#thread: jean

[bludstaind]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬, a closed starter for @chocalafolie. | jean-jacques & elia

⸻ In the dimly lit cabin, Elia moved about with a sense of urgency that betrayed the fear etched across her face. The man, a knight sent by the Royal Guard to vanquish the malevolent beast that terrorized the land, lay unconscious in her own bed. Dressed in clothes that were not his own, he looked so vulnerable, his features softened in repose. Elia knelt by his bedside, unease twisting knots in her empty stomach. Words fell out in rushed, near silent whisper. A lament for the peril this man had unknowingly stumbled into.

"You stupid, stupid man! Why did you have to come here?" The words lingered in the air, a whispered self-reproach that spoke more of her own internal struggle than any resentment towards the unconscious man. She had dragged him in from the cold, somehow right beside and still so far away from the breast's wrath, yet the danger had not entirely passed. With a furrowed brow, she contemplated the man she had unwittingly involved in her cursed existence. Tears welled in her eyes as she grappled with the harm she might have caused him.

As he stirred, consciousness returning in a gradual haze, her apprehension deepened. Hovering above him, her slender form casting a shadow over the bed, she fought to contain the predatory instincts that surged within her. The scent of his blood, rich and intoxicating, hung in the air, tempting her senses beyond reason. It had been days, perhaps weeks since she'd last hunted, and the scent of his blood lit a fire in her throat. As his eyes opened, her voice shook and she uttered words of both desire and restraint, a plea tainted with the bitter taste of need. "I…want…to bite you…to taste you." Fangs gleamed in the dim light, visible evidence of a conflict waged between her hunger and her desperate attempt to resist.

In a desperate attempt at self control, she pulled herself back, her eyes widening. "I don't want to hurt you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, the weight of her struggle laid bare.

[occvltisms]

𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞. // closed starter for @chocalafolie.

⸻ Three weeks and four days. Three weeks and four days she was gone without a trace, leaving her loved ones behind without a word or goodbye. There was no true way of knowing where she might be, god-knows-what she was huffing, or if the people around her would even care enough to watch after her through her trips. Unburdened by the weight of responsibility, her disappearing act left her friends and family in a panic, wondering if this would be the time she didn't come back.

When her eyes meet Jean's, she flashes him a familiar devil-may-care grin, the kind where only one of the corners of her lips turns up into a half-smile. "Salut, mon frère," her voice comes out playfully, trying to brush off the weight of her disappearance, "You still keeping tabs on me?"

Her brother's stern expression didn't waver, though. She could feel the tension in the air, the crackling silence that said Jean was far from amused. Her casual demeanor belied the concern she knew he felt. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, trying to calm her nerves, and exhales a cloud of smoke. "Look," her voice is a little more rigid now, "I'm fine, alright? You don't need to get your panties in a twist." Despite the anger on her brothers face, Jacqueline kept her walls high, unwilling to let herself feel guilty and give in yet again. This was always the hardest part, trying not to falter, not to revert back into the little girl she used to be that went along with everything. "I'm an adult now, Jean, I can take care of myself, you guys don't get to make every damn decision for me, alright?" It's already bubbling up, the rambling, the nerves, he hasn't said a single thing but she knows.

Looking back to him from beneath her lashes, she let's out a sigh. "Look, I know you care, but I'm not a child anymore. I can handle things on my own." Her voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, but she stands, drops her cigarette to the ground, and steps it into the dirt.

"That's just how it is now," another pause, her eyes lowering, "Maybe it's time you realize I'm not a kid anymore, Jean."

[ophernelia]

@brookie: “i hate when short girls date tall men” just say you want my man atp ho

beginning | next

[s0ftpining]

we pay our respects to the circle of needle and thread, wherever they may be...

[nanyoky]

So last night I was super cranky and not feeling good, so I made some memes. Then I realized the reason my brain and body were both Bad™️ all day was I had forgotten to take my meds the night before. Then today I slept so late I thought it was already Thursday.

Don't be like me kids. Take your meds. And if you feel Bad™️, check your little pill caddy to make sure you didn't forget.

Anyway enjoy my withdrawal memes (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

[ninyard]

“Jean Moreau’s activism over the years: a thread 🧵”

I’m so sorry this is all that kept going through my head when I thought about this one

[marzipanandminutiae]

man I wish there were a more nuanced way to talk about dress history’s darker sides without like.

making people feel guilty for thinking the clothes were pretty.

to be clear, I don’t mean this in the Conservative Pundit sense where literally any criticism of white/cis/straight/male privilege and its negative effects on society makes them cry about being Laden With Unfair Guilt(TM). I mean like...I don’t know. this Gotcha attitude I see sometimes that’s like

“think this dress is pretty? well IT CAME FROM A HORRIFIC SYSTEM SO THINK AGAIN, BOZO! BET YOU DON’T LIKE IT SO MUCH NOW HUH???”

obviously we should talk about the horrific systems (many many of them) in the past. if a garment was made from fibers processed by enslaved people, and sewn by teenage seamstresses making a pittance, that needs to be discussed

but I feel as if it would help to contextualize that with like

“who makes the majority of our clothing today? what conditions do they work in? what difficulties prevent us from simply opting out of having our clothes produced this way? who sets trends, and do people outside their social echelon also enjoy those trends?”

so that people get that they should be thinking about the past and how its legacy impacts us today, rather than tearing themselves up for Finding The Early 19th Century Cotton Evening Gown Pretty

there is no unproblematic period to enjoy clothing from, including the one we live in now. and it’s not productive to rip people a new one for Bad Fashion Preferences. to me, it’s the same as claiming that someone supports sweatshop labor because they said a Shein dress was cute once

[ghosthierophant]

NOPE (Jordan Peele) / @causticameracrap 's Nope essay

[wardensantoineandevka]

Thinking very much about how it is Beatrix, Jean, and Nathaniel who make it out alive, people who see themselves as supposed to be taking care of Sean and Marion, who died.

Beatrix is protective of Sean and Marion and guards them like they are her sons, Nathaniel sees himself as responsible for pulling them through danger even now as their former superior officer, and Jean is tasked with caring for them as a doctor and their circle's medic.

All of them are, in some form, people who see themselves as responsible for keeping Sean and Marion safe in the face of danger and care for them through this, and then neither of them survived in the end.

[thatoneacecryptid]

My favorite thing about Circle of Needle and Thread fics is that basically everyone looked at Marion, Sean and Jean and said, “You know, we could argue over who to ship Marion with, or we could just have fun and ship them all.”

[cheftulips]

When I visited Kyoto in April, I made sure to stop by the textile supply stores to bulk up on sashiko thread and needles. Whenever I sew or crochet I think about my grandma and how I need to save all my money to go see her. (*´ー｀*)

I miss you かずこちゃん　❤️

[janettkabeh]

[steponleaf]

Sean and Jean looking at the files in episode 2:

[utilitycaster]

Candela Obscura 2x3 & Final Girl by CHVRCHES

Bonus:

[mysunfreckle]

Sean: Marion, I don't know how you're feeling bleed-wise, but I would say maybe reaching out and sensing is something that, given that we're in- Marion: I know I'm gonna get- I know I'm gonna sense the stuff, I'm not that stupid. Sean: Yeah, but you look stupid, so I- Marion: Hey, yo, no, that's enough. No, no, no, no, no. I looked stupid as a kid, but then I grew out of that. Jean: He's very handsome. Marion: And I look- thank you... Sean: I didn't say he wasn't handsome. I just said the guy- Marion: You know what? You know what I hate about you giving me shit? Sean: What's that? Marion: Nothing <3

[incorrect-candela-obscura]

Marion: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Jean: Not if they consent to it.

Sean: Depends who you’re stabbing.

Nathaniel: YES?!?