#mentioned alongside portrait of a lady on fire??

[eighthsensed]

Teen Vogue Excerpt – Why Queer Characters in LGBTQ Movies and BL Dramas Find Solace at the Beach

BY K-CI WILLIAMS JUNE 29, 2023

The Eighth Sense, a BL drama from South Korea, lives and dies by the beach. Oh Jun-taek plays Jihyun, a college student from a small town who struggles to acclimatize to metropolitan Seoul. When Jihyun joins the surfing club, he bonds with his senior, Jaewon, played by Im Ji-sub. As they fall in love, the beach becomes their spot for sleeping under the stars and even kissing in the ocean. “The beach is kind of like a tool that connects us,” Ji-sub tells Teen Vogue over Zoom, in his native Korean. Jun-taek adds that the “beach is very wide but Jihyun has been living in a world that has been very small,” and although “the ocean itself is very cold, the ocean was actually very warm for Jihyun.” It’s a site of transformation for them both, just as water metamorphoses between its forms.

Ji-sub names the beach as a “special spot” for Jaewon, “where he can relax and heal mentally as well.” Jaewon’s younger brother tragically passed away a number of years before we meet him in the series, and the trauma still sits with him. “I didn't realize how broad a range of emotions can be felt when you love someone until I played the character Jaewon, because it's something that I personally didn't experience,” Ji-sub says. Jaewon welcomes Jihyun into his place of significance, illuminating his dark spaces and ultimately bringing the pair together.

Jun-taek alludes to the title of the series, recalling our senses as human beings. Interoception, often called the eighth sense, is the brain’s perception of the body’s state, thanks to signals transmitted from our internal organs. Understanding these signals can help us regulate our physical and emotional state, though at the same time, trauma can inhibit those pathways. “The beach kiss scene was the sequence [in which] someone with pain and bad memories, PTSD in the past, turns into love and being healed by Jihyun,” Jun-taek says. “Although you have bad memories or trauma…you can be healed. Do not remain, do not stay with the pain.”

Inu Baek, one half of The Eighth Sense’s writer/director duo, attributes the beach to a specific cultural symbolism. He refers to the United Nations Human Rights Committee’s 2015 advice for South Korea to adopt comprehensive protections for all citizens, which would prohibit discrimination against the queer community. “We have not been able to enact the anti-discrimination law in Korea yet,” Inu tells Teen Vogue. He wanted to “give the Korean audience a message because Korea has experienced lots of disasters in the ocean” that are still ever-present traumas for citizens, such as the Sewol ferry tragedy — the show even pays tribute to those lost with a covertly placed yellow ribbon. “The beach symbolizes the hope of the harmony of this country,” Inu says.

A still from The Eighth Sense. COURTESY OF THE EIGHTH SENSE

The show’s other writer/director is Werner du Plessis, who offers the beach as a representation of “the ebb and flow of relationships, the way that they move, the way that they’re never consistent,” but also a “space that is simultaneously peaceful, while being extremely dangerous, like the ocean is such an unknown.” And also, quicksand exists. Intrinsic to our genesis as queer people is navigating identity, from day dot. As the intersection of two worlds, toeing the line between who society expects us to be and who we truly are inside, the beach is “such a beautiful metaphor for queer people,” Werner says, “because it’s exactly the way that we’re designed.”

[callahanisms]

portrait of the princess on fire

alternative title: portrait de la princesse en feu

pairing: alicent hightower x rhaenyra targaryen

word count: 4,075 words

ao3 link: ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

summary: a painter has been commissioned to paint the wedding portrait of a princess without her knowledge.

warning(s): implied consensual sex, mentioned suicide

“Be sure to focus on my general shape and silhouette. And take time to look at me.”

The sound of charcoal against paper grew louder and became one of the few sounds in the room alongside the breaths of the other girls. The girls sat in a semicircle, resting large drawing boards on the easels. In front of them was a woman with brown hair, wearing a green dress. The model’s eyes fall upon a familiar canvas.

“Who took the painting out?” She asks. The girls look at one another before one of them raises their hand.

“I took it out from stock. Was I not supposed to?” Rhaena asks.

“No.”

Another girl looks back at the painting, revealed to be a barren landscape with a singular, feminine figure. The figure wore a dress and the end appeared to have caught ablaze. “What is the title?”

“Portrait of the Princess on Fire.”

“My apologies Lady Hightower.” Rhaena helps organize the drawings.

“It is quite alright Rhaena.” She picks up the top drawing and inspects it. “Why have you drawn me looking so sad?”

“Because you looked sad.”

Her brown eyes flick to the painting and a small sigh escapes her. “Perhaps so.”

Her ears were overtaken by the noise of the sea. The waves crashed, thrashing against the wooden boat and the sharp cliffs of the island that loomed before them. The castle above her reminded her of the stories of giants. The boat rocks and she notices her canvases falling into the water. Standing, she dives in, ignoring the sound of the men for her to come back to the boat. Before she arrives on shore, she must fetch her canvases.

She makes it back to the boat with her canvases. And after many minutes, the boat arrives at the sandy shore. She wraps the shawl around her tighter to keep warm as the wind rages against her. It’s cold and bitter, as if telling her to leave. An attendant is at the shore and she walks forward. “Lady Hightower. It is an honor to have you at Dragonstone.”

“Alicent, please.” She says.

“If you will follow me please. We will have other servants bring your belongings.”

Alicent follows after the attendant. It’s quite the walk to get to the castle of Dragonstone but she manages despite almost slipping. She is led to a room. There are large windows to allow for natural sunlight and it’s quite spacious. In the corner, she notices a canvas that is covered with a sheet. “This will be your room. The princess does not know you are here yet.”

“But I have been commissioned to paint her portrait.”

“The princess does not want her portrait painted. She refused to pose for the last artist. The princess does not wish to marry. Instead, you will be spending time with her as a walking companion. The king is fearful she may…attempt to jump to prevent her fate. The time spent with her will allow you to learn her features. It should suffice.”

“Of course.”

“I shall let you settle in. You start tomorrow. If you need me, my name is Kathryn.”

The sun had set and she had settled herself in her room. Her hands grip onto the sheet covering the canvas and pulls it off. Her eyes are met with a ruined painting. The dress was black with red accents and she noticed a small part of silver hair untouched. But the face, the center and purpose of the portrait, was gone. Rubbed off and blended away. She admires the blending work and the work on the dress. But for the most part, it is a failed portrait. She picks up the candle and tilts it forward, letting the flame touch the canvas. She didn’t realize that the flame touched at the heart of her subject.

A knock interrupts her as she is fixing her skirt. She stops and walks over to the door, pulling it open. She is met with the beautiful face of a woman. Fair skin, Valyrian silver hair, blue eyes with a hint of green in them, a nose with a bump on the bridge. She had to look up slightly since the woman was taller. A thin black scarf covered the lower half of their face. “Are you finished?” She asks.

“Yes. Of course.” Alicent turns around to fetch her own green scarf. “I am Alicent.”

“I am Rhaenyra.” She begins walking. The woman in green rushes to follow after her, wrapping her scarf around her neck and the lower half of her face to keep herself warm from the bitter winds of Dragonstone.

The painter follows the princess, making sure to stay close by. Watching the princess walk from the back gives her a good sense of her silhouette. After walking for a while, the princess breaks out into a chase. Alicent rushes to catch up after her but it appears she lacks the energy in her body. Perhaps it was the result of having stayed inside for the whole winter season. She catches up to find the princess standing near the cliff, watching the sea, and stands beside her. The princess looks at her and pulls her scarf down, revealing lips that curled delicately and a bow that was sharp. She quickly averted her eyes elsewhere, afraid the princess would notice where they were lingering.

“My brother, Baelon.” She speaks. “He jumped off the cliff. He’d rather die than marry a woman he felt he would wrong.”

“My condolences princess.”

“I do not want to wither away in a castle. It is a fate worse than death.” She looks at her, causing her body to stiffen. There was something sharp about the way Rhaenyra looked at Alicent and that gaze made her stomach feel light and her body feel numb.

“You are to marry the heir to Driftmark. He is an honorable man, from what I hear.”

“He is. Alas, I have no interest in him.”

She hesitates to respond with something before something comes to her mind. “I am sorry. For your loss and for this arrangement.”

The princess doesn’t respond but the painter doesn’t need a response from her. She can already sense the princess’s reaction and see it with the ease of her silhouette.

Alicent purses her lips as she looks at the silhouette outline on her canvas. She used her pencil to measure the distance and make sure her proportions were correct. Her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth. The sketch was coming out alright but it was not the same as having the princess in front of her. Alas, the princess did not want to pose nor did she even know that her walking companion was really here to paint the woman’s wedding portrait. She sets her pencil down and puts on one of her more formal dresses, a black one. The silhouette was similar enough to the dress the princess wore in the old portrait she had burned. So Alicent sits, gently moving the skirt around. She watches how the sun reflects off the fabric and the way it falls. Although fully imagining the princess this way was hard considering that the princess was a little taller than her. A knock interrupts her thought process and she stands, quickly rushing to drag the curtain back to cover her supplies and easel. The door opens, revealing Kathryn. “The princess is waiting for you.”

“I shall be there.”

She finds the princess waiting at the door for her and she looks up. “The winds are calm today. So we may spend longer outside.”

“Fresh air is good for the body and the soul.”

The princess’s lips curve into a small smile. “Let us walk then.” She opens the door and begins walking out.

The two of them walk at a steady pace together. There is silence between them but a silence that is comforting. Rather, they let themselves take in each other’s presence. Alicent isn’t sure if the princess is standing closer to her than the past few days, but she doesn’t mind. They reach the cliff and watch the waters roll with each other, the waves crashing smoothly against each other and the cliff. Today was a nice day. “If we were to jump, we would become specks amidst the waves. Even on a day where they move gently.”

“Well it is a good thing we do not jump.”

The princess looks at her. “Have you ever jumped from a cliff into the waters, Alicent?”

“We do not have the vast ocean nor cliffs in Oldtown.” She raises her eyebrows. “Have you jumped?” There’s a slight laugh at the end of her question, as she is in disbelief at the idea.

“There is a certain…rush to it.” Rhaenyra smirks. “It’s almost freeing, actually. But you have to jump into the waters on this side. The other side of the island leads to the vast sea and the waves will pull you out. That will most certainly lead to your death.”

“Do you like the waters, Rhaenyra?”

The princess looks slightly caught off guard upon hearing her name. But she appears to welcome it. “I like to be free.”

Her hand moves closer to hers and their fingers brush against each other’s. Alicent feels her cheeks grow warm.

The painter picks at her fingernails and bites her lip, looking at her finished portrait. The cold gaze of the princess stared back at her. It was finished and it was a work that looked nice. But she felt unsatisfied with it. It just didn’t look right to her. The door opens, revealing the princess. A scarf is wrapped comfortably around her neck. “Are you ready?”

“There is…something I would like to tell you first.”

“That is fine by me.” Rhaenyra walks over to her.

Alicent moves the curtain aside. She turns the easel around. “I am not here on behalf of your father to be your walking companion. I have, instead, been commissioned to paint your wedding portrait at the behest of your father.”

The princess says nothing, eyes flickering between the painter and the painting. Her expression remains blank but her eyes reveal a storm of turbulence. She turns around and walks out of the room and the painter hears the sound of her steps quickening in pace. “Rhaenyra!” Alicent grabs her scarf and wraps it around her neck, putting it up to cover the lower half of her face. She gives chase to the princess, familiar with the route to leave the castle. The princess is fast but the daily excursion to the cliffs have given the painter the stamina to continue after her. She follows the princess down to the beach, finding her hiding in a small cave-like opening. Her scarf had been put up, no doubt to protect her against the bitter winds.

Her blue eyes meet her brown ones. This gaze makes her feel the guilt that had been gnawing at her heart. It’s soft and vulnerable and is begging her for some sort of mercy. “Have I been condemned?” She asks. Her voice broke slightly.

She shakes her head. “I do not believe you have.”

“My wedding portrait, for a man that does not want me, and for a man I do not want.”

“What is it you desire then?”

Rhaenyra steps forward and Alicent could feel her body heat with their proximity. Her hand reaches up to pull down her scarf, revealing her face. It’s a silent gesture but she understands. They implicitly understand each other. Alicent pulls her scarf down to reveal her face. And in Rhaenyra’s eyes, she sees what she wants. The princess leans forward and the painter meets her in the middle, their eyes closed. The princess’s hands gently cups her face. Rhaenyra’s lips are soft, just as she imagined them to be. Alicent’s hair tickles the princess’s cheeks. Their kiss is tender and they stay like that for what feels like an eternity.

“It is…a portrait.”

“Is that all?”

Rhaenyra lets out an annoyed huff. “You are meant to capture my likeness, no?”

“That is my job.” Alicent looks up at her, studying the way her eyes are studying the painting.

“This portrait is nothing like me. You have failed in your objective to capture my likeness.”

“My apologies.” She purses her lips. “The king has been notified that your portrait has been completed.”

The princess is quiet for a minute or so before speaking. “Then we must start anew.”

Alicent picks up a rag from the side and walks over to the canvas before using the rag to smudge away Rhaenyra’s face.

“I thought the portrait was finished.”

“It was not to my satisfaction, Your Grace.”

Viserys lets out an exasperated sigh. He can’t stop looking at the ruined painting. She wonders if he thinks that his daughter ruined it on purpose so she wouldn’t have to wed the heir to Driftmark. The sound of footsteps entering the room attracts their attention and they turn around. “Rhaenyra.” The King says.

“Father.” She says.

“Did you do this?”

“No.”

“Then it is because of Lady Alicent’s dissatisfaction.”

“I will pose for her.” Her father looks surprised. “I told the lady that her painting was lackluster. It did not capture my likeness. I will sit for my portrait.”

“Well then.” Viserys turns to Alicent. “It seems you have enchanted my daughter.”

“I am not under a spell, father. Lady Alicent is not a witch.”

“Regardless, I want this portrait finished by the time I get back from my trip.” He leaves the room.

Rhaenyra walks over to the painter. “He will be gone for five days. Can you paint a portrait within those five days?” Her hand picks up the seven-pointed-star pendant and inspects it.

Alicent smiles, looking up at the princess. “Of course I can. As long as you are cooperative.”

She sets everything up, making sure everything is where she imagines things to be. She stops upon hearing footsteps and looks up. Rhaenyra wears the black dress with red accents from the previous portrait. Her hair is done up and she looks stunning. “Is this where I sit?” She points to the chair with the boxes next to it.

“Yes. Of course.” Alicent watches her sit down. She walks over and begins moving her arms. She positions one on the box, as if she is leaning on it, and puts the princess’s hand over her own. “Straighten your back a bit.” The princess does as asked. She looks at the skirt, moving the fabric a little bit before finally being satisfied. She goes back to her canvas and picks up the pencil. She looks at her model, who is looking off to the side. “Look at me.”

Rhaenyra turns her head, gaze piercing the painter’s. Her breath catches in her throat and a sense of electricity runs through her body. She shivers and begins sketching over her primed canvas. Once the silhouette and the basic anatomy has been sketched out, she begins painting. The princess sits there for hours, watching the painter look around her easel to study her subject. Alicent is satisfied seeing that most of her base layers have been painted. She would begin blending another day. Setting her palette down, she wipes her hands against her apron before untying it and leaving it to rest on the side.

Alicent walks over to the princess. Rhaenyra looks up at her with a smile. The painter gently cups her model’s face before leaning forward, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips. The princess kisses back and her hands move to rest them on her shoulders. They begin to trail down her back and they find the ribbons holding her dress together. Her fingers begin to pull at them and Alicent’s hands trail down to the clasps of Rhaenyra’s dress.

“Do you like reading?”

Alicent rests on her side, looking down at Rhaenyra. “I like to dabble.” The princess plays with the small book, feeling its spine.

“Maehalon and Selaehra. A tragic tale. Does it fascinate you?”

“In some ways, it does. Selaehra loses her lover and journeys to the Seven Hells to find Maehalon. And she finds him and the Mother grants them mercy. But Selaehra cannot look back in order for Maehalon to return to her. But as they approach the entrance to the world of the living, Selaehra looks back, afraid her lover isn’t there. Maehalon begins to fade, dragged back down because she did not have faith.”

“That is an altered version, for the Faith of the Seven. It is an Old Valyrian tale that the Faith changed. It is even said that Maehalon was a man who used to be a woman. Of course, records are hard to come by with the Doom and all.” Rhaenyra plays with a lock of Alicent’s hair.

“It’s still poetic.”

“Poetic and tragic.”

It’s dark and there is only moonlight guiding them. But it is sufficient enough to light their path. The painter almost falls but the princess catches her. They laugh and the princess leans forward, pressing a kiss on the painter’s lips. She kisses back and they continue walking, the night hiding the way their hands intertwined with each other. They descended to the beach, finding a bonfire with the maid servants of the castle and many unfamiliar faces. The servants sing and dance and Kathryn invites the women to join them. Rhaenyra meets an old woman and their exchange is in whispers. Alicent joins in on the festivity, dancing on the soft sand with her bare feet. She spins perhaps too much and gets dizzy, sitting on a rock. She watches with a smile the scene before her. Rhaenyra joins the dance and music. She moves with grace and her presence looms over the rest of the women there, like a dragon. She stops to look at Alicent, her gaze gentle and soft with love. The painter observes her form as it is, how her silhouette was outlined by the fire. And it was then she noticed that the edge of her skirt was ablaze. The flame was small but present and quickly, other women used a cloak to snuff it out.

“How did the song go?”

“Something like this, I’m sure.” Alicent’s nimble fingers pluck the strings of the lyre. She stops after a few notes however. “I do not remember exactly how it continues.”

“It is a beautiful melody. Are you sure you didn’t make it up?” Rhaenyra kisses her on the lips and she reciprocates. The painter pulls away slightly to answer the princess.

“They played it last night.” She giggles.

“I was too busy paying attention to you.” Rhaenyra kisses her again and Alicent places the lyre on the ground. She lets the princess push her onto the bed and her hands roam lower. The princess���s perfect lips begin trailing kisses down the painter’s neck, between her breasts, and down her stomach. As she went lower and lower, Alicent’s stomach grew warm and she let out a moan. Rhaenyra pushes up the skirt of Alicent’s nightdress and begins trailing kisses up her thighs, even gently sucking on the skin. She places her legs atop her shoulders and moves upwards.

“Nyra!” The Lady Hightower exclaims.

The Princess Targaryen mutters against her skin, but loud enough for her lover to hear. “Ali.”

Rhaenyra holds a small glass jar in her hand. She unscrews the lid, setting it aside. Her other hand gently pulls the sheet down, looking at the red spot on Alicent’s chest. It rested above her heart. The princess picks some ointment out and gently begins rubbing it in circles on the red spot. The painter lets out a sigh of relief. “That feels good.” Alicent holds her lover’s wrist and brings Rhaenyra’s hand up to her lips where she presses a kiss on her knuckles.

“I bought it at the bonfire. The woman said that the herbs can make us fly.”

“Sounds like a witch.”

“Most witches hold wisdom.” Her eyes glance at the canvas on the easel, the picture of her complete.

“Is it to your likeness, Nyra?”

She looks back at the painter. “It is, Ali.” Alicent notices the shift in her face, the way her brows furrowed in sadness and how her eyes appear to glaze over with tears.

“Do all lovers feel they’re inventing something?” Her hand cups Rhaenyra’s face.

“Mayhaps.” She lets out a long held breath. “How about you give me something to remember by? Before you leave. Before I leave.”

“You do not even have to ask, Nyra.” Alicent presses a kiss on her cheek before shuffling out of the bed. The princess watches the way the painter’s body moves as she walks, the curve of her back when she bends to get something, how the sunlight hits her skin and reveals the small patches of discolored skin at her thighs. She returns to the bed with a multitude of pencils and her sketchbook.

She sketches the princess first, already familiar with the way her face curves and the shapes that made up her face. She took note of the way Rhaenyra laid on the bed and how the sheets framed her body. The portrait was quick and simple. It looked better than the portrait, in her opinion. Alicent then picks up the small mirror and hands it to Rhaenyra, who lets it rest against her body. The painter uses the mirror to begin drawing herself at the marked page in her book on Maehalon and Selaehra. She keeps looking up at herself to make sure she captures her own likeness and makes note of the page number: 26.

With a heavy heart, Alicent watches as men take her belongings out the door to the small boat that would take her to the larger ship that would set off to Oldtown. Her hand grips tightly onto her sketchbook, fingers digging into the leather-bound cover. Her scarf is wrapped around her neck, not yet covering the lower half of her face. She sees no reason to. She stands, silently, watching and letting the dread rest itself on her shoulder. Her feet felt grounded to the stones of Dragonstone, as if she belonged here for the rest of her days. Alas, she must go. A voice cuts through the silence. “Turn around.”

So she does and her eyes fall upon the white gown Rhaenyra wore. She looked unnatural with white. Black and red was more her color. Green was more her color. “Farewell, sweet princess.”

“Do not forget me.”

“I would never dream to.”

That white dress would become a haunting figure in the painter’s dreams.

Alicent saw Rhaenyra twice after she left Dragonstone.

The first was through a portrait. At an exhibition of work, many viewers were fascinated by her painting of Maehalon and Selaehra. As a nobleman told her, most artists choose to focus on Selaehra’s moment of loss upon losing her lover, the descent into the afterlife, or the lovers reunion in the underworld. Never has an artist chosen to depict the moment Selaehra turns around, unsure if her lover is there, and thus marking Maehalon’s descent back into the afterlife. From across the room, she saw it: a sitting portrait of the princess with her radiant Valyrian silver hair laid down. She wore a loose blue dress and she was posed in a state of relaxation. One hand held the hand of a small child, a boy she presumed, with dark hair and dark eyes. The other hand gripping onto a book on her lap. The book was small and her finger rested between the pages. Upon closer inspection, the painter recognized that number: 26. Her heart quickened in pace and her lips pursed themselves together as she remembered the soft sheets, the shiny mirror, and the warmth of the princess’s skin.

The second was at a banquet, held to celebrate the anniversary of Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen. Alicent saw her from across the room but Rhaenyra did not notice her, seemingly engrossed in conversation with her by-laws and her husband. She watches the princess from the side as she listens to the music. Rhaenyra’s face begins to change, contorting into an expression of reminiscence and longing. A tear escapes her and Alicent feels a pang in her heart, understanding what she was reminiscing about.

[wri0thesley]

Funny how just three out of those guys share some traits.

In case you haven't found the others:

Smoking man is Sir Crocodile from One piece. He is, in my opinion, not that bad when you compare it to other main evil guys from the anime. Yes, he might have driven a country into poverty to arouse a civil war, but that's about it! At least he went to prison... then escaped alongside Luffy.

The second is, as you mentioned, Muzan from Demon Slayer. He is a piece of work and even though his design and voice are cool, the way he carries himself is quite unpleasant, though it fits his character. Man can change gender too, in case you haven't seen Lady Muzan. I also suggest looking into the hashiras, especially my man Giyuu 💙

The third one is Dimitri from Fire Emblem Three Houses and the best one out of the bunch. That's actually his Timeskip portrait. The premise of the game is about the protagonist arriving to a monastery and working as a professor with their father, who serves as a mercenary. The first part is with the protagonist choosing a one house out of the three (hence the name) to teach, and Dimitri is the leader of the Blue Lions. Everyone in that monastery has a massive luggage of locked trauma, so maybe you could try and find a video about the game without the battles, if they prove to be too boring and long for you. Or just watch the support conversations with Byleth and between them to get a feel on the character. I also suggest looking into Ferdinand and Claude from the same game, or better yet open the wiki and look into the characters' portrait and see if someone else catches your eye.

The last one I believe is Aizen from Bleach. The only thin I can say about him is 'all according to the keikaku' jokes as I never got to his big reveal in the anime waaay back when I used to watch.

Sorry for the long text! If someone already messaged you about their source or you found them, you can delete this!

3/4 villains it seems… i am a simple person. i see a design i like, i nod to myself and feel attached to them whenever i see them!! demon slayer guy would not stop coming up in my pinterest searches whilst i was pinning stuff for some yandere and oc boards and i guess i simply saw him so much my brain said ‘that one’!!

and please do not be sorry anon i appreciate it and you!!! i do not think i will investigate these franchises - at least not for a while fhfhgh (sweating looking at all those one piece episodes) but it is nice to know all the same!!

[codgod-moved]

okay so i’m a lil bit hyperfixated on sdv at the moment and in honour of those portraits i drew and precisely one person mentioning something about it and firing up my neurons here’s how i think the boatem members would work as stardew valley npc’s but it got kinda long so it’s under the cut

i feel like scar would be like the travelling cart lady, but rather than being in the same spot every week for two days a week he has 3 or 4 set spots around the map that he turns up at at various times so you can almost always find him it’s just a matter of where. though unlike the travelling cart lady, if you can’t find his shop you can still find him wandering around town so you can befriend him. his heart events almost always end up with you getting some rare unique item. romanceable, gives you copper ingots sometimes after marrying him. he does still do his rounds in the cart though so he’s not actually on the farm often

i think after initially meeting him grian would try and lay out some sort of prank on your farm, and as part of one of his daily routines you see him setting up pranks and games around town and if you watch long enough you see some of the other townspeople interacting with them (this maybe only happens one day a season though). his earlier heart events also involve tricking the townspeople in various ways but then at like his 6 heart event or something you find him looking rlly sad out at a lake and he alludes to his Tragic Backstory. as time goes on you end up learning abt these weird spirits called the watchers. you can marry him but like shane he will lose almost all personality and character development if you do (but he does occasionally give you duck feathers and wool so he’s good to marry for tactical reasons in early game). before marrying him he lives up in the mountains in a cave under where linus lives

mumbo spends most of his time in cindersap forest and initially lives in a van nearby the secret woods, but after one of his heart events that ends with the van being destroyed robin (or ig whoever would be her substitute here if i’m replacing ppl?) fixes up the hat mouses house for him and he lives there (the hat mouse is replaced by jellie in this scenario so she goes off to live with scar). he has a shop in town where he mainly just sells junk alongside bombs and building supplies, but after completing the community centre he also sells stuff like crystalariums and seed makers and other useful machines. also able to be married and you get a discount at his shop if you do, as well as him occasionally giving you rubies, bombs and farmer’s lunches

impulses factory is in a whole new area that can be accessed via a path near the joja mart, and it’s Massive. it’s both a shop and his house and you can explore the whole thing. its pretty much as you’d expect, he sells chocolates and lollies and things out of it. one of his heart events involves the whole fizzy lifting drink thing. non-romanceable, he’s got a factory to run lol

disclaimer once again that i don’t watch pearl so this one is maybe a little off jhsvjd. i think she could also live up in the mountains, maybe in a new area above the adventurers guild that’s only accessible to you using the minecart system so you don’t get to actually meet her until a little later in the game, though the other characters mention her sometimes. once you do gain access to her house she lives on a farm herself and sells llamas. the llamas make llama wool which makes a different type of cloth that you can make special clothes out of that give you various stat boosts, usually the same way boots do where they add defense and immunity but some add like +1 luck or speed. non-romanceable

[thexfridax]

Translated interview

Adèle Haenel: Figurehead of the new French Film

by Daniel Kalt, in: Die Presse, 13th of December 2019

Additions or clarifications for translating purposes are denoted as [T: …]

Adèle Haenel talks about her new film, gender roles and a new cinema by women, which oddly doesn’t give much space to men. [T: 😊]

Adèle Haenel came to Vienna for the Viennale [T: annual Film Festival, here: 24th of October to 6th of November 2019], playing the lead role in the opening film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’. It’s one of those hot almost summer-like autumn days, prior to the photo shoot Haenel is sitting in the scorching heat on the terrace in front of the studio and greets a purring cat, which is passing by, in German. Haenel is the daughter of an Austrian translator, and grew up in [T: Montreuil, in the Métropole du Grand] Paris. According to her, she spoke the [T: German] language as a child, but forgot about it later on, ‘as is often the case’. Only for her role in Chris Kraus’ film ‘The Bloom of Yesterday’, where she plays alongside Lars Eidinger, did she relearn German. [T: Now] in Vienna, the actress, who is one of the most celebrated in contemporary French cinema, is a bit tired after a long promotional tour for her film, which [T: all] began in Cannes. The uproar, which Adèle Haenel will cause a couple of weeks later, when she accuses the French director Christophe Ruggia of sexual harassment that took place during the shoot of her first Film ‘Les Diables – she was still half a child then [T: !?] – preceded Vienna and is therefore not mentioned here. Because of her film projects and her statements as a prominent creative artist it seems obvious to ask whether she considers herself a feminist, to which Haenel responds in a heartbeat: ‘Yes, absolutely. And in capital letters, go ahead and write down FEMINIST.’

Adèle Haenel plays young Héloïse in her new film, which is now shown in cinemas across Austria, and is directed by Céline Sciamma (the two women were a couple for some time, it is their second joint production). After the death of her sister, [T: Héloïse] was brought back from the convent to her family’s home on an island in Brittany. The story takes place in the late 18th century, Héloïse is supposed to be married off to Milan. But first, it’s necessary to send a portrait to her future husband, which should please him. Héloïse refuses the gaze of the painter – the ‘male gaze’ –, who was commissioned to paint her. So, her mother resorts to a trick and hires another artist [T: called] Marianne: She should spend a couple of days with Héloïse as her companion, without revealing her [T: secret] mission. Through gazing at her furtively and catching glimpses of details – lips, an ear, the position of hands –, will she piece together a portrait of Héloïse. But tension builds between the two young women, which leads to a short-lived and passionate affair.

Interviewer: Your new film takes place in the late 18th century – how did you prepare for the role?

Adèle Haenel: This wasn’t my first period film, ‘L’Apollinide’ [T: House of Tolerance, 2011] for example is also from the same era, just before the French Revolution. Besides, I have mainly tried to create the character of Héloïse around a certain concept, a certain image. The historic perspective wasn’t key for me to prepare for the role. Playing in costume was mostly to place this [T: film] in a certain time. But it wasn’t my top priority to lend credence to my character by putting it in a historical context.

I: What is the main theme for you: love, art, liberty, the liberty of art?

AH: The film is mainly about love and particularly about what love can be. It is about desire, the pleasure of intellectual exchange and a blossoming friendship. And then there is also the aspect of art and artistic expression, which leads to an extraordinary relationship between the two main characters. Another important point was also to show love that’s different to what you usually see in films: It is not love at first sight, no ‘coup de foudre’ [T: repeats the same phrase in French], but emotions that are developing slowly and in which you immerse yourself, because they are connected with deep admiration. The film also explores in-depth the central theme of the ‘female gaze’ as counterpoint to the dominating male gaze, which has been prevalent in cultural products for a long time.

I: Does it make a difference for you to be ‘directed’ by a female director, as the term ‘director’ implies in English?

AH: I’d like to state here that I’m an extremely political person. That is why it is important to me to describe the relationship between the actress and director [T: the female form of director is used here] accordingly: It is not a vertical relationship for me, where I’m directed by an opposite, but an equal exchange. We developed this film together, conceptualising love in a way where one character does not dominate the other. I also have a responsibility to carry as an actress, especially in a film like this, which is constructed around the gaze and the person who is looking [T: both genders are included here]. My character is not a passive muse, we tried to break this idea. In fact, it is not the story of an artist [T: male form is used here], who enters a room and sees a woman who inspires him, but something completely different.

I: Would you say that Héloïse is at first motivated by anger about the situation?

AH: You could talk about anger, but this means to break down the bigger issue of resistance to an individual level. It’s not mainly about the anger of this character, but it’s about how she as a woman reacts to her specific situation. Society often denies women the right to live as we want to or our own projects. That’s why I think it’s better to talk about resistance against the entirety of the patriarchal system.

I: How did you express this in the way you acted?

AH: In the beginning Héloïse’s gestures and facial expressions are quite restricted, very much contained. The love story then takes up more space over time, likewise my acting is becoming more generous. That also makes sense from a political point of view:  At first there’s the question how to resist the ruling order: Either you sacrifice yourself, because you’re caught up in the system. Or alternatively, as I chose to do for Héloïse, through absence and withdrawal. This means, I negate my existence and I’m only present as detached figure – as object, so that no one comes close to me as subject. My absence is therefore a way to resist.

I: Was this the first time you’ve structured a role like this?

AH: Yes, although I always ask myself profound questions when preparing for a role. That’s the main theme for me, how to create feelings and emotions that leave behind the screen.

I: Do you have a desired impact in mind with your craft?

AH: I would like to spark off something like a mimetic reaction among the audience, which goes beyond the feelings and emotions in the film. [T: 🔥] Let’s call it a vibration, which resonates in real life and which I would like to set off. That’s all the more important, because it allows for new storytelling. In ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ we make fun of the patriarchy. A conscious decision was made to almost entirely exclude men from the picture. We don’t convey a political message openly, but instead are very concrete by not showing something.

I: Do you consider yourself a feminist?

AH: Yes, absolutely. And in capital letters, go ahead and write down FEMINIST. And you, are you a feminist? I see the reluctance to openly support feminism among men rather than women. There are of course women who are sometimes reluctant to support feminist demands. But this is the result of a specific system, in which women are oppressed. There was and still is an expectation for us to subordinate ourselves, or even become extinct. The time for women to speak is always less than for men, irrespective of the context. And this is despite the stereotype of women talking more in general: Gloria Steinem quite rightly says that it’s not about the actual time that women are speaking, but about the silence that is expected of them.

All pictures by Elsa Okazaki

[macabremeg]

hello. here are my top films of 2019 that no one asked for but shall receive anyway.

“The Farewell” (dir. Lulu Wang)

i cried and i don’t cry in family movies like ever. my only complaint is that awkwafina is so good at emoting faint despair that sometimes it’s really hard to focus on just how beautifully the film is shot.

“Jojo Rabbit” (dir. Taika Waititi)

when a comedy starts with the beatles’ “i wanna hold your hand” in german alongside footage of hitler fanatics you best believe it’s about to fuck you up a little. and it did. parts of it are deeply funny while being deeply serious and some parts are just deeply serious. still having trouble recovering from that one tilting shot. fuck you waititi.

“A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” (dir. Marielle Heller)

it’s not shot anything special but it’s mr. fucking rogers so honestly it doesn’t matter and that shit will get me regardless. i appreciated the way his character was portrayed in contrast with the breakdown of the journalist. very good.

“Knives and Skin” (dir. Jennifer Reeder)

i’m deeply invested in the lighting and set design styles of gregg araki films and this film really said “that but also a well rounded conversation about trauma and gender”. fuck me up reeder. the director is a goth badass as well as a phenomenal storyteller and boy does the film exude both of those things. i saw the early short film version a few years ago upon discovering jennifer reeder and was so fucking psyched for this release. i was not let down.

“Parasite” (dir. Bong Joon-ho)

look. i don’t need to describe how breathtaking this whole film was, both cinematically and in its deeply chaotic storytelling. joon-ho says eat the rich and i agree.

“Portrait of a Lady on Fire” (dir. Céline Sciamma)

minimalist design in films sometimes pisses me off, oftentimes i want chaos. i need chaos. but this story did not need that, it needed moments of quiet contemplation and empty rooms. also, a film that depicts a portrait painter kind of got me nervous about the inevitable “this bitch don’t know how oil painting works” moment but i didn’t actually get too many of those moments at all. they did their research and i thank them gratuitously. also i’m waking up in the middle of the night thinking about the last scene so that’s a good sign of a good film i guess.

honorable mentions:

“In Fabric” (dir. Peter Strickland)

“Little Women” (dir. Greta Gerwig)

“The Dead Don’t Die” (dir. Jim Jarmusch)

[fandumbstuff]

Favourite Films from 2019

1. Portrait of a Lady On Fire Directed by Céline Sciamma

A gorgeous, gripping, and emotional vision enough to reduce me to tears. Portrait of a Lady on Fire is so may things all at once, it’s hard to pin it down. It seems on paper to be a romance, but as you get into it, the atmospheric tension conveys a sense of gothic horror. It leaves you uneasy but also enraptured, yearning but also soothed. A movie about art, love, depression and self-actualization that manages to blend them all seamlessly and elegantly. The cinematography, editing, performances, production design are all incredible, coming together under Sciamma’s hand to create a masterpiece of cinema. AND. That final scene is an absolute thrill ride.

2. Jojo Rabbit Directed by Taika Waititi

Taika Waititi might just be the best writer/director working today, and this is evident in everything he does, from the MCU to The Mandalorian to Jojo Rabbit. He demonstrates so well how he can work under a major studio and direct a blockbuster, but also direct a film that is so personal and meaningful. And the most incredible thing about Jojo Rabbit is that it isn’t some small indie film he made for himself. It’s a movie for everyone, under a major studio, for a wide audience. This is so integral to the message of this film. It’s one that everyone should be able to watch and yes, enjoy and laugh at, but also feel uncomfortable, emotional and cripplingly saddened by. It’s the most important movie he has made, one that we should all be grateful for. 

3. Parasite Directed by Bong Joon-Ho

The movie that finally gave Bong Joon-Ho wider attention, and rightfully so. His usual themes of social class and the degradation of civility are portrayed so effectively and empathetically in Parasite. Instead of the insane atmospheres of his earlier genre films, Parasite is about such a mundane situation that is put on a slow burner, simmering and bubbling to a chaotic crescendo. The emotional journey of watching this film in cinemas was incredibly rewarding, as I laughed alongside an audience- at first in good humour, then uncomfortably, and then silenced with baited breath, gripped with tension, shock and horror.

4. Extra Ordinary Directed by Mike Ahern and Enda Loughman

Totally and unfairly flying under the radar, Extra Ordinary was the funniest movie I saw last year. The multiple hilarious references to classic horror films, the self-mocking use of genre tropes, and one brilliant performance from Will Forte had me in stitches the whole time. At its heart, its a simple emotional story, enough to be not just funny, but also undoubtedly charming.

5. The Last Black Man in San Francisco Directed by Joe Talbot

Its incredible that in Joe Talbot’s directorial debut, he crafted a film so  singularly artistic. Jimmie Fails’ story is one that is so beautifully poetic, and the film plays out like dream. It’s a story that is culturally relevant, undoubtedly, but also innately emotional and moving. Themes of race, masculinity, art and architecture are woven together cohesively in this exquisite film.

6. Booksmart Directed by Olivia Wilde

Speaking of impressive directorial debuts. Olivia Wilde breathes new life into raunchy coming of age tales with Booksmart. While this film has consistently been compared to Superbad, it should be clear that it is infinitely better than it. Booksmart is not simply a lewd comedy, but one with a strong understanding of it’s heart. It convinces us an audience to buy into the lead characters, root for them, relate to them, and yes laugh at and with them. 

7. Avengers: Endgame Directed by Anthony and Joe Russo

It cannot be understated just how monumental this film is. Kevin Feige and the team at Marvel Studios have achieved an impossible goal, and in only ten years. They have brought superheros out of the fringes of pop culture and made them immediately relevant and alluring. Avengers Endgame is an incredible celebration of the MCU, with moments of fan service that at times might seem pandering, but mostly tasteful and joyous. Endgame’s references to the past are filled with a self-aware sense of humour, and respect for its humble beginnings. Marvel forever changed theatre-going experiences to not just watching a movie, but sharing in a cultural event. And Endgame is a touchstone in cinema history. A shared experience amongst fans. And while it might not be proper to call it art, maybe it doesn’t need to be, because it stands apart nevertheless. 

8. Toy Story 4 Directed by Josh Cooley

I really liked it okay? On paper, this movie seemed like a bad idea, as Toy Story 3 was so incredible and I couldn’t imagine a better ending. But as I got into Toy Story 4, I see it’s importance to the story. It truly delves into the minds of these characters, and questions what happiness means to them. Tom Hanks brought to life a piece of my childhood (and indeed many childhoods like mine), and this film allows us to see Woody off to his cathartic destiny. 

9. Rocketman Directed by Dexter Fletcher

Unexpectedly brilliant, Rocketman sets itself apart from most formulaic biopics. It leans into the fantasy of Elton John’s music, and carries us trancelike through his life. Taron Egerton’s powerhouse performance fills in the nuances of Elton’s emotions. In the most gregarious bits of showmanship, to the darkest pits of despair, Egerton ensures that we empathize with, relate to, and celebrate the life of Sir Elton.

10. Little Women Directed by Greta Gerwig

Following the success of Lady Bord, Little Women is a daring choice for a second film. But Greta Gerwig proves that her prowess as a director has only gotten sharper. Her adaptation feels immediately compatible, honing in on the heart of the novel, and concisely translating it to a film that is funny, charming, and moving. Gerwig once again brings out the very best in Saoirse Ronan- her Jo March is equally headstrong and gentle, and every bit the iconic character that has been celebrated for decades. Timothee Chalamet really rocks it too. 

Honorable Mentions:

Blinded by the Light (Directed by Gurinder Chadha), Knives Out (Directed by Rian Johnson), Dolemite is My Name (Directed by Craig Brewer), John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum (Directed by Chad Stahelski), The Lighthouse (Directed by Robert Eggers), The Irishman (Directed by Martin Scorsese), Ford v. Ferrari (Directed by James Mangold)

[taerseok]

— differences | j.j.k [hogwarts!au] (pt. 2)

pairing:. Ravenclaw!Jungkook × Slytherin!Reader

synopsis:. the girl who has never fallen seriously for a guy, now falls for the wicked, witty Jeon Jungkook. But it only happens to be that you, now believe, that you have given your heart to someone who may not take care of it as well as you thought he would.

word count:. 4.3k

genre(s):. romance, angst

warning(s):. mentions of sex, swearing

song rec(s):. house of cards - BTS, promise - Joytastic Sarah (cover), rather be - Clean Bandit

Differences: points or ways in which people or things are dissimilar.

"A great relationship isn't when a perfect couple comes together, but when an imperfect couple learns to enjoy their differences."

Why was the night so long? You sighed. You had been aimlessly walking through the corridors, they were empty as they should've been, except for you roaming them. Maybe you should've returned by now. You hugged yourself tighter, the winters coming nearer didn't help.

Upon reaching the portrait, you uttered the password and jumped in, only to find that Ara and Jungkook had disappeared. You huffed. You didn't need to notice those details.

You walked deeper into the common room, and your presence did not go unnoticed by Jimin and Yoongi, who came rushing over to you immediately.

"Are you okay?" Jimin embraced you as he asked, pulling your head to his chest like a brother. You wrapped your arms around his thin waist, barely able to keep back the tears.

"You were right," you said softly, between sobs and sniffs. "I shouldn't have fallen deeper. But before I knew it, I-" you stopped, your stomach churning and your heart screaming for rebellion against fate, "I was in love."

Jimin's posture was rigid but he calmed down rather quickly, running his hand over your back. "I'm going to kill him," Yoongi muttered, and you drew away from Jimin to find yourself between the two boys.

"Don't be stupid, Yoongi... that wouldn't make anything better, besides…" you bit your lip, "I'll be over it."

"Doesn't look like it from your face, Y/n," the male said back, making you sigh. "I know, I just… I can't believe it. I can't believe him," you muttered, your brows knitting together. "What really happened? He didn't say anything as he came out of the dormitory, but we saw his expression and you looked really angry when you were leaving… so… we kicked him out and told Ara to leave too… she ran after the guy, regardless," Jimin said slowly, turning his gaze towards you.

"He… He kissed me," you explained softly, "and then I thought… I thought he really liked me back, that it was not one-sided… so I…" you bit your lip, "I confessed. But he said that… we just couldn't? I don't know what the fuck he wanted out of me, I don't what he meant but I left immediately. I couldn't stand it."

"Damn the guy for playing with your heart. If he tries talking to you, let us talk to him for you. He deserves to learn a lesson," Yoongi said, gritting his teeth. You were happy your friends understood you, but how could you explain them the loneliness you felt, the emptiness that was etching into your heart?

You couldn't. That was simple enough to understand.

You could only hope that time would make it easier for you to deal with it. Because time never fully healed anything.

Time passed, like anything ever did. Like a flower that decayed for it wasn't watered.

Like you who kept waking up, and going to sleep again because you didn't feel like you had a reason to live anymore.

Your project, which was left uncompleted because of what had transpired, was completed by Jungkook alone as a token of apology, though you ignored it entirely and submitted it to the teacher, regardless.

Since the holiday season was coming, your parents would want you back for Christmas. And to annoy them, like always, you had started to write lyrics down for the songs you'd create, but most were heartbreak songs since that felt like what you resonated with most, and since the two boys did not mind, you went along with whatever your heart wanted. It deserved to be treated well after what had occurred.

And as for your parents, it was simply your job to annoy them. Your family, which consisted of an older sister who had already graduated from Hogwarts, your mother, and your father, was very well-known in Wizarding South Korea as one of the richest, and most powerful Pureblood families, alongside the Park and Min families. Your parents were also well-acquainted with Jimin's and Yoongi's, being business partners and whatnot.

One of the reasons why you three grew up as childhood friends.

Your teenage rebellion hadn't ended, as of yet, and Jimin and Yoongi tagged alongside you in the journey. You three made a band in which you would sing and write lyrics, Jimin would play the guitar, and also sometimes help with male vocals, and Yoongi would compose the music as well as help you write lyrics, since you were much newer to it than him. But he also rapped in a few of your songs, just to anger his parents even further, take it a step higher.

Your families were not the biggest fans of muggle music, which is what you three usually composed, so it went well with your 'we try to piss off our parents' vibe. Though you acted like it was a great deal to be a Pureblood, you just acted that way. You weren't the most excited for being born in a Pureblooded family, like so many others of your heritage were, or how so many other students in Hogwarts would wish to be.

That being said, you hated your family. How you had to hold your chin up high, just because you had a status to uphold, or how your parents scolded you for not being proper enough, or how your elder sister would nag you because she was complimented for her manners, but you weren't.

You just didn't know how to be a proper lady.

But you considered that fine, and so did Jimin and Yoongi, so you did not what your family was talking of.

You were great in your own way.

Or that's what you believed, anyway. But you had to get a boyfriend really soon, because your parents would try to marry you off to another Pureblood family to keep their status. Gosh, why did your parents suck?

Your elder sister, Areum, was not married yet either, so you hoped they'd go for her, first. But you highly doubted that. If anything, her soon-to-be husband would give a trillion won to have you over her.

You were just that gorgeous.

But then again, you didn't want to be seen as a trophy. As something to showcase and put on your shelf, and to forget. And then to remember, only when you had something to ask of it or something to use it for. You weren't going to be pushed around like that.

Though the only one who came to your mind, when you thought of the word 'boyfriend' was Jeon Jungkook. And that was plain impossible now.

You sighed, shaking the thoughts away and focusing on the paper below you. It was lunchtime, and you had decided to use it to write lyrics. But you couldn't find a good idea. All you had been doing was drawing hearts and scribbling words, only to cut them out. You remained calm for a second before it struck you.

A song from Jungkook's perspective.

No one would know it was him, and you'd get a good song. You could just imagine the way your parents would go red with fury as they heard you play it loud along with your bandmates.

That sounded like the best thing.

After a good fifteen minutes, you were done with some of the lines.

Keep your eyes on mine,

And if you want I'll tell you lies.

Tell you I'm yours for life,

And tell your friend she's next in line.

Ohh, should've listened to them.

Ohh, don't you know what I am?

You smiled. The lyrics felt really good. You didn't know if they were exactly what Jungkook's mind was like, but you were willing to bet it went this way. You tapped on Yoongi's shoulder, showing him the paper excitedly.

"That's... really good. Some of the best lyrics you've written. You're improving, Y/n!" he said, patting you on the back. You smiled appreciatively like a child, nodding. "Mhm! I… I took inspiration. I thought if I'd write it from… someone else's perspective instead of mine like another heartbreak song… it'd be more interesting," you took the paper back, analysing the lyrics.

"You're on the right track then! This song will be killer. Can you finish the lyrics soon? I'll start on the music right away. Tell me the tone and some specific notes you have in mind," Yoongi said, and you nodded. "Mhm, so-" you were about to say, when you were cut off.

It was Jimin, who came to sit next to you on the other side. You didn't even notice he was gone until now. You must be really into writing the lyrics - or thinking of your horrible family.

"Guys!" he said, taking his seat, and catching his breath. "What happened, Jimin?" Yoongi raised a brow, and you tilted your head to the side.

"It's Ara! Apparently she's showing the other girls her trip to the Leaky Cauldron with Jungkook," he said quietly, though urgently.

You sighed, shaking your head, "don't tell me," you began to say, hoping it wasn't what you thought it was.

"Yup… they took pretty drunk photos with fire whiskies…" he bit his lip, gesturing to the girl on the far end of the Slytherin table, who was surrounded by many other females. She had been showing them a bunch of moving photos. Usual Wizard-y things.

You sighed again, unable to bear it all anymore. Only when you thought it was getting better, you started to wonder if you were, instead, falling deeper into the spiral of the potion Jungkook had made you drink. You thought for a bit.

What if Jungkook and Ara had done something? What if they were together? What if he did something similar to her as he did to you? What if he kissed her like he had kissed her - what if?

Speaking of the devil himself, as if the Universe wanted to answer your queries, Jungkook made his way into the Great Hall, and you could see the wave of girls gushing over him. Since when did he become so popular? The whole situation made you confused. Where was the 'nose-in-books-always' Jungkook you knew? Yeah, it had been a few weeks since the whole thing between you and him had happened, and you hadn't talked since then, but what major changes had gotten into the guy?

You couldn't help but sigh again. He was still as intoxicatingly handsome as ever. His dark locks, piercing eyes, red, soft lips - and to say you had tasted those once. It made you slightly sad to remember that.

"Okay, well… I'm going back to writing the lyrics… I don't feel like seeing his face anym-" you began saying, before Jimin cut you off. "There's more. She keeps going on and on about how they… Were intimate with eachother," he said quietly, biting his plump, lower lip.

"You don't say. That's what happens when you get too drunk," replied Yoongi, rolling his eyes. Your heart went breaking into a million pieces. So your doubts were correct. Of course they were. Guys were guys. They'd always be.

"Yoongs, you don't mind if I write another song and you compose the music for me? But I don't want… to use it as a band song, just yet, if that's fine?" you asked, the sudden idea just coming too quick for you to register, and being the impatient gal you were, you were quick to voice it.

"Sure. You start writing and I'll help you," he said, smiling a little, which he didn't do often, so you were quick to give him your brightest smile as you started scribbling on more lyrics.

It was that evening when you had finished your dinner, you were out in the corridors, a piece of paper in your hand, as you slowly recited how you wanted your 'not-band-song' to go. Being out in the open, breathing in the fresh air - it all made you really creative, opening your mind to brainstorm new ideas. You had written a couple lyrics.

Got me lookin' so crazy right now,

Your love's got me lookin' so crazy right now.

Got me lookin' so crazy right now your touch's,

Got me lookin' so crazy right now.

Got me hoping you page me right now your kiss's,

Got me hoping you save me right now.

You'd be lying if you said that this song wasn't another foolish, 'i-am-naive-and-fell-in-love' song, but you didn't mind it much at this point. In fact, you were enjoying the way it sounded. It was like writing away your emotions that seemed to be eating you from the inside. A way to express yourself, in other words.

Staring down at the paper, you sang the lyrics quietly, hoping no one would hear you, while your thoughts slowly wandered away into a more peaceful place, and you sang your heart out. You loved the way it made you feel. You felt free. It was just like another method of talking to yourself, except in a sing-song manner.

"Y/n!"

The voice made you stop in your tracks, it stopped you from singing any further. You had recognised it, but you didn't want to show him your face. You were well aware, after all, that it would be a matter of your pride. You could only halt your steps, as the person - the guy - came closer and closer to you, until he was right behind you, and you could feel his heat.

You were trying hard to keep your breath even, but even the process of breathing hurt. Why, you wished you could die on the spot.

"What do you want, Jungkook?"

You couldn't bare to look around to find his sweet face looking at you, you had simply came too far to go back to square one for goodness' sake.

"I'm sorry."

"For fucking what?"

Although you did curse, your voice remained surprisingly calm. It even astonished you as to how at ease your body was, despite your heart running a couple hundred miles an hour.

"For everything. I treated you so wrong, I know. I'm sorry."

"Ara's waiting for you. Go back to her."

It hurt you badly, ever so badly to say what had uttered out of your lips, but what was the truth was simply a fact, and you couldn't change the reality. He was someone else's and you had to come at terms with it, whether you liked it or not, whether it was against your heart's will or not.

"She's not. Why do you say it like we're together?"

Guys were guys. And you had understood. So that's what it meant. So that's how it was. You were always right. If you were together, he'd say the same thing to Ara. To every single girl he wanted to fuck. And that upsetted you beyond measure. Why couldn't he part ways with you? You had already accepted the true, harsh reality.

Or you were pretending to.

Not a day had passed since you didn't stare at him, since you didn't have him as the center of your Universe, and how long had it been that you had fallen in love? Why was life so cruel?

"Because you are? Last time we went to Hogsmeade, you got drunk with her and got intimate. Why, does that not prove-?" you were saying more until he interuppted you.

"No, it doesn't. We were drunk and… and it was irresistible. But I don't hold any feelings for her."

You scoffed. "Then who do you hold feelings for?" the hand that held the lyrics paper dropped down, as you turned to be face to face with the guy you had came to love, only to have your heart broken in return.

"You."

His answer was simple, the look in his eyes spoke a million words, but all you could do was shake your head.

"If you did love me, you wouldn't have done what happened a month ago."

"That was all for a reason."

You clutched the paper tighter, your hands balling into fists. You had enough. Your heartbreak was for a reason? You were rejected for a reason and yet still, were not given closure? It infuriated you.

"There is no reason to step on someone's heart over and over, Jeon Jungkook!" you shouted, stepping away from him. He was still as youthful, as handsome as ever. His dark, black locks, his red, soft lips, his rabbit-like face. It all made you feel so broken. He was a signature of how you were heartbroken. He embodied it all. He was the reason you stood where you stood, writing heartbreak songs.

"Yes, there is! If you'd only listen to what I have to say-"

"There is nothing left to say! I loved you and you rejected me for reasons you don't want me to know!"

"Well, I want you to know now! If you'd only listen to me."

"Then, say what you have to say and leave."

"I… the last time I held you, it… it was out of affection. But… you know, I'm a commitment phobe, I was afraid I'd hurt you for that, if we weren't right, if we weren't compatible, I'd hurt both of us. You deserved a better person than someone who'd never settle for you. And it scared me. I didn't want to lose you but I knew if I hurt you, I'd never be able to forgive myself. But I guess… I hurt you either way. So I'm here to ask for forgiveness. If only, you could do that, I'd be… forever in your debt. I put you through hell and over, but I still love you.

"And I know, I know you wouldn't want to be with someone like me, for several reasons… I have came to learn how we are so different, I'm a muggle-born, your parents would never accept me… and I'd hate for you to ruin your relations with them for me. I'm not worth all that. So… I completely accept the condition that you don't want to be with me. It's fine, and I... I am okay with it."

You gulped, standing still.

Had you misjudged him so much? You didn't mean it… but how had you forgotten? You were fine with overlooking the fact that he was scared of commitment… but now you realise, it is so important. And you can't proceed without it.

"I'll change myself for you. I'll make my fear go away. I'll erase the man before you, create someone new, just so you can be happier. You deserve it, after everything I put you through. But I'm… I'm accepting it if you don't want to be with a guy like me. Everyone falls for you anyway, you're sweet, kind, humble, yet always know what you are worth. I love everything about you, but it's fine if you don't love everything about me after what I did."

He had never talked this much.

You could feel your heart breaking, despite being given the statements you wanted to hear. Instead of sounding like music to you ears, it sounded like the end. The end of you. You unevenly sighed. "I need time… but I forgive you either way… okay?" you smiled up at him, his astonished look giving you all his responses.

And because you loved him, it was all because you loved him that you'd make sacrifices to make him happier. Because you still loved him, albeit what he had done to you.

"Don't change for anyone. Not even me."

It was midnight by the time, you were done explaining everything to Jimin and Yoongi.

"It's your call, honestly. You still love him, but if you don't want to do it anymore, you don't have to," said Yoongi softly, his face lighted by the fireplace.

"I know… I really want to give it a chance. But I know… there's so many things… to look at…" you bit your lip, "what if we break up, then we both hurt? If my family doesn't accept him? If he doesn't get over his fear?"

"It's for you to decide, Y/n. You'll have to step up," Jimin said, eyeing you worriedly. "I know… I need time…" you said softly, getting up. "I'm going to sleep."

"How much time do you need?" asked Yoongi.

"..." you stayed silent. You'd need weeks - months to go over everything. "…a couple days?" you raised a brow, shrugging. "Tomorrow's the 20th. We're leaving tomorrow," said Jimin.

"L-Leaving? As in… for holidays?" you stammered, biting your lower lip. "Yeah… you'll have to decide right now... tell him tomorrow, maybe…" he replied, frowning a little.

"I wish, there was more time…" you sighed. "You can tell him after the holidays?" Yoongi raised a brow. "True… but…" you sighed heavily again. You wanted him to meet your parents, if it was possible. If you decided to be with him. "I'll see."

By dawn, you had made up the decision. You were still madly in love with the guy. You couldn't leave him, despite everything he had done. Despite everything that happened.

You got up, packed your trunk, and got ready to leave.

Jungkook didn't meet you up anywhere, neither did you see him.

You decided to go to the Ravenclaw dormitory, it was the last place you could think of.

The riddle was easy, surprisingly you had gotten more intelligent, despite whatever you thought of your IQ.

"Jungkook?" you asked softly, entering the boys' dormitory. Opening the door, you were greeted by the sight of the man you had been looking for.

He was on his bed, moving around and still fast asleep. The room was empty, except for him.

The scene made you smile. You walked up to him, booping his nose. You had never seen him like this, mostly he was just a poker face guy. But seeing a cute Jeon Jungkook was a sight you didn't want to miss.

"Nngh," he made quiet sounds, rolling around. You felt giddy seeing him. You shook him lightly. "Jungkook! Wake up. I'm about to leave," you said in a hushed whisper. One of his eyes burst open, the other one still closed.

"What do y-?" he looked to you, and both his eyes widened in surprise. "Y-Y/n!" he exclaimed, getting up immediately.

You laughed. "Well, I'm about to leave. And I'm deciding... to give you a chance." His mouth dropped open. Before you even knew it, you were in his embrace, feeling his locks on your face.

"I… I… I'm so sorry. I'm so… grateful. I don't know what to say… Thank you," he said quietly. You rolled your eyes. You appreciated it, but you were getting late. And this could be done sometime else. "You have better things to do than be grateful, sweetheart." He pulled away, eyeing you mischeviously. "And that is?"

"Getting ready! Now, c'mon."

"But… why?"

"Because, I'm taking you," you booped his nose again, "to my parents' for the holidays. And you are coming, whether you agree with it or not."

"Wha-?!" but before he could utter a word, you were giving him his uniform and pushing him to the bathrooms.

The Hogwarts Express drove away, and the ride was fun. You sat in a compartment with your two friends, and Jungkook and his friends, Hoseok and Taehyung. Apparently, they were going to their parents' too, but since Jungkook's parents didn't like him much, he wasn't invited over.

"That we can agree on," said Yoongi, "parents suck sometimes."

You all shared a laugh, you stuffed some more candy in your mouth, before taking a handful and feeding it to Jungkook.

"I'm so excited to see the looks on mother's face. Oh, and Areum is totally going to freak out. I mean, Jungkook is really hot," you rolled your eyes as you spoke. "So, you two sisters have a competition about who has the hottest boy over?" Jungkook smirked, his face left you speechless.

"Well, yeah. Sometimes. But mostly, she doesn't get many guys over. And besides, you're going to up my points and before you know it, it'll be zero for her and beyond infinity for me. I mean, not going to lie, you're eye candy," you brought a candy to your eye to emphasise.

"Are you hitting on me?" Jungkook chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. "People don't hit on their significant others, Jeon Jungkook! I'm flirting," you popped another candy in your mouth.

The ride ended, and you all got out of the Express. You said your goodbyes to Taehyung and Hoseok, and then to Yoongi and Jimin, telling them you'll meet up soon. You grabbed Jungkook's hand, and led him over to your mother and sister.

They looked the same as ever, modern, holding themselves highly. You could just sense the egoistic vibes. "No joke, the good genes run in your family, but you're the hottest," Jungkook whispered in your ear, making you blush a little, but you rolled your eyes in response.

"They've came here all the way from South Korea to pick me up, so you better shut that pretty mouth of yours, before I get scolded," you muttered to him, making him chuckle.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"That's my line!" you elbowed him as you walked up to your mother.

Your mother looked astonished to see the young man, but you expected this already. "This is Jeon Jungkook, mother. He's a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, seventh year like me. We're… dating," you said, liking the way it tasted on your tongue.

You could see Aruem memorized by your boyfriend, which made you smirk slightly. "Ah, I see. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jungkook. Is he from a Pureblood family?" your mother inquired.

"No, actually... He's a muggle-born."

The horrified looks on her and Aruem's face told you that this winter was going to be a lot more merrier than the last ones.

Not only because you had a boyfriend, but another reason to piss off your parents.

A/N:. so that was all for this ff! It was really fun to write it, I'm still a bit mad at tumblr, but 'kay. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed, m'loves. <333

[letterboxd]

Decadent—Best of the 2010s.

The best films and directors of the decade, according to the Letterboxd community. As the 2010s stumble to a close, we release a collection of lists celebrating the best films and directors of the decade, and reveal your most underrated and overlooked gems.

When Parasite overtook The Godfather this past November to become the highest-rated film of all time on Letterboxd, it was also confirmation of what we’ve been noticing since we launched the service in 2011: that the 2010s have ushered in a new golden era of filmmaking. Alongside the rise in blockbuster franchises, the film world has seen new innovations in genre films, financing models and talent pathways, helping a new generation of indie filmmakers to get traction in the competitive and unpredictable feature film scene.

And while the industry continues to reckon with upheavals in the studio system and theatrical landscape, the upside is that cinephiles have more and more platforms through which we can find and share new discoveries, back-catalog classics and obscure treasures. Indeed, our own recently launched partnership with JustWatch is helping many of you more easily track down and watch old favorites and recent releases. (JustWatch keeps track of streaming data for 38 countries and rising, and in the US alone, it monitors well over 100 services.)

In the spirit of discovery, and ahead of our 2019 Year in Review (coming in early January) we’ve run the numbers on the past decade of movies. Read on for the results—you have a couple of days left to squeeze some of them into your year’s viewing, in order to influence your 2019 and decade stats! (By the way, if you’re a Pro or Patron member, and you have best-of-decade lists for this or any other decade, you can now tag them so they appear on your all-time stats page. Use this format: top2010s, top1980s etc. We’ve also extended support for all-time top lists past the previous maximum of ten.)

The Top 20 Uncut Gems of the 2010s

Each fortnight, we run a Showdown where you get to pick your favorite films for a given theme. For the final Showdown of 2019—and the decade—we asked you to list your favorite ‘uncut gems’ of the 2010s—the overlooked, under-seen, not-loved-enough movies that you think more people need to know about.

It’s been the most popular Showdown ever, with pages and pages and pages of lists worth exploring in their entirety. We added up the most-mentioned films, removed those that had been watched by more than 15,000 members (per the specific rules of this challenge) and arrived at a final top 20, with Alex Ross Perry’s messy rock drama Her Smell taking the top spot (read our write-up about the Elisabeth Moss-starring film here). It’s quite an international list, with six women directors (Josephine Decker, Agnieszka Smoczyńska, Kelly Reichhardt, Hélène Cattet, Cristina Gallego and Mélanie Laurent), two Ciro Guerra films from Colombia, and a film from the Safdie brothers, the directors behind Uncut Gems, which has an impressive 4.3 average on Letterboxd right now.

The Top 250 Narrative Feature Films of the 2010s

Parasite, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse and Portrait of a Lady on Fire topped the highest-rated 250 narrative feature films of the 2010s. The busiest directors on this list were Denis Villeneuve and Taika Waititi, with five films each. Hirokazu Kore-eda, Martin Scorsese, Christopher Nolan, Wes Anderson, Quentin Tarantino and Lee Chang-dong all feature with three films each.

The Top 100 Directors of the 2010s

We set out to find the narrative feature film directors whose work in the 2010s, as ranked by the Letterboxd community, combined with their overall placing on our Top 250 of the 2010s list, signified their excellence in the directing field. After some data-heavy research, backed by a solid methodology, one name emerged at the top: Denis Villeneuve. Taika Waititi and Lee Chang-dong round out the top three.

Interestingly, only two Best Director Oscar winners from the 2010s made the list: Damien Chazelle and Alejandro González Iñárritu. The most prolific directors on the list are Hong Sang-soo (14 films) and Sion Sono (11 films).

The 100 Most Popular Films of the 2010s

This list is determined by the films that have the most activity across our community, including watches, reviews, comments, list additions and more. Get Out topped this list, with Avengers: Infinity War and La La Land close behind.

This is a heavily US-based list, with very few films made outside the US and only two made primarily in non-English languages: Parasite and Roma. Christopher Nolan is tied for first place with the Russo brothers in terms of having the highest number of films on the list, at four each.

The Top 50 Most Obsessively Rewatched Films of the 2010s

By “obsessive” we mean total watches from all members who logged a film five or more times. The top three are: Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Avengers: Infinity War and La La Land. The Marvel Cinematic Universe accounts for a full 20 percent of the list (including the Guardians of the Galaxy films and Spider-Man: Homecoming, but not including Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse). The Star Wars franchise has six films on the list.

The Russo brothers, Anthony and Joe, are the MVPs of this list, with four MCU directing credits. Jon Favreau is represented all over the list as a director (Elf), a writer and a producer. And, of course, the late Stan Lee is credited across the MCU. We made an accompanying list for those who have Paddington obsessions.

The Top 100 Documentary & Non-Fiction Films of the 2010s

O.J.: Made in America is the top non-fiction title of the 2010s, while For Sama is the top feature-length documentary. The MVP of documentary directors is American great Frederick Wiseman, who has three films in the list. Joshua Oppenheimer, Agnès Varda, Steve James, Adam Curtis, Asif Kapadia, Petra Costa and the filmmaking duo Dan Lindsay and T.J. Martin all have two films apiece. 24 women directors feature in the list, across 26 films.

The Top 100 International Films of the 2010s

An incredibly strong list, this was topped—of course—by Parasite, with Portrait of a Lady on Fire and The Handmaiden completing the top three. There were some notable exclusions on this list, due to not having a US release date until 2020. They are: Bacurau, System Crasher, And Then We Danced, Vitalina Varela and Two Blue Stripes. Maybe we’ll see them in our 2020 round-up.

The Top 100 Animated Feature Films of the 2010s

This is a Japan-heavy list, with more than 35 films in the top 100. The US follows with 26 films, including the first-placed Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Don Hertzfeldt’s It’s Such a Beautiful Day is at number two and Lee Unkrich’s Coco takes third place.

The Top 100 Women-Directed Feature Films of the 2010s

A truly international cross-section of feature films is represented in this list, which is topped by Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, one of three by the director to appear in the list. Greta Gerwig has an impressive two films in the top ten. Other directors to appear twice are: Kathryn Bigelow, Dee Rees, Lynne Ramsey, Marielle Heller, Andrea Arnold, Maren Ade, Juliana Rojas, Zoya Akhtar, Meghna Gulzar, Nadine Labaki, Kelly Reichhardt and Naoko Ogigami. More recent films feature heavily, with 22 from 2017 versus just one from 2013.

The Top 50 Directorial Debuts of the 2010s

We looked for the highest-rated feature film debuts by directors who had not helmed a film solo prior. We included directing partnerships where part of the collaborative team had not made a feature before; that’s why Peter Ramsey is in the mix alongside feature newcomers Rodney Rothman and Bob Persichetti, taking the top spot for Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Rounding out the top three are Don Hertzfeldt and Jordan Peele.

A full quarter of this list is comprised of women directors: Lulu Wang, Deniz Gamze Ergüven, Olivia Wilde, Dee Rees, Nora Twomey, Alma Har'el, Rebecca Sugar, Yoon Ga-Eun, Jennifer Fox, Shouko Nakamura, Dorota Kobiela and Naoko Yamada.

The Top 50 Comedy Specials of the 2010s

John Mulaney topped this list, with four specials included, and a fifth likely to make the list by year’s end. Fun fact: twelve of these were from 2017, which is double the next most represented year (six are from 2018). Un-fun fact: only five comedy women here.

The Top 50 Limited or Miniseries of the 2010s

David Lynch’s Twin Peaks took the top spot, closely followed by Craig Mazin’s Chernobyl, and When They See Us, Ava DuVernay’s dramatic series about the Central Park 5.

The Top 50 Horror Films of the 2010s

We made room for a single genre list, and horror was it—you’ll note we’ve erred on the generous side with what might be considered a horror film (so, yes, there are comedy horrors and psychological thrillers included). Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse swept in late in the decade to take the top spot, while Get Out and What We Do in the Shadows also ranked highly.

The 50 Most Divisive Films of the 2010s

These were the 50 most divisive feature films, concert movies, comedy specials and other curiosities of the 2010s. These are the titles from the 2010s that had the widest spread of ratings (note: this list has been updated using a more appropriate methodology and higher minimum viewer count since this post was published).

That’s all, folks. Huge thanks to Jack for compiling the lion’s share of these lists. We’ll see you in 2020 with our 2019 Year in Review. (All the decade best-of list rankings are provisional and will be finalized after 31 December.)

[kneesheee]

Little Devil

warnings: vague mentions of child abuse| talks of death| canon typical violence| vague mentions of sickness| vague mentions of non-con

|six|

Talia had been surprised when her niece slipped into her office. She had smirked pleased with herself before opening the door and mocking the guards on the other side.

“You’re totally fired, you know? What if I had been an enemy? You would’ve been none the wiser and the Mistress would’ve been in danger.”

Not really, Talia did not get to where she was in life by being incompetent. Though that did not mean she did not see the wisdom in her nieces words.

“Jamila,” was all she had to say before her niece pulled back. She could feel the demon within laugh at the guard’s fear. She turned her attention to the two at the door, “Switch out with guard team Z23 and report back to the training grounds.”

After all, she wasn’t going to lose two perfectly capable assassins and extra training never hurt anyone. Jamila watched them walk away and her head tilted to the side as she listened to them repeat their given orders. Talia watched as Jamila calmly closed the door before moving towards the tea set.

She hummed silently to herself before signing off on the last report in front of her. She turned her full attention to her niece, because the gods of the old knew that Jamila only drunk tea when she had big news to share.

Talia accepted the tea quietly and watched as Jamila made herself comfortable. Her niece stared absently at one of the old drawings her father had hung up. For all that he was a monster, there had been a small part (as small as proton in an atom) that loved his grandchildren.

Jamila seemed to shake herself off before relaxing in the chair, “Mm, I see that you are renovating the compound.”

Talia quirked a brow before taking a sip of her tea, “Yes, I’ve gotten recommendations from our newest guests. They’ve agreed to help tighten up our security while we set them up in a nearby village.”

“Oh,” she perked up. “Have they chosen a name?”

Talia absently tapped her finger across the ceramic mug in her hands as she thought about the large group of people that had just suddenly appeared in the middle of the compound a few months ago. They had been good. Wonderful, and her people had been overwhelmed quickly. But Talia, Sandra, Anastasia, and Jamila wouldn’t be taking down so easily. They had learned quickly to not look in any of their eyes and she remembered the loud, creative threats that escaped Jamila’s mouth when one of their fireballs edged to close to her hair.

Talia and Anastasia quickly took on the leaders of the strange group whereas Sandra seemed to glow as she went against the one who could read her moves as good as she could read his. But it was Jamila who seemed to dance with delight with the boy who smiled every time one of their hits connected.

Talia had known from that one meeting that the two of them would cause problems. It had become even more apparent when she saw the jealously raising in the boy’s eyes when Jamila had been sneaking some of the girls from their group off to her bedchambers.

“Konohagkure,” she informed her niece. She watched the information pass quickly through her mind before she titled her head.

“Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of trees then,” she smirked. “It’s the only way that name is going to work.”

Talia inclined her head and watched her niece impassively as she fidgeted. “Tete Lia,” the girl whispered as she brought her knees up to her chest. Her eyes trailed over to the portrait that Talia had commissioned. A vision of what she had once hoped her family could look like. Her mother and father standing behind her proudly as Nyssa and Dusan stood at her sides. Jamila and Jason stood in front of them with their arms wrapped around Damian and Anastasia.

“Tete Lia,” she started again. “Why am I to be the Demon’s Head heiress?”

Talia inwardly startled. She had not had this conversation with her since Damian lost his right to it. “In terms of power and skill, you are the next liable choice. You have been raised within the compound and know the rules and laws of the Demon better than anyone else.”

Jamila only shook her head, “We both know that in terms of power and skill Jason is stronger and better than me. And besides, I committed treason when I killed grandfather.”

Talia took another sip of her tea, “While that may be true, only you and I know that you killed him. And do not put yourself down child, I have had a hand in training you myself. Your skilled is unrivaled and do not think I haven’t noticed you training with our newest guests.”

Or maybe one person in specific.

Jamila didn’t blush. She was too refined for that, but Talia knew her niece well and she saw the after effects in her eyes.

“I can’t be the heiress,” she mumbled as she ran her finger across the rim of her mug. Talia hummed.

“And why not?”

“I can’t be the heiress because I-… Because- “

She watched as Jamila took a deep breath before looking her in the eyes. She set her shoulders and placed her feet back on the ground. She looked ever much like an Heiress despite her current efforts to throw away the title.

“I cannot and will not be the Heiress to the title because…”

--

It wasn’t often that Talia thought about that night. She had listened with rapt attention to her niece’s argument. She listened quietly as she was given all the details that she needed before she gave in and removed her status as the heir.

Talia was in her office again going through her company’s papers. She decided that her newest guests had knowledge that would benefit her company greatly. Even now, with only a few of them joining in for the medical research, the company’s profit had skyrocketed.

She signed off on a few more papers before there was a knock on her door. She looked up as one of the guards opened the door with a bow, “Mistress, the Lady Shiva requests a visit.”

Talia waved her hand at her, “Let her in. In thirty minutes, I want you to switch with guard team I55 and continue helping the renovations.”

The guard bowed again before stepping to the side and letting in one of her dearest friends. Once the door closed, Sandra rose a brow at her before moving over to her alcohol cabinet.

“Sandra, it is eleven o’clock on a Wednesday morning. Why are you drinking?”

The One That is All only laughed lightly at her as she poured herself a drink, “Someone, somewhere, has just got married, and I am celebrating.” `

It took many years of practice to keep the amusement out of her face. She laughed lightly but accepted the drink that was handed to her. “Have you received any news about Jamila’s condition?”

Sandra sip at her drink, “Your little pet project found a way to combine their knowledge with our machines. They’ve managed to slow it down to the point that nothing looks out of order. And she’s threatened to rip their hearts out and eat it alongside her shokoladnaya-kartoshkas if they speak about it with anyone that doesn’t have her approval.”

Talia sighed heavily, “She won’t be able to keep it a secret long. She will eventually grow to weak to even move out her bed.”

Sandra huffed, “She is too stubborn for her own good, but I have heard rumors that she has been in an underground competition making a name for herself. She is close to winning the competition and has billions of dollars betted on her every night. I doubt she wants to give up when she’s so close to her goal. Not to mention, her determination to bring back things of interest for your guests.”

Talia hummed, “It will not be long before she manages to slip some of them off into the night with her and show them the world. I will not fault her when she does. I just wish she took more precautions as she deteriorates even further.”

Sandra agreed absently before turning her attention back to her fellow assassin. “Have you decided on who to make the newest heir?”

Talia paused before downing the alcohol and letting it burn through her throat. “Yes, the only question is how am I going to get them to accept it?”

Sandra nodded, “Its better to ask for forgiveness than permission in some cases. Spring it on them when they least expect it and watch them flail as they try to ignore their fate.”

Talia smirked, “Speaking from experience, I presume.” Sandra laughed lightly before nodding her head, “Though at the rate Cassandra is going, I might have to convince Weasel to be the one to give me peace.”

“Mm. I would have thought that you preferred Jamila’s, well friend is too nice of a word, but her friend to take you out.”

Sandra snorted, “I asked him would he. Questioned if he had the skill. He looked me in the eyes without that damn red glint and told me that killing me would only make Jamila kill him. He’s determined to have her fall in love with him though.”

“If only he knew that she already was… though I can understand his confusion. Jamila has been taken to be with more females lately.”

Sandra nodded her head, “I guess I can understand the appeal. A woman’s touch is better than a man’s any day. And her conditions continue on, she’d want all the comfort she can get.”

“That does sound like her. I wonder how she plans to tell Jason. The two of them are rather close.”

“Probably the same way she told him that she was the heir.”

The two women laughed lightly, “By not telling him at all.”

Sandra tapped her finger against the glass in her hand, “Jason would do good as the Heir. He might bring some joy back to the League and I may rejoin again under the new direction he would surely take it.”

“He is my main choice, but I didn’t want to make any decisions until I received word about my nephew’s progress. Just because Nyssa has been exiled from the League doesn’t make him not a worthy contender.”

“So, it is out the two of them?”

Talia nodded her head surely, “Yes, we will see who proves the better choice.”

--

Talia stood before the various clans that made up the League. They all watch her with attentive eyes, and she sees the council sit in front of her with pride. It was time for her to announce her heir and they knew she wouldn’t make this choice without careful consideration. They had all been distraught when they learned that Jamila hadn’t wanted the title but with a small overview of her condition and all that would happen surrounding it… they made peace.

She stepped into the ring of truth and watched impassively as one of her guards lit the flames.

“I stand before you all today as the Demon Head… as Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra Al Ghul.”

The flames burned green at the truth of her words.

“A year ago, I stood before you all and announced that the Beautiful One… our Hope was to be the Demon Head’s Heiress. I stand before you now to tell you that it was no longer true.”

The green in the flames held steady.

“Today, I name a new heir. One that has proven themselves to our organization time and time again. They are a strong warrior whose loyalty is a jewel to be cherished.”

The flames tint blue with the pride in her voice.

“Hear the call of the ancestors. Of all the points of contact. Calling on all the strength from the Al Ghul Line. I hereby claim my son, Jason Peter Todd-Al Ghul as my heir.”

Green for truth. Blue for pride. Red for the blood connection.

Cheers erupt from the warriors surrounding her. Talia is smiling as she looked upon them.

An arrow whistles through the air and impales itself in front of her. The fire is immediately put out and everyone is at edge. Some of her guards immediately break away heading in the direction that the arrow came from while the others direct the children and those with child to the safe rooms.

Talia is following them, and she absently notes when Sandra and Ubu fall in line beside her. Swords appear in their hands. Sandra passes her a spare Tantō and Ubu passes her a gun.

They follow the sound of fighting and immediately join in once it becomes clear just who their enemies were. Her sister’s guards and mercenaries that were exiled alongside her. Ubu and Sandra cut a clean escape for her towards the center where her sister’s stands enjoying the chaos.

“Nyssa,” she nearly growls. “What is the meaning of this?”

She sees the rage that overtakes her sister and the two of them clash right in the middle. She is thankful for the lessons she has taken with the people of Konohagkure. It makes her fighting style unpredictable and she’s quickly pushing her sister back.

“You spit on the name of our father. How dare you throw his beliefs for such false love? That boy is not an Al Ghul. He is a False Heir no matter what you proclaim.”

Talia snarls in anger and she can feel Lazarus breaking free from her control. The world tinges green and now she fights with the intent to kill. “You will not speak of my son in such a manner. Throw away Father’s belief? Impossible. You’re still exiled, aren’t you?”’

She watches with a sharp smile as her sister lets go of her own inner demon and tries to kill her. She knows that she will not succeed. She will not catch Talia off guard. Not this time. She was not weak.

The two of them continue their fight when Nyssa steps back suddenly as one of her underlings enters Talia’s peripheral. She shoots him dead before focusing back on Nyssa.

It had to be the thought of the vengeance being the only reason she didn’t notice the kunai being thrown at her. It plunges itself in her shoulder and she viscously yank it out before continuing towards her sister.

But strangely, Nyssa isn’t trying to fight her anymore.

Something was wrong.

“Fall back,” she says, and her voice sounds wrong. Nyssa is coming towards her. A smoke bomb is thrown between the two of them and suddenly Ubu and Sandra are carrying her away.

She blinks and the world seems larger.

She blinks and she doesn’t know what’s going on.

She blinks and she slips into sleep.

And when her eyes open, she stares at a man with jewel like eyes and a patch in his head like Father’s.

She is told that he is the Demon Head’s Heir.

He is her brother.

He is Jason.

--

Talia is a child and she’s watching as the girl with the white strip in her hair seems to command the room. She had watched as the girl relied heavily on Jason and rarely left his side. She wondered if she was his lover.

But that wouldn’t make sense. Why would the girl claim to be her niece if she was her brother’s lover?

The girl was strange, and she was hiding something. Talia could tell just from the way the girl twitch with every move. She watches how the girl looked down on Damian, but there had been a twinkle in her eye.

The Grandfather had taken her from the room earlier but that didn’t stop her from coming back and peeking. Her interest had reached a all time high when more people entered the room.

Talia saw how the girl seemed to stiffen before casually moving away and out of reach. A part of her seemed to scream for Jason but a larger part of her seemed to wear a mask even her father couldn’t pierce.

Talia watches how the new people seemed to move and create a shield around Jason. She wonders if they are Jason’s guards. She wanted to know where they had been. Jason was the Heir! His guards were to be with him at all times in case of an attack.

It’s the smell of baked goods that draws her attention away from them. She turns and leaves and makes her way back to the Grandfather.

He smiles gently at her and hands her a baked biscuit with chocolate inside of it. She had never tasted such treats before being brought into Jason’s care. She wonders if Father would be mad with the way she is being treated when he comes back for her.

She didn’t think she wanted to leave.

--

Her eyes blink open afterwards and she takes notice of the cloth covering her body. She had fallen asleep in front of the magical screen with all the different colors.

Talia sits up slowly and she notices that she had been brought back down in the big room. Jason called it the cave. It had been a week since the first night all the new people had showed up.

Jason had taken her to a new place to reside in. His guard squad was always there alongside Jason’s lover? The two females who hair was as bright as the flames in the night took to sparring with her. They laughed and cheered her own and whenever she messed up a move, they talked her through it instead of slapping her down.

His other friend with eyes the same color as hers and with hair as fiery as the women gifts her with a bow and arrow. He is good but she is better. She can sense an inner turmoil in him. A grief that wraps around and seems to suffocate his whole being. She tends to cuddle into his side, and he tells her stories of his adventures with Jason.

The big one with the letter on his chest tends to watch the magical screen with her. He brings out needles and Talia wonders if this will be the day, he stabs her. Instead he begins to weave colorful cloths and clothing and teaches her when he catches her looking.

Jason’s lover keeps her distance, but she doesn’t let Talia out her sight. She had a darkness to her too that spilled out whenever Damian’s guards got to close to her. Talia thinks she says the one named Grayson is a Blue Idiot? Her dagger is always out when he or the redhead in moving throne near her.

Talia moves from her spot and heads in the direction that she can hear Jason in. He brought another friend. His clothes were covered in colors and he had a glowing ring on his hand. She wonders if he somehow managed to trap the waters of her father’s pit into it.

There was another there. He was short and his voice was rough but sounded as alluring as her father’s. She wondered what he was there for.

She wrapped her arms around Jason’s legs, and he paused. He looked at her before they all continued to talk. She tuned them out though as sleep still clung to her mind.

She’s being moved from Jason to someone else and her eyes open to see that the Blue Idiot is holding her. Well he is holding her as if she was a poison sword that would kill her with one move. A breeze enters the room and she gasp as she feels a pain attack her.

Her eyes water as it gets stronger before the Blue Idiot is carrying her away. The further she goes the less pain she feels but it’s still there and its hurts.

Makeitsstop. Makeitsstop. Makeitsstop. Makeitsstop. Makeitsstop.

He lays her down as the pain begins to recede and the breeze begins to go away. It doesn’t take long for Jason’s lover to appear. She has blood trailing from her eyes and mouth, but she sees snarling at the Blue Idiot. He scowls back at her, but he doesn’t say anything as she moves closer. She wipes at her face before grabbing another piece of cloth and wiping at Talia’s face. She startles as the cloth comes back red and her hand reaches for her own face.

Jason’s lover smiles sadly at her before covering her and stepping away. A green tint takes over the area surrounding Talia and she’s confused.

Something is thrown near her and there is something in the air that makes her head hurts again. She takes a deep breath to push through the pain.

Talia feels something happening. She doesn’t know what.

And then—

She screams.

--

It had felt like coming from a dream. Then again, she had felt like she had been drugged and Talia was slightly pissed. It took a lot to drug her as the pit waters in her blood tended to wash it away.

She opened her eyes to green surrounding her and she paused to wonder if she had died. Talia hasn’t been in the pit for years. Not since she lowered Jason into anyway. She pushes her body up slowly and that’s when she notices the cover that covers her body.

Hm. Whoever had taken her robbed her of her clothing. She will kill them all. No one has the privilege to see her bare skin unless she allows them to. And she did not allow this.

Her eyes take stock of where she is, but she can only see green. She felt caged in a way not unlike her father had her. Her eyes narrow with rage and she feels the beast within in her scream for freedom.

She hears feet entering the room where she’s been held captive. Her eyes narrow when she hears someone laugh awkwardly before the green fades from around her. Her eyes slowly adjust to the now darken area. She feels the slight chill on her skin before a blur ram into her.

“Kalh,” she hears, and her hands freeze from where they had been ready to land a deadly blow. Talia pulls the body away from her slowly and she takes in the sight of her niece. She sees someone move closer and her heart stutters at the sight of her oldest son.

“T,” and he says it like a prayer. There were tears in their eyes and Talia closes her own briefly. Her mind pulses as new memories slot themselves in place. Pieces of her childhood that had not been there before overlapping the horror that she could remember.

Her voice was rough from the lack of use, “My loves.” She watches as they let their tears spill and her soul sings. Lazarus purrs with content. They clutch her as if she were their lifeline and that���s when she hears a small voice coming from behind them.

“Mother.”

And her heart stops. She can hear the heart monitor begin to beep erratically but her senses… her sense of being is only focused on her child. Her son. Her heart. “Damian,” and his name sound like blessings of the gods of the old. He steps forward hesitantly, and she takes no notice of her bruised muscles or the way Jason and Jamila help her sit up more. She reaches her hand out and wonders if he would turn away from her now. Would he turn his back on her when she was at her lowest?

He doesn’t. He places his hand in hers and she can her a past version of herself crying and screaming in rage. He was too young for his hands to be so callous. Her baby boy. She had done so wrong by him.

He climbs onto the bed and he pauses as he stares at her. It was too her shock that sob escapes him and he’s throwing himself into her embrace.

She hugs him tightly and vows to not let go. The Precious One loved her children dearly and had taken to becoming the Mother of the young ones in the compound.

She unfurls on her arms from around Damian and she reaches for her older son. He falls into her embrace easily. She angles her body into something more welcoming and Jamila instantly presses against her. She places a kiss in the girl’s hair.

“I love you all. I love you.”

And nothing had ever tasted so purer.

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Daughters To Wed | One

Pairing: Prince!Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Tom really hates you, mentions of loneliness and depression, it’s not going to be fluffy for a while. 

Word Count: 3,424

Summary: You are the daughter of a man infamous for having many children, only to marry them off in an effort to climb the social ladder and gain more riches. You have grown up hating the idea of marriage, only to be married to the Prince of Braydal, and the future King, Thomas Holland. The both of you are very unwilling partners, and that seems to be the only thing you have in common. It isn’t until things start to crumble around you that you realize there might be more to the cold prince than you thought. 

| Prologue |

___

It would be a lie if you said that you didn’t find your husband to be incredibly attractive. His chocolate brown eyes and his disheveled, chestnut curls were a deadly combination that could make many women weak in the knees. Your own sisters had talked of their infatuation for the eldest prince. But the fact that he was good looking meant very little given the fact that he absolutely despised your existence. 

Even when you had gotten married two weeks ago, he’d gone through the whole thing like an animatronic. His eyes had been stone cold and when he wasn’t reciting his vows after the priest, his jaw was so tensed that the tendons in his neck popped out. 

The only good thing about your wedding had been the end of it. 

At the end, after the priest had declared you husband and wife, and the both of you turned back toward each other to kiss, Tom only looked at you long enough to lean forward and brush a feather light kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

Truly, it had been a relief that he hadn’t actually kissed you. The moment you realized you would have to kiss a stranger, in front of hundreds of other strangers, you had tightened your grip on his hands and squeezed your eyes shut as tightly as possible.

Just get it over with, just get it over with. When he pulled away, and your heart finally climbed its way out of your stomach, you’d opened your eyes and released a breath that you hadn’t realized that you had been holding. 

What you couldn’t get out of your head was the short pause afterword where his face still lingered just a few inches from your own, both of your eyes open and your chests rising and falling in sync. 

Most days, Tom looked and spoke to you in a way devoid of all emotion. To you, he was detached and aloof. He was like watching a very bad actor on stage, unsure of how to make facial expressions or convey feelings in his voice. On a good day, you could get some anger out of him. Maybe even a little bit of frustration if you really tried. 

But on that day, when the space between you was so small that your breath mingled together, you had seen something else in his eyes. The moment had been so brief that you could replay the memory in your head one hundred billion times a day and still have more time to think about it. 

As one of your lady’s maids massaged soap into your hair, you stared intently at the very oddly placed royal family portrait just to the side of your tub. Maybe it wasn’t oddly placed given the fact that you were a new member to the household and this room used to be a guest room, except now it was your bedchambers and you were trying to bathe without being stared at by a painting of your husband and your in-laws.

You and Tom had just come back from your honeymoon last night and this was still the most you had seen of him since your wedding day. It had been two long weeks of Tom waking up in the very early hours of the morning, grabbing something to eat from the chef, and spending his day outside in the stables. By the time he came back inside to eat supper, you were already changing into a night gown to settle in for the night.

The sound of one pair of utensils clinking against a plate in the dining room could be heard from your bed chambers down the hall. For thirty minutes, you would lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as you listened to Tom finish his food and walk down the hall to his own bedroom, which was directly next to yours. There was a door that connected your rooms, but neither of you had so much as touched the door knob the entire time you were there.

In the portrait, he is younger than he is now, probably fifteen years old. He stood behind his mother and next to his father, his shoulders back and his chin tilted up ever so slightly. The persona he is trying to give off in the painting is the persona he gives off now; powerful, intimidating, and indifferent. However, the painter has managed to capture the youthful glint in his eyes and the soft smile that seems to be permanently pulling at the edges of his lips. 

It’s a different side to your husband that you’ve never seen before, which really isn’t saying a lot since you’ve only ever seen one side of your husband.

As the girl finishes your hair, you look around your room, just for a change of thought. It’s fairly spacious, far too much for just one person if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

To the right of your bathtub, which has been placed in the very middle of your room, is a fireplace. The portrait hangs half a foot over the mantle, the entire Holland family staring down at you. Unnecessarily large potted plants are placed on either side of the fire place. There are two violet red chaise lounge sofas, one armchair, and one love seat strategically placed around a small coffee table. This whole setup is just a few feet in front of two, tall bay doors that lead out to the balcony. 

To your left is your king sized canopy bed, decked out with plush feather pillows and an even fluffier feather duvet. Curtains hang from the top of the canopy and are tied back to each post of the bed frame. One nightstand is placed on either side of the bed and there is a seat at the very end of the bed. On the right side of the bed, closest to the balcony and the seating area, is a beautiful vanity. And on the other side of the bed is two doors that lead into a closet full of dresses and corsets and every other article of clothing known to woman-kind. 

Everything was colored in creams or soft violet reds and warm golds. The carpeted floor was soft on your feet and everything looked like it was brand new. Alongside the portrait above the fireplace were several other paintings, although none of them depicted the man who hated you and his family. 

“Can I have that portrait taken down, Elizabeth?” You turned to look back at the girl rinsing the last of the soap from your hair. She’s your age, maybe a year or two older, with seafoam green eyes and blonde hair that is pulled back into a very simple braid that is pinned to her head. 

Over the last two weeks, you have learned that Elizabeth is already married to one of the stablehands, William, and they have a son, Nathaniel, who is turning six months old in just a few days. Elizabeth loves to read him fairytales, a skill she learned from the governess, who also happens to be her husband’s sister. 

She has become your best friend and closest confidant in the castle. 

“Yes ma’am, you could if you would like.” Glancing at the painting again, it is hard to ignore the feeling of insecurity and paranoia it gives you. 

“Do I have to ask anyone for permission to have it taken down?” You chew on the inside of your cheek as you look back at Elizabeth. She is squinting her eyes in thought, standing up to wipe her hands on her apron as she thinks. You sit up a little in the tub, puling your back away from the high copper backing. 

“I don’t believe so, these are your rooms now, your high-ugh, lady.” You ignore the mishap, looking back at the picture as Elizabeth goes to grab a bath towel from the armchair that she placed it on when she first came into your room. 

For a second you hesitate, not wanting to overstep any limitations you weren’t aware you had, but when you meet the eyes of your husband in the painting, and they sparkle down at you, you decide the painting must go immediately. 

“I want it gone as soon as possible.” You stand up, still staring into Tom’s eyes, the water splashing around you as you step over the side of the tub and take the towel from Elizabeth. The hairs on your arms stand up as the cold air hits your skin.

“Yes ma’am. Right away.” You nod, turning away from the fireplace to walk over to your closet.

You won’t admit it to him, but when Tom comes stomping into your chambers the next morning, his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flaring, he knows that he is reacting exactly the way you wanted him to. 

“Why did you have them take my family portrait out of here?” He yells. You look rather unfazed as you slip into your dressing gown, dismissing Elizabeth with a gentle smile and a nod of your head. The girl gives a hurried curtsy to the both of you before practically running out of the room. When you meet his gaze, your expression doesn’t change. 

“Why does it upset you, Your Highness?” You ask, walking over to your vanity as you ignore the daggers your husband glares into the back of your head. You don’t even need to look down to wrap your hand around the slender handle of your hairbrush. 

Tom is fuming behind you. He has no idea why it upsets him.

“I asked you a question first.” He growls, plopping down onto the cushioned seat at the foot of your bed, watching you rake the bristles through your long hair. 

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but these are my rooms and I’d rather not have a painting of my husband staring at me at all times.” He meets your eyes in the mirror, ignoring the overwhelming urge to grab you by your shoulders and shake you until your teeth rattled. You were insufferable, like a really annoying child that he couldn’t get unwrapped from his leg. For the rest of his life. 

“You barely look at me when were together in person, you’ll understand that an imitation of your gaze is even more uncomfortable with those circumstances.” You’ve pulled all of your hair in front of you, paying tedious attention to the ends. 

It would be a lie if Tom said that he didn’t find you to be incredibly attractive. He’d caught himself imagining what your skin would feel like beneath his hands or taking deep breaths when your paths crossed to catch a whiff of your scent. Harrison, his good friend and the Duke of Perton, loved to tease Tom by saying that the prince was so in love with you that it blinded him to his true feelings. This was something Tom refused to believe. He hated you, he would always hate you. 

Maybe if he had been given the chance to fall for you, instead of being forced to marry you, he might have loved you. But the only feelings he could truly identify with you were resentment, rage, and sometimes a little lust.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He feigned ignorance, smoothly rising to his feet with his eyes on the door. He hated you, yes, but you were his wife. You were the woman he was to spend the rest of his life with, it was better to treat this relationship like a business arrangement. Because that was what it truly was when you read the fine print. 

Your father had received a royal title, land, money, and a royal marriage to one of his daughters in exchange for his help in the House. Although your father wasn’t a member himself, he held many ties. One of the perks of marrying your many children off to every wealthy suitor available. 

Although Tom wasn’t aware of the specifics, rumor had been that the House had been looking to get rid of a great many things that would have caused a mass chaos throughout the country. (Y/F/N) had been Dominic’s last resort in changing their minds and swinging the House votes in favor of the popular opinion. 

And now, here you were. 

Tom was halfway across your room before you dropped the brush back to the vanity. It clattered very loudly before it fell to the floor, landing at your feet as you stood up to face your husband. He froze, looking back at you with his eyebrows screwed up in confusion. Your lips were parted just enough for Tom to know that you were thinking of saying something risky.

“Just tell me, Thomas.” Ice descended across his nerves at the sound of his name on your lips. Never had he heard you say his name. It was always, “Your Highness,” or, “My Prince.” He met your gaze, startled at what he found there. 

“Tell me how you really feel instead of acting like I am so unintelligent that I cannot see it.” Desperation, sadness, longing, and loneliness. It causes a small ball of guilt and regret to push against his windpipe, but he pushed it away. He shoved it as deep as he could and squared his shoulders.

“You want to know how I feel?” You nod, clenching your fists at your sides. You know what he is going to say, you can see it in his eyes and in his cold demeanor. 

The way he looks standing in front of you like that, commanding the room’s attention with just the straightening of his spine, it reminds you of your father. 

He didn’t care for you very much either.

“I don’t like you, (y/n). In fact, I hate your presence in my life.” His chest rises and falls rapidly, like the two sentences he’d just spoken have taken all the air from his lungs. You sit down, picking the hairbrush up from the floor and placing it back on the vanity. 

“Then let us keep this strictly a public marriage. We can’t have anyone else knowing that we’ve not even consummated this, the nobles will make an event of it.” Tom nods his head as you fiddle with a comb, being sure not to look at him. You don’t want him to know that the confession, despite the fact that you already knew, had truly hurt you. 

Your whole life, you knew you were destined for an arranged marriage. Your eldest sister, Nora, was fifteen years your senior and she had already been married and given birth to one child by the time that you had been born.

You hated the thought of marriage, hated the white dress, and the flowers, and the ceremony. You hated the thought of spending the rest of your life with someone who knew nothing about you, and who would never care to learn anything about you. 

Before meeting the prince, you heard many accounts from many different people that he was a kind and gentle person. He visited hospitals, paying special mind to sick children, on regular occasion and he could strike up a conversation with anyone he met. It was this reputation that made you hope he would exceed your expectations of marriage. 

On the day you officially met your betrothed, you stood in front of the large, looming, mahogany doors to the drawing room. You smoothed your shaking hands down your skirts a thousand times as you tried to calm your breathing.

The dress was pale blue, long sleeved, and stifling hot. The scalp of your head was tender from the many different hairstyles your step-mother had demanded the maids try before finally settling on a very simple curled updo. You had refused any makeup, afraid that you would sweat it all off and look like a whore after a long day’s work in the middle of summer.  

You felt presentable, nervous, but presentable.

When you finally turned the door handle and pushed into the room, three pairs of eyes landed on you. Your father, his stare intense and cool. You’d already been briefed on what would happen should you somehow manage to ruin this for him.

The King’s expression was much more friendly, his eyes crinkling at the corners and a soft smile encouraging you into the room. Perhaps it was the spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose, or maybe it was something else altogether, but he didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought the King of your country would.

The last stare came from the Prince, who sat in the armchair closest to the door. His legs were crossed and his brown-eyed gaze was intense, almost like your father’s, but in a way that caused a dark blush to heat up your neck and cheeks.

You curtsied so low that you’re sure your knees almost touched the floor, your head bowed as you waited for permission to rise. The King was the one to give the command, rising to his feet to greet you.

“It is so nice to finally make the acquaintance of my future daughter in-law.” His smile widened as he took one of your hands in his grasp, kissing the knuckles before covering the top of your hand with his other hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty.” When you glanced behind the King at the young man who you were really here for, you caught him looking at you in thought.

His head was tilted to the side, his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin propped on his thumb, and the rest of his fingers curled in front of his lips. Just one sole curl had fallen onto his forehead and you felt like you were standing in front of him naked.

“Thomas.” Dominic looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. The Prince stood and started to walk your way, pausing next to you. He was so close that you could feel his breath fan across your neck, sending chills and goosebumps across your skin.

“Nice to meet you, my lady.” His voice was flat and bored. “I’ll be in the carriage waiting for you to finish here, father.”

With that he was gone, brushing past you and pushing through the doors. The King made his apologies, something about Tom still getting used to the idea of marriage and a bunch of other excuses that went right through one ear and out the other. 

That was the moment that you knew your life would be just like you had dreaded it would be. 

“One day, when I am King and I need an heir, but only out of necessity.” He sighs, running his fingers through the curls you would only ever be able to dream about touching. 

“For now, just, just put the portrait back in here, yeah?” You don’t move, pushing your fingernails through the teeth of the golden hair comb. You don’t move, you don’t breathe, and you don’t respond, because you aren’t putting it back up. 

But you don’t tell him that because then he’ll stay longer and you really just want him to leave. You know he has left when you hear the sound of the door click shut behind you and the tension leaves your shoulders.

The tears that fall from your eyes are hot with anger and frustration. You wipe them from your cheeks, standing back up and gently tossing the hair comb back to the vanity as Elizabeth tentatively pokes her head back into your room. 

“My lady? Oh!” She gasps softly, rushing over with worried hummingbird hands that flit about you like it will help. 

“What’s wrong? What can I do?” You sniffle a little just before taking a deep breath and blinking the tears from your eyes. They only seem to come out faster the angrier you get, and you can’t stop being angry until you stop crying.

“When they bring the portrait back into my rooms, I want you to tell them to put it in the very back of my closet with the back of the frame facing the door.” Her eyebrows knit together but she nods her head, coxing you back to the vanity seat.

“Let me help you get ready, my lady.” And you let her, closing your eyes as she runs the brush through your hair, playing the memory from your wedding day through your head.

___

Permanent Taglist: @embrace-themagic and @itsyaboyo

Daughters Taglist: @tom-hollands-eyelash @lemirabitur @wifunozomi @sleepyeugene @herladyshipxx @clairesrainbow @macandpleasekillme @peter-spider-parker-man @greenarrowhead @thx4nothingatall @issypeace28 @thingsienjoylookingat @beanie-boy-jones-iii @christined123 @babsthebadass @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @nobodyslord @cordelia-sagewright @xofwildflowersx @i-luv-doggos @hellowolfnshit @bellagrayson-wayne @nophunleague @thespottedwolf-blog @bishopl @bluespirit58 @grace-elisabeth @smexylemony @spartanstalker @1-800-loony @aquawomxn @maddieisaacs @platonicasever @carry-on-ms-believer @plaidamoosette @go-grace-lightening @quacksonhq

*those bolded are not allowing me to tag*

[thecreativeangel]

Burning (Peter Parker x Reader) Hogwarts AU

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Part five of the Improper series

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: Another thing you learn at Hogwarts is that smoke is never good, Peter was standing a little too close to you, and you never know who to trust, and no one is safe.

Warnings: Umm… swearing. Wizard racism? Oh, and Peter being a hot little bitch. Yup. 

Words: 3,477

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You sat alone on the fur rug in the empty Gryffindor common room, watching the flames in the fireplace flicker and steadily die down, almost melting into the scorched wood. All the others had gone to bed but you stayed, not bothering to check the time as it passed. Today was the end of the first week at Hogwarts, now your fifth year and today you had yet another fight with Peter. It was, as always over something stupid, but that didn’t stop you and him from arguing. The fight was over an article that the Daily Prophet published about spies in Hogwarts and the argument would have gone on for hours if Professor Binns hadn��t forced you two out of the classroom, raising his voice to tell you class was over twenty minutes ago. You had yelled that Peter was wrong. There were no spies in Hogwarts and the Prophet was only doing it to stir up tension. Like we don’t have enough of that already. You think bitterly. 

The last flame was blown out by a gust of wind from the open window, grey smoke rising from the fireplace. Peter’s angry face was stuck in your brain no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. It wasn’t my fault. You think stubbornly. He was the one who kept talking. He provoked me! Your eyes stung, growing watery and you blinked twice to clear them. Wait, I almost never cry. What…

In your deep thoughts, you didn’t notice how the air around you grew dense and hot, almost blistering your skin. Smoke make your eyes water, but it wasn’t coming from the fireplace. Ugly gray clouds were floating into the common room through the open window, curling around the chandelier on the ceiling and drifting closer to the ground as more entered. You frowned and stood up, taking careful steps to avoid stumbling, as the smoke now clouded the room like fog, making it hard to see. Your eyes not only watered but now they burned, the smog growing thicker with every passing second. You stumbled over the corner of a chair, putting a hand over your mouth to stop from coughing and inhaling the smoke. The open window let moonlight stream into the common room but it was stopped short by the ugly smog.

When you reached it, you had half a mind to close the window and ignore what was happening outside. The view of the quidditch field looked normal, if a bit hazy, until you heard shouting and taunts of glee as someone roared “Incendio”. One of the viewing stands burst into flames and toppled over as the midsection gave away. You gasped but only inhaled more smoke, coughing and slapping a hand over your mouth and nose.

The teachers viewing stand was being covered in fire, the tendrils snaking up and swallowing it whole. You yelped and stumbled back when another spell was shot and it exploded on a goal post, flames dancing around the metal ring. Cheering erupted from below, just barely heard over the cracking of wood as another viewing stand came down, smashing on the burned grass.

You ran up the stairs of the boys dorm, throwing the door open so hard it almost broke the hinges. A few boys were jarred awake and stared at you, some muttering curses but most of them stayed asleep, rolling over to face away from you.

A mousy looking blond pulled the covers up to his chest, a pinched expression of annoyance on his face. “Hey, you can’t be in here.”

You payed him no attention and sprinted over to their window, opening it for a better view of the field and your breath caught in your throat. All round you the boys began to make disgusted faces because the smoke drifted in from the common room and the window. From this angle the quidditch field looked even worse, even the grass was ablaze and spreading.

“(Name), what are you doing?”

You whipped around to Peter’s voice, seeing him leaning against a bedpost, waving his hands around in an attempt to clear the smoke.

“The fire-It’s bloody everywhere!” You stutter, rushing to shake the rest of the boys awake. Tear were forcing themselves out of you, a reflex to the ashy air. “O-on the field, and t-the stands-there’s someone down there!”

Your ran your fingers through your disheveled hair, a wild look in your eyes as you shut the window and ran for the stairs to the common room, ready to warn the girls. Peter grabbed your hand and jerked you back, sending you tumbling into him.

“What. Fire?” He asks steadily. At least he tried to sound calm, but the tremble in his voice was there.

“The f-field, it’s- I heard someone yell, a-and-” You doubled over in a coughing fit, your lungs searing hot and blistery. Peter pulled you back up, holding both your wrists with his hand. Your were too close. His fearful and panicked face was just inches from yours and for some stupid reason, you found it hard to think.

“There’s someone on the field?”

You nod once, flushing red when you felt his ragged breaths so close to you. Stop it. I just fought with him earlier today. Now is not the time for this. That snapped you out of your thoughts and you pulled out of his grasp, backing away to the stairs.

“I have to warn the others.” You say, already one foot out. “Peter you have to get them out.”

He just stood there, also red in the face, staring at you with a mystified expression. Your eyebrows furrowed. “NOW!”

Peter jolted out of his trance as you turned and ran to the girls dorm, more confident than before.

“There’s a fire on the quidditch field! Everyone out unless you want to suffocate!”

The girls got up more hurriedly, sensing the true panic in you and sniffing the air, detecting the smoke. The Fat Lady looked overwhelmed when students streamed out of her portrait, meeting a disgruntled Professor Rogers in the hall.

“Everyone follow me!” He yells, turning around and briskly walking in the direction of the courtyard. Professor Romanoff and her Slytherins turned the corner and almost run into Professor Rogers.

“Minerva ordered all teachers to take the students to the courtyard.” She locked eyes with Professor Rogers, her eyes showed utmost shame. “Steve, the Prophet was right.”

Professor Rogers motioned for his students to follow and walked alongside Professor Romanoff as they whispered to each other. You tore to the front, nearest to the two professors, the mention of the Daily Prophet catching your undivided attention.

“-I saw them Steve!”

“Natasha it’s going to be alright. If we can get the kids to safety-”

Professor Romanoff came to a sudden halt and you almost head butted her back. “You have no idea how bad this is!” She hissed, bristling visibly. “At the same time as the fucking Prophet published another one of their rubbish stories? It’s like they knew. They knew it was the right time! When the Ministry finds out they’ll fall the blame on me-”

“Not right now, Natasha.” Professor Rogers whispers urgently, nudging her to keep walking. Professor Romanoff stomps forward even faster than before, muttering things. Both the Slytherins and Gryffindors looked panic stricken, struggling to catch up with the long steps of their heads of houses.

Professor Romanoff barely stepped a foot on the cobblestone of the courtyard when a jet of blue light streaked past her right ear, hitting the stone pillar behind her. It exploded into thousands of pieces, scattering on the floor. Kids shrieked and screamed at the unforeseen explosion. Professor Romanoff and Rogers ducked and drew their wands out of nowhere. Professor Rogers held his arm back to stop his students.

“Stop! Don’t fire!”

Professor Banner sprinted from the courtyard followed by the Ravenclaws.

“They’ve surrounded the land! There’s nowhere to go,” He panted out. “Minerva said to get them to the dungeons.”

Then he ran, his Ravenclaws sprinting after him. Professors Rogers and Romanoff shadowed his actions, hoarding their students with them.

“We’re going to die.” Inigo says hysterically. “The Death Eaters and their kids are gonna kill us.”

“Shut your mouth!” You snap. “The Prophet could be wrong yet.”

“The Prophet is right!” Inigo cries out. “What does it take to get it into your thick head that You-Know-Who’s old followers are recruiting? Traitorous, manky little b-!”

“Shut up Inigo.” Peter barks, appearing at his friend’s side. “She helped get us out of the tower, that’s worth something.”

“I don’t care!” Inigo shrieks, pointing to you. “She’s been helping the Slytherins, I know it! Pull her sleeve up, I’d bet there’s a Dark Mark!”

“Steve, can’t you keep your students under control?” Professor Romanoff seethes through clenched teeth. As soon as she finished her sentence, someone’s cold scream came from down the hall.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Professor Romanoff raised her wand before you could even think to react. “Protego!”

The students scattered like ants being stomped on. You ran to the hoard of Slytherins sprinting to the quidditch field and grabbed Abigail’s hand, pulling her back.

“Don’t go to the field you idiot!” You yell at her, pulling her down another hallway.

“We have to! The Hufflepuffs are cornered there! Stella’s-”

“What?” You shriek. “The field was burning! Why would Stella follow them?”

Another streak of green flew past Abigail’s head. You skidded across the smooth floor, swiveling on your heel. A group of people in black hoods and masks appeared in a burst of dark light, their wands pointed at you.

It was Abigail’s turn to pull at your arm, both of you breaking into a sprint to get outside. “Shit, go back!”

More green light illuminated the corridor as you and Abigail ducked in an attempt to avoid the blast.

“P-Protego!” Abigail burst out, carelessly aiming behind her. The killing spells stopped, shattered by the invisible shield she cast. You raced to the courtyard, people in black cloaks closing in from all sides. What unnerved you the most is they didn’t chase after you. The Death Eaters walked forward slowly, whipping their wand as they wordlessly fired jinxed and curses at running students. A group of staff members and students were standing in a circle in the middle of the courtyard, hurling spells at the advancing Death Eaters. You fired a body bind hex at one of the taller figures. They collapsed to the ground, arms and legs pinned to their sides.

The most powerful Death Eater was dueling Professor Banner and Nurse Maximoff at the same time, flicking their wand in long, lazy movements. With one more spell, he blasted both staff members back, sending their bodies skidding across the floor.

“ENOUGH!” He roared, his voice impossibly deep and fractured by the mask. Death Eaters and students alike stopped fighting in sheer shock. He cackled like an insane asylum patient, unafraid despite having at least twenty wands pointed at him. “I’ve only come to collect the willing. They know who they are.”

You wanted to cruciate him then and there, to end it all now, but you couldn’t.  Do it! Your brain yelled. Do it now! Stop him! Nothing happened for a moment. Everyone was standing there, all had their wands raised, all on high alert. And then- a seventh year boy stepped out of the circle, calmly moving around Professor Rogers like it was nothing. Without hesitation, he stopped at the side of the man who yelled. A dark haired girl standing right next to Professor Romanoff walked forward, ignoring the gasp from the red headed professor. She had her head low, presumably from fear, or maybe humiliation for being called out in front of her head of house.

The powerful Death Eater jabbed his wand under the girl’s chin, forcing her to look up at the betrayal on the faces of her peers.

“There isn’t anything to be ashamed of, child.” The man spoke softly to her but you assumed he was addressing everyone there. He was honeyed and appealing, a dark and dangerously persuasive undertone to him. “Your parents would be proud to know their girl joined the cause.”

“I know of the suffering the Slytherin house had endured,” He boomed, grave and stoic. “My message to you is this. Do not try to earn the trust of the other houses. They aren’t worthy! They aren’t purebloods! They don’t understand the power that you have at your fingertips!”

“Join me,” He says, quieter but even more alluring. “We can rid the world of weakness and dirty blood…together.”

The Death Eater flicks his wand one last time and disappears in a burst of dark magic along with his followers, the boy and the girl who stepped out. Abigail is unable to move but at the same time is shaking next to you. You don’t know if it’s from fear, hurt or shame that her own housemates betrayed the school. Your body is still frozen but the gears of your mind are whirling at impossible speed. You lean closer to her ear.

“Hide,” You whisper, clutching her hand. “Find Erin, Keira and hide.”

She stares at you with wide, horror stricken eyes. “W-Why?”

“The Gryffindors’ll kill you, Abby.” You whisper back, quivering ever so much. The other students were beginning to wake from the terror induced stupor and you were getting jumpy. “He-he took Slytherins. He made you the b-bad guy. Please, please hide.”

She gives you a solemn look and nods before racing off in a random direction.

“Hey-where is she going?” Inigo screeches, preparing to run after Abigail. You grab the edge of his robe and throw him to the ground. The teachers look too occupied with treating hexed students to care.

“Don’t you dare follow her you git!” You spit, your nostrils flaring. Inigo hops up looking murderous. You shrink back on instinct. Oh Merlin, what’ve I done.

“Inigo, stop.”

Peter steps between the two of you like a shield. “The teachers are here. They’ll see you.”

Any forgiveness or good nature you felt for him melted from your heart. You wanted to yell and scream, to punch Peter in his stupidly perfect face but the energy was gone. His words were so heartless, like he forgot all the times you were his friend. The corners of your mouth twitched, preparing to fight back but nothing was said. The same freezing numbness that came when you saw him was heightened, making you shiver despite the abnormally hot night air. You gave him one last miserable look and spun around on your heel, running the same way Abigail went.

For a month now you kept passing the house elves scrubbing away a spray painted message on the castle walls. They varied from the side of those who wanted to join the Death Eaters, to those who said they were going to hunt down all the people who will betray Hogwarts. Some talked of riots and wanting to kick out Half Bloods, and others declared that Slytherin should be cast out of the school. Every time, you hugged the books tighter to your chest and avoided looking at the spray painted notes. Muttering broke out in the crowd surrounding the courtyard as you passed it to get to Professor Xu’s class. You would have kept walking but a loud, collective gasp rippled through the students, seizing your notice.

The crowd became silent as loud coughing echoed across the courtyard. You stepped into the mess, slinking your way around the countless bodies. In the center, wheezing into a white handkerchief, was Professor McGonagall, her face the color of the feathers on a snowy owl. Nurse Maximoff had a reassuring hand on her shoulder while Professor Odinson helped carry heavy suitcases down the steps from the Clock Tower. A tall man with brown, slicked back hair and an overly pointy nose stood stiffly next to them, hands clasped around a piece of parchment.

“Do not fear, children,” The tall man was saying. “Your dear Professor is not in mortal danger. She is, however, sick to the point where her duty as headmistress is an uncalled for obstacle preventing her from attaining health.”

Professor Stark shot the man a glare from where he was standing next to Nurse Maximoff. More muttering ensued, followed by some disgruntled yelled objections. Professor McGonagall raised the hand that held her handkerchief to shut everyone up.

“It’s going to be alright,” She says hoarsely. “My not being headmistress should not stop the school from functioning properly. When the Ministry recommended my… ah, demise, they unanimously chose the same wizard. Headmaster Cordell was more than happy to accept their recommendation and-”

“How come Professor Fury can’t take your place?” Someone in the crowd shouts. Her question sparked a new wave of protest.

“He was Deputy Headmaster! He’s supposed to take over!” A boy’s high pitched voice yells. More shouting from the crowd.

“That’s enough,” The new headmaster projects, his voice so loud the professors all jump, and McGonagall actually winces. “The Ministry has decreed that I am the new headmaster and I assure you the school is in good hands! It is my impression that Hogwarts has gone mad with these petty rivalries between houses, and I plan to end that!”

He drops the sternness for a half smile and a silky, sympathetic tone. “The school’s function will go on as usual, even if your beloved headmistress must go.”

The new headmaster gives Professor Odinson a pointed look. The professor narrows his eyes but picks up the rest of McGonagall’s luggage and begins to trudge through the students who part to make way. Nurse Maximoff’s brows are furrowed but her eyes are glassed over as she leads McGonagall through the path Professor Odinson created. Younger students tug pitifully at McGonagall’s robe, pleading that she stay. Older kids refuse to see her leave, choosing instead to look the other way. You don’t feel tears form in your eyes but another heavy weight is placed on your shoulder, them already being permanently hunched over.

Long after everyone shuffles away, you are still standing there, rooted in place. You stare at the same place where the man stood. She’s not coming back. You tell yourself. McGonagall isn’t going to come back.

“They’ve been sacked.” Keira announces during a trip to the Three Broomsticks, sitting down at the table across from you. “Professor Odinson and Professor Stark are gone.”

Erin chokes on her butterbeer. You slap her on the back to clear her airways. “H-how?” She exclaims, struggling to get the words out.

“The hell you mean, ‘how’?” Keira says furiously, but it wasn’t directed at Erin. “They were kicked out of the school! Dismissed, fired, laid off! The question is why?”

“They were too close to McGonagall,” You offer, drumming your fingers on the table. “That’s the rumor that’s going ‘round, anyway. Headmaster Cordell’s hired a bunch of new guys, and they all look like convicts.”

Abigail sits down on the bar stool next to you, her eyes wide and her stance skittish. “Professor Banner’s been sacked too.” She mumbles, her face a shocked, unmoving mask. “Headmaster Cordell came in to see how he was teaching and started asking so many questions. And Banner-well you know how he has his little episodes. He kinda freaked out, started muttering things. Had to rush out before he exploded.”

She stared at her drink, her eyes growing unfocused. “Banner kept saying the same thing, over and over again. ‘It’s happening again, it’s happening again.’”

“I know what he means,” Michelle says, swirling her butterbeer around the glass. “You remember when Binns was talking about the lawful year in 1995? When Dolores Umbridge took over and made all those changes?”

“But he-he can’t!” Stella blurted. “Come on, let’s stay positive. What is the chance that Headmaster Cordell will actually change everything? Almost none! Sure, he’s creepy, but that means nothing!”

“Fine, we can be positive.” You say, taking a swig of butterbeer. “Let’s talk about something else?”

“Sure,” Michelle deadpans. “How’ve things with Peter been?”

All the girls groan and roll their eyes at the same time while you resist the urge to repeatedly hit your head on the table. Instead, you rested your head in your hand and looked out the window of the Three Broomsticks. You were still hopeful. Yes, it was true at the time. Looking back, you had no idea how badly things would escalate from that point on. And if you did know, maybe you wouldn’t have chosen to stay at Hogwarts another year. 

Tags:  @madithemagicalfangirl, @makaylahoran, @inelasco, @girlygirlbishop, @kaitlynthehuman, @mcheung0314, @damnedangel98, @thecamphogwartssoldier, @flopmalum, @janybaby

[whimsicmimic]

marbleverse sounds really cool! would you mind telling me about some of the characters? i'm very curious!

ABSOLUTELY!!!!!

im not gonna lie; there’s a looooooootta characters in marbleverse, just because of how big a project it is. so ill just?? talk about some of the ones in family portrait because those are the ones im working with the most right now!! and also because this particular cast includes some of the oldest characters ive ever made??? (like, I’ve been working with the founders for 8 years!!!! thats a long time to work with a character yall!!! i love them dearly!!!)

SO. there’s 47 members of the cirque du lune. i’m not gonna talk about all 47 of them. im gonna talk about a handful of the ones that might come up more frequently.

the cirque du lune was founded by the sun elf illusionist Felix Pathic and the aquatic elf contortionist Holly Darling. Both of em are trans, Holly’s the World’s Biggest Lesbian, Felix is pan. they have a looooong history together. if you were to ask Felix, Holly is more his family than either of his half siblings are. If you were to ask Holly, Felix is the only family she ever had. You’re gonna see a loooooooooootta them.

They met when they were both kids - Felix was a bit of a pickpocket when his dad Javier Pathic died and he ended up on the streets of New Haven. His dad was a fairly well known toxicologist and much much less known for dabbling in more illegal businesses. Felix says he accidentally poisoned himself. Whether or not that’s the truth is another matter, but that’s the story he gives and that’s the story he’s sticking with. Holly didn’t have a name at the time, but she ran away from home. Felix and the nameless elf got into a scuffle in the middle of a marketplace and she lost her temper, causing a bit of a magic flare up and causing her to literally begin to melt into a puddle of water, which ended up with both of them getting chased out of the marketplace by shop vendors and patrons who didn’t take too kindly to a pair of Waste-touched kids causing a ruckus and called the militia.

Felix helped the nameless elf get away (partially because he felt bad, but mostly because they both dont wanna get caught so why not truce to have that Not Happen so that it Does Not Happen) and the two ended up becoming friends through hiding in a dumpster in an alleyway. They start to talk a little bit. Felix has a flare for dramatics and had been trying to make money through using his illusion magic in a street performing routine. She has no plan, no idea how to move forward. Her main focus was cutting all ties from her family and the community she was raised in, and now? she has no fuckin clue my guy! So they just. Stuck together. Everything’s easier when you’ve got someone to watch your back, right?

anyways, they’ve been running the circus for over 150 years together. Felix technically has the title of ringleader because hes a sucker for The Drama and Holly would Really Rather Not, but without either of em? things would fall apart.

Dapple won’t come up too often in Family Portrait since a lot of the drabbles take place around the time that Naomh joined, and Daps left the circus a few years before then. She and her half-sibling Nico were two of the earliest members of the circus and really really good friends of Felix and Holly! Daps was only convinced to join when she found out that Benzene (a sport fighter) was Felix’s half sister. She’s a half elf and was a swordsman, cellist, and conductor with the circus. She ended up leaving when she was offered a position as a guardsman when the circus traveled to her hometown, which had been a dream of hers when she was a kid. There was a point in time when things between Felix and Daps got real awkward and everyone thought it was because they were fucking. Felix will neither confirm nor deny this, but Holly will if you ask her when she’s drunk enough. Holly will tell many stories about Dapple if you ask her under the right circumstances. Holly’s got dirt on everyone but she’s too nice to use it against folks.

Nico is Dap’s half sibling and they’re a biiiiiiiiiiig half orc. They’re a strongman and fire dancer and they’re just about the jolliest motherfucker you’ll ever meet. They say that they broke someone’s hand during a handshake once, but Nico will neither confirm nor deny. They’re really good with their hands! They helped design Felix’s prosthetic arm once he could afford one and are pretty crafty. They fucking adore knitting, man. They’re very enthusiastic about many things, and knitting is very much on that list. They plan on leaving the circus eventually to become a metalworker, but for now the circus is their home and family and they don’t wanna leave em behind!

Chervil is Felix’s little half sister. She’s a sun elf, she’s kinda sneaky, kinda suspicious. She’s a schemer, that one. She’s fond of pranks, but holds one hell of a grudge when she’s been caught in one. She’s the hypnotist and occasionally works with illusion magic! She grew up in the foster system after Javier died and Felix decided “fuck that noise”. As soon as Felix knew he was able to support her, Felix came back for her. Things haven’t been quite the same between them since; Chervil’s been a bit more distant, a bit more prickly. She instigates and he nitpicks and they argue. Kinda often. But everything works out alright in the end and maybe this is just how things are between them?

Kaitlyn is a jester-sort of actor who has a knack for juggling! She was brought in by her adopted older brother Vincent (a lycanthrope who works on set design and maintenance - he’s the son of a very very very good friend of Kaitlyn’s aunt Cassidy, who raised her alongside Vinny) after she was evicted from her home and had nowhere else to turn. She auditioned as a fortune teller and Felix nearly turned her away, but Holly was enamored by her performance and ended up persuading Felix to let her stay. He warmed up to her after after it turned out she had a thing for juggling and filled the role of a jester instead. She’s a satyr with a jackalope motif. ANYWAYS Kaitlyn’s a giant lesbian and she’s dating Holly. Things’re great with them.

Saru is one of the dancers. He’s a moon elf and kinda a distant cousin of Felix? It’s. It’s complicated. He was a pretty well known prostitute at one point and joined the circus mostly because Felix asked him to and because he thought it sounded fun. He’s kinda like everyone’s weird uncle. He’s delightful to write.

Tante Amaryllis is one of the acrobats, although sometimes she joins in with the dance troupe! She’s an elegant lady. Joined the circus shortly after escaping a reaaaaal bad relationship while pregnant. Ended up with identical twins, named Jasmine and Jasper. She’s been with the circus for like. Thiiiirty years, though? Don’t swear around her. She’ll have words to say if you do. 

Naomh is the circus’s youngest member! They’re a dancing violinist and joined when they were seven years old. They were taken into the circus after they were caught breaking into a tavern owned by a good friend of Felix who thought the circus would take better care of them than the foster care system would, as it isn’t very kind to most Waste-touched folk. They don’t talk much about their life before the circus, but they’ve mentioned having a twin brother who got separated from them.They haven’t had much luck finding him. The entire troupe has played a hand in raising them and the kid sees them as family. Felix fucking adores the kid. Everyone adores the kid. They’re a good kid.

There’s a bunch bunch bunch bunch more but. this is getting long. Saru will come up pretty often because he’s a delight to write for? And Tante Amaryllis and the twins Jasper and Jasmine, ESPECIALLY when Naomh is around but like. Yea. I could yell about a bunch more characters but. this is a lot. there’s technically 47, but only about a fourth of em will show up very often.

Felix, Holly, and Naomh will likely show up the most??? but who knows!! The first drabble for Family Portrait is about Felix and Naomh, though.

[therealwuss]

Favorite Films of 2019

10.) The Farewell

A movie that is just filled to the brim with pure joy that’s somehow seamlessly intertwined with existential melancholy throughout the duration of its runtime. Hearing the director say that she took so much inspiration from horror films in order to tell this heartwarming family story only solidified what a badass achievement it is. The Farewell makes me happy to be alive. 

9.) The Lighthouse

The Lighthouse feels like it was beamed here from another planet--the kind of film I want to revisit again and again...but like, at 3am on a second wind of crazed insomnia. It’s deliriously funny and moody and creepy and achieves an infectious level of insanity that I could swim in for days. Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe are my favorite on-screen couple of 2019. 

8.) Ma

Speaking of insanity...Ma (2019). This movie had already become a hilarious meme that I was sure the film itself would not live up to before I could see it...boy was I wrong! Ma was the most fun I had in a theater in 2019, consistently surpassing my (already low) expectations and always satiating my endless appetite for camp. I kind of can’t believe this movie exists, and look forward to the endless times I will beg someone to let me introduce them to it over a bottle of wine. 

7.) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Per usual, I loved Quentin Tarantino’s new movie, and I loved how much heart and good will was flowing through this one after the searing politics of The Hateful Eight. That man just knows how to deliver a payoff, and he knows that he knows how to deliver a payoff. So keep ya think-pieces to yourself--I think it’s nearly impossible for him to soil his own oeuvre at this point. 

6.) Portrait of a Lady On Fire

This felt like the lesbian response to Call Me By Your Name, and I mean that in the best way possible. Similarly to that movie, this film captures a sense of time, place, and feeling in such a way that it washes over you like the nostalgia of revisiting a journal about your first kiss. It broke my heart in a way that made me thankful I had a heart to be broken. I’d place it right alongside CMBYN and Linklater’s Before Trilogy in the pantheon of definitive love stories. 

5.) Parasite

Parasite is a damn blast and everyone knows it. Bong Joon-ho has never been a man of small scale but by confining his story to a single house, he creates uninhibited cinematic fireworks. A timely allegory wrapped up in a film that is part comedy, part drama, part thriller, part Home Alone, and part horror film? Yes, please! 

4.) Knife + Heart

I signed up for this movie for the throwback to campy Giallo horror films and was pleasantly surprised when I got not only that, but also a moving narrative about the maddening grief of heartbreak that seemed to exist within a utopian gay world where sex and queer-living were not only the norm, but an unapologetically fun norm. That was a long sentence...I don’t think there’s much more to say about Knife + Heart than that. ...Oh, it also has my favorite end credits of 2019!

3.) Midsommar

The breakup movie of the year, if not the decade (sorry, Marriage Story)--I think I had more conversations about this film than any other all year. Even when considering other folk horror films, Midsommar stands on its own as wholly original and unique, with an ending that’s nothing short of sublime. After Hereditary, my pal and I expected to leave the theatre feeling like shit, so I think it’s a testament to the movie’s magic that we instead walked out eager to find a bar where we could dance. 

2.) Climax

No movie influenced my approach to filmmaking and my ideas about what I wanted to do with the format this year more so than Climax. Say what you will about Gaspar Noé’s provocative tendencies, but sometimes there’s something to be said for jumping off the subtlety-bandwagon and completely flooring the gas just because you can. Doing so has created his most accessible film to date, and I hadn’t been so thrilled by a viewing experience since Mad Max: Fury Road. There’s something beautifully tragic about seeing such a diverse and colorful cast of characters come together to make art that bangs as hard as the movie’s opening dance sequence, only to have them devolve and turn against each other when their party goes to hell. It’s easy to dismiss the film as “excessive,” but far from easy to match its ambition. 

1.) The Beach Bum

A lot of filmmakers in 2019 seemed to discover a winning formula by allowing more joy to seep into their typically dark and/or sardonic subject matter (e.g. The Lighthouse, Midsommar, Climax, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, etc.). Harmony Korine has built his career on making films that are infinitely more fucked up than those of these other filmmakers and never apologizing in favor of holding up a middle finger. What’s fascinating about The Beach Bum is that Korine somehow manages to pivot so far into the territory of unbridled joy that it seemingly still warrants an apology. Many people hated the film, sometimes citing it as hedonistic, rude, “gross,” or all three. A few people walked out of my screening when I saw it. This is probably because The Beach Bum is as unafraid of all the raunchy, shocking, seedy aspects of the human condition as any of Korine’s previous films. But the thing that makes The Beach Bum different is that rather than use those aspects to actually shock people, here it feels that Korine is simply trying to employ them to celebrate life. To celebrate that we all have assholes and elbows and that life’s imperfect and THAT’S OKAY! Whether Matthew McConaughey’s “Moondog” is having raucous sex covered in cooking oil in a burger joint, or comforting a loved one as they pass away, the movie’s delightful score (like something out of a Disney film) never lets up--it’s like the film equivalent of one of my favorite quotes: “Life is 10% what happens to you, 90% how you react to it.” And no matter the circumstances, Moondog always opts for the high road (on multiple levels). This movie comforts me to no end, and I frequently find myself repeating Moondog’s mantra: “This life gig’s a fuckin’ rodeo. I’m gonna suck the nectar out of it and fuck it raw-dog until the wheels come off.”

Lots of films in 2019 held a mirror to our society just to show us how ugly the reflection was. But The Beach Bum (and Moondog) gives us something to believe in. 

Honorable Mention:

*) Uncut Gems

*) Jojo Rabbit

*) 1917

*) The Nightingale

*) Toy Story 4

*) Waves

*) The Irishman

*) Little Women

*) Queen & Slim

*) Knives and Skin

*) Crawl

[tuinstrum]

[Latest News] Flower Mound, Texas News

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Flower Mound, Texas News

Haut et Court Closes France on Alejandro Amenabar’s ‘While at War’ (EXCLUSIVE)

Female Filmmakers Lead French Industry Revolution

New Jersey school teacher in trouble after making racial comments about missing girl Dulce Alvarez

‘Jurassic World 3’ Bringing Back Laura Dern, Jeff Goldblum and Sam Neill

President Trump’s children show support for their father at the UN General Assembly

Boris Johnson compares Brexit to the eternal torment of Greek hero Prometheus in UN speech

Late night hosts Stephen Colbert, Trevor Noah, Jimmy Fallon mock Donald Trump’s impeachment troubles

Haut et Court Closes France on Alejandro Amenabar’s ‘While at War’ (EXCLUSIVE)

Posted: 25 Sep 2019 12:03 AM PDT

SAN SEBASTIAN — In one of the big deals to go down at this year's San Sebastian Film Festival, prestigious French production-distribution house Haut et Court has secured French distribution rights to Alejandro Amenábar's "While at War." Buena Vista Intl. (BVI) releases the film, Amenabar's first in Spanish since the Oscar-winning "The Sea Inside," in […]

via https://youtu.be/mFQfuwZZ8h8

Female Filmmakers Lead French Industry Revolution

Posted: 25 Sep 2019 12:03 AM PDT

Reverberations from the 2018 Women's March in Cannes echoed all the way to the Bell Lightbox this year as the Toronto Intl. Film Festival played host to a social-minded pack of filmmakers transforming the French industry. Alongside projects from women's march leaders Céline Sciamma ("Portrait of a Lady on Fire"), Rebecca Zlotowski ("Savages") and the […]

via https://youtu.be/mFQfuwZZ8h8

New Jersey school teacher in trouble after making racial comments about missing girl Dulce Alvarez

Posted: 24 Sep 2019 11:48 PM PDT

Jennifer Hewitt Bishop of Williamstown, New Jersey, was removed from classroom activities after she made racially offensive comments on Facebook about missing 5-year-old Dulce Alvarez

via https://youtu.be/mFQfuwZZ8h8

‘Jurassic World 3’ Bringing Back Laura Dern, Jeff Goldblum and Sam Neill

Posted: 24 Sep 2019 11:28 PM PDT

Laura Dern, Jeff Goldblum and Sam Neill are returning to the world of the dinosaurs in the upcoming “Jurassic World 3.” The trio, who all appeared in the original “Jurassic Park” in 1993, will reprise their roles in the third chapter in Universal Pictures and Amblin Entertainment's “Jurassic World” franchise. Dern will play Dr. Ellie Sattler, […]

via https://youtu.be/mFQfuwZZ8h8

President Trump’s children show support for their father at the UN General Assembly

Posted: 24 Sep 2019 11:28 PM PDT

President Donald Trump’s oldest children, Don Jr, 41, Ivanka, 37, Eric, 35, and Tiffany, 25, were all present at the UN on Tuesday to watch their father give a speech to his fellow world leaders.

via https://youtu.be/mFQfuwZZ8h8

Boris Johnson compares Brexit to the eternal torment of Greek hero Prometheus in UN speech

Posted: 24 Sep 2019 11:08 PM PDT

The Prime Minister did not make one mention of Britain’s Supreme Court ruling that his suspension of Parliament was unlawful and mentioned Brexit during his speech only once.

via https://youtu.be/mFQfuwZZ8h8

Late night hosts Stephen Colbert, Trevor Noah, Jimmy Fallon mock Donald Trump’s impeachment troubles

Posted: 24 Sep 2019 11:08 PM PDT

Tuesday’s late night shows were chock full of devastating digs at Trump, who appears to be inches away from facing articles of impeachment from the Democrat-controlled House of Representatives.

via https://youtu.be/mFQfuwZZ8h8

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from [Latest News] Flower Mound, Texas News via [Latest News] Flower Mound, Texas News September 25, 2019 at 03:56AM

[ladyeleanorfortescue]

Letters

[To Baroness Lenora Scully from Lady Eleanor Fortescue.

Alongside the letter comes a big box of lavender bonbons and a little parcel which includes a baby's bonnet and some art supplies.]

My darling Nora,

You cannot imagine the extent of my longing to see you once more! You say your mood has been troubled, but I hope your health is not? Before quitting Tyrehampton, I confess, I intended to write to Dr Hayward and have him go to you and give you a look. That one day, you must remember which, you left me quite worried... But, then, I never saw you as faint again... And so I never did bother the poor doctor. Pray consult him if you feel anything out of the ordinary, it is better to ask and appear a fool than to remain quiet and have something progress in the shadows of one's knowledge! Please put me at ease on this respect in your next letter.

London... Well, it is not as exciting when one's spirit roams elsewhere. And when no one will shut up about Mary marrying this tremendously old man. On that note, I have had the opportunity of seeing Lord Killenaigh twice more since I have arrived here and my mind remains unchanged. He is dull and traditional, speaks only when it is required of him and, when he does, he says the most unfascinating and banal of things. If he has ever had a fire burning behind his eyes, the flame has long been extinguished. A pity... But I suppose having a boring husband is better than having a mean, disagreeable one. Although I would settle for neither, for I could love neither. Mary, for her part, seems ecstatic at the prospect of becoming a Baroness. And I assure you she will not refrain from rubbing her new title in everyone's faces. Now she is equal to our sister Hester, Baroness King, and that is a pleasing upgrade for her narrow mind. I am afraid that shall be the only happiness she will ever get from such a match. And, oh! I do not know if I mentioned it to you, but she is to become a mother too! To Baron Killenaigh's two children, a son my age and a younger daughter the age of my sister Lizzie. How they will ever come to view her as their mother I do not know, she is barely three years older than Lord Frederick! Now, we are yet to meet him for he has been away at school, but he shall be arriving any day now. And, who knows? Perhaps my mother will try and push him into marrying Anne. You can bet that now that Mary shall be satisfactorily settled, her eyes will turn to my poor, gentle, loving Annie. I can only hope she shall not impose on her the busy schedule imposed on Mary this Season, Anne could not take it... London has not been great for her health. I wish this wedding could be over with and we could head to Devonshire straight away. I'd rather suffer in an open field than in this dirty city.

John has been well. I am sure he is glad of being relieved from the task of keeping guard on me. I am convinced Mother sent him to Tyrehampton with that purpose. I must say, if that was the case, he did not do a very good job, did he? Ah, but I adore him. I would completely rely on him for amusement if I did not have dear Verity with me... Oh, speaking of Verity, Lizzie has taken quite a liking to her. I do not know why, but so she said to me the other day. Well, I do know. I told her about our adventures... She has come to see Verity as the picture of excitement and she says she should find such a companion for herself too. I told her she could not steal mine. She replied she was not a thieve and that she would find someone of her station. I scolded her greatly at this comment and she became cross with me, for I never do. But she says such things! Specially as of late... I do not want her to end up like my mother. She is young, there is still hope.

Of Hugh I spoke in my previous letter. He is not a kindred spirit. I do not think I shall mention him often. Unless he upsets me greatly, which he can be trusted to do. He is most unkind with me sometimes. You will hear very little of Hugh, but you shall hear plenty of George. Just this morning we received a hurried letter. Well, father did. It was addressed to him. This hurt me greatly, I sent him a three page letter last and he never got back to me! But it does not matter now. He shall be on leave, so he said, for three or four weeks. He did say he was not certain whether he would make it to Mary's wedding, but shall join us shortly. At this prospect I am elated! Oh, I cannot wait! I hope he has great tales to tell me and... I hope he has not seen many a terrible thing, although my hope is unfounded, for he was not simply at sea, but at war. I shall be sure to write a full description of George next time, so you may picture him in case you do not get to meet him! Even better, I shall draw you a portrait. I am not as talented as you, my dear friend, but I believe I can master a pretty good liking.

I beg of you, tell me of Tyrehampton! Of anyone, anything... You know what interests me. A kiss to you, my dear! And to majestic Voltaire, I hope he is still enjoying his crib!

Languishing,

Ellie

P.S I send your request! And some new art supplies and a little something from my beloved godchild-to-be.