#henry would not remember what his order was no matter how many times he comes in

[hawkeyeslaughter]

what i think the 4077th gets at subway as a former subway worker

hawkeye — says he’s gonna be simple and actually is . white bread blt but he wants that bacon CRISPY . like almost burnt crispy . and then he gets lettuce and tomato mayonnaise and an egregious amount of pepper

trapper — your classic philly but with the cheese sauce . and onions and peppers . white bread . sometimes he throws some jalapeños on there for shits and giggles

bj — ham and turkey on herb and cheese ! also with pepperjack and toasted . and then he gets lettuce tomato onion and pickles . he believes in keeping it simple . and also mustard !

frank — american club and american cheese on wheat . toasted . a fuckton of olives . onions . lettuce . ranch . oil and vinegar .

margaret — turkey , provolone on white bread and she puts it through the garden . a lot of mustard . salt and pepper and maybe a little vinegar .

henry — henry does NOT get tuna contrary to what all of you may believe . he gets a roast beef sandwich on white . with cheddar . lettuce , tomato , a little spinach ( on lorraine’s insistence ) , onion , oil , vinegar , and mayo .

potter — sherm does get tuna . he gets it on white with provolone and pepper and vinegar and that’s it .

charles — charles does not eat subway .

klinger — klinger gets a foot long meatball on herb and cheese with mozzarella but he’s also one of those insane people who gets mayonnaise on it <3

radar — radar gets veggie on white with lettuce and pickles and cheddar and mustard and he tells you about all his pigs while ur making his sandwich

[sehodreams]

Hey guys, hope you're all okay with the current situation.

After a couple days, I'm finally more level-headed to talk about this without crying, so I wanted to make a little announcement.

I'll close this blog until new notice, I'm supporting the boycott, and yes, I still love the boys.

I know for some people the boycott seems useless since Seunghan already left, and I'll be fr with you all. Now, I don't know if I (emphasis on I) want him back. What happened was traumatizing in so many ways, I just want him to breathe and get better. I'd love it if he came back, but after everything that happened, I only hope he can be happy, regardless of what his decision is.

Still, I find the boycott extremely important because this has become a precedent I don't want to see again.

Over the years being an SM stan I've seen uncountable times how the company has done nothing to support their artists, and I don't want to support such a useless place anymore.

Being an older fan I'm thankful that my boys have careers stable enough to not depend entirely on the company, but even like that, my older boys (Suho, Chanyeol, Xiumin) have talked about how the company has mistreated them despite the time they have there, which makes me think that SM might be genius at finding talents, but they have no idea how to treat them.

What I'm talking about is not my imagination at all. In the past, cases like Henry, JYJ, F(x) and others have been handled like shit, and I simply don't want the rest of Riize to go through that. As I said, there are precedents, and Seunghan's case is merely one more on the list for them.

Yes, they're a big entertainment company, they'll never be affected by one member leaving since they can simply not care and they'll continue making a ton of money. They could easily find a replacement, or even worse, create another group and forget about all of them (No one will ever make me forget f(x) so don't pretend it hasn't happened). And we've seen that it doesn't matter what we think, they'll continue with their own thing if we're not loud enough (Yes, I understand the concept of obligations, but to have contractual obligations doesn't mean they can continue moving in silence). The boycott, in no way, it's the only way fans have tried to make their feelings clear. It's the last resort to be loud enough.

Honestly, I never expected things to get so out of control. I thought it would be like Chen's case. Maybe a little noise and then things would continue with presentations of Riize as 7 like nothing, as if this was just one of the things we'd remember as a fandom but finally move on from.

Of course, we've seen that this idea was extremely wrong.

I considered common sense like reason enough for Seunghan to come back, and that blinded me into not considering that: 1) Seunghan was still a rookie without stable years of trajectory with a fandom way younger and immature, and 2) Common sense is not an objective or strong enough fundament on which a conclusion could be developed from.

I might sound dumb or pretentious as fuck in that last sentence, but the translation of it is just: I didn't consider those crazy assholes would send a hundred funeral wreaths and bully Seunghan until he left (Only because he dated a girl before debut. Let's be honest, the cigarette was never the cause of this hate.)

This whole post might sound like an order to boycott, but I have no control over anyone's actions as much as no one can't control mine. We, in the end, are free to do whatever we want. I won't judge people who will continue consuming SM's content (let's not forget, Riize's content IS SM's content) as much as no one should judge me for deciding to support the boycott. We all have our own reasons, morals, and values, and that's something I appreciate a lot from the fact that we as people (I deeply hope we all) have the freedom to decide how to act for our own wishes. And, as much as I appreciate my freedom to do what I want, with this last resort I hope Riize gets a fraction of said freedom.

I based my decision to support this boycott on the fact that there are too many cases of SM having terrible management with their idols for years and that I don't want Riize to ever be wrongly treated by them again. First was Seunghan, bullied until he was kicked out/forced to leave, but let's not forget what happened when Anton's picture with his friend (holding hands) got leaked from her private account, and when the picture of Sohee and his friend (kissing his cheek) did too. Like this, we don't know with accuracy what other privacy could be violated tomorrow, who the affected one in the group will be, or the SK fans' reaction.

Will they be forgiven? Will they be forced to apologize? We don't know, and there's no way to conclude what the reaction will be.

I understand that all the boys are going through something delicate right now and that some people might not want to affect them more, I respect their choice to not support the boycott, but in my opinion, the situation already got out of control, and this damage might never be fixed, but the next one could be prevented.

I could continue with a whole post about SM mistakes and how useless they are, but I feel my disappointment should be directed to real action now.

I hope we all (the people who wish to support the boycott) do it better this time, and this means, no kind of interaction with Riize's new official content.

That should be the bare minimum for the case, but I'm not really someone who gets satisfied by the bare minimum.

I (again, emphasis on I) consider that there's no official content that doesn't go with this little standard. With this, I mean fanfiction, fanmade videos, and anything based on Riize's new content (even old one, but I'm a little tired of continuing this idea, you can think on your own). Therefore, I won't be writing for Riize to also support this boycott. (I know some might laugh saying You didn't even post that much anymore, well yeah that was a block but now it's a decision.)

I'm not sure when I will feel comfortable enough to write about Riize again, but I hope not much time goes by. In my case, I don't expect Seunghan back because I don't know what he's really thinking, and I deeply wish he did, but I don't want to force him to do anything he doesn't want after these traumatic events.

I could say he has to come back, but deciding to be more empathetic, I don't wish any kind of hate (and definitely not this kind of hate) over anyone, not writers, not fans, not idols, so I don't expect him to be on the public eye immediately after officially leaving the group, but I do not want to support a company that puts all their idols to this kind of risk, and I expect them to at least show they're doing something to prevent this on the future.

There's a concept I remember a lot, and it's that by doing nothing you're still risking a result. SM, being silent and non-acting, is putting all the boys at risk, and I only expect SM to prevent this invasion of privacy and damage from repeating and the situation from getting out of control again.

We, as fans, have no obligation to protect them, but SM is their employer, and as such, they have it. Yet, until now, these roles have been reversed.

I believe SM has the resources to do something, and until that happens, I hope we continue giving the message through the only way they'll listen: The boycott.

[travelingue]

The town where the English and the French learned to like each other

As we drove home from Normandy my wife was unwell.  I fell ill with covid myself back in London.  By the time we realised that the virus had been rampant in France, it was too late to spoil our trip.

We'd stayed near Eu, at the northern tip of the Seine Maritime department.  The name, incidentally, is supposed to sound like œufs (eggs), not like the past participle of the verb avoir.  If you don't know the difference, never mind: the French are as confused as the English on how to pronounce Eu.

The town unites the two nations in many ways.  Take its main church, the Collégiale Notre-Dame church (pictured above).  A leaflet informed me that Lawrence O'Toole was buried here. Intrigued, I stepped inside.

The O'Toole in question, it turned out, was not an English actor but an Irish saint. Spot the difference:

But it doesn't matter which illustrious O'Toole chose Eu as his final resting place. 

One way or the other, it illustrates the fact that the town had been at the heart of cross-Channel relations for a millennium.

A stone near the collégiale commemorates the wedding between Guillaume, a local warlord, and a woman called Mathilde, in the 11th century.  The groom went on to conquer England.

That conquest led to a reverse land-grad: Normandy fell to the English crown.  Over the centuries other French provinces were gobbled up by England, until locals had had enough.

You can think of the Hundred Years' War as a football game.  The French scored early.  The visitors fought back and were set for victory when the French boss brought on an untried teenager.  The substitution boosted morale no end: the youngster didn't finish the game, but the home side won.

Eu's role in the Joan of Arc saga is commemorated by another plaque.  Following her capture, the pucelle spent a night at the castle here, on her way to Rouen where she was burned at the stake on charges of heresy, witchcraft and cross-dressing.

But soon religious strife threatened to reignite conflict between England and France.

Eu became a flashpoint once again.  The Duc de Guise, the leaflet said, settled there.  I remembered from my school days that he was a Catholic fanatic.  But he hailed from eastern France and Protestants were big in the south.  Why come to Normandy?

Eu's castle houses a history museum: maybe I would find the answer there.  A bearded man standing outside the splendid Renaissance building told us it was closed for winter.  He knew because he was the curator.

Figuring he didn't have much to do, I questioned him.  I drew near to make sure I heard correctly.  If he was the one who gave me covid, it was worth it.  He passed on knowledge as well.

In 1570, the bearded man said, the duke married the Countess of Eu.  He used her castle as a base to hound Huguenots across Normandy and nearby Picardy, and to foment Catholic unrest in Britain.

The French king, Henri III, was as Catholic as the next guy.  But his main concern was peace.  In the late 1580s, when he heard that the duke was plotting to kill Elizabeth I, Henri blew a fuse.

"Does he want another Hundred Years' War? How many massacres are enough for him?" "What he wants, Sire, is his cousin Mary - formerly Queen of Scots - on the throne in England and himself on yours." "Get me rid of the felonious scumbag!"

The assassination of de Guise on royal orders unleashed France's umpteenth war of religion.  The childless king was in turn murdered by a Catholic radical.  The killing backfired: next in line was a Protestant.  That successor fostered tolerance but he too was taken out by a nutter.

By the early seventeenth century, France was exhausted.  A peace of sorts prevailed.  But that didn't stop many Catholics regarding the Duc de Guise as a martyr.  In Eu, his widow built a shrine to him.

The Chapelle du Collège des Jésuites, completed in 1624, is one of Normandy's hidden gems - religious zealots, I've noted, often have good taste.

It contains marble mausoleums to the duke and his wife. Both are shown in odd, recumbent poses.

The statue of the countess is particularly striking: she's fallen asleep while reading a book.

Eu remained the stronghold of the Guises, France's most Anglophobic clan, until 1660, when it was taken over by the House of Orléans, who were fans of all things British.

Meanwhile, Paris went the other way.  Albion became the arch-enemy once again.  It remained so for 170 years.  The problem this time was not that the English claimed French land, but that they wouldn't let France (as a monarchy, republic or empire) grab foreign land.

In 1830 something miraculous happened: the Orléans somehow ascended the throne.  For the first time in French history, true Anglophiles were in charge.

Relations didn't improve overnight.  British elites remained deeply Gallosceptic.  In 1840, the French king, Louis-Philippe, redoubled efforts to mend fences: he named François Guizot, an ardent liberal and former ambassador to London, as his foreign minister.

Despite Guizot's record as Britain-booster the English weren't sure the French had changed their spots.

"Those rosbifs are infuriating," Louis-Philippe eventually told Guizot. "I set up a constitutional monarchy, I promote peaceful commerce, I don't bang on about the glory of France.  And they still treat me as if I'm about to invade the Palatinate." "For all they know you are, sire," Guizot said. "They've been burned before."

The minister had a plan.  No English monarch had visited France since Henry VIII.  Britain had a young new queen: why not invite her?

And what better venue for a reset than the king's summer residence at Eu?  There, Guizot said grandiloquently, "the ghosts of William, Joan and the Guises can be summoned and banished."

Victoria was 24 and Louis-Philippe pushing 70 when they met in 1843.  Despite the age gap, the two hit it off. 

The first Entente Cordiale was not a formal treaty, unlike its 1904 sequel.  It boiled down to regular contacts between Guizot and Lord Aberdeen.  "We basically want the same things, so we can tell each other everything," Guizot wrote to his counterpart and friend.

Their successors were not always on such warm terms.  But a habit had been formed.  France and Britain have been allies ever since.  It all began in Eu.

Such historic significance is not the only reason to visit the town.  Its streets are lined with magnificent 17th and 18th century buildings - some are pictured at the end of the post.

The one that struck us most was the Hotel Dieu (above).  It was built with a bequest from the widow of Duc de Guise as a hospital for the poor - religious zealots, I've noted, often have a caring side.

A plaque says that at this spot, on 17 July 1636, the mayor commissioned "an image carved in silver showing of the Virgin Mary carrying the town of Eu" to ward off the plague.

The sign does not say whether this approach to a health emergency worked better than anti-covid measures four centuries later.

[mermaidsirennikita]

As I mentioned earlier today, Goodreads posted its Top 100 Romances of the Past Three Years today.

Some things to know:

A) Goodreads is not a tastemaker explicitly--it's a logging site. But nonetheless, we know that Goodreads is references by publishers, authors, agents, industry people far and wide, because it is the dominant book logging site. (Plug for The Storygraph, which isn't perfect either but allows you to log .25, .5, and .75 ratings, and get more granular about the vibe of a book as you rate it. Its CEO and co-founder is a Black woman, Nadia Odunayo, as a note.)

B) Goodreads is owned by Amazon, which, as the Big Five publishers have made abundantly clear recently, has a direct connection to many of the book sales made today. Take that and run with it.

C) This list is theoretically not something Goodreads arbitrarily selected via staffers, it's true. They're following the "trends" of their users. But that... is not an exact science, as several books here would not necessarily fit the parameters of a romance (which, admittedly, are subjective to an extent).

Furthermore, these books are largely traditionally published--some self-published books are here, though a few were originally self-published before getting picked up by a trad publisher. This is seems odd, as romance has notoriously boomed in recent years within indie channels.

And, let's call a spade a spade here--these books are more often than not, white and/or cishet.

Another thing I noticed about the list as I went through it, real-time recording my dumb little reactions, was the repetition? And I get that Goodreads is saying "this is what we noticed most", but let's be real--these lists can potentially be great promotional tools. It just seems sloppy to compile it in this way and go "welp, that's on the Goodreads users!" Like, mostly my (very arbitrary and shallow) beef with this list is how lazy it is. But then again, it's February and these are romance novels....

What I find to be a particular bummer is how the books clearly don't reflect.... what hardcore romance readers are into? Which, I guess it wouldn't. Goodreads is more general, and that's fine. But damn. Lots of contemporary romances, a handful of historicals, a few fantasy or fantasy-lite romances here and there. No monsterfucking books? Really? In 2023? Come on now.

I think the data here is skewed, likely--but I'm not saying it's completely off. What I am saying is that this list has had zero effort put into it, and it's not so much about what romance readers are reading, but what everyone (which includes people who Don't Read Romance but will Read That Special Book That Totally Isn't A Romance) is reading. So. Remember that grain of salt. And remember how this is affecting publishing, and how self-publishing really, truly could be the future of progressive (and for that matter, edgy and groundbreaking) romance.

Anyway, here's my painstaking, needless recording of thoughts.

People We Meet On Vacation by Emily Henry.

Rating: DNF

Thoughts: I started this, but quickly stopped it upon getting wind of the lack of heat--I'm a reluctant reader of friends to lovers in general, but when it hits it hits. However, in order for it to hit for me, it must have.... extreme heat. I don't personally enjoy a slow, chaste build in friends to lovers. I will also add that I've heard about some issues with this one? In regards to a tragic "my girlfriend had an abortion" backstory?

The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood.

Rating: 4/5.

Thoughts: This one has gotten a lot of shit for being a converted Reylo fic, which I personally find either innocuous or delightful depending on the day. It doesn't reinvent the wheel--it's a fun grumpy/sunshine, I like the STEM backdrop, it doesn't have as many sex scenes as I'd like but the one it does have is quite long, quite hot, and has things I've seen some naively deride (he puts her whole mosquito bite boob in his mouth--trust, this can be done) (he eats... his own cum out of her, it's a closed loop system) (squelching, ewwww!!! Or uh... squelching... tell me what page that's on...) while I find them fun. I don't know why this book is promoted as the hottest thing ever because it's not, but I also don't know why it's controversial. It's pretty easy to see why it took off.

Beach Read by Emily Henry.

Rating: 4/5.

Thoughts: Maybe I'd lower this to a 3/5 in hindsight? Not sure. I read this pre-Storygraph (for me). On there, it would probably be a 3.5/5. It's very pleasant and I enjoyed the romance for what it was, but it is... very much romance-lite. I'd call it a romance, but it's for people who want to say they're reading it for the daddy issues when they're reading it for the hot author guy. It's nice!

Reminders of Him by Colleen Hoover.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: I tend to wonder if anything Colleen writes is romance versus women's fiction, but whatever. I haven't read this and I won't.

Book Lovers by Emily Henry.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Have not read, probably will not due to the lack of heat Emily seems be favoring (Beach Read did have a mild, but not unheated, sex scene).

The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas.

Rating: 2/5

Thoughts: The heroine's lack of professionalism and maturity in the workplace really didn't work for me. I couldn't take her seriously. None of it read as real (this is an issue I have with contemporaries--you either go completely bananas or go completely real, in my opinion, and many try to sit in the middle). I get why people are into it, but it's not for me.

It Starts with Us by Colleen Hoover.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: At least it's not the one actively about the abusive husband, just the sequel...

Things We Never Got Over by Lucy Score.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: I'm totally unfamiliar with this. As it involves the heroine raising a child, I probably won't, but rock on I guess?

It Happened One Summer by Tessa Bailey.

Rating: 3/5

Thoughts: Some Tessa stuff has worked for me in the past, some hasn't--due to some issues I have with her work, I'm currently not looking for more? This was cute and hot in some sections... Others I found a bit hard to believe; I struggle with the way her heroes speak, though I know some love it. I love dirty talk, something is just missing here for me. Also, I can't handle the Back to Front Scene.

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: I liked Red, White, and Royal Blue, but I didn't love it. I may get around to this one day. It sounds cute. Yay sapphics!

Every Summer After by Carley Fortune.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: It looks nice?

Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Will read eventually. Once it's off hold in like, five years.

Twisted Love by Ana Huang.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Everyone and their mom has been talking about this. The content warnings have me intrigued. Will read.

Hook, Line, and Sinker by Tessa Bailey.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Probably will not read.

The Soulmate Equation by Christina Lauren

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Probably will not read. I actually really enjoyed Beautiful Bastard and want to read more of their early work, but the more recent stuff is too sweet for me. Would recommend to those who want milder, lower heat books though!

Seven Days in June by Tia Williams.

Rating: 3/5

Thoughts: I had a hard time getting into this, likely because the heroine is a single mother, but I loved the setting, the writing style, and the connection between the hero and heroine.

Neon Gods by Katee Robert

Rating: Have not read (finished)

Thoughts: I had to stop this one and haven't gotten back into it yet. I liked what I was read and I will eventually!!!

The Ex Hex by Erin Sterling.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will try eventually.

The Fine Print by Lauren Asher.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: I'll check it out. I have a love/hate relationship with billionaire romances.

In a Holidaze by Christina Lauren.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: See earlier comments on current Christina Lauren books.

Twisted Games by Ana Huang

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Kind of insane to me that Goodreads repeats authors so often in this list.

You Deserve Each Other by Sarah Hogle.

Rating: 3/5

Thoughts: Read this long ago, would amend to 2/5 as I actively wanted the couple to break up. It possessed an issue I see in many contemporaries where behavior that is kind of insane is painted as totally normal and cute because it's a romcom~.

The Cheat Sheet by Sarah Adams.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Not for me I think.

Twisted Hate by Ana Huang

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Good for Ana Huang, sincerely, but it feels like... not much effort... was put into this list.

The American Roommate Experiment by Elena Armas

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Will not read.

The Heart Principle by Helen Hoang

Rating: 4/5

Thoughts: I understand the debate around this being a romance. If Beach Read can be one, so can this. It's very intense and hard to read, but well-written and worth reading if you're the right audience.

Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: I love A Lady for A Duke by Alexis, but I'm not sure if this one has sex in it or not--if it doesn't, it's not for me, but I have two of his upcoming books in my TBR. Would recommend his writing in general.

The Switch by Beth O'Leary

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Will not read.

Icebreaker by Hannah Grace.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: I do love figure skating... and I've recently started paying attention to hockey... Will consider.

Terms and Conditions by Lauren Asher.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Isn't it funny that so many authors repeat?

All Rhodes Lead Here by Mariana Zapata.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will not read.

Funny You Should Ask by Elissa Sussman.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Never heard of this before, and it sounds cute. Will investigate further!

Take a Hint, Dani Brown by Talia Hibbert.

Rating: 4/5

Thoughts: My least favorite of the trilogy, but Talia doesn't really miss, and it's super good.

The Road Trip by Beth O'Leary

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Will not read.

The Roommate by Rosie Danan.

Rating: 4/5 (on Storygraph I'd probably go 4.5/5)

Thoughts: So GOOD. Pro sex worker, hot as fuck, emotional, all about sex positivity.

Act Your Age, Eve Brown by Talia Hibbert.

Rating: 4/5

Thoughts: I like this even more than Dani Brown. ASD rep from both the hero and the heroine, and the sparkly purple dildo scene was hotter than it had any right to be. Oh, here's this sparkly purple dildo my friend had hiding in her bed, I guess I'll just fuck her with it???

The Ex Talk by Rachel Lynn Solomon.

Rating: 4/5

Thoughts: This may be more of a 3.5/5 for me? Anyway, it was cute, I remember enjoying the heroine being older than the hero.

Twisted Lies by Ana Huang

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: I feel like people are gonna come at Ana for being on the list a billion times but... don't.

The Bodyguard by Katherine Center.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will not read.

Part of Your World by Abby Jiminez

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: May read.

Hooked by Emily McIntire.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Has been on my TBR for a while. Eventually...

Second First Impressions by Sally Thorne.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: I don't know if current era Sally is for me?

One to Watch by Kate Stayman-London

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Will not read

By a Thread by Lucy Score

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: We'll see?

The Happy Ever After Playlist by Abby Jiminez

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Maybe someday.

The Two Lives of Lydia Bird by Josie Silver.

Rating: 2/5

Thoughts: This didn't read like a romance to me.

The Dead Romantics by Ashley Poston.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Not for me, I think.

Something Wilder by Christina Wilder.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: See above.

My Killer Vacation by Tessa Bailey.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will not read.

This Time Next Year by Sophie Cousens.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will not read.

A Not So Meet Cute by Meghan Quinn.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: I may read this--I have an ARC from Meghan to read soon, so if I like it, this may follow?

A Touch of Ruin by Scarlett St. Clair.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: Isn't this a later book in a series? Will not read.

Good Girl Complex by Elle Kennedy.

Rating: Have not read

Thoughts: I have not read Elle yet--I have an ARC of hers coming up. Maybe I'll read this if I like that?

Shipped by Angie Hockman.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will not read.

The Worst Best Man by Mia Sosa.

Rating: 4/5

Thoughts: This was quite cute, and I enjoyed the sex scenes/hooking up with her ex-fiance's brother aspect a lot.

If I Never Met You by Mhairi McFarlane.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: May read--fake dating in contemporaries is hit or miss for me.

King of Battle and Blood by Scarlett St. Clair.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will not read.

Life's Too Short by Abby Jimenez.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: May read.

Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: May read, but I've also heard it's not a romance? Need clarity.

Delilah Green Doesn't Care by Ashley Herring Blake

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read, love the cover.

Electric Idol by Katee Robert.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read.

The Dating Plan by Sarah Desai.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read eventually.

The Takeover by T.L. Swan

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: You had me until the heroine has three unruly sons.

Dating Dr. Dil by Nisha Sharma.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read.

The Honey-Don't List by Christina Lauren.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: See above.

A Touch of Malice by Scarlett St. Clair

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will not read.

Written in the Stars by Alexandria Bellefleur.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Have an ARC by her on the docket, will read this if I like it!

Love Her or List Her by Tessa Bailey.

Rating: 2/5.

Thoughts: I had many issues with this one.

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: I may read other books by Olivia, but this books surrounding this TV show many not be for me.

The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: I like behind the scenes looks at reality TV. Will read.

Mr. Wrong Number by Lynn Painter.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read. Though the steamy text~ mentioned in the summary better be steamy!

The Roughest Draft by Emily Wibberley.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: May read.

You Made A Fool of Death with Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read.

Party of Two by Jasmine Guillory.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will not read.

The Wedding Crasher by Mia Sosa.

Rating: 3/5.

Thoughts: Did not enjoy this as much as the first, unfortunately.

You had Me At Hola by Alexis Daria.

Rating: 3/5.

Thoughts: Fun, but I prefer Daria's Take the Lead. I suspect the hero being a single dad brought this down for me.

The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels by India Holton.

Rating: 5/5.

Thoughts: Love it and totally recommend it.

A Rogue of One's Own by Evie Dunmore.

Rating: 2/5.

Thoughts: General issues with the place of these books in historical romance, my God, the racism in this one.

Portrait of a Scotsman by Evie Dunmore.

Rating: 3/5.

Thoughts: Her best sex scenes, solid hero, horrible ending.

First Comes Scandal by Julia Quinn.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Probably won't read.

A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting by Sophie Irwin.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will I read? I don't know, I've never heard of it and I'm not sure how hot it is...?

Chasing Cassandra by Lisa Kleypas.

Rating: 3/5.

Thoughts: Fine, but a mid Kleypas for me.

The Midnight Bargain by C.L. Polk.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: I've never heard of it but it sounds kinda lit...?

To Love and To Loathe by Martha Waters.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read.... eventually.

Never Fall for Your Fiancee by Virginia Heath.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: My last Virginia Heath was a 3/5, so not sure if I'll read.

Half a Soul by Olivia Atwater.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read, I think? Never heard of it before.

Reputation by Lex Croucher.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Unlikely to read.

The League of Gentlewomen Witches by India Holton.

Rating: 5/5.

Thoughts: Love, would recommend. Even better than the first.

Sea of Ruin by Pam Godwin.

Rating: 2/5.

Thoughts: Charleston, SC is in the lowcountry. Heroine's mom jumps off a cliff. We don't have cliffs there. It got worse from that point.

A Lady for A Duke by Alexis Hall.

Rating: 5/5.

Thoughts: Love it, so emotional, would recommend wholeheartedly. It's so good.

Devil in Disguise by Lisa Kleypas.

Rating: 4/5.

Thoughts: It's not her best, but I had fun!

Bombshell by Sarah MacLean.

Rating: 4/5.

Thoughts: A strong series starter, though I prefer Heartbreaker. Very enjoyable, would recommend.

The Ruthless Lady's Guide to Wizardry by C.M. Waggoner.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Unlikely to read.

Something Fabulous by Alexis Hall.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read.

The Queer Principles of Kit Webb by Cat Sebastian.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read.

The Heiress Gets A Duke by Harper St. George.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read. I kind of like the covers for these books? I don't know if that's Controversial But Brave or not.

Always Be My Duchess by Amalie Howard.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read, though I deeply prefer her other covers.........

Slippery Creatures by K.J. Charles.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read.

Daring and the Duke by Sarah MacLean

Rating: 5/5

Thoughts: I love this one, will recommend.

To Marry and To Meddle by Martha Waters.

Rating: Have not read.

Thoughts: Will read.

[farosdaughter]

Wow, kudos to you for remembering so much about this version: you have actually brought my attention back to many details I'd overlooked!

-I can't remember whether Eliza uses du or Sie when talking to Higgins, but she definitely addresses him by the latter at the end when she's trying to distance herself from him. Only then Higgins answers back in the same manner as a joke, but I *think* he always says du to Eliza. Eliza's dialect is something I can't place either, so I would also wager it's a made up language comprising different regional dialects.

-so that's what Eliza's instrument is! Thank you for specifying! I loved how often and prominently it is featured throughout the movie: even Higgins who seemed to detest it starts playing (with) it at the very end, just as he's accepting Eliza's role in his life. Her song cracked me up at first, but paying attention to the lyrics gives it a whole different (ie creepy) meaning. It's indeed very telling and appropriate for the time period and place this movie was made and indirectly set in. As far as I can tell this version likes to pretend it's set in England, unlike the more creative Dutch film. However, it has so many quintessentially German details about it that they immediately give away the lie. Mrs Higgins' flat being turned into what looks like a villa by the lake is a very glaring one: it just screamed Berlin to me. I'm guessing keeping the original setting was an intentionally superficial choice to divert the audience's attention from what was happening in Germany at the time.

-Higgins playing Schubert and then behaving like a Romantic hero for a bit is an interesting choice. Gründgens absolutely sells the emotionally stunted intellectual who doesn't see love even when it's staring him in the face, so it doesn't feel as jarring as some of Higgins' romantic moments in the Dutch version. IIRC, after his confrontation with Eliza he opens the door to Pick's bedroom (they have connecting rooms?) and starts ranting about how dangerous it is to get involved with a young woman, no matter her social class. Schopenhauer said that women are a joke of nature, so it must be true. Pick is half asleep so he asks Henry what the matter is with Eliza. Higgins answers that she's asking to be taken seriously as a woman. Pick asks why that shocks Henry? He's surprised by her 'sudden' change, since she'd seemed so passive for months. He wants to know out of scientific interest whether this change was brought by his lessons or if Eliza has always been her own woman. Then he starts admiring the night sky and the moon. Pick just leaves him at it.

-Johnny does have a more prominent role in this movie. I thought he looked younger than Eliza (he looked like a teenager to me), so I never picked up love interest vibes from him but I could be wrong. He's definitely fascinated by her transformation when they meet again at the races though, and he offers her an ice cream. There's a man about to go away without paying, and Eliza first jumps a fence and then breaks her umbrella trying to defend Johnny from the thief. I liked how much attention was given to Eliza's old way of life. The movie's apt subtitle being 'Elisa, das Blumenmädchen' really reinforces how Pygmalion is first and foremost Eliza's story.

-the final act is the one with the most changes from the original play! Higgins does start mixing cocktails at some point, but it's during Mrs H's tea party, while Eliza is telling everyone about her aunt. In the final act he just walks around disgruntled and tries to order Eliza to come home. Mrs H berates him and tells him to behave. I loved the moment where Eliza asks him to call her Miss Doolittle and Freddy immediately calls her Eliza. Their confrontation on Mrs H's porch/balcony is much shorter, and Higgins muses that she's turned out exactly like all other society girls. He also congratulates her on her upcoming nuptials and social advancement but warns her never to reveal her origins, as it could compromise her relationship with Freddy. Eliza goes to get ready for dinner and puts Higgins' ring back on! When she intentionally reveals her background to the Eynsford Hills at dinner, Higgins raises his glass to her and is obviously delighted. I got the impression that was all the confirmation he needed that Eliza wasn't after a social position, and had indeed a sense of self outside of her 'education'. Their second confrontation is also much shorter, she basically threatens to teach phonetics and 'steal' his methods, then she corrects his grammar (he gets a verb wrong) when he gets angry. Finally, she asks him what she should choose to do between marrying Freddy, selling flowers, or teaching. He answers that she should choose to stay with him (and still calls her Fraulein Doolittle). It's definitely missing the spark present in the 1938 movie, as Higgins is more flustered/embarrassed than angry! But I found it endearing nonetheless.

got my hands on German Pygmalion from 1935🦫

[buckyownsmylife]

S.O.S. - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry works for your father so you come up with a plan.

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, barista!Henry AU, slightly sub!Henry, light choking

Word count: 1k<

A/N: I imagined a younger Henry for this one, around 20, kind like college-age. It’s short but hopefully it’s sweet! This is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. Hope you guys like it!

Henry’s P.O.V.

My cheeks burned as soon as I saw her coming into the store, her group of friends chatting excitedly around her. I was torn between averting my gaze and focusing on the coffee I should be pouring or actually taking her in, admire all of her features. I loved the little dresses she chose for class, they hugged her body in the most complimentary way.

Still, I decided to ignore the sweet temptation of her figure and pretend I didn’t notice, pretend she wasn’t there. It made my job a little easier, forcing myself to look at the person whose order I was supposed to take instead of someone who hadn’t even gotten in line yet.

Of course, she didn’t have to.

“There you go, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, daddy.” Being the owner’s daughter granted her anything she wanted, anytime she wanted. I knew that better than anyone by now. Memories of the night she helped me close the coffee shop before asking me, “Do you want to fuck me?” haunted me to this day, so many months later, no matter how many times I’d had her ever since.

That first time was special. Not only was it the fulfillment of a fantasy I never thought I’d be able to live, but it also taught me everything I needed to know about the girl I’d fallen in love with -  she was caring and kind, but she always got whatever it was that she wanted. It was just my luck that what she wanted was me.

“What are you doing back here?” I asked once I heard the door to the pantry close behind me, turning around to see her with nothing but mischief written in her eyes. She just shrugged, and I already knew I was in danger.

“You know what I want, what I always come to you for.” And I did. So I just let her do her thing, unzip my pants and push me to sit on one of the tables we had back here before climbing over me.

It felt so good to have her again. I hated having to hide my feelings, force my eyes away from her because of her dad. But whenever I had her close, I couldn’t really be afraid he’d find out, suddenly open the door and see her here, riding me, hips tightly pressed against mine while she laid kisses on my throat.

All that mattered was that I was inside of her again, where she wanted me to be. “Shhh…” She whispered against my lips, fingers lightly pressing on the sides of my neck. “You have to be quiet, baby.” I blushed every time the pet name left her beautiful lips. It was inebriating to be desired like this, by a woman who could have anyone and anything.

“Gosh, I love your cock.” And she sure showed it, her constant need to be filled by it, her incessant movements taking advantage of how hard she made my member, up and down, up and down until I gave her what she wanted.

“And you love my pussy too, don’t you?” I could only stare back at her in shock. What kind of a question was that? As if the fact that I could barely contain myself once I was inside her channel didn’t mean anything?

“Tell me, honey. I like to hear you say it.” The confession had a garbled sound escaping my chest, my fingers burying tighter in the supple skin of her hips. I struggled to remember how to speak, but I wanted her to be reassured of my desire for her.

“I-I love it.” It was the best I could do. “I love it so much.” But it seemed to be enough for her. Her face buried in the crook of my neck, she quickened the pace of her movements, and I could feel my control escaping me.

“I know you do,” she spoke against my skin. “I know you do. And you’re gonna give me what I want, aren’t you? You’re gonna give me your cum, gonna fuck a baby into me.”

Just hearing her say it had me twitching inside of her, my hands instinctively holding her by the ass so she’d still and none of my cum would spill out of her. Feeling me shooting ropes inside of her pussy seemed to be her undoing because I felt her clench around me, only adding to my sensitiveness.

“Thank you, baby.” I loved the way she kissed me to express her gratitude, pulling me closer by my hair until we had to part for air. “I’ll see you outside.”

I can’t say that I completely agreed with her plan to get pregnant before telling her father our relationship so he couldn’t be against it, but to deny that it was a pleasurable one would be a lie.

[mel-the-fangirl]

Toss A Coin to Your Witcher

Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 2,362

I am so so so nervous to post this because this is my first time writing a Henry fic and I know that the Henry Cavill fandom is such a tightknit family, I hope you guys have room for one more hopeless Henry stan. I know this isn’t even half as good as the other Henry fics out there but I had this idea stuck in my head for a very long time.

Please like and reblog or leave me some replies if I should do a second part! Thank you!

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The makeup brush swept precisely along your cheekbone, covering it in a subtle shimmer. Production staff milled around behind you, testing sound, testing lights. Being an actor, these things were nothing new. 

"Now remember, say it with me," 

"Don't say or do anything stupid." you recited with your long time agent and friend, Marge.

You thanked the makeup artist and made your way to the set. 

"When have I ever said or done anything stupid though?" you asked

Marge looked at you appraisingly before replying, 

"There's always a time for everything. Now go on." 

The vibe on set dialled to a hundred when you stepped on. It was really flattering how they cheered as you plonked your butt down on the wooden chair, a red tarp was set up behind you and the studio lights surrounded the area.

"Ready when you are Y/N!" the producer aka the ring leader of this whole operation flashed you a thumbs up

You nodded, feeling the nervousness bubble up your throat. 

Surprise, surprise. You still got nervous in front of the camera. It wasn't hard to handle though, you took a couple of deep breaths and you were good to go. 

"Hey guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here with Buzzfeed and we're gonna be playing Twenty Questions." you winked at the camera with your arms wrapped around the little jar that had your questions in it

 "Let's get started, shall we?" 

Eager to begin, you stuck your hand into the jar without a second thought. 

"I freaking love Buzzfeed, really. Especially Tasty, I mean, I don't cook. But," you shrugged, wiggling your fingers, hearing the tiny bits of folded paper move around in the jar. "I love watching people cook. Then I love eating."

Scattered chuckles broke out through the crew. 

After a few minutes of rustling around, you figured you’d just come clean, "Okay. Small problem." 

You lifted your hand, the jar coming along with it. The pieces of folded paper crowding around your encased wrist as you waved your arm. 

Another round of shocked giggles started up as a couple of assistants rushed to you and tried to yank the jar off. 

"This is too good," the producer chortled, "Mind if we keep this in?"

"Fine by me!" you watched intently as Marge rolled up your sleeve so one assistant could pour oil all over it. Eagle eyed, she watched as a drop of oil landed on the bottom hem of your sweater.

"Great job, Y/N. This sweater was a gift from that designer you met last week, he said he made it just for you." she scolded, taking charge by grabbing the jar with two hands

"It was an accident, Marge. It's not like I planned on getting my hand stuck in a jar today!"

With a tug and a pop, your hand was free and slick with olive oil. Marge landed on her butt on the floor.

"Marge!" you howled with laughter, helping her up

She straightened her blouse, all business but her cheeks were stained red with embarrassment. 

"Can someone help Y/N wash the oil off her hands? Let's get this show on the road, people!" she barked marching orders at the staff, clapping her hands as she went. She wasn't in charge here but no one dared to question her. 

You chuckled, knowing that this was a cute little anecdote you’d be sharing with anyone who was willing to listen.

A few minutes later, you were back in your chair, having a laugh with everyone. The jar incident already stripped away the majority of your anxiety so you were ready to go.

"Okay! First question!" you squinted at the strip of paper, "What is the most expensive thing you’ve stolen from any set you’ve been on?" 

“Well!” you widened your eyes at the camera, “Bold of you all to assume that I’ve ever stolen anything!”

Marge scoffed rather audibly, making everyone raise their eyebrows at you.

“Okay, fine!” you held up your hand. The stunning ring you had on sparkled underneath the lights, nearly blinding anyone who looked.

“I did a period movie a while back and they had these drop dead gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous pieces of jewelry. I wore this piece,” you gazed down at the ring fondly, “for the whole of the film and I just pinched it after we wrapped, I couldn’t part with it, okay? I’m like a fricking magpie, I love shiny things.”

The crew burst into fits of laughter, making you laugh along with them.

“To clarify! This is the replica the props department had made, a very expensive replica. I can see you freaking out, Marge. And no, you don’t have to call the insurance company.”

You were a big hit, to say the least. You had them in stitches every time you opened your mouth but all good things had to come to an end, right?

It didn’t matter how carefully you dipped your hand into the question jar, this next one was going to make things very messy for you. 

"What do you like to do in your free time?" you read out loud, tapping a finger against your chin

"There hasn't been much free time lately,” you chuckled, “Let’s see… I play video games, yeah. I am so obsessed with the Witcher, it's borderline unhealthy. I’ve read all the books and played the games so many times." 

"What do you think of Henry Cavill as Geralt?" the producer asked you

Henry Cavill.

Just hearing that man's name was enough to make the blood rush to your cheeks. You brushed an imaginary hair out of your face. From behind the camera, Marge raised a knowing brow.

"Well," you cleared your throat and sat up straighter

"To be honest, at first I was really skeptical about his casting. I mean, he is way too good looking. Like way. Way. Too good looking. But…"

"But?"

Your mind drifted to the first time you saw a picture of Henry Cavill in full costume. The white hair, the golden cat eyes, the intense gaze and all that leather? It definitely made you feel… Certain things.

You cleared your throat, propping yourself on the table with your arms. To be honest, your head was still in a Henry Cavill haze so you had zero control of what came out of your mouth next.

"I'd definitely toss all my coins to that Witcher. Toss a few other things as well."

Everyone in the room ooh'ed and whistled, delighted by your saucy reply. The ruckus snapped you out of it and your hand immediately flew to your mouth.

“Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.”

“You did.” Marge mouthed at you, trying but failing to contain her laughter

"So you enjoyed his performance as Geralt?" the producer pressed on, hoping to get more audience-raking answers

How many times were you going to blush during this interview?

"Oh, well, about that, I haven't really gotten around to actually watching it.” you admitted sheepishly, “But I've seen photos and some clips. Very impressed by what I've seen so far."

"You will watch it though, right?" 

"Oh, absolutely. No way I’d miss out on that! Henry Cavill is an incredibly wonderful, talented actor. I think he’s also a fan of the franchise so I have no doubt that he played Geralt to perfection as with all his other roles." you nodded solemnly, putting a hand to your heart

Everyone in the room with you caught on that you were gushing over the actor, the sly looks they all exchanged with one another were a dead giveaway. Too bad you didn’t notice before you could try and play it cool.

“Alright! I think it’s time for the next question!” you declared, swiftly plucking another question out of the jar

By the time it was all over, you had convinced yourself that your little crush-related blunder wasn’t even a big deal, it would probably just be a little footnote in that video. No biggie.

But, Jesus Christ were you wrong.

The video took a couple of weeks to edit and in that time, you were busier than ever. A movie you had just done was getting a lot of attention, your performance in particular had critics singing your praises. At that point, you were definitely getting noticed a lot more when you stepped out for coffee.

So, the timing was just perfect.

The second the video went live, your phone was going off non stop. Twitter mentions, Instagram tags, and articles. A few notable entries being:

“WATCH: RISING STAR Y/N Y/L/N GUSHES ABOUT HENRY CAVILL IN CHARMING BUZZFEED VIDEO”

“@geraskier-rights: Y/N Y/L/N REALLY SAID SHE’D TOSS ALL HER COINS TO HENRY CAVILL’S GERALT AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”

“@geralt-of-vengerberg: Y/N The Fond™ is showing👀👀👀”

Marge sat on your sofa with your phone in hand, absolutely thrilled while reading tweets out loud. You scheduled a panic session with her over lunch once everything blew up.

“Oh my God.” you groaned, massaging your temples. “Marge, what do I do?”

“About what?” she didn’t even bother to look up at you

You plopped yourself down next to her, laying your head in her lap, “All that. It’s everywhere.”

“And? There’s nothing wrong with it, they all think you’re charming and funny. A true Relatable Queen.”

Was it your sanity slipping through your fingers? Or the overpowering embarrassment? You had no idea but whatever it was, it had you laughing until your stomach hurt.

Marge tugged at your hair, “Get it together, bitch. Jeez.”

“What are you so worried about anyway?” she asked, placing your phone on your stomach

You swiped through your emails absentmindedly, “I’m not worried about anything, it’s just that what if…”

You left the words hanging in the air, you might as well have been dangling from a cliff from how much colour drained from your face.

“What if what?” 

Marge shoveled some pasta into her mouth before noticing that you essentially turned into a statue right next to her.

“Y/N!” she shook your arm with a grip you were sure would leave some bruises. “What’s the matter?”

Wordlessly, you passed your phone to her, the comment from a certain verified account displayed prominently on Buzzfeed’s Instagram post of a little snippet from your video, the “I’d toss all my coins to that Witcher” part, naturally.

“@henrycavill: Dear Y/N, how many coins are we talking about here? Let’s talk about my reward.”

It was all Marge could do to not throw your phone across the room. Her eyes went wide, following your every move as you paced back and forth, a thumbnail in your mouth.

“That did not just happen, I did not just see that right now. I didn’t.” you babbled, your heart beating thunderously in your chest

There it went. Your very own ticking time bomb finally went off. Number of casualties? Just one. You.

“Okay. Just calm down, Y/N.” Marge caught you mid-pace, squeezing your arms

“Maybe it was a fan account. Tell me it was a fan account, Marge. Henry Cavill did not just hear me imply what I implied.” you grasped at her hand with your clammy one

“Well if he has a fan account that’s verified and has fourteen point five million followers?”

“Oh god.” you groaned, sinking to the floor and hugging your knees

“Oh, Christ.”

Marge hauled you to your feet and thrust your phone in your hand. She looked you hard in the eye, “Stop your whining and answer him. You’re Y/N fucking Y/L/N, one of the hottest people on the planet, start acting like it.”

You stared at her, eyes wide. Your chest rose and fell rapidly. Marge’s words started to make sense in your mind and adrenaline started surging through your veins. You nodded fervently, psyching yourself up.

“Fuck yeah.” you breathed, clicking ‘Reply’

“@yourinstagram: @henrycavill I know you take orens, crowns, and florens but maybe we should discuss further?”

Before you could even stop yourself (did you even want to?), your fingers already landed on the blue paper plane.

“I did it.” you exhaled, staring as the likes and overly enthusiastic replies started pouring in

“Fuck yeah, you did. Now, come on. Leave your phone. We’re getting drunk.”

More weeks passed and you actually ended up forgetting about that little reply you left Henry Cavill. You were busier than ever. Guestings, endorsement deals, and awards shows left and right. So, when you finally had a couple of days free, you decided you would set up camp on your sofa and finally watch Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia.

You even threw on your Superman pyjamas, “What the hell.” you shrugged

If you were going down this road, you might as well do it right. Maybe you would even watch the Man from U.N.C.L.E after or would it be Night Hunter? The decision would have to wait.

You watched, absolutely riveted as the White Wolf battled against the kikimora, his silver sword hacked at the creature with unmatched expertise. You were only a few minutes in but you already knew you’d be stuck on that sofa for hours.

When the kikimora had Geralt pinned underwater with his trusty sword just beyond arm’s reach, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, one of your cushions in a chokehold.

“Come on, come on, come on.” you muttered as Geralt reached for his sword

You wouldn’t find out if he got it or not. A knock on your door literally made you fall off the sofa.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, your hip was already smarting from the impact

Whoever that asshole was, you swore you were going to give him a piece of your mind. You stomped to your front door just as that idiot started knocking again.

You huffed and threw the door open then your mind immediately went blank.

“I am so sorry. Are you alright? I think I heard you fall?”

Oh yeah. You were definitely falling.

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You can find the second part here!

[mandoalorian]

I'll See You Again, I Promise [Din Djarin x Reader]

!! SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2 FINALE. DISCRETION ADVISED. !!

Author's note: Spoilers for the Season 2 finale of the Mandalorian. Just like last time, I wrote this in three hours. The episode literally came out three hours ago. I'm so thankful for how many people liked my one shot based around last week's episode— and as promised, this is a continuation of this week's episode (the season finale). You don't have to read the previous part in order to understand this, but if you wish to read it you can find it here.

Masterlist

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2k

Permanent taglist - let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

Taglist for this part: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @dantakuart @yikesdameron @artsyzartsi @karnita-mexicana @multifandomfollower @saavikchekov @what-is-life-in-general @karnita-mexicana @pcrushinnerd @tillytheslytherin @jedinerd27 @queenofspades20

Din Djarin taglist: @alecdamndario0

gif by @cavill-henry

When you saw Din return, holding the child in one hand, and the ancient Mandalorian weapon in the other hand, relief washed over you. Your whole body deflated and you let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding in.

"Where are the others?" Din asked, his voice gruff as he pushed a binded Moff Gideon to the ground. You gasped when your eyes met with the ex-ISB officer who you knew had given Din so much trauma and hurt. There was a dark and menacing glint in his eyes that you could see right through.

"With Boba on the ship. They didn't think you'd come back," you admitted sheepishly, biting your lip as you cautiously looked back up at Din. "But I believed in you." You desperately tried to search through his visor and locate his brown eyes.

You wanted to cry; your little family had been restored. Grogu had been rescued. You were once more a clan of three. And now, things could be different. You had seen the beauty that was hidden beneath the beskar. You had seen Din for who he really was. You imagined starting a new life with him and the Child, far far away and out of any danger. You could be happy. Of course, you had to deal with Moff Gideon first.

You took a step closer to Din, breaking any remaining distance and placing a hand on his chest. "I'm so glad you're safe." Din revealed with a shaky exhale as you caressed the child. You wanted nothing more than to curl up into his arms and tell him how much you loved him, how proud you were. Grogu was so lucky to have a father as loving as Din.

"We can leave now," you smiled weakly. "We can be free. Go to the lake county on Naboo and start a new life. Live in peace." You had half forgotten Moff Gideon was even there. You just wanted to live in the moment with Din. All you could see was the love of your life holding his child. Everything else in your peripheral vision was a blur. It didn't matter.

"How cute," Moff Gideon's lips curled into a snarl. "The Mandalorian has a lover? What an unexpected twist of events." Din knocked Gideon to the ground the second those malicious words left his mouth, leaving him doubled over and grumbling in pain.

"We don't have time to stick around, we have to go." Din told you, grabbing your hand and interlocking his gloved fingers with yours. You were ready. You were so ready to leave this life behind and be with Din and Grogu forever. It was the happily ever after you knew Din deserved more than anyone else in the galaxy. Before the blast doors could open, the nav system began to beep hysterically, illustrating that a single light Starfighter was boarding the same Imperial cruiser you and your little family were on.

"It's an X-Wing…" you were rendered speechless. Din considered who it might have been. Had Cara comm’d the New Republic from the ship? If so, why was it only just one fighter? Could it have been the likes of Trapper Wolf who had granted Din a favour back when he encountered trouble on the ice planet of Maldo Kreis? Din was truly clueless.

Grogu began to coo and shuffle around, prompting Din to carefully place his son on the floor. Grogu waddled over to you by the terminal, gargling and pointing his finger up at one of the screens. "What is it buddy?" you asked, leaning down and picking up Grogu. Grogu guided you to the CCTV where you saw a cloaked figure emerge from the X-Wing and ignite a lightsaber. Your heart stopped. "Din…" you said nervously, your grip tightening around Grogu defensively. "You might want to see this."

Din approached the small screen and looked closely. "A Jedi?" he asked, although it almost sounded rhetorical. He looked back at Grogu who was already staring up at him. "Did you… did you bring him here?" Din asked the child, his voice breaking slightly. Grogu made a small and indistinguishable noise in response.

"No," you placed a hand on Din's shoulder with comfort. "No, Grogu wouldn't…" you reassured him.

"The seeing stone," Din deadpanned, his gaze not tearing from his son once. He remembered Ahsoka Tano's words. "Grogu reached out with the force and if a Jedi felt his presence, they'd come looking for him," Din turned to you, his body stiff and his voice shallow. "And they've come."

Your lips parted slightly as you turned back to the screen, watching as the mysterious figure roamed through the halls of the Imperial cruiser. Part of you deep down knew that Din was right. It was the only plausable explanation, but that didn't mean you wanted it to happen. You knew it wouldn't be long until you were found.

"Din, let's go," you said with teary eyes, feeling your anxiety bubble up in your stomach. "Please Din? Can we just go."

Din clenched his fingers into a fist. "No." he said sternly, his voice returning back to being gruff and modulated. He was doing what he always did when fear consumed him. He'd shut himself out and go into hunter/protector mode. He'd become the fighter he was trained to be since he was just a young boy.

"Din." you hated the way his name fell from your tongue, sounding needy and desperate, but you were just as afraid. You didn't want to stay any longer. You had what you needed; Din and the child. You didn't need anything else. You could go now.

Din picked up Grogu and nursed him in his arms, holding him close to his chest. Just like always, Grogu curled up into his father, taking comfort in feeling his beating heart, learning the true feeling of unconditional familial love.

The blast doors shot open and the cloaked figure entered the room. Your fingers dropped to the blaster in your holster as he approached you both. The man put his lightsaber away, signifying surrender, and pulled down his hood, revealing himself. He looked slightly older than you, with pale skin with mousy brown hair. He looked like he had seen a lot in his lifetime.

"Are you a Jedi?" Din asked eventually, breaking the silence through the need of confirmation.

"Yes, my name is Luke Skywalker," he introduced with a small nod. You recognised that name… Skywalker, perhaps from old tales, the likes of myths and folk stories. You didn't spend long contemplating the mystery man's identity. There were more pressing matters at hand and so you opted to brush it off completely. "I have come for the child," Luke announced and Grogu turned from Din, his ears cocking at the mention of him and looked at the man with curiosity. "Hello little one." Luke smiled.

Grogu cooed in response before turning back to his father with big pleading eyes. "He doesn't want to go with you." Din gulped, his heart aching. There was no way to be sure, Din could never know exactly what Grogu wanted. But he was aware of the bond he had with his son, now more than ever he was aware. He knew that there was no way his son would want to leave him. Din loved Grogu. Din loved Grogu with every inch of his being.

"He wants your permission." Luke explained, and Din turned back to look at the little green bean in his arms. His… permission? "He is incredibly strong with the force and without learning how to utiIize his powers he can become a danger to those around him… and a danger to himself. It's important that he understands the nature of the power he possesses."

Luke's words became a blundered fuzz in the back of your mind. This was Grogu— this was Din's little boy. When Din looked into Grogu's eyes, he saw nothing but memories. From the pair of them sipping spotchka, to chasing frogs and playing in the hull of the Razor Crest, everything just felt so distant. Din took a deep breath, his finger softly brushing against Grogu's cheek.

"Hey go on… he's one of your kind," Din winced at his own words. One of your kind— something the Armourer had implanted in Din's head all those months ago. "I'll see you again. I promise."

You felt your heart shatter in your chest. This… wasn't meant to happen. It wasn't meant to end up like this. You wanted to speak, you wanted to say something and put a stop to this absurdity. You knew better than anyone that Din needed Grogu and Grogu needed Din. It felt like your throat had closed up, like you could hardly breathe. All you could do was stand there and watch it play out.

Grogu reached up with a small wail, his green claw tracing the curves and ridges of Din's beskar helmet.

Din knew exactly what his son wanted, and right now, Din was certain he wanted it too. Just for once, he wanted to look at his son with his own eyes. Not the eyes blinded by his visor blade, Din wanted the child to know his face. Recognise him. With a hiss and a click, Din removed his helmet. You swore your heart stopped upon seeing him again. Brown eyes, but this time they were glazed with tears and there was nothing you could do about it.

Grogu reached back up and rested his claw over Din's jaw. Subconsciously, Din leaned his cheek into Grogu's hand, never wanting to pull away from his touch. His heart was broken beyond repair.

"All right pal," Din rasped. "It's time to go." He didn't want this. He couldn't do this. But he had to. He had to be strong for his son. He had to be a good father. "Don't be afraid." Was Din's final words to his son.

He placed Grogu down carefully and nodded towards Luke, accepting his fate. Grogu clutched onto Din's leg, not wanting to let go. His little mind was racing with wonder— why can't his daddy come with him? Why must he go alone? The erratic beeps of a white and blue astromech droid were what eventually tore the curious child from his father. Grogu waddled towards the droid and Luke picked him up.

No matter how hard he tried, Din couldn't seem to swallow the lump in his throat. Everything Din had done so far had led up to the moment, and he wanted to curse himself for letting it affect him this much. He should've been prepared. It's just, he really didn't think this would happen. He really didn't think Grogu would want to leave.

He didn't blame the child of course. He could never blame the child. He just wished he understood. Just before the doors to the elevator closed, Luke spoke up. Unfazed, unbroken. "May the force be with you." he wished. Din ignored the comment. It meant nothing to him. Nothing meant anything anymore. No meaning, no purpose. Luke tapped the key that would shut the doors and Din offered his son once last nod, trying his hardest to break out an impossible smile. When the doors finally closed, Din let out a choked sob and fell to his knees.

You sprinted over to Din, kneeling down and pulling him into you. He cried, hot salty tears falling from his brown eyes and dripping down his face. You pulled his head into your lap and smoothed out his hair trying your hardest to lull him. But you couldn't. You couldn't even bring yourself to comfort him. Your shoulders curled in and you fell limp, whimpering into his hair. You felt completely broken. Grogu was like a son to you, and you cherished him so very much. You couldn't even imagine how Din was feeling.

His little family was no more but he knew that Grogu was going to go on to do bigger and better things. No matter what, Grogu was going to make Din proud.

[aro-is-gay-af]

Slavic Names in Twilight | Meta

This post is going to be long, so if you don’t have time, I advise you to come back here later (or not come back at all, up to you).

Honestly, I have no words for Smeyer anymore. I, probably like most of us, read the books while being an adolescent. When I was 12 I didn’t see a lot of things that happened to be in the books and were:  a) misogynistic  b) sexist c) abusive d) racist and that the story itself was bound to Mormons (sick!). 

If you want to read about it a little bit more I strongly recommend this post by @stregoni-benefici​ and @carlislesscarf​ 

This post isn’t going to be about how Smeyer treated The Quileute Tribe, indigenous people, people of color or women. This post is going to be about how lazy Smeyer exactly was while creating this story and how her prejudices influenced and created false image of yet another culture. 

Why am I making such a fuss because of this? A few days ago I was reading something about Garrett on Twilight Wiki page. By sheer luck, I clicked on Kate’s character and, what I saw there, outraged me to the point where I needed a little while to calm myself. 

I was 12 when I first read the books. I never bought official twilight guide, I only used Twilight Wiki to keep myself up to date. I clicked on Kate’s character and saw that she hails from Slovakia. Forgive my utter confusion, when I remembered other sisters’ names. Tanya and Irina. Also, Kate was created by Sasha, who also created Vasilli (an immortal child), which is why she was executed in the first place. 

While the story is charming, WHY THE FUCK DO THEY HAVE SUCH NAMES?! 

To understand my rage, I need to elucidate the matter a little bit for all of you. This will be the historical part. 

According to Twilight Wiki, Sasha was changed before 1000 AD. Then, she created Tanya, and not very long after, Kate and Irina. And now. What were the historical odds while it happened? 

Before 1000 AD, Slovakia wasn’t Slovakia but Great Moravia. Great Moravia lasted about a century - the time span here is approximately circa 820 AD to 906 AD. When Great Moravia no longer existed, territory was taken by Hungarians (Magyar tribes also referred to as Hungarian clans) and the development of future Kingdom of Hungary began. Then, around 1000-1001, King Stephan was crowned as the first King of Hungary. Some elements from the former Great Moravia were acquired by The Kingdom of Hungary. 

King Stephen managed to establish eight counties within his kingdom. Around 1015 some territories of today-Slovakia were acquired by Boleslav I of Poland (later king of Poland), however, King Stephen managed to recapture the territories in 1018. Wikipedia isn’t consistent here - while on History of Slovakia we have these information, the History of Poland during the Piast dynasty says: 

From 1003 to 1004, Bolesław intervened militarily in Czech dynastic conflicts. After his forces were removed from Bohemia in 1018, Bolesław retained Moravia. 

and:

[translation here is mine as the site is in Polish] Between 1003 and 1025/1031 the lands of today's Slovakia were part of the Kingdom of Poland after being conquered by Bolesław Chrobry. The Polish-Hungarian Chronicle described that "The Polish borders stretched as far as the banks of the Danube, to the town of Ostříhomia, then to the town of Eger, and further to the river called Ciepla [Topl'a] as far as the town of Salis, and there the borders between Hungarians, Ruthenians and Poles ended". 

Than, probably around 1031 AD the territories were acquired back. King Stephen died and his kingdom fell into internal conflicts. Soon, in 1042 AD emperor Henry III mingled to acquire some lands for himself (he was the Holy Roman Emperor). Anyway, then came 1048 AD and that’s what happened: 

In 1048, King Andrew I of Hungary conceded one-third of his kingdom (Tercia pars regni) in appanage to his brother, Duke Béla. [...] During the following 60 years, the Tercia pars regni were governed separately by members of the Árpád dynasty. [...] The dukes accepted the kings' supremacy, but some of them (Béla, Géza and Álmos) rebelled against the king in order to acquire the crown and allied themselves with the rulers of the neighbouring countries (e.g., the Holy Roman Empire, Bohemia).

The history of the Tercia pars regni ended in 1107, when King Coloman of Hungary occupied its territories taking advantage of the pilgrimage of Duke Álmos (his brother) to the Holy Land. Although, Duke Álmos, when returned to the kingdom, tried to reoccupy his former duchy with the military assistance of Henry V, Holy Roman Emperor, but he failed and was obliged to accept the status quo. 

Source for the two quotes above. 

You may ask, why on Earth did I just present to you part of history of Slovakia, Poland and Hungary. Because I want you to understand how completely ridiculous and simultaneously offending are the names of characters that Smeyer gave within this coven.

History shows us that, even though, these times weren’t exactly peaceful, there wasn’t an ongoing war. We have Hungarian tribes and the part, when some territories were acquired by a Polish king. What I mean by that, is that probably names around 1000 AD varied as to where your family lived, what was your social status, and probably were influenced by newly adopted Christianity. It is more likely that people on this lands were named with names of Hungarian origin than Russian. And I still think the majority of names were of Slavic origin, only with some local variations going on. 

Now, a little bit of common knowledge. People who descend from Poland, Slovakia, Czech Republic and Hungary are best buddies for life, even if they never saw each other. We have mutual respect for these countries and for ourselves, as our history brought us together multiple times (bad times and good ones). Russia IS NOT a part of this “mutual respect pact”. Mostly due to events that happened during both World Wars (i.e. Katyń Massacre), as well as other ones (Partitions of Poland, Eastern Bloc - communism). 

Most of the names used by Smeyer are of Russian (or Greek, or Hebrew) origin. Not Slavic origin. And while Russia is also the part of Slavic languages, there’s a significant distinction between West Slavic Languages (Slovakian, Czech, Polish language), East Slavic Languages (Belarusian, Russian, Ukainian) and South Slavic Languages (i.e. Serbian, Croatian, Bulgarian). 

It makes difference to the point that if I go to Slovakia or Czech Republic I'm able to communicate with people in my native language (Polish) while they can answer me in their native language. Not everything is going to be the same but you're able to maintain a conversation mostly about every topic that you'd like to discuss. It isn't impossible to do so with Russian or Ukrainian but it's much harder and there are more differences, and sometimes you aren’t able to communicate this way. The same goes with i.e. Croatian or Bulgarian.

Don’t get me wrong, dear friends from Russia (if anyone from Russia will ever read this). I’m pissed off because even though Smeyer created not one, but four characters with SLOVAKIAN origin, she didn't use at least one name which fully originated in that territories (and probably was used) around 1000 AD. She went for Russian names because, sure, let's do that, there's no big difference anyway and it’s easier. To add to that, Smeyer used Russian names which are widely used NOWADAYS, not ones which were probably popular (or just used) thousand years ago. 

Now, quick briefing on very popular names from that time (c. 1000 AD) in Slovakia and Czech Republic. 

Here’s the full article on Slavic names.  

While some of these names are used today, some of them aren’t at all or are used in a different, more evolved form. 

Now, to the names of our characters. The most explainable and justified name here is Kate’s name. In Twilight Wiki we can find that her actual name was Katrina and that her preferable name now is Kate. Let’s see the origins of the name Kate. 

Full article here. 

While we can read that variations of that name in Czech are: “ Katka, Kateřina, Kačka, Káťa, Kačenka, Káča, Kačí, Kačena” and in Slovakian “Katka, Katarína” still the origins aren’t Slavic. 

Next, Irina. 

As Wikipedia says:

Irina is a feminine given name of Ancient Greek origin, commonly borne by followers of the Eastern Orthodox Church. It is derived from Eirene (Ancient Greek: Εἰρήνη), an ancient Greek goddess, personification of peace.

Diminutive forms in Slavic languages include Ira, Irinka, Irinushka, Irisha, Irka, Irochka, Irinochka.

Here, we also don’t have Slavic origin. While it’s better than with Kate’s name because origins here seem to hugely blend, the proper origin of Irina’s name is Ancient Greek. I will never believe that a peasant girl from around 1000 AD was named Irina.

Here’s the full article. 

Next, Vasilli. 

Wikipedia doesn’t say much, except it’s a RUSSIAN NAME with Greek origin.

Full article here. 

Now, finally, we’ve two names left. First, Sasha. 

Finally, first one, which has Slavic origin. And while this name has many variations in many languages, I don’t believe that anyone in Slovakia prior to 1000 AD would name their child Sasha. This name gained popularity in 1970s, and I believe that it would be used rather as diminutive of a name in 1000 AD than a name itself. 

Full article here. 

Last, but not least, Tanya. 

Here, also, it isn’t a full name. Full name is Tatiana, and Tanya, especially in Slavic it is used as a nickname implying intimacy with the person OR used for baby talk. 

Full article here. 

What’s my point here? Even though two of these five names are partially Slavic in origin, they sound like Russian names. Not Eastern Slavic in one fucking bit. Sure, Smeyer could do a simplification and say that, yeah, girls acquired other names as centuries passed. Agreed, even strongly. 

BUT

Smeyer never said anything like this. Also, I’m under the impression that this names were meant to sound Russian. And, people, don’t get me wrong, I really hold nothing against Russians, but because of doing such thing Smeyer has perpetuated certain patterns and beliefs that have become firmly established in US culture and West culture in general by now. 

No wonder why some people never distinguish between Russia, Slovakia, Poland, Czech Republic or Ukraine, or other countries from Easter Bloc. How can they, where in majority of mass media they’re taught that IT IS EXACTLY THE SAME THING. Why should they bother? 

I have many friends among Slovakian people. Slovakia is like a second home to me. I also have a few friends from Czech Republic. And before, I’ve never been bothered by this name thing because I was a child. Today I couldn’t be silent about it. 

It’s sad that another culture and fantastic history was just blended in with Russia because why not. I don’t understand why in Western movies or books all people from former Eastern Bloc need to be Russian. 

I am Polish and to me it’s just extremely sad. We (and I think I can count in here Slovakia, Czech Republic, Hungary, but also Croatia or Serbia) have fantastic culture and very long, eventful history. People from these countries are welcoming and share great hospitality. 

I don’t know why Smeyer did something like this, but I suppose it’s just a thing she does to everyone. Rip away their culture and pretend she didn’t do it. 

I am grateful that this fandom is a lot wiser than the creator of the books. This is what I said in the beginning of this post. Smeyer could’ve gone to library and read a little about the history and the names. I mean, If she didn’t found it on the Internet, because it was 2006, I believe, so she could research it. If there was nothing on the Internet, I’m sure a library would do. 

She did a poor research or didn’t do it at all. And that’s what happened. Was it worth it? I don’t think so. 

***

Everyone, please, comment, but be kind to each other (and to me xd). I wrote what I felt. As I’ve told you already, I’m Polish and I really felt that I should write this meta/disclaimer from a point of view of a person who lives in Slavic-origined country and has many Slavic-origined friends.

I still feel triggered because of this. Reblog this so others could see and say what they think. 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Reminiscing // Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: In a rare moment of peace, you find yourself thinking back over the centuries shared with the one you love.

A/N: I AM A FOOL FOR ELIJAH MIKAELSON. My taglist is open for The Originals - if you would like to be added, let me know!!

Warnings: fluff, history, established relationship, vampires, mentions of blood and death, mourning and grief, female pronouns, use of ‘wife’, dialogue heavy.

Word count: 1.8k

The house was quiet.

A rare occurrence in the Mikaelson household, but for first time in the months, the house was quiet. There was so furious shouting from Klaus, there was no attempts at mediation from Elijah. It was all quiet, and it was all peaceful.

When such a thing happened, it was very much the time to take hold of the rarity with both hands, gripping onto it for dear life in the hopes that the peace and quiet does not end too soon.

You sit in the library; finally put back together after one of Klaus’ anger fits. The books line the shelves in the correct order; a painstaking task you had completed after Klaus had apologised to you, knowing how much you cared for the almanacs and folios hidden away in the priceless Mikaelson collection.

The chair you had chosen to sit in was one that had come with you from the continent when the family had first settled in New Orleans. You had found it at a markets, immediately buying it and having it brought home with you that very day. Elijah had said nothing, indulging you with a roll of his eyes and a kiss to your lips. He very rarely argued with you, knowing that more often than not, you would have been right to make such a purchase.

The photo album remains open on your lap as you stare down at the images stuck to the pages. Time had aged the album; the pages becoming worn at the corners and browning further with each passing year.

This was the first album you had picked up; knowing it had the most pictures of the family in it. In particular, this album was home to perhaps your favourite photograph of yourself and Elijah. It had been taken spontaneously; unaware that a photographer even stood close by. Your bodies are angled towards each other as if each other’s true north. Elijah’s expression is soft as he glances down at you; the beginnings of a smile poking at the corners of his mouth as he readies himself to laugh at whatever you might have been saying in that moment. His hand rests delicately on your waist as your face is turned upwards; your eyes shining brightly as your hands gesture wildly, punctuating your story.

Footsteps sounding bring you out of your reminiscing. Instead, you greet the subject of the photo, smiling widely at your husband as he enters the library, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored shirt.

“I knew I would find you here,” Elijah comments, a hand brushing over your shoulder and the back of your neck as he walks past you.

“I’m making sure Klaus doesn’t take out his anger on anymore of the family collection.”

Elijah chuckles, “I don’t think that will happen again. He’s too scared of your reaction.”

“As he should be,” You declare, puffin out your chest proudly at the fact that the hybrid would be too scared to even touch the precious books and histories housed in this very room.

“The Great War?” Elijah asks, pointing to the album in your lap, not expecting an answer. He reaches for the photo album, beginning to flick through the pages as he wanders around the room. “My dear, whatever brought this on?”

“It’s been so peaceful recently. I wanted to take a moment to remember.”

“To remember?”

“Our past, my love. We have been together for over a thousand years, married for just short of that. I wanted to remember the peace.”

Elijah doesn’t answer. He simply watches you, watches the emotions flit over your face as you communicate your feelings. The last few months haven’t been easy on anyone in the Mikaelson family; the permanent target on your backs making it hard to live everyday life. Klaus continuing to make enemies left, right and centre didn’t help the matter either.

A thousand years. A thousand years he has loved you; has never loved anyone but you. His life prior to being a vampire flashes before him; a strong man, destined for great and noble things and completely in love with you – kind and caring. The relationship happened quickly, but the both of you knew that your eternities were intertwined. The curse put on him by his mother perhaps made him more selfish of all; turning you to ensure your eternities would always remain intertwined.

“Why the Great War?” He finally asks after a moment of silence.

“It was the first time we got our hands on a camera. We had seen them before, in France, but this was the first time we had owned one.”

“Rebekah loved it. She was forever posing in some ostentatious dress.”

You chuckle, your body warming at the obvious fondness in Elijah’s voice. He would berate her fashion sense, but he would never speak ill of his beloved little sister.

“Do you remember the summer we spent in England? It had to have been 1812 or 1813?”

“And you let Rebekah promenade for the season?” You start to giggle, “She had so many suitors! I have never seen Klaus so mad!”

“It wasn’t just Niklaus,” Elijah recalls, “I had so many angry missives from mothers who wanted to marry their daughters off that season but couldn’t because of Rebekah.”

You snort, remembering the empire waists of those months spent in London. The weather had been particularly wonderful that year; the sun continuing to shine for days on end. More time had been dedicated to walks in the park than they had been to being cooped up inside. Whilst the fashion of the time could be debatable, the company of your husband was very much desired.

“You were the diamond of that season, my love,” Elijah comments, bringing you back to the present.

You roll your eyes at the love of your eternal life, “You have to say that. I’m your wife.”

“What would you have me say?” Elijah asks, eyes bright with happiness, “As I recall Lady Earnshaw was particularly handsome that year too.”

“Lady Earnshaw!” You gasp.

“She loved me,” Elijah defends, holding a hand to his chest as if wounded by your words.

“Of course she did! You flirted with her every chance you got.”

“Jealous, my love?”

“Never,” You snort, remembering the aged face of the stubborn matriarch, “Lady Earnshaw was a day over eighty if I ever remember her.”

Silence descends over the both of you; memories of a past once thought long forgotten now washing over you. There was much to think of when one has lived for over a thousand years. The first few months after your transition were blurry; the pangs of hunger making your thirst practically insatiable – unable to think of anything but feeding. Yet, as you aged and found your place in society on Elijah’s arm and in his heart, your memories become refined – punctuated with moments of joy and pangs of heartbreak.

It had not been an easy existence. Family’s often fallout and Klaus had no qualms about punishing his siblings. However, in and amongst those dreaded recollections were rare moments of peace. Moments that were sought after and savoured; relished by every member of the Mikaelson family.

“Do you remember the sixteenth century?” You ask, mind faraway in the past.

Tudor England had been where you were happiest. You loved New Orleans, adored the culture and the people that came along with it, but Tudor England had its charms as well. For the millennia that you had been walking the earth, you had always found home in Elijah, knowing that he would be with you for an eternity and more. Yet, Tudor England had a hold on you. Having to leave the court of Henry and not return until Elizabeth had been crowned; it had been the longest decade of your immortal life.

“How could I forget?” Elijah laughs, “You have our miniatures in your bedside table.”

“Nicholas Hilliard was a dear friend,” You admonish thinking of the artist with great fondness.

“Queen Elizabeth I was never my biggest fan, was she?”

“You did take her sugared violets away from her,” You remind him, a smile in your voice as you remember the anger in the monarch’s voice once she realised who had in fact stolen her precious sweets.

“Her teeth had rotted away completely!” Elijah protests, throwing his arms wide as he defends his actions from centuries ago.

“So what would more sugar do? She had already lost her teeth, love. As I recall, her breath wasn’t all too pleasant.”

Elijah grins, remembering your pinched expression every time the monarch sought your attention, “You were her favourite.”

You shrug effortlessly, lifting a single shoulder. “I can’t help that she had good taste.”

“You wound me, love,” Elijah moans, smiling widely. His playful side came out rarely, but when it did, it was a treat for those nearby.

“You also refused to call her Elizabeth,” You continue, ignoring Elijah’s noise of protest, “You would call her ‘Betty’.”

“She didn’t mind the name when I was in her father’s court. I still argue to this day that I didn’t deserve her shoe being thrown in my face when I let her nickname slip out of fondness.” Elijah argues, crossing his arms as he thinks back to the small redheaded child he had first encountered almost five hundred years ago.

“She wasn’t the Queen then, darling. She was five years old and in need of a mother.”

“You were wonderful as her closest confidant. She thought of you as her mother.” Elijah comments quietly; his mind still on the small child of five – bright red hair combined with a wide smile. Elizabeth had become attached to both you and Elijah; finding adoptive parents in both of you when you showed her the smallest of attentions. It was hard to say no to such a child.

“It broke my heart to leave her,” You reply, your non-beating heart lurching at the memory of not only the tearful teenager, beginning to question why you hadn’t aged, but also of the weary monarch. Elizabeth had been very ill at the end, and you had refused to leave her. Ignoring the wishes of your husband and your family, staying with her until the end.

“I know it did,” Elijah murmurs, his hand seeking yours as he sits down next to you. “You were solemn for months, nothing I did could bring you round.”

“I had to mourn, Elijah.”

Elijah brings your hand to his lips where he kisses the back of it before kissing your knuckles. He keeps your hand close to his mouth as he whispers, “I know.”

You sigh, “It has been a life of mourning, hasn’t it? Time passes and yet I remember every death.”

“You’re not alone, my love.”

You turn to him, a soft smile gracing your lips. “I know. I have you for it all, don’t I?”

“Always and forever,” Elijah quotes, pressing your hand to his chest, holding it above the heart that would never again beat but continues to love you just as fiercely as it had when it beat its familiar rhythm.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Episode Spotlight: M*A*S*H, Season 1, Episode 17: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet

Frank Burns throws his back out and applies for a Purple Heart.  Meanwhile, Hawkeye Pierce meets, and later operates on, an old friend and struggles with the decision of whether or not to send an underaged soldier home.

More than halfway through season 1, M*A*S*H wasn’t exactly killing in the ratings.  The show wasn’t quite sure of itself yet, with tons of recurring characters that would end up dropped and other characters not yet added to the main cast.  Airing at eight o’clock on Sunday nights, M*A*S*H was, at this stage in the game, a relatively normal sitcom, albeit one with a bit sharper sense of humor.

That all changed with Sometimes You Hear the Bullet.

I’ll show you what I mean.

The episode starts humorously enough: Major Frank Burns throws his back out during a rendezvous with Major Houlihan.  He is placed into traction, where he applies for a Purple Heart for his ‘injury’.  Meanwhile, Hawkeye is visited by an old friend and kindred irreverent spirit: Corporal Tommy Gillis, a journalist who signed up for the front lines as he writes his book: You Never Hear the Bullet, a book meant to be written from a soldier’s point of view, instead of a reporter’s.

A helicopter full of wounded arrive at the unit, and Gillis returns to his post.

Among the wounded is a young man with a burst appendix, a Private Wendell Petersen, who is very anxious to get back to the front lines.  Hawkeye tells him that he has to rest for a few days before returning to his unit.  This doesn’t stop Wendell from attempting to steal an army jeep to try to get back, afraid that he was going to be sent home.

After talking with him, Hawkeye figures out the truth: Wendell Petersen is actually Walter Peterson, and he’s not even sixteen years old.

It turns out that Walter posed as his brother, Wendell, and entered the war to impress his girlfriend back home by returning with a medal.  He begs Hawkeye to keep his secret, and, after returning him to his bed, Hawkeye agrees.

Shortly, more wounded arrive, and among them is Tommy Gillis.  Hawkeye operates on him, but even his best is not enough, and he dies on the operating table after telling Hawkeye that he did hear the bullet.  Hawkeye tries to revive him, but Colonel Henry Blake orders him to move on to save another life.

Afterwards, Hawkeye breaks down crying.

“Henry, I know why I’m crying now. Tommy was my friend, and I watched him die, and I’m crying. I’ve watched guys die almost every day. Why didn’t I ever cry for them?”

“Because you’re a doctor.”

Hawkeye asks what that means, and Henry answers with one of the greatest lines in the show’s history.

“I don’t know. If I had the answer, I’d be at the Mayo Clinic. Does this place look like the Mayo Clinic? Look, all I know is what they taught me at command school. There are certain rules about a war. And rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is, doctors can’t change rule number one.”

Right then and there, Hawkeye decides to change rule number one in some small way, and calls the MPs on Private Wendell, really Walter, outing the fact that he’s underage.  Walter, outraged, tells Hawkeye that he’ll never forgive Hawkeye for the rest of his life.

Hawkeye replies: “Let’s hope it’s a long and healthy hate.”

In one final scene (one that’s usually cut from syndication), Henry Blake begins to present Frank with his Purple Heart, only to find it replaced with a purple earring, while outside, Hawkeye pins the Purple Heart on Walter to make up for turning him in, sending him home, but home a hero.

The end.

Sometimes You Hear the Bullet is considered one of M*A*S*H’s best episodes for a reason.  This is an early episode, one that is regarded as a tone and trend setter for the rest of the series in terms of both storyline balance (one or two serious plotlines, one humorous), and content itself, one of the first episodes to sit down and truly explore the characters within this tragic situation.  At this moment, M*A*S*H ceased being a comedy show and became a dramedy, with one of the most memorable moments and exchanges in the show’s long history.

While this episode may seem like a standard half-hour of television, at the time, especially for this show, it was something different.  It was no longer a slapstick grittier Hogan’s Heroesque irreverent comedy about soldiers, it was a show about a group of people stuck in the middle of a war, with death all around them.  And no matter how good Hawkeye, or any of the doctors, are at their jobs, they’ll never be able to save everyone.

It’s sobering, but it’s a truth that the show had, for the first time, truly explored, and it’s that initial exploration, that glimmer of what this show was going to become, that puts this episode under so much recognition: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet was the warning sign, the first moment that the writers got a handle on the show that would become a classic.

Of course, it has it’s problems.  

Not tonal ones, at least, not exactly.  Throughout its entire run, M*A*S*H often had two or three plots going, one serious, one humorous.  This is a smart strategy: balance out the dark with the light, giving each episode a more even feeling instead of being too much one or the other.  Although the show would get darker and more serious as time went on, the writers never abandoned this plan, allowing M*A*S*H to remain a consistent dramedy throughout the show’s run, keeping the audience laughing and crying at the same time.

In the case of Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, the ‘funny’ subplot is obvious: Frank Burns and his Purple Heart.  The other two storylines are the serious ones: Hawkeye’s friend, as well as the underaged soldier.  However, in most cases, as in this one, these plotlines inevitably intersect, and it’s here that this particular episode might cause a few problems.

I mentioned that the final scene in the episode is typically cut from syndication: the sequence where Frank’s purple heart is stolen and given to the underaged soldier, instead.  While this scene may not, at first, seem inherently out of place within the context of the rest of the episode, swinging from comedy to drama within a minute, there are those who believe that this scene unintentionally undermines the rest of the episode, or the main thrust established a few moments earlier.

And those people aren’t exactly wrong.

I certainly agree that the episode would have been stronger had it ended with the soldier’s final interaction with Hawkeye been proclaiming his hatred, only for Hawkeye to soberly respond that he hopes it’s a long and healthy hate.  Changing that to this new ending, where Hawkeye sends him home with a medal, seems almost out of character for Hawkeye, taking away some of the sincerity and severity of the message just a moment earlier.  The idea that this soldier could bring himself to forgive Hawkeye so soon, before realizing what exactly he’d been saved from, seems a little disingenuous after the weight previously given to this subplot.

In later episodes, it’s possible, even probable that this episode wouldn’t have ended tied in such a neat bow.  But that’s one of the things that’s so interesting about this episode.

Sometimes You Hear the Bullet isn’t the first episode of ‘true’ M*A*S*H as it would be remembered in the future, but it is the first episode where M*A*S*H comes into its own themes, looking hard at war, and the toll it takes not only on the soldiers, but on the surgeons, as well.  Before this, for the most part, ‘characters’, friends of the cast, did not die on the operating table.  Not when Hawkeye could save him.

But I’m going to quote Hawkeye from another season 1 M*A*S*H episode, Yankee Doodle Doctor, as I think that it sums up this the point of this episode pretty well:

“Three hours ago, this man was in a battle. Two hours ago, we operated on him. He’s got a 50-50 chance. We win some, we lose some. That’s what it’s all about. No promises. No guaranteed survival. No saints in surgical garb. Our willingness, our experience, our technique are not enough. Guns, and bombs, and anti-personnel mines have more power to take life than we have to preserve it. Not a very happy ending for a movie. But then, no war is a movie.”

That right there is the point of Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, to the point where the doomed Tommy Gillis even references the film tropes of a young, fresh-faced kid hearing the bullet that kills him.  This is the message that Hawkeye must grapple with: he cannot save everyone.

No matter how much he knows, how good he is, he can never save everyone.  No guaranteed survival.

It’s sobering, but it’s the truth.  And it’s what makes this episode so memorable.

M*A*S*H at this point was still mostly a comedy, a series full of jokes and the occasional serious moment, and it would continue to be so for another few years.  But it was this episode, episode seventeen of the first season, that signaled to audiences that this show could be more than that.  It could make you laugh, sure, but it could make you cry, and it wasn’t that surprising: this was war.

In short: by itself, is Sometimes You Hear the Bullet one of the greatest episodes of television, or even M*A*S*H, ever written?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But what it is, without much doubt, is the first sign of maturity in a show that had a lot of growing up to do.

Whether the shift was instantaneous or not, the fact is, Sometimes You Hear the Bullet was a game changer in the show’s history, the first break in format that truly showed audiences what they could expect in the years ahead.

On top of that?  It’s just a good episode.

The plot balance is decent, without too much mood-whiplash that could so easily occur in a war dramedy.  The characters, decently familiar to audiences by now, all work off of each other just as well as ever, funny, interesting, and heartfelt in turn.  It’s an example of early M*A*S*H at it’s best, overshadowing many first season episodes with a level of depth previously mostly unexplored, delivering on every scene and remaining mostly genuine.  It’s an engaging episode, full of memorable moments that are thoughtful and earnest, making this episode a standout, a moment in television history, and an unmissable installment for avid watchers of M*A*SH, and television fans in general.

Don’t forget that the comment box is always open for anything from suggestions and discussion ideas to questions and conversations!  Thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope to see you guys in the next article.

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Dracula helped you out of the coffin and held you close in his arms, not wanting to ever let you go again.

"Vlad, I was so scared." You told him, pressing your face into his chest.

"Me too." He said, stroking your hair. So he was right after all. You were Maria. You had finally come back to him at last.

You still felt weak and held on to Dracula for support. Not only did you feel weak, but you felt... different. You didn't know what it was, but it was like all your senses were maxed out. It was so overwhelming. There was also this new scent that you discovered. It smelled delicious, but what was it? You wondered looking around trying to find the source.

"What did you mean that you remember everything?" Van Helsing asked, concerned for you.

You faced him, realizing just where that smell was coming from. Your eyes shined bright red, an intense hunger in them...hunger for blood. Normally you would have been repelled by such a thing, but right now you needed it more than ever. Van Helsing watched you nervously as you inched toward him.

"Y/N?" He said nervously backing away, but you did not answer. All you could think about was his blood, the taste of it on your lips. Dracula noticing your odd behavior, grabbed you by your shoulders and held you back. Why? He did not know. He had wanted to kill Van Helsing himself earlier. Perhaps he was trying to prevent you from doing something you would regret.

You squirmed, trying to wriggle free, but Dracula held you firmly in place. "Let me go!" You hissed at him, revealing for the first time your fresh new set of fangs. Van Helsing stared at you wide eyed. What had he done? You were no longer the sweet, brave, and kind Y/N, you were now a monster. He should never have let Dracula turn you. But then you would be dead...looking at you now, maybe it would have been better that way. He just lost it in a moment of grief.

"Calm down, darling." Dracula spoke in a soft voice, trying to soothe you. "You will feed soon, I promise."

Van Helsing glanced up at him. "What do you mean?" 

"She is in a very crucial time right now. She needs to feed." Dracula urgently explained to him.

"So what will you do, go kill another innocent person?" He asked, raising his voice.

"We have no choice."

Van Helsing sighed. "Then she can have some of mine."

"That is not necessary, Doctor Van Helsing." He refused.

"Yes it is. I won't have you or her killing anyone else. I'll run into town and get my supplies. I'll be back soon." He said, buttoning up his coat, turning to leave.

"Henry, take the coach if it's still there and take him home." Dracula ordered. Henry nodded and promptly followed Van Helsing out.

A few minutes later the tapping of horseshoes against the ground could be heard as they disappeared into the night leaving you and Dracula alone. You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh, then looked up at him.

"Is that what it's like for you all the time?" You asked, now realizing how difficult life was for him. How tempting it was to feed on human blood. Even now with no mortals around, you desired it. Dracula simply nodded. "It's horrible...I can't believe I wanted to...to..." You winced at the thought of hurting, maybe even killing Lawrence. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you close.

"Come, let's wait for them upstairs." Dracula said, guiding you from the dungeons and up the stairs. When you reached the entry hall your mouth fell open in shock. This was the first time you had seen the castle in ruins. You felt a very intense anger. How dare the townspeople do this to your home, to Dracula's home!

"What do we do Vlad?" You ask, looking around. He squeezed your shoulder and replied, "We'll find some place else. Anywhere is home as long as I have you."

As you waited for Van Helsing to return, your mind wandered. You thought about how strange fate was. In your previous life you were married to Dracula and Van Helsing was his power hungry step-brother who killed you. In this life you were Van Helsing's friend who ultimately reunited you with your lover.

"What's wrong?" Dracula asked, noticing how quiet you had become.

"I was just thinking. What happened after...after I died all those years ago?" You asked. Dracula knew this question was inevitable now.

"Well, Van Helsing fled and joined the Turks. Soon after, we went to war and I was killed during one of the battles. As I lay there dying from my wounds, the devil appeared to me. I sold my soul and in return I would have my revenge on the Van Helsings." He told you.

"That's when you became one of the living dead?" You asked. He nodded. "But Lawrence doesn't know about any of that. He told me he wanted to get rid of you because he thought you were a threat to humanity."

"He's right. I am." He admitted. "I didn't care how many lives I took. How much blood I spilled. None of them mattered as long as I didn't have you. I was just as ruthless in life as I am in death."

"And now?"

He paused for a moment, thinking. "I don't know..."

Suddenly, from out of the wreckage you heard some rustling followed by a series of painful moans. Dracula pushed you behind him ready to attack whatever it was. From beneath the debris, a man crawled out. He was covered in dirt and blood, the smell instantly flooded your nostrils. "H-help me..." The man pleaded as he slowly pulled himself across the floor. Dracula looked over at you and saw the hunger return in your eyes and how you licked your lips, desperate for just a little taste. He didn't want to admit how turned on he was by this. He smiled and stepped aside, letting you pass. He wasn't about to let you miss out on your first meal.

Your eyes were fixed on the man before you, like a predator staring down it's prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

"I'll help you." You lied, your voice sounding menacing.

"Oh, thank you I-" He peered up at you and saw what you had become and let out a blood curdling scream. "Nonnnoo! Please!" He cried, cowering away, but you didn't hear him. You were focused on one thing. You grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off the ground making him eye-level with you. You hesitated for a moment. You knew you shouldnt. That this was bad, but he did try to kill you and your love after all. He deserved it. Your mouth was practically watering as the sound of his pulse pounded against your eardrums. Dracula stood behind you and whispered in your ear, "Do it." Before the man could utter another plea for mercy, you sunk your fangs deep into his neck. His blood dripped down your lips and chin as you sucked every last drop from his body. Dracula wanted you now more than ever. You moaned and threw your head back enjoying the taste of blood as it ran down your throat. Once you were finished, you tossed the corpse back into the rubble he crawled out of.

"How do you feel now?" Dracula asked, eyeing you lustfully. You grinned at him. "Much better, darling." You answered in a husky voice, running your finger under his chin. Unable to resist you a moment longer, he twirled you around and pressed you flush against him. Leaning down he licked some of the blood from your lips, then he roughly pressed his mouth on yours. He could still taste the blood as he slipped his tongue inside. It drove him mad. You couldn't help but let out a moan when he suddenly nipped your bottom lip as he pulled away. You both stared longingly into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity.

You went to kiss him again, but were interupted when Henry and Van Helsing returned.

"Y/N! What have you done?!" He exclaimed noticing the fresh blood around your lips, running towards you. He looked down at the man's lifeless body, a horrified expression on his face. "You killed him..."

"What of it?" Dracula sneered.

"Don't you understand? She killed an innocent man!" He yelled.

"He wasn't so innocent when he tried to kill us." You quickly pointed out.

"Y/N, why? I thought you were better than this." 

"I guess I'm not who you thought I was." You said coldly. Van Helsing felt his heart break again at how much you changed. He wanted to take you far away from here, far away from Dracula. To try to find a way to get his Y/N back. He'd rather you be dead than live out eternity like this...Van Helsing sighed. He had no other choice. He had to kill you and Dracula before it was too late.

"I guess not." He agreed. "There's nothing more I can do if this is the life you've chosen. I'm leaving for London tomorrow." Dracula eyed him suspiciously. Was he really willing to just leave you alone? To just ignore the fact that you might kill again. Did he really care for you that much?

"Will I ever see you again?" You asked, still wishing to remain friends. Even though his ancestor had murdered you in your past life you didn't hold it against Lawrence. He was different.

"No, I don't think so." He replied, looking away.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said sadly, but you understood.

"I am as well." Van Helsing said. You pulled away from Dracula and went over to your friend, pulling him into a hug. Why did you have to do that? He thought. It only made things more difficult for him. He knew the real you was still in there somewhere, but the vampire took her place leaving a shell of what you once were. You placed a quick peck on his cheek and backed away.

"Goodbye, Y/N." He said, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see you alive, knowing that when the sun came up it was up to him to end your damned existence. He turned and left without another word.

Dracula felt your distress and wrapped you in his arms in a comforting embrace. It was getting close to dawn now. He needed to find you a coffin before daylight broke. So, after he knew you were alright he left with Henry to the local cemetery to find you a coffin.

You wandered the castle ruins thinking about Lawrence. He had been your only friend in the world till now. No one else had stopped to give you a second thought, but he did. He was there for you when no one else was. At one point before you came to Transylvania, you thought you loved him, but he was too involved in his work. His work was his ultimate passion, and you knew you couldn't compete, so you never did. You sometimes wondered what it would be like if you had chosen a life with Van Helsing. Would you be a silly little domestic couple with a house and kids? It was an amusing thought, but neither of you were the type.

Finally, Dracula and Henry returned a little while later carrying a coffin. It wasnt anything fancy, but it would do. Perhaps later, you could get a better one. Sunlight started peeking in through the windows as they hurriedly carried it into the dungeons, placing your coffin beside Dracula's.

"Too bad they don't make couple's coffins." You joked.

"Maybe we could have one made." He teased, kissing your neck where he had bitten you, making you shudder. "I love you." You said softly running your fingers through his hair.

"I love you too." It was so pleasant to hear him utter those words. You wanted to hear him say it again and again.

"Sleep well, darling." You said with a yawn, as you lay down suddenly feeling tired. You took one last look at him before shutting the lid. This wasn't an ideal lifestyle, but you loved him and that's all that mattered.

The sun rose into the sky and the birds began to sing their morning song. It would have been a beautiful day if it not had been for the task that Van Helsing had set out to do. He crept back inside the castle, bag in hand, being careful not wanting to draw attention to himself. He stood in the doorway to the dungeons, contemplating his next move. His chest was heavy as the thought about driving a stake into your heart. But he had to do it. He slowly opened the door and walked inside, and down the flight of stairs to the room where Dracula's coffin had been earlier. Now he noticed, that there were two coffins lying side by side, one belonging to you.

He reached inside his bag and pulled out a hammer and a couple of stakes. Van Helsing strode over to your coffin and pulled open the lid. Inside, you lay looking peaceful and content, a small smile on your face. If only it didn't have to be this way...

He pressed the stake between your breasts and raised the hammer high into the air, ready to strike. But he couldn't. The longer he stared down into your beautiful face, the harder it became to do it. He closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look at you...But he just couldnt. Why was this so difficult?

Suddenly, a voice shouted out behind him startling him. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Henry shouted, running at him, tackling him to the ground.

"Stop!" Lawrence yelled, shoving Henry off of him. Not listening, Henry raised his fist and slammed it into the side of Van Helsing's face, quickly tearing the stake and hammer out of his grasp.

He shook his head, feeling dazed for a moment.

"How could you do that?! I thought you wanted her alive?!" Henry asked throwing away his weapons across the room.

"I did, but after seeing what she has become I couldnt let her live like that...but I can't do it. I can't release her from this curse....It's all my fault." Van Helsing sobbed, his head throbbing. This is why he never let anyone get close to him in the first place. He had only himself to blame for this. There had to be another way and he was going to find it by any means necessary.

[luthienne]

Hi dear, do you have any good words on emotional courage?

hi my love, you can check out this post and this post; here are a few more:

“I know a lot about pain… and I know it is bad for people, eats away the spirit, but how about courage, what is it for if not to use when needed?”

Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters 

“This is in the end the only kind of courage that is required of us: the courage to face the strangest, most unusual, most inexplicable experiences that can meet us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet 

“You don’t realize it, perhaps, but you are turning these delusions and illusions of the past into criminal things. Relinquish everything. Stay in bed until you feel so shock full of energy, hope, courage that you bounce out of abed. You can only aid the world–if you still believe the world needs our individual aid–by retaining your faith in life. Your body may be weak, but I know you still have wings.”

Henry Miller, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller

“I… want to inherit the witch in my women ancestors—the willfulness, the passion, ay, the passion where all good art comes from as women, the perseverance, the survivor skills, the courage, the strength of las mujeres bravas, peleoneras, necias, berrrinchudas. I want to be una brava, una peleonera, necia, nerrinchuda. I want to be bad if bad means I must go against society—el Papá, el Pápa, the boyfriend, lover, husband, girlfriend, comadres—and listen to my own heart, that incredible witch’s broom that will take me where I need to go.”

Sandra Cisneros, A House of My Own

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”

Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

“In the winter I am writing about, there was much darkness. Darkness of nature, darkness of event, darkness of the spirit. The sprawling darkness of not knowing. We speak of the light of reason. I would speak here of the darkness of the world, and the light of———. But I don’t know what to call it. Maybe hope. Maybe faith, but not a shaped faith—only, say, a gesture, or a continuum of gestures. But probably it is closer to hope, that is more active, and far messier than faith must be. Faith, as I imagine it, is tensile, and cool, and has no need of words. Hope, I know is a fighter and a screamer.”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“There is always some miracle left; and though miracles do not happen, they might happen. Who knows? Perhaps our intelligence, our instinct, our senses, in spite of their daylight clearness, are leading us astray. Perhaps the one thing needful is just that unreasoning courage which follows hope’s will-o’-the-wisp as it burns…”

Jens Peter Jacobsen, Niels Lyhne

“But if the deepest loss, […] / can be, not just survived, but made into the matter / of hope, made into song, not into a hatchet / to cut off the offending parts, made into poems / then blessed be the end of things, the loss of whatever / secures us blindly and mutely to our lives.”

Julia Alvarez, The Other Side/El Otro Lado

“I run / stumbling, expectant. / Impatience is hopelessly / desperate. Hope / takes time.”

Marie Ponsot, Springing: New and Selected Poems

“How lightly we learn to hold hope, / as if it were an animal that could turn around / and bite your hand. And still we carry it / the way a mother would, carefully, / from one day to the next.”

Danusha Laméris, The Moons of August

“Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”

Representative John Lewis

“Where does such a force come from? What does it mean? A voice very faint, and inside me, offers a possibility: how shall there be redemption and resurrection unless there has been a great sorrow? And isn’t struggle and rising the real work of our lives?”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“Don’t forget that apparent impossibility of something is the first sign of its naturalness—in a different world, obviously.

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Anatoly Steiger

“Grieve. Have / hope.”

Jorie Graham, Swarm

John Berryman, “The Heart is Strange”

“Skin had hope, that what’s skin does. / Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.”

Naomi Shihab Nye, “Two Countries”

“I am quite troubled in the depths of my soul. But that will pass,”

George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert

“Let’s dance a little before we go home to hell.”

Muriel Rukeyser, A Muriel Rukeyser Reader

Hélène Cixous, Hyperdream (tr. Beverly Bie Brahic)

“That most moments were substantially the same did not detract at all from the possibility that the next moment might be utterly different.”

Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

Ada Limón, “Dead Stars”

“Listen, everyone has a chance. Is it spring, is it morning? Are there trees near you, and does your own soul need comforting? Quick, then — open the door and fly on your heavy feet…”

Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

“Get to the bottom of this intensity and have faith in what is most horrible, instead of fighting it off—it reveals itself for those who can trust it, in spite of its overwhelming and dire appearance, as a kind of initiation. By way of loss, by way of such vast and immeasurable experiences of loss, we are quite powerfully introduced to the whole.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Countess Alexandrine Schwerin, June 16, 1922

“…only one thing is urgently needed: to attach oneself with unconditional purpose somewhere to nature, to what is strong, striving and bright, and to move forward without guile, even if that means in the least important, daily matters. Each time we tackle something with joy, each time we open our eyes toward a yet untouched distance we transform not only this and the next moment, but we also rearrange and gradually assimilate the past inside of us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Adelheid von der Marwitz, September 11, 1919

“Continue to believe that with your feeling and with your work you take part in what is the greatest. The more strongly you cultivate this belief inside of you, the more it will give rise to reality and world.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Elisabeth Freiin Schenk zu Schweinsberg, September 23, 1908

“…I have known with certainty that the worst things, and even despair, are only a kind of abundance and an onslaught of existence that one decision of the heart could turn into its opposite. Where things become truly difficult and unbearable, we find ourselves in a place already very close to its transformation.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Anita Forrer, February 14, 1920

“…he says, it will be all right.

“It is not the saying of an oracle or a prophet. They are words you might speak to a child ... and somehow I am comforted. He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive.”

Madeline Miller, Circe

“Right then she knows herself even less than she knows the sea. Her courage comes from not knowing herself, but going ahead nevertheless. Not knowing yourself is inevitable, and not knowing yourself demands courage.

Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories; “The Waters of the World”

“Recovery (which includes return and renewal of health) is a re-gaining—regaining of a clear view. I do not say “seeing things as they are” and involve myself with the philosophers, though I might venture to say “seeing things as we are (or were) meant to see them”—as things apart from ourselves. We need, in any case, to clean our windows; so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness. Of all faces those of our familiares are the ones both most difficult to play fantastic tricks with, and most difficult really to see with fresh attention, perceiving their likeness and unlikeness: that they are faces, and yet unique faces.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, from his essay On Fairy-Stories

Camille Norton, Corruption: Poems

“Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

“I have the fervour of myself for a presence / and my own spirit for light; / and my spirit with its loss / knows this; though small against the black, / small against the formless rocks, / hell must break before I am lost;”

H.D. from Collected Poems; “Eurydice”

Denise Levertov, “Epilogue”

“The days go numb, the wind / sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves. // Through the empty branches the sky remains. / It is what you have. / Be earth now, and evensong. / Be the ground lying under that sky. / Be modest now, like a thing / ripened until it is real…”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Rilke’s Book of Hours (tr. Anita Barrows, Joanna Macy)

“I know your sorrow and I know that for the likes of us there is not ease for the heart to be had from words of reason and that in the very assurance of sorrow’s fading there is more sorrow. So I offer you only my deeply affectionate and compassionate thoughts and wish for you only that the strange thing may never fail you, whatever it is, that gives us the strength to live on and on with our wounds.”

Samuel Beckett’s words of consolation to his friend, Alan Schneider

“What matters is not to allow my whole life to be dominated by what is going on inside me. That has to be kept subordinate one way or another. What I mean is: one must not let oneself be completely disabled by just one thing, however bad; don’t let it impede the great stream of life that flows through you. I have the feeling of something secret deep inside me that no one knows about.”

Etty Hillesum, from a diary entry featured in An Interrupted Life

“You have been told that, even like a chain, you are as weak as your weakest link. / This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link. / To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of the ocean by the frailty of its foam. / To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy.”

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

“Try to keep what is beautiful to you and what you can use for today and now — You must not let things you cannot help destroy you —”

Georgia O’Keeffe, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters

“What we love, shapely and pure, / is not to be held, / but to be believed in.”

Mary Oliver, from Evidence; “Swans”

“In time of the crises of the spirit, we are aware of all our need, our need for each other and our need for ourselves. We call up, with all the strength of summoning we have, our fullness. And then we turn; for it is a turning that we have prepared; and act. The time of turning may be very long. It may hardly exist.”

Muriel Rukeyser, from A Muriel Rukeyser Reader, “The Life of Poetry”

“To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” 

Howard Zinn, A Power Governments Cannot Suppress

“But don’t lose heart, dear ones—don’t lose heart. Don’t let it make you bitter. Try to understand. Try to understand. The world’s already bitter enough, we got to try to be better than the world.”

James Baldwin, from Another Country

“You do not have to be good. / You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. / You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. / Meanwhile, the world goes on.”

Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”

[fahhhhq]

Never Say Never - Parte Nona

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (Fem)

WaRnInGs: Fluffy fluff.

Summary: The connection you and Henry have is indescribable, but when it comes to getting close to someone, running is what you have always done best. Is being with Henry finally going to change the way you view love, or will you again run?

Thank You for reading, baby dolls🤍

If you want to read parts 1-8, click right hurr

P.s. sorry it’s kinda short. the next one(s) will be longer ;) 

***

            As you stand in front of the elevator at 4 in the morning, it suddenly daunts on you that you have nowhere to go. Sadness again consumes you and more tears spill from your eyes. You push the button to go down, but as you get into the elevator, you suddenly remember that you do have a room. You look inside your purse and find your key. You press your previous floor and suddenly you are there.

You are thankful your key still works. But when you enter the room, it feels empty and smaller. Henry’s presence was so intense, that not being with him was like falling into a deep pool and not being able to swim up. Being with him was being able to breathe.

The emptiness not only in the room but in your heart, make you sob harder. You pull the covers off the bed where you first made love to Henry and get in. The cold hitting you like a cold bucket of water, so you pull the covers over you.

You imagine Henry kissing your forehead and cuddling to you, but soon that fantasy vanishes, and you cry yourself to sleep.

*********

You wake up feeling Henry caressing your face, but soon realize that you were just dreaming. Your eyes feel heavy and crusty from so much crying. You look at the clock and you can barely see that its 1:20 p.m.

Your phone pings and it takes you out of your pity-party trance.

You check it and you have ten missed calls and a few text messages. All from Henry.

“Y/N, please answer me.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I need to know you’re ok.”

“I know a million things are going through your head, but I need to hear you.”

“I'm not ready for this to end, and I know you aren’t either.

A knot forms in your throat and your heart constricts. You had never had this intense feeling for someone, and it was not a sensation that you wanted to ever feel.

Henry mentioning that he did not want whatever you guys had going on to end gave you a little hope. But how would that work. He was a world-famous actor, and you were no one. How would that work? It would not.

With a heavy heart, you decide not to answer him. You put your phone face down on the nightstand and lay back down.

After spending a few more moments in bed looking outside, wishing you were spending the day with Henry and then feeling like shit, you decide to get up. You wash your body, and it feels like a blur. You try not to remember the time you and Henry took that amazing shower, so you shower in record time.

After changing and ordering food, you lay back down in bed and you feel a sense of loneliness that you’ve never really felt before. Henry had become more than a guy you had sex with, he had become a friend. In the past few days, you had laughed more than you had in a long time. You enjoyed spending every second with him, even when you were silent. You enjoyed being with Henry more than you enjoyed being by yourself. And that was saying a lot. It was not only the lust that you felt for him, or how handsome he was, it was that need to be with him, around him.

Your only fear was if he felt the same way.

And then you hear your phone ping again. Your stomach drops.

“Although I have had my heart broken many times, the pain I felt before is nothing compared to how my heart feels now. I cannot bare to lose you…”

It feels like your heart is actually aching. There’s a knot in your throat. Henry’s words hitting you like a bucket of ice-water. Making you think that maybe you weren't the only one that felt the way you did.

Then your phone pings again:

“I know you leave for Italy tomorrow, but I don’t want this to end… I want to spend more time with you. I'm not ready to say goodbye.”

Did he just say he wanted to go to Italy with you?

For some reason that scared the shit out of you, but at the same time, your heart was thrilled. What now, you think. What was keeping you from going to him and telling him that you did not want this to end either, that you wanted him to go to Italy with you.

Nothing.

Because you were fucking tired of running. You had been running from love for far too long, and Henry was definitely worth stopping for.  

Your stomach becomes invaded by butterflies when you get up from bed. You were doing this; you were going for it. You did not even change. You grab your key and your phone, put on your slippers, but when you check yourself in the mirror, you realize that your eyes are puffy, and your hair is sort of a mess. Fuck.

After you put some BB cream on your face and brush your hair a little, you are walking to the elevator. Your stomach in knots because you are already doubting yourself. Stop it, you say to yourself.

You arrive on his floor and slowly walk to his room because you realize that you are not sure if he’s still in the room. You stand outside his door, nervous, but decide to go for it. Knock, knock, knock. And the door flies open.

Henry’s beautiful eyes find yours. That chemistry going off like in the movies. Or at least that is how it felt for you. Your heart racing and the butterflies in your stomach ragging like if in a rave.

His curls disheveled, and his stubble darker. And that elegant nose, sharp jawline and graceful eyebrows making you weak because those are the parts that make him so perfect to you.

“Hi,” you finally say. He can hear the shyness in your voice.

“Hullo,” Henry responds in a husky and rich tone that grabs you by your neck.

“Can I come in?” you ask, worried that he might say no.

He frowns, “Of course,” he quickly says and opens the door wider.

When you pass by him you feel the heat radiating off of him. You had become so accustomed to it that you wanted to feel his heat on your skin again.

When you are inside the room you turn to him, his sapphire eyes cutting straight to yours with little hesitation and clearness, that you shiver all over. You see the fire and the passion that these past few days have burned you to the core it feels like its burning you all over.

And without a moment’s hesitation, Henry takes a few steps and sweeps you up in his arms. Your arms and legs automatically wrap around him. He squeezes you hard against him and then his soft lips find yours in a hurried manner. Like if you were both finally able to breathe. You both kiss each other like if you have not seen each other in a year.

When you part, you are breathless. You can already feel your lips swollen of the pressure both of you were kissing each other with. You grab the side of his face and look at him with sadness in your eyes, your lip trembling, “I'm sorry I left.”

“You came back, that’s all that matters,” He whispers in a low voice. With his thumb, Henry wipes away a tear you did not know had fallen. You feel embarrassed that he is seeing how much the thought of leaving him hurt you. But in the back of your mind, you know he feels the same way.

He lets you down but doesn’t let you go. “Don’t leave me again,” he says searching your eyes for something, not sure what.

With your arms still around his neck you say, “I’m done running. I’ve done it for so long, I'm tired.” You lean forward and lean your forehead against his shoulder, nestling his neck. But then you pull back and look straight into his baby-blues, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Henry’s strong brows knit together and places a hand on your jaw, his thumb on your lower lip, “Never.”

Your lip trembles, “Never say never…”

He places his forehead against yours and takes a deep breath, “This is the first time in my life where risking it all for a person is finally worth it.  I met you a few days ago and what I feel for you, I did not even feel it when I was engaged. So yes, when I tell you ‘never’, I mean never.”

Henry leans in and places a tender kiss on your lips. It sends a frisson down your body.

“So, it’s not just me that feels this?” you say quietly staring into his eyes.

He shakes his head. “Fuck no,” he smiles and you both chuckle happily.

***

Later, the two of you are curled up in bed watching television, laughing in unison to the funny parts and excited in the action scenes. Making you even happier of how much you have in common, and grateful that what do not have in common you actually appreciate.

“So, you want to go to Italy with me?” you ask when nothing important is happening. You turn in his arms and face him. You place your hand on his hairy chest and lightly massage.

Henry wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you more towards him, “If you’ll let me.”

You roll your eyes, “Duh. But I thought you said you had more press to do this week.”

“That’s right,” he thinks about it a little and then says, “What if you push your trip back a few days? I’ll pay for all the upgrades and the changes to your itinerary.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

Henry smiles tenderly, “Anything to go on this Vacation with you.”

“Ok,” you smile. “It’ll give me something to do.”

Henry presses his hand to the side of your face and then traces your lower lip, studying the surfaces of your face. Like you’ve done so many times to his.

“You’ve been to Italy before, no?” you asked.

He raises a brow and nods, “Mh-mmm, but only for press and to shoot some videos, but I haven’t really been to the places you have planned to visit. First time, I’m going as a true tourist.” He smiles gladly.

You grin, “So, what you're saying is that we’re both going to pop our cherries?”

Henry squeezes you ass and grins, “Oh, I'm going to pop your cherry in every town we visit.”

You press at his chest and raise a brow, “Sir, we’re going to a lot of towns, a month’s worth of towns.”

He gifts you a cheeky grin, “Oh, I know.” With a growl he leans in fast and burrows his face on your neck, biting it. You yelp and laugh, lightly pushing at his chest but wrapping a leg over his hip. He continues to growl and nibble, and you continue to act like its not a fucking turn on.

After more laughing and chatting, you both end the night with your arms still wrapped around each other. Like if letting go of you would be losing you again. But you did not want to leave again. For some reason, when he said that he did not want to lose you, ever, you believed him. Really believed him.

You couldn’t wait to travel with him, and you were as excited to continue to get to know him. You wanted to know everything about him and him about you.

They say if you really want to get to know a person, traveling is the best way. So, you knew Italy had something special in store for you.  

    Taggity Tags🤍: @tapismyforte​, @xxxkatxo​​, @stephartrave​, @summersong69​​, @viking-raider​​, @nie-die-richtigen-wortex​​, @omgkatinka, @babylooneytoonz​​, @thegirlnextdoorssister​​, @xoweebox​, @atomicpaperhairdouniversity​, @trashybrooke 

[ruby-whistler]

Srry but i noticed in one of ur dream posts u Referred to tommy's cat as hope. I must correct u, that cat was born pussbou and died pussboi. /lh Also tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile btw just wanna say Also for ur posts about dreams trauma or wilbur manipulating him can u provide links to vods or other proof? Srry if i seem rude i mean that in a "genuinely curious way"

Aaa sorry if my ask came off as rude im just genuinely curious :(((

hi! dw, you don't seem rude at all, and i'm extremely happy someone with a different perspective has found my blog! i really appreciate that sort of attitude and am happy to answer :]

/dsmp /rp

the cat was called pussboy by tommy, but dream only called it "the cat" and then said that "it was hope", which is why it sort of became a symbol (his hope is dead, basically) - that's why i kind of made its name capitalized, because it was more of a metaphor than anything.

most c!dream fans call the cat hope because it's just really nice and really symbolic, and also really sad when you think about it. that's why the name was used in the essay, just to clear up the confusion!

tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile

i don't really think so? mooshroom henry was entertainment more than anything, and even if it was bad, when watching the stream i don't remember seeing him mourn that much - on the other hand, dream was very quickly and very obviously attached to the cat, with it being his only companion in months of isolation, along with the hope that even when tommy left it would keep him company.

keep in mind c!dream has been deprived of stimuli and human contact for so long it's officially classified as psychological torture at that point.

i don't mean to compare trauma or even compare deaths - because honestly, what c!dream and c!tommy have gone through individually is incomparable and i think neither should be diminished in favor of the other since they're both terrible situations.

that's why i disagree that it "was nothing compared to" - it had an obvious effect on c!dream, and was still c!tommy killing an animal specifically to hurt him, no matter what reasons he had.

when i'm talking about effects people's actions have had on c!dream, i'm not talking about those people. i'm talking about him. :) /lh

as for the trauma, a lot of people agree that a lot of the things he says or does are trauma responses, and hence it's very possible that he's had trauma before he went into prison!

this includes being repeatedly called a tyrant via propaganda by about half of your friends who decided to betray you, trying to keep peace and being pushed deeper into villainy instead, repeatedly being put in between a rock and a hard place in order to make sure the people you care about don't start killing each other, then being betrayed by your closest friends after merely trying to keep peace (sapnap & george) and just in general having no control over your life or image and grasping at straws to gain it back.

i know a lot of people with trauma who heavily relate to certain trauma responses, which aren't always just shaky breaths and flashbacks, but trauma often also manifests itself in extremely ugly and destructive ways, both inwardly and outwardly.

trying to control the people around you is also very often a response to going through trauma, as well as emotional repression which is... rather evident on c!dream during season two. it only seems to get worse with repeated abandonment.

in the end, during the vault scene, the way he acts really just isn't at all the way a healthy person would act, and a lot of his really bad mindsets come from the way he was taught by the world around him.

the character is very reserved however, and since we don't have his pov we can't really say for certain - a lot of people claim it in good faith because they have a lot of evidence for it, and i think they're certainly valid in that.

that is just before the prison, however. from what happened during the prison arc? there is no denying he's traumatized at this point.

he's been emotionally and physically abused by c!sam since the very beginning of being imprisoned, and being in solitary confinement for over two weeks is generally considered psychological (and maybe also physical?) torture. that alone shows up in a lot of symptoms of his mental deterioration while in pandora's during people's visits, and quackity's "sessions" just absolutely drove the point home.

what he's gone through during this arc is absolutely incomparable to anything others charactes have faced before, and it's just plain suffering being endured by someone who is, despite everything, still a human being.

as for the wilbur manipulation thing!! it's talking about the whole vassal scene (though even beforehand a lot of their interactions are pretty iffy), and here's a post about that :]

I also have a small question about the analysis u last reblogged cus it says "why dream needed lmanburg gone rightfully" and like. The house analogy is poor because for one cus the land is infinite. And 2 cus punz's yard was literally larger then lmanburg. And also stuff about dream being a mediator? Can u provide examples?

i wouldn't say it was poor. dream's said a lot of times that he didn't care in the slightest about the land - a lot of his problems with l'manberg arose with the fact that wilbur basically built it on lies and tried to disallow half of the server to come there. c!dream was mad about the division and the fact that wilbur wanted "freedom" to have authority in his lands - over others, as can be seen in this post also.

the table analogy was fitting not because dream was some overlord, but because these were literally friends he invited to hang out and live in a place he wanted to call home. claiming a part of it for yourself and saying people of a certain nationality can't come in is directly opposing those goals.

in the early days of the smp, dream's always been a mediator between his friends - sapnap and george, who would often get into fights and go around killing each other! he would always do his best to stop the conflict, which continued after tommy joined when he took him to court and then later tried to mediate conflicts he was a part of, which resulted in tommy killing him unprovoked, stealing his gear, and starting the disc wars when dream was trying to get his stuff back. later, during pogtopia, he is also most concerned with peace over everything, and this seems to continue indefinitely after.

Today i was thinking about how messed up the final control room was. Like. Dream arranged the betrayal and punz and sapnap killed tommy and tubbo who like. Were literal children and their pals (because the author, wilbur soot, is dead/j but srsly if u take the streamers words tommy said he was 9 during the revolution sooo)

Sorry im gonna ramble about how dumb canon ages are for a second cus like. Streamers can say the characters are one way or another (wilbur saying he is mentally 30-something, etc.) But in the end the characters act like they(or at least their streaming personas) do.

i... honestly don't find it that bad? they were in a war, and the final control room was basically just supposed to end it quicker. the l'manbergians made it clear they were going to fight to the death, so they really left c!dream no other choice. and it's not like he didn't give them chances to give up.

also yeah the 9 year old thing was retconned, because in that case c!dream would've been 14 and i don't think that's true.

c!tommy and c!dream were both young and once again, in a war. the final control room was an attempt to assure victory, which both sides would've taken if possible, but only c!dream saw he had the option.

i do agree the whole child soldier thing was bad but... complain about that to c!wilbur, methinks. he talked naive kids into fighting for his personal power. however, the age argument isn't really valid either way. they had enough agency to sign up for it, and whether or not c!wilbur pushing the intense nationalism onto them had something to do with that is another debate entirely.

Bacl to final control room cus like??? Also fun fact punz took 2 of wilbur's canon lives. And like that probably is what started wilbur's paranoia which later lead to his spiral and i. Many thoughts full of lmanburg today.

i'm pretty sure cc!wilbur said what lead to c!wilbur's spiral was a "dark, twister view of possessions" and "disregard for his fellow citizen whom he claimed to love so much", but i really wouldn't say it was the control room; if anything the sudden loss of power after the elections seems to me like the trigger for his spiral.

I watched the exile arc live and. I feel dirty almost for feeling little to no sympathy for c!dream (srry ive been forgetting to add that aa) because of his actions toward c!tommy and like. The whole probation was so humiliating and unfair and c!dream was planning to frame him for the crimes he and puffy did under the the guise of "pranks" and c!quackity was planning to seize the vice president role.

i mean... to be fair, if you didn't watch the prison arc much yet or only watch tommy's perspective i understand not feeling that sympathetic - however, i encourage you to maybe watch a few prison visits, since they could help you see the whole picture better!

i also watched it live, and i also thought it was terrible, but i share very much the same sentiment for the prison arc because. absolutely no one should have to go through either of those things, you know?

i don't think probation was that humiliating? he was just. being asked to not start conflict with the other factions for two weeks. of course, what happened as a result is in no way justified, but i don't think probation itself would've been bad at all. either way yeah the framing and c!quackity's behaviour was. very yikes, i agree.

Also c!tommy antis are dumb because they say "he deserved exile angry emoji" i dont see u saying that about ranboo. Just say you hate cc!tommy and go. Also people say c!tommy was just as toxic to c!dream and i??? No. One is the victim and one is the abuser and like. :/// man. This part is rambly srry

i wouldn't say they hate cc!tommy? cc!tommy has a persona who people think is annoying at first ( but then they subscribe because he is super entertaining big man! ) but a lot of c!tommy's actions are straight up toxic to certain characters, such as c!funndy and c!jack. he has a very dismissive attitude towards others and their trauma and it does affect the people around them very negatively.

examples; his repeated bullying and behavior towards fundy:

Tommy: “Fundy, I’m just here to kinda let you know that I – if you weren’t Wilbur’s son, you would be out of L’manburg, alright? Just remember – you need to keep that relationship with your father. I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night. You need to pull your shit together young man.”

......

Fundy: “I’m wearing glasses…are you making fun of my eyesight?!”

Tommy: “Yes.”

Sapnap: “Your father would be very disappointed.”

Fundy: “Wh – disappointed for wearing glasses?!”

Tommy: “You got glasses, like what are you wearing…”

Fundy: “What do you mean?”

Tommy: “Sapnap, Sapnap, over here. Fundy, Fundy, Fundy, I’m really sorry to say this – I’m just here to publicly denounce you.”

Fundy: “…What?”

( credit for transcript: @/findingjoynweirdstuff )

he's also responsible for a big chunk of c!jack's trauma, both with actions and words, and that's why i think certain people might dislike the character, and i don't think that's wrong of them. anyone can dislike any character they want if they don't attack people for liking them, in my opinion.

also c!tommy was most definitely toxic against c!dream in the cell. it's of course understandable but that doesn't change the fact he was constantly hitting and insulting him (without dream doing anything back for a long while until he snapped) which is toxic behaviour.

i wouldn't say he was "just as" though, so i agree with you on that. they're different and they behave differently.

i made a dream blob keychain today. Is it possible to send images if u wanna see? Idk cus i havent used tumblr before. I think that's all for now. Thx for letting me talk :D peepoShy -curious anon (but fr a connoreatspants c!dream redemption arc would be cool)

yooo that's cool! i don't really,,, know if it's possible to send images? try it out and if it isn't i'll try find a way to turn it on.

also, no problem! just please remember this is a c!dream sympathetic blog, and me as well as my followers are uhh,, oftentimes emotionally attached / personally relate to the character, so if you could avoid sending hate on the character (not that you have or that i expect you to, just a friendly reminder) in the asks that would be great! we already see a lot of it unwillingly so, i'd rather not see more, but as long as the discussion is civil i'm absolutely ok with you asking more and with me answering more questions if you'd want to! :)

if anyone else would like to reblog this and add some things i might've missed with my answers, feel free to, just go easy on her (she uses she/her pronouns!) and keep it factual.

i hope u had a good or at least ok time at school today :D

thanks! i gtg now because exam tomorrow but i'm going to try write the redemption essay tomorrow as well because ohhh boy i have a lot of ideas about what all i could write around the concept.

also sorry this was long, i can't keep my tongue on the leash :[

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 2/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 2: A Woman’s Place

Emma barely spoke through dinner the previous evening, choosing instead to watch her father’s clear discomfort from interacting with King Brennan’s sons. She could tell her father’s distaste of his previous rival was filtering down to his offspring. Perhaps knowing she was now betrothed to one of them was punishment enough for the decision he had made for her. If only that punishment didn’t apply to her as well.

It wasn’t that Liam was not a handsome man, in fact he was very easy on the eyes. Not in the same way as his brother, the one who had caught the eye of every maiden he had made eye contact with since stepping foot in the castle, but he had a commanding way about him. First born males of royalty always seemed to have that trait. That air of knowing they were made special because their sperm came before their siblings.

It was all tiresome and quite boring once you put it in those terms. How does simply being born first somehow make you more special than someone who came from the same womb? It was the same annoyance that Emma had about her own situation. She was destined to a life of servitude as a royal housewife because she was female while her younger brother, Henry was Heir to be King. Who made up these stupid rules anyway? Why should a woman need to marry a man who would be King in order to be Queen? Why is a woman’s worth only tied to that of her husband?

As Emma dressed for the day, her handmaiden, Ruby yanking the laces of her corset as Emma cursed loudly.

“I’m sorry, I know you hate these wretched things.”

“If I wanted to be tied up, there are much better ways to go about it.” Emma said with a smirk in her maid’s direction.

“Naughty girl, you know not even what you speak.”

“Yes, but that is because my only inspiration comes from your stories.” Emma spun around and giggled. “How did your evening go with Sir Humbert?”

“Not quite as eventful as it went with Lady Gale afterwards.”

Emma gasped. “Ruby, you did not.”

“Why should men have all the fun?” She teased, turning her back around and tugging on the cord behind her. Emma held her stomach and took a deep breath as the material tightened around her, restricting her air flow for a moment.

“Why is it so important for the ladies to be on display simply to garner a man’s attention?” She glanced down at her heaving breasts. “Are my words not interesting enough for more than a minute’s worth of conversation?”

“I sit on a blades edge in anticipation of every word that leaves your mouth, Princess.”

Emma sighed in frustration. “I do not wish to dance tonight; everyone will be anticipating my every reaction to Prince Liam. I have naught even spoken to him alone to understand who he is, much less that I have to share a bed chamber with him once we are wed.”

“But you love dancing. Try not to think of the eyes on you, instead use the distraction of the dance to find out more about your betrothed. Perhaps his guard will be down with all the attention as well. If you need me to, I can find out more about him from his brother.” She winked.

“You just want to bed the Prince.” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I do not believe it would be much of a conquest. Men like him tend to trip into a woman’s bed without a single preamble.”

“He would not need to speak a word to have me trembling at his knees.”

“A woman’s place is not on her knees Ruby.” Emma flitted around the room, pulling her dress from the wardrobe, and draping it over her chest as she looked at her image in the mirror. “Men do not make us who we are, you would be wise to remember that Ruby.”

As Emma made her way to the courtyard, she greeted the people who passed her by, stopping to make conversation with the staff who had worked tirelessly to put on a feast with such short notice. It never mattered to her that she was royalty, only that she was gracious that so many served her with such loyalty.

She adjusted the tiara on her head and took a deep breath before entering the courtyard, standing at the top of the staircase looking down at the multitude of impeccably dressed nobles gliding across the stone dance floor. The twinkling of lights hanging from the trees surrounding the courtyard gave the view a feeling as if magical fairies had suddenly lit up the forest around them in celebration.

Taking her time, she walked slowly down each step, her eyes darting around to take in where the major players were placed around the room. Her mother and father were currently arm in arm, spinning around the room to the current Waltz the band was playing. At the edge of the courtyard, she found him standing stoically as he looked around, uninterested in the festivities happening in front of him. Prince Liam appeared to have as much desire to be at the festival as she did to marry him.

Next to him, Prince Killian stood with a ridiculous grin on his face, his gaze directed at one of the Lady’s on the dance floor who was flirting with him despite the Lord currently holding her in his arms. She approached the men who noticed her presence a second later than they could recover and receive her properly.

“Stand down gentlemen, I’m quite certain I know how to enter a room absent a round of fanfare.”

“You look lovely, M’Lady.” Prince Liam complimented and Emma smiled confidently at the Prince before taking in his brother. The man arrogantly smirked in her direction, his eyes slowly grazing down to her chest as his tongue slid across his bottom lip.

She rolled her eyes and turned toward Liam. “Do you dance, or will you be preoccupied with babysitting this one all night?”

She could feel Killian’s eyes drilling into the side of her head as Liam laughed loudly. “I think he can manage on his own for one dance.”

She allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, ignoring the look of indignation on his brother’s face. She may have to marry Prince Liam, but in no way did that mean she was required to put up with his brother’s indecent ogling.

~*~

Killian watched his brother lead the woman onto the dance floor, her golden hair braided and pinned around the crown on her head. She had a body that was worthy of exploring but an attitude that would be unmatched by his brother.

In fact, Emma and Liam were not suited in any possible way that he could imagine. Liam preferred quiet, calm women, a fact he was certain of after watching him sneak away with the cook’s timid daughter for many years. From her demeanor, he determined that this woman was assertive, demanding, and obviously not interested in being guided by a husband.

It was clear from the way the current Waltz was going in front of him, as Liam tried to lead her around the dance floor, the Princess stepping to the right when she should have stepped left, or Liam bowing when he was supposed to twirl. His brother was an amateur, his mother had tried to teach them both to dance when they came of age. Killian of course mastered it quite quickly, while Liam seemed to be born with two left feet. The sight in front of him was almost frightening.

“Bloody Hell.” He whispered under his breath, waiting for the music to stop before he stepped forward, hoping to alleviate the embarrassing glances that the Prince and Princess were surely garnering from observers who has just witnessed the abomination they had delivered on the floor.

He stepped up behind the Princess and bowed to his brother. “Perhaps I shall give you a break, brother. It would be an honor to have a dance with my future sister-in-law.”

Liam seemed almost relieved and left the Princess standing in the middle of the floor with no chance but to accept his offer. “Are you sure you have room left on your dance card?” She said with an abhorrent tone.

“Always room for you, sis.” He remarked candidly, reaching over to grasp a hand on her hip, holding his hook up for her to take. She barely registered his missing appendage as she gripped the silver hook, her eyes rolling when the music began.

“Not your sis.” Her heard her hiss as he began to sway across the dance floor, an ease of which allowed them to float around the room with the other guests. She kept her eyes over his shoulder, staring off into the distance as if she had other places to be.

He spun her around suddenly, catching her as she twirled back into his arms. Her expression registered shock as he bent his knee, spinning her around his body until he stood and pulled her into his arms. “There is one rule to this dance.” His eyes lingered on her lips before rising to meet her eyes. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She glared at him for a moment before spinning away from him, when she returned to his grasp she had a new look of determination. “So, tell me how this works, your brother has the responsibility of the throne while you take dance lessons?”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. I’ve never seen the need to have aspirations beyond my requirements.”

“Of course.” She said with a nod. “I’m sure it is easier to court a woman when your parents are not concerned about how much power runs through her blood.”

“It is easier to court a woman when your parents are not concerned with you at all. But who said I gave a damn about courting?” He pressed closer to her. “I prefer to skip the formality and go straight to the nudity.”

Killian swore she flinched, he felt her body tense and for a moment the expression on her face turned dark before the sullen smirk returned. “Why does that not surprise me in the slightest.” She leaned closer to him, “Were you not blessed with a broadsword? Is that the reason you overcompensate with women?”

He grabbed his chest and feigned attack. “Ouch, you wound a man, love. It is not kind to joke about the size of a man’s ship or his sword.”

The song ended and Killian stood with Emma in his arms, not wanting to let go yet wanting to get as far away from her as he could.

“Thank you for the dance. Feel free to go back to whatever it is that you do now.”

“Hey, dad wants you and lover boy to join him at the table.” Princess Emma groaned at the young man who approached them. “Not you, the other guy.” He stated when Killian turned toward him. “The one who’s actually going to be King.”

“Killian, this very blunt individual is my brother, Henry.” She introduced.

“I guess it runs in the family.” He said with an indignant bow, stepping away from them to return to the sidelines.

~*~

“That was rude.” Emma chided Henry as she watched Killian stride away from her.

“What? I was just being honest.”

“Doesn’t mean it should leave your mouth.” She reminded her little brother.

“What did I say?” He shrugged.

“I don’t like it when people so graciously point out that you will become King of Misthaven, like I’m just the golden drapes over here.”

“Girls can’t be King, duh!” He groaned.

“You really are an ass.” She groaned and walked toward her father who was standing at the head of the table with Prince Liam.

“Emma, darling, please have a seat. I have an announcement to make.” Emma narrowed her eyes at her father.

“What sort of announcement, father?”

Suddenly the sound of trumpets echoed in her ears, and she was pulled toward her seat by her mother.

“Sit dear and remember to smile.” Emma glared at her mother as her father stood up to speak.

“People of Misthaven, I, King Nolan am truly a blessed man this evening.” He paused for dramatic effect and Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Prince Lima from Jonesboro has asked for Princess Emma’s hand in marriage, and she has accepted.” Emma was sure the room was starting to spin.

“Emma will travel to Jonesboro at first light with Prince Liam.” Emma’s eyes jerked toward her father. He expected her to travel in the morning without speaking to her first? Her father seemed to refuse to make eye contact with her as Emma followed him across the room.

“Don’t make a scene.” She heard his voice as his mouth contorted in an uncomfortable smile. “We can discuss it after the party.”

Emma smiled at the passing guests. “Oh, you bet we will.” She laughed loudly, pretending he had said something she found even mildly entertaining. She turned on her heels and found her husband to be, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to the dance floor. “Were you aware of our travel plans?”

He bowed to her; a fake smile plastered to his face. “I found out the same as you.”

“I suppose I should find it comforting to know that we are both in the dark when it comes to our future.”

“I find it best not to question the decisions of a King.”

“I hope you will not expect such qualities of your wife, as I find it difficult to hold my tongue.”

He chuckled as he spun her around him, tripping over his shoes. “That does not surprise me at all.” She paused in his arms.

“I am feeling quite tired. I think I will retire if I am expected to rise for travel tomorrow.”

He bowed. “Of course, M’Lady. The carriage will leave at first light.”

“Then I shall take my leave.”

~*~

Killian groaned when the light hit his eyes, the curtains drawn back in dramatic fashion as the sun streamed in through the window.

“Bastard.” He cursed.

“I told you we leave at first light.” His brother complained loudly. “Yet you remain here, asleep in your bed past dawn.”

“Pardon my confusion but are we suddenly racing another carriage home? Does everything have to happen so early in the bloody morning, brother?” Killian peered through slanted eyes, the sunlight bringing about an immediate migraine.

“It’s only early to those of us who didn’t drown themselves in drink the previous evening.”

He groaned as he felt clothing being tossed on top of him.

“We leave urgently, our carriage awaits. It would pain me to have the need to explain to my future bride that we have been delayed due to your irreputable behavior.”

He felt his eyes roll back in annoyance at his brother’s superior attitude. “I would not wish to tarnish your beloved quality of timeliness. I’m most certain that is the top attribute a woman seeks to obtain in a husband.”

His brother sent him one last stern glance before leaving through the open door, the heavy wood slamming shut behind him.

Killian dressed as quickly as he could, tripping down the stairs toward the carriage twenty minutes later. As he approached the carriage, his brother was pacing in front of it. “It seems timeliness isn’t a quality this woman has either.” He grumbled as he peeked into the empty space inside. Killian chuckled under his breath, hiding his smirk as he turned toward his brother.

“Did you lose your bride? Perhaps you did not communicate the urgency of beating the sun to your betrothed.”

There was a rustling sound behind him, and he turned to see a woman approaching them. He recognized her as one of Princess Emma’s handmaids.

Liam greeted the woman as she approached, and she explained that Emma had been delayed and would be out in a moment. She turned toward him and smiled. “Well, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Miss Lucas. I’ll be traveling with Princess Emma.”

Killian bowed his head and placed her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Lucas.” He said with a smirk. His brother stared at him disapprovingly and he dropped her hand, a flirtatious grin aimed at the woman as she stepped into the carriage.

Their attention was drawn toward the castle as Princess Emma, her golden hair shining in the sunlight, suddenly made her way toward them. From the angry frown on her face, he could assume that she was not looking forward to her trip to Jonesboro. She shoved her bag toward his brother the moment they met. “My apologizes for being late, but only a madman would rise before the sun.”

Killian failed to hold back the laugh that left his mouth, clearing his throat and holding out his hand toward Emma, who regarded him curiously. “M’lady, allow me.”

“Do you think I am unable to enter a carriage without assistance? Do I appear ill to you?”

“I would hate to offend. By all means Princess, heave ho.” He gestured toward the carriage before Liam stepped between them.

“Have you lost your mind?” He growled under his breath, turning back toward Emma to assist her into the carriage, despite her protest.

Emma glared at him as he sat down across from her. “Looks like the gangs all here.” He said with a jolly smile. “To Jonesboro.” Emma’s eyes met his and the fire that burned behind her green orbs intrigued him.

In fact, he found that he could barely keep his eyes from her for most of the journey. Despite his attempts to keep them on the dark-haired woman with the large breasts seated next to him, or the woman’s attempts at brushing her hand against his thigh at every bump in the road, his eyes continued to find Emma’s.

Though she barely held his gaze for longer than it took the ocean’s water to kiss the shore and retreat to safety, he did find her glancing in his direction often.

“Once we get to Jonesboro, my father will want to discuss our courtship.” His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I do hope it will include a plate of cheese, or perhaps a sandwich.” She returned and Killian didn’t miss the incredulous glare his brother sent toward her. “One cannot be expected to discuss such matters on an empty stomach.”

“Father is going to get a kick out of you.” He said quietly before his brother grunted his disapproval.

“I’m sure a meal can be arranged, but Father generally likes to discuss business before pleasure.”

“At least we are being honest about the arrangement being business.”

“Emma.” The woman beside him seemed to speak her name in warning.

“Hush Ruby, we are not currently in the presence of overbearing parents, I think we can afford to speak openly.” She turned toward Liam and shrugged, “I do not wish to marry any man, much less a Jones man.”

“Trust me, marrying a Nolan wasn’t an option I ever thought would present itself either, sweetheart.”

“Let’s not get hasty and say something that will ruin the wedding night.” Killian chuckled, enjoying the argument in front of him.

“Sod off.” His brother scolded as the two in front of him faced out different sides of the carriage. Well, this was going well, he thought.

The carriage came to a sudden halt, and he looked to his brother quickly, both on alert. “We are too early to have arrived.” His brother commented.

They heard a commotion on the other side of the door, the sound a metal colliding with metal, and Liam pulled his sword from beside him. “Stay here and protect the women.” He commanded, pushing the door open and slamming it shut behind him.

Killian grabbed his sword, moving closer to the door. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure it’s just…” They heard someone yell from the other side and Killian glanced at Emma. “Whatever happens, stay in the carriage.”

“Do you really think you are just going to leave us in here, unarmed and unguarded?” She complained.

“Would you prefer I send you out there?” He yelled.

“Don’t yell at me!” She returned angrily.

“Would you two stop yelling.” Ruby tried to interject just as the carriage door swung open and a man tried to push his way inside. Killian grabbed his sword and impaled the man before he could reach Emma’s arm. A man appeared behind him, and Killian sprung from the carriage, his sword slamming against the metal of the man’s blade.

The parade of men continued to come as he struck down each one with his sword, turning back toward the carriage when he heard a shrill. Ruby kicked with her feet at a man who had breached the door, the man fell to his knees when the woman punched him square in the face. Killian’s brow rose before he needed to duck from an incoming attack.

“Killian.” He turned back toward the carriage to see Ruby pointing off toward the woods, golden blonde hair escaping into the forest, a man, weapon drawn, chasing after her.

“Bloody hell.”