#the little American and the experienced Brit

[hagenwo43]

Lorge lore?

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi! I’ve noticed these days that my writing is struggling between sounding very formal and proper versus sounding casual. On one hand, I’ll have a sentence that looks like it came straight out of a 1940s British series, but two lines later there’s some casual dialogue that’s closer to an American teen novel. I grew up with both types of books tbh, so maybe that’s why? How do I stabilize my writing style and make it a little more consistent? Thank you!

Stabilizing Voice in Writing

There are three types of "voice" that play a role in how your writing sounds... authorial voice, narrative voice, and character voice.

Authorial voice is your writing style as an author. In many ways, it's your "writer personality." It's what makes your writing distinctive from another writer's. While authorial voice tends to be consistent across all stories, it will evolve with time and may even change slightly for particular projects--especially when crossing genres. Authorial voice includes things like how much/little description you use, how simple or ornate that description is, how you use word play, and the types of words you use. Narrative voice is the "voice/voices" with which the story is told. This is made up of point-of-view (the perspective from which the story is told, for example, first-person or third-person limited), as well as your writing style and use of language. Anything the narrator says falls under narrative voice.

Character voice is the way a character's personality comes through in the things they think and say. It includes things like whether they're concise or wordy when they speak, slang and catchphrases, quirks of speech like saying "um" or "uh" a lot, how their attitude is reflected in what they think and say, accent, and the kinds of words they use.

When you have a first-person narrator, narrative voice and character voice are combined, because the character's voice IS the narrative voice.

So, there are several quick exercises you can do if you want to stabilize the voice in your writing:

1 - Do a little analysis of your own writing style (so far). Remember: writing style is something that evolves over time, so you might not have a fully established writing style yet, but you should be able to look at what you write and start to see some patterns. In your case in particular, do you gravitate more toward formal speech than casual speech? Can you think of any writers whose style matches what you'd like your writing style to be? Try reading more of their books, or read a chapter an analyze the writing style to see what you can mimic.

2 - Think about the narrator of your story... Even if it's a third-person omniscient, faceless narrator, it can still help to assign a sort of mental picture for who this person might be and who they're telling the story to. Is this someone who experienced it telling the story in third-person long after the fact, with 20/20 hindsight, to someone who might be interested? Is this a god who watched it all unfold and is retelling the tale to an audience of other gods? Is it an old grizzled storyteller telling the story to a rapt audience around a campfire? Try to choose something that makes sense as far as who might be telling this story, who they're telling it to, and why. It's not that you're including this as part of the story, but rather as a sort of placeholder for your brain any time you're in narrator mode. If you can slip into this narrator's shoes as you write the narrator parts, it sometimes helps you "get into character" and stick with a consistent, relevant narrative voice.

3 - Establish character voice... Character voice does have an impact on narrative voice, even if the story isn't told in first-person. In third-person stories, who the characters are can tell you a lot about who your narrator might be (so it might help to do this step before #2 above...) For example, if your characters do happen to be a bunch of 1940s Brits, you can start to think about who they are and what they experience to figure out who the narrator might be. In this case, it probably wouldn't make sense for the narrator to be a god telling the story to other gods (as that feels too mystical for this narrator), but a grizzled storyteller recounting the tale around a campfire might make sense.

If your story's being told in second-person (You walked to the window... Like a Choose Your Own Adventure) or first-person (I walked to the window...) character voice relates even more to narrative voice, because in second-person, even though the narrator is not the POV character, the narration is still being filtered through the POV character's personality, knowledge, and experiences. And in first-person, the narrator IS the POV character, so the narrative voice and character voice are one and the same.

By doing these exercises, you can start to hone each of these voices to find some stability. Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[waitmyturtles]

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 5 ("CH-CH-CH-CHANGES / TURN AND FACE THE STRANGE") EDITION

Well, well, FUCKING well. Man, I am REELING. THAT. Was a HELL of an episode of a drama. Jojo and his team need to applaud themselves.

Let me set this up by sharing with y’all a tweet that really stuck with me after episode 4, but I think it’s pertinent to episode 5:

Now, yes -- this is a touch of a generalization (many of my queer friends are straight-edge-and-or-early-to-bed-while-living-in-cities folx), but I want to note something important in this tweet.

Before I got started on episode 5 last night, after having seen a lot of the meta and reactions on my dash throughout the day, I shot a note to dear @ranchthoughts that I thought I'd have to get a little #oldmom on this episode. Speaking to chibi's note above: toxicity happens to be a common human trait. Seeing that there was QUITE a bit of surprise for Boston's "outing" of Ray to Sand on my dash actually surprised me.

From my lawyer friends, I learned about the following concept, and I just cracked the fuck up the first time I heard it, because it rang really true once I got my head around it: a lawyer friend once told me that when he started out at a typical major American law firm, his orientation included hearing a presentation from an older managing partner about the idea of the "equal opportunity asshole." Meaning: there's workplace harassment against protected classes, like race-based or sex-based harassment. But: can you get sued if you treat EVERYONE AROUND YOU like shit? And, he didn't mean on a personal level, not on an attacking level. Just on an abrupt, aggressive level. A bossy level. A very direct-toned level.

That kind of interaction -- an interaction with an equal opportunity asshole -- we know those kinds of people, right? These kinds of folks are...titchy. They might jump to conclusions. They're rooted in their worldview ONE HUNDRED PERCENT. They lack empathy. They make you feel unsettled. They are emotionally disconnected from you. They have NO interest in being emotionally connected WITH YOU.

When I dove into episode 5, I really thought I'd be writing about Boston as the equal opportunity asshole, and I think that this theory still holds to a great extent, but -- there's a but, a slight and fascinating-to-me but, that I'll get to in a second.

@ranchthoughts did the thing once more of covering EVERYTHING in her episode 5 ephemerality breakdown, so dear Ranch, I'm just gonna repeat some stuff you said in my own words, if you don't mind. First off, a couple of gushes:

1) That blind dining scene had me swooning. "Life is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you're gonna get," was what I was hearing when I was watching that. These lovely idiots are blind to what's happening in front of them, and what that means to them -- BUT THAT'S OKAY, BECAUSE THEY ARE YOUNG. YOUNG AND INEXPERIENCED. The blind dining metaphor, oh gawd -- using your senses to come to realizations about how you're truly feeling, and how to connect better with WHAT you're feeling? Slamming my hands on the table! BRILLIANT. Mew is SO clueless (OR IS HE?!?!??!).

1.5) And -- remember (all you young folks out there!). Youth is fleeting (cc the Ephemerality Squad). What we're watching of this cohort of "friends" is their building their bases of life experiences NOW, that will TEACH them how they will live more EXPERIENCED lives in their futures. Will their lives be better? Who the fuck knows. But their FUTURE LIVES will be shaped by what they're experiencing NOW.

2) Ranch nailed this already, but Sand is just as bad as Ray in living in the annals of time. (He's also naughty for another reason, which I'll get into in a postscript.) He's got the vintage tees, he wants to rewind to Woodstock, he's a fan of mostly classic Brit rock (....I will not call the Arctic Monkeys classic Brit rock, I will not, thus, "mostly," lol.) Dear friend @neuroticbookworm described this phenomenon of Sand's in the frame of Ray dabbling in a day of poverty tourism, as essentially what his day and night with Sand constituted. But I'd also add that Sand's living in a fantasy world of a couple levels to break the monotony of his everyday life. Those flashes of hope that he'll travel to world to festivals one day -- as he clocks 450 baht (around $12 USD) per bottle, as he sings, as he gets up and gets down -- yes, Ray is his fantasy, his non-existent 25th hour, Ray is the break from monotony that Sand needs as a thing to look forward too. Of course it comes crashing down.

3) But it'll come crashing down anyway, because I will posit the following: Sand's survival fantasies are necessary to keep him going by way of motivation, because Sand is going to be held back by others, and not just Ray. Sand is caught in a trap of filial piety. (OH SHIT! GIMME!) He's paying off his mom's debts.

We don't know how much the debts are. [We're seeing in Dangerous Romance that Sailom is getting his ass beat if he and his brother don't pay the debt collectors on time every month. Shit, the debt collectors are even trying to make Sailom an escort (which then turns into Kanghan buying off Sailom himself, but lemme leave that alone, WRONG SHOW)]. But even Sand's mom admits: Sand is solving a problem of MY OWN CREATION. How good is my son? He's a very good son. Drink up, honey.

Sand thought of Ray: wow, this guy might be into me, and shit, I'm into him. And I could use this right now! I could use this break. And that illusion came crashing down when Sand -- an intelligent dude! -- put two and two together real fast. And Sand, very rightly -- because he is FAST learning independence, in a totally different way than the main OF quartet -- pulls the hell away, and puts away the fantasy of Ray at Alone O'Clock.

3.5) I just want to note, real quick, that we now have TWO of my favorite-ist themes in this show: we have intergenerational trauma by way of Ray, and filial piety by way of Sand. THANK YOU, JOJO AND TEAM! *This* bitch is TRACKIN'.

4) Big ephemerality note here: I just, I SWOONED, GOD, I LOVED IT, WHEN RAY REVEALED HIS MOTHER WAS AN ACTRESS. And that she was bitter about getting pregnant and how that affected her career. Are you kidding me? JOJO. NINEW. ALL OF YOU. BRILLIANT. The ephemerality OF SHOWBIZ ITSELF.

Aren't all these actors risking their damn careers by potentially BLOWING UP THEIR SHIPS for the sake of this show? (I mean, that's actually a little far-fetched, as FirstKhao will be the first GMMTV pair to have an intercontinental fanmeet, BUT STILL.) God, the commentary on the FICKLENESS of showbiz was just CHEF'S KISS.

5) As Ranch noted, this was the episode where CHANNNNNGGGGEEEEE was the big bell ringing. Top needed something different than his sexual monotony -- so he goes after Mew, and shit, homes is bored AF. (@lurkingshan covered this perfectly here.) Mew contemplates changing for Top, the LASIK, the sex, all of it. Top seems to try a different kind of sex with Mew -- soft and romantic sex that ends with "I love you." Nick (oh, my bubby Nick), changes for Boston, becomes ripped, finds buttons and slacks. Boston contemplates whittling his list down. Ray wears secondhand (lol, it's called "vintage," asshole). Sand changes his routine to accommodate Ray.

And yet. I very, very often say in my posts that the process of behavioral change is INCREDIBLY difficult.

The five stages of behavioral change are: pre-contemplation, contemplation (Nick and the podcast), preparation, action (Nick at the gym), and maintenance.

The risk to this process, at any point in time, is: RELAPSE.

Think of how difficult it is to quit smoking. To go on a diet. To start an exercise routine. To stop biting your nails.

What is the thing that marks these processes more than anything else?

It's the RELAPSE into the old behavior, the old habits.

We really saw Boston trying to change...something. Trying to stick out...something with Nick. Trying on something new. Kinda like the way Ray tried on his secondhand shirt.

And then Boston experiences a familiar trigger: a trigger of jealousy when Mew calls him, innocently, to give Boston the heads-up that he's about ready to experience some cherry magic.

And that trigger, like all of our own triggers -- stress, a change of environment, a change of the people around you -- sent Boston back to a place.

Listen, I will, in no way, ever defend Boston's behavior. He was drunk and high AF, and he's generally toxic. Jojo is totally egging this on.

I would absolutely call Boston an equal opportunity asshole. He's only seeing the world from his own worldview, his own desires, his own desire to control whatever he can control around him.

But like I said before: toxicity is FAR more common that we'd like to believe. And toxicity within someone doesn't disappear very easily -- just like any of our habits, be they good or bad habits.

Boston was trying out a new life, for a few minutes (lol), of being a LITTLE LESS EPHEMERAL, a little less aloof -- a little less toxic. And a trigger brought him back to his bad place, and I think what we saw in that damn outburst was a relapse of the highest order.

Ray repeats to Nick what Top and Cheum have already said. This guy, Boston? He's nasty. Stay away. Boston's an asshole. Boston's still being stigmatized, and still living up to his label.

How would I summarize all of this? Throughout this ENTIRE episode, what was screaming within my head, as I said above, was: youth is fleeting. Youth itself is ephemeral. The experiences these young folks are going through at this moment in this show will build their experiences for how they will survive (or not) in their futures.

We may think that Boston, and Ray, and Mew, will not learn from their dumbass behavior, but -- they will. They will have no choice. Because their time being this young, and inexperienced, and idiotic, will flee. They'll graduate, and they will have to learn how to survive in a "real" world that may very well be far more brutal to them than their proximate friendships are to them right now. And man, if they have to experience lives that are MORE brutal than these proximate friendships they have, then good LUCK to them, because, well -- shit. It ain't pretty the way it is right now.

...

P.S. I just thought this whole scene was brilliant. Sand, honey, you're not as innocent as your meow feelings are letting on. I'm holding you accountable for what you're saying to Ray, too.

P.P.S. JENNIE.

(HAPPY SUNDAY, EPHEMERALITY SQUAD! @ranchthoughts @lurkingshan @neuroticbookworm @distant-screaming @slayerkitty @clara-maybe-ontheroad @twig-tea)

(HEY, SQUAD: if you tag me in things, and I forget to reblog, send me a DM! I'm on the last stages of this moving chapter of my life, and I don't wanna miss your meta!)

[baka-monarch]

hie im here to request somethin discduo maybe doing a manhunt? :D

Tommy panted as he pumped his legs, running and pushing off the ground with each step with as much force as he could muster. He was tired and his body burned from how much he'd been moving, but he couldn't slow down or rest- if he did he'd either lose Dream and be on his own, or slow down too much and get caught by the people chasing them. Of course he knew if he was caught nothing too bad would happen, it was just a game he'd gotten invited to join in, but in the heat of the moment it felt terrifying to get caught; as if they were being hunted by actual predators rather than their friends.

"WHY THE FUCK DID I LET YOU TALK ME INTO THIS!?" Tommy yelled at Dream when he finally spotted the more experienced speed runner parckouring through the trees above him- he was supposed to be helping Tommy, but the green bastard kept getting up to places the blond couldn't reach or see.

Dream laughed, "You're the one who begged to come along this time!" The elder called down, finally slowing down a bit to pull out a fishing rod.

"Yeah well- you're an ass for not warning me sooner how fucking stupid this is!" Tommy called up, paying more attention to Dream's mask than to where he was running. Bad move.

Dream was soon laughing at him even more as he tripped and almost fell down a ravine- last minute though he felt something snag the back of his shirt and shoot him into the air. Tommy screamed and flailed as he was sent flying before he landed harshly onto a thick tree branch.

"Looks like I saved you again!" Dream said smugly as Tommy glared up at him. "How much do you owe me now for these saves? That's twenty rescues and-"

"I don't owe you nothing bitch." Tommy flipped Dream off before pushing himself up to sit on the branch. He could practically hear Dream's eyes rolling from under the mask as he did.

"Alright alright, fine, either way stay up here for a second." Dream's voice slowly got quieter, and before Tommy could complain again he heard footsteps from underneath where they sat.

"I could've sworn he was right here!" A familiar British voice called out, and when Tommy peeked down he saw George looking down into the ravine he just almost fell into.

"Well he's not obviously!" Sapnap was soon joining the brit at the edge of the ravine, peeking in. "You're fucking blind Gogs!" Sapnap flicked George's head.

"Ow- no!" George pushed Sapnap then, clearly a bit annoyed. "I know what I saw! Maybe he just died- which makes things a lot easier for us y'know!"

"George he's not dead, if he was there would've been a death message stupid." Tommy smirked as Sapnap stuck out his tongue and George growled. They're both stupid.

"Look again! I'm telling you he fell down there!" George grabbed Sapnap's shoulders and made him look in the ravine again, the American immediately fighting and pushing George away from him as he did.

"I already looked and he's not! Shut up!"

"No you shut up!!!" They both started pushing and punching at each other, not very hard but it was still funny to watch. Tommy chuckled a little, and when he looked back at Dream he saw the blonde had a bow and arrow at the ready. Dream looked at Tommy and the Brit could feel the smirk on his face.

"Oooohhh yeah good idea~" Tommy smirked back and got out his own bow. While Sapnap and George kept fighting near the edge of the ravine, Tommy and Dream aimed their bows at each of them- and then shot at once. Both hunters squealed in a very non-manly way as they fell back from the arrows and into the bottom of the ravine.

Tommy and Dream hopped down and looked down at the two with devilish smiles, Dream having removed his mask just to show off how much of a shit he was with Tom. "Hey- maybe check the ravine while you're there, Tommy might be there George!" They both laughed then ran off, only laughing more when in the distance they heard the hunters fighting each other again rather than following them.

[221b-sociopath-street]

#ted lasso for dummies

Intro Part 1

01×02 Biscuits

00:00:22 'Nestlé Shredded wheat'* *This stuff is for real - Whole Grain Wheat Cereal Biscuits. These type of breakfast food are not in shape of liked by everyone little squares, loops, balls or stars. These are fucking food BRICKS. So I really share Ted's shock.

00:02:37 'The Spice Girls.'* *It's like my childhood all over again. Phrase 'girl power' it's about them, about Spice girls, well-known and beloved all over the world british girl group. Scary Spice, Sporty Spice, Baby Spice, Ginger Spice, Posh Spice! P.S. Plus one of them is wife of football player, former captain of the England national team - David Beckham 😎. So, the theme of football is also present in this conversation between Ted and Rebecca.

00:02:45 'The Gambler himself, Mr. Kenny Rogers'*

*So, here Coach Lasso introduces us to the specific work (song The Gambler) of an American musician (Kenny Rogers). Erm, I must admit that I googled this guy, he and his work were not popular in my country. But this song definitely have Ted Lasso vibe, maybe because of country notes which take us to Kansas - homeland of our coach 🤠.

00:04:30 'We're gonna call this drill The Exorcist, because it's all about controlling possession.'* *Only Ted could compare football strategy with the demonic possession of a young girl and her mother's attempt to rescue her through an exorcism by two Catholic priests, depicted in classic American horror movie 😬.

00:06:15 'Boy George.'* *And another one musical icon from GB. You will recognize him by his soulful voice and his androgynous appearance, large hats and bright make-up.

00:12:05 'Best concert, we got Beastie Boys.'* * Yet another legend in musical industry from America. Beastie Boys are considered very influential in both the hip hop and rock music scenes, with 7 platinum albums and over the top sales in rap genre.

00:12:09 'Actually, did y'all get the O.J. trial over here?'* *And another one football related topic: the case against O. J. Simpson, a former National Football League (NFL) player, broadcaster and actor, acquitted for the murders of his ex-wife and her friend. However, Ted somehow randomly mentions this case in a conversation with Rebecca and Higgins.

00:14:10 'And if we were the Rolling Stones...'* *I must say it's some musical episode! Jamie's comparison of himself to Mick Jagger and Roy to Keith Richards is just gold, but partly accurate! The Rolling Stones - british rock band with over six decades history. Jagger and Richards are the same age, but yeah former one is a front man and latter is like in background, just like our fellas on football pitch.

00:15:19 'Ernie Lounds, The Sun'* * The Sun is bright example of fake media. Among brits it's known for spreading lies about various topics: government, celebrities etc. And football related fact: 'In Liverpool they hate the Sun because of the Hillsborough disaster. Liverpool is a great City proud of their football team. The Hillsborough disaster involved the horrible death of many football fans. The cause was bad policing and the collapse of a terrace at a football match. The Sun blamed the Liverpool fans and spoke all of the dead'

00:16:56 '... the best barbecue sauce in Kansas City.'* * Oh man, Americans and their love for all things barbecue! BBQ is just like national sport for them, witch will be not fully experienced without good BBQ sauce. Ted's favorite:

00:25:05 'Little Phife Dawg and Q-Tip comin' at you'* *Once Phife Dawg and Q-Tip, were members of the music group - A Tribe Called Quest, which split up because of creative tensions between former and latter, who were both vying for greater control of the group's direction. And I personally think that this life story greatly illustrate the current situation in FC Richmond.

[cheekypriest]

For an unbearable long moment, James had been worried that Connor wouldn't look back at him. Had he managed to truly push him away? Awaken him to the reality of what could happen? If that was what the priest had wanted, then why did those few long seconds hurt? The thought of those deep brown eyes never looking back at him again, never piercing right down into his soul seeing passed all the noise that so few others could see through or even tried to. But then he did, their eyes met again and James was sure he'd felt his heart skip a beat. It just confirmed it, he didn't want to lose this man who had quite literally just wandered into his life and now he didn't want to let go. It was a freeing thought, but it terrified him all the same. To care for someone so deeply, to need them yet know the horrific path they could tread down was a very real possibility. Why not? The Brit had seen it for himself, his own parents had experienced it, fallen to it, and was the very reason that James kept everyone at bay for so long.

Yet there he was, genuinely tempted to pull down his walls for this one man. What was worse? Losing him now and never knowing what could have been or getting a taste of happiness and losing him after all of it? He had more than a few pros and cons for both sides, but as he sat there, staring into those eyes, all he wanted to do was throw the table aside and pull the younger man into his arms where he'd fight both Heaven and Hell at the same time to keep him safe.

And he'd hold himself to that.

"If you're lucky, you'll never have to know about all that..." Maybe there was a chance he could be in his life without playing witness to the horrors James endured on a regular basis? Some seemed more plausible than others, but once that veil was lifted, there was no end to it, it just kept going, more and more things crawling out of the woodwork to the point where if someone had heard the faintest whisper of something, it was likely true, somewhere, sometime. All he could really do was try and shield Connor from the worst of it. "I don't want to hide all of this from you... it's not fair to you and I don't want whatever this is so start on a bed of lies no matter how rosy it might make it look..." He admitted, a slight smile curving at his lips as the side of his thumb gently brushed against the American's cheek, stroking it as his gaze darted between the others' own. "Just... give it time, yeah? It's a lot to take in, and figuring out where to start's like a bloody minefield." Was he really doing this? Was he actually willing to let someone in? Let them into his life? His heart?

"But if you want this, if you want... me, then so be it, because God help me, I want this too. More than I can explain." His voice almost quivered as he spoke, as if his fears were trying to clog up his throat, catch onto each breath that filled his lungs. Then he felt it, Connor's hand against his followed by a question that had his emotions fighting between tears and happiness. "Yeah... maybe it is." His words might not have sounded convincing, but it was all he could manage at that moment, still fighting against the fear that he could lose him in some unspeakable fashion, throwing aside everything he'd held himself in the last thirty years. Those walls were coming down for someone, dropping to the ground and crumbling into tiny pieces while he gingerly stepped over and between them, terrified he'd fall.

"Thing is, you don't need to believe in something for it to be able to hurt you. If it were that easy, the Devil and all his little minions would be out of a job. For the most part, at least. And so would I... now I think about it." He wasn't entirely sure about the United States, but when it came to the UK, he was well aware that the percentage of those who practised religion had dropped significantly in the last decade, let alone longer. If it did all come down to them only being able to intervene with those who believed in them, James' job would be a hell of a lot quieter.

"But yeah... I could see this lasting too." Glancing down, that wit effortlessly flooded back into view again, his pensive expression suddenly being replaced with a crooked smile that seemed to warn the other man that he was about to say something with that dry sense of humour of his. "If you think you stomach me for long enough." He did manage to tease as a quiet smirk left him, finally looking back over at the guy as mischief once again proudly claimed those sparkling blue eyes. "Like I've said, I'm an acquired taste." He really couldn't help himself at this point, turning his hand in Connor's to give it a squeeze in his fingers, before letting it lay onto the table between them. "Look... what would you say to me asking for a doggy bag and us getting out of here?" Though his chosen words did make him pause a moment, not entirely sure if 'doggy bag' meant the same thing in the US as it did in the UK. "Doggy bag meaning, asking the staff to throw what's left of this lot in a to-go box and we head over to take in the sights like you said?" In all honesty, he'd completely lost interest in what he was eating, despite it being rather good. He wouldn't mind picking at it later on though, or maybe in the middle of the night for a little late-night feast if his stomach decided it was time to eat again.

"Call me an old romantic, but... all I'm hungry for right now... is you."

Listening to James as he spoke, pouring his heart out to the detective in that firm yet loving tone, felt like a slow agony weighing upon the whole of Connor’s being. Every explanation, every attempt to arouse some inkling of understanding in the younger man felt like just one more reason they couldn’t be together. Because Connor didn’t understand, & laying bare the risks of pursuing this hopeful romance only left him feeling confused & alienated. What was he supposed to say? How was he meant to convince somebody that he was willing to accept the inherent dangers involved when he didn’t believe in such an intangible evil? Beneath that azure gaze, he felt lost, suddenly afraid that any move that he made would be the wrong one & he would lose the chance to ever truly experience the feelings promised by this inexplicable bond between them. Heaven & hell were words to him - that was just the reality he lived in, the world in which he resided. But Connor knew in his bones that if such a place existed, he would gladly suffer an eternity for the chance of being loved by someone true.

He couldn’t meet the older man’s gaze just then, fearful of what he might find there. Connor’s mind was somberly grasping at fleeting, unfinished thoughts, quietly anxious as he could do little more than hold onto that hand clinging to his own as he sought a solution to what felt like an impossible problem. He was scared of making a mistake, of saying the wrong thing. Now that he had briefly tasted James’ attention, the detective knew that he would go on craving it, perhaps forever. The thought of losing something that had only just begun, something so sudden yet so real, it made him feel hollow inside & his innermost self shied away from James’ ominous monologues like a child being scolded. The hopelessness of it left him breathless - what was he supposed to do? It was a defeating feeling.

But then, Connor felt James’ hand take his chin in a gentle grasp & guided him to look at him. Staring into his eyes, the tumultuous thoughts inside of the detective’s head quieted & everything felt better, like they were going to be okay. James said that he wanted him & Connor was momentarily taken aback at the sincerity of his words, of the depth of emotion present in his gaze. What he found within cerulean hues was beyond lust, more profound than mere desire. It was a need for him, for the bond growing between them, & it was fear. Horrible, gut wrenching fear of the unknown, of the unforeseeable future. The both of them were in uncharted waters, & it scared them. James wanted so badly to protect Connor, but neither of them lived a life without risks; he of the mortal realm, & the priest of the infernal. There would always be that fear of loss, that the horrors of their individual worlds could tear the other from their arms. Even so, Connor was willing & determined to take the chance as long as he could have this man by his side.

Nothing could have been worse than never knowing how it felt to love him.

“I want you, too…” The words felt small spilling from his lips now, the detective usually such a confident & self assured being. Just then, he didn’t feel very confident, even when the priest was assuring him that this need was mutual, that a desire for companionship with the right person outweighed the security of solitude. Neither of them wanted to let go of this. But the requisition of comprehension felt like an ultimatum, something Connor knew he couldn’t possibly fulfill, for as open minded as he was, as accepting & patient as he had always been, the realm of the fantastical remained just out of his grasp, as evidence of its existence hadn’t yet presented itself to him. So he was left apprehensive & shy as to the consequence of his ignorance, yet no less determined to try.

He hoped that meant something in all of this, that he was willing to try for James. These feelings inside had come on fast, but they were strong, bigger than himself. It made Connor reconsider the probability of fate & the concept of preordainment in the course of one’s life. Was everything already decided? Was he meant to meet James Rutherford & live through a profound experience that would change him in some fundamental way? Or was it all just happenstance? He didn’t know, but he didn’t want to run away because things were complicated. So he was honest with the priest, as he had been from the start. He had to be, for both of them. “I admit that I don't understand… & I might never understand these things that you're afraid of.” The detective needed to allow himself to be vulnerable with James, just as he had been with him. Dark eyes soft & just a little wary, Connor tilted his head just a little, enough to further rest the curve of his cheek into the warm palm cupping it so tenderly. It was a grounding touch, one that helped the detective gather himself, the inner strength he had found so fleeting.

James had expressed his feelings, & now Connor needed to do the same. “But I want you. I want this… whatever it turns out to be.” He needed the priest to understand that he was worth any risk, that the detective wanted to try for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his own well being, though his own neutrality towards self-preservation couldn’t necessarily be overlooked. Rather, Connor felt that he had found something to fight for, consequences be damned. “Isn’t that worth taking a chance?” His free hand came to rest atop the priest’s, cradling it against his cheek as he watched him with a soft yet penetrating gaze, searching the older man’s visage for any miniscule reaction, for any hint of his feelings in return. He knew that James wanted him, that his own fears of personal inadequacy were unfounded. But he needed to know if the priest could brave his own fears & take this chance that was being given to him.

Everyone had their inner demons to battle against, & Connor wasn’t going to let James give into his own without making his case. “I can't be afraid of a place that I don't believe exists, or things that I've never seen.” He had to lay his soul bare & hope that he was accepted as he was, even if that was blissfully ignorant & blindly optimistic, but receptive. “But I am afraid of losing you.” Connor could only be honest & hope that it was enough.

Up until that afternoon, when he had wandered into a local downtown church with the intention of following up on a mysterious ongoing investigation, Connor had been doing just fine on his own. He hadn’t ever considered the probability of being alone for the rest of his life, or how he felt about it. But after that fateful meeting with a handsome & devilishly charming foreigner, he had suddenly come to the realization that he didn’t want to live like that anymore. Connor didn’t want to be alone, & he knew that James felt the same. That simple fact made him want this even more. “This—  Maybe it's too soon to say. But I could see it lasting.” He didn’t know how or why, but it felt right. He felt as though this relationship could change the course of his life for the better, in ways the younger man hadn’t thought possible. Perhaps he was showing his naivety & James would find him childish for thinking this way, but he didn’t care. He still wanted to try. “I'm willing to take the risk if the reward is having you.”

[woluf]

For a country who don’t have as easy access to affordable or free dental healthcare (which imo is a fundamental human right, and deplorable to not have), Americans - culturally and generally - sure do LOVE to shit on anyone who doesn’t have straight white perfect teeth. Really, someone can have perfectly normal teeth and they act like it’s something personally offensive because they don’t match up exactly to societies expectations or current beauty standards of celeb looking pearly whites.

And oh I’m sure some of them will be like “for a country who has better dental healthcare why are brits teeth so bad LOL”… idk we’re not as obsessed with aesthetics and think how someone’s teeth look is some moral compass for their person? Christ

Like sorry be so anti-American on main but it’s such a basic shitty person thing to turn someone’s looks - like weight - into a justification to be a total cunt. I’ve spent my whole life ashamed of how my teeth look because of issues with braces, mental health including an ED, and unrecognised ADHD until last year when I was 33, all impacting how mine look meaning they’re definitely not the perfect set (yet functionally fine!), and god it does drag you down every time some dickhead has to make someone dental hygiene “ew gross” the arse end of a shit comment.

Cool if you have nice teeth! (Un)Cool of you even been pressured by those same stand because I’m sorry you experienced thar especially if dentists are responsible little money grabbers! You deserve to have teeth you love! But quit being such dicks!!! End rant!!!

[feraltuxedo]

Good Omens Fic Recs: American AU

Is it weird that, as a Brit, I love reading Good Omens AUs set in America? Perhaps I just find the change of scene a little more exciting. And there's an authenticity to them, a real sense of place that makes these fics so immersive.

Anyway, here are some of my favourites.

Long Haul by snae_b Rating: E Words: 68160 Summary: First time he sees him he’s barreling down 40 like a bat out of hell. Thirty miles outside of Flagstaff and six hours behind schedule. The desert looming large on all sides. Red sand and sage stretching out for miles and miles in front of him. Juniper and pine and gray crag behind him. The flora might be changing but that's about it. Same bone-dry air that gives him nosebleeds. Same cute little cottontails and scrawny jackrabbits darting under his tires. Same two lanes separated by white lines... He checks his speedometer. He hasn't downshifted since the city limits. Sheer luck, that. He's coming up fast on another rig. Flatbed with Vermont plates. Bright white cab with gold wings painted on the side. Anthony Crowley might have gotten out of Missouri, but he hasn't escaped his past. He wears it like a cloak. When he crosses paths with a guardian angel, he starts to learn how to shed it.

Crowley and Aziraphale are truckers. This is one of those concepts that sound so out there that it's hard to imagine it working. But trust me when I say that it does, and the result is an entirely unique and utterly compelling story that takes the dynamics of GO and transfers it to the endless highways of the American midwest. Like all of snae_b's stories, this one is sexy, romantic, beautifully written, and wonderfully plotted from start to finish. Crowley as a nervous young trucker who is just coming to terms with his identity and newfound freedom, and Aziraphale as the older, more experienced trucker whose easy-going outlook on life is helping him with that.

Old Vines by sevdrag Rating: E Words: 189706 Summary: A.Z. Fell, one of the most respected names in wine and food blogging, has been sent on assignment with his assistant Warlock Dowling to spend six months in California Wine Country. Under direction (by his boss, Gabriel) to use this experience to double his blog followers and write a novel, Aziraphale is both excited and anxious about the opportunity. Anthony J. Crowley is the owner and viticulturalist of Ecdyses, a winery that unexpectedly fell into his lap eleven years ago when he hit rock bottom. He may be in debt, yeah, but he’s paying off his loans — and despite pressure from his lenders and their team of inspectors, Crowley has found a kind of contentment tending his little corner of terroir and producing extraordinary wine. Crowley’s old vines are the heart of his vineyard, and he’s never let anyone in. Crowley finds Aziraphale intriguing; Aziraphale finds Crowley enthralling. Turns out a famous wine expert and an experienced viticulturalist can still learn things from each other. The summer of 2019 unfolds.

An absolute fandom classic, which is as much about wine and wine-growing as it is about love. As someone whose taste in wine goes as far as preferring white over red, I found it nonetheless incredibly appealing, and it made me want to actually pay a little more attention to wine as a result. There is a real sense of passion that underlies this story and defines its characters. Crowley's full-body connection to his soil is palpable, Aziraphale's epicureanism is taken to the extreme, but the entire ensemble of characters (and this is very much an ensemble piece) show the same kind of passion for the land, business, wine, and of course their various relationships.

The False and the Fair by Princip1914 Rating: E Words: 173064 Summary: Growing up in the shadow of West Virginia’s Eden Mountain, Aziraphale Wright always expected to work for the family coal mining company. Anthony Crowley, the son of a down-and-out miner, was going to become a pilot and leave town forever. Now, thirty years later, neither of their lives have gone as planned, and an unexpected inheritance brings them back into one another’s orbit. Aziraphale hopes that they can move beyond their shared past, and a high school arrangement that ended in disaster, but he has secrets of his own that threaten their fragile reconnection…

This is a dual-timeline epic that details the beginning romance of Crowley, son of a miner, and Aziraphale, son of a mine owner, and their reconnecting thirty years later when Aziraphale returns to his old hometown to claim a bookshop he inherited. Such a bittersweet slow-burn of a story, in the course of which secrets are uncovered and past actions are atoned for. I absolutely love how human and flawed the characters are, but in particular Aziraphale. This is one of my all-time favourite characterisations of him, and the author does not pull any punches. An emotional rollercoaster with a true sense of melancholy about it.

Hell's Half Acre by Lurlur Rating: E Words: 7266 Summary: Of all the saloons that existed in Hell's Half Acre, Deputy U.S. Marshal Anthony Crowley had a strong preference for the establishment operated by old Sergeant Shadwell. He could be found propping up the bar at the Witch's Tit most afternoons, and at one of its gaming tables almost every night. Being a man of reliable habits was part of his service to the town; people could always find him when they needed him.

An action-packed one-shot that squeezes so many Wild West tropes into less than 10k words. Crowley as the lazy, but competent sheriff with a dark past is a wonderful protagonist, and I loved his dynamic with a gun-toting but faultlessly polite Aziraphale. There is a fun mix of action, humour, romance, and smut in this story that unashamedly revels in its genre: there's gunfights, outlaws, saloons, horses, and everything else you would expect. It's a feast, an absolutely delightful piece of writing.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me by Arokel Rating: M Words: 32045 Summary: Special Agent Anthony Crowley hadn't assumed infiltrating a lesbian convention to sniff out anti-American sentiments would be easy, but he also hadn't banked on an ambiguously-queer academic with peroxide-blonde hair and a talent for seeing right through him.

I have already written more extensively about this fic here. To summarise, it's a stunningly written piece set in 1950's America that's chock-full of longing and repressed feelings, set in a time and place that's evidently very well researched, but feels so entirely natural to the story that you don't even realise how much you've learned about 20th century queer history until you've finished.

[aphe-blog]

We endlessly mock US Americans for not understanding that life is different outside of their states, but I can honestly say as a Brit that it has never occurred to me that, since there are places that aren't tiny Atlantic islands, there are people who haven't met seagulls... of any kind...

I've moved from a coastal city to an inland city and have been mocking the little seagulls here who avoid humans, instead of straight up attacking anyone carrying a pasty, like the bigger gulls back home.

I've experienced, when travelling abroad, the temporary absence of seagulls. But I never considered that some places are always seagull-less, and some people there have therefore never met seagulls.

In Britain, having eradicated all our natural predators, it's possible that seagulls are our strongest natural competition. It's genuinely hard to imagine life without the little bastards.

growing up by the coast means that instead of crows on your roof you get seagulls and it honestly feels much more threatening

[marie-hoe]

can u please do chris dating a french girl

Again, I know little about being anything other than American, and if this comes off as offensive, I apologize ahead of time. Also if it’s terrible, I’m sorry. 

i feel like I’m repeating myself from the dating a Brit, but genuinely, Chris would just be over the moon about you

like, loving your accent

loving visiting your family on holidays

or, if it’s long-distance, loving traveling to you and experiencing the difference in culture 

loving taking you around places in France and being uber romantic

side note: Chris def is a hopeless romantic, so being French might just send him over the edge, oozzing romance and lovey-goo every time you guys are in France

Basically, everything from this hc but, with French accent and language mixed in 

Specifically for you though:

Chris would want to learn French and have you teach him

then you guys can talk to one another in French when you’re out with people and no one would know what you’re saying

He would use it in his everyday life as well with little things

“Merci”

“Au Revoir” 

“We get it, Chris, your girlfriend is French.”

You loved it though, he was truly embracing and learning your language and your culture because he truly wanted to be able to one day share it with your kids 

with this meant he tried teaching you a Boston accent and all about baseball too though 

Masterlist 

[bisluthq]

Please don’t kill me, I’m only a casual fan, but I don’t agree with the sediment that they’re on the same page of marriage because singing those songs = embarrassing them. Writing music about someone will always be sweet, but at the same time, it’s not going to truly represent reality. For e.g Kelly Clarkson sung, “he never asks for money...” Turns out her husband and is greedy, and now divorcing her and contesting her prenup because he wants her money.

Taylor use to want to marry Calvin once upon a time, we know this because her DM’s leaked, and she thought, “he was the one.” I doubt her and Calvin spoke about it, or if they did, she was blindsided by lust, and he must’ve not take her seriously.

Paper Rings isn’t the, “we are married song” I always took it as, “I really love you, and want to settle with you.” Type of song, it’s a hint of, “I love you so much, and even if you don’t have much, I’ll marry you with a paper ring.” This makes sense because in another song the lyric is, “he better lock it down, cause good ones never stay.” He still hasn’t popped the Q, but she’s hinting that he should.

“Give you a child” doesn’t mean much either. Any woman in love with their partner naturally thinks they’re the one and will most likely want to have kids with them. Doesn’t make them married, it just sounds like, “I love you so much, we can have children.” She’s done this before, “we can have 10 kids and teach them how to dream” however the line goes. Music is music.

I don’t personally know Joe, but he doesn’t give me marriage-settling down vibes personally. Just my observation. A new working actor who was in school for years, and finally rushed into a small amount of fame, and now dating a big pop star, only at age 25. It’s been several years now, but if he gets married and had kids now, that’s going to back-ride his career a little. None of his friends are married either and it’s psychological fact that men feel more ready to settle down when their friends do. In American culture it’s most likely to settle down earlier but Brits usually do, more so in their 30s. If his career was established like Taylor and he went through what Taylor has already completed and experienced he probably would. He just gives me young adult vibes, even though he is 30. You can still love someone unbelievably but still not feel ready yet.

It happened with other celebs, either long engagements, or long relationships then it abruptly ended. I remember Vanessa saying, “I don’t care about marriage” then Austin left, but around that time she then changed her mind and said she thought about it.

Anyways sorry for the long write up. Nothing is factual, but offering a different perspective.

Ehhhh there’s a lot wrong with this take lmao but obvi you’re entitled to your opinions. Firstly Joe does have married friends lmao he’s friends with a married couple who have kids and his best friend’s engaged and like the rest of his close friends are all in serious relationships, even his industry friends.

Secondly again there’s a difference between singing a positive take that you believe at the time - like Rep songs - and explicitly saying “give you a child” and insisting to McCartney that’s an autobiographical line. If he doesn’t want that bro she’s CRAZY dude not just positive thinking like legit fucking insane and pathetic. Starlight is a FANFIC retelling of Bobby and Ethel Kennedy’s love story - she’s never said “oh it’s about me” because it isn’t, and THEY HAD 10 KIDS DUDE. But that’s what she said about peace, she said it’s very autobiographical. Out of NOWHERE.

Thirdly the DMs with Camila aren’t necessarily accurate because there are issues with them (like part of it is a SS with her writing in the bubble like it’s not the same as like the Twitter ones from Tay’s hack) but even if they are like why the fuck do you think Calvin wasn’t keen lmao like he was babysitting her cats and he didn’t seem stoked at the relationship ending AT ALL like I think he was expecting it to be forever too?

Finally idk none of us know these people but like stalking them extensively your take doesn’t really stack which makes sense because if I tried to offer thoughts on like idk Dua and Anwar I’m sure hardcore stans would disagree. But we’re all entitled to headcanons and whatnot and maybe Taylor is just a needy pathetic bitch - idk why his friends and family like her that much then tho.

[tamorisana]

Okay a little bit of explanation needed.

It is a possibility that his name is actually Nikolai. We don't know but it's a very common name to this day and I don't see why not. (his last name is also unknown but i think and i strongly stand by Price unless you want me to create one or smt (🤨🤨🤨🤨).)

In russia and I think some Slavic countries (not sure, you can kick my ass if im wrong) people usually don't use your full name. For example we'll take Victor, we don't usually say "Hi, Victor!" we would say more a like a pet name "Hi, Vitya" it's softer, faster, easier. Just slips from your tongue.

But it's used by friends and family as an everyday thing, for formalities we of course use full name. In Nikolai case, Nik is more of a nickname given by our fav brits and Kolya would be something very intimate and personal. It would be used by his mother for example or Price.

Its hard to understand because most of western europeans and americans mostly (from what i experienced, it could be different for you) use the first and full version of the name become its different, like John and Johnny.

Tell me if I'm not clear ill try to explain it again

I read somewhere that the nickname for Nikolai is Kolya and I love the idea of Price calling him that idk

I haven’t heard that before but I think that I like it!

Because, Nikolai is technically his codename/callsign. We don’t know his legal name. So, it’s not that personal to call him Nikolai or Nik, and I think Price finding other ways to address him, like with Kolya or pet names, means something to Nik?

[cali-holland]

Risky Quizness- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by Anon: meeting tom at one of the pub quizzes he goes to at his local pub, he and his mates need more people on their team to sign up, so they asks you and a couple of your friends to join, you and him connect. Xxoo

Prompt: When you meet Tom at a pub quiz, sparks fly between the two of you.

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Huge shoutout to @saysomethingspiderman​ for being a major help with this one. I’m hella American and never experienced a pub quiz before lol aka brits dont hate me for this

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

“Damn it.” Tom muttered, looking at his phone with a frown.

“What?” Harrison asked, sitting next to him at the table with their two pints.

“Harry just texted me. He’s sick.” He replied. “And Sam’s with his girlfriend and you know mum would never let me take Paddy.”

“So it’s just us then?” The blond let out a sigh.

Pub quizzes weren’t much fun with two people. Normally, they’d go with Tuwaine, Harry, and Sam- sometimes even Sam’s girlfriend would tag along, but Tuwaine had a family thing come up, and now the twins had bailed.

“We could always try to find someone to join our team? Right?” Tom offered weakly, and his friend shrugged.

“We’d have to find people willing to actually join us.” He stated and Tom nodded. The pub was already filling up with hopefuls for the pub quiz, there was no way they’d find others to team up with them-

“You can’t do a pub quiz with two people! It just doesn’t work like that!” You let out a frustrated groan as you passed by Tom’s table with your friend. And just like that, a light bulb went off in Tom’s head as he jumped after you.

“Hey, wait!” He called out and you and your friend paused, turning to him skeptically as you held your drinks.

“You only have two people for the quiz? My mate and I are also a team of two. Did- did you want to, maybe, join us?” Tom asked, realizing how stupid it sounded to ask that out loud- to ask a couple strangers to be on his team for a pub quiz. Your friend looked at you and you contemplated it for a moment.

“Sure, but we better win.” You stated, following a triumphant Tom back to his table (much to Harrison’s surprise). You sat down in an empty chair, leaving one open between you and Harrison, and Tom slid into it. 

“I’m Tom, and this is Harrison.” He introduced the two of them.

“Y/N, this is Jess.” You replied with a smile. The quizmaster quickly made his way around the pub, handing out a sheet of paper to each of the teams.

“What should our name be?” Tom asked, looking at the paper in front of him.

“Risky Quizness.” You said simply and Jess let out a laugh beside you.

“Risky Quizness?” Tom and Harrison both repeated, and you nodded.

“Every time we’ve used that name, we’ve won the pub quiz.” You stated.

“That’s because the only time we’ve won it was our name!” Jess added, and you rolled your eyes at her.

“We still won. Maybe we wouldn’t have been second last time if our name was Risky Quizness, not Universally Challenged.” You picked up the pencil from the table and grabbed the paper from in front of Tom.

“Risky Quizness, like the Tom Cruise movie?” Tom asked you, a small smile on his face.

“I’m writing it!” You announced and Jess groaned, but the boys just laughed.

“In case you couldn’t tell, she runs the quiz.” She teased.

“Shove off.” You groaned, “I’m competitive.”

“How many of these have you won?” Tom inquired. He honestly wasn’t sure how well he and Harrison would do with their usual team; by the end of the night, he would have always had enough beers to be a bit hazy on how many he actually knew on his own. He wanted to do well though because who didn’t love winning? And he also may have wanted to impress you a little.

“Just the one.” You mumbled, not wanting to fully admit it, “But we keep coming in second. There’s this group at our usual place called Let’s Get Quizzical and they win every single time. So we’re here in hopes that they won’t be.”

“What about you two?” Your friend asked.

“We’ve won a few times, but honestly, I don’t remember if I got any of them right.” He laughed.

“So, it’s up to you then, blondie.” You joked, and Harrison smiled with a grimace. “You two are lucky you’re attractive.”

Before either could respond, the quizmaster began to speak, announcing the general knowledge round. Some were easy questions like name the longest river in the U.K., complete the line from Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” (which you knew immediately), and how many hearts does an octopus have (that one you and Harrison got in a heated debate about whether it was two or eight, when Jess stepped in as the marine biologist to tell you it was three). 

The next couple rounds went by smoothly, the four of you working together to make sure you got the right answers. By the time you were on the final round, the movies round, you felt fairly confident that your answers were like 90% right (you still weren’t sure if you trusted Tom and Harrison in saying that the DeLorean in Back to the Future had to hit 88 to time travel because you definitely thought it was 85 like the year the first movie came out).

“Which Star Wars character gets namechecked in Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom?” The quizmaster asked, making the four of you pause.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that movie.” Harrison stated.

“Yoda?” Tom suggested, thinking it was a fairly iconic Star Wars character.

“It’s Obi-Wan.” You said as you wrote down the answer. “I just watched the movie like two days ago, and trust me, you’re not missing out if you haven’t seen it.”

“Two hours I’ll never get back.” Jess shook her head with a sigh.

“That bad?” Tom asked and you both nodded.

“The worst.” You shuddered just thinking about it. 

Though that question stumped Tom and Harrison, it wasn’t until the last question of the round that you really didn’t know the answer.

“Last question. This sequel film is the 10th highest grossing superhero movie of all time.” The quizmaster read off the question, and you turned to the rest of your team, unsure of the right answer.

“I don’t know? Captain America?” You asked, wracking your brain for any good superhero sequel films you’d seen. You watched Harrison try to nudge Tom inconspicuously, who was blushing beside you. He mumbled something to you, but you couldn’t hear it at all. “What movie?”

“Uh, Spider-Man: Far From Home.” He spoke up louder, the blush on his cheeks darkening as he shot Harrison a glare.

“Oh, right, never saw that.” You replied, and Tom laughed nervously.

“You really never saw it?” He asked.

“Nope.” You shook your head, “I don’t even think I saw the first one, honestly. Not that big of a Spider-Man fan.” As you wrote down the answer Tom had given you, you missed him sending a look back to his friend, trying his best not to be slightly offended by your words.

“You should watch them. They’re really good movies.” Tom said with an encouraging smile when you looked back up at him, ignoring Harrison’s kick under the table. It wasn’t until then that he realized you had absolutely no clue who he was, and it was the best thing ever for him; you were treating him like just another random guy who invited you to join his pub quiz team.

The quizmaster announced the end of the quiz, and everyone went over their answers. Much to your familiar disappointment, your team ended up second again.

“Maybe, it’s just you.” Tom teased you as Harrison and Jess went to go get more drinks.

“Rude.” You playfully scoffed, though you were still a bit upset by the loss. “Maybe if you had known that Wisconsin was the dairy state then we would have won.”

“You didn’t even know that one!” He refuted. It was true- the American geography round just about wiped your team out. Tom shifted a bit closer to you, leaning on his arm, flexing it almost, “So you think you’ll be back at this pub for next week?”

“I think I could be convinced to return.” You replied slyly. Before Tom could ask for your number, you already had your phone unlocked, sliding it over to him. “Here.”

“You already knew.” He chuckled, handing you his phone in return. You both typed in your numbers and switched phones back.

“That one Spider-Man question. How did you know that?” You asked, thinking back to all the sigh’s the erupted throughout the pub when the answer was revealed- most had gotten it wrong, so how did Tom know so quickly that he was right?

“I just know.” Tom shrugged in an effort to play it off.

“You know off the top of your head the 10th highest grossing superhero movie of all time?” You eyed him suspiciously.

“They said it was a sequel, so it had to be either that or Incredibles 2.” He joked, but you weren’t too amused. He leaned in closer to you, creating an intimate distance between your two faces, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What, are you Spider-Man or something?” You asked teasingly, but his smile never faltered.

“Yeah, I am.” Tom replied. You laughed before you realized the complete seriousness in his voice and his face.

“Seriously?” You managed through a fit of laughter.

“I really am! And you said you didn’t like my movie.” He teased.

“I said I never saw it.” You corrected him. “That has to be cheating for it to be your movie as the answer.”

“No, it definitely isn’t.” He shook his head with a laugh.

“How much did it gross? How much?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows at him jokingly, “You check the box office daily, don’t you?”

“I do not!” He protested, chuckling, “And it made over a billion, thank you very much.”

“Did you drop your pants for that to happen or something?” You quipped, and his face heated up. You gasped, “You didn’t!”

“It was just for one scene and I had my underwear on!” Tom insisted, “You’d know that if you saw the film.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll watch it- both of them.” You laughed.

“How about I quiz you on them next week?” He joked, and you groaned.

“No, that means I’d have to pay attention.”

“Fine, I won’t quiz you on them on one condition.” Tom rested a hand on the back of your chair, leaning in closer to you. You raised your eyebrows at him, telling him wordlessly to continue, “Go on a date with me?”

You nodded, laughing as you spoke, “Yes, but I gotta say, I really thought you were going to make me watch your own movie with you.”

“Trust me, darling, we can do that, too.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex​ @theamazingtomholland​ @hellomoveonby​ @heyitsshrez

Tom Tag List: @quaksonhehe​

[missdawnandherdusk]

Country Girl

Muggle!Reader X Draco 

London Boy

Summary: Draco has your heart and you have his, a muggle and a wizard, but what happens when you take him home... to America, to your very muggle parents, and your very muggle small town? 

A/n: As promised here is some ridiculous fluff and shenanigans between these two dorks. Also, this gets very southern very quickly, so as a disclaimer: none of this is meant to offend anyone at all, it’s just simple writing fun. I know a lot of you come to Tumblr to destress from the news, so this is free from current events and can even be seen written around circa 2010 if you want. I love you all and let me know what you think because I love being validated your comments and reblogs

“Um, do you maybe want to come with me back home?” The question was timid as it left my lips.

“To America?” He raised an eyebrow looking up from his workstation where he was currently brewing Amorentia—not that he used it, but it brought comfort to me and worked surpassingly well in a diffuser.

“To put it broadly, yes.” I smiled, knowing he had no idea how expansive America really was. “I’m off for the summer and my parents have been nagging me nonstop to meet you, and well it’s home,” Shrugging I hopped up on his desk and he eyed me warily, moving some things out of my way.

“How long?”

“Well I suppose you could apparate back any time you like, but...”

“How long?” He pressed again.

“A week?” I was almost afraid of his reaction.

Not that I was afraid of him, but I knew him well. He liked order. He like routine. Everything had a place and he preferred it if it stayed in that place. Which included him, in London.

“I understand if you don’t want to. I know it’s a lot. Muggle parents, Muggle girlfriend, America...” I trailed off looking down. “Just thought I’d offer.”

“Love,” he tilted my chin up. “If you want me to go with you to meet your parents, I suppose I can manage a week,” he smiled.

Happiness fluttered in my chest as I threw my arms around him.

“Careful dear,” he scolded, easily pulling me into his arms, carrying me. “This stuff takes forever to wear off and I’d rather not have you drugged for the next few hours.”

“Could be fun,” I giggled, nuzzling into his neck.

“You say that now,” he chided, a smile evident on his face. 

_____________________________

“Now, they don’t know that you’re a wiz,” You reminded him. “And I’d rather not have to obliviate my parents, so if you could— “

“You act like I’m a teenager Y/n, I’m not stupid,” Draco rolled his eyes. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. A challenge.

“And, a very fair warning: I am very...posh compared to my parents,”

Draco laughed; the word so unfamiliar to your lips and your American accent. Nor could he imagine in any way that someone would regard you as posh. He loved you, of course, but a lady was something you were not—not that he didn’t treat you like one, but that was beside the point.

But nothing you said could ever prepare him for what waited at your doorstep. Not the hours on a flight. Not the ride back in another muggle car. Not the songs on the radio. Not the conversations he had with Hermione and Harry unbeknownst to you.

“Pumpkin!” An older man in a buttoned-up flannel pulled you into his arms. His drawl was thick, making yours sound almost normal. “You are too pale darlin’ ain’t enough sun over there in England,” he chided, a huge smile on his face.

“Oh nonsense,” your mother replied, her drawl having more of a twang. “She’s just fine. Our little Georgia peach,” You face went a little pink as you blushed.

“Momma, Daddy, this is Draco,” he heard more of a drawl slip into your words and Merlin was he in trouble.

“The Brit,” your father scrutinized him for a moment before the smile returned. “Pleasure to meet you son,” he held out his hand.

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” Draco almost purred, shaking your father’s hand. 

“Oh Lord, hear that accent,” your mother fawned. “No wonder you fell for him, Y/n,”

“Mom,” you whined, turning a shade of red.

“Well come in you two, you must be exhausted from the flight.”

Draco should have taken your warnings more seriously. Maybe you should have eased him into more. Because a very Muggle farmhouse in the middle of the country with your very American parents was something he was not prepared for.

The floorboards creaked under his socks—shoes left by the front door—as pictures hung on the wall, a lot of them of you in various childhood phases: fishing, in trees, driving your beloved Jeep, posing next to a dead stag—that one made Draco snort, if only Harry knew. There were also tiny little ‘t’s all over the wall that Draco just didn’t understand the meaning of. Were they to ward something off? Was it a collection? Did they stand for some name he wasn’t aware of?

“Y/n, you go on with your mom and fix up dinner,” Your father nodded you two off to the kitchen.

“Dad,” You warned, a familiar look in your eyes.

“You worry too much.” Your dad shook his head. “Now, go on,”

You paused a moment, your stubborn streak flaring before you disappeared into the house, leaving Draco alone with your father, feeling quite anxious.

“Come on in, boy, sit on down and tell me about yourself,” Your father beckoned him to sit on a well-worn leather sofa, a knitted afghan thrown over the back.

Draco knew how to keep light conversation—a perk of being a Malfoy—but this? This he had no idea how to do. Your father seemed to pick up on that as he chuckled.

“So, you like my daughter, do you now?” He asked, his eyes holding the same shade as yours. 

“Yes sir,” Draco nodded. “Very much,”

“Yeah, we think she's something else,” Your father shook his head, chuckling. “Her daddy's girl... mama's world.” His face became hardened, serious, “She deserves respect and that's what she'll get ain't it, son?”

“Y-yes, of course,” Draco stammered. “Always.”

The smile came back to your father’s face and Draco felt like he just passed some sort of test.

“Well, y'all, run along and have some fun while you’re here. Just keep her safe. She’s got a knack for trouble,”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Draco chuckled.

“Dinner!” Two voices called from somewhere else in the house.

“Comin’ darlin’,” Your father called back, standing. “Shall we?” He gestured for Draco to go first.

........................................

“Was that so bad?” You asked later that night as you got ready for bed. It was different, seeing you flit around the room with memorized paths and actions.

“One of the most bizarre things I have ever experienced,” he confessed. “But I have to admit, your mother is a brilliant cook,”

You laughed.

“Oh, tell her that tomorrow, she will love you to pieces,”

Your drawl was coming in thicker the longer you lingered home and Draco began to understand the fascination with his accent, because your drawl did something else to him. The small room you were in was yours. A true work of art that was merely shadowed by your room in London. The soft blue tone room was calming as fairy lights were strung and antique furniture filled the room. Dried flowers and various paintings and posters filled the room matching the quilt spread underneath him.

You came over to his sitting position on the bed, nestling between his legs. His hands slipped up the backs of your thighs and you swatted him.

“Behave,” you hissed. “You have no idea how long it took me to convince Daddy to let us stay in a room together. I’d like to not lose that battle on the first night.”

“You has to ask your dad for permission to sleep with your boyfriend, in your room, as an adult?” He raised an eyebrow. “And I thought my parents were strict.”

“Oh, you don’t know the meaning of the word, pretty boy,” you smiled and draped your arms around his neck.

“I think I quite like this side of you,” Draco grinned.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,”

“For the love of my sanity please use proper English,” Draco dismayed to your amusement.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” You dropped your drawl easily.

“You know what? Never mind,” Draco grinned, causing you to laugh harmoniously.

Never once had Draco ever seen you be a morning person, except now. The sun filtered in through the flowing curtains and your eyes fluttered open, landing on his.

“Mornin’,” You greeted.

“Good morning,”

“You ready?” There was a mischievous look in your eyes.

“For?”

“Well, I don’t think you’re quite ready to meet my friends, so I thought today we could go fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“Well, it’s not deer season so... we can’t exactly hunt. But it is fishing season.” 

“There are seasons for you to kill wildlife?” He asked, watching you get ready.

“Yeah?” You paused, looking over at him. “Helps keep the animals from being over hunted while still keeping up the sport and population down. Daddy and I do it more for the population, not the sport,” Your smile was soft. “And venison is to die for when momma cooks,”

After a breakfast that Draco would be craving for the rest of his life, you loaded up the Chevy pick-up truck (you had informed him) with bait and poles and against his better judgement, he got in.

_____________________________

“I’m gonna seriously have to thank Hermione for takin’ you shoppin’ beforehand,” You grinned, eyeing Draco in a short-sleeved Henley and khaki shorts. “Knowin’ you, you only own suits and dress pants.”

“I own t-shirts,” Draco refuted, clinging to the door handle for dear life as I meandered the backroads towards the lake.

I rolled my eyes and turned onto the trail that would take us to the docks. 

“This isn’t even a road!” Draco dismayed. “It’s barely dirt!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what four-wheel drive is for,” I grinned. “And honey, I fear the day someone takes you muddin’.”

“Mudding?” He asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” I smiled, chuckling darkly, imagining the pristine Draco Malfoy anywhere near a four wheeler or ATV.

Hopping into the boat, Draco eyed me, hesitant on the dock. 

“You can drive this too?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“It’s barely anything to drive,” I rolled my eyes, throwing my hair up. “Now come on, city boy. A little country ain’t gonna kill you,”

“No,” Draco agreed, settling in the boat beside me. “But a country girl just might,” The purr of his voice had me blushing and fumbling to kill the engine and grab a fishing pole.

Draco absolutely refused to touch the live crawfish. His face scrunched up in disgust as he watched me cast my line in.

“Oh, like it’s any different than you and your potion’s ingredients,” I pointed out. 

“That’s different,” He pouted.

Smiling at his theatrics, the day consisted of Draco dismaying at just about everything. Including but not limited to: sunscreen, mosquitoes, not being able to hold my reeling hand, the heat, the sun, Oakley sunglasses—of which he looked absolutely stunning in and it wasn’t fair—baseball caps, live bass, me handling said bass, me handling a knife, the live crawfish again, the heat... again.

“Oh my God, Draco,” I huffed, not nearly as annoyed as I sounded.

“I’m sorry,” He drawled. “But this is absolutely absurd,”

I might have shoved him into the lake.

When he resurfaced, utter shock was on his face, as well as anger as he scolded my name. 

“Yes?” I answered innocently. “Not so hot anymore is it?” I bated my eyelashes.

“You little—”

“Oh, and watch out for gators,” I grinned mischievously as his eyes went wide with fear. “Kidding!” I laughed, slipping off my crocs. “Probably,”

He was hanging onto the side of the small boat when I leapt off the side and into the icy water. 

“What in the world are you doing?” Draco swam over to me.

“Swimming? Since someone thinks that fishing is absurd,” I mocked his accent. 

“I don’t sound like that,” He grumbled.

“Yes, you do,” I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Stop being so uptight, Dray. Whatever you’re holding onto... reputation or whatever voice that’s in your head...” His face fell.

I knew that he had been raised to hate everything around him. The innocence and simplicity of it. Sure, it had taken some time and I had made a home in his heart, those prejudices fading, but he still fought hard sometimes. And maybe I wish he didn’t. And maybe I was selfish to think that.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. “I just... Your world is so incredible, Draco. Filled with things that are beyond my wildest dreams, and maybe I wanted to show you into mine,”

His arms snaked around my waist as he held me close, resting his forehead to mine.

“I’m sorry too,” He murmured softly. “Of course, I want to be a part of your world as well, but— ”

“Maybe fishing was a bit over ambitious?” I mused.

“Maybe slightly,” He chuckled, pressing his lips to mine sweetly. 

“At least we have dinner tonight,”

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not,”

I wasn’t.

__________________________________

The next day wasn’t as ambitious as fishing with you, but it was still quite new to him. Dressed in a sundress, you took his hand and lead him down the main street of your small town, the small shops reminding him of a fairytale. He was surprised at how many people recognized you and said hello. A kindness that he wasn’t accustomed to in the Wizarding world. Especially when the café owner had a long conversation with you and then said that your lunch was ‘on the house.’

“Not too bad?” You asked softly, after finishing lunch. 

“Not bad at all,” He smiled.

After bringing in the groceries from a quaint muggle shop, into your warm little yellow kitchen, you took Draco’s hand and led him into the backyard. The sun was setting just beyond the horizon, painting the sky in crimson colors.

“Mr. Fancypants alright with climbing a few trees?” There was a smirk on your face. 

“What are we? Five?” Draco chuckled, following you into the tree line.

“Well, I guess that is when daddy and I built this,” You gestured to a certain tree, where an emasculate treehouse resided.

Despite the wooden construction’s age, it still held well. Draco was half expecting it to be bigger on the inside, a commonality in the Wizarding World, but no, what he saw on the outside was what was reflected on the inside. This treehouse held no secrets. Draco smiled as he watched you climb the tree with no shoes on—a commonality he had noticed. You went barefoot whenever you could.

You helped him up and his eyes darted around, taking in the little house with it’s rope banisters, many windows and various trinkets and knickknacks that Draco had no hope in naming or identifying. When his eyes found you again, there was a blanket folded into your arms.

“When I was little, I used to come out here and stargaze... I don’t know how many times Daddy would have to come up here and carry me home ‘cause I fell asleep,” A smile touched your lips.

Draco looked up to the wooden roof and raised an eyebrow skeptically. You caught his question and nodded to a rope to his left. His fingers grasped the course fibers and tugged it experimentally. A mechanism went off and the roof parted at the gable, letting him see the first stars that had come out to play.

There was something different about looking up at these stars with you. He had spent years studying them in class and couldn’t remember half of what he had learned, but with you, they held a different meaning. You knew all of the stories it seemed. The ones that he learned as a child and some he didn’t. It was jarring, hearing the familiar stories fall from your lips. After all this time, maybe your muggle world wasn’t so far off from his magical one.

True to your word, you did end up sleeping softly in his arms as he looked up at the stars, then down at your peaceful face. Knowing that you wouldn’t want to spend the night outside—and neither would he for that matter—he carefully scooped you into his arms, and instead of risking dropping you, he simply apparated to the soft grass below and headed up towards the house.

Your father was waiting on the porch, the light still on despite the late hour, nursing a can, a soft smile on his face.

“Good to see that some things don’t change with her,” Your father opened the door for him. “Sometimes I think I lose her to her fancy schools, halfway around the world,” There was an air of melancholy to his words.

“I can assure you that you’ll never lose her,” Draco smiled down at you. “She adores and loves you more than you’ll ever know. The way she lights up when she talks about home...”

“You’ve made an old man very happy tonight Draco,” Your dad smiled. “Now go on up, I’m gonna close the house up for the night,”

.................................

“I’d like to apologize in advance for just about everythin’ that’s about to happen,” You took his hand smiling.

“How bad can they be?” Draco mused. “You’ve met my friends, and that went well,”

“Uhuh,” You laughed. “Sure. I’ll take that vote of confidence.” You easily backed your truck up into the circle of other vehicles surrounding a rather large bonfire that gave Draco a bit of anxiety.

“Look at what the tide washed in!” Someone called from the back of a pickup truck. 

“No way!” Another gasped.

“Since when did you get home!?”

A girl rushed up and pulled you into a hug, dislodging your hand from his as he watched you spin with the girl, both of you laughing. A few others came up and hugs were passed out, hellos exchanged.

“Son of a bitch, you never said he was hot, Y/n,” The first friend who greeted—Rebecca— raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, because that’s all I look for in a guy,” You rolled your eyes, offering him a beer and taking a seat on the tailgate of your pickup.

“I’m just glad to see that you haven’t gone full brit on us,” Another—Megan smiled from the arms of a guy that Draco would have stereo typed to be on your arm instead. “Still think you can outshoot me?” She grinned.

“With my eyes closed,” You drawled, taking a sip of your own hard iced tea. “Seriously, y’all think I was just gonna forget everythin’?”

“We didn’t think you’d come back after find Mr. London over here,” Rebecca grinned.

“Yeah, you’ve been awful quiet over there Union Jack,” Megan narrowed her eyes at him, and he felt the same sort of anxiety he had around your parents. “What are your intentions with our Y/n?”

“Y’all really? What are we? High schoolers? And he has a name ya know.” You rolled your eyes, leaning against him, intertwining your finger with his. That eased his anxiety a bit as his eyes stayed trained on the dancing fire.

“Well, any guy worthy of catching your eye must be something special,” Tyler—the guy sitting next to Rebecca—shrugged.

“Oh, come on Tyler, we were freshman,” You scoffed, taking another swig from your can.

Draco’s interest was piqued at this new information. Was there something between you and Tyler that he wasn’t aware of? Was it something he had to worry about? His grip tightened around you and he caught the sly smile on your face at the action.

He learned a lot about you that night. You never were one to brag but stars did your friends like to embarrass you. You weren’t the top of your class, but you were pretty damn close. You always got yourself out of any kind of trouble and had about every boy at your heels in school and didn’t give them an air of interest—Tyler lamented quite obnoxiously. You could be out late Saturday night at a party, but every morning you were up early, in the choir at church—which shocked Draco, you had always been hesitant to sing around him, and he wasn’t exactly sure what ‘church’ was but... it was a question for another time.

The conversation lulled as food was brought out. You offered him a bit of mangled stretched out wire and a hot dog and shot him a dazzling smile before showing him how to roast it over the fire. It was messy and uncivilized, and Merlin, Draco loved it. Sitting cross-legged beside you, a paper plate in his lap filled with such rich food and sweet fruit, he truly caught a glimpse into your world again.

The buzz of insects and glow of others, the heat and warmth of the fire, the smell of grass and dirt, the sound of some country song blasting from a nearby truck, the sway of your body as you hummed along, the smile that rested on your face, the buzz of alcohol in his system, and the taste of it on your lips, Draco never felt more... free. The Dark Mark could be nothing more than a tattoo. His scars could mimic Alex’s dirt biking scars. His school career could be scoffed at like yours was. His parents could just be strict and rich. He could be free.

_____________________________

My thumb absentmindedly stroked the back of Draco’s hand as the night wound down. I had switched to sweet tea a while ago, knowing I’d had to drive home. There was something oddly comforting in seeing Draco in the midst of my small-town world. His careful blue eyes, stark blond hair, and pale creamy skin seemed to rebel at the mere thought, but the smile on his lips overrode it all, claiming he belonged.

In bed that night, my fingers traced over the scars that littered his chest. It was hard to imagine that the Harry I knew caused them. It seemed like worlds away. Even in Draco’s arms, London and magic and wizards sounded like a fairytale, some far-fetched dream.

“Your friends are... nice,” Draco murmured, drawing a chuckle from me.

“That’s one way to put it,” I propped up on my elbow. “Nothing too absurd I hope?” There was a slight teasing tone to my words.

He smiled lazily at me.

“It’s... different here,” Draco decided.

“Good different? Or bad different?”

“Free different.” He mused. “Like... it—my past... doesn’t exist at all. No one here knows, or judges me...”

“Well,” I whispered softly, running my hand through his hair. “It is a different world. Somethin’ you have to love about a small town,” A smile grew on my face. “And it’s not about your past, not anymore. It’s your future that’s important,”

“As long as you’re there,” Draco pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

“For as long as you’ll have me,”

“Forever,”

I spent the next day teaching Draco how to bake. He was a decent cook after spending some time with my grandmother and I in London, but backing was a bit different, as Draco found out. With classic rock on the radio and mom and dad out for the day, Draco and I had a blast. A few times I saw him cheat and use wandless magic. It earned him some flour in his face—which he also magicked away. When I protested, he pressed a kiss to my lips and maybe I forgot why I was upset in the first place.

With the pie in the oven, Draco and I lounged across the couch. His hands were fiddling with my hair absentmindedly, as we watched The Breakfast Club. Hermione and Harry had done an alright job introducing Draco to muggle movies and shows. But as much as I loved Doctor Who—we were all convinced that the Doctor was a wizard secretly—or Sherlock, some American normalcy was appreciated.

That night I couldn’t help but laugh as Draco was very confused about football. It was like translating something through three languages—Wizard, to British, to American. After a while I think he gave up on the notion and just nursed his beer. The game held my interest for the second half while my father was very adamant about coaching from his armchair.

“You should have seen him at her little league games,” My mother muttered, causing Draco and I to chuckle and my dad to simmer some.

“Softball,” I filled Draco in. “Like baseball... but for girls I guess.” He nodded.

Before I knew it, the week ended, and Draco and I were packing to return back home, well to London anyway. I traded in my sundresses for jeans and sighed as I unzipped my suitcase, starting to unpack.

“It’s not like we’ll never go back,” Draco wrapped me up in his arms.

“We?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Did you not want me to go back?” A playful smile graced his lips.

“No, I do! I just... well, I know you Dray,” I draped my arms around his neck. “You like things a certain way in a certain order, and well, that,” I gestured vaguely. “was anything but,”

“Maybe it’s time I leave this behind me,” He murmured softly. “Stuffy offices and grey skies...”

My eyes widened in surprise and joy.

“Not completely,” He amended. “I do still have to work, they need me as Head Healer, and you have uni, and then there’s Teddy to think about, but... maybe a summer home there wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,”

I drew him into a tight hug, tears stinging my eyes. It wasn’t even that he wanted to go back, it was that he wanted me with him when he did. He talked about a home like I’d be there beside him.

And when he was down on one knee, surrounded by my London family, with a simple ring, I knew that he did want me there beside him, and always would.

I gave him an escape from his past and he promised me a future.

.

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[tomdutch]

I don’t mean for this to sound weird or disrespectful, but a few of my friends were having a discussion over who can or can’t use AAVE. I’m not white, but I’m not black either so I didn’t want to join their discussion because it didn’t feel like my place. I’m not black so I shouldn’t be in black people’s business. So the question is, obviously nonblack people should not be using AAVE, but because it’s African AMERICAN vernacular english, do you think it’s okay for black people outside of america to use it? Or is it just nonblack people that shouldn’t be using it? I wanted to ask you because I find that you’re really good at articulating your thoughts when it comes to things like this, but if you don’t feel comfortable or if this seems disrespectful, it’s totally fine that you don’t answer.

hm personally i don’t have a problem w black ppl who aren’t north american using aave. a lot of vernacular is shared with black brits too and like i personally don’t rlly care abt it. i think one of the most beautiful aspects of black culture (and i use black in an international sense to englobe black ppl of all nationalities) is how a lot of experiences are without borders. in the case of discrimination, historically black ppl in and outside north america have experienced segregation, slavery, police brutality, etc but also when it comes to religion and spirituality and culture, due to slavery and colonisation, even black ppl living in places on opposite sides of the globe will find they have even a little semblance of shared culture. so to me, personally, i don’t have a problem with it. fellow blacktuals pls feel free to add your opinion!

[woozapooza]

Turn: Washington’s Spies: The Verdict

First of all, I didn’t get really invested in this show until around halfway through. I think that was partly because it genuinely got better over time, but also partly because when I was watching the first two-ish seasons, I was only watching about one episode a week, which is NOT how I’m used to experiencing TV shows. Once I had time to watch more frequently, I started enjoying the show more, as well as following the plot better. I’d love to rewatch someday, particularly because I feel like I’d appreciate and understand the first two-ish seasons better now that I’ve finished the show.

Favorite character: André!!! I don’t think I had ever heard of him before, but now I’d love to learn more about him.

Other faves, not necessarily in order: Hewlett, Robert Townsend, Peggy, Akinbode, Arnold, Ben. Honestly can’t even narrow it down to a top 5.

Actually I want to focus on Arnold for a second: the main reason he became one of my favorites it because he’s just so amusing. Like, he’s so out of touch with the story he’s part of. He’s so determined to be the main character and he just isn’t and it was fascinating and delightful to watch. Also it was endlessly funny to watch him getting outshone by André even after André died. Like in the finale when he's trying to convince King George that he can bring the colonies to heel or whatever and out of nowhere the king is like “HEY WASN’T JOHN ANDRÉ THE ABSOLUTE COOLEST?” That was so funny oh my god. Also Owain Yeoman has the perfect face for period drama. He just has an old-fashioned face (compliment).

Abe was definitely at his most likeable in the final season. I guess coming as near to death as a person can come without dying did him some good? I’m joking, but he really was more likeable in s4 than he’d ever been before.

Oh, that reminds me, the s3 finale was the best episode!

I thought the show did a great job making both sides of the conflict sympathetic. I was a little apprehensive about how it was going to portray the Brits but it turned out nice and balanced 👍

Simcoe is one of the most entertaining villains I’ve ever seen

I love that the show ended with a “where are they now montage.” But I absolutely did not anticipate the context in which Abe was writing to Thomas :/

War is, like, bad and stuff but Ben Tallmadge on the battlefield, swinging his sword, the plume of his helmet flowing behind him, is something that can actually be so personal

Ian Kahn was PERFECTLY cast as Washington

I wonder how they determined what accent each character should speak with? Particularly the American characters. There was a wide range of accents among them and I’m curious what the logic of each character’s accent was. I have no idea what the accent situation was at that time, nor even if we have any way of knowing.

Thinking I might see if I can get a copy of Washington’s Spies by Alexander Rose :D

One of the coolest title sequences I’ve ever seen! It took me way too long to pay attention to it and notice all the little espionage-y details. Also I’m obsessed with the part at the very beginning of the title sequence where there’s a flag that says “AMC,” then it flips and it’s the proto-American flag, then it flips again and it’s the British flag.

Overall grade: A-