#and god i have feels about sybil

[underwaterbanshee]

I am obsessed with Tula. The last five minutes of tonight's episode just cemented for me that everything about her comes down to the fact she never got to mourn Geoffrey.

Even if she did bust a cap in him. Even if he did have it coming. She never was allowed to let him go.

She went from being annoyed and concerned about her husband's dangerous behavior regarding the Blue and monsters to becoming a single mother of two children and living entirely for them--

--just as her sister meets and marries a man who is a lot like Geoffrey.

It's so clear that Tula wants Thorn to be nothing like Geoffrey for Viola. Hearing that he completely supports Viola's ambitions has to just eat her up with jealousy and grief.

This family is so fucking good at saying things without saying them and Viola does not want to be trapped the way she thinks Tula is trapped.

And her mom is trying to get her to marry again? Every male stoat Ava points out to Tula is just another pale image of Geoffrey. Even Bennett. Especially Bennett.

Of course Tula fundamentally lies to her children. It's constant. Everything is so focused on making sure they are physically and emotionally safe.

So what's going to happen when Lila can finally see that the mother she trusts so much is hiding something fundamental? And will she forgive her?

[direwombat]

wait hang on new au dropping

au where daddy la roux didn't take the coward's way out and went to prison instead. augustine still goes to college and ends up in montana as a ranger, syb still goes into the military and they essentially cut themselves off from their daddy (or at least syb does)

cue her surprise that, a decade later, she discovers three things

henri la roux is out of prison

henri la roux is in hope county, and

henri la roux is a fucking member of the project of eden's gate*, hand over his heart, a "changed man, billie!"

*grifting them because he immediately broke parole after learning his son currently lives in montana, and so long as he plays the part of the repetant sinner, the cult keeps him safe from the law

[kumkaniudaku]

At Last: Part One

Summary: Patrice returns home to celebrate a birthday and a new beginning.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: None

In a little corner of Wilmington, NC, tucked behind towering Spanish moss trees and sprawling acres of lush green grass, the Habersham family were monarchs on ancestral turf. 

Enslaved Sierra Leonean men and women had tilled this land long before Patrice was a twinkle in her mother and father’s eyes. They hoped, prayed, and danced for a future where babies far down their lineage could have a place to visit for a connection to their love and guidance beyond the physical realm. According to some, their spirits still roamed the fields once holding them captive in great triumph.

Long-held West African customs preserved and passed down over time had transformed into the uniquely rich Gullah culture that still governed the eldest generation of Habershams and their children. While much of the language patterns had been lost, Sybil Habersham-Lewis and her baby sister, Rosalyn, worked tirelessly to keep the family home tidy and traditions alive. 

They never hesitated to tell stories of how their great-grandfather rebuilt the big house with his bare hands to rid his offspring of a torrid legacy from a man he reluctantly called father. They sometimes laughed about how he, a fair-skinned man with green eyes and a mean streak, met and married a slender songstress with blue-black skin within six months of laying eyes on her. Paul and Efua produced eight children in that home. Those eight children created a line of movers and shakers that stretched far and wide. 

One of those movers and shakers stared out of the passenger side window with eyes wide as saucers and a smile that rivaled the sun, watching trees donning brown, red, and orange leaves whiz past on the way to her favorite place in the world. Patrice was itching to get out of the car and kick her shoes off to feel the soft tickle of damp Bermuda grass between her toes. She longed to see her uncle’s horses, eat fresh seafood until her stomach ached, and recap moments in her girlhood with her cousins. She couldn’t wait to kiss Nana's face 95 times for her 95th birthday. She needed to smell the blue hydrangeas in her auntie’s garden. She needed to be home.

Terry stole glances at Patrice, finding joy in her enthusiasm. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before or in the nearly two-hour ride from Fayetteville. He knew she’d tucker out eventually, but seeing her brimming with unbridled happiness made his heart swell. 

“God, I hope my auntie made okra. Oooh and crab cakes. I haven’t had any in so long!”

Terry listened to the way her accent slurred and shortened words in rapid succession with a smile. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to understand you by the end of the weekend.” 

“You’ll be lucky to keep up past tonight.” she laughed. "My granny ‘dem Geechee tuh de bone."

“Y’all make everything sound like music. I like it.” 

“If you tell Moon Pie that, she might try to take you from me.” 

“You gon’ let her?” 

“Hell nah. I’ll whoop her ass. She ain’t crazy.” 

The thought of having to put hands on her cousin behind her man made Patrice scowl while Terry let off a loud, shoulder-shaking cackle. Though she was serious as a heart attack, she laughed along with him to release the tension building in her muscles. 

Terry reached across the center console to gently rub her arm before playfully caressing her chin to pull a smile from her lips. 

“No way I’d let you fight as pretty as you are. Plus, we’re celebrating all weekend. If you aren’t smiling from tonight ‘til Sunday, I didn’t do my job.” 

Patrice’s mouth twisted into a suspicious smirk. “And what’s your job? You know, if someone were to ask for a friend.”

“Keeping you happy.” His cheeky quip made her eyes roll as she kissed her teeth. 

For over a week Terry had been tight lipped about something Patrice couldn’t put her finger on. She’d tried to catch him in a fib or make him slip up and share whatever details existed behind hushed calls and unmarked deliveries. But, Terry was notorious for keeping secrets under lock and key. Whatever he was planning would sneak up on her like a thief in the night. 

“You nervous to meet everyone?” Patrice questioned to change the subject.

“Nah, I’m good.” He cut his eyes in Patrice’s direction and smiled when he found her already eying him skeptically. “Think I’m lying?” 

“Yeah, I think you’re full of shit. Either that or you’re truly unaware of how crazy my folks are. No way you aren’t a little concerned.” 

He shrugged. “I’m not too worried. I love you, so I know I’ll love them. We’ll figure out the parts in the middle.” 

Everything Terry knew about Patrice, in his mind, was a beautiful amalgamation of those who had a hand in raising her into the woman she’d grown into. He knew her mother and how the two shared the same heart for community service. From her father, she’d inherited an uncanny ability to stop a whole room from speaking with only a raised eyebrow. Though he’d only heard stories of her grandmother, he could tell that her independent nature was a founding feature. And, if those things could make his heart turn flips with one look across a crowded room, he’d have no trouble making space for his bonus family. 

Patrice tried to formulate a counterpunch to Terry’s levelheaded assessment of the situation but had a change of heart as smooth asphalt transitioned into the familiar crunch of gravel beneath her car’s tires. 

Black iron gates adorned with an ornate H were pulled open, giving anyone casually walking by a peak into an almost mythical land. Terry’s eyes darted from place to place, lingering on the hanging moss trees lining their path, then on the children gleefully chasing each other through fallen leaves around a small white gazebo, before landing on a magnificent wrap-around porch serving as a gathering spot for elder men taking inventory of fishing equipment for an early morning trip to catch the evening’s meal. The Big House, as Patrice affectionately called it, was a modern marvel, an oasis for every hue of black man, woman, and child with Habersham blood in their veins to feel like they were somebody in an otherwise cruel world. 

“Beautiful, ain’t it? Auntie did her thing with the last renovation.” Patrice asked, beaming as she started to unbuckle her seatbelt.

“Incredible. Is this al-” 

Whatever was left of Terry’s awe-inspired sentence was swept into the wind as Patrice hopped from the passenger seat and onto the concrete driveway before the car could come to a full stop. 

Like a child finally released from the confines of their classroom onto the playground for 30 minutes of recess freedom, she hit the ground in a slight jog to greet a woman about her age skipping down the porch steps to meet her halfway. 

“Imani,” Patrice hollered, her arms already outstretched in anticipation of a hug. 

Imani called her name back with equal excitement until the two women were joined in a tight embrace. Terry watched from afar, a warm smile tugging his lips to one side as he shut off the engine and exited the vehicle. 

The two women rocked side to side until they’d had their fill of one another. Imani pulled away first to get a look at her favorite baby cousin. 

“My girlfrieeend,” she sang, imitating the theme song from the only show they watched for a full summer in their teens. “You look so good. The skin, the hair, the body! It’s all working right now.” 

“Me? Look at you! I know for a fact this caftan is from like Paris or Bali or somewhere crazy.” 

“Oh you know, just a little somethin’ custom from London. Not too much, not too much.” 

“How you stand it there with that nasty looking food is beyond me, girl.” 

Imani laughed. “That’s for them other folks. People that look like us know where to get a good meal. You oughta come see me sometime. Book a flight and let me worry about the rest.” 

“Next summer?” 

“I’ll throw it on my calendar. Bring Mister Man, too.” 

Patrice didn’t need to turn around to know that Terry had made his presence known. She could feel the warmth of his hand on her lower back as he joined her side. 

If he hadn’t known her for nearly two decades, Terry would have easily gotten Patrice and Imani confused. Both women wore glowing deep dark skin like a badge of honor, soaking up rays of sun and reflecting them in the way that only ethereal beings could. Wide noses and plump, pink and brown lips complimented impossibly high cheekbones. Beauty marks at the corners of opposite eyes might possibly be a tell-tale sign if one could fight being lulled into a trance by the sheer grace they both possessed. The only difference was Imani’s slight height advantage and low, ash blonde haircut.

“Wow,” he whispered, the words catching him by surprise. He shook his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I just - y’all are damn near twins.” 

“Don’t I know it,” they spoke in unison. 

Patrice took over after a chuckle. “They used to call us Frick and Frack. Mostly because they couldn’t always tell who was who.”

“Which Petey over here never wanted to use to our advantage.” 

“Petey?” Terry questioned. 

“Wait, she never told you her nic-” 

“And, that’s enough,” Patrice hollered, purposely eclipsing Imani’s voice to keep her cousin from going further. “Terrence, this Imani. Imani this is Terrence, my man.” 

Terry could feel a bolt of lightning surge through his body as he reached out to shake Imani’s hand. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what Patrice might call him in a simple introduction. He’d always given her a treasure trove of titles - his lady, the love of his life, maybe his wife one day if the Lord willed it so. He’d introduced her so much that they never explored how the inverse would work. But hearing himself be proudly referred to as her’s was a shock to the system that he hadn’t prepared for but welcomed all the same. 

Imani waved his outstretched hand away and pulled him in for a hug. “Boy, we family. Come here and get this squeeze.”

Like an old friend, Imani pulled Terry into a welcoming hug. Patrice looked on with a silent thanks to God. If what she knew of her cousin still held weight, they’d be fast friends and thick as thieves by the end of the weekend. 

Pulling away, she lightly tapped his chest and looked at Patrice. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet Terry Richmond in person. You’re basically her Nelly!” she laughed, recalling Patrice’s near obsession with St. Louis and their hometown hero after Hot in Herre debuted. Patrice rolled her eyes while Terry and Imani held on to each other through loud laughter.

“Got damn, Moanie, hold ‘em hostage why don’t you! You ain’t the only person they know ‘round here.” 

“Hey, Daddy!” 

“Hey, Baby Girl!”

The perfectly timed distraction took Patrice’s attention away long enough for the newest tandem to exchange hushed conversation.

“Yeah, but I’m the best!” Imani hollered back before winking at Terry and Patrice. “Go on. I’ll have the boys get y’all’s stuff. Make sure you get to the kitchen. Think Mama’s got some pound cake cut for you.”

The mention of other family members awaiting their arrival was a quick reminder that Terry had barely scratched the surface of new faces and connections. Every direction he turned presented another opportunity to be pulled into a spirited handshake or warm hug. 

With the men in her life, he was immediately received with masculine equivalents of praise for his physical form.

“Son, you look like ya 'bout tuh buss out dat shirt 'round ya arms. Petey, you don’t have to worry ‘bout no protection, huh?” was Uncle PJ’s way of saying he was confident in Terry’s ability to keep Patrice safe. 

“You comin’ out fishin’? Country boy like you probably catch catfish with your bare hands!” 

“Where you from?”

“Where your people from?” 

“They white? How you get them green eyes?”

“You got kids? You sure?” 

“You know you got some ears on you, don’t ya!”

Patrice’s father, Leon, interjected to save Terry from an increasingly invasive dive into his personal history. “Don’t answer none of that. But I would like you to come out on the water with us. Have a beer or two so we can finish that conversation from the other week.” 

“Y’all talking about me behind my back?” 

“Hell, I do,” Junior laughed. “She aggravating, bruh. You can say it. Go ‘head.”

“You better not.” 

Patrice playfully poked a perfectly manicured finger into Terry’s chest to force his silence, earning a chaste kiss on the forehead. Junior scoffed and sipped from his half-empty bottle of water.

“T, you grown now. Your big ass don’t have to let her boss you no more.” 

“That’s my favorite part,” Terry answered, finally speaking up for himself. “She sweet when she wanna be.”

“I ain’t seen it.”

“Because I don’t like you, Junior. How many times do we have to go over this?”

Terry tried to contain his wide grin from watching the siblings bicker like old times. He’d been in the middle of many a verbal tussle between them, always stepping in as the voice of reason. He still held the role of peacemaker all these years later. 

“She loves you, man. Still keeps your room up and everything.” 

Leon shook his head at his children’s antics. “Good thing you here. I couldn’t take that shit this weekend.” He pointed at the passenger seat of his truck and the open lunch box resting in it. “So, you comin’. Got food for you if you wanna ride.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Terry started before looking toward the house at the small audience of women crowding at the kitchen window. They scattered when he caught their gaze, making him laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “Give us a few minutes. I think there’s some people inside I gotta meet first.” 

“Good luck, man. I would say you got five minutes but we both know that ain’t happening. We’ll wait a bit.”

With one trial by fire ending, another began. In their short walk to the front porch, Patrice had given Terry opportunities to gracefully bow out of the incoming circus and take her father’s invitation as a get out of hell free card. He’d refused every effort with a kind smile and unfounded reassurance that everything would be okay. In his mind, he’d hug a few necks, kiss a few cheeks, and be out of dodge before anyone could hold him long. 

Stepping into the home’s foyer felt like being in a museum. Photos of Habersham descendants living and passed on to Glory lined the hallway as a reminder of their history on this land. Eyes that carried an array of stories looked back at him, leaving goosebumps across his arms. Especially once he landed on a young woman with a familiar half-smile encased behind an antique picture frame. 

Patrice noticed him stop short to give the photo his full attention. 

“My great-great-great grandma,” she informed, adding extra emphasis on the final ‘great’. “Efua. Nana says she was barely bigger than the kids but ran this place with an iron fist. I believe it. She look like she don’t play.” 

“She looks kinda like you and Imani.” 

Patrice tilted her head to get a better look. “Hm. I guess you’re right.”

Clamoring in the kitchen pulled them away from Efua’s watchful eye and around the corner for their grand entrance. 

Women of every age, size, and shape filled the room from wall to wall, each one participating in the cooking process. On one side, a small group of teenagers huddled to inspect bushels of greens for bugs and cut them in preparation for a proper wash. On the other, small girls shelled black-eyed peas and giggled amongst themselves over TikTok videos. But in the center of the room, where spices and fresh ingredients intermingled for an almost intoxicating aroma and conversation was the loudest, all of the cornerstones of the family gathered to share gossip and wisdom alike. 

Terry’s appearance, tall and muscled with a winning smile to match, sent a hush over even the loudest woman present. 

“Oh God,” Patrice mumbled to herself, preemptively embarrassed by the storm she knew was sure to follow. 

Someone whistled. Then came a low “mm-mm-mm” from an auntie fighting hard to contain herself. Terry let every sound and look fuel his ego for just a few seconds before speaking. 

“Hey, ladies.” 

“Hey, Terry.” 

Every voice greeted him in unison like the Angels speaking to Charlie over that old speakerphone. Patrice screwed her face and pinched his shoulder. He’d been given strict instructions the night before, but being in the moment called for an audible that immediately made him a shiny new toy to be paraded.

Before he could have any say so, Patrice’s mother was ushering him around for every aunt and cousin to say a personal hello. He charmed each woman who met his acquaintance like a seasoned politician. If nothing else, they could all hang on to the memory of meeting the long-fabled Terrence Richmond. 

But, for all the pomp and circumstance, every breath hitched once Rosalyn led Terry to matriarch. 

She wore 95 years on Earth well. Chestnut skin covered in beauty marks crinkled around her eyes as she smiled back at him. Even as she sat in her wheelchair more slight and fragile than Patrice remembered, Terry could see her inner strength shining through.

Patrice watched her mother lean down and speak something into her grandmother’s ear before directing Terry to crouch down to eye level. He did as he was told, gingerly capturing her much smaller hands in his. 

“Hi, Ms. Ida. I’m so happy to finally meet you. My name is Terrence.” 

The softness in his voice ignited a chorus of heartwarming sentiments from every corner. Patrice had become so enraptured in the meeting she never thought would happen that she nearly missed her mother directing her to join Terry’s side. 

Ida didn’t say much back to him. Instead, she slid her hand from his grasp and traced her fingertips along the perimeter of his face. She examined him from all angles with a nostalgic look in her gaze. Terry tried not to let confusion come through in his expression, but Rosalyn caught the sliver of uncertainty. 

“You remind her of somebody close, that’s all. Same eyes.” 

He’d inadvertently sent her back to her childhood, bringing back memories so deep in her mind she thought she might never get them back. Even with slightly darker skin and broader features than Paul could boast back then, Ida still saw him clear as day. And that, all those years later, made her feel more alive than ever on her 95th birthday.

Ida tapped his jaw lightly and laughed. “Mhm. Petey, this him?” 

Finally joining Terry’s side, Patrice mimicked him and knelt by her grandmother’s feet. 

“Yes ma’am. He wanted to be here for your birthday.” 

“Nice looking boy, ain’t he?” 

Patrice giggled. “He cute, I guess. I heard he got you a gift for tonight, but he won’t tell me what it is. Can you believe it?”

“Well, hell, this all the gift I need. Give me anything else and I might not make it to 96!” 

“Mama!” 

Sybil hated when her mother made jokes about death, but Terry couldn’t help but laugh. He wanted to joke with her, see what else she might say knowing that no one in the house could tell her what to do, but the loud blast of a car horn in the front yard reminded him that he’d made a prior commitment. 

Gently, he squeezed her knee and spoke loud enough for her to hear. “Now, I go gotta go catch you somethin’ for tonight. You gon’ be here when I’m back?” 

“Oh yeah,” she answered, reinvigorated and saucy like her younger self. “I’ll be dressed up real nice too. Might leave here with two gals on your arm.” 

“You know I never been the sharing type, Nana.” 

Ida smiled at Patrice, nodding in approval. “That’s my girl. Keep that up.”

A second and longer beep let Terry know that time was running out. He quickly bid the group farewell, ending on Patrice with a simple kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back soon. 

While she became swept up in a whirlwind of who, what, when, and where, Rosalyn and Sybil slipped away to speak with Terry on his way out of the door. He’d become the center of attention, even long after his scent had faded. 

“Is he the one from high school?” 

“What’s he like?” 

“Is he always this nice?” 

“Y’all shackin’ up?” 

“When y’all getting married? What about kids?”

More questions, more prying, more assumptions than she could handle. Short, vague answers weren’t enough for them. They wanted the full scoop from the young lady they once knew as a shy girl who only focused on her studies. 

Patrice answered every question with enough detail to satiate their curiosity and maintain some level of privacy in her relationship. For a moment, that was enough. They’d unveiled the mystery of Petey’s other life and could move on to more pressing matters.

They quickly shifted to discussions of other people’s business. Who’d had a baby? Who was divorcing? Who’s kids were raising hell in the community? They took a winding road filled with chats about celebrity news and politics, nonsense about music, and, Patrice’s personal favorite, the old days. 

Those chats, full of lore and laughter, always took place in Nana’s parlor. A room covered in powder pink wallpaper and situated in the corner of the home where natural sunlight welcomed any guests that had the privilege of visiting. 

The older women sat side by side, crammed on expensive armchairs and soft couches, to convene at their leisure. Patrice stood by her favorite spot beside the window with Imani sitting on her right and her grandmother positioned in front of her. On her left stood a small table holding hair grease, a fine-toothed comb, and duck bill clips to help her pincurl Ida’s shoulder length silver hair. Her favorite pastime. 

“Everyone of y’all was bad,” Sybil laughed, referring to the crop of children that came up with Patrice. “Y’all came here every summer acting a damn fool.” 

“Not me and Petey!”

“Especially you and Petey. The worst of the bunch. Just sneaky and sassy!” 

“I don’t know what you talkin’ about. All I did was read and sit up under Nana.” 

Patrice’s highly inaccurate recollection of her time in the country every year made Ida laugh in her wheelchair. “Don’t let ‘em lie on you. I never saw my baby gettin’ in no trouble.” 

“Oh yeah right!” Sybil exclaimed. “Ros, wasn’t you there when these two let all the chickens out and had us chasin’ them ‘round out back.” 

“Sure was. They had all the grown folk out there huffin’, puffin’, and ‘bout to blow the house down!” 

The room fell into laughter watching Sybil imitate the group of adults fighting to capture livestock. Patrice remembered that afternoon and tried to defend their actions. 

“Okay, that is true, but I remember that being your daughter’s idea. I was only helping my sis.” 

Imani shrugged and sat back in her seat. “You raised an activist. Those animals were in captivity.” 

“Moanie, you eat meat,” Moon Pie commented. 

“I never said they didn’t taste good. I said we were holding them captive. The circle of life is different. Now let’s talk about how Moon had us sittin’ at the eating table all night because she wouldn’t finish her Frogmore stew thinkin’ there were real frogs in it.”

“Heaven forbid a girl need proof!” 

More laughter. The kind of laughter that healed deep emotional wounds. The kind that seeped into the walls, keeping the home full of love and light. The kind that made Patrice happy to not only be home but to share a piece of her heart with the man she loved. 

While she wished he could hear the silly stories and witness the exaggerated retellings, Terry was fidgeting with his fingers as he waited for Patrice’s father to meet him at the back of his truck. 

Across the way, the other men sat in small clusters, chatting their way through a midafternoon lunch break. As much as he wanted to talk shop with them about the fate of the Carolina Panthers, there was a more meaningful matter on the table. 

Leon grunted as he closed the driver’s side door and rounded the truck’s cab. “Let that down, will you?”

Terry sprung into action quicker than he meant to, nervousness making him move at hyperspeed. Leon laughed and lifted himself onto the truck bed before handing over a small cooler. 

“Grab whatever you like. We got plenty.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“Just Leon. Kinda weird to call your father-in-law sir, ain’t it? Plus that’s that fool’s name over there and he ain’t worth a damn. Lazy sumbitch.” 

“I got you. Won’t happen again,” Terry chuckled as he pulled a piece off of his turkey sandwich and popped it into his mouth. They sat in silence for a few moments to enjoy the sound of nature around them until he reignited the conversation. “I appreciate y’all agreeing to all this. Especially so quickly. I hope things don’t feel rushed.”

“You ain’t doin’ nothin’ I wouldn’t want for my girl. She need somebody willing to go above and beyond for her. I know you always have and I don’t see you slowin’ down no time soon.” 

Terry nodded, smiling. “Couldn’t if I tried.”

“I know. Moanie got the ring, right?” 

“Yeah. We worked it all out a couple weeks ago. She’s hiding it for me and keeping Treece distracted. You know she’s nosey.”

“Her mama said to call it inquisitive.” 

“Hm. Inquisitive, huh?”

They looked at each other and spoke at the same time. “Nosey.”

“That’s her,” Leon remarked. “Time’s flyin’, ain’t it? I remember when it looked like you was drowning in your clothes. Now look at you. Big as a damn tank. What they feed y’all in the Corps?” 

“Shit, nothing but slop and a hard time seasoned with a dash of casual racism from some crazy white boy outta one of the Dakotas every once in a while.”

Their shared laughter disturbed a cluster of nearby birds, making the rest of the men look in their direction. Sir threw his hands up in the air. 

“Well, damn, Leon. Gone ‘head and fuck up the catch!” 

“Or I can fuck you up instead.” He looked over at Terry struggling to keep his face neutral and shook his head. “I can’t stand his ass. Or his daughter. Or his wife. All of ‘em get on my nerves. C’mon, so we can finish up.”

As high noon gave way to early evening and the sleepiness of fall pushed the sun into the west earlier than usual, Imani and Patrice sat alone in one of the guest rooms engrossed in conversation. 

Imani was the only sister Patrice had ever known. It didn’t matter what portion of the world they occupied or how long it’d been since they last talked, they always picked up right where they left off when they were reunited. 

Patrice focused on the vanity mirror to examine Imani’s careful twists and twirls to place her thick natural hair into bantu knots.

“You think I can grow my hair out like this by January? I’m going to Ghana and I wanna switch it up a little bit.” 

“Of course. Manifest it, my sister!” 

Imani laughed as she parted out another section. “If I ever need somebody to follow up my foolishness, I know I can count on you.” 

“What Whitney said on the Waiting to Exhale soundtrack?” 

Together, they broke into song, harmonizing to breathe life into the final track from one of their favorite movie soundtracks. Imani hugged her cousin from behind and kissed her cheek. 

“I love you, girl. I miss you so much. It gets so lonely being away from home all the time.” 

“I love you, too. Life be life-ing, don’t it?” 

“All the time. I gotta make my way out to Fayetteville and spend more time with y’all. Maybe learn some more about Mister Man.” Patrice tried to hide her bashful smile, making Imani squeal behind her. “So…tell me about Terry. I know you said something downstairs but I wanna know the real scoop.” 

Patrice sighed at the mere thought of their romance. “The way I love that man, girl, I can’t even explain it. I feel like I’m going crazy.” 

“Oooooh! Swept you clean off your feet, huh?” 

“Threw me over his shoulder and hasn���t put me down since. Never in a million years did I expect to end up here with him. I mean I hoped for it, but to be here is mind-blowing. He’s so sweet, Moanie. So, gentle. Kind. More affectionate than I think I was ready for. I don’t know. I’m just in love. I’m happy.” 

“It’s all over you. I see the glow.” 

“Well, that’s from other things,” she added, a cheeky grin spreading across her face.

“Not the choir boy!” 

“Please, don’t let him fool you. Can’t keep him off me or keep his mouth closed when he gets to talking.”

Their shared laughter spilling out into the hallway became a beacon of their location for Terry as he dragged his tired legs up the stairs in search of Patrice.

His knuckles rapping against the closed bedroom door halted the private conversation until they gave him permission to enter. He slowly pushed the door open before poking his head into the room. 

“Everybody decent?” 

“Mhmm. Come on in.” Imani invited over her shoulder. She looked back at Patrice through the mirror as her cousin adjusted her clothing and sat up a little straighter in anticipation of Terry’s avalanche of affection. 

His eyes seemed to close beyond seeing clearly from the sheer force of his smile. 

“Hey, pretty.” 

“Hey, love. You have fun?” 

Terry released a dry chuckle. “Yeah. A real hoot.” 

Imani watched the young couple flirt back and forth, her hand outstretched to pass a small black velvet box from a drawer in her vanity to Terry while he kept Patrice occupied with short kisses. He secured it in one of his cargo pockets before pulling away. 

“You stink,” Patriced joked, half lying.

“I know. I still have some set-up work to do, so I’ll bring your stuff. Don’t want you to get behind on account of me.” 

“Thank you, baby. You’re so sweet.” 

Patrice captured his chin with her fingers and pulled him closer for another kiss. 

Terry lifted an eyebrow in concern. “You sick?” 

“No. I just love you.”

“I love you, too.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. The way she softened her gaze to scan his face. The way the gloss on her lips caught the sun. The way every one of her perfect features was on display with her hair pulled up and away from her face. He’d never been more confident in a decision in his life and, if not for the promise he’d made to half of her immediate family, he would’ve done what he drove all the way out to Wilmington for right then and there.

Knowing time was of the essence, Imani cleared her throat and gave Terry a look to urge him along behind Patrice’s back. 

“Well, Terry, think you oughta get down there and set up a table or something, right!”

Snapping out of his trance, Terry stood to his full height to look down at Patrice. “Yeah, you're right. See you a little later?” 

“It’s a date.”

He wanted to give her one more kiss to take with him, but a final reminder for him to scram was the catalyst to push Terry out of the room and leave the ladies to readying for the evening. 

She was all he could think about as he toiled away setting up tents and placing tables exactly how Rosalyn wanted them, sometimes several times over. Even as he casually sipped strong moonshine with Junior and the younger men under lantern light, all dressed in his most pristine white to fit strict instructions, he thought about Patrice and what might look like in the dress she’d chosen. He needed to see her.

His hands were sweating inside of his pockets. He casually caressed the velvet of that small black box, occasionally flipping it open to touch the cold metal inside. Time moved painfully slow. Hunger gnawed at his empty stomach. His mother’s constant phone calls for updates and reassurance didn’t help. Nervousness made his chest hot with anxiety. 

“You gon’ be alright,” Rosalyn assured while adjusting his collar on one of her many trips around the backyard to adjust the tablescape. “Breathe. Won’t be too much longer.”

He thanked her for her kindness and prayed she was right. Or he prayed for the dream he’d written down on a random Tuesday in his creative writing journal to come true. He wasn’t sure anymore. But, when he opened his eyes and lifted his head to check that sliding glass door for the umpteenth time, there she stood amongst the Habersham women as they escorted the guest of honor arm in arm. 

Angelic was the only way he could describe her. Cosmically beautifully and capable of bringing the strongest man to his knees just by batting those long lashes. A toothy grin helped him bare each one of his teeth as he watched her saunter down the decorated pathway to the event tent with Imani in tow. 

“Happy Birthday to you,” the group sang once Ida and all her ladies had made it to the long communal table packed to the brim with food and decorations. 

They serenaded the woman responsible for much of their existence until their faces ached from the singing. She bobbed her head along to the song with a smile on her face then quieted their loud applause with a simple wave of her hand. 

“Ninety-five of those and you’d think I’d be used to it by now,” she laughed. “Thank you. Each of y’all are beautiful. Young and strong. Blood of my blood and I’m glad to have you here with me. Even the ones who just came along to spend some time with an old lady. I love you. Eat, drink, and dance ‘til you bust out your clothes. That’s alright with me! We got a lot to celebrate.”

Teary-eyed and full of gratitude, Patrice reunited with Terry at the dinner table as soon as she ensured her grandmother was comfortable. He worldlessly dabbed at her waterline with his thumb and kissed the top of her head. 

“You okay? Need to step inside for a second?” 

“No,” she answered, laughing at herself for her dramatics. “I’m just really happy. C’mon. Let’s eat.”

Eat, drink, and be merry had a whole new meaning under the soft, warm light wrapping variations of black skin in its embrace. Loud pockets of conversation and laughter made for a melodious cacophony of sounds while music played in the background. 

Patrice clung to Terry the entire time, always staying connected by a hand on his thigh or their fingers laced together beneath the table. Every once in a while, they’d break from separate conversations and catch each other’s eye and smile like schoolyard crushes sitting at the lunch table together. 

The romance in the air between them was palpable enough for Imani to pull out her phone and covertly shoot Terry a quick text. 

Dessert’s out. Do it now or they’re gonna start dancing. 

Now?

NOW!

Terry eyed Imani across the table. She urged him to do something with a sideways nod. He chewed his lip and fiddled with the box in his pocket. The music was starting to pick up as a few small children hit the dancefloor. Imani gave Rosalyn the signal to make a video call.

Now or never. 

He nervously clinked his knife against his wineglass and cleared his throat. 

“Nigga, you gone break it! That’s Big Mama good crystal.”

“Shut the hell up, Sir! You ain’t pay for none of this.” Rosalyn’s reprimand came with visual daggers sent to her baby brother at the far end of the table that only softened when she looked back at Terry. “Go ahead, sweetheart.” 

Terry stood to look at every confused face in the vicinity while he waited for one of the teenagers to turn the music down. 

“Sorry, y’all. I just had a few words to say. I won’t be before you long. In the real way, not the pastor way.” His attempt at a joke fell flat. Patrice tried to keep him motivated with a smile, but her eyes begged him for answers that he couldn’t provide. “Um, I know I’m the odd man out around here. Y’all have been incredibly kind and welcoming. I really appreciate it because you didn’t have to. Especially you, Ms. Ida. Happy Birthday, again. You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you, baby.” 

He nodded his appreciation and continued. “I also wanna thank Ms. Ida and everybody else who gave me permission to ask a question of somebody really important to me. Because I know being here with all of y’all is really important to her. Can you stand up for me, Treece?”

Patrice allowed Terry to help her to her feet before whispering through her teeth. “What are you doing?” 

“Something I’ve been wanting to do since I met you.” 

There wasn’t time for Patrice to process his statement. Terry slowly dropped to one knee, not caring about the dust below him. He kept his focus on her the entire time, even as quiet whispers turned into fervent murmurs. 

“When we were kids you told tell me that, if you ever got proposed to, you didn’t want a big speech or any of the stuff they did in movies. So, I promise not to do that. What I will do is tell you how much I love you. And I’ll do that today, tomorrow, and every day after that if you allow me the privilege of being your husband.” 

“Terrence,” Patrice huffed out as she tried to contain her mess of emotions. He reached up to grip her hand. "Don't make me cry in front of my people."

“Too late. Patrice, I’m askin’ you scared as hell in front of all these people, will you marry me?”

Everyone watched as Terry presented Patrice with an open ring box and a sparkling diamond illuminated by the small light tucked into the inside.

“I knew it,” Patrice whispered, losing the battle against the happy tears pouring from her waterline. 

“No, you didn’t, girl! We got you. Answer that man,” Imani hollered.

Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears. The cheering from her family began to muffle. Her body temperature skyrocketed. She felt faint. The people were waiting. What would she say? 

Just as reality began to slip away, Terry’s eyes looking back at her quieted the external and internal noise. 

Driven by pure love, Patrice met Terry in a squat and grabbed his face with both of her hands. 

“What you doing tomorrow?” 

“Hopefully saying a couple vows to this pretty girl I know from way back. I brought a tux with me just in case she wasn’t too busy.” 

“From way back, huh? I think I talked to her and she has a little time on her books.” She took another look at the ring before plucking it from its box and placing it on her left ring finger. She examined it for a bit then leaned forward to kiss her betrothed with enough passion to send the crowd into a frenzy. Pulling away, she smiled and wiped gloss from Terry’s lips. 

“Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

----

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

[sunflowermp4]

ANOTHER thing about this episode that i adored and cements aabria as one of my favorite dms of all time is the "show don't tell" way that the players get introduced to last bast.

like they see the massive building, worn paths, the RABBIT PEN, the ELK HUNT, and all of these environmental things that tell them about the last bast society before they even interact with a single other member.

even when they do eventually have a one-on-one conversation, it's with sybil - injured, young, and not in a position of power. it's just a brilliant and realistic way of introducing the characters and the audience into a new society, where they interact with an ""everyman"" first - and it's such a good dramatic technique to gradually show by example how different last bast is THROUGH the implicit assumptions that sybil makes and the things that go unsaid: the fact that she isn't fazed by the knowledge of reading OR the execution of incredible violence. the moment where she markedly doesn't speak the name of the dead stoat.

through these environmental factors and character interactions we're getting more and more clues and information about this society, and so when bennett finally gets his big speech at the very end of the episode, it can hit with such an efficient punch, because so much of the exposition has been taken care of already.

i feel like in the hands of a lesser storyteller, the narrative could have easily fallen into an exposition pit where the stoats show up and are immediately greeted by the leader who shows them around and the players (and the audience!) are just passively taking in a huge exposition dump.

seeing how aabria and the rest of the table circumvented that and instead created such a well-paced and immersive episode makes me GIDDY with joy. god i love this show

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 45

chapter 68:

1. “Some of those ashes could be Marlene.” bro wtf

2. listing out the names of the people who died in war destroyed me

3. james reacting to his father’s death by flinching away from effie had me broken. i’m destroyed. unwell

4. “The worst part is, when he says what he does next, it's not even a question. "After that, you're leaving."

Sirius' eyes flutter shut, and he croaks, "Yeah, Reggie, I'm leaving again."”

SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING IM UNWELL I WILL NEVER BE OKAY AGAIN!!! I WILL NEVER BE FINE AGAIN

5. “”Sirius, I love you more than anything. You're the first person in this world I ever loved at all. Not Mother, not Father, not James; it was you.”” STILL SCREAMING STILL CRYING STILL SOBBING STILL UNWELL

6. okay just all of the stuff with the black brothers has me in tears. their bond is unbreakable and my heart is in fact very breakable. i’m shattered over them

7. dorcas hasn’t left that spot in over twenty four hours and boy am i worried for her. she needs water. she needs to go pee, i’m sure. she needs to eat something and to rest

8. “Just not afraid to die, then?

No, I'm rather used to it, actually.”

STILL SCREAMING OVER MARLENE!!! STILL SOBBING ACTUALLY

9. “"You. Even you," Dorcas declares harshly, glaring at her. "I'd rather it be you. Instead of her, I'd rather you be dead."”

WOAH! hold up!!! i love marlene as much as the next gal, but nobody goes after my girl lily. she fought and fought and fought as well. she deserved to make it to this side of war too! she tried to keep marlene alive too. hold your horses dorcas.

10. 😧 did you just shoot my lily??? MY LILY??? holy fucking shit. she’s insane.

11. “Some of that blood must have been Marlene's. Dorcas wishes she had bathed in it; Dorcas wants to turn back time and drown in it.” 😟 i’m worried

12. “Never, through any of this, did [James] imagine losing his dad.” kill me. it would be more merciful than making me live after reading that

13. “Monty loved Sirius like a father did; Sirius is allowed to mourn him as a son would.” calling my freind again while sobbing brb

14. god I don’t know how to explain it, but every time pandora is mentioned and she’s alive i let out a huge sigh of relief

15. AROACE PANDORA SUPREMACY

16. i’m so horridly upset that lily lost almost everyone. she lost her family, she lost sybil, she lost kingsley, and dorcas tried to shoot her, so i’m pretty sure she lost her too. lily tried to not love anybody because she was scared of losing them, and sure enough, she was right

17. i get upset when everyone talks about going separate ways. i want everyone to live in one big town and live right next door to each other. i’m thinking hogwarts vibes (except better, ya know) or maybe the mansion they all lived in at the start of ahb!

18. as much as it upsets me that sirius is going to be leaving james and effie and regulus, i’m genuinely so happy that sirius is going to stay with remus

19. oh. i see why sirius has to leave. it’s best for everyone to heal a little before sirius sees his james and regulus again. because otherwise they won’t be able to heal

20. i love wolfstar, and this is so emotional but like, “Just—for right now, what I need is to be with you. I want—that's what I want.” all that does is remind me of high school musical with the “ALL I WANNA DOOOO IS BEE WITH YOU! ONLY YOU! NO MATTER WHERE LIFE TAKES US, NOTHING CAN BREAK US APAAAART, YOU KNOW ITS TRUE, I JUST WANNA BE WITH YOUUUU”

21. ““I wish I did love him that way," Regulus confesses, "because it would have been easier than this. It would have been easier to define how losing him feels, but it's not. James, it's not."”

god, i ache for him. like so badly. i so badly want him to have barty back. more than any other character. (sorry to marlene and monty and sybil and literally everyone else who died)

22. “It's still been three days since the end of the war, and Regulus wonders when they'll stop measuring the passage of time that way.” 😟

23. “Doomed to be a great, big tragedy.” *eye twitch* i’m fine. *even bigger eye twitch*

24. look, i know in the future, everyone will be together again and as happy as they can ever be. but rn, i’m sad

chapter 69:

1. “"I don't care!" Aberforth shouts. "I don't give a damn about your fucked up love story with our sister's murderer, Albus! The fact that you even came to love him to begin with sickens me, let alone that you continued to after he killed Ariana, and still do to this day!"” hell yeah put him in his place

2. “The dead sister card is a little underhanded, admittedly, but Aberforth knows a thing or two about manipulation tactics. He'd have to. Albus is his older brother, after all.” LMAOOOOOO

3. lily mentioning children and sirius and remus just locking eyes and panicking was so fucking funny. bro i’m wheezing

4. BRO AND THEN REGULUS BEING LIKE “you’ve??? never thought about kids??????? wtf??? me and james are having four you little loser??????”

5. dorcas just marching in has me so fucking scared ngl

6. oh god, dorcas became the president coin in this. she wants to make a new hunger games. oh god. oh no

7. as horrifying as it was to see sirius’ train of thought, him being the first one to say no is so fucking satisfying oh my god

8. good for remus fucking standing up for lily. everyone is blaming lily, and finally remus speaks up that the blame cannot rest on lily alone

9. 😧😧 not albus suggesting the jegulus wedding to help with the aftermath. bro he’s fucking insane. it’s so hallow-like of him to suggest that oh my god

10. oh my god dorcas has gone insane, is she about to tell everyone how albus was in love with grindlewald. that’s fucking insane oh my god i can’t wait

11. oh my god it’s even better. it’s that he came up with the rule for the quarterly quell. oh my god this is gonna be great

12. 😧 holy shit. sirius just killed albus. imma be so real, i expected one person to not leave that table, and i thought it would be dorcas, not albus. i thought she would be killed

13. minerva asking lily to be a medic and help save albus, and lily just not will forever be iconic to me

14. as a punishment they banned sirius from the hallow 😭😭😭 babes they knew they had to come up with some punishment as like a way to show actions have consequences, but they chose one that sirius would love 😭😭 that’s so funny to me bro

15. alberforth finally leaving his home is a very satisfying character arch

16. “this story is, first and foremost, about siblings—primarily sirius and regulus ofc—like that is the whole point of this fic, the core of it over anything else. and that feels right considering the source material, like in thg, it was always about katniss' love for prim and how important that was over peeta or gale or anyone else. and i just. i really adore that, and hope i paid a good homage to that, because i really admire it.”

you did. you did pay homage to that. it was abundantly clear that this was about siblings. and i love you for it. thank you, if you see this

alrighty six more chapters to go! i’m in the home stretch yall

[all-about-the-tea-parties]

apparently I’m in the minority (and the tags are feeling very American right now), but like? Our family of stoats is messy sure but like? The hell is this “omg they killed the leadership that’s so irresponsible”

Did you guys miss the part where the First Stoats entered the chat by immediately killing Sybil as a “lesson”. Don’t know about you, but watching some alien fucking unethical experimentation doomism police state don’t-ever-mourn-your-loved-ones cult leaders kill the one god damn stoat who made our family feel even a little bit safe, who was by the way, a CHILD, I might not take that as “oh they just wanted to talkkkkk”.

Nah, we’re wayyyy past talking. Did we break into somewhere we shouldn’t have? Yeah, but your whole society has been sus from the beginning and instant murder reaction is insane and suddenly OUR stoats are bad for prioritising self defense? For deciding they are morally the opposite of whoever the fuck these First Stoats are? They’ve been alive 20 YEARS! And all they’ve accomplished is training stoats to be LESS community oriented.

Maybe i just agree too much with Brennan’s approach to character motivation; but I have no issue at all with usurping ends-justifies-the-means assholes. Esp when they back us into a corner.

[sugarsnappeases]

kara i NEED you to discuss option b. because i’m thinking about the lighthouse fic againnnnn

LANE!!!!! i would absolutely loooove to discuss option b and especially lighthouse fic........ god i love lighthouse fic. if anyone is unaware and curious, this is the basic premise, i'm gonna talk here about the way jily works in this au :))))))

so. it's a very classic set-up for them. james is very rich and very handsome and very charming, the son of an earl or a baron, a blue-blooded aristocrat. lily is the daughter of a miner, no standing to speak of, brash and rosy-cheeked and definitely not a suitable match for the heir to the potter family. they meet, somehow, the details are unimportant, and james falls head over heels and decides that she will be his wife. at first, lily's like well. no. bc she doesn't know him and she doesn't want to be a lady and have to deal with all the snobbery and judgement. but james is charming, and persistent, and everyone tells her how great it would be for her family and for her if she married him so eventually she decides that yes, maybe she will.

this is obvs a big shift for lily bc now suddenly she's no longer just the miner's daughter, she's the lord's daughter-in-law, she's nobility, she's pulled into a completely different social sphere with different expectations and a shit ton of social niceties and pernickety rules that she has to adhere to. but she decided to marry him and she likewise decides that, now she has, she's going to be best wife the local gossip circles have ever seen - partly out of spite bc they bitched about her 'shameful, lowly background' or whatever but also partly bc this is her life now, the role that she has chosen to play.

so she throws herself into it. she learns all the stupid rules. she embroiders instead of sewing, and she gives the servants instructions instead of just lighting the fire or doing whatever it is herself, and she follows the latest fashions coming in from france, and she settles in. and she loses a big part of herself. a few years pass, and the only ones who still gossip about her are the old ladies that everyone calls crazy, and she's got most of the local aristocracy wrapped around her little finger, and she's convinced herself that this is where she belongs. and she's a dutiful wife with a doting husband who she loves deeply and they have a beautiful baby boy and everything is exactly as it should be....

and then lily goes off to oversee the setting up of the new potter family summer house on the island. james and harry are due to follow her there in two months time but for now it's just her and some of the servants. and she's away from that idyll of family life, and away from her circle of aristocrat's wives that she spends her time with. she's away from all the rules and expectations that she had painstakingly learnt, and following them even when there's no one there to see her starts to grate, it's like a blindfold being removed or something bc she suddenly feels like such a stranger in her own life, picking out colours for the wallpaper like who am i? (zoolander looking at his reflection style x)

and this is where the whole sybillily plot begins so i won't go too deep into this bc i've already been talking for far too long oh my god and they haven't even died yet, but anyway she basically shrugs off the role of the aristocrat's wife and finds that brash, rosy-cheeked girl again as she falls in love with sybill. most of the time during those two months, james and harry are farrr from her mind, but occasionally a servant will come across her staring into a newly-built, unlit fireplace, james' last letter in her hand, cheeks stained with tears, and assume she's just missing them, rather than that she's being overcome by a bone-deep sense of impending doom mixed with some guilt about the fact that she doesn't even feel properly guilty bc she's just so disconnected from that whole life now. it doesn't feel quite real.

and it still doesn't feel real when she gets the news that they've died, that james and harry have drowned, just off the coast of the island, on a boat coming to meet her. what feels real is the way that sybill has shut herself away from her. i think there's again guilt about not feeling more guilty. guilt, like i said another time, about the fact that, before the shipwreck, she had wished they didn't exist and now they're not in her life anymore but they're more present than ever bc they're coming between her and sybill in a way that they probably wouldn't have done even if they had made it to the island and she can't help thinking that they died wrong.

there's a kind of irrational anger about the way that she would never have met sybill if it weren't for james, if it weren't for the potter summer house on the island, and the kind of horrible cyclicality in how her and sybill's relationship started and ended because of james. and more irrational anger at j&h for making sybill feel guilty for not being in the lighthouse. and the things she feels are all about what's happened to her and sybill rather than like, her husband and son dying. the tears she sheds are all for her and sybill, grieving that relationship rather than her marriage or motherhood. maybe she's a bit like 'i could've told them not to come, i should've told them not to come' but it would all be bc of what that would mean for her and sybill if they hadn't. if that makes any sense. what i think i'm trying to say is that the whole jily part of lily's life in this fic is kinda eclipsed by the major impact that sybill has on her, like she kinda shakes it off like a bad dream and ignores the fact that the island and sybill, despite how real it feels, isn't her real life at all. i imagine her entirely dry-eyed when she's like identifying their dead bodies or whatever, but like full-on sobbing, weeping, falling to pieces as sybill continues to refuse to let her in to the lighthouse.

anyway oh my god i'm so sorry this is so absurdly long!!!!!! i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up!!!!!!! whoops!!!!!!!!

[luckyfaeth]

i have a truly sinking feeling based on this last episode that the family divide is coming and the kids will be at the crux of it

even just from the preview is clear there’s some argument between thorn and tula about keeping the kids safe, and god that moment where sybill looked feral knowing what jaysohn and lila’s potential was?

I’m predicting now based off of viola’s visions and thorn’s natural flowing in with the last bast, doubled with their past of wanting to be part of a led collective (maybe thorn and viola will try to take over hmmm? i don’t truly see that for them at the moment but it WOULD be interesting) that they will want to embrace the last bast and their practices.

though, i do see viola potentially being hesitant - maybe the split will go ava and thorn wanting to integrate with the last bast (ava even with her traditionalism seems fairly enthusiastic about them) and the sisters, with their shared knowing looks, will realize there’s something ominous about the whole situation

and of course, that leaves the kids. and really, they could go either way. lila is the easy pick for wanting to embrace the last bast, with her new reading skill and such. but she’s also incredibly smart and really intuitive and suspicious of people (“thorn is a bad guy”) and sweet sweet karate boy jaysohn…the promise of endless food and perhaps an opportunity to channel his energy to become a skilled hunter will entice him.

no matter how it happens i sense a family argument coming and i am not prepared in the slightest

[marsabillions]

finally i found someone who doesn't like seer pandora too! thank god i thought i'm the only one. it's just so annoying to me. no hate to anyone who likes it obviously but like. you guys. why the fuck would she be a seer. i thought we all knew that it's something incredibly rare and there was already one seer in that generation, sybill trelawney.

i very often feel like this fandom instead of giving pandora her own personality tries to just make her a mix of sybill and luna. luna was a weird whimsical kid, sybill was kind of insane and a seer. the only thing that connects all of them is that they are all blonde😭

the canonical knowledge that we have about pandora is that she was a scientist. she was a scientist you guys!!! she liked potions!! she came up with her own charms!! she was smart!!! she was smart!! please i'm on my knees begging she was smart!! her personality isn't just looking ethereal she was smart!!!

just because she is luna's mother doesn't mean she's exactly like her. you don't become exactly like your parent, especially not a dead one that you don't really remember all that much. luna is very similar to xenophilius already. why are we just giving pandora personalities of other characters instead of making her her own character. and like. not to be the annoying feminist who says that everything is misogynistic or anything (just kidding patriarchy is intertwined with our entire world and i love bringing that up) but that seems to be a recurrent theme with the way this fandom treats women. marlene is just female sirius, mary's a more slutty james, dorcas's only trait is being a lesbian and lily's entire existence revolves around men. pandora isn't the only one who is just a copy of others.

i don't know if i'm making sense because i have a lot of thoughts about all of this and about pandora and i felt like this is a good opportunity to talk about it.

Agree with everything you said here but wanted to add: all of the angst with the seer thing seems to be based on her crying abt male characters. Evan’s her brother, so it makes sense that she would be that upset, but Pandora is v rarely depicted to be as upset abt Dorcas’ fate as she is Barty’s and Regulus’. Even tho they’re hced to be apart of the same friend group.

[catharsis-in-a-bottle]

thoughts about vetinari and sybil?? eyes emoji

HI LIESMYTH i had to break out my laptop to answer this because i can't type fast enough on my phone...

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. many of them influenced by fanfiction and not actual discworld canon. i am not even sure of the extent of their dynamic in canon yet because i haven't read all of the watch novels, but regardless in all of these books sybil is either a main character One (1) time, or she is a very minor character (I Am Mad About This). as such my thoughts sort of have to be extrapolation anyway

when it comes down to it i think i have three angles on vetinari and sybil (all very personally biased):

the Old Friends Angle - they are friends from boarding school, they meet each other for tea, they generally actively talk to each other, etc. from this angle, i see vetinari and sybil as having a genuine rapport and enjoying each other's company in a platonic way, which seems closest to the scraps we get from the actual books. regardless of angle, i think sybil and vetinari get along not just well, but interestingly. vetinari would be more than happy to listen to sybil rant about dragons, sybil would be more than happy to subtly make fun of people with vetinari, and their combination of Total Frankness and Subtle Bastard create such a collision of opposites that they break through Incompatible and get to "we're going to have weird conversations but we're going to enjoy it the entire time"

the Happy Throuple Angle - the vetinari/vimes/sybil triangle works out, whether vetinari and sybil are attracted to each other or sybil gives a Stamp Of Approval on the vimes/vetinari situation, etc. i think this one feels the most unrealistic of the three. from what little of sybil's perspective we get, we know she cares about tradition to SOME extent, and we know vimes cares about maintaining ankh-morpork's idea of masculinity, so both of them would have so many hang-ups about the throuple situation that they'd hang up the whole thing in the closet and never mention it again... this situation also begs the question "what the hell is going on with vetinari's sexuality" but i think it's boring to say he must be gay in all situations. let the man fuck around. let him flirt with the duchess of ankh-morpork. anyway, i say the Happy Throuple is the least realistic situation, but it IS the most fun for me to write. (probably because it's the easiest, if i'm being honest w/ myself)

the Messy Divorce Not Talking Shitfest Angle - this once again comes from my obsession with the vimes/vetinari/sybil situation....so what if the aforementioned hangups about tradition created Catastrophic Dilemmas, or what if vetinari is gay and attracted to vimes but not to sybil but still asks for her approval on the situation... what happens when sybil is put in that tenuous position..... GOD i read the BEST fic the other week called The Old Kings of Quirm Did It Too by bissonomy (who has also written the funniest vetinari fics in the world) that put forth this dynamic and it feels so real... it's like. what if we gave genuine attention to sybil's perspective in any capacity, specifically from the standpoint of her views on tradition and desire for monogamy. i'm going to lose my goddamn mind

idk in general i like thinking about sybil's perspective because the books present her as Interesting Character who then just becomes The Main Character's Wife, and if we take that at face value we can end up with any of the above angles (the 1st basically complies with canon, in the 2nd sybil [in fanfiction] becomes the Invisible Wife who either dies so vetvimes can get together or gives blanket approval of vetvimes with no explanation, in the 3rd we comply with the nature of her marriage to vimes wherein vimes literally barely mentions her and hardly spends time with her - in that sense we can get to the Divorce just from actual canon details). BUT we can also arrive at all these angles by going beyond how sybil is presented in canon. the Old Friends dynamic becomes what i described in that paragraph, which is based more on extrapolation than canon; the Happy Throuple comes from thinking about sybil as being genuinely attracted to vetinari and/or wanting to break past vimes's views on masculinity (Putting the Commander to Bed my beloved...); the third comes from exploring sybil beyond "Yay I Got Married So Life Is Good Now" and wondering if she truly loves vimes, or if vimes truly loves her, and from perspectives like bissonomy's fic. THIS BECAME ABOUT MORE THAN JUST VETINARI AND SYBIL SORRY I GOT SIDETRACKED

this is unorganized and way too long so here are my conclusions:

vetinari and sybil should be allowed to be autistic about their respective interests together

it would be cool if they fucked

it would be cool if they wrote letters to each other

it would be cool if they had a messy love triangle and created a Divorce Situation

AND my ideal vetinari/sybil dynamic is actually the terrible transgender lesbian stressed-out love triangle that i am currently writing. i want vetinari to actively cause sybil's bisexuality crisis. peace and love on planet earth

[isapolvorita]

So i finished the picture of dorian gray.

I may say

I never thought i was gonna hate so much the little man.

I liked so much the end, i was expecting that Sybils brother was gonna kill him but when he died i was really worried that Dorian was gonna have a "happy ending", glad he is so fucking dumb.

My hate to Henry fluctuates along the book but he is really the villain of the story and Dorian his monster. Im sad he never knew (or at least admit he knew) what Dorian did, i wanted to see if he changes somehow, if he can feel bad for what he did.

Like Dorian was bad bad but also he was sort of a victim of a man with a nice voice and dangerous words, and if he fell in love for that i cant blame him. Like Dorian even with the painting keeping his "bad emotions" he still felt bad sometimes for what he did. But Henry??? He doesnt give a fuck about anything god i hate him even when Dorian said he wanted to be good he is always there to influence in him let him alone you bitch.

And Basil my poor poor Basil he was just in love, imagine watching the man you fell in love with turning in a monster, imagine that part of the fault is yours. He didnt deserve that ending.

Anyway, good book, all the yapping of stones and clothe was a little too much but oh well

[direwombat]

tagged by so many people over the past few weeks, but most recently @simplegenius042 on this fine wip wednesday (thank youuuu~). been a while, but here are some sneak peeks at katc ch 7 that's fairly hot off the presses (ie, i wrote them today, they're super rough, and will see the red ink of an editing pen at some point in the near future). syb finally made it to the ranger station in the whitetails, only to find that there's no sign of her brother to be found. just a chatty jacob calling in via radio, and some consequences of the van crash that saved her from john in ch 5. Also tw for passing references to childhood abuse

“Trying to call someone, Deputy?” 

She scowls, glancing around for the source of his voice, if only to disable it. 

“Gotta say, watching you clear out an outpost on your own was impressive. Waltzed into a den of wolves like it was nothing.”

Her blood runs cold. He was watching her the whole damn time? Her eyes dart up to the ceiling, scanning for security cameras. There are none inside, but as she carefully moves to the door, she spots one on the porch outside. According to Augustine, the rangers had security and trail cams set up all over the Whitetails. The cult must have co-opted those for themselves. She grits her teeth. Moving outside, her hand curls around the handle of a baseball bat left leaning against the exterior wall and smashes the camera. 

The pinch in her gut sharpens, white hot and piercing through her like she’s been stabbed. The skin of her abdomen pulls taut and tight as she lifts her arms to swing. 

When she returns inside, low, sinister laughter fills the room. “Clever little jackrabbit, ain’t ya?” 

A growl slips from between gritted teeth and with one hand pressed to her side, she lurches behind the reception desk. Resting on one of the shelves underneath the tabletop, is a HAM radio. She makes note of the frequency it's attuned to, jotting it down in the margins of her map before picking up the transceiver. “The fuck you want?” 

“Got someone who wants to say hi to you.” For a brief, fleeting moment, hope kindles in her ribcage -- Augustine -- only to be snuffed out when Jacob continues, “Ain’t that right, Peaches.” 

Her brow pinches together in confusion, mouth open, ready to ask what the fuck he’s talking about when Staci’s voice comes through. 

“Syb?” His voice is rough. Raw. As if he’d spent the past God knows how long either screaming or crying. He sounds scared. 

All of a sudden her aches and pains and fears are pushed aside in favor of trying to soothe his. “Yeah, I’m here, Stace. You alright?”

She hears his breath hitch and grow shallow, as if he’s hyperventilating. “Don’t listen to him. Whatever he tells you, whatever he says, it’s a --” He’s cut off by the sharp sound of a hand striking skin and he cries out in pain. She gasps, flinching as if she had also been struck. The phantom burn of her Daddy’s hand on her cheek makes the fine hairs on her neck stand on end.  

When Jacob speaks next, his voice is low and threatening. “Alright, that’s enough.” 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Sybille growls.  

“I’m sure you will, sweetheart,” he says condescendingly. “But until then, here’s what’s gonna happen: you’re going to surrender. You’re going to do exactly what I say. And if you behave, maybe I let you see your friend here.” 

“Kiss my ass.” 

“I’m being gracious here, Deputy. The rangers at the station didn’t get as generous an offer.” 

Her lips curl back, exposing all her teeth in a predatory snarl. “You sunnovabitch, I’m gonna --”

But, before she can finish her threat, he’s talking over her. “You’re not feeling well, are you, Deputy? I see the way you’re moving. Slow. Clutching your stomach. Abdominal pain?” He clicks his tongue and she can practically hear him shaking his head. “Nasty things can happen if you let that go unchecked. Do your little buddies in the Valley know? Can’t imagine they do if they let you come up here all on your own.”

Her silence must speak volumes, because after a moment’s pause, he begins to laugh. 

“They don’t know you’re here, do they?”

Her molars grind together so hard her jaw creaks. The pain in her abdomen is getting worse. A pressure builds  Her heart is racing so fast she can barely hear him over it rushing in her ears. Through heavy, labored breaths, she grits out, “You listen to me --”

“No. You listen to me. My Chosen will come get you. You’ll play nice. And maybe -- if i’m in a good mood -- maybe, I’ll humor you with a negotiation. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like you can take my boot and shove it -- ah!” Another sharp stab of pain lances through her stomach, and her shaking knees buckle, sending her to the ground. Her vision tunnels, darkness rapidly closing in from the corners of her eyes. Her body lands on the hardwood floor with a solid thud. Boomer is rushing to her side just as she hears the motor of an ATV approaching from a distance. He whimpers, nosing at her and trying to nudge her back to her feet, but her weak and trembling limbs won’t let her. “Go,” she hisses at the same time Jacob’s voice calls to her from transceiver now dangling by its cord. “Go!” 

Boomer whines again, but follows her command, and slips through the door she’d left slightly ajar. 

She groans, clutching her stomach and curling her knees close to her chest. The roar of the ATV grows louder and louder as it approaches. She rests her sweaty forehead against the cool floor and waits. Waits for Jacob’s Chosen. Waits for the dark embrace of unconsciousness to finally deliver her from her pain. Waits for God to show her the Pearly Gates where Mamma and Augustine are waiting for her before the Devil grabs her ankle and drags her down the Hell.

And for funsies, here's the snippet from a sequence featuring syb's recurring guilt dream

Gravel crunches under heavy boots. Each shuffling step kicks up dust behind her. Sweat clings to her skin, beading at her brow and slipping down her neck to soak into the collar of her shirt. The humidity is suffocating, heavy and oppressive as the Louisiana heat beats down on her. She lurches forward with slow, shambling steps, her head light and nodding back and forth as her exhausted and aching body soldiers on.  

One foot. 

Then the other. 

Again, and again, and again, and again. 

A chorus of cicadas screech -- or maybe that’s just the ringing in her ears -- as she’s pulled like a dog on a leash towards the grave she helped dig. 

A lazy breeze cuts through the stagnant air, but it does little to wick the sweat from her brow. Blades of tall grass in the fields around her bend and sway, whispering softly and echoing the words that pour out of her mouth. 

“O Lord, I beg Thy forgiveness for havin’ offended Thee, and I detest all my sins…”

The moon hangs low, fat and full, on the horizon, illuminating her way with silver beams of light. Every breath she takes is a struggle, every step she takes causes an ache so deep she feels it in the marrow of her creaking bones. Her hair clings to her forehead and the back of her neck. Blisters have formed and popped several times over, the soles of her feet squishing out blood that pools in the dusty footprints she leaves behind. 

She’s walked this lonely dirt road more times than she cares to count, nothing more than a shambling corpse, making a pilgrimage to the same Unholy spot every time she goes to sleep. 

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she adjusts her grip on the shovel slung over her shoulder. Its wooden handle warped and stained with the blood and sweat of her calloused palms. She swears that each time she returns to this road, that stain gets a little bit bigger. 

As she passes a pond, a creeping bit of the bayou that threatens to overtake the road with each passing summer, the back of her neck prickles as a pair of unseen eyes lock onto her. Clouds drift overhead, blotting out the moonlight and she’s cast into darkness. A shadowy figure swoops past her with a heavy beat of its wings and fluttering of feathers. She gasps and her gaze snaps skyward, some wild prey instinct sends her heart racing, urging her to run. 

An owl glides through the air, following the path of the road towards the weeping willow that towers on the horizon. It’s the only tree for miles, standing sentinel at the crossroads where she helped bury a man. 

Underneath its swaying boughs stands a single grave marker, one that her Daddy hadn’t bothered to make. She comes to a stop in front of it. It’s an old thing, nothing more than two planks of wood bound together by rope. Its white paint is chipped and weathered. It bears no name, no dates -- nothing to indicate who has been laid to rest here. 

With a heavy sigh, she turns her shovel around to sink the blade into the soft, sandy soil and begins to dig. Time slows, the only sign of it marching ever onward is the pile of dirt that grows larger with every shovelful. The owl watches her work, offering a scornful hoot whenever she stops to catch her breath. 

It’s only when the tip of the spade makes contact with something solid -- a hollow thunk reverberating through the air -- that she tosses the shovel to the side. She falls to her knees and begins to rip into the earth by hand. Her nails chip. Her fingers bleed. She catches sight of curved pieces of keratin caught in the churning soil. Her hands are caked in dirt and blood. 

But still, she digs. 

Off in the distance, a coyote chitters -- a sound that morphs into the rough and rasping cackle of a heavy smoker as another breeze rolls through, hot and humid like breath on her neck. The smell of tobacco is carried on it. “Gotta move faster than that, Billie,” her Daddy barks. 

And still, she digs. 

But she isn’t digging fast enough. 

The angry wind whips and curls around her. The exposed skin of her arms alight in burning pricks of pain. The faded circular scars pockmarking the underside of her forearms burn, throbbing in pain as the familiar sting of ashes rains down her neck. “Y’ain’t got all night, girl,” Daddy snarls. “C’mon, move it!” 

Panic sets in. 

Nonetheless, she digs. 

taglist (opt in/out)

@josephseedismyfather, @la-grosse-patate, @tommyarashikage, @florbelles, @statichvm,

@fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa

@cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @trench-rot, @g0dspeeed,

@miyabilicious, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman,

@finding-comfort-in-rain, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable, and anyone else with a wip to share this wednesday (or any other day <3)

[anxiously-sidequesting]

Sorry to be posting twice in one day but now I wanna talk about Sybil's last line of dialogue at the end of Wallaru. Bro says "The Spiral will always need its Scion." In terms of new villains always arising, new worlds to explore, etc.

Now of course in the real world this means something totally different than in narrative; for us it means yay Wizard101 will continue and it's not ending and shit and thats good!!! But in universe, I believe that fact would have brought different feelings. Like sadness. Or anger. Or maybe just numbness.

Like if you think about it. The implications. The Wizard will never, CAN never rest. It's an ongoing, neverending thing of always being needed. It's You and ONLY You. There will never NOT be evil. If not GF Spider, then the Schism. If not the Schism, then the Old One. If not the Old One, then someone else. Someone or Something will always come up as a Threat that only the Scion (for some reason. Gods exists here) is expected and able to defeat. When Sybil said that I was legit terrified because gotdamn I can't retire???? I will Always be The Legend who Always saves the day???

Like even setting aside the social consequences of this (the whole people suspecting us/fearing us Thing) imagine what that does to your emotional and mental health. Fuck even physical health. Going through all that strenuous trauma and exercise and magical ordeals and shit???? The pressure of knowing it's the universe at stake, not just you or the world? I actually would have died just in arc 2 personally how the fuck are we supposed to carry this. For the REST. OF OUR LIVES. FOR HOWEVER LONG WE LIVE

✨ Anyways here's hoping the Schism Soldier is arc 5's new big baddie haha #enemiestolovers101 😘✌️💕💕💕

[quillkiller]

so apparently god said your thoughts are too powerful dont share them sorry but i have to now

second opinion actually might be controversial but it must be said: i hate the new hc that pandora and evan are twins. and ik you like it ive seen you dabble in the twincest and honestly go off, but honestly i feel like this new hc has brought about a severe decrease in the thought and appreciation put into pandora’s character. it’s stripped her of anything that made her unique; like she is just “evan’s twin” now, meanwhile the canon lore she has is so much more interesting than whatever 2 sentences evan gets??

(but tbh the only reason i will support it is for your twincest. that hits different)

sorry i went off, however i love controversial opinions and disagreeing so have fun xx

YIPPE YOU’RE BACK 🤍🤍

honestly go off…. i used to be against the hc too and for the same reasons… and i still dabble in some aus and such where they’re not twins because im not necessarily married to them being twins… like it all depends on the au and so on and so forth…. and currently im all up in the twincest of it all…. so there’s where my minds at <3

but yeah i agree…. most rosier twins hc’s i see are only ever based around evan / and how to elevate his character which is so BORINGGGGGGG as if pandora doesn’t have some of the most interesting canon text ??? we cannot do my girl like this……

i tend to (because of kara’s brilliant sybill) be against the pandora seer hc because like. what about sybill… she’s RIGHT there ……. and there’s sooo much to delve into ….. 🤍

[cressthebest]

Crimsons Rivers thoughts pt. 36

chapter 55:

1. kingsley is mad at lily and i GET IT i understand. but all those people are adults and CHOSE to go on the mission. it is not solely her fault

2. NOOOO!! sybil is so dear to me!! and kingsley broke up with her!!! no!!!!

3. god, i feel so bad for euphemia and fleamont. yeah victors were saved. but their children, their two children, were the only ones not brought back home. i don’t know how i would recover

4. “there was Narcissa, who wasn't just in the hunger games; no, she played the game, and she played it well, so well that Euphemia never doubted she would win.” yo that’s fucking terrifying. i-

5. andy and narcissa reuniting has me crying so hard. their sisterhood is so important to me

6. regulus doesn’t have sirius, so all he wants is james to comfort him. i- i can’t do this

7. “It's like this, that he turns to her, and Euphemia knows immediately, just that simply, that Sirius isn't here.

He isn't, because if he was, that's who Regulus would cling to; that's the only person he ever wanted to cling to.”

okay, um, simply stabbing my heart would have been easier

8. “They all knew only one could make it out, and Sirius wasn't going to be the one who did, except more than one has, and Sirius is the only one who didn't.” 😧😧😧

9. god i love dorcas. she is not lying to anyone they saved by saying there will be comforts, but she is saying they will be safe and everyone there will be kind. i love her so much

10. dorcas caring for marlene first >>>>>>>>>

11. LILY AND REMUS REUNITED!!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!!! THEYRE REUNITED!!!!

12. oh shit. wait. that was too soon. before the lily and remus reunion, he hears her say that the absolute love of his life is probably dead

13. remus’ breakdown has me in shock. like i’m not even in tears anymore, i’m just shocked. i- this hurts too bad to even cry

14. “Lily does not know much, she doesn't know what Sirius was to Remus, but she does know for sure now that he was something.

Maybe, as much as she dreads to think it, he was everything.”

😀😀😀 you can’t write lines like that. that feels illegal, to mess with my emotions like that

15. i want someone to care for me the way dorcas cares for marlene. she starts a war early to save her life. she’s willing to kill anyone to keep her alive. she will do anything.

16. “"Perhaps if you had considered the impact of the lives you planned to shape into martyrs, you would have realized that this could happen, and would be no one's fault but your own. You put those people in the arena this year, Albus, didn't you tell me that? All the ready opposition to Riddle, and you couldn't foresee this? Opposition to you?"”

get his ass alberforth. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

17. “In all his years, Aberforth has never seen a loyalty and love exist as the loyalty and love between those two boys do.”

this is so sweet if it weren’t for the context of the statement

18. 😀😀😀 wow i hate albus

19. “They are at their best together when they are showing their worst to one another and basking in the relief of being next to someone they know won't really care, or have an opinion on it, or judge them.”

regulus and remus’ friendship >>>>>>>

20. as reg is literally beating lily up he’s like “i love her! she’s amazing! she’s my savior!! 😊😊 that’s why i must try to kill her!!!

21. “It was supposed to be me and you, but Sirius is gone. Come back to me, baby, Regulus thinks, but James is gone.” 😀😀 what a fantastic start to my day

22. lily should have had a gun in canon. this au only further proves that to me. the war would be so short is lily evans was given a gun and told to just go off and do what she wanted with it.

23. zar gave marylily hints in the authors notes ??? 👀👀 marylily??? 👀👀 marylily endgame?? 👀👀🌸🍓🎉

24. authors notes: “lily lily lily my beloved <3 she really was about to blow albus' skull open, soooo sexy of her 🥰” AGREED

25. also there’s 420 comments on that chapter and i don’t want to fuck with that number.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Yeah, I've seen many fans talking about Trinity Gate lately, including show-only fans who've convinced themselves Loumand 'adopt' Benji & Sybelle and raise them as a lil' nucleur family?? But like…fanfic aside, I agree that show!Loumand will never reunite romantically! Even if s2 hadn't killed their chances quite so dead, the way the VC characters drift in and out of relationships would be hard to adapt anyways. They've clearly opted to give the romantic arcs a bit more structure and cohesion, and centralize Loustat from day 1. Still, it does sound like Rolin & co have long-term arcs in place for the characters, Armand included. I would like to see some kind of closure or even forgiveness between Louis and Armand. It would have to feel organic to the story of course, it may take time, but I wouldn't like Armand to just be estranged from the others permanently. I hope we get to hear his story & see him reflect and grow as a character. I'm optimistic that that's the writers' plan, provided the show lasts long enough. What do you think the chances are of him reconciling (platonically!) with Louis and/or Lestat one day?

I think those are very high, actually - eventually.

This show - thank God and the heaven's and whatnot - does not do the "simple black and white" telling. There are no "good vampires" or bad, they're all terrible. And they all do heinous things.

As such... while I don't really see "Trinity Gate" happening (and... Benji and Sybille? I don't think Louis even interacts with them, canonically??), I do see them all "come together" for the final adventures.

Which... will give us a very interesting setup, for the later seasons.

I do hope we will arrive at something akin to the court. I mean, they obviously plan to, Fareed is already there, the hints, the farm, etc. And so yes, I think they will all reconcile in the end - latest. :)