#the themes surrounding women in these books are so .... something

[froggybogwitch]

The horror of Motherhood in ACOTAR

The title Mother is soaked in blood.

Basically all the mothers we see are either dead or suffering, yeah? The act of being a mother, chosen or not, almost always leads to violence or suffering. There's an element of sacrifice to it, yes, but rarely is made willingly. Often these women are simply collateral to the desires and goals of the men around them. Cassian's mother, raped and worked to death, forced to carry a child she did not want, then forced to give him up by the men who inflicted him upon her. The Lady of Autumn, forced to carry son after son after son, for a man she never wanted to touch, bound to the birthing bed for as long as Beron willed it. The Lady of Night, tortured, beheaded, mutilated, her pride and joy taken as trophies to hang in the halls over her murderers, for the crime being at the right place, at the wrong time. There's a real sense of horror and violence embued into the role of mother, in acotar, and none escape it, not even Feyre.

All of this is compounded by the fact that textually, they are remembered almost exclusively by their suffering. None of them are given names, or speaking lines or any influence over their children beyond the second hand trauma they passed down. They are vectors of pain and grief. Motherhood is not beautiful in ACOTAR, it's an act of violence against the women it happens to.

I don't think this was an intended pattern but I can't help but notice it in the way the characters defined by their motherhood are treated.

[lonesomedotmp3]

"control, baby, it can be controlled. so give me back the story." well that's crazy!

[sheep-from-rad]

breathes, I need to make a masterlist for DC. Writing Batfam is becoming too fun 

*I don't own DC also reader is gender neutral. this could be applied to yandere batfam as well, i think*

Bruce, Batfam and baby! Reader would be fun to watch. This man raised children but apparently having a baby in the house made him realize that he still has a lot to learn. Reader arrives at the estate as a baby after their mom (ex fling) decides that it will be better if they will be with Bruce instead.  

If this man’s sleep schedule was bad before, now it's abysmal. It was so bad that Batfam had to step in. Baby! Reader cries at 3 a.m. and before Bruce can even stand up he sees Jason at the dark corner of the room telling him to go back to sleep because Dick already has it handled. I love the idea of baby reader’s crib being in Bruce’s room because it will be easier to reach the crying baby reader at night that way. 

There’s no such thing as too much clothes. Batfam sees something cute or a baby clothing, they are buying it. Damian is partial towards stuffed animals and he will deny it but Bruce had seen him bonding with by reading animal related baby books. I also see Damian as a possessive brother in the sense that once they have their hands on  baby! reader, they will never let anyone else hold them. Not even Bruce. 

Batfamily had to now pack another shirt whenever they go outside with baby!reader or else they’ll be coming home wet with baby drool. Every Batsibling has their alarm clocks and they’ll always fight each other on who gets to feed the baby reader. Alfred wins most of the time because the siblings get too caught up in the fighting; they just forget about feeding the baby. 

Jason will nonstop troll Bruce for sure. Bruce will be entering the dining hall all tired with baby reader in his arms and Jason will be singing, ‘A single mom who works two jobs’ meme until Bruce glares at him or tells him to stop. Coffee supply on the estate doubles because Tim is not the only one addicted now, Bruce too. 

Superhero themed onesies are banned inside the house because it became a mini competition between the batfam but don’t let anyone know that Bruce kept a Batman bib. Every bedroom is baby proofed because each sibling just loves to monopolize baby readers. 

Galas are now fun. The batfam who previously avoids galas like it’s a plague now from time to time pops in to say that Bruce is gonna be late because either baby reader got into a teeny tiny accident and needed to be changed or baby reader got into Stephanie’s make up kit and needed to be wiped clean. 

The idea of a baby!reader learning how to crawl and walk is funny too. Bruce just constantly stressed out because his little baby just disappears and then comes back in the arms of a sibling who told him that they crawled to their room. Baby reader sees older siblings training and they’ll be trying to replicate it (with the siblings making sure it won’t be dangerous of course). Just imagine Dick’s social media with a picture of him stretching and baby reader (face covered for privacy) next to him replicating it. 

Batfam was overprotective before and it became more protective now. Tim will always be quick to cover baby!reader’s face when the siblings  are out in public say for ice cream or a little shopping trip. Securities are doubled too. If one sibling is taking baby reader out, another one will be following behind and the others are on the roof.  No baby photos because let’s face it, one quick photo can land on a random newspaper and some villains might get their hands on a copy. 

Damian will always be quick to pull away baby!reader on galas especially when Bruce is surrounded by women who try flirting with him using their ‘maternal’ skills. Passing baby!reader around the gala are not allowed unless Bruce himself lets the person hold the baby!reader. 

Imagine one day Batman goes to a Justice League meeting with the baby! Reader strapped on their chest because apparently the batfam is busy and Alfred is on vacation. If Bruce only knew that the batfam lied because the JL wants to meet the baby reader. Did Justice League got overboard with the Christmas gifts the next year? Shhh… we don’t talk about that, the impromptu storage room is still full.

[jesncin]

Thinking about Disney and how we talk about Cultural Representation

(concept art by Scott Watanabe)

Old essay originally written on Cohost in November 2023. With additions.

With all the promo stuff about Disney's upcoming animated film Wish, I can't help but think about Raya and the Last Dragon again. I spent a year intensively researching things about that movie and the discourse surrounding it for a series of videos on Xiran Jay Zhao's channel, and oh boy did that reveal a lot about the current way we talk about cultural representation in casual media criticism.

Lately we've grown a habit of looking at signifiers to culture, things like a cultural dish, a nod to a martial arts style, a piece of clothing, maybe a hairstyle, a weapon and so on, and then projecting a bunch of intentions onto the work regardless of authorial intent. I witnessed this a bunch of times in discussions surrounding Raya and the Last Dragon.

You basically get a bunch of 4d chess-style justifications for the lazy implementation of culture in Raya.

random examples cuz there's too many to name:

The movie will do something like make the leaders of the villain nation women, and people immediately assumed it was some kind of bespoke reference to Minangkabau matriarchical society.

the art book of Raya specifically stated that they purposely misplaced things as a stylistic fantasy choice "we could take something that is known and place it in an unexpected location, like coral in the desert and cacti in the snow". But when people saw a water buffalo placed in the desert they assumed it was some super clever environmental story decision.

The movie will tell you it includes things like Borobudur, Angkor wat, Keris, and most people will take their word for it without hesitation. Never mind that Southeast Asians could barely recognize these nods to our culture through how amalgamated the designs are.

(early concept art by Scott Watanabe)

Moving forward, I think we need to talk less about "what" parts of a culture are being represented in these movies, and more about HOW they're being included, we need to ask:

What is this piece of media's relationship with the cultures it represents?

Because Raya and the Last Dragon is not a cultural movie, it's a monolith film pitched and written by white people and a Mexican director with 2 SEA writers added later in production to avoid backlash. Culture serves the purpose of aesthetic set dressing in the film, as opposed to something that informs its themes and characters.

it wasn't even initially pitched as a Southeast Asian movie. The white writers who pitched it were going for a vague East Asian sci fi fantasy story under the working title "Dragon Empire". Southeast Asian culture was an aesthetic change added much later.

This is what happens when a corporation tries to put representational value on a shallow aesthetic. Because of the way Disney constantly marketed Raya as this big authentic cultural film, it primes its audience to read cultural intention in the most benign details. And when we get lost in the details, we lose sight of the bigger picture.

Contextualizing Cultural media criticism

(visual development art by April Liu)

We need to start demanding more context in our analysis. The next time we see a reference to culture in media we consume, take a step back and ask what purpose it serves in the narrative. And most importantly!! What Is Its Relationship With The Culture It Represents? We shouldn't just accept things at face value.

start asking yourself,

through what lens is this cultural dish and its spicy flavors being presented to us? Are the customs surrounding the food being respected?

If martial arts or dance is represented, how is it translated in the adaptation? Are you getting generic hollywood-fu or are you seeing specific movements with purpose and motivation? Are the philosophies or spiritual contexts of these traditions present in the text?

Are the clothing, hairstyles, and presentation of the characters being de-yassified through a colonial filter? Is the non-conformity of the cultures' different framework for gender presentation being adjusted to fit a more recognizable binary?

If language is present, what role does it serve? Is it presented as other through being exclusively used by villainous beings? Is it being made a monolith as one "non-English" language?

is this temple actually a place of worship or is it just a set piece for a goddang Indiana jones booby trap action fight sequence

This way, instead of unquestionably defending a piece of media because a character wore a traditional outfit one time, or because some characters took their shoes off at a temple, or because there were Arnis sticks in that one fight scene, we can approach the text with a more nuanced and holistic understanding of how culture informs narrative.

To quote Haunani K. Trask (author of From A Native Daughter):

“Cultural people have to become political… Our culture can’t just be ornamental and recreational. That’s what Waikiki is. Our culture has to be the core of our resistance. The core of our anger. The core of our mana. That’s what culture is for.”

[agentrouka-blog]

What made you first interested in Jonsa? I really want to love Jonsa. Which may sound strange. But hear me out. I’ve read all the metas and from a metatextual level I really agree with and believe in Jonsa. But I have trouble actually enjoying it and I think maybe it’s because so much content seems to focus on Jon pining over Sansa. I’d much prefer to see things from Sansa’s perspective where she sees the hero in him and sees that maybe all the songs aren’t lies after all as opposed to him “winning her over.” I feel I have been inundated my whole life with stories of outcast men pining over beautiful women they see as out of their league and “winning them over” and I honestly find the trope tiring because it’s so male perspective focused and doesn’t give Sansa the agency of choosing her lover, instead, making her something to be won or earned. If you have any suggestions for Jonsa content that focuses heavily on Sansa’s point of view, on her falling for Jon first (or at least falling for each other at the same time without realizing it) I’d love to hear them! And I’d love to hear what makes Jonsa appeal to you on a personal non-meta level!

Hi there!

I too draw a difference between Jonsa as a theory and shipping it for entertainment.

I've drifted quite a bit away from what you describe as "content", which is fanworks, art and fanfiction. My tastes are very narrow and that puts me outside the target audience for a lot of what is being shared by creators. Plus, I get a great deal more personal enjoyment out of just interpreting the canon text. I enjoy what the couple represents in the narrative more than I necessarily enjoy immersing myself in different non-canonical variants.

And there's a lot of variants. You have two similar but also very different canon-sources (books and tv show) and within those two sources very different takes on the couple. For as many "Jon pines for higborn Sansa" approaches you get an equal amount of "Sansa jealously pines for her brother's oblivious best friend" modern au's. What we enjoy in recreational reading is extremely personal and subjective.

That said, for fear of disappointing you, I don't particular enjoy the "Sansa falls first" scenarios because what I like about the couple especially is the idea of Sansa finally being appreciated for who she is. Canon offers us plenty of examples of Sansa extending affection and crushes on other characters. They are never truly reciprocated, and they join in on a theme of Sansa going unappreciated for her qualities by the world around her. She is disregarded, mocked, criticized, belittled, humiliated. So much so that a large part of the fandom considers this to be justified and educational for her. She has given up on being loved for herself, but she will not sacrifice her values as a consequence. So someone falling in love with her is to me a very compelling and cathartic validation of Sansa as a person. Of course, this only works if the person falling for Sansa is actually attractive to her and embodies the things we know she has been looking for all this time. But specifically the idea that Sansa falls first fails my personal taste because it contains a sense of lacking reciprocation that we've already seen multiple times in her story. She's been not-loved-in-return a lot already.

I do enjoy the concept of Jon being loved by Sansa, too, because it validated aspects of him he usually keeps close to his chest. Things that touch on his specific mixed sense of identity as a nobly-raised bastard. He has soft sensibilities, a romantic disposition, pedestrian dreams of family and home, and highly idealistic and emotional ideals surrounding leadership that center on duty and honor. But he is generally not appreciated for those specific things. He is appreciated for his brains and his abilities, his bravery, his pragmatism, his loyalty to his friends and duties - but not for the boy who wants to be Lord of Winterfell with a lady wife and babies, who wants to be a hero from the songs, Florian the Fool, Ryam Redwyne. It's a lovely and very specific recognition of a very private part of Jon, to be loved for his secret soft self.

But it's not my primary focus because unlike Sansa, Jon still receives a lot of validation and love in the source material. It's just not the specific kind he wants. So that makes it comparatively less compelling to me.

That doesn't mean that Sansa primarily falling in love with Jon isn't an equally valid thing to enjoy! It's just that I can't make you any good recommendations on this subject specifically because it's not my specific favorite flavor of jonsa.

I wish you good luck though!

[bonefall]

while i do agree with the sentiment that bloodclan should be more nuanced as an entity i still believe it is wrong to portray them as the necessary "response" to clan injustice (haven't read the books in years but i am pretty sure that bloodclan started with no connection to the clans) / an opposition to the clan's flaws. some of the thing scourge did was out of selfishness and bloodclan isn't the other colour of the black and white debacle with the clans. the clans are heavily flawed yes, but it isn't realistic to completely say that their structure had no redeeming qualities altogether and that all outsider groups is fundamentally better than the clans.

all clans and groups are flawed in their own way and i believe we shouldnt brush past the things that other groups (the sisters and what they do with their toms *cough cough*) did solely to be able to degrade the clans and their culture.

Buddy, you're setting up a strawman. I promise you that if you look into the reduxes I've made of BloodClan, Guardians, The Sisters, and the Tribe, you will see that I don't make any of them a "flawless" alternative to Clan life.

Nor do I say that the Clans have no redeeming qualities. In fact, you can browse the "Clan Culture" tag to see the various expansions I've made to show how these traditions, values, and technological advances make Clan life so alluring.

The overarching theme of BB is that the nature of culture is change. For better AND for worse.

With respect, I think there's something insidious in the wording of "the things the other groups did." We're talking about fan responses to a work that consistently demonizes and degrades foreigners to make the Clans look like the "best way to live," justifying xenophobia. These are not real groups, they are writing choices.

In the franchise with some pretty extreme examples of misogyny, the authors said "What if bizarro world where women rule and have no men... woag..." and only includes a single Clan-alligned member of this culture, with a BAD opinion of them, who can't even do his diplomatic job because he HATES them so much.

In the same franchise that shows Fireheart getting bullied, facing prejudice, and fighting a murderous tyrant who publically executes a mixed-race character, their endgame villain is an outsider, like him, but this one IS a godless heathen who HATES love and friendship and banned families.

In the VERY same franchise which made its first non-malicious group barely able to get through an arc without needing to be saved by Clan cats, totally unable to defend themselves, framed as "whiny" for not wanting their clearly 'inferior' culture to be forcefully changed.

And I'm re-stating all this because, again, no offense to you in particular Anon, but I've been seeing a few people with a sentiment like yours lately. Complaints into a vacuum that don't make targeted critique of anyone's fanworks, gesturing at this broad "woobification" which is apparently out there somewhere over the rainbow, saying things like "well Scourge is selfish" or "well Moonlight abandoned her 13 year old" as if we haven't BEEN knew.

As if we're not all directly responding to these choices. As if I haven't written ESSAYS on this topic.

Since this was about BloodClan in particular though, and you admit you haven't read the books in years, please go back and actually read Rise of Scourge before trying to make critique of the ways fanon rewrites its origin. It's EXPLICITLY a response to the Clans, in the text, that the Erins wrote, it is canon that fanon is working with.

And you want people to take that out and approach it a different way... why? Because it's so incredulous to you that a nation forms in response to a threatening neighbor? That a common enemy through invasions is a way that people might choose to unite, and encourage their new culture to value brutality? Because you don't like the idea of Clan Culture's XENOPHOBIC BATTLE CULTURE affecting surrounding communities??

Could YOU, maybe, be doing this "woobification" thing I keep hearing about? Can I play this stupid game too? What's our stupid prize? Can it be a lollipop? Do we get stickers

TL;DR, ok.

[screaminglygay]

third time is a charm, right? (part four)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff

summary: getting to know wanda and natasha must be wonderful, right?

warnings: swearing, bad flirting once again, hints of sexual themes

word count: 2.4k

an: hi! hello! im back, hopefully my wifi will work forever from now on. thank youuuu for all of your support, i love you guys so much!!! so sweet!  💞 ���� 💞 

(italica = your thoughts)

In the last three days you checked your phone like nine billion times, still nothing. Being frustrated is a weak word to use in this situation. You were furious, screen time on your phone went up by 89% as it almost hit the number of 13 hours per day. You could make a bet that you´ve seen every Instagram post, every latest information on twitter, in the second it was posted.

I am going to die, I swear. Did I just get ghosted again? Again?  

You let out a big sigh, looking around your room makes you go back to reality as you notice the mess. Not just in your head, but also everywhere around your camp spot, for the past days. Seeing this doesn’t make you very happy, but you're really not in the mood to clean up this bomb situation.

Your phone buzzes.

Every thought bothered by the junk in your living room is now out of your mind at the same speed as it came in. Jumping for your phone wasn’t the smartest idea as you stab yourself with something, you grab it.

What the fuck? A fork?  

The fork is being thrown away, landing somewhere between your box from take-out and dirty sleeping shirt.  

Your phone buzzes again.

Finally, you took it and looked at your messages. Your eyes quickly scan who texted you. It´s Natasha.

Oh my god! It´s her! Yes! Celebrations!

You smiled to yourself as you did something like a cheerful winning dance. Knowing you´re alone, you went fully in with that dance moves. Clicking on the message so you can get some satisfaction makes your heart skips a beat.

Natasha🔥

<12:49>

Hey sweetheart! We´re at town, would be okay if we came to yours for a bit?  

<12:50>

To talk of course 😉

Your cheeks immediately turn to a shade of pink. The heat makes you take off your hoodie, but it does not help at all, you stand up and start to walk around the messy room, dodging everything that lies on the floor. Looking back at the phone, your fingers quickly type your agreement.

They did not ghost me, nice.  

Your phone buzzes one more time.

Natasha🔥

<12:55>

20 minutes and we will be there! xx

You look around and a sigh of relief escapes your mouth. Typing quick “okay” as a reply must be enough, your brain can't type more than that as you're already smiling. Only happy thoughts in your head, the two gorgeous women are actually sent from heaven. Sitting back on the couch did not last long, you got back up as you noticed that the mess was still everywhere, and you had 20 minutes to clean it.

Shit.

You cursed yourself for being gay mess, literally. Being the clumsy you, it took you seven slip ups on your own clothes and three times spilling the same coffee cup to understand that you have zero chance of cleaning this in time.  

Okay, come (Y/N), you’ve got this.

You look at the floor where the spilled coffee is slowly rolling to you.

Maybe I don’t.  

The more you look around the more you feel trapped, the chaos on the ground surrounds you. You don´t even know where most of the things came from. Papers and books are scattered across the coffee table, empty snack wrappers the floor, and a pile of laundry has found its way onto the couch as well as on the ground, chair and somehow even on the kitchen counter. Taking off your rings sounds like a good first step.

Sigh.

Determined, you grab an old towel and luckily you find a bucket, so you fill it with soapy water, ready to clean it all. As you kneel, you can't help but wince at the sticky sensation as your hands encounter the wet mess. You start scrubbing aggressively, hoping to remove every trace of the many accidents. But the coffee spill is just the beginning. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for the next task. You spot the papers first, and you quickly gather them up, trying to sort them into some order.

Burger king coupon? Where did i even get this?

You aim it from a distance, thinking you won't need to take the extra five steps to actually put it in the trashcan. Unexpectedly, your aim is much better than you thought it was possible. You grin with pride, quickly forgetting that you have work to do.

Okay, what´s next? Oh.

Rushing to the couch, you scoop up the pile of laundry, quickly folding and stacking them in a corner. It's not perfect, but it will have to do for now. Time ticks away, urging you to keep moving. The once cluttered floor now starts to regain its sense of space, giving you a glimmer of hope that you might finish in time.

But the clock continues to tick faster and faster, and there's still work to be done. You dart around the room, dusting off surfaces, straightening cushions, and rearranging misplaced items. Your hands move swiftly, almost instinctively, as you strive to restore order to your living room.

It doesn't look that bad. It looks like my old apartment... kinda-ish.

It's not perfect, but it's significantly improved. The spilled coffee has faded, the papers are neatly stacked, and the floor is no longer a minefield of wrappers and clothes. You take a moment to catch your breath, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Quickly running to the bathroom, you take the first perfume and spray it in the living room. Breathing faster than you should you start coughing at the way too sweet perfume hitting your nose.

With only moments to spare, you make a final sprint to the front door, checking your appearance in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself for your angel's arrival, hoping that they will see it as a normal apartment, despite the recent chaos that had occupied you and your living room.

Ding ding.

Oh my god, they are here! Okay, it´s happening. Everybody stay calm. Everybody stay calm down! Haha, office reference.

You giggle at your own thoughts as you peak at yourself one more time in the mirror, winking at yourself.

That was cringe.

You shake your head a little bit, trying to gain confidence you once definitely had somewhere. Quickly opening the door was one way ticket to gay panic once again. Your heart skips a beat as you take in their presence. Natasha, with her confident stance and piercing gaze, smiles as you open the door.  

Beside her stands Wanda, radiating an otherworldly aura. Her expressive eyes hold a mixture of sweetness and authority at the same time.

Speechless for a moment, you find yourself in the presence of two ladies who probably have the superpower of looking heavenly in any circumstances. The gravity of their presence fills the room, and you can't help but feel hotter than from the world record cleaning you did just a minutes ago.

“Hello, pretty girl.” red head said.

“Hi! Hello, welcome!” You move to the side so they both can enter your apartment.

Welcome? What am I? A bellboy or something?

Closing the door, you let out a big sigh, trying to get your brain cells together to work as a team.

They both walk in, looking around the place you're living in. Trying to take small details about you, Wanda immediately looks at the pictures you have on the wall. Bunch of meaningfull and meaningless pictures together.

“Aww you look very cute here, is this your dog?” Wanda asks with a wide smile as she turns to look at you for a second and then she looks back on the pictures.

“Uh no, that was... Uh my friend´s dog.” You stutter a little bit, that caused Natasha to look at you straight away.

“Friend´s?” She comes closer to you. “I don’t like lying, sweetheart, do you love?” She tilts her head, and her beautiful eyes look at her girlfriend.  

“Nope.” Wanda smirks already knowing what´s about to come, but still pays more attention to the pictures.

Natasha's eyes meet yours, her gaze steady and observant. Swallowing hard was another indicator for the older woman that you're not telling the whole truth.

“Technically it´s not a lie.” Your eyes squint a little bit.

Hearing Wanda let out a very adorable chuckle didn’t help you at all. But you don’t dare to look at her, you're still fixated on Natasha, who is watching you like a mother who is waiting for your explanation after being at a parent - teacher meeting.

“But practically we were uh more than friends...” you squint your eyes even more, biting the inside of your cheek as a replacement of fidgeting with your rings as you took them off while you were cleaning.  

“You were?” She was playing with you, it was obvious, you knew it right away. Simply nodding wasn’t the answer here, but you suddenly lost your voice. It was like she caught it and with her big, muscular fist and didn’t plan on letting go any time soon.  

You clear your throat, hoping it would give you few milliseconds to think of an answer.

“That´s why the picture is ripped. He was uh also there, but I cut him off. I love his dog thought.” You try to laugh it off, but Natasha maintains the same face expression. “I call it my straight era.” another joke that actually worked this time. 

All of you laughed at that statement.

Bingo. Mrs. Joker is back in the game. Oh gosh. Cringe, extra cringe. Calm down. Please and thank you.

“We all had that era.” Natasha added, while Wanda came back and nodded.

“I get it though, that dog is very cute.” she chuckled.

You smile at Wanda but hearing Natasha´s comment made you turn back to her.

“Oh, you did? Tell me more!” You smirked looking at Natasha, hoping she will tell you something about her “straight era”. “Pretty please!”  

“Aw you have such a nice manners, darling. Okay, alright.” Natasha giggles. Wanda was already sitting down as she almost broke your arm dragging you with her as well. She pulled you towards her, so you were sitting on her lap.

“Oh... um I-” you blushed already feeling the warm feeling in your stomach.

“We need to train this a little, baby, you're just sitting in my lap now, can you imagine other things? You would explode.” Wanda winked at you, wrapping her hand around you, squeezing you a little tighter. As Natasha finally sits next to you on the couch, watching your interaction with Wanda.

After two hours of talking from your first boyfriends to your favorite episode of Scooby-Doo, you figure out both of them are not so different from you. Maybe Natasha owning a big motorcycle company and Wanda owning architectural corporation makes them richer than you, but besides that. You three are pretty similar. You have lots of things in common, reading, watching movies and shows, cooking, going on walks, cuddling.  

Wanda and you were having the longest conversation about why Emily Dickinson is the best poet, while Natasha only knew she was very fruity and wrote a poetry, but she was admiring how you and her girlfriend were understanding each other so effortlessly without speaking like a normal human being. When the new topic finally came in, Natasha took the lead and asked you a bunch of questions about your favorite music. When she showed her playlist, you had to let out a big laugh.

“Taylor Swift, really?” you look at her, while you shift at Wandas lap to get a better look at her playlist.

“What? I don’t look like a Swiftie?” She acted like she was hurt by your words.

“Uh, no?” you laugh even more. “You look like a Nirvana kind of guy, Blink 182, Pink Floyd, but not a Swiftie, no.” you admit.

“When we started seeing each other I told her I like Taylor Swift, since then she is listening to her non-stop.” Wanda explained.

“See? That makes sense. Wanda...” you nod towards her “the ray of sunshine is a Swiftie and it make so much sense.”  

“So just because I wear black that means I can't listen to Taylor?” She fights playfully back.

“I didn’t say you can't, I just meant that you... a motorcycle company owner who wears leather even as a pj´s won't just play Shake It Off in her shop.” you try to make your point.

“True. Because I think Shake It Off is a song that gets too much credit, just because it´s a simple pop. But something like Eyes open or Better Than Revenge would be great to play in there.” she smiles “Also I don’t think people would mind if I played anything like Lover, because sometimes you much rather hear a song that speaks to you, other than something that just sounds okay and has a lots of drums in it.” she finishes you off.

You don’t say anything at all, you just nod.

“It was your game and you still lost, baby.” Wanda teases you a bit.

“Okay, fine. Fair points, you won.” Even though you don’t want to, you admit it.

“Like I always do.” She moves closer and kisses your cheek.

You tense in Wanda´s arms.

“Relax, detka. We got you.” Wanda whispers in your ear, slowly moving her hands to your stomach as Natasha comes closer to you.

“Yeah, (Y/N). Relax, baby.” Natasha finally connects your lips together as she makes your mind empty. The gentle pressure of her lips against yours sparks a surge of warmth. Her touch evokes a tingly sensation that makes your heart skip a beat. The warmth and softness of her touch imprint upon your senses, etching a memory that you know will linger long after the kiss is over. But for now, her lips are in the perfect place, on yours. If this wasn’t enough, you feel other lips on your neck. As Wanda´s lips trail along your neck, a shiver dances down your spine, electrifying every inch of your being. The gentle press and release of the younger woman kisses unleash pleasure and vulnerability at the same time, leaving a mark, both physical and emotional on your neck. 

Your brain is now overtaken by these two goddesses, leaving it empty as the first time you saw them.

That empty you don’t even realize that they didn’t need you to text them your address to find out where you live.

an2: let me know your thoughts on this and what should happen next! If i didn´t tag you, let me know as well and i´ll add you!!

taglist: @arualdcg​ @beholdagaywriter​ @snowdrop1026​ @itsdoni@newawakening9​ @aliherreraaa @zzswiftyzz​ @lesbiantothemoonandback​

[ladymacbeths]

macbeth related posts/articles/essays masterlist

hi! here's a list of almost every single anaysis Thing I've come across in like two months of being insane about the scottish play. Most are about lady macbeth/the gender theme btw.

‘He has no children’: The centring of grief in The Show Must Go Online’s Macbeth - Gemma Allred: on the misogyny that frequently surrounds conversations around Lady Macbeth

this post by @amillionmillionvoices: Same topic as the previous one, but goes more in depth, explains ladymac’s motivations as mostly coming from love not self-serving ambition.

this post by @dukeofbookingham: also explains the prior point very prettily— that ladymac is (mostly) motivated by love, but also makes the case that many of it is guilt born from not fulfilling societal expectations

On the character of Lady Macbeth - Dr. Emil Pfundheler: paper that explains the same point made in the previous post, using the text to explain. Written in 1873 so explains gender as a dichotomy, but once you take that out, its points are very good.

Characteristics of women: moral, political, and historical - Anna Jameson: aka Why Lady Macbeth is not inherently evil— same topic and the other two, but focuses a bit on the fact that she is A Woman. Not my favorite, but worth reading I suppose. Also includes analyses of many female Shakespeare characters. It does include some very bad history in the beginning— Gruoch did not orchestrate Duncan’s murder. That’s something Hector Boece made up.

Lady Macbeth: “Infirm of purpose” (from The Woman’s Part: Feminist Criticism of Shakespeare) - Joan Larsen Klein: on how she both fits and doesn’t fit the idea of a reinassance wife— doesn’t fit because she isn’t aligned to god (this read more like a Christian analysis than a feminist one if I’m being honest), but fits them because she behaves like one, only subverts them because she’s like, the evil murder girl version of the Wife. The essay right after this one is also very good.

The Hysteria of Lady Macbeth: required reading if you wanna play her Btw not kidding. Analyzes her character thru the lens of freudian psychology. Screws up the text of the play a bit but provides an actual in-depth explanation of how sonnambulism works. Note that "hysteria" is not a current psychological diagnosis, but a symptom of other conditions. Still extremely interesting.

The Macbeths - G. K. Chesterton: analysis of their relationship, makes some interesting point on the differences of the nature of their ambition and desire to kill the king

Shakespeare’s tragic frontier; the world of his final tragedies - Willard Farnham: this one is long but oh boy does it go deep. Talks about the lore of the witches, explains historical context to find out how the real events were so screwed up, makes an interesting point about Macbeth’s conscience against Lady Macbeth’s, and lastly talks about the tragic world of Macbeth compared to other tragedies.

Women’s fantasy of manhood: a Shakespearean theme - D. W. Harding: exactly what it says on the tin, using ladymac and her skewed (and I’d call romanticized) idea of what a man is that she pushes on Macbeth. So yeah, talks about the gender theme. Also talks about Goneril from Lear, Cleopatra, and Volumnia from Coriolanus and how they fit the theme— although ladymac is the only one who goes downhill from it.

Unnatural women in William Shakespeare’s Macbeth - Elizabeth Klett: I’ll be honest I didn’t love this one a lot. Basically talks about how every woman in Macbeth defies gender roles. Doesn’t go too deep however. But the book has a ton of essays analyzing female characters in classic lit.

[sweetbillwriting]

The Key To His Heart - I

Description: As a hard-working novelist and single dad, Bill hasn't had much time for dating but gets an unorthodox chance to meet women when his friend persuades him to be a part of a dating TV show. 

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård, where his life changes in 2013 and later 2019. 

Setting: L.A, 2024, but in an alternative universe with Bill having a completely different life.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes. 

Notes: I changed the title of this story! This is just a fun story; please don't overanalyze too much haha. Here is the teaser.

Bill would never confess how much he missed a woman in his life. He wasn't the type to talk loudly about his feelings with friends or family, so instead he carried the loneliness by himself. He did everything by himself and even for his daughters because he wasn't just a separated dad; he was a widower. He didn't have anyone else to parent with, but he didn't have anyone to be a man with either. He needed a woman in his life that could lift him up, share the good and the bad with, and snuggle up with at night. He was ready now, ready to let a woman into his and his daughters' lives, but he felt it would be hard, he had already had a big love.

He stood in front of a full-length mirror in his walk-in-closet. His bedroom had it when he moved into the mansion, but he didn't have enough clothes to fill it, so more than half of the shelves were full of books and movies instead. He wore a dark blue suit with a light luster in it, paired with a crisp white tee. His hair was combed messily back and to the side.

Bill knew he was handsome. He was tall, had an athletic build, and features that fit a high couture model. He rarely felt self-conscious about his looks; instead, it was his way of being that could make him doubt himself. He was a thinker, and because of it, he was not always fully present within the presence he actually was in. He got nervous in the spotlight and could be so goal-oriented he could sometimes stomp on others feelings, never on purpose; he just liked honesty and open communication, but not everyone could handle his ways. He was not a charming prince. He didn't have American charm and timing, he had Swedish awkwardness and ironic humor. Why he would participate in a dating program on TV confused him more than the people surrounding him, but his friend, Herman, had persuaded him it was a great idea that he could bring something new to the format. Similar programs had been made for years, but it had more or less been men shaped in the same mold.

Herman sat behind Bill on a bench with an emerald green velvet cushion and agreeably nodded towards Bill.

“You look great, man,” he said, and stood up from the bench. He cleared his throat to stress Bill a bit; both of them knew twelve women were waiting on him downstairs along with a film team. Bill swallowed hard; his chest even pained with nerves, and for some seconds he thought about refusing to go down. It all was so silly, and that twelve women would want to date him felt impossible; they would leave the first week when they realized he was a workaholic just thinking about his daughters and new projects. He had never dated, he didn't really know how you did it, and he didn't have female friends; he wasn't such a man twelve women would fight about.

“Time to meet the chicks,” said Herman playfully. He was a producer for the program, and it was important for him that Bill performed. Bill nodded and laughed nervously before going to the stairs. He could see how the cameraman, behind the camera pointed towards the stairs, started to film. He took a deep breath before walking down the broad staircase with a straight back and a hand in his pants pocket.

It started now, the adventure. He looked out over the sea of women standing by the end of the stairs, waiting for him; most of them were dressed in cocktail dresses and heels. They applauded when they saw him, and he smiled, embarrassed, looking away so they could see the deep dimple in his cheek. He could hear some giggles of endearment of seeing him blush lightly. A servant came up to him with a silver tray holding champagne flutes. He gave the glass a displeased look. It wasn't the glass he had said they would use. Champagne shouldn't be served in flutes, but he still gave the server a small smile before taking a glass.

“Ehm, Yeah, welcome to my place. I hope you will feel at home. I look forward to getting to know all of you. Cheers!”

He wondered if he sounded awkward, like a nervous teenage boy, but he could see Herman behind the girls smiling pleased. The girls lifted their glasses and cheered with him. Bill smiled wide at them because they actually looked at him like he was extraordinary, and some of the girls were so fine he could feel his heart beating with attraction. This would be interesting.

×××

It was not as bad, as he had thought it would be being the center of attention of twelve beautiful women. It was a cocktail party with just him, the women, and of course the camera team, but they kept their distance even if he knew they captured everything on tape. Wherever he was, the women looked at him, even if they talked to each other. It was strange, but he also felt himself grow a few inches. He talked lightly with some of the girls, but there were a bit too many impressions to take everything in. He was talking to two women about their hometowns when suddenly someone took his hand and pulled him out on the deck surrounding that part of the house. It was a woman with long raven hair and golden eyeshadow. She was probably some years older than himself.

“Maria,” she said confidently and stretched out her hand to him. Bill smiled, impressed by her self esteem, and shook her hand.

“Bill.” She laughed softly and nodded.

“I know that.”

“You do?” Bill said playfully and took a sip of the old-fashioned drink in his hand.

“Mhm, you know, you might be the reason I'm here.”

“Oh yeah?”

There was a flirty vibe between them at once, and Bill really liked it.

“Yeah…” She gave him a teasing smile before changing the subject. I'm a writer too.”

“Oh? What do you write?”

“I write for teens, like teen noir.”

Bill nodded; he had heard about the genre but couldn't really say what it was, and at that moment he didn't feel he needed an explanation.

“I guess I haven't read anything by you then.”

Maria shrugged her shoulders as a joke, and Bill smiled.

“I think we could be a fantastic team…” Her voice was low and she looked at him with big eyes. She was no longer as flirty; she looked more at him like she already had a crush, and Bill felt the nerves go up at once.

“Yeah, yeah…” He drank up his drink. “Time to find a new drink,” he said, and he showed her his empty glass. Her soft eyes became a bit much for him, but he also knew his assignment for the night was to talk with the women, as many as possible.

×××

“Violet,” she said with a giggle. She looked like that girl he would call an American “girl next door." They stood by the bar the production had put up in the living room while he waited on his Negroni, and she just had gotten her Cosmopolitan. She looked really young, and he was right.

“I'm 22. That's not a problem, right? You felt so open in that interview.”

“No, no… But I should be honest and say I've never dated someone so much younger than me.”

He gave her a quick glance. Her legs were long and golden and looked so smooth.

“I'm mature for my age. I have my own company, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” He said interested but started to imagine it was something silly, like selling unicorn keyrings.

“Yeah, I sell environmentally friendly plastic products to hospitals, like gloves and mugs, and so on.”

Bill looked at her, surprised. It wasn't what he expected from a 22-year-old.

“That's, that's impressive.” He smiled at her and she giggled proudly.

“Yeah, it actually works really well.”

“When did you start it?”

“Two years ago. I studied to be a nurse but saw how many plastic products the hospital used and felt I wanted to make a change.”

Bill couldn't stop smiling because the more she talked, the more impressed he got.

“I think it's my turn now,” said a girl next to them. She was short, so he needed to drop his gaze. He looked at the girl's face for a few seconds, then wiped the corner of his mouth while swallowing hard. Wow. Wow. He had said Ana De Armas was beautiful in his interview, and here was her lookalike. He turned to Violet with a smile, trying to mask his feelings.

“Thank you for the conversation, Violet.” She smiled disappointedly and looked at the girl who had enough guts to lay her hand on his arm and steer him away from her and the other girls. She steered him to the hallway where no one was and stood a few steps up the stairs to be as tall as him but also have her arms around his neck. Bill had his drink in his hand, but he also felt it would be a bit much for him to feel the girl's midnight blue chiffon dress with his fingers.

“I read that you're a leo,” she said sensually, and Bill smirked in attraction. Her name was Camila, and she radiated sexiness in such a natural way.

“Yeah?”

“That's why all of us look at you like you're a god. We want to worship you, and you love it, right?”

Bill laughed and snapped his neck as an answer.

“And you deserve the attention. You're really ambitious, creative, and full of passion.”

He just stood and smirked, especially because she dragged her long nails through the hair on his neck, and he could feel it tickle all the way down to his cock.

“What's your sign?” He said and took a sip from his drink.

“Scorpio.” It didn't say Bill anything, but even that sounded sexy, so he licked his lips and gave her a pleased nod. His full attention was on the sensual brunette in front of him, so he didn't notice that two women walked by the hallway and looked at them. They were on the way to the bathroom, talking about his latest book, when they saw Camila standing with her arms around Bill's neck. The redhead, Sandra, looked at them with big eyes while Maria looked away.

“So typical it's her he stands like that with...” said Sandra, and rolled her eyes. Maria didn't say anything but looked at Bill disappointedly.

×××

Bill saw a pair of eyes behind a camera that stared at him. It was Herman who, with a head movement, told him it was time to go to the next woman. Bill didn't feel the need though; he liked being worshiped under Camila’s gaze.

“Ehm, hm, I must give the other women my attention now…” he said. The sigh was close. He wanted to stay there.

“Do you?” She said it teasingly and dragged her hands over his shoulders. Bill nodded a little with a strained smile. “But thank you for your time.”

Camila released him slowly and turned on her heel. Bill looked her up and down while they both walked up the short stairs to the rest of the big hallway. Maybe he already knew who he would choose in the end.

While walking into the living room, several of the girls smiled at him to allure him to talk to just them, but Herman, behind a camera, nodded Bill towards a bleached bottle blonde by the fireplace. She looked like his own age, but not at all his type. Her dress was strapless and made of burgundy faux leather.

“What's your name?” He asked her kindly while she played with her bleached hair.

“Victoria,” she said with a sweet smile. Her voice was soft as silk and nothing he had expected. “We have actually met before.”

“Have we?” Bill furrowed his brows but also felt stupid that he didn't remember her. Victoria smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“My dad owns a bookstore close to Central Park, and you were there to sign some books... I understand you don't remember me; it was a long time ago, and I had another hair color.” Bill nodded, trying to remember her or even the bookstore, but he couldn't find anything in his head. He did so many signings, especially in New York, so he couldn't remember.

“What hair color did you have then?”

“Light brown, sort of, the boring kind.”

“Like me?” Bill quipped with a smirk.

“What? No, no. Yours is much more chocolate; I was just… Like a rat.” He smiled amused and took a sip of his drink.

“What do you work with?”

“Ehm, I actually work at the bookstore. It's fun because my dad lets me try all kinds of business.” Bill didn't want to be the person judging her for her work, but standing behind a counter in a store felt really uninspiring. He was himself super ambitious and wanted a woman with similar attributes.

“I'm sorry, Victoria, but it's time for me to give the other women a chance.” Victoria nodded.

“Of course, of course.”

But Bill didn't go speak with another girl; instead, the team led him to an armchair between the plants out in the orangery. He knew why they wanted him there; it was time for him to receive questions about the girls that they would edit so it would seem like it was his own thoughts. It would be cut into the show so the viewer could follow his feelings and thoughts.

“Camila is something else… I can't deny I already like her,” he said with a smirk and dragged his hand over his thighs. “I like Maria too; I think she might be intelligent, and we would have much in common. Violet is impressive for her age…” Bill got lost in his own thoughts, thinking about the girls, but mostly Camila.

“What about Victoria?” Asked Herman. Bill knew the viewer wouldn't hear the question, so he must answer it like it was his own words.

“It doesn't feel like Victoria and I have so much in common.”

Bill nodded to himself but then realized he didn't know a thing about Camila but still had her as a favorite. Was he just shallow?

Bill was questioned on whether he believed his soulmate was there. He wasn't really that sappy, talking about soulmates, but he knew what was expected of him.

“I think my soulmate can be here; I look forward to getting to know them all.”

×××

Two girls with similar looks stood and looked up the big stairway leading up to the second floor, where they didn't have permission to be. By the first look, it looked like the brunettes looked at it dreamily, imagining themselves walking up the stairs with Bill, but it wasn't what they looked at. On the wall by the stairs was a big family portrait. Bill looked skinnier with a young girl in his lap; next to him sat a woman with dark blonde hair, heavily pregnant. The couple looked at each other with small, loving smiles while the child smiled big at the photographer. The girls look at Bill's wedding band, then at the woman's big diamond on her finger.

“Isn't it a little bit strange he let it hang there? I mean, it is his ex,” said Julie.

“It's not his ex; it's his late wife. His daughters’ mom,” said Esmeralda lowly and gave Julie an annoyed look.

"Yeah, but couldn't he have taken it down for now? It feels like he’s picking a mistress when she's up there.”

Esmeralda didn't say anything, just crossed her arms and shook her head. Just then they heard footsteps from the top of the stairs, and they both looked up, seeing Bill walking down with elegant loops. He smiled at them and wondered if they stood there waiting for him. He didn't notice how they were looking at the picture, he was so used to it hanging there he didn't really think about it.

“Hey?” He said and walked down to them. Julie blushed and smiled. She felt stupid for commenting on the portrait now when he stood in front of them and gave them a look a married man wouldn't. Esmeralda smiled a bit nervously but answered his hey with a hello.

“What were your names again? I'm sorry, there are so many names.”

They were the girls he had talked about their hometowns with. Both of them answered with sweet smiles, hoping they gave a better impression than the other.

“But both of you're models?”

He said, and looked at them up and down. It was just a reflex, their most important tool was their bodies, so it just went that way.

“Yeah, but with quite different things, I think? I do mostly lingerie shoots.”

Bill looked at her pretty face, trying not to look at her body. He wanted to imagine what she looked like under the black dress, but he didn't want to be that sort of pig and just smiled and nodded. Esmeralda didn't say anything and let Julie continue to talk.

“Are you interested in fashion? Maybe you have seen something with me then?”

Bill laughed uncomfortably and scratched his jaw.

“No… I'm dressed more or less the same way every day. I'm completely lost when it comes to fashion.”

He turned his gaze towards Esmeralda too, but she looked away. He got the feeling she might have lost interest in him all ready. Julie laughed and took a step closer to him, so she stood a bit in front of Esmeralda.

“I could help you with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

Bill smirked, and without thinking, he got that feeling he wanted to tease her.

“I think there’s a fashion designer here, isn't there?”

Julie looked at him a bit irritated and put the tip of her tongue against her top lip. It was unnecessary, and maybe she would take offense for real, but it has just come as an impulse to tease her a bit. It didn't seem like it was appreciated, though.

“Bill?”

He turned towards Herman's voice, who stood at the entrance to the big living room.

“Time to give the keys.”

×××

In a popular TV show, the man gave the girls roses as a symbol they could stay; Bill would give them the keys to his house. They were just symbolic keys because his manor had fingerprint locks on every door, but it looked nice that he gave them each a golden key. He thought it was silly; why couldn't he just say who got to stay?

“It's better TV,” said Herman, but Bill still thought it was silly. Oh well, he would just play along.

This time all the girls would get a key. It was only more than right because he hadn't even had time to talk with them all. It wouldn't be fair, not to himself either. He would call them up in order of his interest. The first being who he was most interested in, then continued down to the one he was least interested in. He looked at the girls standing in front of him expectantly, like he had their lives in his hands. He took a key in his hand, looked at its old style but in shiny gold, then up towards the girls.

Camila.

He smiled big when she walked up to him, feeling a tickling feeling in his lower belly, but when he looked behind her, he could see several girls looking at each other pointedly. He felt his throat dry up. He knew they thought he was predictable. Maybe they had even seen them in the hallway. He turned his gaze towards Camila again and smiled warmly at her. She didn't seem to notice the girls judging stares, and he wouldn't let her know about it. He gave her the key, and then she walked away to the side, being an audience to the rest of the ceremony.

Maria.

Julie.

Violet.

Odette.

Tiffany.

Sienna.

Sandra.

Rose.

Brigitte.

Victoria.

Esmeralda.

×××

The camera team also took some of the girls to the armchair in the orangery, one by one, to see what they were thinking about the man they would move in with. Bill pretended he didn't notice that it happened, but in reality he was completely aware of who they brought with them, and it stressed him a bit.

Rose: He's super handsome! But still cute with his big eyes.

Victoria: I don't know why he didn't think I made a good first impression. I don't know; he's hard to read.

Sienna: He seems sweet; maybe even a bit shy?

Camila: I think we have some sort of chemistry. It feels good.

×××

Bill stood in the closet again, but now dressed down to his boxers. He hung up the suit again and then stretched out his back so it cracked satisfyingly. It had been a long day with many impressions, and more would come. Twelve women lived under his roof, and it made him a bit nervous. Five of them lived in the mansion, while seven of them lived in the guest house on the property. Some of them shared a room, and he wondered if it might have started some drama between them. He wouldn't have liked sharing a room with a stranger either. He laid down on the bedroom floor and stretched out before starting to do his obligated pushups. It was especially important now because he couldn't sag up when they would film him every day. While doing his workout routine, he thought back on the women. Several of them had Hollywood good looks, but he wondered if they were more than that. He needed someone who could challenge him intellectually and who could inspire him. A pretty face would maybe be interesting for a few weeks, but in the long run, other things were more important. He thought about Camila. Sexy, sexy Camila. He hadn't even asked her about her profession or her age. He felt ashamed while thinking about it. 

Bill did his nightly routine but couldn't stop thinking about the girls’ looks behind Camila during the ceremony. They had judged him so hard. Sandra, Maria, and Esmeralda had looked at each other like he was a pig. Was he? He had never seen himself as shallow, but Camila was just too good to be true. While crawling down into bed, he instead thought about how nicely the dress had fallen over her curves and how erotic she looked when she licked her blushed lips. What did she wear under such a tight dress? It didn't look like she wore a bra, and he couldn't see a visible panty line. Did she wear underwear? If he had been so sneaky and let a hand move in under her dress, had his fingertips met a wet pussy? He would have petted it like it was the sweetest little kitten. 

Fuck, he was a pig. He looked down at his erection like it had betrayed him. It wasn’t starting well if he was already getting hung up on one of the girls. He needed to get to know Camila instead of just thinking filth. She would be his first evening date. He nodded to himself and looked up at the ceiling. 

She looked horny. She had wanted him. She was probably that sort of girl who loved sucking cock. She would deep throat him completely and look up at him with tears in her eyes while he hit the back of her throat over and over. 

Bill didn't feel ashamed when he pulled out his cock and dragged his hand over it harshly; he just thought about how he would have thrust his cock hard into her mouth and made her feel distress for a few seconds by the suffocated feeling. When he came over his stomach, he felt ashamed though and took a napkin out from his nightstand table and wiped his stomach, grossed out by himself. It wasn't okay that he sexualized her like this already. He needed to treat these women with respect and not reduce them into sex objects when he was alone. He could do better. He was better. 

×××

The alarm clock rang at 06.30, but Bill shut it off and turned to the other side. He had two more alarms, so he never listened to the first one. He wished he could just sleep until 11.00, but he hadn't been able to do that for five years. When the alarm clock rang again at 06.40, he turned it off, but sat up on the edge of the bed with a loud grunt. If he wanted to go out for a run, his chance was now. At nine, they would all meet for a shared breakfast, and he needed to take a shower before that and make himself presentable for the girls, but also the camera. 

Once again, he stared at himself in the full-length mirror. He flexed his stomach a little but felt so stupid that he looked around to see that no one was looking. It would be impossible, but still he felt watched. He flexed his stomach again. It looked good. Actually, really good. He had worked out hard before the show and would continue; he would not look like some tired old dad. 

After putting on his running gear, he walked down the stairs, but realized then he wasn't the only one up early. A blonde was just on the way out through the entrance door, but she turned around when she heard Bill's heavy steps behind her. Rose looked at him surprised. 

“I thought I was the only one up,” she said with a smile, even if the both of them could see the cameraman in a corner. 

“I thought the same. Are you always up this early?” Bill walked down to her. She was tiny, and he almost laughed when he realized their height difference. Her hair was long and golden, gathered in a high ponytail. She looked up at him, then laughed a little. 

“This height difference…” 

Bill laughed a little too. 

“Yeah…” He looked at her running gear and opened the door. 

“Do you want to run with me?” 

They ran in silence; often Bill ran a bit in front of her because he had such long legs and she couldn't keep up, but he waited for her before running around a corner. 

“Problem keeping up?” he said teasingly.

“Fuck you! It's because you have legs like a damn giraffe!” She laughed when she came up to him. They stood panting together by a little park while Bill smirked at the blonde. 

“Would you just have guessed your way if you were out alone, or do you have a GPS?" He looked at her wrists but couldn't see a watch.

“I just guess. I don't like running with all this technical equipment. I just want to run. Like Phoebe in Friends, you know?” She joked and corrected the high ponytail. Bill made an amused nod. “I always find my way home; that's my talent.” 

“Even to my home?” 

“It's my home too right now.” 

They looked at each other with big smiles for a few seconds before running back to the house together. 

“I can help you stretch if you want?” said Rose when they stood outside of the manor. “I don't mean that in such a suggestive way as it sounded like. I'm a personal trainer,” she said with an embarrassed laugh and looked down at her running shoes. 

“Sure, okay,” said Bill, and he led her to the side of the house where they could be on the deck. He looked at her a little amused because of her size, but when she started to stretch out his muscles, he realized there was more power in her than it looks like. 

“Do you have problems with your left shoulder?” She asked and dragged her hands over his broad shoulders when he sat on the floor in front of her. 

“Yeah, I got it in a mountain bike accident, actually. I wasn't as great as I thought I would be.” He looked up at her with big eyes but was forced to squint because she stood close to the morning sun. She was beautiful like that—rosy cheeked and healthy-looking. She didn't wear any makeup. 

“You must take care of yourself,” she said sweetly. And massaged his shoulders lightly. Bill nodded and looked down at his bare knees, where he could see the scars laying on top of each other. Taking care of himself was not his specialty. 

“I should go and shower... So I don't smell like sweat all day,” giggled Rose and made Bill stand up, towering over her again. 

“I think you smell great.” He smiled kindly; it wasn't even flirty, just his thoughts. Rose looked away a little embarrassed, and it made Bill feel a bit confident, so when she was about to walk away, he took her hand in his and pulled her into a soft hug against his warm chest. Rose giggled and looked up at him, still pressed against his chest. 

“I didn't think about how sweaty I am.” He laughed, embarrassed, and released her. 

“No worries, I like it,” she said with a flirty smile before walking through the house to the entrance door. Bill stood and looked out over the lawn for a while with a small smile. He thought he probably would need just a few minutes of alone time before meeting all of the women again; what he didn't know was that several of them were already awake and planned how to get some time alone with him. One of them even stood by the window watching him when he thought he had some privacy.

×

The girls: 

Maria: Writer, 38. 

Violet: Entrepreneur, 22. 

Camila: Engineer, 31. 

Victoria: Shop assistant, 34. 

Sandra: Fashion designer, 36. 

Julie: Model, 25. 

Esmeralda: Model, 27. 

Rose: Personal trainer, 22.

Odette: Pediatrician, 33. 

Tiffany: Actress, 30. 

Sienna: Painter, 28. 

Brigitte: Chef, 29. 

×

[nonbinarytoast]

Nooooooooooo my entire speech for speech and debate isn’t under the cut………….. tumblr doesn’t need a ten minute rant about Greek mythology and culture…………….. they don’t want to talk about how modern reinterpretations are slowly destroying the original myths just like early Christian’s did………………….

When I was a kid, I went to my schools yearly scholastic book fare. And I found something.

I found a little book called Percy Jackson and the olympians. And that book consumed my life from 8 to 14. I’m 14 years old.

Now if you’ve never heard of Percy Jackson you don’t know what that means, but reading Percy Jackson is a slippery slope. First you read the first book. Then you read the first series. Then you’re reading the next two series. Then suddenly you’re watching a five hour video essay on how Ares got stuck in a box and how that solidified Artemis’s aromanticism.

Now, I love this. I love Greek mythology! But then, after reading countless Wikipedia pages, and watching countless informational YouTube videos, I found one of the scariest things I’ve ever encountered.

Modern re-interpretations!

All of a sudden, the stories I loved were completely different! Persephone was a radical feminist with an abusive mom, Hera was the mother of all of Zeus’s children, and Hades was a bad person just because he ruled over the dead. It scared me. It scared me to think of what happened to this beautiful myth of of beautiful stories just because the original meaning didn’t line up with our ideologies! So, with this speech, I hope to be able to tell you all that Greek mythology, however disgusting or vile to us, is a picture of history that does not deserve to be painted over and destroyed.

Before we even start on Greek mythology we have to start on Greek culture. Mainly, the relationships between family members.

The Greeks referred to the basic family unit in their culture as oikos. This word encompassed not only the people but also the house and the surrounding land. This little bit of vocabulary actually tells us a lot. Places and old family ties were very important to the Greeks, important enough to refer to a family not as the people in it but as the household itself. This is why so many myths make a big show of where someone is in reference to something else, because the Greeks liked to have that persons background. This was not only essential to the Greeks understanding of personal identity but also societal role. If you lived in a poor neighborhood, you were poor. If you lived with your family, you were a part of your family no matter what.

Then, there was the patriarchy in Greece, which was actually decently progressive given the time period. While the eldest man in the house was expected to show up for civic duties and keep society running, the women would take care of children and do household chores. However, in the event of the patriarchs absence, then the eldest woman would start doing the finances and making public appearances. While the Greeks did treat women better than most other cultures of the time, they still felt that women should be overshadowed by men. The Greeks saw women as a smart and talented, even good at fighting and capable of making their own decisions (which was not then common and still isn’t now). But with all of that, they still felt that women were more smart, decision making, talented, battle worthy objects. Not people.

Another thing about Greek culture is that weddings were very important. While most had arranged marriages, almost no spouses hated one another, as the marriages were built on getting more political power and finances. Because if this, often the two getting married had a mutual respect for each other and carefully evaded quarrels that could turn into a sad life for them both and their children. All of this is important to the next thing we’ll talk about, common themes.

Many myths share attributes and common themes, making the gods less like Gods and more like characters. When a god says or does something so many times it becomes a character attribute, and when you get enough character attributes whatever you were seeing can be classified not as a god, but as a character.

If we see Zeus as a character instead of a god, we see that he is a serial cheater and rapist. Accounts vary, but overall most think that Zeus had around 92 children. And, the make it even worse, only 41 of those children are gods. All the rest are with assorted mortal women, most of whom weren’t willing to carry his child. And out of that 41, only 4 are actually his wife’s kids! All the rest are just with other random goddesses, most of whom, yet again, were not totally willing to carry his child. Almost all Greek myths start with not the story of the hero, but the story of the hero’s mother getting impregnated by Zeus.

The next common theme is the laws of hospitality. Something always comes up with the laws of hospitality, and they really aren’t that hard. They referred to these laws as Xenia, a word directly translated to mean “friendship with guests” and all you had do to follow it was treat people kindly. The host had to provide food, clothing, and whatever else the guest needed, and in return the guest had to be courteous, kind, and respectful of the hosts wishes.

That doesn’t sound so hard does it? Well, you’d be wrong. A few instances of this are, say Tantalus who technically did feed his guests, but fed them his own son. And although it doesn’t say it, the meal you have to provide your guests shouldn’t be human. Then there’s a bad guest, Erysichthon, who killed a sacred tree while in one of Demeter’s groves, and was then cursed to be so hungry he eventually ate himself; which was a perfectly sound punishment for disobeying the laws of hospitality.

Now, during those last few sections, you’ve probably felt uncomfortable at least once. Whether it was the misogynistic views, or Zeus, king of the gods being a serial rapist, or the gods having so much wrath for so little a crime. And you should be uncomfortable. You should feel weird that I call Greek mythology beautiful while there’s all this disgusting stuff in it. But like I said. The gods are characters.

To the Greeks, the gods did play an important role in their society, but not the same role as most gods now do. Let’s take a look at Christianity, for example. Christians see God as an all powerful, perfect being, who sent his son down to us so that we could ascend to heaven. Then theres Buddhism, which is not the belief in God or Gods but more a belief in enlightenment knowledge and philosophy. Now, these religions are almost entirely different but there is one key similarity. Their god or beliefs, are always good. Christians see God as a perfect being and Buddhists see these teachings and enlightenment as the best thing someone can follow or do, but that’s not the case for the Greeks. The Greeks didn’t see their gods as perfect. They saw them as people. Powerful, insane people who lived up in the clouds and drove the sun across the sky, but people nonetheless. The Greek gods were not made to teach people how to be better. The Greeks knew how to be good. The god were there to warn them. To say “if you don’t take in a kind stranger that kind stranger can turn you to ash”. They existed not to be perfect, but to warn people of what could happen to them. And yes, the Greeks believed they were real, but all of the prayers and tributes didn’t get written down because there was no need. Only the myth got written down. Stories of great kings who never even existed, born to tell a tale and teach a lesson.

And that is why modern reinterpretations cannot be true to the original stories. We can’t think how the Greeks thought. We think “surely they must’ve meant for the god of death to be bad” but they didn’t. We think “the king of the gods would never do that” but he did. And we change those stories. Because we’ve already changed them far too much.

During the 9th century non-native cults, Christian’s, and other religious groups started invading the Mediterranean Sea and other Greek lands. Slowly but surely, the ancient Greeks culture started to get lost in battle with these new and exciting religions. The Greeks also had a descentralizar belief system, where every city-state that made up what we call Ancient Greece had a slightly different set of beliefs. While most major gods and stories existed throughout Greece the stories changed ever so slightly, and sometimes the city-states would have their own myths entirely. This meant that when a city-state was taken over by a new religion, part of, or even entire myths were lost. There was no reason to keep them around anymore.

Then it was only a matter of time until Rome came along and destroyed everything the Greeks ever knew. And now we’re here. Historians picking up murals and carvings on cave walls trying to make sense of it all. But not all of us are historians.

Some of us keep destroying it. Some of us need these beautiful stories of hero’s and gods to fit our personal ideologies so badly that we’re willing to spread misinformation just to get people to agree. So here’s a little more information that you’ll want to go home with.

Persephone did not choose to go to the underworld.

Hades is not and never was a satan figure.

Artemis never fell in love with Orion.

Hera hated Heracles so much she killed his wife and kids and then forced him to go to court and do 12 trials to pay for her crime, AND his name is Heracles not Hercules so SCREW YOU DISNEY!

And finally. We don’t know everything. Many parts of greek myths are still a mystery. But we don’t have to make them more of a mystery. And if we do, we can at least be informed that we don’t have the full picture.

[faxxmachine]

This is not a book review of A Little Life

So I read A Little Life and while I was gripped, I did not love it and the further away I get from reading, the more annoyed I about a few narrative choices. Some of them are what everyone else feels pissed off about but I have two that I keep coming back to that just seem so fucking unlikely to me: spoilers ahead.

Annoyed by the lack of women characters that were anything other than accessories, even Julia who was just kinda there. Not because I think Jude would be saved by women's inherent trauma-healing abilities or something, but because it's just really fucking unlikely? Also unlikely that no one he knew was also a survivor of some form of abuse and might have had a flicker of recognition, might have said something to him or to his friends?

Harold's narrative at the end in which he lists off the litany of people who died. Really pissed about Andy and Richard especially. Felt very cheap.

The embolism was so dumb. Just straight stupid. Difficult and unreliable besides being absurd.

I'm not annoyed as much as some about the insane wealth aspect. Jude worked really hard on his isolation and for this story to work he had to have the means to shape his life into a kind of bespoke safe space so he very rarely had to do things he did not want to do including Talk About It (until not talking about it got in the way of keeping Willem and even then it was not to help himself but to manipulate).

Ok, so. The two things: hearing survivor stories and the law.

Everyone was trying so hard to get Jude to talk to a therapist. Did anyone think that maybe what he needed was to listen to someone else? Is the point supposed to be that Willem is such a dunce that he did not consider doing some reading and maybe sharing what he's read? Did neither of them ever consume media of any kind because CSA and its effects on survivors is, while not exactly everywhere, it is very much out there and kind of difficult to avoid in the west. Fairly sure Willem might have done a film or a play? A NYT bestselling book everyone read? Representations on this theme in art shows? In music? In the news and in documentaries? There's no way Jude's bubble was that airtight. There's no way Andy was not talking to his own therapist about Jude, about his refusal to talk, or about how to get through to a stubborn self-destroyer such as he.

Jude did not Talk About It in a therapeutic sense at any point and that's emphasised as a thing that he regrets, that he feels he should have done so with Ana or around then, and that he thinks it is too late now. But I find it very difficult to believe he could have gone 50 years of his life without hearing, even incidentally, from other survivors of CSA. The sense that he was singular in his experience, that he was somehow meant for the abuse, that the cause of it was some inherent thing about his own person is common among survivors. It is also horseshit and easy to disprove with examples. It's also something I felt I wanted to confront him with myself when he was defending his refusals: do you think other children who have suffered similar also deserved it? Do you think they were not told they were made for it? Do you think CSA is that rare? Do you have a theory of mind for the perpetrators and a notion that they chose to hurt a child, and that it is wrong to do so (yes, even you)?

Also, he studied law. He did not specialise in criminal law (or seem remotely interested in it) but can someone studying law actually avoid learning about laws surrounding CSA almost completely? No triggers for him there? No thoughts on justice regarding other children? No pause in his self-flagellation to consider for one moment that maybe he is not to blame but the perpetrators? No? Just never came up anywhere?

????????

Anyway, it was beautifully written in places and I enjoyed the tender odes to love, life, family and friendship.

[musings-of-a-rose]

The Detective and The Thief

Pairing: Detective Tim Rockford x The Thief x f! reader

Word Count: 4300+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I don’t know. I saw the commercial and thought things. Thanks to @vanemando15 for help! I’m not beta’ing this so please excuse any typos.

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Tim Rockford Masterlist

The Thief Masterlist

5 years ago…

I’m bored. Surrounded by the finest things money can buy, but I feel alone. My parents always bought me everything I ever desired, and a lot I didn’t. I think it was their way of compensating for the lack of time the spent with me. 

That didn’t stop them from trying to marry me off as soon as possible. 

The second I started to bleed, they started planning, trying to “connect” our family with some other ones just as rich. They couldn’t do it legally until I became of age, but that didn’t stop them from trying to force a connection. 

But I hated all of them. Every. Single. One. 

My parents are at their wits end with me. The time I do see them is spent with them lecturing me about how I’m now 24 and unmarried, how I need to marry this heir or that one for the “good of the family”. 

But they’re all the same, boring and mind numbingly stupid. There’s no way I was going to waste my life being arm candy for some heir who couldn’t hold a basic conversation with me. 

If they weren’t boring, they were mean, saying women were meant to be seen and not heard. Well, I made sure they heard me. 

My parents were out at some weekend event, leaving me alone in this giant mansion. The staff had mostly gone home or retired to their quarters, aside from security, leaving the house feeling empty. I’m feeling bored, deciding to head to the library on the floor below to attempt to find a book I haven’t read already. I pull on my silk robe over my nightgown, sliding my feet into some soft slippers as I make my way out of my room. 

It’s about halfway down the stairs when I realize I’m not alone in the house. 

A shadow moves down the hall, pausing at the door to my parent’s art gallery. Straining, I just barely can make out the small clicks of the lock being picked before the door silently opens, the dark shadow moving inside. I should run, yell for security, but something compels me forward. 

Quietly, I make my way to the gallery, pausing at the door to listen for any signs of the intruder inside. Hearing none, and being impressed with this fact, I push open the door, slinking inside through the gap and closing the door behind me. I tiptoe over 2 isles, where a faint glow was emanating, and pause to see a man, dressed all in black, studying a painting, one I know for a fact is the real deal and not a copy like a lot of these.

“I’m impressed. No one has ever been able to creep up on me before.”

He straightens up and turns to face me, the minimal light casting shadows across his form. But the parts I can see causes my breath to catch in my throat. 

He’s beautiful. Big dark eyes stare through me, his head cocking to the side as he continues to study me and my continued silence.

“Ah. You are the mistress of the house, yes?”

“I-I am. Well, the non conforming daughter, anyway.” Why did I tell him that?

A smirk tugs on his face. “Non conforming, huh? What, did you tell your daddy you didn’t want a black pony but a brown one?”

“More like I don’t want to marry some man who is ignorant, mean, and frankly dull, just to connect our money to theirs.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “A rebel.”

I shrug. “I don’t want to waste my life playing bored arm candy to some heir who will only look at me when he wants to fuck me.”

He chuckles and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve heard. “That would be a terrible fate for such an interesting woman.”

I nod towards the painting he had been observing. “You’re right. That one’s real. The rest in this section are highly accurate fakes.”

The man glances back at the painting before looking at me. “I am going to take this, you know?”

I nod. “I figured that’s why you were studying it so intently. Don’t want to steal a fake. You should go down about another 2 doors. The stairs there will lead you to the jewel safe room.”

He smirks. “I have already been there.” He shifts and I see a bag, obviously full of items from our house. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He turns, gently lifting the small painting from the wall and starts to prepare it to be moved, his deft fingers gliding over it so as not to disturb it. Once finished, he gathers up his gear and turns to me, giving me a nod.

“Goodnight, miss. Don’t ever conform.”

He walks past me, barely making a sound. He’s almost to the door before I find my voice.

“Take me.”

He pauses, hand hovering over the doorhandle, his head turning to speak to me over his shoulder. 

“What?”

“You say you’re the greatest thief. What better prize to steal than this billionaire’s daughter?”

He turns to me, smirking. “You would want to come with me? To live your life with a thief?”

I nod. “I cannot stand it here. I was already thinking of ways to get away from this life, and then you broke in, taking my entire attention. Or stealing my attention.”

He chuckles, closing the distance between us. He crooks his finger, gently tipping my chin up to look at him and I swallow hard. 

“I will not force you to do anything you do not want. Think about what you’re saying before choosing this life.”

“I don’t need to think. I’m yours.”

—----

Present Day…

The first few years with Mateo, commonly known as The Thief, were amazing. I traveled the world with him, using my knowledge of the world of the wealthy to help him gain access to places he normally wouldn’t. I never directly stole anything, something we were both adamant about, but I would help him unlock societal doors. 

The time he wasn’t spending on thieving or planning his next heist he spent between my legs, pulling sounds from me I never knew I could make. I was utterly in love with Mateo. As corny as it sounds, he had stolen my heart. 

Which makes trying to get away from him the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. 

I was growing tired. My parents had looked for me for about a year before giving up. But once I was spotted by someone who knew me, laughing it up at a party for Mateo to get access to their vaults, my parents resumed their chase. I’m not sure they were at all concerned for my safety, moreso for me to fullfill my familial duty and marry an heir. 

Mateo and I spent more time avoiding my parents reach, starting a rift between us. He was never violent with me, never screamed or yelled, but we definitely had arguments and I could tell he was tiring of the weight of my parents pulling him down. 

I suppose that’s what made him sloppy one night, accidentally leaving behind one of his tools next to a jewel safe. Luckily, he always wears gloves, but that didn’t stop him from being livid, and although he’d never admit it, terrified at being caught.

I can’t back out, can’t leave him. He won’t let me, saying I know too much about him and his process, having never revealed it to anyone. It didn’t matter how much I promised him I would say nothing, that I would make up a story to my parents about searching for an heir on my own without their influence. 

“I told you to think before you left with me that night.”

“I didn’t know it would be like this! You’ve changed, Mateo.”

Anger flashes in Mateo’s eyes. “I am a thief, querida. What did you think this life would be like?”

—----

Somehow, one day I managed to stray from my routine, saying I needed extra time to make the connection to open those societal doors. He had no reason to doubt me, but I still saw slight suspicion in his eyes, a look that had never been there before. 

I stand in front of an office building, several stories tall and set back away from the main streets. I glance back down at the paper I’ve been clutching in my hand to double check the address. Walking up to the intercom, I scan the list of names, pushing the button of the one I needed. The intercom buzzes and a voice comes over the speaker, static nearly cutting out some words.

“Rockford.”

“Uh, hi. I found your name in the paper?”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Um, no. I wasn’t able to-”

“You’ll have to make an appointment-”

“Please, sir. I..I don’t think I’ll be able to come back.”

There’s a pause before the door buzzes and I slide inside, heading up a few flights of stairs after seeing the elevator was out of order. I find the door labeled TIM ROCKFORD, PI and knock.

“Come in.”

I enter, taking in the small office space. There’s a small bathroom at the back but otherwise there’s just enough space for a desk, some filing cabinets, a couple chairs, and a couch, which I could tell was doubling as a bed. I couldn’t blame him. I may have money but even I knew rent was ridiculously high, especially in these bigger cities. 

“Tim Rockford.” I look up at the man and have to swallow back a lump in my throat. He looks so like Mateo that for a moment, I thought he was. I tell him my name and we shake hands, Tim motioning towards a chair. 

“Please. Have a seat.”

I sit, nerves lighting up my body. 

“What seems to be the issue, miss? Husband stepping out on you? Lost your favorite necklace to the maid?”

I can’t blame him for the snide tone. I look the part of a bored, rich housewife because that’s what I had been destined to become. I’d hate me too.

I take a deep sigh. “I’m in deep. 3 years ago, I ran off with a man who captured my heart. Everything was great until my parents started following us.”

He nods, taking a note. “And you want me to what, tell your rich parents to stop looking for probably their only child?”

Damn he’s good. “Not..not exactly-”

He sighs. “Listen, I don’t have time to placate you rich elitists while us lower people are having real problems. If you want your parents to stop bothering you, you’ll have to tell them your-”

“I know who The Thief is.”

Silence.

“You what?” His eyes bore into me, trying to detect a lie.

“That’s who I ran off with. The Thief.”

“The Thief. You mean The Thief? The one that’s been plaguing all the major houses across, well across the globe?”

I nod. “Yes. Him.”

“Tell me everything.”

So I do. I tell him how we met, how I’ve been helping him get in social circles, everything except where he is and what his name is. Rockford’s eyes grow wider the more I tell him, scribbling notes furiously. 

“And you just do this for him? Voluntarily?”

“Yes.”

His eyes meet mine and he cocks his head to the side. “Why?”

I let out a breath, puffing out over my lips, a sadness in my eyes. “Because I love him.” 

He studies me a few moments longer. “Does he love you back?”

“I…he did at one time. Now? I’m not so sure. It’s hard to reach him.”

“Does he leave you often?”

I nod. “We’re usually together, but often he will leave me.”

“Do you think he’s cheating on you?”

“I don’t…I don’t think so. Not really. But that’s not why I’m here.”

He nods, making more notes. “You’re here because, what? You want out but don’t want to face jail time?”

“I’ve never stolen anything.”

“You were an accomplice.”

“All I did was forge connections. Mateo figured out the rest.”

“He’s an intelligent man.”

I smile. “He’s the smartest man I’ve ever met. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with him.”

“So what do you want then, miss?”

I watch Tim’s face for several moments, the way he chews on the inside of his cheek, his shoulders shifting slightly, tugging at the seams of his shirt. 

“I want him to realize who he is and to accept it. His fate.”

Tim nods. “Even if that means putting him behind bars?”

“Whatever it takes to help him realize who he is.”

Tim nods, taking a few more notes. “Ok, well first thing - is there another heist planned?”

I nod. “Tonight at the Wellmen estate. He’s got it all planned already.”

“Do you know what his plans are?”

“Some. He doesn’t always tell me everything. I know he’s going to try and steal the blue diamond necklace that Mr. Wellmen has locked in his 4 layer safe room.”

“How does he plan on getting in?”

“Well, I’ve made the connections with the Wellmen’s so it won’t be odd for me to make plans to have dinner with the family to remove them from the home. After that, I believe he plans on sneaking in through some security holes and doing his magic once inside.”

“So basically, I’m on my own to figure that out once the family is gone.”

I nod. “You’re going in after him?”

“That’s the plan.” He stands, reaching behind him to grab a shoulder holster and starts to loop his arms through it. 

“What will you do if you find him?”

“As you said, miss. Help him realize who he is.”

—----

Tim shows up at the Wellmen estate, parking his car several blocks down and walking the rest of the way. He stays hidden, keeping an eye on the time. He sees the front gates open, a fancy car driving out, gates closing behind it. Another glance at his watch tells him that’s the Wellmen’s on their way to meet you for dinner at the restaurant. 

Tim had pulled the city plans for the estate from his contact in City Hall, finding the hole that The Thief had no doubt found as well. He made his way to the crack in the perimeter, sneaking inside. There were a few guards, but nothing he couldn’t slip past. Once he was inside, he paused, taking in the room and thankful that he’d memorized the blueprints. 

Suddenly, he sees a dark shape move at the end of the hall, going the same direction as the safe room. Tim crouches, following with enough distance so as not to disturb The Thief, but close enough to see him steal the jewel. They continue this cat and mouse game down the hall and down another flight of stairs before the room arrives. Tim has to admit, he’s impressed by The Thief, managing to keep to the shadows this entire time - no easy feat.

Several minutes pass since he’d seen the shadow slip inside the room, but nothing came out. He knew there was only one way in and out of the room. Maybe The Thief had run into some trouble? This would make his job of catching him even easier. 

Tim quietly made his way to the safe room door, checking his gun was ready and loaded before gently pushing open the door a crack. Hearing nothing, he pushes open the door, pointing his gun around the room as he scans it for The Thief. 

To his surprise, the room is empty. No people, and, glancing in the glass case in front of him, no jewel. But how? He had seen The Thief enter the room and not exit, no other way in or out. No secret doors would have been possible with this layout. So where was The Thief? Where was the jewel?

The door opened behind him and Tim spun around, aiming his gun at the doorway. His eyes grow wide and he lowers his weapon as he sees you standing there, hands up. 

“Miss? What are you doing here?”

A sad smile is tugging at her lips. “I’m here to support you.”

Tim shakes his head. “You can’t be here. The Thief, he’s here and I don’t know where. I don’t want him to hurt you.”

She takes a step closer to Tim. “I know where he is.”

Tim is nervous now. Had they been playing him all along? Good thing he left notice with his contact should anything happen to him. 

“Where is he then?”

Another step closer. “He’s here.”

Tim glances around quickly before looking back at her. “The only ones here are us. Unless there’s a secret door?” His eyebrows raise in question at her. 

She shakes her head sadly. “No. No secret door.”

“Secret room? Is he waiting for me to leave?”

She’s only a step or 2 away from Tim now. “No. He’s here.”

Tim shakes his head. “But… I don’t-”

She reaches her hand out, gently cupping his cheek. “Mateo, it’s me. You’re here.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Mateo? Who’s Mateo? I-I don’t…” His head starts to hurt a little, like something tugging at the corner of his mind. 

She smiles sadly again, her thumb gently stroking his cheek. “You. You are Mateo, the greatest thief in the world.” 

Tim grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face. “What are you on about?”

“It’s you. You are The Thief.”

His head hurts more, a throbbing starting to build behind his eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I? Did you see anyone come in here?”

“I did! I saw…I saw…” Playing back the memory, Tim realized he’d only seen a shadowy figure, nothing ever clear or concrete. He’d assumed, based on her time schedule and the shadow’s movements, that it was The Thief. 

“I don’t…I’m not…”

“Check your coat pocket.”

Tim looked at her, trying to hide the fear in his eyes as he starts to pad himself down. His fingers bump against a round lump and his eyes grow wide as he fishes out the blue diamond necklace. He holds it up and studies it, his head now pounding and his vision throbbing. 

“I don’t understand…I…what…what is happening?”

She steps forward, gently taking his hand and placing the other on his cheek, turning his head to look at her. 

“You had an accident, baby. When you took the crown from the Goldman’s?”

Tim shakes his head. “I don’t…I…an accident?”

She nods. “Yes, baby. You…you came back a different person. A detective named Tim Rockford, saying it was inevitable, that The Thief would be caught. That he’d finally left behind a clue and it would all come crashing down.”

Tim looks down at the necklace in his hand before looking into her eyes. “I left behind a tool. My favorite lockpick.”

She nods, smiling warmly now. “Yes! Yes, that’s it, baby!”

The more he stares into her eyes, the more he remembers, but it’s hard to think with the pounding in his head, his vision starting to black out. 

“I…I am Mateo?”

“You are. You’re the greatest Thief the world has ever known.”

“And you…you love me?”

Tears fall from her eyes now and he reaches out to wipe them away. She leans into his touch, nodding. “I love you more than anything, Mateo.”

Her eyes are the last thing he remembers before he blacks out.

—----

After I pulled him from the Wellmen estate, I brought him back to our place, watching over him as he slept, worried that the realization that he’d broken would cause him to never wake, that I’d really, truly, lose him forever. 

He was out for 3 days. On the third day, I heard him muttering in his sleep, his fingers twitching before his eyes blinked open, scanning the room. I rush to him, tossing aside the plate of food I’d been nibbling on. 

“Mateo?” I sit next to him on the bed, placing my hand over his and squeezing gently.

He blinks, turning his head slowly and looking at me, a dawning realization washing over him. 

“You are here?”

I feel tears on my cheeks and I furiously wipe at them. “I am. I would never leave you, Mateo.”

His hand reaches out for me and I lean closer, feeling his hand slide around the back of my head, pulling me close to him. His lips meet mine and the damn in me breaks, all of the tears I’ve held back over the last years bubbling to the surface. He pulls back and looks up at me, concern on his face.

“Querida, no crying. I am here. I think. My head still hurts a little.”

I nod, swallowing back more tears.

“What happened, querida?”

I explain that when he’d left behind his lockpick, he’d had a mental break in reality, so convinced he’d be caught that he made up an entirely different personality, a detective named Tim Rockford. He made up an entirely separate life, even going so far as to secure an office space, where he’d sleep on the couch. I had no clue how to help him, so for a while, I’d just follow him, making sure he was ok. Mateo didn’t know how to handle the fear of being caught, which made him more hostile and distrusting towards me. I knew I could’t bring in anyone official, as he’d have gotten arrested immediately and wouldn’t receive any sort of care. I couldn’t let that happen to the man who rescued me from mediocrity, the man who’s greatest achievement was stealing my heart. 

So I came up with a plan to help Rockford catch the world famous Thief. He’d want the glory of catching the uncatchable, and hopefully I could have him face Mateo, realizing that they were the same person. I’d hoped that this would meld him mind back together. 

I had no clue what I was doing, and I knew there was a strong chance I’d fuck him up for life, but I had read some books and I was desperate, having no other choice.

So I set up a heist with the Wellmen’s. It wasn’t difficult to work my way into their circle, as I apparently reminded them so much of their estranged daughter. It was easy to lure them away with the prospect of dinner at a fancy, hard to get into restaurant across town. 

And then I went to Rockford, telling him everything but The Thief’s name, figuring that hearing his true name too early would’ve messed it up, made him not believe me. So I sent Rockford the blueprints of the house and the timeline, hoping he’d go for it. Which he did, even seeing a “shadow” of The Thief moving about the house, his mind completely convinced he was about to catch the greatest Thief of all time. 

When he felt that stone in his pocket, the 2 minds melded back together and his brain needed time to process what was happening. I took him back to our temporary hideout and cared for him while he was out, terrified that he’d never wake up.

When I finished telling him what happened, he sat up, taking my hands in his and kissing the back of them.

“Marry me, querida.”

“I- what?”

“I should’ve asked you that night in your art gallery. I knew I was in trouble when I saw your eyes and instantly fell for you. Once you started talking and I saw you weren’t just another spoiled rich girl, I was done for. I was relieved when you begged to come with me because I was seconds away from begging you myself. And now? After putting you through hell for years, you come up with this plan to not only avoid putting me behind bars, but to save me from myself? I cannot see my life without you, querida.”

“Are you truly back with me?”

He nods, eyes wide like a puppy. “I am here.”

“Oh, Mateo. I’ve been yours since that night too. I never want to leave you.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh- yes!”

“Do me a favor and open that drawer and bring me the striped socks.”

“I- ok?” I cross to the dresser, pulling out the balled up socks he’d requested and handed it to him. He opened them up, pulling out a simple ring that I had made comment about loving only a couple months after I had left with him.

“I kept this in case you ever felt the same about me as I did for you.” He holds it up and takes my hand, sliding it on my ring finger. 

I straddle him, kissing him deeply as he holds me to him, finally being able to tell him how I’ve felt after all these years and finding he feels the same for me. 

We marry at the courthouse the next day, just missing the police by a few hours, smiling at each other as we made our way to the next heist.

—----

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[totally-not-here-for-the-smut]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write about the M6 having baby fever? It can be nsfw and or sfw, I don't really care! Thank you!

Hi, my fellow julianist-smutter! As before, I'll randomly pick the spicy level for each character and write them in whatever-my-mind-blurts-out-first-order. The adult themes will be on a properly flagged reblog!

Key: ◇Random/cute/funny stuff; ♡romanticism/physical affection/teasing; ♧light smut&fluff; ♤hic sunt DONGS, minors def nope out

~♡~

[F!reader]

Portia keeps getting home late without any reasonable explanation. When pressed she blurts ovious lies, so you start to grow suspicious, then jealous. One day it gets the best of you, and you decide to follow her...

...up until the magic shop?! Is she...? And Asra??? You hear them talking quietly, so you sneak in from the backdoor. Portia seems... distressed? Hopeful...? Asra is explaining something complex from a big, old book.

Days later you get that book with an excuse, and magic helps you find the page they were looking at. The spell seems very complicated. Some kind of ritual that involves two women, a man, some fresh rainwater and nine full moon cyc...

Oh.

Oh.

Blood flushes to your face and somewhere else. You slam the book shut in embarrassment, and put it back. You're not sure about how to talk with Portia, for your hart is full of a warmth your words can't express.

You decide to let her be the one talking about it, when she'll feel ready.

~♡~

Nadia keeps pulling out pictures of when she was young, talking about all of her fondest childhood memories and how blessed is an home full of children.

She gets you to se Pepi's new litter, and you see her melt internally as she holds one of the tiniest fluffy balls.

One day you find her and Natiqua with Nadia's nephew. They've come to visit even though she went to see the newborn just few weeks ago. With an excuse, Natiqua hands you the little one, who grabs your hair and doesn't let go. The sisters laugh, whispering something in Pakran. God where's Julian when you need him.

One day she gifts you a beautiful calendar. It's gilded in gold and powered lapis, with beautiful illustrations of the two of you each month. Some days are marked. This time Julian's around, and bursts out laughing when he recognizes a fertility pattern.

Looks like you're gonna do this.

Lucio is super happy. He's always wanted to be the cool uncle.

Little does he know, Noddy has a comprehensive list of what games, tales and shenanigans will and won't be allowed.

~♧~

You and Lucio have a pregnancy scare. He panics, cries that he's too cool and young to be a dad (he's not, he's 40). Disappears hunting in the woods for a week.

He must have met his mother, because when he comes back at the Palace his left cheek is red and swollen.

Thank the gods it was just a scare.

The days after, Lucio starts to act weird. You caught him staring at you with a dumb dreamy smile.

He tells you he bought new animals from the red market. You're expecting crocpdiles, but fing wourself surrounded by hundreds of the cutest ducklings you've ever saw.

Mercedes, Melchior and Pepi are -burp- very happy of this.

You spend two days consoling Lucio.

Then he brings home ten "kittens".

They're tiger cubs.

Mercedes and Melchior happy.

Pepi very not happy.

Nadia and Portia extremely not happy.

When he arrives with a baby dolphin to substitute the vampire eels, Nadia snaps and tell him to go make a baby already if he so wants small things around him

That evening, you enter your room to find him laying on your bed, rose petals all around you, magical windchimes dangling over the bed.

"It MUST BE a great idea, Noddy had it!"

~♧~

Asra is the one who doesn't realize he has baby fever. Everyone else knows he has it, everyone is lowkey laughing about it, but god fkrbjd someone makes him notice.

You are now subscribed to detailed reports of Asra's paternity dreams. He goes on and on describing the beautiful white haired baby he dreamt, they were sleeping on his chest, with a cute pijama with small red foxes embroided on it. Each day he adds new details.

Every morning you wake up to a different, exotic breakfast in bed. "I figure you wanted chestnuts with spiderhoney" "I got you yak salty milk with spices!" "Hey, I brought you the deer horn flour sourdough you asked me for... what do you mean you didn't asked me for it? I deamed you were craving it?! Again?"

He's also all over you, night and day. If it was for him, you'd never leave the magic shop.

He takes every chance he gets to hug your belly. Now you're both used to him falling dead asleep there after going down on you. Sometimes he gives tiny kisses on your belly as he sleeps, and you smile while passing your fingers through his hair.

When you finally confronts him about it, he blushes violently and denies everything.

"So, if I told you you can take me now and do as you please, hre on the shop's counter without even locking the door, you wouldn't do it?"

He does it.

~♢~

Julian has worked with quite a number of babies, lately. Thanks to Nadia, now people eat better and are healthier, so they enjoy their life -and Vesuvia's nightlife- way more. This lead to a massive wedding season, and for the first time in his life the women and men who send for Julian night and day aren't lovers (or scorned spouses), but anxious parents of chubby newborns.

It's a lot of work, but for the first time in forever he's strangely not complaining about it. The doctor sleeps very little, but has a constant dumb grin. He is also very confused.

Tired like, he told Asra to "Open wide the mouth, vessel's coming!" while going in with a tongue depressor to take a look at his sore throat. Mouth free, Asra winked. "As big as I remember you Jules, maybe vessel IS an exaggeration"

Julian's house is now full on tiny gifts from the babies (and their parents): handprints on canvas, first drawings (he SWEARS that black spot behind red scribbles is his eye-patch), even a little elephant doll a two year old was adamant about giving him. "I'll put it aside for when he'll want it back, I'm positive it will happen"). You could SWEAR though, that there's a note of horror in his voice when he says so.

As usual, the nsfw ones will be in THIS reblog :)

[fictionadventurer]

I went into Ruth expecting a dreary read. How could a Victorian "fallen woman" story be anything other than dark and depressing? So I was shocked right from the beginning to find a sweet, gentle, romantic story. The dressmaker's apprentice who sits in the coldest, darkest part of the workroom because that's where there's a panel painted with flowers that remind her of her country home? How could I not adopt her as a favorite character? Ruth's innocent, romantic outlook on life gave us some beautiful descriptions of the scenery of both city and countryside, and my imagination went on overdrive to create very vivid images of the story. Even the love story, which we know is going to go very wrong, starts out sweet, with a kind, charming love interest who only shows flashes of just how wrong his character is going to go.

Even after Ruth's fall, the story is so gentle, putting Ruth among kind people who are willing to risk and sacrifice a lot to help her. And then the story gets almost too gentle--after some initial struggles with depression, Ruth resolves to bear her troubles patiently and work toward virtue, and her sweet, too-innocent character gets flattened out into someone who's just Good. Life just goes on, with things generally going well, and every potential turn toward drama results in someone deciding to be reasonable, which can make the story drag.

But, in a story like this, the lack of drama becomes the plot twist! It is refreshing to see characters who don't always jump to the worst conclusion or take the worst action, who pause and consider the whole story and act like decent human beings.

And in the places when the drama does kick in, it's good drama. Painful drama. It's also (especially in the last section of the story) melodrama. There were sections of the book where I was rolling my eyes at the cookie-cutter Victorian path the story was taking--but then there'd be one line or one moment that would just stab me in the chest because of how beautifully specific it was to this story. Just enough to elevate it from something bland to something unique and fascinating.

I often had the thought that this book could be about a third of its length without losing anything--yet it should also be just as long as it was. If the story cut all its repetitive musings about Ruth's regret, and used that space to develop the side characters and and show the plot instead of telling us about it, it would be a much deeper story. I found myself wishing Gaskell had reworked this one later in her career--the way that North and South was a more skillful reworking of the issues explored in Mary Barton. In a way, she sort of did in Wives and Daughters, with the story of Molly the quiet innocent getting tangled up in the intrigues surrounding her headstrong, flirtatious stepsister Cynthia serving as a more layered, personality-flipped version of the story where headstrong, sheltered Jemima gets tangled in the story of quiet, sweet Ruth and her past romantic intrigues. (The doctor at the end of the story also feels like a proto-Mr. Gibson).

Yet I'm still fascinated by the themes specific to this story. Contrary to expectation, this "fallen woman" story isn't about sex, or gender, or how unfairly women are treated (though it does touch on that in the end). It's about sin. It's not questioning why Ruth's behavior is considered a sin or looking to dismantle the society saying that it's a sin. It comes from the Christian perspective of saying that sin is real and harms people--so how are we going to deal with that?

The story shows lots of people struggling with temptation, failing, and dealing with the consequences (or harming others with the consequences). Sin is always a case of either not caring enough to do the more difficult, good thing, or a case of "the ends justify the means", where people rationalize their bad behavior as something necessary in this specific case. It always leads to harm, but some people--and some sins--suffer greater consequences in the eyes of the world, whether or not they deserve it. I wish the story had developed and resolved this theme better in places, but the raw material there is fascinating food for thought.

This book is Gaskell at her preachiest, but also Gaskell at her kindest. It explores deep, difficult issues in a very loving way. As a story, there are ways it could be better, but I'm very glad I read it. Perhaps I'm making a point to be kinder to it because I know it's the type of story that today's readers tend to judge harshly. But amid my issues with the story, there are some lovely images, some great messages, and some wonderful characters that going to be living in my heart for a long time.

[eerna]

okay wait actually now that we're on the book-series-strengths-and-shortcomings-train what do you love most about tlt and tlc? (multiple answers bonus)

HOHO A COMBO

TLC: 1) Friendship not being secondary to romance!! The series' main theme is love. In the grand finale the big bad taunts the MC about love... but she doesn't use her boyfriend, no, she uses her best friend. This is made even more powerful because by all means, the best friend was meant to be the secondary love interest by all rules of 2012 YA, but NO he is JUST A FRIEND and it is not treated as "something less". 2) Team building!!!! Oh my god!!!! Building onto point 1, but it needs its own point. Rarely does a fictional team of main characters feel as natural as the Rampion Crew. This is even more impressive because the 9 of them don't appear in the same room until the end of the series. Even though the team consists of 4 couples and 1 single, everyone has a dynamic with everyone, they have arcs that aren't tied exclusively to their partner but also someone else on the team, they interact with each other freely. 3) The wide range of characters! I am a sucker for a "team of girls totally different from each other saves the world" setup, and TLC does it perfectly. I think this is one of the best YA series out there because of how much it empowers different kinds of girls. The guys are also easy to tell apart even at first read, and I sooo appreciate that at least one of them isn't conventionally attractive (anymore). 4) It's so funny. I love these books and how funny they are. They hit the perfect balance between a fun teen adventure and a heartfelt emotional story. 5) This is one of the least "Here's what REALLY happened" series I've read. A bunch of times major things influence characters' thoughts and opinions, but those things are fake and never revealed as fake, OR the characters never learn some big things that could change their opinions at all. Seeing how impacted Winter was when she realized Levana truly loved her father, when I KNOW what really happened, always shakes me to my core - and Winter never learns the truth!!! Everyone who could explain what really happened is dead!! Winter will forever go on thinking at least her father had a marriage of love!!! And why should she learn the truth, really, it would only serve as yet another sad plot twist that traumatizes her even deeper. 6) Levana. I am not usually a villain girlie, but Levana absolutely slaps. She is simultaneously disgusting, horrible, and pitiful. Usually if I like the villain it's because he has something smart to say, but Levana doesn't, I can't relate to her or see things from her perspective... But the leads can! Levana seems to carry all the trauma and complexes of our leads, but she crumbled under them, showing Cinder what she might have become if not for her loved ones.

TLT: 1) Isn't afraid of people not getting it!! Do you understand how refreshing this is to see in a mainstream popular series??? The book doesn't act like you are an idiot, it acts like you are some sort of a genius, and you feel illiterate until you realize NO ONE got it the first time around and you're gonna have to do lots of rereading and thinking to get it. This makes it impossible to get into for some people, but so what. So what!!! What matters is that it rewards those who stay and put in the work!! 2) Absolutely bonkers insane relationships. No one can be "just a friend" in these, we need 1000 different layers of trauma and tenderness surrounding everyone. 3) Pathetic women. These books are the epitome of all the worst parts of yourself laid bare. These characters act out the most shameful, horrible memories and impulses of your heart, all the while spouting poetics about the entire situation. And it is pure catharsis!! It is so rare to see female characters depicted this pathetic without it being torture porn. 4) Writing style. It's the perfect example of how realism doesn't matter if you're good with your words. No one in these books talks like a real life person, but they are all distinct from each other and filled with personality. Every book has several lines that have the power to reduce me a to a sobbing mess just from hearing them. Just. The writing style is so good that I even enjoy reading INTERVIEWS with the author, she has a way of speaking that keeps you engaged and makes her sound so smart. 5) Each book is its own thing, keeping you on your toes, but they all still feel cohesive. It also means that even if the final book sucks, I won't have any hangups about it, since I will just be able to reread the first 3. Honestly even if AtN never comes out, I won't feel like I wasted any time, because the books are so fantastic and so worth reading that the end of the journey doesn't even matter to me that much - and if you've been here a while, you'll know what a radical statement that is for me. It is so nice to relax and enjoy the ride instead of stressing over my thoughts and opinions aging badly.

[theeofficialhabibi]

Ways to appreciate yourself as a woman —

Stop trying to be everything to everyone, be yourself to those that matter. We often want to help as many as possible. Yet, if someone doesn't appreciate you stop letting them take you for granted.

Appreciate the gifts from your ancestors. It's a common theme that we women want the opposite of what we have. If you have curly hair, you want it straightened etc. Yet, our features are not only gifts from the creator but also features of our ancestry — embrace to appreciate.

Cultivate a sisterhood, be selective in your choices. Who we surround ourselves with matters, especially those we go to for help and to spend our time with. Choose women who are uplifting, honest, and secure within themselves.

Appreciate yourself now. Often we think that once we achieve that certain thing then we'll be worthy. Yet, once we do we likely find something else to be insecure about. Appreciate who you are now, be proud of how far you've come while eager to keep growing.

Challenge your limiting beliefs. Our beliefs are simply thoughts we keep thinking, and in most cases many have an unconscious loop of belittling beliefs running through their minds daily. Become more aware of your beliefs via. journalling & mindfulness, challenge & reframe them.

Start learning about the menstrual cycle, it's phases and how they can impact you mentally, physically and emotionally. We are cyclical beings, living in alignment with our cycle helps us better know ourselves.

Build a strong sense of self, unlearn who you think you are to learn who you truly are. Reflect on what elements of your personality are truly yours or those given to you by others. Remove the unwanted, maximise the real you.

Minimise low vibrational energy, including negative gossip about others, projecting your insecurities, cultivating drama and anything that leaves you feeing icky or less than. Replace with energy that builds both yourself and other, compliment others, let others inspire you, etc.

Cultivate more beauty in your life, whether it's fresh flowers in your home, adorning yourself with quality materials and jewels, taking pride in your appearance, spending time in nature, how you decorate your environment or books you read. Cultivate beauty, nourish your soul.

Be in your body more. Spend time becoming acquainted with your body whether by dancing around the house, take part in mindful exercises and working with practitioners who can help you find alignment with root cause treatments.

Take pride in your appearance, not in the sense of being immensely vain but to genuinely appreciate and cultivate acceptance and self love. One who takes pride in their appearance inherently takes pride in themselves.

Cultivate your character, do not assume your appearance is the most important thing about you - it's not. Be an interesting person, have hobbies, ensure you can converse with various people, be comfortable in yourself.

Trust your intuition, especially in uneasy circumstances and with people you're not sure about. You have an intuition for a reason, it can deduce more than your logical mind. Listen to it, trust it.

Love yourself unconditionally to genuinely appreciate yourself but not in a shallow sense where you don't take responsibility for yourself. Loving yourself requires you to realise both your strengths and the areas you wish to improve, and acting accordingly.

Set the standard, and realise that as you appreciate yourself you also shine a light to show other women that they can do so too — especially younger women and those that may be looking up to you.