#said “Character A hats Character B” (it was supposed to be “hates”)

[purplecelestial-buddy]

You've ever discussed with someone that goes "the answer is A" and you go "actually, the answer is B" and then they mention that B is "1/3" of what they were saying and JESUS FUCKING CHIRST I don't mind arguing but you CANNOT theseus paradox your way into winning an argument!!! you did not give the right answer, give the f up

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day nine

"Is this normal?"

fandom: dc's legends of tomorrow

word count: 815

a/n: just in case it wasn't clear, zee is zari 1.0 and zari is zari 2.0... having characters who are literally the same person from different timelines is so confusing for modern AUs!!

Astra had heard enough about the Tarazis to know she would be in over her head when they invited her to dinner. 

"You'll love them," Behrad told her. "Nate and Zee are great." 

"Right. I'm sure I will." She'd grown up an only child, and certainly not with a pair of twin older sisters who were different in every way - aside from looking eerily identical, that was. Astra had met Zari Tarazi - the Zari Tarazi, influencer and surprisingly easy to get along with - a few times, since she also lived in California. 

But Zee and Nate lived in Seattle, doing whatever a white-hat hacker and historian did to keep themselves busy. Visits from them could be rare, which meant she hadn't yet met the third Tarazi sibling.

That changed tonight. 

As they walked up the steps of Zari's mansion, Astra was more worried than she thought she'd be. What if they hated her on principle? What if Zari had made too many jokes about her being Behrad's sugar mama and they'd think he deserved better?

Behrad knocked on the door before she had too much time to spiral. They barely had to wait before the door swung open to reveal a buff white man with too much hair gel and a giant smile. '

"Nate, buddy!" Behrad opened his arms wide for Nate to give him a hug. 

Astra raised her eyebrows. "Should I be jealous?" 

"Maybe," he admitted, pulling away. "Nate, this is Astra. My girlfriend." The way he grinned, both wide yet sheepish, made her feel all warm inside. "Astra, this is Nate." 

"Hey." Nate held out a hand - thankfully not going in for the hug. "B's told me all about you." 

Astra had also heard a lot about Nate: he had a PhD in history and the random facts up his sleeve to prove it, that he used to be Behrad’s stoner buddy before he moved to be closer to Zee, but most importantly, that he was a giant sweetheart. She didn't doubt that last point as she shook his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you." 

“Ooh, strong handshake,” he said. “Come on in, Zee and Zari are in the kitchen reportedly getting together some snacks for us to munch on while we let B do the real cooking.” 

“Tell me; why didn’t we just host this at my apartment again?” Astra asked, following him inside.  

“Because you hate having company,” Behrad said. 

That was true. It wasn’t that she hated having people in her space, it was - actually, it was exactly that. 

“Better than your place,” Nate teased, with a shrug. 

“Hey, I clean,” he said. “My kitchen is spotless.”

“And your bathroom?” Astra asked. 

Behrad spun on his heel towards the kitchen. “Let’s see how Zee and Zari are doing, shall we?” 

Nate turned to Astra with a conspiratorial grin. “Been that way since we were roommates.” 

She shuddered. “I hope you’ve improved your quality of living since then?” 

“Yeah. Helps when I’m living with the Tarazi sibling who sheds the least.” 

Behrad had beat them to the kitchen by the time they came in, right at the heart of… whatever siblings got up. Zee was sitting on the counter, taking nuts from the snack tray Zari was trying to assemble as their brother puttered around the kitchen. The three of them were too busy to notice Nate and Astra approaching the doorway.

“Seriously, how am I supposed to prep dinner when you’re both all in my space?” Behrad was asking. 

“Don’t mind B, he’s just nervous about us making a good impression on his little girlfriend,” Zari told Zee. “Stop stealing my almonds.” 

“No one else is gonna eat them,” she said. “It’s gonna be fine. We won’t scare her off.” 

Zari pulled the snack tray out of Zee’s reach. “You sure you aren’t going to hit her with the ‘if you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you’ routine?”

She stretched over to try and snag another almond. “I thought you had that covered.” 

Behrad turned from where he had looped an apron over his nice clothes. Astra was momentarily distracted by how hot and domestic he looked in an apron to miss what he was saying, only catching, “...so embarrassing, oh my God.” 

Zee jumped off the counter. “We’re your older sisters. That’s what we do.” 

Zari turned to face him, pinching his cheek. “Yeah, B.” 

“Seriously, guys-” He tried to push Zari away gently, but soon found himself dogpiled by the twins. 

“Is this normal?” Astra whispered to Nate. 

“Totally.” He sized her up. “You an only child?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Me too. It takes some getting used to.” Nate patted her shoulder. “Welcome to the family.” 

As he stepped forward to join in the joshing, Astra smiled to herself. She was definitely in over her head with this bunch. But she found she didn’t mind it too much.

[anastachord]

wtf ao3 tags

erotic asphyxiation

car stuff

afterbirth as lube

where I have basically taken the canon out back and shot it

Exhaust pipe penetration?

Inappropriate conversations about vaseline

sand

Chicken (singular)

Misuse of highlighters (not sexual)

kids don't try this fuckass communication at home

Accidental cult acquisition

direct quote from my notes "for medical reasons im gonna need you to suck this ra ca ca"

Unorthodox use of jellybeans

The pope queerbaited us so I wrote this to cope

i bring you the p in pining: pain

Rats

getting hit by cars

improper use of religious items

Jeffry Bezoz

mutated peen

eroticised arithmancy

I STILL SEE YOUR SHADOWS IN MY ROOM

fyi Julia Roberts came to me in a dream and told me STDs don't exist in the PW metaverse

harm to fish

the author is mildly traumatized and would like you to be as well

gratuitous social reform

talk of laundry and then not doing said laundry

That awkward forced car conversation that you can't escape from

mention of one (1) chicken

the inherent anxiety of sending an email

[clenches fist] its about the being enamoured with each other

Ferns. A Lot of Them

victorian obsession with tuberculosis

lube injected?? into the urethra lol

Platonic daddy kink

pain but like the funny kind

also a possessed squirrel

if you like to eat broken glass this is for you

Strangers to something else I don't know what yet

I looked up octopus anatomy and then bent it to my will

self-worth issues like woah

mushroom soup

How to be an adult and fail at it

the intrinsic horniness of applying insect repellent to your best friend's back

Murder of the English Language

fake dating but in a REALLY stupid way

you've heard of netflix and chill, now get ready for gbbo and sad gay pining

this was supposed to be funny but then i killed someone

No Beta - Transformed Into A Hat

Asinine flirting

They get divorced but not really

trying to find the perfect balance between ha ha ha and boo hoo hoo

clownsexuality

I Treat Canon Like A Buffet But In A Gentle Way

Please understand I was drunk when I wrote this

third banananananaan

eroch is a bitch, this really doesn't have anything to do with the story i just hate him

Rated B for Bullshit

gay people

Stabbing yourself into a relationship

Not so epic fight on a tall cvs building

author is mentally stable (I think)

platonic servitude (for now)

Stickshift Jobs

god watches reality tv

consentual dinosaur sex - Freeform

sexy biggie cheese

dirty talk involving dragons

There is a child who dies

cats but the good kind not the 2019 musical

baking bad

Jesus is an Among Us crewmate

this is pure me vomiting on my keyboard to the tune of mutual pining and then posting it

bootlicking, but... not boots.

princess kink?

scoobay

A ludacrious section of the word count spent describing baked goods

war zone meet cute

demonic asthma

flirting in inappropriate situations

will smith fish

Kanye West as Oreos

vodka baptism

beet play

russian presidents

Elmo is a raging homosexual

nae naeing

improper use of a gourd

onion suit

Communist Sonic

questionable canonical accuracy

Two bros making out but its not gay

I Can't Believe I Wrote Porn About Our Founding Fathers

dead cheeto

greg - Fandom

giantdongs

holy water as lube

Pinecones

Ebola - Freeform

sexy bugs

vergin mary

magic ice dildo

head explode

Jesus sounds like Danny devito

cows - Character

united states of horse cock

unsafe impromptu skydiving from airborne blimps

minnesota state prison facility host club

sneeze kink

ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding

glass

there is no God only Goose

splish splash in the bath tub

Birth in a waffle house

pringle man

evil pig

butter rain

A velociraptor with a pizza fetish

aggressive honking

stealing shit

I plotted this all out in a notebook while waiting 4 hours at T-Mobile when my phone was fried

plant rescue operation

Bowser purrs

glue factory

qustion mark

you ever just start a civil war?

gay legos

plastic wrapped barnes and noble book

i spoke to god

Canon is a dartboard and I am drunk and blindfolded with no dart

crabs

you ever just blow out the side of a pirate ship with a big fucking canon?

Consensual Kidnapping

idk what i'm doing but im having a rootin' tootin' time

the fuck is a cuckoocest???

human jungle gym

waffle fries

essays about toilets (threat)

Banana smut

The Grinch goes to therapy

blood is finger licking good

I would be happy to turn them into a soup

Unhinged and morally questionable but otherwise extremely healthy relationships

Sooooo many peanuts

held at gunpoint to lovers

vegan jesus

intense handholding action

Sandwich Denial

War On Pillows

canon typical random explosions

pining of the loins

inappropriate use of dolphin anatomy

richard nixon/wallis simpson

general narrative stupidity

i like how i just tagged it as CPR, like this is not a manual on how to do CPR, seek help elsewhere

Inaccurate descriptions of jobs and other things that I got off Google

no one hurts the beans

Erotic Handholding

F in the chat for my FBI agent who watched me type this for a fanfic in my search bar, and then go back to finding ways to kill people

[usmsgutterson]

angst prompts

they’re under the cut because the list is long!

“I yearn so much, and it hurts so badly.”

“Come back to me,” Character A whispered. “C’mon, Character B. Come back to me, please.” 

“Love is weakness. I was weak. I can’t afford to be weak anymore.” 

“I’m so tired, all the time. I can’t escape it anymore.” 

“Who did this to you?” 

“I see them in the stars now.”

“I used to talk to the moon about you.”

“I can’t keep going like this. Not like I have been.”

“I just need a minute to rest.”

“It’s okay,” Character A whispered. “You can rest now. It’s fine.” 

“I never meant for it to happen this way, Character B. You have to understand that.” 

“They’re dead, and it’s my fault. I’m the one who got them killed.”

“I miss you everyday.” 

“I’m not dying. Not like this. I will make it home and I will heal, everything else be damned.” 

“They died. They’re dead.”

“I lost the love of my life on the day of our fucking wedding!” 

“You don’t get to tell me you understand because you never will.”

“You’ll be okay.” “Will I? When did you learn to read me so easily?” 

“How many times am I supposed to forgive you, exactly? How many times will you expect me to?”

“I came here to grovel for forgiveness. Not ask for it. I’m smarter than that.” 

“Do they make you happy?” “Not as happy as you did, but we’re past that now. I settled, and I haven’t lived to regret it yet.” 

One character watches the other character go. 

One character watches the other character die and remains frantic, but nearly unable to do anything about it.

“I do think I fell in love with you in other universes, that those versions of us made it,” said Character A. “I just don’t quite think we were meant to make it in this one.”

“I loved you then, and I love you now, but I just don’t know if we’ll work.” 

“The kind of sadness I feel is inescapable.”

“With you, I was happy. I haven’t been happy since we split.” 

“I would’ve given everything for you. Somehow, I still know that that is not nearly enough.” 

“A love like ours is rare. I knew that then, and I know it now.” 

“You’re allowed to hate them,” Character C said. “You’re allowed to hate how things turned out. Don’t feel like you have to be fine with it because you didn’t die, especially not when you consider the fact that you almost fucking did.”

“I don’t deserve this,” Character A said. “I really don’t deserve this.” 

“I don’t need your fucking sympathy.”

“I can’t keep doing it alone anymore.”

“I wished to die the day you found me.” “Do you wish to die even still?” “I have had a death wish almost as long as I have been alive. Of course I do.” 

“I don’t find as much comfort in reading as I once did,” Character A laughed humorlessly. “I used to love it more than anything. Knowing that I have found other things to love just as much both comforts and pains me deeply.” 

“I would’ve set the world on fire for them at the drop of a hat. I hate the person I used to be, the person who would’ve done that.” 

“Kill me,” Character A whispered. “Please, just make it end. I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

“I’ve long learned that grief is just love in disguise.”

“Sometimes it’s just easier to give up than it is to keep going.”

“Tell me to leave, then! Tell me to leave, and I’ll go, but if you want me to stay then just admit it!”

“I didn’t believe I could be happy in unrequited love until I met you,” Character A said sadly. “But then I did meet you, and I fell in love, and I realized that you could love me or you could hate me and I would just carry on loving you anyway. I would love you without needing you to love me back if it made you happy enough.” 

“I could’ve saved them. I could’ve tried to save them.” 

“They wrote me letters. They fucking wrote me letters!”

“I know what it means to feel as though you have nothing to lose, but there is always something that can be taken from you.” 

“I can’t--I’m not ready to face this yet.”

“I would’ve sacrificed everything for them, but it looks like they beat me to it.”

“You’re the person who almost dies, not actually dies. C’mon, wake up. Please.” 

“I needed to tell them I loved them--I didn’t tell them I loved them! Fuck!” 

scream-sobbing when one character has realized the other has died

the process of realizing that the other has died

[suggahsweet]

A little bit in love with Glee!

and just life in general right now, honestly, but specifically Glee. I write this as a reminder for my future self who will probably make the same mistakes again and forget to be grounded, and forget that change is good and transitions take time but eventually you're going to find the sunshine of it all, because the first night of this season of Glee I was like, oh nooo. B wasn't able to come and there were SO many new faces and SO few of the OG members and we were in a new practising space that takes me a good 40 minutes to get to, and everyone's personality seemed SO big and I was worried that signing up this year was a big ole mistake. Specifically I had a conversation with Niall (whom I knew from the season where I was pregnant, what a trip that was bahaha) and Chandler, where Chandler immediately cussed me out and told me he hated me. And I knew it was a joke! I did! But the people pleaser in me was like no, please, you're supposed to love me and I will not rest until you do! Hahaha. And B said, don't worry, everyone was nervous, and everyone will settle down, and things won't feel so aggressive, and of course, she was completely, 100% right. A few weeks ago I really felt like we hit the part of the season where we all started gelling as a team, and everyone knows each other's personalities better, and everyone (I hope) feels accepted just as they are, plus I've always preferred learning the choreo and dances to the singing anyway, and when it all starts to come together that's the very best part. I come home every Thursday completely wired. And there are little things I love about everyone, like:

Alana's sense of humour. She is constantly cracking me up just by being her, and I was hit by a sense of extreme nostalgia this week realizing that we've been performing together now for over eight years. Amazing! She was talking about Glee Season 10 and I was like excellent, so this isn't going to end anytime soon, God willing!

Louis's smile and kindness

how some people open their mouth and their voices just come out, effortlessly. Looking at you, Vee!

how quick Chandler's brain works. I truly can't keep up with him when we talk...and he's no longer telling me he hates me so that's great 😂

Faith's unwavering commitment to perfect choreography and harmony memorization. I panic texted her the other day and she was immediately at the ready to be like calm down this is how we're supposed to sing it.

Mara has the absolute chillest vibes and I am here for it. Literally the first day of Glee she was like I don't even know whether I'm a soprano or alto, and yet I never hear her singing off-key or messing us up. We love to see it! (And hear it.)

Maurice. He's so sweet and brought a hat just for EJ. So thoughtful!

I hated that Nick left halfway through the season BUT Seb is one of my favourite singers and we go way back so the fact that he just showed up out of nowhere to razzle dazzle us is just the best

getting to know Billy who straight up feels like he could be part of my high school gang. He comes off as the self-deprecating funny guy so it's been a fun surprise to find out that, much like the character he plays in Freak Flag, he is indeed an onion. :)

and of course, carpooling with B, while probably not good for my overall bedtime on Thursday nights due to the fact that I am still high on social interaction until almost 11pm rather than coming down during my drive, gives me LIFE. We love a debrief, and debrief we do!

I can't believe the show is in two weeks. Already praying for a babysitter and some sort of setup to work next year so I can come back!

[mimicofmodes]

“The Ladies Waldegrave” by Joshua Reynolds, 1780 (NGS NG2171)

I’ve complained before about two very big pet peeves of mine - corset stuff and Regency women being dressed in 1770s-1780s clothes - but one that may dwarf them because of how frequently it comes up in historical and fantasy fiction is the oppression of embroidery.

That’s probably putting it a bit too strongly. It’s more like ... the annoyance of embroidery. Every character worth reading about knows instinctively that sewing is a) boring, b) difficult, c) mindless, and d) pointless. The author doesn’t have to say anything more than “Belinda threw down her needlework and looked out the window, sighing,” to signal that this is an independent woman whose values align with the modern reader, who’s probably not really understood by her mother or mother figure, and who probably will find an extraordinary man to “match” her rather than settling for someone ordinary. To look at an example from fantasy, GRRM uses embroidery in the very beginning of A Game of Thrones to show that the Stark sister who dislikes it is sympathetic and interesting, while the Stark sister who is competent at it is boring and conventional and obviously not deserving of a PoV (until later books, when her attention gets turned to higher matters); further into the book, of course, the pro-needlework sister proves to be weak-willed and naïve.

Rozsika Parker, in the groundbreaking 1996 work The Subversive Stitch, noted that “embroidery has become indelibly associated with stereotypes of femininity,” which is the core of the issue. "Instead embroidery and a stereotype of femininity have become collapsed into one another, characterised as mindless, decorative and delicate; like the icing on the cake, good to look at, adding taste and status, but devoid of significant content.” 

Parker also points out that the stereotype isn’t just one that was invented in the present day by feminists who hated the idea of being forced to do a certain craft. “The association between women and embroidery, craft and femininity, has meant that writers concerned with the status of women have often turned their attention towards this tangled, puzzling relationship. Feminists who have scorned embroidery tend to blame it for whatever constraint on women's lives they are committed to combat. Thus, for example, eighteenth-century critical commentators held embroidery responsible for the ill health which was claimed as evidence of women's natural weakness and inferiority.”

There are two basic problems I have with the trope, beyond the issue of it being incredibly cliché:

First: needlework was not just busywork

A big part of what drives the stereotype is the impression that what women were embroidering was either a sampler:

sampler embroidered by Jane Wilson, 14, in 1791 (MMA 2010.47)

or a picture:

unfinished embroidery of David and Abigail, British, 1640s-50s (MMA 64.101.1325)

That is, something meant to hang on the wall for no real purpose.

These are forms of schoolwork, basically. Samplers were made by young girls up to their early teens, and needlework pictures were usually something done while at school or under a governess as a showpiece of what was being learned - not just the stitching itself, but also often watercolors (which could be worked into the design), artistic sensibility, and the literature, history, or art that might be alluded to. And many needlework pictures made in schools were also done as mourning pieces, sometimes blank, for future use, and sometimes to commemorate a recent death in the family. A lot of them are awkward, clearly just done to pass the class, but others are really artwork.

Many schools for middle- and upper-class girls taught the making of these objects (and other “ornamental” subjects) alongside a more rigorous curriculum - geography, Latin, chemistry, etc. At some, sewing was also always accompanied by serious reading and discussion. (And it would often be done while someone read aloud or made conversation later in life, too.)

Once done with their education, women generally didn’t bother with purely decorative work. Some things that fabric could be embroidered for included:

Jackets 

Bed coverings and bedcurtains

Collars and undersleeves 

Pelerines 

Neck handkerchiefs and sleeve ruffles 

Screens

Upholstery

Handkerchiefs

Purses, wallets, and reticules

Boxes

Book covers

Plus other articles of clothing like waistcoats, caps, slippers, gown hems, chemises, etc. Women’s magazines of the nineteenth century often gave patterns and alphabets for personal use.

(Not to mention late nineteenth century female artists who worked in embroidery, but that’s something else.)

You could purchase all of these pre-embroidered, but many, many women chose to do it themselves. There are a number of reasons why: maybe they wanted something to do, maybe they felt like they should be doing needlework for moral/gender reasons, maybe they couldn’t afford to buy anything - and maybe they enjoyed it or wanted to give something they made to a person they loved. That firescreen above was embroidered by Marie Antoinette, someone who had any number of other activities to choose from. It’s no different than people today who like to knit their own hats and gloves or bake their own bread, except that it was way more mainstream.

embroidery patterns from Ackermann’s Repository in 1827 - they could be used on dresses, collars, handkerchiefs, etc.

Second: needlework wasn’t the only “useless” thing women were expected to do

Ignoring the bulk of point one for now and the value of embroidery - I mentioned “ornamental subjects” above. As many people know, young women of the upper and middle classes were expected to be “accomplished” in order to be seen as marriageable. This could include skills like embroidery, drawing, painting, singing, playing the piano (as well as other instruments, like the harp or the mandolin), speaking French (if not also Italian and/or German), as well as broader knowledge and abilities like being well-versed in music, literature, and poetry, dancing and walking gracefully, writing good letters in an elegant hand, and being able to read out loud expressively and smoothly.

This wasn’t a checklist. As the famous discussion in Pride and Prejudice shows, individuals could have different views on what actually made a woman accomplished:

“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”

“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”

“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”

“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley.

“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”

“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”

“Oh! certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”

“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

Mr. Bingley feels that a woman is accomplished if she has the ability to do a number of different arts and crafts. Miss Bingley feels (or says she feels) that it goes beyond specific skills and into branches of artistic attainment, plus broader personal qualities that could be imparted by well-bred governesses or mothers. And Mr. Darcy, of course, agrees with that but adds an academic angle as well.

But what ties all of these accomplishments together is their lack of value on the labor market. A woman could earn a living with any one accomplishment, if she worked hard enough at it to become a professional, but young ladies weren’t supposed to be professional-level good because they by definition weren’t going to earn a living. All together, they trained a woman for the social and domestic role of a married woman of the upper middle or upper class, or, if she couldn’t get married, a governess or teacher who would share her accomplishments with the next generation.

(To be fair, almost none of the trappings of an upper-middle/upper class male education had anything to do with the kind of career training that college frequently is today, either. Men were educated to know the cultural touchpoints of their class and fit in with their peers.)

There are reasons that an individual person/character might specifically object to embroidery, but it was far from the only “useless” thing that an unconventional heroine would be required to do against her inclination by her conventional mother/grandmother/aunt/chaperone. Embroidery stands out to modern audiences because most of the other accomplishments are now valued as gender-neutral arts and skills.

“The Embroidery Frame”, by Mathilde Weil, ca. 1900 (LOC 98501309)

So, some thoughts for writers of historical fiction (or fantasy that’s supposed to be just like the 19th/18th/17th/etc century):

- If your heroine doesn’t like embroidery, she probably doesn’t like a number of other things she’s expected to do. Don’t pull out embroidery as either more expected or more onerous than them. Does she hate to sit still? I’d imagine she also dislikes drawing and practicing the piano. Would she prefer to do academic subjects? She probably also resents learning French instead of Latin, and music and dancing. Does she hate enforced femininity? Then she’d most likely have a problem with all of the accomplishments.

- If your heroine just and specifically doesn’t like embroidery, try to show in the narrative that that’s not because it’s objectively bad, and only able to be liked by the boring. Have another sympathetic character do it while talking to the heroine. Note that the hero carries a flame-stitched wallet that’s his sister’s work. Emphasize the heroine’s emotional connection to her deceased or absent mother through her affection for clothing or upholstery that her mother embroidered - or through a mourning picture commemorating her. There are all kinds of things you can do to show that it’s a personal preference rather than a stupid craft that doesn’t take talent and skill!

mourning picture for Daniel Goodman, probably embroidered by a Miss Goodman, 1803 (MMA 56.66)

[ijustwant2write]

The Cheat-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @myimaginesworld​)

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) makes the biggest mistake of her life in one night, praying that her husband will never find out. But no matter how hard she tries to hide it, Thomas Shelby knows everything.

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Cheating, swearing, mentions of weapon, angst, arguing, divorce, threats, rape, violence, death

                                          *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Why had I been so stupid?

I was a reckless woman, a cheater, a filthy, lying cheater. He didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he had been through. Not after everything he had done for me. Yet here I was, hunched up in shock whilst laying in another man’s bed, miles away from my own home.

My wedding ring reflected the light coming through the window, reminding me that I was indeed a married woman. My eyes shut quickly, blocking out the sight of it. It was a cruel tease, rubbing the salt in an already huge open wound. How was I supposed to get out of this? What was I going to do?

The truth is I’m not going to get out of this and I can’t do anything about that.

Everyone knew who I was. I wasn’t going to sneak away easily. If someone spotted me, Tommy would find out almost immediately. Sometimes it was scary how powerful he was. The stranger beside me was still asleep, giving me the chance to get away. Slowly shifting out of bed, I shivered at the coldness, my body covered in goosebumps within seconds. Our clothes were tangled up together, just as we were last night, meaning it was taking longer than it should have for me to escape. I hadn’t even put my underwear back on before I heard him stir. Freezing, my head whipped round to see if he was waking up, and much to my dismay, he was already looking at me, a smirk on his lips.

Without hesitating, I grabbed my purse from the floor, not even fumbling as I pulled out my gun, aiming it right at his head. His eyes widened, mouth falling open in shock.

“If you speak a word of this to anyone, or even think about it, I’ll have a Peaky Blinder take your eyes. Or I could get it all over with now and save you the pain.” I threatened.

He furiously nodded, not able to say anything.

“You don’t know me, you never saw me, and you were never with me. Do you understand?”

He repeated his actions, managing to squeak out a ‘yes’. I felt like I couldn’t move, that if I did, he would somehow shout out to the world that we had slept together. What the fuck was I supposed to do now?

(Y/N), you’re standing stark naked in front a man with a gun. 

“Where’s the best exit to sneak away?” I composed myself, slowly lowering the gun.

“O-out the back. It’s a tiny alleyway.”

Standing still for a few more seconds, I made sure he wasn’t going to do anything stupid, continuing to hastily change back into the clothes from the night before.

“You got a hat? A coat?”

“Downstairs.”

“Good, remember what I said. It wasn’t a bluff.”

Rushing downstairs, I took the hat and coat he spoke of, glad that they were big, better to hide myself with. Finding my way to the kitchen, I spotted the back door to the tiny yard, which had a gate leading to the alley. Although I was quick in my step, I had to look normal, not suspicious. It was still very early morning, a slight fog layered the streets (good, another advantage for myself). My mind began to relax a little, seeing that no one was about, until a distinctive voice called out to me.

“No point hiding Mrs Shelby.” Johnny called out from down the street. 

He was leaning against a car, obviously borrowed from Tommy, hands in his pockets with one leg crossed over the other. I glared at him, quickly checking my empty surroundings before marching over to him. 

“Keep your voice down!” I hissed at him, worried that people would be spying through their windows. 

“He knows (Y/N).”

I hated the look on his face. It was a look of disgust, bewilderment, he couldn’t believe I had done such a horrible thing to the man I loved. Why would a woman who had it all, throw everything away in one night? I was married to one of the most powerful men in the country, he could give me anything I wanted, provide protection, money, anything I asked for! And here I was at the crack of dawn, in last night’s clothes and sneaking out like a teenager.

No more words were exchanged as Johnny drove me home. I could see why he was sent to fetch me. Perhaps he would try and get something out of me, or make me slip up. Any old bodyguard would have no effect on me. It also meant the staff knew less about the situation, though I knew word would spread around soon enough.

If I didn’t feel sick already, I surely did now. Johnny parked up all too soon in front of the house, the tires on the gravel making too much noise for my liking. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon, but I wanted to keep hiding in the darkness. Johnny opened the door for me, and I hesitated to get out, dreading what I could be in for. Would it be a screaming match? Would he be silent? Or would I be facing something more...violent?

Slowly stepping out of the car, I avoided eye contact with Johnny Dogs, trying to clear my mind before I had to face Tommy. My legs buckled slightly, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the after effects of alcohol or the fear surging through me. Going into this extravagant house felt wrong. I had decided to stay in a run down, tiny, dirty house squeezed in amongst other properties, rather than this luscious home last night. Now here I was, walking in as if I didn’t live here. This could be the last time I ever stood in these very walls.

If anyone else was here, they wouldn’t have to tell me where to go. He was going to be in his office, cigarette in his mouth and a glass of whiskey in his hand. He would remain silent as I walked in, take his time, maybe down the rest of his drink before speaking. I knew Tommy. He was my husband after all.

My hands were clammy as I opened the door, seeing the back of him as he stared out of the window. I was right about the cigarette and glass. I silently took in a deep breath, approaching the desk timidly, as if I was a child getting told off. That’s how meek I felt, he was practically going to do that, but instead of being sent to my room, I was going to be kicked out of the house. 

“This is late for you. You were never one to stay out that late.” he started, still not looking at me.

I struggled to think of a response.

“The only time you’ve seen the sunrise is when you waited for me, after that big fight. If I hadn’t married you before that day, I certainly would have then.”

I deserved that.

He turned to face me.“Maybe I should have held my breath.”

My voice was extremely shaky as I spoke, tears already rolling down my cheeks."Tommy, I could say this a million times but it will never express how deeply I feel this. I am so sorry for what I did. You know that I would do anything I could to change all of this-"

"You knew what you were doing."

"I-I don't know how to explain it-"

"You fucked another man, (Y/N). Plain and simple." he stubbed out his cigarette harshly, slamming down the glass at the same time.

"No, I ruined everything, I just...I don't understand why I did it!"

"I don't either. Come on then, let's figure it out together." I hated how patronising he was being.

"Tommy I-"

"It can't be me. I haven't slept with anyone. I've given you a good life, haven't I? Was there something you didn't like? Perhaps you didn't like the way the cooks scrambled your eggs in the morning? Or maybe the newest dress I bought for you wasn't up to standards for you?"

"Fucking stop it Tommy!" I raised my voice.

"Oh, you're raising your voice at me now? I didn't realise I was the one in the wrong."

"I know what I did was ducking stupid, and the most disgusting thing I've ever done. I've broken a promise from our marriage, I've deceived you, I acted as if I didn't love you, and for the life of me, I don't know why!"

"I'm not giving you time to figure that out."

"What?"

"I want you out of this house."

"Tommy, please-"

"You knew this was coming as soon as you woke up this morning."

"Yes, and I've been trying to think how I could fix this."

"Well?"

I opened my mouth, quickly closing it when I had no idea what to say.

"Ah, nothing. That's what I thought."

"Tommy-"

"No, fucking enough. You've done the damage."

"But, why can't we do something to fix this?"

"Because it's a big fucking mess. And I don't have the time nor patience to deal with something like this."

"Y-you're not even going to try? Just give up on us like that?"

"Might want to remind yourself what you did last night. I want you out of the house by the morning. You can have a portion of money to keep you going, I won't put you on the streets."

"Tommy, I love you! I want to forget this happened, learn from this-"

"Learn from this? Fucking learn?!"

He wasn't listening, and it was making me angry."Oh, like you're a saint and haven't slept with multiple women!"

"Not whilst I was married! You can try to justify all of this to make yourself feel better, but it won't change what you've done."

"I know! And it's killing me!"

“So how do you think that makes me feel?!” he shouted.“You betrayed me! You were one of the few people I trusted.”

“You can trust me!”

Tommy’s eyes were wide.“Are you fucking stupid?! I am not going to stand here all morning shouting at you. There is no resolving this.”

“B-but...”

“I can’t be with someone who goes behind my back. If this was the other way around, you would be thinking the exact same. So don’t tell me what we’re going to do, because we’re not going to do anything. It’s over (Y/N).”

                                        *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I let out a heavy huff as I leaned back in my chair, staring at the numbers written out in front of me. After the divorce, Tommy stayed true to his world, giving me a big quantity of money. I had enough to buy a small house, I could live off of the rest for at least a year, maybe a year and a half. However, I knew I would have to start working again. I wasn’t against that, it would mean I could make friends at least. But it would be difficult to find an employer that wanted the ex-wife of Thomas Shelby.

Tommy was able to file for the divorce papers extremely quickly, meaning I was out of the house and his life much sooner than I thought. That didn’t stop me from trying. I apologised everyday, trying to convince Tommy nothing like that would ever happen again, even as the movers were taking my belongings out of the house. But hid mind was made up. I had lost him, I lost the man I loved. 

I heard a thud outside, as if someone had slammed the garden gate. At first I tried to shake it off, it was slightly windy. Perhaps I didn’t put it on the latch properly. When I didn’t hear anything else, I ignored it, looking back on my calculations. I didn’t have to panic about money just yet, though it was still a good idea to be prepared. I was about to redo my numbers, wanting to double check my answers when another sound echoed outside. This time I kept my guard up, heading to my purse on the side and getting out my gun. Turning off the lights, I peeked out of the windows, checking all around the house, but didn’t find anything. There were no more noises, no signs of anyone trying to break in. I was being paranoid, because I found myself lying awake, gun clasped in my hand and staring at the phone, debating if I should call him.

“Hello?”

I had given in.“Tom, it’s (Y/N). Please don’t put the phone down!”

“What do you want? It’s the middle of the night.”

“You say that as if you have a regular sleep schedule.”

He didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry, this is going to sound stupid but I think someone is watching me. I heard noises earlier and just have a strange feeling, like the one I got when-”

“And what do you want me to do about that?”

I was shocked.“I...I had no one else to call. I just thought-”

“Go to bed (Y/N), there’s no one out to get you, not anymore.”

The phone was slammed down, and I couldn’t comprehend what just happened. Tommy may have hated me, despise me even, but what if I was truly in danger? Would he never be there to help me again? It seemed stupid to ask such a question, however, after having years of someone looking out for you. There was no rest for me that night, I couldn’t recall my eyes shutting for more than a second. Not only was I kept awake from the fear, I also couldn’t stop thinking about my ex-husband’s behaviour.

With heavy bags under my eyes, I dragged my feet along the pavement, arms aching from carrying all my food shopping. I hated how far away I was from my home on days like this. I wish I could have afforded to keep my car, another thing Tommy gifted to me. Trying to conjure up any sort of energy left from yesterday, I pushed myself onwards. But as I tried to keep positive, a man practically jumped around the corner of a building, causing us to collide, my food spilling everywhere.

“What the fuck?!” I snapped out of instinct.

“You can’t talk to us like that.” he snarled.

“Who? Actually, I don’t care.”

I bent down to pick up what I could, when someone from behind scooped their arms underneath mine, dragging me backwards. I screamed out loudly, making my body go limp and heavy to make it difficult for whoever had a hold of me. What made me more scared was the fact that there were at least three people walking by, all turning their heads away as if it made me invisible. Flailing around, my heart started racing as I realised I might not escape this, especially as we were met with more men. 

“What are you doing?!” I yelled out.

“Avenging those taken from us, by your husband.” one of them growled.

“I’m not with him anymore!”

“Too late to go back now.”

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The two policemen fidgeted as they stood on the doorstep of Thomas Shelby’s house. They had no power over this man, he had somehow legally/illegally made his way up in the world, bought a huge house, multiple cars, lots of land...and always managed to cover up his tracks. However, today they had to forget about that, they were here on serious business.

Tommy sat at his desk, surrounded by a cloud of smoke from his cigarette. He was preparing for a family meeting, they had a lot of work to do. There was a knock at his office door, and he called for the servant to enter, not even looking up from his papers. 

“Mr Shelby, there are two policemen here to see you.” they explained.

Tommy wasn’t phased. He knew he hadn’t left any tracks from any recent plan of his.“Alright, let them in.”

The policemen timidly entered, approaching the desk. Tommy didn’t bother standing, putting out his cigarette and waiting for them to speak.

“Mr Shelby, I’m afraid we have some...unfortunate news.” one of them started.

“And what would that be then?” 

The officers glanced at each other, scared what could happen to them when they revealed the news.“It’s about your ex-wife, Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She’s dead.”

Tommy felt like his heart stopped for a second.“What?”

“She was found dead in an alley way. It appeared she was...forced there, raped, beaten and killed.”

His gaze fell lower, shock filling his system. (Y/N) was dead. She had called him too. She was scared and he did nothing because of the spite in him.

“We’re sorry for your loss, sir. But, we also need to have someone come confirm the body is hers. It’s procedure and-”

“Get out.”

“Yes sir. We will arrange something at a later time.”

The officers scurried away and out of the house as quickly as they could. The servant waiting on the outside of the door had heard every single word, instantly rushing to inform their co-workers. (Y/N) had been a good employer, she didn’t deserve to die that way.

Tommy let out a painful yell as he swiped everything off of his desk. papers went flying, the glass full of old cigarettes and ash smashed along with his glass of whiskey. He kept screaming, not knowing how else to let go of his rage. He pushed over chairs, smashed statues and it still didn’t help. His chest raised up and down as he breathed heavily. His eyes were like saucers, hands gripped into fists as he debated what else he could smash. 

What would have happened if he had just helped her? She wasn’t asking for him to love her or take her back. He was the only person she knew that could protect her. She was alone, scared and asked for the smallest thing. Would she still be alive if he sent men out to patrol around her house? Could she at least escaped with a few bruises? Those men wanted revenge because of something he did, because of his killing. His worst fear had come true. (Y/N) was gone, and this was something he could never fix. 

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

25 Days of Ficmas 2021

Hey y'all! I know I still have a backlog from October, but December is coming so I want to include something seasonal in there too.

I'm only doing 25 this year, and hopefully I'll have them all out by the end of the month. I've learned my lesson from Halloween.

Rules:

Send Me a Prompt:

Taking Care of Them When They Get a Cold

Hot Chocolate

Snowball Fight

Build a Snowman

Play Christmas Music for Hours

Make a Wish List

Ice Skating

Lending a Coat/Scarf/Hat to Keep Them Warm

Cuddling to Keep Warm

First Time Experiencing Snow

My Car Got Stuck in the Snow and You Saved Me

Matching Christmas Sweaters

Making Holiday Cookies

Sing Carols/Holiday Music

Holiday Movie

Secret Santa

Getting Them in the Christmas Mood

Putting Up Christmas Lights

Tree Decorating

All I Want for Christmas is You

Fake Date to Family Christmas

Snowed in at the Airport Christmas Eve

Spiked Eggnog

Mistletoe Kiss

Last Minute Shopping

Wrapping Presents

School Christmas Play

Meeting your boyfriend/girlfriend’s family for the first time at Christmas

Surprising Your boyfriend/girlfriend Christmas Eve

Open Gifts

Christmas Morning

“Look, we’re standing under mistletoe.”

“Did we really get each other the same gift?”

“Are you seriously leaving cookies for Santa?”

“You did not just throw that at me!”

“You know I hate Christmas shopping.”

“Hey, it’s snowing!”

“Did you really get us matching Christmas sweaters?”

“Hey, you weren’t supposed to get me anything!”

“I hate the holiday season.”

“I don’t need a present if I’ve got you.”

“Tell me again why you’ve dragged me to this holiday party?”

“I know we agreed on no presents this year, but I got you this.”

“Surely you realize we’re snowed in, right?”

“Let me show you exactly why I’m on the naughty list.”

“You didn’t need to bring that, your presence is enough of a gift to me.”

“Shut up and look at the mistletoe.”

“Shit, you’re freezing!”

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

“I might hate the holidays, but you don’t, so here’s your gift.”

“Shut up and open the present already!”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“I didn’t think I’d be spending my holidays with you.”

“Here, let me warm you up.”

“This Tree won’t fit in the house” *Time skip* ”I told you so”

“How could you?!”  “All I said was that [Person C]’s cookies were better!”  “You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

“How dare you say Santa isn’t real!”

“I’ve never seen a white Christmas before!”

“If you can’t get home for the holidays then I won’t go home either.”

“Next Christmas we’ll be needing one more stocking...”

“I didn’t have a star so I just-” “Put a photo card of [BLANK] instead.”

“Don’t tell me you ate the whole- YOU ATE THE WHOLE TIN OF COOKIES?!”

“I can’t believe you’re making snow angels at a time like this.”

Stuck in an Elevator with Them on Christmas Day

Going on a Horse Drawn Sleight Ride

Person A’s Friend Rigs the Secret Santa Game Because A Has a Crush on Person B

“I can’t get home in time for Christmas...”

“Please stop singing”

“If you carry on this halls won’t be the only thing getting decked.” *Proceeds to hit person A with decorations*

“Did you seriously just spike the eggnog?”

Make Up Your Own!

Send Me a Character From One of the Following Fandoms:

Star Wars (Prequels, Original Trilogy, Sequel Trilogy, The Clone Wars, Thrawn Trilogy)

Marvel/MCU

Star Trek: TOS

M*A*S*H

The Magnificent Seven (2016)

Game of Thrones

Any of My OCs

Or other fandoms you’ve seen my reblog

Remember to Send All Requests to My Ask Box

REBLOG AND COMMENT WHEN I POST YOUR REQUEST

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 30

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L  Warnings: Language, angst, meeting new characters Important Question: do you guys prefer shorter or longer chapters? also, I listened to first love / late spring by Mitski for this ch if anyone else wants to listen along!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 30: Like a Tall Child

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Remus was alone for the trip back to King’s Cross; not wanting to be stuck with James or Peter who would only pester him. He mulled over his thoughts as his head rested against the window, watching the scenery whip by. But the more he had time to think, it caused more guilt to build; they were only trying to be supportive. They cared so much, still willing to associated with someone like… him. And all he did was push them away. He didn’t deserve real mates like them.

Remus tried to distract himself: knitting, drawing — reading next year’s material, but settled on pulling out his cartridge of cigarettes. About to light one, his attention was drawn to the soft knocking on the carriage door. Lily was there, waving before coming in.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door and sitting down. “I wanted to say bye for the summer.”

He exhaled, now itching for the rush of nicotine while Lily fidgeted in her seat. He already knew why she was there.

“Sev — Snape — came to me a couple days ago…”

It was impossible to escape, wasn’t it?

“They’re mad, his theories… He’s been telling me the entire year and kept going on about this one story… wild story of you and Y/N and the other Marauders…” Lily looked up nervously.

Instead of getting angry, Remus closed his eyes, feeling himself sink further into the cushions, centring his breathing. “What did he say?”

“He’s been telling me you’re a… a...”

“Werewolf?”

She froze at the word, having to take a deep inhale and suddenly looked paler than usual. Remus wanted to jump out of the moving train. “Yes,” she stated, “But I told him to bugger off.”

Lily stopped again, meeting his eyes. “So… It’s true?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Lily sat straight, leaning over and even putting a hand on her chest, close to her heart. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

(Letters between Y/N and friends)

To my lovely Whiskers, I hope your summer has been grand so far. Are you sure you can’t spend time with me? It’s been so lonely. Prongs

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Dear Bambi, Unfortunately, I can’t. Mom’s dragging me to New York for the month. Something about being invited to do a special surgery. Said leaving me alone will do no good. I promise to bring you back a souvenir? How are things with Black? Whiskers

━━━༻✩༺━━━

My adoring, wonderful Whiskers, And it hasn’t. My parents are concerned. They’ve been trying to get me to talk about what happened but I can’t. Dumbledore and McGonagall have already started their punishments. He lost over 200 points for next year, got detention for half the year and he can’t try out for the Quidditch team if he wanted to. I wonder what they’ll do next. I love souvenirs! All things Muggle! Yours truly, Prongs/Bambi/James

━━━༻✩༺━━━

July 20th, 1976 Meet me in Times Square at 1 pm on the 8th. There’s a bench outside a bagel store, there’s no way you’ll miss it. Until next time, Matthew G.

━━━༻✩༺━━━

¡Hola! Greetings from Barcelona! My brothers took a few weeks off to spend time with me to come to Spain with my parents! They’re dragging me to a football game later. I heard they call it ‘soccer’ in North America. M. McKinnon

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Y/N L/N, Hello, I hope you’re having a wonderful break. Your letters are the highlight of my day and they keep me busy. So I hate to inform you that you need to stop sending me letters for now. I’m not supposed to be getting any and my parents are going to start confiscating them if I receive any more. I’m sorry. I can’t wait to see you in the fall. R.A.B

━━━༻✩༺━━━

I’m visiting Tuney with my parents in a few days. She moved to London for a clerical job in March and we’re meeting her boyfriend, Vernon! He sounds nice but she’s told me she’s nervous about me and magic around him. Lily

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Petals! I’m sure you’ll be fine! Who couldn't love you? Write back and tell me what happens!

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Whiskers, I’m with my parents up in Wales in their cottage. I was born there before having to move for my Dad’s work. Also, I think I have to get a rabbit. James always told people that I got my scars from a poorly behaved rabbit and if I’m not seen with one soon, people will start to question. Remus

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Does this mean I get to call you Moony now? Professor Moony? Wales? And that’s where that small accent comes from. It bleeds through when you’re concentrating or relaxing. And a rabbit? At least they’re cute! I’m sure you can just Transfigure a book though. Y/N

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Professor Moony? Haha, okay! And really? I never knew. I’m kind of embarrassed now. I’ve thought about that but at this point, I think it would be easier just to have one.

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Oh no! It’s nice! Gives you personality. I think it suits you well How about… Moody Moony near full moons? And Moody Moony Mondays on Mondays.

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Now you’ve gone too far. Bloody fucking Moody Moony? Have you ever heard of Mad-Eye Moody?

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Would you prefer 'my Moony' then?

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Yes, actually.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

August 6th, 1976

“Hurry up!”

She thudded down from the top of the staircase, dragging her trunk behind while her mother sped out of the terminal door, flagging down one of the zipping yellow taxis with her luggage in hand.

It was strange, being with her mother again after almost a year apart. She hadn’t come to King’s Cross again, instead sending her a bus fare in anticipation of school ending. She hoped for some sort of recognition, any kind of sign that she was missed but was only given a side-armed hug and delved back into work.

Y/N wondered if maybe she just didn’t want her there, hoping she would get lost and never come back. She only had been on a bus in London twice, therefore almost ensuring that she would get lost and would have stayed lost if she didn’t have extra spare change to use a payphone.

Ignoring the crackle of whispers as she strode to the cab, people blatantly stared at her unnatural coloured hair, as she entered the car, slamming the door shut.

“Where ya ladies off too?” Said the driver, pulling out a map from their car door.

“Cranberry Street, Brooklyn Heights.”

It was a quiet drive, aside from the driver drumming their fingers on the steering wheel at the sound of the Bee Gees blasting in the background. She watched other cabs whipping back and forth, people going on with their days, the dirty streets and building under construction.

“Hey, mom?” She asked, reasoning now was a good time to talk about her OWL results. She’d gotten them mere seconds before leaving their house back in London and she’d been putting off looking at the results until now.

She only grunted, flicking through one of her medical journals, jotting down notes. “I don’t have time right now.”

Y/N sighed, that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach expanded again. “It’s kind of important.”

“Not now.” She waved her hand and ended the conversation.

Thirty minutes later, the cab came to a stop as they grabbed their luggage and strolled up to the brownstone building they were renting for the month.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Jet lag got to her as she unwinded lounged until finally getting up from bed that morning as her mom rushed around the house. She frantically was putting on shoes, dressed impeccably sharp, no doubt in hopes to make an impression as her eyes flew across her journal. Her feet were scrambling to the door as she flung her bag over her shoulder.

“Have a good d —” And then the door slammed shut.

She stared blankly at the door for a while and then turned around, getting ready for her day. A daint drum of excitement yet nervousness built up, pushing aside that sinking feeling. Today she was going to see Matthew again.

Having a few hours to spare, Y/N walked around, marvelling at the tall buildings and lights before heading into the heart of Time Square, immediately spotting the bench outside the bagel shop. She sat, waiting for him anxiously. She made sure to wear a hat, covering any sight of hair to avoid weird stares and chatter.

But then a few minutes turned into ten and then twenty minutes later.

Slipping out the letter again to make sure, she re-read it. Time Square, at one, today… near the bagel shop…

“Where y’at?”

Her head lifted as she jumped to her feet and pulled each other into a tight hug.

“Matthew!”

His face nuzzled into the side of her neck, arms wrapped around tight as her face pressed gently into his chest. Eventually, she pulled away - arms outstretched to get a good look.

Matthew Gaplin looked different. His hair, coarse and thick, had grown. He was taller, filled out more, tan skin became even tanner from the beating sun and he filled out.

His smile was large. “S’been so long.”

She gave him a small whack!

“Ow!” He jumped back, “What’s wrong wiv ya?”

“I thought you stood me up.”

“Sorry, doing something for Mom. Had to wait on line forever.”

He looked down bashfully, now staring at the hat. His face made a disgusted look. “It’s disgusting out. Why are you wearing —” Curiously lifting the hat, his lids widened astronomically as Y/N grabbed it, covering her wild hair.

“I told you,” she hissed.

“Right the Potter sport!” He gave a full-body laugh. “Oh come on, I wanna see it again!”

But her hand clamped down on that hat to prevent him from pulling it off. “No! The Muggles keep judging —“

“Muggles?” Matthew’s brows furrowed. “The fuck is a Muggle? Sounds… demeaning.”

“Sorry, it’s what they call No-Majs.”

“Ahh,” and then he moved to loop an arm around her shoulders and continued to walk. “Too good to use ol’American terms?”

“Turned British snob.”

They laughed loudly as he took charge, showing her around the city. There was something so calming amid the chaos of New York. The bustle, low chatter and his enthusiasm made it all the better.

Soon enough, after hours of walking around, they both came to a stop in a large park as they grew hungry. Matthew disappeared for a while, leaving her alone to lay down on the soft grass before returning, holding up a brown bag with two drinks.

“Got us bagels wiv schmear.”

She mumbled out a thanks and took it from him as he sat down on the grass beside her.

“Missed ya, really.”

She shoved him playfully, his head dropping bashfully. “Shut up.”

It stayed quiet for a bit, as they listened to the birds chirping until he broke the silence again. “Ya thinkin’ ‘bout moving back eventually, right?”

“Why?”

Matthew gave her a haughty look, contemplating his words carefully. “Do ya… not know? They’re losing the war.”

Momentary terror gripped her heart but she swallowed it down fast. “Matthew,” her voice dropped, “Please, I want a fun summer… can we not talk about the war? I have more than enough time to worry later."

He wanted to keep talking, worried for his good friend but he refrained, biting down on his lip and nodded stiffly.

“So…” he thought to himself, contemplating how to change the direction of their conversation and fast. “Fess up, what’s been goin’ on over there.”

“Huh?”

“You’re telling me you haven't — what is it called? Kissing?”

“Snogging?”

He smiled. “You’re telling me you haven’t snogged anyone of those rich Old-Majs yet?”

“Nope!” She spoke too quickly and voice was a little too high.

“Liar. Ya going tell me who then?” Y/N looked down, hand going to fiddle with the fem of her clothes while Matthew shook her. “Come on! Tell me!”

“Fine! His name is Sirius Black.”

Matthew's eyes widened in recognition as he sat upright. “You don’t mean the Black family? Gawd! No way!”

“What?”

“And ya don’t even know!” Matthew was full of amusement. “They’re one of the oldest wizarding families out there! Are you still wiv him?”

Y/N stopped, trying to conceal a chuckle. She didn’t have it in her to lie anymore. “No! He almost got me killed.”

“Ha. Ha, very clever. Fine, don’t tell me.”

“You? Anything exciting?”

Matthew snorted. “Fought over a fin if that counts as exciting.”

“You know that’s not what I'm talking about,” she teased.

He abruptly became very serious and it had Y/N sitting up straighter. Matthew breathed in, this time not looking at her but instead at his metal pop can. “I’ve… had a tumble wiv a few... didn’t matter their… genders.”

It took a second for his words to click in but when it did, her mouth fell open and saw his face fall as she pulled him into a tight hug. “I don’t care who you cop, just be safe and have fun.”

He mumbled into her shoulder. “Been rehearsing that since I knew you were visitin’.”

“Love ya, could never judge you.” He tried to look insulted from the babying but prickled with tears before wiping them away quickly.

“Bless ya!”

“You alright though?”

“Now that I know your reaction, never betta. Now, you talk, enough ‘bout me.”

After making sure he was okay, Y/N prattled about Hogwarts. Matthew would pop in a few times, asking her to clarify or ask what words the British used — he often called her his ‘British insight.’ She rambled much about her day, her new friends but made sure to leave out a few details. Matthew became peculiarly silent through most of her speech. It wasn’t like him to not try to speak up, but he looked at her with something she’d only seen a few times prior.

Matthew stared at her for a long time, analyzing with underlying adoration. “What did them Brits do to ya?”

She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Ya sound different.” He says calmly, going to sip on his pop. “Talk funny.”

“Tawk funny,” she mocked and earned a shove. “Different? How so?”

“Everything ‘bout you seems different. Y’look happier,” he smiles, although there was a twinge of hurt. “Talk softer, look different — move differently and ya voice sounds different… but the same.”

She takes a bit of her food. “I hope that isn’t a bad thing.”

Matthew smiles gently, sheepish but there. “Not at all.”

She smiled back. Matthew always knew how to make her smile and it felt good, normal.

“Happy looks good on ya.”

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

She finally sat down, tired from the long day she spent wandering the city. But it wasn’t long until a tapping sound came from the window. Celeste was there, waiting with a letter in her beak. She walked up to her, letting her fly inside and opened the letter.

Got my OWL results. Outstanding in Astronomy, DADA, Charms, Transfigs. Exceeds Expectations in everything else but an Acceptable in Potions. Moony

She re-read that last part. Remus getting Acceptable in Potions? Her attention travelled to the stark white envelope peeking out from the side pocket of her carry-on. She marched up to it, ripping it open and scanned the paper.

Outstanding in Transfiguration, Potions and Herbology, Arithmancy. Exceeds Expectations in everything else except Poor in History of Magic. She cringed at that.

She immediately got up from her seat. Rushing over to the master bedroom, peeking her head in. “Mom?” She said quietly, “Can I talk to you.”

“Didn’t I tell you I was busy?” Her voice cut through. “It’s not the time to be a nuisance.”

A scorching feeling of anger thrummed through her but kept her voice low and steady. “That was a few days ago.”

"My answer didn't change."

Any semblance of calm vanished. “It’s about my OWLs. My future. I need some sort of guidance.”

“I wouldn’t understand them,” she sighed and peered up. There was an odd expression, borderlining on confusion and something else. “It’s not the same. I’m not a… witch like you are. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I’ll make it into No-Maj terms?” Y/N’s voice was tight and came rushing over to where she sat on the couch. And laid out her examination results. “Look, an O is the same as getting an A! It’s the highest grade you can get. And here,” she pointed, “My teacher, Professor Slughorn, invites me to parties because of my work in Potions class. I’m one of his top students.”

She glanced at her mom excitedly but was met with a look of annoyance and slight judgement. But she continued, “A-and in Herbology I'm doing excellent too! I was becoming interested in becoming a Healer. I told you in my letters. It’s similar to being —”

“I’m sorry,” her mother said but it didn’t have any trace of guilt or sorrow, “I’m busy and you’re getting in the way of work — my achievements — that you know are important.”

“Are mine not important?”

A thick, profound silence filled the space between them. Everything about the connotation had her averting her body, feeling the sinking in her chest explode. From the war, traumatic near death experience and her mother's constant aloof nature, it was her cracking point.

Snatching the OWLs results, she walked out the door, shutting it gently before diving into her room; throwing the covers over her head.

All the New-Maj and No-Maj children were told stories of the Boogeyman. To Y/N, it felt comparable to reverting to a small child as she tucked herself into a tight ball. She recalled watching all the other children running up their parents, being roped with large hugs and smiles, surrounded with infinite quantities of love as they left the school playground. She remembered being envious, wanting to have two parents as the images of the Boogeyman drew near.

There was an overwhelming sense to scream — to cry out for guidance as the knot in her stomach grew. Instead of her mother coming to her rescue — to reassure, to give any sense of security or safety while other parents would scare off the Boogeyman or monsters ready to nip at their children’s toes under the bed, Y/N was left in the dark as all sense of relief or love vanished. It left her vulnerable, exposed to the monsters lurking in the dark.

Her mother may have not been physically absent but it sure felt like it.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Slang dictionary:

Fin = $5 / five dollar bill Bagels with schmear = bagels with cream cheese Wait on line = the same as 'Wait in line' Pop = Canadian slang for soda / soft drinks Sport / old sport = (depending on the context) a term of endearment similar to buddy, pal, friend

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[janiedean]

Hi, you're very good at explaining stuff so I was wondering if you could write something about how Brienne ending up as someone's bodyguard/in their kingsguard or whatever isn't a good ending for her (even if the person is supposedly worthy?) Thank you!

I think I went into it more in depth back in the day in case it's under the janie writes meta tag but in short:

there is a thing named character development which means that if brienne starts the series wanting to be in renly's kg then ending the series being in someone else's kg... makes no sense

specifically: brienne wants to be in renly's kg because she doesn't literally see any other way to be in songs/be the closest thing to a knight she can get/be near the man she loves

breaking it more in depth: - brienne is in love with renly because other than being her type he's also the one person who treated her with some basic decency like not even WELL just with some basic decency - renly knows that and he admittedly said he kept her around bc he knew she was loyal but like... he didn't care about her - brienne thinks that she can't marry anyone bc she's not marriage material nor love story that is reciprocated material but also that like... she can't be a knight officially bc she's a woman so basically being in renly's kg is the closest she can get to it - which means that basically she's gone like 'okay I'll live a celibate life forever in the shadow of a man I love who doesn't love me back for whom I'd die when he doesn't care either way because it's the closest to being a knight I can manage in this shitty society even if I'm technically a highborn lady and I would actually like to have a family and someone to love me back' - which is... a pretty miserable position to live also I can 100% assure you that thinking you'll never get anyone and you have to settle is like Not Standard Attractive Experience™ and like... so she's an ugly™ woman who can't have what she wants but tries anyway and settles for the best thing

also: kingsguards in asoiaf are coded as bad like I've said it since forever but the kingsguards are rotten organizations, knighthood is a rotten thing and all the good knights in these books are people who are reviled, laughed at or not consider themselves one (jaime brienne and sandor l m a o) and all the ones that are considered good/great/spotless are... bad or shit or gregor clegane and as I've ranted more than once (here and here) brienne is slated to be the in-verse recognized truest/best knight including actually getting the title so if she's that good the point is... she can't be part of a rotten organization now is it

now: the moment renly's toast and she can't be in his kg anymore brienne's sl goes like... she swears herself to the first woman who doesn't treat her like crap/respects her which is supposed to become her own aerys and meets the guy she's canonically in love with by the end of affc with whom she has a storyline that's like... stated to go in a reciprocation way and meeting said guy makes her realize that she sees the world too much in b/w and that guy also gives her a priceless sword and sends her on a quest and oh hey after that she has to... do what killed *his* will to be a good knight ie killing her former mad liege lady bc the choice is that or the guy she loves (I mean going on speculation but that's what was the affc choice) and like... the difference is that she won't throw in the towel and go on and then she'll get to shine and be the knight she was always 100% meant to be and so on

and like... point in brienne's sl: she hates that she's not fit to be a worthy son or daughter for her father bc she was too freakish? well she's going to get both as in if these books don't end with ser lady brienne of tarth being with the man of her dreams I'm eating my own hat because as I ranted above it's all textually there

and guess what... brienne has her own storyline and she's going to come out on top and for that she has to be front and center of her own piece of story

which....... if she gets into a kingsguard doesn't happen because she would swear herself into a life of service for someone else to whom she'd always come second and if it's sansa's it's even worse bc it means she should sacrifice her personal wants, the chance at being with a man she loves, her own title and having a family bc she's serving... the standard attractive lady bc she's idk she owes catelyn a debt? iiii dooon't thiiink so and like since sansa is also stated to have her own love story in a book where it says both beautiful girls and ugly girls get it if the ugly girl gets into the kingsguard then.... what message does it send? the one that dnd did which is not the one grrm wants to send

brienne bodyguarding ppl means that she's playing second fiddle to someone else and sacrificing her own wants and needs because she doesn't believe she deserves them beyond TRYING TO BE A KNIGHT and her arc isn't going like that, so if she starts it like that then there is no way in hell it ends in the exact same place

brienne is stated to be the first anointed lady knight and to do whatever the fuck she wants with it/after and to have her cake and eat it (knighthood and love story) and anything that goes against that/says that she has to end up in a subservient position to someone who only values her skillset and her loyalty goes against everything the text has stated

also, tldr: brienne ending up in a kg has an 'ugly girls have to settle and can't be happy romantically and if they follow their dreams they can only have it halfway and in a demeaning way' message printed the fuck over it in neon letters and that's not what grrm wants to say or ever wanted to imply and I'm dying on this hill /two cents, welcome to my ted talk

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 17: santa suits

Character A dresses up as Santa Claus for Character B,, percabeth

Percy cannot believe that he’s actually been talked into this. As he looks himself in the mirror, his face is as red as the velvet suit he has on. The white beard that’s glued onto his chin makes him feel incredibly old and ridiculous.

It doesn’t help that his wife laughing her ass off next to him.

“Stop it,” he whines, turning to face her.

Annabeth is standing next to him, her arms wrapped around their baby. She’s wearing a coat, and the infant in her arms is covered in a few layers of blankets to fight the wind swirling around the park. “You look miserable,” she tells him.

“Yeah, well, I’m dressed as Santa Claus for my mom’s dumb Christmas party. Consider me miserable.”

“You volunteered for this.”

“No,” he blames childishly. “You volunteered me for this. This was not done willingly.”

“I thought you would say yes,” she defends, still snickering.

“We’ve been married for four years and you thought I would happily put on a Santa suit and spray paint my hair white? Did you really think that, wife?”

“I mean, no, but your mom asked me, and I couldn’t say no.”

Percy glares at her. “It wasn’t you that had to dress up.”

Annabeth just gives him a sweet smile, and he has trouble staying mad at her. He wasn’t even really mad at her to begin with, he supposes. He’s just giving her a hard time, but as embarrassed as he was right now, he still finds it endearing the way she laughs at him. He doesn’t mind mortification too much if it stems from her. He just likes making her happy.

“I hate you,” he mutters, but he yanks her closer by the waist. “Now you owe Santa Claus a kiss.”

Annabeth adjusts the weight of their daughter on her hip so she can press her palm over his mouth. “Do you want to scar these children, Percy? They can’t see Santa Claus kissing someone other than Mrs. Claus or else they’ll lose all hope in the magic of Christmas.”

Percy frowns. “But you’re my Mrs. Claus!”

She laughs and passes him the baby. “Please never call me Mrs. Claus again. I don’t want to have grey hair just yet.”

He rolls his eyes fondly, struggling with the infant. She’s squirming in his arms and beginning to hold her arms back out for Annabeth, soft cries starting up. “Look what you’ve done, Annabeth. My own child is scared of me.”

“Have a little Christmas spirit, Percy. It’s the attitude she’s afraid of.”

“I don’t have attitude,” he says, clearly with attitude. “You’re just an ass.”

She stands on her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek. “I know. You love me anyways.”

“Unfortunately.”

She steals the baby back from his arms, and just before she’s about to drift away from him, leaving him to interact with children that are abnormally sticky, she whispers, “Tonight,” sounding an awful lot like a promise. “You just have to decide — are you going to be naughty or nice?”

She stalks off with a teasing grin, and the unsaid promise leaves him with enough motivation to make it through the party.

His mom comes up at some point to take pictures of him, and he knows that he’s going to burn those. It turns out that children really are sticky. Their hands are everywhere, and they seem to always be covered in frosting or other unidentifiable substances when they come up to him. He has to restrain from flinching when they try to tug at the beard that’s attached with adhesive to his face. The second he gets home, this beard going in the bonfire right alongside the pictures.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” his mom asks between children.

“They’re so sticky,” he says, strangled.

“They’re kids. Of course they’re sticky. Your baby is sticky too.”

Percy looks at her, offended.

His child is not sticky, and his wife is going to hear all about this later. The audacity of his own mother to insinuate his child is sticky. Sophia would never.

“My baby isn’t sticky,” he grumbles, sneering at his mom’s amused look. “You’re sticky.”

Night begins to roll around after what feels like days of endless stretching. Percy is exhausted and somehow sweating in the middle of a New York winter. He desperately wants to take a shower and scrub off the diseases he’s certain at least one of those kids were carrying.

“It was that bad, babe,” Percy says from in the bathroom. He has a toothbrush in his mouth, and he’s yelling at her as she lays in bed. “I swear one of them peed on me.”

He can hear the quiet chuckle come from the bedroom, but he gets no further response. He doesn’t think she understands the severity of the situation. He may get sick and be unable to leave bed because a child touched him. He feels like a petri dish.

“Children touched me, Annabeth! Aren’t you concerned?”

“I’d be concerned if a child didn’t touch you, considering you have one yourself. Shouldn’t you be used to tiny, grimy hands by now?”

“It’s one thing when it’s my own baby, but I do not want to ever touch another child again.” Percy finishes brushing his teeth, and he turns back to the bedroom. “A shower has never felt so good before.”

“Quit it with the dramatics,” she says. Percy walks through the door to their bedroom and he sees her sitting on the bed, facing him head on. The sight he’s met with has him bursting out in laughter.

“What are you doing?” he manages to choke out, going up to her and plucking the Santa hat off of her head. “You said I’m your Mrs. Claus,” she explains, snatching the hat back but refraining from putting it back on.

He knows for a fact that she did not have this a week ago because they’re constantly together, so he couldn’t possibly know where she got this outfit from. It’s a short velvet dress, white fuzz along the rims, and buttons down the front of the red fabric. It’s tight too, and he’d never admit it, but it does get him just a teeny bit hot and bothered.

“You like it?” she asks, but he can see in her eyes that she already knows the answer. His fingers snap the elastic strap on her shoulder.

“I love it. Getting dressed up for little me?” “I did tell you that you’d have to decide between naughty or nice,” she says. “Have you made your decision yet?”

“I’m not sure.” Percy steps back to take her all in, to delight in the curves that are prominent. Her smooth legs stand out, and her hair is ruffled from the hat. He desperately wants to see just how much messier her hair can get. “I’ve always been nice, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think there’s any harm in mixing it up,” she agrees.

Percy’s fingers find her shoulder, just barely brushing the skin. He can see the goosebumps trail down her arms. “But I also think you’ve been pretty naughty, wouldn’t you say? Forcing me to dress as Santa Claus and then doing this?”

Annabeth cracks a grin, unable to take him seriously, and Percy quickly follows. He drops onto the bed next to her, his arms wrapping around her. He digs his face into her neck as laughs take over his body.

“Please never call me naughty,” she says, giggling. “It doesn’t sound good coming from your mouth.”

“Then maybe don’t ambush me at midnight after I’ve been attacked by tiny humans all day! I really don’t know what you expected.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes playfully and kicks him lightly. “You love the kids, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“I love our kids,” he corrects.

“Kid. Singular.”

He pouts. “Why not two?”

“Because our first is barely even one,” she teases.

“I want a million babies with you.”

“Calm down there, Santa Claus. You need to finish working Christmas first.”

Percy kisses her sweetly. When he pulls away, he relishes the blush spreading across her cheeks and the way her hair spreads out across the bed like a golden halo. “That’s what I want for Christmas next year then.”

“A million babies?”

“Maybe just two.”

Annabeth throws her head back and laughs, and now he’s kind of glad that he was wrestled into this Santa Claus suit. “I love you.”

Percy kisses her again, and he says against her, “I love you too, naughty Mrs. Claus.”

[battlestar-royco]

IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS. LET'S TALK ABOUT NETFLIX'S SHADOW AND BONE.

8.7/10 ⭐️

spoilers for everythingggg under the cut! i'll be discussing its merits as an adaptation vs as a show, characters and plots, and the overall aesthetic and magic/world.

SHOW VS ADAPTATION:

i say this as someone who knows all the books very well and has been in the fandom for nearly a decade, so i'm biased. but. s&b functions better as an adaptation than as a standalone show. alina's plot moves so well, and satisfyingly renders so many iconic scenes and sites from s&b. the worldbuilding is also pretty easy to fall into, with a forgivable amount of voiceover/infodump. and, hurting budget aside, i mostly liked this visual interpretation of the gv.

(sidebar: the in-universe racism... doesn't work. i tried to view it in good faith but imo it was very heavy-handed. if it was framed like, "wow it's a SHU WOMAN saving the world!!!" it might've been better, but it's just racism without recompense. and it's a terrible look to make other characters of color racist. i just. why?)

as for the crows, however... i'm just not sure how strong they'll be for new viewers? i totally understand why they were included, and i really like certain connections the show made between the two series. it was a great decision to introduce the druskelle in the first Cut scene, and showing nina as a ravkan spy.

the new crows stuff felt in character, but i think the show is at its height when it sticks to the books. the first couple episodes switching between tgt and proto-soc gave me whiplash, but luckily it got more organic as it progressed. if i didn't know and love all the crows before going in, i wouldn't be that invested in them based on season 1. aside from a couple fantastic scenes, it really felt like the writers were trying to make fetch happen for like 4 episodes before they figured out what to do with everyone. plus, ravka is such a different vibe from ketterdam--tonally, sartorially, technologically, etc they didn't totally feel like the same world. it was pretty jarring. although i prefer the duo to the trio, s&b is alina's story and she is That Bitch who walked so the crows could fly. so i didn't hate their inclusion but the shoehorned content did at times disservice both plots, imo.

CHARACTERS:

way too many, which is yet another consequence of smushing everyone into one season.

MAL/ALINA/DARKLING: first and foremost, and i PROMISE i'm not saying this just to be a hater, but there needed to be less malina. i'll be the first to say that show!mal really has what book!mal wants. the new pre-fold scenes were so good. li and renaux have amazing chemistry, and their laughter over stolen grapes was a highlight. his stag plot was also good. THAT SAID, there were way too many keramzin flashbacks and malina parallels like.. 🤢🤢why do they want us to love mal so much. for what. they only needed the teacup scene but they clearly thought they were doing something with micro-aggressions and that meadow shot they showed like 6 times. knowing mal's original character, and how they scrubbed his show counterpart almost to the point of flawlessness, he's just never going to be my fave even though i do respect what they did with him. also, why were there like 5 fake deaths for this dude? boring.

the darkling was great. ben barnes knows what the fuck he's about, and he funneled manipulation and charisma into every scene. as for the backstory: at first i really wasn't feeling it, but i eventually did warm up to it and i'm so glad they showed it because oh god the cut and the creation of the fold were SO FUCKING ICONIC. also, love love love the baghra development. WE LOVE TO SEE OLD WOMEN/MOMS WHO AREN'T "EVIL"/"CORRUPTED" BY THEIR MAGICAL POWERS!!!!!!! BITCH! it didn't have to be 12 minutes long though.

i honestly don't have much to say on alina. jml was excellent in her role and very true to the book. without her book narration she feels much more consistently written.

TRILOGY CHARACTERS: i really felt the lack of genya and zoya. genya's character and actress are perfectly layered and effective, even though their roles are relatively minor. i'm so looking forward to her razrushost moment, but i wish they'd laid more groundwork for it. (and i hope throw out the wig and just dye her hair next season.) also like. WHY KEEP THE IRRELEVANT MEAN GIRL/DARKLING THIRST PLOT FOR ZOYA??? AFTER ALL THE EFFORT THEY PUT INTO IMPROVING MAL? they sacrificed so much for malina at the expense of other characters. finally, it was interesting how they decided to kill marie. i love the tailor magic flex. but also they clearly just did that to emotionally manipulate us and connect the crows so. hm.

CROWS: speaking of! the crows storyline felt a little like filler. honestly i wish they waited to roll crows into later seasons. i'd prefer little foreshadowings about them, a la the druskelle cameo or the references to nina and matthias. introducing the crows so soon makes the ice court heist feel less special. the recruitment was super tight and pragmatic, so this felt a little fluffy/fanservicey. kaz also comes off as sooooo old again. especially without the vulnerability of his book counterpart, he just seems like a 40-year-old in a 20something body.

i was pleasantly surprised to find jesper my favorite crow. like wow.... second amendment rights for jesper fahey only!! i like all the crows but book!kanej are my faves by a long shot. they felt a bit stiff tbh, like the actors were a little uncomfy with each other and/or their exposition-heavy lines. however, the one scene that felt EXTREMELY kanej to me was when they killed that dude in the church holy fuck oh my god. WE STAN AN ANGSTY BATTLE COUPLE WHO ARE BOTH DEAD INSIDE. highlight for sure.

and i actually kinda loved helnik? i know helnik is controversial for very valid reasons, but i thoughy their dynamic was fantastic and they were among the strongest performers. it was much less overwhelming than the constantly interweaving kaz/inej/jesper imo. they need to fire their location scout though. those green screen mountains and beaches were um. interesting.

aesthetic and magic:

i really hope they get a bigger budget for costumes, cgi, and sets next season! the keftas are serviceable, but they look a little cheap at times. i will also never forgive ANY of the crows' hats. it's mostly just a personal aesthetic thing but god i fucking hate them. the darkling was best dressed, but in general i liked the ravkan look more than the kerch. why were the crows always in the most elaborate getups? why couldn't they just chill in their waistcoats??? they never seemed relaxed in the way alina and co did; the clothes never felt worn or broken in.

favorite sets: the darkling's room, the crow club, all the grisha tents, the matthias/nina ship, the church where inej killed the squaller, outdoor fountain where they told the story of the black heretic. the lighting was almost always right for each scene, and there was so much detail in every one of them.

THE MAGIC WAS SO COOL! my greatest beef is alina's light--it often looked so fake, and it washed out jml. oftentimes it was fluorescent or blue, and it was used as a forcefield or orb. it's supposed to be sunlight bro. what is so hard about that? the darkling's magic looked good, other than the fold. i've always imagined the fold more like a huge black fog rather than a literal wall. so that was a bit game of thronesy, but not terrible.

and can we talk about the amplifiers? amplifiers are my personal favorite gv lore but season 1 barely gets into them. they never mention the bear zoya slew, nor do they establish the unique strength of the stag, sea dragon, and firebird. BUT THE ANTLER COLLAR FUSED INTO ALINA'S SKIN WAS SUPER DARK AND MACABRE AND I KINDA LIKED IT? ALTHOUGH I HAVE TO WONDER HOW TF IS SHE GONNA SLEEP???

if you made it this far, thanks so much! that's all i have for today.

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Prologue]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Summary:  Struggling with the death of your husband, you find comfort in someone unexpected.

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. 

A/N:  It’s a military AU which I forgot to mention because I’m an ass. Starting you out with some seriously sad shit right out of the gate. I am sorta sorry. Sorta not. @teamcap4bucky​ Read a preview and responded with “fucking, fuck you” so that should give you an idea of what you’re going into. There is a lot of angst but it’s not gratuitous. It’s purposeful and shows the ups and downs of grief and moving on. I think I grabbed everyone’s tags if not shoot me a message. If you like it write a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

“I’m serious, Y/n.”

“Okay,” You mocked teasingly. “You’re serious.”

Steve growled, teasing smile curling up the edge of his lips despite the frustration in his eyes. He gripped your waist and pulled you away from his duffle, ignoring your yelp of protest and settling you on his lap. His pants scratched the back of your bar legs. You hated those stupid pants, they were stiff and uncomfortable. They made him look like someone you didn’t know. Or, at least someone you didn’t want to know. 

Your fingers find the soft, worn fabric of the ugly tan shirt he had to wear — Army regulation or not, it was still ugly. The fabric twisted around your fingers, pulling it from his pants, ruining his pristine appearance. Maybe if his shirt was wrinkled, he would get in trouble and not have to go. It was unlikely. He had a unit to command, but a frightened wife could dream, couldn’t she? 

This was the fourth deployment the two of you have gone through together. The stupid support groups were all liars. It didn’t get easier after the first, it got harder. You knew the risks before, but now you understood, really understood what they meant. Things became second nature that shouldn’t be second nature for anyone. Like turning your television on in the morning, to see if there would be a notification officer and chaplain knocking on your door within the next eight hours. Every night that passes without a call leaves you wondering if the last time you spoke would truly be the last. 

It leaves you panicked. Did you say I love you enough? Did he say it to you? Will you ever be lucky enough to hear it one more time? 

But then the call comes, and everything is right for the twenty minutes you get to hear his voice. 

The sparks are gone just as fast as he is. 

“Hey,” Steve’s voice had lost the hard, playful edge. It was soft. The softness he used when he tried to coax you awake in the morning, or when Steve spilled the secrets hidden within that generous heart of his — the same gentleness Steve used whenever he told you he loved you.

A roughened index finger tapped under your chin and tilted your head up from where it was hiding in his neck. 

“I meant what I said. This is the last one. I’m done after this.” 

It was that time again. Re-enlisting. You knew Fury had attempting to convince Steve to stay and true to his word Steve would shake his head and end the conversation before they ever got far. The Army could be persuasive, though. 

“You really think they will let you go?” 

Steve cupped your cheek and tightened his hold on your hip, tugging you securely onto his lap, so your legs hung off one side. “They won’t have much choice. I’ve given them all I can give them.” 

“B-But--” 

Steve leaned in and swallowed your broken protests in a gentle kiss. You didn’t have time for more, so it was nothing salacious, but his lips lingered far longer than they should if you were in public. Thankfully, you were still home and could savor the feel of his lips. The cool air hit your barely swollen lips, and you shuddered, immediately wishing he would kiss you again. You wanted to keep that warmth for just a little longer. 

“No buts. Do you trust me, Y/n?” 

You searched his eyes, bright, full of hope and vulnerable like they always were when he looked at you. 

“With my life. You know, I do.” 

Steve grinned, and if you weren’t already in love with him, you would be falling fast. 

“I promise you, Y/n. This is it. My last tour and then I’m all yours. We can do everything we said we would and finally start a family.” 

You could feel your eyes burning from tears; you refused to let fall. Steve brushed a kiss under your right eye, letting you know it was okay to let them fall if you wanted. 

“Do you really promise? This is the last time?” You finally whispered. 

“I do. There’s nothing that could keep me from coming to you. Fifteen months, baby. I just need you to hang on for fifteen months.” 

You huffed a watery laugh and wiped those insolent tears away. “I can wait fifteen months for you. I’d wait forever, Steve.” 

—

“—Steven Grant Rogers. A man who was devoted to his country and his lovely wife—” 

You blinked several times, your eyes focused on the dark wood five feet in front of you, and the words all ran together in your ears. You didn’t need to hear the kind of man your husband is. You knew. You knew how kind and selfless and courageous he is—he was. 

A cool breeze ruffled up the edges of your black dress and left you with a chill buried deep in your bones, one that would never leave you. At least the weather had behaved. There was no rain, the sun was glowing through what little clouds were nearby. It was the kind of day Steve would have called perfect. There was nothing perfect about today, no matter how brightly the damn sun insisted on shining. You had briefly thought of having the service inside some church somewhere, but neither of you attended enough while he was living to make that an option. Sarah had argued with you, they wouldn’t care about that. No one would judge you or ask you to leave, sweetheart. Deep down, you knew that. It simply didn’t feel like Steve, and you wanted his last moments with you to be him. 

Finally, you settled on the park where you met all those years ago, where he proposed, and under the tree where you vowed to love him forever seemed like the only right place to say goodbye. You don’t know how but between Sam and Nat, they found a way to make it happen. You assumed some strings were pulled, favors called in that you could never repay. 

At least Steve came home to you. 

Even if it wasn’t the way, he promised to come home to you.  

You can’t help but glance to your left, Sam was standing there in his dress uniform, shoulders squared and face blank. If you didn’t know him so well, you would think he was simply another soldier paying respects to Captain Rogers. You knew his tells. That clenched jaw, the tightened fists, and the slow, deep breaths he took every few minutes as if he has scheduled them out. Sam’s hand startled you when it reached yours, his fingers threading with your own. He wasn’t supposed to do that, and as if he could read your mind, his shoulder shrugged, and the faintest smirk appeared. 

It was nice, but you couldn’t help but feel like something— someone was missing. 

“Why didn’t Bucky come?” 

You should be quiet, but your silence wouldn’t change who you were burying today or the fact that you were going home alone tonight and every night from here on out. Keeping quiet wouldn’t change that you will never get to kiss or hold your husband again. Everyone in attendance will go back home to their spouses tonight, they get to leave and breathe a sigh of relief because it wasn’t them. They will go home to hold their loved ones and whisper how they won’t ever leave them the way Steve left you and make promises for more because they still have a future where promises and more exist. 

So, if anyone had a problem with your whispers, they could go to hell. 

“He needed to stay with the rest of the unit,” Sam whispered, tightening his hold on your hand for some reason you weren’t sure of. You’ve already heard the worst. You doubt anything Sam said at this point could hurt you. “Someone had to stay behind, and he thought it would be better for guys and… for you.” 

Turned out you were wrong. 

You ignored the pinching in your chest and turned back to face the preacher, your concession to Sarah though it still felt a little off. Part of you had hoped Bucky would be there to help with everything, so when the plane landed a few days before, you had been surprised to see Sam had escorted Steve back home instead of Bucky. Not because they weren’t close or because Steve didn’t love Sam like a brother. He absolutely did, but it’s always been Steve and Bucky for as long as anyone could remember. You found it hard to believe Bucky wouldn’t put up a fight to be here for goodbye.

The casket flag was slowly pulled from atop the casket, and dizziness hit you. It was nearly over. You felt your eyes fall closed, and the voices around you faded away. Everything blurred. You didn’t want this. None of this was fair. You were supposed to have forever, and now you had nothing. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He promised. Steve promised, and he didn’t break promises! 

Especially ones made to you.

“Sam?” You whispered.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes. They were on the 8th fold. Each fold took another piece of you, just another chip of whatever was left of the person you were. Whoever that girl was, the moment that flag was in your hands, you knew you would never be that girl again. 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think I can do this.” You whimpered as a few tears began to fall. 

“I’ll go with you—” 

“No, I can’t do this… go on alone. Without him. I can’t—I just can’t.” 

“You’re not alone, Y/n. We are all here for you for as long as you need.” 

Everyone but Bucky.

A man you didn’t recognize, a nameless face approached you, thirteen folds between his hands, a tiny crooked hat made out of stars and stripes. Strange how something only a little bigger than your purse, could destroy the rest of your life. The man stood stoically and met your eyes as he repeated what you were sure was a well-rehearsed line he practiced many times. 

“On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful Nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”

You wished it could do something to ease to the ache. They were hollow words that meant nothing. Through the haze that had fallen over you, taking away the sun and the clouds, you must have reached out with shaking hands because Sam stepped forward to help support the newly added weight, guiding it into your arms. You clutched the flag against your chest, holding on to all you had left of your husband. You squeezed your eyes shut and prayed to whoever would listen, Please let me wake up now. Please, please let this be a nightmare.

No savior was coming; it wasn’t a dream, and Steve was never coming home. 

Masterlist // Next 

[fanfics4all]

Change Of Mind

Request: Yes / No  Could you do number 4 with Draco and a Ravenclaw?🥺🖤💜 @riverdalefanficwriter​

Send me a request, please look here first! <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Ravenclaw!Reader

Word count: 1408

Warnings: Draco being Draco and like one curse

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Prompt(s): Written on your palm is what your soulmate is thinking

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

When I was a little kid my parents explained to me what soulmates were and how they worked. They said that whatever your soulmate thinks appears on the palm on your hand. While I was growing up my soulmate thought a lot about how sad it was that you know who didn’t become leader of the wizarding world. They thought about how their family was so much better than those who weren’t purebloods. But at the same time, they thought about how lonely they felt. They had a strict Father and a loving Mother, but they didn’t have the love they needed. I felt bad for them, but at the same time I hated knowing that my soulmate was someone so ignorant. 

When it came time for me to go to Hogwarts I was so excited. I knew my soulmate was going to Hogwarts as well because they were excited. They wanted to get sorted into Slytherin, just like all of their family before them. I didn’t care what house I was sorted into. I watched as each student walked up to the sorting hat and got their house. One of the most interesting ones, besides Harry Potter, was a boy named Draco Malfoy. When his name was called and he sat on the stool, but before the hat could be put on his head it called out Slytherin. They then called my name and the hat took a moment, but soon shouted Ravenclaw out into the great hall. I was happy to take after my Mother, and it really fit with me. I sat at the Ravenclaw table and introduced myself to some people. I decided to see if my soulmate thought anything about anything to do with my house placement. I looked down at my hand and slightly smiled. 

‘Not the worst house I suppose.’ 

‘So you like my house?’ I thought. 

‘You’re my soulmate!?’ They thought back and I looked around the great hall trying to see anyone in shock. I looked across the room and saw Draco Malfoy staring at me in shock. Draco Malfoy was my soulmate. 

‘B-But we’re like the complete opposite!’ I thought with my eyes wide.

‘We’re probably more alike than either of us realize.’ He thought and I rolled my eyes. 

‘Unlike you, I don’t care about blood status.’ I thought and ignored his thoughts for the rest of the night. 

Throughout the years I watched Draco think terrible things about people he thought were beneath him. I would alway tell him how wrong he was, no one was beneath anyone, blood didn’t matter. We’ve been in school together for three years now and still haven’t said a word to each other. 

“Miss. Y/L/N, Mr. Malfoy, I would like you two to see me after class.” Professor Sprout said and I nodded. I glanced at Draco and he was already glancing at me. For the rest of class I focused on my work and not what Professor Sprout wanted to talk to us about. Once class was over Draco and I gathered our things then walked up to Professor Sprout. 

“Professor? You wanted to speak with us?” I asked and she turned to us with a smile. 

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy here needs a bit of help and you are my top student in class, would you mind tutoring him?” She asked and I glanced at Draco. I could tell he wanted to protest and claim that he wasn’t struggling, but I knew he was. 

“Of course Professor.” I answered before he could say a word and I pulled him out of the room. 

“When are you free? We can start then.” I said and he glared at me. 

“Before you even try and say you’re not struggling, remember I can read your thoughts.” I said and he shut his mouth and groaned. 

“I have off after my next class.” He said and I nodded. 

“Meet me in the library, we’ll begin studying then.” I said and walked off to my last class of the day. 

Once class ended I made my way to the library. I got out my notes and books then waited for Draco. I waited a bit and he didn’t show up. I decided to work on my homework and if he didn’t show up my thoughts were about to get really bad. Sure enough, half an hour later he still wasn’t here. 

‘Draco Malfoy, did you forget about our arrangement?’ 

‘Fuck, I’ll be right there.’ He thought and I sighed. 

‘Hurry up, I do have other things to do.��� I thought and continued my homework. I finished before Draco showed up and sat in front of me. 

“Took you long enough.” I said and he rolled his eyes. 

“I forgot.” He said. 

“Clearly.” I said as he took out his notes. 

“You claim you want to be perfect in everything, but yet here you are not being perfect in Herbology.” I said and he growled. 

“You’re not perfect in everything Y/L/N.” He said and I rolled my eyes. 

“And I have no desire to be. As long as I get good grades then I don’t care.” I said taking his notes and looking over them. 

“Don’t act like you know me.” He said and I sighed, placing the notes down. 

“I do know you, I can see your thoughts, remember.” I said pointing to my hand. I looked down and saw that he was thinking about how good I looked. I blushed slightly and looked back at him, he had a smirk on his face. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I can read your thoughts as well.” He said and I looked at him confused. 

“You say how much you dislike me because of my ways, but your thoughts are now betraying you.” He said and showed me his hand. 

‘He’s quite attractive, no don’t think like that!’ It said and my eyes widened. I don’t even remember thinking that… 

“Seems your mind is betraying your heart.” He said, smirk growing. 

“Shut it Malfoy, just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean I have to love you.” I said and he just kept smirking. 

“You will in time.” He said and moved closer to me, looking over my notes. I sighed and just decided to work on studying. 

Over our study sessions Draco began opening up to me. He was showing me a side that no one else saw. I still couldn’t forgive his horrible thoughts on blood status, but it brought me back to when I was a child and seeing his need for love. Maybe I could help him see that the people he was taught to hate weren’t bad. 

“So, what does the screechsnap do?” I asked, quizzing him. 

“It can move and make a screeching noise, obviously.” He answered rolling his eyes. 

“What else should you know about them, smart guy?” I asked with a smirk. 

“Um…” He said and thought for a moment. 

“Alright, I don’t know, what?” He asked with a sigh. 

“They’re semi-sentient plants, they have the ability to feel both pain and pleasure.” I said and he smirked. 

“Just like someone else I know.” He said and I rolled my eyes. 

“Moving on, tell me about the puffapod.” I said and he groaned. 

“We’ve been studying for what feels like forever, can’t we take a break?” He asked and I sighed. 

“Do you want to pass or not?” I asked. 

“Come on Y/L/N, just a little break.” He pleaded and I sighed. 

“Fine, just a few moments.” I said and he smiled. He shut his book and pulled his chair closer to mine. 

“W-What are you doing?” I asked and he smirked. 

“Testing something.” He answered and my eyes flicked to his lips for a split second. 

‘Just kiss him.’ I thought and Draco looked down at his hand. He looked back up at me and his smirk grew. Instead of saying anything he placed his lips on mine and I couldn’t help but melt into it. Draco pulled away and it was far too soon. 

“Told you I’d make you love me.” He whispered and bit my lip. He really did change my heart. 

“Well if I can change my mind, then I can get you to change yours.” I said and he laughed. 

“Good luck with that, love.” He said and I kissed him. 

“Luck has nothing to do with it.” I smirked. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @softgamerking​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​

[mrs-hatake]

The Gomez to your Morticia

Halloween Prompt, Day 2: we don’t know each other but i came as (character A) and you came as (character B) and well, look at that, (character A/character B) is both of our otps…strange…we should do something about that….like make out

Sanji loved and hated parties.

He hated parties because they were loud and people were too drunk to appreciate his cooking. 

He loved them because, well, there were plenty of beautiful women to feast his eyes own.

Normally, Sanji would be against holding a party in his lavish penthouse apartment but he couldn’t refuse Nami. Especially not when she batted those pretty little eyes up at him through her beautiful and curled eyelashes. Sanji was a weak man and women will be the death of him.

He may hate parties, though Sanji had to admit that he loved Halloween. He just became so creative with his cooking and baking skills that he didn’t know how to stop really. From haunted house cakes to eyeballs made from cookies and marshmallows, Sanji did them all. 

Sanji had to admit hat when his friends came over to help him decorate his apartment while he prepared the vast sea of delicacies, his apartment turned into a gorgeous Halloween town that he was certain that his soccer mom neighbor from below would be jealous enough to kill someone to have her apartment like his. 

“Woah, sorry!” A drunk man dressed as Hulk with cheap body paint apologized loudly after bumping into him and pouring whatever drink he was having all over his brand new suit. 

Sanji just grumbled as he resisted the urge to pull out a cigarette and smoke it, he had to be a good host so smoking was not an option. He decided to instead gaze at the beautiful women that occupied his apartment. There was a naughty nurse who was giggling away while shamelessly staring at Zoro’s exposed arms (stupid moss head), a devil who was bopping for apples (so fucking hot) and countless other beauties that were barely dressed to keep them warm during this chilly October night. 

Though, one party goer had grabbed his attention. 

She was standing in the corner of the room, next to the buffet table. She anxiously rubbed her arms as her eyes nervously scanned her surroundings. She wore a long, tight black dress that reached all the way down to her feet which almost hid away her heels. Her black hair was long, reaching her waist, and was straightened to perfection. The woman had a pale shade of foundation on while her lips were coated in a sinful red color that glistened in temptation.

Now, Sanji wouldn’t typically go after a woman dressed like that but-

“We match.” Sanji decided to say as a form of introduction.

The woman jumped in surprise and turned to face him, her eyes trailing over what he was wearing. “We are.” She gave a broken laugh, probably due to her anxiety.

She’s cute. Thought Sanji to himself.

“So, no Gomez Addams?” 

Apparently, that was the wrong (or right, depending on who’s asking) thing to ask as the woman heavily rolled her eyes and said, “I found out that my boyfriend was cheating on me a few days ago and we were supposed to go together. I didn’t want to come to this stupid party and look like an idiot, especially when I don’t know anyone, but Vivi insisted.” she huffed. 

Sanji was certain he looked scandalized. What kind of idiot would cheat on such a lovely lady? And if that ex-boyfriend wanted an open relationship, he should’ve discussed it with his girlfriend like real men should have.

“I’m sorry.” Sanji then offered her a cheesy smile, “Guess I’ll be your Gomez Addams for the night!”

Sanji chuckled nervously at the deadpan expression he received from the woman dressed as Morticia Addams. “I’m sorry.” He apologized again but the woman just sighed. 

“It’s fine. I’m just-” She gave a big exhale, “You know what, yeah, why don’t you be my Gomez for the night? If that asshole is having fun then why can’t I?”

Sanji beamed at the woman, ecstatic to have found a woman who would give him the time of day -err, night. 

“I’m Sanji by the way.” He stretched his hand for handshake.

“Y/N.” She introduced herself and held his hand.

And instantly, sparks exploded like their own private show of fireworks. The attraction was instant and, they don’t know how, but the two found themselves kissing each other. 

Oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD!

Sanji internally panicked as he closed his eyes at the way those sinfully plump lips moved against his.

And just as quickly as it started, it ended with Sanji forcing himself away from the woman by pushing at her shoulders, “You’re really a wonderful woman and God knows how much I want to kiss you but are you sure?” Sanji maybe a love crazed man but he always remembered that consent is very important.

“Sanji.” The woman cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the skin, “I want to kiss you just as much.” she replied and then leaned in to kiss him again.

This time, Sanji allowed it and truly allowed himself to get lost in the exhilarating sensation, tilted his head a little to the left to deepen the kiss.

The way her plump lips opened and closed in an open mouth peck sent a bolt of electricity all the way down to Sanji’s groin. He whimpered when he felt her tongue boldly pushed its way inside Sanji’s open mouth, making him go weak in the knees.

Sanji was surprised at the moan that managed to escape through his lips at the intrusion, rivaling all the pornstars he was a fan of. He made sure to keep his mouth open and allowed for Y/N to do whatever she pleased, wrecking his whole existence to her delight.  

He could tell the telltale signs of the uncomfortable tightness between his legs as Y/N boldly bit on his lower lip and gently tugged at the soft flesh with her teeth before she let go. She then quickly leaned back in and continued to devour him. The kiss grew heavy, intense even. Sanji could feel his body boil with heat and he couldn’t control soft whimpers he emitted. And when she buried her fingers deep into his hair and gave a sharp tug, he almost came right then and there. 

And when the kiss finally ended, Sanji found himself chasing after those precious lips, eager for more kisses.

“Down boy.” She smirked at him, hunger and desire in her eyes. 

“Please.” Sanji breathed, “I-...” It was all too much and Sanji was on the brink of insanity 

“Bedroom. Now.” She commanded and Sanji all too eagerly snatched her hand and lead her to his bedroom so she can have her way with him until he couldn’t remember his own name.

[brave-clarice]

“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 2

Again, some extremely unfashionably late hot takes.

(Special thanks to @kathrynethegreat and @special-agent-pendragon​ for encouraging another liveblog!)

Clarice is working out! And eating junk food! I love it.

and cleaning her gun!

hey, Ardelia is drinking what I’m going to assume is her grandmother’s “smart people tea”.

Krendler disciplining Clarice already is infuriating but appropriate.

“I lost control.” Oh no, I don’t like that. Don’t make Clarice unstable. Her mental and emotional state never had anything to do with her failing career.

getting weird mixed signals from Ardelia. Last week, she obviously didn’t want Clarice to lie/stick to the script Krendler gave her, but now she’s telling Clarice she messed up by not doing so...?

“I better know you if you’re calling this early.” Amen, Ardelia.

I’m in love: this cinematography is straight out of the film (when she’s flying to WV with Crawford)!

“When’s the last time you went back to Appalachia?” “It’s been years.” What??? It has NOT been years--Clarice was JUST in West Virginia last week as well as in Silence, and she arguably attended college there as well. (UVA is at least nestled in the mountains, and you don’t have to drive far outside the Albemarle Valley to hit Appalachia proper.) After all the details about her character they’ve been nailing, they miss this glaring error? 

I like the tiny details she’s noticing (like the guy biting his nails). Not only because she’s an investigator, but because it’s reminiscent of Hannibal’s influence (imo).

Clarice Is Short: The Saga continues

still not getting any creepy vibes off Krendler. He’s going to be much less effective as an antagonist if he isn’t lewd as well as a dick.

I really don’t care for the way the opening “credits” fade out from the death’s-head moth to Clarice’s face. There are MANY animals that represent her, or parts of her, in the books--lions, lambs, horses, and of course birds--so this choice feels empty and lazy to me.

also lazy: having a fellow agent straight-up tell her in episode 2 “you shouldn’t be in the Bureau.” Maybe in two or three years, after some further “Death Angel”-type incidents, I could see this blatant rudeness, but not yet.

“Reesey”? Thanks, I hate it.

this flashback must be of Clarice’s little brother. That answers one question I had last week. That said...Clarice’s brother doesn’t play the same role in her story that Mischa does in Hannibal’s--but this sure feels like a Mischa-esque flashback.

good: they’re finally getting to the source of Clarice’s actual trauma!

bad: this is NOT how Clarice found out about her father. In fact, that whole incident is laid out in detail in the novels, and there’s nothing overly literary/un-cinematic about it, so this feels unnecessary. “The police are here! Something happened to Daddy!” No, bad! Show, don’t tell!

she would’ve known better than to introduce herself to that kid as “Clarice Starling, FBI,” come on now.

were they regularly able to wire tap hair clips in 1993? 

actually, nothing in this show looks very 90s to me so far. I’m sad about it.

so in eighteen months, Ruth Martin has gone from a junior Senator to the Attorney freakin’ General, and now she might run for governor?? At least let her get settled in one position of power first, why don’t you!

yet more Buffalo Bill flashbacks...alas.

are they trying to make this guy another surrogate Hannibal character? He’s commenting on Clarice’s accent and the dryness of her skin, asking about who she “left behind”...it all feels very Hannibal. (I know he’s a Charismatic Cult Leader trope, too--but when played off of Clarice...)

“Ew.” “I hate this guy.” I laughed.

I understand that Clarice probably feels conflicted re: her siblings in the book, but I’m really not digging the flashbacks of this Tim Burton character her brother.

@ the writers: Clarice already has the lamb backstory/symbolism, too. We don’t need this Little Brother stuff.

*shrieking* Mrs. Starling! At the sink washing the blood out of his hat!!! 

...aaand they had to ruin it with the brother’s painfully bad dialogue. Will still be good for gif-making, though.

are we supposed to interpret all these flashbacks as Clarice being incapable of controlling her emotions/state of mind? She keeps losing herself in memories and emerging all doe-eyed and panicky. I don’t like it.

not to be a broken record but...Clarice should be TOUGH. Again, Ardelia only saw her cry once in seven years. But she’s more worked up in this scene than Jodie was in Memphis!

when Mr. Cult Leader shouts “Agent Starling! Agent Starling!” he sounds exactly like Hannibal calling her back to his cell in the asylum. That has to be intentional. 

damn, wish that I could look as good five minutes after I’ve been crying as Clarice does.

I LOVE that Ardelia gets to be the crucial behind-the-scenes book-smart partner to Clarice’s action heroine.

AG Martin’s just playing politics by turning a blind eye to the crooked sheriff. But when her own daughter was just kidnapped and almost killed, she looks like a real hypocrite.

gosh, Rebecca Breeds is great. I already hope she gets nominated for an Emmy.

so Krendler is...doing the right thing???

Clarice’s father was definitely not a sheriff. I hope she’s just exaggerating for dramatic effect. (Maybe this will be clarified later.)

she couldn’t just sit with a manipulative guy without getting emotional, but she’s cool as a cucumber while telling an extended story about her father? HmmMM.

sometimes her mannerisms and facial expressions are so much like Jodie’s that it’s uncanny, like here when she leans forward to confront the Cult Leader.

“She did it.” Damn straight!

another great callback to Silence. this show’s camera crew knows its stuff!

“He’s concerned I have some residual trauma from Bill.” I. Hate. This. Subplot--and all its OOC implications.

“Catherine was close to her father, too.” Ooh, a nice allusion to the novel! Clarice makes note of their “common wound,” the loss of a father, when she’s in Catherine’s apartment in Silence.

she is just SO pretty.

little Clarice looks a LOT like Rebecca Breeds. I hope we see some more of her. 

The Good:

the continuing visual nods to the Silence film via cinematography

Mama Starling!!!

Clarice’s “The World Will Not Be This Way Within the Reach of my Arm” attitude, refusing to leave without helping the victims.

Ardelia Mapp coming in clutch! 

Clarice being, generally, a badass

and using psychological tricks/mind games to pin the antagonist...that’s the woman who disarmed a monster with just a few words.

Rebecca Breed’s acting has been phenomenal so far.

I like Clarice’s haircut a lot better when worn down (though it’s not very practical for fieldwork, so we probably won’t see it much).

The Bad:

the continuing Buffalo Bill-related Trauma Subplot. Ugh.

all the flashbacks to Clarice’s brother (and the not-so-subtle suggestion that her brother is, symbolically, another lamb).

will the real Paul Krendler please come forward? this guy is so TAME.

the other agents’ hostility towards Clarice needs to be toned down slightly so that it can escalate. Otherwise, where’s the tension?

is this actually 1993? I’m not feeling it. Shouldn’t it have a little of that Season 1/2 X-Files aesthetic? Please give me more than once-an-episode references to pagers and fax machines!

that glaring Appalachia continuity error...it’s still bugging me.

I missed the overt Hannibal references, even though they’re not necessary to any part of this episode. A lady can dream!

Overall, I really liked this one despite my various issues with it. It started shakily but built to a great finish. The emphasis across both episodes on Clarice being in the FBI not just to “get out, get anywhere,” but out of a genuine desire to help victims has been wonderful. I just hope they don’t swerve too far into the “too traumatized and emotionally compromised to function” lane. It would be a disservice to Clarice’s character and to her journey (and would smack too much of “Hannibal really did prey on her weak mind/brainwash her”.

Things I’d still like to see: More of her personality. Her hobbies and interests. That she’s cleaning her gun is great! Now let’s see “Poison Oakley” practicing her sharpshooting skills. Or car shopping. Or clothes shopping to show off her “developing taste.” (Ardelia can come!) I’ll take literally anything. Give us more of Clarice’s sense of humor as well. She had some subtle funny moments in the pilot, and it’s nice to see Rebecca smile for a change.

And Krendler? Smear that man in grease! I appreciated a happy ending even though Clarice’s career is, as we know, already in a downward spiral--the last thing we want is for every episode to be a slog, especially when a good chunk of the audience hasn’t read the book and doesn’t know Clarice is doomed to fail in the Bureau.

However... Krendler’s not a “redemption arc” kind of character. Or even a “run-of-the-mill sexist asshole” character. This is a man who spent seven years systematically sabotaging a young woman’s career because a) he was jealous that she solved the Gumb case before him, and b) she wouldn’t fuck him. He was a Justice Department official working fist-in-glove with a serial child molester who was planning some of the heinous vigilante justice imaginable. THAT’S why his very gruesome end at Hannibal’s hands felt deserved--even Clarice thought so! In short, he needs to get nasty.

Anyway, thanks for coming to another long-overdue TedTalk. Fingers crossed that the next one will be more timely (aiming for Sunday night)!