#i feel so bad for edith

[minhosimthings]

*gets emotionally wrecked by a tv show and cannot move or speak* Anyway

[maiagaru]

Amelia Bullmore as Miss Edith Pilchester & Joanna Scanlan as Ma Larkin The Larkins s02e04

[businesstiramisu]

Been watching Suits, it’s Very Good

I mostly knew it as “the show that made Meghan Markle famous”, and to be fair, she is great in it

But no one told me about Gina Torres as the managing partner of the law firm, and she absolutely owns that role.

(you might know her as Zoë Washburn in Firefly -- and tbf I’m more into Zoë as a character, but Gina Torres plays an *incredible* Jessica Pearson! Looks amazing, dominates every room she’s in, decisive and respectable leader, somehow I still buy that she has a strong moral code act despite “laywers being dicks to each other” being the entire point of the show, and she’s just as much in the muck as any of them)

And apparently in the later seasons my fave Dulé Hill joins the regular cast!! So yeah lots to love about this show, and I haven’t even talked about the actual story or main characters yet.

[marzipanandminutiae]

also. I don't know.

I have thoughts on "people writing darkfic don't care about perpetuating bigotry" as someone who has not only written but also read fic in my main fandom where a character who murdered several people and fucked her brother has the "I am a woman disguised as a man for the purposes of this story but there are AFAB people who are men actually for real" throwaway conversation with a character she drugged, psychologically tortured, and tried to murder. and in some stories (including mine) sexually assaulted

like. turns out writing transgressive fiction doesn't mean you're indifferent to the danger of failing to carefully handle harmful stereotypes. who knew?

no but how much audacity and sheer entitlement do you have to have to tell people they need to stop posting their darkfic and porn fic and any other fic you don’t like to ao3 so you can have a safe space when ao3 was literally created as a safe space for writers to post their content without fear of it being randomly wiped out by pro-censorship assholes with an agenda like what has happened to plenty of other fic archives before?

“but a lot of us see ao3 as a safe space to get away from that kind of nasty content” - lol you can see the middle of a busy interstate as a safe space all you want too but that doesn’t mean that you get to walk into the road and scream at all the cars going by that they’re the ones infringing on your safe space either

ao3 is not, has never been, and will never be a site meant for nothing but children’s stories. you can “see it” like that as much as you want but there’s a difference between fiction and reality and that view of what ao3 is like is as fictional as the stories posted on it.

[winterrrnight]

bro im going THRU IT RN UGHHHHH

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I still cannot believe that at the Meet Me @ The Altar show I went to last year, Edith was so shy about performing "T.M.I" (before they played it, her explanation was something like she felt awkward about it/wasn't sure how we'd react to it) because I was screaming in my head 'With lyrics like "Stupid self-sabotage every time" HOW COULD WE NOT LOVE AND RELATE TO IT?'

[shanastoryteller]

Merry bday! A continuation of Enola Holmes marrying the viscount of Basilweather would be really cool 😀

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

She wrinkles her nose when Tewksbury passes over her cup of tea with two sugars, unstirred, and she knows.

She puts down the cup too quickly, blood pounding in her ears, and Tewksbury frowns, reaching for her hand. "Enola?"

"Got to go," she says, pushing herself to standing, almost just leaves him sitting there, hand outstretched, but he's her husband and she loves him, so she darts over to smack a kiss on his lips before she's running for the door.

"Enola!" he calls out again, but now he sounds less worried and more exasperated, which is better, which is good. There's nothing for him to worry about.

She wants her mother, who's banned from London and is causing political unrest in Southern France currently, or Edith, who's doing something clever and illegal in Scotland. She'd take Victoria, but Mycroft will be there, and he's the last person she wants to see right now. Sherlock, while beloved, is useless, but his boy is a doctor.

She drops in at 221B Baker Street, picking the lock like always, and is relieved that Sherlock is still asleep and decides not to have any opinions on the various bones scattered about the kitchen table. She assumes there's a reasonable explanation for them.

"Oh, Enola!" John grins and shoves some femurs to the side to make space at the table. "Here, join me, would you like some oatmeal? Are you looking for your brother? I can wake him-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, then bites her bottom lip.

John blinks once, then twice, then says with a gentleness that had made her like him in the first place - because Sherlock wanted to be gentle, but was quite bad at it, so someone had to teach him - "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Wanted seems like not the correct word, although of course it is, because she and Tewksbury had been, not trying, but not-not trying, which probably amounted to the same thing, considering how often they - well.

"I can fix it," he says, voice low and serious, "if it's something that needs to be fixed."

Enola lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "No. No, it doesn't need to be fixed."

She loves that he offered. She loves John, more her brother than Mycroft will ever be, sometimes even more her brother than Sherlock is. If nothing else, her brothers had picked their partners well. Victoria and John are a delight.

John is the functional one between them, explosions and skeletons notwithstanding. John is the one that coaxed her brother into a proper relationship and John is the one that knew they were like parents to all the Irregulars and John isn't normal but he grew up normal.

"Are you worried something's wrong?" he asks. "I can look you over."

"No," she says, although, "I mean, yes, that'd be nice because Tewksbury will go spare, but no, I'm not worried anything's wrong."

He leans back in his chair, looking her over, and after almost ten years of dealing with her and Sherlock and even occasionally Mycroft he can read them almost as well as they can read everyone else.

"It's alright to be scared," he says finally. "Lots of women are when they find out, even when it's wanted, even when the baby's healthy."

"I'm not scared," she says, but for the first time her words feel like a lie. "I shouldn't be scared. What do I have to be scared of?"

She wishes her mother was here.

Will her children miss her like this too?

Sometimes she misses her mother even when she's right in front of her, and if nothing else, she's her mother's daughter.

John gets to his feet, stand in front of her, and opens his arms. She looks away even as she steps forward, like if she doesn't look at him when she does it then it doesn't count as weakness.

His arms close around her. He smells like chai and antiseptic and it's only years of association that make the combination comforting. "I can't wait to be an uncle."

He'll be an uncle. Sherlock will be an uncle. Even Mycroft, and Victoria will be delighted to be an aunt, and to raise her children with Enola's. Of course there's her mother-in-law, and Tewksbury's uncle, who have been angling for her to have a child from the day they married.

There's Tewksbury, who loves her, who isn't going to die on her or leave her if either of them have anything to say about it, who isn't going to leave her to raise their children the way her mother raised her.

Alone.

She's been saying she wasn't going to do this alone from the beginning, but standing here in Sherlock's kitchen, with John holding her steady, she really believes it.

[whenthegoldrays]

Sybil, anything involving Sybil, best girl in the world <3

On that note, Gwen’s success story (and her brief return in s5!)

Tom’s entire arc (except for the thing with Edna... and with Miss Bunting probably)

Mary and Matthew in seasons 1 and 3 (not 2, we don't talk about s2)

Isobel and Violet's entire enemies to besties arc and friendship

Anna and Mr. Bates in seasons 1 and 6

Daisy and Mr. Mason’s chosen family story

Daisy and Alfred but specifically the scene where they part ways in season 4, the maturity and warmth there

MRS. LEVINSON AND HAROLD

Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson in seasons 1 through 5 (because being perfectly honest, they were kind of annoying post-marriage)

Isobel and Lord Merton (yes, they won me over)

Rose and Atticus!!!!!

Miss Baxter, full stop

Mr. Molesley's multi-season arc of finding his own place in the world

Edith and Bertie’s romance

Cora getting involved with the hospital

Just Mrs. Patmore. in general.

Thomas’s redemption arc

Cora and Robert in season 6 specifically

George and Sybbie (them in general and also Thomas’s friendship with them

I don't know if I'm capable of ever sitting through the entirety of Downton Abbey again, but man there were some very Good and Valid and True things in there amidst the mess that I'd like to experience again

[catharusustulatus]

Steddie Drabble, TW: child abuse.

Initially, Wayne doesn’t care for Steve. Calls him “the Harrington boy” or “Richard’s son” with contempt, asks if “Richard’s son” is coming over for dinner again and Eddie just rolls his eyes and says “yes, Wayne, STEVE is coming over at 7.” Wayne doesn’t like him because…well, he’s not stupid to judge a book by its cover, he thinks.

But the fifth time Harrington comes over, he brings a bouquet of flowers, and Eddie, well, his cheeks are redder than the spaghetti sauce Wayne’s been stirring, so that’s something.

And then the sixth time Steve comes over, he brings Wayne a Garfield magnet. It’s small, “found it at the thrifty mart with Robin, I’m sorry it’s not brand new…” Steve mumbles, and Eddie is wide eyed and smiling, and Wayne LOVES Garfield. He puts it on the fridge, pats Steve on the back, says “um, thank you son.”

They fall into a pattern, the three of them. Steve comes over for dinner every Friday night after work. He dresses clean and is polite to Wayne, helps with the dishes, sometimes brings bread rolls or licorice or beer or jokes. Eddie starts setting the table. Wayne starts laughing at the jokes. After Steve leaves, Wayne knows Eddie smiles himself to sleep. It’s different, now.

And then the next time Steve is supposed to come over for dinner, he doesn’t show. Eddie had been making macaroni and cheese all evening, grating the cheese carefully as he bopped his head to some metal song, cheerful, and then it was 7 and then it was 8 and then Wayne thought “maybe call him, Ed.”

Nobody answers. When they call again, nobody answers. And Wayne has a bad feeling about it.

It isn’t until almost 11, dinner cold and Eddie pacing, about to radio someone named Robin when Steve’s car pulls up, they know the lights so well. They run outside to greet him and Eddie freezes when Steve starts falling out of the drivers seat, face dark and pained. Wayne jumps into action. Wayne catches Steve and hauls him into the trailer, his living room, and oh god, he’s covered in bruises like he was put through Eddie’s cheese grater, and oh god, Eddie’s broken out into tears behind him.

Steve’s left eye is swollen shut, and his face is purple and bloody. His lip is split and his hair is wild, his shirt is torn, and Wayne wonders what’s underneath the shirt as he gets the first aid kit, wonders how the hell he thought Steven was anything other than an angel.

Eddie gets a dish towel wet in the kitchen and cleans Steve’s face, quiet and crying, and Wayne sets the first aid kit down next to Eddie and makes some coffee. He thinks about talking, doesn’t. Touches the Garfield magnet for good luck. He feels like maybe Steve needs it.

Steve who is holding Eddie’s wrist as he cleans him up, wincing and crying from his good eye. Finally, after a silence that gives Wayne heartburn, Eddie sits back on his heels and says whisper quiet, “your dad?”

Steve gulps, blinks. “My uh, my dad. I was writing you uh, uh a love note.” Eddie looks over at Wayne. Wayne wipes his brow. “But uh, he found it, and your name’s not uh, Edith” Steve lets out a chuff, winces again. “So he asked what was going on, and I told him. I told him. And then he said I had one minute to take it back or he’d make me take it back.” Eddie lets out a small gasp, more like a howl, and sits completely on the floor. Wayne sits down at the table, cold mac and cheese looking like a sick joke. And he’s so mad. Wayne is so, so mad, seeing this young man who so obviously loves his pride and joy, shares in his pride and joy, who brings him apples to make apple pie, he growls out

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Steven, not one thing. You stay here long as you like, hell, don’t leave. We got you, boy.”

And that’s that. Steve crumples in on himself, and Eddie pulls him into a big hug, just holds him, rocks him, coos “a love note, huh, sweetheart? For me?” And Steve nods until he nods off.

The next morning, while Robin takes care of Steve, Wayne and Eddie break into Steve’s room, clear out everything he owns, and slash his dad’s tires. That was Wayne’s idea - the least he could do for a loved one.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie's mom was a free spirit who got taken too soon but educated her son in anything and everything that she found interesting. And she found A LOT of things interesting.

Eddie still secretly keeps these interests and sure, some of them are expected (weed and the best strains), some less so (obsessive reading and perfect knowledge of Edith Piaf). Eddie can even make fantastic mixed drinks ("My mom worked as a bartender for a bit and she practiced at home, what are you staring at, Henderson?!") and can quote most of Le Fleurs Du Mal from memory.

Steve learns to accept and even expect this. Mythology? Of course. Random bits of knowledge from history? Of course. The man only knows SOS in Morse code but can tie nearly every single knot known to humanity? Weird, but it's Eddie.

But then he finds out Eddie knows a fuck ton about horoscopes and astrology. It only takes a single moment of distraction on Eddie's part - Steve is complaining about his latest date, a girl Eddie knows from his class, and he scoffs.

"Well, duh. Of course it didn't work out, Steve, her Moon sign's an Aries and yours is Cancer, that's a recipe for a short fling, not a long relationship."

Steve just stares at him.

Eddie's eyes go wide as he realizes what he's just said. "Uh, I mean..." he scrambles for an explanation, "...she...sounds really stubborn?" he says slowly.

Steve blinks once. Twice. Then his mouth twitches upwards. "What is your Moon sign?"

Eddie feels like it should be a joke, but Steve is patiently waiting for his answer, encouraging smile and those fucking delicious moles. "I'm...uh. I'm a Scorpio. Moon sign, that is," he mutters and hypnotizes Steve's left eyebrow. "Which is...you know. People think it sucks."

"And does it?"

He snorts and shakes his head. "Nah, well. You know, we can be kinda...secretive? But Moon signs are all about your emotions and the inner you, so...it takes a while to get to really understand Moon Scorpios, but then we're the most loyal bunch you'll ever find."

Steve just nods, still smiling. "That's cool, doesn't sound bad at all. But - are you compatible with a Cancer Moon?"

And Eddie probably should have asked "hey, what the fuck," but someone is asking him about his interest, no irony and all that, and that isn't something frequent according to the Munson doctrine. "Oh yeah, absolutely. I mean, Scorpios can be a bit intense, but they're both water signs, you know? And it depends on the Sun sign and rising too, so..."

Somehow, they spend the whole evening discussing astrology. Well, Eddie is. Steve is just listening and asking questions.

Somehow, Eddie manages to calculate both of their charts (because Steve asked).

Steve asks a lot of stuff. "How would you make someone with your chart open up?", "What would be an ideal date for that kind of person?", "Is there something I should be careful about?" and Eddie answers everything but somewhere deep thinks man, I really envy the girl he's doing this for. She's lucky she shares the same birthday and place of birth with me.

It only clicks two weeks later when Steve invites Eddie to hang out and takes him to an alleged haunted mansion. Which...might have been one of the more outlandish ideas Eddie gave him, but he said he would actually love that and that it would fit with the Scorpio dark and brooding aesthetic, if Steve's girl is like that.

He stares at the haunted house, at Steve's sweater (the one Eddie told Steve suits him the best) and a small picnic basket and he realizes.

I gave Steve Harrington a complete guide to dating me.

Steve smirks at him and gently touches his hand, careful not to spook him. "So, what does your Scorpio Moon say?"

Eddie groans and, after briefly checking that no one is around, quickly presses his lips to Steve's cheek. "Apart from "Eddie Munson, how the fuck didn't you notice sooner?" It's purring."

The younger man laughs and Eddie could bask in that sound forever. "Pretty sure scorpions can't purr."

"With you, pretty boy? They sure can."

[garrulus]

i feel bad for ghosts in crimson peak because they are just trying to help but they look horrid so edith just runs away all the time and they are there like no! wait! listen he's rly bad news sis!

[crafty-butch]

Embalmed

A short story by me (tw: body horror, self-harm kinda)

Did you know embalming isn't actually that common, worldwide? I didn't. Sure, there are some famous exceptions–looking at you, pharaohs–but embalming random schlubs is mostly a US thing. Plenty of religions ban it outright. Islam, Judaism, several branches of Christianity…

Bear with me. I promise I have a point.

Anyway, I've got no opinion on what God wants us to do with our corpses. I've never been religious. I'm still not, weird as that sounds. But I'm with Islam, Judaism, and several branches of Christianity on this one. Just skip the embalming and bury the body before it starts to rot. It'll be easier for everyone, on the off chance someone decides to bring them back.

No, this isn't a joke. Look, I'm not saying it's likely, okay? I know the stats. Less than twenty confirmed resurrections in the last half-century. Maybe twice that many ambiguous cases. Actually ambiguous, that is. Just because someone is flaired “unconfirmed” on r/Resurrected doesn't mean there's a chance in Hell they're legit. So, yeah, I get it's unlikely. But let's jump back to embalming real quick.

You know how it works, right? At least vaguely? Blood goes out, formaldehyde goes in. Well, that's step one. Step two is sucking all the non-blood fluids out of your body cavity and swapping those for embalming fluid too. They also sew your mouth shut, stuff some cotton in you to stop any leaking–I could go on, but I won't. Like I said, I don't have any issue with embalming from a treatment-of-the-dead-body standpoint. I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for embalming Great-Aunt Edith, here. I'm just saying, if the dead body becomes an alive body, you can see why there might be some issues.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say: “It's magic, dumbass.” And, yes, it is. That's why waking up with your mouth sewn shut and your body stuffed full of formaldehyde doesn't immediately kill you again. Doesn't make it fun, though.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't focus on the mouth thing. I'm sure it's happened to someone, but my sister cut the stitches out before she brought me back. She was thorough like that. I just feel like it's easier to picture, you know? Mouth won't open and hurts when you try. The rest of it's harder.

I don't blame my sister for not dealing with the formaldehyde. I know there wasn't much she could do about it. If she'd had more time, I'm sure she could've come up with something, but once you've dug up a body, you're kind of on a (ha) deadline. If someone sees you, you're done. So I get it. I've had a lot of time to think it over, and I'm still not sure what she could've done better. Other than just letting me stay dead.

I don't want to sound ungrateful, but…maybe I am? A little bit? I know that's an awful thing to say. It's not like I wanted to die. That's not what this is about. It's also not about how super amazingly great the afterlife is. Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea. I don't remember anything between the hospital and waking up on the grass with a chest full of embalming fluid. Does that mean there's nothing after? Or did coming back just give me amnesia? No idea. I leave that one to the philosophers.

My sister probably would've had an opinion.

She was always…

Let me tell you about my sister.

She was great. I'm not saying this because of what happened. She really was incredible. Almost perfect. One of those people who's so smart and so kind and so beautiful and so goddamn humble but not so humble you can even accuse them of humblebragging, to the point where you can't help but hate them a little for making you look so fucking shitty in comparison and then you feel like the biggest bitch in the world and that just makes you hate them more.

Okay, maybe she wasn't quite as perfect as all that. After I came back, I learned some things. Turns out she was just as much of a fuckup as me, in her own way. She was just better at hiding it. But I never met that version of her. In my memories, she's still just Little Miss Impossibly Perfect. I wish she'd told me about any of it. Maybe…

No, that isn't fair. Why would she tell me anything that could get her in trouble? Maybe I would've hated her less, or maybe I would've just gone and told our parents. Even once we grew up. Would I really have been able to resist knocking her off that pedestal? I'd like to think I would, but come on. Look how I'm talking about her. And that's after she sold her soul for me.

If you're thinking right now that the world probably would've been better off with her instead of me, you're not the only one. Don't worry, I won't take it personally. Or maybe you're not thinking that at all. I've been told I project onto other people.

Maybe you're just confused about why I'm talking about her in the past tense. After all, it's not like selling your soul kills you, and you've probably never met someone unensouled. Or maybe you have, and you know exactly why I'm talking like this. Probably not, though. There are a lot more unensouled than there are people who were resurrected–people sell their souls for all sorts of reasons–but there are a lot more fakers too. Pro tip: if someone claiming they sold their soul gives any sign of caring about literally anything, including whether you believe them, they're lying to you.

So, yeah, she's still here. I know I keep saying it, but I'm not religious. I don't think my sister is burning in Hell while her empty husk sits up here, and if you ask me, that's just a real convenient excuse not to help the person who's still right there in front of you. Whatever a “soul” actually is, there's clearly someone here.

Sorry, I might be preaching to the choir here. And I don't want to sound like I think every religious person thinks that way. I just made the mistake of talking to my parents this weekend, and I'm still a little mad. Or a lot mad. Look, I know I'm getting off topic. Just, real quick, I want to explain.

She's still my sister. I'm not denying that. I keep saying she was this or she was that because she's not really any of those things anymore. She's not cruel, but she doesn't care enough to be kind. I'm sure she's still smart, but she doesn't actually want to use her smarts for anything. She barely eats if I don't pester her into it. I don't think she'd have an opinion on what my lack of memory says about the afterlife anymore. But, hey, maybe she would. Maybe I should ask.

Anyway. None of this is really my point. My point is, waking up next to your own open grave is freaky enough when you're not choking on formaldehyde. It took weeks before I was mostly bleeding blood again. (Yeah, I checked. Don't judge. You'd be curious too.) I coughed up embalming fluid for months. My insides still don't feel quite right. I could get them checked out, but I'll be honest with you. I don't want to know. I haven't been anywhere near a doctor since I got back.

I know, you don't think this will happen to you. No one you know is the right combination of smart enough to wade through all the bullshit to figure out how to revive you and stupid enough to go through with it. And you're probably right. But I thought that too.

[pruneunfair]

Rating female leads in manhwa.

Navier

6/10, I absolutely hate her writting and has devolved into a mary sue who only reacts to everything around her while her mass of supporters never shut up about great she is. Her synopsis claiming her as someone who loves all her subjects gets contradicted when its shown she doesnt really care about the slaves.

BUT in season 1 she wasn't bad, I liked her resolve and it was when she actually cared for her people, I feel like if we got to see a clear backstory beyond "she wasn't allowed outside when she studied to be empress" I would understand her total apathy more.

Ariande

7/10, I adore villains, especially villainous protagonists and at first I liked the idea she wouldn't be any better than her family but still had a soft spot for Arabella, she loses a few points because it turns out she's excused for killing people before in the name of "love" and is viewed as someone who can do no wrong.

Adelaide

10/10, she's like Navier but better, she has more noticeable flaws and while she is a kick ass warrior during the tower arcs she still is human and can't always take it alone without consequences, she acknowledges Diane's struggles and makes an effort not to be her enemy and is proof that you dont need to make FL overpowered gods to be strong women. A beautifully made FL in a underrated story

Robellia

1/10, She doesn't divorce her husband despite the title literally being "I will divorce my tyrant husband." But that's more of a problem in most other manhwa. She's too much of a perfect epic goddess for me and most of all she does the whole "buying all the slaves but giving them a home." to make her look even better, what is with manhwa and inserting slavery for no other reason other than to make the FL look better?

Arianna

0/10, there is nothing good about her. Other than being a mary sue and a personality that only revolves around the latest sexy man, she legit forces another guy to join her haram by threatening diplomatic war on his kingdom and bodyshames her fiance but all of a sudden wants him more than ever when he loses weight, it took a random chick being inserted with a 🍇ist persona to make her look "better."

Yerenica

6/10, in any other story, this girl would've been despised by the fandom for being a homewreaker/pick me. She gives me so much second hand embarrassment but she's not terrible, I actually really like her design too. Not a fan of the kidnapper-hostage relationship she and the ML have though.

Pereshati

10/10, the best one here. She feels so much more human than the others on this list, she's got flaws, a relationship with the ML Therdeo that has both realistic progression, blunders, but overall healthy love, she also has relationships outside of her husband which I really love, I actually get scared for her when shes in danger instead of the usual "oh great, heres the typical kidnapping trope", a great motherly FL

Hestia

5/10 I will be easy on her since I just started reading my derelict favorite but I've only heard bad things about it through spoilers so I don't have much hope, also girl, please acknowledge that just because your favorite character did it for love doesn't mean he's absolved for murdering 2 people, thank you

Edith

9/10, my 3rd favorite on this list. You do not know how happy I was when instead of immediately viewing Rhyse as a rival to defeat, she was actually nice to her and the chapters of them were so sweet, she even acknowledges that it isn't anyone's fault for acting out but the author who is pulling the strings.

Layla

8/10, I feel so bad for this poor girl. For some reason I noticed on reddit and tiktok that she's getting hate for not standing up to herself or just not being the usual "girlboss" protagonist, did it not occur that she cant do much to a duke!? Layla deserves so much better and she needs to be far away from Matthias, I don't care if it's "dark romance" he is torturing her for his own pleasure.

[winterrrnight]

there’d better be a mirrorball

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you couldn’t attend senior prom, so your boyfriend bought the prom to you.

WARNINGS: mentions of puking and food poisoning, sweetheart rafe, usage of nicknames, intentional use of lower case

EDITH SPEAKS: huge huge thank you to miss @zyafics who had to see my poorly edited photo of a terrace and helped me figure out that it’s called a ‘gazebo’, except that picture didn’t actually have a gazebo in it (I’m sorry I’m so bad at explaining shit 😭) but yeah zya you’re a real one ilysm 💙🌟

if you liked reading this please consider reblogging! feedback is always appreciated 🪩

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it was the saddest day of your life.

you went to sleep all excited, your dress laid out, your shoes right next to the dress, your jewelry picked out, a clear image of your make up look in your head; just for you to wake up and do the last thing you’d expect for that day: puke.

your puke was unceremoniously cleaned up by your mom, who when touched her hand to your forehead, claimed that you were burning up. when you tried to speak, your voice barely came out – it was hoarse and heavy. and it was even worse when you couldn’t stand on your own two feet for a few moments before starting to feel an intense body ache that had you flopping back onto your bed.

“I’m sorry darling, but I don’t think you should go to prom today–”

“no!” came out your rough voice, tears starting to blur your vision as you took a look at your perfectly arranged dress and accessories for the coming night. your mom couldn’t bear to see the sight but she had to exercise her never expiring mom card and made you miss the prom.

you were laying in your bed, your curtains drawn and the lights turned off to not let any harsh lighting pulsate your already throbbing headache even more than before. you had called your boyfriend rafe and had given him the unbearing news of you not being able to attend prom because of your horrible health – which was concluded as food poisoning by your mother – and he felt his heart shatter with the news.

rafe, who was never interested in prom before, was looking forward to that night because you were his date. you made his decision regarding proms flip to a total 180 and convinced him on how fun it would actually be, and now what? now, you can’t go, you: the light to the dark side of his moon.

“then that’s simple, I’m not going either,” came his voice through your microphone. you groaned for what felt like the millionth time, and shook your head.

“you are going rafe,” you said, your voice clearing up just a bit thanks to those sharp tasting lozenges your mother dumped into your mouth. “okay? you are going. the rest of our friends are going to be there, and it’s the senior prom! you are going, and that’s final.”

damn. even when you’re lying sick in your bed, you still have your control over him.

rafe reluctantly agreed to go to the prom, but before he went there, he stopped by at your place to check up on you. he brought you some fresh flowers and put them in a vase to sit in your room.

“when I come back, I’m coming straight to you, okay?” he murmured softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead gently, not listening to your whines on how he shouldn’t kiss you because you were sick.

the hours passed, and you made a quick scroll through your social media – something which you knew you shouldn’t. there were already a gazillion pictures and short videos from the evening, everyone dressed up in fancy fabrics from head to toe, jewelry gleaming on their ears and necks, and familiar pop music played in the background. you sighed, feeling yourself getting more and more sad and left out as you practically threw your phone aside, and decided to just nap to get your mind off of it.

you were woken up by your name spoken by an all too familiar melodious voice, and a soft nudge to your shoulder.

“wake up baby…” you heard in your ear. you opened your eyes and were met with rafe’s bright blue ones. his blazer had come off and was hanging on his shoulder, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“yeah?” you muttered as you rubbed your eyes and sat up.

“come on, I want to take you somewhere,” he said in a hushed tone as he watched you awaken.

“take me where?” you asked and without any questions, you followed rafe’s lead, who helped you to your feet and helped you put on your shoes. he draped his blazer over your shoulders and took your hand, leading you out of your room.

“just come with me, you’ll love it,” he said softly, grinning from ear to ear as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you out. you lived only a few doors down from tannyhill, and rafe kept you well tucked under his arm as he kept up with your slower pace of walking than usual and led you to his place.

he led you inside the huge mansion, and when he saw how tired your body had gotten from the walking, he carefully picked you up bridal style and carried you up the stairs, all the way up to the terrace.

“now…” he hummed as he set you down, both of you standing right outside the closed door of the terrace. “i’m going to cover your eyes, okay?” he said softly, and when he saw you didn’t interject, he covered your eyes with his fingers. he opened the door and carefully led you out to the terrace.

“i’ll lift my hands in 3… 2… 1…”

at 1, his hands came off and you were greeted with a sight that made you gasp.

multiple strings of golden fairy lights hung all around the terrace, a record player spun in a corner, a table was covered with drinks, chocolates and other little treats, and to your right, right under the wooden gazebo, was a mirrorball.

a mirrorball hung right from the center of the gazebo, spinning slowly and slowly as it reflected silver light in different directions, producing a complex display. you gasped at the sight, the spherical object rotating and momentarily reflecting across you, the reflections mere spheres that appeared and disappeared on your body at different parts each time.

“rafe…” you muttered, and you felt his arms wrap around your waist from the back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“this is our prom baby,” you whispered in your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.

“when… when did you even do this?” you whispered, still in awe from the entire decoration.

“I came back from prom early, it was extremely boring without you,” he murmured. “couldn’t stand being there without my pretty girl,”

you turned around in rafe’s hold to face him. “this… this is so beautiful…” you whispered, looking in his twinkling eyes. you wanted to say more, you really did, but you were falling short of words because you were still trying to recover from the surprise.

“not as beautiful as you baby,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and you broke into a smile. he can be so cheesy.

“now come on, I believe you owe me a dance,” he grinned as he walked up to the record player. he changed the vinyl spinning and you watched him curiously, but all curiosity washed away when you heard the gentle instrumentals of there’d better be a mirrorball fill the space around you.

he walked back to you with a cheeky grin and took your hand in his, leading you to the gazebo where you both stood right under the mirrorball. he took your hands in his and brought you closer to him, placing your arms around his neck and placing his around your waist, and starting to sway you gently to the music.

you rested your head in the crook of his neck and he kept you close in your arms, both of your eyes fluttered shut as you gently swayed to the music, taking in the moment.

“I love you,” you heard the faint sound of rafe’s voice in your ear. you felt your heart thump at his words, a soft smile forming on your face.

“I love you just as much,” you whispered back, burying your face in his neck. he smiled softly at your words, pressing a kiss to your temple as he continued to sway you both.

by the end of the night, you had completely forgotten you had to miss prom.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @sage-burrow @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @rafesgiirl @theoraekenslover @fals3-g0d @personalfavsthatarerandom @b1mb0slvt

[winnieiscalmeth]

Notes: Baking with the Black Lagoon women.(Going back to basic scenarios) Very ooc as always. <3

милый=Dear

Proofread?: Nope

Rebbeca "Revy" Lee

I'd be lying if I said Revy would like baking. But with enough begging (and bribing) you'll manage to at least have her help you. She'd only read the instructions to you, not putting any effort into helping. Sometimes, misreading them or lying making you mess up the dessert.

"3 teaspoons of ricotta chees-"

"3 what? Give me that!" You stared at the list. "3 tablespoons of ricotta cheese! Are you trying to mess me up?"

"I didn't want to do this shit in the first place dammit! Ya think I'll fuck this up just to make me suffer for longer?!" She was. Revy takes baking with you as a chance to annoy you.

Sofia "Balalaika" Irinovskaya

Bala's always busy so baking with her is rare. But she is great at it. She can tell you messed an ingredient up just by looking at it. On occasion, if you had started to bake by yourself, she'd start helping you.

"What are you making?" She shifted her gaze from you to the bowl.

"Some pancake batter for something else I'm gonna make later." Balalaika stared at it before chuckling and taking the bowl.

"There's too much flower милый. Let me help you"

"Ahh shit"

Edith "Eda" Blackwater

Whenever she's bored and lounging around she goes to your house with random shit to bake. Baking gets chaotic when it comes to her because while your focused on stirring, she's dancing to whatever song on the radio or bothering you.

"The phone rings in the middle of the night, and my father yells what you gonna do with your life!" Eda danced around you.

"Baby, please chill the fuck out" She wrapped her arms wrap around you and leaned closer to your ear.

"And girls! They want to have fun!"

"Eda!"

Rosarita "Roberta" Cisneros

She loves to bake with you. You wouldn't want her to cook with you but she likes to help you by cleaning the utensils you use. Usually, she just hovers around you quietly or is your taste tester.

"Does this taste ok?" You shoved a spoonful of brownie mix in her mouth.

"Hmmm," It tasted a little bland. Could use a little more sugar is what Roberta wanted to say but didn't want to hurt your feelings.

"...is it bad?"

"No! No, it's good-"

"Nope it's definitely bad"

Shenhua

She's usually the one baking, and bossy too but in a loving way. Asking you to get ingredients from the fridge or telling you to wipe down a counter.

"Get me milk out of the refrigerator! And hurry up!"

"Okaay" You lazily walked over to the fridge.

"Come clean these cups too!"

You sighed. "Oh my god"

"What was that?!"

"Yes ma'am!"

[inbarfink]

Okay, so when it comes to “What Remains of Edith Finch” I’m generally among those who subscribe to the reading that there is nothing supernatural about the ‘family curse’ - that it is nothing more than an unhealthy coping mechanism that became a self-fulfilling prophecy through a tradition of neglect and recklessness also maybe some slew of undiagnosed hereditary mental illnesses. But one aspect of this interpretation that I’m not really on-board with it is the idea that this makes the ending of the game, like, a totally unambiguously ‘bad’ tragic ending.

Well, either way it’s always a pretty sad ending, y’know. Everyone is dead. I mean in the sense that, like, if the ‘curse’ is nothing but the stories of the Finch family making them think they’re cursed - then Edith writing her little book and passing on these stories to her son is just perpetuating the Curse and probably dooming the poor boy. They would’ve both probably been better off if Edith did let those dangerous stories die with her. Right?

Well, that’s not really how I see it. I don’t really think this is a narrative is about how Edie and her outlook on death is, like, 100% totally wrong and dangerous and Dawn Finch was 100% totally in the right about trying to escape the family stories - as much as it is about Edie and Dawn both being flawed women and neither really handled their grief perfectly. Since Edie’s attitude kinda dominated the family and Edith herself kinda used to side with her great-grandma over her mother, the story focuses more on her realizing that, y’know, Dawn’s perspective might have a point. But just cause Dawn might’ve had a point doesn’t mean she was always right either. I think the point is more that Edith has to understand both her great-grandma’s and her mother’s side so she can strike a healthier balance between both of their attitudes.

Like, the thing is that the ‘Curse’ is mostly just generational trauma (and if there is a real supernatural Curse than it is still a metaphor for generational trauma), and the thing with trauma is that wallowing in it and letting it define you like Edie did is really not healthy - but neither is repressing it and trying to run away from it like Dawn tried to do. Edie might’ve been wrong about many things, but she was right about this:

The ‘Curse’ won’t leave Dawn and Edith just cause they left the House, or just cause they stopped listening to Edie’s stories. Because the Curse and their Trauma are the same, so it will follow them in some form wherever they go. The big thing I keep thinking about is Edith’s comment after Sam’s story.

This isn’t about Sam’s death being especially important for figuring out the ‘mystery’ of the Finch Curse, or it being an especially fascinating or beautiful story or whatever. It’s because it was an especially traumatic event for Dawn, that undoubtedly effected her for the rest of her life. But due to her fear of the effects of Edie’s Stories, she never really opened up about it with her daughter in any way. Seeing the pictures of Dawn and Sam’s last trip together, Edith feels she now has a greater understanding of what made her mother tick - and wishes she could’ve known about it when she was still alive.

And that does go farther down the family tree. Sam was the first Finch to show a real dislike to telling the Stories like Edie like. Although admittedly he wasn’t quite the rebel Dawn was:

And pretty much everything about how he acted around his children, especially the real shitty stuff, was informed by the trauma of Calvin’s death. 

And, like, obviously Edie’s idea of handling trauma did no favors to him, (She made him share a room with his dead twin for eleven years) but I think also his attempts to almost totally avoid and repress his Issues when he became an adult only made things worse and not better.

Now, you might be wondering how this relates to Edith and her son Christopher. Well, the first thing to remember is that Edith didn’t know for sure she was going to die when she started that journey. She wasn’t just planning on leaving that little book to her son in case she dies - she wanted to learn the stories too, and have a better understanding of the stories she knew already. Because these stories inform the trauma she grew around, and she wanted to understand it better before she became a mother. Dawn knew quite a lot about the danger of growing up in a household that wallows in and romanticizes trauma - and did her best to avoid repeating this mistake with Edith. Edith knew quite a lot about the danger of growing up in a household that repressed and runs away from trauma - and she doesn’t want to repeat it with her child as well.

And as for writing it down for Christopher in case she’s not around to share the stories with him. Well, the first thing to note is that I think that even if Christopher never had Edith’s book - he was already bound by the ‘Curse’ from the start. Like, yeah, he doesn’t have the experience of growing up with a traumatized parent raised by another traumatized parent raised by another traumatized parent - but growing up knowing his biomom died at childbirth can be a pretty traumatizing experience on it’s own. We don’t know much of his family situation outside of that, but the fact that there seem to be no one around to escort the Literal Child as he takes a ferry to go lay flowers at his birth mother’s grave doesn’t really bode well.

So I think, first things first, from that angle, Edith’s journal could be importantly therapeutic to him as well. You know, have some sort of connection to his mother and her side of the family that he’s otherwise can’t really have? Like, this book isn’t just some darn list of dead Finches. There’s a lot in here about Edith herself and her own thoughts and her life and family and that’s maybe connection Christopher would want with her? Something that might make him process his grief for her a bit better? Something to make him feel more connected with that side of his family?

Now, let’s also consider the fact the Finch Curse is at least somewhat public knowledge: the Odin Finch newsreel mentions it, Barbara’s death was very well-publicized at the time - and the ‘Tales of Terror’ comic calls it “another ghastly tale inspired by America's most unfortunate family” - implying that they expected their readership to be at least kinda familiar with the idea of the Finches being ‘cursed’. I think that’s pretty likely that, even without the journal, if Christopher dug even a little bit into who his birth mother was he would’ve found at least a mention of a rumor of a ‘Family Curse’ .

Or, hell, seeing how the Finches (and especially Edie) seem to have been local celebrities around Orcas Island - if Christopher lives anywhere near that area, really all it will take is him saying something like “hey, I’m Christopher Finch!” or “my mother’s name was Edith Finch” and then someone would say “oh yeah, like the famous Orcas Island Finches? That cursed family that keeps dying?” and seeing how he has no living relatives on his mother’s side - he would’ve probably believed it, or at least allowed the possibility to wriggle into his heart - and then… well, the Curse will just live on regardless of Edith. 

Note that Christopher is already wearing a cast before he even read the book (and is, again, a child taking a ferry to visit his mother’s grave all alone) - it seems like something of the ol’ Finch recklessness has already made it to him, whatever it’s in his genes somehow or just the rumors of the curse getting to him. But it is not entirely on Edith’s journal.

And like, one of the things I think made the Curse such a problematic mindset is the way it prevented the Finches from ever learning from their mistakes. You know, if every death is a result of a malevolent supernatural force haunting the family - then there’s no need for introspection of how what they could do better in the future. Challenging this mindset was probably one of the best things about Dawn’s mindset. But learning from past mistakes is equally impossible when you convince yourself it’s all the fault of a supernatural curse as it is when you straight-up have no context for what happened before. If nothing else, the stories in this journal can serve as a useful lesson about not clinging to the past, or not letting your grief define you, or how you shouldn’t try and make a perfect 360 degree spin on swingset or how you SHOULDN’T LEAVE A BABY ALONE IN A BATHTUB JESUS CHRIST

Because it’s not like this journal is just, like, a totally uncritical reiteration of Edie Finch’s stories for the next generation or something. I think the game makes it pretty clear that although Edith Sr. and Edith Jr. are meant to mirror each other on some level, their attitudes when it comes to the stories of the family are pretty different. 

Edie was characterized as someone who cared more for what makes for a good story over the truth, as someone prone to inventing or exaggerating tales, as someone who reveled in the romanticism of being Doomed, and memorialized the death of her loved ones more than their life. Like, one of the things that really crosses a line for me about the Edie Finch Method of Grief is just how much the circumstances of the death are prioritized over the life the person had before it. 

It’s not always so blatant cause the Finches tend to die in ways that poetically tie with their personality and hobbies (Molly loved animals and fantasy and she spent her last moments in a hallucination of transforming into various animals, Sam loved hunting and photography and he died taking a picture while hunting, Walter loved trains and ended up being run over by one) but… there’s certain areas where it’s actually kinda unclear if the connection is actually there or if Edie is kinda forcing it for the sake of a good story. 

Like, Barbara was a horror movie child star and her death reads like a cheesy horror story - but that’s because Edie chose a cheesy horror retelling to represent it. Maybe if we knew the real story of how she died, it wouldn’t be quite so on-the-nose. Did Gus actually love flying kites to the point it defines his entire personality or was that just something he did on the day he died? Either way, he’s defined by that one activity forever now. 

And Gregory… like I’m sure he enjoyed bath-time, but the fact he’s memorialized almost exclusively with bath toys and soap is kinda fucked-up. I’m sure he had other toys he loved to play with outside the tub as well, but all of his memorials are focused entirely on the thing that killed him.

Edith’s attitude, as can be seen through the game, is different. Edith can appreciate the beauty of Edie’s stories but also cares quite a bit about truth and accuracy. The difference is most obvious when it comes to their books. Both Ediths wrote a story about coming back to their old childhood home and discovering the family secrets - only Edie’s story, “The History of the Finches”, seems to be complete fiction and based on what she would’ve wanted to be true, while Edith did actually go to her old childhood home and tried to record it as accurately as possible. And while she’s limited in telling the death stories that Edie kept records of, she also notes the points when they seem ridiculous or inaccurate to her. 

She documents the tall-tale about how Sven was killed by a dragon, but also clarifies that he was killed while trying to construct a dragon-shaped sled. Rather than just perpetuating Edie’s joke for the sake of the fantasy. 

Plus, she doesn’t just focus on the Finches’ deaths, she does try and tell Christopher about their lives as well. It’s not always easy, since with the older generations Edith often doesn’t have much to go on outside of Edith’s memorialization, but she does try to get a General Vibe out of them from their room and other mementos they left behind (like Sam’s improvised darkroom in the wall-passegeways) rather than just the death story. And when it comes to the people Edith actually remembered well herself - Lewis, Dawn and Edie - she’s constantly telling little anecdotes and details of their life together. 

In a way, I kinda divide “What Remains of Edith Finch” into three main parts. The first third of the game, with Edie’s kids, is the one that centers on the mystery of whatever the ‘curse’ is real or not - and is also a character study of Edie herself via the lense of the people that she lost. The second part is basically that but for Dawn, it’s about Edith learning to understand her mother’s character via the loss of Sam, Gregory, Gus, Sanjay and Milton. The Lewis segment is a transition between that third and the last third - which is about Edith Finch herself. Even if Edith can paint a full picture of both life and death for all of her dead relatives, she can at least give Christopher a good insight to his mother, grandmother and great-great grandmother. 

And notably, the two people Edith ‘has’ to memorialize herself without Edie’s postmorten involvement, Edie herself and Dawn, get a very different treatment from every other Finch. They don’t get a ‘proper’ Death Story documenting or describing their last moments. The closest thing is Edith’s flashback of the day they moved out of the House, which is more of a Death Flashback for the Finch Family as a concept than to Edie and Dawn as individuals. We do know that Dawn died of some sort of illness, but it’s delivered to us at the end of a longer passage about the life they had together. And we really don’t know anything but how Edie died at the end. 

If Edith doesn’t know how Edie died, she’s shown no interest in trying to figure it out - if she does already know, she doesn’t think her spesific cause of death is important to write down for her son. The important thing is for him to learn what kind of person Edie was in life, and Edith has more than enough understanding of her great-grandma to memorialize her without defining her entirely through some sort of of romanticized tragic death. 

And, like the most important thing to remember is that Edith questions the concept of the Curse in her journal. Like, the game and the journal are one and the same. So, like all of these passages that are important for the ‘there’s no supernatural curse’ interpetation:

Christopher is reading these lines as well. If we are capable of playing “What Remains of Edith Finch” and understanding the ‘Curse’ as being a self-fulfilling prophecy - then Christopher is also capable of reading his mother’s journal and coming to the same conclusion. I mean, it’s not a certain thing. There’s plenty of players who read the Curse as a real supernatural force and that’s also a valid interpetation of the game’s text. And there’s like, actual grown-ass adults who played this game and decided it’s actually about a serial-killer granny. So maybe it’s asking a bit too much from a little grieving eight-years-old to immediately understand this as a story of unhealthy trauma coping mechanisms through the generations. 

But my point isn’t that there is 100% no possibillity of Christopher dooming himself like every other Finch before him, or that Edith made the objectively correct decision in writing this journal and basically saved her son from the ‘Curse’. It’s just that he’s not doomed... it can still go either way. Christopher might have read this and started to believe in the Curse and perpatured the cycle onwards, or he might have come to the same conclusion Edith did - that believing in these stories made them real - and decided to try and do better than those who came before him. Or maybe he came to one conclusion but will later change his mind. As long as he’s alive, there’s is at least the possbility that things will turn out better. 

“What Remains of Edith Finch” ends with the shot of the two things that ‘remained’ of the two Edith Finches of the game. The House is What Remained of Edith ‘Edie’ Finch Sr. A glorious and sad monument of mourning, now forever frozen in time as a memorium for the tragedy of the Finch Family. And Christopher is What Remained of Edith Finch Jr. An actual living human being with his whole life ahead of him, who still has the potential to doom or save himself. 

Good luck.