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starksinthenorth · 3 years ago

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Musings on ASOIAF Ladies and Ambition

I’ve noticed people use “ambition” to describe Sansa and Daenerys as if it’s a bad word or an insult (often called “power hungry”). Yet in the text of the series, neither of them are shown to be ambitious people as a core characteristic. I blame the series for a lot of this, because it failed to explore the internal dialogue of Sansa, Arya, and even Cersei, who ends up more humanized than either of them by the end (because of the maybe baby).

Cersei Lannister is the classic ambitious ASOIAF lady, whose point-of-view is introduced in perhaps the most iconic sentence of any introductory chapter:

She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all.

I can’t think of a sentence in ASOIAF that better introduces the internal thoughts and view of its leading character.

In comparison, Sansa’s first sentence is receiving news about her father’s whereabouts, Daenerys is shown her new dress to meet Drogo, and Arya has crooked stitches again. Arya’s works to frame her relationship with Sansa and her internal struggle to fit the feminine Westerosi mold, while Sansa and Daenerys are setting up plot points. None of these interactions signal ambition, bad or good. Daenerys did not arrange her wedding, Sansa is just told the information by her Septa, and while Arya is aspiring to have straight stitches, that’s hardly an ambitious goal for a girl of nine.

Fans rarely, if ever, deny Cersei’s cruel, cold, often stupid ambition. In fact, it’s one of the reason people seem to love her. She’s internally open about what she wants - power - and when she wants it - now:

All of them are burning now, she told herself, savoring the thought. They are dead and burning, every one, with all their plots and schemes and betrayals. It is my day now. It is my castle and my kingdom.

- AFFC, Cersei III

The rule was hers; Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. I waited, so can he. I waited half my life. She had played the dutiful daughter, the blushing bride, the pliant wife. She had suffered . . . She had contended with Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and her vile, treacherous, murderous dwarf brother, all the while promising herself that one day it would be her turn. If Margaery Tyrell thinks to cheat me of my hour in the sun, she had bloody well think again.

- AFFC, Cersei V

Cersei is the definition of a power hungry lady, scheming and cheating at every point. Yes, Sansa learned from her, but most of Sansa’s internalized lessons of Cersei’s were to do the exact opposite.

"The night's first traitors," the queen [Cersei] said, "but not the last, I fear. . . . Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. . . . The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy."

"I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.

- ACOK, Sansa VI

Cersei isn’t the only POV character who views herself outside of conventional Westerosi standards and aspires to something beyond being a wife and mother. Arya Stark has ambition writ clear on the page, though it is not so cold or denying other people their rights or chances. Compared to Cersei, Arya doesn’t want everything, crown and throne and kingdom and all. She just wants something, and even that is denied to highborn women in Westeros. Even when she asks her father about her future, a man who wants to do right by his children and loves them, Eddard Stark is blinded by Westerosi patriarchy:

Arya cocked her head to one side. "Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?"

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon."

- AGOT, Eddard V

With Arya in this, I see some parallels to Elaena Targaryen, who was so good at math and management she served as the secret Master of Coin while her husband carried the title. Elaena was “more willful than Rhaena, but not as beautiful as either of her sisters,” yet is also said to have been “more beautiful at age seventy than at age seventeen,” growing into herself like Arya is expected to. They both even cut their hair, Arya to hide her gender and Elaena to hide her beauty, both instances to gain freedom from captivity in the Red Keep.

Despite both these examples of ambition - Cersei’s all-encompassing, without care for how it affects the realm, and Arya’s attempt to find a place in the world outside the Westerosi model - it still becomes an insult when people speak of Daenerys and Sansa.

Critics claim Sansa is ambitious, and negatively so, because she “wants to be queen.” But this criticism misses a vital point of Sansa’s character. Unlike Cersei, she does not want to be queen because of the power and political influence, but because she will be living a song. In the start, Sansa’s got her head in the clouds, not to the dirty world of politics. Her very first chapter lays out this motivation incredibly clearly:

All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs.

When she thinks of Joffrey and being in love with him, it’s because he’s “handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs” (AGOT, Sansa II),

Alternatively, it has been said that Sansa is ambitious because of her claim to Winterfell. But compare how Sansa thinks of her claim to how Big Walder Frey does. Despite being far down the inheritance line, he is certain he will someday possess the Twins. He’s likely willing to kill his family to become Lord of the Crossing, and already has killed Little Walder.

In comparison, Sansa isn’t the one who realizes her claim as heir to Winterfell, even after her two younger brothers are believed dead. It’s Dontos who mentions it, and after she still thinks that Robb will have sons to inherit.

But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

- ASOS, Sansa II

Sansa’s not ready to kill Bran and Rickon if they show up. Her arc is about taking off the rose-tinted glasses and seeing reality, but also working to make reality like a song. For example, her idea of the Tournament of the Winged Knights for Sweetrobin. It’s a song come to life, all by her making. TBD how the ending goes, of course, but it shows that trajectory.

And finally, Daenerys.

Daenerys is not driven by some lifelong desire to win and dominate. She’s forced into it, a la Brienne’s “no chance and no choice.” If Daenerys were raised in a stable environment, I have a feeling she’d be much more like Sansa: dreamy, hopeful, sweet and studious. Happy.

But instead, her eyes are open.

When she’s introduced as a character, she shows an awareness for the schemes and politics of the world. She knows her brother is called the Beggar King in the Free Cities, and is doubtful of the smallfolk’s secret toasts to Viserys III that Illyrio Mopatis claims happen across Westeros.

Like Sansa and Cersei, there’s evidence of her goals, hopes, and wishes in the very first chapter:

"I don't want to be his queen," she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home."

. . .

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio's estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him.

Daenerys remembers home as the house with the red door in Braavos. It’s her brother whose only home and stability was the Red Keep, not her.

Throughout her journey of power to take back the Seven Kingdoms, she is doubtful at every turn and most of her wishes are for happiness, for peace, for stability.

Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

- ACOK, Daenerys II

A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?

- ADWD, Daenerys II

Even later, Daenerys is determined to bring peace to the lands she currently rules. She does plan to return to the Seven Kingdoms, but it’s not driven by pure ambition. And this is, notably, from a conversation when Prince Quentyn Nymeros Martell asks her to come back and claim them now, saying she has allies for that conquest. And still she turns him down, with promises that it will only happen eventually:

"Daenerys said. ". . . .One day I shall return to Westeros to claim my father's throne, and look to Dorne for help. But on this day the Yunkai'i have my city ringed in steel. I may die before I see my Seven Kingdoms. Hizdahr may die. Westeros may be swallowed by the waves."

- ADWD, Daenerys VII

And yet in both Sansa and Daenerys, these visions and hopes for the futures they might have are considered unbridled ambition, although they turn more on happiness and peace for themselves and their people, rather than the type of ambition Cersei has, which is clearly her own power and being heralded above everyone.

Daenerys’ thoughts in her sixth chapter of ADWD have the same energy as Sansa’s “I will make them love me.”:

"A queen must know the sufferings of her people."

. . .

A queen must listen to her people, Dany reminded herself.

Daenerys has figured out how to make her people love her, by wearing her “floppy ears” and appealing to the masses, listening to them, et cetera. She’s also a bit ahead of Sansa in the realm of ruling, to be sure.

But how are these similar thoughts ambition in either of them? It’s an attempt to empathize and connect, not to throw away and disregard and rule by force and domination. Both these ladies are more nuanced, and the fandom does them a disservice by painting them as ambitious or power-hungry when at the end for both of them, it’s a desire to have a happy, stable, loving life.

#asoiaf meta #sansa stark #daenerys targaryen #cersei lannister #arya stark

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spield · 4 years ago

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the sun and the moons - decades after

Notes: This is probably (most likely) isn’t what people expect when they asked for a suns and the moons sequel/follow-up for the infinite universes anthology. But this has been in my drafts ever since Naruto got sick in the first one. Summary: Sakura’s life with the Uchiha family is a storied one, but we must remember that she loved Naruto first, as he had loved her. And in his deathbed, he requests to see her.

Long, long after, Naruto’s the one who departs the world of the living first.

As Sakura steps into the main house of the Senju, she tries to recall a time passed. The old house remains unchanged, its floors polished clean even as grief seeps into its planks, leaking from the room where Naruto’s life force flickers.

Who would’ve thought they’d get here?

Here, with Sakura, old, with her bones creaking and eyes milky green? Her back bent but not wavering, covered by the crest of this house’s old rival?

At a distance, she hears the sobs of little ones, mourning. Mourning, in a time of peace. That alone is a privilege, she thinks, one that she and Naruto paid - kicked, fought, and broke their hearts- for. And will pay again and again if asked.

“Sakura-chan.”

Hinata’s soft voice rings true like bells as she steps out of her husband’s room. She, too, is older. Still beautiful, with her fading raven hair and kind eyes. At her side is a cane, she’s never fully recovered from her last childbirth no matter how hard Sakura tried.

Here, away from the sun and the moon, only the lanterns paint and touch the two women of Naruto’s life. From the East, his childhood love stands and in the West, his wife of six decades.

When Hinata wrote Sakura, saying that Naruto asks of her, she almost said no, knowing the pain the woman must be in learning that in her husband’s time of death - he asks for another?

What of their years together? What of their children?

But, oh, the rose-tinted glasses of an old loss can blind even the most reverent of men. And so, Sakura came. (because, she also knows the desire, the desperation, to give someone she loves everything on their death bed — Itachi asked for an illusion, Madara asked for a goodbye— she can’t bear the thought of wondering what Shisui and Sasuke will ask of her. Her soul might just fly if they ever leave her. Her moons, her loves.)

Hinata steps aside and her voice breaks, “He asks for you.”

When Sakura thought about death in her younger years, she always envisioned a fall in battle. It was a time of war, that is to say, it was also a time of grandeur, bravery, and spinning of legends. She always thought it’d be with Naruto.

He and her, protecting the Senju down to their very last breath.

In these thoughts, Naruto always goes last. Seeing Sakura to her crossing, arms around her broken body, bright blue eyes against the blue, blue sky. His smile, strained, promising to follow soon after.

It’s morbid, but it’s all the romanticism they allowed themselves then.

But then, here they are.

The only thing that remains true from those thoughts are Naruto’s eyes, still. Blue, blue as the oceans and as bright as his heart. His sun-lit hair is pale against his pillows, and yet, so, so, bright still.

“Sakura-chan,” he calls, squinting in her direction.

Across him, Sakura steps closer, her feet not as light and quick as in their youth. Much of it spent chasing children and grandchildren she never thought she’d have.

Soon, she reaches his side and takes his withered hand. “Hello, Naruto.”

Naruto smiles, deep lines of grief and happiness etched on his face and for a moment, they are young again. All the pain and responsibilities off their backs like water against a duck’s. “How are you?”

It startles a laugh from Sakura, the very unimportant question of her well-being. “Old. Old and tired,” she laughs, “Why make me take this trip, you idiot.”

The question hangs like Hinata’s cloaked chakra outside the paper thin walls. Away, but not quite. Not even the most selfless of love can drag her away from this. Not even when it hurts.

“I can’t leave without saying goodbye,” Naruto whispers, “And we have so many stories we haven’t told.”

This, this is not a last confession. Nor is it a time for whispered regrets. In the light of the candles understands what this is. A conversation, a goodbye. A last catch-up with a dear friend, and this makes emotion ball up in her throat that all she could do is nod.

For hours, she makes herself comfortable on a cushion beside her old love’s bed and they talk.

They talk not of their past together, but of the lives they built apart. They skip the politics, the clans, the responsibilities, and speak of things they would’ve spoke of if they’d remained close.

Naruto confesses how he fell in love with is wife - “by the moon, Naruto, really?” “Hinata thought it was romantic!” - and he asks how she fell in love with hers - “fire-blown glass? that’s... romantic, I guess?” “oh, shut up, Naruto, Sasuke worked hard on it.” “yeah, sure, can’t imagine him blowing up smoke up--” - and so much more.

Sakura could feel the bijuu’s chakra leaking out of Naruto, volatile and poisonous, as the night deepens. But Naruto pushes it back with a wince, buying himself more time. He turns incredibly cheeky as the candles burn through.

“You’re daughter, Sarada...”

Sakura rolls her eyes, “Yes, what about my lovely daughter?”

Naruto smiles, eyes warmed with fondness. “Boruto’s fond of her. Seems like an Uzumaki trait, huh?”

Something rattles in Sakura’s lungs as she laughs, chuckles at the image painted by her old friend.

Boruto might be his father’s carbon copy, but he doesn’t have his flair for honest, earnest conversations. He might have a great deal of a harder time winning her daughter’s heart, but he could - if Sakura’s right about Sarada’s eyes.

(now, if only her husbands will stop glaring at the poor boy...)

“So it seems.”

Naruto sighs, sinks back to his pillows with a pondering smiles. His voice is raspy from use, quality brittle, the exhaustion catching up to him. “Who would’ve thought?”

Beside him, on his bedside table is a photo of his family. He and Hinata only had two, despite of trying for more. Boruto, with his eyes as blue as his father’s and hair as gold as the sun, and Himawari, with her mother’s hair and her mother’s eyes with a hurricane for a heart.

In another life, they could’ve been hers. Theirs.

But as Sakura holds his hand, eyes tracing the lines on his face, she finds not an ounce of regret.

Good. Because it has no place here. No space for if’s and if only’s, or promises for a second life. No. They won’t insult themselves and the people they love for it.

Finally, as she feels his control waver, and eyes wandering, she lets go, and stands, her old bones creaking audibly.

“Were you happy?” Naruto asks, old, wiser, and still so, so kind.

Sakura smiles, “Were you?”

Naruto falls back to his pillows with a smile, his eyes flickering to the door where Hinata’s shadow stands unwavering, “I am.”

This time, when Sakura walks out of the door, she doesn’t weep.

Hinata looks up at the opening of the shoji door, protest ready to spill from her lips. The jutsu wavers, and her ears ring with the songs of cicadas. She didn’t want to intrude, perhaps, but it’s more of she didn’t want to hear.

Sakura stands beside her kneeling figure and sighs, sinking to her knees.

The two hold hands in solidarity as they feel the man they love, albeit in different ways, and whispers words of gratitude. Sakura, for letting her see him again, and Hinata for granting him this wish.

But, as Sakura stands up and pushes away Hinata’s surprisingly strong hands that beg for her to stay with her husband, she hopes that the matriarch understands and remembers that at the end it is this:

Sakura may be Naruto’s first love, maybe his greatest love, but it wasn’t her he spent his life with.

It was her, Hinata, who spent decades by his side, ruling the clan with dignity and grace. It was Hinata who saw him transformed into a boy-leader into a man, it was Hinata who bore him children, who love him—

It was Hinata who stayed.

It was Hinata he built a life with.

At the end of all things, it’s her he loved the longest and it’s her he wants on his deathbed.

Sakura understands that, and with the way flowers bloom on her fellow kunoichi’s cheeks as she enters her husband’s room again, Hinata also do.

“Are you ready to go?”, her youngest husband asks when she steps out of the gates. Behind him, Shisui waits in a carriage, their third son sitting in front.

With the bright lights of the Senju compound behind her, Sakura nods and takes Sasuke’s hand, “Yes. Let’s go home.”

End Notes: Hearts are golden but reblogs and comments will be much more appreciated!

#infinite universes #the sun and the moons #decades after #uchisaku #narusaku #naruhina #older characters #mentioned death of Madara #mentioned death of Itachi #Sasusaku #Shisuisaku

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sacred-algae · 4 years ago

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In celebration of The Great Gatsby entering public domian, I would like to publish an essay I wrote a few years back. Because I hate The Great Gatsby with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

A Character Analysis of The Great Gatsby:

Gatsby, Nick and Daisy

“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald is often revered as one of the greatest American novels of all time. It makes us take off our rose-colored glasses and look at the rich whom we idolize so much. But are our perspectives of this book also tinted by its title of the great American novel? We are often misdirected in this book to forget many important quotes that change the way we look at the main characters completely. Authors make sure that everything in the book has a purpose. If it was included, it’s important and shouldn't be ignored. Readers often place certain expectations on the characters due to its high status, however, this paper will show that the characters in question are not as they are commonly perceived, whether good or bad, and explore the complex writing behind the characters, Nick, Gatsby, and Daisy.

Although Nick Carraway is seen by many for who he is, arrogant and judgemental, they still miss out on the bigger picture. He glorifies violence and he is a cheater. The problem with Nick and the book is that rather than the book being written by Fitzgerald, it is written by Nick. Because of this, we see him in a glorified manner. The first few lines of the book show this. “In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.” (pg. 3) Using the words “younger”, “vulnerable” and even “father” he immediately ensures that we have his sympathy. He does the same thing again later, and more directly, at the very end of chapter three. “Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.” (pg. 65) This is where most people begin to see his true self shine through. However, it should be seen much earlier. In chapter one he mentions something very sinister. “I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm center of the world the middle-west now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe” (pg. 5) Nick says directly to the reader that he enjoyed WWI. Only second to WWII (85,000,000 or 3% of the entire world’s population), WWI is the bloodiest war in world history with a death toll of 16,000,000. 40,000,000 if you include deaths resulting from the Spanish Flu. (statistics from Wikipedia) For someone to enjoy being at war there has to be something majorly wrong with them. Not only that but it can be said with near certainty that Nick was cheating on a girl out west when he had his fling with Jordan. In chapter one after dinner with the Buchanans this conversation tasks place. “As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called ‘Wait! ‘I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West.’ ‘That’s right,’ corroborated Tom kindly. ‘We heard that you were engaged.’ ‘It’s libel. I’m too poor.’ ‘But we heard it,’ insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. ‘We heard it from three people so it must be true.’” (pg. 23) For there to be rumors that someone is engaged with someone else it has to be commonly known that they are in a relationship. Nick is a severely flawed, if not evil, character.

Many people strive to be like Jay Gatsby, with his charm and “extraordinary gift for hope.” Even then, the biggest argument of the book is whether or not he truly loves Daisy. Most clues point to no. Gatsby even remarks that “‘Her voice is full of money,’” (pg. 128). He sees her as a prize to be won. He chases her, she’s the final thing he needs to have his perfect life. And during a flashback to his first kiss with her, right before the iconic passage where “she blossomed for him like a flower,” Fitzgerald describes his desire for her like this: “The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the darkness and there was a stir and bustle among the stars. Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalk really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees—he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.” Possibly the most frightening passage in the book. It sounds like some bestial craving. But that is just his relationship with Daisy. Tom accuses him of bootlegging. “‘I found out what your ‘drug stores’ were.’ He turned to us and spoke rapidly. ‘He and this Wolfshiem bought up a lot of side-street drug stores here and in Chicago and sold grain alcohol over the counter. That’s one of his little stunts. I picked him for a bootlegger the first time I saw him and I wasn’t far wrong.’” (pg.143) We never are told explicitly that this is true but it is left to the reader to decide this. And there is plenty of evidence. When Gatsby is giving Daisy a tour of the mansion we hear him on his side of a phone call. “...the phone rang and Gatsby took up the receiver. ‘Yes…. Well, I can’t talk now…. I can’t talk now, old sport…. I said a SMALL town…. He must know what a small town is…. Well, he’s no use to us if Detroit is his idea of a small town….’” (pg. 100-101) This again isn't explicit but why would the person in question be of no use to him if they think that Detroit is a small town? They need a small town. If it is a big one it is easier for the police to track his business. And after Gatsby dies Nick answers another business call. “...said Chicago was calling...‘This is Slagle speaking....’ ‘Yes?’ The name was unfamiliar. ‘Hell of a note, isn’t it? Get my wire?’ ‘There haven’t been any wires.’ ‘Young Parke’s in trouble,’ he said rapidly. ‘They picked him up when he handed the bonds over the counter. They got a circular from New York giving ‘em the numbers just five minutes before. What d’you know about that, hey? You never can tell in these hick towns——‘ ‘Hello!’ I interrupted breathlessly. ‘Look here—this isn’t Mr. Gatsby. Mr. Gatsby’s dead.’” This is a hint towards Gatsby making money selling counterfeit bonds. A business that he tried to recruit Nick too. “‘Why, I thought—why, look here, old sport, you don’t make much money, do you?’ ‘Not very much.’ This seemed to reassure him and he continued more confidently. ‘I thought you didn’t, if you’ll pardon my—you see, I carry on a little business on the side, a sort of sideline, you understand. And I thought that if you don’t make very much—You’re selling bonds, aren’t you, old sport?’ ‘Trying to.’ ‘Well, this would interest you. It wouldn’t take up much of your time and you might pick up a nice bit of money. It happens to be a rather confidential sort of thing.’” (pg. 88-89) Why is it confidential? Because it’s illegal. Not only is Gatsby’s relationship with Daisy toxic, but he is a mobster. This in itself isn’t problematic, but people may have died because of him, and the book shies past this point.

Daisy Buchanan is hated by most people who read the book. It is said that she is shallow and arrogant. This is a look to the surface. First, it is important to understand Daisy and Tom’s ages. When the book takes place Daisy is 23, Tom is 30. Making Daisy 18 and Tom 25 at the time they were married. While she is legal this marriage is incredibly creepy. She is stuck in a marriage with a racist, cheating, borderline abusive husband. And she knows this. Even then she is brave enough to call him out (and mock him) on his racism in chapter one at dinner. “‘Tom’s getting very profound,’ said Daisy with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. ‘He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we——‘ ‘Well, these books are all scientific,’ insisted Tom…” (pg. 16) She’s trapped in a situation where she has no control. She tries to reclaim her life through Gatsby but she quickly learns that he isn’t different. “‘Please don’t.’ Her voice was cold, but the rancour was gone from it. She looked at Gatsby. ‘There, Jay,’ she said— but her hand as she tried to light a cigarette was trembling. Suddenly she threw the cigarette and the burning match on the carpet. ‘Oh, you want too much!’ she cried to Gatsby. ‘I love you now—isn’t that enough? I can’t help what’s past.’ She began to sob helplessly. ‘I did love him once—but I loved you too.’” (pg. 141-142). Daisy lives in a society where women are seen and not heard. She knows this but still does what she can to speak for herself. She is incredibly smart. People don’t give her enough credit. Take the iconic line, “Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’” (pg. 20)

She is smart enough to see what is happening around her and it breaks her, that's why she wants her daughter to be a fool. She’ll never have to question it, she’ll never know it, she’ll always be happy.

“The Great Gatsby” indeed is a great book. One with deeply complex characters. But we need to take a second look at them, not just accept what others tell us. Because of its high status, the characters of “The Great Gatsby” are often subject to preconceived notions, through discussing and analyzing quotes in the book you can begin to see both sides of Nick, Gatsby, and Daisy. When we see someone say something about them, or any person, or anything, question it. As the great Albert Einstein once said-“The important thing is to never stop questioning.”

We need to stop idolizing Nick and Gatsby, and stop victim blaming Daisy. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

#the great gatsby #Scott f Fitzgerald #I hate this book #and everyone in it #*except Daisy #excuse my rant #and the possible crappy essay #not my best work #but yes #i hate this book

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manychocolatefactories · 4 years ago

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CatCF Milk Chocolate: Part 1, the kids

About this version: Milk Chocolate was inspired originally by a mix of the book, the vibes of the 1971 movie and the Tim Burton movie aesthetic. A bit more goofier and whimsical than the other versions. In term of era, I thought of it as a mix of 1960s, 1970s and 1980s.

In this version seven Golden Tickets are spread throughout the world, and each time one is found the same female reporter (her character is a reference to the musical) goes to interview the children. Another recurring joke is that while the hunt is going on for the Tickets, there are all sorts of ridiculous debates on television such as: do the Golden Tickets really exist, or is this just a hoax ? Do the Golden Tickets give cancer? Can animals go on a tour like humans? What happens if a Golden Ticket winner dies before the tour? Are the Golden Tickets linked to the rise of youht delinquence? Are the Golden Tickets a proof of Wonka's alleagiance to the obscure sect of the Golden Bird?

First Winner: Augustus Gloop

(Based on Augustus Gloop)

This Augustus was actually based on an idea Stained-by-the-sea allowed me to "borrow" a bit. Stained noted that Augustus always made him thought of this section from the movie "North", about Buck and the Texan parents. If you don't know what I am talking about, I'll leave links down there. And this is such a perfect matc I had to dig a bit down there.

This Augustus is basically a mix of all the archetypes associated with Texas and Nevada. But more precisely, he is basically "Buck" from North - a boy whose family (and his own mindset) embody the motto "bigger is better".

The Gloop family always thought that they should be "the biggest and the bests" and that "bigger is better". Ironically, the Gloop parents themselves are regular-sized people, but they clearly enforced this mentality on their son. Augustus is a big boy. Literally. He is tall, he is thick, he is fat, he is very, very big. He is probably one of the tallest, and definitively the largest boy on the tour (in fact, he once or twice gets stuck in the doors of Wonka factory). He eats ten meals per day, and we are not talking of regular sized meals. We are talking piles of ribs, kilos of potatoes, entire chickens... His parents also prepared for him a "big" and "best" future - paying the local sportive teams to claim he is a sports champion despite Augustus never setting a foot on a sports field, arranging his marriage with the local beauty queen of the state he lives in, already preparing the three different houses he will live with his fifteen kids... As a result, Augustus isn't just big and fat physically, he also has a massive and bloated ego. He thinks that he is the best at everything, and that he should have absolutely everything he wants.

The Gloops themselves are actually the masters of the state they live in, so to speak. They are the wealthiest and most influential industrials of the area: they built highways, casinos, hotels, private villas, they are cow-farmers, owing a lot of slaughterhouses, and also dig for oil and gold. They want their business to be the "biggest there ever was" and all they do is exaggerately big: their villas are enormous, their hotels are everywhere, their farms hosts several thousands cows, their mines are among the deepest in the world...

Trouble is that, due to their expansion and consumption of everything, they are a threat to the landscape and the environment - destroying forests to build their roads and buildings, drying out the lands to feed their farms... in fact, part of the reason why their state looks like the most desertic parts of Texas and Nevada is due to their actions.

Think... Buck from North. Think Art Land from Mar Attack. Think an evil (and obese) version of Clay Bailey from "Xiaolin Showdown". In fact, if I remember well in one episode Clay turns into a sumo for one of the Showdowns... this would probably be Augustus' appearance in this version: sumo Clay Bailey. (Edit: Yes, I checked out, it is episode 23 of the series).

Second Winner: Clarence Crump

(Based on: Clarence Crump)

Clarence didn't had any kind of personnality in the original drafts outside of a desire to prove he was right. As a result, I decided to have a lot of fun and create my own character.

The idea of vanity has already been touched several times with the other brats, but I wanted to give it its own character and kid. I also wanted to create a polar opposite of Augustus, denouncing the fact that being skinny can be just as bad as being fat when in excess. As a result, Clarence Crump is here a boy obsessed about being thin, and proud of being too skinny for his own good.

Mr. Crump is a pseudo-health guru that keeps writing phony and very dangerous diet books, the kind that will advice you to stop eating altogether to lose weight. As for Mrs. Crump, she is a beauty pageant champion (local and regional, and while she acts as if she was some national beauty champion, she always failed at nationals). From their union was born a child who inherited their vanity, pride and obsession with "health"

Black haired, very pale, very thin, very slender, to the point his bones show, Clarence delights in being skinny, and works as a teenager model promoting the "thin-fashion". He is also the embodiment of fat-shaming, never missing an occasion to insult fat people (in fact he often calls Augustus a big fat cow). He uses however the excuse of health for that (a trick his parents taught him) - promoting extreme thinness by talking about health and fat-shaming people in the name of health allows one to be much more horrible than normally accepted.

A good proof of how Clarence actually is just very vain and obsessed with being thin, and not at all defending health - Clarence condemns sports for being unhealthy, because according to him "muscles are unhealthy because they don't make you look beautiful, they make you look ugly".

He always wears short and black sleeveless tank-tops, the point being that he needs to show as much as his body to the world as possible, to be a "living example". He even wears his black short and tank-top during the tour (despite it being winte - the only thing he wears on top of his clothes to not get cold is a skunk fur coat).

Third Winner: Miranda Grope

(Based on: Miranda Grope)

This character was based on Dahl's own character of "Miranda Grope" from early drafts of the story, the horrible and atrocious girl allowed to do "whatever she wants".

In my version, the Grope parents are hippie-like people, the father having a very long beard and being covered in fleas, while the mother is covered in flowers and oss (plants that grew over her), and both always wearing rose-tinted glasses. They are the kind of parents that refuse authority and orders, seeing these (and social norms as a whole) as a "dictatorship". They prefer to trust their daughter to find her own way in the world, believing that experience is the best teacher in life. The result? They lazily raised her by telling her they would never forbid her anything and that she could do anything she wanted.

Miranda is a devilish little girl who does only what she wants, and becomes extremely violent when prevented from doing something. Or when people say something she doesn't want to hear. Or just when people she dislikes are near her. She shouts, the screams, she insult, she kicks, she hit, she throw enormous and terrifying tantrums. She has a very wide range of insults, and a truly evil mind : most of the things she wants to do are borderline crimes. It seems for her only chaos and destruction is "fun", a true little punk.

Miranda has a disastrous haircut because she cuts her hair herself, and she is always wearing the same clothes that she rarely washes): a white shirt, a blue sweater with long sleeves, and a plaid tiles skirt. An outfit that looks strikingly like a school uniform - but it is pure irony, because Miranda hates more than anything in the world school. She doesn't go to school, and the only time she went near one was to try to burn it down. (Her appearance is in fact based on Lauren Child's illustrations for Miranda, if you are wondering).

Fourth Winner: Veruca Salt

(Based on: Veruca Salt)

For this Veruca, I wanted to do something slightly different... here, Veruca doesn't want everything just because she is a spoiled rich brat. She is still one, but she is also the product of post-WW2 consumerism.

This Veruca was born surrounded by advertisements, logos, slogans and product placements. On television, in the streets, in shops, in journals, at the radio... She grew up with them and was influenced, brainwashed by them. As a result, she is obsessed with obtaining everything that was advertised, and she herelf looks like a walking billboard since she is covered in big, flashy logo and keeps reciting different brands' slogans and mottos. As soon as she sees something she saw publicity of before, she needs to obtain it at once. She is a true zombie, only hearing the call of the shopping mall and of the television advertisements.

One idea I had was that the Salt parents actually worked for (or where at the head of) a wealthy advertisement company, known to produce, design and create all kinds of famous publicities and slogans - and that they used their daughter as a guinea pig for their tests, and delighted in Veruca being so addicted to consumerism. In fact, they may have named her Veruca because at the moment of her birth they were working on advertisements for an anti-wart product, so that's all they had in mind.

Fifth winner: Herpes Trout

(Based on: Mike Teavee)

I went with this version of Mikee Teavee with the focus on "violence" already present in the original work, but also heavily used in the opera (and touched a bit in the 2005 movie).

This Herpes Trout is the embodiment of the fear of kids becoming violent upon watching television and playing video games (his only two passions in life). He has a true fascination with guns and firearms - US soldiers shooting aliens, gangs shooting each other, cowboys shooting at bandits, it's all he ever plays and watches. Herpes worships violence, and is absolutely obsessed with war (here I am thinking of all the wars present from the 60s to the 80s, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Glasgow Ice Cream Wars...). War propaganda and the fight being glorifyed heavily influenced him - as a result his biggest dream is to go at war in some foreign country to kill everyone there and come home a hero.

Herpes comes from a family of rednecks and hillbillies from the deep country. They are not poor however, they are wealthy enough to have television and several video games, but they are uneducated people full of stereotypes, discrimination and hate. They named their son Herpes because they ignored what it meant but just thought of it as an "intelligent" name. Herpes has everal brothers and sisters, and all have a disease name.

Herpes himself is a big and strong kid, who followed body-buildings process a la Charles Atlas and military training, becoming impressively muscular. However, he retained a soft, childish and chubby "baby face", which kind of ruins the effect of this massive, muscular, almost adult body. Always dressed in a military outfit, he carries everywhere with him guns and firearms, the question being: are they real? Or are they not?

Sixth Winner: Violet Glockenberry

(Based on Violet Beauregarde)

I wanted with this version to take back the idea of a competitive and "sportive" girl obsessed with contesting and winning - introduced in the Tim Burton movie.

This Violet is a tall, muscular and strong girl. She won numerous sportive competitions, but this doesn't make her just arrogant and prideful like in the Tim Burton version. In my version she is also very aggressive and violent (a bit like in the original novel). She is a nasty and rude bully easily prone to anger (in fact, if she keeps chewing gum it is mostly to calm her down sot hat she doesn't punch everyone around). Her parents originally pushed her towards competitions to manage her anger issues, but sports only gave her more strength and destructive power. In fact, they became terrified of her, while she considers them losers here to serve her - she basically thinks of herself as self-made, literaly.

Seventh Winner: Charlie Bucket

(Based on: Charlie Bucket)

For this Charlie, I wanted to go with a Charlie similar to the original illustrations of the character: blond hair, blue eyes, a white boy...

Basically, he is the original Charlie. Very sweet, very innocent, a gentle kid, the best of the group.

However I changed slightly his background. Charlie in this version is not the grandson of four grandparents, but rather the big brother of four younger siblings - and his family here struggles with trying to feed five children (and a total of seven mouths) despite having very humble and low-paid jobs. I think Charlie has taken the role of a parentive figure for the siblings, but at the same time him spending so much time with young children helped him keep in touch with his "childish" side.

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #milk chocolate #retelling #charlie bucket #violet beauregarde #mike teavee #augustus gloop #veruca salt #miranda grope #clarence crump

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betweenthetimeandsound · 3 years ago

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Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#180-171)

#180: Fernando Tordo -- Tourada (Portugal 1973)

“Entram guizos, chocas e capotes, E mantilhas pretas, Entram espadas, chifres e derrotes, E alguns poetas, Entram bravos, cravos e dichotes, Porque tudo mais são tretas,”

“Bells, cowbells and capes are coming in, And black mantillas Swords, big horns and defeats are coming in And some poets Brave people, carnations and swear words are coming in Because it's a wheeze at most”

Despite the title ("tourada" translates to bullfight in Portuguese), it's actually a portrait of a revolution in the making. The lyrics were so clever that the censors at the RTP didn’t notice these lyrics were reflecting the current regime.

That’s enough for a 250 appearance for me, but there’s more that makes the song so memorable.

The build with the brass and percussion sets the stage for something important to happen. Sometimes, I do forget I like this song, but listening to it like right now is an experience, like one entering the battlefield.

The last line, "And the intelligent man says that songs are over..." still amuses me, though it's quite cynical in that the intellectuals would eventually not believe in the movement.

Personal ranking: 5th/17 Actual ranking: 10th/17 in Luxembourg

#179: France Gall -- Poupée de cire, poupée de son (Luxembourg 1965)

“Suis-je meilleure, suis-je pire qu’une poupée de salon? Je vois la vie en rose bonbon Poupée de cire, poupée de son”

“Am I better, am I worse than a fashion doll? I see life through bright rosy-tinted glasses Wax doll, sawdust doll”

One of the game-changing songs of Eurovision, in that the general mood shifts from slow-tempo songs to a little bit of pop. The first ten contests had their share of good songs, but seem to blur into each other at points. Afterwards, the song quality rose, and they were better suited to the times.

Beyond the happy orchestral sound is something quite sad—a pretty girl who sings songs without experiencing what they mean. Gainsbourg was quite the songwriter, but it led to a falling out between him and France later on, because of the double meanings of the songs he wrote for her.

The drama related to France Gall and the contest didn't stop there. Kathy Kirby, the runner-up that year, slapped France when she won. Then her boyfriend broke up with her shortly after, and wrote a song that would be the basis of "My Way".

Quite interesting I must say, though I don’t come back to this song often.

Personal and actual ranking: 1st/18 in Naples

#178: Ajda Pekkan -- Petr'oil (Turkey 1980)

"Öyle gururlusun gidemem yanına Girmişsin kim bilir kaç aşığın kanına Dolardan, marktan başka laf çıkmaz dilinden Neler, neler çekiyorum senin elinden"

"You are so proud, I can’t come close to you I wonder who else suffers from your love You speak of nothing but dollars and marks I am so suffering because of you"

My 1980 winner is not only quite groovy and seductive, but also clever.

The 1970s had two major oil crises--one in 1973, and another in 1979. The first one was when OPEC withheld their oil from countries who supported Israel during the Yom Kippur, and the second one when oil production stopped during the Iranian Revolution, resulting in higher prices per barrel. Both resulted in low supply and increased gas prices in the United States; those who grew up during the era were less likely to drive as a result.

Petr'oil takes this issue and anthromorphizes it, as Ajda sings about the troubles of relying oil as a resource and as a partner. The belly-dance music also emphasizes the tension. combined with the percussion and strings on this piece.

While Ajda has since distanced herself from the song, I embrace it in all its charms. Plus it was heavily underrated in its year.

Personal ranking: 1st/19 Actual ranking: 15th/19 in Den Haag

Final Impressions on 1980: This year stands out a bit, for it had a number of songs dealing with a huge number of topics (including Belgium's "Euro-Vision", which made the contest go meta, haha). Alongside it, the production was a bit bare-bones, because of the Netherlands hosting it four years earlier, but it featured quirks such as a representative announcing their country's song, Morocco competing for the only time, and a steel band for the interval!

#177: The Allisons -- Are you sure? (United Kingdom 1961)

“Are you sure you won’t be sorry? Comes tomorrow, you won’t want me Back again to hold you tightly?”

The lyrics are quite smug, in that the Allisons warn the girl who plans to break up with them she might be sorry and alone. Not unlike with "If I Were Sorry", though there's a bit more charm and teasing towards their soon-to-be ex-, whereas the latter feels a bit more arrogant.

That said, it’s upbeat and almost lines up to the musical scene at the time (comparisons to Buddy Holly are not uncommon), and the musical run time just goes by so quickly (in comparison to other entries of the same era)! It's just a breeze.

Personal ranking: 1st/16 Actual ranking: 2nd/16 in Cannes

#176: Vicky Leandros: L'amour est bleu (Luxembourg 1967)

“Bleu, bleu, l'amour est bleu, Berce mon cœur, mon cœur amoureux, Bleu, bleu, l'amour est bleu, Bleu comme le ciel qui joue dans tes yeux.”

“Blue, blue, love is blue, Cradle my heart, my loving heart Blue, blue, love is blue Blue like the sky which play in your eyes."”

I think I first heard this in the intro to Eurovision 2006's semi-final. While the harp motif stood out, I didn't know where it came from. It was until when I watched the contest this song was in, which is strange because it was notable for having a Paul Mauriat cover which became a hit.

One of many classics which featured in 1960s contests, I like the innocence shown through the lyrics, which uses color and imagery to tell about the different cycles of love. The orchestration along the bridge was especially spectacular, as it provided a cinematic feel towards . Vicky’s accent sometimes gets in the way, but she sings this well and should’ve gotten a podium position.

Personal ranking: 2nd/17 Actual ranking: 4th/17 in Vienna

#175: Kaija -- Ullu joy Hullu yö (Finland 1991)

"En edes halunnut sua omistaa En edes leikisti rakastaa Kaksi kulkijaa yhteen osuttiin Yksi yhteinen hetki jaettiin"

"I didn’t even want to own you I didn’t even want to love you We two travellers came across each other Shared one common moment together"

While I was watching Eurovision 1991, I liked the mysterious verses of Hullu yo, but I found the chorus a bit off, because it was punchier and more energetic. It also had that "minor-verse/major chorus" thing going on, which also made me uneasy with the song. With a few listens, I grew to like a bit more, because of its unique sound. It definitely sounds better with the studio cut versus the live, which shows off the failures of RAI's orchestra.

Another thing about the song, beyond its lyrics about a one-night-stand turned into longing feelings, was the choice choreography. Playing out the turmoiled relationship, it's funny to see how provocative it is, and that's after Toto's hilarious pronunciation of the song.

Elements of the live performance aside, it's still a jam which deserved better. Maybe it would've done so in the televote era.

Personal ranking: 7th/22 Actual ranking: 20th/22 in Rome

#174: Francoise Hardy -- L'amour s'en va (Monaco 1963)

“Si ce n’est toi Ce sera moi qui m’en irai L’amour s’en va Et nous n’y pourrons rien changer"

"If it isn’t you It will be me who will go away Love goes away And we can’t change anything about that"

I was happily surprised hearing this for the first time. It was very melancholic, with an interesting structure between the verses and the chorus. The percussion also helps with the latter, and adds a bit of character to the song.

The fact Francoise wrote this classic gem also warmed me up more to the song, especially because she was from the ye-ye generation of singers (which are known for being young and upbeat). Yet she stands and sings her own composition in a serious, almost bored tone, without taking the substance of the song away

(That being said, I really need to listen to more of her songs; I've found a couple a month ago, though there's obviously more...)

Personal ranking: 2nd/16 Actual ranking: 5th/16 in London

#173: ABBA -- Waterloo (Sweden 1974)

“The history book on the shelf is always repeating itself...”

You don’t need me to tell about this, do you? It’s fun and timeless pop, with some cool costumes to boot.

For more interesting stuff for both, the song Waterloo was an actual risk for the contest--they actually had another song for consideration, the folk-influenced Hasta Manana, but turned to this instead. And it worked, of course!

For the clothes, ABBA apparently chose these glam-rock inspired costumes because in Sweden, one wouldn't have to pay additional fees if the costumes won't be used for normal wear. Both Anni-frid and Agnetha look great, nevertheless.

And as of the moment, my favorite ABBA song is "Knowing Me, Knowing You". Despite the poppy tone, it has a moody vibe throughout, and one knows the relationship is going to end on a bad note.

Personal ranking: 2nd/17 Actual ranking: 1st/17 in Brighton

#172: Gigliola Cinquetti -- Si (Italy 1974)

“Sì, dolcemente dissi sì, Per provare un'emozione, Che non ho avuto mai,”

“Yes, I softly said yes, To feel an emotion That I've never had before”

My friend told me an interesting story about the lyrics—whereas the song Gigliola won with tells of a girl waiting to grow older to find true love, Si talks of the girl growing up and taking the plunge. So she interprets Si as a sequel of sorts.

So why does this beat Waterloo, in my opinion?

I like how the song starts—quietly, but with an interesting guitar part. The instrumentation builds well towards the "Si...", at which it gently but certainly blooms towards Gigliola's certainty on going with the man she loves.

The interesting part of it was how the song was censored in Italy because it was seen as "subliminal messaging" for a campaign on a divorce referendum that May. "Si" sounds like an endorsement for the "no" campaign, as it embraces being in love, even if it requires the death of another relationship.

Personal ranking: 1st/17 Actual ranking: 2nd/17 in Brighton

Final Impressions on 1974: Definitely one of the most memorable years in the contest, if only for who won. The rest was a tale of two halves, with the first half being particularly good, and the other half bad (except for Si, as you can tell). And there were Wombles in the interval act, hehe.

#171: Eugent Bushpepa -- Mall (Albania 2018)

“Lot i patharë ndriçojë këtë natë Sonte kumbo prej shpirtit pa fjalë Vetëm një çast dhimbja të më ndalë”

“Lingering tear, light up this night Find your way out, to soothe my soul Just for one day make this pain subside”

Aren’t the lyrics to this so beautiful? They convey Eugent’s desire to be with his loved one so well, in both its pain and beauty.

The music really helps too--while the pre-vamped version was a whole minute longer, it also has a rockier edge to it. The revamped version cuts it down and cleans up the production, but it's still maintains the overall feel throughout.

Eugent is also a talented talented singer, which proved initial odds wrong and got Albania one of its best results! The bridge between the second verse and chorus has a great chord progression (which was given more space in the revamp), and he deserved qualification for that alone. And those high notes.

(Also, he's probably the best dressed guy of his year...good job Eugent, good job.)

Personal ranking: 7th/43 Actual ranking: 11th/26 GF in Lisbon

#eurovision song contest #esc 250 #esc top 250 #esc portugal #esc luxembourg #esc turkey #esc united kingdom #esc finland #esc monaco #esc sweden #esc italy #esc albania #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

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positively--speculative · 4 years ago

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Still thinking about that anon from yesterday, so I’m going to write about it.

I don’t know why there is such a misconception in fandom culture that any sort of criticism towards a character or their fandom is hate.

As noted in my response to the anon, I went ahead and checked the Loki tag of my blog, and what I saw were criticisms of the fandom and my own interpretations and analyses of the character and his behavior--some of which got derailed by the very people of his fandom I criticize.

I mean, I don’t know if people realize this or not, but you can like a character--a villain especially--while acknowledging the things written in canon that are not so good or admirable about them. Analysis of a character doesn’t mean mischaracterization of them or their behavior. I love Loki. To be quite honest, he’s one of the main reasons I stuck with the MCU, because I feel like he triggered most of the events that happen beyond Thor’s first movie. Tony Stark may have had the first movie, but it was Loki’s actions that led to the events of The Avengers, and I feel like The Avengers is the movie where things really take off for the series. To top it off, Loki is layered in a way I can appreciate that I see lacking in other characters of the franchise. Yes, Loki does some pretty terrible and ugly things, but we see where he came from. We see the events that lead up to them. We expect him to act out, but we can understand his actions without forgiving them and we can hope for a good redemption.

Also, having a troubled relationship with my own sibling, I relate to his character on a personal level. I want Loki to do better because I can see small parts of myself in his character--of course, not the whole being “influenced” by a greater force much more powerful than me and throwing what Hiddleston himself called an “apocalyptic sized tantrum,” but in the ways of feeling unseen and underappreciated. From the beginning, I wanted him to be better and I wanted his relationship with Thor to be mended, because that was important to me. I’ve written extensively about this only for people in his fandom to hop onto my posts and tell me I was wrong for relating to Loki in this way and appreciating what I feel Taika Waititi did for his character.

I just don’t know what to tell you if you think me saying the obvious--that Loki is not the “true hero”--is hating the character. I don’t know what to tell you if you’re offended by me, a biracial Black woman who actually did grow up in a family of which I was adopted into and surrounded by people who did not share the same experiences as me due to racial reasons, pointing out that Loki is not “POC-coded” and to suggest such and talk over actual fans of color who’ve had similar experiences to me is pretty racist. I’m sorry you’re offended by that, but I’m not going to apologize for having a differing view of a character that’s not looked at through rose tinted glasses. That, right there, is why I don’t fuck with your fandom and will continue to criticize it as I see fit.

#loki #fandom fuckery #thor #mcu #fandom racism

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chxmpionofjustice · 4 years ago

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STUDY : TSUKINO USAGI ♡

♡ BASICS.

♡ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE? Usagi is the shortest of all of her friends. She’s 4′11″ or 150 cm and yes, she’s fun-sized.

♡ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT? Yes and no. Her lack of height can come in handy sometimes, but it really is a pain in the butt to buy pants. She compensates with shorts and skirts and she can’t really complain because she’s looks amazing in them. And her boyfriend’s face is too far away from hers for her own liking, but standing on tip toe for a kiss feels like something out of a romance, so she can deal.

♡ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE? Long, blonde, and shiny. She tries to keep it cut to around knee/calf length but ever since she awoke as the Moon Princess, her hair seems to want to grow much farther than than of its own accord and... well it seems to get a little lighter over time. She keeps her hair up in her signature odango-and-pig-tail style on either side of her head. The hair style is held to together painstakingly with hair bands and bobby pins, all of which come out when she goes to sleep. Sometimes she’ll wear her hair in two low pigtails when she sleeps but more often than not, she lets her hair loose.

♡ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING? Hahahahahahahhahaha. What do you think? YES. Usagi’s hair is one of the few things she puts real effort into. Her hairstyle itself takes a lot of time to do (She’s got the thing down to a science but it still takes her around 10 minutes and would take anyone else a LOT longer), not to mention what she does to keep her hair healthy. Usagi has a whole basket of hair products in her room, ranging from shampoos, conditioners, hair masks, and oils. Maintaining all that hair is hard, okay?

♡ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK? Yes and no. She definitely cares what she looks like. She loves fashion and putting together outfits so she looks kawaii wherever she’s going (this also counts work as an adult, she will be the girl in the office wearing the cutest blouse and skirt combo with a pair of adorable kitten heels and this will clearly fool everyone into thinking she can adult). But she doesn’t really do that because she cares what others think. She does that for herself, to make herself happy. And if people happen to think she looks good, well that’s a plus. She can be a little vain like that, but who isn’t?

♡ PREFERENCES.

INDOORS OR OUTDOORS? outdoors

RAIN OR SUNSHINE? sunshine

FOREST OR BEACH? beach

PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS? gems

FLOWERS OR PERFUMES? flowers

PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE? personality

BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD? being in a crowd

ORDER OR ANARCHY? order

PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES? painful truths

SCIENCE OR MAGIC? magic

PEACE OR CONFLICT? peace

NIGHT OR DAY? day

DUSK OR DAWN? dusk

WARMTH OR COLD? warmth

MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? a few close friends

READING OR PLAYING A GAME? GIVE ME GAMES OR GIVE ME DEATH

♡ QUESTIONNAIRE.

♡ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS? HAHAHAHA. Okay do y’all even have TIME to read this? Seriously, there are a lot. To name the biggest bad habit of hers, it’s over-indulgence. Usagi shamelessly indulges in EVERYTHING she loves to the point of excess sometimes. She’s banned from a couple buffets because of her eating habits, the girl is a black hole for food, and will eat whatever she wants to eat. She wastes money on food, mostly junk food because she doesn’t cook.

Despite the fact that she can’t cook, she will buy ANY cute appliance available for the kitchen that she can. Hello Kitty Toaster? Got it. Sailor Senshi chopsticks? GOT THE WHOLE SET (of course for when everyone comes over, they can eat with their designated chopsticks, duh). Mickey Mouse Waffle Maker? BOUGHT (Girl doesn’t know how to make waffle batter). Every single cup she owns has a character on if from some anime, movie, or manga. She even has commemorative Sailor Senshi cups too. Oh you thought it ended with the chopsticks? NOPE. She spends money on plushies, pillows, pens, bags, etc, of her and her friends and does it QUITE HAPPILY. Of course, the thing she buys the most of (besides herself)? Tuxedo Mask. Tuxedo Mask plushies. A Tuxedo Mask pillow case for a body pillow (listen don’t judge her), the rare Tuxedo Mask action figure and the Tuxedo Mask vibr-.... Well let’s just say that she doesn’t only buy every day items with his brand.

A lot of her indulgence has to do with money because she has no impulse control. If she sees a cute thing, she wants it, she buys it. Be it items or clothes. And whatever she buys usually ends up... Well, not put away. Usagi can be pretty messy (it’s a system that works for her, okay), to put it simply. And she’s messy because, to put it quite frankly, she’s kind of lazy. She’s a queen procrastinator who prefers to play games, read manga, doodle, and SLEEP rather than do homework or chores. Usagi would rather do anything under the sun except her responsibilities and everyone who knows her knows this. Boy, do they know this.

That being said, when she is facing her responsibilities as Sailor Moon, she does almost a complete 180. The Earth is her responsibility to protect and she will do anything she has to to keep it safe. Even if it means sacrificing herself. Despite how selfish she can act with certain things (food mostly, she’s like Joey, JOEY DOESN’T SHARE FOOD), Usagi will give herself to save a life in an instant. No hesitation. Because to her every life is precious. The world is precious. So if she has to use her crystal to the point where she has no life energy left to defeat someone evil or divert an asteroid, she will. If she has to throw herself into an abyss to defeat an enemy and save everyone else, she will.

You may be asking yourself why I wrote that all out. “Altruism is a good thing!” I did it because the level of altruism she displays is destructive. To herself. She is so willing to save everyone that if she sees her own demise as the only way to keep everyone else from dying, she will let herself die. And that’s not giving up. Giving up would be going without a fight. Usagi is gonna fight until her very last breath and that’s gonna be what takes her. Unless someone can come up with a way to save everyone where she won’t have to do that, there’s no stopping her, either.

♡ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM? Yes and no. Usagi and her friends have all died more than once. Losing them and Mamoru the first time it happened was absolutely devastating to her. She still has nightmares of seeing their bodies lifelessly laying in the snow. Of watching Mamoru, her prince, die in her arms and then be taken away from her only to become a pawn for the enemy.

The first deaths are the hardest to get over.

And then watching one by one as her friends were taken by the Black Moon (she only BARELY saved Venus, if she didn’t have Mina-P with her, she doesn’t know if she would have been able to go on like she did), her future daughter was corrupted so heinously that she took her own father hostage for her own amusement, and then Sailor Pluto’s death.

I won’t even get into how Galaxia practically vaporized Mamoru in front of her and she was so traumatized that she wiped it from her own memory and was convinced he got on the plane to America. Or how Galaxia also did the same to her friends. There are nights Usagi wakes up in tears with the awful inability to breathe and the only thing that can calm her down is hearing their voices.

She clings tight to Mamoru when anyone gives him an all too appreciative lingering look (seriously, the man is too pretty for his own good, he attracts so many bad guys) because god forbid they end up turning out to be something evil and try to take him away from her.

The long and the short of it is that Usagi definitely has some form of PTSD. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

♡ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS? Usagi had a sunny life and continues to live wearing rose-tinted glasses even when she has to stop and save the world now and then. She has so many fond memories of growing up like playing dress up with her mom, meeting Naru in primary school, playing in parks and going to the beach with her family. She has even fonder memories of meeting her best friends, her sisters in arms, in middle school.

And, despite how it ended, sometimes Usagi likes to think on some of the memories from her past life in the Silver Millennium. How she and the senshi would spend day after day with each other. Memories of her mother doting on her and of extravagant balls held in opulent ballrooms. Memories of meeting the beautiful prince of Earth and of the first time she felt his lips on hers.

She has an awful lot to sort through.

♡ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL? Hell no. She struggles with that idea. The only time she kills is when the enemy has shown their truest form and she has no choice. Otherwise, Usagi will do her damnedest to save everyone. The bad guy included. Because everyone deserves a second chance to do the right thing.

♡ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN? Usagi is known for being a crybaby. We establish this early on when we meet her. So one would think her break downs are loud and dramatic because that’s how she is when she cries. That’s... Not strictly true though. When Usagi breaks down, really breaks down, its because she’s holding onto her pain quietly. Usagi breaks down with silent tears and full body sobs. She breaks down with trembling hands and their white knuckle grip on her pillow that she’s holding against her face to muffle when she can’t be quiet anymore.

She breaks down alone.

When someone finds her and tries to comfort her, it can go one of two ways, either she’ll just keep letting it out and allow herself to be comforted, or she’ll suck it all back in, put a stopper in it and assure whomever it is that she’s fine, really, she was just crying because Lawsons didn’t have any more red velvet cake, honestly.

When Usagi breaks down, she’s at her lowest emotionally, usually feeling horrible about herself. That’s a point that you’d think would be particularly difficult for her to get to right? Right?

♡ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE? She literally does this all the time. Usagi is an amazing judge of character. Not counting her senshi, Usagi has put her life in the hands of people that her allies considered untrustworthy multiple times. And she was right to trust every single one of them. The first one being Tuxedo Mask, then the Outer Senshi. After that, Hotaru. Helios. The Starlights. Usagi knows when she can trust someone with her life and yes, yes, YES, she is very capable of doing it.

♡ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE? Haaaaaaaaaaaa, gosh. Usagi in love is... She loves with her whole self. Usagi is not good at hiding her emotions, even when she’s trying to hold them in. She’s the definition of ‘heart on your sleeve’ because she’s so very open with her emotions and she doesn’t know any other way to be.

When Usagi is in love, you can take one look at her with the person she loves and it’s obvious. We’re talkin’ heart eyes muthafucka. She’s clingy, likes to touch and be affectionate a lot. And, this goes back to her indulgence thing, she has no problem letting her person know she wants them when she wants them and indulging in that. She’s not subtle in anything with her love.

She is very physical in her love, but that’s because that’s how she is. But being in love is also tender. Kisses pressed into sleep warm skin, banter and giggles over breakfast (that the other person made because once again, ya girl cannot COOK), cuddling on the couch or in bed while having soft conversations or talking about their day, going out to spend the day at the park or where ever for a day date, romantic dinners in her favorite restaurants or, even better, at home. It’s secret smiles and softened eyes and soft brushes of skin. It’s being completely open and endlessly patient when the other person can’t be just yet. Usagi in love is both in-your-face and achingly tender.

And yes, I know that Usagi had heart eyes when she saw Rei. Listen. Usagi has a big heart. Like a humongous heart. She falls in love easily. She could say she’s in love with her ice cream and totally mean it, okay? Usagi loves with all of herself and that’s not just romantically. But the type of “in love” Usagi can be in, because of her heart, can seem fickle, even when it’s not to her. Just because she started loving one thing doesn’t mean she doesn’t love something else just as fiercely.

♡ TAGGED BY: @adversitybloomed ♡ TAGGING : WHO EVER WANTS TO TBH

#about usagi;;#dash games;;#GABBY THIS TOOK ME 3 HOURS #AND I DO NOT EVEN CARE ABOUT THE READ MORE AT THIS POINT #DEAL WITH THE LONG POST Y'ALL.

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

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Chapter 4 - SBT

Here it is!

Mundy was in his camper van, in the middle of the desert. It was now the evening and he lit a fire to keep himself warm and be able to see his surroundings better. He needed to think.

The tall man had put a carpet on the orange and dusty floor and was sitting on it, sipping on a beer.

Am I doing the right thing…?

And the answer to his question came naturally.

O'course I am. Saving these alligators is a right thing, but is it the right thing for me?

He pondered. In the grand scheme of things, who cared about them? No one. Yes, they were the last of their kind but they were well known and had nothing special. No colourful skin, no cute face, nothing that would make the public want to protect them. They were very standard alligators, if such phrasing made sense.

And that precisely meant that the only person left to care about them was Mundy. He was the only one who was able to as well. No one else knew how to track animals better than him, may they be on land or in the hands of a human being.

Given the circumstances, he knew that he would surely have to pry them off the hands of whoever had them. There was no use going to the authorities. The person who had them had taken them by force and outside of the limits of the law, which could mean different things.

First, it might be a gang of poachers. Furthermore, they had done the job in two times. They had first caught two and then came back for more. But why? Why would they not just go ahead and take them all in one go?

Nothing made sense.

"Pfff…"

Mundy put out the fire and went to his van. He slid in his bed and laid on his back, looking through the ceiling window. The stars scintillated silently. He blinked in the dark, his eyebrows frowned without even realising it. The decision was hard to make.

He nonetheless managed to get a good night of rest.

The next day, the Australian drove to a café and stopped there for breakfast. He was sitting on the terrace and his brain was still rolling like a hamster in a wheel.

He took a sip of the black coffee and the hot, bitter wave cleared him from the inside. Mundy looked at the people come and go and pondered about the absurdity of his decision. All these people passing by had no idea that the Earth could have just lost an entire species, a whole population. They were just going to work or having a stroll, carefree.

The future of an entire species was on the shoulders of one man, the one sat at that terrace, sipping on his coffee. For sure, he did not look like he had such a heavy responsibility. His clothes were old. The red of his shirt started to wash away, his brown hat was obviously worn-out and his trousers showed the years they had gone through. He looked at his feet. His boots could do with a bit of polish...

Mundy pushed his yellow-tinted glasses up his nose and sighed.

He looked like the last man who should be asked to make that decision and yet, there he was. He drank more of his coffee.

"Bugger…"

"Everything's alright?" A waitress came to ask him.

"Uh, yeah, it's fine, thanks."

"Anything else you'd like with your coffee?"

"Uhm… Nah, I don't think so."

The waitress nodded but didn't move away. Mundy raised his eyes to her.

"You alroight?" He asked.

"Yeah, I was just wonderin' uh… That van there, is it yours?"

Mundy followed the direction she was pointing at with his eyes.

"Yeah, she's mine."

"It must be so nice to have a campervan like that. You just drive and sleep wherever the road leads you…" She sighed.

"Yeah, it's true. It's a good life. She's always taken me where I needed to go. Not always where I wanted, but always where I needed."

"You like it a lot, eh?"

"I do, yeah. Best companion ever."

"Is she your only companion?" She asked.

Mundy raised his head to her and leaned back on his seat, to let his legs flow in front of him.

"Well, as of late, yeah, although she's seen a few people come and go."

The waitress put her tray down on the table and splayed her hands left and right from it, a malicious smirk on her glossy lips.

"D'you think she could see a waitress coming soon…?"

The Australian's eyebrows rose slowly. He knew his whole vagabond attitude had quite the effect on some people. They usually fantasised him as an adventurer, a wild spirit, someone who somehow wasn't tied by bills and obligations, a truly free man.

"Well, she isn't the one who decides, eh, I do." His eyes went down to the waitress' cleavage which, given the position she was in now, was displayed as an invitation to the Aussie.

"How can I convince you then…?" She half-whispered.

"I'll see." He mysteriously answered and her smile widened.

"Alright, I'll let you enjoy your coffee. Let me know if you need anything else, from the menu or not." She winked and walked away, leaving Mundy enjoy his coffee at the table.

He drank more of it and along with the bitterness came the burden in his head again.

The alligators.

Mundy pondered for a while longer before he went to the counter.

"D'you have a phone I could use here?"

"Yeah, on your right over there."

"Oh, thanks mate."

He went to it and searched his pockets for some change. He put his coins in the payphone and tapped the number that he knew by heart.

"Yeah, Eddy? It's me. Yeah, no, calm down, listen." He took a deep breath. "Call Johnson. Tell him I'm comin' and get yerself there as well. Nah, c'mon, calm down, nothing's decided yet. Roight, see ya there."

He hung up and spun on his heels to exit when a lady stepped in front of him.

"Leavin' already?" She asked. It was the waitress from earlier.

"Yeah, got some work to do."

"Wait just a second…" She took a napkin from the nearest table and a biro from her pocket. She quickly scribbled something and folded the napkin before sliding it in his shirt's front pocket on his chest. She lightly tapped it and smiled. "There you go, just in case you'd need another coffee at some point…?"

He nodded to her.

"Thanks."

-- Johnson's place --

"So, have you made up your mind?" The old man said, lighting up a cigar.

"Yeah."

Both Eddy and Johnson had their eyes riveted on the Aussie.

"So?" Eddy asked.

"I need to take a better look at the enclosure."

"Goddamn it…" Johnson sighed. He was impatient. "Fine, follow me…"

They walked there and entered before the old man put his hands on his hips.

"What do you need exactly?"

"You, out of the enclosure." He said pushing his aviator glasses up his nose and pointing for Johnson to get away from him.

"W-what?" The rich man protested but Mundy ignored him completely.

"Eddy, here's the keys, go get me the map from the glove box and come back. When you do, don't come down in the enclosure, stay outside."

"Hahaha!" The short man clapped his hands enthusiastically. "We're back in business, baby!"

"No we're not. I need to know more before I make up my mind."

Mundy looked at Johnson and Eddy.

"What are you two still doin' here?! Chop, chop!"

Both went away, one running excitedly to the van and the other walking slowly and shaking his head. They left the tall man alone. Mundy had always worked that way. He had thought to get someone young to teach them but he didn't have the patience, and it was a very dangerous job. He didn't want anyone else to carry the burden that he had taken upon himself for so many years. Eddy had always encouraged him to find an apprentice, but found his grumpy friend would always firmly yet politely decline.

Yes, it would have been nice to train someone else to track down poachers as well as Mundy could. Australia was beautiful, with a lot of unique species, which fascinated the scientists. Unfortunately, that also attracted a lot of unwanted attention as the main principle of economics goes: the more rare something is, the higher the price.

Mundy took a closer look at the scene. There were some footprints in the mud, but they were never full ones. The Australian crouched and let his eyes dart left and right. There were countless trails that spoke for how the alligators were dragged on the floor. They seemed pretty neat, no sign of resistance from the animals.

"Hm… They must have drugged them and then dragged them away… So they fought a few ones, ended up slashin' them but drugged the rest."

He looked around to see if he could find more clues.

"Hey! M! I've got your map!" Eddy shouted from outside the enclosure.

"Alroight."

Mundy joined him and opened it flat.

"We're in the bloody middle of nowhere. They could have gone anywhere! But loaded with twenty-odd 'gators, they must have had either a truck or multiple cars. Let's look around for tracks. The ground's very dry but the soil is a very thin powder. They might have left some…"

"Alright! Oh man, I can't believe you're back in business, pal!"

Mundy rolled his eyes. They started their search and after a few minutes, Eddy's voice split the desert.

"M! Over here!"

The tall man went to join him and stopped sharp.

"Bloody hell, well that's somethin' new…"

He crouched down and looked around him. It wasn't the tracks of one or two cars, it was closer to ten…!

"They are pick-up trucks'. Those ain't cars tracks." Eddy added.

"They had a lot of them, you don't need that many, especially if you drugged most of the 'gators…"

"They drugged them you think?" Eddy asked.

"Yeah. If they took twenty but the blood there is only from two or three, I'm assumin' they put the rest to sleep."

"Why kill them if they could drug them?"

"Not sure…" Mundy answered. He looked around and something caught his eye. He crouched down and took it in his hand.

"What's that?" Eddy asked.

"N-nothing important, it just fell off my pocket." Mundy lied. "Anyway, I need to get back to Johnson."

The Australian walked back to the old man.

"So? Are you finally gonna fix your goddamn mess?"

Mundy rolled his eyes.

"I'll get back to town. I won't learn more here."

"So you're taking the job?" Johnson insisted.

"I didn't come back here for nothin'." Mundy answered and turned to walk back to his van.

"Alright, I'll come with ya!" Eddy quipped but the Australian turned to face him.

"Thanks for your help mate, but I need to continue alone. Can't have you around."

"Oh c'mon, I've helped!"

Mundy sighed as he walked back to his van.

"Yeah, you did yer part but I work alone."

"M, look, I can be real silent and stuff, I won't bother ya."

The Australian looked down at his friend and raised an eyebrow.

"You? Silent?"

"Yeah!"

"Nah. Also I'm better off alone, nothin' against you mate."

Eddy sighed as they arrived at the van.

"Alright, can you at least gimme a lift back to town?"

"Roight. Jump in, but don't get used to it. I don't drive people around."

"No problem!"

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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xsecretblastsx · 4 years ago

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1x12 - School lies

I’m back! It wasn’t my intention to take so long between the last recap and this one, but long story short, I was sans computer for a few days, and doing these on my phone is no fun.

So anyway here we go. Recap after the break.

Thoughts I had while watching the episode:

That looks like the most unpractical key ever

Nothing gives more the idea that this a party of super rich kids than the fact that they’re drinking in martini glasses, and not red plastic cups

Refreshing to see Nate being the one chasing after Blair, and I know she’s not avoiding him of her own volition, but he deserves it anyway.

Not that it wasn’t obvious but it suprised me that Chuck actually admits to Blair that the sight of her and Nate make his stomach turns.

I love Serena’s bathing suit

Someone should have told Dan that is annoying he keeps taking Vanessa to all these parties she isn’t actually invited to. 🙄

Gotta give it to the headmistress if she actually thought she could expell 2/3 of the Junior class

Blair’s rant with the headmistress is hilarious, it also sounds like the plot of a coming episode, about being innocent and then doing the stupind thing someone and the doing the stupid thing with someone else and pretend she have never do the stupid thing before

Nate and his heartfelt letter to Blair, aww. Poor Chuck, still plotting, still getting nowhere, and I can´t help but feel a bit bad for him every time Nate makes an insinuation about his night with Blair, he ain’t pulling that indiferent face very well.

Sorry Rufus, but I kind of agree with Lilly on this one, he did send her mixed messages.

Seriously Dan stop taking Vanessa everywhere.

You can always count with Chuck to tell it like it is, though I do feel for Dan here, mostly because I can relate a bit, private school ain’t easy when you’re not part of the rich kids group.

Dan is so frustrating because even when I agree with him on principle he the way he says things to Serena, always trying to make her feel bad for being from “that wordl” annoys the hell out of me

For all Vanessa’s morals that was invasion of privacy, no but really how easier everyone’s lives would have been if Serena hadn’t met Dan Humphrey.. or more exactly if he hadn’t met her.

Vanessa telling Chuck that he’s sick, and yet she still takes the money. The sad fact of life that we can all have our morals, and yet money is still money.

Dan and Serena really did have a variation of this conversation time and time again, it’s so tiring. Like the particulars may change but at the crux of the argument there’s always the same thing. 😪

Blair calling what Nate did the most romantic thing someone has ever done for her... I don’t even know what to say.

I feel really bad for Serena, because I just can’t help thinking how crappy every guy in her life must have been to really believe that Dan Humphrey is the best thing that ever happened to her, and a bit worrisome that she believes he’s the most important thing in her life.

For all her faults Lily does loves her children.

Nice Vanessa, you still preached and acted all morally superior, but that was nice.

I’ve always loved the scene between Blair and Vanessa in the cafe, it’s one of those moments I actually like Vanessa, and I love Blair reluctantly doing nice things for others. Also that was a good joke on Chuck

Yes Serena! he’s making it and upstairs downstairs thing, he always does, he always will.

And so the first death of Rufly in favor of Derena on this show.

Nair is back on again... for now.

So, I actually ended up liking this episode more than I thought I would. It’s one of those episodes that I looked back as filler episodes, with a typical high shcool drama plot, and yet there are some interesting bits here. On this rewatch I realized that this is a very Serena episode. Sure it’s focused mainly on her relationship with Dan, and I’m not a fan of the show making it like a big part of the reason Serena leave behind her wild ways was because of Dan, while in reality that was something she had decided to do for her self and she deserves recognition for that.

That being said is true that Dan was a big influence on her, and sometimes that’s good and sometimes not so much, it’s good to have someone that inspire us, that encourages us to be the better version of ouserlves, and Serena sees Dan that way, and it’s positive for the most part, the sad part is that he laces it with a dosis of judgment and he always frames it as if she should be ashamed of having a privileged life, among other things. This episode is very telling in this dynamic and also the importance Serena has gave to the presecen of Dan in her life, and seeing her talking to her mom about it is such an emotional moment for many reasons. It lowkey let us know how damaged Serena really is, and how love has been really lacking in her life.

She clings to Dan because all of her life she had been gettin attention, being loved and adored, for all the wrong reasons, for very superficial reasons, and for her Dan is the person that really sees her, he wants to be with her because he likes her, the Serena that’s an actual person, the Serena that can be this amazing person, the better version of Serena. She was starving for that kind of understanding, so much that she gives him the center place of her life, and she wants it to last forever, because with Dan she feels her life is better, she’s better. There’s of course a lot of red sings on this way of thinking, she stil hasn’t learned how difficutl it really is to live to the expectations of Dan and the pedestal he puts her. But this makes it easier to understand why despite everything that happened later, she still sees Dan this way, and the way she feels here is why she sees this period with rosed tinted glasses later all.

Going back to her scene with Lily, I’ve always seen people calling her selfish for this, for telling her mom to pick Bart over Rufus, and yes it’s inherently selfish, but also again very telling of how her mother’s love life and how incosistent it made their lives really affected her, and Lily understands this, and that’s why she agrees to marry Bart, because she realizes how much she hurt her children, how Serena seems to be finally happy and in a positive way no less, and she owes it to them, and that’s why she sets her own happiness aside, because she had put it above her children for so long, and I’m glad she did, and it also was a moment of personal growth for her, and most likely I don’t think Rufly would have made it very far here, they weren’t ready yet it was too soon, and on a more selfish level the union of Bart and Lilly was the birth of another relationship I love a lot on this show. So thanks Serena.

And last bot not least this episode brings Nair back, the triangle between Nate - Blair - Chuck gets all set up for the next week episode, so I really won’t get into it now, just felt like mentioning that it was actuall nice seeing Nate put the effort for once, he’s a simply guy, a very typical guy in fact the kind that likes the girl when she doesn’t like him back, yet I felt for Blair getting the love, attention and romantic gestures she always wanted from Nate, and I’m glad she got it, it was after all the dream she had for them growing up. Their relationship is doomed obviously, even if Nate never find out about Blair’s affair with Chuck, the fact was they were getting back together for reasons that weren’t sustainable on the long run: she out of nostalgia and childhood dreams, him because he saw her as a novelty, a new Blair. Once a mistmatch, always a mismatch.

Random bits I noticed:

That shot of Lily on the restaurant watching everything around her really reminded me of that scene in Titanic where Rose is having lunch with her mother and some other ladies and she sees this little girl learning about manners and suddendly it’s clear as day how much of a never ending cycle of appareances that life is, how exhausting and how much of a prison that life is.

That classic car Rufu’s drive off was lovely, where can I get one?

#gossip girl #gossip girl recap #gossip girl rewatch #1x12 #school lies

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loserholland · 5 years ago

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𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

𝟎𝟎𝟑 ➺ 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡

Pairing ➺ Teacher!Tom Holland x Single mom!Reader

Warning ➺ None, just fluff and a special something at the end (;

Word Count ➺ 2,078

Summary ➺ What happens when your five year old tries to set you up with her kindergarten teacher?

A/N ➺ I’ve been quite good at updating, at least I think so? Also this first date, is my ideal type of date a trip to disneyland? oh yes! I’ll also be working on getting request done staring tomorrow!

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand, @taronxfiction, @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine, @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou @babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @iloveyou3000morgan

❤ 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ❤ @luvborhap @asianravenpuff @agusdoti @meg-holland @silverreading @agirlwithpointlessideas

☞ Masterlist ☜

“If I dunk you can you and my mommy go on date?

Audrey (Y/L/N), she’s too smart for her own being. The moment she dunked Tom, she was screaming and jumping around with such glee. It would be wrong of (Y/N) to say she thought her daughter would miss. I mean come on she did say and I quote “I never miss.” she did own up to her word.

Now (Y/N) had picked out several different outfits, laying them all out on the bed and was not satisfied with none of her choices. She had just seen Tom earlier today when she went to pick Audrey up from school, he had told her he’d pick her up at 5 and asked if she had an annual pass.

To her judgement, when he asked if she had annual pass that meant they’d be going to Disneyland, the happiest place on earth. That also meant to dress casual and wear comfortable shoes. She had settled on distressed denim jeans, and a white shirt with a silhouette of the one and only Mickey Mouse. (Y/N) headed back into her closet to pick out her old skool vans and grabbed a pair of socks, she had about five minutes to spare.

She had curled her hair and applied light makeup, then picked out a pair of Minnie ears. It was Disneyland, you had to wear a pair of Minnie ears! Audrey was already at her grandparent’s house for the night and (Y/N) would end up picking her up tomorrow.

All Audrey said before she left was, “Have fun! I hope you have a magical kiss while watching the fireworks!” Audrey just seemed to surprise her more and more everyday.

Just then the sound of the doorbell echoed through the foyer, (Y/N) threw in her purse and keys along with her wallet along with visine to keep her contacts moistens. Finally, a pack of gum because maybe on of Audrey’s other wishes may come true.

Tom held the bouquet of sunflowers and roses close to his chest rocking back and forth on his heels tugging at the neck of his red hoodie, looking down at his outfit one last time. He wore black shorts, a red hoodie and a pair of white vans with red and blue detailing. He felt beyond nervous, he was about to go on a date with a beautiful woman who was way out of his league.

He heard light footsteps heading towards the door which quickly opened to reveal (Y/N), she looked as beautiful as always which left him lost for words. His breath hitched in his throat, from (Y/N) perspective she couldn’t tell if he had just saw a ghost or there was something on her face.

“I-Is something wrong?” Tom’s eyes widened as he quickly began to shake his head cursing at himself for not saying anything the moment she opened the door.

“No! No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just you look beautiful, and these are for you.” Tom handed the bouquet which (Y/N) gladly accepted smiling at the beautiful arrangements, Audrey must have told him.

“I’m guessing Audrey told you to get me flowers? Come in for now while I put them in a vase.” (Y/N) headed towards the kitchen as Tom followed closely behind shutting the front door.

“Uh, no actually I asked her what type of flowers do you like and she told me.” Tom began to look around the living room, looking over the pictures that filled the room being careful not to step on any toys that was scattered on the carpet.

(Y/N) smiled, he had decided to get her flowers himself, Audrey didn’t put him up to it. She walked back into the living room to grab her purse as she noticed Tom looking at the family pictures, groaning to herself for not cleaning up Audrey’s scattered toys.

“So sorry for the mess.” (Y/N) apologized which scared Tom lightly, he didn’t even hear her enter the room. He shrugged lightly not minding the scattered toys “It’s fine, now shall we go?” she nodded in agreement following Tom to the door.

This is gonna be fun.

Once they got through security and stood in the busy lines to actually get into the park they had decided to grab a bite to eat before going on any rides. The lights of Main street illuminated the not so long pathway to the castle, (Y/N) was one of the biggest Disney fan’s out there who loved to read about facts and learn about the history of Disney.

“Wanna know a disney fact?” (Y/N) questioned as she lightly bumped shoulder’s with Tom steering closer to him in attempt to avoid being pushed from the crowd walking in the opposite directions as them.

She pointed at a vent that was right below the window of one of Main street’s candy shops, “They call it the smellitizer, it’s like a big fan blowing out the scent of vanilla. Which is why Main street always smells so sweet.”

They had arrived at the little red wagon, Tom had gone to order while (Y/N) went to find seats. She waved Tom down watching as he searched to see where she had gone to sit, he placed her corndog and drink in front of her “Thank you.” Tom hummed in response wasting no time to bite into his corndog.

The many times she had seen Tom, he wore glasses yet today he wasn’t using them. Maybe he was using contacts instead.

“You’re not wearing your glasses today, are you using contacts?” (Y/N) questioned before biting into the hotdog moaning, this had to be one of her favorite meals to get whenever she was in the park.

“I actually don’t need glasses.. it’s more of a fashion statement.” Tom answered in a monotone voice as he continued to eat his corndog, (Y/N) gasped lightly at his response leaning forward to push at his shoulder lightly.

“Wish I could use glasses as a fashion statement, I actually need my glasses, well contacts. You Thomas I don’t know your middle name Holland, are lucky to only use glasses as a fashion statement.”

Tom smiled “It’s Stanley.” (Y/N) pinched her brows in confusion unsure on why he just said Stanley.

“Thomas Stanley Holland, Stanley is my middle name.”

(Y/N) took a long sip from her drink before responding, “Nice to meet you Thomas Stanley Holland, I’m (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), and I think we should head over to space mountain.”

On their way to tomorrowland everyone seemed to be waiting for a parade, which mean traffic was insane. (Y/N) tried to keep up with Tom but she felt like she’d loose him so easily in the crowd, she reached forward to hold his hand. The two didn’t say anything, their hearts were pounding like crazy though. (Y/N) hid her face behind his shoulder, hopefully he didn’t see her red tinted cheeks.

This was the only downside to disneyland, the crowds. It was always so busy there was never a day when the park wasn’t busy.

Once they got in line to space mountain Tom had made (Y/N) wait in front of him, he gave squeezed her hand gently causing (Y/N) to look up at him.

“Are you okay darling? Did anyone bump into you?” She felt her knees turn into jello, oh that nickname darling. That had a nice ring to it, especially the way it just rolled off his tongue so effortlessly! He was just so beautiful in general and, why is it only now she’s noticing he has freckles? COULD HE GET EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL?

“Darling?” Tom questioned again causing (Y/N) train of thought to calm to a fast halt.

“O-oh yeah, I’m okay no one bumped into me.”

“Just stay close to me, we’ll go on whatever ride you want to go on then watch the fireworks. Audrey said it’s the perfect way to end the night.”

Once they got off of space mountain (Y/N) ushered Tom to hurry so they could find their picture, she scanned the screen and finally found the photo. Most of the ride Tom was screaming, “WHY IS IT SO DARK? TURN THE LIGHTS ON!” while (Y/N) was smiling he was resting his head on her shoulder with his eyes squeezed shut.

(Y/N) took a few pictures before glancing at Tom who was clearly unimpressed with the photo, “Oh c’mon Tom! It’s funny!” he rolled his eyes playfully before taking her hand back into his.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get on the next ride.”

“Astro-Blaster’s! Top score chooses the next ride.”

“Deal.”

Haunted Mansion.

Though this ride was just a sit through ride no big deal yada yada, this ride scared the daylights out of (Y/N). For some odd reason Audrey loved this ride but (Y/N) could’t sit through it, it was scary. Of course Tom had to pick this ride.

Once they were loaded onto the doom buggy (Y/N) kept herself closer to Tom shutting her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder, not even five minutes into the ride Tom had scared her twice.

“Tom!” she whispered-yelled whacking his shoulder lightly, “you’re an adult (Y/N), you shouldn’t be scared” she thought to herself keeping one eye closed and the other open.

As they neared the end of the ride Tom leaned down and whispered “Boo.” causing (Y/N) to scream loudly “Tom you ass! I’m picking the next ride.” Tom chuckled loudly at her reaction watching as she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted like a child who didn’t get what they wanted.

“I-I’m sorry darling, I promise no more scares.”

(Y/N) huffed lightly looking away from Tom as they began to approach the unloading area, “(Y/N), darling I’m sorry I promise no more scares.” he held up his pinky in which (Y/N) wrapped her’s around his “You may lead the way to the next ride, then we’ll watch the fireworks.”

Of course she chose their last ride to be a water ride, and of course she wore a white shirt that if soaked would become quite transparent. (Y/N) didn’t even notice her shirt was practically soaked, she was too busy laughing at throughout the end of the ride. Once they had exited the building Tom couldn’t help but notice her black laced bra.

"(Y/N), yo-you’re shirt.” the moment she looked down to see her bra was quite exposed she wrapped her arms around her chest as she watched Tom remove his hoodie and handed it to her.

(Y/N) quickly slipped into the hoodie taking in the smell of mint, “T-thank you.” she mumbled as Tom nodded taking his hand back into her’s. She couldn’t help but notice how fit he was, how big and muscular his biceps were “stop it! stop it with these thoughts!” (Y/N) mentally scolded herself.

Once they got to the front of the castle the fireworks had begun, (Y/N) stood next to Tom looking up at the sky as many colors filled the sky. The echo from the fireworks were so loud and help mute the rest of the world, Tom stared in awe as he watched (Y/N) smile while the reflection of the fireworks danced behind her eyes.

He actually enjoyed their date today, and really hoped they’d have many many more. Hopefully, the next time they come to disneyland they could bring Audrey with them. He wouldn’t mind.

“I hope you have a magical kiss under the fireworks.” replayed over and over again in (Y/N), this was the moment. In this moment now they could kiss. She thought that she wouldn’t enjoy the date, that she’d be doing it because Audrey wanted her to.

But this was the most fun she’s had in a while especially since it’s been almost seven years since she’s been on a date.

“Do it.” Tom thought as he tried to figure out how he take this special moment to kiss (Y/N). He turned his body to face her, “(Y/N)” he whispered causing her to look up at him with a smile.

Now’s your chance take it.

Tom placed his hand on her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone before slowly leaning down and capturing her lips. How much more magical could this get? Kissing while not only fireworks sparked through their veins but as fireworks bursted in the background, that was truly magical.

Audrey’s wish came true, her mother had a magical kiss under the fireworks.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #teacher!tom #loserholland

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sirkkasnow · 5 years ago

Text

16 Hang Onto A Good Thing With Both Hands

Ao3 link

7/29/13-7/30/13 Monday-Tuesday

Stan came to by slow degrees, warmer than usual, and peeled up an eyelid to survey the usual morning blur. His view was interrupted by what he decided was an eyebrow.

He kissed that lightly, then the orbit of the slumbering eye beneath it, then the bridge of the nose.

Clary was just beginning to stir as he drew her into his arms and left a stubbly trail of smooches along her cheekbone and down to the corner of her mouth. Her lashes fluttered and it took a moment for her to focus.

Eventually she smiled, soft and contented, and pulled herself in to rub her nose against his. “Hello, handsome.”

“Good mornin’, gorgeous.” She straight-up grinned at that. They tangled lazy limbs together under the blankets and traded stray kisses through the drowsy stupor of waking.

After a while his palm drifted to her hip, fingers fanning out to confirm that yes, she really did have a butt as nice as those sculpted legs. Clary’s eyes opened slowly; she studied him in knowing amusement as he tinted pink.

“Is that your hand on my ass?”

“Maybe? It’s gotta go somewhere, right?”

“Mmhm.” She caught hold of his shoulder, pushed as she rose to pin him flat to the mattress, kissed him breathless and then wriggled out of his grasp like a determined eel while he was too discombobulated to put up a fight.

“Ah, c’mon, please, five more minutes,” Stan protested. Clary plunked his glasses onto his chest and he caught them on reflex.

“Sorry, sailor, but you promised you’d behave.”

“Five more minutes and y’won’t want me to.” Stan managed to hook the glasses into place and leered up as she swung her legs over and pivoted, perched neatly on the edge of his bed.

“That’s almost certainly true, which is why I’m going to head downstairs and get breakfast started.”

“Damn shame.”

“Just leaving you some incentive to come ashore sooner than later.” She corralled the bedhead chaos of her hair into its elastic, then leaned over to stroke the prickly line of his jaw. He turned into the contact, eyes half closed. “Besides, I guarantee that Mabel got the others on the trail early.”

“They’re almost six hours out - ” He paused, then dragged a hand down his face with a groan. “No, y’got a point. They’ll make it before lunch. She’s relentless. What time is it?”

“Quarter to eight. Eggs, potatoes, onions okay?”

“C’mon, like one flapjack?”

Clary’s smile flashed wide and she tapped him under the chin. “Pancakes on the side, you got it. See you in a few.” She strutted barefoot out the door with the bicentennial brandy dangling from one hand, filching his fancy Northwest Manor towel on the way past.

He wondered if she was always going to be this obnoxiously chipper in the morning. Having a chance to find out didn’t really sound so bad, though.

Stan swung by the office before he wandered back around to the kitchen. Clary manned a couple of skillets at the stovetop with professional ease. He dropped off a heavy folder on the table and slid in behind to loop an arm around her waist. “You’re gonna burn the onions.”

“If you keep nibbling on me like that, I just might burn the onions.” She didn’t, even with Stan unwilling to let go through the whole process, shifting to follow when she reached for the salt or the spatula. They devoured every crumb with little to say, slouched comfortably in their chairs. Her feet rested against his slippers under the table.

“Wanna give me a hand puttin’ that bottle back?”

“Find me a telephone book or something and I’ll do it.” Clary had a much easier time of it on the countertop. They came up with a couple massive cans of crushed tomatoes for her to balance on, Stan’s steadying hands at her ankles as she followed his instructions to get the hidden cabinet open and shove the brandy as far back as she could manage.

“All right, kid. One last job for the Shack’s honorary accountant before I cut y’loose for the season.” She picked her way back down the stepstool with a hand on his shoulder for balance, cocking a curious brow, and he nodded over to the table. “Got the receipts for ya.”

“Oh-ho. I’ve been wondering how we did.” Stan slid the folder over. Clary fished out her phone, pulled up some calculator thing, and her fingers started to fly.

She counted money as efficiently as any casino bunny, fwip fwip fwip fwip, slapping down the bills in mounting piles and sliding each into place below scrawled scraps designating Greasy’s, picnic supplies, servers, food. Stan sipped his coffee and watched in happy fascination. Every now and then she’d swipe a thumb along the edge of her tongue for traction on the paper.

“What’re you looking at,” Clary murmured after a few minutes.

“Two of the most beautiful things I’ve laid eyes on in years.”

Her lips twitched up at a corner. “And what are those?”

“A huge pile of honest money, and you.” He was coming to love pulling a blush out of her. “Where’d a paper-pusher learn how to count like that?”

“Wasn’t always a lawyer, darling.”

By the time she was done the stack of unassigned cash had grown a couple inches high. She flipped her phone around so he could whistle at the number, then scooped up the whole heap and riffled the bills with a sharp grin. “I’ll give you this much, you weren’t kidding about the summer money burning holes in everyone’s pockets.”

“Wouldn’t’ve pulled it off without our star attraction.” Stan raised his coffee mug in salute. ‘That’s all you, princess. Enjoy the fruits of your labor an’ all that.”

Her brow creased. “Really? Did Soos get anything off the top? I know we covered expenses.”

“Nah, he insisted. Gonna have to work on that.”

Clary squared the stack of profits, counted off three slim groups of a hundred bucks each, then placed the rest in the middle of the table. “Could you split that? Half for Soos, half for the kids.” She frowned for a moment. “Half for the kids’ college accounts, anyway, or a car fund or something. That might be a bit much for summer allowance.”

“You sure?”

“I didn’t do it for the money, Stan.” Her bare toes skimmed lightly up his shin under the table and he couldn’t help but twitch. “Besides, I’m definitely going home with the grand prize.”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll give it all to these ingrates you’re not even gonna see again for like a year, if you’re even willin’ t’come back to Gravity Falls, if I’m even back here anytime soon - ” The bluster did a lousy job of covering his blush but watching her grin as he scooped up the cash and stuffed it back in its envelope was well worth it.

“I might be. The place is growing on me.”

“Yeah, like a fungus,” he muttered, and she chuckled under her breath. “What’s that for?”

“These?” Clary picked up the three skinny stacks. “Hosts’ pay.” She slapped one down in front of Stan, tucked the second into her pocket and waved the third in front of his eyes. “And you’re taking me to dinner next time.”

“I thought you were pickin’ up the tab!”

“I’ll get the drinks, but dinner’s on you.” She winked and plopped the last few bills down. “All right, we’d better get decent before Mabel comes tearing in here hoping to catch us in flagrante.”

They cut it close, splitting up to get dressed and sharing the bathroom mirror for final touches. Her kerchief for the day was a thrift-store find, a riot of abstract hearts in shades of pink. By eleven they reconvened at the kitchen.

Stan settled down for a second cup of coffee. Clary glanced up from the ingredients for one last sour cream coffee cake as they heard the side door slam open and footsteps pelting up the stairs. “AHA!” came down along with the sound of another door banging against the wall, followed by “Darn it!”

Ford stuck his head through the doorway as the racket clattered back downstairs and turned down the hallway leading to Clary’s storage room. “Good morning, you two.” He and Clary exchanged a measured look. “Everything all right, Stanley?”

“Oh, we’re great, talked it all out, had a real nice evenin’.”

“AHA!” Bang. “Darn it!”

“Excellent! Fantastic, even! Precisely what I was hoping to hear!” Ford’s cautious expression cracked wide open and he grinned as he clasped Clary’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Pines circle, my dear, I’m afraid things may get rather odd from here on out but it’s a delight to have you aboard. Dipper, my boy! May I borrow your phone?”

Dipper shuffled through the doorway, holding up his phone for Ford to swipe on the way past. He dropped into the seat opposite Stan and rested his head on the table. “Morning, everyone.”

Clary pulled a warm plate of leftover pancakes out of the oven and set it in front of him. “Good morning, Dipper.”

“AHA!” Mabel skidded into the kitchen, blinked at Stan and Clary, then folded her arms with a deepening pout. “Oh, darn it, are you guys a thing yet or what?!”

That was about it for peace and quiet.

Stan slunk out of the kitchen as soon as he could get away with it, abandoning Clary to Mabel’s insistent interrogation. They’d need dinner eventually, and like hell he was going to let Clary cook again on her last night in the place, so he kept himself busy scraping ash and charred grease out of the neglected charcoal grill. As a result he had a perfect vantage point to watch Soos’ second batch of Monday tourists out on the grounds.

He also had a perfect view of a much newer but still decaled Tate-and-Backle pickup truck rolling in. McGucket scrambled down from the passenger side to meet up with Ford and a bemused Clary at her station wagon. They popped open the hood and both front doors, and McGucket started explaining the upgrades they’d made at a speed that would’ve been confusing even in easy earshot.

Stan tuned much of it out, watching warily to make sure nothing blew up, until he was distracted by a trickle of further arrivals. Grenda and Candy turned up on bicycles. Pacifica hopped out of a sleek black car, trailed by the driver lugging a heavy tote bag. They took over a corner of the yard to set up what proved to be a full-on badminton set. Mabel barreled out of the house a few minutes later with the battered box containing the lawn darts.

“Looks like we’re gonna have another picnic!” Soos ambled over with a bucket full of grill tools. “I’ll finish this up, Mr. Pines, there’re plenty of hot dogs in the deep freeze.”

Stan was streaked with soot to the elbows by now. “Yeah, fine by me, about time someone else took care of cookin’.” He glanced over to the Fairlane. Clary leaned against a fender with arms folded, engaged in intense conversation with both Ford and McGucket. With no idea what that was about, he headed in to scrub up.

By the time he wandered back out Wendy had arrived and was casually swatting a birdie over the badminton net. Pacifica and Dipper were lined up on the far side, both dashing desperately to keep up with smacking it back.

Clary sat on the battered old couch, legs stretched out, ankles crossed. Stan dropped into place alongside her and she tipped into his space a bit as the springs creaked under his weight. They traded a fleeting glance; Stan extended his arm along the top cushions and she settled easily into its curve.

“So, you and Stan, huh?” Wendy batted the birdie over the net without even a glance, looking Clary over with open interest.

“Yep.” Clary laid her hand over Stan’s at her shoulder.

“You know he’s a lousy boss and a total skinflint, right?”

“You’re not even workin’ for me this summer, Wendy!”

Wendy grinned back. “So, you kissed him yet? Tambry’s video was pretty blurry.”

“Oh, I’ve kissed him.”

“Prove it!” Mabel called. Clary turned, smooth as you please, and pecked Stan sweetly on the cheek. He returned the favor as a collective groan went up. “Oh, come on, that doesn’t count!”

“That’s all you get, ya thirsty little gremlins! You want a sideshow, go buy a ticket!”

They endured a few more catcalls and hoots from the peanut gallery, Clary shaking with low laughter, until she finally patted his hand and rose. “That’s it. I’ve got to go even this out a bit. Hey, Pacifica!” She hopped down from the porch and strode purposefully over to the net. “You game to pair up with me against Team Backwoods here?”

“Oh, it’s on, lady. I mean, you’re not as decrepit as Stan and Stan Two, but Team Backwoods rules. C’mon, Dipper.” Wendy tossed a spare racquet over and the four of them went at it with more energy than Stan could really bear to watch.

He watched anyway, slouched and more than content to let everyone else do the work for a while. Soos had the grill going by the time the sun had tracked far enough west to dip below the tips of the pine trees. Susan showed up with the karaoke machine, a winning smile and a cherry-pie bribe that got her a plate and a hot dog in short order. Soos’ Abuelita held court in a tufted armchair her grandson hauled out from the office. A scatter of mismatched lawn chairs popped up to support the mismatched guests as they drifted in.

Clary wandered back over to the porch with a couple of pop bottles dangling from one hand. “You know those lawn darts are totally illegal.”

Dipper yelped in terror as Grenda’s dart overshot the target and thudded into the ground an inch from his foot. “Of course I know! That’s why I tracked down a couple extra sets. Wanna grab a bite?”

“This doesn’t count as dinner, Stan.”

“Why not? You’ve got the drinks right there!”

“Not quite yet.” The bottles clinked as she set them down at the corner of the sofa and tipped her chin over to Ford. “These are the last two. Cooler’s empty.”

“Oh,” he said, then “oh.” The corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement.

It was so easy it was damned near embarrassing. Stan took one side of the cooler’s handle, Clary the other. They carried it sloshing between them until, with a perfectly coordinated swing, they dumped the icy meltwater right over Ford’s head.

Ford let out a steamwhistle shriek and bounced to his feet, sputtering in indignation. Clary set hands to her hips and stood her ground; Stan watched his brother deflate a little.

“Well,” said Ford. “I suppose you’ve got a point.” He shook water off his glasses, shoved back his drenched forelock and shifted attention to Stan.

“Oooohhh no no no no.” Stan held up both hands, rocking back on his heels. “You can dunk me once we’re back on the boat if y’want, but this’s payback fair and square, Sixer. You’ll have plenty of chances.”

“You’re right, of course.” Ford offered a hand to Clary. “One last dance, then? Even if it’s a bit damp?”

“Oh, by all means. Come on, I know that karaoke machine is around here somewhere.”

“Ford, you do not get to steal her, she’s gotta go in like twelve hours!”

Ford stole her anyway, that jerk. Someone got the music going and scattered laughter rose on the warm, still air as evening finally claimed the Shack. Hell with it, he thought, and slipped inside to rummage up what was left of the fireworks plus Clary’s scant handful of bottle rockets. Stan set himself up on the roof and fired off a single starburst to catch everyone’s attention.

“Hey!” That was Clary far below, hands cupped to direct her indignant shout. “Those’re mine!”

“Better get up here then!” he yelled back. Wendy pointed her at the gift shop and soon he could hear the vague scuffle of someone scrambling up the narrow ladder.

“Oh, god,” Clary muttered as she emerged a little ways up the roof. “This is steep.”

“Take it slow, you’ll be fine. C’mere.” Stan reached up and caught her hand. She warily picked her way down and stayed well away from the edge. “What, heights a problem?”

“Who likes heights?”

“Might as well get used to it, sweetheart, things’re gonna get a lot weirder than high places around us.”

Clary settled down after a minute or two as he lined things up, finally crouching near the edge as he handed off his spare matches. “Literal bottles for our bottle rockets?”

“Consider it creative recycling. Go get ‘em, kid.”

Fuses crackled and threw sparks as Stan set ‘em up and Clary knocked ‘em down, setting fire to everything he put in front of her, no rhyme or reason to it, a ragged fusillade of noise and light. They got ooohs and aaahs of approval from their audience anyway. She let the matches burn down to her fingertips and waved each out with a sharp flick of the wrist just in time to strike the next.

Explosions lit up her features in washes of color. The last rockets went up and she glanced his way, lifting the match to blow it out with a single puff of breath and a cocked brow.

Stan yielded to impulse and slung an arm around her waist, tugging her away from the edge - he landed butt-first, Clary half across his lap - and kissed her quick and hard, catching the edge of her front teeth in his lower lip for his trouble. The slow drag of her tongue soothed away that little hurt easy enough.

The asphalt shingles still held traces of the afternoon’s heat and Stan was more than content to serve as Clary’s pillow. “You could come upstairs tonight. If you want. Same rules.”

“Tempting.” She raised her head from his chest just enough to catch his eye, smile slanted and rueful. “Think I’ve got to decline, though, it’ll be hard enough to get out of here in the morning.”

“You could stay a little longer.”

“I’d love to. But I really can’t.”

Stan pulled a breath and let it go. “I get that. You gonna be okay? It’s a long-ass drive back to Maryland.”

“My nephew scored a cheap ticket to Vancouver and he’s going to drive the rest of the way back with me. I’ll head up to Seattle, do the necessary, then take a couple of days to spoil myself at a spa before I pick him up. We’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it covered. You keep me posted, right?”

Her grin was a sharp flash in the gathering dark. “You are gonna get so sick of your phone chirping at you.”

They rested there for a while, ignoring increasingly exasperated calls from the lawn down below. At length another scuffle scrambled up the ladder. Mabel thudded down on the roof, snapping a picture with her phone before Clary could do more than half sit up. “Oh, come on, you aren’t even smooching! Are you going to get downstairs for pie or what?”

Stan made it down the ladder first and managed to snag the last two slivers of pie. Soos passed out ice pops from the gift shop freezer over fruitless protests - the chicken picnic money would more than cover a bunch of popsicles, but it was the principle of the thing.

As the sky grew fully dark folks started to disperse. Clary handed out hugs and kisses and handshakes and exchanged a cheery wave with the departing McGucket that had to portend disaster somewhere down the line.

At the end it was down to Ford and Clary and Stan draped wearily across a trio of lawn chairs. Conversation had dwindled down to basically nothing. Clary’s fingers stayed hooked loosely into Stan’s.

He wasn’t sure if it was his effort or hers that kept their clasped hands swinging faintly between them.

“You all packed?”

“Nothing left but the overnight bag.”

“Gas?”

“Three-quarters of a tank.”

“Breakfast?”

“Cold cereal won’t kill me.” Clary rolled her head to curve him a tired smile and his fingers tightened down in hers. “I should get to bed. Need to be up bright and early.”

“Yup, suppose you should.” She didn’t budge for a good few minutes and he didn’t push. The lawn chair creaked when she finally rose. Clary’s kiss grazed his temple and lingered, and he leaned into it for as long as he could. Her palm pressed Ford’s shoulder as she crossed between them. Stan watched her head into the Shack, slipping easily into the shadows just within the door.

“What’s your take on her?” he asked.

“I like her better than that siren you spent most of February flirting with.”

Stan cackled. “Ah, he was cute. Best night’s sleep I’d had in ages.”

“He was going to eat you, you know.”

“You took care of it like a badass, and he turned out to be all kinds of helpful with that so-called Atlantis cipher you were tearin’ your hair out over. We came out ahead like we usually do. So.” He waggled brows at his brother. “When’re we hittin’ up the European coast?”

“I suppose I can move Finland and Lake Saimaa up the priority list,” Ford replied.

They both turned in soon after that, a bit before midnight for once. Stan sprawled across the center of his nice full-size orthopedic bed, taking up as much space as he wanted, and settled in to sleep.

He found himself staring up at the ceiling he couldn’t see. The house was quiet, all of the faint creaks of the joint familiar to his long-accustomed ear. Everyone was in their place - Ford in his basement fortress, the kids in the room they were going to outgrow for real by next summer, her down in the storage room that would go back to dust and old merch once she was gone.

Some wistful corner of his brain kept hoping she’d change her mind and come up to join him, but exhaustion dragged him under before she did.

Stan woke before his alarm went off, pulled himself together grudgingly and stumped downstairs into a minor Mabel whirlwind. Clary sat on the bottom step, posing for photos with Waddles and an expression of cheerful resignation.

“Great! Grunkle Stan, bend into the frame - yeah, right there - no, don’t just walk on by!” He went right past Mabel and her protests, Clary’s laughter chasing after him, and ended up in the kitchen. There was cold cereal, sure, but the last coffeecake as well, and he hacked out a chunk of that to stash at the back of the freezer for later.

He managed to get most of a cup of coffee down before Mabel hauled him outside into morning sunshine, shoving a small, squashy wrapped-and-beribboned package into his hand. “That’s for her, from you, got it? Okay! Hey Clary!”

Clary was halfway across the yard, overnight bag slung over one shoulder, but making little progress with Waddles trying to trip her up all the way. “Mabel, honeybee, could you please convince Waddles that I’m not trying to sneak off without saying goodbye?” Stan spotted Ford’s legs hanging out the passenger-side door of the Fairlane - probably screwing around with that black box he and McGucket had installed.

“Oh, I know you’re not sneaking off because we’re gonna bribe you not to. Presents!” Mabel sang. On cue, Dipper staggered out of the side door, blinded by the stack of brightly wrapped boxes he carried. Mabel plucked the stuffed blue whale out from under his arm and ran ahead to the station wagon. “But the only one you get to see is this one.”

Waddles disentangled himself and trotted obligingly after Mabel as Clary protested. “Mabel! That was a loan.”

“Lady Bluemington has taken a liking to you. Who am I to argue with the power of plush? Besides, you’re gonna be landlocked for months and I want you to be thinking of the glories of the open ocean.” Mabel’s hands described a familiar marquee arc in the air and to Stan’s amusement Clary went pink.

“I’m a pretty poor sailor, Mabel.”

“Now you’ve got plenty of incentive to learn! Right? Right!”

Ford took the overnight bag off Clary’s hands and tucked it into the back seat, along with the heap of presents. “No peeking,” said Dipper firmly, “and no opening those until you’re on the road! - or at least at the next rest stop, no more accidents!”

“No more accidents. I solemnly swear I’m going to get there in one piece.” Clary flashed the three-fingered Scout salute, then leaned in to peck Ford chastely on the cheek. “Thank you for all the repairs.”

“Ah, well, let’s not do that again. Thank you for all the lovely meals and the fine company. I look forward to continuing our discussion!” Stan eyed his brother warily and got an innocent smile in return.

“I guess that’s about it.” Clary looked over to the house and back to the car, tugging at her kerchief with a fingertip - it was the tiny nautical flags today - then bent and pulled Mabel in for a full-on embrace. Dipper got dragged along by his sister but didn’t seem too grossed out by the equivalent of auntie kisses. “I can’t thank you guys enough,” she said, muffled between the kids. “I really thought this trip was going to be awful but you’ve made it great. I’ll miss all of you.”

The strain in her voice was easy to catch and Stan shouldered his way in as Clary straightened. “All right, get lost, all a’you, I gotta show her a couple last things with the engine. G’wan! Get!” He waved shooing hands at the lot of them, and Ford nudged the gremlins back towards the house.

“Bye Clary!”

“Be careful out there on the road!” Clary flashed an approving thumb up for Dipper and watched the three of them disappear into the Shack, then leaned wearily against the Fairlane’s fender. Stan passed over his handkerchief and she sniffed into it for a moment.

“Ah, c’mon, it’s not that bad, it’s not like I haven’t figured out how t’spam you with text messages.”

Clary managed a chuckle and blinked at him over the hanky with glittering eyes. “She would’ve loved you guys.”

“‘Course she would’ve. We’re lovable.” Stan shifted his weight, shoved hands into his jacket pockets and ended up smashing Mabel’s squashy package in the process. “Uh - look, I got you a little somethin’ for the road - “

“Did you now.”

“Hey, you know there’s no point arguin’ with Mabel - “ Stan pressed the package into her offered hand; she tore off the crumpled paper to reveal a set of fuzzy dice crocheted in red with gold pips. Clary threw her head back and laughed. “See, now, if I could do a damn thing with yarn that is absolutely what I would’ve made you.”

“I love them. They’re perfect. I’ve got something for you, too.”

Clary dipped into her pocket and pressed an envelope into his palm. He sifted carefully through the glossy pictures inside, glitter stickers slapped into the corners. Stan and Clary bickering over eggs in the kitchen. Lit up by the glow of fireworks. In fishing hats, his expression more gobsmacked than he remembered it being. Leaning over the Fairlane’s engine. Spinning out across the museum floor in front of a dazzled crowd.

Stan held up the shot of the two of them dancing at Greasy’s under twinkling lights. “Mabel wasn’t even there for this one!”

“Probably lifted it from someone else’s video. She told me to make absolutely sure you got these.” The obvious question was sketched out in the worried lines around her eyes, but when he hesitated she patted his arm in understanding.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he admitted.

“That goes both ways. We’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“So, ah - “ Stan tucked the fresh memories into his jacket for later perusal and took a step to close the distance. “I mean I know I’m gonna see you again, so this isn’t exactly goodbye - “

“You’ve got obligations and so do I.” Clary swayed away, hands linked behind her.

“Oh I am gonna get to you, sweetpea. Though if I end up yodelin’ or stuffed into lederhosen or somethin’ there might be hell to pay.“

“A gift of a baby goat is traditional. Or so my niece claims.” Lowered lashes veiled her eyes as she sidestepped him with the practiced grace of a matador, slipping out of easy smooching range until his patience began to fray.

Stan played along for the moment, stalking intently after her. “You’re not gonna leave me here without a kiss for the road, right?”

“No way. But I’m waiting for our cue.” He managed to cut a quick glance over to the Shack without looking too much like he was doing it, and spotted the curtain pulled back just a bit by a little hand.

“I did not take you to be quite this mean, Miz Merrick.”

“It’s our job as responsible adults to pretend that delayed gratification is a good thing, darling.”

“Who’re you callin’ responsible?”

“Would you two just kiss already!?!”

Mabel’s rising yell of frustration went off like an air-raid siren. Stan grinned wide and rocked back on his heels. Clary cracked up, knees half buckling as she reached out. His hands caught her waist; he swept her half off her feet and kissed her laughing mouth until she dwindled to giggles and then to happy humming against his lips.

Stan held her tight for longer than he needed to, trailing firm kisses along her jawline, her arms twining up to loop around his neck as she sighed in pleasure and regret. “We really should’ve figured this out a week ago.”

“I have ways t’make up for lost time.”

He felt her shiver as she drew careful breath and leaned in to whisper. “I’m counting on it.”

They stayed entwined like that, her hair sun-warm against his cheek, until Dipper called out. “Can I look yet?”

Gently, grudgingly, Clary disentangled herself and drew away. His fingers clung to hers until she was out of reach. “I’ll text you when I stop for the night. See you around, sailor.”

“Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

Clary lifted an arm, focus shifting as she waved enthusiastically at the rest of the crew on the porch. Her last look at him was wistful and soft but determined, and she winked a tiny wink as she pivoted away and marched up to the Fairlane, dropping into the driver’s seat and dragging the seatbelt across. A moment’s work set the fuzzy dice dangling from the rear-view mirror. The old wagon cranked up like a dream, the big V8 engine so quiet it did little more than purr as she pulled out down the drive.

Stan stood and watched her go until the last bit of blue had disappeared between the trees and the dust had settled. Mabel and Dipper came out to flank him.

“Soooo I guess we’re going to be seeing her again?” Dipper said hopefully.

“Yup.”

“Aaaaaand it was worth taking a chance on telling her what you really feel?” Mabel nudged him in the ribs with an elbow.

“Maybe more show than tell, pumpkin.” Stan’s face ached with a smile that wouldn’t fade. He turned back towards the Shack, clapping hands together. “All right, you two. Day’s young and there’s plenty to do. Who wants to help me haul the S back up?”

There was already a Clary-shaped hole in his immediate plans.

Stan had no idea how this long-distance thing would work, but he was eager to find out.

Tumblr masterpost

Mabel shouts in pure frustration. “Would you two just kiss already!” Clary’s grinning at you like the sun just came out after two years of winter.

Kiss her.

#Gravity Falls #gfdatingsim #DDtMMW #Swooning Over Stans #Stanley Pines #OClicious #fanfic

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that1normalkidd · 6 years ago

Text

Monsters Don’t Need Hearts Chapter 10

Why do you care so deeply for that mortal brother?

Because Loki, she has taught me things no other mortal has.

The water soothed my nerves...and eased my mind which was unable to calm itself. Within it thoughts of the events that transpired not to long ago running rampant.

"He knew I was lying, that much was obvious so why go with it?" I asked myself, running a hand through my wet (H/C) hair in thought.

Loki was of course the god of lies...a devil with a silver tongue and blue eyes which hid years of pain. Though with the treatment he received as a child and even as an adult one could only help but to feel some sort of amount of sympathy for him. Although with the atrocities that he committed throughout all of the 9 realms people seemed to lack the trait which made us humans...human.

All I could do was sigh, scrubbing my body a bit harshly with the small beige towel I had managed to find below the sink cabinets.

Outside his bathroom there was the faint pitter patter of his heavy boots but nothing more. No talking nor did i hear the sound of any books and papers being ruffled around.

"Why should I feel any sort of empathy for him? After everything he's done..I can't believe that he's really a changed person. There has to be some sort of reason for why he's trying to get close to me...there has to be."

Knock knock.

"Hurry up kitten. You are not the only one who wishes to be clean." Loki called out, obviously impatient.

"I'm going as fast as I can don't rush me!"

"Watch your tone."

"No you watch your damn tone!"

For a moment there was nothing but silence, worrying me slightly before I returned to bathing myself.

"Thinks he can rush me. I could care less if this is his bathroom."

But I should hurry up...

Soon the room was filled with a thick fog and smelled greatly of lavender and spearmint...his smell.

For a moment, as I dried myself off my senses took it all in.

His scent brought me..comfort and a momentary peace which I often didn't have the privilege of feeling though I wished that wasn't the case.

In her I find peace, and maybe one day brother you will understand the feeling.

I will never know the feeling. Brother

I wanted to dismiss the possibility that I could ever feel any sort of way about...a egocentric prick who was selfish beyond belief but it was in that...that i was beginning to discover just how much was being hidden behind his sinister smile.

I wrapped the only towel there was around my glistening body and squeezed out whatever water was left in my soaked hair.

The cold air greeted me harshly as I stepped back out into his bedroom, causing me to quickly hug myself and look around.

Was it always this cold?

Loki sat with his legs crossed in a golden couch, a book titled 'Labyrinth' appearing to have taken over his attention but I was quickly proved wrong. Without sparing me a glance he pointed over to the king sized bed which I was standing next to.

"There is clothing for you to wear to bed."

I could've just gotten my own.

"I could've just gotten my own." I muttered, looking over towards the silken emerald gown which was laid out atop the navy blue sheets.

The straps were thin and a deep black with lace neatly stitched across the plunging neckline. With it's length and my height it would stop at the middle of my thighs or so that was what I thought.

"Do you really wish to walk down a cold hallway in nothing but a towel? Then proceed to come back? Not only that but the other servants will of course stare. It is human nature, is it not?"

Still not a glance.

Annoyed I rolled my eyes, picking up the gown which was accompanied with gold colored panties.

"Fine."

When he puts it that way it isn't as though I had much of a choice.

I watched as Loki set the book down on the glass table in front of him and stood to his feet, letting out a heavy sigh and heading towards the bathroom.

"I will leave you alone to change. Until I fall asleep the bed is yours to rest on." He said, closing the bathroom door behind him before I could protest.

It was almost instantly that I threw myself down onto the soft sheets, hearing the water in the room next to me beginning to run a few moments after. Suddenly struck with more ill thoughts I turned myself over onto my back and stared up at the ceiling.

Why was it that I could feel myself beginning to harbor some sort of affection towards that...monster.

That's what he was...and all he ever would be.

A monster

That's what I have to tell myself...to keep from falling for him even more than I already am.

Slowly I stood to my feet, letting the towel which was providing me with the small amount of warmth that was hugging me fall to the floor with a faint thump.

"Jesus it's cold in here." I cursed, slipping on the gown which Loki had so graciously provided for me.

Patiently waiting for Loki to finish his shower I glanced around the room which seems to change every time I find myself in it. Furniture was moved around and paintings had their appearances changed. The floor a hardwood oak with a faint shine over it. Quiet amazing when one thinks about it...how magic could so easily change the atmosphere one was in.

How easy it could manipulate what the eye could see.

Though it was faint, people laughed and chatted away as the pulsating lights above them lit the night sky which was dotted with stars.

The beauty of it all lured me near as I made my way towards a nearby window as tall as I was, it's head coming to an arch.

Upon seeing the sights a smile came to my face.

"A beautiful sight is it not?"

His sudden appearance next to me made me jump and grip tightly onto my chest.

"Jesus Christ!...could you at least make some sort of noise so I know that you're coming?"

All the god did was chuckle, his wet jet black hair gracefully falling over his shoulders.

With the faint lights which passed by the windows within Loki's room I found myself transfixed on his beauty...a word I never thought I would use for a man.

His lips though they were thin had a rose pink tint which was screaming for me to kiss them...or simply touch them. Then there was his eyes...oh those eyes. As clear as the Baltic sea but yet clouded with so many emotions which the god never dared to share. His hair though long fitting his slender face. Physically Loki may not be as daunting as his brother but it was for that very reason that I seemed to get so..excited at the sight of him.

"May I ask why you are staring kitten?" He asked, turning to face me.

A loose forest green shirt covered his slender frame while a pair of black pants kept his legs safe from the coldness which encompassed the room.

I could feel my face heat up at his sudden gaze.

Get a hold of yourself (Y/N)

"I thought you had something on your face."

Another chuckle.

"Tell me (Y/N). Did your world seem to be so at peace all those years ago?" Loki asked, glancing outside the window with a look of triumph over his face.

For a few moments I was silent, really thinking about his question. Even though I hate to admit such a thing Loki has brought such prosperity to this world. Under his rule crime had plummeted, there were new jobs which in turn had fixed our broken economy. The people as a whole seemed...happy.

"No...it wasn't. There was always so much anger and hate. Now..it seems to be nonexistent."

We were so close...I could feel the coldness, his coldness.

"Though my methods of getting to this point you mortals may not agree with in the end it has done nothing but change this retched realm for the better."

Retched?

I wanted to say something smart in return but decided against it.

"Not everything is as retched as you make it out to be. Somethings yes are truly...revolting but there's also a beauty in things that you sometimes fail to see. Seeing as you put yourself on such a high horse."

My response seeming to throw him off for only a moment.

He shifted his gaze from my own back to the bustling world outside, hands behind his back.

"Everything in Midgard has within it nothing but disgust me. The very air you mortals breathe stained with pollution which is self inflicted."

Though his words were true there was bias woven within them of course. If I spent most my life hating all the nine realms and everything in it my mind would be beyond closed if I were to every try and think more of it.

"That maybe true but not all of us humans want to kill the world that we live in. Instead we try out best to preserve the purity which is left of it, though we are vastly outnumbered by those who could give a care less about what happens. "

"Is that so?"

"Very. Now go to sleep. Don't you have a meeting to attend to tomorrow evening?"

A dissatisfied grunt came from the base of Loki's throat, flipping his hair from his face.

"Do not remind me...just the thought of having to go to Asgard is unsettling to me. Come join me in bed."

The request nearly made me choke on my spit, causing me to whip myself around as I watched him slide beneath the covers.

"Do what now?"

The god of mischief rolled his eyes in annoyance, fluffing up the pillow which was giving his lower back support.

"I do not wish to sleep with you. Do not take it in such a way. You said earlier that you could not sleep correct?"

"Yea bu-."

"Would sleeping with a male not help ease your nerves?"

Under my breathe I uttered a few curses and made my way to the empty side of his bed, turning on my side and pulling the covers over myself defeated.

I could feel the bed shift as he turned himself away from me as well, sighing here and there while he moved his weight around.

You are a fool Thor. To ever believe a mortal could care for you.

Am I truly a fool? To believe in such a thing while you believe in nothing?

I can never be loved. The all father taught me that.

You only believe it simply because you walk around with a cage guarding your black heart.

For what seemed like eons we laid together in an almost unbearable silence. The only noises which gave me any sort of comfort was the chatter from outside.

"..do you fear me...(Y/N)?"

The question was one I often asked myself. Do I fear him?

"...no. I don't. But I did for the longest time. It was after I watched you interact with the other servants that I realized that I didn't have anything to be afraid of. You're a kind man Loki, though you don't want others to see it because you don't want to come across as weak. It took me a while but I figured it out. But don't worry, your secret is safe with me my king."

The atmosphere seemed to be growing more...light hearted with every passing moment. Though the coldness which radiated from his body was somehow over powering the warmth that the covers were trying so desperately to provide for us.

"Mmmm...is that so?"

His voice trailed off and the weight shifted once more.

Suddenly there was a solid figure behind me and an arm had snaked itself around my waist.

Naturally my body tensed up. The only man who had ever been remotely close to was Thor and he was...still locked away in a putrid dungeon.

Oh Thor...forgive me.

"Loki what do you think you're doing?" I asked, trying to remove the cold appendage from my waist but its grip only tightened.

"Stay with me...(Y/N) in this moment your warmth is a necessity."

The shift in his personality took me off guard for only a moment before I found a strange serenity in it. The beating of his heart had a rhythm to it.

Ba dump.

It may not seem like it from his appearance but...Loki was incredibly solid, his muscles not overly bulging.

I turned myself around, suddenly wanting to see the man who was spooning me up close.

His gaze met my own and in that moment everything seemed...right. As if being here with Loki was where I was always supposed to be, in his arms and being his peace.

Up close I could see all the faint creases around his face, the little freckles which wouldn't be noticeable from afar. Outside the faint lights put on a color show on his pale skin, dancing and weaving their way through one another.

Enchanting.

Slowly I reached up, tracing his jawline until my thumb found the bottom of his chin.

It was so smooth...so soft. The coldness of it, of him sent shivers down my spine and energized the parts within me that I believed to be long gone.

Lavender and spearmint.

The feeling of his fingers caressing my cheek was....heaven.

"Were you never warned of men such as me? What I am capable of? Why does it not scare you as it does everyone else? Am I not a monster to you?"

His touch was gentle, as though he was afraid of breaking me.

The hate and anger which was usually so evident within his icy blue orbs was replaced with the vulnerability I had been longing to see.

You are a monster Loki. That is all you will ever be.

The gap between us only was only a sliver.

"Monster's wouldn't have brought so much good upon this world. But your means of getting here were...questionable."

You were never a monster Loki.

Far from it.

Kiss him (Y/N).

The hand which had tucked itself under my right side found rest on the gods chest, my fingers twiddling with the fabric.

We shared a final glance before our lips began dancing with one another, bodies pressing against one another and closing whatever gap may have been left between us.

His lips were softer than I could've ever imagined for them to be and tasted of the lavender which I often smelt.

A strand of his hair fell onto my nose, tickling the tip.

This feeling...the sensation was something I had never felt when I was with Thor. His actions never as smooth nor were they as tender as Loki's.

The grip that he had around me tightened, earning the faintest moan from me.

In turn I felt a smirk form on his lips, a hand trailing down the small of my back and resting itself in the nook.

With every passing second the kiss deepened, moans growing ever louder and our bodies desperately rubbing against each other for any sort of friction.

His silver tongue which had lured so many running along my bottom lip, asking for entrance which I happily granted.

We fought for dominance though of course the god won, with the way his hands were skillfully circling my spine and cheek my mind was loosing track of itself.

This can't go any further...it cant.

Mustering together whatever willpower I had left I broke the kiss, trying to pull myself together.

Loki on the other hand seemed perfectly fine. What was my indication one might ask? The smirk he had on his face which was followed up by a chuckle.

"Goodnight kitten."

How do you know brother? When you have fallen for another?

You will know when being with her brings you peace. When she does not judge you by your past deeds but by what she sees your future.

#loki #love #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki god of mischief #tom hiddleston #Avengers

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