#ms undertaker

[shinigamer-136649]

The Reapers' Backstories

I'm sure that most know that the reapers' backstories are HIGHLY anticipated (at least on here), but I've always wondered how that would come into play. And... I've had an idea, but I'm not sure how much I like it. I don't know if anyone has talked about this before (sorry if you have), but the way I think the reaper's backstories will be revealed is...

Cinematic Records.

Which obviously comes with some alarming prospects considering just how one is able to view these records (unless there is a library of them like in the anime) - by getting injured, or, to view the complete record, killed.

The reapers have already shown themselves to be heavily involved with the plot of Black Butler, whether it be the need to subdue the demon walking around with no consequences or the threat of the dispatch deserter running free and obscuring the line between life and death. There's no chance that they all get out of this unscathed with the desperate strings of the web of conflict ensnaring everyone.

Here's my drawing of part of said web in ms paint which I feel may have ruined the vibe of this post but it's fine

I'm also not sure why some of the reapers would, in the story, want / need to share their backstory. I could maybe see if Sascha were to share theirs, and Othello's and Undertaker's will likely be revealed, but why would people such as Grell, Ronald, or William share theirs? I don't think they're going to be going around sharing the details of their suicide to everyone unless the situation really demands it - or if their sharing is unwilling.

Black Butler is not light on violence, and there's not many characters unwilling to resort to it. Undertaker will do pretty much anything to protect the Phantomhives, one of whom just so happens to be a Bizarre Doll, who aren't exactly welcomed by the Shinigami. However, Sebastian also finds it his duty to fight the Undertaker and Real Ciel, making the reapers either a potential ally, or, as we've seen twice before, a nuisance.

Although they may be forced to team up (considering the only hit Undertaker has ever taken in the series was from Grell and Sebastian working together, and even that barely made contact), the reapers and Sebastian have shown a mutual distrust toward each other. Once they get rid of their prime threat, they're going to go after each other. And where does that leave us? Where we started, with reapers getting injured and records spilling, possibly even before Undertaker is defeated.

(Plus, I find it unlikely Undertaker is the main villain of the whole series. Maybe all three of these forces will have to align, or they might even need a god's power if their foe is an angel or other supernatural entity... but that's a post for another day.)

Essentially, we can safely assume that reapers are going to get injured, and since there have been some very entertaining "hooks" so to speak about their backstories (Chapter 105 Sascha my beloved)... I wouldn't be surprised if, in a few years, we're going to be in Book of Flashbacks part 2

Even the possibility of non-shinigami using death-scythes isn't out of the question - they don't seem to be only physically able to be used by reapers, since we've seen Sebastian and Layla wield them. In fact, speaking of Layla, in chapter 191, we see this:

Layla has a death-scythe, or at least something so similar to one that it shares the same properties. I wouldn't be surprised if this metal ends up more widely distributed over the course of the series - it provides a huge advantage to whoever has it.

In conclusion (listen what else am i supposed to say to finish this)

Reapers such as Will, Grell, and Ronald likely wouldn't have an in-story reason to share their backstories as this would likely be. not a good experience for them

However, we have gotten a few "hooks" dropped about them.

One way to put these into the story would be the Cinematic Records of the shinigami.

This makes sense because there is already a lot of conflict between Undertaker, Sebastian, and the reapers which will almost certainly lead to bloodshed at some point

We also know that death-scythes are becoming more widely distributed, so even if, say, the Undertaker is defeated by Sebastian and the reapers, it's not implausible that Sebastian could get his hands on a death scythe.

Not gonna lie I hope I'm wrong on this one I'm going to cry if any of the reapers end up dying.

[abybweisse]

Hi, just a quick question, but did you notice stained glass behind Undertaker when he reveals himself as a Grim Reaper on Campania? It shows a woman with two kids, however I think it appears only in the movie. Maybe it's just a coincidence, but it gives me an odd vibes of Claudia, Francis and Vincent. Thanks in advance and have a nice day!

Stained glass window in BotA

I haven't noticed that (or perhaps I just forgot), so I'm gonna have to revisit that scene, both in the manga and the anime. I do think it must just be in the anime, though. In the manga, I think it's plain clear glass?

Anyway, as far as the anime movie goes, I still doubt it would be mere coincidence. The anime staff definitely has some insight into the series, especially now that the latest offerings have been more canon-based.

I suspect that's symbolic of his life with his loved-ones being shattered. Particularly if the figures look like Claudia, Vincent, and Francis. Similar symbolism (shattered mirror) was used in the manga (in chapter cover art) to symbolize the destruction of the Phantomhive family. It might be even more telling that it's Undertaker's own actions (and conflict with the reaper organization) that lead to the "shattering" of those lives....

[no-144444]

his disgraced pop princess- (o.piastri 81)

-------------------

-------------------

summary: oscar is there for you through your first real GP weekend

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! reader

warnings: cyberbullying ans slut shaming

-------------------

Oscar Piastri was nervous. It had been two days since he first met you, and now it had been 4 hours since he last texted you. Beside him, Logan was scrolling on his own phone, still making fun of Oscar’s ‘awful puppy-love’, as he called it. It wasn’t awful, just slightly overboard. You two had been texting non-stop since the race, and he was enjoying it. You were funny, sweet, and probably just busy, right? 

Oscar: Doing anything else today? I’m stuck training all day. 

Oscar: Studio…? 

Oscar: I think the fans need new music (it’s me, I’m fans)

-------------------

You were anxious. It had been two days since you met Oscar ‘perfect’ Piastri, and now he’d texted you multiple times while you were busy being on a plane. Beside you in the Uber, was Hallie, your best friend, texting her new mystery boy and laughing at your freak out over not texting him back. You two had been texting non-stop since the race, and you loved it. He was asking all the right questions, he was funny, he was so supportive of you going up against Charles, and evidently, a screenager. 

“I feel bad!” you groaned as you tried to type something out, but nothing seemed good enough. 

“You were on a plane, what was he expecting, a carrier pigeon?” she chuckled. “He’ll survive without texting you for 4 hours, calm down.”

“What do I say?”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me the damn phone.”

You: Sorry I was on a plane and their carrier pigeon network was down. Oops :)

“He is diabolical,” she laughed. “Immediate response, does he not have a life?”

You rolled your eyes and snatched back the phone. “Shut up!”

Oscar: Too bad, I was hoping you were busy making new music :(

You: Well, I’d need inspiration for that and that is the one thing I don’t have. Well, that and people that like me and want to listen to my music.

Oscar: :( 

Oscar: What are you doing today?

Y/n: Lawyers, seeing Charles, helping put the case together and finishing up the legal side of my split from the band. Aka boring as fuck :)

Oscar: Good luck seeing Charles again, I hope it isn’t too bad.

Oscar: Whenever we’re on the same continent again we should meet up for dinner :)

Y/n: Sounds like a plan, and thank you. Good luck with training today :)

“You two deserve each other. You’re equally as cheesy,” Hallie rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not cheesy to like someone,” you scoffed, getting out of the car. “You’re just alone.”

“Not anymore,” she chuckled. 

“Shut up!” you cheered. “Who?”

She smirked. “Tell you later.”

You rolled your eyes. “You suck.”

“I’ll see you later,” she called as she walked off. You were left standing alone. Before walking in, you took a deep breath and willed yourself not to burst into tears. 

-------------------

“It’s defamation!” Charles shouted, making you jump. Everything he did was making you jump. You hadn’t realised how badly everything had affected you until today. You were jumpy, you felt sick, you weren’t sleeping, you weren’t there mentally. 

“No, you’ve defamed Ms. Y/l/n’s reputation,” your lawyer calmly pointed out. 

You wanted it to stop, you wanted everything to stop. You wanted to go back to Sunday and relive the race over and over again. You wanted to be with Lewis again, with Toto again, with Oscar again. You desperately wanted to feel safe. 

Your lawyer was good, and you knew you’d win the case against Charles no matter what, but cleaning up the band would be a big undertaking. You’d always been the one to sign documents for all of them, so that they could pull out at any time. That now meant that you were technically the owner of the name of the band, the licensing rights, the songs, and the money you’d all already made. You were hitting them where it hurts, and you were taking it all. If they wanted to push you out, you’d push them right back. 

“Y/n, come on. It’s all of our band, and we deserve our name, at least,” your brother, Alex, begged. Up to last week you would’ve done anything for him. Now, he was fucking dead to you. 

“You can keep one thing,” you answered, not even looking at them. They prematurely celebrated and thanked you, but you held up a hand to silence them. “You can keep your instruments. I’ll take everything else.”

The room erupted into shouting, from every member of the band. You just got up and walked away. The meeting was over. You had it all. 

-------------------

BREAKING NEWS! WINGS BAND MEMBER Y/N Y/L/N DELETES INSTAGRAM, IS SEEN WITH F1 DRIVER OSCAR PIASTRI,  AND IS PHOTOGRAPHED LEAVING A LAW FIRM!

The 22 year old singer, Y/n Y/l/n is fresh into the scene of being a solo artist after being dropped by her band ‘WINGS’. This weekend she was seen around the Silverstone paddock with long-time friend and possible boyfriend, Lewis Hamilton. Shockingly, the newly crowned ‘Queen of Homewrecking’ is also sticking her nose into another man, Australian driver Oscar Piastri. The pair were seen walking together in the paddock, looking quite close. We would advise him to steer clear of her mess if he was able… 

In another turn of events, Y/l/n decided to delete her entire Instagram page, as well as her Twitter, Tiktok, Threads, and all other social media accounts. While she has opted for a ‘social-media-break’, her close friends and family have not posted about her, but some more famous friends have, including Lewis Hamilton answering questions about her in an interview during the Media day of the British Gran Prix. When asked about his opinion on the band, he said this. 

“Y’know, half of the success of them (WINGS) was Y/n. She really pulled everything together and no one really sees that because she was so careful about showing people that. She never wanted anyone to feel like they (the rest of the band) weren’t 100% committed, because at that time, they were. It’s just sad how people turn on each other, especially after everything she’s done for them.”

And when asked about Charles O’Brien, he had this to say. 

“That pathetic piece of s**t can f**k off and get out of the paddock. There is no place for him here, on any stage, or anywhere in the world. He is a vile creature.”

In other news, she was seen exiting the Law firm, Cravath, Swaine & Moore this afternoon, and 40 minutes later, the rest of the ‘WINGS’ band was seen leaving, looking much more upset than her. 

Something tells us there might be more than meets the eye in this twisted tale…

-------------------

“Hey Y/n,” Oscar’s voice was music to your ears as you sat in your hotel room with dried tears on your cheeks. 

“Hi,” you answered, voice hoarse, just happy to not be alone anymore. 

“How did it go?” He asked, his voice softening. 

You scoffed. “As badly as I thought it would,” you sighed, defeated. “I just wish it would all stop.” 

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” he sighed. “Charles is a special breed of dickhead.”

“So is the media,” you added. “Did you see the stuff everyone is writing about me? It’s awful-”

“I don’t read about you. I don’t need it anymore. I have the real you now, and that’s the you I’m interested in.” 

Oscar ‘perfect’ Piastri strikes again. 

Your lips broke into a smile. “Thanks Oscar.”

“I mean it. I don’t give a shit about the media, like at all,” he was smiling, you could tell. 

“I’m glad. If you did I don’t think this friendship could’ve worked very well,” you chuckled. “You seriously don’t care that I’m a ‘homewrecking slut’, according to everyone else?”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Your heart swelled. 

-------------------

It had been a few months, Oscar had gotten his first win, you’d wanted to personally kill Zak Brown, you’d gone through the beginnings of the court proceedings for the band things, and you’d finally filed a report against Charles. 

Now, you were in London on your way to Abbey Road Studios. New music for the first time in a few months. First time you’d sung in a few months. Oscar walked beside you, his head covered in a hat to remain inconspicuous. 

You stopped outside the door. Oscar took your hand and pushed the door open for you, then led you in. 

“You’re here for a reason,” he reminded you with a squeeze to the hand. 

The past few months had been emotional to say the least. Yet, Oscar had been there for you the entire time. He truly didn’t care about the press. He liked you. He liked you a lot. You liked him. You liked him a lot. But you two weren’t dating, right? You didn't really know. Friends didn't hold hands, or cuddle, and usually weren't there for you before you make the biggest leap of your life.

He stayed beside you as you walked through the building, getting the grand tour from an employee, only leaving you when you finally went in to record. 

“You’ve got this,” he whispered, holding you in a tight hug. Inside was your manager, Ursula, and your producer Axel. “I believe in you.”

And those 4 words gave you the courage to go in there and sing. 

You sat on the stool they had set up for you, headphones on as Axel droned on about something insignificant, and you brainstormed. You hadn’t even thought about writing for the past few months, despite Oscar trying to convince you that it would make you feel better. You couldn’t touch it. Though now, with no consequences, no one looking at you, no one interested, you reached for the guitar and strung a few cords. You thought about Charles, about the band, about Oscar. Then you thought about nothing.

“When I’m away from you, I’m happier than ever,” You sang, and then the words came flowing freely. 

Three hours later, you had an album on your hands. A good album. A great album. 

-------------------

“You did it,” Oscar smiled as you stepped out of the studio. “Write anything?”

“I think I like you. Like, like like you,” you confessed. He smiled. 

“Good,” he answered. 

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I just said-”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’ve like like-d you since the day we met. I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

You stared at him in shock for a moment, then a smile spread across your face. “You’re such an asshole.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t want to rush you,” he shrugged. “Anyway, write anything?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, handing him a CD. “One of two in the world, don’t lose it.”

His eyes lit up, a big smile on his face. “Is this the perks of being Y/n Y/l/n’s boyfriend? Exclusive insight into new music?”

“Calling yourself my boyfriend?” you quirked an eyebrow, smiling. 

“Oh baby, I’ve called myself your boyfriend for the past 2 months, I’m not stopping now,” he smiled, and your heart could’ve melted.

You chuckled. "Always the charmer Piastri."

He smirked, then something behind his eyes changed, and he started blushing. He was about to ask you something important. “Come to Monza with me? Please?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

-------------------

You touched down in Italy in Max’s private jet. You’d spent the afternoon getting to know him, Kelly, and Penelope, who’d taken a significant liking to you. The flight had been great, you’d never been on a jet before and it was as luxurious and comfortable as you’d imagined. Another part of the journey that was comfortable was Oscar letting you lay on him the entire time. You two were new but it looked like you’d been together forever. It felt like it too. It felt like he saw you. The real you. And he wasn’t scared or disgusted, or anything else that your brain told you he’d be. He was just Oscar. 

You left the jet, the perks of flying in the middle of the night meant that no fans were waiting for you outside. You didn’t need to add more flames to the fire of his insane life. You wanted to keep your ‘scandals’ to yourself and to just let him race. 

He gave your hand a squeeze to pull you back into the moment. “You alright?”

You nodded. “I’m ok, just nervous about this weekend.”

“You don’t need to be nervous, you don’t even have to leave my driver’s room if you don’t want to. I just… I wanted you here.”

“I want to be here,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I want to be around you.”

Even though it was dark, you could see the blush on his cheeks. 

-------------------

Media day began as it always did, walking into the paddock with about a hundred cameras on him. Only this time, the hundred cameras were pointed at him and you, more specifically, you two holding hands. It wasn't even a conscious thing you did. You just took his hand to try and calm yourself down. You liked how he gently brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, you liked how he would squeeze your hand every now and then, and you liked how he led you through the sea of reporters with a simple smile, and a firm hold.

When you got to the McLaren motorhome, you and Oscar parted ways with a quick kiss and a promise of lunch together. You decided to join Alex Dunne, one of McLaren's development drivers and a current F3 driver for a track walk and interview. You two chatted and laughed, getting on really well. The weather was sweltering, so you went back inside to meet Lando and Oscar for lunch.

"Y/n!" Lando smiled, running up to you.

"Hey Lan," you greeted, hugging him back as he engulfed you in one of his bear-hugs.

"How are you?" he asked, pulling back.

"All good thanks, you?"

"Fine," he shrugged, then turned his attention to Oscar and you. He smirked. "Has he asked you out yet?"

You chuckled, nodding. "He has."

"My ship has sailed!" He cheered.

"What? You have a boat?" Oscar questioned, as you and Lando laughed.

The rest of the day went well, only being bombarded with cameras every now and then, and somehow, whenever they found you, Oscar came right along to take you away. You appreciated the concern from him, and it definitely took the edge off some of the comments people made, especially the internet. Who knew you and Oscar would be such big news? Big news that hadn't even been confirmed, at that.

-------------------

After lunch, Oscar was forced into more press, this time, they decided to ask about you. You watched on from the McLaren hospitality as the interviewer said some choice words about you.

"So, you were seen earlier entering the paddock with Y/n Y/l/n, yes?"

"Yes," Oscar replied.

"You two were holding hands," she pointed out.

"There was a swarm of reporters, I didn't want to leave her behind," he shrugged. You quickly realised that you hadn't talked about whether or not you wanted to tell the media bout your budding relationship.

"So you aren't dating Y/n 'home-wrecker' Y/l/n?"

Oscar's face fell into a frown. "Her middle name is Y/m/n, not home-wrecker, and yes, I'm her boyfriend."

With that he moved on, leaving the interviewer shocked and defeated.

-------------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[corroded-hellfire]

Tiny Dancer - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: It’s your daughter Eliza’s first recital and Eddie couldn’t be prouder

Note: This idea came to me and would not leave me alone until I wrote it 💕

Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 1.9k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Why did I have to wear a tie?” Luke complains, yanking at his buttoned-up collar. 

Eddie leans forward so he can see Luke around Ryan, who is seated between them.

“Because this is a special occasion. Your sister’s first recital.”

“They’re three-year-olds,” Luke hisses in a whisper, one hand gesturing towards the empty stage. 

“Hey,” Ryan says to his brother, “she cheered louder than anyone for you at your baseball game. You can do this for her.”

Eddie nods at his oldest in thanks. 

Luke turns to you and asks, “Think her hair is still all up in the bun?”

Wrangling your daughter’s dark curls into the ballerina bun on the top of her head had been a massive undertaking. Some spirals were shorter than others, so there were always a few popping out right as you would go to secure the hair with the white bow. It was an immense test of patience to try time and time again all while Eliza became more antsy and less appreciative of you tugging on strands of hair. She ended up with enough hairspray on her little head to make her hair as hard as a helmet. 

“It’s out of my hands now,” you say, wiping your hands and holding them up in defeat. “If Ms. Benson wants to deal with a curl going rogue, that’s on her.”

The lights dim and eight little ballerinas walk onstage, all with hands on their hips, poofy pink tutus flaring out just below them. Their instructor, Ms. Benson, follows them out to make sure they’re all in the spots they should be. 

Eliza is the third ballerina from the left, and she looks so precious you think your heart might burst. Her white tights and ballet slippers somehow aren’t stained even though they’d been in your house longer than forty-eight hours. The pink leotard and tutu give her the regal air of a princess, though that might just be Eliza’s own aura. She’s nothing if not captivatingly glamorous. It looks like all of her unruly curls are still on their best behavior, but it would be hard to see one or two offenders that sprang loose from the audience anyway.

You peek over at Eddie and see him beaming as he looks at your little girl up onstage. He feels your gaze and turns his head to meet your eyes. The pride on his face makes your heart melt against your ribs. Eliza hasn’t even done anything yet and Eddie is over the moon.

“She’s so beautiful,” Eddie whispers.

“Like her dad,” you reply, giving him a wink. 

He playfully rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the touch of pink that colors his cheeks. Luke puts his hands on his stomach and pretends to gag. Eddie thunks him on the back of the head. 

Ms. Benson finishes her inspection and gives the girls a thumbs up. She scurries off stage, all ballerinas still with hands on hips. None of them can truly stay still, though. A few are swaying, one is twisting from side to side, and Eliza shakes one little leg, her knee bouncing up and down. You’re unsure if it’s due to nerves or anticipation. 

A few moments later, the speakers above the stage crackle to life. The opening notes of music tinkle and the voice of young Shirley Temple singing On The Good Ship Lollipop floats through the air. 

Eliza and her fellow dancers start to move, tapping the slipper on one foot on the stage in front of them, then switching to the other foot. It’s hard to tell what foot they’re all supposed to be on, since it’s split about fifty-fifty with what foot each girl is using. 

On The Good Ship Lollipop

It's a sweet trip to a candy shop

Where bon-bons play

On the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay

Arms go above Eliza’s head as she spins around, little feet stomping around in a small circle rather than spinning on one foot. Once she’s facing forward again, her arms come down to shoulder level and her knees bend and straighten, bend and straighten, as the ballerinas bounce. Again, all girls are going at different times and speeds, so it’s hard to know on which notes they’re supposed to be up or down on. 

Lemonade stands everywhere

Crackerjack bands fill the air

And there you are

Happy landing on a chocolate bar

Next, it’s one hand back on the hip and one hand waving out to the crowd as the dancers rock from side to side. You specifically remember Eliza practicing this move at home and she kept reiterating how her toes needed to be pointed on the foot she wasn’t balancing on. Only two other girls have their toes pointed at the appropriate times, so you can tell they didn’t take this step as seriously as your daughter. 

The moves of the eight tiny dancers are clunky and mismatched, which makes the performance all the cuter. When they all walk to the right on tippy toes, they’re at varying heights, some more flat-footed than others. On the march back to the left, one girl stomps so hard you can hear the clacking of her slippers. 

With arms out, the girls do one more twirl and then take their bows. 

The crowd breaks into applause and the small girls smile, appreciating the praise for their performances. The ballerina farthest on the right jumps up and down in excitement and the one on Eliza’s left waves furiously to her family. But Eliza stays in her final position, grinning from ear to ear as she looks out at you and her guys. 

“Yay, Eliza!” Luke cheers. 

Ms. Benson comes out, leads the girls in one more bow, then ushers them all off. The applause is still going.

“There’s my ballerina!” Eddie grins and catches Eliza as she runs over and leaps into his arms. He presses a smacking kiss to her cheek and squeezes her in his arms. “Mwah!”

“I did good?” she asks as the other girls reunite with their families all around you. 

“You were wonderful,” you tell her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the opposite cheek. “Did you hear me cheer for you?” Luke asks.

“Yes,” Eliza says with a giggle. “So loud!”

“Of course, it’s Luke,” Ryan says. He ignores Luke’s jab to his ribs as he reaches up and presents his sister with a bouquet of white flowers or different varieties.

Eliza beams and takes the crinkling plastic wrapping from him. She leans in to sniff the flowers and giggles as a few brush her nose.

“I got flowers!”

“For being the best ballerina ever,” you tell her.

“I love! Can you hold ‘em, Daddy?”

“Of course, my little ballerina.” He takes the bouquet from her with his free hand.

Ryan pulls on the bottom ruffle of his little sister’s tutu. “You look like a pretty poof ball.”

“Mama, can you take bow out?” Eliza asks.

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

Eddie bends down a bit so you can see the top of her head. As gently as you can, you unwind the bow from her hair, wincing when you accidentally tug on it. Tough little girl that she is though, Eliza doesn’t whine.

Once you get it out, you do your best to stifle a laugh. It’s not good enough though, a snort of laughter breaking through your hand covering your mouth. Luke and Ryan laughing as well doesn’t help, either. 

“What?” Eliza asks with a pout.

“Sweetie,” Eddie says, also with a small chuckle, “I think Mommy used so much hairspray on you that your hair is stuck up in a bun all by itself.”

She gasps and her hands go to the top of her head. She feels around the stiff hair, moving backwards to the curly bun that hasn’t fallen one little bit since you took the bow out. Short fingers inspect the bun and Eliza turns to look at you with panicked eyes.

“Mama!” she cries. “My hair!”

“It’s okay, Liza,” you tell her, not able to help a small giggle coming out with your words. You pat her back soothingly. “As soon as you take a bath, it’ll be good as new.”

Your words visibly calm her. Her shoulders lower, though she still keeps her hands up on her hair. Now that she knows it isn’t stuck that way, she’s able to find the humor in it. Small giggles turn into loud laughter as she begins to shake her head from side to side like a wet dog getting out of the bath. Her hair hardly moves, only wobbling a little when she really whips her head around. 

“Do you want me to put your bow back in since we’re going out to eat?” you ask.

Eliza gasps. “We are?”

“Yep! Wherever you want,” Luke says, but adds under his breath, “despite my begging.”

“Yes, bow please.”

“What do you want to eat?” Ryan asks as you secure the soft white bow back around her stiff bun.

“Mmm…pancakes!”

“Ooh, breakfast for dinner,” Luke says, nodding his head in approval. “Nice choice. I’ll gladly wear my fancy schmancy suit while eating a waffle.”

“Okay, you can take off the tie now,” Eddie says. “I don’t feel like washing syrup out of it.”

“You don’t feel like washing syrup out of it?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at your husband.

Eliza pats her dad’s shoulder three times, as if she didn’t already have his attention.

“Mama does wash.”

“You tell him, kid,” Ryan says to his little sister. 

“Why you taking the girls’ side?” Eddie asks as you all begin to head towards the doors.

Ryan looks over at his little brother who is wrestling to get his tie off over his head. It’s currently stuck around his eyes and Luke just keeps tugging on it. 

“I’m not on his side,” Ryan says, looking back towards his dad. 

“Well, help him!” Eddie scolds Ryan.

“I gotcha, Luke,” you say.

A few strategic pulls and you have the knot undone, the green tie falling away into your hand.

“Thanks,” Luke says as he reaches up to rub his nose. “How’d you learn to undo ties?”

“Taking dad’s off,” Ryan says with a smirk.

Both you and Eddie whip your head towards Ryan with wide eyes. Luckily, both of his siblings are too young to get his innuendo. The further he gets into his teenage years, the more subtly inappropriate comments he makes.

“Dad doesn’t wear ties a lot,” Luke says.

“You’re right, Luke,” you say, ruffling his curls. Then you step closer to Ryan and wrap your arm around his head, your hand closing in over his mouth. “And you need to watch yourself, Mr. Teenager.”

Ryan mumbles something beneath your hand and the muffled sound makes Eliza laugh. When you still don’t move your hand, Ryan licks it, and you yank it back. Eliza laughs even harder at that. 

“You think it’s funny?” you tease, wiping your saliva-coated hand off on your daughter’s tight-clad leg. She squirms in Eddie’s arms, her legs kicking and almost catching him in the crotch.

“Ewww!” Eliza squeals. 

“I don’t have germs,” Ryan says.

“Yes, you do,” Luke and Eliza say at the same time. 

“Can I eat at a different restaurant?” Ryan asks.

“Nope,” you say, looping your arm through his. “You’re stuck with us.”

“Yep!” Eliza echoes. “You’re stuck!”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ann Sheridan (I Was a War Male Bride, City for Conquest, The Man Who Came to Dinner)—she was called 'the oomph girl' and i think that deserves a vote

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies.... most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

"ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face"

"First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you."

"Did a bunch of humanitarian work during ww2, pretty sure a shot of her from Shanghai express was the inspiration for one of queens album covers and also her in the suit in Morocco (1930) CHANGED LIVES. I’m sure she’s already been submitted but I wanted an opportunity to submit one of my favourite pictures of her for the poll"

Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

"The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender"

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Ceil cousin and her baby both now trap in England

How would other characters outside the Phantomhive reaction will be seeing the pretty widowed mother?

Cousin Mother Reader | Yandere Black Butler

Sebastian 

is probably the one you have to watch out the most for 

He has the easiest access to you upon Ciel’s command

And he definitely sees you at your most vulnerable 

Feeding and raising your child, trying to somehow get comfortable in your new life

“My lady, you seem exhausted. If need be I would be more than happy to relieve some of your stress.”

“Humph! If you really wanted to help you’d let me leave.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Exactly so you can be of no assistance to me.”

He can outlast you 

Waiting until you either pass out from tiredness or stress

to lay your child to rest and nurse you to health

“I love how you keep me on my toes, Ms. (Y/n). But I’m persistent.”

Bardroy

He doesn’t mind the sexy mama visiting him in the kitchen to compliment throwaway his awesome food

Or if you can cook alongside him he’s even more enthused

He totally agrees with the circumstances that keep you there 

But he also understands your frustration

Something he knows not many others in the home

“Well I see why yer feelin’ trapped…”

“See?”

“But thats no reas’n ta hate the yung master. He’s only tryin’ to help.”

And without Ciel’s say-so you and your his kid are his priority

If your so insistent on going out you’ll go with him right?

Like on a little date

He likes his women stubborn so he’s willing to compete with Sebastian on this

“Well Missus would you rather take I you to the market or him?”

“Please Bardroy, Miss (Y/n) is meant to travel with me, as the young master intended.”

“I prefer to travel with Bard. Don’t you think so sweetie?”

“Yeah!”

 😠

😏

Mey-Rin

Mey-Rin is similar to Bardroy but she has loads more access to you

She handles your clothes, dirty and not 

She delivers your documents or late night meals

If she isn’t sharing the room with you she’s guarding you at night

“Ahh~Lady (Y/n)’s sleepin’ soundly, yes she is!...I’m sure she’d like it I ‘elped her massage, she would!”

She thinks your the coolest and will spend her time with you orwatchingyoufrombehindthebushes

She thinks you and your kid are so cute 

She couldn’t be happier that you can’t actually leave

Not that she’d let you

She already thinks its progessive enough that you work 

And that deserves all the praise

“Whoa mistress (Y/n) read that whole contract in such a short amount of time?! Well its just like her to be the best, yes it is!”

Finnian

Finney is happy he gets to play with your kid

Though he knows to be gentle

But he hasn’t known love until you pat him on the head,smiling “Good job, Finny.”

From then he’s like an overpowered labrador

Happily following behind you to join your kid in trying to garner your attention

When Sebastian’s not dragging him away in light of his work

He’s trying to rest his head on your lap onyourchest

Or join you in your office Bedroom

While his naivete may allow you to get away with somethings 

He always seems to recall just how sad he’d be if you tried to leave

“Miss (Y/n)....you can’t leav….no…no…I won’t let you! You have to stay with me!”

Undertaker

He’s intrigued by you

For the time he’s been alive its not everyday he finds a woman so argumentative

But of course your in the company of the abnormal anyway

He’s thrilled to find that you often join in his laughter

Or your able to banter with him which Sebastian and Ciel avoid

He often is ignored by the duo which makes it easier for him to leave an impression on you

“So ‘Miss,’ is it? Is your husband truly out the picture?”

“If you count being dead out of the picture then yes.”

“Ah then would you give me *flips his bangs up* an old crone, like me a chance?”

“U-undertaker? Y-you’re eyes are–!”

“Shhh shhh. Let’s keep that as secret, for now. But do tell may I steal you away?”

He’s had time to think about what woman want to hear 

But he doubts your willing to accept normal means

So he’ll just take you for now, only to be stolen back by Sebastian when they realize you or your son is missing

“Don’t mind the lack of space in the coffin Deary, its meant for three!”

[apsciencebydan]

Ms Baeus undertakes the long, dangerous journey across a blade of grass

#Nugget

4/15/23. N. Florida

[rockmiyabideusexmachina]

2024 Megaman Summer Fanart Contest - Category 1 Results!

Sorry for the delay, but without further ado, here come this year's wonderful creations and our winners. Thank you all for your patience! Due to both the number of entries and the amount of reference images I'll be attaching here, I will have to make a separate post for the humor (Cat. 2) results. Please check that out here as well, after I post this! All winners will be contacted shortly.

Take a walk through the newly opened wing of the Kattleox Art Museum to see all this year's fabulous entries after the break...

CATEGORY 1 (Talent): Pallette Pastiche

The talent category this year focused on creating a parody or imitation of a famous work of art by using Mega Man characters in the place of what was originally drawn. Didn't have to be a well-known famous piece, but still had to reference some piece of art, regardless. And you all certainly made both Ms. Museum Curator and myself proud! It was very hard to choose placement, let alone who would make the Top 3. Plenty of fantastic character choices to match the vibe of the original pieces. For the full gallery of pics, click here. Links to each individual full size image is after each entrant's name as well. 1.) @sylviidaee [Pic] (*175 USD Prize Winner!)

Sylviidaee's reference was Michelangelo's Renaissance piece, "The Creation of Adam."

The shading and detail in your painting efforts for this piece are remarkable! Flawlessly fitting in each Robot Master, along with Blues and Roll, to represent the angels, worked out great. This pic deserves to be a featured museum piece, with replicas hanging in the homes of every Megaman fan!

2.) @purplerubyred [Pic] (*$100 USD Prize Winner!)

Ruby's reference was the cover of the Capcom Design Works artbook, by Kinu Nishimura.

Just even attempting to replicate the sheer amount of characters in this piece had to be an enormous undertaking, and I commend you for spending part of your August month of Elec Man love crafting this! There is so much to take in with this piece, with all the various versions of Elec Man and his related family. From background locations like MaHa Ichiban to the super great white angel/devil chip artwork on the railcar window, there are tons of little cameos to catch as you look across this art. Wonderful job!

3.) @DWN-059 [Pic] (*$75 USD Prize Winner!)

Beebs' reference was Rococo artist Jean-Honoré Fragonard's "The Swing."

While the lush forested background draws my attention for it's whimsical beauty, and huge amount of detail, I loved the little touches you brought to make this have a Mega Man feel. Such as the Guts Man and Anko statues to replace the angels, and adding the cute 'lil Friender. While Planty can't kick off his boots, the Plant Barrier petals were a perfect replacement for the shoe. Beautifully and accurately painted! _____________________________

And the rest of our amazing entrants, in alphabetical order by alias:

ArtisIan [Pic]

ArtisIan's reference was Grant Wood's "American Gothic."

Nothing more 'gothic' than a guy obsessed with skulls, building dark, brooding, black-clad robots, owning a homely Skull Castle with tall walls and large windows, am I right? Bass with the daughter's glare is actually rather fitting here, as well! XD Now, if Wily always carried around that pitchfork, wouldn't he be able to defeat Mega Man a lot easier, on account of sharp points?

@aw-colorcat [Pic]

AW-Colorcat's reference was a piece by seafh that was used as a popular Youtube BG image back in the 2010s for the Nightcore (sped up version/remix) version of the song "Angel with a Shotgun."

The bullet holes through the single wing sure makes it look like Mega Man has gone *pew pew pew* through it. But I think an angel with an all-powerful Metal Blade could be a little more deadly accurate.

@digitallyfanged [Pic]

Tabby's reference was Auguste Rodin's sculpture, "The Thinker." (To which, somewhere out there, Sigma Posting is ready to dub it "The Sig-ker.")

Contemplating his status as the most advanced Reploid of his time, his next strategic action against the Maverick Hunters, or how to change/destroy the world? Sigma certainly could be looked at as someone who could be rather philosophical and get deep in thought. And wouldn't be afraid to show off artwork of himself in his fortress. Hatching detail is nice, and helps give that statuesque, worn and chiseled feel.

Ivo [Pic]

Ivo's reference was Impressionist Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida's, "Italian Girl with Flowers."

Fantastic job at replicating the paint on canvas look, I truly can't tell if this is just a digital filter or if you physically painted it! Extending the green curls of hair outside of his helmet helped mimic the girl's original hairstyle even more. Really pretty, and his color pops nicely against the smaller flowers he's enjoying!

JazzmanZ [Pic]

JazzmanZ's reference was Roy Lichtenstein's Pop art painting, "Stepping Out."

Steppin' out to fight Doc Wily tonight! Honestly amused at how just a few little line alterations were needed to easily transform this couple into Rock and Roll. Like the little nose bridge line above his eye easily morphing into the peak of Mega Man's helmet. Excellent eye for parody in choosing this. No Roll, I didn't mean anything by that...

@nightopianfoxgirl [Pic]

NightopianFoxGirl's reference was "Circe Invidiosa," from Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood artist John William Waterhouse.

Another brilliant choice in characters having Iris represent Circe, who was known for turning her enemies into animals. And having the Cybeast duo of Greiga and Faltzer as the sea monster beneath her connects to the allegory of her role in the Beast anime with the Synchronizer, Trill. She too probably wants to poison/destroy the beasts, and can be seen as a bit of a tragic figure herself.

@puyonlilah [Pic]

Puyonlilah's reference was the Romanticism era painting "Ophelia," by Sir John Everett Millais.

Yet another tragic take, with the X version of Iris filling the role of Ophelia from Shakespeare's Hamlet, who is seen singing before she drowns herself in the river. Forgive her Zero, she just wanted to live in a world where only Reploids exist! You certainly portrayed the grief and emotional stress on Iris' face nicely, as well as the effect of her barely keeping afloat, with the water ripples.

@vogler-art [Pic]

Ryan's reference was Romanticist artist Caspar David Friedrich's painting, "Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog."

In a world covered by endless water, there's bound to be days of endless fog affecting your sightline, aren't there? Very nice contrast of light and dark in your colors. There's something that just feels so fitting for Mega Man to be looking out from on high, to give a sense of adventure, venturing into the unknown, or even alluding to X looking off the cliff during X1's ending. How long will he keep on fighting? Maybe only the buster on his hand knows for sure...

Tori Campan [Pic]

Tori's reference was Leonardo Da Vinci's famous Renaissance painting, "The Mona Lisa."

Miss Tori got the most important thing right in her parody by making sure The Rolla Lisa had no eyebrows, because those have disappeared from the painting over time. Roll's green bow stands out in her hair even more with the beautiful green forest in the background. Wonderful job getting her pose and that slight, mischievous smile on her face to match the original!

Thank you to everyone again who participated this year! Each artwork was fantastic!

[gatheringbones]

[“By the time Mabel arrived in 1924, Bedford was no longer the site of the tortures and abuses laid bare in a March 19, 1920, New York Tribune exposé: “Bedford Cruelty Charges Against Officials Upheld.” Not so long ago, women, Black and white alike, had been tied to their cots or handcuffed to their cell bars with their feet dangling inches above the ground. Even if Bedford had reformed, I doubt it was the good time Mabel tells Joan it was. We made whiskey. We made wine . . . We had parties there. Each night you slept with a different woman if you wanted to. Me, I was havin’ a ball. Superintendent Barker saw Bedford Hills not as a center of surveillance, the panopticon of prison we know today, but as a benevolent institution of moral reform, a safe haven away from the dangers and carnal pleasures of the city that might lead any young woman astray.

After serving seven months, Mabel was paroled with a foster family in Jersey City and worked as a domestic nearby. Bedford’s hold did not end here, though. The prison was a pipeline feeding domestic labor to well-off white ladies who lived outside the pull of New York City’s whirlwind hedonism. Mabel’s foster family reported her movements to Dr. Barker, and when she strayed into the City of Pleasure, she had to return to Bedford to continue serving her sentence. Then there was yet another domestic labor parole placement before Mabel’s discharge papers arrived in October 1926. “I do not want you to feel that our interest in you ends with the mailing of these papers,” Superintendent Barker wrote. “It is always my hope that should you at any time experience difficulties, there would be no hesitation on your part in getting in touch with the Institution.”

To Bedford Hills, Mabel was always “wild and wayward,” in need of reform. Their records are concerned only with the timeline—the dates of her incarceration and release—and the irrelevant facts they were asked to collect—a description of her nose, her IQ. An administrative accumulation we are told comprises a history.

To Joan, Mabel was an “icon,” always Ms. Hampton, an address of respect never afforded in her prison records or by the wealthy white families, much better off than Joan’s, that employed her. Joan tries to pin down the order of her hero’s journey—“And what year is this, about? We always try and do the year so people know.”—but that’s not what Mabel wants us to remember. She can hardly remember it herself. The oral history is the kind of record I crave not for its attention to dates or names or accuracy but for the dialogue. Joan asks the direct questions I wish I could have posed to Mary.

Joan’s interview style was shaped by a series of 1970s oral history workshops aimed at empowering people to record queer stories. She spent hours with friends drafting “questions that we thought would elicit the kind of history we wanted. What did you call yourself in the twenties? How did you and your friends dress in the forties? What bars did you go to?” These are not the questions of a doctor intent on diagnosis, or a sociologist intent on reform. If, for instance, W. E. B. Du Bois had drifted from 1890s Philadelphia to Mabel’s doorstep while undertaking his 2,500-household survey, he simply would have asked if she was married, single, or widowed. Joan asks instead how Mabel liked to have sex, and Mabel responds with a series of gestures, lost to us now. “They can’t see your hands,” Joan says. I imagine the middle and pointer fingers of both hands spread wide like legs, meeting at the vertices, the international symbol for scissoring. Or the same V held against her mouth, tongue poking through. But I’m getting lost in my own inventions. The Mabel I have come to know would never have been so lewd.

Joan brings to the tapes an awareness of her own bias, and a reminder of my own. She knows her presence in the room, the framing of her questions alone, shapes what comes out of Mabel’s mouth. Joan was raised by a single mother, Regina, who worked as a bookkeeper, who was let out on parole after embezzling money to provide for her daughter, and who remained poor and overworked until the day she died. “I know what it was to be marginal,” Joan says into the tape recorder, evidence that she shares some of Mabel’s working-class background. “From every eviction notice that was tacked on the door, every time the men came with flashlights to reclaim the beds or the furniture.” Still, Joan was first introduced to Mabel as the family housekeeper after Regina first met the “small black Christian woman” not at the Bronx Slave Market, street corners and intersections where Black women hoped to find a day’s work cleaning the homes of the wealthy, but at a luncheonette in Bayside, Queens. When Regina couldn’t afford the help anymore, the two women became friends and would go to the racetrack together. It was to Mabel that Regina turned when she suspected her own daughter might be a lesbian. “I’m gonna kill myself. My daughter is a lesbian,” she said. “Regina,” Mabel calmly replied. “What are you talking about? So am I. So am I.”

When Joan grew up, she developed a friendship with Mabel all her own. It was a friendship marked by question and answer, call and response, Joan’s attempts to understand the lesbians who came before and Mabel’s insistence that Joan gets her story right. “Mabel, I want to ask you a question.”

You already asked me seventy eleven! How many more you gonna ask me?“]

amelia possanza, from lesbian love story: a memoir in archives, 2023

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Broken Clocks

Author's note: More of the Soul Mate AU- the Soul Timer AU. This is more about Consequences Part III.

Summary: Efrius Borarnorn The Black Templar Chaplain has spoken with his Crusade on Ancient Terra- and has decided to go on a pilgrimage to find his soul mate.

Warnings: It's warhammer. Let me know if I need to add anything else.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis, @undeaddream

"This is an important pilgrimage that you undertake, brother." The highest-ranking brother- and Marshal of the Tanabrae Crusade says with a pensive expression face.

"It is," Efrius says with a nod of his head, "My Apprentice- he's at the journeyman stage of his training, and I think he's ready to take on a greater role within the Crusade. He's passed many of his trials."

"That he has, brother," Marshal Bernard affirmed. "Very well, we shall speak with the Crusade at dinner- and have a feast in your honor. May your travels take you to Glorious Battle- and may you find what you are seeking, brother."

"Thank you, Marshal Bernard," Efrius says nodding to the older Black Templar.

The Gilding to the other's armor marks him as a Blessed, Chosen Emperor's Champion, a rare being to be found on Ancient Terra, but one that the Tanabrae Crusade takes pride and solace in.

The day comes to a close- and chores are done, his flock is tended to and the recitation of prayers done- and food being eaten with enjoyment.

He gets up and announces his Pilgrimage to find his Soul Mate- his counter is winding down quite fast. It is a pilgrimage that he will take on alone- per the strictures of their Chapter, his brothers are both happy, and sorrowful. Happy- that he's going to go, and sorrowful to have him leave them, for however long it takes for him to find his Soul Mate.

His Apprentice, Finn approaches him after the meal and he smiles at the younger brother- a Primaris Marine, which he hadn't known was something the Mechanicus had come up with- in the M42 or so. A Large lad- with a good, stalwart hearts, and dutiful nature.

"You are ready for this test, my s- younger brother," Efrius says warmly tugging his younger brother in for a hug and resting his forehead on the younger, and taller Son of Dorn's forehead.

"Yes sir," Finn says, "I hope you find one who is worthy of you, brother."

"My thanks," Efrius says with a fond smile at his younger, larger brother.

He is given the blessings and hopes of his brothers- and supplies as he continues on his way- parting from them as he closes his eyes and spins, before setting off the direction that the God Emperor chooses for him.

He glances down at his Soul Timer- and sees that he's gone in the correct direction, his soul timer is spinning down faster than before. He walks in silence- the area of Ancient Terra he's in is lovely.

Slowly, over several hours of silence- save for the sounds of birdsong and nature's noises, he sees the marks of humanity- and of civilization as the area goes from wild lands, to natural, to Urban.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Wednesday SpaceTime 20240918 Series 27 Episode 113

Recent volcanism on discovered on the Moon

Scientists have discovered evidence of volcanism on the lunar surface as recently as 125 million years ago.

The Strange phenomena people will see at Moon's south pole

When astronauts return to the Moon’s surface as part of the Artemis 3 mission to the Lunar south pole, they’ll experience a very different environment to that which the Apollo astronauts witnessed more than half a century ago.

A new crew arrives at the International Space Station

The Russian Soyuz MS-26 capsule has successfully docked with the International Space station just three hours after its launch aboard a Soyuz 2.1a rocket from the Baikonur Cosmodrome in in the central Asian republic of Kazakhstan.

The Science Report

Study shows up to 19% of dementia cases could be linked to vision problems.

Over 52 million tonnes of plastic dumped into the environment every year.

The growing amount of incorrect AI generated data being generated.

Alex on Tech: are the new iPhone 16s worth it? 

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. Gary’s radio career stretches back some 34 years including 26 at the ABC. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. He was part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and became one of its first on air presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth.  The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

[clown-sip]

Spike, please make a note for Ms Twilight.

Fizzy is speaking much more clearly.

He seems to respond to me more enthusiastically and more clear headed when he is speaking to me.

He does not understand he died.

He does not understand why he can't see and I'm just as confused since the ME found no apparent injuries.

I recommend a basic cognitive test. Simple math questions and such to see how well he is processing.

When she gets the chance, of course.

"Well... I mean, yeah, when she cools off, I'll go over a few things with her. Look, to be fully honest with his creation.. Um, eyes don't exactly last well past death. Those are the eyes original to the body, not eyes we keep fresh in the lab. It would take an entire surgery to give him sight, which we don't even know if we can undertake right now considering the suspicion on us. But I'll get with Twilight about a cognitive test." -Spike

[sercezgazety]

For all the times he thought about fucking Herbert West, Dan never imagined there would be a press coverage.

The pictures they draw in the courtroom are kinda hilarious. Herbert looks like a feral child, even shorter than in real life, unnaturally pink lips curled in a permanent snarl, and eyes ridiculously large. “The artist must have really wanted to be a gothic novel illustrator,” Herbert snorted back when they were still talking to each other. The way he said artist didn’t suggest irony, just distaste. Dan wasn’t spared from this kind of creative exaggeration either, by the way, his cheeks so hollow and circles around his eyes so dark, he looked like a skeleton in the first pictures. That was before he started stress-eating, that is, though the dark circles never go away. By the end of the trial, Dan from courtroom sketches resembles a very sad panda bear.

The moment Cornell took care of the bail — huge, but also ridiculously small, considering Herbert’s capabilities of causing harm — he apparently decided Herbert needed a makeover. He wasn’t stupid, he never told Herbert to smile for the cameras; there’s no world in which that could end well. It’s impossible to make Herbert with his speech patterns and his stare appear likeable, but Cornell did have his client memorize some lines that made him sound almost reasonable. Nothing too grand: not a word about defying God, no personal opinions on the value of an individual life in the great scheme of things. A scientific breakthrough, yes, and the methods were perhaps a bit unorthodox, but if we were to wait for the bureaucrats to find the right stamps in their desk drawers, the society would never get anywhere. The system’s rigged. Huge pharmaceutical companies have the proper resources to deal with all that paperwork and red tape, they have the money to send entire ethics committees on “scientific conferences” (the quotation marks are not performed with fingers but with a disdained grimace). Those are luxury cruises, actually, did you know? Glorified bribes. In this day and age, the little guy can do next to nothing. There’s no way for an independent researcher to act by the book and get any results. Just imagine how many breakthroughs we’ve all been robbed of by this system. And why? Because of ethical standards, as the industry would have you believe? Oh no. You see, they don’t care about progress, they don’t care about helping people or curing diseases the way the little guys do. They don’t care about us, Herbert recites, smoothly asserting himself as one of human beings. They want money. He holds his head high, and there’s fire in his eyes, the kind Dan’s grown to be wary of. One newspaper calls him charismatic.

The scientific rigor was upheld at all times during his research, Herbert tells the press, and Dan just knows he’s physically refraining from following rigor with mortis. Cornell decides that looking like an undertaker is not doing his client any favors, and finds a well-cut checkered suit in a reasonable shade of gray. Concessions need to be made. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong, and with the azure tie, Herbert looks so ridiculous, he might as well be wearing a Hawaiian shirt with a tramp stamp peeking out from underneath it.

“Do you know this man?” the prosecution asks Dan, pointing to this all-new, normal and respectable doctor, and Dan wants to say, no. That’s not Herbert, that’s someone else entirely. But he just nods. There’s a lump in his throat whenever he looks in the other defendant’s direction. Herbert’s doing his best not to show his discomfort with the bright colors and alien textures, but Dan knows him well enough to be aware he’s this close to tearing the clothes off.

Dan, on the other hand, doesn’t get any specific instructions on what to wear, except for ditching shirts that Ms. Rhiannon — Miss, she insists — proclaimed Byronic. There are women on the jury, she explains, but there are also husbands who don’t like their wives swooning over defendants. But besides that, be yourself.

When he puts on a sweater vest and a corduroy jacket, his lawyer claps her hands in delight. Perfect, she decrees. The ideal boy next door, no longer a paperback romance hero, oh no. Calm, friendly, reliable, one you’d want to grab a beer or a coffee with. She bats her eyelashes at that last part, though maybe Dan’s just imagining things. By the time the trial’s over, there’s no batting eyelashes at him anyway, just thirty extra pounds, gray hairs that suddenly got there despite the weird bald patches, and the humiliation of crying in front of a camera and not having any tissue. It takes him over a year to get back in shape, but it seems the liver spots are there to stay.

for angst, doomed middle aged men yaoi, and courtroom bathrooms continue reading here

(each chapter can work as a standalone, I think)

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Kim Novak (Vertigo, Bell, Book, and Candle)— She fought as much as she could to be able to preserve her own identity within the crushing hollywood system. She refused to change her czech last name and fought for a higher salary once she discovered her male counterparts were getting payed significantly more, which was an incredibly risky thing to do. She went through so much hollywood bs like she was forced to drop her affair with Sammy Davis jr. She played her iconic role in Vertigo thinking about her own oppressive and significant changes she had to undergo in order to fit in the tight hollywood mold which i think is partly why the movie is so beautiful and timeless. She is a gorgeous soul and a great artist.

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Kim Novak:

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

[toning-seros]

after like 5 years im being pulled back to undertake content i was obsessed with when i was younger holy hell AAAAAA also ASK DRUNK CHARA AAAAA on ms paint :D

my spanish is a little rusty since im not a native speaker, so apologies if i didn't write it correctly (i didn't know if i should've put cara or rostro)

[andorology]

Sanguinity: Chapter 5 a rebelcaptain regency au

An unexpected arrival of an equally unexpected letter. With no intention to prolong the curiosity it had stirred in her, Jyn hurried to pluck the wax seal and unfold the paper.

Whatever she felt just moments ago, it seemed to now have doubled, if not tripled.

______

Jyn receives a letter from out of the blue, and her relationship with the Andors is about to take a turn. Will it be for better or for worse?

Read Chapter 5 of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.

When the day of Jyn’s first expedition around the estates with Kerri came, the heavens, to her delight, endowed its favor for their endeavor; the sun filtered through the cloudy canopy like tendrils of warmth, animating everything it touched with vigored life. From her window Jyn witnessed the daisies’ and cowslips’ slow bloom, the cool air moving through their quietude in whispers of the gentlest kind. The birds sang, and along with it Jyn’s spirits; she was ready for the day.

She was to expect Kerri’s arrival to Vallt Park by mid-morning. During the wait she spent some time writing about her new interest—a short history of Spanish hardwood species, for which she had made considerable progress, and in such a state of concentration that she hadn’t noticed how much it had eaten away at the hours before the anticipated activity. 

She found, however, even as the clock had already struck the awaited hour, that her companion still had not arrived. She decided to give her some more time, and wait by milling about the gardens. 

She let the petals of various flowers brush past her hand as she passed by them, their pleasant smells tickling her nose in a harmony of scents. When she reached a corner in the path, she knelt by a trimmed rose bush to examine one of its flowers being crushed under the weight of heavy, entangled brambles. 

As she began to gently pull on its stem, a movement towards the house caught her eye. 

There, through the foliage, she saw one of her household’s footmen walk towards the staff’s door, the day’s letters stuffed in a satchel that hung around his body. He was unassuming in stature; Jyn paid him no mind—she did not currently expect correspondence from anybody. When she returned to her attempt to break the rose free, she had even already forgotten about him. 

At that point the sun now radiated warmer, and Jyn’s doubt for Kerri’s arrival, which still did not happen, had now also grown more certain. She looked at the horizon and hoped to see her friend’s figure emerge somewhere along it. It didn’t.

Just then, the very same footman from a while ago appeared out of the door yet again. Jyn watched him head towards her direction, a tray in his hand, a lone piece of paper on its surface. 

“Miss Erso,” he called out as he descended the stone steps towards where she was on the pebbled path. “A letter.”

“For me?” asked Jyn. With hesitation she received the folded and sealed parchment from its vessel. Flipped over, it bore a delicate penmanship that spelled out her name and nothing more. Confused, she looked at the footman. “Where is it from?”

“Lah’mu Hall, Miss.”

Jyn frowned. “The Andors?” 

“Yes, Miss.”

Sweat began forming on Jyn’s palms, for a reason she did not really know. “I see,” she said. “Thank you.” 

An unexpected arrival of an equally unexpected letter. With no intention to prolong the curiosity it had stirred in her, Jyn hurried to pluck the wax seal and unfold the paper. 

Whatever she felt just moments ago, it seemed to now have doubled, if not tripled.

It was a letter from Kerri herself, and it read:

Dear Ms. Jyn Erso,

I am sorry to write to you that I cannot come today and join you in your walk. I know that we have entered, with utmost excitement, into this undertaking of ours—you keeping a record of every plant species you could possibly find, and I sketching them for your journals—which must make this news disappointing for you to read, as much as it has been for me to write it. 

But, as things would have it, I feel even more regret to impart something that I am now to do, and which, I am afraid, you may not forgive me for. 

From this point on, I am withdrawing myself entirely, not only from our activities, but from your company now as well. I am truly sorry to say this, Ms. Erso, but we can no longer be friends.

I know—some questions must go through your head at this moment; I understand the suddenness, and even the shock, with which this information has reached you, and for this, I at least owe you an explanation:

Ever since our calling upon you and your family a couple of days ago, my brother Cassian has been in a state of quiet unrest. He had already been somewhat sullen prior, ever since our attendance at Mr. Rook’s ball, but it seems to be our visit at Vallt Park which has finally aggravated it to the degree which I now speak of.

The most notable attribute of this unrest was his near-constant questioning of how I have been treated by you; in times more than I would normally expect him to, he asked about your character, Ms. Erso, and if you are a worthy friend. It struck me as odd. When I finally assured him of your goodwill towards me, however, he told me that he was not convinced, and nor should I be. 

I had nothing but endless questions. Here he finally expressed to me the nature of his feelings, which in turn, informed his strange disposition for the past fortnight. And I found out, to my extreme surprise, that you, Ms. Erso, have been their source and object! 

I asked him to clarify; obligingly and unhesitatingly, he listed out, to the most emphatic degree, the reasons why you seem to bother him. I have debated whether I should even mention what these specific reasons are to you, but I find that I must if I am to fully explain myself, so now I will: 

Cassian thinks you arrogant, spoiled, and, in his own words, “possess a spirit of the most feeble and vacillating nature.” I have expressed my indignation when he first conveyed these to me, and still to this moment I think these accusations to be baseless and untrue—you have witnessed how much I have enjoyed our friendship so far, have you not, Ms. Erso? So imagine how much it came to me as a surprise to hear them come out from my brother’s mouth, which I had hoped, from the first, would only speak well of you!

I have stated my reasons against this belief of his; but he is forthright and insistent in promoting them to me, upon the accounts of the encounters we both have had with you. He has argued against my disinclinations with the strongest conviction; he is so sure of it, Ms. Erso, and has appealed for my acquiescence to his reason. 

This has become a point of disagreement for the both of us within the last few days. Though I cannot fully grasp the sense with which he has put forth his argument, I have begun, nonetheless, to feel compelled to see it. For it struck me with such shock to see him so earnestly desperate, and so desperately earnest in his manner. He has shown a kind of acute temperament which, if I may say so, he has so rarely shown to me; I have only witnessed it so few times in my life. 

Whenever it occurred, I would know in an instant that he was absolutely serious about it. And so I have grown to believe that his reasons for whatever he feels now—they are motivated by true concern and no hidden malice. 

Here I must now appeal to you , Ms. Erso. I hope you do not see this decision of mine as a result of me just blindly agreeing to my brother, nor do I hope, upon my taking his side, that you view this as my neglect of the kindness I have so far received from you. I acknowledge all of it, and am grateful you have chosen to make a friend out of me—truly. 

But I implore you to know that I make this choice because my brother and I have been through thick and thin our entire lives—just him and me. He trusts me as much as I trust him, and where I know he would, on the first chance, seek my advice and heed it, I know that I can also do the same to his. 

I only truly regret what it is at the expense of. 

Please accept my deepest apologies, and I wish you well. 

Yours kindly, Kerri Andor

The feelings that entered Jyn’s heart as she read through the contents of this letter budded to a strong anger, and she felt her grip slowly tighten on the paper—a thing she did not realize she was doing until the edges had finally crumpled into her fist. 

It was true, the pain of this letter’s injury seemed to come from Kerri’s choice to forsake her, but she realized, as she later reflected on it in the privacy of her bedchamber, that she ultimately did not find too much fault in her. Kerri had been nothing but kind, first for extending the courtesy of letting her know of the termination of their acquaintance, and, more notably, for even making excuses on behalf of her brother’s antagonistic behaviors.

So no, the anger Jyn felt now was not in any way directed towards Kerri, but towards the influence under which she felt compelled to make the decision. The nerve of her brother—the absolute nerve! Jyn had no other way of putting it; she truly disliked Cassian Andor now. First for reproaching her character, which on its own, was already a grievous offense, and now for reproaching it again more injuriously in front of her friend, his sister! 

He was absolutely and irredeemably contemptible.

These thoughts and feelings cycled themselves anew at every possible moment, and yet Jyn’s turmoil, she realized, was not so fully fixed on her adversary; Jyn felt its intensity to be even greater whenever she thought of the most unfortunate consequence of their hostilities: the loss of a potential friend. 

In lieu of this adverse turn of events, her current spirits for her studies were now effectively extinguished. All around her too, the scene had turned sour; the breeze felt too cold, the sun too hot, the birdsong too loud. None of it tempted her to inquiry and exploration; instead, she spent the rest of the day in her bedchamber, lying limp on her bed. 

But even doing nothing would soon not help her restlessness, either. So by the time the afternoon approached twilight, Jyn put on her riding gown, strapped on her muddied boots, and hurried to the stables to ride out on her horse. 

For a while the movement did her spirits good. She momentarily let her mare run off to its own will, allowing the freedom to thrill her to a state of elation. 

She did not notice, however, that during all this, her horse had led her to the crest of the low hill that separated Vallt Park and Lah’mu’s lands. She only realized it until her childhood home came into distant view, at which she yanked the reins in a sudden panic, forcefully putting her horse to a halt.

Once still, she sighed in relief. As she gathered her breath in a quick repose, she found herself looking at the house again, standing tall yet lonely across the empty grassy field. A timid melancholy gripped her soul as she beheld its sight.

A movement from its side caught her attention, and she found, after squinting, that it was undoubtedly the figure of Cassian Andor himself, walking along the side path towards the courtyard out front. 

Jyn again felt her anger rise; and yet, she found herself staring.

That was when Cassian seemed to have noticed Jyn herself, for he stopped in his tracks and faced himself towards her direction. 

It was a strange moment—for a while it would seem that they were both just staring at each other. 

But a wind blew past Jyn, effectively stirring her out of it. In an instant, she urged her horse back into motion again.

From where he stood in front of Lah’mu Hall, Cassian looked at her still. He did not stop, even after she had already descended to the cover of the hills.

A couple of days passed since, during which Jyn had begun to do her best to continue the life she had lived before the Andors came into it. It was not much different, she realized, for she still did the same things—read, write, and explore.

Writing, however, was something she had begun doing more—she continued to work on her piece on her history of hardwoods.

Today Mr. and Mrs. Erso had to leave to make some arrangements to one of their farms, up in the north of the country. This left Vallt Park entirely to Jyn’s whim, though she did not do anything much to do this advantage; she was too engrossed in her writing to do anything else. 

By the waiting room window where she usually sat, she had been scribbling in solitude, her back and neck hunched over a stack of papers, when suddenly a footman (coincidentally, the same one who had delivered her the letter a few days ago) entered to inform her of the quick, unplanned arrival of a visitor. 

Soon the visitor in question appeared through the doorway, the sight of whom made Jyn’s skin crawl. 

“Mr. Cassian Andor, Miss,” announced the footman, before leaving them alone.

Cassian scanned the place, his eyes widening at the sight of only Jyn being there.

Jyn gave her unwelcome visitor a glare. She put her papers aside and stood up. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Cassian kept a straight face. “I was expecting to see your father, but I shall come back when he is here. Good day, Miss Erso.”

He was already turning on his heel when Jyn said, “I see your family’s quest for avoiding me is still very well in place.”

Cassian stared at her silently for a few seconds too long. “I do not know what you are talking about.” 

 Jyn scoffed. “Spare yourself this charade—I already know what you did. Your sister told me—she sent me a letter. Or did you not know?” 

Cassian did not respond.

A dry chuckle escaped Jyn’s mouth. “Miss Andor. I truly feel bad for her. It is clear to me that she really values your opinion, and here you’ve gone and disused it against me.” 

Cassian looked at her questioningly, his gaze sharp as a dagger. “Is that how you really see it, Miss Erso?”

The provocation compelled Jyn to step around the table and towards the middle of the room. Her voice raised, she answered, “Yes, Mr. Andor. You have deprived me of friendship—deprived her of friendship. And for what?” 

“It is not so much deprivation,” replied Cassian, “as it is an escape from her doomed affections for you.”

A quiet gasp left Jyn’s mouth. “You astound me. You know, I would have been able to live with your animosity, but what you’ve done—involving your sister into it—it signifies your cowardice. And for that I do not think I can forgive you.”

Cassian’s face formed into a sharp grimace.

“If you truly hate me,” said Jyn, her eyes piercing his, “do it yourself.”

Taking long, swift strides, Cassian met her in the middle of the room. “I merely told her what she ought to know,” he said in a quiet but intense manner, “and done as she ought with that knowledge she did.” 

“That I am arrogant, spoiled, and spineless? What fantasies you must have concocted in your own head to truly believe those things about me, Mr. Andor. And you’ve discerned that from what, our quick introduction and our subsequent meeting? From that you have gravely misjudged my character, and it baffles me so that you are so assured of its truth, when you do not even know me!” 

Cassian scoffed. “I know you well enough, all right. The things you said to my sister during our visit in this very same room were enough, notwithstanding the rest. Yes,” he added when he noticed the stunned look on Jyn’s face, “I heard all of it, and not with any effort of trying, for you were not being as discreet as you thought you were.” 

Jyn put her chin up in defiance. “That is a useless charge, for I did not say anything wrong.” 

“Really?” challenged Cassian. “What about the fact that you wish to marry Mr. Krennic merely for the advantage of his wealth?” He laughed dryly. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you are indifferent to the folly of it, for you are just like every other person of your station.”

“My station?” It took Jyn a few seconds to truly register the accusation being made against her. She blinked rapidly. “Am I right in hearing that you are reproaching me for entering a marriage for what it commonly is among women like me, an economic proposition? Why should I be exempt from this? This is preposterous—you’re a solicitor, you should know better!”

“Oh I couldn't care less that you would marry for that reason, Miss Erso!” Cassian matched her volume. “But you have done so in abandon of a long-held principle.”

Jyn frowned. “What—”

“For someone who wishes to staunchly excuse herself from the institution for her education and freedom, you certainly resigned yourself to Mr. Krennic willingly the moment it promised monetary benefit for you.”

Jyn tried to speak again—

“Your inconstancy to your principles suggests to me that you have never truly adhered to them in the first place. I can never witness my sister, or anybody I care for really, to maintain friendships with the sort of people.”

Jyn’s mouth hung open, feeling the censure hit her harder than she would have liked it to. She heard it echo all the way through the back of her head, traveling down to the hollows of her gut, making her squeamish. She felt her pulse quicken. 

She clenched her body to discipline, fighting the urge to show any sign of her current emotion. 

“You do not know me,” she said. “You do not know why I do not want to get married, or why I do . Frankly, it is none of your business. What do you know of my situation to quickly deduce the issue as a matter of my inconstancy, of my poor character? Here is my question to you, Mr. Andor: do you think we all have the privilege to do as we wish to?” 

Cassian shook his head disapprovingly. “Do not speak to me of privilege, Miss Erso.” 

“Oh I will,” said Jyn, “for it is the very thing that gives you leave to speak over me as you now do. Did it never occur to you that I have no other choice but to marry for wealth?”

Cassian’s expression did not change.

“Is this what it is?” Jyn proceeded. “You scorn me for choosing to not die a destitute? Must I suffer through life to prove myself worthy of your regard? This is incredibly high levels of self-importance, Mr. Andor. I do not need your esteem.”

Cassian’s face contorted in disgust. “Nor I am not trying to give it. And do not attempt to garner my pity because you feel like you do not have a choice but to marry a powerful Krennic, Miss Erso, a baron to be with 12,000 pounds a year.”

“And I am not trying to! It would take the last person on earth to perish before I would even begin to seek yours .” Jyn shook her head. “And what is your issue with Mr. Krennic? Why does it matter to you that it is him whom I choose to marry?”

She searched Cassian’s face; his expression did not falter under her scrutiny. It only seemed to glower more intensely upon her asking the question—a question which he did not respond to.

“You can’t answer me, can you?” said Jyn. “For you have no good reason—for any of it.” 

Cassian took a step closer towards her. “Why, Miss Erso?” he challenged. “Will it even matter to you if I did?”

A shaky breath suddenly escaped Jyn’s mouth. She blinked.

Then she shook her head and attempted to walk away in her frustration, but soon found herself facing him back. “I had supposed you could stand to reason, Mr. Andor. Of all things, I at least hoped your hostility would grant me that grace. But it is clear to me now that you are averse to it, not because you do not have the ability, but because you do , and yet you refuse to. That is all the worse to me! And you say I’m just like every other person of my class? Have you looked at yourself? You’re practically the same—you are just like every other genteel person that has ever been, especially the ones you detest.”

Cassian stepped even closer. “Am I, Miss Erso?”

“You are,” Jyn replied. “You may not have not been born into your status and wealth, but that does not make much of a difference now to me.” She cocked her head in mock inquisitiveness. “Is that not why you bought a part of my father’s estate, and are now even considering retiring from your occupation—to become a part of all of this?”

Cassian’s expression took on a look of indignance. 

“For all I know, Mr. Andor,” Jyn said, finding satisfaction in it, “you already are. You are now a part of the same brood which you criticize me for. You are just like everyone else—just like me. Gentlemen and ladies who play and scheme and make alliances to build their own wealth.”

Cassian’s expression hardened, his sharp gaze boring into Jyn’s eyes. She steeled herself. 

“Clearly, Miss Erso,” he said quietly, “the books you read haven’t done you justice. Such a shame—all that reading, and yet no amount of knowledge has yet to cure your narrow view of the world. You attempt to insult me, that much is clear, but you do not even know what you are saying.”

Jyn relented with a lethargic shrug. “I suppose that makes both of us, when you first insulted me.” 

The lines of Cassian’s scowl deepened. Jyn’s heart raced. They both watched each other silently, unable to get a read of what went in each other’s minds. 

After a few moments, she finally said, “Is there anything else you would like to tell me about my character, Mr. Andor, in my own home?” 

She stepped closer to look up at Cassian’s face. His expression slightly faltered at this move, but in only such a brief moment in time. After a few seconds of their stewing in this heated silence, the solicitor finally stepped back.

“Good day, madam.”

Jyn did not reply to this and only averted her gaze. Cassian began to walk away. 

When he disappeared out of the door, Jyn finally let out the guttural and shaky sigh that had been building up in her chest since he’d arrived. 

As she shut her eyes in the middle of the room, she felt her heart sink to depths she hadn’t known existed before. Her soul wore heavy upon her body, and yet the fiery tongues of her anger burned it so hot she felt it surface to her face.

Gathering her wits, she finally walked back to the window where she had left her papers. Soon enough, through the glass pane, she saw Cassian emerge from the house below, his steps quick and light as he hurried back to his carriage. 

Jyn did not watch him leave this time; before the carriage door even closed on him, she had already twisted on her heel and walked to her bedchamber.