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amphibious-entity · 3 years ago

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TMBS Book 1 Brain Dump

~An Embarrassingly Long Post~

I don’t know why I’m writing this or why I’m so determined to do it. Maybe to finally assume my true form and become a mega dork on main, or maybe just for fun!

This is basically a compilation of all the main points running through my head after reading The Mysterious Benedict Society (2007) for the first time. Rather than posting a ton and spamming the tag, everything’s here in one neat package! (hopefully this gets it all out of my system rip)

Contents:

The Book Itself

The Book Itself, for real this time

The Characters

A Funny Parallel

The S.Q. Section

Lines & Scenes I Liked

Spoilers abound!

The Book Itself

Upon acquiring the first three books (don’t judge me pls), I was surprised at just how long they are. Like, they’re still pretty light being paperbacks and all, but these books are hefty lads.

The first book has this Disney+ Original Series circle thing printed on it, which is kind of unfortunate. Regardless, I love the cover illustration and yellow is actually my favorite color :D It made me weirdly quite happy whenever I saw the book lying around in my room

Also, it’s really cute how there’s a letter from Mr. Benedict at the end! (It only reveals that you can find out his first name if you “know the code”, meaning the bit of Morse printed below the summary on the back.) Shock and horror, though, as I realized I’m starting to recognize some of the letters

The Book Itself, for real this time

It’s wonderful how the tone of the book really shone through to the show adaptation. Something about the deliberateness of the aesthetic, from the set designs to the fashion to scene compositions, that really sells that particular style— like it’s very clear that this story is being told to us, rather than one we’re seeing unfold, if that makes sense.

Where that narration style stood out to me the most was the first chapter. We are told (rather than shown) how Reynie gets himself to the point of the second test, and there’s this whole twisty time maneuver for that whole sequence of events that’s really interesting

A super secret fun fact about me is that I wanted to be a writer when I was younger! So this particular balance of show vs. tell is really neat, since it runs counter to my own tendencies. The sheer amount of commas in every sentence is also kind of comforting, since Ahah, I Do That in those few serious-ish attempts at writing lol

Overall this book’s style reminds me a lot of Roald Dahl’s books, which are very nostalgic for me :D The whole “kids are more competent than adults” angle helps a lot too haha

The Characters

Oh boy here’s where I get a little bit critical! Overall I did really like this book!! it’s just that that expresses itself in all this weird “”analysis”” lol

Reynie - much better in the books than in the show

It’s sort of a lukewarm take but I feel like show!Reynie is kind of boring? He doesn’t have a lot going on flaw-wise, and obviously since he’s the protagonist he can’t have too many weird traits or else the kids watching can’t project themselves onto him as easily

(I call it the difference between an aspirational protagonist and a vessel protagonist. Going off of the Roald Dahl vibes, think Matilda vs Charlie. show!Reynie is more of a Charlie)

Thus when we get to see him really struggle with the Whisperer and doubt himself it gives him a lot more dimension, at least in my opinion

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

Sticky - my son

I’ve long held to no one besides myself and my long suffering sister that Sticky is The Best Member of the Society

He happened to hit a lot of the Bingo squares of Stuff I Like In Characters: glasses, anxious, nice :), kind of a coward but ultimately is there for his friends, etc

For some reason I don’t talk about him nearly as much as you-know-who, but I love him just as dearly

Kate & Constance - I don’t have much to say

Kate is really interesting in this book! I like how we get to see more of her depths, in particular that one passage about her belief that she is invincible being the only thing that keeps her from falling apart? :c

Also her constant fidgeting is relatable lol

Constance is somehow a lot more tolerable in the book. I think I’m just one of those people with no patience for small children, unfortunately lol

(Some of) The Adults

It’s interesting that they had such an offscreen presence for most of the book. Giving them more time was probably one of the stronger changes of the show

However if that decision was made at the expense of the white knight scenes I think the choice should have been clear

I like the way Rhonda and Number Two are written

Milligan always on sad boy hours 😔✊

The “mill again” passage is touching but kind of messes up the pacing of the getaway, at least for me. Maybe I should read it again to make sure I didn’t miss something

Miss Perumal is much better in the show. We see so little of her in the book she doesn’t function well as an emotional anchor for Reynie, imo

The Institute Gang

Jackson and Jillson serve their purpose well, and Martina was surprising to say the least. I like the direction they took her in the show! I can’t imagine how funny it must have been to watch the tetherball subplot come out of nowhere lolol

These sections were written out of sequence, so random tidbit I couldn’t fit in The S.Q. Section: I like how he stumbles over his words. relatable

Mr. Curtain

While I think I know why they decided to not give Curtain the wheelchair in the show, we were totally robbed of Actor Tony Hale’s performance for the reveal during the final confrontation

Speaking of the wheelchair, it’s such a powerful symbol of his need for control or rather, his fear of losing it

The Contrast between him and Mr. Benedict. This point is expanded on in A Funny Parallel

Mr. Benedict

Oh boy, Mr. Benedict… How do I say this

I find it hard to trust Mr. Benedict, unfortunately

I mean to say, I do in the sense that I know he would never hurt the kids, thanks to knowing that a) this is a children’s book series and b) the meta (tumblr) states that he is really nice and lovable and stuff, but seriously. Why do the kids trust him at first?? I probably missed something somewhere

I like to think I’m an optimistic person, but unfortunately I’m also super paranoid. The premise of “a bunch of vulnerable orphans team up with a strange old man” is just so odd to me I don’t know how to explain it

I don’t know!!! I really want to trust Mr. Benedict

One of the strengths of the show is that we get to see him more often, and thus he gets to acknowledge more often that the plan is weird and that he feels really badly for putting the kids in danger and that he’s trustworthy and genuine

But his lack of presence for most of the book just makes him into something of a specter, invisible and unknowable, speaking only in riddles from across the bay

Which is why the white knight scene is so important!! I loved that scene ;-;

Because here’s an actual emotional connection! We can actually see it happening, rather than only being told that it exists

Reynie asking for advice and receiving encouragement, in words that demonstrate that Mr. Benedict actually cares about him and worries about him and agghh

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

But overall this whole issue didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the book at all! It’s just ->

A Funny Parallel

Okay, ready for my biggest brain, hottest take ever??

Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain…. are… the same

I mean obviously not entirely, given that one is benevolent and kind and the other is… Mr. Curtain

But seriously. Genius old man seeks out children (mainly orphans) to enact a plan. Said children often end up incredibly devoted to his cause and deeply admire him this is a little flimsy

Undoubtedly that’s intentional and is supposed to show the difference between them, like some kind of cautionary tale? “Let yourself be vulnerable and let others help you, lest you turn eeeeviiillll”

I guess that’s where the aforementioned epic contrast comes in. You get Mr. Curtain, strapped into his wheelchair and hiding behind those mirrored sunglasses, terrified (but unwilling to admit it) of ever showing the tiniest hint of vulnerability, vs. Mr. Benedict, who can let himself fall knowing that someone will catch him :’)

Anyhow I have nothing against the parallels, I just think it’s funny

The S.Q. Section

The S.Q. Quarantine Thread so it doesn’t leak out everywhere else <3

I’d like to meet the emo angstlord genius who read this book and decided to make SQ into Dr. Curtain’s son. What in the world

Okay I should probably preface this by saying that I absolutely adore both book!S.Q. and show!SQ with all my heart. Somehow, despite being a completely different character in both mediums, he has managed to be one of the best characters in either and certainly one of my favorites (besides Sticky of course) in the entire franchise, despite the fact that I’ve only read the first book/watched the show so far. I am confident in this statement.

But seriously! How?? Why?? I could probably write a whole other essay about why show!SQ is such an interesting character, and the change works so incredibly well. I’m just. Baffled

Okay, focus. book!S.Q. is such a sweetheart, oh my goodness. Like, 100% one of the most endearing characters in the book. Poor guy. I don’t even know where to start!!

He just seems to be a genuinely good guy at heart, despite being technically one of the bad guys. He’s genuinely happy for Reynie and Sticky when they became Messengers and helped Kate when she “fell” and was concerned about Constance when she looked sick and how he was in that meeting with Mr. Curtain and Martina?!!? aaahhhhghgh ;-; he just wants people to be happy TT-TT

Comparing him against literally every character at the Institute is probably what makes him so endearing tbh. When everyone else is so awful to the kids, it really makes him stand out. Like a cheerful little nightlight in the worst, most humid and rank bathroom you’ve ever been in

It’s kind of pointless to theorize about a book series that’s already concluded (I think?) but. Is the implication of S.Q.’s forgetfulness supposed to be that Mr. Curtain used him in brainsweeping experiments somehow? The timeline probably definitely absolutely doesn’t line up but like. How did he get to being a Messenger being the way he is now, given how cutthroat the process is? And then of course Mr. Curtain keeps him around as an Executive because he’s fun to mess with and presumably his loyalty. I’m very curious as to how their relationship develops in the other books, if at all. Those are probably where the seeds of the “let’s make them family” logic were planted

But wouldn’t it be hilarious if the reason we don’t know what “S.Q.” stands for in the books is that he just. Forgot

Another thing that occurred to me. Given that he and the other Executives were Messengers at some point, what were their worst fears? What is S.Q.’s worst fear?? Inquiring minds need to know

One last horrible little anecdote: I was thinking about book!S.Q. while eating breakfast, as one does, and suddenly it hit me.

I want to believe The Author Trenton Lee Stewart had the name for a character, S.Q. Pedalian, and was like, “Hm! What sort of quirky trait should this young fellow have?” Because, of course, in this style of fiction every character has to have at least one cartoonish or otherwise distinguishing trait to stand out in the minds of children. (For instance, Kate has her bucket, Sticky has his glasses, Constance is angry, and Reynie is Emmett from the Lego Movie)

Anyhow, he looks around the room, searching for inspiration. Suddenly he comes across a jumbo box of plastic wrap. Completely innocuous in design, save for one line of text. 300 SQ FT.

“…large… S.Q. …feet? THAT’S IT!” i’m sorry

Lines & Scenes I Liked

In no particular order!

Sticky quotes Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Evil combination aerobics/square dancing in the gym with the Executives

Everyone being happy at the end :’)

Everyone partying after Sticky reunites with his parents, and later finding Mr. Benedict asleep at his desk from the moment they shook hands :’’)

Literally any scene with Sticky in it

Any time Kate says “you boys” or “gosh”

[“Um, sir?” S.Q. said timidly, raising his hand. “A thought just occurred to me.” / Mr. Curtain raised his eyebrows. “That’s remarkable, S.Q. What is it?”] clown prince of my heart </3

S.Q.’s determined monologue about searching for clues after he bungled up the first time

Literally any scene with S.Q. in it (please refer to The S.Q. Section)

Reynie trying to resist the Whisperer.

[Let us begin. / First let me polish my spectacles, Reynie thought. / Let us begin. / Not without my bucket, Reynie insisted. He heard Mr. Curtain muttering behind him. / Let us begin, let us begin, let us begin. / Rules and schools are tools for fools, Reynie thought.]

NO MORE HURTIN’ WITH CURTAIN

Milligan showing up on the island!!

Remember the white knight hhhhhh

“controle”

A Super Secret Bonus Section

I would be extremely surprised if anyone read through all the way down here lol. Regardless, here’s a little acknowledgements section :D not tagging anyone since I don’t want to bother all of these people

Special shoutout to tumblr blog stonetowns for unknowingly yet singlehandedly demolishing my reluctance to read the books by posting a ton of cute quotes. Thank you for your service o7

Thanks to the two OGs that liked the post I made right before this one, for being my unwitting enablers and for sticking around despite being a) technically an internet stranger (hello!) and b) someone I haven’t spoken to irl in literal years (hey!!)

Last but not least thankz 2 my sister for putting up with me ranting about the book when I first got it and for asking about “CQ” sometimes lol. (i desperately hope you’re not reading this orz)

#the mysterious benedict society #this took me like three days to finish rip #it’s worked though! i feel less of a Mighty Need to think about this stuff constantly now #however!!! today through some conniving i have gotten the Second Book #now I’m at 3 out of 4 infinity stones. muahahaha #was going to include my villain origin story about why i like show!SQ so much but cut it for being too long and irrelevant. however #if the words jeff naomi and Sweet Dreams are Made of These mean anything to you please hit me up. it’s kind of a funny story

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pathofcomet · 4 years ago

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look at what you taught me

fandom: bridgerton series

pairing: colin/penelope

summary: Colin and Penelope have never been awkward with one another. Except for this one time. (AO3) (book spoiler ahead)

In the beginning, when he travels, Colin can think of nothing else but the present moment: a ship under his feet, the lull of a carriage, the wide expanse of the world all around him. Whatever destination is coming next, if he is certain enough – if not, he’ll just make it up as he goes. The furious scribbling of his quill against paper, as he races to put down in words all his eyes take not but a second to admire. It feels like everything he never knew he wanted to do so desperately. It feels right.

Then, it becomes more difficult to return home, the more he travels. But soon enough, the travel starts to wear him down. He begins to look forward to when he’ll return home: despite his own mother’s incessant remarks, despite the brotherly arguments, despite having to see another sister married off. Even the most loving mamas trying to marry off their daughters to him seem somewhat adorable, if he is gone long enough. But the need to travel comes back, like an itch that won’t go away unless he scratches it away. He makes promises to his sisters – so that he can stay as much as possible, but he goes insane with anything more than a couple of months. He likes to believe that by now his family simply made peace with his many eccentricities, and simply paid the cook more when he was around.

He treasures the pockets of familiarity he gets when in London as much as the breathes of fresh air he gets when he’s away. He imagines he drives his mother wild, with all his coming and going across the continent. He knows what Lady Whistledown writes about him as well, and he’d strangle the woman himself, for alerting everyone of his return so punctually. Ambitious mamas are hard to fend off when you’re a young man, and it only gets worse the older he becomes, because the expectation of marriage dawns ever closer.

***

“You must agree, Colin,” his mother says, and at the mention of his name, he straightens in his chair, because it’s a terrible thing to be singled out in a conversation by Violet. “Penelope is quite an agreeable young lady.”

Colin agrees, both because he truly believes so, and because while his mother doesn’t need his confirmation, she’s kinder when she has it. Benedict, from the other side of the room, leans closer in his chair, so he can hear better whatever commentary their dear mother is about to impart with them.

“I dare say she’d make quite a suitable bride for you, really.”

All hell breaks loose. Benedict drops his foot to the floor with a loud thud, while Colin drops his sandwich, eliciting a swear for which he’s reprimanded by three of his sisters. And then.

“Mother!” Eloise shrieks, quite offended – which Colin finds surprising, considering that the two of them are best friends. “That is entirely too daring!”

Colin agrees, but he is too busy desperately trying to cough away the piece of sandwich stuck in his throat. Eloise, though still quite shocked, pushes her cup of tea in his hands, just to get him to make less noise. He downs it in one go, grateful to not have died of this particular cause. His heart, quite in override still, might provoke a heart attack soon enough if his mother does not change the subject.

“I believe you misremember your ABCs, dear mother,” he jests, because he does not want to take the idea seriously. “There’s one son for whom you haven’t found a bride quite yet.”

Benedict shifts in his seat, suddenly finding his newspaper way more interesting. But this time around, Violet doesn’t rise to the so delicious bait of teasing her second, not when her brain is so set on match-making her third.

“I don’t see why not. Isn’t she a friend to all of us?”

She stops, waits for a nod from each one of her children currently engaged in eaves-dropping on the topic.

“She’s polite, witty,” she continues listing reason after reason, all to which Colin is entirely familiar and now that he thinks about, has noticed himself, several times over, in Penelope. “And quite darling.”

He imagines darling is what girls who aren’t called beautiful get stuck with by kind mothers. He never actually stopped to even consider Penelope in any of these ways: she’s always been there, ever since he was in short pants – and that’s almost already half their lives. A fixed presence by the side of his younger sister, and a favourite of his mother, despite all the awkward wallflower tendencies in Penelope. But he doesn’t recall ever trying to pick apart her character, find her individual traits, even consider her as a… woman.

Colin is suddenly shamed by his wilful, manly indifference. Violet arches her eyebrow at him, clearly still expecting an answer.

“Mother,” he adds with a sigh. “I can promise you most certainly that I am not marrying any time soon.”

“One never knows,” she murmurs, though she allows him his momentary peace, and returns to her embroidery.

***

Only that his mother doesn’t stop with her comments, and they seem to grow in number each time she meets Penelope, which unfortunate for him, is often enough. The next morning, as she returns from shopping, she comments on how nice she looked in a dress of her own picking, and not her mother’s own distasteful choices. Each time any married sibling sends a letter, or comes visit, her efforts in getting Colin to marry are reinforced. She jabs at him with comments: morning, afternoon and evening.

And suddenly, Colin can find that there’s nothing else much that he can think about, but Penelope, and how exactly this insane idea came to live in his mother’s mind. So he starts paying attention.

He supposes parties would be generally more enjoyable if he didn’t have to attend them with his family, as much as he loves them. He can physically feel Violet’s eyes drawing across the room, and then settling, decisively, on his back, a list of eligible ladies for marriage already compiled in her mind, alongside one for dancing partners. Colin can already guess what her mother is about to tell him.

And he is right. She pokes at his elbow with her fan, nodding to the edge of the ballroom, where Penelope Featheringston stands, card empty and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. Well, at least they do have that in common.

“Colin, darling,” and really, that’s all that Mrs. Bridgerton has to say to any of her children for them to do her bidding.

He makes his way across the room, trying his best to avoid getting roped into introductions by mothers or old friends alike. The faster he’s getting this over with, the faster he can return to the appetizers, and to a reconnaissance of the room of his own.

“Pen,” he says, and she startles, turning around to him with the widest of eyes, and the shyest of smiles. Huh, maybe she does look quite darling.

“Colin!” she exclaims, smoothing down a hand over her dress, and while it’s a gesture driven by nerves, it looks quite adorable.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance?”

He extends out his arm, which she takes – an answer without needing one. And it’s quite a shame, to all the other men in the room, because Penelope is a wonderful dancer, and a most attentive conversationalist during them. She asks him of his most recent travels, destination known through the letters he sent to Eloise, most likely. He’s received his fair share of foot stepping and the occasional elbow in his side, but never with Penelope.

She animates with each step, blushing at his hand around her back, smiling at a spin. He never considered how soft her body feels under his fingers, underneath the thin material of her dress, but now he is acutely aware of her warmth seeping through. He asks of the books she’s been reading, which he knows are plenty.

And at the end of the dance, he finds that maybe dancing with Penelope Featherington is not such a tedious task, after all. And at the end of the night, he’s quite certain she’s been his best partner.

***

Art exhibitions are not really Colin’s thing, really. His interest lays in a world painted in words, not in colours. But considering the fact that one of Benedict’s pieces is to be exposed to the world for the first time, of course his entire family must be present. He is proud of his brother, for having found a path in life, having chased it so full of determination.

Colin’s good at chasing as well. He’s just been proven, more and more lately, that he chases only things that cannot last, which displeases him greatly. It doesn’t mean he is not entirely supportive of his older brother. What other reason he’d have to be present here, at all?

“Penelope!” Eloise shouts, gathering the attention of her friend.

Penelope spins around, red curls jumping with the movement, and she blushes. Colin is pretty sure she’s done this every single time he’s seen her, though maybe he now begins to understand why. She nods her head in their direction, all Bridgertons replying in kind. Eloise lets go of his arm, rushing instead by her best friend’s side, hands entangled in a most obvious display of friendship and affection.

Colin knows Penelope’s family – and so he knows there’s no such camaraderie between her and her sisters, as it can be so easily observed between himself and his own siblings. He’s glad these two have each other then: a friend is one’s most fearful champion.

He walks by his mother’s side, going through the gallery, the two girls just a few feet ahead. Eloise is the taller one, yet both their heads are bent together as they discuss, such an air of ease and comfort about them. His sister says something, and suddenly Penelope turns a bit more to the side, laughing: a sparkle of mischief in her eyes and the loveliest pull at her mouth. Now, Colin finds himself quite taken with her mouth, staring because he finds it impossible not to. The soft pink of her lips, as she’s worried at them trying to come up with a comment about this and that painting. The white of her teeth, as she smiles. Her tongue, wetting her lips, from time to time, as the rooms grow hotter, with all the people passing around.

He’s lucky that the art pieces all around are distracting enough that Penelope herself doesn’t notice. His mother does, though.

“Quite darling, no?”

And she looks at the exact same person that he is, and most certainly not at the painting of a fruit basket in front of them.

“Mother,” he warns, a slight squeeze around her arm.

“Oh,” she sighs. “You can’t blame me for caring enough to try.”

Maybe not. But he can blame her for opening his eyes to something that he, like everyone else – he begins to realize - didn’t really know was right there.

***

So Colin Bridgerton, like a true hero of his days, leaves for Wales. And like the caring gentleman that he also is, he uses one of his friends as his excuse. It helps – it’s quite a useful distraction, for a while, walking over the hills, staring out at the sea, spending evenings eating hearty meals with someone that knows him well enough, but not too much. And he writes in his journal, of his quiet passing days.

By contrast, the nights are not so quiet. While he tries so hard to forget the society back in London, at night there are no distractions: and even so, while asleep, he cannot really control his unconscious mind.

So Colin dreams: at first, the most innocent of shadows, people that he can vaguely make out. Then the visions get clearer, and longer, and more tormenting. It starts with Penelope’s smile, and that mouth of hers, which in a dream he can admit to wanting to desperately kiss. Which, in a dream, he has leave to do. He knows, upon waking, that whatever taste lingers on his tongue from his haze, it certainly has nothing on the reality, and hates himself all the more for it. Then her body, close to his, the press of her bosom hard against his chest, the roundness of her bottom in his palms. The next morning, he is in need of a change of bedsheets, like he is nothing but a horny teenager.

He is sure his mother must have cursed him. The dreams continue, sweet haunting that only makes the guilt rise in his throat. She’s his sister’s best friend, for heaven’s sake, and here he is, conjuring her up in his dreams with no respite! It’s like his body has decided to take an entirely different path from his mind.

Colin is miserable on a travel, for the first time in way too long.

***

Maybe that’s his excuse. He lacks sleep, and for him, the most pressing issue is, obviously, still the one of his marriage. Violet Bridgerton is popular for many things between her children, but her cutting words and sharp mind are not necessarily one of those, especially if used against one of them. Colin has found himself at the receiving end of exactly that for weeks and months now, so he is apprehensive when he is summoned back to London.

But if his mother has need of him, then he must make haste. Of course, the real reason is simply the news of Daphne’s new pregnancy, which is incredibly happy. Colin loves to be an uncle way better than he likes being a younger brother.

Especially since right now, Anthony and Benedict have taken the liberty to pick up with the teasing where their mother stopped.

“You left in the middle of the season,” Benedict remarks, and Anthony clasps his back in a way that only eldest brothers can do, when they require an immediate answer.

“Oh, very well,” and Colin actually scowls. “I needed to get away. Mother has been incessant with this bloody marriage thing.”

And because they’re his brothers, of course they joke and jest more, at his own expense. Everyone in their house knows that his mother has her eyes set on Penelope, and everyone in their house is already tired of her insinuations, Colin most of all. That doesn’t mean that Anthony, or Benedict are going to pass up the opportunity to rile him up on the subject. It’s been a while, after all, since they’ve had reason to laugh at him in particular.

It’s the damn lack of sleep, and all of these comments, which are entirely unwarranted and so overwhelming, despite his protests, that make him throw all decorum out the window.

“I am not going to marry soon, and I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington!”

“Oh!”

The softest sound, really – feminine and delicate and belonging to the single person that he didn’t want to see right this moment. With much slowness, burning red with shame, Colin turns around to look at Penelope Featherington. And he knows: by the expression on her face, the haggard breathing with the desperate rise and fall of her chest, and her eyes, that he just broke her heart.

What he says right there on the spot, he cannot truly recall. A fumbling of stupid, empty nothings, apology too small, too unfulfilling, because Penelope draws herself up and protects the little bit of her dignity left.

And she leaves, so fast that he doesn’t have the time to do what he wants: follow her to clear up things.

Benedict punches him in the arm, quite terribly hard. It still doesn’t feel as bad as the gut-wrenching guilt building up inside himself, or the self-loathe that he so much deserves. Because just as he was beginning to make up his mind regarding how dear, truly, she has grown to be for him, he has done the worst thing a person who cares about another can do: hurt her.

***

He shows up at the doorsteps of her house the following day, surprised to find Penelope alone in the drawing room.

“As you might suspect, Mr. Bridgerton,” she says, when he inquires after her mother and sisters. “Many men before you have made the same declaration, though maybe in more private settings. I am afraid any hope of marriage left in this household falls upon my sisters.”

It is the fact that she doesn’t use his name that stings the worst, and makes him understand exactly how much harm he’s done with his extremely horrifying comment.

“Penelope, I am so entirely sorry for the way I behaved yesterday. You must believe me when I say I did not mean to offend you in any way.”

“Must I?”

He stops, opens his mouth: no words come out. She looks the picture perfect of peace, and maybe this is what should worry him the most. It is his first time seeing her as more than a blushing young woman, and suddenly maybe he realizes why she is Eloise’s best friend: she’s made of tougher stuff than what he’s been led to believe so far.

“What I said, the way I’ve said it. I’ve hurt you… It’s entirely intolerable and I apologize for the situation you’ve been put in because of me being an ass.”

Situation that she handled entirely fine, given the fact that he so singled her out in a market of numerous others undesirable young ladies. She sighs at his curse, something that sounds like Colin, that has the tiniest of fondness in the tone. Something in his chest tightens with fondness of its own, for this woman in front of him, who has been nothing but a most beloved friend, to his entire family – and to him, as well.

“I…” she stops, taking in a deep breath, her hands shaking. “I already told you, no feelings were hurt. You’ve made no remark that wasn’t already obvious to everybody in the ton,” she says, and she waves in the air the latest number of Lady Whistledown.

Of course, even when he misses it, his sisters and his dear mama are quick to fill him up on the happenings of the season. In today’s fresh paper, Whistledown has written down that were the two of them ever to get married, she’d have to give up writing altogether – such an unfitting match never having been seen before.

“You can’t possibly believe those writings,” he says, suddenly offended at the paper, though he’s not quite certain on whose behalf anymore.

“I didn’t, until –”

Until he has reinforced them all the more, with his declaration. Colin suddenly feels himself flush from head to toes, at being so openly chastised. His brother Benedict has already told him, that he has cruelly overstepped most demands of polite society when he lost his temper in that way, in such a public place.

“I really do apologize, Penelope.”

He hadn’t realize how much he enjoys saying her name until now, when he so desperately wants her, needs her to say his own. A sign that things between them can be mended, move from the terrible awkwardness between them.

“Pity doesn’t feel that nice to those who already know how pitiful they are, Colin.” His gaze snaps up at her, and finds her already smiling at him – quite charming, even if so utterly self-depreciating. “Though you are forgiven.”

He bows at her in thanks, lower than he’s gone in months, if not years, just to show how entirely grateful he is. Of course, Colin is yet too young, rich, handsome and charismatic to know the meaning of her words, and too stupid of a man to try and understand where she is coming from.

But he will, in due time.

For now, maybe his favourite sight to see during his travels becomes the shores of England, when returning home. Because home has just started to mean just a tiny bit more.

#bridgerton #bridgerton series #colin/penelope #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton ff

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looselucy · 5 years ago

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Guilt

July 15th “I don’t really remember the first time I started work on the Blood Sun.” Styles tells us, sitting in his quiet New York gallery whilst sipping slowly on a glass of wine, a deep red. “I don’t know if I’ve blocked it out. I know it started with the idea of thunder and lightning, but it veered from that pretty quickly. I had an idea what I wanted from the painting emotionally. I don’t know if I got that with the end product, but I knew I couldn’t get that from thunder. It had to be a sun.”

I was sat in PJ’s in silence, scrolling through a relatively recent article about Harry on my phone as I waited for my breakfast. I had always tried to avoid going online to read about him, because I knew whatever I saw was likely to be monitored and watered down, not even by those reporting on him, but by Harry himself. He was never going to share intimate truths so publicly, so there was nothing real for me to learn, but it had been so much harder to avoid since he’d sent me the painting. I wanted to know what he’d said about it, if he’d mentioned anything about selling it or not. I needed to know everything I could. Styles must be bored of answering questions about his most celebrated work at this point, but it is by far his most intriguing. Not only is the painting spectacular, with stunning mixes of oranges, yellows, and the artists own blood, but it’s a piece he seems to be refusing to sell – no matter how high the offer. “I don’t make art for it to be sold. I make art to express. If selling was the reason I painted, I would have given this up a long time ago. I never saw that as a reason to paint, it was always to do with the feeling, the emotion. I guess the therapeutic side of it, too. I’m not going to sell a piece for the sake of it.” I should have known he would have started painting again when he’d left, but that seemed like confirmation, what with him saying he would have given it up. I didn’t know how to feel about it. Of course I wanted him to continue with his passion, work in a way that showed his talents, made his life beyond comfortable, but it was what came with his painting that made me uneasy. I hadn’t seen anything expressing that he no longer used blood, and I thought that would have be a focal point had it been the case. I cursed his agent, leaping viciously to the conclusion that it was him who kept Harry in the frame of mind, convinced him that he had to paint with blood or people would lose interest. I was sure of it. I took a deep breath in and continued. “That painting means more to me than any number, I don’t think I’ll ever sell it, per se. I’m not even accepting offers anymore.” I question if his new work that he will soon reveal is a way of distracting people from the painting, moving on. “Partially.” He admits. “But it’s also a new time for me. It’s new work, paintings I’m really excited to share. I’m looking forward to seeing how I end up feeling about all this new stuff. What I want to sell, what I don’t. We’ll see.” What Harry has managed to achieve with his art is remarkable. It’s not merely the power of his paintings, something that is preposterously palpable if you’re lucky enough to be in the same room as one. And it’s not limited to the success he’s had, the respect he’s received from his peers ever since he was granted a scholarship when he was still a teenager. It’s the emotions that his work inspires. He is quiet, but with purpose. He doesn’t talk about the inspiration behind each of his pieces, what makes him paint – instead, he throws you in head first to figure it out alone. You are never told what to see or how to feel, every brush of paint open to interpretation. Styles never ties you to the idea of what his work should be, instead his art is open, free of chains, exposing you to the truth of your own emotions rather than lumbering you with the truth of his. There is something magic in his secrecy that allows you to feel personally connected to his work, your feelings valid. In his less is more approach, you are left feeling as much a part of his art as he is. He connects with his consumer by saying so little, a truly impressive feat. Harry Styles is not ours to know, but his masterpieces are, and that’s exactly why our relationship with this extraordinary artist works. Reaching the end of the article, I locked my phone, leaning back in my chair and taking a deep breath inward, the words resting heavily on my chest. It wasn’t even necessarily what they’d been saying in the write-up, not really, it was more the strange sensation of reading about him that way at all. The Blood Sun was still sitting where I had found it. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with it, I didn’t even have the space in my flat, not that I thought it would even get through the door. It was almost as though I didn’t dare move it, fear of damaging it, fear of admitting it was mine to damage. It had been almost a fortnight since I’d received it, touched it for the first time, breathed it in, but it hadn’t moved and inch and I was still perfectly clueless. I’d cried that night when I’d got home. Once we were back on the shop floor, I’d managed to get through most of the day at work without talking about it, without really even thinking about it, but the second I closed my front door, I burst into tears. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and just allowed myself to completely shatter, freeing whatever emotion had felt so imprisoned. I hadn’t really stopped thinking about him since, slowly driving myself insane with wild thoughts of the boy I’d once known, the boy who’d left my life and then re-entered it in the most spectacular and elaborate way. I didn’t want to think about him because it didn’t help. Even with him sending me that painting, it didn’t give me any leads, any answers; I still felt entirely powerless. But what was playing on my mind relentlessly was the knowledge that he had been thinking of me. Since he had departed from my life, I’d managed to convince myself that he no longer thought of me at all, that I would never cross his mind. I had been sure he was simply getting on with his life and I had become a hazy memory of his, another girl he had once been with for a few months of his life, another mistake. It was one of the things that had helped me to get over him, to know I wasn’t even beneath his skin enough for him to have dig me out. I told myself that I’d barely scratched the surface. Him sending me that painting made me feel differently. To know he had sat and thought of me, gone out of his way to make sure I became the owner of his most personal work. He wouldn’t have done something so grand on a whim, meaning without doubt that I had been playing on his mind. I wondered how he felt when he thought of me. I wondered what emotions I might stir. I hoped they were positive, and judging by the nature of his gesture they may well have been, but then again maybe his feelings towards me were as complex as mine towards him. Some days I’d think of him and feel happy, grateful we had what we did, that I experienced love in its truest form, even though it wasn’t reciprocated. I had loved him, and I was fortunate to have been able to feel that way about someone who so rarely let people into his life. Yet other days, the thought of us produced anger. Others, upset. Others, longing. It seemed impossible to look back on something so formidable with limited and lax emotions. I knew I wouldn’t find the answers to any of my questions in any article, but it was the only option I had. “Here we are.” Paula approached cheerily, placing my Eggs Benedict down in front of me. “Do you want me to top your coffee up?” “Please.” I sighed as she started pouring the dark liquid from the old-fashioned compressor into my mug. “You look knackered.” She sounded concerned. “Everything okay?” “Couldn’t really sleep.” I looked up to her. “Think I’ve only had a couple of hours.” “Any reason?” “Um… Dunno. I don’t think so. My minds just been working overtime recently. I can’t seem to shut off.” I hadn’t been sleeping well for what I felt was a variety of reasons. No matter how much I tried, how tired I was, it was like I’d get into bed and my head would just start spinning, conjuring up all these questions and ideas and worries that simply didn’t allow me to drift off. And the longer that lasted the worse it got, gradually becoming alarmingly aware that I should have been fast asleep. I’d start counting how many minutes and hours it would be until I had to get up and face another day on so little sleep, tossing and turning and losing my mind. That morning, I must have only drifted off at around 4AM, and yet still I awoke just before 7AM, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. That was why I’d headed to PJ’s, getting in a good meal and an abundance of coffee before I opened the shop for the day. “How longs that been going on?” “Couple’a weeks.” I tried to shrug it off. “It’s nothing, really. M’fine.” “Alright.” She griped, unsure. “I’ll always have free coffee here for you, if you need it.” “Thanks, Paula.” She squeezed my shoulder encouragingly before getting back to work, leaving me to tuck into my meal and pray that the coffee would be enough to see me through the day, because the amount of sleep I’d had certainly wasn’t enough on its own. I was only a few mouthfuls into my first meal of the day when the front door to PJ’s opened, my eyes instinctively lifting upwards to see who’d walked in. It was Chloe and Sam. Though things were okay between the three of us, it still felt awkward then. It was early, there was only one other person there, an old bloke who was sat in the corner keeping himself to himself. It was like it was just the three of us, which made for a rather uncomfortable atmosphere. There was no anger there, no hatred, but that didn’t mean we were at ease. “Hey.” I smiled to them both after swallowing my food, grateful I hadn’t started choking on it the second they’d walked through the door. “Hiya.” Sam greeted, straightening his back out. “Hi.” Chloe barely whispered. I felt bad for her, in some ways. She had never quite figured out how to be around me, weighed down by her guilt even though she shouldn’t have been, and I’d expressed that to her more than once. They shuffled past me, going over to the counter to order some food, whispering between themselves. It was so stupidly awkward, so much worse than it should have been. They’d been together for well over a year at that point, it shouldn’t have been that bad! I sat thinking to myself, knowing it was likely that the reason it was so bad was because we’d let it be. We hadn’t put the effort in to make sure we were all okay with each other, we hadn’t put the effort in and gone out of our way to avoid the awkwardness of our affiliations. We had to get past it. I took another bite, regretting my decision before I’d even voiced my thoughts but I knew what I wanted to do, and as long as I’d put the effort in, that was the best I could do. Once I’d heard that they’d finished ordering, I turned around, closing my eyes and blurting it out. “Do you wanna sit with me?” I opened my eyes to find them both looking at me like I’d gone mad. They were probably right. “Are you… I… Wh-what?” Sam blundered. “Do you wanna… sit… with me?” I said again. “We could just… y’know… talk, or whatever.” “Are you serious?” Chloe dazzled, dumbstruck and emotional. “Have we… done something wrong?” Sam asked me. “No! Nothing, I just… I can’t stand this.” I exhaled. “I hate being this awkward with you both, we need to push past it. So would you just… fucking sit down so we can get over ourselves and just be normal? We’re too old for this bullshit.” Sam just looked amused, sniggering to himself as he sat down on one of the chairs across from me, Chloe following close behind. She was different. She looked as though she could burst into tears at any moment. She sat down, biting her lip to hold back tears as Sam dove straight in with questions, asking about me, about my dad, updating me on how his mum was. I kept catching her from the corner of my eye and she wasn’t settling. She couldn’t ease at all. It was clear she still struggled, with all of it. It was hard for her to sit there with a friend she’d lost, knowing it had happened because of choices she had made. I knew that was why she got upset when she was around me. There’s nothing quite like love, the power it holds over you. I had to be conscious of the reasons why she chose Sam, even when that meant losing her friends. When love is that strong, it doesn’t care about anyone else, who it hurts, what it breaks. When love is that strong, it’s a force to be reckoned with, its pawns powerless to its forces. I’d seen throughout my life that most people would do anything to save love, to keep it in their hearts for as long as possible, whatever the cost. It might have seemed odd, the abundance of sacrifices she’d had to make just to be with him, but their love had told her to do that, to fight for him. I hoped he was worth it. I hoped that every loss paled when she looked at him, when that love took over. The only problem was that when she was around us, and me specifically, it didn’t feel that easy. She’d get upset, she’d realise how much she missed us, how much she missed how things had been. She hadn’t just lost me when her and Sam had gotten together, it had slowly picked a lot of her friends out of her life, but it centred around me. It was so difficult to admit that we’d never be the same again. It was gutting to come to terms with the fact that we’d lost something so good. My only comfort was knowing that she’d gained from it in some way or another. That morning with her was a quiet one, conversation mainly being held between Sam and I as she put most of her energy into holding herself together, not breaking, reminding herself of the reasons things had changed so much. But as far as I was concerned, anything was better than how we had been for the past year or so. Anything was an improvement.

“Here she is!” Niall yelled when I stepped into The Tin Mouse that evening, everyone greeting me cheerily; all except Lin, who didn’t really do anything, staring blankly at me as I cautiously approached the table. I was feeling rather anxious, my hands dug into the pockets of my denim jacket, pressing my lips together tightly. I didn’t really want to be there, to be honest. “Hi.” I just about smiled, taking a deep breath inward before I spoke. “Shall I get a round in?” Quite purposefully, I’d been running rather late, meaning they were all at the end of their drinks by the time I got there. They put in their requests quickly, all rather distracted and chirpy, meaning it took longer than it should have. Lin still hadn’t said a word by the time I was heading over to the bar, but I knew he’d grab at his opportunity. I’d only just put in the large order when I noticed him leap up to his feet and storm over to me, his voice leaden and irked when he spoke. “Why’ve you been ignoring me?” “I haven’t.” I protested. “Well, that’s fucking weird, because you haven’t answered any of my calls or my texts. You didn’t come to watch the match on Monday, you haven’t been at the pub.” He was angry, and I was fighting tears. “Don’t treat me like a fucking idiot, Alf, I know what’s going on.” I hadn’t meant to avoid him. I didn’t want to create an atmosphere. I didn’t want him to be angry with me. I didn’t want a lot of things that had come into fruition of late. What I had wanted, was to continue being honest and upfront with him, but receiving that painting and that note from Harry had somehow made everything with Lin feel twice as difficult. Because I knew it had to end. It had been hard enough to admit to him that I wasn’t sure on my feelings and what was happening between us, so it would have been even harder to be blunt and really end things, to tell him that I could finally make sense of the mess in my own mind. I knew it wasn’t right, that’s what my head was telling me, that’s what my gut was telling me. That’s what my heart was telling me. I just didn’t know how I was supposed to tell him. He waited for me to say something, my throat dry and tight as I tried to figure it out. “Please don’t be mad at me.” I whispered. “I don’t want to be mad at you, Alfie, I’m just frustrated!” He whelped. “Because if I knew asking you out would have led to this, I wouldn’t have fucking done it. I don’t think you understand how much I don’t wanna lose you, Alf! I can’t!” I looked right past him, staring over his shoulder and concentrating on the back door that would lead out to the beer garden, because looking in his eyes summoned too many emotions, ones I couldn’t supress. He made being opaque sound so easy, like it wouldn’t involve hurting his feelings and choking up over every single wrong word. I didn’t know how to handle it, what I should or shouldn’t say, and I certainly didn’t want to tell Lin that the main thing that had driven me away from even thinking about him in a romantic way was the delivery of a fucking painting. “Don’t avoid me, please!” He went on. “Just be honest. I can take it.” “It’s not as easy as that.” “It is! I’m telling you, it is! Because by not saying it, you’re saying it anyway. So, you might as well bite the bullet.” He sighed, wound his jaw. “Put me out of my misery. Please.” He just wanted it to be over, maybe even more than I did, but for different reasons. We were both in agony for different reasons and it needed to end. “I don’t wanna do this here.” I started to cry. I felt like all I did was fucking cry. “Fuck, don’t get upset. Oh shit. I don’t want you to feel guilty or sad, please don’t cry. If it’s not right, then it’s not.” He reached to grab my hand, pulling it away from my face as I tried to hide my tears. “You’ve just gotta be honest with me about it. I knew I was running a risk when I asked you, I just wanna be kept in the loop!” “Lin, it’s not that easy!” I wept. “I care about you so much and I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings. And I’ve had such a shit couple of weeks. I’ve been so sad and-” “That’s… the opposite of how I want you to feel!” He wailed. “C’mere. Wipe those bloody tears away, eh? I don’t wanna see you sad. Don’t be sad, not for my sake.” He held my cheeks steadily in his hands, wiping his thumbs beneath my eyes to dry my tears on my behalf, shaking his head like I was being silly, which made me laugh. He was good at that. It was obvious he was irritated with how I’d handled things since our date, but he was still trying to keep things sweet between us in any way he could, whilst also getting his point across. I sucked it up as much as I could as he wiped away a few more tears, talking calmly as he did. “Are you crying because of me? Did I go in too hard?” “No.” I shook my head. “I just feel bad. I didn’t want it to go like this.” “No… I can’t say I did either.” He chuckled uneasily. “It just… It doesn’t feel right. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.” He dropped his hands whilst my tears terminated progressively. “I don’t want-” “LIN, WHY’RE YOU MAKING ALFIE CRY?” Niall yelled from across the room. “NIALL, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Lin yelled back, proceeding to mentally block him out. “For fuck sake. Someone needs to tell that lad that it’s not always appropriate to drop a joke.” Despite the fact that I agreed, we were both still sort of laughing, shaking our heads and rolling our eyes. “I think we should probably do this another time.” I whispered, wiping away the last of my tears. “Sorry for getting mad.” “Sorry for avoiding you. I’d be mad too. And sorry for crying. You should be able to be pissed off without me crying and making you feel bad.” Abruptly, he moved in and wrapped his arms around me, releasing a swell of air that had be stuck in his chest. We could hear Niall whinging whimsically about how they were all waiting on their drinks, which were now sitting on top of the bar waiting to be paid for and waiting to be carried over to their consumers, but we had things to say. After quite some time, Lin pulled out of the hug but remained close, pressing his forehead against mine and speaking quietly, still trying to block out our surroundings, his hand latched against the back of my neck. I breathed him in, eased. “We’ll be okay, I promise. I don’t really know where we go from here, but-” “Harry?” I heard Louis yell through the bar, and I knew. Before I’d even turned around, I knew. I could tell from the sound of his voice, the perfect blend of surprise and terror. I knew and yet it didn’t seem real. Not until I watched Lin lift his head to gaze over the top of mine, eyes and mouth wide. “Holy shit, Harry’s here.” I whipped my whole body around a second later so I was facing the right way, so I could see for myself. That was the moment I locked eyes with Harry for the first time in over a year. He was completely motionless, so still and beautiful and perfect I could hardly comprehend that he was real, an image frozen in time and likely captured in my mind forever. He was stood in the doorway staring forward, right at me, as though he wasn’t conscious of anything else. It was just me and him and the static canvas we had become. His emotions were difficult to decipher, looking as shocked as I must have even though it was him who’d turned up out of nowhere. He hadn’t stepped foot in that pub since the previous May, but he was gazing right at me as though I had entered his space, like it was my presence that was the cause for alarm. He looked hurt, in ways. Those seconds felt like a lifetime, only able to snap out of my daze when Niall crashed his body against Harry’s, threw his arm around his neck. “What the hell are you doing here?” Libby howled excitedly as she approached him. “Are you moving back?” Niall asked whilst hugging the life out of him. “Please tell me you’re moving back.” It was then that Harry managed to pull his eyes away, and so did I, darting my vision to the left to look at Louis, who was already staring at me with wide eyes. “What the fuck?” He mouthed mutely. I found that my eyes drew back to Harry within seconds, like a magnet. His were back on me. He looked amazing. He always did. Even when he was exhausted and drained, his body had a certain shine to it that I’d never seen the likes of before and would never see again. Maybe I saw him in some divine light, but staring at him then I felt sure that simply, he was magnificent; radiant, powerful, immersed in splendour. “Uh…” Harry eventually began to grumble as Niall detached himself, looking away from me but not looking at anyone else, his gaze shooting down to the floor. “I dunno why I’m here. Sorry, I… I should go.” “What? You just got here?” Niall keened. Lin tried to edge past me to get closer to Harry, attempt to convince him to stick around like the rest of them were doing, all confused and stunned by his presence but desperate for him to stay. As he moved, Lin placed his hand on my waist gently, tenderly trying to edge me closer to the group to help with encouraging Harry to stay, but that minor action seemed to have the opposite effect. Harry witnessed the trivial exchange and withdrew completely. “No, m’sorry, I can’t do this.” He walked backwards, pushing his weight against the front door to open it without looking. “I dunno why I came, I’m sorry.” “The fuck, Harry?” Niall, Libby and Louis were all so dumbfounded they could barely move, just watching him back himself out of there. “What is going on?” It was rather clear he was overwhelmed, and I didn’t necessarily think it was the sole reason, but I knew that he was piqued by what he’d seen between Lin and I. He’d always had his paranoias, and though they still felt rather misplaced, he hadn’t been entirely delusional. The last time we had been together, we had kissed and held one another so intensely, the situation overflowing with passion and heartbreak. That was the last physical contact we’d had. Following that, he’d sent me a painting that was closer to his heart than most of the people in his life could ever hope to be. No matter how we’d ended or the complications we’d faced, I predicted that he saw me in a similar way to how I saw him – that in some way, we would always belong to one another. I would never be okay seeing him with someone else, and he didn’t want to see me with another man. Our history was too strong. For him to see me for the first time over a year later, another boys hand in my hair and lips close to mine. I knew I wouldn’t have wanted to see him and another woman like that, whether it meant something or not. I knew that was one of the reasons he desired a swift exit. “I shouldn’t have come. I don’t wanna interrupt, m’just gunna go. I promise I’ll see you soon, I promise, I just… Fuck.” With that final curse word he was outside, the door closing behind him. There were only a few seconds of shocked silence before Louis turned and bellowed to me. “Alfie, for fuck sake, go after him!” With no plan, no thought process and nothing to guide me, I ran out the door to catch him. I could barely make sense of a single thing, all I knew was that I couldn’t let him walk away without putting up a fight. I was terrified that if I let him walk away, that would be the last of it. Harry was sometimes hard to read, difficult to predict, and despite recent actions, I knew the chances of him disappearing from my life completely, never to seen or heard from again, were large. I knew there was a chance that this could be the very last time I saw him, and that was more likely if I didn’t go after him. I had too many questions that needed answering; why he was there, why he’d sent me the painting, how he had been for the past year. I wanted answers, and then if he wanted to leave he could. I could only hope that he desired the same closure I did. “Harry!” I yelled as soon as I could. He had his head down, walking central down the countrylane, heading towards town, towards the house where he used to live, towards a history he didn’t want to face. He tried to ignore me, not wanting to acknowledge my presence. I was so fucking confused. “HARRY!” I yelled again once I was out on the road, and he had to stop then, coming to a complete standstill but not turning to look at me. “What the fuck are you doing?” He didn’t answer. “Why’re you here?” “I… I don’t know.” He slowly turned around, but kept his line if vision right on the ground ahead of his feet. “It was stupid, m’sorry, I’m just gunna leave. I thought I was ready for this and I… I’m really not, so-” “Ready for what?” “Being back here. Seeing… I-I can’t. I have to leave.” He set off again, running his hand through his hair, clearly wanting nothing more than to get away from me. Though I could feel my frustration bubbling, I kept it locked down, remaining still and watching him walk away. “Why did you send me that painting?” I asked tersely, breathless, and that brought him to a standstill once again. I was surprised by how calm I sounded. Even when he turned back around and lifted his head to look at me, I remained still, serene, patiently awaiting his answer. He blinked, strangely acting as though he hadn’t been expecting me to question him on that, like he thought we’d both look past it, like it was regular, expected. “Because… it’s yours.” He eventually managed an answer, speaking as though it was obvious. “No one else deserves it.” “Har-” “I need to go, Alfie. I’m sorry.” He started walking backwards once again, not wanting to delay his departure. “I’m sorry for showing up, I-” “Wait… Fuck, I’m so… Don’t you think we need to talk?” “No. I can’t. Just… Forget about it, okay?” He shuddered. “I’ve got so many fucking questions, Harry! How do you expect me to just forget this?” “Will you tell them I’m sorry?” He said, and when I remained silent, stunned, he turned around and picked up his pace. I wished he’d called me Fee-Fee. I didn’t fully understand why that was my first thought, but all I knew was that I craved to hear him call me by that nickname he had so fondly adopted. I longed for that familiarity, that sense that we knew one another, that we had a history, because as he was walking away from me then, he truly felt like a stranger. The only thing that felt the same was the way he was running away from a situation that was more complicated than he’d bargained for. Exasperated, I picked up the pace and followed his footsteps, diminishing the space between us and then jumping so I was directly in front of him, forcing him to stop. We were mere inches apart. “Alfie-” “I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to talk to me, Harry, that’s fine!” I fumed, retrieving my phone from my pocket and searching through it, unable to look him in the eye now we were so close. “I stopped expecting things from you when you fucking left, I’m past it. But you need to speak to your mum. Here.” I held my phone out ahead of him, keeping my eyes on his chest but putting the screen right before his eyes, the contact information for his mother brightening his face. “Wh-what?” “It’s your mum’s number. Take it. Call her.” “But-” “If you don’t, I fucking will. Please step up and do it, Harry. She’s desperate to hear from you.” “How… How do you-” “I spoke to her about you, and I don’t even care if you’re angry with me. I really don’t fucking care anymore, because this is your way to reach her and that’s all that mattered to me. And now you know that she does want you to reach out for her, she tried to reach you, so you’ve got no excuse. Take it, call her. Please.” He was shell-shocked for a little while, taking his time before he reached into his pocket to retrieve his poor excuse for a phone, some old looking thing that didn’t look like it would still function, typing the number he could see and then hopefully saving it to his phone, but I didn’t check to confirm that. I just had to hope he was listening to me, and that I’d said enough for him to finally get in touch with Julia again. “You done?” I asked bluntly. “Uh… Yeah.” “Okay, I’ve done my part, so leave. I don’t care.” I huffed, moving past him, my shoulder colliding with his rather lethally. I had spent the past few months of my life trying to pick him away from my memories, some sort of survival technique I had attempted to adapt, tearing even the tiniest detail from my thoughts. Even down to the simplest thing, like the exact colour of his eyes, the precise shade of green. I had almost forgotten that colour, and the second I was close enough to reacquaint myself, I daren’t look, daren’t remind myself. Or maybe I daren’t acknowledge that I’d never really forgotten. I never could. One last thing held me back before I left him there alone, went back to trying to forget. I rotated to face him again, seeing he hadn’t moved. “And I’d fire your agent, if I was you.” I said. “What?” He turned slightly, enough so he could see me. “Your mum got in touch with him and he never told you. Fire him, he doesn’t give a fuck about you.” His hurt and his horror were clear within his face even though he didn’t say a single thing. I didn’t give him much of an opportunity to reply, really. I had done what I wanted to do, placed the responsibility and the knowledge within his hands, and then it was his to handle, his to deal with however he felt was best. I had hopes, but I certainly didn’t expect anything from him. Not after everything. As I walked away from him, I could feel tears building, like my heart was breaking all over again, like I was losing him all over again even though I’d never gotten him back. Truthfully, he had never been mine to lose.

#Happy Bloody Sunday #enjoyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy #HBS45

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raevenlywrites · 5 years ago

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Foxes and Fate 1

Guys I’m dumb. This is literally what having a taglist is for XD Here’s all the goodness I was linking to yesterday (so you’ve potentially already read it), but with my actual taglist included (I don’t know why you guys are so patient with me tysm)

Tybee

The game of cat and mouse was one of the oldest, and had changed little over time. Technically, the cat was a fox, and the mouse was a little bird, but the game stayed the same. She ran and he gave chase, though she couldn't know it until it was too late. She walked in human form, thought her heart stayed sparrow fast and her eyes darted to every sound and shadow as she crossed the darkened parking lot. It did her little good. Ancient instincts had dulled with the passage of generations, diluted to mere uneasiness as the eyes of her predator tracked her from the edge of the woods. Tybee smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief and starlight.

The girl flicked a glance over her shoulder, but the fox was nowhere to be seen. His shadow-dark pelt was made for the night, and his passage was a hushed echo against the greater murmuring of the night. She sang for him, Lady Night, lusty crickets and whispering grass, covering the rustling passage of her favorite son. Nighttime was for hunters. Sunset, a benediction for the hunted.

The jingling of keys was a harsh discord against the night song. Tybee's senses stretched out, tasting the girl's aura, testing her Luck. When a particularly loud frog croaked nearby she jumped, but did not drop her keys. Not especially ill luck, then. Didn't necessarily mean good, but it was a start.

Slipping back into his human form, Tybee snuggled into the shadow of a large tree as the girl got into her car. He blew her a kiss, and though he couldn't see it, he imagined her skin shivered with the magic of it, as his brush of power marked her. He'd let Fate decide, whether that kiss brought his little bird to him or not. Tonight, he would hunt for fun. Tomorrow, the real game began.

Lia

Lia sat in her car a moment too long before turning it on. Her fingers had locked the doors automatically when she'd gotten in, a habit long engrained by her mother.

"You can never be too careful," she'd always said. Lia was slowly learning that wasn't entirely true.

It had taken years for her to figure out that all the careful watching, all the what-ifs, all the opportunities lost to fear took away what made life worth living. That her mother really was too careful. Now Lia was trying to strike the right balance, to temper caution with reason. Her avian soul had seen that life as the cage that it was. Now she was ready to fly.

She started the car, telling herself it had only been the wind, or night animals. No one had been following her, she was just anxious being out by herself after dark. It was smart to be anxious, silly to be paranoid. Right. Now if only her too rapid heart would get that memo.

As she drove she forced herself to relax, unlocked the doors, rolled down the window. The night breeze carried the smells of damp earth, growing things, and the unnamable smell of magic. Lia had chosen this school specifically because of its location: far enough from home for Lia's liking, close enough for her mother's worrying, and most importantly, rumored to be near a small Rift.

The holes in reality had always been there, but in recent years they'd grown in number and frequency. And unreliability. A new Rift could appear overnight, and just as quickly fade away into nothing. The one in the next town over was small, but apparently had been there for years and years, even before the shift that had started them cropping up all over the place.

Of course, it wasn't a widely advertised fact, because they were unspeakably dangerous to live near.

The less stable rifts, the ones the had started appearing more recently, were said to take out entire towns with them when they collapsed. But an old, small one like this, Lia had reasoned, wasn't likely to collapse any time soon. And the size of it meant the magic flowing through from Otherside shouldn't do much more than …well, Lia didn't know what. But she wanted to find out. So she'd chosen this school, ran it by her best friend Kyle, who had both agreed and helped convince her mother to let her go. Kyle who was out late tonight, who was never afraid to go anywhere alone. Who never shied away from adventure.

Lia could only hope to be as brave.

It seemed Kyle wasn't the only one out tonight when she pulled into the parking lot of the Honor's House. The co-ed dorm was surprisingly one of her mother's selling points. She'd been pleased to know that Kyle would be staying only a few doors down, and doubtless he made calls home to her mother just as often as Lia herself. Bless him. She couldn't ask for a better best friend. Kyle always had her back.

She wished he was here now as climbed out of the car. Even parked this close to the doors, walking alone in empty parking lots made her nervous.

Which was her only excuse for screaming when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

The woman had jumped back when Lia screamed, a bundle of brightly colored flyers clutched to her chest. Her eyes were wide and luminous, seeming to catch the light that streamed out through the house windows. Something about her posture screamed readiness over wariness, like she'd had to hold herself back from a violent response.

Lia stared.

"I'm sorry," the woman said again. Her voice was smooth and cultured, carrying the traces of an unfamiliar accent. Something that stretched the vowels and lingered on the R's, making them roll sensually.

"I only wanted to ask if you were going inside, if you wouldn't mind taking in some of these flyers."

The woman held out a small stack, the print on them almost lost in elegant lines of rolling scroll work. It seemed to be an advertisement for a traveling show and market fair.

"The doors were locked," the woman said. Lia suddenly realized she hadn't said a word herself.

"Oh, yeah! Sorry, so sorry. It's late and, um, visiting hours-"

"I understand." The woman smiled, with all the warmth and brightness of stage lights. "Would you mind, taking them in for me?"

"No, not at all-sorry if I scared you." Lia took the offered papers. The woman chuckled, a dark, rolling laugh.

"Thank you so much for doing my work for me."

The words seemed odd, like they carried more weight than they should. Lia frowned, eyes falling to the papers in her hand.

"The Best Show here or Otherside," it read. Lia's breath caught. The Rift.

She went to ask the woman, but she was already gone. The parking lot was as dark and empty as before. Shaking herself, Lia hurried inside, feeling stupid for standing around outside gawking at flyers that could have been read just as easily in the saftey of the lobby. Angry with herself, she tossed the flyers carelessly on the front desk and went upstairs.

She kept one for herself.

The style was interesting, she told herself. They'd make good inspiration for her sketchbook. She ignored the racing in her heart at the idea of tumblers, acrobats, fire eaters, fortune tellers. The best show here or Otherside. Magic.

Foxes and Fate Tag List @lordkingsmith @mariahwritesstuff @silver-wields-a-pen @jessiwritesbad @writinginslowmotion @alessia-writes @abalonetea @worldbuildingwren @soupopoireau @livvywrites @adie-dee @bookish-actor @hannahs-creations @dawnoftheagez @pied-piper-of-hamlet @dahl-my-life @sybil-writes @pluttskutt @moonflower-writing

As always, let me know if you want to be added/removed/etc, and thank you again for being patient with my dumbass (seriously I dont know why it doesn’t occur to me to USE this list)

#foxes and fate #oc tybee #oc lia #raevenly WRITES #CAN YOU BELIEVE #writeblr #urban fantasy

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ourloveisforthelovely · 5 years ago

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Fallout 6

SPN RPF

Warnings: RPF, Smut

Link to Chapter 5

Words: 3,724

Pairings: Richard Speight Jr x Reader

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You sat in the passenger seat of the rental car enjoying the cool mountain air on your face. With a smile, you glanced over at Richard. While this was the happiest you had been in a very long while; you also knew the two of you were going to face one hell of a shit storm soon. Running off and eloping was definitely one of the craziest things that you had ever done! You didn’t regret the decision that Richard had come up with at three in the morning the day after returning from Germany.

“What are we waiting for? Why have a big fancy wedding when no one else cares? Your parents won’t be able to come, mine certainly won’t be there. Now Rob won’t even talk to us about it or anything for that matter.”

You had said when Richard made the comment about just eloping. Richard looked a little surprised when those words came out of your mouth. He was partially being a smart ass so when you agreed with his idea it was definitely shocking.

“Wait, you don’t want to have a wedding with the dress and all that…stuff?”

You shook your head.

“Not at the moment. If my own brother won’t be there let’s just do a quickie. Yeah, the rest of our friends will probably be bummed but they will get over it. Besides I won’t be fitting into a wedding dress much longer anyway.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. He knew that you were irritated with Rob for avoiding but this just proved how devastated you were over it. Rolling his eyes, Richard had to fight the urge to call Crystal and give her a good piece of his mind to tell Rob. He let his eyes look down your body to her stomach. You still didn’t look pregnant.

“I don’t want you to regret it later.”

He responded, softly. You shook your head.

“I won’t.”

Richard shrugged deciding now was the time to give up.

“If that’s what you want, babe. I have an idea. We can do our little shotgun wedding and I’ll book us a week or two back in Tennessee. We can get away from all the cameras and nonsense. It would also give us some time alone without interruptions.”

You looked pleased enough. At the moment, you would have probably agreed with any quickie idea that he could come up with.

“Sounds good to me.”

Pulling yourself from the memory of the day before, the only real regret you did have was not telling Rob. But at the same time, if Rob wouldn’t answer your or Richard’s call and texts, there really wasn’t much that could be done. Judging from the look on Richard’s face you were beginning to worry if he was regretting the decision as well.

“Do you regret what we did?”

You asked softly. Richard quickly looked at you. He was worrying himself that you were regretting the hasty marriage. If you did, it would crush him! During the ceremony, your eyes hadn’t left his. It almost felt as though you could see his whole soul. If it didn’t work out with you, he would never fall in love with anyone again!

“What?! No! Not at all, sugar. Are you?”

You shook your head and wrapped your hand around Richard’s that was resting on your thigh.

“No. I’m just worried about my brother.”

Richard nodded.

“Yeah, that is going to be a barrel of monkeys. Look Y/n, I’m serious when I say I don’t regret marrying you. My regret was not asking you sooner. I just don’t want people thinking the only reason I married you is because I got you pregnant.”

He slowly brought your hand to his lips before returning his focus to the road ahead. You meanwhile, looked down at her wedding ring. A few weeks ago you would have never even considered marrying Richard. The two of you were only repairing the broken relationship. However, after the eventful trip to Europe, finding out that you were pregnant, being involved in one of the weirdest train incidents to hit northern Europe (big shout out to Jared, you thought with a smirk), and finally getting some alone time with Richard things had started to look up.

“What’s so funny?”

Richard asked as he began to mess with the radio. You chuckled.

“Just thinking about Jared causing havoc in Europe.”

Richard rolled his eyes.

“We are seriously never traveling with them again. I thought we going to jail. Amsterdam was nice though.”

“We didn’t get out of bed for two days.”

Richard gave you his best “innocent” look.

“That was my point. I may be keeping you in bed for the next week and a half. When we get to Missouri to see your mother you may not be walking straight. You may want to think of a clever excuse to tell your mother so she won’t know what you have been up to.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You are so full of yourself! You won’t be able to go straight for a week in a half. You may play an angel on TV but hate to break it to you love you are just a man in real life ...and kind of like a bottle rocket the moment you get inside me.”

You watched as he gave you the most confused and bewildered expression.

“I can go for a long time….if you recall in Amsterdam it was you that needed to keep taking naps. Baby girl, I can get hard for you any time any place. Speaking of which, we could always pull off and fool around.”

You shook your head.

“I am not letting you fuck me in some roadside bathroom where tourists might show up.”

Richard rolled his eyes going back to the radio.

“Didn’t stop you before.”

You gave up trying to argue with him knowing he would have some sassy comment that you wouldn’t be able to keep up with.

“Ugh everything in this state is damn country music. Do you see why I moved to LA now? Imagine growing up in Nashville.”

Richard grumbled before giving up and stopping at some random station.

“We’ll be there soon.”

You said softly running your hand over his crotch. Richard groaned looking over at you again.

“I’m really about to pull this car over.”

Taking your hand away, you leaned back with a satisfied grin on your face. With a yawn, you closed your eyes. Jet lag was still holding on from the trip to Europe. A small nap sounded like a good idea.

You were pulled out of your light nap when Richard said your name.

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

You focused on the radio.

“In other news, musician and Supernatural actress Y/n Benedict married co star and long-time boyfriend Richard Speight Jr. yesterday…”

Your mouth dropped as Richard turned off the radio and pulled over. Both of you sat in silence for a moment before Richard laughed.

“Well, that cat is out of the bag!”

You groaned realizing that everyone knew now. The little secret was out.

“So much for having a week of peace.”

You looked down at your phone that started ringing. Seeing Jared’s name followed by Jensen, both Marks, Matt Cohen, Sebastian, Misha, Vicki, and everyone else that you seemed to know. Everyone but Rob, your brain supplied. Richard hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Don’t answer it.”

Richard said calmly, running his hand through his hair. You frowned.

“Do you think Rob knows?”

Richard shrugged.

“He hasn’t blown my phone up yet so I’m guessing no. Sugar, turn the phone off. Let’s just enjoy our week of peace. We can worry about the mess back home when we get home.”

(Meanwhile in Missouri)

Rob’s morning started like any other. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Crystal left to go to work around 8 am. Rob shuffled into the living room picking up his iPad. He frowned looking down the device. Still nothing from you or Richard. Rob couldn’t help wonder what in the world was going on with the two of you? They never just disappeared and avoided him like this.

Logging onto Twitter, Rob had enough if the two of you wouldn’t answer his calls or texts he would blow your pages up until someone talked to him. Going to your page Rob froze when something caught his attention.

“Katherine Benedict Speight.”

Rob frowned muttering “the fuck?” under his breath. Taking out his phone he dialed your number and it automatically went to voicemail.

“Y/n, it’s Rob. Call me now!”

He did the same thing to Richard before sitting down with a frown. Seriously what the fuck was going on? Rob was beginning to regret his decision to unplug from the world while he was getting over his stroke.

Looking further down your twitter page, he froze seeing all he needed to see at the mention of you marrying Richard.

“Is it that hard to pick up a phone?”

Rob muttered before angrily closing the iPad. How could the two of you not call him? Just because he was across the country didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to be there when his sister was married!

“They’ve lost their fucking minds!”

Rob thought angrily before trying to formulate a plan.

Meanwhile…

Walking into the cabin, you were bound and determined not to let the stresses of life come in the way of a nice honeymoon.

“Are you okay. sugar?”

You looked up as Richard shut the door.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

You knew he didn’t believe you. Richard quickly pulled you into his arms.

“If you’re feeling bad it’s okay to say so. You haven’t been at all like my ex. She was sick all the damn time when she was pregnant. I think I handled that pretty well.”

You smirked at the fear in his eyes. Most men seemed to have this look when it came to their pregnant partners.

“I’m fine. I promise.”

Richard nodded as he picked you up and sat you on the island. He had been keeping a close eye on you since she said the word “pregnant.” He was no longer questioning whether or not he really wanted a baby. While he wasn’t fully on board or over the moon, Richard had accepted it. He tried to smile and appear happy when you mentioned anything baby related. Surely by the time the baby was born he would feel a little more at ease.

You meanwhile, watched his facial expression carefully. You were no fool, you knew Richard wasn’t thrilled with the baby but he wouldn’t say it. After you almost left him over the baby, Richard had changed his tune. He was more attentive and gentle towards your needs. You had even caught him stroking his fingers over your stomach a few times.

“So are you going to fuck me on every surface of this cabin?”

You asked with a smirk. You pushed a strand of Richard’s hair away from his eyes before leaning in for a kiss. Richard groaned into your lips.

“Richard, can you please just lose control like you used to and manhandle me?”

“I can’t hurt you right now. You’ll have to deal with soft and easy until the baby is born. Don’t give me that look!”

You didn’t listen to his last sentence and gave Richard a pouty face.

“A lot of people have sex while pregnant, Rich.”

He shook his head and pressed a few kisses to your neck and the exposed parts of your chest.

“Not like what we have.”

“You’re not being fair! You have me sounding like a slut again.”

Richard stood up with a cocky smile He quickly yanked your sweater and tank top off.

“You can be a slut for me. That I’m cool with.”

You whimpered, trying to ignore the need building inside of you. From the time you realized that you were pregnant, you were almost always horny. The pregnancy hormones were driving you nuts.

“And you talking like that isn’t helping!!”

Richard shrugged.

“I never said that I wouldn’t fuck you, sugar.”

You slid off the counter only for Richard to reach out and put you right back.

“Fucking tease.”

Richard smiled. He was genuinely pleased with the comment.

“You take my cock so well, sugar.”

The look on your face made Richard chuckle as he reached behind you to remove your bra.

“How the fuck do I get this thing off?”

He asked upon finding no clasp in the back. You took his hands placing it on the front between your breasts. Richard rolled his eyes mumbling about stupid lingerie designers and their fancy ideas. After a few tries, he started to pull. You quickly pushed his hands away.

“Oh no you don’t! I paid a lot of money for this bra. You’ve torn too many of my lingerie items when you’re turned on.”

Richard shrugged unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his jeans.

“Well, I didn’t get a fucking MIT degree in bra engineering. It either opens in the back or gets ripped off.”

You carefully undid your bra and tossed it aside. Richard reached up pressing your breasts together before taking one in his mouth and gently bit down. You whimpered, pulling his body closer to yours.

“Stop being a fucking tease, Richard.”

“What’s the rush, sugar? We can play for a while? We have all week to consummate our marriage. How about I eat you out in front of the fireplace? I can make the wait worth your while.”

You looked like you were ready to scream at this point.

“Richard Speight Jr, if you don’t make love to me I will blue ball you until this baby is born!!”

Richard stood up straight looking at you with honest surprise.

“You wouldn’t…”

“Try me.”

You said before you went to put the sweater back on. Richard lunged forward tossing the sweater somewhere behind him.

“Fine, bossy.”

He reached out pulling you into his arms and carried you to the bedroom.

“I still plan on eating you out in front of that fireplace.”

He said with a devious grin. Richard laid you on the bed. You quickly wiggled out of your remaining clothes as Richard undressed.

“I have to say I do enjoy these pregnancy hormones. You being horny all the time will make it better for me to just bend you over whenever I damn please. ”

“That would be lovely. You’ve always taken what you wanted so bending me over when you damn well please isn’t anything new. Seeing as we have spent a lot of time in airplane bathrooms, closets, dressing rooms I think your sex drive is as crazy as mine.”

Your lips were on his neck while a fee hand wrapped around his erection. Whatever sassy comment Richard had in mind left his mind as you tightened her grip. You bit down on his neck as Richard bucked his hips into your hand.

“Sugar…please.”

You slowly eased your way onto Richard, placing yourself right over him. Richard groaned raising his hips to grind further against you.

“What’s the matter, baby? You want me as bad as I want you, huh?”

Richard nodded, looking at you with the best puppy eyes he could come up with.

“Sugar, you can dominate me later. Let me make love to you know.”

You shook your head.

“Sorry, lover boy. You made me wait now you have to wait.”

Richard glared up at you. Normally he would have flipped you and pushed in. Once he was inside, you wouldn’t have made him stop. Now it was different. There was no way he could do that now.

“It will make your orgasm better.”

You cooed as you leaned down pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“At least do something. You sitting there looking hot as hell rubbing your pussy on me is killing me!”

You continued rubbing yourself against him again. Richard groaned when you got off of him. The sudden loss of pressure was more than he could handle.

“Sugar... please…”

He panted as you lay with your back the opposite direction so it was possible to see how wet for you were for him.

“Now you get to watch me. I don’t want to see you touch yourself.”

You watched with a pleased smile as Richard put his hands behind his head.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

He watched with hungry eyes as your hand slipped between your legs, stroking over your clit, and began to toy at your entrance. From your position, you could clearly see the lust-filled about to lose all grip on reality look on your husband’s face. Richard gripped the sheets so tight they ripped off the bed.

Richard sat watching a moment long before quickly moving over you.

“I’m done waiting. I want what’s mine.”

He pushed in before you could make any protest. You cried out as he sunk in balls deep. Richard made sure not to put too much weight on you as he began to move.

“Mmm sugar you are so tight right now”

You cried out as he began to slowly push into you deeper if possible.

“Harder, please.”

You moaned. The cocky self-assured expression had returned to Richard’s face.

“Looks like little ms. bossy has changed her tune.”

You sighed against his lips as Richard moved a little faster.

“Rich, for the love of all things holy, please go harder. I’m not that delicate!”

Richard ignored the comment before pressing a kiss to your lips blocking any more comments. His hand went between your bodies and pressed hard on your clit.

“Since I can’t fuck you sore I can think of other ways to make you come like crazy. I know you like this.”

You tried to ignore the tingling in your core. As usual, he was right. There wouldn’t be any holding on much longer!

“You can come for me any day now. I’m not going to make it much longer after you teased me like that.”

Richard moaned between gritted teeth.

“I thought you wanted to eat me out in front of the fireplace?”

You asked with a cheeky smile. Richard’s eyes rolled down to yours.

“Darlin, you have a long fucking week ahead of you after this today! Now like I said come already!”

You dug your nails into Richard’s back as one final thrust pushed you over the edge. Richard pushed in a few more times before coming hard as well.

“Well being bossy sure got you all hot and bothered.”

You said with a grin as Richard slowly pulled you into his arms.

“Yeah yeah. You’ll be paying for that too, princess.”

You snuggled against his chest. Finally, you were fully his wife now and you were fully happy. You didn’t let the thoughts of Rob, Crystal, or your friend's reaction bother you in the slightest as you drifted off to sleep.

Around 5 am, you were awoken by the sound of Richard’s cell phone ringing and you being dropped out of his arms. Richard muttered a few cuss words under his breath as he flipped on the bedside lamp before finally locating his phone. He had reluctantly turned it on halfway through the night at the thought of something being wrong with his kids and no one being able to reach him.

Fishing around for his cell phone that must have gotten knocked off during the previous night's activities, Richard couldn’t help but be annoyed. Who the fuck called someone at 5 am? Someone had better died! He wasn’t a morning person anyway and after getting fucked like he had the previous night all Richard wanted was to sleep.

Finally finding the phone, Richard didn’t even look to see who it was before answering with a curt, “hello?”

“So you finally decide to answer your phone?”

Hearing Rob’s voice, Richard froze before getting suddenly angry.

“I guess I should ask you the same question. So is it customary to call people at 5 am now?”

Richard kept his voice cold. Rob was silent a moment.

“You married my sister!?”

“Hey look you can check the internet. Too bad you couldn’t check your phone. So I get we aren’t friends anymore is this why you called me at five am…to torture me? You know I’m not a morning person!”

Rob was silent for a few moments.

“Wait, why aren’t we friends?

Richard rolled his eyes.

“Well shit, Rob, I don’t know! You ignored mine and Y/n’s calls for the past however, the fuck long you’ve been in Missouri.”

“You idiots haven’t called me!”

Richard rolled his eyes.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! We’ve called and texted you. Not to mention your Cuntzilla of a girlfriend who always says he will call you back. You want our phone records because I will send them to you! Rob, you really hurt your sister and that’s not cool. Right now I just don’t have the patience to deal with this. Call me at a normal human hour. I have to go I have a pregnant wife to deal with…”

Richard hung up when he heard Rob say…

“Pregnant?! Richard wait!”

You were sitting up looking at him sadly.

“Sorry, sugar.”

You blinked looking down at your lap before Richard pulled you back against his chest.

“Rich, even though I want to be stubborn we should hear him out. You two are too good of friends to have it end like this.”

Richard closed his eyes.

“Yeah. We’ll listen to him at a normal human hour when I have had coffee. That conversation is going to need coffee. Remind me to print those fucking phone records!”

_______

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@supernaturalways

@zelda2248

@emiwrites3reads

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#Supernatural RPF #Richard Speight Jr #Rob Benedict #richard speight jr fan fiction #rob benedict fanfiction #Richard Speight Jr x reader #RPF warning #Misha Collins #Jared Padalecki #Jensen Ackles #Matt Cohen

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mothermaidenclone-blog · 7 years ago

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Avengers: Infinity War or Just by Force of Numbers This Has to Work out, Right?

I had my trepidations about Avengers: Infinity War; there were so many characters to squeeze in that I worried a cameo-fest might take the place of a cogent plot My fears, however, were unfounded, as I felt the story held together well and the characters’ interactions were a good balance between genuinely personal and goofy one liners. The women - although vastly outnumbered, there are roughly three times as many named male characters as female - continue to be the strong heroes we know and love.

*Avengers: Infinity War spoilers follow*

Perhaps most prominent of the female line up is Gamora (Zoe Saldana). Once again, she demonstrates a variety of admirable qualities, including martial prowess and perhaps the most pragmatism out of any of the Avengers - she is quick to break up the man-off between Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) and Thor (Chris Hemsworth) by reminding them that the whole universe is at stake; “Enough! We need to stop Thanos.” Gamora also demonstrates incredible strength of will and appreciation of the greater good, she possesses secret knowledge that could endanger everybody if Thanos (Josh Brolin) finds out, so she makes Peter promise to kill her rather than let her be captured. To do this, she holds Peter to the most powerful force she can think of, a female entity, the memory of his mother. Gamora is willing to sacrifice herself to protect innocent lives, and her only motivation that outweighs this is her love for her sister, Nebula (Karen Gillan). The sight of Nebula being tortured is the only thing powerful enough to move Gamora to divulging her secret.

Unfortunately, Gamora meets a tragic and untimely demise at the hands of Thanos. Even worse than dying so a man can have something to be sad about, she is murdered so a man can obtain mystical powers to use for evil. Gallant to the end, once Gamora realises Thanos’ intentions, she tries to kill herself so that his sacrifice will fail. Her death is all the more heartbreaking seeing as she has spent two films escaping, recovering and developing from not only the stigma of being Thanos’ adopted daughter, but also all the trauma she suffered at his hands. So, to be murdered by him out of a deluded sense of him mistaking a lifetime of abuse for love is such a cruel end for a magnificent and accomplished hero.

Nebula herself contributes a little to the good fight, violently despatching a few goons, but as far as the space-faring women of this film go, Mantis (Pom Klementieff) definitely comes in second after Gamora in terms of prominence. She is also one of the two female characters who have actual super powers - she is an empath and can manipulate people’s mental states to a certain extent, such as sending people to sleep. It was good to see her as the lynchpin of a plan, and not the butt of a joke, as she is one of the few characters who has any effect at all against Thanos, controlling his mind for an impressive amount of time. Mantis is also a source of comedy in Avengers: Infinity War, sometimes slightly at her expense, for example when she messes up the line, “We came to kick names and take ass,” but sometimes innocently too. One of my favourite moments was Mantis serenely enjoying the simple pleasure of low gravity in the background of a shot.

The only other female character with super powers is Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen). She is portrayed as one of the most powerful characters in the films - the only one with the ability to destroy an infinity stone for example. She is also one of only two characters with the strength of will to kill a person she cares for deeply to keep Thanos from finding an infinity stone - Peter Quill is the other, but his assassination attempt is thwarted by Thanos. This is no mean feat, as her target, Vision (Paul Bettany), is not only her lover, but one of the few individuals on Earth who is as far from being a normal human as she is. Prior to this, Wanda not only has the capability to protect Vision in battle, but also to heal his wounds. Other than Thor, who is a literal god, and Thanos, who has a magical glove with the six most powerful objects in the universe stuck to it, she performs some of the most impressive feats in Avengers: Infinity War.

Other female characters openly admire Wanda’s talents; when she enters the fray in Wakanda and displays what she is capable of, General Okoye (Danai Gurira) exclaims, “Why was she up there this whole time?” Furthermore, Okoye and Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) support Wanda in combat. It filled me with joy to hear Natasha proclaim, “She’s not alone,” as she joins in the battle against one of the children of Thanos. It was a little strange how the fighting seemed to be gendered: female characters mostly only battled the one female child of Thanos, Proxima Midnight (Carrie Coon). As a side note, I did have to look her name up as I don’t believe it’s said out loud in the film, which is dumb, because it’s a very cool villain name. Also, the ratio of male to female children of Thanos introduced in this film was also 3:1. Proxima is portrayed as a strong and loyal adversary, her design as an alien was visually interesting and I think she was the last goon standing - the sheer number of different concurrent battles and the three toilet breaks my broken body had to take during this movie confused the timeline somewhat, so feel free to correct me if I’m wrong about that.

Natasha mostly showcases her multitude of combat skills in this film, which are undeniably remarkable, but we see very little of any other side to her. A slight nod to her brief romantic involvement with Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo) is the only glimpse to another side to her personality that we get. I do appreciate that this is a very ambitious ensemble movie, and that some male characters, for example Sam Wilson aka Falcon (Anthony Mackie), receive similar sidelining treatment. Speaking of romance, there does seem to be a need to couple everyone off - Peter Quill and Gamora unquestionably confess their love out loud and Wanda and Vision are established lovers since we last saw them. Part of this is natural character development, but I can’t help but imagine the vast, corporate hand of Marvel picking up its action figures, smushing them together and demanding, “Now you kiss, and you kiss.”

A good example of a woman who does manage to show different facets of herself in the limited screen time she has is Okoye. As previously mentioned, she is an adept soldier and remains a loyal general to T’Challa aka Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman), but she also has a sense of humour. She is responsible for one of the moments that made me chuckle, confessing that her expectations regarding a public Wakanda were different to reality and included, “The Olympics, maybe even a Starbucks.”

Okoye’s fellow Wakandan, Shuri (Letitia Wright), princess and chief scientist - what a combo - also makes a reappearance. Once agin, she does not have a huge amount of screen time, but in it she accomplishes the notable feat of establishing herself as possibly the most intelligent person and distinguished scientist in the MCU. She forces Bruce Banner to admit that he and Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.), arguably the previous holders of that title, didn’t use her more effective solution to a problem because they, “Didn’t think of that.”

One final named female character makes an appearance in Avengers: Infinity War, although she is the first one we see on screen. The long suffering Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow). Pepper makes a very brief appearance alongside Tony, reasserting her position as probably the most sensible, level headed and pragmatic individual - characteristics that could easily be underestimated in a universe of ridiculous super heroes. She successfully talks the somewhat manic Tony down from thinking they should have a child, arguing - quite rightly - that having a dream about becoming a parent is not a good enough reason to actually do so and basically that Tony can’t be trusted to be enough of a normal, sensible human to be a father.

It should also be noted that many of these women don’t make it out of Avengers: Infinity War alive, what with Thanos instantaneously disintegrating half of the population of the universe and all that. I’d like to point out the alarming order in which we see people die: Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan), a physically disabled - if not possibly ageless - and deeply traumatised man; T’Challa, a black man; Groot (Vin Diesel), a non-human alien; Wanda, a woman; Sam Wilson, a black man; Mantis, a female alien; Drax (Dave Bautista), a non-human alien and then finally three able bodied, white, human men - Peter Quill, Doctor Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) and Peter Parker aka Spider-Man (Tom Holland). We also see Agent Maria Hill (Colbie Smulders) and Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) - you guessed it, another woman and black man - disintegrate in the post-credits scene. I just wanted to take you on the emotional roller coaster that I went on, when I thought we’d just be left with mostly white dudes for the sequel. I doubt that any of these characters are permanently dead, as Marvel has many more money-spinning movies up its sleeve, and I’m willing to bet they wouldn’t do away with so many lucrative franchising opportunities in one go. Hopefully, the same can be said of Gamora - I’m already working on a theory that she is the soul inside the soul stone and, when the time is right, will somehow escape and be the one to end Thanos. Just floating some ideas about, Marvel, feel free to use them.

Overall, despite battling a terrible gender ratio on top of the forces of evil, the women in Avengers: Infinity War showcase an incredible smorgasbord of wondrous attributes between them, including: martial prowess, empathic talents, the weaponisation of pure energy, scientific aptitude, humour, loyalty, common sense, healing powers and selflessness to name but a few. They are exemplary heroes who mange to stand out and hold their own in an overwhelmingly large ensemble cast, in which they are vastly outnumbered by men. I’m just still pissed off about Gamora’s death though - can we not reward triumphant survivors of trauma with murder at the hands of their abusers, please?

And now for some asides

I love how much all of the Guardians of the Galaxy characters, regardless of gender or species, completely adored Thor - he is like a pirate had a baby with an angel!

The continuity of Rocket’s (Bradley Cooper) obsession with prosthetics is beautiful, it’s so good that it was actually useful in this film, and the plot I’m most excited about in the sequel - other than resurrecting all the ladies please - is will Rocket ever get Bucky’s arm? The people demand to know!

My favourite part of this whole film was the sign that said, “We will deep fry your kebab,” in the Scottish chippie.

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mickeys-malarkey · 3 years ago

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Seriously! Ughhhhh, the more I think about it, the more FRUSTRATED I get…!! As my bestie – who introduced me to the books – said when I infodumped to her about this adaptation change: Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain are parallels on purpose. They’re The Gemini.

I'll elaborate by telling y'all how I, personally, see the pair, as a disabled/neurodivergent gal who was absolutely in love with the books as a tween/teen:

They are symbolic of the two paths that a disabled/neurodivergent life can take.

Mr. Benedict being fine with the fact he's narcoleptic and finding healthy ways to deal with it, largely with the support of his loving found family.

Mr. Curtain being so ashamed of the fact he's narcoleptic that he used a wheelchair that, as far as I'm remembering, he didn't actually need (however cool it may have been) and those unnerving sunglasses to hide it from the world. Being so needlessly insecure over the idea that S.Q. might leave him that he mindswept him repeatedly. Literally kidnapping his own brother and one of his found family in his desperation to find a “cure” for “his one weakness.”

Mr. Benedict's narcolepsy becoming a manifestation of his joy and humor as those are its triggers.

Mr. Curtain's narcolepsy becoming a manifestation of his anger as that ends up being its trigger.

One twin is the positive path of love and acceptance for yourself and others, the other is the negative path of anger, fear, and internalized ableism-induced self-loathing.

I beg of you, Disney, don’t screw this up as badly as it looks like you might!! 😟 Spoiler alert, but there ended up being this like… weird scene that came off as this horrendously stereotypical “make poor, disabled/neurodivergent Mr. Benedict jealous of his as-of-yet seemingly abled brother by listing off all of Mr. Curtain’s achievements and then making Number Two and Rhonda mention that he did sports in school and thirst over how fit he was????” (Hang on… was that the reason they aged the twins down?? Cause that's kinda… ew… when Mr. Benedict was basically their dad in the books…)

THAT'S LITERALLY THE POLAR OPPOSITE OF THE POINT, GUYS!!

The Mysterious Benedict Society books were a very, very special part of my tweenhood/teenhood; I cannot stress enough how important their amazingly complex disabled/neurodivergent representation was to me. My bestie discovered there’s a fourth book we didn’t know about and we're DEFINITELY gonna get copies and reread the first three, as well. I'll be reading these books to my future children, dang it (yes, contrary to the disgusting automatic assumption most people make when they find out I'm disabled/neurodivergent, I do want kids and actually I genuinely hope they're ND like me). 📖💕 With how well they've done adapting it otherwise, outside of a few minor annoyances (e.g. I dislike aging Constance up but that's understandable and forgivable seeing as she was, y'know, a literal two-year-old. And I'm irritated that they made Jackson and Jillson so… sunshiney… Did they have to add insult to injury by replacing Jillson's thick wire hair tie with some kind of flower/butterfly/bow? Smh… But I can overlook that since they're a creepy kind of sunshiny), I do still hope Disney can salvage it. Omigosh, speaking of which— major spoiler warning, but I gotta gush over a certain adaptation choice that made me lose my mind in the best possible way. Especially after seeing how they axed the wheelchair and sunglasses, I was SO WORRIED that they would leave S.Q. Pedalian out – my favorite character, half of one of my favorite (although not exactly the healthiest) relationships in the series, such an important part of Mr. Curtain's development – but not only did they keep him, they made his and Mr. Curtain's near-adoptive father-son dynamic OFFICIAL!! That made me so freaking happy that I couldn't stop stimming for a good two or three hours!!!! 🥺🥰🥺🥰🥺 I'm gonna be hyperfixated on this dopamine fountain for ages~!!

So… we'll see how they do, going forward.

Rant over, sorry. 😅 I keep doing this… No piece of media potentially linked to neurodiversity and/or depictions of ableism and its effects is safe, roflol!

the mysterious benedict society adaptation taking away mr curtain’s wheelchair and sunglasses is NOT the vibe

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popcornblotter · 7 years ago

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My Top 10 Favorite Films of 2017

Good news everyone! No need for intros here, let’s end the year on a high note shall we! Here, we, go!

#10

Writer/Director Sofia Coppola further proves her mastery of filmmaking with The Beguiled. A drama set in Virginia during the Civil War when a wounded Union soldier makes his way to an all girls school in the summer, the Headmistress and students wonder what to do with him, and subsequently find out how he affects their lives.

The biggest standout for me was the lighting and cinematography. Each shot is perfectly well framed as well as only using light sources that would be available in that setting. Candles, lanterns, and the sun brought this ambiance of uneasiness. The location of schoolhouse and it’s surroundings was marvelous as well, transporting you to an almost ethereal bayou of sorts.

Colin Farrell continues to impress as he furthers his career. Bringing an edge of quiet fear, seduction, and anger all within a 95 minute runtime.

I know this film was very divisive for comic book fans, and I can understand some of their qualms, but Justice League was just a heck of a lot of fun.

I loved the coming together of the team, as well exploring a bit into the newer character’s stories. Ezra Miller and Jason Momoa were the standout actors here.

I loved the humor, the interactions between the characters, and man did I love the scene when The Flash knew he was in trouble.

Despite it’s problems, the sometimes not great CGI, I still had fun, and would easily revisit this film again as it made me hopeful for what is to come from DC Films.

The first time I saw this movie, I wasn’t super crazy on it. Did I think it was funny? Yes, but something didn’t quite hit the first time. So after a second viewing, I grew to love this film. While the first Guardians is a little more straight forward, plot wise, stop the bad guys from doing this, and save the day. Guardians 2 is a little less structured, there isn’t a necessary Point A-Point B plot because most of this film is exploring familial relationships. Whether its Peter and his dad, Gamora and Nebula, or Yondu and Rocket. It brings forward the idea that your family doesn’t always have to be blood. And by the time this movie ends, I was a mess.

Blade Runner 2049 was a surprise for me this year. Mainly because I’ve never seen the original. I was curious, it looked cool, I’ve enjoyed director Denis Villeneuve’s work in the past, so I thought I’d give it a shot.

The way this film is shot is extraordinary. You could take any shot out of this film and have it be a painting on your wall. The sound was so booming and explosive it transported you to this neo-noir Los Angeles. The acting is superb as well, especially the chemistry between Ryan Gosling and Ana de Armas. You felt from the first scene they have that this is a couple who’ve known each other for a while.

My only nitpick with this film is a pro and a con, which is it’s pacing. This film moves much slower than a normal film does these days. It has a very slow pace, which I enjoyed for most of it, because it allowed you to soak in this world with so much to see and hear. But towards the end, when things start coming together, you expect for things to speed up, which they don’t. In that, its very realistic to a world that is far removed from ours. I’d just hoped it would’ve wrapped up a little faster.

Despite that nitpick, I loved this film, its great, and it is genuinely a great mystery that keeps you guessing until the end.

This past July, the web slinging, wall crawler returned to the MCU in a big way.

The biggest achievement of this movie is the cast that is multi-racial, extremely talented, and can make you laugh at a moments notice. Director Jon Watts was able to represent the population of New York with the characters they have, even changing the origins of some to fit the story.

Tom Holland is obviously the standout, being able to be funny, awkward, and charming all in one go. I just loved that we actually got a high school looking Spider-Man. Yes, I know Tom Holland is in his 20’s, but it’s all about what age you can play, not what age you are. Versus Maguire and Garfield, looking like they were both about start investing in 401k’s.

Michael Keaton as The Vulture does a great job, probably being the second best villain, behind Loki. He was able to make you understand where he was coming from and why he was doing what he was doing.

This is a big thumbs up for me that’ll have you laughing all the way through.

All I can say is cool, cool, cool. I’ve been a fan of writer/director Edgar Wright for a bit, and his films always have this top, fun layer that you can appreciate, but then there’s this emotional layer underneath that just hits it home, and Baby Driver is no exception.

Ansel Elgort plays Baby, a get away driver with tinnitus, so to drown out the ringing in his ears, he constantly plays music on old iPods. What comes out of this film is a rollicking good time with all of the great witty dialogue Wright is known for, along some of the best edited action I’ve seen in a film. Since we watch the film through Baby’s perspective, we’re constantly hearing the music he’s listening to, either loud, or droned out. But when the action kicks up, you can’t help but say wow as gunshots and hits are timed perfectly to soundtrack in Baby’s ears. And I’m just a nerd for that kind of stuff.

Ansel Elgort has charm coming out of his ears in this film, and makes you wonder how he isn’t swarmed by women everywhere he goes. You also have a great supporting cast in Jon Hamm, Jon Bernthal, Jamie Foxx, and a small role from Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

If you’re looking for an action flick with a twist check this one out.

With no surprise to myself, Marvel Studios gets another spot on this list with Thor: Ragnarok. I was immediately hooked into this new tone change from the first trailer. Marvel was finally going to let Chris Hemsworth do what he does best, and that’s be hysterical. I think the person to thank for that is New Zealand director, Taika Waititi, who’s known for wacky, off the cuff humor that works brilliantly.

I was hooked within the first minute when Thor is trapped in a cage, talking to someone about how he got there, and they flip the camera, and it’s a skeleton, which then proceeds to drop his jaw. That is the type of ridiculous humor I love. We then get a taste of the awesome action accompanied by Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song. And I was smiling ear to ear like a fool.

While the previous Thor movies have been done with a more serious, Shakespearean tone, this one goes for crazy, balls out, 80’s metal look with almost every frame look like something you’d want painted on the side of a van.

All of the actors were great. Tessa Thompson was great as Valkyrie, I loved the appearance by Benedict Cumberbatch as Doctor Strange, and of course you can’t forget Tom Hiddleston as Loki and his chemistry with Hemsworth. Other great additions were Jeff Goldblum as The Grandmaster and Taika Waititi voicing a rock alien named Korg.

To me this was the tightest made film that Marvel Studios put out, with a crisp runtime of a little more than two hours it’s just enough to make you want more, but not long enough to check your phone.

Anyone who knows me knew this would be on my top 10 of the year. I’m a Star Wars nut! What can I say that I haven’t already? Porgs, porgs, porgs, porgs, and porgs.

If you haven’t seen this film yet, do yourself a favor and get your ass to theater.

I’ll be completely honest here, I didn’t have high hopes for Wonder Woman. At the time, here’s a studio with three movies with mixed results critically, and this one being directed by someone who hadn't made a film since 2003. But I went opening day with some slight chance of hope. And I gladly ate my words.

Words can’t necessarily describe how great a film Wonder Woman is. Patty Jenkins made what some have called a masterpiece in superhero filmmaking. I agree with about 98% of that. My only qualm was that on the second viewing in the theater, I did feel its runtime a little more, which is why it isn’t in the number 1 spot.

Gal Gadot and Chris Pine have a romance that seems practical for the amount of time they spent together, it seemed genuine, and I loved how Diana would call people out on their shit if she thought they were wrong. The No Man’s Land sequence left me in tears of joy at how wonderful everything worked from the cinematography, the music, the acting, the action, just everything.

You can’t miss this one, even if you aren’t a fan of DC characters, this is just a damn good movie.

I wanted to put some honorable mentions that didn’t quite make the cut.

What would’ve been #12

Christopher Nolan’s war film, Dunkirk is a technical marvel. The cinematography is breath taking and the sound scared the shit out of me. I saw this in an IMAX theater and when bullets fired, you never knew where they were coming from until they made contact. This literally made me jump several times throughout. The reason that this didn’t make the top 10 is that none of the characters particularly stood out in any way. I could tell you the names of the actors, but not their character’s names.

What would’ve been #11

The reason It isn’t higher is because I’m not a fan of horror movies. But I was intrigued at all of the critical success this movie was gaining, so I saw it with a few friends.

The reason this movie works as well as it does is because of the writing and the great child actors they got. Aside from Finn Wolfhard, of Stranger Things fame, the rest of these kids were unknown. But damn it if they didn’t knock it out of the park with their acting chops and chemistry. But if it wasn’t for that reason, I probably would’ve left the theater within ten minutes because I don’t do scary well. And as much as I enjoyed this one, I probably won’t revisit it.

And my favorite film of 2017 is

Logan is the perfect combination of my two favorite types of films. Action blockbusters and deep, emotional character pieces. When I went into Logan, I didn’t know exactly what to expect. I’d heard it took some inspiration from some of the comics where Wolverine is an older man, but that was about it. What I got was something that seriously fucked me up.

Like a lot of people, I grew up with Hugh Jackman playing Wolverine since the first X-men film in 2000. And it seemed with each iteration Jackman tried to deepen the character to reveal Logan’s core, instead of just being a mindless killing machine. With this you get the best of both worlds. Jackman stripped Wolverine down to the point it seems like he’s given up and is ready to die. But at the same time we get to see what would actually be the effects of a guy with claws for hands mauling people like an animal, and you learn that in the first few minutes. It is gory, but damn is it awesome!

Patrick Stewart also has a phenomenal performance as a Charles Xavier that we’ve never seen the likes of in the films. His mind wandering, breaking down, plagued by what I assume is the mutant version of dementia or Alzheimer’s. Seeing Stewart’s and Jackman’s near 20 years of working together is heart warming, heart breaking, and brutal.

This film also breeds a new star in newcomer Dafne Keen as Laura. This is a girl who is wise beyond her years as an actress. For about the first half of the film she doesn’t say a word, but you see all the emotion in her face communicated brilliantly. She is definitely someone who will have a prosperous career.

What director James Mangold succeeds with Logan is that he’s able to make a superhero film, but not have it be about something super, per se, but makes it about something everyone can relate to, family. Whether it’s Logan’s relationship to Charles, Logan to Caliban, Logan to Laura, its about the relationships that you grow with and foster when you inevitably have to say goodbye. Mangold was able to make a western, a superhero film, a family piece, a deep character study, an action film. This literally has something for almost everyone. I think Logan is the perfect example of what the superhero genre could and should become.

I’ll be completely honest, like I said before, this movie fucked me up. And I was crying for almost the last five minutes. And for me to cry at a piece of media, whether it be a series or movie isn’t uncommon, but to the degree that I did was what stayed with me. It was a typical silent cry that I usually do with most films I see, but this was uncontrollable, hard breathing, loud noised, ugly face sobbing. When the word “Daddy” is said, I lose it every time.

I guess I didn’t expect to get as attached to this film as I did. But I guess with Jackman playing that character for as long as he did, he sort of became synonymous with that role. I guess it’s to the effect of Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker or Daniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter. But the sendoff Jackman and Mangold give this character is one of pure mastery, sadness, and hope. With the Fox/Disney deal, there is some part of me that wishes Jackman will return as Wolverine for the MCU, but if he doesn’t, that’s fine as well. Because this film is all but perfect to me.

I hope this film gets nominations for Jackman, Stewart, Keen, and Mangold for the Oscars because I think it deserves it because it broke boundaries of what a superhero film could be. And that is why Logan is my favorite film of 2017.

I want to thank you guys for reading this and for the support. Here’s hoping that 2018 will be even better! In the vain of a dumb catchphrase I tried to start years ago, stay tuned for more blotter!

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alberteamllc · 5 years ago

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Father’s Day, Part I: 9/4/2019

Starring Flinty McClintock Bon Jean Bovi Ardis Sarmasik Featuring Prof. Puffin McClintock Prof. Tavi Feathers Sanuwa Sawbones Vos the Armorer Aparna “Panther” Panchali Astrid Insaatsi Elbise Insaatsi Faris Svette Hologram Hambeaux Mungo Fungo Egg Hogswain Greg Hogswain Syrup Hogswain Suzie Cardinale Beatrice Catamount The Bachelor Guilotte Crevette Prof. Tantrum Weechy Maddie McCallister Tartuffe Eikhorn Ramon Silulimesh Galof Silulimesh Jeanne Klops Peacemaster Cambina Bell Peacemaster Triamond Bell Viceroy Stepan W. Pitchfork Hasdrubal Weil The party is all safe but battered and exhausted after defeating Helena. Their next objective is the Palace, but they’re too worn out for a fight, so they decide to head to the old CC beach-house to recuperate. Things are tense along the way as Vos is defensive and sullen and in no mood for a detour. They joke around a bit on the way, Panther compliments Flinty’s leadership to Ardis and goes over and gifts her with a copy of Robert’s Rules of Order. When they arrive, they find the Royal Family & entourage still there, watching the city descend into chaos across the bay. From the beach, the palace seems to be in troubling shape, surrounded by brambles and vines. Panther describes getting Sonny to flee at the end of their fight, but confesses that she left the situation in the hands of the Bent Nail so she could hurry to the university. Without any buffer around, the queen’s senility is more apparent, and she makes several confused and hostile comments confusing the young adventurers with the old Crystal Cats, even offering to buy Flinty. When the party runs their plan by Astrid, she reminds them that she can manipulate the gates within the palace without any need to fuck around with dangerous items. She volunteers to go with them while Svette stays behind to guard the queen. They all take a quick rest, and talk of Ardis still being in her prom attire, plus Panther’s quick change into her normal uniform, prompts a lot of hassling Flinty about her fashion sense. Everybody gives Ardis a ton of shit for thinking Panther’s real first name is Panther. Meanwhile Vos weedles the queen into letting him extract a vial of blood, explaining that it will reduce the number of sacrifices needed for his plan B. Nobody is happy about this but they fail to get the blood back and soon he sneaks off.

She tells them of a secret tunnel built into the base of the hill decades ago so that the Cats could come and go without causing a public stir. She shares more tales of the old crew, including one about Mungo getting a toe chopped off by a mousetrap, much to Flinty’s delight. While arguing about which of three potentially dangerous routes to take to the various gates inside-- including Panther lying about Flinty’s break-in to protect her-- Bovi remembers he has the skeleton key from the Egg Babies. Flinty becomes insulted and saddened that he got to go to crime prom and she didn’t.

They head back to the beach HQ to try to find an intact enough door to use the key. They find Jeanne’s adolescent bedroom door and warp through it. Once there, tuning into the right pocket of space is difficult, and too much for the queen alone, but Puffin, Flinty, and Bovi combine their efforts with hers and together they have enough time to go in, grab Mungo Fungo, his important lab materials, and get out. He’s sleepy and disoriented but mostly ok. Puffin and Flinty gather up the rest of what they need, and Flinty spots Tavi stealing something but keeps it a secret for now. Outside, Mungo accidentally outs Tavi as a wizard, which she quickly confirms much to the shock of the princess and Panther, who reflexively draws her sword. The princess orders her to attack, but Panther refuses. She then orders Rumble Force to arrest Panther, but they also refuse. Her shock is cut short by Tavi confronting her with an unpleasant truth-- she needs one more spellbook to complete the cure: the princess’ late brother’s, Anselm, whose legacy has already caused so much appalling kerfuffle. The princess silently vanishes through the gate again and after some nervous talk about how to escape if she’s called the guards, she returns with Anselm’s tightly guarded book and tells them to get out before she changes her mind. Mungo consults with the nerds and surprises Flinty by calling her into the huddle. He praises her skill as a fixer and creative problem solver and tasks her with finding a way to make the broken transmitter usable. They decide that in lieu of the big pylon at the university, they can use the apex of the palace as a beacon. Mungo however needs more time to figure out what the cure is actually going to be.

They all head back in a somewhat sullen moon, Panther somewhat suspicious by the sudden revelation about Tavi. She decides to drop off at CC HQ with Sawbones to try to muster reinforcements, and meet up with everyone further uptown shortly. Flinty makes fun of Panther’s awkward flirting with Ardis, so Panther kisses her before leaving, flipping Flinty off with her free hand. Everybody is just a little bit shocked.

Back at the base more survivors have shown up, and the Hogswain boys’ grandma is busy making a hearty dinner. Beatrice, who seems to have gotten over her beef with Flinty, takes her aside to assure her that the halfling prisoners are free, then leads Ardis outside for a talk. She reveals that she has been the Red Justice ever since Benedict’s death, but is becoming too old to safely fill that role anymore and wants to train Ardis as her successor. They talk a bit about what this means and Beatrice is frankly pretty rude. But in the end she gives Ardis her cowl, cloak, and sword, and asks to be left alone with her thoughts.

Flinty heads to the basement to help Nu H.O.T.D.A.D. out, with the two dwarves helping her with the transmitter. Eventually she takes a break to check up on Mungo, who is back in a melancholy mood. They share a drink and talk about leadership and Flinty’s potential. Mungo is worried about the pace she’s pushing herself, and talks her into taking a nap while the rest carry on. He leads her to a cot, makes a pillow out of his scarf, a blanket out of his coat, and gives a final toast to “the parties that Chanchala Chala isn’t in.” As he leaves and Flinty drifts off he wishes her good night, accidentally referring to her as ‘Mingo.

Upstairs, Panther has returned with Guilotte, Jeanne, and the Bachelor for some reason. Guilotte goes to enjoy Bovi’s cat castle with him, wrecking it up with her feral claw. She tries to get to the bottom of the enigma of Bovi but slips up by mentioning that Billy Adavispa isn’t doing well. Bovi freaks out and attempts to immediately flee to his aid, causing Guilotte to freak out as well, shattering all the glass on the second floor and giving every halfling in the building a migraine. It takes Ardis and Panther to calm him down but they do because it was getting late irl.

After Bovi settles down Panther invites Ardis out to the garden for a smoke. They talk about their respective motivations and Panther shares her depressing backstory, and her fear that she’s only ever been compelled to be good. She shows the column of scars on her arms, tokens of the warlocks’ repeated deployment of her pact in battle. Ardis assures her that she’s good and puts an arm around her, and the two silently watch the night sky on the eve of battle.

Meanwhile out in the ‘burbs, bad guys are up to no good. A carriage bearing Vos, Pitchfork, both Peacemasters, a chain of condemned Handsome Lads, and Weil pulls up at a nondescript building by the banks of the River Aster, where, inside, an enormous cavern has been hollowed out, the inert wooden husk of Misteltaine preserved and restored in a giant trench and tended to by Vos’ priests. As Weil leaps down to survey the absolute unit, Triamond expresses his reservations and moral condemnation of the project, but reluctantly signs off on it in the name of necessity. As Weil finishes his assessment, a number of 500s appear and slaughter the Lads, hurling their bodies into the trench, while Weil sprinkles the wooden titan with the queen’s blood. As it begins to stir, Weil dons his helmet, and Pitchfork entreats him to take control of the gargantuan vessel...

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tatooedlaura-blog · 7 years ago

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Stumbling

the series read as follows:

Superman … Monday … Cheezy Pouffs ... Bacon

___________________

They had two weeks … two week of pure, happy, saccharine-sweet nonsense between them before Mulder’s foot was declared safe to use, his therapy going well, his pins removed, his swelling down and his spirits up.

Then the phone rang.

Looking up at her, chin perched on hip, “why does Skinner always call? I mean, he’s got a secretary for a reason. Seriously, you’d think that man would delegate crap calls like this to someone else.”

Scully, looking down past her chest to see him, hair-tousled, eyes half-drunk with want of both sleep and her, “maybe he likes the sound of your voice.”

Dropping his head sideways into the dip of her thighs, he debated, “it does sound rather nice.”

With a smile, she wiggled her legs, rolling his head back and forth, “come on. We’ve gotta go bully our way onto a flight for Butte.”

Mulder groaned as he flopped off her, “I’m calling it ‘butt’ from now on.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Thirteen days later, Stan Parker had killed six people, two by beheading, one by dull axe and three by draw and quarter. He’d crashed Scully’s car by draining the brake fluid, kidnapped two children of the local sheriff, raped one very lucky tourist who managed to get away instead of become beheading victim number three.

He gave Mulder nightmares that drove him to 5-hour energy and Red Bull and Scully to sleeping in the police station, showering at the motel only when the door was double locked with a chair jammed under the knob. Nobody joked, nobody ate, nobody did anything but fear what would happen next.

Taking it as his personal mission, Mulder ignored everything but Stan Parker, delving into their suspect’s mind with such fervor that when Scully touched his shoulder to get his attention, he smacked her hand off him, growling ‘go away’ without ever looking up. She knew it was the work and not her but given she was trying to tell him about the accident, she got pissed, slammed her palms on the table, knocking water and soda over in the process and sending a jolting pain through her arms, “do I have to be openly bleeding for you to turn around!?”

He didn’t.

She walked away, using the ladies room to clean up, answering another detective’s questions and letting Mulder hear about the incident from someone else.

Scully settled uncomfortably in a small conference room, her side bruised and aching, her head pounding, her mind running circles around itself, burning trails of half-formed thoughts colliding and exploding one after another, a scream building at the base of her throat, never sounding, never dissipating, just waiting.

“Scully?” He saw her eyes glittering in the half-light, open and hard and when she didn’t answer, he crouched in front of her, face cast up, hands on thighs, “I’m sorry. I … I’m sorry. Benedict just told me.” Running his fingers over her jeans, squeezing her muscles lightly, “I’m going to get him. I’m going to get him and catch him and beat him and kill him. Easy as that. I just need to get further into his head. I’m almost there, I can feel it. Just another day and I’ll have him. We’ll have him. Just one more day.”

Anger with him dissolved, hands sliding quietly over his, “you need some sleep.”

“I need to catch this guy.”

“We will but you on caffeine for four days straight isn’t going to help anyone do anything.” Moving up to elbows, “will you sit with me? Maybe take a nap?”

Knowing the stimulants in his system wouldn’t allow him to sit, let alone close his eyes, he shook his head, “later. Right now, I need to know if you’re really okay?” He reached up, touching her shoulder and immediately, she sent a wincing grimace and a muttered ‘fuck’ out into the universe. Face creasing in concern, he stood up, pulling gently at the loose shirt she had on, “how bad?”

Too tired to care at the invasion by her partner for the world to see, she tilted her head as best she could, showing him the already dark, foreboding bruises crawling down her shoulder and back, “nothing’s broken. Just took a large chunk of the back door to my side. It’ll be fine in a few days.”

Kissing her lightly below the left ear before standing, “at least it’s not your shooting arm.”

“Spoken like a true FBI agent.”

He wouldn’t be able to say anything right tonight so he simply kissed her again, this time on the forehead, “take a nap. Find me when you wake up and we’ll see what more we can do to get this bastard.”

Snagging him by the belt loop, “hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

This time it was the swiftest of kisses to her mouth, “I love you, too. Now go to sleep.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Stan Parker was shot by Mulder, dead center of the forehead, as he attempted to slice through a crying woman’s throat with a butter knife. Scully dropped to her knees beside the hysterical woman before Stan hit the ground, trusting in Mulder’s shot more than she trusted in her mother’s ability to make a decadent strawberry pie. Accompanying her to the hospital, Scully didn’t see Mulder again until nearly 2am, when she found him leaning on a wall in the semi-dark hallway, hands in pockets and eyes shut. Without pretense to warn him of her arrival, she slipped her arms through his, pressing against his chest while he first jumped at the shock of warm body then curled around her, recognizing scent, feel, breath and heartbeat without assistance of vision.

Nestling his face in her hair, “can we go home yet?”

“Just as soon as I return a call to Skinner and take a shower and take a nap. How are you doing? All the paperwork done?”

“Sure … except for the signatures, descriptions, weapons report and final summary.”

Pretty sure it was the exhaustion, she chuckled, then laughed into his shirt, which smelled of gunpowder and sweat, “we are stuck here tomorrow then, aren’t we?”

“Depends on if we want to go back to the station now. It’ll probably take us a few hours at most then we can sleep tomorrow.”

Rarely did he suggest paperwork over slumber. Shifting her head, looking up at his chin and nose, “are you still on your caffeine high?”

“I think I just want to get it over with so I can lay down with you and rediscover skin and sleep without giving a shit about butter knives.”

She could wait a few hours to sleep.

&&&&&&&&&

Returning Skinner’s call was the gleeful highlight of the 4am hour, which immediately crashed and burned once Scully learned they were leaving as soon as possible for Arrington, Louisiana, the right now home of somebody who enjoyed feeding live people to rabid and starving wolves through the lure of peanut butter. “Where the hell do these people come from, sir? Seriously, peanut butter?”

Skinner, groggy but alert enough to sympathize, “they come from Hell, Agent Scully, fifth or sixth level minimum.”

She could hear the apology in his voice. Contrary to how Mulder complained about their boss, Skinner really did take care of them, giving them leave when necessary, at least a day or two off between cases if possible, making sure to warn them he was coming down to their hovel so he didn’t catch anything he didn’t want to see, even though he had no idea if anything he didn’t want to see was happening in the first place but he really didn’t want to come across them accidently so he took careful preventative measures. “It’s okay. Mulder might curse you for a few hours but once he gets some sleep, he’ll be fine.”

“What about you? Wishing me dead yet?”

“Naw. Maybe a minor chest cold or a light bout of food poisoning but that’s it.”

Chuckling, “let me know how things are going.”

“Will do.”

Hanging up, she drew a deep breath, knowing Mulder would do more than a little cursing about their boss once he heard their plans for the next week or so.

And he did.

Luckily, they were in the car at this point and she was the only one privileged enough to hear his slanderous string of emphatic prose, complete with two fist-beatings on the passenger door and a forceful huff of growled air.

Better than she’d expected, actually.

&&&&&&&&&&

They stumbled, literally, onto the plane, Mulder nearly taking out a nice old man in the process of tripping on the lip of the gangway door. Scully steadied him instantly, regretting it when her shoulder pulled but glad she saved the older man from certain crushing death by FBI. Mulder apologized as best he could, then navigated to their seats, stowing carry-ons before dropping heavily into his chair, motioning her to sit down, “so I can lean on you and take a nap.”

They were both soundly out before the plane finished boarding, sleeping through take off, snacks, drinks, turbulence and landing, only stirring once the flight attendant shook them awake, “you might want to think about exiting or the cleaning crew is libel to haul you away with the trash.”

Penetrating Scully’s brain first, she roused Mulder the rest of the way, then got them off the plane and into the lobby, where Mulder stopped dead, “can we just sleep here?”

Taking both hand and luggage handle, “come on. We’ve gotta get a cab to a hotel somewhere so we can sleep for three hours before we go back to work.”

“Where are we again?”

“Louisiana.”

“Remind me to hit Skinner at some point for this.”

Two rooms paid for, Mulder followed Scully into hers, dropping bags and jeans in one swift stroke. Holding the wall for support, he pulled shoes off through pants and leaving shirt on, crashed to the bed, “if anyone wakes me in the next five hours, they’re going to wish they never heard the name Fox Mulder.”

Following suit, she shedded sweater, shoes and slacks, trading them for a cold breeze that gave her goosebumps and then a warm Mulder who pulled her close, “what if I wake you up in the next five hours?”

“We’ll renegotiate the threat.”

#Life part 2 series #msr #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #at least he didn't crush the nice old man #my writing

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punk-in-docs · 8 years ago

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Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth, Chapter 2

TITLE: Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth. CHAPTER NO: Chapter Two SYNOPSIS: Tom Hiddleston AU Love story - Set in the Victorian Era… Circa 1858 to be precise… AUTHOR:@punk-in-docs  AO3 LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4108306?view_full_work=true

Sir Thomas Kenworthy, The Duke Of Chatsworth sat in silence as the hackney cab rattled it’s way along the cobblestoned pavements of North London.

He could hear nothing but the quiet repetitive clack of the horses hooves hitting the street every now and then, and the driver barking out commands to the animal. London was shrouded under cover of a heavy midnight blue evening now. The stars light managed to chip and break through the heavy night sky, he peered up out of the polished window, seeing the moon hang dutifully in the sky, the stars winking and twinkling back at him with infinite promise.

He himself was a keen astronomer, he could make out Orion’s belt, the little dipper, the big dipper and numerous numbers of other constellations he knew. He loved feeling like an inconsequential speck on the planet when he thought about the stars and heavens in all their majesty.

His eyes returned to looking at the tall townhouses, standing tall and proud like a regiment of marble white soldiers under the net of the stars which was strung up in the sky. He could see that there were fewer gentlemen and ladies walking arm in arm along the pavements now, they were all returning to the safety of their homes, or scurrying off to the opera or to take in a show.

He sat back further into his seat, easing himself into the plush upholstery that the carriage offered. Sir Richard had mentioned another business associate, and his eldest daughter and wife would be present at Dinner. He had been doing business with Richard Farrow for only a few weeks now, it was not Improper, but not all entirely common for such a meagre connection to warrant an invitation to a family dinner – which was something of a private matter nowadays – but nonetheless, Sir Richard had insisted, and Thomas was far too much of a gentle soul to refuse.

Sir Richard Farrow had also mentioned that he would get along quite famously with his eldest girl, Elizabeth, he had said her name was. A pretty name, he granted her. But he doubted that he would find amiability in this woman, she was most likely to be alike every other silly willed girl he had been introduced too all season. Girls who were interested in nothing but dresses, fabrics and petty gossip. But had to obligingly talk to eligible men like him because their matchmaking Mama’s had instructed them too.

He was fed up of London already, he had only come down for a few weeks to conduct his business. Chatsworth was a vast estate to upkeep, and after an uninspiring season of attending ball after ball, and seeing that every girl was as airheaded and stupid as the next, he was rather impatient to return to it. He had tenants to see too, all with matters of their own that he could assist them with. Plus he had to get back soon, he didn’t like leaving Judith, Edith and Iris all on their own. Plus there was Ophelia, God only knows what trouble that old biddy could stir up in his absence. He sighed, he had hoped this season would break the mould, and allow him to return to Chatsworth with a wife on his arm. Not that he needed the assets which a wife would entitle him, he was enormously wealthy, having been left a fortune by his late father. He wanted a wife, just for the reason of having one.

It was an odd concept, this he knew. Most of his friends, and other male associates had taken spouses. And they were, pleasing. And that was all they had said. That was it. That notion was awfully strange to him. That his friends, all men of discernable wealth and power, had taken women for wives with no aforethought as to partiality to their character. Heck, he had one friend whose wife didn’t even like him. It was just, as he had put it ‘a wise business venture’ and that thought had rung as an irrational decision in his head for weeks. He didn’t even love the woman he had taken to be bound too forever in the eyes of Almighty God and England. She had just been thrust into it because it did well for families to marry off their daughters, and for young men to gain the maidens wealth. He half promised himself that he was going to marry a woman he found atleast marginally interesting… That way he could be assured that atleast if they did not love each other, then they could grow to be fond aqquantainces of each other. And even the thought of only mildly liking his wife, was still a idiotic one, but it appealed more than openly despising one’s wife, he supposed.

It was the best of a bad situation in that case.

The cab rattled it’s way around another corner, a bump in the road throwing him back against the seat, he struck out his hand to keep his balance as he sat upright. Body rolling with the suspension on the carriage. He swiped a hand down his trouser leg, brushing away a stray speck of lint. He had donned full dress wear for tonight. White bowtie, top hat, long black velvet overcoat, his thick winter coat atop this, even though it was not cold out, he decided if it rained it would be wise. He had slim black trousers on his long legs and his shoes had been polished so hard he swore he could use them as a mirror if the situation warranted it. His waistcoat was white also, to match his white undershirt. He had his father’s engraved silver pocket watch tucked into the pocket of the garment. It had been a gift on his 18th birthday, the last gift he gave to his son before he passed away and left the estate to him, and his sister.

He also had his walking cane with him. Usually, summer climes meant that his injury went days without afflicting him, but the slightest hint of damp in winters air sometimes caused him painful trouble. He had seen action in Sevastopol in the Crimean War in 1854. And had been left with a severe leg injury to remind him of the hellish siege that was war.

But, the scar that marred his femur sat now as a testament to what he had survived and fought through. He could remember as plain as day what had happened as he’d been wounded. The trajectory path of three stray enemy bullets had been stopped by the muscle and flesh that was his thigh, and he had subsequently been taken to the nursing station at once by his troops to see a surgeon, all the while loosing so much blood he was barely conscious by the time he got there. But the leech of a surgeon who was attending him, didn’t even make a point of telling him there was no hope at all to save his injured leg, as the bullet had shattered the femur and he predicted it would take years for the muscle to repair as it knitted itself back together again. The surgeon had simply said to the nurse behind him ‘pass me the saw’ and Thomas had snapped. His friend, Sir Benedict Carlton, who had served with him at the time in the 10th Royal Hussars, always remarked he would never forget what Thomas said to the parasite of a Doctor.

He fisted his hand into the surgeons blood stained overalls, pulled them close together until they were nose to nose, and snarled at him with such fury and strength which was utterly remarkable given the sheer amount of blood he had lost, and he said through a growl;

“If you dare take my leg, you unspeakable swine, Then I sware as God is as my witness and in the name of Bloody Queen Victoria’s underskirts, I will hunt you down and saw off yours!”

And the Doctor had subsequently let him be, said he’d extract the shrapnel, but leave him to die of fever or infection if that’s what he truly wished. But alas, Thomas did not. He clawed his way through a vicious fever which further still threatened his life, his mortality clung onto him like the diseased afflictions he was suffering with. Yet still, he did not die.

He fought his way through weeks of pain and fever to limp home and be declared a hero. He had too much left in England to simply give up on and die on the continent. And subsequently, the war had finally made him decide that he hated, and abhorred violence with every fibre of his being. And that all he knew now, was that as he had come so close to death surrounded by strangers, that when him and death did meet again, decades later, he wanted to be surrounded by his loved ones, Preferably a loving wife, and hordes of children by his side, and an heir for Chatsworth to be passed down onto.

He wouldn’t say, apart from his lust for living, that the war had dramatically changed his life. It just made him appreciate his situation in the world all the more. He had a loving sister, two beautiful nieces who he adored to spoil and dote upon. He had a vast fortune which he didn’t fritter away on booze and illicit company, he had a nice home, and all he wanted was an even nicer woman to share it with. No, come to think of it, aside from the fact his leg hurt him in Winter, he liked his life very much indeed. And he was grateful for all God had seen fit to give him.

The carriage sought to then roll to a gentle stop opposite a tall and practically gleaming house that sparkled white marble back to him in the moonlight. One night lamp burning outside the street in front of the house he now looked at. House number 34, he noted. And subsequently his place of Dining for the evening. The Home of Sir Richard Farrow, quite the nicest and kindest accountant he had ever come across, the most skilled too, he was a guest lecturer in mathematics at Oxbridge University’s in his spare time, clearly a bright man. He only hoped that his eldest daughter, who he feared he would be hurled at in attempts of match making at the hands of Mrs Farrow, would possess some of her Father’s intelligence. Lord help him, and her, if he was to be seated next to a woman who wanted to talk of nothing but petty gossip, and the colour of gowns all night. If that was so, then he was to spend the whole night wishing to gouge out his own eyes with a fish knife.

He took a deep breath as the Cab driver rattled the roof, alerting him to the fact this was his destination.

“34, Farrow House, Montague Street, Guv’nor.” He heard the cockney twang of his driver permeate the still night air.

Thomas swung himself out of the cab, reaching in his pocket to get the fare.

“How much?” Thomas asked in his crisp educated voice.

“Half Crown Guv’nor.”

Thomas flicked the coin up for the driver to catch, nodding curtly with a smile as he stepped down from the cab onto the street, his polished shoes clacking on the cobbles.

“Evening.” He nodded, thanking the driver as he clicked the horsewhip and drove on.

“Evening y’self now.”

He drawled back through his accent that was thicker than pea soup, as he trotted off down the street, turning the corner and clacking away out of sight.

Thomas pulled his coat tighter, cane in hand as he crossed the quiet empty street, letting a couple of gentleman walk on before he crossed the path and jaunted up the front steps of the impressive townhouse. Rapping his cane on the door, flexing his fingers inside his leather gloves. Unfortunately, he didn’t have his white gloves with him, so the black leather would have to do. There was a seconds silence until the door was pulled inwards from the other side, and he was welcomed by the ever impassive face of the Butler. They were all of the same breed, Butlers, always stoic and immovable. But, they were the heads of the house staff, and as such a key component to any house, he decided.

“Good Evening.” Thomas tipped his head forwards slightly.

“Mr Farrow and Mrs Sharpe are expecting me for Dinner. Sir Thomas Kenworthy.”

He introduced. He didn’t want to give his full title lest he feel he was flaunting his station, like a peacock would fan it’s feathers. He was far to humble and gentle to pretend he could pull rank with someone such as the Staff.

But the Butler was already smiling and opening the door for him. Letting him in, saying he was wholly welcomed and expected. Thomas smiled as he stepped through it

The home he stepped into was warm, and well decorated. And there was little doubt that this family was wealthy indeed. They had scarlet red walls, which went along with the diamond black and white tiles which he stood on, which was gleaming like it had been scrubbed recently. Many fine portraits and paintings adorned the walls beside him. Aswell as a large and expensive vase of white flowers sat reeking fragrance on the side table next to him.

“My name is Hawkins Sir, I’m the butler who’ll be attending you this evening.” He introduced as a standard greeting.

“It is a pleasure, Hawkins.” Thomas smiled.

The Butler stepped past him and stood dutifully, hand outstretched as Thomas handed him his coat, cane, gloves and overcoat, revealing his fine velvet dress jacket underneath, Hawkins then moved off behind a door to usher away his coat.

He watched as a door at the end of the long hallway opened at that precise moment, and his business associate, Sir Richard Farrow stepped through it. Smiling that wizened gentle smile which Thomas returned. Beaming right back. A plump mature woman followed him, smiling like it was going out of fashion, and he half wondered how her lips hadn’t fallen off yet. He could only assume by process of elimination that this was the splendid Mrs Sharpe, second wife to Richard Farrow.

“Sir Thomas..”

Sir Farrow greeted as he got to the man, graciously clasping the man’s hand and giving it a firm squeeze to let him now his aged look wasn’t sapping him of strength. It was a kind gesture from an incredibly kind man, to invite him here to dinner tonight, with their family. He was practically a perfect stranger to them. It was quite heartening, really.

“Sir Richard.”

Thomas greeted, smiling and bowing his head lightly as his hand let go. Thomas was relieved to see that Mr Farrow’s hands were left bare, without any white kid gloves, meaning he would not be chastised for not remembering to bring his.

The woman who had followed him smiled loyally by her husbands side. Hands clasped delicately in front of her, encased in black elbow length gloves, a diamond trinket knotted about her wrist, sat sparking in the light, along with a huge pearl dress ring on her opposite hand atop the glove. Her gown was a pale plum colour, with a folded diamond collar pointing down her chest, where the shoulders spilled over he saw black lace beaded with black pearls dripped from her shoulders, aswell as from the jewelled silver choker about her neck, and the droplets of diamonds that hung off her ears. Her greying brunette hair was arranged flawlessly in neat coils atop her head, and he remarked she had relatively little wrinkles on her face to belie her age, and not faded beauty, her warm butterscotch brown eyes looked remarkably kind, to Sir Thomas.

“May I introduce my wife, Mrs Araminta Cressida Sharpe..”

He presented. The elder woman held her hand up to Thomas, and dutifully, displaying his most grateful smile, he took it and placed a kiss upon the back of it.

“I am honoured, your Lordship.”

She curtseyed in a way that made Thomas feel like he was imposing.

“Please, Madam, after being so generous as to invite me to join your family for a private dinner, it is I who should feel most honoured. And I must beg you pay my title no heed, I am your humble guest for this evening” He bowed, tipping his head lightly

He watched as Mrs Sharpe proceeded to blush.

“Oh, nonsense! I must insist you feel as comfortable here as you would in your own home. Pray, do you have an estate to speak of?”

“I do Madam. Just outside of Derbyshire. Chatsworth House. A humble estate, I grant you. No more than 150 acres of land surrounding it. A few tenants also. As such, I find myself thoroughly in need of Mr Farrows exquisite assistance in helping keep accounts for it as brilliantly as he has done.”

Sir Thomas complimented, because it was true, the last accountant he had filed with in London had forgotten to factor in an entire stock of wages for his staff. This caused Sir Richard to laugh and smile, smoothing a hand down the front of his jacket.

“Oh, my dear man, Yours are quite the neatest account books I have ever had the pleasure of looking over. And in our meetings together you have shown quite an aptitude for the subject yourself, and a very sufficient system I should daresay, I’m sure you could manage doing them without my help.”

“I’m positive my skills as such would be nowhere as proficient enough, Sir.” Sir Thomas smiled.

“Come through to the parlour, I’ll fetch you a drink, a brandy perhaps? we still have to wait on our other guests I’m afraid…”

Sir Richard explained, placing a hand in the air to gesture to the door they had appeared through to greet him. Talking all the while.

“Pray tell, dear, where is that Daughter of ours?”

Sir Richard asked as he walked Sir Thomas, and Mrs Sharpe deeper into the house, the three of them pausing at the top of a regal imperial staircase that divided up onto a landing before continuing to curve round back into the house. As he got there, his ear pricked at the sound of two voices whispering animatedly at the top of the stairs. Hissing in hushed tones so he could not make out what was being said, but he could hear them nonetheless.

“I do apologise for the lack of our daughters presence, Sir Thomas. But I fear she was still preparing her hair as you arrived. A most silly affliction, for she is never known to be such a vain creature,

ELIZABETH…”

Mrs Sharpe called, cooing sweetly up the stairs. He listened as the hissing and whispering stopped, and he heard dainty footsteps echo on the landing above stairs. And he could also hear the rustle of silk skirt as this ‘Elizabeth’ creature began down the stairs. Seeing as she had still been coiffuring her hair as he got here, he feared that he was doomed to receive a vain girl, who fussed and preened about her looks in a manner to that of a narcissistic chit.

Sir Thomas watched as more of the woman came into view, now he could see the beginnings of her emerald silk skirts, beyond this, as she descended, he began to see more and more of this woman. And dare he say, each new speck of her he saw, he grew to rather like.

He was at her waist now, and she was quite slender, of course, the strict corset she wore would hide any true curves of her body shape. But her back was perfectly shaped, flaring out from a trim waist to slender shoulders, all still lavished in emerald green silk, a small emerald collar folded up at the back of her neck, speaking of which, her skin was very pale, quite a shade of pale that he’s never laid eyes on before. Her skin was lily white, and smooth like white silk. Even from this distance away, it looked supple, unblemished and, simply lovely. She had quite the most beautiful neck he had ever had the pleasure to let his eyes wander across, and now, she was positioned so he could see enough of the side of her face, and that was pleasing too. She looked utterly beautiful, even though he hadn’t seen all of her face yet due to his angle, but when she rounded the stairs, her slender arm and delicate pale hand resting on the banister atop the stairs, and then she turned to face him so he could see all of her. All of Miss Elizabeth Farrow….

Honestly, he wouldn’t do justice to himself, or to her, to try and recount it. Because he could honestly remember barely anything, but her.

His name, the smell of grass in summer, the colour of the sky, the fact he had two feet. It all was lost on him.

He saw her, and it was almost, as if, even after 30 years of life on planet earth,

that his heart finally began to beat.

Thomas Kenworthy had never been the most admired boy at school. He had also never been the most handsome, or athletic, nor had he been the cleverest, or the most snobbiest. Or even the silliest boy in his class. What he had been, and what he had been for all of his life, was the most well liked. People had always liked him. And for good reason, he was kind, he was gentle. He never had a harsh word to lay upon anyone. And never had he belittled or made anyone feel like they didn’t deserve his kindness and generosity.

Because that was just how he was. Nonetheless, for all of Thomas’s likeability, he had never warranted much attention from females as a boy, nor much as a man either. Of course, a few determined society mama’s were resolute and strong-minded in being certain he would make a fine husband for their daughters, but no woman had ever quite taken a serious fancy to him.

He was the kind of man, whom, of all the females of his acquaintance, he was more seen as a kind friend, than the kind of man they could take for a husband or a lover. They all led him to believe he was nothing more than a jolly, dependable sort of creature. The worst part was, all the women he did have the pleasure of being acquainted with, swore blind they knew the perfect woman for him.

So, he carried on, he danced with all the wall flowered girls at balls, to make their day and to make a statement to the snotty nosed snobbier girls who all thought themselves above the quiet bunch, but whom he would make their day, their season, by showing them that not all men favoured skinny snobby brats for their brides. He would always be the man who was still searching for the perfect woman, who all his male friends assured him didn’t exist. And whom all his female friends assured him, did.

And that was how he had lived half of his life now, in search and want of this amiable woman whom he could wager he would eventually grow to love. Perhaps even stretch to adore, if he was very very lucky.

But he supposes, he can’t dwell on such things, because now, Elizabeth Farrow’s eyes met his own, and, he wasn’t ashamed to say he was now lost.

Lost in her eyes, lost as to why he was here, except he was now so glad the universe had conspired to locate everything at this point in space and time so they could meet, lost to his own name. Hell, lost to his own two damn legs.

He had been hit by a proverbial lightning bolt. Struck dumb with breathless passion, heady bliss and an odd tingling sensation swarming across his entire being. He didn’t feel hot, or cold. He couldn’t remember which way was up, and he wasn’t sure if his lungs could be found in his chest any longer.

In fact, as he stood there, eyes not moving from the earth bound mortal formed goddess that was Miss Elizabeth Farrow. He knew one thing, and one thing only…

That he wanted her.

~ Elizabeth and Felicity, no matter how old they got. Would never be too old to be those enraptured children, dressed in their nightclothes, sat on the landing hoping to catch a glimpse of the grownups down below, who would be lavishly dressed in fine fabrics and diamonds. And it was like they were secret intruders on a whole other world, sat watching them from the prison bars of the banisters.

Except, as the years went on, Elizabeth found she moved further and further away from belonging up there, hidden away in plain sight with her sister, huddled in a white nightie and pink dressing gown, hair oft in plaits ready for bed. Now, as she had done her first season, she was expected to be dressed and down there with them. With the adults. And try as she might, she knew she was four and twenty and had many more Dinners to come, yet, she still felt she belonged this side of the stairs.

Mrs Sharpe had acted as strict chaperone and insisted Elizabeth take her bath, scrub her skin til it was pink, and then after her hair was dry and her body sprayed liberally with scented lavender oil, she was to be laced into her emerald silk dress, of which the corset of such made her ribs ache after too long inside it. She had been wrestled into her dresser chair and made up by both Nessie and Mrs Sharpe simultaneously. Nessie tugging her red hair back into a tameable chignon, which pinned all her curls flawlessly atop her head. Whilst Mrs Sharpe layered cold cream onto her complexion, the slightest dust of rouge to her cheeks and some burnt sienna powder colouring to her lashes to make them stand out to her advantage, making her eyes look bluer, and fuller. They decided against lip colour, as one, it would fade with Dinner as she drank and ate, and two, only stage girls and women of the night wore lipstick, and the natural rosy colour of her lips was pleasing enough to a gentleman’s eye anyway. After which she had been caged in her corseted dress which had taken near enough to an hour for Nessie to lace her into. She felt very nearly ready to faint by the time she was into it, from all the numerous times Nessie had instructed her to ‘breathe in’

And now, here she was, diamond droplet earrings placed in her ears, which shimmered when she moved. Hair done. Dressed and ready, made up and reeking of lavender oil, and the honey and lily soap she used on her hair. And still she didn’t want to go downstairs. She didn’t want to face tonight because she had an awfully uncanny feeling she would know exactly how it was going to go.

She would sit there and have to make polite conversation with Marcus, and Cecil Burke, of whom she was sure Cecil didn’t really like her at all. Just saw her as a way of improving his son, and his fortune. And then atop that, she would have to be charming and unfailingly lovely to this mysterious handsome Duke her father had invited. Who would probably think this Dinner was a waste of his regal time, wishing to be back in his grand country house rather than suffer through a dinner with someone as below him as his accountant. And all the while Marcus Burke would be leering at her, and trying to slip his hand down her back, or across her thigh, as he always did when he got slightly drunk. She soon found that all men were wicked on drink. Marcus especially. Lord help her, she didn’t want to court or marry him. She just wanted to slide easily into simple maidenhood for the rest of her days, atleast then she would be happy.

She stood now, with her hand resting onto the smooth wood of the banister that looked down the stairs to the hallway below. She could see the black and white tiled floor that stretched out to inside the front door. She knew that Father and Mrs Sharpe were already downstairs partaking in a small brandy before their guests arrived. And she also knew she should join them. But her stomach was churning in sickness, and she found her body didn’t want to move, she felt so pulsating with nerves that she was almost sure she was starting to perspire, that, and she suddenly felt rather warm. Her dress was already beginning to make her feel trapped, like a caged tiger. She wanted to rip the thing off and go to bed, but, she knew she couldn’t so, here she stood. Torn in anticipation of what tonight would be like.

She tapped her nails nervously on the polished wood on the banister which her hand lay resting on. Nails making a repetitive –clack-clack-clack sound onto the wood as she drummed her fingers. So lost was she in her own head, and nervousness, that she didn’t hear Felicity pad across the carpeted landing to her side. Swathed in a comfy looking nightgown and a pale pink dressing gown. Her feet bare, and her hair twisted up, ready for her to sleep with her paper bows knotted into her auburn tawny brown curls. Smiling sweetly up at her sister, who looked pale and nervous.

“You can’t wriggle out of this one. Mrs Sharpe will notice if you don’t make the dinner table tonight. Especially if there is a titled gentleman present. And would you know, he is a Duke…” Felicity spoke kindly.

Unhelpfully, of course. Stupidly obviously, but kindly.

Elizabeth’s face creased into a smile. Mrs Sharpe had spent half of the day reminding everyone in the house, short of everyone who walked by it, for that matter, that they were expecting a DUKE for Dinner. A DUKE.

She felt however, far too nervous to laugh. And judging by the way she had just heard a succession of rattling knocks echo across the front door as the clock on the landing chimed eight, and Hawkins cross to answer it from the stairs to the Kitchens, then she was definitely not going to laugh aloud at Felicity’s little jape regarding their irresolute stepmother, because she couldn’t be seen to be guffawing laughter from upstairs when their polished peacock, the Duke, or their other guests, arrived.

“Is it him? Is it the Duke? Is he here?”

Felicity asked, throwing herself to the railing beside Elizabeth to lean over and try and catch a gander at whomever was now knocking at the door.

Libby listened intently as she heard a voice of a man she did not know, speak in polite soft smoky tones to Hawkins. The man’s, downright pleasant deep voice she decided, was not familiar to her. Therefore, it must’ve been the Duke who now stood at their Doorstep.

“It’s the Duke.” Elizabeth noted glumly to Felicity.

“Is he handsome?”

She asked, both their voices now lodged firmly in hissing whispers, as Libby watched Felicity biting her lip and peering down, twisting and contorting her head in attempts to gain a new vantage point from which to visually dissect the mysterious Duke. Hands clutching the bars like she was an incarcerated prisoner in her own home.

Oddly, and ironically that was how Libby now felt.

Elizabeth dared peer slightly over the landing to see that the Duke was now inside and taking off a tall top hat, gloves, coat and handing across a cane to Hawkins. But where the man stood was just at a point where Elizabeth could only see his lower half, she could only see a fine tailored dress suit stretched onto long, cricket like legs, whose muscled thighs radiated power, but their lean ness told her that somehow he was remarkable at covering distance when he ran using the long lengthy things. And his shoes shone brighter than stars in the night sky. He was tall too, she’d guessed. And judging by the way he looked, moved and carried himself, he was no withering aged old man either. Dare she say it, his voice sounded pleasant, and she was getting remarkably tingly all over, just from looking at the length of this stangers legs. She found herself oddly awaiting and hoping the rest of him was as pleasing as his bottom half.

She blushed despite herself at the other – cruder – meaning to that statement.

He was speaking nicely to Hawkins now, again, came that pleasant voice. It sounded damn near sinful. Surely no mans voice or tone should excite and exhilarate her as much as his did? Could it?

All she thought then was, Marcus Burke’s voice certainly didn’t get her this wound up. Neither did his legs thrill her quite as much as the Duke’s had, either.

She listened as Hawkins moved off, and then her parents appeared from the front parlour. Making swift distance as they heard their father greet him by name, reaching out to shake his hand. Mrs Sharpe stood now in front of the man, her plump short frame blocking Elizabeth from seeing that mans long legs that made her flush unsuitably.

“Argh, Mrs Sharpe is blocking my view! Curse the woman! I want to see how Handsome he is! His voice is dead amiable, don’t you think Elizabeth? Husky and divine.”

Felicity asked in a cheeky whisper, eyes shining evilly, smile wide and cheeky, as it usually was.

“Have care how you speak, Felicity Farrow, you’re not too young to be sent to bed for speaking improperly you know…”

Elizabeth warned in a harsh bite of a whisper, though God help her, and not that she ever would admit aloud, but she did happen to agree with Felicity’s dissection.

Elizabeth felt more nervous now. One, because she found this Sir Thomas Kenworthy rather pleasing to look at - atleast his lower half was. And secondly, he possessed such a nice voice. And as she watched him, he hushed something humble and polite to Mrs Sharpe, who flushed bright red as a consequence. And now, thirdly, she supposed, he was charming and if he was anywhere as handsome and divine – to paraphrase and rescind Felicity’s earlier statement – as he sounded, then she was truly in trouble when she had to make polite talk with the man, when she had as much nerves as she did, sweeping through her body. Travelling unhindered through every cell and pore. Then she was now sure she’d make a right fool of herself, she now wanted nothing more than to march back to her room, tear this infernal dress off, crawl under her bedclothes and hide away from the world and all the handsome Duke’s with long muscly legs that were contained within it.

She watched now as her Father gestured to the front parlour, doubtlessly inviting the Duke through for a drink before the Burke’s made an appearance. But still, The Duke managed to keep out of her sight, the awkward angles of the landing meaning that she still couldn’t quite get a glimpse of all of him. and she could see this was tormenting her sister also, as Felicity would be liable to topple headfirst down the stairs soon if she wasn’t careful and didn’t straighten up from her current position.

“Felicity!”

Elizabeth chided, pulling her sisters arm to tug her shoulder backwards.

“I want to see him!” She hissed back.

“Don’t be stupid, you are not breaking your neck falling down the stairs to ogle blindly at a Duke, what would Father say if you died in that way, you buffoon!” She whispered back.

Elizabeth tugged Felicity back so she was once again ensconced fully on the landing carpet, rather than hanging off down the banister like some kind of monkey clothed in a white nightgown.

Felicity made a grumpy face at her elder sister.

“You must sware, on Aristotle’s life, that first thing tomorrow morning, at breakfast, you will tell me straightaway whether or not he is handsome!”

Felicity pointed a stern finger at her sister. Who nodded, holding out her hand for Felicity to shake sternly. Though Libby couldn’t quite take the cheeky face of her younger 16 year old sister quite so seriously. Especially when she was heaped cross legged on the landing at her feet. Making them sware on the life of their inescapably naughty, fox terrier, Aristotle, who as they spoke was probably terrorizing cook in the kitchen downstairs.

“You are an infuriating little gnat, have I ever told you as such?” Elizabeth smiled.

Felicity gave a resulting beam at Libby, before she scarpered to her feet, and threw a pleasant little taunting

“Good Luck, dear Sis.”

Over her shoulder, still in hushed tones as she scurried away down the landing like a little mouse, disappearing into her room.

Elizabeth could suddenly never name a time when she had been more jealous of her sister…

Elizabeth turned her body back facing down the landing as she took in a deep beath, her body going quite pinched with nerves as she heard Mrs Sharpe speak up the stairs, shouting for her. Mumbling something first to the Duke, probably in apology for her tardiness, she was sure.

She shut her eyes, dragging in a deep breath before she centred her body at the top of the stairs, and began her descent. One foot at a time, but with each step feeling like her legs were made of wobbly jelly, and her torso was as weighty as a marble statue.

One step, second, third, fourth…

As she walked, an uncomfortable warmth prickled and swarmed across her skin. It was the feeling she often got when she was sure that someone was watching her. The heavy, pressed feeling of when more than a few pairs of eyes were following you where you went. She swallowed, she hoped the Duke wasn’t like that of Marcus Burke, who often stared at all the wrong parts of her, she hoped he would be amiable, and not interested in her. and she started to then wish a thousand other things…

She hoped he didn’t chew with his mouth open, as it was unmistakable that she would be placed near him at Dinner. At attempt via Mrs Sharpe to help force a man into something he should not be forced. And that was to force Mr Burke into wedding her, and to force Sir Thomas Kenworthy to start falling in love with her.

She also hoped that his face was as nice as his lengthy muscled legs, and that he didn’t have an off-putting sense of humour, or was a dull conversationalist, or….

Her thoughts were left unfinished,

As when she got to the banister of the steps that led down to the hall, she turned, and she saw all of him. Indeed. She got a good long look from the waist up, seeing the regal face, ink black medium length hair, and the twin set of two blue eyes that looked like two discs, the colour of a summers sky in may, staring back at her.

His body was long, and lean, and he was so tall he could give streetlamps a run for their money, she was sure. His jaw looked like it had been carved by an ancient artist out of a flawless chunk of marble. His lips were thin, but still somehow not ugly, no. She thought they looked soft and warm. They looked just full enough to be sinfully good if she was ever to be so lucky as to be able to place a kiss upon them. His cheekbones were high and arched, allowing her to dissect that they nearly divided his face in three, and his brow was strong and certain, like lentils above a dark concrete window frame. And those eyes that she quickly decided were the most breath taking things she had ever had the pleasure to see, were looking back at her, burning at her, as if she was the only woman he had ever seen. She’d never considered herself to be melodramatic before, but now, Miss Elizabeth Farrow knew what it felt like to have the world tugged out from under her feet.

She started down the rest of the stairs, mindful not to trip on her skirts as she decided that falling flat on her face down the stairs would be an ultimate disadvantage on his first impression of her. She walked slowly, hips under her green skirts swaying with the movement as she moved, skirts in her right hand, just so above her knee, as she had been taught. And she, amazingly, glided down the steps gracefully and without incident. Which was remarkable considering how her body felt like it was humming with nerves.

Suddenly, she felt her night would not be such a waste, and she didn’t care that the dress was suffocating her, that she was sick to the stomach with nerves, or that she had admired his flawless legs with such crude mannerisms and afterthoughts. She wanted to know more, in a fit of mad improper curiosity, about Sir Thomas Kenworthy.

“Sir Thomas Kenworthy, May I formally introduce my eldest daughter to you, Miss Elizabeth Farrow.”

Sir Richard pressed. Seeing that neither of them had taken their eyes off each other, so much so, he swares he saw sparks fly when their eyes met.

“Elizabeth…”

He started, watching as Sir Thomas took his daughters hand and bowed, eyes not peeling away from Libby. Who, it had to be said, looked pale, shaken, and as if her world had been rocked to it’s very core.

“..The Duke of Chatsworth…”

He finished, pleased to see his predictions about them getting along famously were shaping up to be quite correct, indeed.

“An enchanted Duke of Chatsworth, Miss Farrow..”

He beamed, rolling about her name in his mouth as if he were savouring it. Tasting it. And something wicked told her, he liked the taste of her name on his tongue.

Elizabeth smiled, all breath swiftly vacating her as he kept his eyes pinned to hers and brushed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand that he held.

She had been right. His lips were warm and butter soft.

Not wanting to let her delicate hand slip away to rest down back at her side. He wanted her, all of her. He wanted her middle name, and the name of her cat, if she had one. Her laugh, her smile, every single strand of her beautifully red hair, and every one of her blue eyed looks.

“It is a pleasure, Sir Thomas.”

She – finally – spoke when she remembered she had a voice again.

“Believe me when I say the pleasure is all mine, Miss Farrow..”

He beamed. Eyes shining as he increased the width of that great smile that could make nun’s swoon. And could fell even the most cold hearted woman. And just like that. She felt as if she had been dead all her life, and now she finally, truly, Knew what it was like to come alive.

#victorian era #historical #romance #tom hiddleston #AU #fan fiction #dukes #duchesses #suitors #love #falling in love

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skeletonwoman · 8 years ago

Text

Mild Gamophobia (Steve)

this came to be when i thought of (??? i can’t remember) and then i decided to write this. So here it is, a semi long/short fic that reminds me of how much i hate marriage proposals nowadays.

“I want to marry you.” Steve opens suddenly and you freeze, eyes glued to the TV, your body going tense under his arm. “I know, I know. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

You look up at him, letting your naked fear show and he smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and drawing a small smile from you, even in this moment. “I know you’ve never wanted to get married to anyone and all the arguments you have to back yourself up. I understand and I just- Well, I want to marry you and I love you. Your answer is up to you, and you don’t have to tell me now, or in a week. When you’re ready.”

Your lips part to speak but he covers your mouth with his quickly. “Sorry. I need you to know, and really listen to this part. I love you and I don’t want to break up just because you don’t want to get married. It isn’t necessary, I know you’re mine and I love you. I just want this. With you, and no one else. I swear I won’t let this break us if you say no.”

Your cheeks flame and your eyes close when you feel them well up. Jesus.

“I love you too, Steve.” You whisper and he sighs happily, shifting somehow closer and returning his gaze to the TV. For a moment, another wave of fear crashes over you at the thought of marriage, at the thought of possibly losing him, but it fades the longer you sit with him.

“Steve offered me a huge speech.” You start, Natasha on her back beside you and she snorts.

“Steve can’t speak unless it’s a speech.” She teases and you growl unhappily. That’s your boyfriend.

“He asked me to marry him-” You’re poised to continue but her gasp cuts off your words. You watch her jerk upright and onto her side, looming over you, jaw dropped and worry in her eyes. “Shut up. Technically he didn’t ask. He sort of… Man, I guess he sort of made his intentions known?”

“That he intends to marry you?” She whispers and you can tell she’s taking it the wrong way. She has to be.

“I said that wrong too. Shut up. He said he wanted to and then said he knows I don’t want to and then said something like I love you, probably, my ears were pretty well ringing by then. Then he said he didn’t care if I said no- No, shut up. He said it like, like it was okay, that he would be okay with it if I said I didn’t want it. He’s being- He brought it up strangely. I wish I had a transcript of what he said. F*ck.” You sigh, rubbing your temples. The worst part of it all, the most perfectly worst part was he was giving you a solution to everything you’d been terrified with about marriage. He wasn’t pressuring you in the moment to answer, he wasn’t running off angrily that you hadn’t said yes instantly, he’d even said he could live with not marrying you, just being your boyfriend forever. He was easing you into it and hell if it wasn’t exactly the thing you’d hated about modern day proposals.

“So…” Natasha prompted and you returned to the moment, her clear eyes staring at you.

“He wants to marry me but understands if I’m not interested. He’s got his table and he’s laying it all out on there, all the while leaving room for whatever I want to throw down.” You sum up and she stares at you a moment longer before flopping back down onto her back.

“What’re you going to say?” She asks softly, her fingers brushing your gently and you clutch them.

“I don’t know. He’s- He hasn’t mentioned it since, like he said it and then just went back to normal. And I’m not stressed.” You pause, knowing she’s picked up on the lie and wants honesty. “Fine. I’m really stressed. But I don’t know how I can say no? it’s all so perfect and I love him, more than I ever expected myself to love someone. My stupid feelings are making me doubt my convictions. Never get married, never have kids, never bother with partners beyond a quick f*ck, all I ever told myself I needed was my best friends and a cozy job.”

“Except when one of your best friends is suddenly kissing on you and asking you to marry him to eventually have all his babies because you know he’s a baby guy.” She completes and you groan softly.

“Exactly.” You croak and she rolls toward you, laying across your body. “Yeah, baby, comfort me.”

Natasha laughs at your lecherous tone, her head pillowed on your breasts as she stares at you, waiting for you to talk it out with her, like you always do.

“I need to make a list of questions. Or a pros/cons list.” You answer excitedly and Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Lets start with things he needs to clarify before you start your pros and cons. Because that’s what this whole waiting game is about, isn’t it? Him offering you time to settle into the idea and get the facts before you commit.”

“Yeah.” You whine grumpily, scowling at her to which she responds with a princess’s smile.

“Number one. Does he want kids?”

“Number two, when?”

“Number three, are you going to move out together, move in together, where will you live and how?”

“Smart. My one is what kind of dog he wants.”

“Also smart, choices like that can put a strain on any relationship.” She grins and you blush happily.

“And if he has baby names. Like does he want a little girl? Do I have to quit my job if we have a kid? Where will we keep it? Can we afford to school it?” You start rushing out, your voice getting higher until Natasha smushes a hand over your mouth.

“Firstly, stop calling your baby “it”.” She advises and you muffle something against her hand, her eyes rolling as she remonves it to let you speak.

“I don’t have a baby.”

“Shut the f*ck up.” Natasha snaps succinctly and you grin internally. “And these are all questions you should write down. From most important to least. And when you’re asking them, you can write down his answers to look back over later. And you’re not allowed to panic like you just did.”

“I told her I wanted to marry her.” Steve pipes up, eating another bite of his eggs benedict. Sam stares at him, Bucky silent between them.

“Seriously dude? She run yet?” Sam scoffs, forking some more of his salmon scrambled eggs into his mouth and watching his friend. It’s a poorly kept secret how much you despise the very idea of matrimony. Even oblivious Bruce knows and never mentions the subject in your presence.

Half the reason everyone was so amazed you and Mr Committed were still together.

“No, actually. She’s thinking it over.” Steve shrugs, looking glumly at his almost empty plate.

“What did you say exactly?” Bucky asks quietly, poking his crepes while he waits, but not eating them.

“Just that I wanted to marry her, that it was okay if she said no and that I’m not going to break up with her.” Steve shrugs and Sam chokes, coughing into a napkin and taking a swallow of his papaya juice.

“You’re brave as hell.” Sam finally gets out, wheezing, and Bucky smirks, shoving crepe into his mouth. “The fact that you even addressed that there was a future for the two of you, let alone touching the marriage subject. Wow.”

“Shut up.” Steve whines, rolling his eyes. A trait he’d picked up from Natasha as of late.

“Do you want kids?” Bucky asks, interjecting perfectly again and Steve coughs into his napkin, eyes avoiding the two of them. “What?”

“He does.” Sam answers, pointing at his friend and about to start up when Steve shakes his head.

“I can’t.” He admits, cheeks beet red and Bucky wheezes. Sam stares at the two of them, blinking in confusion when it hits him. Holy hell.

“Stone aged idiots.” He murmurs to himself before meeting Steves eyes steadily. “Welcome to twenty sixteen, where our baby menu is vast and full of choices. For the classical family, sex. For our more community inclined families, adoption or artificial insemination from a donor. Or those picky families, surrogates. Oh, hey! Did I mention fostering, or even forgoing babies and keeping pets instead?”

Bucky and Steve stare at Sam, their expressions wiped of everything but confused embarrassment and Sam sighs loudly.

“There are millions of men who can’t have kids. For millions of reasons. They make do.” Sam tries and Steve shakes his head weakly. “Look, idiot, Y/N doesn’t even want kids, but what she doesn’t want less than them? Not having you. Consider adoption. Seriously. Not everything is about having fruitful loins, you cavemen.”

With that, Sam stands, stretching before heading for another table. Steve watches him, not even having noticed the way the girls had been ogling them.

“Do you want kids?”

“A barn full.” He answers honestly and your heart clenches. “But I can’t- I can’t give you them.”

And your heart clenches all over again for the expression on his face. “I don’t want to quit my job. But we can adopt. Adopt a bunch of kids and toddlers and babies.”

“You’ll marry me?” He jerks and you hiss a breath.

“I…”

“Sorry, right. No pressure. We can adopt without marrying. I’m sure they’ll give us children.” He smirks and you can’t help laughing. Yeah right, an adoption agency giving kids to a 90-year-old veteran who still fights crime? And his girlfriend who won’t give up her job or commit?

“I want a cocker spaniel.” You burst out and Steve frowns at you, your cheeks flushing. “I’m saying- Uh- If you choose to get a dog, I’d want a cocker spaniel. If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course.” He answers smoothly, a grin twitching at his lips.

“Where would we live?” You ask nervously and he nods thoughtfully.

“Wherever you want.” He answers and you sigh. This is too hard.

“Be honest. Jerk.” You grumble and he levels you with a stare.

“All I want is you. And if I still get to keep you at the end of all this, I’m open to anything.” He shrugs and you scowl at him. “Fine. Brooklyn. A nice place that isn’t too big and when we’re ready, we’ll move somewhere where we can keep our small army.”

You grin at him, kissing his cheek and he grins back at you, pleased with himself.

“I want your opinions, I want to know what you want. Because I want you too but it’s hard to choose things if you’re just going to wax poetic.” You offer and he nods, resting his chin on his fist.

“Okay, definitely. Hit me.”

Hours later, you throw yourself back onto the mattress, panting. Glancing over at him, you can see Steve’s still recovering and you can’t help the giddiness in your stomach. Leaning close, your lips brush against his ear and his breath catches, as if he’s ready all over again, even though you know he isn’t.

“I’ll marry you, Mr Rogers.” You whisper and his whole body tenses and you lean back some. His face turns to you slowly, his eyes wide and bright and hopeful.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, that orgasm really sealed the deal, but yes. You are the only thing I’m sure of, and for you, I’ll do this.” You answer and his eyes darken some but you kiss his lips sweetly. “I love you, don’t think you coerced me or forced my hand. I know you, Steven.”

His eyes close slowly and suddenly he launches himself at you, a growl leaving his lips and you can’t help yelping and giggling. His lips print themselves to your skin, leaving marks and soft touches wherever they go, his laughter low and happy, a backing track he can’t seem to stop.

“We’ll have three kids. I’ll stop taking so many missions, you can keep your job. We’ll get two dogs and I love you. We’ll live in Brooklyn and have pancakes every Sunday and sex every Saturday night and only on Saturday night, like real adults. And I’ll teach them how to fight people and you’ll teach them how to not fight people and Bucky will adore them and Sam is going to hate them. And you’re going to be the best mom, I love you. And every Halloween we’ll have a party, just like you like and…” He trails off, his eyes brightening as they refocus on your giggling form. “What?”

“You’ve got it all planned out.” You smirk and Steve shrugs modestly. “Where are they going to school?”

“Tony is going to put a private tutor on his payroll, all our future kids are going to be taught at the tower. For safety and because Tony demands they all get the best.” Steve answers instantly, eyes lit up. “We discussed it once, I know he remembers.”

“Wow.” You breathe, staring up at your fiancée and realizing that this is the opposite of what you imagined your life would end up like. But somewhere along the line, you fell in love with Steve and accepted that what you wanted changed. Not because of his cute butt or chiselled abs, as incentivising as they are. For you, for the way he makes you feel and the way you feel without him.

this honestly is super mush like. and it makes me uncomfortable. but if you love it, i stg, you’re a golden gift human. thanks. and goodnight.

#steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fic #steve rogers x reader imagine #steve x reader #steve x reader fic #steve x reader imagine #captain america x reader #captain america fic #steve fic #steve imagine #captain america imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers fic #marvel

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ourloveisforthelovely · 8 years ago

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Fallout 6

A/N: smutt and stuff

Words: 3,661

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“What?! No! Not at all sugar. Are you?” Kate shook her head wrapping her hand around Richard’s that was resting on her thigh. “No. I’m just worried about my brother.” Richard nodded. “Yeah that is going to be a barrel of monkeys. Look Kate, I’m serious when I say I don’t regret marrying you. My regret was not asking you sooner. I just don’t want people thinking the only reason I married you is because I got you pregnant.” He slowly brought her hand to his lips kissing her before returning his focus to the road ahead. Kate meanwhile, laid her head back on the headrest looking down at her wedding ring. A few weeks ago she would have never even considered marrying Richard. They were only repairing their broken relationship. However, after the eventful trip to Europe, finding out that she was pregnant, being involved in one of the most weird train incidents to hit northern Europe (big shout out to Jared, she thought with a smirk), and finally getting some alone time with Richard things had started to look up. “What’s so funny?” Richard asked as he began to mess with the radio. Kate chuckled. “Just thinking about Jared causing havoc in Europe.” Richard rolled his eyes. “We are seriously never traveling with them again. I thought we going to jail. Amsterdam was nice though.” “We didn’t get out of bed for two days.” Richard gave her his best “innocent” look. “That was my point. I may be keeping you in bed for the next week and a half. When we get to Missouri to see your mother you may not be walking straight. You may want to think of a clever excuse to tell your mother so she won’t know what you have been up to.” Kate rolled her eyes. “You are so full of yourself! You won’t be able to go straight for a week in a half. You may play an angel on TV but hate to break it to you love you are just a man in real life….and kind of like a bottle rocket the moment you get inside me.” She watched as he gave her the most confused and bewildered expression. “I can go for a long time….if you recall in Amsterdam it was you that needed to keep taking naps. Baby girl I can get hard for you any time any place. Speaking of which, we could always pull off and fool around.” Kate shook her head. “I am not letting you fuck me in some roadside bathroom where tourists might show up.” Richard rolled his eyes going back to the radio. “Didn’t stop you before.” Kate gave up trying to argue with him knowing he would have some sassy comment that she wouldn’t be able to keep up with. “Ugh everything in this state is damn country music. Do you see why I moved to LA now? Imagine growing up in Nashville.” Richard grumbled before giving up and stopping on some random station. “We’ll be there soon.” Kate said softly running her hand over his crotch. Richard groaned looking over at her again. “I’m really about to pull this car over.” Taking her hand away, Kate leaned back with a satisfied grin on her face. “It doesn’t take much for you to move me Just the way you’re leaning into me It’s a holiday when we’re together I want to stay with you forever Somewhere, somewhere sunny and 75 You and me on a beach chair Yeah, I’m so there everytime I look in your eyes Kissing you and the salt air I can taste it, I swear Take me somewhere sunny and 75 “ Kate was pulled out of her light nap when Richard said her name. “Huh? What’s wrong?” She focused on the radio. “In other news, musician and Supernatural actress Katherine Benedict married co star and long time boyfriend Richard Speight Jr. yesterday…” Kate’s mouth dropped as Richard turned off the radio and pulled over. Both sat in silence for a moment before Richard laughed shaking his head. “Well that cat is out of the bag!” Kate groaned realizing that everyone knew now. Their little secret was out. “So much for having a week of peace.” She looked down to her phone that started ringing. Seeing Jared’s name followed by Jensen, both Marks, Matt Cowen, Sebastian, Misha, Vicki, and everyone else they seemed to know but Rob she groaned. Richard looked at her shaking his head. “Don’t answer it.” Richard said calmly running his hand through his hair. Kate frowned. “Do you think Rob knows?” Richard shrugged. “He hasn’t blew my phone up yet so I’m guessing no. Sugar turn the phone off. Let’s just enjoy our week of peace. We can worry about the mess back home when we get home.” (Meanwhile in Missouri) Rob’s morning started like any other. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Crystal left to go to work around 8 am. Rob shuffled into the living room picking up his ipad. He frowned looking down at his cell phone. Still nothing from Kate or Richard. Rob couldn’t help wonder what in the world was going on with those two? They never just disappeared and avoided him like this. Logging onto Twitter, Rob had enough if they wouldn’t answer his calls or texts he would blow their pages up until someone talked to him. Going to Kate’s page Rob froze when something caught his attention. “Katherine Benedict Speight.” Rob frowned muttering “the fuck?” under his breath. Taking out his phone he dialed Kate’s number and it automatically went to voicemail. “Katherine it’s Rob. Call me now!” He did the same thing to Richard before sitting down with a frown. Seriously what the fuck was going on? Rob was beginning to regret his decision to unplug from the world while he was getting over his stroke. Looking further down Kate’s twitter page he froze seeing all he needed to see at the mention of Kate and Richard getting married. “Is it that hard to pick up a phone?” Rob muttered before angrily closing the iPad. How could they not call him? Just because he was across the country didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to be there when his sister was married! “They’ve lost their fucking minds!” Rob thought angrily before trying to formulate a plan.

Meanwhile…

Walking into the cabin Kate was bound and determined not to let the stresses of their life come in the way of a nice honeymoon. “Are you ok sugar?” She looked up as Richard shut the door. “Yeah. I’m good.” She knew he didn’t believe her. Richard walked to her pulling her into his arms. “If you’re feeling bad it’s ok to say so. You haven’t been at all like my ex. She’s was sick all the damn time.” Kate smirked at the fear in his eyes. Most men seemed to have this look when it came to their pregnant partners. “I’m fine. I promise.” Richard nodded as he picked Kate up sitting her on the island. He had been keeping a close eye on her since she said the word “pregnant.” He was no longer questioning whether or not he really wanted a baby. While he wasn’t fully on board over the moon at the moment Richard had accepted it. He tried to smile and appear happy when Kate mentioned anything baby related. Surely by the time the baby was born he would feel a little more at ease. Kate meanwhile, watched his facial expression carefully. She knew Richard wasn’t thrilled with the baby but he wouldn’t say it. After she almost left him over the baby Richard had changed his tune. He was more attentive and gentle towards her needs. She had even caught him stroking his fingers over her stomach a few times. “So are you going to fuck me on every surface of this cabin?” Kate asked with a smirk. She pushed a strand of Richard’s hair away from his eyes before leaning in for a kiss. Richard groaned into her lips. “Richard, can you please just lose control like you used to and man handle me?” “Kate, I can’t hurt you right now. You’ll have to deal with soft and easy until the baby is born. Don’t give me that look!” Kate didn’t listen to his last sentence giving Richard a pouty face. “A lot of people have sex while pregnant Rich.” He shook his head pressing a few kisses to her neck and the exposed parts of her chest. “Not like what we have.” “You’re not being fair! You have me sounding like a slut again.” Richard smirked as he stood back up yanking her sweater and tank top off. “Well you can be a slut for me. That I’m cool with.” Kate whimpered trying to ignore the need building inside of her. From the time she got pregnant she was almost always horny. The pregnancy hormones were driving her nuts. “And you talking like that isn’t helping!!” Richard smirked. “I never said that I wouldn’t fuck you sugar.” Kate slid off the counter only for Richard to reach out and put her right back. “Fucking tease.” Richard smiled looking genuinely pleased with the comment. “You take my cock so well sugar!” The look on Kate’s face made Richard chuckle as he reached behind her to remove her bra. “How the fuck do I get this thing off?” He asked upon finding no clasp in the back. Kate took his hands placing it on the front between her breasts. Richard rolled his eyes mumbling about stupid lingerie designers and their fancy ideas. After a few tries he started to pull. Kate quickly pushed his hands away. “Oh no you don’t! I paid a lot of money for this bra. You’ve torn too many of my lingerie items when your turned on.” Richard shrugged unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his jeans. “Well I didn’t get a fucking MIT degree in bra engineering. It either opens in the back or gets ripped off.” Kate carefully undid her bra before tossing it aside. Richard reached up pressing her breasts together before taking one in his mouth bitting down. Kate whimpered pulling his body closer to hers. “Stop being a fucking tease Richard.” Richard smiled against her lips grinding his painfully obvious hard on against her thigh. “What’s the rush sugar? We can play for a while? We have all week to consummate our marriage. How I about I eat you out in front of the fireplace? I can make the wait worth your while.” Kate looked like she was ready to scream at this point. “Richard Speight JR if you don’t make love to me I will blue ball you until this baby is born!!” Richard stood up straight looking at her honestly surprised. “You wouldn’t…” “Try me.” Kate said with a smirk as she went to put her sweater back on. Richard lunged forward tossing the sweater somewhere behind him. “Fine, bossy.” He reached out pulling Kate into his arms carrying her to the bedroom. “I still plan on eating you out in front of that fire place.” He said with a devious grin before gently laying her on the bed. Kate quickly wiggled out of her remaining clothes as Richard undressed getting into bed beside her. “I have to say I do enjoy these pregnancy hormones. You being horny all the time will make it better for me to just bend you over whenever I damn please. ” “Well that would be lovely. You’ve always taken what you wanted so bending me over when you damn well please isn’t anything new. Seeing as we have spent a lot of times in airplane bathrooms, closets, dressing rooms I think your sex drive is as crazy as mine.” Kate’s lips were on his neck while her hand wrapped around his erection. Whatever sassy comment Richard had in mind left his mind as she tightened her grip slightly making him if possible harder. Kate bit down on his neck as Richard bucked his hips into her hand. “Sugar…please.” Kate slowly eased her way onto Richard placing herself right over him rubbing herself against. Richard groaned raising his hips to grind further against his. “What’s the matter baby? You want me as bad as I want you huh?” Richard nodded looking at her with the best puppy eyes he could come up with. “Sugar you can dominate me later. Let me make love to you know.” Kate shook her head. “Sorry lover boy. You made me wait now you have to wait.” Richard glared up at her. Normally he would have flipped her and pushed in. Once he was inside she wouldn’t have made him stop. Now it was different. There was no way he could do that now. “It will make your orgasm better.” Kate cooed as she leaned down pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “At least do something. You sitting there looking hot as hell rubbing your pussy on me is killing me!” Kate smirked rubbing herself against him again. Richard groaned when she got off of him. The sudden loss of pressure was more than he could handle. “Sugar please…” He panted as she lay with her back the opposite direction so it was possible to see how wet for him she was. “Now you get to watch me. I don’t want to see you touch yourself.” Kate watched with a smirk as Richard put his hands behind his head. “Whatever you want baby.” He watched with hungry eyes as her hand slipped between her legs, stroking over her clit, and began to toy at her entrance. From her position, Kate could clearly see the lust filled about to loose all grip on reality look on her husband’s face. Richard gripped the sheets so tight they ripped off the bed. Richard sat watching a moment long before quickly moving over Kate. “I’m done waiting. I want what’s mine.” He pushed in before Kate could make any protest. Kate cried out as he sunk in balls deep. Richard made sure not to put too much weight in Kate as he began to move. “Mmm sugar you are so tight right now” Kate cried out as he began to slowly push into her. “Harder, please.” She moaned. “Well looks like little ms. bossy has changed her tune.” Kate smiled against his lips as Richard moved a little faster. “Rich, for the love of all things holy, please go harder. I’m not that delicate!” Richard ignored the comment before pressing a kiss to her lips blocking anymore comments. Kate moaned against his lips as his hand went between their bodies pressing hard on her clit. “Since I can’t fuck you sore I can think of other ways to make you come like crazy. I know you like this.” Kate tried to ignore the tingling in her core. As usual he was right. There wouldn’t be any holding on much longer! “You can come for me any day now. I’m not going to make it much longer after you teased me like that.” Richard moaned between gritted teeth. “I thought you wanted to eat me out in front of the fire place?” Kate asked with a cheeky smile. Richard’s eyes rolled down to hers. “Darlin you have a long fucking week ahead of you after this today! Now like I said come already!” Kate dug her nails into Richard’s back as one final thrust pushed her over the edge. Richard pushed in a few more times before coming hard as well. “Well being bossy sure got you all hot and bothered.” Kate said with a grin as Richard slowly pulled out and yanked her into his arms. “Yeah yeah. You’ll be paying for that too princess.” Kate snuggled against his chest. She was fully his wife now and she was fully happy. Kate didn’t let the thoughts of Rob, Crystal, or their friends reaction bother her in the slightest as she drifted off to sleep. Around 5 am, Kate was awoken by the sound of Richard’s cell phone ringing and from him moving to get it being dropped out of his arms. Richard muttered a few cuss words under his breath as he flipped on the beside lamp before finally locating his phone. He had reluctantly turned it on halfway through the night at the thought of something being wrong with his kids. Fishing around for his cell phone that must have gotten knocked off during the previous nights activities, Richard couldn’t help but be annoyed. Who the fuck called someone at 5 am? Someone had better died! He wasn’t a morning person anyway and after getting fucked like he had the previous night all Richard wanted was to sleep. Finally finding the phone, Richard didn’t even look to see who it was before answering with a curt, “hello?” “So you finally decide to answer your phone?” Hearing Rob’s voice, Richard froze before getting suddenly angry. “I guess I should ask you the same question. So is it customary to call people at 5 am now?” Richard kept his voice cold. Rob was silent a moment. “You married my sister!?” “Hey look you can check the internet. Too bad you couldn’t check your phone. So I get we aren’t friends anymore is this why you called me at five am…to torture me? You know I’m not a morning person!” Rob was silent for a few moments. “Wait why aren’t we friends? Richard rolled his eyes. "Well shit Rob I don’t know! You ignored mine and Kate’s calls for the past however, the fuck long you’ve been in Missouri.” “You idiots haven’t called me!” Richard rolled his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?! We’ve called and texted you. Not to mention your Cuntzilla of a girlfriend who always says he will call you back. You want our phone records because I will send them to you! Rob, you really hurt your sister and that’s not cool. Right now I just don’t have the patience to deal with this. Call me at a normal human hour. I have to go I have a pregnant wife to deal with…” Richard hung up when he heard Rob say… “Pregnant?! Richard wait!” Kate was sitting up looking at him sadly. “Sorry sugar.” Kate blinked looking down at her lap before Richard pulled her back against his chest. “Rich even though I want to be stubborn we should hear him out. You two are too good of friends to have it end like this.” Richard closed his eyes. “Yeah. We’ll listen to him when we get back to Vancouver. Remind me to print those fucking phone records!” @greenappleeyes

#richard speight jr #richard speight jr x ofc #richard speight jr fan fiction #rob benedict

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ryujitatsuya · 7 years ago

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Heyyo minna, It’s Ryuuji Tatsuya! Back when I had no idea about what these award posts were all about, I remember seeing a post regarding the Leibster award. Even though I had only posted 3 things during that time and zero interaction with other bloggers, I really wanted that award and thus I read the whole post in a hope of finding my name in the post; shocking fact, I didn’t get it!

Anyways, since then I really wanted this award, and you have no idea how many times I prayed to get the Leibster award when I saw the notification of getting linked to an award post. With time, that act of mine disappeared and I somehow forgot that such an award exists.

However, thanks to the amazing blogger Chizurue, I was able to attain this childish dream of mine. I can’t thank you enough for that! Guys, please check her posts out, this coffee and cat loving comrade of mine has written some great stuff, and her Top Ten posts are just top notch! If you still don’t think that you should go then let me give you an ultimate reason to do so…….. CATS! (If nothing, you could just aww at the cute cat pics she posts in most of her works) Just hurry and go read them!

After that, I thought that maybe that’s all (Since I don’t get tagged for the same award by different bloggers at the same time period), and was waiting for the month to end to start writing the award post; but then Smile came in and gave me a reason to keep giggling all day!

This guy has a direct connection to my funny bone! I mean, his posts are just so funny that even Nestor can’t keep a stone face while reading it (My English teacher would be so proud if she saw that I slipped in a Shakespearean reference QuQ). The way he analyses or shares something about anime is really funny but still you can’t take what he wants to say lightly; a feat that most of the comedians die to attain! So yeah, if you just came in from looking at Chizuru’s blog then here, go and read Smile’s posts too. I don’t know, I want you to read them before mine! GO! NOW!

Keep clicking on the links, slaves!

Back, are you? Good. Now the day I thought I would write this post, I saw two notifications; one from WordPress and the other one from Facebook. I checked out the one from WordPress and found that Brittney has nominated me for this award too! I was really happy, and I remember laughing maniacally after reading it (My mom called dad just after seeing that, and my dad in return asked my Psychiatrist if we are too late to start diagnosis). Well after that I checked FB and a random guy was asking me for recommendations and well…. We know what happened after that (If you don’t then click here) #Shameless_Self_Promotion

So here’s another job for you guys, go and check out Brittney’s blog. I know, I know that you guys are tired from clicking around and all the other stuff but her posts are just so great and have this familiar feeling to them, which will make your heart melt. I promise this will be a wonderful experience so go on (If you don’t I’ll kill this watermelon!).

Anyways, now that the stage is set and the questions are ready; without any further delay, let’s get right into it!

RULES:

Share the link of the blogger who has shown love to you by nominating you. Answer the 11 questions.

Nominate 11 bloggers for the same award in the spirit of sharing love and solidarity with our blogging family.

Ask them 11 questions that you are dying for the answers to!

Chizuru’s Questions:

What is your crazy dream? The craziest one yet or you could list ’em! (No judgy eyes here. Pinky swear.) I’m not really that good with remembering my dream so the one that I’m going to share might be a bit vague. Anyways, in the dream, I was coming back home from my cram school as usual. It gets really dark when I come home (About 9:30 PM), but the usual path that I take is actually quite well lit. There is another way to return home, which I don’t usually take because it’s way too complex. Somehow, I found myself returning from that dark and complex alley, because the dream me is stupid (Ok, stupider than me).

So well it was ok for the first few meters but then suddenly it started to become more and more deserted; the shops and number of people got less and then BAM there was nothing, only the endlessly stretching road. I should be scared to death by all this but instead of that, I was grinning and threw away my bag on the road, laughing really loud. Then came some random beefed up guys and surrounded me, as if I were a bucket of fried chicken; but they also got strange and laughed with me. I took out a knife from my pocket (WHICH JUST HAPPENED TO BE THERE!!), and asked one of them with a cold voice, “I hope the job is done…” (Note: I wasn’t looking at anyone and was just examining my knife); that guy was a bit shook up and spoke gibberish, as if he wasn’t expecting that. “I don’t need useless people following me around”, I said in an angry tone and dashed at him, slitting his throat open. The rest of the guys ran away, as I stood there beside the body of the beefed up guy that lied there, lifeless.

Now cut to my home. I walked in and was greeted by some random strangers (Apparently, they were the members of my foster family), who rained punches and kicks at me since I was really late. My lips started bleeding when they stopped, but I wiped it as if it was nothing and went to my room. I took out the head of that guy I killed before from my bag, and placed it on the table saying, “If only you did your work correctly”. The dream ends with me writing something in my notebook; it said, “Next Sunday, kill everyone in the family yourself”

Well, I know it wasn’t creepy but it’s the only dream I recall and can put into this category.

A character you would like to meet in real life and be fast friends with (or maybe more than friends)? WHY? (Anything from anime, manga, k-drama, books, tv series)

I actually want to have Maria from Hayate: The combat butler to be my maid, and well, become something more than that. Let’s just say, I want to achieve what Hayate wasn’t able to, a really active love life with my lovely maid, Maria~ *Le Drools*

To follow up that previous one: Which fictional character would be the most boring to meet in real life?

Tanaka-kun. Why? Because he’s always listless.

Favorite music or album you could listen to all day? And why? Is it the lyrics, the melody or the vocals?

I’m the kind of music lover who likes a song based on the chorus part and the background music. No matter which language a certain song uses, as long as the background music is according to my taste, I’ll listen to it a million times.

I could rant all day about my favourite songs, picking just one is unfair so here are four. I love Shape of you (Ed Sheeran), Let me hear (Fear and Loathings in Las Vegas), Fireflies (Owl City) and Mitti di Khushboo (Ayushmaan Khurrana).

What book/anime would you recommend to someone who have never read/watched the genre (fantasy, horror, YA, mystery, erotica, poetry or anything etc.) or the type of materials to appreciate fiction (books, manga, light novels, anime, etc.). Choose one or two. The more the merrier!

Funny that I did recommend some from Romance genre to a certain someone and he ended up calling them girly. LOL, I’m kidding. But yeah, if I had to convince someone WITH A BROADER MINDSET to watch Romance genre, I would recommend him/her Toradora, and Your Lie in April. These two are series that you should never miss!

What are you deathly afraid of?

Nothing materialistic comes to my mind at the moment, actually. So I would say that I’m afraid of not being able to tell someone how I feel before it’s too late; that actually makes me shiver in fright.

What is the funniest word to you? (Mine is apparently ‘pengwings’. Just ask Benedict Cumberbatch) Or anything that makes you laugh when you hear it?

Womanhood. Ok this might not make you guys laugh, but I crack up on hearing this word all the time. Actually, when I first saw this word, she was referring to the…. female genitals. So, yeah…. It’s awkward now that I told you why (Still funny tho XD)

What mythical creature would you like as a pet?

My Alias is Ryuuji, of course it will be Dragon!!

What’s the most useless talent you have?

The ability to crack useless jokes all the time and make a complete fool of myself at any given instant (I’m kinda like Chandler).

If you could level up humans as a species, what stat or ability would you increase? And why?

Common sense. Most of the humans need that.

Would you rather live your entire life in a virtual reality where all your wishes are granted or in the real world? Explain your choice.

Let’s face it Virtual life will always remain virtual, Fake! No matter how many wishes are granted, it will never become reality; also, there’s no boundation that even without getting all my wishes granted, I wouldn’t be happy. So yeah, real world for the win!

Smile’s Questions:

You wake up in a windowless room with no memory of how you got there. There’s one door, but it’s locked. As you look around, you notice your family members are there as well. What is the first thing that you do?

Well of course I would do the sanest thing, KICK THE DOOR! Ok kidding, I would ask my parents if they are ok and try to investigate as to what was going on.

A voice comes through the speakers informing you and your family that they’ve been chosen for a test. If they succeeded, then each member gets one million dollars, but you must stick together and do this as a family. The voice then says that if you wish to leave, then you can, but that means your family won’t win anything. One half of your family wants to leave, while the other wants to stay. You’re the deal breaker, which side do you go with?

To hell with this game! I’m happy with whatever we have right now, and even though a lot of my dreams might come true if I choose to take the test, who knows what might be at stake? It’s better to be safe than sorry, if I knew what was gonna happen then that’s a different story; but since it’s not, Adieu!

If you chose to go with the game, congrats you can go through the door. If you chose to leave, then you can also go through the door. Ah, there’s only one door though and you’re forced to take part in the game regardless of whether you wanted to or not. How do you feel about this?

Honestly, I want to break those speakers and curse the hell out of that guy who told us to make the choice. If I ever run into him, he’s so gonna get punched in the face!

The door leads to a hallway, which connects to your house. Huh, that’s weird. You guys walk into your living room and sit down. Nothing happens after. In fact, you guys sit there for a good hour wondering when the game will start but you hear nothing. Someone mentions that there’s probably no game and no money. This entire thing was due to food poisoning from the food that you made. How do you feel about that?

I would look at the one who said that, wearing a poker face. Seriously? I have been cooking some incredible dishes for the last 6 years and never have I cooked something that might create problems. How could someone say something so rude right at my face? Well, I might also challenge him/her to a SHOKUGEKI, right there right then!

You argue your case, but no one seems to care about your words. Since nothing has happened, they decided to go with the food poisoning angle and banned you from the kitchen until further notice. Your mom tries to cheer you up, but still says the ban needs to happen. Dejected, you go up to your room only to find it trashed beyond repair. The only thing that’s okay is your mirror. When you look at it, what do you see reflected back?

My dejected face + My angry face + My confused face + My WTF face + My “Is this my room” face + My “Huh! I might as well let my all anger out in this already trashed room” face = This face.

You let out a sigh and walk back downstairs. Someone trashed your room, but you don’t know who did it. As you’re walking down the stairs, you notice that the house is eerily quiet. Too quiet, in fact. You bend down and see your family playing ‘What time is it Mr. Wolf’ with a monster like creature. It seems like the game started, but you’re not a part of it. Why do you think that is?

Well my first action would be to google what that game is, and if it seems not to be of that much fun then I would just sit at the corner of the room and watch them play. However, if the game really is fun then I would walk into the room, look at them all, close the door, crack my knuckles and……….. Sit in the corner, because I hate it when someone interrupts me when I play something with my friends (or family).

You try not to make a sound as you watch the game unfold. Your grandma ended up winning the game and everyone rejoices that they’re one-step closer in their goal. The monster like creature disappears and your living room goes back to normal. When you confront your family about the game, they ignore you. Everyone ignores you. It’s almost as if you’re not even there. What do you do to get their attention?

“Whoa Grandma, where the heck did you come from?” would be what I might say at first since she doesn’t lives with us.

Well if they really ignore me then I might get dejected and walk back to my room….. HA HA! SCREW THAT! If they don’t acknowledge my presence then challenge accepted, time to break all the showpieces!!!!

Whatever you do, it doesn’t work. Nothing does in fact. So what is worse, being accused of being a food poisoner or being ignored like this?

Accused of being a food poisoner! Ignore me all you want, but do NOT call my food the cause of food poison. I have a lot of pride in that section.

Annoyed and even more alone than before, you push by everyone and try to leave the house. That’s when you hear your mom say your name. You turn around and see her crying saying that she wishes you were still there with them. Your dad remains stoic as he comforts her. You start walking towards her and that’s when you notice it, your body on the floor of the living room. How do you react?

“Oh my God, I’m dead! I’m literally lying dead on the floor!! And- hey do I really look like that? Meh, no wonder no girl approached me be- THAT’S NOT THE CASE!! HOW DID I EVEN DIE??? Wait…. Does that mean, I can’t watch anime or eat pizza anymore??!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” is what I might say while constantly banging my head against the wall.

Oh wait, it’s not you, it’s not even human. You bend down to take a closer look and notice that it’s just a mannequin wearing your clothes. Weird. So why was your mother crying like that? You look back at your family and they’re starring start at you. They look angry, but distant at the same time. You let out a nervous laugh and try to move, but their eyes are locked on you. This is definitely strange, but at least they’re paying attention to you now. What do you say to them in order to get them to stop?

“I…. umm..” he fidgeted a little and walked towards his parents, who were looking at him with those same angry yet distant emotions. He looks up at his Dad, then at his Mom who was crying just a few seconds ago. “I just want to say that….” He reaches out to grab their hand and locks eyes with them, and with a small sob he says, “I want to take a shit!” No sooner did he utter those words than he broke down, crying.

You try to leave the house, but the door is locked, so you rush back to your room and close the door behind you. Your family is seriously creeping you out, but what’s even creepier is that your room is no longer trashed. In fact, it looks better than ever, except for the mirror. Before it was in pristine condition, but now it’s broken and with spider webbed cracks all over. When you take a closer look, you notice someone that looks just like you staring back. They smile and wave, even though you’re not smiling and waving. Their room is in shambles, while yours is in perfect order. The figure in the mirror leans in close and asks you a simple question: What is your favourite colour?

Simple, huh? *Breaks the mirror and looks at his parents* Enough drama for today, let’s just go to sleep.

Brittney’s Questions:

This one is simple. Kiss, marry and kill (anime version). Tell me who you would pick for each. (3 differentanime characters)

Kiss: Maria, Rui, Holo, Ami, Sena, Ino, Ko- Oh, I have to choose one? Meh.

Marry: Maria! Oh my god, I love her so much!

Kill: The whole cast of Akame ga kill- wait…

Oh Maria..

Who is the most attractive female/male actress you can think of? (my answer would be Keira Knightley in Pirates of the Caribbean for female, and for male, Logan Lerman or Taron Egerton) I have already answered that in my Five Flaming Hotties Tag and I’m really lazy so here comes the link bomb! BOOM!!!

Name your top 4 voice actors / actresses for anime dubbed or subbed. I love the subbed versions since when they ramble random alien language with emotions, it just sounds cooler (Just kidding, I love them in general). I really like the voices of Hiroshi Kamiya (Especially for Araragi and Izaya), Saori Hayami (God her voice is alone to make my heart beat fast), Shizuka Ito (She’s like the queen of seductive voice) and finally, Moore Candice (How can we ever forget Maria’s English voice).

Marvel or DC?

Neither

If you were to be born in a past decade other than the one you were born in, what decade would that be and why?

I guess I would go into the future, maybe the third last generation before the end of the world. I mean, what could possibly be more exciting than seeing my descendants die or abandon Earth because it’s too hard to live here anymore!

If you could bring one anime character to life and they would immediately fall in love with you, who would it be?

I actually want to struggle to love Maria so I won’t be calling her. I guess I would rather go with Rui Tachibana because, God damn!

Do you like Christmas and if so, what is your most fond memory during this time of year?

We don’t really celebrate Christmas that elaborately so there aren’t that much of a craze here. But I do remember going out with my friends to a nearby church back in 2014 during these holidays, and that was the last time we all hung out together so I guess that’s my most delightful memories of the holiday season.

If you were given the chance to travel to space, would you?

Of course!

What would you like for Christmas (and no, don’t worry about ‘asking for too much’ or sounding greedy, its Christmas!)

I actually want to have a world tour without any tension about the financial problems and my studies. If not world, at least Japan, Australia, England and US; I want to meet some of my really good friends from there and if possible, my blogger buddies too.

Top 3 countries or cities you would like to visit in the world?

I just answered it; Japan, Australia and England.

One anime world you would like to be apart of?

I would love to be in one of those Harem anime with lots of fanservice. Even though they infuriate me a lot, I want to switch place with that lucky bastard who gets stuffed between all those supple pair of…….. Goodness. Namely, HSDXD and Monster Musume.

NOMINATION TIME:

I’m gonna be a bit lazy this time so, 6 peeps will be nominated~

Saki

Tetrax

Sheyna Dolls

Irina

Arria Cross

Karandi

MY QUESTIONS:

I’m sorry…… I just had to….

Would you rather go to the past or the future?

What does your dream house looks like?

If you could have any three cars, then which one would they be? Give a pic too.

How would your ideal partner be like?

Would you rather trade someone’s intelligence for looks or looks for intelligence.

If you were an animal or mythical creature, what would you be?

According to you, what is the best thing about anime?

Which anime couple do you hate?

Mention your most loved anime ship.

What kind of power would you like to have if you ever get in an anime world?

Fuel from petrol pump A costs 3 per gallon and from petrol pump B costs 5 per gallon. Mr.S have at most 20 to spend on fuel. Write a system of its linear inequalities.

And finally, this really long award post comes to an end. Wow, this might just be the longest post I have ever written. Anyways, thanks a lot to everyone who nominated me, this award really means a lot to me; not to mention the questions were really fun to answer too! Until my next post, I hope you guys have a great time and as always, thanks for reading!

3 is Better Than 1: Leibster Award Heyyo minna, It’s Ryuuji Tatsuya! Back when I had no idea about what these award posts were all about, I remember seeing a post regarding the Leibster award.

#3 in 1 post #Award #Characters #Facts #Leibster awards #QnA #Voice actors

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