#the romantic tension is ripe for the plucking!

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Pair of Hearts

“Good Girl,” Thor heard himself growl against the shell of your ear as your body arched into his. Prettily manicured nails leaving red lines over the planes of his abs as he ravaged you, his bulk pinning you, needy and willing to the plush bed.

He’d had you there for hours. The room was saturated in sex and the smell of animal lust as he found satisfaction between your silken thighs again and again. There was no reason to leave. There was no battle to fight. No training to be done.

It felt like a honeymoon.

Nothing for Thor to do but initiate his pretty lover into the joy of being pleasured by a god. A god who had waited for centuries to love a woman the way he loved you.

A crack of Thunder shook his tower and Thor jolted awake in his chair, the front of his sweats stained with his shame as they had often been since your arrival in New Asgard. He groaned and let his head fall back, taking a deep breath.

Another exquisite dream courtesy of your graceful visage, he thinks bitterly. Not, he admits that his torment is your fault. You treated him with the same warmth and kindness you treated everyone. Your cheerful good mornings as you tended your garden was no more or less sweet-voiced for him than it was for anyone else. You’d done nothing to invite this damnable lust he felt for you.

The King hefted his massive frame out of the spindly rocker and slouched into the bedroom, starting the tap in his sink to run warm water so he could clean himself up and change clothes. Dawn was breaking over the horizon and if he hurried, he could catch sight of you and your dog headed towards a run in the woods. He liked watching the serenity on your face. The laugh that would ring out as your furry companion started his antics. It made him happy. It was the simplest joy he could imagine and it gave him hope.

“Thor!” a familiar voice growled from downstairs, “Fuck the girl or learn to jerk off BEFORE you go to sleep. These fucking storms have almost sunk two boats this week!”

Thor sighed, “Brunhilde,” he said blushing, pulling on clean trousers, “it’s not like I can help it.”

The Valkyrie leaned against the doorway, arms folded, “You could help it. But you’re being a child.”

Thor sighed, “Brunhilde,” he said, “She deserves better than this.” He gestured vaguely to his self, his softer body and shabby tower.

“Thor,” she countered, “She’s a nice girl. Sweet. She bakes a lovely chocolate cake and keeps bees... After the snap, when she showed up here, she was honestly a gift. Dead useful... Talk to her.”

The king shook his head, glancing toward the window where he could just make out the shape of you, headed towards the woods with your faithful hound at your heels. “If you don’t talk to her,” Brunhilde threatened, “I’m going to. And I’m going to make sure that the only sound you hear is her saying my name over and over and over again.”

Thor scowled at her and Brunhilde smirked, “You have three days,” she said. “If you don’t at least talk to her by Saturday I’m going to give her the ride of her life. Then she really will never be interested in you.”

He snorted bitterly, “And if she doesn’t like women?”

The Valkyrie laughed, “Every girl is a little gay... You just gotta know what button to press.”

“I could have you tried for treason you know,” Thor said frowning at the way his belly poked out where his abs had used to be. He hated that he couldn’t seem to go back to his old self. It irritated him that he looked this way. That the body of a romantic hero was hidden under years of neglect.

Brunhilde smiled a little, “You could... or you could go compliment her garden and make some small talk. I think that would be more productive.” She didn’t say another word, she simply turned and loped back to the docks, satisfied that Thor would speak to you soon if only to keep from having to hear you say someone else’s name as you cried out in bliss.

___________

The path to your house was tree-lined streets. Whimsical. A district that had been created by Fae expats. It was nice. It suited you. The same way your house could only belong to you. Cozy and sweet. He’d passed by it often, imagining what the inside might be life. What it would be like to bring you here after a long day working. To make love to you in your bed... He imagined you had a quilt and some hand braided rugs.

Thor paused, watching you climb a ladder, plucking apples from the boughs of the tree with nimble fingers and putting them in a basket at your hip. “Good morning, Lady Y/N,” he said, cheeks coloring as you turned to smile at him.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,”  you answer, “How can I be of service?”

Kiss me? he thinks. Fucking hell, kiss me before I run mad.

Outloud, he answers, “I was hoping I could speak with you.”

You climb easily down your ladder and pluck a perfectly ripe apple from your basket, holding it out to him. “Of course,” you say, smiling softly, “but only if your majesty will do me the honor of letting me make him a proper breakfast.”

Thor felt something unclench in his chest and he smiled, “I’ve heard that your cooking is legendary,” he says, hoping it’s a compliment.

“I’m not sure about that, your majesty,” you say modestly, “But I hope to live up to your expectations.”

He follows you into your cottage, ducking to avoid hitting his head and takes the seat you offer. While your back is turned, he looks around and admires how comfortable it all looks. It looks like a home, unlike his spartan, Drafty tower. In his once over, he sees a suitcase, open and half-filled... or half unpacked, he isn’t sure. “Are you planning a trip, my lady?” he asks lightly.

“Yes,” you say, a flicker of something unreadable in your face. You don’t elaborate and Thor is unsure if it’s impolite to press.

“Have you gotten bored of New Asgard already?” he says, trying to cover his nosing about as a joke.

“No,” you laugh lightly, “It- it’s merely time for me to go home for a time... I’ve been away too long.”

“And what awaits you there? Suitors?” he says, covering his panic. Or trying too.

Big, fathomless eyes turn toward him and, like he felt so often with his mother, he feels you look through him. “No,” you tell him, a little sadly, “Only my sons.”

It’s a moment of pain that flickers in your eyes. Thor knows you’re older than your face. That you’re no stranger to hobnobbing with Royalty and navigating court policies from your comfort with him. “How old are they?” he asked, trying to make conversation, unsure of which way to go.

“If they still lived,” you tell him, taking a deep breath, “They’d have been just over 100 this past summer.”

You set a teacup in front of him gently and pour him a cup of something that smells of roses and rain. Taking the moment to look away and regain your composure.

“My dearest lady,” he said, his rich baritone contrite, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on a private pain.” He clutches your delicate hand in both of his and squeezes softly. He’s no stranger to loss now. To losing something that cannot be replaced.

“Your majesty-” you start.

“Thor,” he interrupts gently, “please.”

“Thor,” you correct yourself, “I- it- it’s been. It’s fine. A yearly pilgrimage. Nothing more.” You smile a little, “Just to check on the house. And my roses.”

You seem reluctant to say more and for once, Thor listens to his instinct not to press. “I’ll miss seeing you out and about while you are gone,” he says, “Where is your furry companion. Sphinx, I’ve heard you call him.”

“He is, I believe,” you answer smiling, “Begging for scraps on the dock... No one believes I don’t feed him, not really. But he’s a very good actor.”

Thor laughs, picking up his teacup. The delicate China makes him feel clumsy and oafish. The cup too small to fit comfortably in his hands. But, as he takes a sip of the brew you gave him, it doesn’t matter. Sweet, tangy, earthy, flavors that shouldn’t work but they do. It warms in his chest and sends a pleasant frisson of comfort through his body. He feels it swirl comfortably in his belly and tension he didn’t know he carried melted from too taught muscles. “My lady,” he said appreciatively, “If your breakfast is as good as your tea, you’re in a good deal of trouble. I’ll never leave your table.”

You smile a little, cheeks coloring. It had been a long time since you’d permitted a gentleman into your house. Your Charlie, your true love, had been gone a century and more now. Your boys almost as long. Having the King so close, having someone to appreciate a meal you made. Someone to talk to over tea. It was nice. You couldn’t bring yourself to mind too much that he may never leave.

Tags: @lancsnerd​ @stevieang​ @thorfanficwriter​ @innerpaperexpertcloud​ @etherealwaifgoddess​ @amalthea9​

[jaeausten]

My thoughts on Sanditon 1x06 (Beware, here be spoilers...)

Okay, up until now I have been watching Sanditon with mixed feelings, most of it positive, but Sundays episode left me screaming WTF at my tv.

In this house, Andrew Davies is a legend. His television adaptations of the classics has always let me soak into the world of Austen, Dickens etc and has been a welcome escape from the various shitty things in my life. He has been adapting books for tv series for decades and I thought that Sanditon was going to be full of the things I love about Jane Austen’s works and subsequent adaptations (wit, satire, self possessed, independent thinking heroines and intelligent, impeccably behaved heroes) with anything else left strictly to the imagination. Austen’s works have always had elegance and propriety to them (even when dealing with sex and ruin) that simply does not appear in this adaptation. There is such a sense of pandering to modern tastes in this episode of Sanditon that I cannot get past...or forgive. This is not an Austen adaptation and I am a little upset that Andrew Davies has interpreted Austen like this. People like Austen for all the subtlety and repressed sexual tension and although Jane did not write more than 11 chapters of Sanditon, surely Andrew has had enough experience dealing with this genre and original material to have written the rest of the story the way Jane might actually have intended.

Anyway, to the episode. I was literally jumping in my seat at the end of episode 1x05 when Charlotte set off on her plucky adventure to Set Things Right and help bring Georgiana home. But when this episode started, it soon became clear that Charlotte had arrived in London with only the flimsiest scrap of a plan and little to no money! (Note- In the rest of the series, Charlotte can be impulsive, but not stupid). Next, Charlotte is made to demonstrate another act of uncharacteristic stupidity by aimlessly wandering around the back streets and alleyways near the docks acting the fresh country girl ripe for the plucking. And of course, someone grabs her. She is rescued by Sidney, but this trope of stupid, naive country girl puts herself in a dangerous situation and has to be rescued by the hero pisses me off.

Oh, and Fyi costume designer, Charlotte should be wearing her hair up, UP, UUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPP!!! 

When Sidney tells Charlotte off in the carriage, I kind of thought that he had a point; reminding her that there can be other motives for marriage than love, but her looking shocked that this could be so surprises me as she has not previously written to be so naive. But, if you see it from her point of view, Otis rocked up looking dandy af a couple of episodes ago (I’m assuming that Charlotte thought that Otis might not need Georgiana’s money with that snazzy outfit on) and spouting romantic feelings and the telling of a genuinely funny first meeting with Georgiana made her think that it was for love and that it must be prejudice as his fortune has been made from slavery! Charlotte accuses Sidney of being less than forthcoming about his objections to Otis and he is pissed that his vague af explanation did not satisfy our independent thinking heroine. But as I see it, if you can be a first class asshole and scream into the heroine’s face while losing your temper in the street, you sure as hell can be explicit about why you ask someone to keep an extra eye on your ward. Just saying....

Also, Sidney’s behaviour throughout this series to Charlotte has been so far from an Austen hero and has made me dislike him so intensely that I have rooted for young Stringer as Charlotte’s eventual husband (though we all know that’s not going to happen, don’t we). An Austen hero never lets his anger show too strongly nor bellows at the heroine in the street. But apart from the story, good manners in that era and at that social level would prohibit any true gentleman from doing so. 

Andrew, if you are not going to follow Austen’s style, then place it in the proper confines of the period. Good fucking manners always prevail!!!!!!!!!

Taking Charlotte to a Brothel?!?!?!?!?!? Gently bred females do not get taken by an Austen hero to a brothel, Jesus Christ! Would this happen in reality? Not really! This scene seems to have been lifted out of the pages of a bodice ripper (not that I have any objection to bodice rippers- I frequently read and love them myself- but in an Austen? No, just no).

Charlotte preventing Sidney from beating the shit out of Otis for ruining Georgiana’s rep with a gentle plea while he reigns in his rage for her by focusing on her face, oh my heart... Still not Austen tho...

There’s finally a flash of the old sensible Charlotte when she figures out that Georgiana might still be held in London, whoops, I sneezed, back to the naive country girl trope that doesn’t fit. 

Ewwwww, the fat, misogynistic fucker making a joke about breaking in horses being similar to handling wives while drooling over a forcibly restrained woman just had to be in there didn’t it?  

It just bugs me why Clara, Edward and Esther don’t seem to take Lady Denham seriously when she has said repeatedly thought the entire series so far that none of them will benefit monetarily from her death, yet when the will is eventually found, Clara and Edward are outraged when nothing is left to them?

I can’t decide if Charlotte is still the annoying country girl from the beginning of the episode or the plucky heroine determined to find out the truth when she refuses to stay in the carriage when Sidney goes into the brothel where he is clearly a regular member...

‘You haven’t made an honest man of our Mr Parker, have you?’ 

‘GrAcIOuS NOOOO!’

Sidney’s face. One second of pained outrage. Classic!

Ooooohhhhhhh, a dramatic carriage chase. Area man in a cravat leaping to another carriage to bring the horses to a halt and rescue a girl. Melodrama meets western...

Oh look, Clara has found the hidden will and taken the time to put on a new dress and villain smirk of crazed triumph. Fuck off luv!

Oh. My. God.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jumping each other and having grunting, rough af sex on the cold marble floor to seal their devils deal? Um, ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

This is the most unAusten disgrace of the entire episode. This is what almost made me turn off the tv, but I wanted to see what else happened in the episode, so I put it on mute and glanced through my fingers occasionally. Wtf, Andrew Davies! You are so much better than this! Your experience and Austen lovers could have done without a gratuitous sex scene. Not only was it uncharacteristic in a work claiming to be based on an Austen, but it was jarring with the melodrama of the rest of the episode and quite clumsy in it’s execution. It took me completely off guard and tbh, it was fucking gross.

Here that? It’s poor Jane Austen, spinning in her grave...

Georgiana is restored to the bosom of her cold hearted guardian. Or is he? Finally, a Austenian trope! Thank fuck! Misunderstood asshole who can be capable of compassion and clearing an unworthy gentleman’s debts with his wealth to make the heroine realise he is not a complete dickhead? Can you guess which Austen hero I‘m referring to?

A manly heart to heart is in order. This is a scene that would never be in an Austen as Jane never wrote a scene that she herself could not have experienced, but I’ll let that go if it means Sidney won’t stay a twat...

Oh dear Lord, Charlotte doubts herself because she feels she has disappointed Sidney. Heroine doubts her previous harsh judgement of the hero is so Austen, I both cheered and groaned. Yay Austen! Nay Charlotte having a bad opinion of her own instincts which have been written to appear to come out of her perceived sheltered lifestyle and naivety. On the one hand, she is written as knowing nothing much about real life and needs firm handling to avoid becoming a complete idiot, and yet she is also written to understand architecture and shows clear headedness when old Stringer breaks his leg. I’m having trouble with this pendulum swinging here!

Dear God, why is Charlotte’s hair all scruffy like that? Why is it still not UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was rooting for Otis and Georgiana, but Otis proved himself kind of a douchebag. Georgiana realises that Otis is spouting bullshit when he says he only boasted of her beautiful soul to the gambling fucker, when in reality he had been dangling her and her fortune to appease a creditor. He seems sincere when he apologises though and it’s clear he does love her. But he wants to have his cake and eat it, so Georgiana out...

Oooh, that total sweetheart Babbington just showed up! I have to keep reminding myself that he isn’t Grenn from Got looking fit af in his regency gear. Rawr...

Why in the actual fuck is Charlotte refusing invitation to a London masquerade ball? Who does that? Sidney obviously expects her to be cheered right up by this and damn it, I do to! Georgiana is back safe and sound (almost) and Sanditon is about to be saved by the Regatta! She doesn’t feel sociable!? Her being sad by Sidney’s apparent bad opinion of her? Fuck that shit! Have some fucking self respect and get out there! A girl’s first visit to London on a mission (albeit in less than fun circumstances), friend is saved and you are invited to a big ass masquerade ball and you say no because of a man’s opinion?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Sidney spouts crap about underestimating her while looking sheepishly adorable and Charlotte agrees to go to the ball. Knew she wanted to really... But I don’t get Sidney’s sudden change of heart about Charlotte and as for underestimating her, what for? She bollocksed up everything, except for guessing that Georgiana was still held in London so they didn’t need to go off on a wild goose chase to Gretna Green. The episode up until that second has been Sidney treating her like she is a child who has made things unnecessarily difficult and not worthy of respect or a kind word. I don’t buy this. Sorry.

The ball!!!!!!!!

Poor Tom! No one gives a shit about the Regatta at the ball and one man even throws Tom’s card on the floor! Rude. Oh well, at least he looks da bomb in his burgundy silk ensemble.

Charlotte’s disappointed in the ball and wants to leave?!?!?!? Disappointed!?!?!? In a London ball! She’s only been there for five minutes and hasn’t done the obligatory sexually charged dance in a fabulous dress with the brooding hero yet! I know she is upset that they have left Georgiana at home and that’s fine, it shows that she has sensibilities and compassion for a friend, but come on! 

Why is she asking Sidney’s opinion to leave? Why is she putting herself down? Yes, Sidney’s behaviour has definitely led her to believe that she is too headstrong and opinionated, but I don’t think she’s too much. The way she has been written up until this episode has been what has made her interesting. Austen heroine’s do go through this in the last third of the story though.

Oh, now he thinks those things are cute. No wonder Charlotte is confused. I am.

Why in holy fuck is Charlotte telling absolutely everything to a total stranger?!?! I get that it is a human thing to want to pour out your heart and problems to someone who can take a step back and see things from a different perspective, but Austen heroine’s keep their fucking counsel! Also, in the time period at that level of society, spilling your secrets to a stranger opens everyone involved up to potential scandal. Good fucking God. This is not even reality at this point!

Charlotte in love with Sidney? Surely not Queen Susan. It’s glaring that Charlotte does love Sidney at this point. Treat them mean, make them fall in love with you, I guess.

Ooooh, the smoulder! Fuck, it’s even working on me!

Jesus Christ, this dance has everything. Not taking their soft eyes off of each others, gradually getting more intense as the dance goes on. Tender brushings of hands. The waltz with his head bent to hers with while being a bit too close for proprieties sake. The way they move in perfect harmony in a way that has not been in evidence in their interactions before. Lingering touches when they have to part in the dance. Taut sexual tension dripping from every step. Both suddenly grinning their arses off when the dance gets faster. The slow-mo shot showing them falling deeper into love. Ending the dance in extreme reluctance as it means they cannot be close in front of everyone anymore while looking stunned by their feelings. Divine! 

Uh oh. Enter old flame. Why did you have to spoil it Andrew?

I know that’s Theo’s actual real life wife, but there was no chemistry that I could see. I could go and get my binoculars. Eliza Campion, I know you won’t prevail, but please step it up for the next episode cos you haven’t convinced me yet.

Charlotte is happy and glowing with her new found awakening. I hope it will last. Of course not...

If you have managed to read to the end of this, well done! I certainly wouldn’t have! As you can see, most of this post has dealt with my feelings of incredulity at the way this episode has turned out. Don’t get me wrong, I really do like Sanditon, but Sunday’s episode has left me shaking my head in confusion. Andrew Davies work has always been top notch, but I wonder if the absence of full original source material has left him unable to write the fully realised characters of the Austen novels that we have come to expect. But injecting melodrama and bizarre about turns in terms of characters and their characterisation while introducing unnecessary scenes (you know the one I mean) has left this episode severely disjointed for me.

[fierypen37]

Romantic Jonerys Prompts. Hella. -----Foreign Food! Either Dany Dealing with a Northern Diet (fucking eels) or Jon dealing with Essosi food (poor baby bean's bland pallette)

Temptation  

Jon scowled down at the plate set before him. It smelledinoffensive enough: buttery and rich with a faint tang of a spice he couldn’tname, but Jon remained dubious. Jon poked it with the tine of his fork, it feltfirm and crisp.

“You needn’t worry, my love. It’squite dead. It won’t bite you back,” Daenerys said, smothering a grin. Daenerysplucked a fried locust from her plate and dipped it in spiced honey. She took abite with evident relish, and as lovely a picture his wife made, the sight madehis stomach turn. It was the insect’s tiny legs and glazed eyes staring at himthat he found unpalatable. Jon set down his fork, leaning back onto the plushsilken cushions, a cloud of floral perfume wafted up.

“I think I’ll manage without,” Jonsaid.

There was little about Essos thatagreed with him. Too hot, too crowded, too noisy. The air sultry—so thick itwas like trying to breathe through wet cotton. Pentos teemed with peoplebabbling and shrieking in a dozen tongues. The city reeked of sweat, elephantdung, stagnant water, a myriad of perfumes and spices. Even now as the lampsglowed gold and moths fluttered, with a cool breeze teasing the gauzy curtains,Jon could hear the faint cry of strangers’ voices.

Besides the locusts—which he wastold was a Meereenese delicacy—the table groaned with food. Plump slices ofmelon dripping sweetness, skewers with honeyed dovemeat, blue-veined cheeses,flatbread seasoned with saffron, a tangy paste made from chickpeas and seasonedwith vinegar and pepper. Everything foreign and rich. Jon rubbed his stomach,longing for a simple kidney pie with peas and onions.

Daenerys eyed him through herlashes, a smile curving her ripe lips. On second thought, there was one thingabout Essos he liked. The heat goaded Daenerys into wearing flimsy gowns andwraps. This one was his favorite. Near-sheer blue silk, with straps thatcrisscrossed over her torso, leaving a tantalizing window around her navel, theskirts cupping close to her hips. He was dazzled by the curves and hollows ofher body, he longed to taste her sweat, nuzzle the patterns of her body hair.Jon forgot his hunger in the slow pound of arousal. Jon floundered closer tosteal a kiss. Mmm, her mouth tasted of sweet dark wine.  

“I think I’ll sup on somethingelse,” he rasped. Though her violet eyes watched him from beneath heavy lids,Daenerys nudged him away.

“No, Jon. You must eat. Much betterthan bread and gruel. Who knows? You might even like it.”

Jon heaved a beleaguered sigh, rakinga hand through sweat-damp hair. Daenerys giggled, nuzzling the shell of hisear.

“If you try it, I’ll make it worthyour while,” she purred. Jon growled, contemplating the fried locust with abaleful eye.

“Fine,” he said, plucking up thewarm morsel. Before he could dither any longer, he stuffed the whole thing inhis mouth. As he chewed, some of the tension eased. The flavor was almostnutty, rich and warm. The texture was a pleasant crunch. Jon washed it downwith a gulp of Dany’s sweetwine.

“What do you think?” she asked. Jongrinned, rolling her beneath him on the cushions.

“I think I need to work up anappetite for more.”