#fanny is out of frame but she says hi

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Alone Together

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, angst, smut, fingering, penetrative, shower sex, edging, ■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

He had his work cut out for him with you, and he would start with getting you alone.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You sat at the corner of your parents' queen size bed, helping your mother fold her clothes for her upcoming trip.

The day before, your mother was filled with excitement when she entered the kitchen, a huge grin plastered on her face. "We won a free trip to New York!"

Turns out her company had held a lottery for the workers, two two-way tickets to New York City.

"I applied on a whim." Your mother shrugged. "Who would have thought I'd actually get it." Her hopeful gaze went to your dad. "We can visit my mother!"

Your father smiled back. "That's amazing, honey. It would ne good for the two of you to see each other."

The overall happiness of the room didn't infect you, who tensed up as soon as you heard your mother announcing that your parents were going away. You swallowed nervously. "When's the flight?"

Your mother checked the tickets. "October twentieth."

Your pulse spiked. So soon. "That's in two days..." Your shoulders lowered.

"Honey, will you be alright here?" Your father reached for your hand.

No. You wanted to say. But when you saw how eager your mother was at the prospect of visiting your grandmother - who sha ahsnt seen in a year - the word froze in your mouth. "Yes, I'll be fine. You two enjoy your trip."

So here you were, helping your mother carry her suitcase down the stairs. Your father was dressed in his casual flight outfit, fanny pack-clad, as he loaded the trunk of his five year old Toyota sedan on your driveway.

Mama, don't go. You itched to say. What if it's not safe?

You admonished yourself for the childish and selfish thought.

Kissing and hugging your parents goodbye. You can do this, you told yourself. You can stay home alone. You've done it all your life. Why not now?

But when the door closed and the silence took over, bringing with it unease.

You busied yourself with chores. You washed the parkette floor, vacuumed the carpets, and prepared dinner for yourself, all while the tv was blaring in the background, providing some much needed noise. You sent your parents texts asking for updates every hour. You were glad they messaged you that they landed safely, and we're on their way to your grandmother's.

Come evening time, you turned on all of the lights downstairs to drown out the darkness coming in from the windows. It didn't help. The noise blended in with the silence to create a sense of uncertainty, even within the familiar walls of your childhood home. Your breathing grew quick and shallower. You went to your parents' room, closed the door behind yourself, and locked it before taking a seat on the soft carpet floor against it. You tried to calm yourself, steadying your breath. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay-"

The doorbell rang, making you gasp.

It was him. That man. The awful human being who tied you up, gagged you, and left you drugged and hallucinating your worst fears on the floor of your research lab, with no one able to hear your muffled screams.

Until... he showed up. Robin. Your guardian angel, who tore you from those visions. Who saved and protected you. "He'll come, he'll save me, he will. He will." You convinced yourself, oblivious the heavy footsteps making their way up the second floor.

"Y/n?" Damian’s deep voice muffled through the door you were currently leaning against, making your pulse spike with relief and something else. "Y/n, it's Damian."

The relief washed over you in a smooth wave. You let out a breath and scrambled up and opened the door. You felt extacy as seeing his tall frame so close. Concern etched on his sharp features as those all-knowing green eyes studied you under black hair. Before you could think better of it, you enveloped him into your arms. His warmth was a much welcome sensation against your cold, shivering limbs. Tears threatened to roll out the corners of your eyes as you held onto him like a lifeline.

"Hey, you're okay." His hand came up to cradle your head. It was an oddly comforting gesture from him. So were the reassuring words. You wondered if he'd ever consoled anyone else, consistently repeating, "Everything's okay." Like he was right now, with you.

His voice and touch grounded you in reality, and you managed to pull your breath down to a normal rhythm. He came. He came for you. You were lucky enough to have more than one guardian angel.

"P-please stay," you wispered, not caring how desperate you sounded.

"I'm not going anywhere." His words were a promise.

You let him lead you downstairs and pour you some water. The two of you find a seat in your small kitchen. He sat across from you on the creaky wooden chair as the tea kettle boiled. The entire time, you didn't let go of his hand, so large and safe in your smaller palm. "Would you like some dinner? I made soup."

"Sit. I'll get it." He got up to open the fridge, and you mourned the loss of his touch as you sat back against your chair.

After you and Damian ate the chicken soup you prepared, he got up to put away the plates, freezing mid-step.

"What is it?" You asked.

"Where's your dishwasher?"

"We don't have one." You explained. "Here, let me wash it."

"No, no, I got it." He brought the dishes to the sink, lowering them, then turning back to you. "I'll do it later."

You let out a soft giggle. "You don't have to."

He turned to you, deadpan expression on his face. "You don't think I can wash dishes?"

You shut your lips together, then gave him a shy nod. His tongue poked the side side of his cheek as he raised a brow at you. "Watch this,"

He turned around and got to work, demonstrating to you as he squinted an excessive amount of soap onto the punch and lathered the dishes with it. Then, he rinsed and held them in his hands, unsure of the next steps. You giggled, taking the plates off his hands and setting them down on the drying rack. "If I used thos much soap each time I washed the dishes, we'd be out of money."

You turned to see Damian huff, and a guilt tugged at your nerves. "You did well, though." You hoped the words reassured him.

"Wanna laugh?" He pursed his lips.

You nodded.

"That was my first time washing a dish."

"Yeah, I assumed." You bit your lip.

His gaze traveled to the floor, and he murmered, "Shut up." Eliciting another string of laugher from you.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Damian stood at your doorstep, his hand reaching out for you as you talked yourself up to take it.

"I want you to come outside with me." He told you a minute ago. "Just to the end of the porch. Then we'll go back home."

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that told you not to bother.

With the door opened, you nervously searched around the quiet dark street outside your house. The only light came from the streetlights, and the sounds were rustling of leaves. Other than that, the evening was peaceful. Calm. You swallowed nervously, your hand coming to wrap around his.

"There we go," he reassured, stepping backward onto the porch, pulling you with him. Your breath seized as you jerked your hand back, not meaning to.

You met his gaze. He didn't look disappointed or even upset. In fact, he was simply standing there, holding his hand out to you like he was your boyfriend, picking you up for prom.

"Sorry," you shed. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know. Let's try that again." He said quietly. "I'm right here."

You nodded. "You're right here."

"Exactly. Walk to me." He instructed gently. "I'm want to hold you."

Those words had you blushing as you nodded once more. "Okay, okay,"

You took a shaky step and had one food out of the house. Your breathes came fast, but you clenched your muscle, forcing yourself not to go back. "Damian," you called out to him.

"Right here, baby." He answered. "You're doing very well."

"How much more?" Your voice shook as you asked.

"Just down those two steps." He spoke calmly. "I'm so proud of you. You're almost there."

He was proud of you. The thought had your heart speeding out of happiness, not fear this time, and you dared another step down.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You had sweated profusely and were shivering at the same time. Damian suggested a hot shower would help you calm down.

"Will you stay outside in my room? Please?" You stammered.

He kissed the top of your head and nodded.

After five difficult minutes of sitting on your bed, arms crossed, and leg bouncing in a state, he would describe anything but "calm." Damian got up and opened your shower door.

Damian made his way into the shower, the steam filling his senses as he found you, pouring soap into your hands. He discarded his shirt first. You noticed him, your eyes roaming down his bare upper half. Ridges of muscle never seemed to end, and you blushed again at the thoughts he inspired in you. You didn't say anything, so he lowered his jeans and briefs, slowly stepping into the hot stream with you. He placed a gentle hand on your hip, turning you to face the wall away from him. Pouring some soap into his hands, he began lathering your skin, starting with your back, then making his way around to your chest. Your breath hitched when his hands took your breasts, soap covered thumbs gently gliding over your hardening nipples, making you shudder.

He spent a couple minutes teasing you there. Fingers flicking, pinching, and tickling your nipples. Your back arching against him, hands coming up to press your hands against the wall. "Ah, ah,"

At last, his palm slid down from your breast to cup your core. The sensation had you rolling your head back as you released a breathy moan. "Damian, please, please,"

He breathed heavily against your ear. "What?"

"Please..." You keen searching for the correct words. "... distract me? Make me forget..."

Slowly, his fingers slid down to your core and spread your folds, baring you open, and lining himself up against you before at last, thrusting into you. You welcomed the wonderful stretch with an enthusiastic embrace - your hand coming to hold the nape of his neck behind you. "Mhnn, yes, yes,"

Seeing you like this - so pliable, so desperate - completely conflicted with his original plan coming here. He showed up with a series of excersize in mind to reintroduce you to the idea of safety - of a normal life again, free of fear and paranoia. But of course, he'd gotten carried away the moment he saw you.

Maybe... that's what you - both of you - needed at this moment. He'd been just as eager to get his hands on you as you were at the prospect of being held by him. You wanted a distraction? No problem.

Then, just as you were reaching your climax, all of a sudden, he stopped moving his hand, and his hardness stopped from driving back into you.

You whined at the hugh you were just cut off from. "Damian?" You murmered weakly. "Why'd you stop?"

"You said you wanted a distraction." His response came as if it was obvious. "I plan on making it count."

You shuddered as his breath carresed your shoulder, making your hair rise even in the steaming water. "Oh, please," you moaned. "Please, Dami -"

"Fuck," he groaned at the nickname. His dark arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace, as he moaned, low and dangerous in your ear. He began slowly pushing back into you. "Fuck, I've missed you,"

"Me too." You admitted. "Please, don't stop."

He huffed darkly against your ear. "Say you missed me again, perfect girl. Say it."

"I've missed you."

"Call me 'Dami' again." His fingers were back on your clit and his thrusts picked up again. "Tell me you need me."

"Hnnh, yes, I need you, Dami," you complied, your voices breaking into gasps matching the rhythm of his hips. "So much!"

"Say you'll never leave me again,"

"..."

"... y/n..." His tone was a warning.

"But..." Your voice caught in your throat. You were also caught between unbearable pleasure and your own inner conflict. Your voice broke when you argued, "But that's not fair."

His hand rose to wrap around your throat, though he didnt apply any pressure. "What's not fair?"

"Y- youre the one who didn't want a relationship with me." You stammered.

He pressed his thumb on a vein on your neck, just under your jaw that made your vision go white for a moment. Your head felt light, your thoughts swam and the continued stimulation from his fingers on your clit became much more sensitive as you bucked your hips against him.

"Well, now I do." He declared.

"Well... thats..." You felt your anger rise along with the heartbeat in your chest. It was a feat, balancing lust, anger, and confusion all at once, but you managed somehow. You were very proud of that accomplishment. You weren't proud of the words you used to carry your point across though. "That's dumb, Damian! You're dumb."

Yes. That'll show him, you thought. Especially when all that came from him was silence, shortly followed by a snort of laughter in your ear. His body shook against you. His fingers pausing their ministration on your clit, depriving you of yet. Another. Orgasm. The climax subsided as you clenched around him uselessly. The action had you grumbling in frustration. Here he was, laughing at you while he had you at his mercy. So... cruel!

And you... you little weakling, let him. Let him exercise power of you. Because damn it, it felt good. It's what you needed. All this time without him was wrong. God, he knew exactly how to play you.

So much for feminism. You clutched your hands into fists against the shower wall as a thought occurred. "The water bill is gonna be insane," you complained.

His laughter died down. "If you're thinking about the water bill while we're having sex -"

"Not everyone's rich!" You snapped at him over your shoulder.

Damian could barely contain himself. You were so fucking cute when you were angry. Looking up at him with those glassy eyes that tried too hard to narrow at him. Your pink lips were pouting, too. Inviting all kinds of bad intentions. He loved seeing your resolve crumble.

"Yeah," He gripped your thigh, his tone taunting. "Isn't it great?" He ground out. "You plebs work twenty-four-seven and get nothing, and I get whatever I want."

His fingers returned to your clit, now making rough little circles in excelerating speed. "Speaking of which..."

You weren't propared for the intense wave of pleasure. Your hands didn't know what to hold onto.

"I wanna see you come for me." He wispered against your ear.

"Ask nicely then!" You managed, determined not to indulge him until you got one win. Which was ironic, considering you were edged for the last thirty minutes, and you really, really could use an orgasm.

He let out a chuckle before biting your shoulder. "I wanna see you come for me. Now." The last words were spoken with fake sweetness as he began to thrust into you again. Roughly.

You tried to respond, but words didn't come to you. He'd done what you asked of him - made you forget. The only thing on your mind was his name: "Damian, Damian," which you panted over and over again.

"Gonna sleep so well tonight, baby." He cooed. "Gonna fuck you till you pass out."

You nodded eagerly, feeling that familiar warm feeling start in your core again. "Uh huh, yeah, yeah-"

The long anticipated orgasm had finally reached. You moaned and writhed through it for minutes, as Damian panted and moaned against you, letting the pleasure connect you as a whole.

You fought and lost to your exhation. Slumping against his hard body. You felt yourself be washed with gentle and careful hands, then wrapped in a towel and carried to your twin bed. You felt a silk material brushing against your skin, and guessed Damian must have found the nighty you left for yourself to wear after your shower.

As you were slipping in and out of awareness, your hand rose to hold him, weakly pulling him to you.

Damian dried himself and lay down behind you, wrapping you in his warm arms and turning you towards him. You were petite and fragile in his arms, so innocent and sweet. His brilliant, perfect girl.

As he watched your chest rise and fall with each calm breath you took in your sleep, Damian vowed three things: 1. He wouldn't let anyone else have a view of you like this. 2. He would bring you back to doing what you loved. And 3. He would never let anyone compromise your safety again.

[barefoothighlander]

Maaaaaaybe not too feral but there’s definitely something that makes my mind go brrrr about jealous/possessive Ghost - maybe she gets too much attention one time at the bar or there’s a comment made that really gets under his skin and sets him off. Then claiming or marking his territory as soon as he gets the opportunity. 🔥

okay so I got a few reqs for jealous ghost so I'm just gonna combine them here

warnings: mdni (18+), unprotected pinv, creampie, slight dub con, ass slap, rough sex, dirty talk, slight possessive!ghost

The team had arrived back on base in the early morning, spending the day doing paperwork and running around.

Soap was a flirt, you knew that, Ghost knew that, but it always got under his skin.

"Great job out there today lass, might need you to give me a few tips" And he winks at you, Ghost sees the interaction, from afar, staying out of it as his blood boils.

He hates that you let them flirt with you but he knows it's practically harmless, they'd never actually do anything to get with you, everyone too afraid of him.

Still, he can't help the way his stomach churns at the sight of you laughing at another man's jokes, your hand touching gently against his shoulder as you giggle with him.

He especially hates that it's Soap, the man knows he has no shot with you and flirts anyway, Ghost swears he does it just to get under his skin.

He's already in a bad mood when the team goes to the pub later, and you get up from your seat to order more drinks.

Usually, he loves how friendly you are, outgoing and warm, the complete opposite of him, he likes watching you interact with people, what he doesn't like is when people take advantage of your kind nature, pushing past the line of allowance.

He's awful with his words, keeping to his seat otherwise he'll end up getting the team kicked out of another pub, he just watches as you laugh at the stranger, nodding your head along with the conversation as you wait for your drinks.

He almost jumps from his seat when the man puts his hand on your arm as you try to walk away, grabbing your attention.

He watches you say something to him, the man's eyes shooting towards Ghost, sitting unimpressed in his chair, his mask-clad face doing its job of scaring the hell out of the stranger.

He's in a sour mood the rest of the night, uninterested in conversation, simply nodding along as the team talks.

When you decide to leave he's quick, his arm snaking around your waist and tugging you into his side as you walk home.

Once you're through the door he wastes no time, caging your frame against the wall as his stare pins you down.

"What are you doing?" You're slightly nervous, you can't tell what's going through his mind.

He doesn't say a word, simply tears his mask off and kisses you, it's all teeth and tongue as he pushes the muscle past your lips, devouring you

His hand slides down your body, moving under the hem of your pants to circle your clit, you're panting into his ear, your body flushes with his as he works your bud.

His fingers move lower, pushing into you as his thumb circles your clit

Within minutes he has your knees weak, you're panting beside him, inching towards your orgasm, he feels you clench down on him and removes his fingers, bringing them to his lips.

You're in a state of confusion, words escaping your lips as you fall down from your peak, clenching around nothing.

"Please Si"

"Think you can just flirt with other men in front of me?" He grits his teeth, his eyes dark

"What?"

"Don't act stupid, Johnny, the guy at the bar, am I not good enough for you?"

"Si, no, you're everything to me" Your hands cup his jaw but his face stays stoic, his hands grip your waist with a bruising strength, lifting your frame and carrying you to the bed.

He tears off your clothes, leaving his own on as his lips travel down your chest, his teeth biting lightly at your raised nipple.

He licks the skin down to your core, biting lightly at the skin of your thighs and you elicit a yelp, his breath fanning over your dripping core.

"Si please"

"You want my tongue? Want me to eat your pussy you little slut?"

You whimper at his words, a small grin growing on his lips as he attacks your clit, licking and sucking the bud, his hands holding your thighs down to keep you from moving.

His fingers make their way back to your core, pushing in and arching as they pump into you, it's all too much, too fast, your vision blurs with a blinding light as you approach your peak.

You let out a string of curses and moans as he works you closer, only to remove his touch at the feeling of you clenching.

You sob at the loss of contact, your muscles growing weak as he pulls from you.

"Not yet, you cum on my cock or not at all"

He leans over your form, biting a mark into the skin of your neck as you gasp, his hands roaming your chest, fingers pinching over your nipples.

He leans back and lines himself up, bottoming out with his first thrust as your limbs cling to him.

He sets a brutal pace, your mind barely functioning at the feeling of his large cock dragging against your soaked walls, his tip prodding at your cervix with every thrust.

He grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he pounds into you,

"Fuck, who's pussy is this?"

You turn to him, struggling to form words, his hand moves to rest against your throat, his fingers pressing against your pulse point.

"I said who does this pussy belong to"

"You, fuck, only you" You sob around him, your chest arching into him

"That's right, my pussy, gonna fucking fill you, make sure everyone knows who you belong to"

You moan at his words, his threats going straight to your core as you clench around him,

"Don't cum, not yet"

Your brain is fuzzy, your nerves feel like they're on fire as his thumb makes contact with your clit, rubbing circles into the bud as he drives his cock into you.

"You cum when I tell you to, got it?"

You nod, unable to form words

"Use your words" He tightens his grip on your throat

"I cum when you say so" You struggle to speak

He pulls out from you, his hands grabbing your waist to flip you over, his arm snaking around your stomach to hold you up at your cheek presses into the mattress.

Without warning he thrusts back in, forcing you to take every inch as his weight pushes you further into the bed.

"My fucking pussy, no one else" He emphasizes his words with a thrust, his hand making contact with your ass, slapping hard enough that it was sure to leave a red mark, "Fucking say it you little slut"

"Your pussy, fuck, only yours" You manage through broken moans, his fingers moving back to your clit and you squeeze down on him.

"Who else can fuck you like this?"

"No one"

"That's right, you belong to me" He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

"Si please" Tears prick your eyes as you beg

"M'gonna fill you, fuck, make sure you feel me all the time"

You clench your pussy around him, the sensation becoming too much as your body seizes under his touch,

"Shit, not yet, don't you dare fucking cum"

You hold out for a few seconds loner, feeling his balls tighten as he buries himself in you.

"Cum for me, cum around my cock you little slut"

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your entire body igniting as you writhe under him, squeezing him as he grunts, he cums with you, his spend flooding your pussy as you ride out your high, the warmth eliciting a sob from you.

"Fuck, that's it, baby, gonna take it all"

He makes sure you milk him of every drop, keeping his cock inside you till he's soft, letting you come down before pulling out.

His fingers push his spend back into you and you clench around them, your hips twitching from the stimulation as you fall against the mattress.

He presses kisses over your ass, moving his way up your spine before slotting himself beside you, his arms wrapping around your frame to tug you close.

You lay in silence for a few minutes, both of you catching your breath.

His chin sits against your shoulder, his lips pressing tender kisses to your neck,

"Mine" He repeats the word in between kisses, you sigh at his touch, turning your neck to face him, his eyes are softer now, full of love as you lean in to kiss him,

"All yours, always"

[one-and-a-half-yikes]

Im gonna be honest i think we need to understand how oswald's and fanny's relationship REALLY was, because its clear that they both describe it with still personal very very strong feelings and they do run head first into that Unreliable narrator territory often enough to make me belive theres something big missing a invisible elephant in the room if you will

Fanny says oswald betrayed her

While oswald says she was extremly toxic and wants her away (yet he still pulled all that shit at the dance like bro she was litellary just having fun at an even that you just so happened to be at Then you walked up to her asked her for a dance and acted like she was the devil and started accusing her)

And while both these things could be true in sense we need to know HOW, how was fanny toxic? How did oswald betray her? We have a silloute of a picture but not the frame or the pieces

Also I do seriously wonder how was fanny toxic to oswald? It all was very very long ago and while fanny's personality could be mirroring her now but She didnt have all the experience she has now she had to be diffrent from how she's now

(Also I truly belive oswald definitley fucked up in some way too and we don't know it yet like she had multiple boyfriends but oswald stucks out and not only that but even the thought of him angers her, it could be because if we look at the timeline he could be her first boyfriend or alternativley her ticked out of bad home life like you said but I do think there has to be more to it especialy since again we don't know that much about how he was all that time ago...but we do know fanny likes to ignore neon red flags)

Sorry for the long ask oh my i didnt mean to write it so long I hope you don't mind my mid analisis in your ask box but you did say you wanna talk more about fanny so

ヾ (‘∀ `*)

Honestly I don't mind people hitting my askbox up with analyses or their own takes on certain parts of IM I live for this and I WOULD like to interact with the Inky Mystery fandom more on tumblr cause most of the time I'm hanging out with everyone on discord, but it's nice to talk on here too lol

I'm gonna guess you're asking for my opinion on this?

I don't know if I would describe them as both being unreliable narrators, because from my knowledge Oswald has never divulged to anyone about his relationship with Fanny so we don't really know what his whole perspective on the matter actually is. We don't know if he thinks he was innocent throughout the relationship or if he acknowledges that they were both toxic and bad for each other. What we know is that Oswald was the one who dumped Fanny not the other way around and that means something to me at least.

Fanny on the other hand...I would definitely call her an unreliable narrator when this is how she's describing the breakup:

If you were to only hear from Fanny's side of things you could be convinced that Oz was having an affair with Ortensia on the side during his relationship with Fanny. But this isn't the case, and there's nothing from Fanny's side to provide evidence that this was the case. Not to mention that she's implying that Ortensia seduced Oz into breaking up with her so she could replace her. Calling her an unreliable narrator here doesn't even cut it she's just outright lying about two people who haven't really done her wrong.

But this isn't the first time either. In another chapter she makes a bunch of accusations against Oswald again.

Accusations, that again, are not proven to be true. We got Oswald's perspective during the Far Far West arc and anything pertaining to Fanny never came up. He never talked to anyone about it. He never talked to Cuphead about it. Hell, he didn't even talk to Cuphead at the group date either.

We've only had Oswald make one real accusation against Fanny from when they were together and it was in response to an accusation that Fanny made about him. We have no idea whether Oz is telling the truth or not, but I also have no reason to see why he'd lie. I don't think Fanny is lying to cover up anything, I think she's so bitter about the break up it doesn't occur to her that Oz breaking up with her wasn't to spite her or anything. Yes it hurt and it sucks the way her life turned out after the break, but that's not Oz's fault. He's not responsible for that.

All in all, I think it's good to have an open mind about their relationship, but we also have to look at the facts and the facts show that it's not on equal ground. One person is spreading rumors or fabrications and the other hasn't said a word about the situation to anyone.

Hell, even at the group date situation, Oz approached Fanny to call her out on her behavior but he could have just as easily gone straight to Cuphead and warned him about Fanny and her past. Oswald keeps what happened between them to himself and those he knows best. Fanny has openly talked shit about both Ortensia and Ozzy in front of other people casually without consideration for privacy.

The whole thing regarding why Oswald angers her so much whenever she thinks about him. I have ideas, and I feel like I'm right on the money but I want to wait and see before making a big meta post about their relationship. M shared something juicy on the discord and I am very excited when we get to see it!!!

Also THANK YOU for the ask!! This was nice I'm glad I got to gush about these two some more because I often don't lol

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Sense and Sensibility (2024, Hallmark) a review

I had expectations for this movie. They were not surpassed. It didn't perform below them either.

Spoilers under the cut.

So, this is a short movie (1.24hr long) a tv movie, a hallmark movie. You must keep that in mind as a frame of reference for what I'm about to say. You cannot really compare this with theatrical movies on equal footing.

Where to start. Costumes and sets. It is Bridgerton's world and we live in it. Everything is VERY colorful and shiny and not very real looking; that was to be expected. I think that sort of semi-fantasy aspect didn't hurt at all, and it was consistent. If you are not going to stick to the time period, at least go ham and show me something really interesting. I'm looking at you, Netflix Persuasion. There are some dresses that are pretty, and some others that... aren't. Considering that apparently the costume designer had to make something like 60 pieces in a month, it's kind of impressive that it came out as it did.

One funny bit, though, in this respect, is that they complain about how small the cottage is like some actual estate houses aren't the same size IRL XD Allenham we only get to see from afar, and it is rather disappointing.

Music: nothing to write home about, to be expected. Yes, we got one of those Vitamin String Quartet modern-song-played-by-strings. IDK. They were a bit dorky in their heyday, I don't know why they are so sought after in these pieces lately. I digress.

The acting. Deborah Ayorinde was a really good Elinor. She definitely deserved better writing and direction. The rest of the cast was good enough; I feel some roles really benefited from their characters being a bit hammy already in the source material (Lucy, Mrs Jennings, Anne, Fanny, Robert), others were really struggling because of being given very poor dialogue (Mrs Dashwood), and others were just... not good (Willoughby and Brandon, sadly). Edward was... a very special case. I can only describe it as the actor having two expressions: one, an attempt at reaching Hugh Grant's adorkableness AND Dan Stevens' ease at the same time, and two [SCREAMING INTERNALLY], but I guess those two were indeed enough to make it work just fine!

Which leads me to the writing. We all knew this adaptation was going to live or die in the writing, and most likely die.

The thing is that most of it is written around repeating 95' and 08's greatest hits, while attempting to compress the narrative into an hour and a half. And that goes as well as you can expect it to. Some scenes are painfully rushed -Brandon's backstory was extremely awkward to get through- some things are over before you have any time to assess their real weight -Marianne's illness, and many others end up being... incongruous.

Let me stop a little on those. The movie keeps Margaret, and gives her the whole play acting as a pirate with Edward from 95', but then removes the only real plot relevant thing she does in the book. So why keep the character at all? (Willoughby asks for Marianne's handkerchief in exchange for Queen Maab, instead of cutting a lock of her hair).

Because 2008 makes Brandon suspicious of Willoughby from the get go, this one makes it so that they know each other and implies that Brandon knows dirt on Willoughby, but then plays the rest of the story straight, which makes it... pretty inconsistent.

Speaking of Brandon, we have reached adaptation #5 that cuts out the fact that he tried to elope with Eliza sr. This time the backstory is that his father promised to let him marry Eliza if he proved himself as a soldier, but when he came back, he found his father has kicked her out of the house. Yeah, that was utter nonsense.

The adaptation makes a clumsy attempt at including the dinner at Mrs Ferrars... but Brandon isn't there to see Marianne defend Elinor.

We needed to have a "Brandon rescues Marianne in the rain" scene, but in this case, she's not faint or anything, he just grabs her because she's sad XD

And the list goes on and on and on. It was to be expected that the shadow of both 95 and 08 would be large over this one, but it truly is to the point that the references and contrivances are almost constant. Which is a pity because I think most of the original choices were interesting.

For example, Marianne twists her ankle running after Margaret, to try and stop her from asking something embarrassing, which is a good choice in terms of showing that Marianne is passionate, but she has more sense than Margaret.

On his deathbed, Mr Dashwood makes Elinor promise that she will take care of her mom and sisters and keep the family together. That added pressure on Elinor works really well in the context of the adaptation, and ads a new layer of interest.

John Dashwood is written mostly as a hapless but not malicious idiot. This is similar to what From Prada to Nada did (though there it made more sense because of the father having two families simultaneously), but I'm not sure where was that going. They did cut the Palmers, so I suppose the choice was so that they could go to Norland instead on their way to Barton (it is never established that Norland is so far away as it is in the book, so I guess one could give it a pass), but in that case, I feel the most cost effective shortcut is... have them go to Barton? Because we do get to see Barton (Marianne goes alone with Brandon to see it close to the end, and they get engaged before Edward returns, don't think much about it, manners and such are... for this movie... loose guidelines. But it isn't super offensive most of the time).

Anne Steele is decent fun as she's supposed to be, but Lucy really suffers the flattening. The mastermind has been flanderized into just a mean girl, and that's a pity.

Oh, Edward is sassy at times! And the sassy jokes land! I have to say it is not my preferred way of doing the character, but he does show some sass at the end of the novel, so, you know, I'll allow it I suppose XD

Edward's return and proposal started pretty good, but it overstayed its welcome. I cannot emphasize enough that, when writing this kind of proposal, you must avoid the word love if you can, and if you must use it, use it once, and with great reluctance.

The movie chooses to dedicate quite a time to the reveal of Edward and Lucy's relationship, and it's honestly... decent? For a scene made out of whole cloth it stands on its own feet reasonably well. But there's no Fanny freakout. This is probably the most shocking plot twist in the adaptation. This very on-the-nose Hallmark adaptation decided to cut the Fanny freakout of all things. Impressive restraint.

One thing, however, that was sadly cut out was Elinor and Marianne's conversation about Willoughby at Barton. It is instead replaced by an unsubtle comparison between Willoughby and Edward, and an exchange between Brandon and Marianne. It is one of the several points where the storytelling relies on previous knowledge of the work.

These are my main, disordered thoughts. I leave you with this choice from the ending, that I cannot form a thought about:

At Elinor and Edward's wedding, on the first pew are in attendance, from center to side: Mrs Dashwood, Margaret, Marianne, colonel Brandon... and Eliza Williams with her baby in her arms.

As a summary, I'd say Elinor and Edward's story was good enough, the relationship between the sisters was sweet, there were some odd choices, some interesting choices, and overall the writing was severely downgraded by attempting so much to stick to the choices of previous famous adaptations.

[lamportb]

The stitch up

Finally have a minute to re watch episode 4. Rambling below

Love Fagin and Jack covered in viscera in Gaines’ carriage with his wife. “My colleague and I were burying a cadaver” A+ excuse Jack, totally explains why you aren’t wearing pants.

I didn’t notice just how clear it is that Lady Jane is the real governor of the colony. Don’t love her as an obstacle to true love, but I Stan a powerful smart lady.

Hetty is a queen. “All right! Time to check your rose bushes” while she makes the rounds in the brothel, then single handedly loads Rotty in a cart to haul her to the hospital. Also ignores Sneed and gets Jack when it’s clear the first surgery didn’t work.

When Belle goes to observe the surgery Sneed suggests that the surgical theatre is too gory for her and that she should read to the patients instead “some of them can barely read”. Cue pointed look at Jack. I didn’t pick up on this the first time.

Belle also tells Jack that her father paid for Sneed’s medical training! Talk about having connections.

Jack is soooo baby soft when Belle offers to help him. His eyes change. It’s perfection.

despite hating Jack, Sneed still defends him when Gaines is looking for reasons to arrest him. More reason I love that pompous git.

Seriously, there’s not a filler scene anywhere in this series.

Gaines trashes Jack’s room and threatens him with handing and/or flogging to death. Jack has JUST had this very hopeful conversation with Belle and here he is on his bed holding the trampled remains of his signature top hat - the Dodge dilemma. How can he hang it up permanently, and does he want to?

“sniffly Sneed” 😂

dodger hat back on when sneaking around the governor’s yard to find Belle. “We don’t pay for cadavers. We just… borrow them”

11 o’clock cadaver date is the hottest thing Belle has ever heard.

I love Tim and I love how he loves Red.

Fanny is so excited by the idea that Sneed’s medical knowledge will make him a good lover. Yeah…

Jack the savant surgeon - eyes closed in concentration. Lovely.

Jack is illiterate clue 2: he is so unsettled at the idea of being found out he just nopes himself right out of the situation and leaves Belle in the operating theatre at presumably midnight or later. Lol.

“the white ghost who’s close to his grave” should be my new tag for Fagin

Red is so fucking cool

Feels like a very deliberate choice for Belle to let her hair down when she joins Jack in the surgery. Maybe because of the conversation with Fanny about going for it? (Finding love with Sneed?). Also how did Belle know to be there? Tim says they can do the second surgery because Sneed left the hospital. Did Jack just have her hiding on standby? Was it a coincidence? I don’t care - she looks gorgeous.

lots has already been mentioned about the Hetty/Jack/Belle situation but I appreciate the framing of this scene with the three of them - both women assisting in their own way, and both necessary to Jack’s success.

Belle seems genuinely taken aback when Jack is so abrupt with her when the surgery starts, but her relief when she helps him in the end and he smiles at her is so sweet. She is basking in that smile - I don’t think I realized how fast she fell for him. (Of course they start arguing about publication and the moment passes)

“I shall be turned around as a curiosity” - some more insight into Jack’s insecurities.

Lady Jane: “Have you been alone with the surgeon?” Belle: “There’s always another body in the room” 😂

What time is this dinner starting? 2pm? It’s so bright!

love Sneed and the prof arriving in a carriage while Jack walks up in his Navy uniform.

Note to self: research the siege of Sevastopol.

Ah! Jack describes his time as a naval surgeon as “nothing more than butchery” to Lady Jane. Those words sting all the more when she uses them against him later.

Fanny and Belle are both terrible at flirting. Belle can’t stop interrupting to talk up Jack and Fanny can’t stop staring. “I love soup”

I also love how Jack is SO UNCOMFORTABLE with Belle praising him at the table. She’s not lying, but her embellishments are so unnerving to him. “Really, it’s nothing” - but she just. Can’t. Stop.

Jack really is trying. He takes responsibility for Fagin not knowing what the plan is. He tries to fit in. Seems a bit harsh to snap at Belle but she was terrible at reading his cues - like this is her surgical theatre and he has to defer to her expertise. It’s too vulnerable for him.

“I AM rare!” Have i mentioned how much I love the ladies in this show??

Jack’s little voice crack when he blurts out “I CAN read!” And then a little softer “I can read, just not very well”

All her talk of teams and partnerships - she really did bet on him. All in.

”You can take the boy out of East London but you really shouldn’t”

”Belle will never speak to me again” right before taking Fagin’s share of the money and heading to the card table

whew! Gold star if you got this far.

[noturlondonboy]

No More Excuses//Katelena

Chapter 15: There is Room for Two Pupper in This Town

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Chapter Summary: puppy play date!

A/N: here’s some cutie patooties!

Kate can barely keep in her squeal when she spots Yelena's beautiful akita for the first time, and the look on her face as she physically restrains herself from tackling the poor dog sends Yelena into a fit of giggles.

"Kate Bishop, this is my baby, Fanny. Fanny, that is my friend, Kate Bishop," Yelena introduces them, kneeling next to her dog and hugging her around the neck, happily ruffling her thick coat.

Kate coos and plops down onto the floor outside the door of her apartment. They had opted to keep Lucky in the dark for a moment while Kate got to fawn over the new addition. The archer offers her hand, and Fanny looks up to Yelena as if asking permission, and the blonde clicks her tongue and nudges her forward. "Go ahead, милый щенок."

Fanny bursts forward and tackles Kate to the ground, her entire body vibrating with her excitement as she climbs over the archer and licks at her face like she's trying to eat her. Kate laughs loudly and succumbs to the puppy barrage, wrapping her arms around Fanny to hug her tight. "Oh my godddd, you are the cutest fucking thing!"

A bark from Lucky inside the apartment reminds Kate of her own dog, and Fanny's head perks up before she runs to the door and sits in front of it patiently, tail whirling. They let her in, and Fanny darts inside like a shot, completely bowling Lucky over in a pile of fur and paws. Yelena and Kate watch amusedly as the two pups freeze and experimentally sniff each other before immediately tearing around the apartment in a game of tag.

"I was a little worried they wouldn't get along, I'm not gonna lie," Kate chuckles, propping her hip against the door frame. "I don't know how many interactions Lucky has had with other dogs before, and he's pretty used to being a street puppy."

Yelena's laugh echoes behind her, and the assassin's hands land on Kate's waist, firm and warm. "I need to get inside the apartment before Fanny finds something bad to snack on, Kate Bishop," she says as she gently scoots Kate forward and inches around her, bodies pressing together.

Kate stares at her when Yelena's hands fall away, her friend calling for Fanny and Lucky and laughing when the two dogs burst from nowhere, yipping happily. The warmth of the blonde lingers on her hips, and Kate wishes to herself that it would burn hotter.

Lucky trots up to her and pushes against her legs, snapping Kate awake. She smiles and closes the door behind her, following him over to her small main room and laying on the floor to let the two dogs maul her. Their squishy paws and cold noses distract her from the heat of Yelena's eyes.

————

"I think he has a crush on Fanny," Kate chuckles, chin propped up in her palms as she and Yelena watch the akita trot around the apartment, Lucky right on her heels with an adorable tilt to his head. He already knew the apartment inside and out, but pretended to be just as intrigued by every little thing to earn some brownie points.

"They would make a very adorable pairing," concedes Yelena, her smile soft and loving. Her eyes follow her dog until both pups disappear up into Kate's loft bedroom.

Kate's eyebrows shoot up and she scrambles to her feet, chasing after them. "I swear to god, if either of you eat a sock of mine-!"

Yelena laughs and flops back on the floor, basking in the midday sun streaming in. For early January, today was rather warm. Or maybe Yelena was feeling bubbly and safe and everything was a little brighter. Fanny and Kate were in close proximity- what more could she want, besides her sister?

Maybe some mac-n-cheese, actually.

The thought of food had her stomach rumbling, especially seeing as she hadn't eaten since the bar last night, and she had expended exuberant amounts of energy afterwards. But the patch of sunlight she had laid down in made her insides feel all glowy, and it was all too easy to stretch her limbs out (mindful of the cut on her neck) and close her eyes.

Glorious.

Yelena dozed for what only felt like a small moment, but the sun shifted enough to move the patch of light off of her, and her eyes cracked open to pout at it for its treachery. Fanny was pressed into her side, all curled up in a ginormous ball of fluff, her rumbly snores making for a peaceful ambiance.

"привет, мой милый щенок," Yelena cooed, stroking her dog's silky head. She felt calmer now than she had in weeks, and she thanked her small catnap. There was no Clint Barton to kill; no horrible, Kate Bishop-verified men to hunt down; Yelena could dare say she might take the quiet for granted.

Such a low bar, for a Black Widow assassin. No one to kill? No one actively after your own life either? Alright, perfect! Sleeping it is.

Yelena paused, eyes narrowing. Speaking of quiet, Kate was not. "Kate Bishop?" she calls out, picking her head up off the floor. There's a guilty sounding response from her room, and the assassin sighs, getting to her feet. "What are you doooing?"

"...Nothing?"

When Yelena reached the top landing, she paused, staring at the scene before her. Kate had her wide eyes straight on her, one of Lucky's paws in her hand, half of his nails a deep, gleaming purple.

"Kate Bishop."

"Hi."

"What are you doing?"

Lucky's tail wagged a mile a minute, his paw staying dutifully in Kate's hand. "Um. Painting Lucky's nails?"

Yelena just blinked, looking Kate dead in the eyes. "Do you have more polish I can use for Fanny?"

Kate's face lit up so brightly that Yelena almost considered making a joke about needing sunglasses, but instead she called Fanny and settled onto the floor next to her friend. The blonde accepted the basket full of different colored paints, poking through them and grabbing a few.

Fanny appeared, head cocked with confusion at the strange smell of the polish- probably wondering why on Earth Lucky was letting this happen to him.

"Fanny, come," Yelena ordered, patting her lap. "Paw." Fanny stared at her for a moment before obeying, leaning as far away as she could without pulling her paw away from her mama. Yelena hums happily and carefully paints Fanny's nails a mix of yellow and black, while Kate throws in a couple pink nails on Lucky.

They both beam down at their respective dogs when they're finished, and Kate grins lopsidedly at Yelena while holding up Lucky's paws. "Not too shabby, eh?" The golden licks fruitlessly at her hands to get her to drop him; she instead pulls him closer and peppers his head with kisses.

"I will admit, Kate Bishop- you are very strange. But that is fun. My Fanny looks excellent."

The archer nods solemnly. "Why thank you."

--------

"Are you alright, Kate Bishop?"

The archer is silent for a moment as she mulls over her response. Kate and Yelena had clipped leashes onto their dogs once the two pups looked just about ready to piss on the floor, and tugged them out of the apartment to let them relieve themselves outside. Kate had been more than ready to head back inside, but Yelena felt emboldened by the cold sunlight and insisted they went on a walk. Besides- Lucky and Fanny needed to show off their new pedicures.

"What do you mean?" is what Kate eventually decided on, her breath fogging in front of her face.

Yelena sighed. "Эта сука... I mean, you have dealt with some real shit in the past few days. Are you okay? In here?" She pokes Kate's forehead rather hard.

"Ow, hey! What's that for?" Kate whines, furrowing her brows and rubbing at her head.

"You are being ambiguous, Kate Bishop."

"I think I'm being perfectly reasonable."

"Kate, I have been alive much longer than you, and I know what reasonable looks like. I also know that 'reasonable' does not include bottling harmful feelings and acting silly about it."

"Silliness is my best trait. Along with my rugged charm and handsome face," Kate crows, pretending to swoon and sketching a bow but almost falling flat on her face when Lucky tugs at his leash. Next to him, Fanny is perfectly calm, and if they weren't surrounded by cars and strangers Yelena would probably let her roam freely.

The assassin barks a laugh and steadies her friend with a hand, snickering. "I don't know about rugged, Kate Bishop, but you are certainly charming."

Kate's cheeks glow red as she smiles shyly. "Hell yeah."

The dogs interrupt them with impatient yips, so they hurry on a few more blocks until they reach a small park and then unclip the two, trusting Fanny off-leash and Lucky to follow her around dutifully. They both tear off into the frosty grass, sniffing and marking excitedly. Yelena and Kate watch them fondly.

"I'm okay, Yelena," Kate suddenly says, voice soft. The assassin turns to look at her. "The last couple of weeks have been a different kind of Hell, sure- but they weren't completely terrible." She faces Yelena, ears and nose pink from the cold. "I met Clint, and Lucky, and the LARPers, and you." Her lips pull into a small smile. "I had the adventure of a lifetime, even if my life was in danger most of the time. But then again, I also learned that my mom wanted an Avenger dead and had been working with a fucking mafia boss since my dad died, and now she's in prison until her 80's."

Yelena tilts her head at this last part, putting the dots together as to why Kate had been upset yesterday when she first arrived at her apartment.

"Then you show up. A surprise, but a good one. I see my ex for the first time in years, and he pulls the shit I know him for. And now- damn. He's fucking dead."

Yelena says nothing.

"So. Yeah. That's a lot. And with all the meds I take, you'd think I'd be a mess... but honestly? I think I'm alright. It's over now." Kate closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath, letting it out in a steady fog.

Yelena watches her, something thudding strangely in her chest as she resists the urge to reach over and take the archer's hand. "When I was six, my family flew away from our home in Ohio in an old, failing airplane, and landed in a base of operations for the Red Room. My mother was shot, my father lied to me and Natasha, and then I was separated from her and beaten and drugged." She swallowed thickly. Kate had shifted her eyes towards her, the blue so young and bright.

"I was under their control for many years. I shed so much blood I could drown in it- I killed innocent people. But after I was freed, I found Natasha, and my parents. And it felt like maybe I could be whole again."

Kate tangles their fingers together.

"A lot happened after that, but Natasha and I parted ways because we had our own missions. I never saw her again. I disappeared for five years in the Blip and came back to find that she was dead." Yelena blinked hard and coughed into her fist. "I miss her more than anything, and the pain is like a bullet being shot into my heart over and over. But I am still here. I still breathe, and feel, and walk. So I think I will be alright, too."

She takes a moment before looking to Kate. "I don't tell you this to win some kind of pity contest. I want you to understand that I also have shit, and it's okay to not be okay. So if you ever need time to be not okay, I'll be here."

Kate stares at her, eyes glassy and lip trembling. "Um. I wanna hug you. I feel like I should hug you. Can I hug you?"

Yelena hesitates only a moment before nodding and opening her arms, and Kate dives into them. The archer wraps herself tightly around Yelena, bodies pressed close together and her cheek squished against blonde hair. The assassin returns the hug in full force, squeezing her arms around Kate's torso and pressing her nose into her friend's neck, inhaling the steadying scent of wood polish and caramel.

Yelena feels something loosening in her chest, and she realizes that this is probably the first proper hug she's had in many, many months. Sure, she literally sat in Kate's lap; sure, she held the archer when she broke down only last night.

But this was different.

Yelena hadn't been given very much time to develop and discover herself as a person outside of the Red Room, but one fundamental thing she knew was that she loved physical touch with the people she cared about. She had always been clingy to her parents, always wanting to hold Natasha's hand or cuddle with her when she couldn't sleep. With the other Widows, there had been zero tolerance for affection of any kind, and any desire for it in the first place dissipated when the chemical subjugation was introduced.

But now that Yelena was free to feel and think and want, she realized that she had been so touch starved it physically hurt. With Kate Bishop in her arms, clinging onto her like Yelena was a lifeline, a fire started burning in her blood. And she never wanted to let go.

She hugged the archer so tightly she could've sworn she heard bones creak, but Kate never protested- only hugged her back just as hard. Lucky and Fanny eventually finished their fun in the park and trotted back to them, winding around the legs of the two women who had yet to let go of each other.

"The dogs are ready to go back home," Kate whispered into Yelena's hair.

Yelena felt herself glow at the word. Home. Maybe Kate Bishop really did want her to stay, after all. "Correct," she agreed. Still, neither of them moved.

A few more moments passed before Kate sighed and relented, slowly unwinding herself from Yelena and stepping back to stretch and take a deep breath. "We probably should get back to the apartment."

Yelena felt like her senses must have been flash bombed with the way she was suddenly floundering without Kate's warmth, but she was able to shake herself awake and nod. "Yes. Probably."

Kate must've seen the look on her face, because after they had clipped the leashes back onto their respective dogs, the archer's free hand reached over to grab Yelena's and twine their fingers together. She held her breath apprehensively and watched. The blonde's expression immediately melted into relief, and her cheeks glowed; she held Kate's hand tightly, never letting go once until they got back to the apartment.

Translations:

-милый щенок (Mily shchenok): Sweet puppy

-привет, мой милый щенок (Privet, moi mily shchenok): Hello, my lovely puppy

-Эта сука (Eta suka): this bitch

Kate Bishop counter: 12

This chapter's meme(s):

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The guest pt 6

Masterlist

Jack walked away from his old friend, leaving Fagin in their shared room and marched down to the morgue and lower rooms in the hospital. His mind wandered to the two women in his life. Belle was most definitely beautiful and determined to become a surgeon, but is that enough? They had a sweet moment a few evenings before when Tinkler was particularly bad. He died that morning.

On the other hand there was y/n, easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, smarter than person he has known, yet you appeared to be quite mad. Or from the future a future where he was nothing but a story. Could he believe you? The way you had been dressed the first day he saw you at least gave some credence to your story. Still even if you were mad you had mentioned Nancy, no one here could put him and she together.

Jack ran his hand through his hair and turned back to his work, attempting to ignore all his thoughts.

*_*_*_*

Bored of time in bed you had walked downstairs in Government house, hearing voices in Edmund's office.

"Five-hundred gold sovereigns going missing on your watch is a bloody good reason to be shouting! Why the hell weren't you there, Gaines?" Edmund grumbled.

"You sent me on assignment, sir." Gaines says.

"The guards, they've all been...?"

"Searched and interrogated. Yes, sir. No culprit yet, but we will-"

" Find them! Flog everyone that was there. Stop the rot. Can't have 500 belly sovereigns go missing. There'll be a riot if I can't pay the soldiers."

"Yes, I understand, sir. I assure you, it's all in hand. With your leave."

"Go on." Gaines came storming through the doors stopping when he saw you. His eyes rake down your form, taking in the masculine trousers adorning your legs.

"Miss y/l/n"

"Good morning Captain, might I suggest you look closer to home?" You say, his curiosity gets the better of him and Gaines turns back to you.

"What does that mean?" He asks.

"Just, don't trust the people around you at home. Look a little closer." You say, folding your arms across your body and leaning one shoulder on the door frame. The Captain narrowed his eyes at you before turned on his heel and rushed off.

"Where's my Lancet?" You hear Belle ask.

"Your what?"

"Medical journal. Where?"

"Fanny borrowed some books. What about my library?"

"It's not like you read any of them!" She called back to her father as she came charging out.

"Belle, don't be too hard on Fanny. She is trying but she will get things wrong." You say grabbing her wrist. Belle sighed.

"So she has done something then?" Belle was aware that you knew things, sometimes things that you shouldn't and though the curiosity was killing her inside, she chose to simply use your knowledge, "I'm going into town today." You say to her.

"ahh perfect, I will need to as well, but I still need to do some research." She says

"I'll meet you there, at the hospital." You both agree and you dance away to the carriage waiting for you. Sitting there you looked at your arm, how the touch of fingers echoed in your mind. Both Jack's and Sneed's. How they were the same yet so different.

'no, you can't do this,' you thought to yourself, 'things must play out just as they did in the show'

You knew you were right, you had already deveated enough. You had no idea what being here would do to them, you or the show. Maybe you should have stayed tucked up in a room keeping away from everyone.

"Miss y/l/n, I wasn't aware you were coming here today." Sneed had opened the carriage door when it stopped. His hand reached out to help you step down, "I say, what unique attire you're wearing." He commented.

"Oh, yes, a little easier to move around. I'm sorry, like I said yesterday the hospital I work in insists women dress more appropriately for the high paced job." You give a small giggle and it appears to appease him somewhat. Sneed walked with you into the hospital.

"What brings you here today?" He asked.

"Oh, I needed to speak with Doctor Dawkins and his uncle. A private matter." You see Sneed's eyes darken at the mention of Jack's name.

"He isn't the man you think he is, y/n. Jack is... unsavoury."

"Don't worry, I know exactly who is, who he was and probably what he will be. Thank you Rainsford." You reassure him. Jack's voice sounds behind you and you quickly go to him leaving Sneed behind.

"Jack?" He looks at you, unable to speak for a moment.

"y/n you shouldn't, you...why are you here?" He asked looking around himself.

"I need to talk to you, and Fagin, quickly."

Jack sighs and pulls you into one of the back rooms.

"Jack, you tried to take the payroll right?" He frowned at you, "and you've squared yourself with Darius? Using his cheating thing?"

Jack took in a breath to speak but nothing came out, instead he moved closer to you, almost touching you.

"How do yo-...you weren't lying were you?" He whispered, you shake your head.

"No Jack I wasn't."

As if his body moved without his mind telling it, Jack reached up his hand to cup your jawline. Both of you took steps until your back touched the wall behind you.

"Jack" you whisper his name.

"You are remarkable." He whispers back to you. Your body wants to react, to lean your head just enough to press your lips to his.

"Wait, I came here for a reason. Listen you and Fagin need to get your stories straight. Gaines will be coming here and he thinks you stole the money."

"But we didn't." He says pressing himself closer to you.

"No, but his wife, she knew you were there for the soldiers she's trying to hide her affair. Just make sure you tell Gaines you're an only child, that Fagin is an uncle by marriage." You tell him, one hand resting on his chest.

"Okay." Jack agrees, his nose brushing over yours. With the hand you had on his chest you gently pushed Jack back.

"You must act completely normal today, nothing suspicious. I have to find Fagin." You say, stepping away from him. Jack held your wrist causing you to turn back to him.

"I want to speak with you more, please?" He asks with wide eyes.

"later." You nod and slip out of his grasp. You have to stop and catch your breath against the wall in the main corridor. You couldn't be sure if it was your medical condition or your body reacting to how close Jack had been to you.

A flash of an old frock coat catches your eye and you charge after Fagin, finding him sitting on a bench, in the courtyard outside the hospital.

"Fagin, I need you to listen to me. No, schemes or deviation okay." You speak sternly, "Gaines will be coming here. You and Jack need to keep your stories straight. You are his uncle by marriage. Jack is an only child. Okay? Do not change it in anyway."

With a side smile Fagin nodded, his eyes looking around himself. You clock Red coming in with a basket under her arm.

"Red boots." You whisper to the old man before watching Fagin saunter off. Sitting back on the bench you take a few moments to breathe slowly.

"I want Dawkins red-handed, you hear? Search every ward and cranny for the pay." Gaines' voice caught your attention and you watched him order his men just the way you had seen on screen. You tried to think of a way to slow the Captain down without changing too much of the scene.

"Captain Gaines?" You called over to him, marching over to him.

"you appear to be everywhere this morning, Miss y/l/n." He eyes you suspiciously.

"A lucky I am happy for, Captain. Have you had any yourself, in finding your lost coins?" You ask. His nose twitches with annoyance.

"Not yet, though I must thank you, you were right about looking at home. Seems the doctor was in attendance to my men." He says.

"Yes, I heard, you still owe money for that do you not?" You think quickly, "A dishonour to have a man such as yourself have to pay for keeping your men healthy. After all without you and the redcoats where would this town be?" You give his forearm a small squeeze and he looks at your hand before turning his eyes back to you.

"I do not disagree, though it is not often I hear the recognition."

"I have rarely come across a man as virtuous and righteous as yourself. This town would be a disaster without you." You hope the compliments would ease his disdain of anyone he would come across. Gaines dipped his head in a bow to you.

"You are extremely kind, miss. Now, may I ask why you are here at the hospital?"

"Oh, to see Doctor Sneed." You lie.

"very good. If you'll excuse me." Gaines gave you a smile that you would call almost sweet before he ran off. You knew you would have to waste time now visiting with Sneed so you rushed into the hospital to find him. He was in his office going over papers.

"Excuse me, Doctor Sneed?" You say knocking on the open door.

"Ahh, come in please. Have you concluded your business with Dawkins?" He asked, putting down the papers.

"I did. I just wanted to come in and thank you, thank you for your help over the last few days. When Lady Fanny found me I was disoriented, but you have been helpful to me." Sneed stood, gesturing to another chair for you to sit.

"I have to say, you are an extraordinary lady. You have an extensive knowledge of medical equipment and procedures, which would be a great help to any Doctor. You told.me of your father, but how would one contact the great man?" He asked.

"oh umm, no you can't. He um, he died when I was younger." You reply confused as to why he had asked.

"Oh, I am sorry, there is no other family then? Nothing of note?"

"No, I'm alone I suppose." You sigh.

"Well no matter. I mean, I am very sorry for your loss, but with my brother's generous gift within the nutmeg trade money would be no trouble. A dowry isn't necessary." He rambled on.

"Wait, a dowry? Rainsford are you...no." you stood up and half paced the room.

"No?"

"Look, you are a fine man but we just met. I hardly know you or anyone here truly." You say quickly .

"Then it is a matter of time?" He asks.

"No, I, umm. I'm sorry I don't...I should go." You say backing up to the door.

"Y/n, I am err,"

"No, Rainsford, I'm sorry, this was rather quick," you try to let him down easily, "I do not know if I wish to um, Join with anyone. Excuse me, Doctor." Your chest is squeezing tightly as you dart from the office, closing his door behind you.

Thank you for reading. ❤️

Let me know what you think!

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon

[maranull]

Also!! I bring ask for the chatfic au!

What kind of outfits/styles do the gang have going on? And what are their pfps?

Wah! I don't really know fashion and clothes, but I'll do my best!

Godwyn dresses really simple most of the time. Just jeans and a t-shirt and he's good to go. Sometimes he'll add a jacket. His pfp is a headshot of him smiling.

Ranni mostly does business casual, usually light colours and she'll always jump on the chance to wear long coats. Her pfp is a blurry pic of her falling on her ass, taken by Tiche.

Rykard is usually in his old work clothes for the forge, but sometimes will wear a fitting suit. His pfp is a picture of Rya holding Sniffy. Sniffy is sniffing her nose.

Radahn has the cowboy look. That's it. The most stereotypical idea of a cowboy look that you can imagine? That's him. His pfp changes every couple of days, but it is always a new picture of Leonard.

Blaidd would love nothing more than spend his days in track pants and hoodies, but unfortunately Ranni made him part of the company so now he has to wear suits and look all sleek. He hates every minute of it and always changes out of them the moment he gets home. His pfp is an old picture of the whole Rennala family.

Tiche usually wears suits at work (and drives Ranni crazy), but her preferred clothes are leather jackets and ripped jeans (that also drive Ranni crazy). Her pfp is her and Ranni bumping heads to fit in the frame.

Miquella is pyjama man. He has some comfy clothes for when he's on the field, as well as medical attire and a single suit that he uses when he has to talk face to face to "iMpOrTaNt" people to ask them to please act humane ffs. His pfp is a picture of the earth with paper people holding hands and circling the globe.

Malenia is content with track pants and hoodies, really. They are comfy, let her workout whenever she gets the urge and they are soft and nice. If she wants to put effort in for dates, she switches to jackets and crop tops. Her pfp (for now) is a close up of the hilt of her favourite sword.

Meli thinks fashion is cool coats. That's it. The rest of the fit can be whatever feels nice. Fanny packs usually make the fit too. In summer, if she's in the city she might wear a sundress or something similarly flow-y and light. She still will be carrying a decently sized backpack though. Her pfp is a closeup of her holding someone's hand. Not saying whose ;)

This was fun! <3

[spineless-lobster]

24 and 22 for Julian, Fanny, Humphrey, Annie and kitty

22. When do you think they were at their lowest

Julian: Whenever he comes home late at night, drunk and possibly on some sort of drugs, arguing with Margot and not even noticing poor Rachel sitting on the stairs watching when she’s supposed to be in bed.

Fanny: The first years of her marriage with George. She didn’t develop any sort of tolerance towards him yet and she still had her fiery personality. Slowly though, that fire started to dim.

Humphrey: 1682 specifically, it was the year no one had found him. He was stuck in a forgotten cabinet for the whole year. He even thought he had gotten sucked off at one point. He had done a lot of reflecting, and crying, he almost wished he could be alive again. But he would still be alone, wouldn’t he?

Annie: When she was a young woman and she first realized that the society she lived in considered her place lower than that of a man. She had to quell her spirit and fit into a rigid box, keeping to herself lest she be berated.

Kitty: Kitty had been playing hide and seek with Eleanor on a winters day. The light snowfall has picked up to a storm; Kitty was left out there freezing for hours, wondering if the game was over and wondering if it was even a game at all.

24. What do you think is a secret they have never told anyone

Julian: He cares, he really does. Maybe some of the others would have guessed by now, but outwardly expressing it outside of selfish reasons is out of the question.

Fanny: She’s a lesbian. Full stop.

Humphrey: Sometimes Humphrey gets the urge to yell and scream and tell off each of the ghosts for their selfishness. He really wants to share his opinion and finally be heard by them. But he doesn’t want to come off as rude, so he keeps it to himself.

Annie: Annie has kept many secrets during her life, mostly her opinions. But she would never admit she would sometimes try to curse the men in her life through poppets and other such witchy means. Sometimes they worked, but more often it didn’t.

Kitty: She said a swear word once. She knew it was wrong, and she regretted it immediately. It was when she saw her sister leave on trip with her father, she was framed for something she didn’t do the day before. And as punishment she wasn’t allowed to go with them. As she saw the carriage leave she let out a quiet “Damn it.” And was immediately horrified with what she had done. She had vowed to never say anything of the sort again.

Sorry for the bit more angsty take, but I kinda just felt like it lol

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Readalong. Book One, Chapter Eight:

Continuing with Borel’s multi-genre approach, for this chapter we plunge into the epistolary novel, an ideally intimate (and highly eighteenth-century) genre to depict the secret conversations of the two lovers. Weare not meant to get cosy though, these letters are read out in the cold, at the mercy of the elements and more importantly, Cockermouth’s spies...

Death Omen, from Devises heroïques, et emblemes, by Claude Paradin, 1614.

We learn that Anne’s outer varnish of niceness makes Debby feel guilt in lying to her. Cockermouth’s openly brutal ways make it easier for Debby to lie and rebel, whereas a sweet, loving jailer -who is also a victim- is harder to betray.

“Why isn’t she cruel like my father? it is less painful to deceive a wicked person”

“I am still locked up in my room, and I do not see my father, whom mama hopes to appease soon. He must, she assures me, grant me a general amnesty for his party; he is all the more contrived to do so for the presentation of my new suitor.”

 (@sainteverge ’s translation)

Anne’s naivité leads her to hope that she can persuade her husband, and that this time the tyrant will be lenient, because he will be in a good mood but also because he has to sort of behave, with a larger than usual audience, amongst whom will be Debby’s prospective husband. Hope works here as a motor for passivity. After all, hope was stored in Pandora’s box along with the other forces of evil. Just hoping with no plan of action is merely inactivity.

The lovers comunicate this time with allusions to the three monotheistic religions: Judaism, Islam and Catholicism. The three main monotheistic religions are referred to in equal status, none is depicted as less true than the others. Debby and Patrick are not afraid to compare themselves and their love to these stories. There is no room for fear of blasphemy/pride from them since I don’t think it’s unfair to say, as earnestly as they seem to believe, their love is their true object of worship. Religions seem to take the same place than their love of Hamlet: fictions and mythologies that inform their worldview and help them frame their overwhelming feelings and their circumstances, finding something to compare them with.

Debby also expresses an ambivalent opinion on free will and organized society. She believes the Will of humans to be invincible when put in motion. And yet, most humans let their will go unexerted. This is for the greater good, Debby concludes (compare with Sade’s Libertines and their The Will of the Powerful is the Law credos) since, society would be dead if anyone could do their unrestrained will. However, by escaping, she and Patrick are going to challenge the laws of society together and make the walls of Jericho crumble under their force. And she curiously talks of breaking shackles and deserted dungeons... Thus, yes, the lovers set out to leave their first prison: The Patriarchal Home.

But I think it’s strange that Debby claims society must be preserved while under the same breath saying the laws of society involve keeping some people in the shackles and dark dungeons of social conventions (marriages of convenience, ethnically based serfdom, aphysical and psychological abuse from parents, gendered education etc) even though we will see, plus ça change...

---

So, why letters for this chapter? No 18th c.  pastiche could go without at least some letters. An older genre, apparently originating in Spain in the 1400’s (til), the epistolary novel became a full blown vogue in all the european countries in the 1700’s: Pamela, Fanny Hill, La Nouvelle Heloise, Les liaisons dangereuses, Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre, countless parodies and more. The genre allows Borel to not only recall a now fading trend from the time the novel is set on, but also, same as the 1700’s authors, provide 1) polyphony and multiplicity of points of views and 2) a poignant contrast between: the confidences the characters allow themselves in private, and the menacing context they are made in. We know before hand since we heard from Chris how both him and Cockermouth know of their meeting point. We know Debby knows she was followed, but she doesn’t know they know of the hollowed willow. Patrick, who has a panoramic view of the movements outside the castle while working on the fields, is aware of Cockermouth’s spies movements, so he knows when to warn Debby to be cautious (but is also unaware of the surveilance on their meeting point) . We also know Debby feels guilt from hiding things to her mother, but although the narrator makes us understand her and her plight, we also know from Patrick’s account and from her dialogues with Cockermouth that she acts as Cockermouth’s agent -unwilling as she might be- So all of this creates suspense -we know all the points of views and things that are happening, not from an arrogantly omniscient narrator, but because we witnessed everything.

Beyond the suspense, this makes us get an intimate scope on Debby and Patrick. We read the letters through the eyes of the lovers. Borel makes us learn how they talk to each other, the jokes they share, their true feelings. This brings them closer to us, we already loved them better, but now we get to know them even more. And of course, fear for their fates and the danger we know is in store for them.

I think it’s also worth mentioning that, although the genre remits to intimacy, Borel has Debby read at night/dusk/dawn, in public spaces: the grounds, at the mercy of spies and killers. These letters are a peril for them and a challenge to their oppressors. A comment on censorship perhaps? And this also drives the point home on how inhospitous the world is to their Love. If Nature operates like a chaotic neutral force (a source of both joys, -"herborizing", safe hiding places-, but a possible threat -> the deadly Devil’s Throat, the river that almost drowns them while they kiss oblivious of being in the water, and water is really consistently framed as a source of peril, and darkness that hides henchmen from their eyes) the fact that Debby has to read out in the cold, stab her knife in the ground to reach for a secret love message... Nature, as it usually does in Romanticism, reflects the emotions/circumnstances the characters.

In a really borelesian turn of phrase -entre chien-et-loup- Debby runs once more to the hollowed willow. She plunges her knife into the disturbed soil to “exhume” the steel chest. But to her surprise the blade does not meet any obstacles. The chest is gone. She thinks Patrick has taken it but, something tells me some certain pirates could have found it before him. 

[nothingunrealistic]

Extreme wealth, more often skewered than celebrated, dominates the chatter about television these days, from masters of the hedge-fund universe sparring with federal prosecutors on Billions to the familial power plays on Succession to the vacation foibles of the merely rich on The White Lotus. And the popularity of these shows—a subgenre that we’ve termed Helipad Drama—among the demographic they feature is linked directly to how well the art imitates life. 

[…]

With these shows’ binge-ability and viral moments, each visual choice is under a microscope, scrutinized online in single-frame screengrabs, from running tallies of every Aston Martin, Bentley and Ferrari driven by Damian Lewis’s Bobby Axelrod on Billions to the many watches worn—and occasionally discarded—on Succession. 

The bling is a bit more overt on Billions, to convey just how far Axelrod has come from his humble working-class roots. “It was really about trying to sell the amount of privilege people with extreme wealth have and the access and power that comes with that,” says Michael Shaw, production designer on the show’s first two seasons. “A lot of rich people can buy really nice wine, but not everybody can buy a football team.” Which explains why Mark Cuban, owner of the Dallas Mavericks, makes a cameo in the second season as Axelrod considers buying his own pro franchise. 

[…]

Fanny Pereire, who worked on the pilots for Billions and Succession, has a full-time job securing art for TV and film. Her process starts with a wish list of original works. She then secures single-use permission to feature each piece from the copyright holders, generally by paying out fees to artists or estates. The works shown on-screen are mostly very good official copies of sometimes priceless originals, laser-printed on canvas and touched up by the show’s art department to add brushstroke texture. After shooting wraps, Pereire usually films herself slashing the approved fakes—she’s contractually obligated to destroy or return the works—and sometimes sends them back to the artist in pieces, as proof of destruction. 

Those works, often lurking in the background, subtly move the story forward, adding insight into a particular character or scene, whether it’s the Basquiat hanging ostentatiously outside Axelrod’s office or the giant photo of a melting glacier by Frank Thiel in the boardroom at the Roy family’s corporate headquarters.

“We’re telling a story, and hopefully if we do our job right, just as the production design or the costumes will tell you something about the character, the art will, too, without being part of the dialogue,” says Pereire.

[…]

Blue-chip art has been integral to setting the right tone for Billions from the beginning. Before designing the set for Axe Capital, Axelrod’s hedge-fund office in Connecticut, Shaw toured some investment firms for inspiration. “It seemed like everybody we would visit would have certain key artworks,” he says. “It was almost de rigueur that certain artists were represented—Koons, Basquiat, Warhol—because they conveyed status.” 

[…]

Driven individual: Not every rich guy has a chauffeur. On Billions, Bobby Axelrod frequently steers his own Range Rover Sport.

The interiors devised by the production-design teams on Succession and Billions often have an intentionally sterile, impersonal quality. “Early on, I wanted things to feel kind of staged,” Carter says. “You want to feel these aren’t people who have the time or inclination to spend the time actually decorating their own places. They have a team of people who are paid to do it, and they’re probably a little scared for their jobs, so they make choices straight out of the magazines everybody’s been looking at.” 

[…]

Billions’ power players always sit at the best table, as when Axe closes a deal at the Lobster Club in NYC.

[…]

The right food and drink add yet another layer. Both Axelrod and his nemesis, US Attorney Chuck Rhoades (Paul Giamatti), love to dine out in New York, visiting the city’s buzziest restaurants (some now shuttered), from Sushi Nakazawa and Momofuku Ko to Del Posto and Daniel. “In the first season, it was really hard to get in anywhere,” says Shaw. “After the show came out, the second season everybody wanted us in.” 

Art helps paint the picture. On Billions, David Lynch’s Broken Heart hangs in Mike Price’s office.

[…]

When you’re in the business of re-creating worlds with rigor and authenticity, there’s perhaps no greater achievement than dreaming up a simulacrum that outstrips reality. Like students surpassing their teacher, the Billions team created such a compelling backdrop when they built the offices of Axe Capital—shot on location in Rockland County, N.Y.—that an investment firm later hired Shaw to consult on its real offices, in Manhattan’s shiny Hudson Yards. 

“The owners of the company wanted the interior to feel like the Billions world,” says Shaw. “That was life really imitating art.” 

[vaguelyaperson]

📖📚 Vaguely Book Reviews 📚📖

Classics Edition

Title: The Age of Innocence Author: Edith Wharton Published: 1920 Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 7/10

I found this book most interesting upon finishing it. While the premise was engaging, the prose itself was redundant in some of its ramblings, and its narrative subtly ironic. (Though the tongue in cheek humor of the narrative was apparent from page one.) No, what I mean is that I found myself confused by the title contrasted to the plotline: 'The Age of Innocence' being a story about a married man's affair with a defamed woman. The story didn't really 'click' - in all its details and how things were framed - until the last page.

The story takes place in an unspecified year of the 1870s. It's the gilded age of New York City, and the protagonist belongs to one of the functionally aristocratic families.

Among the stressed themes is that despite the United States not having an actual aristocracy (that would otherwise demand perfect breeding), wealthy Americans are just as conservative as their European counterparts. Or at least, wealthy Americans of this particular time period. The author goes out of her way to outline as many examples of this conservativeness. So when Madame Olenska arrives from Europe having separated from her still legally bound husband, and takes up the company of bohemians, the elite of NYC want little to do with her.

That is except the protagonist, Newland Archer, who is engaged to Madame Olenska's cousin and hostess, May Mingott. Yes, man cheats on his wife with her cousin. Tell me again how this is an age of innocence?

Well it's the age of innocence (Spoilers Ahead) because the entire affair is resolved quietly and peacefully. Newland, even when he receives the freedom and opportunity to do so, never sees Madame Olenska ever again. He lives a content, tranquil life with his wife - who had suspicions about the affair The Entire Time. This may seem like an anti-climatic conclusion, but it's exactly what ties together every single detail about the conservative social expectations. There's no dramatic scandal because there's not allowed to be a dramatic scandal.

"It was the old New York way... the way people dreaded scandal more than disease, who placed decency above courage, and who considered that nothing was more ill-bred than 'scenes,' except the behavior of those who gave rise to them."

- from the scene of Madame Olenska's send-off back to Europe, as Newland realizes almost everyone in the room knows of the affair, and no one's said a word. This is towards the very end of the book, when it dawns on the reader that there will be no dramatic conclusion. The cheating couple will not elope, the wife will not lose her temper, Newland will not be defamed. It is the age of innocence quite simply because everyone pretends all is innocent.

The meaning behind the title becomes all the more evident when there's a time-skip. Newland's adult son - influenced by the newer values of his generation - invites his father on a trip to Paris. May, the wife, has since passed away. The son contacts Madame Olenska - knowing who she was to his father. He sets up a meeting, thinking it will be a wonderful reunion for Newland and Olenska, who still hold a flame for each other. He compares their love to the one he has for his fiancée (who notably comes from a defamed family, but he still receives permission to marry.)

"Dash it, Dad, don't be so prehistoric! Wasn’t she - once - your Fanny?" "My Fanny-" ... "Well, the woman you'd have chucked everything for: only you didn't."

This interaction is quite notable because it insists things have changed. The society the son lives in isn't so terrified of scandal anymore. He can marry a woman from a questionable family, so why not give his dad a chance to reunite with an old lover?

Newland doesn't go.

"Say I'm old-fashioned: that's enough." - he says on the final page.

[mortt-artsy]

Sometimes she wears leather jackets, sometimes her leather jackets, just because they remind her of Nat 🥺

[starsoflyra]

Humphrey was looking at him with wide eyes. Robin leant his elbow on his knee and massaged his temples with his hand. Mary downed her cider in one go. Pat stared straight ahead with a faint smile, looking for all the world like there wasn’t a single thought behind his eyes.

The Captain thought hard about what he had just said, and could find nothing false there, nor anything particularly surprising, to him at least, that could have caused such reactions from his friends.

Absolutely had to draw this scene from @charlie--lover’s fantastic modern AU “Lost Then Found”-- it was too funny not to! If you haven’t read it yet I highly recommend you go check it out

(ID under cut)

[Image description: A two panel digital comic portraying an alternate universe iteration of the characters from BBC Ghosts. 

In the first panel, the Captain is sitting on the grass, looking to the side (where Joanie sits out of frame) with an incredulous but bemused expression on his face, petting Fanny’s dog, Beatrice, with both hands. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt lined with light blue stripes. Behind him is a grassy park lawn, a couple of trees, and a wrought iron fence. He’s saying, “As if anyone would be interested in me!”

The second panel shows Mary, Robin, Pat, Kitty, and Humphrey (in that order) sitting opposite him in the park. Pat is front and center. He’s holding a sandwich and looking forward blankly in disbelief. He’s wearing a pink T-shirt, a blue Hawaiian shirt, and jean shorts. Behind him, the others look on with an array of reactions. Mary, wearing an orange-and-blue exercise shirt, red shorts, blue flip-flops, and a floral-patterned headband, has her head thrown back as she chugs a cider. Robin, wearing a too-small white wifebeater and self-cut jean shorts, is leaning forward with his hands in his hair. Kitty has on a purple tank top and a pink skirt. She’s got her hand partially in front of her mouth, in an expression of amusement. Humphrey is looking utterly aghast. He’s wearing a green, tree-patterned button-down and khaki shorts. Behind them, the park lawn sprawls on until it meets the fence, behind which is a row of houses.]

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Sokkla Saturday: Sokka Dresses Azula

Summary: In an attempt to get Azula to face her social anxieties, she lets Sokka pick her outfit for the day.

Sokka stoops down and pushes a pair of what she presumes are sunglasses–but realistically, are probably ridiculously large circle framed glasses–up the bridge of her nose. “And…done!” He announces enthusiastically. “You can look now.”

She isn’t sure if she wants to. But she lets him guide her to the mirror. He spins her around so that she is facing it and she almost lets out an audible groan. The man really has done his worst work here. She is, indeed wearing huge glasses, ones that are much too big for her face, let alone her eyes. He has styled her hair into several braids that wouldn’t be so bad were they not lopsided and adorned with a cluster of mismatched dragonfly hair clips, neon in color for extra eye searing. 

“I thought that the dragonflies suited you more than butterflies.” He sounds much too proud of himself. 

And that is just her face and head. She had also, rather foolishly, trusted the man to dress her up as well. And for it she is suffering a pair of high-waisted plaid pants. Fashionable under any other circumstance, he has instead fitted her with a pair that is meant for someone several inches taller than she. But he has looped a belt around just beneath her sternum to hold them in place. Of course, that wasn’t secure enough so he has also fashioned her with some suspenders and a fanny pack for good measure.

“I know that you like coming prepared to any occasion which is why your suspenders have clips for all of your post it notes and your fanny pack has many pouches!” He justifies his choice. The worst of it is that he is right in terms of practicality of the outfit. 

“You would know, right? You strike me as a chronic fanny pack wearer.”

“That’s right!” He says without a hit of shame or irony. “They are super useful, I have a whole collection of them and I would like you to know that I love you enough to permit you to wear my very favorite one.” He again gestures to the abomination fastened around her waist. It’s highlighter orange fabric is truly eye-catching and truly blinding. “This bad boy can fit so many pencils and art supplies and some snacks if you’re feeling daring.” 

She supposes that she is feeling rather daring considering that she had agreed to let the moron dress her. The shirt he chose is the only thing that isn’t a crime to society and that is only because it is a simple button down, long sleeved white shirt with a pocket on the breast. But he had gone and ruined that by fixing her with a polkadot neck bow. 

Decidedly, he will not be allowed to choose her footwear, lest she find herself clomping down the street in heeled crocs or some monstrous scuba flipper-uggs hybrid. But he has fitted her feet with mismatched socks that flash potted cacti with sunglasses. 

“Sokka, I look stupid.”

“Yes! Exactly!” He shouts unhelpfully.  “It’s called a shame attacking activity!” He declares. “And I know how much you love attacking things!”

“I don’t love attacking things.” Azula grumbles, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s just that some things deserve to get attacked.” She pauses to fix him with the most deadpanned stares she can muster. “And right now you are one of those things, Sokka.” 

He sings an arm around her waist. “But you love me very much and would never do such a thing.”

She quirks a brow. “You’re pushing me to extremes.” 

His demeanor changes so suddenly and she begins to sputter something or another about how she was only joking but he continues. “You mentioned last night that your therapist was recommending that you try to hold yourself to such high standards, right?”

Azula nods. 

“And that you’re worried about how people are going to treat you if you don’t look and act one-hundred percent perfect?”

Azula swallows and nods again. 

“Well I read the worksheet that you left on the table.”

“You ass…” she mutters. 

“You left it on the table! Like right in the middle of it, face up!”

“Fair.” She admits. 

“And one of the methods on there was to try a shame attacking activity. It’s like the direct exposure method of facing a fear of being perceived!”

“It’s called social anxiety, Sokka.” She rolls her eyes. 

“You did really good with regular exposure therapy, so I figured we could try this.”

“We? This is a thing that I am doing and you are watching. Much too gleefully, might I add.” She offers him a frown deeper than the last. “You don’t really think that I’m going to step out of the house like this, do you? I look ridiculous.”

“Yes! Exactly! That’s the point. To look as silly as possible. And then when people still talk to you and treat you just fine, you’ll realize that it’s okay to walk outside without makeup on sometimes.” 

Azula bites the inside of her cheek. 

“You’re not scared are you?” 

“I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.” Because she is actually quite scared, not that she will actually admit it. “But no, I am not scared.”

“Well that’s great because I told Zuko, Katara, and Suki that we’re just heading out and that we’re meeting them for ice cream.” She hates that stupid, sly smile. Perhaps a year back she might have pulled a few strings, would have found a way to have him demoted from his student council president role. Found some way to wipe that lopsided grin off of his face.

Instead she sputters a soft, “you did what?”

“That’s right, I told them that we’d be there in ten minutes. So now you’ll have to choose between facing your fear of wearing dumb clothes or facing your fear of showing up late and looking rude.” 

Oh she is going to kill this man.

She is going to hurt him in ways that will make the late night news. 

He already knows her answer because he is taking her by the hand and leading her to his car. He knows that she knows that lateness is a bigger social offense than dressing ridiculously in a casual setting. 

.oOo.

He thinks, at first that he had indeed made a terrible mistake. That he had maybe gone a touch overboard.

It starts with a snort from Zuko that he tries to mask and Suki spitting her soda with a laugh and an, “oh my…you I think I just got soda up my nose.”

Azula’s cheeks are very vividly red.

“You let Sokka dress you this morning, didn’t you?” Katara asks.

“A mistake, I assure you.” Azula replies stiffly. 

“You don’t say.” Zuko comments. 

He thinks that Azula is going to backhand he and Zuko both. But instead her hand tightens around his. He isn’t sure if he should contribute this to rising anxiety or a need to hurt him in some way, even a simple one. 

“I don’t know, I think that it’s kind of cute.” Suki shrugs. “In this adorably geeky kind of way.”

“I can pick an outfit for you too, Suki!” He suggests. 

At this, she bursts out laughing. “Do I get a fanny pack.”

He nods way too eagerly. “Everyone gets a fanny pack!” 

“Fuckin’ sweet!” Toph shouts from behind. “Nice of you to invite Aang and I.”

“We didn’t extend the invitation because we knew that you’d show up anyways.” Zuko shrugs. 

“I can’t believe that they tried to keep us from the fanny pack party, twinkle toes.” Toph throws her hands up. Sokka is fairly certain that she is genuinely disappointed about this horrific offense.

“Toph, you have never seen a fanny pack.” Azula grumbles. “You aren’t missing out on…”

“Sokka makes them sound pretty exciting.” She shrugs.

“They are!” He declares. “I love them very much. A very underappreciated form of storage.” 

“Would you like to wear mine?” Azula offers much too eagerly.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Toph shouts, drawing the looks of several tables–namely Hama, Lo, and Li’s bingo table. He sees one of the bingo balls roll off the table and clink quite loudly in the newfound silence of the ice cream parlor. “B-6.” Sokka announces helpfully. 

Still eyeballing Toph, Hama places a bingo chip over ‘B-6’, clears her throat, and mutters, “bingo.” 

Azula looks much more than relieved to have the attention off of her and wholly on Toph instead. She finally settles into her seat and drums her fingernails upon the tabletop, one of her very subtle nervous gestures.

“Geez, all of this over a fanny pack…” Katara snickers. “How are you, Azula? Aside from Sokka being Sokka, I mean.” 

“Hey!” His head whips around. But at least Katara is finally warming up to Azula. He supposes that it really hasn’t been all that long ago since Katara was bickering with her and accusing her of only hooking up with him to humiliate him later by dumping him at the homecoming dance. 

Evidently, Azula still doesn’t seem to know how to handle this new, less combative dynamic. Her fingernails tap on the table a touch quicker. “I’m fine, I suppose. Although the entirety of my day has been Sokka shenanigans.” 

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Suki cuts in. “If you ever need to talk, Katara and I have a Sokka support group.”

“A what?” He sputters, torn between this discussion and watching Aang try to convince Toph that bingo is in fact ‘badass’ and that they should take Lo and Li up on their invitation to join them.

“It’s a group for individuals who have to put up with you.” Suki shrugs. “So far we’ve got a sister and an ex girlfriend. Current girlfriend might be a good person to have on our list of attendees.” 

“Azula would never!” 

“Azula would definitely.” She grumbles. 

.oOo.

Normally, Azula would wish that he hadn’t been right or, at least,  would be disgruntled to be happy that he was right. But this time there is only relief. This time she thinks that she is simply glad that his stupid antics weren’t as silly as they had seemed. 

Not for the first time since getting home, Sokka declares, “see, I told you they wouldn’t care!”

But it wasn’t an indifference at all, they seemed to love it. Toph more than anyone else but Jet too. Jet of all people. Jet with his boy band charm and his fashionista flare. He had remarked that the outfit was oddly enduring, and kind of cute. 

This, of course, is not her aim but it is much better than being called hideous or unappealing. 

All the same, she is more than ready to rid herself of this abomination of an outfit. The glasses and the shirt she could live with. The braids, minus the flashy hair clips are fine too. But she is more than content to be back in her own clothing; a loosely fitting sateen pajama set, cherry red in color with a pair of panda bear house slippers for comfort’s sake. Granted, the house slippers don’t exactly match but if she can wear that other fashion crime out in public then she can don a pair of unmatching slippers in the comfort of her own bedroom. 

She wraps a blanket around her shoulders and finally decides to come out with the question that has been on her mind since entering the ice cream parlor. “It’s snowing outside, why are we still meeting up in an ice cream parlor?” 

“The vibes.” Sokka answers. 

“Exactly what vibe are we going for with that?”

“Funky adventurous vibes.” He replies. 

“Confusing vibes, more like.” She takes a sip of her hot chocolate. And thrice as confusing when factoring in the continuation of bingo night and her wardrobe related–entirely unethical, she must say–social experiment. 

“It went well and don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy the vibe.”

Azula shrugs. “We’re never doing that again. Unless, of course, I’m dressing you up.” 

“Well it just so happens that I am already a man of no dignity. Do your worst.” He challenges. 

And oh she plans to…

[thewidowsghost]

Brownies (Nat x Pregnant!Reader - Feat: Yelena Belova)

Main Masterlist

OneShot Masterlist

Anon asked: Can u do a story where the reader is pregnant & has been put on bed rest and Natasha goes out for a bit and comes back to the tower to see y/n making brownies. you can decide the ending. Sorry it's so long x

“Remember, you have to rest,” Natasha kneels down in front of (Y/n) on the couch. “I can make brownies when I get home. Is that okay?” Natasha asks. (Y/n) pouts, and the redhead softens. “If you’re feeling better, you can help,” Natasha promises. She locks her pinky with (Y/n)’s. “I won't be long, honey,” Natasha tells her. “I love you,” she leans forward to press a soft kiss to (Y/n)’s cheek and (Y/n)’s eyes soften.

“I love you, too,” (Y/n) murmurs, pulling Natasha towards her again, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Be careful,” she says.

“I’m just going to the grocery store with Steve,” Natasha replies, her gaze bright with affection and amusement.

“Just be safe,” (Y/n) says, her eyes bright with worry.

“I’ll be alright,” Natasha replies, her eyes gentle. “I’ll send Lena up to come sit with you.”

. . .

(Y/n) fixes her gaze on the brownie ingredients sitting on the counter.

“Lena?” (Y/n) asks, turning to her future sister-in-law.

Yelena looks up from her phone, humming in reply.

“Do you want to make brownies?” (Y/n) asks.

Yelena’s eyes brighten with excitement. “Would you show me how?” she asks. “I’ve never -” she falters and (Y/n) casts her gaze on her friend.

“Of course I’ll help,” (Y/n) says kindly, her hand resting on her belly.

“Let me just go to the bathroom. Meet you in the kitchen?” Yelena asks, her eyes still bright with excitement.

(Y/n) nods, smiling warmly at the younger woman.

Yelena beams, getting up from the couch and scampering over to the bathroom, her dog, Fanny, following her owner.

(Y/n) and Natasha’s puppy Lion yips excitedly and Fanny skids to a halt, turning back to nuzzle the small dog. Lion shakes his fur, his little blue Hawaiian t-shirt shaking a little on his small frame.

Looking tentatively around for any intruding Avengers from her place on the couch, she gets up, leaving the TV on so she could still watch Supergirl while she made the brownies with Yelena. I’ll have to hide them, Nat’ll know, (Y/n) thinks, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You like brownies, huh?” (Y/n) asks aloud, her and Natasha’s daughter gently kicking her hand in response. “I knew it,” (Y/n) declares, taking another glance around the room for her fiance, (Y/n) moves to the kitchen.

Lion and Fanny wrestle playfully in the living room area while (Y/n) and Yelena make the brownies, (Y/n) gently correcting Yelena whenever the younger blonde was about to add too much, or not enough of an ingredient.

. . .

The smell of brownies wafting through the elevator doors is what tips Natasha off, not that it would have made a difference, because when the doors open, the redhead, laden with groceries, finds her sister and her fiance sitting on the couch, eating brownies, (Y/n)’s plate set on top of her baby bump.

(Y/n) panics inside when she hears the elevator doors ding, but she remains in her seat on the couch, setting her plate on the side table beside her, Lion jumping up onto the couch and lying his small head on (Y/n)’s belly.

Yelena wipes the melted chocolate from the corner of her mouth as (Y/n) scratches behind Lion’s ears.

Despite the mid-afternoon sun, (Y/n)’s eyes flutter closed, her head landing tiredly on Yelena’s shoulder. There are a few moments of silence before (Y/n) falls into a sleep, breathing softly through her nose, her hand resting on Lion’s back.

Yelena and Natasha exchange quiet words and after a moment, Natasha gently lifts her fiance from Yelena’s shoulder, carrying (Y/n) to their bedroom, Lion following, his nails clicking softly on the hardwood floor.

Natasha makes sure that (Y/n) is lying on her side; Lion lets out a soft whimper as he tries to jump up onto the bed beside (Y/n), but he can't due to his small legs.

Natasha lifts the small Golden Retriever up onto the bed, and Lion affectionately licks Natasha’s fingers before he turns, nuzzling (Y/n)’s belly with his tiny nose. He lies down, his little body warm against (Y/n)’s back.

. . .

Natasha scolds her sister, though she wasn’t really mad. And once she’d taken a bite of the brownies (Y/n) and Yelena had made, she had completely forgiven the two.

Yelena had given her sister a big hug before departing, taking a few brownies with her, and Natasha didn’t blame her.

Once Yelena had left, Natasha pulls the other batch out of the oven before she turns it off. Taking a brownie from the first pan, letting out an inappropriate moan as she stuffs another brownie in her mouth.

After drinking a glass of milk, Natasha moves into the bedroom, lying beside (Y/n), Lion gets to his paws, and pads lightly over, lying between (Y/n) and Natasha.

Word Count: 843 words

Natasha Romanoff Taglist:

@confusinggemini612

@sofia-r-1604