#grace [oc]

[cepheusgalaxy]

PSFUR Masterlist

Plain text: PSFUR Masterlist /end PT.

PSFUR (Porquê Se Faz Uma Revolução, translation: the reason for a revolution), was one of my oldest story projects ever, and although it is discontinued, I wanted to upload it here so other people can read it too. It is originally written in Brazilian Portuguese, but eventually I will translate it all. For now, Portuguese speakers, enjoy!

Introduction (translated/PT-BR + EN)

Chapter one [PT-BR]

Chapter two [PT-BR]

general cws for it are domestic/child abuse, mild violence and minor character death

[live-laugh-loverpool]

Of Snowmen and Middle-Earth

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279, @lfc-fanfiction, @rubybecker-rb2

Summary: Gakpo has been struggling to bond with the seven kids. To remedy this, he tries to build a snowman with them.

Cody Gakpo had received a lot of surprises when he’d came to Liverpool. Not the cold weather—he’d expected England in the winter would be colder than in the Netherlands. Not the lively atmosphere—he’d expected that from Van Dijk’s descriptions.

What really surprised Gakpo was how close everyone was to each other. Not just that, but there were six adults—and two married couples—with kids. In all, there were seven children living in Kirkby Ground.

He’d expected a bit of difficulty meshing with the others—he was new, after all. But he had not expected to deal with seven children.

Right now, there was a blanket of snow outside. Most of the others were busy doing something outside; he would join them later. But now he was in the same room with the kids, and they hadn’t even said hello to each other.

What can I do with them? Gakpo had never been good with kids. His younger cousins avoided him unless the grownups forced them to have some “quality time” together. He’d tried interacting with random babies he saw in the store or park, but every time he smiled at them they would either cry or throw something at him—usually, tuna cans.

Wait a minute. It was snowing outside, and snow was always a good place to start. Kids loved snow, so why not take them out to play in the snow? He wasn’t sure about the whole idea—one young adult to seven children under ten seemed disproportionate, plus there were two babies and Arwen would need help navigating the thick snow. But his big mouth prevented him from doing any more risk assessment.

“Kids! Let’s go build a snowman!”

Faster than you could say his name, the kids had surrounded Gakpo. All held up warm winter gear, all were clamoring for his help, and all wanted to go outside. NOW.

He really hadn’t thought this through.

“Alright, alright!” Gakpo held up a hand, taking baby Tristan from the ground. “Let’s get you all ready. Could one of you get the snow gear from wherever you keep it?”

“You mean the nursery? Sure!” Florrie and Kairo ran out the door, Arwen following close behind.

Gakpo sighed in relief, holding Tristan. The ten-month-old baby glared at him as if he’d just committed a crime. “Alright, little man. Let’s get you into your snowsuit.”

*

After wrestling with zippers and buttons and toggles and squirming, kicking limbs, Gakpo finally managed to get the kids out the door.

He pushed Arwen’s wheelchair onto the lawn, careful to mind the bumps in the road. After a brief discussion with Arwen, he’d found out that the eight year old usually used an electric wheelchair except in bad weather. Thick snow like this qualified as bad weather, so Gakpo would push her chair long distances and Arwen would wheel herself across short stretches of land.

Gakpo carried Ellie and Tristan in a double baby carrier, even though both could crawl and walk. Grace and Henrietta toddled around, but Gakpo had a twenty-foot length of rope tied between their wrists and his waist. It was highly unlikely they would run into danger considering that the lawn had a huge parking lot between itself and the road, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He’d only let Florrie and Kairo run free because they were a little older and would listen to him if he called.

“So, what are we going to use for our snowman?” he asked once the little ones had run off all their pent-up energy. Now he knew how every parent in the world felt. “Are we giving him a scarf?”

“Yeah!” Florrie took out a scarf from her pocket, holding it up like it was a trophy. “A scarf, and a carrot nose, and a magic hat that makes him sing and dance!”

“Frosty’s overrated,” said Arwen, tossing a snowball at the wall. “I’ll tell you a real snowman story, if you start those balls to the point where it’s big enough for me to roll.”

Ellie, interested in all the activity going on around her, demanded to get down from the baby carrier. Gakpo set the seven month old on Arwen’s lap, knowing that Arwen wouldn’t let her fall.

He tried to get Tristan to play in the snow as well. But Tristian refused to be put down. In fact, he just wanted to stay on Gakpo’s lap as a chubby dark teal lump.

*

Soon the snowman was done, and Gakpo still hadn’t managed to interact with the kids. Ellie and Tristian had fell asleep in the carrier, and Grace and Henrietta were tuckered out from romping in the deep snow. They sat next to Gakpo on the bench, watching Florrie, Kairo and Arwen have a snowball fight.

“You guys are all so lucky,” Gakpo whispered to Ellie, even though he knew the baby couldn’t hear him. “This is your home and everybody loves you. You’ve got people here who are great with kids. None of you guys are even interested in me.”

Henrietta yawned, as if to prove his point.

“I can’t hold an interesting conversation for too long,” he went on, kicking at the snow. “Pigs will fly before I do that.”

“No piggy!”

Arwen came up to Gakpo, wringing her hands together for warmth. “Hey.”

“Uh…hey Arwen.”

Arwen smirked, stopping beside the forward. “I’m usually called Arwen when I’m in trouble. Please, just call me Winnie.”

Now this was getting weird. “As in Winnie the Pooh?!”

“What? No way!” Arwen opened the bookbag on the back of her wheelchair, taking out a book. “I was named after the character in Lord of the Rings. Have you ever read that?”

“No.”

“You should.” Arwen handed Gakpo the dark green and blue book. “It’s epic. So Bilbo’s cousin Frodo goes with his Fellowship to destroy the One Ring and it’s maker, Dark Lord Sauron.”

Gakpo studied the book with new interest. “Maybe I should read this.”

“It’ll make more sense if you read The Hobbit,” Arwen advised him, taking a list out of her backpack. “And if you want more, there’s always The Two Towers and The Return of the King. It took me eighteen months to read all four of those books.”

“Just eighteen months?” Gakpo gulped, staring at the four thick books. “You must really like reading, Winnie.”

“It’s one of my hobbies, along with ping-pong. But do you know what I like better than reading stories? Telling them!”

“You tell your own stories? From your imagination? You’re lucky,” Gakpo admitted. “I’ve never had that much imagination. That’s why I’m not so good with kids.”

Arwen nodded, setting Grace on her lap. “I can relate. I’ve always wanted to do needlework, but I never had the patience to. What do you do for fun?”

“Not much,” Gakpo admitted with a shrug. “FIFA and checkers.”

“Hey, Mom and I play checkers sometimes.” Arwen extended a hand. “You want to play against me sometime?”

Gakpo hesitated a bit before shaking Arwen’s hand. “Sure, anytime you’d like.”

“Then we can go inside and start as soon as possible.” Arwen balanced Grace and Henrietta on her lap, tucking Lord of the Rings into her backpack. “Just make sure to find a table with enough space under it. We both need to fit our legs under there.”

Gakpo flashed her a thumbs-up as he stood from the bench. “Sure.”

Gakpo had always thought he wasn’t good with kids. But as he called for Florrie and Kairo to come inside, he thought that just this once, he might have a talent in babysitting after all.

[hahahalfwit]

the three lovers

[kekathemao]

im sorry i didnt feel like learning how to draw lions.. view at your own risk

[mashmerlow]

Simple-hearted

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] He got it from his daddy's side.

[I'm so sorry about the terrible image quality, Tumblr does that sometimes.]

[Uncut version:]

[Context to Jack Desmond's wolf daddy!]

[voltaical-art]

wyllmancer week over on twitter

day 1: dancing

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

[vampbloodbunny2]

Annabeth: So what did the paper in your fortune cookie say?

Percy, eating the entire cookie: the what in my what

[pjofancalledbelle]

RAHHHHHH I LOVE JASON GRACE

ahhhhhhhh JASON SAVE US

[screwpinecaprice]

Look at all these kiddos!

Thank you for the ☕💕🥰!

I'm taking a bit longer with these remaining ko-fi requests, so thank you also for the patience!

Here's my version of Steven and Connie's future family, commissioned from @screwpinecaprice!

More information about the kiddos is below the cut. You can also read my fanfictions involving them here!

Grace (11 y/o) is the oldest, and thus most mature, kiddo. She heavily resembles Stevonnie, though it isn’t a perfect match by any means. She's closest with the Crystal Gems, liking how cool and adventurous they are. Because of their influence, she eventually pressures her mom into (reluctantly) teaching her how to sword fight.

Lisa (10 y/o) is the middle child. She's extremely mischievous and can be quite rude sometimes, though she still has a pretty strong moral compass, albeit one that doesn't exactly line up perfectly with her father's. Because of this, she often clashes with her parents, and she even becomes best friends with Jasper. Don't worry, though: she eventually realizes her different ideology doesn't make her parents love her any less.

Gregory (9 y/o) is Priya's twin, and also a musical prodigy who heavily takes after his father and grandpa. He's extremely sweet and just wants to make everyone happy, even if that can be very difficult sometimes. At times, he can get lost in the music™ and neglect his schoolwork, friends, sisters, and parents. This especially becomes an issue in his teen years once he hits it big as a rock star and starts traveling around the world.

Priya (9 y/o) is Gregory's twin, and she really likes building stuff out of random junk she finds around town and in the woods. She's amazed by technology, and she really wants to be the next great inventor. Naturally, this leads her to be good friends with Peridot, who teaches her about the inner workings of gem tech. Priya also meets a boy at school who's just as much of a nerd as her, and he teaches her a ton about human tech.

Priya's passion eventually disappears, however. As for why, you'll have to go to my AO3 to find out ;)

[cepheusgalaxy]

psfur second chapter. the last one. i don't even remember if it's 100% finished, sorry XD

status: untranslated (in PT-BR)

Content warnings: child/parental abuse and minor character death with some minor violence/abuso infantil, morte de personagem de fundo, violência leve

Seu irmão, o homem da casa, estava doente. Em sua ausência ela tinha que tomar a decisão.

O choro do seu irmãozinho. O suplício de sua irmã. Não havia mais como aguentar.

Quando criança, tinha sido ensinada que roubar é feio. Que o homem deveria tomar a iniciativa.

Mas as circunstâncias pedem. E ela não podia mais recusar.

O barulho dos tiros e investidas tomou os seus ouvidos e varreu seus pensamentos para longe.

Isso. Ela não podia se distrair. Ela havia concordado. Agora estava no ataque. Era a única mulher lá. Um saque planejado por cidadãos determinados e valentes, à casa de um Barão. Para roubar.

***

O Barão não podia acreditar em seus olhos. Seus próprios guardas (que ele não era muito próximo aliás), todos os cidadãos dos arredores, UMA MULTIDÃO, estavam atacando sua mansão. Não, não, não.

O que estava acontecendo? Tudo porque aquele bando de idiotas começou a própria assembleia… Eles até tiveram a ousadia de derrubar a Bastilha de Sua Majestade! E agora… Agora as coisas estavam saindo do controle, indo de mal a pior!

Ele rapidamente, mais rapidamente do que seria esperado de um homem sedentário como ele, correu para o seu quarto no andar de cima e se agarrou a seus bens mais valiosos*.

"Venha! Lucier venha! Estou aqui, ME AJUDE!!"

Lucier era o chefe da sua guarda. Filho de burgueses, era um rapaz direito. Por causa de seus pais, tinha conseguido essa posição, mas não valia de muito agora. Ele jazia no chão com buracos na cabeça, no tronco, sem ter mais consciência de qualquer coisa que estivesse acontecendo.

Isso não valia só para o capitão da guarda da mansão do Barão. Guardas e soldados, pessoas comuns, gente dos dois lados era perfurada a torto e a direito.

Era tamanho o seu terror quando ele suplicou a seus invasores:

"Me deixem, me deixem ir! Peguem tudo! Apenas me poupem! Lhes suplico, tenham piedade!"

Alguém com raiva queria lhe dar um golpe fatal, mas foi impedido.

"Com certeza Barão. Mas não pense que sua vida a partir de agora será muito melhor do que a nossa. Na verdade, eu não me surpreenderia se o senhor perecesse daqui a algumas semanas."

Foi a intervenção da moça.

"Não pense que pode ir decidindo as coisas assim mulher!"

No entanto, sua misericórdia foi desvalorizada.

"Esse homem merece morrer aqui mesmo!"

"Tenha calma! O que será de nós se matarmos um nobre assim! Já é arriscado apenas virmos aqui!"

"Está com medo é? Então não viesse e ficasse cuidando da casa!"

Era verdade. Ela estava com medo. Mas, pela sua família, ela iria lutar, iria roubar. Até que não precisasse mais.

"Ah? Se calou agora?"

Provocou ele. Não podia ver o que se passava na sua cabeça.

Um estrondo, e essa discussão já não importava mais. O corpo do Barão jazia no chão, e seus assassinos se dispersavam pela mansão para pegar tudo e qualquer coisa que pudessem.

***

Não faz nem uma semana que a Bastilha caiu, e toda a França já sente seu impacto. Golpes, saques. Aparentemente, encorajadas pela revolução, as pessoas, da cidade e do campo, se dirigem para as casas dos nobres, aristocratas e armazéns, para reivindicar o que precisam pra sobreviver.

O jornal é bem escandaloso quanto a isso. "As notícias voaram como o vento até o interior, e agora pessoas vêm de todos os lugares para participar dos saques."

Mas talvez isso se torne algum problema, pensando bem. Nossos sócios, nossos fornecedores no interior, podem se sentir tentados. Mesmo que nossa relação lhes garanta alguma estabilidade, como disse meu tio, a revolução é imprevisível.

Eu li uma vez, que "quando as pessoas (quando os homens) partem para a violência, quer dizer que desistiram da razão." Mas talvez, essa seja a escolha mais sensata a se fazer agora.

***

"SAQUEAR? ROUBAR?? QUE TIPO DE IDÉIA �� ESSA GRACE?"

Ele está incrédulo. Não quer acreditar no que eu digo. Na verdade, nem eu. O que saiu da minha boca me parece mais e mais assustador à medida que eu penso. Mas não posso recuar.

"Tio, pode parecer loucura…

"NÃO PARECE LOUCURA, É LOUCURA."

"Tio, por favor. Mesmo não sendo algo que uma dama faria, o senhor mesmo disse que-”

"Não ponha palavras na minha boca Grace."

…a sensatez não se constrói com orgulho."

Tento me defender. Odeio, odeio isso. Não consigo ficar certa do que digo. Ele… e se estiver certo e eu errada? Posso muito bem estar disparando apenas tolices. NÃO. Não, não. Calma. Só acalme-se…

***

Charles desconsidera a bravura da sobrinha em tentar lhe convencer. Ele pensa profundamente. Realmente… Grace é tão sensata e inteligente… Está longe de ser uma dama, mas está no caminho certo. Bem, às vezes se desvia um pouco, mas ele a põe de volta no lugar. O importante é: Grace não toma decisões tolas. Talvez devesse ouvir o que tem a dizer.

"Diga"

Ao som dessa única palavra, Grace tenta se acalmar. Não deve contrariá-lo. O que tinha a dizer mesmo? Ela mal conseguia manter uma linha clara de raciocínio.

"Sobre os saques. O que era que você ia me contar? Por exatamente qual motivo você acha que isso é uma boa idéia, Grace?"

O som de seu nome lhe paralisa. Elu tenta rapidamente se recompor. Acalme-se. Ele vai ouvir o que você tem a dizer. Acalme-se.

Elu respirou fundo.

"O senhor me disse que estamos numa situação imprevisível. Eu considerei o que pode acontecer a seguir, e pode parecer desnecessário já que o senhor tem um trato com a família no campo… Mas, mesmo que seja estável, pelos danos a curto prazo eles podem preferir migrar e participar dos saques. Assim, se perdermos o seu apoio…"

"...Não teremos mais nossa fonte.” Ele conclui. “Bem pensado Grace. Vou pensar sobre isso melhor durante o dia. Enquanto isso, tente preparar uma refeição com o melhor que temos. Chame Cosette, ela precisa aprender também. Tenho uma visita para hoje. Faça o favor de pedir a Amélie e minha querida para limpar a casa."

"Sim senhor, vou fazer o melhor."

Elu não se atreve a agradecê-lo.

***

Acalme-se. Acalme-se. Ah, estou contente! Apesar de que se quiser participar dos saques vou ter que me defender… 

Não sei se tenho uma mira boa, preciso conseguir permissão para usar aquilo. E… para a comida, já temos leite, frutas, legumes e até uns ovos. Que surpresa. Parece que meu tio enviou alguns "presentes" aos nossos fornecedores, e se tudo correr bem, talvez tenhamos carne na semana que vem. Mas não devo esperar muito.

Além disso… Já avisei tia Ellen e Amélie, minha irmã mais velha. Dominique insistiu em me acompanhar com sua irmã gêmea, então vou ter alguma ajuda extra na cozinha. Tenho que esperar que a casa esteja arrumada antes de cozinhar, vai ser mais conveniente. E se o jantar atrasar, vou ter uma desculpa para não me juntar a eles. Vou arrumar algumas roupas, Cosette estava precisando de umas aulas de costura.

É isso. Acalme-se. Vai dar tudo certo. Ou pelo menos quero acreditar que sim.

***

A casa estava limpa, o cheiro da polenta a preenchia, e Grace teve o bom-senso de lhe preparar suas melhores roupas. Tudo pronto.

A qualquer momento a carruagem estacionaria à porta.

Ele não tinha informado a ninguém além de sua esposa e Amélie, sua sobrinha mais velha, quem era a visita misteriosa. Queria ver se Grace conseguiria agir bem na frente de alguém que ela não soubesse da posição.

Ele esboçou um sorriso na face severa. Seus planos seguiam bem.

***

A porta se abre com um rangido lamentável.

Charles, o chefe da família, dirige-se satisfeito até a porta.

"Monsieur Nicóle?"

Foi o que disse o homem quando a porta se abriu.

"Perdão, quem seria?"

Charles olhou o homem de cima a baixo com desdém. Não era quem ele estava esperando.

"Tenho um recado para o senhor, se for quem eu estiver esperando que seja. Apesar de que fui informado por monsieur Jebran que há apenas um homem adulto, de boa aparência e caráter, que reside nesta casa. Então não vejo quem mais poderia ser."

O dono da casa franziu a testa. Parece que seu convidado mandou alguém. Talvez para avisar que estava ocupado? O elogio aberto desse homem era com o propósito de amolecê-lo, ele sabia. Charles Nicóle não era um homem tolo.

"Pois bem, parece que contratempos me privaram da companhia de monsieur Jebran. Realmente uma pena, esperava tratar de assuntos importantes com ele hoje."

"Tenho ciência, monsieur Nicóle. Ele mandou um bilhete para explicar sua ausência, espero que entenda."

"Certamente."

Ele deu uma resposta o mais educada que conseguia no momento para o mensageiro e rudemente fechou a porta.

***

Ele parece muito chateado. Não consigo deixar meu nervosismo. Parece que o tal convidado não deu as caras. Mas eu não me importo muito, podemos comer uma maravilhosa polenta hoje. Graças.

Além do mais, se era algum figurão, fico ainda mais feliz, não gosto de estar com esses homens.

Levo minha colher ao prato e me delicio com a comida.

"Hmm, que delícia!"

Cosette exclama ao lado de seu irmão gêmeo, Dominique.

Hehe. Mas é claro que sim. Eu me orgulho da destreza na cozinha, principalmente com bons ingredientes. Cosette não estava muito interessada enquanto cozinhávamos, diferente de Dominique (o que é meio inapropriado), mas agora ela deve se interessar mais. É a magia da culinária.

Meu tio suspira na cabeceira. Ah não, ele está irritado.

"Cosette."

Ela se vira imediatamente.

"S-sim, meu tio?"

"É completamente inapropriado a uma dama exclamar tão escandalosamente qualquer coisa quando sobre a mesa. Coma quieta"

"Sim senhor."

Solto o ar, aliviada. Não acabou em nada sério. Meu tio começou a educação de Cosette há alguns meses. Aos seus olhos, ela ainda tem um longuíssimo caminho. E ainda estava irritado hoje…

Me concentro na magnífica polenta à minha frente.

[live-laugh-loverpool]

Christmas Decorating

Not much plot here, just pure fluff.

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279

Just one month and change ago, Klopp had driven back from the John Lennon airport, gray as the skies around him. His boys were almost all gone—on holiday, at friendlies, at the World Cup, or wherever a football player went during a six-week long break.

Now in December, all that was in the past. Everybody was back together, preparing and decorating for the upcoming holidays. It was truly perfect.

Klopp watched from the doorway of the rec room as the players painted Christmas ornaments. Henrietta was on Salah’s lap—she refused to sit with anybody else—painting her hands in deep red. Grace was snoozing next to Alisson, wrapped in an oversized lilac blanket. The goalkeeper himself was half asleep in the armchair, his book long forgotten.

Milner held Tristan, who was strapped to his body in an infant carrier. While the Yorkshireman was busy painting Christmas pie ornaments, Tristan clutched his stuffed snowman, babbling away.

Florrie and Kairo were with the fullbacks, newly complete with Alexander-Arnold’s arrival. They, alongside with several others, dipped pine cones in paint and other embellishments.

Matip watched Home Alone with Ellie, while Van Dijk watched Matip with his new favorite blanket.

The scene was almost laughably simple, nearly homely. But to Klopp, Kirkby ground did feel like home now.

He had been home alone before, when he’d returned to Kirkby while everyone else was away. Now everybody was back together, and without a hitch they had picked up their comfortably chaotic everyday life.

The end credits for Home Alone finished rolling, and Matip switched off the TV. “Let’s hear some music!”

“I agree!” Robertson stuck a CD in the player. Instantly the whole room was filled with that Baccara hit.

“Robbo…it’s Christmastime, mate,” Ramsay pointed out, pillows firmly stuffed around his ears. “Shouldn’t we be listening to Christmas music?”

Henderson groaned, sinking further into the sofa he shared with Alexander-Arnold. “If I hear ‘Jingle Bells’ one more time, I think I’m going to lose my marbles.”

“Jingle bells! Jingle bells!” Kairo sang at the top of his lungs, coloring in a red snowman. “Jingle all the waaaaay!”

“Jingle! Jingle!” Grace chanted, just awake from her nap.

The captain tossed a blanket over his head, sinking into the couch. “Tell me when she’s finished.”

Tsimikas shook his head, moving from his table to insert a CD into the player. Baccara’s disco music made way for Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You”.

Carvalho pulled Elliott up to dance. Both wore matching Christmas sweaters—tasteful ones—and socks. “Now this is music, Kostas!”

Milner grumbled under his breath. “And to think all I want for Christmas is a little peace and quiet.”

Grace giggled in delight, continuing her babbling. Alisson stirred and awoke with a sigh, lifting the bouncing baby from her corner.

“How did you get so awake so fast?” he murmured. Grace only babbled in response, punctuating her streams of baby talk with the occasional “jingle!”

“Gracie!” Florrie ran to the armchair, helping Grace off the seat. She pulled her unofficial cousin towards the craft table. “Come see what we’re making!”

Klopp, intrigued, decided to follow the pair of toddlers to the low table. Scattered among it were many holiday-themed drawings and ornaments, most of them red and green for Christmas.

“Are they good enough, boss?” Jota wondered aloud. He’d always been a perfectionist, and now he held up a banner with a critical expression.

Klopp nodded, ruffling the Portuguese forward’s rusty hair. “They’re some of the best ones we’ve ever made.”

Jota tried to hide the smile that stretched across his face, returning to his crafts with the kids. Klopp silently went back to the doorway, standing there.

The Liverpool boss had no problem inserting himself in the others’ daily activities, often coming when he wasn’t supposed to. He still needed eye bleach for the time he’d walked in on Van Dijk longingly gazing at Matip while the latter was massaging lotion onto his calves.

But there were times when even Klopp realized that sometimes one had to slow down and smell the roses. Even if the only scent in the room was Van Dijk’s famous baby oil.

[chalkrub]

been doodling some bri'ish wildlife - love seeing these guys. because they are the classics aren't they?

[spaceraceart]

i've been doing an astronomy internship this summer, and we recently talked about the space telescopes! wanted to personify some of them hehe.

James Webb (they/them): Their shiny poncho thing is inspired by the solar shield. They have a rivalry with Hubble, believing him to be obsolete. However, they secretly are worried they won't be able to live up to his legacy.

Hubble (he/him): His glasses represent the COSTAR instrument that was installed on Hubble to correct it's blurry images. He finds James Webb's attempt at a rivalry amusing, and just wants to become friends with the younger fella and help them out.

Nancy Grace Roman (she/her): A telescope not yet launched, she's an old NRO telescope, and is having trouble adjusting from a life of espionage to one of science.

[tangledinink]

Donnie is okay!!!!!! He’s safe!!! Now they just need to bring him home and help him recover from whatever magical residue stuff lingers. Please say he’s gonna remember everything when he wakes up!

(P.S. where is Odette? And Odile? Surely they don’t just disappear?)

odile was made to hunt odette, and no other reason. the magick that created her dictated that so long as odette still lived, so must she.

now, it's time for both of them to rest.

credit to @dryad-druid for inspiration for odile's black swan/ballerina form.

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