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brawltogethernow · 3 years ago

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@mirrorfalls submitted: Came across this while searching for James Bond’s scrambled-eggs recipe (long story). Your thoughts?

But did you find James Bond’s scrambled eggs recipe?

In this article, Scocca laments his inability to find accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable to read with his young son, while also demonstrating a mysterious aversion to looking at DC and Marvel’s lines of comics for children, which is where the accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable for reading with young children are. He wants his elementary schooler to be able to safely have the run of all superhero media so he doesn’t have to touch the yucky baby books.

This is not an industry-wide crisis. This is just one dude who got paid to write an article where he accidentally exposed one of his personal hangups.

The child headed toward the trade paperbacks of Marvel and D.C. superhero titles on the side wall […] a few steps in front of me. […] Is he with you? a clerk asked me. I said he was. You know, the clerk said, we have a kids’ section. The clerk gestured backward, at a few shelves near the entrance. I said, Thanks, we know and tried throwing in a little shrug, as the kid kept going.

You can’t just turn a seven-year-old child loose in a comic-book store to look at the superhero comic books. […] My seven-year-old really wanted to see that last Avengers movie […] that is, he wished it were a movie he could see, but he understood that it was, instead, a movie designed to scare and sadden him—a movie actively hostile to people like him.

They have a children’s section. Because comics are a medium suitable for stories for everybody, and they are sold in comic book shops, which have sections, like bookstores. You can use this organization to find books that you know in advance are suitable for children. What goes in that category is determined by industry professionals. This area will be bigger the bigger the shop is. These comics are not lower quality that titles from the main lines. They are actually slightly better-written on average.

Your local comic book shop has considerately wrapped Empowered in a plastic bag, so your child will not be drawn in by a colorful superhero and accidentally read a graphic scene. If you think your kid might find a memoir about internment camps upsetting, it is your job to notice them picking up They Called Us Enemy and read the blurb on the back before you let them have it. This comic adults are meant to read is in a comic book shop because that is where comics are sold. Not every public place is supposed to be Disneyland.

Movies have ratings systems. If you do not want your child to watch a PG-13 movie, you will find that most superhero cartoons are for children. They are about the same characters. Some are quite good! I really enjoyed Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Your child may like Avengers Assemble. At least I think that’s right. I’m always mixing those titles around.

This is a deeply weird bias for Scocca to casually demonstrate, because he identifies in the article that real childishness is striving for empty maturity.

He compares an old comic,

[…]a 1966 Spider-Man comic in which Spider-Man meets, fights, and defeats the Rhino; participates in a running argument between John Jameson and J. Jonah Jameson about his heroism; buys a motorcycle; breaks up with his first girlfriend, Betty Brant; flirts with Gwen Stacy; and reluctantly agrees to let Aunt May take him to meet her friend Mrs. Watson’s niece, Mary Jane.

and a new comic,

[…]a 21st century comic book in which Thor, brooding in a Katrina-destroyed New Orleans, beats up Iron Man. He also yells at Iron Man a lot about some incomprehensibly convoluted set of grievances, including involuntary cloning, that he believes Iron Man perpetrated against him while he was dead(?), and then summons some other Norse god from the beyond somehow for reasons having something to do with real estate. I think. Where the 1966 comic is zippy and fun and complete, the whole contemporary one is muddled and lugubrious and seems to constitute a tiny piece of a seemingly endless plot arc—simultaneously apocalyptic and inert.

and concludes that the edgier comic is actually less mature. This is true. (This is not news about mediocre comics.)

It also has nothing to do with either comic being child-friendly, the article’s nominal thesis, except in the sense that ASM #41 (yes, I eyeballed that from that summary, yes I am just showing off now) is better written, making it more everyone-friendly. It also has practically more space dedicated to word balloons than art and is about a college student juggling girl problems and a part-time job with a tyrannical boss. But the immature one, as Scocca points out, is dour.

These are both teenagery issues, separated only by quality. It’s true that lots of new comics published by the big 2 are bad in the specific way Scocca describes here, taking themselves too seriously and hauled down by associated stories instead of buoyed by them. Some are not! Some titles from these companies’ main continuities are zippy, contained, and child friendly. Give your child The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl! Or if you like vintage comics so much better, why don’t you…buy some?

The books on the kid’s rack are good and fun and totally suitable for parents to read with their children without wanting to scoop their eyeballs out. Scocca cites the Batman ‘66 comics as the brightly colored, tightly written all ages solution to his problem about sharing superhero stories with his son. My local comic shop stores this title in the kid’s section. I am glad that Scocca’s does not, as he seems to have a peculiar aversion to looking for comics to read with his son there.

Scocca cites Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse as a superhero movie he could watch with his kids. (I was surprised when this line made it sound like he has several. I don’t want to assume the other one isn’t in this article because they’re a girl, but I very much am assuming that.) Great! Go to the kid’s section and look for Marvel Adventures: Spider-Man. It’s a fun, zippy title directly inspired by ITSV where Miles, Gwen, and Peter superhero together. It’s much more tightly written than most of the various Spider-Verse comics, which are ambitiously messy ubercrossovers. You may not want to give those to children because they include murder and so on, but also you just have the choice between the two as an adult reader deciding how much continuity you want to deal with. Adventures is one of the only titles I would buy on sight before corona. The kid comic rack is a reliable place to take a break from How Comics Get Sometimes regardless of how old you are.

This article makes me feel quarrelsome. Maybe it’s that it doesn’t seem like exploration of a single idea so much as a loosely grouped bundle of things to kvetch about. Maybe it’s that the experience of getting into superheroes that Scocca describes experiencing, projects his seven-year-old son will experience, and from which he extrapolates a metaphorical microcosm of the history of the genre is completely alien to me.

Comic books [and] comic-book movies—are […] trapped in their imagined audience’s own awful passage from childhood to adolescence. A seven-year-old has a clean […] appreciation of superheroes. They like hero comics because the comics have heroes: bold, strong, vividly colored good guys to fight off the bad guys and make the world safe.

But seven-year-olds stop being seven. […] They become 13-year-olds, defensively trying to learn how to develop tastes about tastes.

The 13-year-old wants many things from comics, but the overarching one is that they want to prove that they’re not some seven-year-old baby anymore. They want gloomy heroes, miserable heroes, heroes who would make a seven-year-old feel bad. (Also boobs. They want boobs.)

Not because of the boobs line, although that does illicit an eyeroll that this gloomy thinkpiece is fretting over preserving the superhero experience of little boys who resemble the little boy the writer was while casually dismissing everyone else. I was one of those unlikable little seven-year-olds with a college reading level and the impression that maintaining it was the crux of my worth. I only read Books - distinguished media you could club someone with. I have a formative memory of pausing, enraptured, in front of a poster for Spider-Man 3, preparing to say that it looked pretty cool, and being beaten to the punch by my mother making a disparaging comment about how the movie was trash. It wasn’t out yet, but it was a superhero movie. That meant it was for loud, brainless children.

That was the total of my childhood experience with superheroes, excluding being the unwilling audience to incessant renditions of “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells” that left me wondering why in god’s name Batman’s sidekick was named Robin. I certainly never visited a comic book shop. I got into TvTropes, which got me into webcomics, which got me following David Willis, who got me into Ask Chris at ComicsAlliance, which led to me rewarding myself for studying like a demon for the AP tests with three volumes of Waid’s Daredevil, pitched as a return to the character being colorful and swashbuckling. I was seven…teen.

This is of the same thread as Scocca’s point that immaturity is running from childish things. It leaves me baffled that he doesn’t follow that maturity is embracing them.

I will disclose here that while I think it was dumb I had to overcome my upbringing’s deeply embedded shame associated with enjoying arbitrarily defined lowbrow media and children being childish, I think it’s fine that I was allowed largely unchecked access to technically age-inappropriate content. In my limited experience, content small children are too young for is also content they’re too young to understand, so it kind of just bounces off of them, and what actually ends up terrorizing them is unpredictable collages of impressions that strike out at them from content deemed perfectly child-friendly. I would not forbid a seven-year-old I was in charge of from seeing an MCU movie unless I had a reason to believe that specific child would not take it well. These are emotionally low-stakes bubblegum films. It will probably be easier to socialize with other kids if they have seen them.

But then, when I picture being in charge of a hypothetical child, I usually imagine this being the case because they are related to me, and the pupal stage in my family strongly resembles Wednesday Addams. ALL children love death and violence, though, right?? This isn’t a joke point. I know it looks like a joke point.

The MCU thing seems especially weird in light of the article’s particular focus on Spider-Man, which is the kiddie line of the MCU, even if they refused to waver from their usual formula enough to get a lower rating. Though I am more inclined to describe it as “preying on the young” than “child-friendly”.

(MCU movies are increasingly dubious propaganda, but I would not judge them in front of a child who wanted to watch them for that reason, just in case this led to them partaking of them without me the second they were old enough to and then they grew up to run a blog about them while our relationship suffered because they didn’t feel like it was safe to talk to me about their interests…Mom.)

I tried to overcome the philosophy of letting anyone read anything while compiling this handful of mostly-newish superhero recs for the road that anyone can read. (Handily, I have been in spitting distance of being hired as a comic shop clerk enough to have thought about it before):

For actual children:

Marvel Adventures Spider-Man (the new one is reminiscent of ITSV, the old one is more like 616) any DC/Archie crossover, Archie’s Superteens The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (for bookish children who think they’re too good for comics and adults afraid of the kid’s section) Teen Titans Go (even if you hate the show) Superman Smashes the Klan

For teens:

Ms. Marvel Young Avengers (volume 2) Unbelievable Gwenpool Batman: Gotham Adventures Teen Titans Go (the tie-in comic based off the old show was also called this)

Here are a bunch of relevant C. S. Lewis quotes.

#me every time i read a comic book article by a rag not exclusively about comic books: i know more than you.#marvel #spidey #DCU #MCU critical #mirrorfalls #asks answered #submission #unearthed this and bashed it out in one sitting ... i have not been working on it since you sent it last year XD

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midnightstar-90 · 3 years ago

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Live Laugh Love~ Georgie Cooper x Reader

A/N: This is actually the 4th part, but I forgot to post it on tumblr. Hope you enjoy.

Summary: Sheldon refuses to eat solid food after a choking scare.

My Masterlist | My Taglist

A Therapist, A Comic Book, and A Breakfast Sausage

Y/N's POV

After my parents died and George's near-death experience you would think that this family would be tired of scaring me, but now, let me tell you why.

Missy, Sheldon, and I were sitting at the table eating our breakfast that Mary made. Georgie was at the counter putting jelly on his toast. Mary starts to rush us, so that we're not late for school.

Sheldon started choking on his breakfast, but Missy took it as Sheldon making faces. I look up, and my eyes widen like a deer in headlights. "Missy, he's not making faces on purpose. He's choking," I say scared. Mary hears me and rushes over to Sheldon.

Georgie continues to jelly his toast, and I run to get George. I quickly hear Georgie say, "I wish she would run that quick when I need her." I roll my eyes and keep going.

George makes it to the table and tries to smack the sausage out of Sheldon's mouth. Missy yells out, "Sheldon's gonna die! Sheldon's gonna die!" I knew she was scared, so I didn't say anything. What I did see was Georgie continuing to eat, while his brother was choking. I looked at my best friend and glared. He just shrugged his shoulders in response.

I turn back around to see George has flipped Sheldon upside down and was trying to shake it out of him. Mary calls 9-1-1 and I remember something I learned in Health class. "George, Heimlich!" I yell out just before Mary.

George goes for the Heimlich, and Sheldon spits out the sausage. I saw Sheldon look at something before he spits out his food. I looked and there goes Georgie licking his jelly knife.

Mary is quick to see if her son is okay. He says, "you have to... throw away... that jelly!" Georgie just looks at him, and I look at Georgie.

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At School

I close my locker, which is right next to Georgie's. "I should have shoved that knife down your throat," I say as we start to walk to class. "Why, what did I do?" I scoff and side-eye the boy. "Your brother was on the verge of death, and you just sit there eating toast" "It's not like I could have done anything," he says casually. I walk off angry.

We make it to class on time. We sat down and our teacher started telling us about the canned food drive. When Sheldon walked in, she stopped her talk with us to see why Sheldon was late. She read the note Mary gave to Sheldon and was immediately heartbroken. "You poor thing, you had a medical emergency?" The teacher asked the 9-year-old.

"How come the teacher has more sympathy for your brother than you do?" I sarcastically ask. Georgie just shrugs again. I turn back in my seat to face the front with a 'humph'.

Sheldon explains to the teacher that he choked on a sausage. The students start laughing at Sheldon. I stand up angry, "You better shut it, before I shove a sausage down your throat!"

Georgie looks at me scared. He should be scared. Just because I'm a girl does not mean I don't know how to defend myself.

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Me and Georgie were at lunch. I look over to see if Sheldon was okay. He was just staring at his sandwich. "Why are you staring at Sheldon?" Georgie asks as I get up. I start heading for Sheldon as I say back, "because I care about him." Georgie just goes back to eating.

I walk over to Sheldon and Tam. "Hey Sheldon, aren't you gonna eat your food?" I say worried. "No, I'm not hungry," Sheldon says looking down. "I offered him my soup," Tam says.

I wonder what's going on. All I know is this Tam kid is freaking me out. Ever since I met the kid, every time I come near him he gives me googly eyes.

"Well, if you want, one of the seniors bought me a smoothie," I offer the worried child. "Is it organic," Sheldon asks. "I think so. He got it from that new smoothie place," I say nodding my head. "Sure." Hearing those words made me happy. I went to grab the smoothie and then gave it to him. I went back over to Georgie with a smile.

Sheldon's POV

"Dang, she shares food and she's hot. You got one hot friend," Tam says watching the girl who's like my sister walk away. I sip the smoothie before saying, "one, she's my brother's best friend, and two, she's like my sister." Tam looks disappointed, but I just finish the smoothie.

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Y/N's POV

Dinner

We were all sat down for dinner when Meemaw starts talking about Mr. Rosenbloom. "You know that Mr. Rosenbloom with the furniture store over by the steakhouse?" Connie asks Mary. Mary tells her mother that she doesn't know. Connie tries to remind Mary by calling the man a 'Hebrew fella with the comb-over'.

Mary corrects her mother, but Meemaw didn't really care. George just drinks his beer, while we ate our food.

Meemaw tells us that Mr. Rosenbloom asked her to dinner. My ears perk up and I say, "awe Meemaw, that's great." Mary asked her if she was gonna say yes, but Meemaw makes an inappropriate comment. "Okay Meemaw, I see you!" I say cheering her on.

Mary corrects both of us. Meemaw defends with, "What? I said 'dessert'." She turns to us and says, "I figured from the cheering that Y/N knew what I meant, but did you kids know that I was talking about sex?"

I knew Georgie knew. But Sheldon gives a confused face then says "no".

Mary notices that Sheldon wasn't eating. "Why aren't you eating?" Mary says. Sheldon tells his mother that he's scared to eat. George thought it was because of the food touching, but Sheldon says he's afraid he'll choke again.

Meemaw didn't know that Sheldon choked on a sausage. Me and Georgie explain our morning to her. "Sheldon almost died this morning," I started. "Dad was shaking him upside down like a ketchup bottle," Georgie followed.

Mary continues to try to get him to eat, but Sheldon doesn't budge. "Dibs on the tater tots," Georgie says earning a smack on the arm from me. "What? you want some." I roll my eyes continuing to eat.

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The next day was the same way. Sheldon didn't want to eat, so Georgie stole his food. I look to Meemaw and say, "I offered him a smoothie yesterday and he drank it just fine." Connie gets an idea and offers up to blend up his food. She leaves to go blend his food, and I give Sheldon a smile and a thumbs up.

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Georgie and I were finishing up getting ready for school. I was brushing my teeth, and Georgie was checking out his hair. "Are you still not talking to me? It's been almost a week. Speaking of which, where have you been. Except for practice, home, and school, I don't see you anywhere," Georgie says turning to me.

I spit the toothpaste out, rinse my mouth, and then turn to the boy. I fix one of his hairs and walk off. Even mad, I still care for the boy.

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What Georgie didn't know about me was that ever since before my parents died I loved superheroes. Their powers and backstories always amazed me. When I learned to read, I asked Mary and George for a comic. Now, every month, Mary and George give me $5 to pick out comics.

I was sat in the back corner of the comic store. I was a usual customer, so the owners would always tell me when there are new installments. I like the Avengers, a lot of them have a backstory similar to mine, like Spider-man or Ironman.

The bell to the door rings, and I see a certain little boy walk in. 'Isn't he supposed to be at therapy? Since when does Sheldon like comics?' I don't interact with him, I just watch.

He wants an X-men comic. Then I notice Tam, which I don't remember him coming in. They have a conversation until Sheldon keeps walking and runs into me.

I give him a very suspicious-looking look. "Aren't you supposed to be in therapy?" I ask with an eyebrow raised. "Yes, but I have to find out what happens in X-men #137." I laugh and show him where it is.

"Listen, I've had my problems. I've been to therapy. I know things can be scary, but we have to learn to face our fears. Your parents must be worried. You can't run from things you don't like," I try my best to help him. "Here let me show you something."

I take Sheldon to my corner in the back, and I show him my comics. "I read these comics because they remind me of me and my fears. They help me, and they could possibly help you too." I say before seeing Tam, "Tam! here I'll show you." I invite Tam to read with us.

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Georgie's POV

Missy, Meemaw, and I all decided to get a blizzard from Dairy Queen. We started talking. "Meemaw, are you ever gonna have any more babies?" Missy asked. Meemaw exclaims, "Good Lord, no!" "She's too old to have any more babies," I say.

Meemaw tells us, "Don't have to have 'em. You live long enough, your hair and your teeth start falling out, you start wetting the bed, you get to be one." I laugh and say, "haha, that's funny. We're gonna have to put a diaper on you." "You won't be laughing when you're doing it," she says, "I might be." We all laugh.

I continue to eat my blizzard when Missy asks Meemaw who's smarter besides Sheldon and Y/N. We argue a bit about it, but Meemaw says it's not about them.

"Yeah right, everything is always about Sheldon. Y/N won't talk to me, because Sheldon forgot to chew," I say, sad because I miss my best friend. "Yeah, sometimes it's like we don't exist."

Meemaw looks at us and says, "I guess Sheldon does get most of the attention. Maybe that's a good thing. If it weren't for him your parents would be on your ass all the time. And Georgie, don't you think that maybe, Y/N was scared because she already lost two of the most important people in her life, and almost another. That girl has been part of our family for years, and no matter who it is, she will still be scared to lose another family member."

"Yeah. I guess I never thought about it that way before," I say thinking about how our lives could be different without Sheldon. I also never gave Y/N's emotions about the incident much thought.

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Y/N's POV

I guess what I said helped Sheldon because he ate that piece of licorice-like a boss.

Tam, Sheldon, and I were walking home. We see police officers at our house. Tam dips, but not before yelling at me, "Call me, beautiful!" I cringe and walk home.

We make it into the house, and Sheldon is immediately yelled at. Mary thanks me for bringing him home, but I tell her that that is what family does. She smiles and I go to talk to Georgie.

"Hey," I call out knocking on his open door. "You're talking to me now?" Georgie asks putting away his magazine. "Well, I'm in a good mood. Sheldon faced his fear of chewing, partly because of me," I say giving myself a pat on the back.

"Well, I'm happy for you. And I know before I didn't really pay attention to your feelings, but I want you to know I'm sorry." Georgie hugs me and I hug him back. "Sheldon and I stopped by DQ for a blizzard, but I couldn't finish mine. You want it?" "Sweet! I get my Best Friend back and another blizzard."

I laugh and start to head out. "Good night," is all I hear before entering my room.

#sheldon cooper #georgie cooper #georgie cooper x reader #george cooper #missy cooper #mary cooper #meemaw #wattpad #young sheldon #big bang theory #x reader #fanfic #connie tucker

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renaerys · 3 years ago

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PPG One-Shot: Spelling Bee (Brick/Blossom)

Happy birthday to @genovah! She is always inspiring me to come up with more PPG content, a true hero. I’m back with another entry in the ongoing Shooketh, Not Stirred high school AU Reds series for your entertainment. As always, this can be read alone, but it happens in the same universe as part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5. This is also posted on my AO3.

Summary: Brick and Blossom hunker down in the library to study for the upcoming regional spelling bee.

***Reblogs are extremely appreciated, since this probably won’t show up in the tags due to cursing. Thank you! <3

xxx

In fairness, Brick had come to the library during his free period with the pure intention to learn. And he was certainly learning something. But somewhere between sliding into his seat opposite Blossom and watching her lips move around insouciant as if it were a strawberry slathered in ganache, his purity was torn from his weak, teenage boy fingers and there was absolutely no going back.

“Brick, are you listening to me?” She touched his hand across the table.

“Yup.”

“Did you need me to repeat the word?”

“Yup.”

“In-SOO-see-uhnt.” She sounded it out slowly, and hand to god, that dominating SOO went straight to his cock.

This, of course, was fine.

“Origin?” he asked.

She twirled her hair around her finger and puckered her lips. “French.”

Fuck.

“I…”

Blossom mistook his increasingly horny stupor for plain old stupor and sighed. “Are you even trying? Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were completely fine with Darla Dimpleton going to regionals instead of one of us.”

“I am not fine with that.”

Darla Dimpleton was an unassuming, unthreatening nobody with the personality of plain oatmeal. Brick would never have even bothered to learn her name had she not committed the cardinal sin of scoring so much extra credit while everyone else was busy having lives that she stole the number one GPA right from under him. Which meant she stole it from under Blossom too. Which meant Brick was no longer a respectable silver medal to Blossom’s gold, but currently ranked third and therefor merely happy to be on the podium at all (and for the record, no one has ever been happy merely to be on the podium, just like no one has ever been happy winning Most Improved: you sucked, and now you suck a little less. Except this time, you actually suck more because Darla fucking Dimpleton decided to Quaker Oats her way to the top of this rat race that doesn’t actually matter, but it’s the principle of the thing, i.e., the only thing that matters.).

All of this to say, Darla Dimpleton was the Worst™ and she was one hundred percent going down.

“Are you sure? Because you’re being awfully cavalier about this. Some might even call you insouciant.”

It was a testament to Brick’s powerful fondness for winning and being seen doing it that he spelled insouciant in one Darla Dimpleton-shaped cock blocking breath.

Blossom smiled like she knew something. “Much better.”

Yeah, she knows a lot of things.

The problem with dating, Brick was convinced, was that suddenly the mundane became extraordinary. Everyday experiences that he had previously taken for granted—flying around Townsville, enjoying a cup of coffee, thwarting his sometimes murderous demonic overlord from distributing incriminating polaroids, that sort of thing—were suddenly exciting, thrilling even. Because now he got to do those things with Blossom, and Blossom was cool in a smarmy, elitist sort of way that both softened his heart and hardened his dick all at the same time, and that was kind of A Lot to deal with at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“All right, do me,” Blossom said, and Brick coughed so badly his aforementioned weak, teenage boy fingers shook to stifle himself.

Mercy, he thought, probably. But all his blood was rushing south and it was going to take a supernatural willpower to get through these words so that one of them could beat the upstart porridge peasant to this year’s regional spelling bee.

“You’re the boss,” he said, because it was true, and also because he liked the way she looked at him when he said it. Like he was now the ganache-coated strawberry in this overextended metaphor that he was too laden with Homeric concupiscence being in her general proximity to unpack.

Concupiscence, there’s a ten dollar word for you, you horny genius.

He made a mental note to brag to Blossom about this later.

“Okay, let’s see…” Brick made a show of organizing the flashcards so that she wouldn’t see him discreetly re-situate his pants under the table. “Your word is cymotrichous.”

Blossom tapped her lips, and Brick found himself sympathizing with the Puritans in their absolute befuddlement over the libidinous effect of women having lips. Witchcraft, surely. “Could you use it in a sentence for me?”

Compelled entirely by black magic and therefor not responsible for his imminently questionable choices, Brick obliged her with: “Thinking about how I’d rather run my fingers through your cymotrichous hair for the rest of free period instead of sit here spelling words no one’s ever heard of.”

Blossom, who he was dead certain was extremely thirsty for him and had been for years long before they ever reconciled their rivalry, leaned over the desk separating them. Her hair, long and loose and indeed quite wavy today, was tempting. “Brick, are you flirting with me?”

It was a well-known fact of being a Weak-Fingered, Teenage Boy that one must never reveal such weakness, especially not in front of one’s girlfriend. On the other hand, co-opting said weakness and rebranding it as the suave truth was galaxy brain levels of flirting. And Brick, as has already been established, was a horny genius. “Yup.” He leaned in to meet her, and he twirled her hair between his fingers because they were weak for her, indeed. “How am I doing?”

Blossom, too determined to let her thirst deter her from her goal of sweet, academic retribution and bragging rights, tapped a finger to his lips. “Great. But we have so many words to spell, and only thirty minutes left to do them all. So get shuffling, stud.”

Well, he could work with that. One thing that made his relationship with Blossom work very well was their insatiable competitiveness. Whether they were whaling on each other over an empty parking lot, debating the efficacy of post-its as a note-taking device, or combining their powers to Captain Planet a cornmeal know-it-all back down the leaderboard where she belonged, they were relentless glory chasers. And the greater the challenge, the more they enjoyed the experience and each other.

Blossom spelled her word perfectly, by the way. She stretched out the o-u-s at the end in a bewitching little whisper as she pulled away and her hair slipped through his fingers. That moment when the light changes and the temperature shifts and you’re weightless in a state of existential anticipation of something monumental about to happen, but not quite? That happened. Thirty minutes to explore the shape of that anticipation was enough time to taste it but not enough to savor it. Which, Brick supposed, was about to make this the best thirty minutes he was likely going to get all week.

“Are you ready?” Blossom watched him from behind the card she’d drawn. She had a glint in her eyes that told him she was smiling behind that card.

“Anytime.”

“Your word is eudaemonic.”

That fucking gorgeous ooh again.

“Define it.”

Blossom flushed as though he had just ordered her to bend over. She bit her lip (it must have been a ten Hail Mary’s kind of day when the Witch-Finder General caught a flesh and blood woman doing that with her improbably sorcerous lips) and grinned. “It means producing happiness. Based on the idea of happiness as the proper end of conduct.”

Producing happiness, which is proper, much like how Blossom came off as proper and even prim around adults, when really she was the most fun, most confident, most person he’d ever met, especially when she was spelling in that chiffon top (son of a bitch, that was a great top on her), and the only conduct he was interested in was of the happiest kind.

“Oh.” His throat clenched, and then his stomach twisted, and then his pants grew little too tight again in a full-body chain reaction that began and ended with a fierce determination not to give in first even though it would mean release because release would be meaningless without this etymological tête-à-tête.

Don’t think about tête-à-têtes.

Seventeenth century, noun, borrowed from the French meaning literally “head to head” (please, please stop hurting yourself like this).

“Brick?”

Brick cleared his throat. “Yup. Got it. E-u-d…”

Crisis averted, Brick picked the next card and promptly choked on his own tongue. Blossom made a show like she was concerned and are you all right? and please drink some water. Brick drank her water, which of course she had had her anatomically heretical lips on earlier, which was just fantastic for him. Tuesday fucking morning.

Milieu was her word.

“Milieu, hmm.” Blossom’s smile was spellbinding, which was a pun because he punned when he panicked. “Origin?”

You bitch, he thought, and be cool, and also, witchcraft.

Brick leaned back in his chair, slipped his trembling hands in his pockets, and squeezed every ounce of anything you can do I can do better into a winsome grin. “French.”

Blossom’s adult-facing façade cracked like an egg, and he got a glimpse of the raw delight she felt for this game, for the words, and for him for making it happen. For cultivating the electric milieu, if you will, currently driving them both into a state of impassioned, competitive euphoria at 9:42 a.m. in the library.

“Right, um…” She stumbled over her words, and Brick had to restrain himself from crowing for joy and risk the rheumy-eyed librarian coming to scold them.

By the time they got through another set of words, they were each visibly frustrated and doubly turned on by the other’s masochistic resolve not to throw in the towel.

“Okay, ready for another round?”

She wasn’t even trying to hide her intentions now, and that was just fine with Brick. “Of course.”

One more.

If it was another French word, he was fucking done.

“Really?” Blossom truly had ice in her veins for the way she was able to school her face then. He couldn’t read her, and that was very bad.

If it’s another fucking French word…

He could be over the desk and on her faster than you could say concupiscence.

“Okay.” Blossom set down the flashcard she’d drawn and folded her hands on the table. She looked him dead in the eye licked her lips. “Succedaneum.”

The bookshelf shook but Brick’s fingers didn’t as they pinned Blossom’s over a Dewey Decimal-stamped spine and he kissed her with all the horny passion of a teenage genius who would make a note to thank the devil for giving women lips. One of his better ideas.

xxx

“Hey, has anyone seen Blossom? I’ve sent her, like, four texts!” Bubbles shoved her phone, open to the ignored texts in question, in her sister’s face. “She was supposed to help me with Chem homework.”

Buttercup ducked. “No, and watch where you’re swinging that thing.”

“I saw her earlier,” Boomer said. “She was with Brick coming out of first period.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mike slung his arm around Boomer’s shoulders. “Don’t they both have a free period right now?”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “What a scam. Whoever decided to give the A-students free periods while the rest of us mere mortals gotta slave away is a straight-up Supervillain.”

Boomer snapped his fingers. “Hey, I just remembered! They both decided to compete for the spot at the regional spelling bee this year. I bet that’s what they’re doing.”

“God, that’s the saddest thing I have ever heard in my life. That’s a new low even for Blossom.”

“I heard there’s a cash prize for the regional winner,” Bubbles said. “It’s like twenty thousand bucks! Remember, everyone in school signed up and we had to have that assembly to narrow it down?”

“Twenty thou— How the tits did I miss that?!”

“I mean, it was all over the school,” Mike said. “We signed up too.”

“What? And no one thought to tell me I could’ve won the lottery?”

Boomer chuckled. “Dude, come on. You wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell against Darla Dimpleton.”

“Who?”

Bubbles cast Boomer a not worth it look, and he just sighed. “So, if they’re studying for the spelling bee, do you think they’re in the library?”

At that moment, Butch came bursting down the hall a little too fast to be human. Open lockers rattled on their hinges as he passed, and a Sophomore girl’s binder went flying, scattering looseleaf papers everywhere. Buttercup looked ready to punch him in the dick for breaking the no powers in school rule. “Guys, you’re gonna shit!”

“Calm down before you blow a load, Jesus Christ.” Buttercup yanked him back down to the floor so he wouldn’t spontaneously float.

Sensibly, Boomer asked, “Why?”

“‘Cause Brick and Blossom are making out in the library right now!”

Mike cringed. “Oh, come on.”

“The hell they are,” Buttercup said.

Bubbles smiled. “Good for them.”

“I’m serious! There were books everywhere, and the noise—”

“Oh look, there goes my dignity. Better catch it before it gets away. C’mon, moron.” Buttercup dragged Butch down the hall over his protests. “What were you even doing in the library? I didn’t think you knew where it was…”

“Like that could ever happen,” Mike said. “Those two wouldn’t waste a minute of study time if it means beating out the competition.”

Boomer did not look so convinced. “I don’t know. I mean, they’re officially, for real dating now,”—“Finally!” Mike interjected—“so it’s not that unbelievable.”

The bell for the next period rang. Bubbles groaned thinking of stewing for an hour of Chem. At least she shared that class with Boomer and would not have to suffer alone. They parted from Mike and walked together through the throng of students rushing to get to their next period.

“Hey, do you think…”

“I mean…” Boomer shrugged.

They rounded the corner and nearly ran into Blossom dashing to her next class with a rushed “Got your texts talk later bye!” before she disappeared into the crowd.

Bubbles whirled on Boomer. “Did you see her buttons—”

“Completely uneven—”

The late bell rang and made them jump. Among the last stragglers, they both dashed a bit too fast to get to class and made it to their seats just as Mr. Micelli finished writing a problem on the board.

Boomer winked when she caught his eye a couple desks away from hers, and it took everything she had not to laugh.

“Good for her,” Bubbles said to herself.

“You are late,” Mr. Micelli said.

Everyone turned to watch Brick sink into his seat, his short hair totally askew and looking healthily flushed for a Tuesday morning.

Boomer burst out laughing and needed a whole minute to calm down.

He’d tell her later that the detention was worth it.

xxx

Witchcraft! 👁️👄👁️✨

#powerpuff girls #blossick #ppg reds #ppg blossom #ppg brick #ppg shook #powerpuff girls fanfic #february fic prompts #this probably won't show up in the tag due to cursing #so reblogs are super appreciated!!

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dawnsrose · 2 years ago

Photo

↪ inspired by : princess aurora / briar rose ( sleeping beauty ) , odette ( barbie of swan lake ) , audrey hepburn ( actress ) , juliet capulet ( romeo & juliet ) , sibyl vane ( the picture of dorian gray ) , psyche ( greek deity ) , the star ( major arcana )

aurora josephine antoinette capulet. phoebe dynevor. february 26th. pisces. n/a. ylisse. heterosexual/romantic. earth angel by the penguins. marie antoinette. homeschooled. phlegmatic. isfp. neutral good. n/a. hufflepuff. (✨🥀)

present !!

aurora came to elias under her parents’ orders, which her fairy - aunts followed without questioning. on her way to town, she was told that this would be a sort of safe haven for her, safer than the little cottage she grew up in. for many years, she simply lived her life one day at a time, waiting and hoping that eventually the time would come for her to return home and meet the parents she’d grew up not knowing existed, and that she still knows so little about. nevertheless, reuniting with philip, meeting people and making meaningful connections made her grow more and more enthusiastic about her life in elias, which she is quite happy about ─ except for the fact that she knows maleficent is lurking nearby.

past !!

aurora grew up in a cottage in the woods, unfamiliar with the world beyond the surroundings of her little home. in fact, she was unfamiliar with a lot of things: who her parents were, her title as princess and of course, the curse that’d been cast upon her by maleficent on the day of her christening.

all those details were kept secret from her until the day of her sixteenth birthday, which also turned out to be the day where she met the handsome stranger of her dreams, whose identity she was completely unaware of. naturally, hearing from her aunts that she’d been bethroted to a prince from birth and would never be able to see the stranger again was devastating to aurora, not to mention surprising.

nevertheless, she eventually came to understand that everything her parents had done for her, everything the good fairies did was out of love and in her eyes, that was the most important part. so when the news came that she would have to leave her cottage life and move to the town of elias for her own safety and protection, albeit a bit confused and hesitant at first, the princess understood and chose to keep her spirits high, knowing that one day she’ll be able to go home at last.

future !!

i would love to see aurora continue to grow confident in her own self, as well as form her own little version of a family. because she didn’t grow up with her parents, she has very little idea of what familial bonds should look like, aside from her experience with the fairies (which i honestly think still confuses her a bit, considering she sees them as family members and not just people who had a duty to fulfill when raising her). i love that the connections she’s made with people like sally and daisy are slowly helping her reach that ‘found family’ aspect, and her marriage to philip obviously plays a big part in that as well. i would also love to see her eventually finding a little job somewhere, i think it would do her good and i can definitely see her working with animals or flowers! very on brand for miss thing. i also can’t wait to see her dynamic with kit and florian develop more because i do imagine aurora always felt very lonely, so the whole concept of siblinghood and watching the dynamics between the charmont boys is so new and different to her and there’s a part of her who’s eager to belong. i’m also v v v excited to see what her first direct interaction with maleficent will be like bc aurora doesn’t really hate her but like ... she will create problems on purpose if any of her loved ones are messed with :/ in that same vein i really want rora to learn more about her dad at some point because he is Not a good person and i’d love for her to be more conflicted about the whole ‘um if u love me why did u abandon me’ situation she was put through and just riot a little lmao

taken connections

philip charmont: husband love of her life everything to her

florian charmont: brother in law

kit charmont: brother in law on weird terms but its getting better

reagan cymbeline: close friend

sorrel white: close friend

sally carrera: friend / older sister figure

daisy duck: friend / older sister figure

ella kaur: chaotic friend duo

nala omita: friend / rora looks up to her

maleficent fayre: sworn enemy cries

wanted connections

i really really really would love for rora to have more people who share of her interests? especially her love of animals and plants and flowers and nature as a whole? ngl if witch didn’t have a bad connotation in elias i would 100% say aurora is a witch i mean look at her she legit manifested her dream man AND she has animal friends AND she lived in the woods cmon

in that same vein, people who also love music and dancing and stuff! please please give her a karaoke buddy or something along those lines.

it has literally just occurred to me that aurora doesn’t really have a bad influence in her life so ... give her that. make her question everything. make her question herself. Do It.

i’ll think of more stuff i am simply a fool !

playlist 🥀 musings

#watask #walt.intro

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roscgcld · 4 years ago

Text

THE LOVE OF AN OLDER BROTHER || INUMAKI TOGE

request: Okay if you accept sibling fluff can I request inumaki toge little sister reader(in elementary school) ,where she's deaf and gets bullied for it but doesn't tell him because she thinks it's to much of a burden(like silent voice)

note: hello love! thank you so much for your request! tbh, i’ve never watched the movie A Silent Voice before, so I had to do some Youtubing to find some clips - and I blame you for making me ugly cry at 2 am in the morning lmao. It’s so sweet and such a coming of age story in a way, so I tried to channel that into my writing >< I definitely enjoyed this one a lot!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: inumaki toge

pronouns: she/her

trigger warning: bullying/physical assault mentioned, along with self depreciating and suicidal thoughts. read with caution.

proof read: N/A

Being from a clan like the Inumaki clan, many from the Jujutsu world would just automatically assume that you’d inherate the powerful Cursed Speech Curse Ability from your family. However, there is always that few exceptions when it came to things like this; and this time, you were that one exception.

You were born deaf, and because of this, you were looked down upon by the elders of your clan for being a ‘waste of an heir’. Your father, a loving man, had always shield you from there vile words; and from example your older brother, a gifted user, became overprotective of you. He would willingly take a bullet for you, constantly showering you in love and affection, and even going so far as learning how to use sign language at a young age so he can communicate with you.

Because he just wants you to grow up in a loving and somewhat normal life. That’s all he wants for you.

Hence why, instead of following the normal route of a jujutsu student, your parents decided to sign you up in a nearby elementary school with the hopes that you get to bond with normal children. So that’s how you found yourself dressed in a cute floral dress, your white frilly socks with simple Mary Janes, your white hair pulled back into a delicate braid; all excited with your backpack filled with things you picked up at the stationery store and a bento prepared by your mother.

Since it was his day off, Toge took up the responsibility of sending you off on your first day, making sure that the entire process will be smooth sailing for you. Walking down the street of your town, he lets you swing your hands between each other, smiling behind his black mask at how excited you were to start your first day of school. It warmed his heart that you get to experience normal things like this, and without knowing it, you motivated him to push himself harder to become a stronger shaman, to protect the world that brings you so much joy.

Soon you both found your way into the school grounds and quietly, Toge brought you aside so that he can pull his mask down, revealing his tattooed mouth and tongue. But you just smile at your older brother, who smiles back before he reaches over to ruffle your hair between his fingers. Quietly he signed to you, mouthing the worlds he wanted to say silently instead of wording them out in the open; he was a Cursed Speech user, after all. The safest way for him to communicate for you is for him to use onigiri ingredients. or to word out the words silently whilst doing the signs with his hands.

‘You ready for school, pipsqueak?’

“Uf huf!” You said happily, your speech clearly slurred and not so clear since you had never been corrected on how to say words properly - but with how you excitedly nod your head with a wide smile, Toge can pretty much interpret what you were saying. Smiling warmly at your excitement, he leans over to kiss you on the forehead on last time before pulling his mask back on. With that he got back up and, after taking your outstretched hand, you two joined the rest of the crowd once more.

After a lot of paperwork and awkward one sided conversations, since Toge went with the excuse that he had a sore throat, you soon found yourself being led to stand behind your new classmates, who were focused on saying goodbye to their parents. Toge squatted down before you and you can immediately tell he was smiling behind his mask, causing you to smile back as well. Quietly he leans forward to rub his masked nose with yours, something that you two always do when the other is about to leave.

With a giggle you happily rubbed your nose against his as well, and with another parting pat to your head, he got up and followed the other parents that were ushered out of the crowded hallway. Soon a few of the more confident students started to introduce themselves to one another, and one of those children came running towards you with a grin. “Good morning! My name is Taku, nice to meet you!” He greeted loudly as he bowed at you and the girls around you, who all gave him an uninterested glance before turning their attention away from him.

But you did give him an excited smile before you started to sign back a greeting, trying to vocalise your name at the same time. This cause everyone in the hallway to pause and stare at you in confusion, since they had not expected for someone who looks so sweet and soft spoken to have spoken in such a loud and odd way. However before anyone can make a comment about it, the teacher finally arrived with a warm smile on his face, gesturing for the students to entire their new class.

This moment of excitement managed to distract the students and soon everyone flooded into the room, waiting for their seat arrangements to be settled by the teacher before they start their first real day as students. Of course, like any first day of school, you had to do the ice breaker activities to introduce your name and greeting the rest of the class. Everyone had to do it, regardless if they were ready to do it or not - and you were no exception.

You stood up excitedly before you started to say what sounds like your name, signing along the way to try and express yourself better. Once again, everyone was staring at you in confusion, having never heard someone speak like you before. Your teacher just smiles and nods, introducing you to the rest of the students simply. “Inumaki here is actually deaf, meaning she can’t hear you all. So you have to be more creative when you want to talk to her. However, just because she is different, doesn’t mean she is any different from you all. So I expect to treat her like everyone else.”

The simple explanation caused the rest of the students to nod softly, giving you more curious looks since they’ve never been around someone like you before. But on the outside, you were pretty much the same like the rest of them; so it was easy to forget that you were any different from them in the beginning.

It was actually really fun for you - for your entire life, you had always been around sorceress, feeling like an outcast in such a well gifted family. Even though you had a disadvantage, you had always been acutely aware of where curses were, being able to locate them quite accurately even without former training. But you were still a child, so you were given a chance to try out the life as a normal child. You were ecstatic, since you had always dreamed what it would be like to start school and live a normal life.

But, as if the world wanted to spite you, things never tend to go your way.

You remember how things first started out for you - people were shocked at how loud and different you were, but made a real effort to try and talk to you to try and get to know you; since that was what their teachers told them to. However, after awhile, people started to talk behind your back; about how you made no real effort to try and join the conversation, even though the hearing aids you donned on seemed to help you understand them just a little better. At first you ignored the comments of just a few people, having been able to ignore all the backhanded comments that the elders have made for almost your entire life.

However, the first ever boy who introduce himself to you, Taku, seemed to have deemed you to be the odd one out - and for some reason, had decided that you were going to be the subject of his new taunts and teases. At first it was small things like playful off handed comments about you that made your mood fall, but didn’t do much. You have been subjected to worse treatement from others. However, as the weeks go by, it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Toge had noticed that as the weeks go on, the enthusiasm that you once held for school started to dwindle. Every time he asks you about it though, you would just quickly wave him off, saying that you were just tired with how much work it takes to with people who weren’t necessarily used to using sign language and understanding you. Technically you weren’t lying, since you were mentally drained trying to communicate with so many different types of people. But at the same time, all the off-handed comments were getting to you.

Your answer definitely has him concerned, since he was used to having his baby sister basically talking his ear off on a normal bases; but he didn’t push you too much. It was something he had learnt to do when it comes to you - that when you really need him, you’d come and tell him no matter what. And it was true; even if it was a small trivial matter, you always come whining to him for attention and a listening ear. So he doesn’t necessarily push you to tell him, but he did remind you that if you needed him, he would be there.

And you knew that, but the same time, somehow there were seeds of doubts planted in your mind.

“Don’t you think you’re annoying people all the time?”

“God, you’re so noisy! Can’t you talk quieter?! No wonder people don’t like talking to you~”

“Can you stop trying so hard? You just sound weird.”

It hurt you, and with how busy he can get with his own school life and rarely get to see you, these words started to fill your head and make you feel like you aren’t worth all the effort that people put into trying to communicate with you. It made you start to become closed off and stop making the effort to talk to people, because in your eyes, you didn’t want to be a bigger bother then you already are for people.

Your sudden silence definitely had your parents getting concerned about you, since they were weren’t sure as to why you were suddenly so quiet and secluded from your family when you all used to be such a close family unit. Toge was the most concerned one out of everyone, so after he finally got home from his classes for the week, he had brought some some of the fruit tarts he knows you love from a nearby bakery.

Quietly he made his way to his baby sister’s room, knocking on the wooden frame of the shoji doors to let her know he was coming in. “Salmon?” He calls out curiously as he carefully pushes open the door to your room open, peeking his head in side. The sight of you curled up on your side on your bed, not even acknowledging that your brother had entered your room. Your lack of response does concern him; so he quietly set the box of tarts down on your bedside table before carefully setting down on the bed beside you.

Quietly he reaches over to run his fingers through your soft hair, wordlessly giving you the comfort you didn’t know you were needing. Just a simple touch from someone who you have been trying to hide for so long definitely have your eyes watering. Wordlessly you turned to face your older brother, who just gave you an encouraging smile before he opens his arms for you.

You launched yourself into his arms, and if he hadn’t been waiting for it to happen, he would have fallen back from the sheer force of the hug. Any normal person would have asked you hundreds of questions that will frankly make you feel worse, but Toge was just a pro at understanding you without you needing to say a word.

He might not know just what is it that got you so upset in the first place, and just how much seeing him in your room made you feel a little less lonely; but he wordlessly just wraps his arms around you, pressing soft kisses on the top of your head wordlessly as you soaked his shirt with your tears. It breaks his heart that you were going through the pains of having to live with something that you didn’t choose to have.

But if all you need was someone to lean on, he just wants wants you know that he’s here no matter what.

#inumaki imagines #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #inumaki x reader #inumaki x you #inumaki fluff #inumaki

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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

Note

You talked about writers warning for character bashing in HP fandom but I don't think we would see anything similar in the RWBY fandom. There seems to have been a shift in fan culture where people insist that their flattened evil version of the character is the one depicted in canon rather than saying they bash the character. I see something similar in another fandom where people can't just say they don't like a character, but have to justify it on moral grounds by making them the worst ever.

To clarify, those Harry Potter fics were posted between, like... 2004 and 2011. No modern fics that I came across. So yeah, I definitely think there's been a shift in fan culture over the years, the same one that has done away with things like "Don't like, don't read" and distinguishing preferences vs. squicks vs. triggers. "Flattened" is a great term, not just for how characters are depicted at times, but for how fans approach fic in general too. There's now this strong belief that certain fan content can't exist, period, which is how we end up with furious posts every time AO3 has a fundraiser, or—in our circle of the internet—RWBY fans flaming others for producing criticism. I don't want to make it sound like old school fandom was some utopia—quite obviously not. People have always been people, so to speak—but there has been a marked decrease in fans both staying in their lane and acknowledging that what they like may not be everyone else's cup of tea. The fact that acronyms like "YKINMK" existed at all speaks to the fact that such disagreements have always taken place, but at the same time, it seems like in 2021 you're less likely to come across such reminders at all, let alone someone backing off when faced with one. I mean, despite having the capability to cultivate our online experience more easily than ever before, fans are still outright begging one another to just block and move on. There's this very strong belief nowadays that if someone else doesn't like a particular kind of fan content, it's their duty to do everything in their power to, not ignore it, but erase it.

So yeah, you're much less likely to find an "Ozpin bashing" warning in 2021 and, I think, that stems as much from a lack of respect within the community as it does insisting that a personal interpretation is the canon, no exceptions allowed. Giving a "[name] bashing" warning is an acknowledgment that not everyone will agree/enjoy this interpretation of the character you've put forth and the author cares about you having the option to immediately back out. There's an understanding that it doesn't matter whether you can support this reading or not, the point is acknowledging that no matter how strongly you may feel that this interpretation is "correct," you accept that others will feel differently and you want to accommodate that. Interestingly, fandom has gotten a lot better with warnings when it comes to "objective" subjects; things we've somewhat universally agreed deserve a heads up. Stuff like easily understood triggers and major character deaths, helped along by AO3's formatting where you have to choose a major warnings category. Yet at the same time, warnings for subjective topics seems to have died down somewhat. Character bashing, chapters that have been revised, use of genre-specific clichés, really powerful characters edging into Mary Sue territory... the sort of warnings that aren't for anyone's mental health, but simply as a way to say, "The thing I made and love may not be the thing you love and want to read." Obviously we can still find examples like this—especially since everyone posting in the early 2000s hasn't just up and disappeared. The summary habits we learned early can stay with us—but on the whole, given that purity culture thinking that some things Can't Exist and this interpretation is The Correct Interpretation while that one is Very Wrong and Probably Bad, we've lost a lot of the cultural work that normalizes accepting different tastes and warning people just as a fandom form of politeness.

Ngl, fic summaries and related paratexts are super fascinating to me. In this age where fic is common knowledge, we've almost entirely lost disclaimers—"I don't own JKR's Harry Potter, just playing in the sandbox for a while!"—and gained a pseudo-chatting function in AO3's tags that, often, is more entertaining than informative. There have been good changes and bad changes, neutral changes and, as said, fandom has always struggled with these issues... but there is a difference between the fandom culture of now and the fandom culture of, say, 30 years ago. One rather distressing change is an inability to just go, "Yeah I like/dislike this character" without the community requiring an essay's worth of proof and taking your stance as an indictor of IRL morals. Honestly, the fact that I've seen so many posts the last few years saying something along the hyperbolic lines of, "Actually, I love the villain and think everything they've ever done is totally justified" speaks to this pressure to equate entertainment preferences (and fictional analyses) with moral worth. And that, in turn, leads to a change in how fanworks are presented to the rest of the community. Instead of that acceptance that everyone has preferences, we're getting more takes like:

Why would anyone warn for Ozpin bashing? Bashing him is expected and justified. He's a horrible person, remember? That's the one (1) accepted reading and any good member of the fandom will remember that, agree with it, and embrace such bashing in any fics they read. Ironwood? He's a dictator! Omg how can you like him? Why would you want a story that's kind to him? What does that say about you? Bootlicker 😒

#rwby #rwde #fandom #mymetas

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loverboytrashmouth · 4 years ago

Text

Wish You Were Sober

pairing; Reddie

word count; 4k

summary; Eddie is tired of Richie flirting like a madman whenever he gets alcohol in his system.

a/n; so i decided i’m making a kind of series of reddie fics i write based on songs, bc i’m the type of bitch that listens to any music or intakes any kind of media and thinks “iMagiNe tHiS bUt rEdDiE<333″ so ya there’s that lol. here’s a lil angsty one shot based on wish you were sober by conan gray, aka a superior song if u ask me. as always, read on ao3 here if you’d like and enjoy ! :)

Nirvana blared through the speakers and traveled throughout the too small apartment owned by some random guy in one of Richie’s classes. Richie didn’t know him too well - he thinks his name is Chris? Collin? Something with a ‘C’ - but, hey, a party’s a party, and free booze is free booze.

The trashmouth was chatting loudly over the music with Bill on a dingy leather couch, waiting for Stan and Eddie to return with more drinks. Richie was already significantly further along than his friends in terms of his drunken state, all obnoxious laughs interrupted by hiccups and long, gangly limbs flailing more wildly than usual. It almost should be concerning to the other Losers, having only been at the party for less than a couple hours and their friend already being long gone, but it was what they were used to. Since they were 15 and stealing liquor from their parents, the Losers constantly saw Richie’s “go big or go home” attitude with drinking. They assumed it was just Richie wanting to be the life of the party and center of attention, whether that meant going shot for shot with Mike, accepting any type of drinking related dare from Beverly, etc.

Richie let them believe this, because it was better than telling them the truth. It was easier than admitting to them that around the same time he started sneaking a copious amount of vodka from the Tozier’s alcohol stash, he was also realizing certain feelings he had for a certain Loser.

Richie Tozier loved Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie was sure it was just one of those basic laws of the universe, one that’s impossible to ignore and inevitable to come to pass. Despite this, living in a small town like Derry meant getting the shit kicked out of you if you even look at another guy for too long, soulmates or inescapable love or whatever be damned. Richie had gotten beatdowns left and right from neighborhood bullies for being a “faggot” before he even knew what the word meant, so he, unfortunately, knew this from personal experience.

But now, sitting in an apartment in Manhattan of all places, attending NYU with three out of six of his best friends, away from those assholes in Derry, Richie thought he’d loosen up. Let himself be brave.

He soon learned that was easier said than done; who knew what 19 years of internalized homophobia could do to a man?

It’s not like he was afraid of being more of an outcast; he was already a loser with a capital “L,” and he, along with the rest of his friends, carried the title like it was given to them by the Queen herself. Deep down Richie knew the rest of the Losers wouldn’t even bat an eye at the fact that he liked dudes the way he should have liked girls, so he wasn’t afraid of losing them either. And deep, deep down, Richie also knew there wasn’t really anything wrong with him. Why would he feel such a way if it was supposed to be such an unnatural and vile thing? He couldn’t help who he was, who or how he loved, and God, he loved Eddie so much he thought he could just burst with it sometimes.

That shred of acceptance, though, was buried so deep in his lanky form, and the only way to reach it was through a ridiculous amount of shots. Or beers. Or just about anything with a decent alcohol content, really. He’d even settle with wine if he had to.

When Richie was drunk, he was able to be more clingy and face less consequences. He was already an affectionate guy, constantly pinching Eddie’s cheeks and throwing a lazy arm around the shorter man’s shoulders whenever he could. With alcohol, though, he’d give sloppy cheek kisses and intertwine his fingers with Eddie’s and allow his face to form a subtle blush when an intoxicated Eddie would lean into it.

“Sorry for being all over ya last night, Eds. You know how gross and clingy I can get,” he’d say the following morning, and then they’d fall back into their rhythm of bickering and ‘your mom’ jokes. Business as usual, like clockwork every time they’d get wasted.

Richie thought it was going well, that his feelings were going totally unnoticed, that he was stealth. Until this particular college party, that is.

Richie’s attention left his conversation with Bill about the newest Die Hard film when he felt the couch sink next to him, turning to meet eyes with a mildly tipsy Eddie. The taller man’s face immediately lit up, a goofy smile spreading across his chapped lips.

“Hiya, Spagheds! What’s cookin, good lookin’?” Richie slurred out, his arm finding its way around Eddie’s waist and using his other hand to snatch the mixed drink his friend was holding out for him. Eddie responded with his usual scoff and eyeroll, but Richie noted an extra bite to it that he wasn’t used to getting from him.

“Don’t call me that, asshole! And haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” Eddie grumbled, wiggling himself out of Richie’s side embrace and putting some distance between the two. The arm that was once around Eddie made its way to Richie’s own body as he dramatically grasped at his chest.

“Eddie, baby, you’ve wounded me! Since when do you pass up some signature Tozier cuddles?” Richie was met with a simple huff in response as Eddie avoided his gaze. Richie’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at the lack of attention he was receiving from the man who would usually be giving him the most attention, but he was overall too drunk to overthink. With a shrug, Richie downed his freshly made drink in record timing before crunching the plastic cup in his hand and tossing it over his shoulder, causing Eddie to scoff again from next to him. Stan spoke up from beside Bill before Eddie could ream his friend about his lack of care for tidiness.

“Maybe you should start on some water, huh, Rich?” Richie gasped dramatically, turning to look at Stan as if he had just told him pigs fly.

“Staniel, did you just ask moi to drink water? What’s the point of free booze if you’re not gonna take advantage?” He asked incredulously before standing, wobbling on his long limbs for a couple seconds and giggling a bit before regaining his balance. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go see if my boy Chris has any good brewskis lyin’ around.”

“Isn’t his name C-C-Connor?” Bill asked, shaking his head in amusement. He seemed to be the only one enjoying the trashmouth’s antics this evening, as Stan’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern which he tried to pass off as annoyance, and Eddie still kept his gaze elsewhere. It was the latter that made Richie itch for another drink.

“Whatever the fuck, Billiam. I’ll be back in a jiff, my loves! Try not to miss me too much!” Richie exclaimed with a bow, breaking out his British accent for his next sentence. “But if I find m’lady Mary Jane, don’t wait up, lads! Pip pip!”

Before Richie could step five feet from the couch, an aggressive hand was yanking him back by the wrist. Losing his footing due to the intrusion, Richie stumbled once more, nearly toppling onto Eddie. The shorter man’s tight grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him from sending them both back onto the scratchy leather of the couch below. Richie beamed at the attention he was finally receiving, despite the glare Eddie was boring deep into his features.

“Sit the fuck down, Richard. You’re not drinking anymore fucking beer and you’re definitely not smoking anything. You’re drinking some water and I’m taking you the fuck back to your room, asswipe,” Eddie said sternly, getting as close as he could to Richie’s face with the height difference between them. Richie couldn’t help but love when Eddie got like this; sure, he was red in the face more with anger than with the alcohol, but the anger was backed by mountains of concern. It reminded Richie how much his love cared about him, even though he was sure their forms of love differed. There was still some kind of love there, and sometimes, that was enough for him.

Although Richie felt his chest swell and he wanted nothing more than to ease Eddie’s anger and please him, his mouth rambled before his brain could tell it what to say, as usual.

“If you wanted to get me alone, Eds, all ya had to do was ask,” Richie slurred with a wink, slowly bringing his hand up Eddie’s arm, his calloused fingertips slightly teasing the warm skin. Eddie’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red, from anger or something else, no one was sure - until Richie’s hand was being swatted away, the smack of it loud enough for Bill and Stan to hear over the music from their spot on the couch. Richie mumbled a curse under his breath as he rubbed the skin Eddie came in contact with, a sting lingering there. He opened his mouth to speak again, some kind of excuse or apology on the tip of his tongue, but never got it out due to Eddie’s voice cutting him off.

“Stop doing this, Richie! Just stop! I’m tired of it!” Eddie's voice was slowly rising, and the tremble that laced within his words acted as some kind of magical potion; suddenly Richie had never been so sober.

“Hey, Eddie, it’s okay. I’m sorry, whatever I did I’m sor-” The apology was interrupted with another signature scoff as Eddie looked at the ground, shaking his head, breathing out a humorless chuckle.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” he said with a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking Richie in his eyes once again. Despite the apartment being dark with the exception of a couple of lamps scattered around the area, Richie could see the glistening threat of tears waiting to spill from the doe eyes he loved so much. His heart ached.

“Of course you don’t know what you’re doing, Rich, because you’re too fucking drunk! You’re always too drunk. I just… I just wish you were sober for fucking once!” Eddie practically screamed, before his voice softened with hurt again. “I just wish you’d act like this with me without fucking booze.” There were a couple beats of silence between them, two pairs of dark eyes swimming with gallons of emotions simply blinking at one another, the only noise coming from Eddie’s sniffling. Richie did all in his power to search for a response, but for once in his life, the trashmouth was at a loss for words. After what felt like forever, Eddie finally ended the moment by turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door, leaving Richie to stand in dumbfounded silence while his intoxicated brain processed the scene that just unfolded. His thought process was interrupted by a voice coming from the couch.

“Wha-what just happened?” Bill asked, his amusement from earlier in the night completely dissipated and replaced with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Richie’s oblivious and a dumbass is what just happened. Nothing new,” Stan deadpanned from next to him. Richie snapped his body towards the pair, making his head spin and reminding him of just how drunk he was. He blinked at the two in an attempt to adjust his sight before raising his hands in defense at Stan’s comment.

“What are you talking about? Do you know what that was about?” Richie asked, pointing towards the direction Eddie stormed off in. Stan rolled his eyes before standing up and grabbing Richie by the shoulders with both hands, giving him a serious look.

“When we went to get drinks, Eddie talked to me. About you. About how you act when you’re drunk, all over him and shit, more than usual. And how much he likes it, but he hates that he likes it, because you only do it when you’re drunk.” Richie continued to gape at his friend, clearly not connecting what Stan’s words meant. Stan sighed, scrunching his face in annoyance and gripping Richie’s shoulders tighter. “He’s in love with you, asshole! Either tell him you love him too, because trust me, everyone except him knows you do, or stop leading him on. It’s fucking ruining him, man!”

Realization finally hit Richie, his eyes welling with tears as Stan’s grip on his shoulders softened. “He- He is? Are you sure? This- This isn’t funny, Stanley. A-Are you sure?” he breathed out, and if it wasn’t for the weight of the situation, he’d made a joke about how he was sounding like Bill, nervous stutter and all. Stan gave a slight nod and responded, but Richie didn’t hear what he said. His mind was suddenly racing; find Eddie. tell Eddie. kiss Eddie. EddieEddieEddie.

Before he knew it his feet were running just as fast as his thoughts, not 100% sure where he was going, just knowing he needed to find Eddie. Richie raced out of the apartment building into the chilly air that was New York City on a late November night, frantically scanning the streets. His eyes soon locked on a figure about half a block down, leaning against a mailbox, head in his hands. Even with the distance between them, Richie could tell he was trembling, either from the cold or from crying, he wasn’t sure. As he felt the sharp breeze across his skin exposed by the rips in his jeans, he assumed probably both.

Richie thought better than to call out his name, opting instead to slowly approach Eddie. He did his best to labor his breathing in his short walk over, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation that was about to take place. The confrontation that would bear all feelings, all confessions. All of the walls Richie had been building around himself since high school would finally come down.

He wished he had another drink.

“Eds?” He spoke softly, possibly the softest he’d ever spoken, as to not scare Eddie and send him running. The shorter man lifted his head from his hands, and Richie’s heart broke even more at the sight before him. Eddie’s eyes were red and puffy, a wall of hurt extremely evident in the soft brown. His nose was runny, and his lip quivered as he looked away when he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Don’t call me that,” he practically whispered, just loud enough for the other to catch it over the bustle of traffic in the streets surrounding them. Although he was avoiding the other man’s gaze like his life depended on it, Eddie made no attempt to walk away. Richie took that as a small win.

“Eddie, talk to me. Please. What’s up? It’s just me and you, man. C’mon.” Richie wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Eddie. Offer a comforting hand on his shoulder, run his fingers through his hair, hold him close, tell him everything would be okay. But he didn’t dare move.

A car honked down the street, offering the only noise that cut through the thick silence when Eddie didn’t take Richie’s offer to speak. The former stayed silent with his head down, finding the dirty concrete under his pristine white converse highly interesting. Richie let out a sigh.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk. I’ll do all the talking. I’m the Trashmouth after all, aren’t I?” Richie offered a lame chuckle when his attempt at a joke fell flat, Eddie not breaking his frown even slightly. Richie cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. “Look, I talked to Stan, he told me what you guys talked about, and -” He was cut off by the same humorless chuckle he heard in the apartment minutes ago, but this time it dripped with sadness rather than anger.

“Dammit, Stanley, you fucking traitor,” Eddie mumbled mostly to himself. He shook his head with a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, making them impossibly redder, before willing himself to look at Richie, his voice finally reaching above a murmur for the first time since leaving the party. “Secret’s out, I guess. I’m a fucking cliche. The fuckin’ queer that fell for his best friend.”

All Richie could do was silently stare, mouth slightly agape and eyes comically blown, amplified more so by his glasses. Sure, Stan had told him this not even five minutes beforehand, but hearing it from Eddie himself was an entirely different experience. He figured under different circumstances, Eddie would probably be laughing at how dumb he was sure he looked. Instead, the shorter man looked at him expectantly with tears still in his eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response, and expecting the worst. They stood this way, basically a mirroring of what played out in the party upstairs before Eddie stormed out, for a solid minute before it was - once again - Eddie who broke the silence.

“So much for doing all the talking,” he muttered, the volume of his voice lowering, Richie realizing as Eddie looked back at the ground that he was closing in on himself once again. “Good night, Rich.”

“No,” Richie finally spoke, his arm darting out to grab Eddie’s hand before he could even adjust his feet to leave. “Please don’t walk away again. Please.” His voice broke on the last plea, his own eyes finally beginning to water. Eddie was still staring in the opposite direction down the concrete path he was planning on following before he was interrupted, but was staying put, not rejecting Richie’s hand in his. “There’s so much I wanna say to you, Eddie. So much. I just… Shit, I just don’t know how.”

Richie was crying just as much as Eddie was at this point but quieter, unable to pull himself together as much as he wanted to be brave. Eddie turned his head to face Richie with his glare still hardened, only softening when he saw the state Richie was in. Eddie had known Richie since they were literal children, and he knew better than anyone that Richie Tozier didn’t cry like this. Not unless something was truly eating at him. The anger Eddie felt towards the situation seemed to have completely disappeared as he comfortably squeezed Richie’s hand, giving him encouraging eyes.

The taller man used his free hand to rub the tears from his eyes, giving him a better look at Eddie. They were standing fairly close to the lone street light of the block, the faint orange tint of the bulb complimenting Eddie’s lightly tanned skin and chestnut eyes. Without thinking, Richie brought his hand up to Eddie’s face, cupping his cheek and wiping a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. He continued softly rubbing at the skin there after the tear was gone, his thumb dancing across the freckles, his mind flooded with thoughts of how beautiful the man before him was. Eddie closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in the feel of Richie’s touch.

Unable to find words again but refusing to let the moment slip out of his fingers for the third time of the night, Richie did the only thing he truly knew how to do; he acted impulsively.

If asked, Richie wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly when he decided to kiss the man he’d loved since he was 15 in the middle of Greenwich Village at one in the morning. Before he knew it, the hand on Eddie’s cheek slid down to his neck, pulling their lips together before the shorter man could react to the shift in Richie’s hold on him. As much as he didn’t want to admit the fact, Richie knew he wouldn’t have taken such action if it weren’t for the alcohol flowing through his veins, but at this point he didn’t much care. When their lips met, he forgot all about the booze, and became drunk on Eddie.

Eddie kissed back without hesitation, letting go of Richie’s hand and easily snaking his arms around his neck, with a comfortability as if they had done this thousands of times. It was sloppy due to the pair’s mixed tears along with their lack of experience, but nevertheless the two men kissed with purpose, as if the fate of their livelihood depended on this moment. Perhaps it did.

By the time they pulled away and rested their foreheads together, Eddie’s fingers had found themselves tangled in Richie’s dark curls, and Richie’s hands were gripping Eddie’s hips for dear life. The kiss hadn’t lasted too long - thirty seconds or so, if that - however the energy both men poured into those short seconds left them panting heavily, their breath tangling together, hot in the other’s face in the midst of the cold air around them.

“That was better than talking,” Richie breathed out with a wet chuckle, causing Eddie to finally crack his first smile of the night. It was a small one, the corners of his mouth curving only lightly, but Richie saw that his happiness had made its way into his stare.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie whispered with no real bite in his words before bringing their lips together again, this kiss softer than the last. While their first kiss was filled with the passion built up from years of mutual pining and secrets, their second let them convey the deepness of their love without words to speak. A tender peck of their lips told Richie everything he needed to know; this moment was very much real, and Eddie Kaspbrak very much loved Richie Tozier.

And if the kiss wasn’t enough, Eddie made sure to tell him when he pulled out of the kiss and rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder, pulling him into a proper embrace.

“I love you, Rich. I- I think I always have,” he confessed, his voice slightly muffled from where his face was buried in Richie’s neck, but the other man heard him loud and clear all the same. Richie released his grip on Eddie’s hips and wrapped his arms around him, letting himself breathe out a sigh of relief as he held him impossibly closer.

“I love you too, Eds. So fucking much, fuck.” Richie pressed a kiss to soft brown waves, breathing in the clean scent of lavender shampoo mixed with light cologne, his senses filling with just Eddie.

Standing in the middle of a bustling city they barely knew in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, arms wrapped tightly around one another, ignoring the strangers that walked past them most definitely giving them some variation of judgemental stares, Eddie and Richie had never felt more at home.

“Alright, Trashmouth,” Eddie started, reluctantly pulling away from Richie’s hold. Richie pouted at the loss of feeling Eddie’s body pressed against his own, making the latter chuckle and playfully roll his eyes. He pressed a quick peck to said trashmouth before continuing. “We can talk about this more in the morning. Right now, you need water and sleep.” Richie slapped a toothy grin onto his chapped lips after, once again, being reminded of how intoxicated he still was, falling back into his goofy demeanor with ease.

“Ya gonna take care of me, Dr. K? Ugh, what a dreamboat,” he replied, miming a cartoonish faint. Eddie simply giggled and grasped Richie’s hand once again, interlacing their fingers and leading him in the direction of their dorms. Richie fell back ever so slightly as to not get caught looking at Eddie like the lovesick dork he was, feeling a warmth grow in his body he was sure wasn’t due to the alcohol.

Richie still drinks after this night; old habits die hard, of course. However, Richie didn’t have to be drunk anymore to admit he loved Eddie. He told him sober and drunk, day and night, and vowed to remind Eddie just how much he loved him until the day they died.

#my writing #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fic #reddie fanfic #reddie angst #it #it chapter one #it chapter two #it 2017 #it 2019

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tcm · 4 years ago

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Minnelli Magic and The Band Wagon By Constance Cherise

Period piece perfection, attention to detail and an impeccable eye. You simply cannot rival Oscar winner and three-time Golden Globe winner Vincente Minnelli during the height of his career. It was as if the musical Technicolor coming-of-age was waiting for his destined arrival. But, what else would you expect from the former art director of Radio City Music Hall? There, he designed and eventually directed monthly stage shows (Minnelli designed the iconic Parade of Wooden Soldiers costume, still in use for the annual Radio City Christmas Spectacular) before his imminent second coming to Hollywood.

There is a bevy of activity in MGM’s THE BAND WAGON (‘53), which easily turn this entry into a three-page essay. An ideal introduction for a novice, THE BAND WAGON is a visual encapsulation of the glorious movie musical as well as a quintessential vehicle for Minnelli to once again prove his raison d'être. Comprised of a “hundred or more little things,” THE BAND WAGON is a sheer explosion of joy with its ideal cast of characters, visually captivating sets and driving musical orchestrations which move the film along at an even pace, producing the industry standard of “That's Entertainment.” Its jaunty Broadway opening score sounds as if we’re sitting in a vaudeville theatre enjoying a live pit orchestra and on its own, is enough to lift spirits. The plot is simple. A washed-up hoofer attempts a comeback on the Broadway stage. Comedic pandemonium ensues.

No other film probably reflects Minnelli's former Radio City stage experience more than this backstage musical. The rehearsal scene where sections of the stage revolve, lift and lower, stage queues get confused and all goes amusingly wrong, was no doubt a reference to Radio City's elevator hydraulic system. Minnelli’s expertise in stage design is given an appropriate nod with the Proscenium Theatre models that appear on the shelf behind the couch in Jeff Cordova’s yellow reception room. However, this is not Minnelli's only production that offers us an insider's perspective. A film removing the Hollywood gloss, equally as exquisite, even in black and white, is the wickedly fun THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL (‘52).

The majority of the main characters were based on some aspect of themselves or real-life people. Characters Lily and Lester Marton were based on screenwriters/lyricists Betty Comden and Adolph Green, who were already industry colleagues with Minnelli, as both also toiled on Broadway before arriving in Hollywood. Fred Astaire honestly felt that Cyd Charisse was too tall for him and his angst was written into the script. Oscar Levant was a true-life hypochondriac.

Of course, humor is not lost wherein the opening scene an auctioneer references Swinging Down to Panama as an amusing referral to the Astaire and Rogers film, FLYING DOWN TO RIO (‘33). Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney’s backyard musicals receive a playful jab when Lester (Oscar Levant) heartily states, "Why can't us kids get together and put on ourselves a show?” Our introduction to Jeff Cordova (Jack Buchanan) through the theatre poster—Jeff Cordova presents, adapted from... Jeff Cordova, starring Jeff Cordova, (pause, pan out and down) directed by Jeff Cordova— is the ideal introduction to the character’s omnipresent ego. Listening to the vocals of “You and the Night and the Music” with its embellished bravado, along with the excess of explosives could cause an individual to start coughing in sympathy. The film is brimming with sophisticated comedy, surely inspired by cocktail-charged, jovial conversations in smoke-filled rooms.

As usual, Minnelli’s sets are vibrant and imaginative. Cordova's home has an elegant Paul Williams aura. Even the doors are glamorous. Each room is painted in various colors to reflect different moods, including the ever-present Minnelli Red. In the theatre, where we are first introduced to Gabrielle (Cyd Charisse), the surreal stage backdrop is dreamy and existential with its combination of calming hues. I always look forward to that simplistically stunning scene.

Speaking of Charisse, where was costume designer Mary Ann Nyberg all of our lives? It took me some time to realize the intricacies of the black A-line dress Charisse wears when arriving at Cordova’s home, more than likely because I was coveting her green gloves. Fashion fans, please gather. A scalloped black lace top is coupled with a green A-line underskirt bottom that is overlapped with black lace. The entire dress is covered in shimmering green sparkles. It is delicately romantic and ingenious all together, and is the most beautiful costume in the film, until the “New Sun in the Sky” number.

Nyburg hits the bullseye, creating a depiction of the sun manifested in the form of a dress. She then adds a red tulle arm puff. It is perfection until Charisse peels herself from a full-length jacket to reveal her dazzling red dress in the “Girl Hunt” ballet, which she claimed was her favorite costume. Charise performs an iconic dance in a nightclub once again as she did with Gene Kelly in SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN (‘52) and once again, those legs! Nyberg isn't done. The final scene finds Nanette Fabray in a blue and black A-line tulle gown and Charisse in a sweetheart neckline, moss green taffeta, fitted, biased cut gown, with so many details this will turn into a run-on sentence.

Many classic musical fans consider “Dancing in the Dark” one of the most romantic scenes put on film. After a contentious working relationship Tony (Astaire) and Gabrielle must learn if they truly can dance together to foster a hit show, which of course they do at night in the park, alone. Naturally, it is also the budding of their love affair. There was one notable scene that ended on the cutting room floor, “Two-Faced Woman,” and I am convinced it was a mistake to remove because its double-sided origami-like set design is exquisitely unique. However, it is easily found online and absolutely worth watching.

youtube

A barrage of aesthetically lush scenes appear in Minnelli films, executed so dynamically well you don't consciously realize how much is being absorbed and that is his exact tool of entrapment. A visual assault of the senses that naturally entices into his vortex. Critic Derek Malcolm had it exactly right when he said “The more you look at it, the more perfect it seems. Hollywood doesn't make films like this now because public taste has changed. But it's doubtful if they could anyway.”

It is doubtful that today's Hollywood could conjure the artistry of THE BANDWAGON, as it retains the same timeless light-hearted exuberance over 65 years later. Not only is that exceptional directing, it is pure Minnelli magic.

#Fred Astaire #cyd charisse #musicals #1950s #fashion #style #old hollywood #dancing #theater #performance #Constance Cherise

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angellazull · 4 years ago

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Hogwarts Mystery Profile: Angelo Lancaster

Finally I updated Angel's profile, model of the form was made by @hogwartsmysterystory, hope this clarifies better.

(@immagrosscandy art)

Name: Angelo Nikolas Stellair Lancaster.

Gender: Male.

Age: 17.

Birth Date: August 23, 1972.

Species: Half-veela.

Blood Status: Half-Blood.

Sexuality: Pansexual.

Alignment: Chaotic Good.

Ethnicity: Caucasian.

Nationality: Brazilian/British.

Residence: Royal-Garden, England.

Myer Briggs Personality Type: INTJ-T.

The Mage

1st Wand:

Acacia – 30 cm – Slightly Springy – Dragon heartstrings core (Antipodean Opaleye).

A very unusual wand wood, which I have found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and I keep only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as ‘bangs-and-smells’ magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament.

Ebony – 35 cm – Slightly Springy – Veela hair core (Provided by Leonor Lancaster). With a sapphire at the end of the handle and silver details.

2nd Wand:

(Art by @kyril-but-magical)

This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

Animagus: A black Bombay cat, with a streak of blue fur on its head between its ears.

Misc Magical Abilities: Veela charm, hypnosis and sensitive to emotions.

Boggart Form:

4st-11th year: The Royal-Garden boys laughing at him and humiliating him.

11th-13th year: His friends turning away from him for being a Veela.

13th year onwards: His most important people dying without him being able to do anything.

Riddikulus form: The previous person juggling puffskeins.

Amortentia: Smell of new book, roses (the smell of Penny), peaches and apple pie.

Patronus: Cat bombay.

Patronus Memory: Jacob and him skating on ice when he was a child and his brother saving him from drowning on the ice.

Mirror of Erised: He graduating as an auror and his dad congratulating him and saying that he is proud of him.

Favourite Spells:

Animus Glacius❄️

Expecto Patronum🐈

Blue Sparks🎆

Aguamenti💦

Colovaria⚪➡️🔵

Voiceclaim: Asa Butterfield

Game appearance:

Height: 1.79 m

Weight: 60 Kg

Eye Colour: Blue sapphire

Hair Colour:

White (original)

Royal Blue (Colovaria)

Skin Tone: White

Body Modifications: N/A

Scarring: A scar on the back of his head hidden by his hair, caused by the time the Royal-Garden boys pushed him and he hit his head on the wall of the fountain.

Inventory: His wand, a notebook , A pen, current reading book, keyring earned from Kyril on his birthday.

Fashion:

Casual - A black jeans, with his sweater with the coat of arms of Ravenclaw, with his blue All Star.

Summer - A royal blue T-shirt, black vest, dark blue denim shorts, and black sneakers.

Winter - A plain T-shirt, a wool sweater, and his furry white overcoat, with winter boots.

Formal Wear - Midnight blue smoking, with a white bow tie and black shoes.

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Illvermony House: Horned Serpent

Affiliations/Organisations:

The Lancaster family.

The Stellair Family.

The Trindade Family (Renegade).

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Circle of Khanna.

The Order of the Phoenix.

Professions:

Auror - 1991 - 2011.

Obliviator - 2011 - 2012.

Charms professor in Hogwarts 2011 - present.

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy - O

Charms – O

DADA – O

Flying – E

Herbology – O

History of Magic – O

Potions – E

Transfiguration – O

Electives:

Ancient Runes - E

CoMC - A

Quidditch: Seeker

Extra Curricular:

Transfiguration Club.

Charms Club.

Frog Choir.

Sphinx Club.

Favourite Professors:

Minerva McGonagall - Angel likes how Professor McGonagall believed in his talent for Transfiguration and did not compare him to his brother, Jay. Although she is very strict in her classes, she is always willing to help you.

Filius Flitwick - Angelo likes how the classes are fun and are never monotonous, being a Ravenclaw, Angel is very curious and likes how the teacher always clarifies his doubts and teaches him several spells, even if he is not in his class schedule and is used in their search for the Cursed Vaults and the Khanna Circle.

Least Favorite Professors:

Severus Snape - Angel admires Snape's ability and great knowledge in Potions and the Dark Arts, however he doesn't like how Snape insults him or says he is incompetent, he likes to be stimulated to learn more, with lessons in Snape, he just hopes to survive until the end of class without making his cauldron explode.

Patrícia Rakepick - Angel has always had a back seat with Rakepick, perhaps it was the way in which she found herself unshakable and unattainable. Although he learned many things from her, he never really liked her personality and always stayed away from her as much as possible. And after she murdered Rowan, the boy developed a deadly hatred for the ex-professor.

Relationships

Brother:

Jacob "Jay" Alexander Stellair Lancaster.

Half-blood.

Half-veela.

Ravenclaw.

He was a member of the Herbology Club and the dueling club until he was expelled from the school.

Hippogriff club.

Father: Charles Michael Lancaster ✞

Pure-blood.

Ravenclaw.

Ravenclaw Quidditch Team Chase.

He became an auror after he graduated from Hogwarts.

Member of the Order of the Phoenix original.

He was killed in a duel against Evan Rosier.

Mother: Leonor Mary Stellair Lancaster.

Veela.

Did not attend any magic school.

Specialists in elemental magic.

Specialist in healing spells.

Loves to sing and draw.

Has a great talent for gastronomy.

Love Interest(s):

Canon: Penny Haywood.

(sorry for the low quality image.)

Mc x Mc: Kyril Vasiley @kyril-hphm (Kyril Art)

Best Friends:

Canon:

🦡Penny Haywood.

🦅Rowan Khanna (Dead).

🦅Talbott Winger.

🐍Barnaby Lee.

🦡Chiara Lobisca.

MCs:

🐍(💛)Roger Lopez @hphm-roger

🐍Kyril Vasiley @kyril-hphm

🦅Elaiza Schuyler @annabelle-tanaka-official

🦅Candy and Paula Vigiere @immagrosscandy

Rival:

🐍Merula Snyde.

🐍 Ismelda Murk.

🦁Sebastian Anguslow.

Enemy:

Patrícia Rakepick.

Wizard in white robes.

"R" members.

Dormmates:

🦅Rowan Khanna (dead).

🦅Talbott Winger.

🦅Andre Egwu.

🦅Arjun Singh. @hogwarts9

Pets:

Arthy, the black cat.

Rowena, the snow owl (Jay owl).

Nevasca, the ice salamander.

Closest Cannon Friends:

🦡Penny Haywood.

🦅Rowan Khanna (dead).

🦅Talbott Winger.

🐍Barnaby Lee.

🦡Chiara Lobisca.

🦡Nymphadora Tonks.

🦁Bill Weasley.

🦁Charlie Weasley.

🦁Jae Kim.

🦅Badeea Ali.

🦁Ben Copper.

Closest MC Friends:

🐍(💛)Roger Lopez @hphm-roger

🐍Kyril Vasiley @kyril-hphm

🦅Elaiza Schuyler @annabelle-tanaka-official

🦅Candy e 🦡PauLINE Vigiere @immagrosscandy

🐍Jason Novak @death-or-sleep

🐍Carewyn Cronwell @carewyncromwell

🦅Flavio Ceccere @sirfluffig

🦅Montague Donohue @montaguehphm

🐍Dusty Emerald @dusty-emerald-hphm

🦡Stephanie Alexeev @hanihonii

🐍Lith Thorne @slytherinliththorne

🦁Aishwarya Mehra and 🦅Arjun Singh @hogwarts9

🦁Ethren Whitecross @hogwartsmysterystory

🦅 Simon Cahill @cursed-vault-ravenclaw

🦅Wendy Gordon @drinkyoursoupbitch

🦡Honey @hmhoney

🦅Luna Silver @lunasilvermorny

🦡Jackeline Peterson @jackie-and-the-curse

🦁 Tu Liang @wangxianforever000

🦅Samanta O'Connell @samshogwarts

Background/History:

Pre-Hogwarts: Angelo was born on August 23, 1972, in the city of São Paulo, Brazil, while his father (as the son of a Brazilian) did international work in the South American country. But he returned to England at the age of four, going to live in the small village of Royal-Garden, near the south coast of the country.

At 6, Angelo suffered the first blow of his life, his father was murdered in a duel against death eater Evan Rosier.

Because of the instability of his Veela powers, he can never interact with Muggle children, because of the risks of revealing the Wizarding World. And after learning about his nature, some wizard boys who lived in the Royal Garden began to bully him, which made him stay away from the children. The only person who knew all this was Jay, and defended his little brother.

When his brother disappeared, Angelo completely isolated himself, he started to stay inside the house reading his father's and brother's books.

At 8, Angelo won Arthy as a birthday present from his mother, and that made the rest of his childhood bearable.

1st Year: While traveling on the Hogwarts Express, Angel felt very insecure about being a half-veela, so in an attempt to change the color of his white hair to black, he ended up turning his hair blue. During the first year, Angel avoided to relate with the other students, having Rowan like its only friend. His teachers, with the exception of Professor Flitwick and McGonagall, were the only ones who didn't compare him to Jay.

After his duel with Merula, Angel met Penny Haywood, when the girl was so kind to him, that from that moment, Angel always blushed when she spoke to him.

He thought he would be a normal student, but no matter how much he avoided it, the curiosity to know what happened to his brother spoke louder, then with the help of Rowan and Penny, they decided to investigate the appearance of the "mysterious ice".

2st Year: As soon as he returned to Hogwarts, Angelo was increasingly determined to discover the truth about his brother and what led him to become involved with the Cursed Vaults. After finding Ben trapped in the ice, he realized that he would need to do what he could to break the curse.

When they found the first vault, and when Rowan was wounded, Angel spent every minute of his free time, studying how to get through the ice door.

The more he investigated, the more bad rumors of his brother were coming, but he refused to believe that Jay was a bad and selfish person as they say he is.

When it was finally time to enter the ice vault. Angelo, Penny and Bill, with much effort, managed to break the curse.

3st Year: With clues to the next Vault, he had to deal with Sebastian Anguslow, a boy who always bullied him at the Royal Garden, so after explaining his situation to Talbott Winger, he agreed to help him become an animagus. After five months, he managed to become a black Bombay cat. So he was able to avoid Anguslow and all his followers.

When he managed to enter Jay's office, after defeating Merula in a duel, he found several notes from Jay about the second crypt, but the image of a loving and protecting brother was undone by the facts.

When entering the vault, Angel, Tonks, Tulip and Barnaby had to face their fears to break the boggarts' curse.

4st Year: As soon as he got back to Hogwarts, his convictions about Jay were pretty shaken, he didn't exactly know what to believe, but if there was one thing he did know, thanks to his Veela skills, he was able to feel a negative energy emanating from her, which meant he should not trust Rakepick.

While steadfastly refusing to be Rakepick's assistant, he learned of a Dementor's invasion, and that it had affected Penny, he told Tonks that he would resolve this and find out the truth behind said. After Tonks taught him to cast a patronus, he discovered that he took the form of a Bombay cat, like Arthy.

After the incident with the Dementor, the relationship between Penny and Angel strengthened each time more, and this resulted in an invitation to the Celestial Ball.

When he met Torvus, the centaur's revelations made his convictions about his brother melt away before the facts presented. This left him devastated, the image of the heroic brother he had from his childhood had been left in a past that seemed unreal.

While investigating, Professor Flitwick suggested that Angelo try to become the Ravenclaw's new perfect. But he knew that it was only a responsibility to divert his search, but the privileges of a perfect one would only help him in his search.

Once his ticket to the secret crush had caused a real mess at Hogwarts, he tried to solve it with the help of Tonks and Charlie, taking the courage to invite Penny on a date, it was an even bigger mess, but in the end, in the light of stars were all perfect, and Angelo finally realized that he had nothing but himself to be accepted, mainly due to his crush. Penny Haywood.

When he finally managed to return the arrow to Torvus, it was time for Angel, Penny, Hagrid and Torvus to enter the forest vault. From that moment, Angelo began to resolve the curses to clear the Lancaster family name and free Hogwarts from these dangers.

5st Year: After returning to Hogwarts to earn his class schedule with the time of his detention, he joined Bill and Merula, despite many protests, joined the Rakepick apprentice group.

Once again Angelo had a personal reason to break the curse, Beatrice, Penny's sister was one of the victims of the curse, so during this year, he had to manage all his time between classes, study for the owls, train and play Quidditch, and investigate Cursed Vaults.

Upon learning that Jay was directly involved in Duncan's death, Angel believed that the caring brother and that he protected him no longer existed.

Without the motivation to find Jay, he simply continued his investigations to protect his friends and clear the Lancaster's name.

During Valentine's Day, even with Lockhart's interference, Angelo and Penny had a great date and in their moment alone in the greenhouse, Angelo asked Penny for a date and gave her first kiss.

After successfully spreading the chaos and getting the painting with Peeves, Angelo, Charlie, Bill, Merula and Rakepick entering the fourth vault. After discovering the truth about Rakepick and meeting his brother again, he had the revelation that thinking about him was the only thing that kept Jay's sanity. And even though Jay was left in the crypt, he had little hope that Jay would still be the brother he was during his childhood.

6st Year: (Pending year)

7st Year: (Pending year)

Order of the Phoenix / 2nd Wizarding War: As soon as they graduated from Hogwarts, Angelo and Talbott started their Auror training with Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, thanks to their school friendship, the two Ravenclaws formed a great pair, becoming partners.

After finishing the training, Angelo and Talbott were assigned to small missions until they acquired enough experience for large missions. Until one night in 1995, Angel received devastating news, Kyril Vasiley, one of his best friends, had died, which left him devastated. The next day, he received news of the death of Cedric Diggory, another school friend, that was horrible for the blue-haired boy.

A few days after Lord Voldemort's return, Angelo was visited by Albus Dumbledore, who recruited him into the Order of the Phoenix. From that moment on Angelo became a member working on missions on behalf of Dumbledore.

In the battle of the department of mysteries, Angelo was with Tonks and they immediately went to Harry's aid.

During the time that Pius Thicknesse was minister of magic, Angelo works together with some friends to help Muggle-borns and other wizards unfairly accused of the persecution of Dolores Umbridge

After Harry, Ron and Hermione invaded the ministry, Angelo was forced to flee, after sending Leonor and mr. and mrs. Haywood to live at Jay's home in Brazil, he and Penny moved to a small cottage on a deserted Cornish beach.

Quando souberam que Harry Potter estava em Hogwarts, Angelo e Penny sabiam que Voldemort iria atrás dele, então rapidamente eles foram para Hogsmeade para ir até a escola pelo Hogs Head Inn. During the battle, Angelo dueled against the Death Eaters, especially against Cadmus Mulciber, one of those responsible for the death of his father.

Post-War: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Angelo was one of the Aurors appointed by Minister Shacklebolt to track and arrest Death Eaters and wizards who conspired in favor of the dark lord and bring them to trial.

Angelo was one of the Aurors responsible for removing the dementors from Azkaban. And he was tasked by the minister to oversee Harry and Ron's Auror training.

He worked as an auror until 2011, after retiring as an auror, He worked on the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad for a year. Until he received an invitation from Professor McGonagall to replace Filius Flitwick as a charms professor at Hogwarts in 2013.

Old Age & Death: Angelo worked as a teacher at Hogwarts for several years, until he turned 89. Then he said he and Penny lived in a house in Hogsmeade until Angel turned 103, when he died of old age.

Personality

Logical: Angelo always likes to make his decisions based on logic, it is extremely rare that he makes a decision based on emotion.

Empathic: Thanks to his Veela skills, he is able to feel the emotions of others, so he always tries to make people feel better, he cannot see his sad friends, he always tries to make his friends feel better.

Shy: Angelo due to his complicated childhood, he is a very shy boy, not being able to approach new people easily, always preferring to stay in his comfort zone. But he makes an effort when he really wants to meet someone.

Intelligent: Thanks to his photographic memory, Angelo is very intelligent, and he uses that intelligence to help his friends with their homework, mainly in History of Magic, and sometimes he doesn't mind writing essays for them.

Strategist: Due to his timid personality, many people the underestimated and don't believe they can sell him in a duel, but while his opponents try to beat him by force, he studies his opponent and waits for the right time to attack.

Affectionate: After he feels comfortable with a person, Angelo is not ashamed of being affectionate with him, hugging and caressing any friend he needs.

Misc:

The Lancaster is a purebred family, but it stopped caring about the status of purity in the late 19th century, with the family patriarch, Leonidas Lancaster.

Angelo is a descendant of two pure-blood families, the Lancaster and the Trindade, family of his paternal grandmother, Damares Trindade, a Brazilian pure-brood family, but he was disinherited when they learned that his father had married a Veela, and had half-Veela children.

The Stellair family, is a family well known among the French Veela.

Angelo developed a passion for ice and snow magic after almost drowning in a frozen lake.

He has visited the Veela sanctuary in the interior of France several times, where he can assume his Veela form while there, but wizards can only enter the sanctuary with a permit from the French Ministry of Magic.

His little habit of reading while walking comes from when he learned to read, at the age of 4, he used to read the Tales of Beedle the Bard.

And Angel likes to assume her animagus form and stay in the lap of her closest friends, receiving ear strokes, mainly from Kyril, Candy, Elaiza, Roger and Jason.

When he needs to be alone to think or just cry, he can be found sitting under the beech on the shores of the black lake, but when he is there he doesn't like to see anyone.

#angelo lancaster #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #angelo profile #lancaster family #trindade family #Stellair family #candy art #kyril art

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years ago

Text

Feels Like This (Part 10)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hi everybody! I am so excited to FINALLY be back with a new chapter of a fic that so many of you have fallen in love with. This response has been truly unprecedented in my writing experience. I have had lots of fics that many of you rooted for and supported me in, and I am always so grateful for that, but having a hiatus from writing this story showed me just how invested so many of you are. This is a great feeling as a writer, and that excitement you all have is the only reason I have been able to write more of this fic. My ability to write at my usual pace has been tested this fall, and there’s been some ups and downs in my attempts to reengage, but I love this story and I am so excited to share the rest of it with you all. I hope you will all like this new installment, I thank you again for continuing this with me, and I cannot wait to hear what you think!

“Mmmm, this smells delicious,” Henry said, hovering over the skillet not for the first time this evening, and breathing in the pasta sauce Killian had been working on the past half hour. To the boy’s credit, it did smell absolutely wonderful, a comforting classic anyone would love, and which the three of them had earned, after a day of unexpected meetings and introductions. This pasta was a traditional Montennaran recipe, not far off from a classic Sicilian pomodoro, but with the benefit of a few of this country’s specialties. It was a favorite of his personally, and one of the few meals he’d learned to cook well during his time in the service.

“Seriously. Who knew you could cook like this?” Emma said, still stunned at the display before them. She must have assumed from pizza night and the slow cooking speed of their first date that he was fully a novice, and he was in many ways. But he did have a few small tricks up his sleeves, and one was this sauce, which was easy to make as long as he had the right ingredients. It was quick, but precise, and it gave off the perception that he had mastered something difficult, even though that wasn’t true.

“This dish is a special one for me and for my unit. This is the spread each of us waited for during deployments. You crave so many things when you’re without them for so long, but this meal symbolized something else. The moment we’d touch down on Montennaran soil, this is the first thing we would eat. It represents safety just as much as it does a good meal.”

“You always had this?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “No matter what time?”

“Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. This was it,” Killian said, smiling at the memory of early morning pasta meals that he’d enjoyed more than most other moments in his time at sea. Those were the times when they all felt at peace again, and where they allowed themselves to breathe and heal no matter what dark moments had been withstood. “We took turns preparing it, tired as we’d all be from the tour and the travel, but the pressure was on. The last thing you want to do is disappoint newly anchored sailors. It’s a mistake that may just be your last.”

“No kidding,” Henry said, surprised but taking the words at face value. “It sounds so cool though. Being in the Navy, I mean. You meet all those people, people who are your family too even if you’re not related.”

“Aye, lad, they are my family. Always will be.”

“I can’t wait to meet them someday,” Henry said eagerly. Killian noticed Emma tense a bit but she didn’t need to worry. It was always his intention to introduce them all, because it was his plan to keep Emma and Henry with him forever. “Will it be like today do you think?”

“That depends on how you think today went.”

Killian’s quip earned a laugh from Henry and a soft smile from Emma. He was teasing as if the afternoon had been anything but excellent, when of course that was not the case. Despite the unexpected nature of it all, his family had been on their best behavior and they’d all immediately loved Emma and her boy. He knew in his heart they would, but it took a lot of pressure off and hopefully would help ease some of Emma’s worries about where this was going and if his family would approve.

“Today was totally awesome!” Henry said. “Everyone was so nice and cool. But Gran was definitely my favorite.”

“For now maybe,” Killian said, knowing full well what the draw of his Gran was and how her energy and feistiness made her infinitely lovable. “But give it time. My Mum and Liam both have a few more tricks up their sleeves.”

“What did you think of today, Mom?” Henry asked, and Killian was intrigued to know her thoughts. He doubted that Emma would go very deep with her assessment, but she was always honest with her son, of that Killian was totally assured.

“It was… easy,” Emma confessed, smiling at the memories of the day. “I never expected to feel so welcomed right away, but everyone was so normal, it was nice.”

“Normal is pushing it a bit, love. My grandmother’s revelations alone somewhat undermine my family’s classification as something so benign.”

“Maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “But the families I’ve seen all have some kind of well-meaning meddling, don’t they? Hers just has a bit more royal flare.”

“Oh, Gran’s got flare all right. No doubt about that,” Henry said cheekily as he took the dishes and silverware from Emma and headed to the dining room to set the table.

It wasn’t a statement the boy had meant to be impactful, but it hit Killian right in the heart. That was another special moment from today. There was no formality with his family and Henry and Emma, and he had witnessed the moment his grandmother insisted that Henry call her Gran as well. To have Henry accept that so quickly was a blessing, and another bright spot in what had been a beautiful day.

“And what about you?” Emma asked him when they were alone. “How did you think today went?”

Instinctively Killian turned off the burner, knowing the food was ready to serve but not wanting it to be ruined. He wiped his hands clean of any rogue tomato and then he pulled Emma straight into his arms in one fluid motion. Without pause, he pressed a kiss to her lips that was meant to be soft and nonintrusive in case Henry returned, but quickly morphed to something heated when Emma clutched at his shirt and arched in closer. By the time they pulled apart, he almost forgot the question, but Emma’s curious green eyes prompted him to reassure her of the truth.

“Today was one of the best days I’ve ever known, love. The most important people in my world came together, and if my instincts are correct, it’s gone just about as perfectly as it could. I couldn’t ask for anything more than that…”

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ hanging in that statement,” she said, running her fingers across his cheek as she looked at him, searching for answers. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just that I -,”

“Okay, table’s set!” Henry said, barreling back into the kitchen and prompting Killian to step back from Emma but to keep his hand in hers.

Emma and Killian exchanged a look that silently said they would pick up this conversation again later, but Killian squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a calming and comforting gesture. The hanging words he’d yet to say were hardly bad ones, he just had to admit that as beautiful as today was he wanted so much more. He’d never have enough days like this one for his liking. He would always want more, no matter what came, and that was what he’d have to ask her for if not today then someday very soon.

Dinner proceeded without a hitch, and not only was his cooking a success, but the meal was fun and lively. Henry made for so much conversation, and his thoughts on the day were long and varied. He was so full of excitement and energy that it was contagious, and Killian learned more from both the boy and his mother about what they’d taken from meeting his family. They all talked about the center too, about Marco and Marie and Cecelia, and then at length about Anna and especially Elsa.

“Do you think anything will come from it?” Emma asked Killian at one point, after they’d already dissected how undeniable the moment was between Emma’s friend and Killian’s brother.

“Oh for sure,” Henry said before Killian could respond. Both Emma and Killian laughed at his confidence.

“You seem rather certain, lad.”

“Well it’s pretty obvious. I mean he looks at Elsa the way you look at Mom. They’re totally gonna get together. It was love at first sight. Just like with you two.”

“Henry,” Emma said, chastising him somewhat but in a measured way.

“What?”

“Well not for nothing, but you didn’t even see Killian and I meet how could you know it was…”

“Love at first sight?” Killian offered, grinning at her, knowing in his heart that was exactly what they’d felt the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, come on, Mom,” Henry said, rolling his eyes in a move Killian rarely ever saw, but which looked exactly like his mother when she was exasperated. He nearly choked on his water, but he powered through, biting back a laugh at Emma’s shocked face. “It was totally love. You came home extra happy and you had a dreamy look on your face all the time when Killian started volunteering. And since then you’ve been kinda… what does Mrs. H call it again? Oh right, scatterbrained. Love can do that, you know. I asked Gran about it today and she said it’s a telltale sign.”

“You asked her that?” Emma asked, shocked and maybe just a little bit mortified as Henry nodded like it was no big deal.

“Yup. She knows everything. She said that’s what happens when you’re old, and since Mrs. H says that too I think it’s probably true. Come to think of it, they’d be great friends don’t you think?”

“Mrs. H and Queen Eleanor?” Emma asked, as if the thought of their neighbor and Killian’s grandmother being ‘friends’ was too much to handle. “Well I mean, now that you mention it, there are a few similarities there.”

“Totally. And if Mrs. H was here she’d agree with me about Liam and Elsa. It’s totally love, and that’s awesome. Queen Elsa. It has a nice ring to it. Like she was meant to be a royal.”

Killian didn’t think Elsa was the only one with a name suited for royalty. In his estimation Princess Emma and even Prince Henry were rather fitting as well, but he bit that statement back, not wanting to overwhelm Emma or bring something up in front of Henry that she wasn’t ready for. Instead he steered the conversation in other directions, enjoying himself thoroughly as they all enjoyed dessert together that Emma had put together before watching a movie the three of them. It was a totally natural thing, and at more than one point Killian thought that they really looked like a family. It filled his heart with hope, and he wished one day he could officially claim both of them as his. But tonight, he’d just enjoy how good it felt to be with two such special people who seemed to see something in him too.

“Okay, kid, it’s about that time. It’s late already, so PJs and then you can read two chapters and then that’s all she wrote. You got me?”

“Sure, Mom. But can I read to Killian tonight? I’m at a great part in the story. The pirates are about to board the ship.”

“Um, I’m not – I mean, if you want?” Emma asked deferring to him though she was obviously flustered.

“Sounds good to me,” Killian said prompting relief in Emma and a sound of excitement from Henry.

Henry hurried to get himself ready for bed, and just as he’d promised, he proceeded to read Killian two chapters of his current book. The title was one Killian recognized from his youth, but he was impressed that a ten year old had such command of the story. Henry was a good reader but also theatrical, keeping Killian’s attention all the while. Only when he closed the book did Killian leave the swashbuckling alternative universe the story took place in.

“Quite the tale there, lad. You’ll have to keep me apprised of what happens next.”

“No need, I’ll save it until you come back again,” Henry said easily, gesturing to his bookcase which was full of books in so many shades and shapes. “I’ve got tons of them to read.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Killian said truthfully standing back up and heading towards the door. “Well thanks again for the story, Henry. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Killian,” Henry said, letting out a yawn and settling into bed. “Love you.”

The words placed a direct hit on Killian’s heart, and he was unsure if Henry had meant to say it or if sleep was getting the better of him, but Killian could only go on instinct. He answered honestly, telling the boy he loved him too and seeing him smile and settle to sleep before slipping into the hall and walking right into Emma who had tears in her eyes.

“Emma?” he asked, mindful to keep his voice more a whisper than something that could wake up Henry. “Is everything all right?”

“He said he loves you,” Emma whispered, and Killian nodded, brushing her tears away as he held her close.

“He did, love, and it made me feel ten feet tall.”

“Because you love him too,” she whispered, awed at that as if were some kind of stunning revelation and not a given fact of life.

“Of course I do. He’s an amazing boy, and his mother… well she’s the beating of my heart. How could I do anything but love him when he’s a piece of you, Emma?”

“What were you going to say earlier?” Emma asked, abruptly pulling them back to that moment in the kitchen. He debated holding back, but he decided ultimately it was better to put all of his cards on the table. Transparency was key if they had any shot of making this work.

“I was going to say that you, Emma Swan, are the reason. You’re my reason for everything, this impossible gift I never saw coming, and I’m lost in you. I see this perfect moment and forever when I look in your eyes, I see a life I’m desperate to pursue and real hope for the future. I still can’t believe that you’ve chosen me and that I’m standing here with you at all, and a day as good as this one only reminds me that I’ll always have this want - this need - for you. I love you, Emma, irrefutably, incandescently. In a forever and so much longer kind of way.”

“I love you too. Just as much,” Emma said, her voice stronger this time though her tears still came. They appeared to be the product of joy instead of sadness, but they still clutched at his chest like a vice. The only antidote was pulling Emma somewhere private, in this case her bedroom, and confirming he was right.

Once the door was closed behind them, locking them into a sound tight suite on the other end of Emma’s temporary home, their actions blended together. He didn’t lead the way, but moved with Emma, a dance that felt so much more practiced than it was. Emma pulled him for steamy kisses, and he savored her taste on his tongue as he held her close and moved her back towards the bed in her room. The lights were dimmed, but washed the room in a warmth he felt upon his skin. He was burning up from the closeness and the promise of what was to come, but the only thing he could think was that he needed more.

In the back of his mind, Killian also realized that this moment needed quiet. With Henry in the house, they didn’t have the freedom he might yearn for, but no matter. He had the love of the most incredible woman and she’d accepted his love in return. That needed celebration and merited some long-desired reveling. He wanted to show her how he felt, and though he’d finally said the words and attempted to make her understand, the feelings he had went so much deeper. Looking in her eyes right now, he could tell she felt just as much, but the time for waiting and wondering was over. They had put the truth between them and now it was time to truly immerse themselves in it.

Instinct and hunger soon took over for Killian, melding with the love he felt and the softer feelings in his heart in a wickedly wonderful way. He wanted Emma bared to him as soon as could be, spread out on the sheets of this bed and ready for his taking. They’d been flirting with the pleasures they could have for a while now, and they’d been intimate before, but this was different. This was a first in many ways, and Killian was intent on having this moment be one they wouldn’t rush, and that they’d remember for the rest of their lives.

A primal voice in his brain urged him to take her fast and hard, to make a claim they’d both feel branded by, but Killian anchored himself to an idea of something slower and more sensual. He knew taking his time would prove so much more gratifying, and he wanted to make this as good for his Swan as it could possibly be. He helped Emma out of clothes, noticing the tremble of her hands as he did. She was buzzing with excitement and electricity, but she matched his pace, understanding that if they drove each other crazy for just a little longer it would be sublime.

He was entranced by her entirely, and as her clothes from the day fell away, revealing two extremely unexpected scraps of red lace underneath, he couldn’t help but groan. No woman had a right to be so lovely, to claw at him so surely, and to set him alight in this way, but God did he love it. Emma was impossible, but somehow she was real. He felt her responsiveness to him and tracked the way that she noticed how his appreciative gaze moved up her body. A flush spread across her creamy skin, but she stood there, proud and sure as her hands moved across his body, removing his clothes as he’d done hers.

“I didn’t know that I could want this much,” she whispered, the honey-laced tone of her voice a sweet melody to his ears. “I need you, Killian. I love you.”

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, surprising her by taking her in his arms and lowering her to the bed. She let out a gasp before giving into laughter, her eyes bright and sparkling in the lamp light.

“Believe me, I’m trying,” she quipped, but her feistiness faded somewhat as he shed the rest of his clothes. Now her attention had switched, she was watching him steadily, and unconsciously licked her lips. That was it. His patience broke and he was on her, hands roaming, mouth teasing, and hellbent on more.

“Much as I might love that idea, Swan, tonight isn’t about fucking. Tonight I make love to the woman of my dreams. Tonight I show you my heart in full. It’s so much more than sex.”

“I know,” Emma whispered, running her hands along his cheek. “So show me.”

Bound by her request, Killian set out to do just that. It began with roaming hands and removing the last two scraps of red that shielded her from him. Once she was bare, he let himself explore and learn every spot and lick and nip that made her breathless. He traced the sensitive places on her body that made her hum in pleasure, and cherished each freckle on her skin that had come from the summer sun. He riled her up with his hands and his mouth until she was pleading for release, and then he gave it to her, touching her tender flesh and prompting a thready moan from her lips.

“Killian.” Emma’s croon was ragged and gorgeous, making him harder than he ever thought possible. The sound of her desire reached within his soul and engulfed him completely. Unable to resist, he felt himself growing addicted, unsure if he could ever stop. He needed her sighs like he needed to breath, and he purposefully pulled as many sounds of pleasure from her as he could.

There was nothing like Emma lost in lust. She’d never been more beautiful and he didn’t know how that was possible. As his thumb swirled against her clit and his fingers filled her, she gave more away, revealing herself and her needs in ways that made him dizzy. Every response set Killian aflame, and every breathy sigh and plea for more was a sign he intended to follow until he’d led her right over the edge and she shattered beneath him.

“You destroy me, love,” he found himself saying as he looked down at her and brushed some strands of her curled blonde hair out of her eyes. “Destroy me and make me into so much more. I’m in awe of you.”

In the face of her release, and the sincere words that he meant completely, Emma blushed again but smiled. Her expression was one he’d only ever seen her share with him, and it made him feel indestructible. He’d never met a person with more impact on his soul, and he’d never met a woman who so effortlessly created hope and good in his heart. Emma Swan was everything a man could ever want made real, and Killian still couldn’t comprehend how he was lucky enough to be here.

“I can’t imagine this is real,” Emma said, her words still dazed, but happy and content. “But I know it is. I know you are. I’m in this, Killian. I’ve never been more in.”

“Thank God for that, love,” Killian said with a grin and one more kiss before he trailed lower.

With careful attentions designed for maximum pleasure, Killian hit each peak point on her body, bestowing licks and nips that made her jump and mewl. By the time he’d reached her inner thighs, she was breathing heavy, anticipation clear as day. Killian looked up to her now emerald colored eyes as his hands held her steady, needing to know that this was what she wanted and what he saw was irrefutable. Emma was just as desirous for this as he was, and Killian was never so glad for anything in his life.

When his tongue met her sex, he tasted her need for him. Her body writhed beneath him, but he held her still, knowing she needed this from him now. She was wound up tight, the desire twisting around inside her and making her try to break away, but he built it up wanting to give her something she’d never get enough of. With slow, languid licks, he built the moment for him and her. The higher she climbed, the more crazed he himself became, but he waited until she shattered again to take his own pleasure. Once she had, though, all bets were off.

Their coming together was sensational serenity, walking the line between hard and gentle, tender and heated. Further and further they moved towards bliss, but time was off its normal tracks and their minds were filled with only this glorious moment. Soon enough, and yet not soon enough at all, they met that magic, crashing into climax. Minutes later they remained, both spent and breathing heavy, glowing from the aftermath and intertwined together, two bodies hell bent on never being parted. Killian found himself speechless in the aftermath, though his hands drew unknown figures on her skin. He had to touch her, had to hold her, even though he had just felt heaven itself. Truth be told, Killian was totally complete, and more invigorated than ever. Life had never felt more perfect and nothing had ever made more sense.

These revelations were all thanks to Emma. She was the one who made him believe love could be honest and true. She showed him depths he’d never dreamed of, and right now, as the swift and gentle tug of sleep came beckoning, she was a vision. Smiling at him, holding him close and whispering a promise he almost couldn’t bear.

“Forever, Killian,” she breathed, cuddling towards his chest after pressing one last kiss upon his skin. “That’s how long I know I’ll love you.”

“Forever, Emma,” he replied, though he knew even now she may already have succumbed to slumber. “Forever and whatever exists beyond.”

……………

Sneaking back into the castle now was a stark contrast to the many mornings he’d snuck out for a bit of space. Killian couldn’t resist smiling at how much things had changed since that time, and on those days when he walked out in the hills to watch the sunrise. However, unlike those other mornings, Killian knew the moment he walked through the great oak doors that he was not the only one up at this God forsaken hour. Call it instinct or intuition, but Killian could sense uneasiness in the palace, and as he moved up the corridor and saw light emanating from one of Liam’s studies, his hunch was proven right.

With measured steps he approached the open door. It remained ajar, a beacon to anyone who may pass by that his brother was here but still approachable. What Killian saw when he walked to the doorway, however, was the undeniable truth that Liam was not well, and that he likely had no idea the door was open. He’d been up all night, burning the midnight oil, and studying files and photos strewn about his desk.

“For your information, you’re about…” Killian’s words trailed off as he checked the clock on the mantel to clarify the time, “twenty-two and a half minutes from being discovered by Francine or Claudette. Give or take or minute or so.”

The mention of two of the maids on the morning shift in the palace seemed to ground Liam into the reality of this moment and the predawn light outside. He looked up at Killian and then out the antique windows which offered a familiar view of the palace grounds, now bathed in the early morning sunshine. Liam let out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair that had already been mussed with some frequency. There was no way his brother had slept this evening. He was wild and unkempt, and so far from his state of normal it was fascinating to see.

“Any other day and I’d be focused on your early morning return,” Liam mused, offering something like a smile. It surprised Killian, given how infrequent smiles had become for his brother, but before he could mention it, Liam looked back to the papers and the books strewn about the mahogany desk. Killian wasn’t sure what he expected, but these archives of the family’s public events was not it. His curiosity grew, and he urged his brother to explain himself.

“But it’s not so ordinary, is it?”

“No, she isn’t,” Liam whispered, slipping up and referring to the woman who had turned his head completely, instead of the morning itself. “I didn’t plan for this.”

“No one ever does,” Killian quipped. “Gran will be the first to tell you that to love is to surrender. Planning has no place in affairs of the heart.”

“That old bird is too crafty,” Liam said shaking his head as Killian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “All these years of talk, throwing opinions here there and everywhere. She never met a moment where words failed her and she never lets a day slip past where she doesn’t share her every whim. But I’ve always written it off as her opinion or some grandiose turn of phrase that sounds ripped from a book of clichés rather than something rooted in truth.”

“The worst are the riddles. The woman loves a riddle,” Killian added and Liam groaned, a sound of actual pain that Killian felt, despite its humor.

“I hate the bloody things. The flowery words, the abstract philosophies. It’s all just meaningless. Or so I thought. A whole life spent listening to this woman, and I never took much of it seriously. To be sure there were some times when she offered sage counsel, but I found it unlikely that she was actually providing me with answers to anything really sentimental. Half the time she’s as vague as can be. I wrote off nearly all her musings for the better part of my life.”

“Yet here we are,” Killian said evenly and Liam nodded.

“Aye, here we are.”

Liam stood from his chair and walked towards the windows. Killian watched as his brother’s arms crossed over his chest, his gaze turned out to the world, looking but not really seeing. He was lost in his own thoughts, struggling to give voice to them, and so Killian was patient. There was no use dragging Liam to conversation. His brother was guarded and grappling for control. Only when he was ready, would the truth come out. A few minutes later, after a prolonged bit of silence, they finally did.

“I’ve long put off the inevitable, brother. Royal expectation demands that I choose a bride, but for years I’ve hesitated, unwilling to commit to any kind of match. The press has questioned my delay for ages, but that talk is mostly harmless. Still, I have always known that would change. A day would come when talk became more, and I needed to settle, to choose duty over heart.”

“You’ve said as much before, brother, but nothing in the law says that you have to forsake your heart for the sake of the country. A love match is allowed. You know this.”

“Aye, I do, but I never entertained the premise, not really. After our parents’ fiasco of a marriage, I ruled it out entirely. My best hope was for what had existed before, something arranged where, if I was lucky, love may bloom. Look at Gran and Grandad. It was love, absolutely, but it was also a merger. There was very little choice involved at all, just logic and good reasoning. At least in those situations you know what you’re getting into. There’s a safety in settling for that which is known. But fuck if I want that anymore. Truth be told the thought makes me sick, and I barely spoke to her.”

“To Elsa, you mean?” Killian prodded and Liam’s eyes brightened as he nodded.

“How can she move me like this already? One day in her presence and I hardly know myself. One day and I know that everything I thought would happen will never come to pass. I’ll never be the man that settles, not when I know she’s out there. I can’t describe it except to say that I have to know her, have to pursue this, have to hope she’ll give me a chance. I’ve never felt this out of my depths. I saw her and the rest of the world just ceased to matter. I wasn’t the King, or a ruler, or a politician. I had no duty and no course. I was just a man, and she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, plain and simple. I know it’s mad, but damn if it’s not true.”

“If it’s mad, you’re in good company. That’s exactly how I felt the first time I saw Emma.”

“That’s reassuring, and yet… it’s the strangest thing, I swear I looked at Elsa and I was halfway in a memory. I was a boy again, but the details were hazy. It just felt familiar, like we’ve met before. My heart had skipped that particular beat. My gut had felt that strongly. Now though I’m lost. I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s more than what it is. Maybe I missed something, but how could anyone ever miss her?”

“Ah that explains these books,” Killian said gesturing to everything here. “But let me guess, no sign of her in these.”

“None. But the feeling still lingers. It’s like I dreamed her up. The recognition is strong, but just barely out of grasp. God, listen to me. I’ve become an absolute melt.”

Killian couldn’t help but laugh at the slang of their youth. Their boarding schools had been filled with Brits and other Europeans, and to be a melt was to be a sop, a sap, someone who had given in to their most romantic feelings.

“Maybe, but if that’s true, God knows I’m happy for it.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am. I’ve always wanted more for you, Liam. You shouldn’t aim for mere contentment, or to just be comforted by honor and duty. The goal is to be genuinely, honestly happy, and this morning, despite the anxiety of newness, I see the start of something in you. Something good.”

“I fear I’ve been too hard on you, Killian,” Liam said, his voice softer and his tone sincere. “Not lately I mean, and hopefully you’ve noticed the shift over the past few weeks, but in the beginning, I didn’t see how you could feel so much. I asked a lot of you, with the parade and royal obligations, and I didn’t realize what the risk was. Slowly I’ve grown to understand that the changes in you I have seen can only be attributed to love. You are happy and it is clear for the world to see. I’ve respected that, but now to know it’s more than hypothetical, I just think it bears repeating. To lose this feeling…” Liam brushed his hand against his heart absentmindedly, as if his chest ached from some physical pain. “Anyway, I hate that I forced that choice upon you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgiven, brother. Well, it will be, if you grant me one wish.”

“Anything.”

“I’d like your blessing, and not a royal one, not a King’s well wishes. Just you, as my brother, backing me when I ask Emma to be my wife.”

The look of surprise on Liam’s face quickly morphed into a grin. There was his brother of old, the one who had existed before royal training. He was truly happy and a bit mischievous as well. The two of them had long been told they shared that smile, but coming from Liam, it felt like a most precious gift.

“You plan to ask her already?”

“Already?” Killian laughed. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever. But I suppose you’re right. It is fast.”

“Fast seems to run in this family,” Liam said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have said that before yesterday, but as it stands, I understand. You have my backing, Killian. Emma is right for you, and if she’ll have you, we’d be lucky to have her.”

Liam came around the table, hugging Killian and showing him the depth of his joy. It was genuine, this support from his brother, and it made a world of difference. No matter what, Killian would ask Emma to be his wife, but knowing that his family felt as good about this as he did settled something in him. Now all he had to do was find the perfect moment. It was hard to be patient, especially when they’d admitted how they felt, and when he knew his feelings for Emma would only ever grow, but he’d find away. More than anything he wanted Emma to have a perfect moment, one they could build their future on forever more.

“And what of you and Elsa? Where do you go from here?”

“The only way I can go,” Liam said, resuming his assured control even though he was at the precipice of something totally foreign to him. “Towards her.”

“Good man. Trust in that feeling. It’s yet to steer me wrong.”

The two of them would have no doubt shared more, but at that moment, the voices of the morning staff could be heard down the hall. Their privacy had expired, the day had dawned, and reality beckoned, yet Killian knew even without proof, that things would work out. For now, there was a tremendous amount of hope for both him and Liam, hope that had been missing for many many years. Things may still be a bit uncertain, hearts needed to be won and vows needed to be made, but in his soul, Killian knew it would all work out. For Gran was usually right in the end, and he and Liam would both certainly surrender to love. Killian, for his part, already had, and honestly, it was the best damn thing he’d ever done. Soon, though, he would need to do more, to take the steps he so badly wanted with Emma, and to build a life with her and Henry worthy of them both. It was a mission he felt down to his bones, and one he simply would not fail. He’d find a way to their happily ever after, whatever it may look like, and the excitement of that would keep him going as long as it took.

Post-Note: So there we have it – a new chapter of this story, and the setup for the next chapter which will have more of the Elsa/Anna backstory for you all. From there we get to move towards my typical happily ever after recipe, a proposal, a wedding, and the joyful thereafter. I think there’s going to be about 4 more installments left total (though one of those will be an epilogue and it may be quite a while before I am ready to publish that). But I promise to do my best to update more frequently than I have been. I have had so many of you sending love and wishes for faster updates, and those requests have not fallen on deaf ears. In fact, every comment and message makes writing that much easier, and I am so grateful for the overwhelming support. I promise I am doing my best to get you all this story, and just hope it’ll live up to everyone’s excited expectations. Either way, I thank you all so much for reading, and I wish you all well and healthy in this time. Sending you all the best!

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crimsonrae · 4 years ago

Text

The Wiles of Men and Women

Chapter Two

Summary: Georgiana Stafford has just become betrothed to a man older than her father. Her last chance to enjoy society on her terms comes the night that court celebrates the birth of Princess Mary. She was prepared for just about anything, but she hadn't been prepared for him. Charles Brandon.

CharlesxOC,

Rated: Mature

A/N: I have had a fair bit of interest in this story continuing so, I am now working on an outline. Here is Chapter Two in the meantime. Thank you to everyone who liked and showed support on that first chapter. I really appreciate it :) Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether @cavillhavoc @omgkatinka @promptandpros @multixwolf

Little Lamb's Courtly Introduction

She was nervous.

Georgiana hadn't expected to be. Her introduction to court, to the king, was to be brief. An announcement really, before Worcester and her father made the declaration of marriage to the king. She expected to be largely ignored through the whole ordeal. Perhaps a mild curiosity amongst the other members of court for being the new introduction and intended of another, but rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

She swallowed against her bitter resentment as anticipation of dismissal began to build. Women weren't interesting unless they were spreading their legs for someone. Something she had learned from her mother which had only been reinforced by every male she had ever met. Part of her still puzzled over why Lord Somerset had agreed to the engagement. He had several sons already, so he had no need for an heir. The only thing she could think of was her dowry, that perhaps Worcester was on the brink of financial ruin. Though if that were the case, she doubted her father would have made the arrangement.

No, her nervousness had little to do with her moment in court, though some part of her did feel sick at being treated as a prized mare. Her nervousness was more basic and, in some respect she knew, more foolish. What was worse she had no one to blame for her anxiety, but herself... and Charles Brandon. Not that he was aware of the damaged his carnal desires had wrought on her body, though she suspected he wouldn't much care. She was in a bit of a plight, however.

Upon returning to her chambers in the wee hours of the morning, Georgiana had quickly placed her gown out of sight and did her best to clean herself without access to a tub. In those late hours, she had been too leery of waking a servant or worse garnering the attention of her father or uncle to light a lamp and had simply done what she could without taking stock of her physical being. She had only received a few hours of sleep, intent to rise before her family, and dress without help. She only realized her mistake in succumbing to lustful games when she had gotten out of bed.

Georgiana had gasped and nearly cried out in pain when she had shifted to sit. Not even stand, but sit. Somehow, she had forgotten about the tanning her behind received in her haste to retire for the night. Fire crackled and stung her backside, but that was almost pleasant when compared to the piercing soreness between her legs. It was almost as if Charles was still inside her... or maybe it was that he was not in her. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as she forced herself to stand. Every shift and step brought an almost unbearable amount of discomfort.

Her monthly cramps were more tolerable. She tried in vain to relax, hoping mildly that moving would subdue the worse of the hurt. Again, she found herself wondering if sex was always like this. A few hours ago, it had been pleasurable and fun... this? This was not pleasurable or fun. Yet, oddly she had an ache to be filled again. She felt strangely empty now and like her hopes for her pain to subside, she hoped that eventually, this new feeling would too subside if she ignored it long enough.

After a few more tentative steps, Georgiana was before her dressing mirror. The arbitrary thought that she may look different now played at the back of her mind. It was a foolish thought, except it wasn't. Muted horror gleamed in her blue stare as she surveyed the bruises that littered her hips and chest...even her neck was marked. She swore that the heat from her bottom rushed to her cheeks at that moment.

Her gown would cover most of the marks, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember if her dress had a high or low neckline. She prayed it was high because her hair was to be pinned and there was no other way that she could hide the love bites on her neck.

Her father was going to murder her.

She swallowed tightly against the rising panic, turning pale almost as quickly as she had flushed. How could she have let this happen? She knew the importance of today. She knew what type of scrutiny she would be under. Georgiana suddenly cursed herself for giving in to her desires to break the rules last night. She had a month before the wedding, surely another opportunity to rebel would have presented itself before then. Why had she so stupidly chosen last night?

Whining lightly under her breath, she quickly scampered for her trunk and immediately regretted it as hot pain stabbed her core. Oh, she would kill Mr. Brandon if she saw him today, she swore it.

Allowing herself to cringe now while she was alone, her movements became a contrasting juxtaposition of hasty and ginger. She pulled out a new chemise and petticoat before pulling out her gown and nearly sighed in relief as she noted the neckline did have a high collar to it. Her father would want to present her as a modest young virgin – nothing represented that more than clothing that would be suitable in a nunnery. Part of her would enjoy the lie of that image today, even as she tried to figure out how to walk without waddling.

It took her longer than she expected to dress without the help of a servant, but she managed to finish just as the door to her chamber swung open and a young woman and her father entered. She barely spared a glance to the former, her focus firmly on her father.

His eyes were red-rimmed bespoken of a late night drinking, but that would disappear with an indulgent breakfast. Georgianna knew her father's habits well. His gaze glimmered in silent satisfaction at her as he took in her state of dress, "You're awake early. I thought I would need to drag you from the bed with the way you had bemoaned leaving Wiltshire."

Georgiana forced a faint smile to her face, "You know I can't abide being idle."

Henry snorted, "True. I half expected you to sneak into the celebration last night, your uncle had money on it, in fact."

She barely kept from rolling her eyes even as she ignored a wary noxious turn of her stomach, "I'm sure you'd enjoyed gloating over him losing, father."

"I will soon enough." Henry intoned quietly, almost suspiciously as he gestured to the servant, "This is Kitty, she'll see to your needs while we're here. Join your uncle and I for breakfast once you're finished."

"Of course, father." Georgiana murmured.

"My daughter." Her father mused before stepping forward to press a kiss to her forehead. An ominous note lingered in his tone, "You'll do the family proud today."

The silent threat to behave went unacknowledged.

She merely offered another smile as he stepped back and eyed her curiously, "The air must agree with you here. You've a glow about you. Or perhaps you're just excited for your moment to shine."

Another pang of panic made her heart lurch, but she kept her features bland as she shrugged, "Perhaps."

Henry had stopped listening, however, already retreating to the shared common room of their quarters, "Don't tarry, we have much to do today."

Her door was shut before she had a chance to reply. She turned wary eyes onto the servant and was rewarded with a smile reminiscent of the one she had just given her father, "Kitty, was it?"

"Katerina, Milady." Katerina curtsied faintly as she waited for instructions.

Georgiana sighed, "If you'll help me with my hair, I'd be much obliged."

"Of course, milady."

Georgiana slowly made her way to the dressing table, rather too aware of the other woman's eyes on her. A dawning dread burbled in her belly as she realized she would need to sit. The thought almost brought frustrated tears to her eyes as she gazed grudgingly at the stool. The servant must think her mad by the dark glare on her face, but Georgiana bit her tongue and eased herself down. The burn in her backside reignited and she had to swallow her moan.

She wished a long, tormented death on Charles.

Katerina watched her curiously but was of mind enough not to say anything. Instead, she waited until Georgiana was situated and began to gather up her soft tresses to be plaited and pinned. A dark bruise peaked ever so slightly out of the edge of the collar. Katerina pursed her lips at the sight and adjusted her pinning to cover the mark.

"Pardon my frankness, milady, but was it your first time?" Katerina asked in a whisper.

Georgiana lifted her gaze to the looking glass in a scrutinizing glare, "My first -"

Her voice cut off as Katerina subtly moved her hair and another mark was displayed. A deep blush scoured her cheeks and she held her breath and uttered quietly, "Please don't say anything."

"Of course not, milady." Katerina assured. Georgiana wasn't the first noble lady she had served to have affairs and she knew better than to spread rumors. Gossiping servants didn't last long in the palace, "Was it...?"

There was a brief moment of hesitance before Georgiana nodded.

Katerina hummed understandingly, "It can be painful, especially if the man doesn't have a care. I can get you a warm compress. It'll help, but you should soak tonight, milady."

"...I didn't. I didn't tell him that I was..." Georgiana took a shuddering breath, having trouble admitting to her foolishness, "My intended is older than my father, I just wanted a good first experience."

A sympathetic twinkle entered the other woman's gaze, before she whispered cautiously, "Was it?"

Georgiana couldn't keep the pleased grin from her face and Katerina giggled, "I'm glad, milady. Drink the tea that I'll bring to your breakfast it'll stave off any unwanted surprises."

"Surprises?" Georgiana asked bemused until Katerina made a gesture of a swollen stomach. Suddenly, she felt like a dullard... she had forgotten that aspect of copulation, "Oh...oh, thank you, Katerina."

Katerina nodded and continued her work. Every so often Georgiana worked up the nerve to ask a question. Slowly, she gained her first confidant within the King's Palace.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺ ༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Charles!"

The sound of the King's voice rang out through the hall, unusually jovial for so early in the day. Charles turned and smiled with a faint bow as his monarch and friend approached him, "Your Majesty, good morning."

"It is a good morning, isn't it?" Henry questioned with a rakish grin. It was all Charles needed to know that the King had his own bedroom delights satisfied the prior night. He playfully nudged Brandon's shoulder as he gestured for them to continue, "You left the festivities early last night."

There was a faint note of accusation in his tone that Charles was hard-pressed to miss. He grimaced internally, he hadn't meant to insult Henry by his departure, "A celebration of a different kind lured me away, I'm afraid."

The King's brow rose as his eyes began to shine with amusement, "This celebration wouldn't happen to be in the shape of a woman, would it? About chin height? Pouty lips? Lovely blue and grey gown that accentuated some even lovelier assets?"

Charles chuckled, knowing he had already been forgiven. Of course, nothing seemed to get passed Harry, even when he had been knee-deep in the cups, "That would be the one, sire."

"Anthony was quite cross with you." Henry murmured with sage pleasure as he recalled the annoyed expression on their friend's face, "I believe he had been trying to lure her away himself when you beat him to it."

A smug smirk twisted at Charles's mouth as he recalled he hadn't done much luring.

His little lamb had wanted to be ensnared; Anthony had merely missed the signs of a good chase. And it had been a very good chase indeed. Charlotte had played the prey to his predator beautifully. Though he silently wished she had mentioned her virginal state to him, while he liked a bit of roughness in his play, he never wanted to cause his partners' unnecessary pain. He would have been gentler with her on that first go, taken his time. Hell, he wished she had stayed for a second round. It had been too long since he had played with someone that satisfactorily.

He pushed back on those insatiable thoughts and turned a curious eye to his king, "And you, your Majesty? I trust that your night ended on a celebratory note, as well?"

"Quite, it ended in a very satisfying bang." Henry replied all too pleased with his lewd pun and the amused snort it pulled from his friend. His smile dimmed faintly and turned more affectionate as they rounded a corner and entered a side room that contained the queen and their newborn daughter, "Good morning, My Queen."

Charles bowed and murmured a quiet, "Majesty."

"Good morning, My King." Katherine returned with a gentle smile as she approached the duo. She nodded to Charles, "Mr. Brandon."

In her arms, the infant princess squirmed and she smiled wider as she offered the child to the King, "She wants her papa."

Henry reached for her instantly and with more gentleness than Charles had ever witnessed from his friend cradled the child in his arms. Pride and delight shined in his icy eyes as Mary settled and cooed quietly at her father. He ran a soft finger over her cheek, "My little pearl. Isn't she beautiful, Charles?"

Katherine looked on lovingly.

"She is." Charles agreed quietly with a faint smile. He knew that his friend was disappointed not to have a son, but he had born witness to the relief the King exuded when news reached him that both his wife and child were hale and whole. The Queen's last few pregnancies had been rough and there had been a real fear that she wouldn't survive her labor this last round. Despite his disappointment, Henry was still basking in the joy that his family was alive and would take what he could for now.

Suddenly feeling like an interloper to an intimate family moment, Charles bowed his head and began to make his excuses to exit, "I'll take my leave of you -"

Henry pinned him with an unimpressed glance, "Nonsense, stay and break your fast with us."

"Your Majesty, I would not want to intrude." Charles begged off and was almost startled when Katherine ganged up on him in turn.

"You're hardly an intruder, Mr. Brandon." Katherine rebuked gently. While she cared little for her husband's friends, Charles and William Compton were among the more tolerable, caring more to make her husband happy than receive any personal gain, "Besides I would like to hear how you enjoyed the celebrations. I'm afraid I was too weary to attend for long."

A mix of horror and hilarity welled up in Charles at the Queen's words and it was only made worse when he caught the mocking gleam in the King's gaze, "Yes, Charles, you must tell us how you enjoyed last night."

If it wouldn't be considered an act of treason, Charles would have punched the King soundly in the face regardless of the fact that he was still holding his daughter. He bit back a sigh and settled for a mild glare that made the King smirk, "The festivities were brilliant, Your Majesty. Though I'm afraid I was not present for much longer after your exit. I too retired early."

"Ah." The Queen muttered sagely with a sly twinkle in her eye, "Then you had a good evening, indeed."

Charles nearly choked on his tongue while the King burst into unexpected laughter. The noise startled the baby, but he was quick to calm her as he continued to chortle. Depositing the child into the arms of a waiting servant, Henry turned and pressed a kiss to his wife's cheek, "Thank you for that, dearest. I don't think I've ever seen Charles look more humbled."

Charles, in fact, had turned a faint red and was avoiding both of his monarch's amused gazes as he endured this teasing humiliation. Henry was lucky that his wife and daughter were present or else he may have made an unsubtle comment about the King's night. However, he actually was rather fond of Queen Katherine and had no desire to cause her such pain. Sighing, he changed the topic, "Light day, today, Your Majesty?"

"Very subtle, Charles." Henry uttered mockingly as he invited his friend to sit and food was dispersed, but he allowed the change, "Unfortunately no. I've been neglecting court matters the last week. I'm told I have a list of issues to address. Border grievances, petty squabbles, a few marriage declarations. Nothing terribly interesting."

Katherine hummed, gaining the attention of both men, "I would like to join you today, My King. If that would be acceptable?"

Henry raised a brow, "I assure you that it will be quite boring. Wouldn't you rather stay with Mary?... I know I would."

That seemed to amuse the Queen as she replied lightly, "You would rather be hunting."

"It's too cold for hunting." Henry rebuked in good humor and he wasn't wrong. A light dusting of snow had covered the ground during the night, "I'd rather play tennis."

Charles chuckled as he watched their byplay, but couldn't help, but ask, "Is there something that interests you in particular about today's agenda, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, actually." The Queen began, noting she had her husband's attention, "The Duchess of Buckingham mentioned that her niece is to be introduced today, Georgiana. Said she's a precocious child. I am curious – I didn't even know the Buckingham's had a niece."

Both Charles and Henry frowned in confusion as they ran over the noble lines in their heads. Henry reached a conclusion first, "The Earl of Wiltshire's daughter?"

"I had forgotten he had a child." Charles murmured as he thought of the arrogant redheaded lord. It was wildly acknowledged that Henry Stafford's marriage to Cecily Bonneville was one of convenience – rumors abounded that his interests were more inclined towards men than women.

"I as well." Henry acknowledged with a bemused frown, "Cecily was a very beautiful woman, I recall. I wonder if the daughter took after her or her father."

"Hopefully, her mother. Lord Stafford's hardly a prize."

Henry sniggered quietly at Charles's words.

"Does this mean you wouldn't mind my intrusion today?" Katherine prodded gently, somewhat proud that she had engaged the men's intrigue.

"Not at all." Henry answered indifferently, his mind already moving on to other things, "I think we're all rather curious about the elusive Lady Stafford."

Charles hummed in agreement but was more interested in spending his day seeking out his elusive Charlotte. He hadn't had his fill of his little lamb yet.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺ ༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Of course, Henry had other ideas about what Charles would be doing with his day. The King's tediously boring business also became Charles as he stood behind a long table strewn with maps reviewing the boundary lines of two estates. The squabble laid between Lord Byron and Lord Tyrrion, both greedy, petulant arses in Charles's opinion. Lord Tyrrion more so than Byron.

Even Cardinal Wolsey looked tired of the lords' nonsense and he wasn't even present for this issue.

"You've pulled up the stakes on my land so that your bloody sheep have a larger grazing pasture." Byron stated testily for the hundredth time as he pounded a finger on a boundary line, "This map clearly shows where the stakes should be."

"And it's where they are." Tyrrion replied with droll disinterest. He allowed the farmers in their area to let their cattle roam free on his land. He felt it gave healthier livestock and added more flavor to the meat.

"Then explain why the gardens of my estate have been decimated by your bloody roving bushes." Byron demanded.

"That's a poor thing to call your lady wife, sir."

The resulting exclamation made Charles bite back a sigh and long to bury his head in the ground.

At the other end of the room, King Henry entertained issues from other courtiers, looking about as thrilled as a mourner.

"Lord Malbury, you will either forfeit your estate or pay the taxes you owe." Henry droned threateningly as he ignored Katherine's placating hand, "You're two years overdue in your fealty. But in my kindness, I will give you a month to clear your debt. Is that understood, sir?"

Malbury shifted uncomfortably looking like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it as he quietly muttered, "Yes, Your Majesty."

Henry waved a hand dismissing him.

"Your Majesty, the Duke of Buckingham, Edward Stafford and the Earl of Wiltshire, Henry Stafford."

Katherine sat a little straighter in her seat as the two men approached and bowed. A young woman followed several steps behind, but only the Queen took an interest in her.

Henry raised a brow at the two brothers, "What can I do for you?"

"Your Majesty, thank you for seeing us today and may I say congratulations on the birth of Princess Mary." The Earl simpered before stepping aside and gesturing for his daughter to come forward, "I would like to present to you, my daughter, Lady Georgiana."

Henry tilted his head curiously as Georgiana came to the foot of his dais and curtsied gracefully. A simple hood covered her head, but a few purposeful locks were left to frame her face elegantly. She cut a nice figure in the pale green gown she had chosen. She didn't wear much in the way of adornments. Simple, refined, modest...everything a good Christian girl should be.

The King stood from his throne and gently took her hand, allowing her to rise and be viewed fully, "Lady Georgiana."

"Your Majesty." She murmured and he was greeted by a pair of sparkling blue eyes and a placid smile.

Katherine moved to his side, a curious grimace adorning her features as Henry spoke, "You're as enchanting as your mother. A shame that Lady Cecily isn't here to join us."

"Your Majesty is too kind." Georgiana demurred.

Wiltshire stepped forward as he rejoined the conversation, "If I may, Your Majesty."

He rested a light hand on his daughter's elbow while his brother beckoned another forward. Henry watched in keen interest as the Earl of Worcester came to stand between the two brothers. The older gentlemen bowed.

Already, Henry knew where this was going, "Lord Somerset, and what do you have to do with these proceedings?"

"Your Majesty, Lord Stafford and I have entered into an agreement for Lady Georgiana's hand. I would like to make a formal declaration of engagement." Lord Somerset asserted quietly.

Henry shared a glance with Katherine and wasn't surprised to see a faint gleam of disapproval in her gaze. Lord Somerset must have been about forty years the girl's senior, a bit excessive, but not exactly uncommon. His gaze swept back to the lady in question and nearly blinked as he witnessed a flash of annoyance disappear in a flicker as attention fell back on her.

Well, well... It seemed his lady wife was not the only one to disapprove. Henry pursed his lips, "I see... Lady Georgiana, you are amenable to this match?"

Fingers tightened over her elbow and Georgiana fixed a faint smile on her face as she replied, "I trust that my father has chosen well for me, sire."

A very diplomatic answer, if ever he heard one. If he hadn't seen the distaste in her gaze then he would have dismissed her as another mindless noblewoman. Except for her annoyance and the forethought she had displayed to hide behind a rather impressive mask of indifference, bespoke of a sharp intelligence. She would do well in court. Precocious, indeed. It was a pity she had already been promised to another.

"When is the wedding?" Katherine asked abruptly.

Startling the Duke and Earls. Worcester recovered swiftly, "In a month's time. Should there be no objections, Your Majesty?"

"I have none. Though, I do offer my congratulations." Henry stated before he shared another glance with his wife, "However, the Duchess of Buckingham spoke highly of Lady Georgiana and my lady wife has been looking forward to meeting her. I trust that you all will stay for the week to give Lady Georgiana a chance to experience courtly life before whisking her away to the country."

There was a brief chorus of agreements from the gentlemen and again Henry caught that flicker of unimpressed displeasure in her countenance. He nearly smirked, this was bound to be an interesting visit.

His attention wavered a moment as Charles approached from the back, looking harried and annoyed. Henry tried not to laugh. He had purposefully tasked him that particular boundary dispute as punishment for his early departure from the festivities, but also... he had no desire to deal with Lord Tyrrion's dry wit, "Has a solution been reached, Charles?"

Charles bowed and nodded, "Yes, Your Majesty. We just need your final approval."

Henry hummed in acknowledgement before nodding to the group before him, "Charles, I believe you already know the Duke of Buckingham and Earls of Wiltshire and Worcester, respectively?"

"Your Grace, milords." Charles greeted solemnly and with the bare minimum of decorum. Henry had never been able to figure out what the discourse between Charles and the Stafford house was, but he knew it was mutual. Edward Stafford nearly sneered at his friend.

"And this is Lady Georgiana Stafford, soon to be Somerset." Henry introduced lightly as he watched the way his friend studied the woman. A glint of interest sparked in his eye and the King refrained from snorting in amusement. Charles had no boundaries, "Lady Georgiana, may I present my good friend and courtier, Charles Brandon."

Oddly enough, the Lady seemed to stiffen at the sight of Charles before another placid mask befell her. She graced Charles with a nod, "Mr. Brandon."

"My lady." Charles intoned back, though a curious glimmer creased his gaze.

Henry stepped passed the group, now done with the pleasantries, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Georgiana. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend."

He didn't pause to watch their bows or hear their farewells. Charles followed at his heels after a minute and Henry sent him a questioning look when he finally noticed the faint frown on his friend's face, "Charles?"

Charles's mouth moved silently for a moment before he answered, "She seemed...familiar."

"Hopefully, not too familiar." Henry countered drolly as they approached the back table, "Wouldn't want both of the Staffords after your head."

Charles grunted in agreement, but couldn't help to return his gaze to Georgiana's departing form. He swore he knew her.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#charles brandon #charles brandon fanfiction #charles brandon fic #duke of suffolk #anthony knivert #henry viii #katherine of aragon #tudors fanfic #the tudors #tudors fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #henry cavill #The Wiles of Men and Women

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1337wtfomgbbq · 3 years ago

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I gotta rant for a second here. I hate this app. Okay maybe not this whole app, more the people on here. Specifically the people in the supernatural community. Yes talking to you. I can’t believe I’m even back into this with you guys.

I know people can pick and chose which characters they like and which they dislike. I know, for some trauma and whathaveyou also plays into what they feel towards a character.

But I am just so mad. I’m on a little bit of a rewatch, as you are, of season 1 to 3 (maybe some episodes of 4 and 5) because those are the only good seasons, and I just wanna look at some posts of my favorite character.

But my favorite character happens to be John.

TLDR: John's character is complex as fuck and people like to oversimplify and villify him, for no reason other than „BuT My DaAAadYY WaS ShiTTy!!!!“

And I get it. People on here disregard season 1-3, even the writers disregarded what JDM wanted John to be: “I don’t think he’s as screwed-up as other people do,” Morgan told EW. “I think he is a guy who’s got a tremendous amount of love for his family. He was willing to die for his sons, willing to put himself in a place to where he could lose his life for revenge on what killed his wife. So as much has been said about John or that I’ve heard about John, I think what is missing is that he shows love in different ways. Maybe he wasn’t a big hugger and he didn’t say the right things when he should’ve — and there’s a bigger picture about getting your kids into hunting ghosts that I should acknowledge — but I think at his core he really loved his family and was willing to sacrifice everything. So I never looked or played John in a way that there was any malice toward his sons.”

People project what went wrong in their lifes and with their fathers on this app SO HARD. To be fair they do that everywhere. But it's so infuriating when it's done to a character you love so much.

And as much as I wanna be understanding I am just so pissed.

Hear me out: Back when I first started watching supernatural (I was fucking 12 back then, can you believe that) and my friend was all „OMG Sam is such a treat. He's mine!“ I thought, okay I'm gonna take Dean then.

The coin finally dropped on me in 'Shadow' and I realized „Heck, screw Dean, I'm taking John!“ (Not that I told my friend that, LOL. I hadn't realized just then that I prefer older guys)

And attraction is one thing, but the character spoke to me on such a deep level too. I mean, you got a dude whos wife died in a way that he cannot explain in a rational way, only to have his eyes opened to the supernatural by Missouri. And it turns out whatever killed his wife also did some fucked up shit to his kid and is after, not only his youngest but, all of them.

So he's forced to take his kids on the run. But, he's also an ex-marine, he's a soldier and he can't leave other people to die at the hands and claws and teeth of monsters and ghosts and strigas and whathaveyou. Which leaves him struggling to ballance protecting and caring for his kids and saving people and hunting things, AND finding the thing that killed his wife.

The way John's situation was set up (ignoring for a second what we learn in later seasons) and the way Sam was brought up by him created a relationship that was bound to escalate; it was only a matter of time.

Season 1 to 3 we got a John that was distant and rough, but a John that recognized he fucked up along the way and who saught to rectify where he went wrong with his boys.

Season 1 episode 20: „You gotta understand something. After your mother passed all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you...prepared. Ready. Except somewhere along the line I ... uh ... I stopped being your father and I ... I became your, your drill sergeant. So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was, that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable. Sammy, it just... it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me -- We're just different.“

And guess what, Sam admits seconds later: „We're not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess... Well we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone.“

Season 1 episode 21: „I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want....I want Mary alive. It's just....I just want this to be over.“

John literally on the show in person, Jeffrey Dean Morgan Season 1, admits that he didn't want ANYTHING OF WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHAT HE HAD TO DO TO HAPPEN!!!!

Sure, Sam suggested to Dean that John's just „working overtime on Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later“ in the very first episode but we never see John drink alcohol, for all he's on screen in season one, ONCE. (1x1) Suggesting that John did have a drinking problem but somewhere between Sam going off to college and the pilot he kicked that habit.

Sure, Sam is clearly vindictive BUT, when faced with a kid with a clearly abusive father, he also says that, „Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we coulda had Max' childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him.“ (1x14)

We see him cry on multible occasions in season one and two, we see him hug both Sam and Dean and tell BOTH OF THEM that he is proud of them. Heck, he couldn't shut up about how proud he was of them. Like Jerry told Sam in 1x4 „Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell, He talked about you all the time.“ He kept Sam's soccer trophie, and Dean's first sawed off. He fucking died to safe Dean.

Yeah, he told Dean that he'd have to kill Sam if he goes evil but...

Let's take into consideration season 4 and 5, and John wasn't all too wrong for telling Dean this. Even if we ignore all that, as John probably didn't have the full picture, John didn't knew the extend of Sam's powers. As is always said, „With great power comes great responsibility“. We have seen in comics, shows, movies, all over pop culture and history, how easily great power can corrupt, don't matter how nice and righteous that person is.

Let's take into consideration what was added in season 4 and 5: Like John having another family, the fact that cupid had to get him and Mary together, Mary making a deal with Azazel, the few demons (not even all of them) Lucifer showed Sam who had been put into his life by yellow eyes; even that just adds more credence to the already established character.

Of course John was bound to have flings after Mary, you can't expect a widower to just be celibate forever. And it wasn't even that he bailed on her, he literally didn't know there was a child until twelve years later.

And considering John's erratic 'work schedule' and how little we know of Kate, maybe it was her that wanted John not to have much contact to her son. The whole situation with Adam isn't exactly clear, and told through the eyes of a ghoul. Plus, we all saw where John's decision to leave Adam in the dark about the supernatural had him end up (namely killed by a ghoul).

The fact that cupid had to get John and Mary together only gives more ammunition for my argument that John was only working with what was given to him. Pretty much everyone from hell to heaven was meddling in his life.

Getting ahead with headcanons here but, for all we know John and Mary would've never ended up together; for all we know Mary was a lesbian and John was bi; for all we know they could've still worked out without cupid's help. Who knows? We don't because heaven took that decision away from both John and Mary.

The fact that Mary made a deal with Azazel to safe John's life in exchange for Azazel to be able to enter her home in ten years time, again, caused something to happen down the line that affected John and the boys that John had no control over.

And I gotta thank Lucifer for his part, because it gives EVEN MORE credence as to why John couldn't give Dean and Sam a normal life. He reveals SOME of the people Azazel planted into Sam's life that were actually possessed by demons.

„LUCIFER: Look closely. None of these little devils look familiar to you? SAM: That's Mr. Bensman... One of my grade-school teachers. LUCIFER: And that's your friend Doug from that time in East Lansing. And Rachel... your prom date. Sam Winchester, this is your life. Azazel's gang – watching you since you were a rugrat, jerking you around like a dog on a leash. I know how you feel about them. Me too. So, what do you say you and I blow off a little steam?“ (5x22)

A few episodes earlier we found out that his friend Brady, the one that introduced him to Jess, was actually possessed by a demon, and the one that fucking killed her.

„BRADY (chuckles): Brady hasn't been Brady in years. Not since, oh... middle of our sophomore year?

SAM: What?

BRADY: That's right. You had a devil on your shoulder even back then. All right, now, let it all sink in.

SAM: You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch! (Sam approaches Brady, Dean holds him back) You introduced me to Jess!

BRADY: Ding, ding! I think he's got it!“ (5x20)

All of this paints a clear picture for me, of a man that got played by fate and heaven and hell and was only trying to play the cards all of them dealt him to the best of his ability. Did he fuck up along the way, yes, did he show remorse for that and did he wish he could've given Sam and Dean a better life, Yes.

I completely understand people liking one character and disliking another, even projecting onto characters I get. And I get that people's life experiances lead them to different conclusions.

But it pisses me off so much that I can't go into the 'John Winchester' tag without having to read some shit as fuck take on John.

I have to read people saying that he never told Dean he was proud of him and that the only time he did so he was possessed by Azazel. Which isn't even true, but a motherfucking lie.

Season 2, episode 1; when John WASN'T POSSESSED ANYMORE he said to Dean: „You know, when you were a kid... I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen... I'd be wrecked. And you... You'd come up to me... you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye. You'd say, "It's okay, Dad." Dean. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to say that to me. I should've been saying that to you. You know, I put... I put too much on your shoulders. I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sam, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know... that I am so proud of you.“

I have to read people forget or disregard that John was literally a righteous man. Alastair tried to break John and John didn't break for a century and then clawed his way OUT OF HELL TO SAFE HIS SONS IN 2x22. John must've had righteousness in heaven (which would come through faith in Jesus) and righteousness on earth (which would come through living through the commandments) as long as that's what the writers meant with 'righteous man'.

I have to read stuff John would apparently do only because we learn in 'Dark side of the Moon' that John and Mary's marriage wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and that John even moved out for a period. Even though we don't know who caused that fight and what it was about, literally it could've been Mary's fault and John only left to cool off. And even if not, marriages aren't just sunshines and rainbows. Fights happen, bad stuff is worked out. That would be true even without the cupid spell.

I have to read someone projecting their experiance with their father onto John. I have to read about someone saying John would've been such a dick because he was in the military and fought in the vietnam war, and we all know that's what all sodiers back then were (dicks). I have to read about how homophobic and transphobic John obviously was. I have to read about how much John would've been racist to Sam and Dean if they'd been mixed.

John was born in 1954, he has to be homophobic and transphobic and racist and bigoted and everthing you can think of. It can't be possible for someone to be born during that time and not be, right. (I hope you recognize the sarcasm)

Everybody is screaming 'child abuse' as loud as they can without taking into account the unique world those characters inhabit and the situation fate, heaven and hell put John and the boys into.

Dean could dig himself out of his grave because John used to bury them alive and had them dig their way out of a coffin as training!!!? Are yall good?? Literally what did your parents do to you, what went wront in your life that you think shit like this?!

And I get it, you can headcanon all you want. I myself headcanon John as bi and that Azazel knew and used this fact.

The writers did John so dirty in later seasons, and I'm not even alone in this, JDM agrees with me.

„But it always bugged me that the John that I played is different than the John that has been portrayed since I haven't been around. I really wanted the opportunity to be able to come back and make amends in a way and try to fix the sullied name of this character. But more than that, it's three friends, life lived. It feels like we've been friends for a lifetime now, getting to reunite in a place that we love and that we met and do what we do and I think that is super cool. So not only does John win in getting to come back and see his boys and Mary again and hopefully make some amends, it's just as cool for me, the actor, to be able to come back and see everybody.“

I'm sorry, but if Snape fans are allowed to be pissed about people suggesting Snape would've been creeping on Harry if he had been female and looked like Lilly, I can be pissed about everybody and their grandma in this fucking fandom painting John in the worst light possible.

JDM created such a great character with depth and who was interesting, even in season 4 and 5 they were still respectfull to his character, but the later seasons were just *throws up *

And I mean, I get it, I disregard canon too. Like, I disregard everything after season 5, that's Sam hallucinating in hell to me. Sometimes even after season 3, cause I don't feel like dealing with the angels, and cas and destiel and all that.

I get it, I get it, I get it.

But I too have the right to be pissed off about the way people like to shit on my fav.

Long story short, I love John and how complex and grey his character is and I HATE IT how simple and 'black and white' people wanna make him out to be. I wanna punch a bitch. I wanna throw hands right now.

#supernatural #spn #john winchester #john winchester defense #john winchester defense squad #I am heated #I literally wanna throw hands right now #I wanna be understanding of you guys #but yall are *tears at hair *#I don't get yall

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teddyshoney · 4 years ago

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In Every Lifetime Masterpost

So, @jayhawk-writes and I decided that we needed to put together a masterpost of our series for anyone who is interested in starting it or may have stopped reading it and doesn’t know where we’re at now. Or, just anybody, cuz we’re nice like that. :) So, whenever one of us posts a new story, we’ll add it to this post and recirculate it. Enjoy! (Currently has 16 main stories!)

Series Summary: A series of connected AUs inspired by this line from Blaine's proposal: "It's always felt like I was remembering you from something. As if, in every lifetime you and I have ever lived, we've chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love all over again. Over and over for all of eternity."

Part One: The Unknown Author: TeddysHoney Word Count: 864 Summary: Kurt and Blaine have a choice to make... AO3 or FF.net

Part Two: Domus Civita Author: JayhawkWrites Word Count: 62,612 Summary: While on vacation to a city he's never been to, Kurt Hummel finds himself in a place that he recognized from his dreams. The person he always sees in those dreams is there, too, and they spot him and ask, “Is it really you?” AO3 or FF.net This story has follow-ups! Goofball - AO3, FF.net Naked Cooking - AO3, FF.net So Here’s What We’re Going To Do - AO3, FF.net Lazy Sunday - AO3, FF.net

Part Three: It Only Took an Hour Author: TeddysHoney Word Count: 19,072 Summary: Kurt's been set up on a blind date at a bar that he hates. And the blind date is a no-show. There is this really cute boy that walks in, though, and Kurt can't stop watching him dance and flirt. The whole story takes place over the course of an hour with the exception of the prologue. AO3 or FF.net This story has follow-ups! Valentine’s Wedding - AO3, FF.net Penguin Proposal - AO3, FF.net

Part Four: The Writing on My Skin Author: JayhawkWrites Word Count: 35,530 Summary: Soulmates, when the younger of the two turns 16, both get a unique mark somewhere on their skin that will have or has had some meaning to them. They can write to each other back and forth by writing on their skin. Kurt Hummel has been waiting for his soulmate to finally turn 16 so that he would have someone to talk to about all of the things he can't tell his dad or other friends. Nobody really knows how bad the bullying has gotten at McKinley. He hopes that his soulmate can help him get through this tough time, but he has no way of knowing that Fate, and Noah Puckerman, will lead him right to his soulmate. AO3 or FF.net

Part Five: Nothing Can Keep Us Apart Author: TeddysHoney Word Count: 44,467 Summary: Blaine is a Prince...well, he used to be. Now, he's just a lowly Peasant living in the city of Hucal, a kingdom under the rule of the man who ordered his father to be killed. Unexpectedly, Blaine falls in love with a boy, a boy who should be far, far out of his reach. And just as he thinks that things are looking up for him, Hucal goes to war, and Blaine must fight. Will he make it home? Will he get to marry his soulmate? Will they have their happily ever after? AO3 or FF.net

Part Six: The Silver-Scaled Mark Author: JayhawkWrites Word Count: 52,737 Summary: Blaine is a half-elf living in a town of full-blooded elves. He doesn’t fit in and is bullied almost daily for his heritage. One day Blaine finds solace in the library and later finds a book that talks about the magic in his world. He is drawn to it and wants to learn all he can. After Blaine has consumed all of the books in his town, he goes off to college to become a wizard so that he can help protect those that are not able to adequately defend themselves. Once he has graduated, he finds that he and several companions are part of a prophecy that will help unite the races in his world. AO3 or FF.net

Part Seven: When Worlds Collide Author: TeddysHoney Word Count: 92,341 Summary: Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are soulmates and fairies; they have a wonderful little family, and Kurt is a successful author. When his daughters beg him to read his new book to them for a bedtime story, Kurt and Blaine relive their pasts, and we learn exactly how they became soulmates and lovers in a most unconventional and unlikely way. AO3 or FF.net

Part Eight: Guarding the Shadows Author: JayhawkWrites Word Count: 111,943 Summary: Too distracted by their love for each other to make their own choices, Kurt and Blaine are thrust into an adventure they know almost nothing about. Born in mid-1600 London, they must overcome many obstacles including their financial barriers and their desire to find true love. However, there's a hidden piece of the puzzle they know nothing about: vampires. AO3 or FF.net This story has follow-ups! Fucking Journal! Damn Book! - AO3, FF.net

Part Nine: I Don’t Date Cheerios Author: TeddysHoney Word Count: 66,883 Summary: Blaine, leader of the McKinley High bad boys is forced to join a club, and he winds up singing in front of the Glee Club. Who else would be in the audience besides Cheerio Kurt? Kurt’s never been a fan of Blaine, but that’s all about to change... AO3 or FF.net This story has follow-ups! I Thought I Gave the Orders - AO3, FF.net Midnight Snack - AO3, FF.net Always and Forever - AO3, FF.net Dear Blaine’s Bike, How Dare You? - AO3, FF.net

Part Ten: How Far I’ll Go Author: JayhawkWrites Word Count: 36,586 Summary: In a world where soulmates are found by touching one another, little Kurt, who’s been bullied even at the tender age of three, has finally found some friends. As kids do, to say goodbye, Kurt hugs three of his friends and earns himself a soulmark. The only problem? He doesn’t know who it belongs to. AO3 or FF.net This story has follow-ups! Fluttershy - AO3, FF.net Can You Feel the Love Tonight - AO3, FF.net Happily Ever After - AO3, FF.net It’s a Jolly Holiday - AO3, FF.net

Part Eleven: You’re Not a Princess Author: TeddysHoney Word Count: 22,487 (WIP) Summary: Kurt and Blaine are ready for a new adventure, and Caphriel knows the perfect one, a journey in which every lifetime they’ve lived so far will play a part in getting the two of them together once more. So, after a meeting between Burt and Cooper, an agreement is made that the Prince of Cicuria (Kurt) and the Prince of Zira (Blaine) should be wed in order for an alliance to be procured between the two kingdoms. The only problem? Both Burt and Cooper think they’re promising their family member to a Princess. And when the wedding day finally rolls around, there are two missing grooms. Where have they gone? AO3 or FF.net

Part Twelve: So Very Thankful Author: JayhawkWrites Word Count: 53,020 Summary: Kurt and Blaine chose carefully what their new adventure will be. One really wants to be taken care of, and the other has no problem being the person who takes care of them. Watch them earn their soulmarks as they fall in love. AO3 or FF.net This story has follow-ups! Seth - AO3, FF.net Love, E - AO3, FF.net

Part Thirteen: My Rhythm and Blues Author: TeddysHoney Word Count: 71,249 (WIP) Summary: Kurt's finally in New York, the city he's dreamed of coming to for so long and the place he should meet his soulmate, according to his mark. After a once-in-a-lifetime concert, he heads to Marie's Crisis for some drinks, and he meets someone whom he's been crushing on for years: Blaine Anderson, lead singer of Warbler Attack. The singer invites him, as a joke, to go on tour with the band, and Kurt takes him up on his offer, sending him off on a whirlwind romance he never thought he'd experience. AO3 or FF.net

Part Fourteen: Outlined on My Finger, Printed in My Heart Author: JayhawkWrites Word Count: 30,050 Summary: Blaine and Kurt spent a while picking their next adventure. When they finally decided, Caphriel was elated. This was an adventure he had been waiting for them to choose. AO3 or FF.net

Part Fifteen: Crimson Yarn Author: TeddysHoney Word Count: 35,259 Summary: Back from New York, Kurt has just purchased a lake house in need of fixing up to keep him busy while he tries to heal from his past relationship. Back from LA, Blaine reluctantly takes a job from his father while he mourns the loss of his dream. Will red yarn, coffee, and some heavy conversation be enough for both boys to realize that there may be an answer to their healing right in front of them? AO3 or FF.net

Part Sixteen: Braid of Gold Author: JayhawkWrites Word Count: 1,465 (WIP) Summary: Kurt and Blaine ask Caphriel to make the decision about where they go next. He chooses a lifetime where Kurt and Blaine will have to navigate a situation they've not yet been in. They'll have to work through loss and betrayal and ultimately, their bond will be stronger as a family because of it. AO3 or FF.net

#in every lifetime series #the unknown #Domus Civita #it only took an hour #the writing on my skin #nothing can keep us apart #the silver-scaled mark #When Worlds Collide #guarding the shadows #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #i don't date cheerios #how far i'll go #you're not a princess #so very thankful #follow-up stories #my rhythm and blues

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fictionadventurer · 4 years ago

Text

Christmastime Again: A Hallmark Sci Fi Presentation

When the room stopped spinning, Lacey found herself on Christmas morning again. The guests had all arrived, the tree was standing and a light snow was just starting to fall out the window. The start of a picture-perfect Christmas.

As long as she kept it that way.

Alright, from the top.

By now, she could navigate the first part of the day by muscle memory. Scoop up the cat and lock her in the carrier in the laundry room. Straighten the rug and move Uncle Wendell’s beer stein away from the edge of the counter. Turn down the Christmas music just in time to hear the timer buzz and bring the turkey out of the oven at the peak of golden-brown perfection. Stash the cookies out of toddler-reach and get every child at the craft table a red crayon before the hair-pulling started.

Since she could navigate these hours without thinking, her brain was alert to the rest of her surroundings, watching for any unexpected ripples that could upset this version of the Christmas timeline. She noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except for the stares of the guy in the sweater. She’d heard his name--Julian, some cousin of her sister-in-law who had nowhere else to go--but it was hard to remember it when her senses were distracted by the ugly sweater. It wasn’t cute ugly or ironically ugly; it was “I was raised by color-blind trolls” ugly. All beige and orange and yellow, displaying a big fuzzy reindeer with lopsided button eyes and trimmed with bits of bright green tinsel. If she could have made the loop go further back, Lacey might have tried to prevent him from wearing it. But she could only control the things that took place in this house today, so the sweater stayed, assaulting her eyeballs at every turn.

Not that the guy himself was hard on the eyes. With his dark hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw shadowed by neatly-trimmed stubble, he had a boy-next-door appeal--if the boy next door happened to be working as a model for the world’s worst sweater company. In the opinion of Lacey’s sister-in-law, Julian was only single because he was married to his work in some university department, but Lacey doubted that was the reason. If he stared at all women the way he was staring at her, the women had good reason to keep their distance.

Dinner was served and eaten with no mishaps. Cleanup was a breeze. Presents were handed out and unwrapped without disaster. And she still, in quiet moments, caught Julian studying her with unusual intensity. What was up with him? He hadn’t done this on previous loops--or maybe she’d just been too distracted to notice it. If he didn’t stop it soon, she’d miss a cue, tumble into disaster, and have to live this day all over again.

While the rest of the family wandered into the dining room for refreshments, Lacey stayed near the tree, picking up the last bits of wrapping paper and defending the tree from the handful of kids playing with their new toys. She moved on reflex, deflecting a rubber ball, a foam dart, a runaway remote-control car. One, two, three, like a dance, and then on beat four, in perfect time, she pivoted on one foot to catch a ball of crumpled wrapping paper.

And found herself nose-to-nose with Julian, his hand around her outstretched wrist.

Those blue eyes stared into hers. “You’ve lived this day before.”

It wasn’t a question or a joke. It was a statement of fact.

Lacey met that gaze straight-on. “What did you say you teach at the university?”

“Temporal mechanics.”

“Ah.” Lacey dropped the wrapping paper.

He let go of her wrist. “I don’t have much practical experience, but when I see my hostess unexpectedly developing superhuman reflexes and responding to statements before they’re spoken, I start to think that either she’s the world’s most boring psychic, or she’s making use of that pretty little bangle on her arm that looks alarmingly like an antique temporal elastic.”

Lacey tugged her sweater sleeve over the twisted copper casing and red control stones of her overworked time travel device. “It belonged to my grandmother.”

“How many times have you done this loop?”

Lacey pushed up her sleeve and counted the tally marks on her arm. “52.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s almost two months of Christmas Day.”

Lacey’s shoulders fell. “I am sick to death of turkey.”

A silence fell between them that was louder than the chatter from the dining room. Finally, he straightened the sleeve of the Ugly Sweater and said, “Putting aside your obvious mental instability and the frankly fascinating paradox storm that must be swirling around us at the moment--remind me to bring some instruments here within the next twenty-four hours--I have to ask: Why?”

She looked at a fragment of ribbon on the carpet and rasped, “I have to get it right.”

The crowd started trickling back in, pooling around the couches while holding plates of goodies and glasses of wine.

As the noise rose, Julian gave her a significant glance “I think we should talk about this somewhere quieter.”

She stepped back, brushing the tree. “I don’t need to go anywhere with you.”

“I think you do. You’ve got two months of memories to work through. You can’t keep that to yourself. You’ll go crazy.”

He wasn’t wrong. She had already learned why the Guild recommended against these sorts of changes--holding onto these alternate timelines was exhausting. She could do with a debrief.

But she had no time for a break. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m hostess.”

“They can look after themselves for half an hour.” Julian opened the door to the hall and waved her through. “And if not?” He shrugged. “What’s one more loop?”

It was an odd kind of Christmas weather--cold enough to send fluffy flakes scattering, but warm enough that they needed only earmuffs and scarves and didn’t even bother zipping up their light jackets. She lounged with Julian on the wood steps of the back porch, watching the flakes fall while they sipped at mulled wine.

Julian threw back his head and laughed as Lacey finished telling him about one of the earliest of her failed Christmases. “The whole tree?” he gasped. “The cat just--” He held one arm upright and used the other to mime a cat clamping onto the tree and sending it toppling. “Why did you redo that one? No one would have forgotten that Christmas.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

He sobered. “The cat didn’t get hurt, did it?”

“No, Fluffy was fine.”

“Anyone else injured?”

“No. “

“Property damage? Lost family heirlooms?”

“No. It was a gentle fall, and the only family ornaments on that tree were the pom-pom panda bears. They're resilient.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem?” Only a guy who wore reindeer sweaters would need this concept explained. “The problem is that no one wants the Christmas party interrupted by a toppling tree. It’s a nightmare. Chaos.”

“But memorable.”

“No one wants those types of memories.”

“Those are the only ones people actually remember. If Christmas goes smoothly, everyone forgets it in a month or two. But ‘the year Lacey’s cat took down the tree’? They’d go back to that story for years.”

“How does that make it better? I don’t want them constantly rehashing my failures as a hostess.”

“How is that failing? You provided good food, a comfortable home, a lovely tree. That’s not changed by a few mishaps.”

“This was more than a few mishaps.”

“Only because you’ve done it fifty-two times.” He leaned back against the wall of the house and lifted the steaming mug closer to his face. “What gave you this idea that Christmas has to be perfect?”

She twisted the time travel bangle on her wrist. “My mom...she died last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

She swallowed a lump. “She always hosted these perfect Christmas parties. She’d plan them for months and everything just ran like clockwork.”

His eyebrows rose. He pointed toward the bangle. “Did she...?”

Lacey pushed it beneath her sleeve. “No, never. We never knew it existed until we were going through my grandma’s things a few years ago.”

He relaxed. “That’s a relief. I thought I was going to have to get this place declared a temporal wasteland.”

Lacey chuckled. “Even if she’d had it, she wouldn’t have needed it. Her parties were works of art. Beautiful decorations, perfect food, everyone laughing and singing carols by the end of the night. When I asked her why she did it, she told me, ‘Lacey, these people are giving you their Christmas. It’s your job to give them the best Christmas you can.’” She sipped at her mug to swallow back tears. “When she died, that job fell to me. And when everything went wrong, I had to fix it.”

“Fifty-two times.”

She shrugged. “As many times as it took.”

“I doubt she’d have said your duties extended that far.”

“You’re probably right. But once I went in quest of the perfect Christmas, I couldn’t settle for anything less. It would have felt like dishonoring her memory.”

“It wouldn’t have been. I’m sure her Christmases had plenty of flaws.”

“Not as many as mine.”

Julian ran a finger along the edge of his mug. “You have this idea that everyone wants a Christmas of picture-perfect trees and crackling fires and cozy rooms without a speck of dust out of place. But if they wanted that, they could stay at home and look at pictures on the streambox. They come here because they want your Christmas. Burnt turkeys and cat-toppled trees and all. They want you experiencing it with them. Not fifty-two alternate versions of them.”

She fingered the fringe on the edge of her scarf. “I suppose not. But what’s wrong with trying for the perfect Christmas?”

“Lacey, there’s no such thing as the perfect Christmas. There’s never been one at any time, anywhere in the world.” He bunched up snow in one hand and tossed it into the darkness. “Even the first Christmas wasn’t perfect. Do you think Mary planned to let her child sleep in a feeding trough? Do you think Joseph planned to let strange shepherds gawk at his son? It was one long exercise in embracing the unexpected, and it created one of the most memorable stories in human history. Do you think your mother would call that a failure?”

This had gotten more abstract than Lacey had expected. A little dazed, she said, “No. No, of course not.”

“You want to control every little detail, but no one can do that.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “You don’t get the perfect Christmas by crafting it. You get it by appreciating the one you’re given.”

She knit her fingers into his. “A gift,” Lacey said.

He smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

They stepped into the laundry room together, brushing the snowflakes out of their hair.

Julian held up his mug, which held one last swallow of wine. “To Christmas,” he said.

Lacey clinked her mug against his. “Whatever we’re given.”

Throwing back their heads, they drained the dregs, then set the empty mugs on the window ledge.

Then hand in hand, they crouched down and let Fluffy out of her cage.

#adventures in writing #the sci fi christmas special saga #hallmark #christmas #yes i'm publishing a christmas story on halloween #this is my blog i can do what i want #i'm just surprised that this came together as easily as it did and i'm riding this high #and yes it's not really sci fi just an ever so slightly tilted version of the usual fantasy plot #but it gave me a chance to make fun of hallmark tropes while also fully indulging my every saccharine impulse #so thank you for putting up with me

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