reached a cease-fire. God, it was incessant.

“I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong!” Molly’s lilt was tinged with indignation, and Arthur could tell this was more than a lover’s quarrel, something he wasn’t meant to hear.

“I’m not sure you’ve done anything wrong, Molly. I do not know what to tell you.” Dutch sounded exhausted.

“The women – they don’t like me.”

“I cannot help you with that.”

Dutch left the tent, then, and Arthur made himself busy at the ledger, ordering a few provisions for the next trip into town.

“Arthur.” Dutch greeted him. He lit a cigar and puffed on it, pensive.

Arthur nodded politely. “Dutch.” He sniffed. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, Arthur. You know women.”

Arthur snorted, and gave Dutch a nod. Arthur was sure he knew women, but he wasn’t sure Dutch did.

John and Abigail joined them a while later after Jack had gone to bed. Their arms swung as they walked hand-in-hand. Arthur threw a pebble at Bill’s feet when he caught him staring.

They joined Arthur on the far log. Abigail leaned heavily on him, one hand wrapped in her shawl and the other in John’s lap, her fingers laced in his. John’s eyes were heavy, and soon he was laying on his back, his head in Abigail’s lap, his eyes opening and closing every few minutes. He’d always reminded Arthur of a big cat, watchful and often lazy in the face of a heat source.

Hosea was wrapping up his final story. The crowd had dwindled and the errand-runners were home and sleeping. Abigail was snoozing lightly on Arthur’s shoulder. John rose and stretched, kissing Abigail on the temple before leaving for his tent.  

“And that’s when I knew Dutch had my favorite wallet,” Hosea concluded, his hands out in an extended shrug. “The rest is history.”

Arthur chuckled. He’d heard the story about a million times, but somehow it always pulled a laugh from him. Abigail stirred as the rest of the gang went to bed. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her hair fell into her face, and it struck him again how young she was. She smiled sleepily at him.

“What did you want to talk about, Arthur darlin'?” Her voice was soft and tired with disuse. She hadn’t breathed a word since she sat down.

He couldn’t believe her. “You didn’t have to stay up for that.”

Her brow furrowed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”  

She was a marvel. He’d said it before and he’d say it again. Marston was a damned fool if he didn’t understand how lucky he was. “Jus’ figured you might want to get some sleep, is all.”

She patted his hand. “Sleep can wait. What’s on your mind?” He recognized the briskness that returned to her tone. She was ready to listen, even if he wasn’t necessarily ready to tell.

“I got a letter today.” He pulled the letter in question out of his coat and passed it to her. She unfolded it carefully and watched her read it in silence. She squinted at it in the dark, but the fire gave enough light to see. “I can’t seem to make heads or tails of it.”

Halfway through, he realized with a pang of panic that he’d never told her about Isaac. Only ever Eliza. She was his best friend and she had no idea. Shit.

She looked up at him after a long while in silence. He was very focused on one of his cuticles, and Abigail had to search for his eyes.

“Your boy…what happened to him?” Her voice was naught but a whisper.

He swallowed thickly. “He passed with her – Eliza. Shot and killed for ten dollars and a couple of furs.”

Her soft gasp was an avalanche to his ears. “Oh, Arthur…” She trailed off. If he had a dime…

He felt he owed her an explanation. “I visited every couple months, to check in and see how they were getting on. I was too late.” His confession grew softer, as he continued. Abigail leaned forward, listening with the attention of a churchgoer. “I found two crosses in the yard the last time I returned.”

Abigail searched for his hand and finding it, gripped it as if she would never let go. “Christ in Heaven.” She shook her head, numb with the revelation. “When was this?”

“About ten years ago. I met her when I was about twenty or so. I’d been running with Dutch a couple years and couldn’t be with her proper.” Arthur sniffed, the cold air getting to him.

Abigail looped her arm through his, tracing the back of his hand with her finger, drawing patterns and swirls. “Was this before Mary?”

Arthur nodded. “A few years at least. I wasn’t ready to be married yet, or a father, or anything like that.” He stared into the fire. “With Mary, though, I was ready for a lot of that.”

“You think you’d wanna get married someday?” She propped herself on her arm and gazed at him, adoring.

Arthur turned to face her, touching her cheek. “Maybe. I gotta talk with Dutch. I’m not sure I can much get out of this business now that I’m in it.”

Eliza sighed. “It sounds so glamorous.”

He laughed through his nose. “Not even a little.”

“Really? Not even a little?” She wrinkled her nose and brought her hand to his face, drawing circles around the scar on his chin. “It looks good on you.”

“Well, that’s the problem, seeing as I don’t look good much at all.”

Eliza giggled, tucking herself into him. “Well then, my darling. Just let me know if you ever change your mind. I’ll be here, doing just fine with or without you.”

Arthur kissed her hair, breathing her in deep. “You’ll be the first to know.” He thought for a moment. “I want to get to know the boy as best I can.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” She shuffled closer to his chest, tilting her head up to kiss his collarbone. “Isaac loves you more and more every time he sees you. You’re his pa. I tell him all the time.”

Sighing, he rolled onto his back, capturing her in his arms and holding her close. “You are a fool, Eliza.”

“Not as big’a one as you, Arthur.”

“What are you gonna do?” Abigail jolted him back to the present, her warm eyes seeking his.

“I dunno. I gotta go see what the fuss is about, I guess. Emma wouldn’t write if it wasn’t important. So I guess it’s important.” He found his head shaking without realizing.

Abigail huffed. “I guess so.” They were quiet for a moment. “Let me know if I can send John with you when you go.”

“I never said I was going.”

“You silly, silly man.” She stood, and kissed his knuckles where the skin was still split from a tiff with Micah last week. “You didn’t have to.”

[cwnerd12]

On the dance floor, Wayne dances with his wife Hattie, while his sisters look on anxiously, Warner keeping close guard. Grace signs to him, “I want to dance.” Warner, “If a gentleman asks.” Jack and Gus approach them. Warner eyes the suspiciously, “What do you want?” Jack, “This is Gus.” Gus, in rushed sign, “Can I dance with Grace?” Warner, “Is he deaf?” Gus, “Mute. Throat injury. AFG.” He raises his chin and points to his scar. Grace signs to Warner, “I’d like to.” Warner, “How’d you get shot?” Gus, “An Amalekite. I pretended to be a civilian to get into a hospital. My sister thought I was dead for a week.” Jack, “He’s a good guy.” Grace, “Please, Dad?” Warner, “Fine, but nothing inappropriate.” Gus can’t believe it actually worked. He holds out his arm, and Grace takes it. Mae smiles and puts her hand on Warner’s arm, “Come and dance with me, Warner.” On the dance floor, Gus and Grace dance happily. Gus, “I’m still new at sign.” Grace, “You’re good.” Gus, “Thanks!” Abby and Michelle swing dance with gusto, laughing the whole time. Léon is adorably dorky with Corazón. Gay AFG veterans have an intense vogue-off. Quentin and Frankie dance like morons. Elsewhere, Mercy chats with Asher and Betty. Mercy, “I have at least one of my siblings over on the weekends. We all got together for Thanksgiving and Christmas.” Asher, “How is everyone?” Mercy, “Gabriel’s had a hard time adjusting to it all, but, he’s glad to have everyone.” Warner, dancing with Mae, does a double take, startled by what he’s seen. Mae, “What is it?” Warner, “Did… Would… Would Silas keep Esperanza alive, too?” Mae, “What?” Elsewhere, Wayne dances with his wife Hattie. He spots Mercy and, mid-dancing, steps away from her, gaping, “Mercy?” Hattie, furious, “Wayne, what are you doing?” Wayne still gawks, and steps toward Mercy, who still happily chats with Asher. He steps up behind her, “Mercy?” Mercy turns around and sees him, “Hello, Wayne.” Wayne, “What are you doing here?” Mercy, “I was invited. I was just talking to Rabbi Levinson…” Hattie comes up, still furious, “Wayne, who is this?!” Wayne, still dumb-struck, “This is Mercy Abedon.” Hattie, “You promised me she was dead!” Warner and Mae approach. From her spot dancing with Gus, Grace sees her family starting to gather around Mercy. She signs to Gus, “Hold on.” She rushes over to Mercy. Mercy sees her, and they embrace in a tight, tearful hug. Rose goes up to David, “I thought you were going to warn the Judds that Mercy Abedon was here.” David, “Oh, shit, did they find her?” Rose, “Yes!” David shrugs, “She wanted it to be a surprise!” Rose grabs his arm, “We’re going to fix this.” She drags him over to the Judds. David puts on a smile, “Mercy, so glad you made it.” Warner, “It would have been nice if you’d have warned us, David.” David, “It was Mercy’s decision!” Grace signs, “I missed you so much, every day!” Mercy signs back, “I missed you, too!” David, “Uh, would you like a private space to catch up?” Aside, Gus looks on in dismay, Jack at his side. Gus signs, “I actually get to dance with a princess, and this happens.” Jack slaps him on the back, “You tried, man.” Cut to: In a small receiving room, Mercy talks and sign with all the Abedons, “We all got adopted out to Gilboan families, given new identities. It was Rabbi Levinson who had the idea to reunite us.” Wayne stares, puppy-eyed, while Hattie seethes with jealousy. Back in the ball room, the night is winding down. Frankie talks to Quentin and Mashka, “Yeah, I got beaten and tortured and shit, but like, chicks love it when I say I didn’t give up AFG secrets so, like, worth it.” Mashka is bored, while Quentin is completely enthralled. Couples lounge tiredly on each other’s shoulders, drowsy with too much champagne. Laura talks with Christian, “Peace with militia groups is difficult, but not impossible. A lot of it goes back to economic opportunity. People with good, stable jobs are much less likely to run off and join some fringe movement…” Anthony and his wife, Erin, talk to David, “It’s been a wonderful ball, but we have a baby daughter we need to be getting back to.” David, “I’m glad you enjoyed the evening. It’s been a pretty wild ride getting here.” With the Merritts, Maskha asks Ashley, “Where is Quentin?” In a private space, Quentin and Frankie make out passionately. Back in the ballroom, David talks to Jack, “Hey, you doing okay?” Jack, “Yeah. A little dizzy.” David, “You can go back up, if you want.” Jack, “I want to be here.”  Elsewhere, Christine talks to Jessie, looking over at David, “You must be very proud of him.” Jessie, “I’m proud of all my boys.” Christine, “But David is king.” Jessie, “It’s not the being king thing that I’m most proud of. David’s a good person. He’s been through a lot, but he hasn’t let that fill him with hate.” Christine, “I guess you’re right. Not every mother can say the same.” Léon and Prince Steven chat quietly, and David approaches him. Léon, “Hi, David.” David, “I was just gonna call it a night, but, before I did that, I wanted to say thanks for coming.” Léon, “Of course. I was just talking with Steven.” David, “About what?” Steven, “Leading a country.” David, “Oh, yeah. Don’t let all the glitter and adoration fool you. It’s almost never like this. It’s usually pretty rough.” Steven, “You’ve only been at it six months.” David, “It’s been a rough six months!” Steven, “I think I’m gonna do it, though.” David, “Do what?” Steven, “Be king. It’s my choice. I think I’m gonna do it.” David, “Really?” Steven, “I’m not stupid. I know it’s gonna be hard, but, really, how many people get to do what a king does? Not just to lead, but to actually make a big difference in the world. Make people’s lives better.  I mean, it’s scary, but, it’s still better than doing nothing.” David smiles a little bit, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Up in their bedroom, Jack and David get ready for bed. Jack lays down. David crawls over next to him, and kisses him lovingly. They smile at each other. Jack, “You’re officially king.” David, “I’d still give it all up for you. You know that, right?” Jack, “You don’t have to.” David, “Yeah, but I would.” Jack laughs and rolls his eyes. Outside, there’s a faint roll of thunder. David looks up out the window. Jack, “You okay?” David, cautiously, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay.” Another roll of thunder. David, “I’m gonna take a little time to wind down, okay?”

In a hallway, Gus and Amanda head out for the night. Amanda, “Hey, at least you got a dance. That’s something.” Gus makes a face. They go on for a little bit, but then, Grace and Mercy come hurrying up from behind, giggling. Gus hears them and turns around. He signs, “Hi.” Grace, “I had a really nice evening.” Gus, “Uh, me, too.” Grace, “It was very nice to meet you.” Gus, “Same.” Grace kisses him on the cheek and puts a piece of paper in his hand. She waves goodbye, and then hurries off with Mercy, giggling the whole time. Gus looks at the paper and sees a phone number and a note “Phone # my dad doesn’t know.” A huge smile bursts over Gus’s face.

By himself, David steps out onto the palace balcony, eyes turned up to the dark sky. Above him, brilliant cloud-to-cloud lightning fills the sky, and thunder rolls. David watches, awe-struck.

[thought-i-to-myself]

Tag Game

Tag ten people you’d like to get to know better!

Tagged by @soulofacircus​ (thank you!!)

Put your playlist on shuffle and name the first four songs

Holy - King Princess Make Out - Julia Nunes You And I - Leon Common - Maren Morris & Brandi Carlile

Grab the nearest book. Turn to page 23, Line 27.

‘“I laugh and tell her I was just fucking with her, and it was me. It is me. And I know that whatever this feeling is, she has it too.”

FORWARD - Abby Wambach (okay that was lines 23-24 but fuck it)

Ever had a song or poem written about you?

Yes, two poems, and they still make me smile when I think about them or read them and even though I never reciprocated the feelings of the person who wrote them, I still think it’s one of the sweetest gestures I’ve ever received.

When was the last time you played air guitar?

Every time I hear “Sweet Child of Mine” by Guns ‘N Roses so . . . last week??

Celebrity crushes?

Sophie Rundle, Emma Watson, Felicity Jones . . . I maybe have a little bit of an accent thing.

Sounds you hate/love?

Love: thundering rain hitting the roof, bonus if there’s lightening; the crackle of a fire; the swish of running your fingers through a new paperback book.

Hate: slamming doors; slamming anything; tires screeching; the squeal my dog makes if he accidentally gets hurt.

Do you drive, and have you ever crashed?

Yes and sort of, only into a curb because I took a corner WAYYYY too fast.

Last book you read?

Last book I finished: Gentleman Jack companion book - Anne Choma

(Like OP I have several books on the go but I get distracted by fanfic)

Do you believe in ghosts?

Yes 100%

Do you believe in aliens?

Like the posters above, I find it hard to believe we’d be the only ones here...

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Generally no but it does sometimes remind me of filling up jetskis at the lake and that makes me happy, so I’ll say “sometimes.”

Last movie you saw?

In theaters, Captain Marvel, and otherwise You’ve Got Mail because @justtwogalpals makes us watch it at least once a week.

Do you have an obsession right now?

Clearly it is Gentleman Jack, doing commentary for tumblr and the ann(e)dom, and SOPHIE RUNDLE’S FACE.

Do you tend to hold grudges?

Not particularly but I also never forget important things. Okay so I’m going to tag @roguebeachcomber @morningmightcomebyaccident @thebestlesbianstuff @missannelister @sequesteredsnake18 @nikkupsticks @justtwogalpals @gryffinwhor @tamburasica @ssen87

Tag Game

Tag ten people you’d like to get to know better!

Tagged by @jencsi & @enbyboiwonder

Put your playlist on shuffle and name the first four songs

Jack Savoretti - Candlelight The Dixie Chicks – Daddy Lessons Kasey Musgraves - Rainbow Broods - Heartlines

Grab the nearest book. Turn to page 23, Line 27.

He nods, smiling a smug sage smile.

The Bone People – Keri Hulme

Ever had a song or poem written about you?

Yes. Both. (And it felt horribly awkward)

When was the last time you played air guitar?

Umm… maybe when I was drunk and don’t remember? I prefer playing the real thing, which was probably about two weeks ago.

Celebrity crushes?

OMG don’t get me startet! Let me try to narrow it down to three…

Katie Stuart! Wallace Langham! Kristen Stewart!

Sounds you hate/love?

Love: the sound of my favorite songs playing, the soft purr of a kitten, ocean waves

Hate: everything that is loud (except when it’s my favorite songs), scratchy things, other people’s ringtones

Do you drive, and have you ever crashed?

Yes I drive. No I haven’t crashed with the car but yes I’ve crashed pretty hard on my bike if that counts.

Last book you read?

Last book I finished: Purity – Jonathan Franzen

Last book I started reading: Stories – Susan Sontag

(and about 5 others that I started and never finished. I get distracted by fanfic)

Do you believe in ghosts?

No, but I do believe in spirituality

Do you believe in aliens?

I’d be devastated if Earth’s inhabitants were the only waste of oxygen in the universe

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Nope. I used to love it as a kid, though

Last movie you saw?

Bear City

Do you have an obsession right now?

CSI, CSI fanfics, CSI actors on other shows…

Do you tend to hold grudges?

I do, but only if warranted

Tagging: @soulofacircus @engineerkaylee @the-goofball @shroedingersdyke @lochley @star-fish23 @stephanidftba @bimichaelburnhams 

(feel free to ignore)