#noble walker

[mannyblacque]

Overall, I loved Wednesday. However, this line was really problematic.

I mean... Wow ... Really?

[raikao3]

If Wednesday had a phone (aka an excuse for me to just draw the cast)

[velveteen-hajime]

The like, “racial blindness” in Wednesday was really Something to witness, like they want me to buy a black family owning “Pilgrim World”, a lil park where you roleplay as colonizers, or Morticia saying “people like you don’t know what it’s like to not be believed” to the black Mayor, obviously referring to men not understanding how women feel, but in historical and societal context this being directed towards a black man is a very...interesting choice.

And that's not even getting into Even More Interesting things like Bianca being on the “Gold Bug” team, The Gold Bug being the only Edgar Allan Poe story to feature a black character, a FORMER SLAVE named Jupiter.

Now don't get me wrong I liked the show and I'm waiting (im)patiently for season 2, but I do hope this improves. I'm not sure what exactly I expected from Tim Burton after he admitted that black and asian people don't “fit his aesthetic” though.

[shrutithemisfit]

When I watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 in 2011, I remember my exact thoughts were I will never get to experience another magical moments ever again.

Then I watched Wednesday today and it gave me the same magical world that I fell in love with when I was a kid. A different story, but I got that same vibe.

I will miss the adults who tried to maintain peace. R.I.P. Specially Principal Weems. I loved her. Her dedication, her loyalty. She might have some beef with Morticia, but she never projected her grudge on Wednesday. And was always looking out for her.

I wish I had friends so loyal, so caring and supportive like them. I'm jealous of you, Wednesday.

Can't wait for their romance next season hopefully... All depends on Wednesday.

Loved them too.

I was rooting for them too.

Thing. I love you too.

[cleosven]

These are the people I think the show explicitly states or strongly implies are dead. I’m just gathering data, let me know if I’m wrong! 

[hislittleraincloud]

Chapter 7 Update

I'm 85% sure that this will be in two parts again. I've got lots of story to tell for this. Even the 'boring' parts are useful to trudge through...if some scenes or dialogue truly didn't matter, I'd put them in Deleted Scenes.

There's still lots to go, but I'm writing at a decent pace for what I want to do. There will be heat, of course, but not necessarily lots of Wenovan heat (there is some, but the Gatesmonster heat is hotter).

Speaking of Gatesmonster...

The above #Gatesmonster moment amuses me. It can be taken a few ways, but in Afterburn, everything between these two is deliberate and in order to manipulate Wednesday (so...not far from N/Canon). AB Tyler would've let Laurel know about his invite, and the above look she gives him is, "Remember to stick to the plan/keep her occupied so I can clean up your shit."

But in another AU, perhaps Tyler didn't tell her about the invite, stupidly thinking he could get away with going to the dance with W. Now that look is one of, "What the fuck are you doing here with her?"...which would lead to some good torture fic. I like both ideas.

Anyway. Chapter 7. Two parts prob, though both parts might be published at the same time. We'll see. So far it is as unwieldy and chaotic as the actual episode, but unlike E7, I'm not trying to rush these last chapters.

There's more music and a couple of other extras plus the headers that need to be made as well. 😵

Now, I did say there would be more humor and there will. But there's also a lot of darkness while our Wenovan find their way back.

I actually had to write out the events of 6 through 8 three more times in a fucking time map to get the sequencing right. There's loads of time between the kiss w Moss (🫠) and his capture at the beginning of 8.

[i-oooo]

This pun is so underrated. Give it some love!

[sleepywyrldbuilder]

Wednesday Netflix Ace Attorney Witness Sprites

I do an art project for my family each year and for this one I'm doing a retelling of the episode 5/Gomez Addam Murder plot in objection.lol (ft. Phoenix Wright who has no idea why he's here)

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Drake is back... but that doesn't mean that it's a happy reunion...

Word Count: 4,300

Rating/Warnings: M (shouting, guilt-tripping, dangerous driving, swearing in multiple languages, one over-heated kiss)

Chapter theme song:

Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

I whirl around in disbelief. "Drake...!"

He's stood before me with two days' worth of stubble, regarding me with a long-suffering look.

But it really is him.

And I feel my heart swell, even though I can tell that he's not exactly best pleased to find me in a random antique shop in the middle of Rome.

The muscle in his jaw twitches. "I turn my back for one goddamn minute and—"

"What are you doing here?" I blurt.

"I can ask the same of you, Gale..." he counters, folding his arms over his chest. "Because this sure as shit ain't no bridal boutique."

My chin lifts on its own accord. "I decided to make a detour."

"Jesus fucking—" He rakes his hand through his hair. "Did you leave your brain in a ditch somewhere in the process?"

My eyes widen. "Wha—! No! I—"

"The city is crawling with paps!" he almost shouts, jabbing a finger towards the door. "Who are looking for any excuse to make a meal out of you! Did you not think for one second that—?"

"What?" I counter heatedly, stepping up to him. "That I should cower and hide instead, like I'm to blame for it all? I told you — I refuse to let these people—"

"Well, it would've been a damn sight better than making me chase you across half the fucking city!"

"Why were you even chasing after me?" I demand, my own ire flaring. "You're supposed to be in Dubai!"

"Been there, done that, got the jet lag to prove it," he hits back sarcastically. "But just because I'm gone doesn't mean you suddenly have carte blanche to fuck off on your own."

"Says the person who walked off without so much as a 'see you later'..."

His mouth hardens. "I didn't want to—"

"Also, I'm not on my own," I continue testily. "Allard and Schweitzer—"

"—are fucking fired," he cuts in, suddenly darkened mocha eyes flashing. "They should never have—"

"Ch'è qualche problema?"

"No!" Drake and I snap in unison.

The old man falls mute before muttering something disparaging under his breath.

I continue staring at Drake, heart thumping and chest heaving in the wake of our dust-up.

He glares back unblinkingly, jaw clenched as the tension rolls off him in palatable waves.

I reach up to adjust the strap of my tote indignantly. "So much for trusting each other, huh, Walker?"

"Dammit, Gale," he growls. "That's not what—"

Grabbing the wrapped box off the counter, I stomp past him without a backwards glance. "See you back at the embassy."

He has some nerve, showing up out of the blue t—

I barely make it two steps before he's grabbed me by the arm.

I open my mouth to retort...

...but I'm not given a chance to get a word in edgeways, because in the next instant, he's slammed me against his chest, laying claim to my mouth with a ferocity that's on the verge of being savage.

The fight whooshes out of me as my arms fly up to wrap themselves 'round his neck, even as I feel his fingers dig against the soft cotton of my dress, pulling me to him like a long-lost ship to anchor.

"Christ, girl," he growls against my lips. "You send me off the edge of reason..."

"I'm... sorry..." I gasp, clinging to him helplessly as he trails down the line of my jaw. "I didn't mean to—"

"Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello."

Drake starts as he gets clapped roundly on the back.

Peeking up, I see the shopkeeper smirking at us conspiratorially as he ambles past.

"Err... Sì," coughs Drake, pulling back from me. "Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese..."

The man laughs in response. "Non capita a tutti?"

"You speak Italian?" I gawp, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks as the old man throws us a wink over his shoulder.

"Uh... Yeah..." Drake mutters, running his hand over the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "With Bast."

"Oh." I glance between him and the old man. "What did he say?"

"An old proverb," Drake says, looking just as embarrassed as I am feeling about the fact that we'd inadvertently let our dirty laundry rip in the company of a complete stranger. "Love is not beautiful if it does not quarrel."

My cheeks redden further. "I-I see..."

"It's kind of a compliment..." he admits, shooting a sidelong glance over at the man, who's now busy dusting some shelves. "But we should probably get out of his hair."

"Definitely...!" I chirp, diving towards the saving grace of the exit.

"Err... La saluto," offers Drake on his way out. "E scusi il disturbo..."

"Eh!" comes the scoffed response. "Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona."

"Lo so..."

"Everything alright?" I ask as Drake joins me on the baking pavement.

"Yeah," he assures me, not quite meeting my eye. "Just giving his two cents..."

Something flashes across his face, too fast for me to read.

But before I can ask him about it, he's already marching me across the square.

"What about Allard and Schweitzer?" I protest, trying to squint behind me as Drake navigates us 'round the incessant stream of sightseers. "Are they—?"

"I sent them back to the embassy," Drake replies, yanking me back as a pair of kids dart out in front of me.

"You didn't actually fire them, did you?" I gasp.

"Sure as hell thinking about it," he mutters, moving us forward again.

"If it's any consolation, they did try to talk me out of coming out here..."

"Clearly not hard enough."

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," I remind him.

He lets out a low breath. "Don't I fuckin' know it..."

"Look," I say, coming to a stop and turning to face him. "I get you're pissed—"

"That's putting it mildly."

"—but don't take it out on Allard and Schweitzer," I tell him flatly. "They didn't do anything wrong... and I actually get along with them."

He holds my gaze for a long time before answering. "They're not your friends, Gale."

"Maybe not in any conventional sense," I admit. "But getting me a security detail had been your idea, Walker. And I know I was against it initially, but Allard and Schweitzer have been able to be there for me when you haven't."

His mouth hardens.

"And I know that grates you," I continue quickly, before he can cut me off again. "But we knew from the start that this was going to be the case, so if you do need to leave, then I'd prefer to be left with people I can trust. And I trust Allard and Schweitzer — with my life. Which is actually saying a lot."

He holds my gaze for what feels like a full minute before answering. "I'll think about it."

"That's it?" I demand in disbelief as he grabs my wrist to pull me after him again. "After all that, you're just going t—?"

"I said I'll think about it."

I glare at his back. "You're a dick."

He rounds on me like a wolf. "I'm a fuckin' realist. And the reality is that Allard and Schweitzer messed up. Big time. And I don't care how much you like them, or how many times you've braided each other's hair—"

My eyes narrow. "That's not—"

"—because none of that fucking matters out here! What matters — the only goddamn thing that matters — is keeping you safe. From the paps, from the aristos, even from your ownfucking self, if you're about to do something stupid. And at that, they've unquestionably failed. So, no. I'm not about to cut them a break. Especially not on your say-so. Because the stakes are too fucking real, and I'm not gonna let anyone play dice with your life. Least of all the people whose one job is to look out for you. Got it?"

I force myself to blink back the sudden tears in my eyes. "Yeah..."

"Good," he grunts. "Now get on."

Glancing past Drake, I spot what is very literally the last thing I'd expect to see him with.

I scoff up at him. "In your dreams, bud."

"Gale," he warns, reaching for one of the helmets that's hanging from the black and white moped's frame. "I'm not in the fucking m—"

"Well, neither am I," I hit back tersely. "So, you can take that deathtrap of a Vespa and shove it."

"First off," he counters, tossing the helmet at me. "It's a Piaggio. Second, the only reason I had to resort to this is because you decided to bail."

I catch the helmet irately. "So, you're saying that this is my fault?"

"Damn right, it is," he confirms, extracting a second helmet from the storage compartment nestled beneath the seat. "It's got all of 50cc so it's underpowered as fuck."

"Then why the heck did you get it!"

"Because it's the fastest way to get around the city."

I snort at him. "You mean, it's the fastest way to get into an accident..."

He prays for deliverance under his breath. "Gale, for the love of Christ, will you just—?"

"No," I declare, folding my arms. "The last time you conned me onto the back of your motorbike, I literally thought I was going to die. And after seeing how everyone in Rome drives, I have no interest in—"

"You drive, then."

Drake's unexpected offer pulls me up short. "Wait. What?"

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket. "It's a one-time offer, Gale. Either you take the wheel, or I do. But you've gettin' your ass on this sorry excuse of a bike, one way or another."

"I..." I swallow thickly. "I don't know how..."

"I'll walk you through it," he assures me. "There ain't much to it."

"Somehow I doubt that..."

"Clock's tickin', girl..."

I heave a breath before shoving my head into my helmet. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

"Figured you would," he murmurs, holding the keys up. "You know where these go?"

"Up your ass," I retort, snatching the keychain from his hands.

The corner of his mouth twitches — whether in amusement or annoyance, I can't tell.

Not that I really care. I can be a jerk, too. But, I figure that at least with me driving, we won't rack up any speeding tickets or near misses on our way back to the Cordonian embassy, which is where we are staying for the two nights that we are in Rome for.

Walking up to the moped — admittedly with more swagger than I'm actually feeling at this moment — I grab the handlebars and swing my leg over the middle of the frame.

After a quick inspection, I locate the ignition switch and slot the key in.

But before I have a chance to try and turn the engine on, Drake's hand appears in my line of sight.

Reaching between my legs, he opens a hidden compartment in the frame. "For your bag."

"Oh," I say in genuine surprise, taking my bag off so I can tuck it away. "That is actually kind of neat."

"Last thing we need is for you to lose your stuff..." he drawls, shutting the glove box back up.

As he straightens again, his arm brushes the bare skin of my knee. And despite (or maybe because of) the unresolved tension shimmering between us in the wake of our heated reunion, I can't help but feel a familiar zap of electricity course through my nerves at the inadvertent contact.

"No kidding..." I concede, somewhat hoarsely. Clearing my throat, I add, "So... umm, what's next?"

"Grab the break and turn the key over as far as it'll go."

"So, kind of like a car," I surmise, following the instructions. "Why isn't it starting?"

"Because you only turned the electronics on," Drake advises. "To kick the engine off, you need to disengage the kick stand, and then press the start button."

"Jesus Christ, this is complicated..." I grumble as I scoot off the seat so I can try to figure out how to do what he just said.

"No more complicated than sailing a yacht," Drake counters, watching my antics from the safety of the pavement. "Just give it a shove ."

"How will that—?"

"It's got a rear-mounted kickstand," he says. "You disengage it by rolling the bike forward."

"Right," I grumble, feeling like a total idiot. "Because that's so obvious."

Maybe I should've let Drake drive, after all...

"You still holding the break?"

I snap my head up as I give the handlebars a hard push. "Huh?"

A squeal erupts from my mouth as the moped suddenly lurches forward beneath me, and I have a moment of sheer panic as I wrestle with the hunk of metal to keep from crashing to the ground.

"I told you to hold the break..."

"You could've been more specific!"

He lets out a low breath. "You good?"

"Yeah," I huff, finally managing to find some semblance of balance with an uncooperative moped  stuck between my legs.

"Turn her on, then."

I scan the buttons in front of me. "Err..."

"The one by your right thumb."

Shifting my grip, I extend my thumb out to press the button...

"You still holdin' the break?" Drake asks.

I quickly tighten my hold on the left-side break. "Yes."

Drake eyes me unconvincedly. "Just checking..."

I stick my tongue out at him.

"Hey," he objects. "You're the one who wanted to do this, Gale."

"Yeah, everything is my fault today..." I grumble as I press the start button.

The moped sparks to life beneath me, and I feel a massive rush of achievement.

"I did it!" I cry, meeting Drake's eye with an unadulterated grin.

He quirks a brow at me. "Y'know you're still stationary, right?"

"Shut up."

Drake steps up to the bike with a shake of his head and flips out the passenger foot rest. "Last chance to bow out gracefully, Gale."

I glance over my shoulder at him. "If you're trying to pull some kind of reverse psychology on me, Walker—"

"Wouldn't dream of it..." he assures me dryly, mounting up as well. "But my word is gospel, y'hear?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," I say sardonically... while trying to ignore the heat of his body and the instinctive urge to lean back into it as he settles down on the narrow seat behind me.

Because as much as I missed him, and as glad as I am that he's back, our volatile reunion has served as a stark reminder that we never finished our conversation back in Applewood. Not only that, but thanks to the almost break-neck speed at which things have been happening, the list of topics for discussion has only grown since then.

And the last thing I want is for us to fall down the same toxic hole that we did in the wake of Christian's surprise reveal in Valtoria.

I just have to hope that we'll be able to squeeze in some much-needed couple time before even more things pile up between us.

Not to mention, I'm desperate to know what had happened with Tariq in Dubai... and whether Drake's record-fast turnaround is a sign of some much-needed success, or even more demoralising failure.

But, first things first: getting back to the embassy in one piece, without the paps chasing us.

I feel Drake roll his eyes at me. "Wrong salutation, but never mind... Now. We're gonna do this slowly and gently. There's a lot of people around, and we don't need you on the front page of the Sun again because you accidentally torpedoed a toddler."

My throat constricts. "Y-You saw that?"

"You'd be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't," he mutters. "But right now, your focus needs to be on driving this thing. So, eyes up front and ignore everything else."

I swallow down my nerves. "Okay..."

"Your right hand controls the throttle. Your left hand controls the break," Drake instructs. "For the love of God, don't mix that up, or I'll be on the phone to your patents explaining why you suddenly need skin grafts."

I wince involuntarily at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "Got it."

"It's a mistake you'll only make once," he warns grimly. "To get going, twist down on the throttle while slowly easing up on the break. Don't jerk it, or you'll face plant into the speedometer."

"Anything else?" I ask, somewhat nervously.

As anticipated, driving a motorbike is a lot more nuanced than Drake made it look back in Cordonia. And I'm having some serious second thoughts about this whole thing...

"Keep your feet off the foot-stand until you've got enough momentum to stay upright."

"How will I know that?"

"You'll feel it," he assures me. "Like on a bike."

I bite my bottom lip.

"Hey," he says, brushing his fingers across my hip. "You got this, girl."

The familiarity of Drake's touch — even though it's fleeting — unwinds something in me. Because it's an unspoken reminder that no matter what may be going on around us... or between us, it's not going to come in the way of the promise that he made me.

I suck in a steadying breath. "Okay. Here goes."

Readjusting my grip on the handlebars, I twist my wrist down. Feeling the engine start to rumble with increased vigour, I gentle ease up on the break.

The Piaggio begins to creep forward.

"Watch the road, not the instruments," Drake cautions from behind me.

Lifting my eyes up, I carefully navigate us 'round the oncoming pedestrians, keeping my feet suspended alongside the moped, in case I need to make an emergency stop.

But, as we move away from the iconic landmark, the crowd starts to thin out, and the street widens. Passing a fruit and vegetable stand, I let go of the break fully, the bike pulls forward eagerly. Feeling slightly more confident, I add a bit more gas so I can finally lift my feet up without capsizing our delicate operation.

"Not bad," Drake approves. "You just gotta relax a bit."

I flush inadvertently. "I am relaxed."

"Your shoulders say different. You're driving like Quasimodo."

"Oh." I make a concerted effort to straighten my posture. "Better?"

"Yeah. But now you need to drop your elbows."

"So much for this being easy..."

"It is," he insists. "Once you get the hang of it."

"You and your technicalities, Walker..." I grumble.

"Everything's got a learning curve," he reminds me. "But we just might make a Hell's Angel out of you yet."

I snort back at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Evil Knievel. We haven't made it back to the embassy yet."

"Then you might wanna knuckle down for this next part."

"Why? What's—?"

I get my answer as we round a corner and come parallel to a busier-looking road.

Great...

"Right here, then first left," Drake advises as we approach a somewhat complicated-looking three-way intersection.

"Umm... Okay..." I mumble, eyeing up the noticeably faster-moving traffic on the main road with more than a bit of trepidation.

"No one's gonna give you room, so you'll have to gun it," comes the no-nonsense tip from behind me. "The indicator is by your left thumb."

A Fiat whizzes past, but the next car is some distance away. Taking a breath, I flick the indicator on and twist down on the throttle to merge into the gap.

"Move over one more," Drake shouts over my shoulder. "You're taking up the bus lane."

"Where the heck does it say that?" I demand, casting my head around in confusion.

"On the sign we just passed..."

"Was it invisible?"

"Hey," counters Drake. "You wanna argue with me, or a cop?"

"Neither," I concede sourly, making the switch to the left-side lane after a quick check in the mirror. "But they could've made it more obvious..."

Drake scoffs. "It's Rome. The bastards are trying to catch you out."

"Clearly," I agree, taking a left at the traffic lights...

...straight into a two-way fork in the road.

"Umm... What now?" I squeak, trying to hedge my bets as much as I can in the rapidly shrinking room that I have to make a decision before I run into the curb.

"Stay left."

I start to turn the bike, only to yank it back violently with a yelp as a car that I hadn't realised was trying to overtake me blows past with a scream of its horn.

"Vaffanculo!" yells Drake, throwing his hand out angrily at the other driver.

"Ohmygod..." I rasp, my entire body shaking in the wake of the near miss.

"Fuckin' asshole," gripes Drake. "You okay?"

I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat. "I... think so."

"If you need to pull over..."

I shake my head. "No. I'm fine. I just..."

"...get a kick outta playing chicken?"

"I don't do it on purpose!"

"You sure?" he asks dryly. "'Cause you definitely seem to be making a habit of it..."

I open my mouth, but quickly think better of it... as Drake has a point. I have had a few too many near misses lately. "Sorry... It isn't intentional. I thought that since I'd left the indicator on, that—"

"I know," he assures me, laying a hand on my hip again. "I'm not blaming you. But all the calls you've had have been too close. And..." His fingers tighten against the material of my dress. "I just don't want you to—"

"I know," I concede softly. "I don't want that either. And I'm not normally this accident-prone, I promise..."

"Except when your blood sugar's low," he corrects wryly.

His words cause me to clench my eyes together in consternation. "Damn it, the croissants..."

In the whirlwind of Drake's surprise reappearance, I'd forgotten all about the primary reason for sneaking away from the bridal boutique.

"What croissants?" queries Drake.

"The pistachio ones I was supposed to get from this little bakery next to the fountain that the Italian President had recommended."

I feel Drake's disbelieving gaze knife into the back of my head. "Seriously? That's the reason you were out playing hooky?"

"One of them, yes..." I reply evasively.

"Putain de merde..."

"Apparently they're very good..."

Drake mutters something under his breath. "Pull over."

My eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Because it's past noon, and you're clearly starving."

"I'm fine," I insist, even though the only thing of substance I've had since this morning was the cup of coffee on Olivia's jet. "I'll just grab something when—"

The Piaggio lurches to a stop as Drake slaps a hand on the break. "No. You won't."

My eyes widen as my feet fly out on instinct to steady the suddenly stationary moped. "Why not?"

"Because the staff at the embassy already have their work cut out pulling together tonight's dinner, so the kitchen is off-limits," he explains, hopping off the back. "And you won't be able to take two steps outside to grab a sandwich without picking up a pap tail."

"Then why have we stopped in a dead-end alley?" I ask in disbelief as Drake pulls the moped it onto its kickstand while I'm still sat gaping at him from the seat.

"Because we just passed one of the best restaurants in Rome," he states. "So, I'm buying you lunch."

His cinnamon-laced eyes meet mine, and I see a sudden flash of rawness in his gaze... a silent plea entreating me to say yes. Which means this is about more than just food.

"Okay," I accede, wondering what could've prompted such a sudden change of heart. "But what about the paps? Aren't you worried we'll get spotted?"

"See any people?" asks Drake, reaching across my lap to turn the ignition off.

"No, but—"

"Exactly," he affirms, pocketing the keys. "This is one of the few places in the city where you ain't gonna bump into a reporter."

"How do you know?"

"Because apart from the fact that Sugo actually makes its own pasta, it is also a stone's throw from Parliament," he explains, offering me a hand to help me off the bike. "Which means that pencil pushers from every level of government come here to ink deals over carbonara, so no one — staff included — is gonna mess with the status quo."

"Sounds like something out of a mafia movie..."

"Where d'you think Hollywood gets its ideas from?" he drawls, pulling his helmet off to stow it in the under-seat compartment. "Places like this. Which is why no one will bother us here. Especially not the paps. It'd be a death sentence for this joint if their tight and discreet ship suddenly sprung a leak."

"Good to know," I acknowledge, unclipping the clasp of my own helmet. "But how did you even find out about this place? Let alone got in?"

"Leo," Drake replies, taking my helmet to clip it onto the handlebar. "He's on a first name basis with the chef."

I quirk a brow at him. "Sounds like there's a story there..."

Drake extricates my bag from the glove box with scoffs. "It's Leo. There's never not a story. But let's get you inside first. Before you pass out on the pavement."

"I'm not going to—" My stomach rumbles in pointed disagreement. "Okay, I am hungry. But where exactly is this place? There's nothing here apart from the back-ends of buildings..."

"Have I ever let you down when it comes to food?" he asks with a raised brow.

"No..."

"Then trust me."

The story continues in Chapter 21 - You Give Me Reason

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

Ch'è qualche problema? - Is there a problem?

Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello. - Ah, love... It is not beautiful if it does not quarrel.

Err... Sì. Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese... - Err... Yes. I am definitely learning that the hard way.

Non capita a tutti? - Don't we all?

Err... La saluto. E scusi il disturbo... - Err... Farewell. And apologies for disturbing you.

Eh! Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona. - Eh! No risk, no reward! But you better take care of her! Good woman – worth a crown.

Lo so... - I know...

Vaffanculo! - Fuck you!

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[valewritessss]

I haven’t gotten my wottg copy yet but I’ve seen very mixed reviews. Like, some are saying it sucked and others are saying it was better than cotg. Some are saying Annabeth’s characterization is amazing and others are saying she was so ooc and I’ve seen a couple people say she was even disregarding of Percy’s feelings. I’ve seen some say that Percy was more laid back and others say that he was very angsty. Honestly even when I get spoiled I don’t even feel spoiled bc it feels like people are talking about 3 different books😭

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

From all of the cast who's best friends with who? Like who would call dibs when teaming up?

Welp:

It's no surprise that Cole's go-to choice is Zane, but beyond the elephant in the room, they are each other's oldest + longest-lasting friend, and know each other best. They often fall into line with one another without even having to ask!

Similar to Cole and Zane, Kai and Jay tend to fall into sync automatically, as despite their tendency to take shots at each other their elements complement one another well and they both know how to get the most out of each other's fighting style.

If Nya and Lloyd weren't already Ride or Die, they'd wind up with one another anyway given how much the Core Four tend to head off doing their own thing a fair chunk of the time. Suits Nya just fine though—although we gotta be careful that Lloyd's enthusiastically destructive tendancies don't rub off on her snknksnk

Antonia probably shouldn't be weaseling her way into anything remotely dangerous, but when she does she's obviously tagging along with Jesse (at least, until Nelson gets into the picture). Jesse never fights it because he knows he's not gonna win shgfdhggd

Sunni's de facto best friend may be Samantha, but whenever she does wind up entangled with some Ninja Things, she's tag-teaming with Miranda (in which they may get distracted talking about Jay or sci-fi topics), and/or Harleigh (depending on the point-in-time...and Harleigh's mood)

This is prolly gonna sound somewhat bizarre, but I plan to have Skylor and Pixal team up often because they are both badass and cool and I desire more of their dynamic. We had a teeny taste in Crystalized and I want MOAR (...at least, once Pixal starts to warm-up to Skylor after, y'know, Skylor's dad tearing her apart and stuff.)

Olivia: Since Nya has replaced me with garbage, I'll just have to take Bridget instead 😤  Bridget: No, no you're nOT—

Brad/Sally/Gene and Chad/Maggie/Meghan all come as packaged set within their trios, though while they're not ~main~ characters, they'll show up often enough during shenanigans to be mentioned and I love their dynamics with one another (despite Chad's group being jerks at this moment in time) but aaaah I'm so excited to use them more—they're not exactly friends but they do eventually see the similarities in one another and it's so fun

Harumi, meanwhile:

[thesquirrelqueer]

& Juliet 10/4/24 Notes

- ava!imogen and esosa!augustine

- tiernan and makai slow dancing in the background during IWITW (at least I think it was during IWITW? it might’ve been in the scene beforehand)

- feedback at the end of blow

- feedback at the end of KAG

- ben’s mic cut out near the end of IML

- I could hear maya but not philippe during end of confident

- honestly there was a lot of minor mic issues throughout the show that weren't super noticeable unless you were looking for them

- when juliet runs away at the end of stronger, maya tripped over her dress and fell (she was okay though)

- drew saying “and this play is simple” instead of "this play is simple"

- betsy snapping the quill earlier than the sound effect

- matt picking a song on the jukebox then hitting it and dancing in the background during SUBG

- daniel and two other people who I don't remember doing a group hug near the jukebox before SUBG

- ben singing his part of the IWITW reprise in the softest voice I've ever heard him do

- maya and philippe missing the high five by like a mile

- matt being silly while riding esther away for the soliloquy

- matt (originally first cover may) and makai (first cover frankie) being behind justin and philippe respectively when they first bump into each other during blow

- they finally brought back the pearl necklaces for najah's blow costume

- philippe kept making his voice crack on purpose

- a child reacting to “and that’s the ending!” with “no!” and drew looking up at them and doing a very pointed “well I like it”

- paulo making a peace sign/2 gesture on “perhaps a second marriage might be arranged”

- betsy saying “you see dear my problem is this, you are a douche” instead of "but see my problem is this dear, you are a douche"

- cute group photo moment from a bunch of the players in the party section

- the pink accents on ava’s wedding costume matched very well with esosa’s pink costume

[trumpets0ng]

240- “Time Table”

Beginning / Previously /Next

((Toast- Koffee))

Special thanks to @hyggetrait for this lovely lot!

For easier reading, please see transcript below the cut:

O: How are you enjoying your stay?

U: It’s been a wonderful, but far too short trip!

W: I’m trying to remember the last time you guys saw each other?

J: *lets out a low whistle* Watcher… I think it was the summer before you moved.

W: No…

D: Yeah, yeah! It was Gloria’s cookout in—

U & D: Willow Creek Park!

W: Seriously??

U: Yeah… I don’t think Dev and Dirk had even met yet!

D: It had to be, what? Two—

O: Nah, more like three years ago.

DD: Yeah, about three.

D: Shit time is flying! We knew each other by then—

DD: Yeah, but we hadn’t officially started dating yet.

D: How is Aunt Gloria?

J: She’s not designing your gown?

D: No. I’m working with a young, local designer Izzy and Emmy raved about—

U: Izzy?

O: Dirk’s best friend. Ignacio Duque Rojas.

DD: You’ll meet him at the exhibition.

J: By the way we really appreciate you spending New Year’s Eve with strangers.

D: Strangers, Jules? Really? You haven’t been a stranger since my junior year! *everyone laughs*

J: Well, we’re relative strangers to your fiancé.

DD: I wouldn’t call you strangers…

J: Glad to hear that bestie! *everyone laughs*

D: *shaking head* How on earth do you put up with him?

U: If only I had a simolean for every time I get that question! *everyone laughs*

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Walker, Texas Ranger (TV Series) S3/E7 'The Road to Black Bayou' (1994) - David Huddleston

I haven't seen this episode in years and a few things came to mind when watching it.

This is the episode that first got me into Huddleston, wishing I was literally in Huddleston.

David and Noble Willingham's asses.

This is the second time Huddleston and Willingham appeared in an episode together since they appeared in an episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show What Are Friends For? Season 5 Episode 10.

And they were both fuckable in that.

[celestialhounds]

Trip to the bookstore to finally get the whole series

Bonus, this is the looks they give to little gays, who are some of their favorite people and who made up a good portion of fellow shoppers lmao

[hero-israel]

I disagree with that other anon saying lefty "anti-racists" are hypocrites because they view anti-Zionism through a "scary brown desert people" lens. As they said towards the end, they basically push the "white European colonizer" message so hard because they know they'd fall back on "scary brown desert people" otherwise, besides plain (racialized) antisemitism. That being said, I think the real hypocrisy here is the inverse: It's not that anti-Zionists see Israelis as "scary brown desert people" but that they see anti-Zionist Arabs as noble savage brown desert people. They see Arabs as the wise and virtuous stewards of the land who are brave warriors defending it from the evils of white world. No room for nuance, non-sensationalized history, or humanizing factions. Of course, white anti-Zionists absolutely having a white savior complex too, convinced their "activism" (BDS, harassing non-compliant Jews) is what will save the day.

Jews can be white European colonizers and an exotic Asiatic Other at the same time, just like how we can rule the world with communism and capitalism at the same time.

My favorite example of the "noble savage Palestinian" trope comes from Alice Walker:

There you are sitting by your own fire, living peacefully with your family and clan, never having harmed anyone (for the most part), praising and worshiping your own peculiar god. In come a trickle, and then a flood of strangers. First, you feed them, offer them a seat by your fire. Let them admire your little ones. Perhaps you generously teach them how to plant whatever grows around your compound. Perhaps you give them a turkey to keep them from starving in what they persist in calling “the wilderness.” Perhaps you lend them a starter set of goats. Living in the lap of generous nature, speaking generally, there is a certain kind of greed and stinginess that is quite beyond your understanding.

Coming back to your fire, the strangers smile at you, learn your language, as if respecting it, admire your culture. But you notice they’ve brought strange gadgets that they use to measure things. At first you and your neighbors laugh: these crazy people, you say to each other, why, they would measure even the sky! But soon you do not laugh, because they have measured a road that goes right through your living room. They have destroyed all the villages on one side of yours, already. You did not know, because you couldn’t imagine anyone doing such a thing, and besides, you do not understand their language, though they, many of them now, certainly understand yours.