#i’m so glad to bear this name and their legacy. even if i won’t work here because it’s not what i want to do i’ll always be grateful

[lunaticamic]

for so many years i didn’t like this beautiful place because it is my father’s flowers shop. i projected my avoidance behaviour towards my dad to his shop. his aunts owned it and left it to him. and it holds so many memories of amazing hardworking women that are no longer here. i’m so glad i’m healing my relationship with my dad, and can enjoy my family shop

[angelamajiki]

[ peace treaty - kiribaku ]

AN: this is a fantasy au piece, enjoy! :)

CW: yandere, dubcon, arranged marriage, stalking, coercion, dragon/animal anatomy, fantasy au, afab terms, predator/prey dynamics, size difference, facesitting

“A mate, huh?” Katsuki chuckled as he stroked his companion’s horns, looking into the horizon thoughtfully.

“Think about it! We need hatchlings to lead the future generations of the Bakugo clan.” Eijirou pleaded with his mate. “Don't you ever miss the company of a woman? I know I do.”

Adding a woman to their pack would certainly bring its advantages. It would undoubtedly strengthen their positions as clan rulers if they were to have a wife and children to carry on both men’s legacy.

“Fine,” Katsuki conceded. “Let’s go find a mate then.”

The pair returned to their respective forms, wolf and dragon, as they began their hunt through the wild countryside for their new mate. Days of running down the mountainous forests away from their clan, they settled on resting at the edge of the woods, looking at a clearing just over a shimmering river that separated the two territories. Beyond the meadow was a small fortress surrounded by the community that they presumably controlled—a perfect place to start their search after some well-needed sleep.

Katsuki was the first to awaken from his slumber at the sound of a woman’s voice. And a heavenly voice it was, signing an alluring melody. Peaking his head over the bushes, the young prince saw the enchanting woman bathing alone in the stream. The other man had awoken as well, just as equally entranced by the naked dancing woman.

“A vixen...” Katsuki murmured, twisting to look at his mate. It was clear to both men that she was the mate they were looking for. Independent, vexing, sweet. She was perfect.

“Let’s snatch her up now while she’s distracted, ” Eijirou grumbled impatiently, eager to take her back to their den at once.

“Patience, Ei. I want her too, but now is not the moment to strike. Let's watch her a bit more; she needs to be more than a pretty face, you know that.”

Katsuki did not doubt that she wasn’t their perfect match, but he is a predator to her before he’s a man to her at this moment.

The blissfully unaware maiden that you were, you went on with bathing peacefully in the warm, summer day. Your attendants had followed you from the castle, watching from afar as they knew you valued your time alone in the stream. After some time, one of them called for you back to the castle for supper. Dried and dressed, the group of you departed from the meadow by horse as the sunset.

“So, she’s a princess, Katsuki.” Eijirou’s tail trashed with excitement. “If we marry her, we’ll get this territory too! Oh, I wonder if she likes to travel..” The red-haired man went off on a tangent about his many fantasies for you while the blonde thought deeply. This was almost too perfect; he had just the plan to corner and ensnare their lovely little prey.

The men stayed at the edge of their territory, for the time being, glad to notice that you had returned to the riverbank almost daily. Sometimes you took your handmaidens; sometimes, you came alone while they trailed back.

They learned that you liked to flip through many a book while basking in the sunlight. A library would be a perfect wedding present for you-they intended to spoil you thoroughly with the dragon’s hoard.

Five days had proven to be enough time for the men to watch you and returned to their clan to make the necessary preparations for your place as their lovely spoiled mate.

---

A fortnight later, a letter from the young prince arrived at your doorstep, addressed to your father, the king.

“An alliance? With the barbarian tribe, that’s unheard of, father. Are you sure it’s not some trick?” You doubted, finding it difficult to understand his request. The barbarian clan was...mysterious, to say the least. Living up in the mountains beyond the river, they were a solitary bunch who were ruthless and never exhibited mercy towards their foes. Not much was know about them because they simply never made alliances or held diplomacy with other clans or kingdoms.

“Perhaps they wish to make allies with the next closest kingdom, my dear.” Your father spoke quietly, his voice wavering as he avoided your eyes. “You’ll go up the mountains to discuss the terms with young Bakugo. An older gentleman like me is not suited for those kinds of traveling conditions.”

Nodding solemnly, preparations were made for your immediate departure. All of your belongings were brought to your carriage, something that struck you as rather odd. Although father did say something about the uncertainty of the amount of time you would spend with the barbarians for the sake of discussion.

With that in mind, you set off into the forest just as the sunset.

---

The journey had taken nearly five days through the rain and snow, your small carriage trudging up the mountainside to the den of the barbarians. As your carriage came to a stop, two men helped you out and down, both possessing a tenderness that didn’t seem possible for them. The blond was bare-chested, even in the snow! He stood at about six feet and had a body that seemed the gods themselves sculpted it.

“Welcome to my clan, your majesty.”

His smirk was wolf-like, eyes bearing down on you like a predator who has caught his unwitting prey. “Come, let’s get you inside to warmth and comfort. I'm sure you’ve had a long journey. Eijirou here will help with your belongings and join us after you rest.”

The prince held out his arm for you to take as the red-head beside you gave a toothy grin before setting off to work. He...he was something more than a man, he had to be! Standing at well over six and a half feet, he was much more muscular than the blonde; Eijirou airs about him more than human. It was inexplicable.

Katsuki gave a gentle tug to your arm before ushering you to the massive tent that stood in the middle of the community of barbarians who looked onto you with glowing pride. What an odd bunch of people, but you couldn't very well judge them now, could you? They simply had a different culture, another way of life.

The tent seemed larger than life on the inside and was impossibly warm. It had had a large bed adorned with piles of pelts and furs near a roaring fireplace. Many bookshelves lined the walls, as well as prized kills and weaponry were displayed. Katsuki led you to a table near the warmth of the fire. How-

“Magic, princess. I am fortunate enough to possess it, as well as many of my clansmen.” Katsuki boasted, clearly prideful of his abilities. He could only hope it impressed you, which it certainly did. “It keeps us warm up here in the dead of winter, which is soon approaching. It protects us, provides for us, all of which it will do for you too.”

Your smile could hardly be contained as you gazed upon the handsome man with wonder. For you, too? Would this he be so kind as to lend you its strength while you struck a deal with them? The barbarians were indeed nothing like the fairytales you had heard about them.

“I thank you for your hospitality, Sir Bakugo. I am truly humbled to be here with you.”

“Call me Katsuki, little one. We should grow familiar with each other before our wedding.”

His wolfish smirk grew wider as he saw the look on your face. Ah, he so loved that look of feeble innocence and confusion on your expression.

“Oh, did your father not tell you?” he chuckled, taking a sip from his cup. “This is an alliance through our union. Suppose you’ll have us, of course. Otherwise, we might have to resort to other means down the mountain.”

Us? Oh, he means-

“Ei, don’t be shy and stand in the doorway. Come greet your bride properly.”

Thundering footsteps came from behind your seated form as Eijirou towered over your much smaller frame.

“Please, tell me you agree to us, my love. We've waited so long for your arrival, won't you let us have you?” A scarred but gentle hand enveloped yours as the dragon shifter kissed it tenderly. “There’s no need to be frightened; we intend to treat you like our queen and spoil you rotten with all the world’s riches. Grant us your blessing.”

How could you deny them? Your kingdom was in danger, yet these men, they lulled you into such a state of comfort and safety. Perhaps it was the magic at work?

“Please, may I think on it?” Your heart battered against your ribcage with fear and excitement. Two men, both for husbands. What a strange culture indeed.

“Only if you let us have you tonight. Give us a chance to prove our worth as not only husbands but as men to you.”

Blood rushed to your face, heating your cheeks as you felt aflame with shame, and to your horror, arousal. They are seasoned men. Indeed they’ll treat you as gently as they have been the whole time?

“O-Only if you are gentle with me. I am...inexperienced.”

That was all the approval they needed. Eijirou, still behind you, swept you up in his arms and onto the bed. Wanting to show some display of his true strength, he ripped your gown clean off your body. Whimpering, your hand flew to grip his forearm fearfully. “Gentle, please, gentle.”

Eijirou shushed you softly, placing a sweet kiss on your trembling lips, hands beginning to wander to down your sides and to your sex. Stroking your clit in small circles, the men relished in your little whines and moans.

“I think I should give you a taste, huh? I haven't eaten all day.” He purred as he dipped down to press kisses to your lips before diving in with his hot tongue, lapping your clit.

Katsuki’s searing kiss swallowed wanton moans and cries. Eijriou’s hands kept your squirming hips firmly in place, positioning you to sit on his face while the blond continued to lay passionate kisses on your lips, neck, and chest.

Teeth sunk into your neck as the prince wasted no time in marking up his newfound territory. Your cries heightened in pitch as you gripped red hair, calling out Eijirou’s name as you came from his overwhelming sucking and slurping of your juices.

“N-no more! Please, that's enough!” Whining, you began to shake when his tongue barely came to half after your cries. Panting and writhing, you peeled off his tongue and laid on the furs next to Katsuki.

“I think that’s enough for this evening; poor thing is already exhausted.” Katsuki chuckled as he dabbed the sweat off your brow and cleaned in between your legs.

“We’ll build up your stamina and be sure to stretch you gently daily.” Eijirou quipped as he took his place next to your side. Up close, you could see how different he really was. Red iridescent scales trailed on his sideburns and h

shoulders. Absentmindedly, you stroke them and wondered if there were more.

“After all, it’s customary to lose your virginity on the wedding night, so need to rush you in right now. Have you made your decision, given Ei’s stellar performance?”

Letting sleep overtake you, your head nodded gently as he rested on Eijirou’s shoulder. The hunt was over and the men could not be more happy with their choice.

[abovethesmokestacks]

Hidden Love

Title: Hidden Love

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: All audiences

Warnings: None. Or me, probably butchering the Victorian era. Also, you know, slight angst, because I can’t help myself

This story sparked from a moodboard I made a while back, of Victorian King!Bucky and maid!reader, and it kinda got away from me, as everything tends to do these days. And listen... I know. The term Victorian really only relates to the history of the United Kingdom during Queen Victoria’s reign, but please bear with me on this and suspend belief and step into a world where during this era, Bucky is king, and enjoy the stay.

The sounds of crystal clinking together should be like silver bells carrying over the din of hushed conversation, but to his ears, it's like nails on a chalkboard. The food before him is rich and each bite seems to swell in his mouth, forced down in thick swallows and gulps of wine. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and his feet itch to leave, to stand up and walk out. He could.

"More wine, your highness?"

He could, he is king.

The server's voice is low, bowed down appropriately to only be heard by him. He shouldn't have another glass, for the sake of his mental faculties. He should, to keep up appearances. He can already sense his mother's eyes on him, the calculating gaze he has known his entire life. The dowager queen, a mother only as it serves her image in the kingdom than anything else.

"Everything all right, James?" she asks, and oh, that tone is deceptive. Kind on the surface, but weighed just so with the barest hint of concern to draw the attention of the other guests.

He wants to grimace, his name sounding contrived and wrong in his ears, granted with the weight of legacy, set aside for a few blessed years of childhood and then thrust back upon him when illness took his father and forced him back into a mold he would much rather escape. The coronation had his stomach in knots, a chill persisting in his bones and a simmering dread as he was crowned - anointed by God, what god would place their faith in someone so flawed as man? - His Majesty James, by the Grace of God, King of the Nation, Defender of the Faith.

"Nothing, mother. Pondering my choice of drink."

He tries for amicable, jovial. It is the annual Christmas feast, why shouldn't he be happy? His mother quirks an eyebrow, holding his gaze just long enough for the hairs on the back of his head to stand on end before her eyes glide from him to take up the conversation she left.

Some defender of the faith he is, he doesn't even have faith in himself.

An eternity seems to pass as dishes pass before him, plate after plate until he feels nauseous. Around him, the atmosphere has relaxed, emboldened by wine and spirits, and even his mother is no longer sparing him a glance to keep track of him. Somehow, he would have thought being king would have meant finally being free of her shadow, but she is still there. No longer a shadow, but a presence right behind him, a metaphorical foot on his robe to remind him of his place, and hers. He wonders if anyone has noticed that his glass of wine has not been refilled in a long time, that he has been nursing it steadily and that his boisterous laughs have all been hollow.

He could leave, but not without drawing attention. Just a little while longer. He glances at the opulent grandfather clock, feels its ticking like a heartbeat. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

Each tick of the clock is an endless journey. Through rigid traditions, glasses of brandy, sweet sugarplums and fragrant pines, all he can feel is the passing of time, one second after another without an end in sight. Gifts are exchanged, crackers pulled with cloying glee and he feels more like a fool than a king when one of the footmen is coaxed into slipping the thin paper crown on his head. His mother bows out with effortless grace, sparking hope that maybe, just maybe, he can make his escape.

"Let me accompany you, mother," he asks, begs, voice low as he stands up to offer his arm for her.

Take it. Please, for the love of all things good and holy, take it.

Her smile is not exactly smug, but it hides a kind of joy that he thinks must be sour.

"Nonsense, my dear. Don't leave on my account, stay, be merry."

It's loud enough to be heard, for plenty of people to hear her deny him his exit under the guise of a mother not wanting to spoil her son's fun. He tries not to let his gaze harden or his forced smile to weaken, instead kissing his mother's hand and bidding her good night. Propriety will keep him here another hour at least. The clock ticks, chipping away at the span of time before he can have his freedom.

He thinks he might finally be going out of his mind when the clock strikes midnight. His other guests are either half-asleep, lulled by brandy and the late hour, or eagerly playing cards for the trinkets they received in their crackers. Enough. He takes his leave, wanting to roll his eyes at the hasty displays of respect and deference. No matter. He is free. A quick trip to fill up a plate from the abandoned dinner table, something for the road, as he jests with his escort. The palace is quiet when they traverse the corridors to his private chambers, their footsteps echoing ominously with nothing but a candelabra to light their way.

"I think I'll manage myself tonight," he tells his escort when they're outside his door. "Go sleep, I won't tell on you."

They put up the token protest, but still leave, hastening down the dark hallway while he lets himself in. The world feels more manageable inside. It's still a constant reminder of his privilege, of the opulence of his station, but it's his. No one can enter without his permission, no one can disturb him without just cause. Sometimes he wishes this was his entire kingdom.

Setting down the plate on his bed, he loosens the ascot, glad to be rid of the strangle-like hold around his neck. Off with the tailcoat, unbutton the waistcoat. Breathe.

Thunk.

He whips around, gaze falling on the large armoire in the corner. The silence that follows is deafening, but he knows what he heard. With a smile curling his lips, he swipes a treat off the plate, hiding it behind his back while he closes the distance, pulling the doors open in a rush, only for his ears to ring with a piercing shriek.

"Hush! Good god, you'll wake the entire wing, calm down! It's just me!"

The girl cowering into the corner of the armoire claps her hands over her mouth, eyes that had only moments ago been wide with fear now glaring at him as she breathes  through her nose to calm down. It’s strange, how his heart beats quicker, how the heaviness of his mind lightens under her fierce gaze. Years ago, they met by accident, he was still prince, young and cocksure, and she was, as she is now, a maid in the vast household that served his father the king. It wasn’t prudent, but he enjoyed giving her his attention, little flirtatious exchanges that somehow grew into a tender love with stolen kisses in hidden nooks. She has never asked for anything, much as he has offered to help her. She has declined promotions, slapped him for trying to sneak a small pouch of coins into her apron, made him promise not to do anything that would change her status in or outside the court.

He extends his hand to her, helping her up and out, twirling her around the room, making the skirt of her black dress flare around her, and his soul soars at the way her face settles into a sweet smile. With an exaggerated bow, he holds out his hand with the hidden treat, a sugar plum. She plucks it from her hand, delight colouring her features as she takes a small bite. 

“I thought you were…” she begins, swallowing before dropping her gaze, slipping the rest of the sugarplum into her apron pocket. “I wasn’t sure you were alone. I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

They come to a halt by the window of his room, and instinctively, he positions his back to the window, protecting her presence with the frame of his body. This may be his private quarters, but the palace has eager eyes and ears.

“My mother.” 

It’s answer enough. Their love lives in the shadows, in the small kingdom of his room, in the hidden passages of the palace and with notes tucked into cracks only they know about. His heart aches, because she deserves so much more, wishes the world knew about this generous soul that holds his heart in her palms, whose smile lights up his presence even during his darkest days, who will take nothing but the reassurances of his affections and the kisses he bestows freely.

“I came as quickly as I could,” he adds, bringing up her hands to kiss her knuckles. They’re cold, worn from hard work, but he loves them as dearly as the rest of her.

“She knows.”

It’s simple. A statement, not a question, and her hands slide from his grip as she takes a step back.

“We don’t know that. She enjoys tormenting me, we’ve known that for quite some time. And even if she knows…” He closes the space between them again, wraps her up in his embrace, and nudges her chin to make her look at him. “Even if she knows, she won’t do anything overt. She can’t.”

“She’s the-” his love starts, eyebrows knit together, mouth set in a way that he knows she won’t let this go.

“She thinks she owns me. She thinks she controls me. In her eyes, I am as much a servant to her as anyone on staff. And I’m happy to let her keep her delusion, if it means I get to be with you, if it gives me time to…”

“To what?” she asks, tilting her head. “If it gives you time to do what, Bucky?”

To fight for that, he wants to say. His nickname, falling sweet from her lips and making him feel like a person. It’s a treasure from those happy childhood years, when he’d only hear it from his string of governesses and teachers, a concession to play pretend at a normal life. It felt like stepping out of a pleasant dream when he had to leave it behind, had to step into the heavy legacy of James, into the title of king. He looks at her, the only one to call him Bucky these days, and feels courage rise with the beating of his heart.

“To figure out a way for us to be together,” he tells her resolutely, continuing on his next breath. “We’ll go away, I’ll make sure we’ll have means to live until we can settle down. We’ll go far away, we’ll cross the sea if we have to.”

He twirls them around in a dance, away from the window, away from vulnerability of unseen eyes. Away. Gone. Together.

“Bucky…”

“We’ll live in a cottage, you and I. I’ll… I’ll learn a trade. I can tend horses. I can hunt. We’ll have a life that’s… that’s ours.”

“Buc- Your highness!”

The title cuts him down, poleaxes him and pulls him out of the dreams like someone has poured a vat of cold water on him. She’s no longer in his arms, once again removed, three solid paces between them, and she looks so small, so despairing, hands folded in front of her. This time, she finds her voice before he can find his.

“I can’t ask you to do that. You’re king. You… You have responsibilities. You have a realm that depends on you for guidance and rule. You can’t just… I’m no one. I’m not important. I’m- You are king, and kings marry queens and live happily ever after. I don’t fit into that story, your highness.”

He takes a step forward, she takes another step backwards. Even so, it hurts more to hear the way she talks about herself, makes herself small while he grows to something fabled and grand, when truth be told, he feels like all this time, he’s been walking on stilts and wearing a costume to hide the person he really is.

“Neither do I,” he starts, winces inwardly at how trite it sounds. “I didn’t want this. To be king, I mean. It’s not for me. I don’t care for politics and mind games, I don’t care for frivolousness and rigid customs. This is a prison to me. It’s beautiful, and grand, but it’s a gilded cage nonetheless. Outside this room, away from you, I am not myself. I am weak. I am a pawn in a game. My desires don't matter. You…” He takes a careful step forward, hope springing when she stays where she stands, “are everything I want. Everything I need.” Another step. “And I will do anything to be with you, anything to make this my story. I’ll bide my time, I’ll weigh my options, I’ll make every preparation, but one day…”

Another step. He’s back in front of her, and though she avoids his eyes, she’s not running, not putting distance back between them.

"Your highness…"

“My love,” he interrupts, offering her the depth and width of his affection, his voice low and ardent as he kneels before her, prostrating before the only person worthy of him. “My sweet, my… my everything. One day, I’ll find a way for us to be together.”

[pandoraswrld]

SHE

— in which juliet reveals her darkest fears

characters / juliet kang, boo yuna

words / 1.8k

warnings / this is sad, angsty and quite a heavy piece, mentions of past self harm, suicidal thoughts — if i missed anything please let me know!

Juliet’s always felt like this. She’s always felt like crap, right from the beginning. She’s not entirely sure what caused her to feel bad today, maybe it was the fact that she had woken up at six o’ clock today which would be the third day in a row she’d woken up after the sun had gone down, or maybe it was because she had missed two dance practices and the third was looming over her as she chose to lay in bed in the darkness instead.

With the comeback happening awfully soon Juliet knows she’s disappointing her trainers, she’s disappointing the team, heck, even disappointing the company as Jangmi would say. She wished she could get out of bed but it wasn’t that simple, something was dragging her down, she constantly felt as though she had this weight on her shoulders and no matter what she would do it would never leave her.

As long as she’s known, she's always had this weight. She was hardly the favourite child, never the girlfriend or never even the ‘best’ friend, she always thought she had little to lose. Juliet would care more about her role in life if only she hadn’t realised she was nothing but a downgrade or a placeholder at such a young age, still, she felt weighed down. Lately, the weight had become more and more suffocating and way more harder for her to deal with, like it was pushing her down into a deep river and drowning out any last positive thoughts she could conjure up.

She’s tried all the remedies. She has used her mother’s advice of getting up and out, enjoying the outside world, getting some exercise in but that never worked. She’s tried to find healthy coping mechanisms, art, dancing, singing, but now she’s not even sure if she likes it anymore. This job has taken so much from her. She used to enjoy the rush of performing on stage, the cheers would give her so much adrenaline and the fans always made her day. Now every day is more draining than the last, the choreographies bored her and she could barely muster any energy to sing.

None of those so-called solutions worked, they never did. Even the temporary relief from the bad decisions never lasted as long as she wanted it to, as long as she needed it to. Her hand fell down to her thighs, the scars were faint, a simple reminder of just how much she feels all the time. She has regrets, god she has so many. She can never get back all the dignity she had lost during those months, sometimes she questions if she wants it back. Was her dignity even worth losing? It’s not like she had much of it to start with.

Some days she wishes she just hadn’t run away and auditioned for SM, then maybe she’d still love the things that used to make her happy. Occasionally, she does imagine what her life could have been like if she didn’t audition for SM, for one she thinks her parents would love her a lot more than they do now, not that they’ve ever said it. She could’ve continued down whatever path they chose for her, making them “the happiest parents ever” and her brother wouldn’t have had to carry the burden of fulfilling the family legacy — not that having a baby at the ripe old age of nineteen was really helping that.

She liked to describe her life as a line, a long red line that would twist and knot with every significant moment. To Juliet she felt as though she could just cut the line at any point, no thoughts. Just like the fates, she was Aptropos and she had the shears to decide when things would end. She always thought, what was the point of continuing the line if all that was left were ugly little knots.

“Hey Juliet! Where we–”

She hadn’t realised it until her bedroom door had burst open but she had balled herself up into a corner on her bed, her hands were bunched up in her hair and strands had fallen all around her.

This was probably Juliet’s worst fear, someone seeing her in one of her weakest states. She didn’t want to look up at whoever just came in, simply hoping that they’d leave.

“Are you okay?” It was Yuna. She sounded uncomfortable, she wasn’t sure what she should do, Juliet was clearly not okay, anyone could see that.

The silence was thick between them. Juliet had started shaking, almost rocking back and forth in her corner.

“Juliet?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Juliet’s voice was shaky, “I don’t know what to do.”

“What are you talking about?” Yuna kept her voice soft, quickly closing the bedroom door and rushing over to the bed.

“I-I keep having these th-thoughts and I’m so scared, Leyla.” The last half of her sentence came out more like a choked sob, her English just barely coming out. She had to admit the truth to herself, she’s scared. She’s scared of everything. Every year always seems to add on something worse to the last and she couldn’t take it anymore. She feels hurt, even when she’s not supposed to be. She doesn’t know what to do anymore and she’s afraid of the places her mind can take her.

Yuna’s eyes widened, she had called Yuna by her English name, something she was so sure the other girls had forgotten about. God, Yuna hadn’t heard that name in ages but in all honesty she loved hearing it again and it warmed her heart that Juliet had remembered, even that she had called her that.

She placed her hand on Juliet’s back, finding that she was freezing cold. Yuna was not expecting the face that had greeted her when Juliet looked up. Juliet’s face had been replaced by what looked like the shell of her once bright expression. Her eyes were deep-set and dark, her cheeks hollow and her skin so pale it almost looked like she was dead. Her mind raced as to what could’ve possibly got Juliet to this state, she always seemed so happy.

“It’s okay, this will pass.” She wasn’t sure exactly what to say in this situation, if Juliet’s talking about what she thinks she’s talking about.

“You don’t understand! It won’t!” Tears ran down Juliet’s face like it was nothing, she doesn't even notice them anymore. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? How many times I’ve repeated that to myself in hopes that it would come true?” She knows her anger is misplaced, Yuna’s just trying to help, but she can’t help it.

“I’m so tired, Leyla, I just want to go,” Juliet swallowed thickly, “I just want to go to bed and never wake up, I’m tired of living a life that I can’t enjoy.”

“Jules...” Juliet could almost hear the disappointment in her voice, just like everybody else she’s ever dared to tell this to. She drags her eyes away from Yuna’s and down at her duvet, she really didn’t want to know what Yuna was thinking.

“Can I just talk to you? Like just... just words, between us?”

Yuna nods, propping herself up on the bed, shivering as her back touched the cold wall. She pulled Juliet into her, if there was one thing she always knew to do it was to keep her close in her arms.

“Everyone has something they hate, right? Whether it be irrational or not.” Juliet fidgets in her seat, “I don’t know about everyone else but mine’s irrational, so irrational you’d probably think I was disgusting.”

Juliet could just tell Yuna’s chuckle was slightly forced, anyone would try and laugh in what felt like such an uncomfortable silence.

“It’s showering. I hate showering, it’s so... vulnerable and I can’t stand it.” Even she had to laugh just at how pathetic she sounded. “You know I try, I do, I can’t just not shower because that actually would be disgusting and that’s not what I want. It’s just that everytime I think I’m okay I go and have a shower and suddenly every bad thought I’ve ever had comes rushing back.”

Yuna can only nod in understanding.

“Ever since Lyra left I’ve had to drown out silence with anything, usually it would be music but some things I just can’t bear to listen to anymore and it sucks. It’s like everything that happened to her was my fault and I can’t handle it. I can’t be left alone anymore, I can’t and I know this. However, there’s nothing I can do to change that.” Her tears had stopped, instead her head was turned away from Yuna’s, resting against the wall and on top of her arm.

“I feel like whenever I’m around other people I bring destruction, y’know?”

“Oh that’s not true!” Yuna frowned.

“How would you know? No offence but you’ve only been in my life for like a year and a half and clearly you haven’t seen everything.” Juliet scoffs.

This would be the perfect time to tell her about what really happened last year but Juliet quickly decided that that would be another can of worms she’d rather not open. Not now.

“Well that’s gotta stand for something, I mean you haven’t hurt me and I don’t see you doing it in the future.” Yuna’s hopeful, Juliet’s glad that she is but she knows the truth — that she’ll always push those closest to her away until it’s far too late.

“And hey, if you can’t be alone then you don’t have to be!” She squeezed Juliet’s arm, “I’ll always stay by your side and if you get sick of me I can go but I’m always available!”

For the first time in a while Juliet smiled, she genuinely smiled. It was comforting to know Yuna wasn’t going to give up on her, she knew that any of her other members would probably give her the same sentiment but she’d known them for three years and they all had their own shit to deal with, none of them would ever really stick by her side at all times. Of course she had no way of knowing whether Yuna would live up to her words but through the year she’s known her she didn’t think she wouldn’t. Yuna seemed like the sweetest, even back when she watched her on Produce she was only nothing but nice to the other trainees, and she always looked a little lonely around the dorms, she didn’t even have a roommate which wasn’t exactly helpful when moving into a group of six other girls she didn’t know. It wouldn’t hurt for them to bond a little.

She stuck out her pinky finger, “Promise?”

“Promise.” Yuna grinned, locking her pinky into Juliet’s.

[rivalsforlife]

"Pearl buried her head further into her knees. She didn’t know anything about Trucy’s real mother and father… but it wasn’t fair for her to try and make Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya her real parents. Pearl couldn’t remember ever meeting her father, and her mother… Her mother…" from "marriage, magic, misunderstandings"? maybe the bit in which trucy & pearl argue before that too, if you want? (thank you for the phoenix & maya friendship content)

you are so very welcome anon, I have like three default states and they’re dadworth, narumitsu, and phoenix+maya friendship... but the last one rarely comes up and that’s partially why I’m really glad you asked for something from this fic!! For that I’ll do the argument and a bit of the scene you’re talking about haha... underneath the keep reading here:

Pearl finished wiping at her eyes. Something was still bothering her about what Trucy said. “Um… Miss Trucy…”

“You can just call me Trucy, Pearls.”

“Um, okay, Trucy…” It was strange. She wasn’t used to calling people names without a title. “Why do you call Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya your… Daddy and your Mommy?”

One little thing I try to do with Trucy’s dialogue now that I’m not totally sure I did a year ago when I wrote this fic is have her adapt how she refers to people depending on who she’s talking to... like say if she’s talking to Phoenix she’ll call Pearl “Pearls” and when talking to Maya she’d call her “Pearly”. I see her being very quick to adapt to other people’s speech patterns to make herself as likable as possible, even at a young age, as part of the magician persona.

... I say all this not even entirely sure if Trucy does this in the fic? It’s 20k words and I’m not gonna go through it all to check haha, but that’s definitely a thing I started doing at some point.

Pearl on the other hand has been raised to be very formal by Morgan and put proper titles in front of everything, even nicknames (see: Mr. Nick and Mr. Scruffy Detective...) even then it’s a little hard for her to call someone her own age with a title (hence why she doesn’t do it in narration but does in her dialogue here). ... Thinking about it now, Trucy is probably the first person around Pearl’s age that she’s ever met, which is pretty depressing.

“Because they are,” said Trucy, like it was obvious. “Or they will be.”

“But they’re not going to be your real Daddy and Mommy, right?” Pearl pointed out.

Trucy’s expression got strangely serious. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well… Mystic Maya has Fey blood,” Pearl explained. “So… so her daughters are going to have Fey blood, too, and they can channel spirits like I can and like Mystic Maya can. But you can’t, so… you’re not going to be Mystic Maya’s real daughter.”

“But Daddy is my Daddy.” Trucy crossed her arms, and she was starting to look angry. “And whoever my Daddy marries is going to be my Mommy, right?”

Trucy “calls her new father ‘Daddy’ within 0.2 seconds of being unofficially adopted by him” Wright and Pearl “raised in Kurain Village” Fey probably have veeeery different attitudes towards how family works. A lot of it ties into my Kurain Village headcanons which haha I DEFINTIELY rambled on about in another commentary, so I won’t repeat most of it... but like I said then, it’s my belief that spiritual power being hereditary leads to a lot of attitudes on the importance of women with that spiritual power having biological children who will have that spiritual power. In Kurain Village, there’s no real “use” in a spirit medium adopting a child, since that child can’t inherit the legacy of the village.

And of course Pearl is super sheltered so I don’t even know if the concept of adoption really exists for her. In this fic she doesn’t even really understand the idea of how babies are made, because she is nine years old and extremely sheltered and you just know Morgan would refuse to answer any questions she may have for fear of exposing Pearl to “impure thoughts”. (When she’d just be asking a basic biological question. Then probably never got around to asking Maya or Phoenix.) So Pearl isn’t totally sure of the mechanisms but what she does understand is that for Trucy to have spiritual powers, Maya would have had to give birth to her, which she didn’t; and because Trucy doesn’t have spiritual powers she wouldn’t be recognized as a viable heir in the eyes of the village, and thus, can’t be considered Maya’s daughter. Pearl’s also feeling a fair bit of jealousy which I’ll get to in the next scene... but that’s also influencing her actions here.

Trucy, like I said before, seems to be pretty quick to just accepting new family as her own. I guess this may make sense coming from the Gramarye background... like I don’t think Valant and Zak were related, but he’s automatically her “Uncle Valant” despite that, so she already sees family as something that doesn’t need blood ties. But it’s also only been a few weeks since she came to live with Phoenix and is of course dealing with some unacknowledged trauma regarding her father abandoning her, so the insinuation that she doesn’t have a “real family” is getting to her a bit too.

They’re also babies so they can’t really understand or voice any of this.

“But… but not your real ones!” Pearl shouted.

“Why isn’t it real?” Trucy shouted in return.

“Because… because it isn’t!”

Trucy didn’t have anything to say to that. She just glared at Pearl for some time with her arms crossed. Pearl glared back. It wasn’t her fault if Trucy just didn’t understand something as simple as that.

“I’m going home,” Trucy muttered, and then turned on her heel and stormed off. Pearl sulked for a little bit, before beginning to feel overwhelmed by all the crowds, and then followed from a safe distance.

Admittedly children are very hard to write haha. They’re both dealing with a lot of stuff but as kids can’t really process it super well...? So I wanted their argument to come off pretty childishly, which makes sense since they are. eight and nine years old.

And I don’t really like kids much and don’t ever have much reason to spend time with them, so I don’t know how kids talk...? I attempted the best I could from my memory from ten years ago, and no one’s said anything about it being off haha.

Anyways... the scene after this is just supposed to provide some more context into the environment that Pearl grew up in and what she was taught from Morgan. I’m not going to go into too much detail about it because it wasn’t in the request, though. Key points are that Pearl grew up in an environment where it was expected that she would have biological children someday -- like, even moreso than society right now. And she’s expecting the same thing from Maya because of the environment she grew up in.

Okay, now for the part in the ask:

Trucy had already locked herself in her room by the time Pearl returned to the office, so Pearl sat on the couch with her knees to her chest and sulked. She didn’t want to fight with Trucy. If Trucy was going to be Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya’s kind-of-daughter, then she wanted to get along with her. She couldn’t bear it if Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya wanted to spend time with Trucy more than they wanted to spend time with her.

Kind of touching more on the jealousy Pearl feels towards Trucy -- she thinks that Trucy’s going to get to have Phoenix and Maya as parents (which is... half right) and that upsets her because, for the past few years, she’s pretty much been their “kid”. She worries that Trucy’s going to take her place.

Pearl buried her head further into her knees. She didn’t know anything about Trucy’s real mother and father… but it wasn’t fair for her to try and make Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya her real parents. Pearl couldn’t remember ever meeting her father, and her mother…

Her mother…

Sooo yeah this is all happening only a few months after Bridge to the Turnabout, which always makes me so sad about Pearl. Because I don’t think it was ever explained to her what her mother did, since she still seemed to be under the impression that Morgan would want what was best for Maya, hence why she went through with the letter. The realization that Morgan betrayed her and used her to hurt Maya probably crushed Pearl. She’s not going to get over that very easily.

And since Morgan was locked up Phoenix and Maya were probably as close to her own parents as she got. I’d say Phoenix would probably adopt her in a heartbeat if she asked. Maya probably sees her more like a little sister, since there’s the same age gap between Maya and Pearl that Mia and Maya have. But with Pearl’s current attitudes on family I don’t think she’d fully admit to herself that she wants Phoenix and Maya as her parents, so she’s pretty much abandoned by her biological parents and now fears she’ll be abandoned by her “new parents” - and kind of drags Trucy down with her in a sort of “if I can’t have them you can’t either” way. It’s more subconscious because Pearl isn’t a cruel person by nature, she’s just a grieving kid.

So... Pearl has no memory of her biological father, presumably he left before she could remember. He certainly doesn’t come up much in conversation. Morgan probably still hurts too much for her to think about, hence why she can’t quite finish her thoughts about what her mother did just now. The kid really does deserve good parental figures in her life, she just needs to change her attitudes a bit to see them for who they are.

Overall with this fic... it’s got a special place in my heart for the Phoenix and Maya friendship content obviously. Also, for a while, I wasn’t a huge fan of Pearl... partially because I don’t like kids, also her shipping opinions annoyed me... but then I sat down and realized I had 20k words of feelings about her? At the end of the day she DEFINITELY deserved better and I will fistfight Morgan in a parking lot for her sake. A lot of this fic was kind of dumping my Kurain Village headcanons onto the floor and shouting “LOOK AT THESE!!” while also being able to write Phoenix and Maya friendship from a perspective clouded by heteronormativity and also emphasizing the importance of platonic and familial types of love being just as if not more powerful than romantic love... which are all things that are really up my alley. 

... And of course it’s the least popular of my fics because it’s a 20,000+ word one-shot that doesn’t have any ships. I know I sometimes browse around and see a long fic and go “wow! why don’t you split those into chapters!” like a hypocrite. So I’m not surprised, but that just makes me even more thankful that you’re asking about it? So... thank you! It’s midnight now and I don’t know how coherent this whole thing was but I really appreciate it!!

[jesatria]

Fic: Simple Pleasures, Chap. 7

Title: Simple Pleasures Fandom: Kushiel’s Legacy Characters: Isidore d’Aiglemort, Anne Livet Pairings: Isidore/Anne Word Count: 3.747 Rating: NC-17 Summary: The story of Isidore d’Aiglemort & the gardener’s daughter of Lombelon. WIP. Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel’s Legacy. This is only for fun & no profit is being made from it.

Previous Chapters:

1. The Visit

2. Desire

3. The Harvest Festival

4. Triumph

5. Gifts

6. The Eagle Unbound

Chapter 7: Lighting the Candle

           Consort.

           It was an honor I’d hardly dreamed of during the years of my acquaintance with Isidore. Oh, there were a few times when the thought came into my mind, what it would be like to be his consort. In truth, I would’ve been happy to remain his lover. I knew how he felt about me and made my feelings for him quite clear. What more was needed? But now… now a whole new realm of possibility had opened up.

           We spoke more on the matter during his visit. “You’ll need to be presented at court,” he told me one evening as we sat together in the great hall.

           “What will that entail?” I asked.

           “You’ll be formally announced at a court function, and then I’ll name you my consort.”

           “It’s truly that simple?”

           “Truly. The hardest part will be preparing you for it, I’ll need to have a dress appropriate for court made, to begin with,” he elaborated.

           I tried to imagine myself in the kind of expensive gown worn by sophisticated ladies of the court and couldn’t. I’d hardly ever even seen such things, as court ladies were in short supply at Lombelon since Lady Shahrizai gave it to Isidore. “I think I would feel rather silly wearing somewhat like that.”

           He smiled. “Mayhap. The trick is not to let it show and look as if you’ve always belonged there. Anyway, rest assured I’ll do everything possible to ensure you’re looking your best when the time comes.”

           “I doubt I’d be any good at looking like I belong at court.”

           He put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer on the sofa we shared. “Don’t worry about it overmuch. You’re hardly the first commoner to become the consort of a peer. It’s not so uncommon that they’ll see you as some kind of oddity to gawk it.”

           “Well, that’s a little bit comforting.”

           “You won’t need to come to court regularly unless you want to. I’ll not ask it of you if you truly despise it. If you like, I’ll buy you your own townhouse in the City and you’ll never need to set foot in the Palace.”

           I blinked. “A… townhouse?” That was rather more than fancy dresses and jewelry befitting the consort of a Duc.

           “Yes, a townhouse. Many peers have them in the City.”

           “Do you have one?”

           “No, I make do with quarters in the Palace. We would stay there when in the City, but I won’t force you to if you’d prefer a townhouse.” He gave his head a slight shake. “I’m getting far ahead of myself. The first order of business will be getting you a wardrobe befitting your new station.”

           All of this was quite a bit to take in. I never expected it, never wanted it. I was happy with my life at Lombelon. As long as I had my gardens and loved ones around me, I was content. Now I was about to be thrust into a world beyond my experience. It was exciting and a bit frightening. I would go from Anne Livet, gardener’s daughter to Anne Livet, consort of the Duc d’Aiglemort. It was plain my relationship with Isidore had entered a new stage.

           “… before that,” he was saying, “I think some changes are in order here. I’ve been remiss in keeping you as well as I should’ve been and I mean to remedy it. You should no longer be working as a servant here.”

           “But the gardens…”

           He held a finger to my lips and I fell silent. “I wouldn’t dream of parting you from your gardens. You’ll be free to do whatever you like with them. As for the rest of your duties, you are from now on free of them. I never got the impression you particularly enjoyed them anyway.”

           I thought of the dull drudgery of cleaning and replied, “No, I do not. Except for cooking. That I would miss.” Ever since the quiche, which I’d since made several more times, I’d cooked a number of dishes for us. These had included more Camaeline dishes which were previously unfamiliar to me. They were hearty dishes, meant to fill you up during a long winter. Isidore was not very particular when it came to food, but he did come to miss the familiar cuisine of home when he’d been away for a while.

           “I’d never forbid you from doing anything you like to do,” he said with a small smile. “Cook as much as you like.”

           It was quite a bit to think on. I’d been a servant all my life and had long ago accepted it as my lot in life. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself without the usual rounds of chores, and a life of leisure was exactly what he was offering me. There was nothing I’d rather spend my time doing more than working in gardens, but what would I do when the season was over? What did noblewomen do all day, anyway? I supposed I would find out.

           There was more to my new status than freedom from tedious chores, as I was to discover that night. Rather than go to the master suite, Isidore led me to the smaller bedchamber adjoining it. The room was familiar to me—I’d cleaned it plenty of times. It had been aired out and fresh sheets laid upon the bed. “This is yours, if you want it. About time we had adjoining bedchambers.”

           I smiled. “I agree.” The room was mayhap twice the size of the one I’d lived in my entire life. “You mean for me to stay here even when you’re not.”

           He nodded. “I know your current room has great significance for you. I’ll not ask you to stay here if you’d prefer not to.”

           “To sleep on a feather bed every night? Of course I would. Though,” I noted, “I’d like to keep my own room too. Giving it up just feels… wrong. And there isn’t a shortage of space for the staff, so it’s hardly needed.”

           That was the night I became the lady of the manor where I’d grown up. Some part of me could not quite believe it, though it was in keeping with everything which had happened since Isidore asked me to be his consort. There were more than a few jealous stares directed at me the following day, but that was nothing new—I’d been getting those since the day Thèrese had me bring Isidore a bottle of pear brandy. Others were genuinely happy for me. These included Marcel, who held no bitterness over it. “I’m truly glad that you’re happy, Anne,” he told me, “and I hope you’ll still consider me a friend.”

           “Of course!” I exclaimed before pulling him into an embrace.

           The rest of Isidore’s visit passed in a blur. Before leaving, he assured me he’d return as soon as he was able. As sad as I was to see him go, my head was clearer after he left, with the haze of love lifted. I had much to think on.

 **

           The day after Isidore left, I approached Thèrese. I needed some advice on particular womens’ matters and she’d been the closest thing I had to a mother growing up. She’d been the one to teach me how to cook and sew when I wasn’t occupied with my schooling or working in the gardens beside my father. I waited until the evening, when I knew she’d be overseeing the cleaning of the kitchen after dinner. I was keenly aware of my new status and did not want to flaunt it over them, so I had my meal brought to the dining room and ate alone. Had I taken my meal in the kitchen, I’d have earned more of the same jealous glares I’d already been subjected to.

           I breathed a small sigh of relief when I stepped into the kitchen and found it empty save for Thèrese. “Pardon me for interrupting, Thèrese, but may I speak with you?”

           She placed a stack of plates in a cupboard and turned to face me. “Of course, Anne.” We both sat down at the table.

           “I need some advice,” I began, feeling suddenly awkward. “I’m… thinking of lightning the candle.”

           There was no need for elaboration; Thèrese gave me a knowing look. “In the Duc’s name, I take it?”

           “Yes,” I breathed.

           “Ah. Well, these recent changes show he’s treating you as more than a casual bedmate.”

           I nodded. “He means to make me his official consort, have me presented at court and all.”

           Thèrese’s eyebrows rose. “He’s taking it quite seriously, then.”

           “I’m quite certain of how he feels about me, but I can’t help thinking mayhap I should wait to see…”

           “You want to know how I felt when I lit the candle,” Thèrese cut in.

           “Yes.”

           “My situation was different, clearer. I was married and I lit the candle on my wedding night. Normally I’d suggest you think on it to make sure, but in your case it seems clear to me that his grace has strong feelings for you and intends to see you well cared for.”

           I want to take care of you, Anne. “He does.”

           “Then you have your answer.” She smiled coyly. “I do recall you speaking about wanting children before. You’ve a good figure for child bearing, in any case.”

           I couldn’t help but smile in return. “Thank you, Thèrese. I believe I’ve made up my mind.”

           Later, I would come to wonder if mayhap I should’ve waited until I was officially named consort or at least to speak with Isidore on the subject. But I was eager, and in the end it proved to be a good thing that I was. I used my newfound leisure time to visit the shrine of the Eisheth in the village. It was far from a proper temple, consisting only of a simple shrine and living quarters for the two priestesses who maintained it. It also served as a hospital and apothecary of sorts. I’d visited many times to fetch herbal tea for my father. The last time I’d gone to the shrine had been when he was dying…

           I shook my head to dismiss the memory. That was hardly what I needed to be thinking of at this particular moment. I opened the door to the shrine and stepped inside. The priestess was there, cleaning remnants of burnt incense from the offering bowl. She set it aside once she caught sight of me. “Welcome, Anne. Do you wish to make an offering?”

           “Of a sort. I would like to light the candle to Eisheth.”

           The priestess gave me a knowing smile. “I thought you might choose to light the candle someday.” Her statement made me wonder if word of my change in status had reached the village. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if it had. They’d known about me and Isidore for ages.

           The priestess fetched a candle and led me over to the shrine. It consisted of nothing more than a statue of Eisheth. An offering bowl stood in front of it, along with a rack meant for candles. Only a few were currently burning. The priestess handed me a thick white candle and a flint striker. “Light the candle and place it in front of the statue,” she instructed.

           I took a breath to steady myself and lit the candle. A place was free in the center of the rack and I set it there, careful not to spill hot wax on my hands. I lifted my eyes to gaze upon the statue of Eisheth. She clutched a harp in one hand; the other was raised in a gesture of blessing. Her face wore a expression of gentle serenity. It was time to speak the prayer. I did not need the priestess to tell it to me; every woman knew it. “Blessed Eisheth, hear my prayer,” I said, keeping Isidore’s beautiful face in my mind’s eye, “open the gates of my womb.”

           It was done.

           The flame burned bright and steady. I chose to take that for a good sign. Before I left the shrine, the priestess took me aside to explain the changes I’d now experience. It was nothing I’d not heard of before—I’d heard plenty of women who’d lit the candle complain of their monthly courses before and I couldn’t say I was looking forward to them. The priestess was kind enough to give me herbs to take if I was afflicted with cramps and headaches.

           “If Eisheth should choose to grant your prayer and you get with child, please feel welcome to come to me with any questions you may have,” said the priestess. She was the closest thing we had to a chirurgeon and she acted as midwife to both Lombelon itself and the village. I thanked her for her assistance and took my leave.

           The next weeks passed incredibly slowly. I was bursting with eagerness to see Isidore and tell him what I’d done. We’d never spoken of having children before and in truth I wasn’t entirely sure how he’d react. I doubted he would be angry—I’d not have done it I thought it would anger him—but beyond that I couldn’t say. Letters came from him regularly and I considered telling him in my replies before deciding against it. Somewhat of such important had to be said in person.

           Summer finally turned to fall. By then I’d grown slightly more comfortable in my new station, though it was still strange to see my familiar possessions in such a different setting. Some of the initial jealousy had abated and the others generally treated me with courtesy. I couldn’t help but think how much harder it would be to adjust to life as Isidore’s officially-acknowledged consort. Well and so, I would deal with that when the time came.

           The leaves were falling when Isidore at last returned to Lombelon. His eagerness was immediately apparent, as he all but ran over and swept me into his arms, accompanied by the familiar rounds of cheers from his men-at-arms. It was comforting to know there were people in his world who approved of us. I doubted I’d be so lucky when I met the entirety of his friends and family. One of them was Lady Shahrizai, after all, and that woman made my skin crawl.

           I chose to tell him that evening, after we’d retired to his bedchamber for our nightly round of lovemaking. “There’s somewhat I need to tell you before we go any further,” I began as we sat together on the bed.

           “What is it?”

           I took a breath to fortify myself, then spoke. “I lit the candle to Eisheth in your name.”

           I’d never seen Isidore look shocked before, but he did then. He stared at me, blinking slowly, trying to form a response to this revelation. “You did… what?” he finally said.

           “I lit a candle to Eisheth,” I repeated, finding it suddenly hard to meet his eyes. “I suppose I should’ve spoken with you about it, I just… felt inspired to do it after your last visit.”

           The mattress shifted and a moment later his arm was around my shoulders. “Anne, I’m not angry with you—I’m shocked is all. You’ve scarcely said aught to me on this matter before.”

           “I’m sorry. I really should’ve spoken to you about it.”

           He pulled me closer. “Tell me.” His voice held in it the now-familiar note of command.

           “There’s not much to say. I’ve always wanted a child and when you told me you meant to make me your consort, I thought mayhap you might feel the same,” I admitted. My hand rose to stroke his hair. It was soft as silk. “Is it so strange that I’d want to have a child with the man I love?”

           Somewhat softened in his fathomless black eyes. “No, it’s not. It’s a natural thing and I shouldn’t be surprised by it. I confess us having children is not somewhat I’ve considered, forgive me.”

           “Would you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

           He was silent for a moment, gazing upon me with those lovely eyes I found so easy to get lost in. “Yes, I would.”

           I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. It was hard to contain my excitement. “Truly?”

           “Yes, Anne. Truly.”

           After, as I lay in his arms, I found myself too excited to fall asleep easily. A child. We were, provided Eisheth answered my prayer, going to have a child. I wondered if all women felt this way after lighting the candle, a rush of elation at the thought of getting a child by the men they loved. It might’ve happened this night, for all I knew. That we weren’t married was of no concern. A bit unusual, mayhap, but it wasn’t as if there weren’t women who got children with men who were not their husbands. Eventually my excitement gave way to exhaustion and sleep took me.

           We spoke more on the subject of children the following day. “You were several steps ahead of me,” he admitted, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lips. “I’ve only just told you my intention to name you my consort.”

           “Call it a rare moment of impulse,” I replied.

           “It’s not somewhat I’ve thought about much, in truth.”

           “Really? I thought all the peers were concerned with getting heirs.”

           “Many of them are. I’ve known it is my duty to produce an heir for House Aiglemort from a young age, but I might say I was lucky my father neglected to arrange a betrothal for me before he died,” he explained, “and I’ve had less time and appetite for the game of courtship played by most of my peers.”

           I said a silent prayer of thanks to Blessed Elua that the late Duc d’Aiglemort had not seen fit to marry his son off at a young age. “And now that you’ve given the matter some thought, how are you feeling?”

           “Excited at the prospect of getting a child on the woman I love.”

 **

           Isidore visited frequency that autumn, I daresay more frequently than he had any other season. If my revelation had anything to do with it, he didn’t say, only that it was easy enough for him to spend most of his time at Lombelon and travel to the City when needed. More than a month had passed since I lit the candle and I was quite dismayed when the monthly courses I’d been warned about came. The sensation was almost unpleasant enough to make me regret lighting the candle. Almost.

           I didn’t let any of that discourage me. It wasn’t uncommon for it to take a bit of time, I knew. Our desire for each other had, if anything, grown more intense over time. I was his and he was mine. We belonged to each other.

           “Sometime next year, I think,” he said as we sipped brandy together one evening.

           “Why next year? It seems a long time to wait.”

           His gaze moved away from me to the fire burning steadily in the fireplace. “There is like to be trouble on the border.”

           “The Skaldi raiding in large numbers again?”

           “Yes, only worse,” he replied. “They’ve managed to find a leader to unite them.”

           I thought back to what he’d told me about the Skaldi before. “You said they were a fractious people. It must be an impressive leader who was able to unite them.”

           “From everything I have heard on the matter, he is exactly that.” He drained his glass and set it on the table. “I don’t believe in keeping troubling news from you, but I don’t want you to worry about this.”

           I clasped the arms of my chair tightly. “I can’t help but worry.”

           His expression softened. “I know. If it’s any comfort I have been doing my best to strengthen the border defenses and plan on making a request to the King for more men soon. We are taking the threat seriously. Now,” he stood and took my hand in his, “I can think of more pleasant ways to pass the night than worrying about the Skaldi.”

           I stood and followed him to the bed, thoughts of a possible Skaldi invasion draining from my mind. A moment later our hands were at work undoing each other’s clothes as we kissed deeply. The feeling of his lips on mine sent pangs of desire coursing through me. No matter how many times we made love, our passion for each other burned as hotly as ever. Our clothes were soon a pile on the floor. His rough, calloused swordsman’s hands were on me then, stroking and caressing every part of me. Ah, how I loved the feel of them on my bare skin!

           I lay back on the pillows and spread my legs. He took his place between them, then bent to perform the languisement. It didn’t take long, wet as I was already. He pleasured me with sure, quick strokes of his tongue until my arousal was nearly unbearable. When he pulled away, Naamah’s Pearl ached from the loss. He sat upright on the bed between my legs and I felt his rigid phallus press against me. Knowing what he was about, I lifted my legs to rest on his shoulders as he thrust inside me. It was a position we found in the Trois Milles Joies, ones we were both fond of. His firm grip held me legs in place as he rode me. I kept my eyes on his face, finding it impossible to look away from his smouldering dark eyes and the smile he gave me, that small, secret smile I always loved to see. My own climax was nearly upon me; I slid a hand between my legs to rub Naamah’s Pearl. I let the waves of pleasure overtake me and I cried out his name when I reached my peak. His followed shortly after mine. When it was done, he fell back on the plush pillows and pulled me close to him. We fell asleep that way, in perfect contentment.

 **

           It was a little over a month later, as the last leaves were falling and winter’s chill could be felt in the air, when I realized I was with child.

[laufire]

Black Sails s3

This one took me longer because RL got in the way LOL. I’ve loved it as much as the other two (even if I am IN PAIN over you-know-who’s death DD:). I don’t know when I’ll have the time to finish the last season, but I wanted to post about this one before starting it; otherwise it’d accumulate with the 10+ and counting metas I want to write about this show once I have the full picture LMAO.

Max

As always, I have to start with her because she’s THE FUCKING BEST. This woman is currently competing for the number one spot among fictional characters in my heart LOL (I mean. I have loved Caroline Forbes --who I actually think Max has a lot in common with lmao. Everything I love is the same, as I always say-- for too many years for her to ever be truly dethroned; unless something goes really wrong with Legacies I guess. However, it’s still remarkable that a character could make me doubt).

I’ve absolutely adored her plot this season; watching her growing sphere of influence, the way she affects and upends others’ lives. That’s very much being present since season one, especially with her and Silver in tandem (I have a lot of Thoughts(TM) about those too as a driving/disruptive force in the show --they’ll go to one of those metas--; I’m put off by the fact that I didn’t get to enjoy them conspiring together this season lol. Though her reaction to the fake Long John Silver letter was kind of hilarious xDD. Still. I kind of wish we’d seen the scene where Silver tells her he renounces to his part of the price. It could’ve been very interesting --I guess he could’ve told Jack but that wouldn’t’ve been as good, so this is my headcanon).

The most obvious storyline where this manifest is in her relationship with Anne and Jack. I love everything about it, but well. I have to admit, the ~betrayal/different sides element appeals to me xD. I like that Max prioritices herself and her safety. That she sees the writing on the wall with the English invasion or with Vane’s execution and acts accordingly, the way she calculates her decisions and forms alliances without letting past grievances get in the way --with Eleanor, Rogers, Mrs. Mapleton...--, the choices she makes because she doesn’t want to be “on the outside looking in” ever again and how they always end reverting in her benefit, ultimately (I’m getting ahead because I am spoiled of quite a few things about s4, but I LOVE that eventually she mends her relationship with Anne and Jack. Because it fits into this: how even the possible mistakes and emotional compromises she makes are within a very specific frame that works out for her in the end).

Her relationship with Anne gets even better this season. I think my favourite scene is where Max tells Anne that she nows Anne “cannot fathom leaving me”. Can I get this woman’s confidence LMFAO. But seriously. I luff them. I love how Max convinces Jack of going along her plan to replace the gold with good easier to transport (and how THAT ends up being Flint’s treasure asdñlfkasfj. MY GIRL DIRECTLY CAUSED THE EVENTS IN TREASURE ISLAND OKAY) by appealing to their mutual love for Anne. That she trusts Anne with the story about her father. That she knows just as well as Jack that Anne wouldn’t give up the treasure so easily and she’ll try to save him (and that Anne won’t stomach the thought of Jack being tortured because she couldn’t bear MAX’S torture. My heart).

Another highlight of the season for me was her relationship with Eleanor, which keeps being a huge surprise no matter what xDD (even if, again, never in a shippy way. I’m very glad the season doesn’t go there). I love the reversal of expectation in a general fandom landscape: how ultimately, Eleanor doesn’t have an emotional hold over Max (and that she lost it as early as 1x02, IMO. I’m not saying “Max doesn’t feel anything about Eleanor”, but the truth of the matter is, narratively Eleanor serves Max, not the other way around. And I’m happy and relieved about it, ngl), and that the same isn’t true the other way around. I thought two very telling scenes where a.) Max hosting parody trials of Eleanor that paint her under a completely undignified light, but clearly deriving no pleasure from it: it simply was yet another thing she does for practically, level-headed political reasons; and b.) that Eleanor orders Rogers’ men not to hurt Anne in the exchange because Max’s love for Anne.

Continuing down with Max’s relationships, I’ve grown to really like hers with Idelle. I think Max find Idelle fun, likeable, uncomplicated (the scene where Featherstone tells Idelle he hopes his pardon doesn’t diminish her attraction to her was hilarious and clearly the moment Max was enjoying herself the most in the whole season lmfao. BTW, I kinda liked Idelle/Featherstone since the moment he told Jack he wasn’t concerned because “he was in love with a good woman” and Jack was like “Idelle??”. Yes, it’s fun because client-falling-for-sex-worker is a pitiful cliché, but here’s the thing: he’s right xD. He didn’t say “I’m in love with a woman who loves me”. He said he was in love with someone GOOD and Idelle IS a good woman, dammit xDD).

Max doesn’t concern herself much with the idea of Idelle going behind her back because Idelle loves her, respects her, and is a loyal friend (and yet clearly sees Max exactly as she is and doesn’t have any delusions about it. Luckily for her Max is probably the type to feel angry but not vengeful about this lol, if only because it could reflect on her). And Max is right about that. But I love that Idelle still has it in her to take a different path by allying herself with the pirates. I’m curious about the reasoning being after Max makes Mrs. Mapleton madam again; it’s clear the girls aren’t happy about her and she didn’t seem like she took good care of them in s1, to put it mildly, so there’s some of that, but I like to think part of it was Idelle going, “seriously Max? I’m right here! I could be the Madam!” xDD.

Her dynamic with Mrs. Mapleton was really interesting too; I like how she too puts aside any old grudge and decides to put her bets with Max over Eleanor or Rogers, because she has confidence that Max and her methods (“I choose to let the players reveal themselves to me, least I make an enemy out of someone I might wish to call a friend one day”) will outlast them (btw, that line/her approach in general --as well as Silver’s “liked is a good as feared” MO--, kind of reminded me to Sansa Stark’s “If I am ever queen, I will make them love me.” line. Food for thought). Yet I think Mrs. Mapleton instructed Georgia to  attempt to ~seduce Max to get information out of her, which is very much in line with her. I loled at Max’s reaction basically being “gurl, who do you think you’re talking to. I practically invented this. GTFO” xDD

Basically, her entire storyline this season was pure gold. I love how all of those dynamics come from her maneuvers to keep herself safe, in power, and with influence (because those go hand in hand). I love her pride and her confidence, the way she refuses the scraps Eleanor and Rogers intend to give her at first (and how she firmly says to Eleanor “people do not speak to me that way anymore”, how she establishes a new normal between them), and how she pays her way out of trouble/into power with the gold she stole from Flint & co xDD.

My favourite moment of hers is devided between “in another time, in another place, they would call me a queen”, and “I AM Nassau” (that made me decide that if I ever write fic where Max needs a last name for any reason, it’s going to be Nassau. It is law), and how meta they’ll turn out to be :DD. I also have Thoughts about the evolution of her styles (beyond the obvious “omg she’s soooooo beautifuuuuul” lmao) but I’ll leave that for another show-encompassing meta too :P

Madi

She catapulted herself to Forever Fave status pretty quickly (I may have too many of those in this show.  W h a t e v e r  xDD). I love how self-assured she is (“when I speak my men listen, and they do as I say”), and how she always thinks of the big picture (like when she fought her impulse to order her men to fight against the pirates after one of them beat one of hers). And I have a lot of Feels about how this is explicitly linked to her heritage, her mother and father, their ~legacies.

Speaking of: one of the few major spoilers I seem to have avoided was that Mr. Scott was Madi’s father LOL. I was DELIGHTED by that reveal, and how it makes you reconsider his story. His relationship with Eleanor could’ve been a frankly off-putting cliché, but this completely circumvents that; it’s true that he’d shown more independence from her than I would’ve expected in another show, by leaving her side to do his own thing and further contributing to her vulnerability. But giving him a real* family, one that he prioritises over Eleanor and HID FROM HER, using her position to their benefit... That’s on a whole other level.

*I know some people are going to object to this qualifier. Fandom gets like that about found families, adopted families, etc. And I get it, but this is NOT like those situations. Mr. Scott was Eleanor’s SLAVE, FFS. That is incompatible with being her family, her father figure, no matter what she thought. And I love that the show made it explicit, when Madi tried to talk about his “two daughters” and he said “NO. ONLY YOU” in his deathbed (I might or might not have cried, okay. It may be one of my favourite scenes in the whole series). Especially when there’s a very obvious trend of characters of color COINCIDENTALLY being written as prioritizing white characters over their biological families, at the cost of their health and even their lives (I am still not over Monty being forced to kill his own mother to protect Octavia in The 100. Fuck that shit, seriously). Black Sails deciding to do the oposite here is FUCKING REVOLUTIONARY and I love it to pieces.

Another thing I loved is that they picked an actress that looks more like Mr. Scott than like her mother or Max (darker skin etc.): aka how the few black female characters that usually get what Madi will from Silver --that ~eternal devotion, willing to go against anything and anyone for her etc.-- tend to look.

Unsurprisingly, I like Madi/Silver VERY MUCH lol. I like that he is immediately ~drawn to her, in a subtle way, and viceversa (like in the scene where he’s still in the cage watching how she has trouble breathing after seeing her wounded father, or when they hug after his death). All their talks about power, responsibility, succession etc. are really good. And her concern for him is as palpable as probably inconvenient for her xD. I love the scene where she holds her hand as his leg is treated, or her worry one Silver calls himself a “one legged creature”. Though my favourite might be when he smiles when she shows concern for his state after killing Dufresne, and she’s like “well duh, if you fall apart the alliance between my people and yours is screwed” xDD

And though there hasn’t been much development yet on that side, I’m already so onboard with Flint/Madi/Silver lmfao. I love that nod of ~acknowledgment between Flint and Madi with the Maroon Queen’s voiceover about how Madi will have as much authority as Flint in his own ship xD. Her concern about Silver’s relationship with him is kind of ironic knowing that they’ll eventually find themselves more aligned between them than with Silver, by virtue of their many commonalities LOL. And there’s already traces of that ot3 feels, like when Madi tells Silver that the mistake of those “other people close to Flint” that he’s so scared of following to the grave was trying to deal with Flint alone (Madi’s seduction technique: kindness, understanding, and offers of partnership. I dig it).

I want more scenes of and with her mother, too. And between her mother and Silver, since apparently the Maroon Queen trusts him among all the pirates NOT to betray them for money (Jack saying the irony wasn’t lost on him and Flitn was hilarious xD) and that has to be thanks to Madi’s opinion of him. I’m kind of bitter we never got a Mr. Scott & Silver scene, too, especially after Silver and Madi become romantically involved. I love that stuff.

Miranda

I could just upload a bunch of gifs of various crying/in pain/etc. states here because WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS THE PAINNN. I was ~feeling Flint’s grief the entire time, I swear (though... did it have to express itself by shaving his head... asking for a friend). The violence he kept inflicting in her name (her word will be the last word); how he convinced his crew, Silver included, to go into the storm rather than surrendering, for her (and narratively speaking Silver is right, he did conjure it xDD). How fucking tired he is of it all (“you can talk your way part it”, “I don’t know that I have any more lies left in me”).

As far as I’m concerned he could be hallucinating her the rest of the show (I’m going to miss seeing her so much... especially in light of the ending), as painful as I find those scenes. At this point “But when I lost you... I am ruined over you” is an instant tear-jerker, ugh. So is Flint wantint to let go and “be with her”, and ghost!Miranda saying she’d resent him for giving up. Though my favourite is when Miranda basically describes herself as his “maker”, about how she ~shaped him *clenches fist*. I love those kinds of ships.

BTW: I think the moment Rogers mentioned Thomas, Miranda’s ghost, Flint, and I, yelled “HOW DARE YOU SAY HIS NAME” on the inside xD

Flint & Silver

Sometimes fandom gets it right because the relationship between these two is... A Lot. A LOT. I anticipate a lot of suffering on my part in the near future xD

I loved the evolution in the first half of the season, from Flint telling Silver that “in my head, you’re not welcome”, or Silver resenting that Flint’s words convinced HIM (HE’S the convincer!! It’s not supposed to happen to ME!! xDD) and rambling about how Flint is “able to ~conjure the reality he desires”, to Silver finally confessing about his part on the Urca gold robbery (which I’m at least 60% sure Flint suspected already tbh. That was not one of Silver’s best lies lbr) in order to force Flint to “account for ME” --but ofc still grabbing the nearest weapon as he confeses, just in case xDD. I am also incredibly delighted by the fact that the fandom calls that episode “shark date” asdñflkasjdf (*Flint and Silver barely manage to kill one shark*; Flint, challenging: again? *Silver grins*. Shark hunting = foreplay now, apparently).

I want it known that I end up ENRAGED every time they talk about their ~partnership lmfao. It comes off very intimate and gives me too many feelings xD. “When you and I talk with one voice, we can convince them of anything”; “your words opened that door [Flint convincing the Maroon Queen to spare their lives and join their fight]”; “you didn’t tell me the journey into the dark feels good”; “he doesn’t know how to say no to the both of us at the same time”; “I’m afraid I will be the end of you”. JUST STOP YOU ASSHOLES XDD

One of my favourite moments is when Silver convinces Flint to live. To go on, to talk to the Maroon Queen without a safeguard (that knife would’ve been his doom) and get her on their side (which Flint does with a super passionate speech about fighting England’s empire. ILH). Another is when Silver tells him he enjoyed killing Dufresne WITH HIS PROSTHETIC LEG OMFG (I personally think killing Dufresne was very valid of him lmfao), or Flint says Silver enjoyed punishing Dobbs (which in Silver fashion, worked perfectly for him because it made Dobbs MORE susceptible to him). Though obviously everything pales when compared to the scene where CAPTAIN FLINT COMES OUT TO LONG JOHN SILVER OVER A BONFIRE LMFAO. I loved that scene; it was so gentle. And then Silver made it about him and their relationship xDD (this show is not subtle). Flint’s apparent lack of concern about Silver replacing him is stressing me out though. I dread the series finale xD

Outside of Flint/Silver, Silver’s journey remains awe-inspiring. I just... love him. I love that he gave up his share of the Urca gold because he had to hold onto the crew, but that he is terrified of their bow to take care of him. His concern for his image in front of them was heartbreaking and hit waaaaay too close to home, too. And I wonder how he’s going to react to Billy’s King Long John Silver stratagem xD

BTW, I lowkey shipped him with Muldoon LOL. They should’ve had ~tender sex~~ (on screen, I headcanon it did happen off-screen, whatever) at some point (if only so there was one measly mlm sex scene in the show amidst all the rest. It’s troubling, to say the least, that there’s not a single one when it has a queer male lead tbh. And I get why they didn’t go that route with Flint outside of Thomas and can even see why they didn’t do it with Flint/Thomas even if I judge the hell out of them for it, but given how they go out of their way for the other options... yeah, I side eye them).

Jack

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND I WISH HE HAD MORE SCREENTIME, OKAY. Every time he opens his mouth the show gets just a little bit better, if you ask me xD. “If you’re going to behave like children, I will be your daddy” WHO SAYS THAT JACK XDD.

I loved him even more when he decided to deny Rogers & co the cache, Spanish invasion or not, to not give up and assure “his legacy”. And OF COURSE he could write his intentions in a way that only Anne would understand (Max reaaaally understimated him there). Their relationship remains the sweetest (weird adjective, maybe, but it’s true) part of the show, btw. I love that how Jack describes how hurt Anne would feel after knowing she might’ve unwittingly betrayed him. Or when he knew Anne giving up to easily meant she had a plan and he cheerfully told Rogers Anne would find a way to save him xD (the scene where he absolutely drags Rogers about his privilege --“but did I make up a lot of ground to catch you!”-- is perfect. And their reunion kiss was so, so cute.

Other highlights were when he threw away the key of the cache in front of Flint to secure it, or made his pitch to be his fellow captain in the fight. I also take a petty pleasure in the fact that Vane sacrificed himself when he went to his rescue LOL. 

I like that he convinced Blackbeard to fight alongside them, but sweetie, you have NOTHING to prove to that asshole. His opinion is worthless (between his “strife is good” and Vane’s “comfort is for women” takes... ugh. They remind me of the exact discourse among leftism I hate okay xDD. In Vane’s case I at least get where he’s coming from and I even agree in part, but Blackbeard is even more boring).

Misc

-I love Billy’s more and more insidious antagonism towards Flint lmfao (yes, Flint is also one of my Forever Faves. This is compatible AND the kind of thing that would make me appreciate Billy more. I love irreverence, period). It starts with subtle ways of trying to poison Flint and Silver’s relationship (telling Silver Flint doesn’t see him as an equal, sending Silver to deliver Flint’s message instead of Flint himself, etc.). I laughed at him saying he’s all for Flint sacrificing himself for the crew since it’d be the “first selfless thing I’ve seen him do!” lol. Or that he “wants a good view when things catch up with Flint and the world makes sense again”. And ofc, creating the legend of Long John Silver. You just know he remembered Flint’s out of left field “I AM YOUR KING” and said “not on my fucking watch” xDD. And I love the irony of him being the one delivering black spots LOL.

-Did it really took that long for Anne and Flint to share some freaking words smh. Barely, but I’ll take it. I liked the moment where Jack references Max as “Anne’s lost love” and Flint does that Closeted Queer Observing A Queer Couple Look lol (he did the same when he was witness to Max and Eleanor’s fight. You need more queer friends, Flint :P).

-I liked Mrs. Hudson from the moment that she told Eleanor that the only difference she saw between her and other ladies is that their families have better lawyer --which meant Eleanor was the first one she could be rude towards xD--, and accused her of living of her father’s nepotism LOL. I hope she ends up in a good place and safe back with her kids.

-I can’t say I care much about Vane or his relationship with Eleanor, but his death and her hand on it were very well written IMO.

-I find Rogers so inherently unlikeable in every way LMFAO. And as hypocritical as it might sound, part of it is the extramarital affair ngl. I hate storylines where a man married to a more “conventional” woman is ~attracted to one he perceives as “stronger”, “fiercer”, and more worthy of himself (as if his opinion on the matter is worth shit) --only to eventually try and make the new woman more conventional once he “has” her. This one hasn’t gone all the way there but it has traces of that trope and I loathe it with all my heart.

-The only moment I managed to pay attention to Blackbeard was when he mentioned he had shrapnel advancing towards his heart, and for anyone who knows me a little, you know it’s because my brain linked that to Tony Stark lmfao. *Sighs* I just never like any version of Blackbeard, period. I find them so boring. He’s the opposite of Long John Silver that way, because I’ve loved every single version I’ve encountered so far.

-The way Spain is portrayed in this show is so... unusual. Especially for USA content in my experience. One day I’m going to have to do some more research and write about how Spain (and in particular Spanish violence -inter and intranational) is portrayed across the ocean.

[statusquoergo]

So I have been reading your analysis of Suits Season 9 Episode 1 and girl do I feel the same for so many things . Now full disclosure here , I am a Darvey fan , have been since the 1st episode but I in no way mind Marvey either. But Darvey and Marvey aside, the one biggest problem in the entire episode was their decision to keep Robert's name on the wall and Samantha guilt tripping Harvey into giving his 10 clients. Cause seriously keeping Zane's name on the wall is not doing shit for his legacy

I am continuing my ask here. As far as Robert’s name on the wall goes, I think it is a direct disrespect to your clients. I get it Robert didn’t do it but the world doesn’t know this and keeping his name on the wall just means you telling your client that if any of the other name partner does this to you guys we won’t care until the some outside authority takes action. I just was so irritated by their stubbornness to keep the name on the wall.

And frankly speaking they really weren’t doing it for his legacy, Harvey was doing it purely out of guilt cause once he realized keeping Jessica’s name hurt the firm, he took that off too , I don’t see why it’s hard for him to take Robert’s name off. The only difference here is that Jessica was covering something that Harvey himself did and to a certain extent Jessica participated in, Robert however was covering something that Donna did.

And to be honest it’s high time someone knocks that attitude of Donna. The ‘I am Donna , I know everything doesn’t always work especially when you are not a lawyer and are meddling in things that lawyers do’. As far as Samantha is concerned, I don’t where did she get into her head that Robert’s name on the wall is more important than the firm. He didn’t do much for the firm and also one of his biggest reason for doing what he did was bcz he felt guilty about what he did for Samantha.

Now coming to Louis we can may say that ok maybe at first he wanted to keep the name out of respect for what Robert did for Harvey and Donna and in turn the firm but once he realizes its harming the firm , even he comes to his senses that keeping Robert’s name is not good decision. So we are left with Harvey , who does it out of guilt and Samantha who does it out of some misplaced privelege. There’s nothing about caring about Robert’s legacy here.

I’m glad you enjoyed my analysis! And thanks for the full disclosure, but no worries, we welcome all comers here.

I completely agree about keeping Robert’s name on the wall. I hadn’t thought of the angle of disrespecting their clients before, but it’s a very good point; Robert is a man of some integrity, I think, and if he had the opportunity to have some input, I suspect he would come to the same conclusion. (Well, eventually.) Although it was his choice for things to go down the way they did, the world views the events of the hearing as his resigning in disgrace, and forcing clients to stay at a firm that insists on bearing his name is quite disrespectful, conveying primarily that the sanctity of the inner circle is more important than those clients’ wellbeing. Dedicated clients could find new counsel, I suppose, but why put that burden on them? They’ve done nothing wrong here.

Harvey has such a stronger bond with Jessica than he does with Robert, it doesn’t make any sense to me that he’s fighting so hard to keep Robert’s name up when he buckled to take Jessica’s down. Sure, she knew that they were doing it, and ostensibly gave her approval, but it’s not as though Harvey has never gone against her wishes before; look how hard he fought, over and over, to keep Mike, no matter how many times she told him to drop him. To the best of my knowledge, Robert hasn’t offered any opinion on keeping his own name up, so who cares? Harvey’s guilt is no excuse, that’s just him being self-centered.

Thank you. I was just discussing this with someone the other day; since she was promoted to COO, as far as we’ve seen, Donna has done basically everything wrong. Granted, she’s utterly unqualified for the position, but if they’re going to shoehorn her into it, it might be nice to see her have some success rather than just go on and on about how skilled she is without any proof. As for Samantha, her loyalty is self-centered, as well; she can sermonize as much as she likes about Robert having taught her the value of teamwork and having her partners’ backs, but by placing the importance of keeping his name on the wall above the firm’s overall wellbeing, she’s clearly airing where her priorities lie and they are not with her partners’ best interests.

I’m glad Louis came to his senses, for sure. As I mentioned in my review, this whole “respect” thing is deeply flawed; they brought Robert on board to use him for leverage, and he may have been a good attorney, but there are plenty of those out in the city. Putting his name on the wall as a condition for his joining is one thing, but he didn’t exactly do much to prove he deserved it; it was extortion more than anything, so why wouldn’t they remove it as quickly as possible?

Thank you for your commentary, it was fun to read!

[helianthus21]

10 Years Of Castiel

Day 3: Cas & the angels or Cas & the Winchesters

because why can’t he have both? inspired by B99′s episode “The Party”

Samandriel shifts his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

“Stand still,” berates Rachel, sending him a glare that is just this side of disdainful.

“I'm nervous,” he defends himself. “We're finally meeting the man Castiel chose over Heaven.”

He says the name Castiel like a revelation. Like he's not sure he's worthy of tasting the word on his tongue.

Anna steps forward and puts a hand on Samandriel's shoulder. “He did not choose one thing over the other,” she assures gently. “He simply moved into a new home.” Her hand tightens on his shoulder, not less gentle, but with underlying sternness to it. “In any case, have I not told you to dress appropriately for this, Samandriel?”

Samandriel looks down at the work uniform of the Wiener Hut his vessel was wearing when he said Yes, and his eyes widen in panic. He hadn't thought of changing his vessel's costume. Now what would they think of him? When Anna mentioned appropriate outer appearances, he'd thought 'take a human vessel', for burning the humans' eyes out was considered a social faux-pas when attending human festivities. Really, it would be just rude.

“Humans have a high regard for their 'dress code', I believe it is called,” provides Hannah helpfully.

Even without seeing it, the whole flock that stands in a circle around the entrance of the Bunker can feel Balthazar's eye-roll as a wave rolling through their graces. “Someone who thinks wearing those ridiculous plaid scraps of clothing is à la mode has no business judging other people's fashion senses, trust me, darling.”

Anna rounds on him. “And you,” she says, pointing an almost accusing finger at him. “Behave. No snide remarks towards Dean. In fact,” she considers, face turning oddly green around the edges as she visualises the multitude of Balthazar's possible social transgressions. “Don't talk to Dean at all. Find an unobtrusive corner and when approached talk about... wine. Yes, that might be for the best.”

“I'll just talk about fighting techniques and military strategy,” Inias practically bounces with excitement at the prospect of acquainting himself with these humans. “They are all hunters, right? They'll love the subject of war.”

Anna looks around the group one last time and asks if everyone's ready before she presses the door bell. After just a few seconds, the door opens and Castiel greets them with a mild smile and excitedly buzzing grace. “You're here!” he says, and then, more subdued, “Thank you for coming. I hope you found the way without complications.”

“Hello, Castiel!” greets Samandriel. He'd only ever caught glimpses of The Rebellious One, and it is an honor to be graced with his presence. “Your trench coat is magnificent,” he says, and judging by the warning squint Anna sends his way and Balthazars gleeful amusement he must have promptly made a fool of himself.

But Castiel doesn't seem to notice. “Thank you. I wear it every day.”

Behind his back, Samandriel hears Balthazar murmur something that sounds like “This promises to be very entertaining.”

At this very moment, another figure joins them at Castiel's side, rubbing a hand up and down his back in a manner that seems like it’s a familiar gesture between them. Castiel leans into the touch and smiles up at Dean Winchester.

“Hey, so, glad to have you here and all that,” Dean greets them half-heartedly, but Samandriel beams right over his lack of courtesy and sticks out his laden arms towards him.

“We bear gifts for our hosts!”

Reluctantly, like he suspects the carton to hold a bomb instead of a dessert native to human cuisine, he accepts the present. “It's pie!” Samandriel encourages, until Dean finally opens the lid.

He observes the contents, and then a judgmental look that could rival Archangel Raphael's (may he rest for their peace) hits Samandriel from under long lashes. “That's not pie,” Dean corrects drily. “That's cake.”

Samandriel shifts again, nervous about having misstepped. “I-,” he stammers. “Aren't those... the same?”

A heavy silence follows, so charged that it reminds him of the calm of the gathering of Grace before a smiting. Then: “They're not the same!”

“Dean.” Castiel intervenes by laying a hand on top of Dean's shoulder, and the effect is instant. Dean puts on a more relaxed posture and plasters on a smile.

“Thanks for the... cake. Can I offer you some of it? Maybe,” he shrugs a shoulder. “All of it?”

Before Samandriel can respond, Anna pushes her way past him into the Bunker, halting just in front of the hosts. “That would be most gracious of you, thanks.” With another warning glare towards the group of angels, she leads the way to the center of Castiel's birthday party.

Inside, there are people Samandriel has heard of from the Gospels. Sam Winchester may be the most prominent of them, but there's also Claire Novak of the bloodline of Castiel's vessels, and the prophet Kevin Tran as well as who appears to be his mother looking askance at the angels. The woman beside Sam Winchester is a Man of Letter legacy and huntress with the name Eileen Leahy, as she tells them. Two other women surprise Samandriel by throwing their arms around him in greeting, appearing to prefer a much less formal greeting ritual than the rest of the hunters. The one with the red hair, Samandriel learns, rules over a land called Moondoor, and the other one introduces herself as Donna, a sheriff of some American state that is not Kansas, where they’re currently located.

Human hunters are not the only guests on this party, however. There's a gruff looking vampire who grunts out he's “Benny” and then disappears to whisper something into Dean's ears, a young psychic by the name of Patience and an anxious looking dreamwalker who never leaves Claire Novak's side for too long.

In the dark haired young girl who laughs about something the other sheriff, Jody Mills, is saying, Samandriel can sense faint traces of vampirism. He's curious about the story she could tell, but hesitates to approach.

“Samandriel!” Castiel's voice catches him unaware and he whirls around. His little heart beats against the fragile ribcage of his borrowed body. Castiel is carrying a plate with a slice of the cake he brought and offers it to Samandriel. “Sorry, I should have told you. Dean prefers pie. But I personally find your cake most excellent. Can I ask, where did you buy it?”

“I made it myself!” Samandriel says, his wings spreading proudly over his head in the etheric plane.

Castiel seems impressed indeed, just as Samandriel had hoped. “Good work,” he praises and Samandriel feels as if the skin on his vessel's face heats up.

When Dean again steps up next to Castiel, he supposes his chance has come. He'll befriend the new family of The Rebellious One. “What did you think about the movie Tombstone?” he asks, apropos of nothing. Anna had briefed them about social etiquette, but her lecture about How To Start A Conversation had seemed so unnecessary complicated to him back then.

Dean raises an eyebrow his way. “You've watched Tombstone?”

In reality, Samandriel has only read the synopsis on the back of this flat visual device humans use to play back their animated pictures, but he nods eagerly.

“Well, it's one of my favourite movies. What was you favourite scene?”

And that question makes Samandriel's mind go blank. “Uhhhm,” he stumbles through an answer that won't come, can't come because he can't have a favourite scene of something he has never watched. “When they... engraved... the tombstone?” He tries, thinking he can't be too far off when the title already features a tombstone.

One side of Dean's mouth twitch, and he opens it to keep their conversation going, but before he can do so, Castiel takes his hand and moves to pull him away from the little circle they’ve formed. “Can I speak to you for a minute, Dean? Sorry to leave you, Samandriel, if you would join Charlie over there, I believe she wanted to show you how the Google worked.”

And with that, they're gone. Samandriel turns his attention to the young woman who grins and waves him over with a gesture of her hand.

***

“Why are you mad at me? It's your angel friends who're screwing up your birthday party! You should be yelling at them!”

Dean storms through the door to their bedroom, directly followed by Cas who closes the door to give them even more privacy.

“They're not the problem, Dean. You've been dismissive, contrary, and downright rude to them when all they've been doing is try to fit in. You completely thwarted Inias' and Samandriel's attempts at conversation!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “If you can call that a conversation...”

“When Inias started his retelling of angelic warfare you claimed such conversation topics were banned in the Bunker. That was an outright lie, there's almost nothing you like talking about more than beating up enemies!”

“Not with them, I don't.”

With a sigh, Dean lets himself flop onto their bed. The springs squeak but there's another noise accompanying it that has nothing to do with old furniture. He exchanges a look with Cas, and notices he's already drawn his angel blade. With Cas as rear cover, he jumps off the mattress and peeks under the bed.

Three pairs of blue eyes are blinking back at them.

“Surprise?” Balthazar tries.

*

“In my defense, I was just trying to keep them in check,” says Anna, as Cas drags them all back to the war room. He can't believe he'd been so wrong about his brothers and sisters. Well, again.

“I was trying to investigate your recreational interests to find a common ground for social bonding,” defends Inias, facial expression distorted into a sad frown.

“You mean you were spying on us,” barks Dean. He turns around to confront Balthazar. “And what's your excuse?”

Balthazar shrugs, not looking guilty at all. “Just wanted to raid your secret alcohol stash.”

While Dean's still trying to put his indignation into words that aren't stammers, Anna turns to Cas. “I'm sorry, Cas. I tried to hold them back.”

Castiel touches her forearm gently. “Don't blame yourself, Anna. I should've known this was a bad idea.” He turns towards the rest of their guests. Despite the fact that this 'birthday party' had not been a wish of his – Sam and Dean had insisted, not taking no, or 'I'm an angel, I don't have a birthday' for an answer – he feels dejected about the less than favorable turn of events.

“Maybe,” he starts, shoulders slumping with defeat. “Maybe it's best if you go. All of you.” He gestures to the angels, making sure they know he's addressing them and only them.

Anna nods at him sadly but understandingly. She moves to usher the ragtag group of angels towards the door.

But: “Wait!”

The sudden protest surprises both Cas and the angels. And most of all, probably, the speaker himself: Dean's scratching at his neck in a manner Cas knows indicates his nervousness.

“I mean – Cas, you don't have to,” he sighs, looking a bit out of place in this strange circumstance where he finds himself defending the angels of all people. “They meant well, don't punish them on my account.”

“Dean, it's not-”

“I was giving 'em a hard time, Cas, you were right,” he looks sheepishly at Cas. “I'm just wary whenever angels are in the picture, I can't help it. You've been hurt so many times, and I can't stand watching you go through this every time. But these guys,” he gestures to Anna and Samandriel, and even Balthazar, “they're good people, Cas, and you wanted them here and I shouldn't have been such a... jerk,” he laughs dryly. “It's your party and you should enjoy it with everyone you love, and if that includes those no-good, pain-in-the-ass angels, then who am I to stand in the way. You deserve it, man.”

Castiel takes a look around, notes the look of hope on Samandriel and Inias' faces, watches Rachel's hard frown melting away in the face of Donna's winning enthusiasm, the quiet curiosity with which Hannah pokes at a bagel on her plate, and finally, catches Balthazar's encouraging grin.

They are good people, he thinks. Dean's right, he shouldn't throw that away because of a minor faux-pas. He turns to Dean again, leans forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Dean.” For indulging him. For trying to protect him even when the situation doesn't necessarily warrant it.

And also, “No one's ever expended such an effort for me.” He gestures around at the party, at all the people who've shown up to celebrate his existence. His grace beats a happy rhythm against his ribcage.

Dean smiles back at him.

“Well, it's about time,” comments Balthazar, the softness in his eyes betraying his posed nonchalance as he nips at his newly snatched wine glass.

Castiel bumps his shoulder against him in a brotherly affection that is new to him. He decides he likes it. “Thank you, too,” he says. He takes in the mix of bright souls and pulsing graces, and thinks that what they've created today, the merging of his two worlds, might indeed work, could even be something good, if they'll let it.

It’s worth a try, in any case.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Hi there! I️ adore your meta and was wondering your thoughts on Danneel joining the cast. Dabb is seemingly rewriting the series this season and now we are getting another Jo...a Sister Jo. I'm awful at this stuff but hopefully you know where I'm trying to go. I've seen a ton on how this will or won't impact DeanCas but little on this aspect of it. Thanks!!

Hiya! 

And yeah I’m deep in the “just wait and see and stop assuming the worse” side of things about Destiel, because every single female character casting announcement since ever has been met with a kneejerk “it’s to give Dean a love interest/kill Destiel” reaction and I hate it >.> Even if they do have a fling it seems wildly unlikely it’s an endgame love interest thing and I also hate the idea that we’re supposed to get upset about Dean having sex with anyone… Or assume all female characters are love interests, OR that Jensen’s wife would be cast JUST to hook up with Jensen, jokes aside.

So, hey, let’s throwback to the first character introduced that made people panicked and angry that Dean was going to have a love interest! 

In the first couple of episodes with Jo, Dean really has it bad for her. There’s the now since 12x19 infamous line (well, okay, since 4x14 as well :P) about getting picked up by a guy bringing a sixpack and putting some zeppelin on the jukebox or whatever it was. In Simon Said they drop by the roadhouse and he gets the song Jo was playing while she cleared the bar stuck in his head and he’s still singing it far down the road. No Exit put a roadblock into their relationship though by giving us the backstory with John and her father and Ellen seeing Dean as just as dangerous to Jo… The story was subverted with the way they used her as bait and she KNEW she was bait before she even put together the file on the case. By the end of the episode she’s so upset about that reveal, that she can’t really look at Dean any more because Ellen has made her so upset about the truth. 

I think this must be the end of the original run of what could have been a longer romance for Dean because they’d naturally give Jo some time to cool and the episodes would start airing and they started getting the ridiculous fan response to Jo, of the first Serious Threat To Dean’s Singledom, whether it’s people thinking girls suck and ruin the story, or romance is bad on TV or having their shipping or fantasy fuel from Dean ruined by imagining him in a romance. So if there had been a plan to bring her back for more episodes in a way where she would be able to interact with Dean more and continue building what at the time was the ideally placed romance for him and about the only way to structurally maintain one short of adding a girl to the team (something fans were REALLY pissed about, and in season 3 announcing the casting, they had to insist Bela and Ruby weren’t going to just suddenly be added to the cast and spend every episode riding around in the Impala with the guys). 

Anyways it’s fairly well-known how absolutely disgusting people in this fandom can be and definitely were about female characters and all, so Jo’s only return, while Ellen stays as support on the phone/in the Roadhouse a few more times and has to say Jo’s run off to go her own way, is in 2x14 where she interacts first with Meg-as-Sam where she attacks Jo and reveals even more of the possible backstory to what happened to her father, just to remind her how horrible the Winchesters are. Later when Dean’s around, they have a much less charged interaction, Dean’s way distracted about Sam - rightfully - and the tropey patch each other up thing is subverted by Dean complaining she’s a butcher rather than it being the Indiana Jones “i hurt here and here and here” kinda tropey way to get a woman to touch the dude “plantonically”. They do field surgery and then Jo doesn’t tell Dean about what Meg told her, only gets it from Dean that she might have told Jo the truth to hurt her, and again it’s that Jo can’t bear to get into this with Dean, doesn’t tell him the truth, and they’re not working through this together. If there HAD been a longer arc this would have been something really sad for them to overcome. But he legs it after Sam and she sighs that he’s not going to call her, now moving this really to unrequited pining territory while Dean is distracted and busy and Jo has moved firmly to the “i must protect you and can’t deal with this and we missed the chance” bracket. 

She then disappears for three seasons, where she comes back as a “hey this character exists” along with Ellen in 5x02, where she and Dean have *no* meaningful interaction, and 5x10 where he tries it on for old time’s sake, she turns him down because she understands herself better and has grown up and not seen him for 3 years so the whole unrequited pining fire has gone out on its own even if they both still think the other is kind of attractive. He eventually just sweetly kisses her goodbye while she’s dying horribly and that seals it like welp we were never ever going to happen and it’s not just because you’re now bleeding out and about to explode. This is just what was inevitably going to happen to us and in hindsight I’m glad you stopped up hooking up. 

And in 7x04 when she reappears, again it’s wistful missed opportunity, but she gets to speak for his conscience and vindicate him that they were never meant to be no matter if they sort of liked each other. They get around to pointing out the same thing from No Exit - that Jo was trying to be a hunter like her dad, that THIS was why she was doing it and we already covered this ground in season 2. Osiris goes into it with a fandom filter - hurr blurr she’s a love interest and Dean feels so bad about it, but Sam gets her own words out - maybe she had a massive crush on him that she can joke about with hindsight but she was always going to be a hunter and probably always would have got herself killed some way or another, but haven’t they all died (too many times) on the job by now? :P 

So, yeah, THAT is the legacy behind Jo’s name when you’re talking about bringing in a character with the same name again… Danneel OBVIOUSLY makes you make a link between Sister Jo and Dean although I would find it HILARIOUS if she never met him, but the whole thing with Jo is like a missed connection, a romance that DIDN’T happen for Dean, and probably in no small part because the fandom was awful in the exact same way that has probably kept Danneel off the show for so long. I remember seeing a gifset of a con where Cindy was joking about how  much everyone hated Lisa and then saying that Danneel joked to her about well you try being MARRIED to Jensen. 

I wouldn’t say it’s exactly a call out of the fandom or anything, but it is interesting that this is all in here… It might just be they’re pulling old names from the past out of a hat for the nostalgia, but I think there’s been some interesting ways to examine what they might mean in the way they’ve been used. Right now I kinda feel like it’s impossible to avoid the way everyone’s mind jumps to casting Danneel to her having a romantic connection to Dean, because of being married to Jensen, even if that’s reducing her as an actress just to the man she’s married to, like, wow, go feminism. But at least giving her the name Jo creates some interesting thoughts right off the bat. 

I don’t see Jo as a simple past love interest to just give Danneel’s character this name so ooooh is she going to be another love interest, because they remained unrequited, and didn’t even have any really heated personal scenes because their relationship failed to catch hold after 2x06, and in the long gap between that and Born Under A Bad Sign they got too real about how bad they’d be for each other and how the block introduced to make a will-they-won’t-they more emotionally charged ended up just plain old being a massive block, and sadly deprived us of probably a lot of interesting season 2 John Winchester analysis via their issues with what happened with their parents… 

In any case, Dean having a romance with a second Jo seems really on the nose so it’s another reason even ignoring the proper story behind it to think that they wouldn’t really go there because some people IRL have romances with like 3 dudes called Mike back to back or whatever without even meaning to, but in TV you can’t repeat names like that. Unless it’s comical, like Donna and her Doug problems. And that shows that her second Doug had all the issues from the first Doug that she mentally superimposed over him even though he seemed harmless. Perhaps they managed to work together better but I doubt Donna’s going on to Wayward Sisters with a wayward Doug in tow :P Anyway, rules of comedy are different from rules of grim melodrama, which any attempt to romance Dean Winchester falls under… :P

[tiffanyhasbadtaste]

Forrest Gump Review

Rating: 5/5  ★★★★★

Forrest Gump is a movie I often heard about through pop culture references yet never really understood what the film was actually about. Once I started watching it, I was pleasantly surprised and found myself enjoying it much more than I thought I would. Tom Hanks’s excellent performance was very memorable, his mannerisms and speech clearly conveyed Forrest’s characterization and nature. Forrest is such a loveable, endearing, and impactful protagonist. Although his character doesn’t really change throughout the film, it is shown that he doesn’t need to because he is the one changing others. His low IQ and simplistic take on the world becomes his strength as he influences the people around him with his pure optimism and innocence.

Forrest Gump has recurring themes of destiny and familial legacy. Every character seems to follow their destined path until Forrest enters their lives and shows them how to make their own destiny. Forrest’s life shows us just how unpredictable life can be and that maybe drifting through life like a feather isn’t so bad.

Born with a crooked spine, low IQ, and an absent father, Forrest’s life has been at a disadvantage from the start. Despite this, his mother does whatever she can to give him the same opportunities as everyone else. Her teachings are specifically worded in a way that he can understand and he recites them as if they were proverbs. She named Forrest after their ancestor, the first Grand Wizard of the KKK to be a reminder that "sometimes we all do things that, well, just don't make no sense". From the start, Forrest’s mother intends to change their family’s legacy by imbuing good values into her son. Thanks to her, Forrest can pass down her wisdom down to his own son and so forth in the next generations.

Unlike the other characters, Forrest is not fueled by any goal in mind. Instead, he drifts through life ‘accidental-like” and is receptive to everything that comes his way. Just as God didn’t answer Jenny’s prayer the way she wanted, Forrest helps everyone else find happiness in ways they didn’t expect to find it. He is a pure example of going where life takes you, and he is rewarded greatly for this attitude. His simple-mindedness allows him to focus on what truly matters most to him rather than get caught up in the world around him and their expectations.

“Where you running off to?”

“I’m not running...”

Jenny is a very polarizing character and I didn’t like her that much at first. After diving deeper into the reasons why she made those choices, I came to understand her more. Compared to the novel, Jenny in the film was given all of Forrest’s flaws in order to make her the product of her time. Her life was heavily embroiled into the counter-culture of the 60′s and 70′s, and because of her, Forrest crosses paths with many historical events. I think that her character was handled very well in the movie and I appreciate the era-appropriate music that usually accompanies her appearances. 

Jenny’s childhood with her abusive father inflicts historical trauma onto her, this leads her to make self-harming decisions and seek toxic relationships with men. As an adult, Jenny travels from place to place expecting to escape her suffering rather than facing her past. By rejecting her past, she also rejects Forrest and denies his love for her. Forrest never gives up on her despite this and eventually brings her back home to Alabama to create a new definition of ‘home’ with their son. After her death, Forrest 

While not exactly the antagonist of the story, many of her qualities counter our protagonist, Forrest: Jenny had an abusive father while Forrest had an absent father but a loving mother, she wanted to become famous and failed while Forest achieved fame unintentionally, and lastly, Jenny runs away from her problems while Forrest seems to run towards them. Their very different takes on life lead them into two different directions, yet they always seem to find each other in the end. Forrest shows her that life won’t always go the way she wants it to and to make the best of what you’re given.

“His mama cooked shrimp, and her mama before her cooked shrimp, and her mama before her mama cooked shrimp, too.”

Bubba’s family has a long history of cooking shrimp in white folk’s kitchens, which leads to his decision to go into the ‘shrimping’ business himself. Although he didn’t return from the war, Forrest keeps his promise to help him realize that dream and gives Bubba’s family his earnings. Now Bubba’s mother can break from her ancestor’s legacy and have others cook for her instead.

Ltd. Dan’s legacy was to die in combat just like his father did and his fathers before him. After Forrest ‘cheats’ him out of his destiny by saving his life, Ltd. Dan struggles with reentering society as a disabled veteran. He’s angry and bitter that Forrest was awarded the Medal of Honour while he is looked down upon as a cripple. Forrest understands Dan’s frustration and is there for him even when he doesn’t want him there.

“He didn’t wanna be called crippled, just like I didn’t wanna be called stupid.”

Forrest helps Dan make his “peace with God” and he finally starts to move forward instead of feeling sorry for himself. Together they grow their shrimping business and become very successful. Thanks to Forrest’s unyielding optimism, Dan has a new reason to keep on living and gets his life back together.

Unlike the other characters, Forrest is not fueled by any goal in mind. Instead, he drifts through life ‘accidental-like” and is receptive to everything that comes his way. Just as God didn’t answer Jenny’s prayer the way she wanted, Forrest helps everyone else find happiness in ways they didn’t expect to find it. He is a pure example of going where life takes you, and he is rewarded greatly for this attitude. He is essentially given the American Dream but he completely lacks an interest in wealth and gives it to loved ones. His simple-mindedness allows him to focus on what truly matters most to him rather than get caught up in the world around him and their expectations.

The film starts off with a feather floating through the town, passing by strangers and cars until it lands by Forrest’s feet and he keeps it in his book. I believe this feather represents the unpredictability of life and how “you never know what you’re gonna get”. Forrest lived his life going wherever it took him, with “no particular reason”. While the film often tries to argue that you make your own destiny, it also implies that a higher being is in control as well. The camera often pans up towards the sky in order to represent an element of the divine and heaven. We see this when Jenny prays in the field, when the rain stops in Vietnam, when Ltd. Dan makes his peace with God, when Forrest recounts the beauty of the world during his run across America, and lastly at the very end of the film when the feather makes another appearance. It flies out of Forrest’s favourite book when he sees off his son on his first day of school as he watches it fly away. This scene is parallel to Forrest’s first day as he prepared his son to board the bus without making the same mistake as he did. Forrest Jr. is the next generation and his life might be just as unpredictable as his father’s, or it might not, we never know. The feather flies away from Forrest as if to symbolize that it’s work in his life is finished, and it flies past that big tree to remind him of Jenny.

In conclusion I really enjoyed this film and I definitely would watch it again. It’s lighthearted and entertaining while also bearing some emotional scenes to make you care for the characters. The incredible casting and performances were spot on and the camera work was very effective. It’s definitely a feel-good movie and it’s a breath of fresh air after all the heavy topics we tackled in the films we watched before. I now understand why its such a well-known classic and I’m glad I finally understand all the references.

[leagueofbane]

“Make sure someone is surveilling her at all times.”

Barsad is reunited with Sanjana, and Maysam has her eye on Abrams, in this next installment of my Bane fic THE DEMON’S LEGACY.

(This story is also available at Ao3 and FanFiction.net)

Chapter 3

             When Barsad entered his capacious room, only the gentle hum of central air conditioning and the low volume of the television disturbed the quiet. Across the room, the blinds of the broad glass veranda doors had been drawn against the sun, but enough light made its way into the space to reveal Sanjana sleeping on the sofa to his right where a suite of furniture formed a companionable square. The illumination from the fifty-inch TV mounted on the interior wall shined against the silken ebony of Sanjana’s hair, which was splayed about her neck, shoulders, and full breasts like a widow’s veil.

           Barsad smiled and set aside his pack before slipping across the room toward her. With a stirring in his loins, he glanced at the nearby bed, then silently sat on the coffee table in front of Sanjana. She wore a simple, pale blue chiffon sari, the fabric draping her expansive baby bump. Watching her sleep was as satisfying as drinking a tall glass of ice water after a long run or a strenuous work-out in the palace gym. It replenished him and erased the aches and fatigue from the mission. Having Sanjana here when he returned from the field always gratified him in a surprisingly powerful way, especially when he remembered his decades of bachelorhood, when coming back to base meant little more than restlessness for the next mission. Now he looked forward to the days he could spend with her, especially once the baby was born.

           Sanjana’s smooth, cocoa complexion had the flawlessness of youth—she was nearly twenty years younger than Barsad. Her full lips were slightly parted, beckoning a kiss. Long eyelashes lay like feathers against the skin above her high cheekbones, cheekbones that gained prominence whenever she smiled, which was often. Yet, that smile had not always come so readily.

           Nearly three years ago, shortly before Barsad had met her, she had been raped by her fiancé’s brother. After the attack, her marriage had been called off, and her father had rejected her out of deep shame, partially blaming her for the rape. Her ex-fiancé’s father was Hisham’s brother. Feeling sorry for Sanjana, he had petitioned Hisham to ask Maysam to hire Sanjana as her maidservant, which she did. Sanjana’s beauty and demure personality had instantly caught Barsad’s eye, and he had set about earning her trust and friendship, a long, slow process, but one that was well worth the effort. Being a sniper had taught him to be the most patient of men.

           But, just as Barsad had begun to make inroads with the girl, all nearly collapsed one terrible night when Bane and he were gone on a mission. Amir El Fadil forced himself on Sanjana, claiming what he felt was a master’s right and a way to goad Barsad. But he paid for his crime with his life, thanks to Barsad’s skill as a sniper. Though Sanjana suspected and was grateful for Barsad’s part in avenging her shame, more than a year passed before she could gather the courage to sleep with him, no matter how great her love and desire by then. Even after that, Sanjana struggled with her trauma. It was Barsad’s patience and kindness that eventually helped her trust again, and deepened her love for him as well.

           Now Barsad’s lips twisted in an ironic smile as he watched her sleep, thinking of how Bane often teased him about his choice in women.

           “I thought you would end up with someone like Selina Kyle, brother. Someone outside the law, not a sweet, feminine child such as Sanjana.”

           Barsad had to agree with Bane, though he sure as hell never shared his view with Sanjana. Even all this time later, she still looked at him with a certain innocence, as if she didn’t completely understand that he was a trained assassin. And he found that he liked that. Although he never pretended to be anything other than what he was, he also didn’t share much with her about his work. If she asked, he gave only vague details and reminded her of his oath of secrecy to the League. She never pressed but neither did she hide her curiosity. Last year she had even asked him to teach her how to shoot, which he had happily done. And though she had no natural talent for it, she had a genuine desire to learn and improve. Sharing his life’s passion in this way drew him even closer to her, in the same way Sanjana’s belief that he had been the one who had assassinated Amir had bonded them, a fact that he had never confirmed, for her safety as well as his own.

           He reached to brush back a tendril of her hair that had slipped across her face. She made a small sound and stirred. Her nostrils twitched then flared, and she breathed deeply as her eyes lazily opened enough to see him. Sanjana smiled dreamily. Barsad smiled back.

           “Are you real?” she murmured. “Or just a dream?”

           “I’m afraid I’m real, darlin’. In no good dream does a man smell this bad. But that’s not going to stop me from kissing you.”

           “I hope not.”

           Sanjana remained with her head on the pillow while their lips met. She always tasted so damn good—sweet and fresh, lips as soft as a down pillow. His hand drifted to her swollen belly.

           “How are you and the baby feeling?”

           “Tired, all the time. And hungry.”

           Barsad helped her sit up, then settled next to her, taking her hand in both of his. “Well, it’s almost suppertime, and I promise not to keep you up late tonight. In fact, I’ll probably be asleep before you.”

           “Aren’t we a pair?” She kissed him again. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’m always afraid the baby will come when you aren’t here.”

           He put his arm around her. “No need to worry about that anymore. Bane’s assured me I won’t be going anywhere now until after the birth.”

           “And hopefully not soon afterwards.”

           “I hope not.”

           “Bane stayed here a long time after Henri was born,” she said hopefully.

           “Yes, but he’s Bane. I’m not as privileged.” Barsad winked and added with mock importance, “I serve at the pleasure of the Demon’s Head.”

           Sanjana scoffed. “You are more than an employee to Bane; you are his brother. For that, I will always be grateful to him. He respects you more than anyone in the world.”

           Barsad laughed. “You don’t see us away from here, darlin’. Don’t let the bear fool you with his gentlemanly ways around you women. He’s a harsh taskmaster, even with me.”

           “Well,” she said with an impish smile and side glance, “you can be trouble, John Barsad.”

           “Someone has to challenge him. Keeps him on his toes.”

           Sanjana rested her head against his shoulder and sighed. He kissed her smooth hair, buried his nose in its coconut scent.

           “I should take a shower before we eat. Don’t wanna show up at Maysam’s table looking like a beggar and smelling worse.”

           Sanjana lifted her head. “Oh, John. Can’t we eat here? Just the two of us?” She gestured to the small dining area near the veranda doors.

           He kissed her cheek. “I’d love to, but we’re expected. You know we always eat with the others when we first get back. That’s how Maysam likes it. Abrams is even coming.”

           Sanjana couldn’t hide her small frown over the invitation.

           “Sanji,” Barsad said, “you’ve gotta get over this thing with Maysam.”

           “I can’t help it, John. I was her servant for three years.”

           “Yeah, but not the past three months.”

           “But after the baby is born, I will go back to being her servant.”

           “That’s your choice, not Maysam’s mandate, remember. You don’t have to do that.”

           “But it wouldn’t feel right for me just to…be here, doing nothing, like some privileged woman of fine breeding, while you are in the field. I’m a child of the Jaipur slums. When I came here, I couldn’t read or write or even speak anything but Hindi. For me to pretend—”

           “You aren’t pretending. You’re the mother of my child. Don’t forget, it was Maysam who brought us together.”

           Barsad instantly regretted saying this when he saw Sanjana’s hurt look. This was not the time to have this discussion, not with her hormones raging and his need to clean up before their meal.

           “Yes, she brought us together that first night so I could be your whore. That is probably how she still sees me. And why wouldn’t she when we’re not married?”

           “You weren’t my whore then, and you aren’t now. You’re being unfair to Maysam. She doesn’t look at you that way.”

           “I know it’s hard for you to understand, John. You grew up in a totally different world.”

           “I understand the caste system better than you think, Sanji.”

           “Understanding it and living it are two very different things.”

           Barsad took her face in his hands, drew her even closer. She was more wounded than angry, and he hated seeing her this way. It was always the same with this damned topic. He offered a placating smile and kissed her pouting lips.

           “Let’s discuss this after supper. I need to shower, and we need to get dressed so we’re not late.” He saw the shadow of further battle in her eyes, so he gave her a boyish grin. “Please, mere bachche kee maan.”

           “Can’t you just tell them I don’t feel well?”

           “I could, if you want me to be a liar.”

           She sighed in frustration.

           He kissed her hands then stood. “I have to shower. I smell like guns and sweat.”

###

           Abrams had never been a huge fan of Indian food, but he had to admit tonight’s Tandoori chicken was damn near flawless, served with rice and grilled vegetables, accompanied by a cucumber salad. He had always been more of a red meat and potatoes kind of guy, but Maysam’s chef had outdone himself this time.

           “It would appear you’re enjoying the chicken, Aaron,” Maysam said from the head of the rectangular table. She was the only person who ever called him by his first name, a practice he found both discomfiting and pleasurable.

           He paused with a drumstick halfway to his spice-besmeared mouth and saw that Maysam, Bane, Talia, and Barsad were looking at him with amusement. Only Sanjana, across the table, next to Barsad, kept her eyes on her own plate, silent as usual while at Maysam’s table. The heat of a slight flush warmed Abrams’s cheeks.

           “Er…yes. It’s excellent.”

           “See what you would have missed out on if you hadn’t come?” Maysam said with a sly look that bordered on the sultry. Or was it his active imagination conjuring what he wanted to see?

           “Now, Jiddah,” Talia said, “you know he embarrasses easily. Don’t scare him away.”

           “Pay the women no mind, Abrams,” Bane said. “They enjoy trying to make us uncomfortable. We must stand firm.”

           Abrams produced a weak smile of appreciation for Bane’s defense, then bit into the piece of chicken, happy to have an excuse to be unresponsive. Next to him, Bane chuckled and went back to his own meal. From the other side of Bane, Talia gave Abrams a wink before leaving him alone to stew in his own awkwardness. Barsad came to his rescue by engaging Maysam in palace gossip. For a mere instant, Sanjana lifted her empathetic gaze to Abrams and offered a tiny smile of fellowship. He tried to smile back but failed miserably.

           Abrams had never felt comfortable around beautiful women, and here he sat at a table with three of the most beautiful he had ever seen. At least with Sanjana, he sensed that slight kinship, that understanding of the outsider. Even if Barsad hadn’t told him about Sanjana’s uneasiness regarding her relationship with Maysam, he would have figured it out. Like him, she was an employee sitting at the boss’s table. Yet with Abrams it was something even more that made him ill at ease…

           He was in love with Maysam.

           Easily he remembered the first time he had seen her; it had been in this very room. Bane had brought him to the palace to recover from a gunshot wound suffered while helping Bane apprehend a notorious terrorist, a dangerous operation in which Abrams had been a triple agent. The success of that mission—in conjunction with the CIA—had gained immunity for Bane and Talia for the Gotham takeover, so Maysam had been especially grateful to Abrams when they met that first day at lunch. He had expected to see a woman who looked her age—early seventies at the time—so when Bane introduced her, Abrams found himself struck speechless by her timeless beauty. Few lines marred her forehead and lean cheeks, and a spark of cunning enlivened her prominent dark eyes. She carried herself like a queen, back straight, chin high, tall, stately and slim. When she spoke, the sexy throatiness of her voice also took him aback for someone her age. Not that she was so much older than he in his mid-sixties, but still…

           After Abrams’s recovery, it had been Bane’s idea that he remained as part of Maysam’s personal security force. Talia and Bane had feared that if Abrams returned to his job with German intelligence, the radical Islamic terrorist organization he had betrayed would hunt him down and kill him. Though the initial idea had not overly appealed to Abrams for a variety of reasons, once he met Maysam, he couldn’t say no. After a year and a half, she had promoted him to head of security. The new position made it necessary for him to spend more one-on-one time with her to discuss issues of her safety.

           Abrams, with no family except a father who worked too many hours and an abusive uncle, had left home straight out of high school in Maryland, enlisting in the army and surviving two tours of duty in Vietnam. Like many, he returned to the States and found civilian life an impossible adjustment. He dabbled with various jobs but had little success in holding one for very long. He drank too much and abused drugs. When he reached rock bottom and ended up in rehab, he managed to crawl out of that dark hole and realize that without a purpose he would never survive. So he returned to what he knew—soldiering. But this time he carried a gun as a private soldier, a mercenary. And he was good at it…until it landed him in the pit prison.

           During the checkered years of his unhappy life, there had been a few women, but nothing lasting more than a couple of months. After that, there had been only the occasional prostitute. Otherwise, he had given up on relationships. Maybe that was why he could endure being in a cell next to Bane’s mother—and, later, Melisande—better than other men could.

           But, since coming to the palace, things were different. He experienced emotions that he had thought never to feel again. He had not been searching for them either; they had simply found him. And no matter how much he rejected those feelings, those stirrings, he couldn’t escape them. Surprisingly, he didn’t want to. Yet, he wasn’t sure what to do with them either.

           “I saw another cornhusk doll in Henri’s room,” Bane was saying, drawing Abrams back to the table. “Did you take my son to the bazaar today, Maysam?”

           “Yes. I hadn’t planned to, but when he found out I was going, there was no denying him.”

           “You went with them, of course, Abrams?”

           “Of course. And I’m glad I did.”

           Bane turned, instantly keen. “Did something happen?”

           “No, but…” Abrams shrugged one shoulder. “Call it a hunch.”

           “Call it nonsense,” Maysam said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Aaron thinks Diya Panjabi’s daughter is a spy.”

           “I never said that,” Abrams countered calmly.

           “A potential threat, then.” Maysam’s attention returned to her plate as Hisham poured her more coffee. “It’s still nonsense.”

           “What did you see?” Bane asked.

           Abrams shrugged again. “Maybe nothing. But Diya’s daughter—Nyssa is her name—rarely comes to the village to see her mother, according to Maysam.”

           “Her mother is ill,” Maysam said. “She is here to take care of her and mind Diya’s stall in the bazaar. Nothing more.”

           “Maybe that’s all there is to it,” Abrams conceded. “But she had a look about her. It’s the look of a soldier.”

           “A soldier?” Maysam echoed.

           “Yes. And after we returned from the bazaar, I did some checking. Nyssa was married to a rather notorious and skilled mercenary. She met him in the trade.”

           “You mean,” Barsad said, “she was a mercenary herself?”

           “Still is, according to my sources.”

           Now Maysam ignored her food, interest wiping away her previous dismissiveness. “But that still doesn’t mean she is here for any other reason than to care for her mother.”

           “Sure, probably,” Abrams allowed. “But I think she bears watching all the same.”

           “Of course,” Bane rumbled. “Make sure someone is surveilling her at all times while she is here.”

           “I already have Davos on it.”

           “Make sure the woman knows Davos is watching her,” Bane said. “It may deter her and cause her mother to caution her.”

           With a brow furrowed by concern, Talia asked, “Did she speak with Henri? They bought that doll from her.”

           “Yes,” Maysam said. “She was very kind to him. He liked her.”

           “Perhaps,” Bane said, “until the woman is gone from here, Henri should remain at the palace. Abrams, ensure Diya Panjabi has the medical care required for a swift recovery, so her daughter’s services will no longer be required. Use discretion in accomplishing this, of course. We don’t want to be overt in our intervention.”

           “I’ll see to it.”

           “We will plan on having her shadowed once she leaves here, until we are satisfied she poses no threat.”

           Abrams caught Maysam’s frown, and she avoided his gaze for the rest of dinner. Afterwards, everyone went to the adjoining veranda for dessert and coffee. As soon as he finished dessert, Abrams begged leave. He was surprised when Maysam left the others to escort him through the dining room.

           “I want to apologize,” she said.

           “Apologize? For what?”

           “For trivializing your concern about Diya’s daughter, especially in front of the others.”

           “You don’t need to apologize. Things have been quiet for a while. It’s natural to let your guard down a bit.”

           “Well, I should know better. But, yes, things have been peaceful. Having my granddaughter and great-grandson here with me all the time has perhaps made me a little soft.”

           “Nothing wrong with that. That’s why you have me and the others—let us worry about your safety while you enjoy your life.”

           They paused when they reached the door. Maysam rested her hand on the doorknob but didn’t open the door. She studied him with her intelligent eyes, and he wondered what truly lay behind them.

           “Perhaps,” she said at last, “you should enjoy your life as well, Aaron. When you’re here, socializing with my family, you should understand that you are a part of that family, not my employee.”

           Her words flustered Abrams. She was the only person who had such an effect on him, and he hated himself for his helplessness in such a moment.

           “I appreciate that, Maysam, but I don’t think I’ve earned that inclusion. We haven’t known each other very long.”

           She laughed. “It’s been almost three years, Aaron.”

           “What I mean is, we haven’t known each other as long as you’ve known the others. Hell, you’ve even known Sanjana longer than you’ve known me.”

           Maysam’s gaze never wavered, making him squirm even more inside. He wished she would open the door and let him escape to the solitude of his room, yet he also enjoyed her closeness. It made him slightly lightheaded, like drinking too much whiskey, hard and fast. She was intoxicating, classy. Too damned classy for him.

           “Perhaps,” Maysam said, “we would know one another better if you accepted more of my invitations to share my table.”

           “Your brother thinks it’s inappropriate, and so does Nashir.”

           Maysam waved away his words and tsked. “What do I care what they think? And you shouldn’t care either.” She smiled to dismiss his concerns. “Now, promise me that the next time I invite you,” she pointed in warning, “even when Bane and Barsad are not here, you will accept. I’m beginning to think you don’t like my company, Aaron.”

           Nothing could be farther from the truth, he almost said but bit back his enthusiasm.

           When he hesitated, Maysam leaned closer, as if trying to hear. She wore an impish smirk that reminded him of Talia, or was it Melisande? No, in the pit prison there had been little occasion for such lighthearted emotion from Talia’s mother. Either way, Maysam had succeeded in banishing the years from her attractive face, and he could believe she was younger than he.

           “Er, um…”

           “Must I issue a direct order?” Maysam persisted. “Perhaps Bane could convince you. He does have his ways of…persuading people. However, I understand pain is often involved.”

           Abrams couldn’t help but grin at her game, though he hated smiling too much around her because he felt it accentuated his cursed hair-lip.

           “I’ll think about it,” he said. “No need to poke the bear, as Barsad would say.”

           She removed her hand from the doorknob at last and took a step back. “Yes, Barsad would know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t he?” Her smile remained, making Abrams’s temperature rise, among other things.

           “Well,” he stammered, “thanks for dinner.”

           She allowed him to leave without securing his promise, but he could tell by the pointed lift of her eyebrows that she wasn’t going to let him off the hook.

[jo-the-schmo]

Breaking... Ch.5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: You thought there’d only be one chapter this week? Well you are sadly mistaken dear reader! This chapter has to end in an awkward place and I apologize for that now, next chapter is planned to be...interesting. I hope you enjoy!!!

Word count: 3270

Warnings: Cursing (obvious), fluff, feminism (lol ME)

Tags!!! @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit @renae-writes @literally-melonkitty @deltablue202

(If anyone else wants to be tagged I just opened an ask box so please send them my way!)

Breaking Tradtions

The blue light, it was there again, as cold and icy as it was before. It swallowed you whole until all you could see was blue. You heard your voice ring out, it reverberated, echoing against the walls of your own mind. “I could never do something like that! Never in a million year would I hurt you like that!” Your eyes shot open, every breath you heaved burned you to the core. Your muscles felt like they had just been stretched across the entire world. You clutched your chest, trying to alleviate the pain. Your room was completely dark, not a shred of light was coming through the window.

“How long was I out for? It’s pitch black outside… And what was that dream all about?” Last time that happened…Is the universe trying to tell me something? Oh shit… You suddenly realized the mistake you had made. Alex…What have I done?! You shot up out of bed. I need to…talk to someone… You opened the door to your room, the hallways were just as dark as the room. Fortunately, your eyes were adjusting quickly so that you could at least see the turns. You tip toed through the darkness, the whole house was quiet. You were thankful for the moonlight seeping in through the windows once you entered the main room. You didn’t let yourself think of where you were going as you made your way up the staircase. You had only been upstairs to go to Angie’s room, most of those visits were to help her with her work, help her dress or to hear about her day. You saw a door at the end of the hall, light was flowing out from underneath it. It was warm, bright, and welcoming. It cut through the darkness, it felt like hope. Of course you’re still awake. You’re just like your dad sometimes… You moved toward the light, once you were in front of the door you gave it a soft knock. You heard a small jolting noise, then footsteps. The door opened and you felt like the sun was shining on your skin.

“Angie, it’s the middle of the night and I’m busy. It was just a bad dre-“ He stopped, realizing it was you standing there and not his little sister.

“Hey… Can we talk?” You asked. He looked surprised, probably because it’s the middle of the night.

“Uh, yes! Of course, what do you wish to discuss?”

“Mind if you let me in first?” You raised an eyebrow and pointed past him, into the light filled room. His eyes went wide, he looked completely dumbfounded.

“In my room? That’s uh…” He scratched his face nervously. Why’s he acting so flustered?

“I’m a maid Philly, nothing different than Rachel coming in to make your bed.” You chuckled. Boys are so weird. He nodded, but he still looked anxious. Opening the door wider, you stepped inside and walked past him. I’ve never actually been in his room before, it’s nice. The walls were a soft yellow but the light from the candle on his desk gave the illusion of it being slightly brighter. There were papers scattered all over his desk, quill and ink still out. He must be working on something for school. You walked over to his bed and sat on the edge of it, heaving a deep sigh. Philip closed the door and quickly made his way over to his desk, moving the chair so that he could face you as he sat down. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you with curiosity.

“Now, what did you wish to discuss?” He asked again, this time with more worry. You took one last deep breath, finally feeling the weight of all your concerns weighing down on you.

“I think I messed up big time Philly and I don’t know what to do… I did something terrible, I don’t think I can fix it!” Your hands were clutching onto the cloth of your skirt. There’s no telling what the consequences of my actions will end up being. I told myself! I told myself not to meddle with the course of history! The world could blow up for all I know and it would be all my fault! Philip shook his head, quickly jumped out of his seat and kneeled down beside the bed. He grabbed your now shaking fist, you were surprised as to how your hand instantly stilled.

“Come on, if I know you at all it can’t be that bad. Even if it was, I know you’d be able to fix it, you are the smartest person I know after all!” He had a comforting smile on his freckled face.

“I’m a fool Philip, an idiot! I’m not even supposed to be here! I don’t belong here in this world, in your world and I’m ruining everything!” So stupid! Philip gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Do not speak of such things! Y/N Taylor is no fool and certainly not an idiot! I already know you won’t tell me what’s wrong yet, I know you too well for that. But I don’t care if you ‘don’t belong here’ because I’m glad that you are! My world, my family’s world, it shines much brighter with you in it. I certainly do not see that as ruining…” He looked up at you, his eyes asking for understanding. How does he always know how to calm me down? He makes me really want to believe him. Can it really be ok? How does the sun’s life get brighter?

“Thank you Philly, I think… I think I feel a bit better now.” You gave him the best smile you could muster and he did the same for you. He stood up to go sit back at his desk.

“Perhaps you should go back and rest, I do not wish for you to have another spell as you did this afternoon. One of us should get some sleep at the very least.” He turned his chair back toward his desk and picked up his quill, already going back to work.

“What exactly are you doing anyways?” You asked, your curious nature taking the lead.

“Just an essay for class, it isn’t due for some time but I wish to put a lot of effort into it.” His shoulders slumped over, you hadn’t noticed how tired he looked until now. Has he been awake all night working on this?

“Philly… Don’t you think you should take a break? It isn’t healthy to stay awake for this long.” You suddenly became worried, he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“I can’t exactly think about sleep right now. I’m the eldest son, I need to showcase the Hamilton legacy correctly, be just like my father.” Does being the oldest really bring this much pressure to him? But he’s already so smart!

“Philip that’s ridiculous.” You said bluntly, he turned back toward you, surprised by your response.

“It’s great that you want to make your family proud but you don’t need to be just like Alex to do it. You…you can be someone better, you can be you… And the Philip I know doesn’t have dark circles under his eyes or is sleep deprived. Don’t put your work off but you can slow down a little bit with the writing, you’ve got plenty of time.” You ended your speech, you couldn’t read exactly what you saw in Philip’s eyes as he looked at you.

“You, you really think I can be better than my father?” He asked sheepishly, you nodded.

“I don’t think, I know.” He smiled and quickly turned his head away, looking down at the papers on the desk.

“I’ll retire in just a moment; I promise… I just thought of how to end this part of the paper, it’ll only take a second.” He dipped the quill into the ink. You gave him a suspicious look.

“Philly I am not leaving until you put all of that nonsense away!” You felt like you were lecturing but honestly he didn’t really listen any other way sometimes.

“That is alright, as I said it will only be a moment.” He chuckled slightly. You watched him carefully scrawling letters onto the paper, it was calming to witness. His hand moving while he wrote was almost hypnotizing, you felt heavy, your breathing beginning to slow. You felt yourself gently falling back, your head hitting the bed with a soft ‘thud’. Instinctively you curled up on the mat, you felt at peace. You could hear the soft scratching sound from Philip’s quill as your eyes fluttered open and closed. Don’t…fall…asleep… You felt yourself be engulfed in darkness. Philip’s quill, his subtle movements and the warmth in the room were the last things you remembered before you drifted off.

            Slowly you began to wake up, stretching your arms out and your eyes open. Wow… I haven’t slept so soundly since I got here! Wait…Where the… Where am I?! You shot up in the bed and looked at your surroundings. Yellow walls, nice wooden furniture, an almost completely melted candle on the desk. The memories of you talking to Philip suddenly came back to you. Did I actually fall asleep in his room? You looked back at the desk and noticed a folded up piece of paper lying on the surface, your name written on the front with beautiful penmanship. You rolled out of the bed, went over and began to read the paper.

Dear Y/N,

            I hope that you find this letter with a well-rested mind. Currently, at the time I am writing this letter, you are sound asleep a few feet away from me. I cannot lie when I say it took me a moment to decide what to do, and in regards to that you must forgive me.  I should have awoken you, I should wake you right now, but I simply cannot. I see you sleeping so comfortably, you do not even stir. I can only imagine you are having a precious dream, so allow me to apologize for my selfishness. I cannot bear the thought of pulling you away from that dream. I feel my mind growing weak from fatigue, I suppose I must apologize for not sleeping right away as you told I should as well. It is not proper for me to see you rest, in my own bed no less, but your presence puts the ruins of my mind at ease. I have written Angie a request to awake me in time for class as I shall be sleeping in the guest room. She may act as though she would use any advantage she has against me in order to put me through trials but I trust her greatly. She is quite understanding and will not hesitate to ensure that no one misunderstands the situation I have seemed to put you in. You are a very respectable woman; I will do everything in my power to see that no one misconstrues my intentions. I must finish this letter quickly if I desire to get at least a wink of sleep. I pray the sunlight welcomes you to the day as peacefully the moon lulled you to rest.

                                                                                                                 Sincerely, P. Ham, your sunshine.

You couldn’t help but smile as you read the words in the letter. Philly, you’re such a dork! ‘Your sunshine’ Boy thinks he can try and be cute! Well, it is cute so I guess it worked. It was really sweet of him to let me stay here, I’ll be sure to thank him once he gets home. You suddenly heard a soft knock on the door that made you jump. Shit! I’m not supposed to be in here! Your worries were stilled as you heard the bubbly voice and saw the silky, pink cloth peeking out from the cracked door.

“Pssst! TT! Are you awake!” If the voice and dress didn’t give her away, the nickname sure did. The only ones who called you ‘TT’ were Angie and the younger boys. You mostly had Alex to blame for that one.

“Yeah, I’m up Angie, don’t worry.” You folded the letter back up and found a place to hide it in the side of your bodice. Angie opened the door up wider, you always forget how similar her and Alex look. Her and Philip seem like polar opposites but they have their moments.

“Well, you might want to hurry up! Rachel will be up here any moment!” You nodded and you hurried out of the room. Angie grabbed your hand and dragged you into her own room a few doors down. She pushed you inside and you were met with the familiar peach walls and white furniture. You and Rachel usually helped Angie get ready in the morning. Angie let out a sigh of relief.

“That was a close one TT!” She said with exasperation. You tried to hold in your laughter but you still ended up giggling.

“Thanks Angie, I really appreciate it.” You smiled, her eyes seemed to light up.

“Philly said that you fell asleep in his room but he didn’t tell me why…So?” She’s just as bad as Rachel!

“I had to tell him something important and I accidentally fell asleep.” You opened her wardrobe and picked out her undergarments, as was your new routine. “What color?” You asked.

“Hm… Peachy. So what was so important that you had to tell him in the middle of the night?” She continued as you chose the peach under dress she was talking about. So many garments! Nothing’s really planned today so the under dress should be fine.

“Nothing for you to worry about Angie.” You said as you gathered the accumulating pile in your arms. Seriously I’m pretty sure that her and Rachel talk about me when I’m not around. Angie squealed and it made you almost drop the clothes.

“I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! We’re practically sisters already so this is simply divine! Oh, I can practically hear it now. Mrs. Y/N Hamilton! That sounds just perf-“ Wait, what?!

“Whoa! Wait just a second their kiddo, what are you talking about?” You set the pile on the bed next to Angie as she hugged her pillow happily.

“You and Philip! You confessed your love for him! Of course you both will have to wait until after he graduates to have the wedding but I’m sure the time will fly qu-“

“No, no, no, no, no, no! That is not what happened! Not what happened at all! Geez, how do you people get these ideas?” You asked yourself. Angie looked up at you with her big, puppy-dog eyes.

“Really? Aw… But don’t you like Philip? And I think I’d make the best sister-in-law!” She sounded genuinely upset. You sat down on the bed beside her and patted her back.

“Of course I like Philip, he’s my friend and I trust him very much. But I’m afraid life is a bit more complicated than that sweetie. Although you would be an amazing sister-in-law, I don’t doubt.” You stood up and you both worked on changing her clothes.

“What’s so complicated? If you like him than you like him! That’s not complicated at all!” You sighed. I can’t exactly explain this can I?

“It’s hard to explain kiddo…” You finished tightening her clothes and turned her around. “Alright, now what would we like to start with today? Reading, writing, or shall we wait for you mother to wake up so that you can have your piano lesson?” You asked. She seemed uninterested.

“Do I have to?” She groaned. She’s been doing this a lot recently. Last month we couldn’t drag her away from the books. What’s up with her?

“Is something wrong Angie? You’ve been in a funk for the last couple weeks now, mind telling me what’s going on?” She sat down at her desk with puffy cheeks.

“I just… I just don’t see the point! You wouldn’t understand…” Uh oh, preteen concerns… Okay, I have to be as reasonable as possible.

“Come on sweetie, you love to read! I’m sure I’ll understand…” She bit her lip before looking up at me.

“What’s the point in being smart? It’s not like anyone cares how smart a lady is; all that matters is that she’s beautiful.” She stood up and stomped to her wardrobe, she threw open the doors and looked at everything inside.

“I mean, look at all of this, it’s astounding!” She turned around and gestured to herself. “Isn’t this enough?” Oh, Angie… I didn’t realize… You quickly made your way over to her and kneeled down so that you would be closer to eye level.

“Hey now, don’t say stuff like that! You’re beautiful yes, but that’s not all that matters! You’re a brilliant young lady, and even if you don’t think so now, things will change! You can’t let anyone or anything tell you that intelligence doesn’t matter or that a woman can’t be smart! The world always needs more people like you in the world, people who question these problems in the world and desire for the answers. Now, I’m going to ask you again. Reading, writing or piano?” You smoothed the top of her braided hair. She thought for a moment but soon enough her usual, happy smile crept on her face.

“Reading…and do you think I can ask daddy to tell me about the cabinet meetings like he tells you?” She asked. You stood back up, giving her your biggest and proudest smile.

“I’m sure he would be honored to teach you anything you wish to know!” But still…where did she get a terrible idea like that? I know this time period is reserved on women’s rights but her mom is one of the most intelligent and influential women in the country! Who let her actually believe something like that? Rachel joined the both of you eventually, the lesson going even better than expected. Afterwards, you and Rachel worked on the daily chores. Angie’s mood was better, Eliza spent most of her time with Willy and the boys didn’t try to tear out any pages of the encyclopedia. I’m glad today’s finally calming down, I really need some time to chill after all this history, time craziness. At one point you noticed how late it was getting. Shouldn’t Philly be back by now? I wanted to ask him some stuff… You didn’t hear the carriage until the sun was just beginning to set. You excitedly skipped over to the door as he came in.

“Welcome back Sunshine! I have so much to tell you!” The smile on your face slowly faded as he walked toward you. His hair was messier than usual, his eyes were puffy and red, he looked like a wreck. “Hey are you ok? Did something happen? Oh no, Philly what hap-“ He cut you off.

“Tell me it isn’t true! I can’t believe you’d do this! I, I don’t want to believe it! Please!” You noticed he was clutching something in his hand. What is that? Some kind of newsletter?

“What are you talking about? Philip, you’re not making any sense.” He held the bundle of paper in front of him, gesturing for you to take it. It was titled The History for the United States in 1797 by John Callender. Wait a second…

“My father…and you… My father had an affair with you…” He looked at the floor like his entire world was collapsing.

No. Fucking. Way.

[canaryatlaw]

So today was fine. I should probably start by explaining that last night I messed up taking my medication because I was allocating them into their correct boxes and then flipped the pill box over to get the rest of the Saturday ones out without closing the Sunday and Monday ones because I'm a fucking idiot, and it caused all the pills to fall into the sink, and in my frantic race to prevent them from all going down the sink I just swallowed the ones in my hand from the Saturday box and then only later did I realize there were still like, 4 Xanax in there. Whoops. So that causes walking up to be a little harder. I did wake up for my 9 am alarm but reset it to just go to the later service for 10:30, then idk what happened from there (I mean, I'm assuming I fell asleep but idk what else happened) but the next thing I know I'm looking at my phone and it's 11:35. Crap. Service that I'm in the nursery for starts in 55 minutes. Good for me, I'm a boss at this kind of thing and was out the door in 20 minutes, make up and all. I ubered to church and made it right around time, which was still late for me because I'm supposed to be there before the service time, but there was only one baby so far so it was fine. It was a slightly chaotic day, not bad but there was a fair amount of crying. We had 5 babies I think, and there was me and the high school girl who helps me a lot, and then the mom of one of the little boys stayed because her son won't stop crying if she leaves (and we've tried many times) and we've discussed just trying to get her to join the team if she's gonna be here anyway haha and she's mentioned a few times she likes playing with the little girls because she has 3 boys, so I think she could be helpful. The first baby, the little guy I've been taking care of for a while now, was in a bit of a mood today and was kind of on and off crying, so I had him for a while, then he got passed around and he would be good for some amount of time then get set off again, but oh well. Then there was the little chunker who's just the cutest, and is just on the brink of walking, so he's pulling himself up on everything possible (like EVERYTHING) then mostly just stands there, but we got him to take a step or two haha and he can't go much farther than that without losing his balance but he can walk with a little assistance and he's getting there. Then there was the sweet little girl who's been around a lot lately and the high schooler mostly took care of her so I didn't get much interaction with her. Then there was the daughter of one of the ladies on the team who I've talked about before because she's just so darn cute, and she's developed a bit of a pattern where she won't cry upon getting dropped off and will be totally fine for a while, then start crying out of nowhere in the middle of the service and be completely inconsolable. Well, it happened again, but there was more like 20 minutes left in the service so I didn't want to call her parents if it was almost over anyway. So I held her and walked with her and bounced her and we were getting a little success at the end there, she was going in and out of it but I was still grateful when her parents showed up. She's a sweetie pie though, and she's just so cute. If you're keeping track, the 5th baby was the mom's little boy who I didn't interact with much but he's sweet. So pretty much right after the service we had to pack everything up because we were permanently moving out of the space today, since next week is gonna be our service weekend and we won't be having any services, then in June we can be back in our building (huzzah!). I am kind of upset with myself for missing the service though because now it means I'm gonna go 4 weeks without one, since next week we won't get one and then I'll be in NY for the next 3 Sundays. But I mean, there's only so much I can do, especially when there are very real factors like medications at play here. The little chunker baby's parents didn't show up for a while because they were helping elsewhere, so he was just kind of sitting in the corner watching everyone pack away all the toys and the mats and everything haha he was very calm, it was cute. It didn't take too long though, and then everything was loaded in the truck. I'll be glad to be back in our regular space. It wasn't terrible, but being separated from the actual service was just one more hurdle to deal with when it came to contacting parents and we did have several incidents where that became an issue, so it'll be nice to just not have to deal with that anymore. But yeah, we finished up and I headed home, train to bus. I changed and had something to eat, then chilled out for a while trying to figure out if I wanted to make a meal of some sort that I can use as leftovers throughout the week. I know I've said this before but I've been having trouble getting myself to eat meat for some inexplicable reason (like I really have no idea why) and I don't want to force myself of course and I'm not a big veggie person so that kind of limits my options. I don't want to fall into just eating frozen or semi-packaged stuff either though. Idk, I just decided to play it by ear for now. It's not even like, all meat though, it's just when presented with it in certain contexts. For dinner I had a frozen meal made by one of the "healthy" companies and it was like pork in a cherry port sauce with like real cherries and holy crap, it was actually really good. So idk what's going on there, at all. But anyway. I decided I still wanted to bake something and I had wanted to do vanilla pudding again, but I couldn't find the recipe I used last time that didn't use half and half or heavy cream, just milk, and I didn't want to waste too much milk, so I ended up using this random recipe that used ramekins in a shallow pot of boiling water with the lid on to "steam" it which took a little finagling to work correctly but it did end up working, and then after they were chilled I made the "caramel sauce" (the quotes are because it wasn't actual caramel, just sugar water caramelized) and it was really good! The ingredients were very similar to creme brulee, except this just used milk instead of heavy cream, so it wasn't as rich and there was a stronger eggy flavor but it was still really good, so I enjoyed that. Somewhere down the line I turned on the tv and watched the last 3 released episodes of the Handmaid's tale while on my laptop. I didn't realize at first that Hulu was gonna have them coming out on a weekly basis and not just dropping a season at a time like Netflix does, so I'm caught up for now and have to wait for the rest of it. There were a number of interesting things in the latter 3 episodes. I was somewhat taken with how they hold the Handmaids up to be this precious resource, blessed by God for their fertility, but they are very quick to abuse and torture them if they don't fall in line at the first command. I've given a good amount of thought to the passage in the bible they seem to base the whole concept on which I was already familiar with, but it's interesting because they only ever quote a short section of the passage, just that Rachel couldn't have children so she told Jacob to have sex with her maidservant so she could have children through her. And that happened. But they're leaving out that Jacob had another wife whom did have children, and he also had sex with her maidservant to bear more children. Furthermore, later in scripture I believe the wording is God "opened [Rachel's] womb" and she had two children, Benjamin and Joseph. Joseph is of course of technicolor dreamboat fame (and you know, the whole huge bible story attached to that), a large part of which was how he was his father's favorite, because he was Rachel's son, whom Jacob actually loved (Leah and the maidservant, not so much). It's interesting then that the legacy of the Jewish people only survives through Judah, who was Leah's son- the other 11 tribes, 11/12ths of the Jewish people were assimilated into other nationalities. Every modern day Jewish person has heritage through Judah. Idk if there's any real relevance there, I just find it interesting that they have this whole idea and society supposedly based around scripture but it's SO taken out of context it gets to the point where it's absurd. So that's just my feelings on the matter. I was hardcore cheering when Alexis Bledel's character (I don't like using their stupid names) jumped into the car and made a run for it, just because it was so amazing of her and I fully supported it. I was also cheering on our main character when she was honest with the Mexican ambassador at the end of the episode, even knowing that at any moment someone could walk in and hear her saying those things. That took courage. I thought the stuff between her and Nick was interesting, especially the "arranged" tryst, which made me wonder if that's how it was with Jacob and his wives' maidservants. Finally, I was super intrigued by the flashbacks involving the commander and his wife, and just what their lives were like before this. I was kind of shocked to learn the wife was somewhat of a feminist writer who'd actually been arrested for inciting a riot, but they had both bought into this rebellion plot for reasons they don't really go into, and at first it looks like women will be fine under it, but then they're slowly (or not so slowly) edged out, and she has no choice but to play the complacent and steadfast wife to her husband who is now a very important person. It also makes me wonder about the demographic breakdown of their society, lol, like how many people exactly do we have in each caste of society here? How many commanders are there? Do any of them have wives that were actually fertile? Was it any fertile woman who wasn't married to a commander that was taken to be a handmaid? I JUST HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS, lol. But yeah, despite its tendency to be downright harrowing and rather concerning at times, I suppose I am enjoying it on some level, though that's probably not the proper word for it because it isn't really something enjoyable. It's entertaining, I suppose, would be a better statement. But yeah. After I finished that I ended up watching an hour of Seinfeld, just because it was on and that show is hilarious. And that was pretty much it. I'm gonna try to get to work early so I have a little more time to prep for the permanency hearing I have at 10. I feel bad because I was gonna go through the rest of the file on Friday but then I didn't go to work, so I don't want to screw this up but I gotta catch up on what the actual latest happenings in the case are, because I know the history from when the girl was like 13, but she's pushing 21 now so that's different. And I need to talk to the lawyer about my question template as far as how much I need to ask that I already know the answer to just for the sake of getting it on the record. It should be fine though, I'm not that concerned. Hopefully that will go well. It'll be my first appearance in front of this judge, but I mean it's a permanency hearing for a kid who's almost out of the system, so it's not really a big deal. Okay, it's late and I need to get to sleep. Goodnight my loves. Sleep well.

[seniorbrief]

52 Little Compliments That Will Make Your Friends and Family Smile

Charlotte Hilton AndersenNov 05

Because “You look great for 50!” is so NOT a compliment.

iko/Shutterstock

“I really love your… thingy!” Awkward. We’ve all been there: You want to give someone a genuine compliment and yet the thing that comes out of your mouth is, at best, super weird, and at worst, so off-putting your neighbor/co-worker/child’s friend’s parent avoids you from now on.

Don’t give up on giving compliments though—they’re great for both giver and receiver! Getting a compliment feels just as good as getting cash, according to one study published in PLOS One. And you benefit too. Complimenting others makes you feel instantly happier too, boosting your mood and increasing your confidence, according to separate research.

To help you go beyond the basic “you look nice” and “you’re the best” (and avoid things like “I used to only go after pretty girls so now I’m looking for the nice ones”), we’ve come up with 52 fool-proof compliments, guaranteed to bring a smile to their face, and yours!

For a stranger whose day you’d like to brighten

“That is a fabulous purse.” Commenting on a stranger’s body really isn’t a good idea—their weight, height, or bra size isn’t any of your business. But complimenting something they personally chose, like their jewelry or shoes, that says something about their style or personality, is almost always welcome.

“You have such a kind smile.” The one exception to the no-commenting-on-people’s-bodies rule? Their smile. As long as you’re not commanding them to smile or being creepy (avoid things like saying how plump their lips are), it will likely make them smile even more.

“I appreciate how patient you were with that child.” Sometimes just being a person in public is enough to fray your last nerve and seeing someone go out of their way to accommodate another—like a child kicking a seat or an elderly person counting out exact change—is worthy of recognition, even if it’s just a smile and a nod.

“I’m so glad we met!” Even if you just exchanged polite greetings in the check-out lane of the grocery store, letting someone know that they made you feel happy is an instant way to brighten both your days.

“You’re really good at that.” Whether it’s the barber cutting your hair, the hotel clerk, or an instructor at your gym, let people know that you notice how much heart and talent they put into their work. They’re doing it because they want to make a difference (and earn a paycheck but helping others is the icing on the $$ cake).

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!” Did a child tell you a joke? Did a fellow bus passenger share an interesting piece of news? Did a coworker tell you about her dog having puppies? The wonderful thing about this compliment is that applies to so many different people and situations!

For the people who make getting through your workday bearable

“Loved your input in the last meeting, you have such creative ideas.” This shows that not only were you paying attention at the meeting but that you were paying attention to what they said. Bonus points if you can name one of their ideas you really liked. Check out the 18 nicest things people have ever been told.

“Things run so much more smoothly when you’re here.” Who doesn’t like to know that their work is noticed and actually making things better? A little compliment like this can make a person wake up with a little more pep the next morning.

“You deserve that promotion, you worked so hard on that project.” Watching someone else succeed, especially if it’s a goal you were trying to reach too, can inspire some pretty painful feelings. But acknowledging your coworker’s success and what they did to achieve it won’t just make them happy, it will help smooth over any jealousy you’re still harboring.

“You’ve got great leadership skills.” It’s one thing to be good at your job, it’s entirely another to be good at your job and to be able to help others be good at theirs as well.

“I hide my good chocolate in the bag of broccoli in the freezer.” There are some coworkers you’d trust with your computer password or your office key but only a select few get to know where you hide the good treats!

For the amazing people who gave you life (and a trip to Disneyland)

“I love my nose—which was your nose first!” The great thing about complimenting your parent’s kid (you!) is that you’re also complimenting them. It’s a feel-good two-fer! Need more ideas? Try one of the 13 best compliments you can give a parent.

“You inspire me to try new things.” Children who feel secure with their parents will feel more secure exploring the world—and that’s just as true for adults as it is toddlers. Acknowledge everything your mom and dad have done to give you wings.

“Thanks for birthing me (or adopting me). Tell me the story again!” Mothers especially love to relive the glorious (and often harrowing moment) they first met their sweet baby—not to mention it’s often one of the hardest and most defining experiences of their lives. Asking to hear all about it will make their whole day.

“Your hugs feel like bubble wrap—protective and fun to squeeze.” Depending on how puberty treated you, you may or may not be bigger than your own parents now but regardless of size, they probably still want to wrap you in a big bear hug every time they see you. You’ll always be their kid, no matter how adult you are!

“I see how hard you work for our family.” Dads and moms sacrifice a lot to take care of their kids and so much of that work happens behind the scenes. Once you’re all grown up—or even a parent yourself—you can see how much time, money, and love they put into you.

“You are such a great example to me.” Every parent hopes to leave a positive legacy for their children but often all they hear about are the ways they failed. Telling them you want to be just like them is the ultimate compliment a parent can hear!

“I’m naming my baby after you.” OK, so this is a compliment you can really only use once (if that) but is there any higher compliment than naming a brand-new human being after your favorite older human?

For the child you love so much you let them sneeze in your face

Monkey Business Images/Shutterstock

“You are good enough.” Kids desperately want to please their parents and so, from toddlers to teens, they need to hear that you love them more than you love their potential. Just make sure you avoid these “compliments” we need to seriously stop giving kids.

“You are the most perfect you there is.” As a parent, you’re in charge of teaching your kid everything they need to know about the world but sometimes that can feel like a laundry list of changes you want. Take time to remind your sweet kiddo that they are unique and wonderful and you love them, quirks and all.

“I didn’t think I could love Harry Potter more—that is, until I read it with you.” Experiencing the world through your child’s eyes is like seeing everything like brand new. Let them know how exciting it is to do these things with them.

“My heart fills with bubbles every time I see you.” Every child, regardless of age, looks to see if their parents’ eyes light up when they enter a room. Make sure your kid knows that even if you’re not happy at that exact moment, you’re always happy to see them.

“This ramen is the best meal I’ve ever had.” OK, so taste-wise, your child’s fledgling attempts at cooking probably aren’t the best you’ve ever had. But love makes everything taste better and they’ve got enough of that seasoning to be a 5-star chef.

“You are one of the bravest people I know.” It’s easy to forget as an adult but being a kid takes a lot of bravery! Recognizing this gives them permission to feel a bit nervous sometimes but also shows that you appreciate how hard they’re trying.

“You’re my phone wallpaper.” Children love nothing more than to have you take their picture and then love it so much that you put it as your wallpaper or lock screen.

“You have great taste in music.” Even if you don’t love actually your child’s music, you love the fact that they’re developing into a real person who has passionate opinions about things beyond candy and nightlights.

For the friend who was there for you through the good, the bad, and that time in high school that will never be mentioned again

“You glow.” There’s beautiful and then there’s beauty that radiates out from the inside. Your best friend needs to know when you can see their soul shining through.

“I set your text notification to a special tone.” Technology gets a bad rap for driving people apart but it can also show how much you care about them—like when you set a special sound for their incoming calls and messages. It shows that their contact is more important than almost everyone else’s!

“I can always count on you.” Being there for you when you need them is a best friend’s job but it’s one they don’t see as a chore. Let them know how grateful you are for their reliability and care.

“You are a gift to this world.” Your world is a better place because your friend is in it, right? Let them know!

“Talking to you is the best part of my day (after eating cookie dough).” There’s not much that’s better than eating chocolate-chip cookie dough off a spoon but if there is something, it’s definitely a funny text or an excited call from your best friend!

“You’re the only one who really gets me.” Seriously, does anyone besides your best friend know that you like to smell your own belly button lint, that you once wore your underwear backward all day, what type of toilet paper you prefer, and how you pee every time you sneeze—and love you all the more for it?

“If all I get done today is hanging out with you, it’s been a good day.” Work can wait. You’ve got movies to dissect, people to talk about, cake to eat, and jokes to laugh at.

For someone you’re hoping will see you as relationship material

XiXinXing/Shutterstock

“I’d show you my childhood secret handshake.” You and your second-grade best friend worked so hard to perfect the ultimate secret handshake and you vowed you’d never share it with anyone—that is until you met this amazing person who is totally worth a high-five-salmon-slap-double-clap. Pro tip: Make sure you’re avoiding these 16 compliments that are actually insults.

“You have such unusual eyes!” People love to be seen as unique and fortunately eyes are like snowflakes—no two are alike! So you’ll definitely be able to find something interesting and beautiful in their eye color or pattern and the eye contact will strengthen your bond.

“Your laugh reminds me of glitter!” Laughing together is one of the best ways to increase other good feelings too (including the kind that leads to feeling each other, ahem). Comparing their laugh to something fun and memorable shows that it’s not just a hollow compliment and, if done right, gives you another thing to laugh about. It doesn’t have to make a lot of sense or even be a sound—other suggestions include chocolate, balloons, a new book, a cozy fire, or snow falling.

“My favorite color? Whatever you’re wearing.” Sometimes you don’t realize how much you like something until you see someone you adore wearing it. Turn this slightly cheesy pickup line into a true compliment by pointing out how the color compliments their hair, skin, or other feature you find beautiful.

“You light up a room like a sparkler.” Ballroom or boardroom, some people add a little spark no matter where they are. Point out how their presence brings you joy and watch them light up even more. Not sure? Try these tips to give better compliments.

“I love how kids just love you.” Dogs and children are great judges of character and can often see through a fake act. It’s not a perfect test of course (especially if the person happens to carry candy or beef jerky in their pocket) but the fact that toddlers or your pup are drawn to someone is never a bad sign!

“I would totally win trivia night with you.” Everyone is an expert in something weird. Acknowledge their talent for always knowing a celebrity’s real name or being able to name every John Grisham novel or all the French swear words.

“The only thing better than hanging out with you would be hanging out with a talking dog.” And since life isn’t a cartoon movie, you’re the best!

“I wouldn’t change my phone passcode if you happened to see it.” Nothing says trust like sharing the password to unlock your phone or get into your email. OK, so you might not actually be ready to give them your passwords but if they so happened to see it you’d let it ride.

For the person you think is adorable even after they’ve thrown up

“I need you to be a better me.” Relationship math is different than the schoolbook kind and when you’re with someone you really love. 1 + 1 = a lot more than two.

“Every year I love you more.” Routine and apathy are a death knell for a relationship, so keep things fresh by reminding your loved one of not just how much you love them but how that love has grown as you’ve gotten to know them better.

“Your outside is gorgeous but it’s your inside that is truly stunning.” External beauty only captures hearts for a moment—it’s what’s on the inside that relationships are built on.

“You’re perfectly imperfect.” Perfection is boring. Not to mention unattainable. Loving the flaws and the features lets your loved one know that you see them for who they really are—and love them all the more for it.

“You are so beautiful to me.” Everyone (except, perhaps, some celebrities) accepts the basic fact that as we age we get less conventionally attractive. But just because your significant other isn’t turning heads on the street quite as much these days doesn’t mean they still don’t turn yours! Remind them of how beautiful or handsome they are.

“You’re my muse.” When you were dating you probably took a lot of cues from each other but that shouldn’t stop just because the initial rush of romance has cooled. Telling your loved one how much they inspire you is a great way to keep the spark going.

“Seeing you is the best part of my day.” Nothing brightens a bad day like coming home to someone who is genuinely happy to see you. Do you know these 11 phrases that used to be insults but are now compliments?

“You’re weird like I’m weird.” Quirky socks, comic fandoms, movie quotes, ’80s songs, and Nicholas Cage memes can totally form the bedrock of a really solid relationship. Embrace the weird!

“You make laundry fun.” Chores are called chores for a reason. So if someone makes even dishes or mopping entertaining then you know they’re a real gem. For more, check out 10 little compliments you can give every day.

Original Source -> 52 Little Compliments That Will Make Your Friends and Family Smile

source https://www.seniorbrief.com/52-little-compliments-that-will-make-your-friends-and-family-smile/