#Isabella thinks his scars are really really hot

[anindecisivespirit]

And they all lived happily ever after.

[noahstayed]

Outtake: Bella’s Bath

Context:

This originally took place when they’re in Italy during Chapter 11 of Earthshine. I didn’t think it fit the flow and removed it.

In the morning, Bella buzzed Marzia just as she had for dinner the night before.  When the red suited famliar appeared, Bella has no problem asking for a bath as she felt like she was about to lose her mind. Really even with Carlisle having showered and going through a Human pace as he searched his clothes, Bella was about to have a break down.

Even when her Mate attempted to calm her with affectionate words and kisses before it was time for her to clean up. Bella was a mess whose brain could only think about what was about to happen once her breakfast was eaten. She ignored Marzia's akward hovering as she scrubbed herself down.

Despite the warm watter and calming scent, Bella could feel herself shaking as if her skeleton was about to break free from her skin.

So, of course, she slipped.

It all happened so fast. Bella was climibing out of the tub and cursed herself for not bringing slippers, while Marzia handed over a towel just as she had the day before. Then Bella stepped wrong or perhaps the floor was just a little too wet from the steam and it was too much for her  inability to be a normal Human being.

So she slipped.

First, Bella heard Marzia scream, then her body hit the floor while Bella herself attempted to land in order to minimize the damage. it was a strange place though and as she went down her forehead scraped against the counter of the sink.

Hot liquid ran down from her brow, then pain seared through her entire body where it had landed hard against the stones. Bella was grateful that the moment she'd hit the ground, Carlisle burst into the room uncaring of what Marzia may think. Especially when his appearance had the Familiar shrieking even more wildly, as if she was witnessing a-

Oh.

"Stop screaming!" Bella groaned even as Carlisle kneeled by her side, aiding the towel clad brunette into a sitting position up against the counter she'd banged her head on. Carlisle's fingers were running across her scalp his nose inhaling slowly, cautiously. All of his senses focused on finding any unseen damage. Crisis mode fully focused on Bella's health and saftey while he ordered,

"Marzia there's a first aide kit in the wardrobe, it's in a white metal tin."

The Familiar did stop screaming, suddenly she was scrambling frantically for the door and Bella hoped Marzia was going to obey the request and not run away.

"I'm alright," Bella sighed as her Mate put a finger up, reminiscent of that first time they met while he requested in his soothing calm voice,

"Follow my finger, you might have a minor concussion."

Obeying Dr. Cullen's request, the Human girl followed all his instructions. As Marzia returned with the first aide kit, Carlisle practically yanked the supplies from the Familiar. He then pried the tin opened, pulling out an alcohol wipe to clean Bella's bleeding forehead and face.

"You know, you should have done this at home, " Carlisle surprisingly joked, an act which had Bella  filling with relief as he continued, "It's just a scrape. The Human face is filled with many vessels so even with all that blood, you'll only require a small bandage."

"Well, I got tired of Dr. Iris treating me and wanted a little one on one time," Bella replied with a smile which she knew wasn't as bright as normal but did the job when her Mate placed a square bandage over her cut, then kissed it.

"Marzia, run and retrieve Isabella's breakfast please. I'll handle the rest of her bath time."

Pale and shaking, Marzia swallowed hard, "Yes Sir."

Then she was gone. Bella inhaled deeply before filling her cheeks with air, then she let it all out in a slow stream, "She thought you were going to just come in here and..."

'Yes." Carlisle replied but there was no anger. Just matter of fact acceptance as he pulled Bella into his arms before lifting her up, then escorting her the small distance to the room.

Sitting down her atop the rectangle chest, the Vampire kissed her scrape again before Bella yanked on his t-shirt in order to pull her lover down for a proper kiss. Once obliged, Bella released him and Carlisle left to the bathroom in order to clean up the water as well as drain the tub.

Gently, Bella touched her bandage and was glad that the damage had been minimal. Sparing a look at her palm, the girl took in her scar from just last year, even more she scanned her legs. Taking in the damage from all the glass and her compound fracture she'd received from James.. Scars littered her body, a few on her arms too from nicks and knocks through the years. Bella knew she was unlucky enough to have this small cut gnarl and scar over too.

Maybe it wasn't Carlisle that had worried Marzia before, but Bella's own obviously damaged body. She'd never been self-conscious about her scars. They just were. Bella was clumsy and that's what happened when you were clumsy. You had scars on your knees and feet. Palms and arms all accented with a bit of raised flesh here and there.

Still, she couldn't help the swell of anger at herself over what had just transpired. Bella grit her teeth at her own Human weaknesses. In a Castle filled with Vampires who drank Human blood, she'd been stupid enough to let her guard down and fall like an absolute idiot.

They were lucky that Demetri or anyone else hadn't arrived to check in on them. Bella had no way to gauge how controlled the Vampires of Volterra would be when confronted with a bleeding wound.

Somehow, she managed to dress without any incident, the only real damage being to her nerves. Even as she ate her breakfast and Marzia wished her a good day, Bella wondered how pathetic she must look. Carlisle never said anything, only assurances that she was fine and that meant he was fine...

The fact that food actually smelled alright was a miracle. Marzia was staring at them like they'd sprouted brand new heads but said nothing as Bella ate her food. Even when the Familiar's eyes were boring into the bandage like a parasitewas going to crawl out of it.

She was glad then, the Carlisle was enough to keep her from flying off the edge, especially with everything still happening around them.

[serpent-sariah]

Isabella, 15+, female, straight, was born and raised in a small town called Green River, Wyoming. Her birthdate is January 24th, 2001.

Isabella is one of the main protagonists of her teenage years. She's a caregiver, the main reason for this knowledge is because one of her best friends since her toddler year was brutally attacked by his parents. Another reason is because one of her best friends turned her back on their mutual best friends and became a literal gang member and started ghosting her mutual former friends whenever they tried to plan an evening or day or afternoon together.

Isabella is 5'4, curvy yet skinny, she's white, her skin being fair to the point it would burn and be easily bruised. She has small and tiny pink lips, a small nose, is baby-faced and has chocolate brown eyebrows. Her hair is lower-waist length, and natural, wavy, hot chocolate brown hair with light brown highlights to compliment her hair. Her eyes are upturned, small, and they are a near translucent periwinkle blue color. She wears glasses but prefers contacts to glasses, and will wear sunglasses most of the time to protect her light eyes. She tends to wear something black and pink but will wear other colors, too. She prefers pants over dresses and short-sleeved shirts over long-sleeved shirts. Her hair is normally is either in a braid, or a ponytail braid. She has a scar on the side of her right arm caused by her classmate Krysta Reynolds. She has tiny pale scars lacing the palms from her hands by picking at the skin with the ends of paper clips out of worry and concern. She also has a scar lining on her left collarbone from breaking her collarbone in a motorcycle accident. It hasn't healed right, yet she keeps proving to her dad that she still can do tumbling.

Isabella has lived in Green River her entire life and is considered the loner of her high school. She gets pretty good grades, which has allowed her to get into Honors Classes at the last year of her high school years. With getting good grades, not has only allowed her to get into Honors Classes, but when she turned 15, she immediately began getting ready to take her driver's ed class and get a blue Honda car by the time she turns 16, despite her father's wishes on getting a car and getting herself a job. She's done as much as she can to prove to her dad that she can do things on her own yet he doesn't believe her and continues to try to keep her under his control up until a year later after she gets married to her high school boyfriend and good vampire, Jonah Ledger, she moves into her best friend's (Victoria Stone's) house by 17, after Jonah and Victoria's psychotic parents tried to kidnap them.

Isabella is a very kind, helpful, funny young girl, who also sports the personality of being very stubborn, upfront, honest, and she will speak her mind. When she's honest, she won't apologize for being honest and speaking the truth. She'll say it how it is and she won't back down from a fight.

She's one of those rare people who will actually stay with you and be there for you through all the good times and the bad, and won't do anything to cause someone harm. But besides that, she's also a damaged girl after what an ex-friend caused, causing her to become more of a loner in the first few months it happened than normal and almost cut off her friends because she also had developed a defense mechanism just so she doesn't get hurt again. She's also known push you to do something that she knows they'll be great at (she pushed her best friend Kaydence to start training up for the police force when Kaydence was indecisive of it, but Isabella has a great sense of support for each and everyone of her friends to the point she 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 if someone's gonna go far with something. She's pushed Luke to try out for track and field, and after high school and college, he's begun doing marathons, triathlons, and so forth).

As she's been in tumbling, she's gotten awards each year that she keeps in a box under her bed. She's also a really good writer (her best friend Jonah and herself work together on a lot of stuff, she'd write it, and he'd draw pictures for references). She works at her grandpa's fast food joint (Bernard's Roadside Burger) and has created a new delicacy delight when they were out of spaghetti sauce for their lasanga, using Alfredo sauce instead, and it was a huge hit for the fast food joint. She's known for making/baking a lot of treats for each school party she goes to to contribute to it, or just for her circle of friends if they hang out somewhere or go on a picnic together. But she also bakes a lot of treats for each holiday of the year, including Valentine's Day, Easter, and the Fourth of July. Some people in Green River are surprised at how well she can bake and how fancy/creepy/and into detail her treats and goodies are, that it makes the people at the high school super jealous of her (which is why a lot of people are cruel to her at school, but it also isn't the only reason why).

She also makes fancy (non-alcoholic beverages) which are called mocktails, because she doesn't want any underage people drunk, or any person drunk and/or high off their rockers.

She is a huge fan of reading, and likes to delve into all kinds of mystery books she can get her tiny hands on, especially if they have a hint of romance in them. She'll even read superhero books, like, Marvel and DC. She'll read magical books like Narnia and Harry Potter. Action-packed books like Michael Vey and Percy Jackson.

She is also a huge fan of music and likes a variety of bands/singers, but her most favorite is the Christian rockbands are Skillet and Superchick, for their messages they say.

Her most mistake she regrets is ever meeting her ex-friend, and she knows she shouldn't say or think that, but it's what she feels in her young teenage life. The reason for this is because her group of friends and herself noticed that their mutual ex-best friend started drifting away from them (I know this happens sometimes, but there's more to the story), that said ex-best friend started rumors about Isabella and her group of friends, causing the whole high school to gossip about them, like, spreading false rumors that they lied about Jonah's parents being locked up which got to Isabella's family into the mix, even the marks on Jonah were there. The friend finally apologized in a senior graduation letter on the last day of high school. But with all the crap that friend put her and her friends through, it was too late for their friendship to heal back.

Isabella absolutely hates bullies, because of what that friend did, and just stories of what backstabbing friends did. She also can't stand mushrooms, and is allergic to them, she can't stand peppers/hot peppers, and ketchup. She hates it when her dad gets mad at her, even though she's right, trying to guilt trip her, telling her that she's too young to understand, stop trying to grow up so fast (that almost made her want to leave her birth house).

She's afraid of hurting anyone, even on accident. She's afraid of doing something wrong by the way she was raised. If it wasn't for her friends, she wouldn't know anything that she needed to know out in the real world. She's also afraid of spiders, but where there's fear, she has hope for a brighter day.

Her motivation is her belief in God, trying to prove to her dad that she's not a baby anymore, getting out of her house, going to college with her friends (to teach her how to live on her own), and make it out of Green River without another scar on her scar-filled heart.

(Questions are welcome)

[aliypop]

Is Where The Heart Is (Part 2 of Home)

Wordcount: 

Warning: Language

A/N: Part two of Home, I wanted to write something for Isabasia / Isabella so here it is   

Translation : Ingen bekymringer i det hele tatt / No worries at all

Hold kjeft vær så snill! /Shut up Please!

Beklager / Sorry

"Asgard is a people, but you are my home."  That was the last thing that Isabella had remembered aside from Thor's touches and kisses:  her mind raced to what could have been if she stayed in Vanaheim instead of following her father to Midgard,

 Would she have been forever in love with Thor, or would he have been so unobtainable that she'd have to settle for less? Laying amongst the silk sheets in Tony's bed, she could almost feel his presence the small talks that they'd share weren't about what S.H.I.E.L.D wanted but rather what she wanted and what was behind the big scary hydra agent who worked for Fury on the side, "Jarvis shower." 

"Shit..." Isabella mumbled, hearing his footsteps get closer. "You'll never believe the week I had Bella!" Tony smiled, discarding his clothes, "I'm sure it isn't something I could guess..." she covered her mouth, her Vanir accent still there, "Yeah, so it's me capsicle, Banner, and we're talking about the fact that uh Loki green guy kinda handsome almost ruled New York." he poked his head out as she sighed, 

"Did I say something wrong..." 

"No, it just sounds stressful." Isabella smiled, "Go take your shower. I'll be right here..." she rolled over, nearly melting into the pillows. "You don't have to be... right there, you know." he winked, "Showers big enough for two, and you get  Thor's scent off you." Isabella's face went red as Tony laughed,

 "Before you say how Jarvis alerted me that you left," he smirked. Isabella winked back at him with her hands up, "Alright, you caught me red-handed." she shifted out the bed and towards Tony, his hands around her waist, careful not to touch the scar that was healing. 

Steam formed on the shower doors as Isabella tried to cover herself up,  "Issy, it's not like I haven't seen you naked. I mean, it's how we met." Tony kissed her cheek as she laughed, "Well, you were my mission," she blushed as he kissed her neck, right above where Thor did. "I had to seduce you somehow, to either kill you for hydra or recruit you to the Avengers initiative." she shrugged,

 "Which you failed to do..." he whispered,

"And what team saved New York from Loki..."Tony got silent, his hands on her waist, "Say it, Stark," she laughed, "Alright, alright, fine, you win." he grumbled, "But you fell in love with me." he gave her a quick peck on the lips catching her towel as it dropped. 

"Thor, you haven't eaten..." Astrid looked over from her plate, "If it's about Isabasia... I'd say move on." she shrugged, but Thor couldn't. Of course, it was easy for her to say. She had been mourning Loki's second death gratefully, "Start life on Midgard, after all, you can't be king and... Jane isn't going to wait for you. What do you have to lose." 

"Her..." Thor looked at Astrid, her eyes knowing the hurt he was going through, "He couldn't care for her as I do..."   Thor sighed, "Or give her anything she desired," 

"Then I don't know, go to her, find her in the city of York!" she stood up, throwing her cup down, "That I will!" Thor kissed her, 

"You've been a good friend, thank you..."

"Oh... o-of course!" she blushed, watching as he left, "May the Norns be in your favor... Isabasia's going to kill me." 

"And then my sister went into this coma-like sleep..." Isabella laughed, "I cried, I mourned her, and then guess what!" she said, her eyes wide as Tony propped himself on the pillow, "I don't think I can guess really," all his attention on her,

 "So Loki, who we thought died," 

"The hot greasy one?"

"Yes, Tony, anyway, he's in her dungeon, and well..."

"Well, what..." Isabella's eyes looked towards ragging storm clouds, lightning, and thunder, a deep sigh, "He kissed her, and she was alive. Give me a moment..." she put on Tony's M.I.T.  sweatshirt, 

"You're not going out there." Tony looked at her, "You can't just go out there. There's lightning and and rain!"

"Ingen bekymringer i det hele tatt." She smiled, racing towards the door. Thor stood there dry as a bone as he held her hand, "Flowers...from Vanaheim." he kissed her hand, "Thank you...would you like to come in?" Isabella asked, placing the flowers in a vase, 

"Bella, are you ok- Thor?" 

"Man of Iron." 

"And I'm leaving now..." Isabella ducked, "Jarvis!" 

" Isabella, why is Tall blonde and handsome here?" Tony asked, watching Thor wink at her, "Something you want to tell me?" Isabella began to feel small as she looked between the two, 

"It's not what it looks like..."

"You are a not-so-good liar." 

"Thor hold kjeft vær så snill!" 

"Beklager..."

"ENGLISH BOTH OF YOU!" Tony growled, jealous of the way Isabella touched Thor's arm. 

"What happened back on Asgard, clearly something romantic, of course, but what... did you did you two sleep together or some weird Hobbit magic!" 

"Tony..." 

"And if she were to..." Thor stood in front of her shielding her away from Starks anger, 

"I mean, it's her business, but what about us..."  he looked at her, 

"The party... The nights we've shared."  

"Tony... We agreed, no strings attached. You weren't ready and..." she looked at Thor then at Tony, " I am..." she raised her hands, " I want to cut the strings, Tony, I do, but you don't."

"What makes you so sure..." 

"You still look at Pepper and reporters, and you kept in contact with that one Wayne guy." she laughed, "But, Thor, he knows what he wants." she smiled as he munched on a pop-tart, 

"That is true... Tony, do you have milk?"

"Top shelf in the fridge, big guy." his eyes falling to his ass,

 "Asgardian grown, it's even better without any pants."  Isabella laughed, 

"Why all that trouble, huh..."

"Being starved of attention does it for you... I had affection, but the attention fell on my sister," she laughed, "Coulda been the queen of the nine realms, but she chose Loki..."

"That is... because they were happy together!" Thor smiled, crumbs on his face, "And she knew I liked you. You're sister scares me." he walked over, sitting between both her and Tony, as their eyes met, 

" Pop-tart in these trying times?"

"What flavor..." 

"Blueberry." 

Isabella laughed, "I'll take one too..." she sighed, laying across both their laps, "I couldn't choose which one I'd love more if Hydra wanted to shoot me." she looked up at them both, "And believe me they want to." Isabella smiled, 

"So who's it going to be..." Tony asked, growing impatient.

"Well, I'll settle for both of you." she smirked, " And you two can compete with me over dinner, wine, and mayhaps some fun." 

"Do you think sending him back was wise..."  Loki asked as Astrid laughed, "Darling, what's funny."

"I can't take you as seriously as Odin..." she nearly cackled. As he transformed back into himself, she felt his hands ghost over her upper thigh, "What about now." he whispered. "Well, I could take you more than just seriously..." Astrid smirked, dropping her robe from her body.

[ofsinnersandsaints]

Rest in My Arms

Fjord’s got PTSD and Jester’s cool with it; bonus gossiping about beauyasha and the reading of romance novels

AO3

Jester got ready for bed and watched as Fjord went through his nightly ritual whenever they slept somewhere other than the hut.

As she took off her leathers, he prowled the room and made sure there was no way anyone could have snuck in earlier to hide under the couch or in the wardrobe. Jester had never felt unsafe in the chateau, but she understood Fjord’s fear and patiently waited him out.

“I caught Beau and Yasha making out.”

He looked up and Jester saw the quick quirk of his lips. “Yeah? ‘Bout time, I thought Nott was going to have lock them in a room somewhere with her knife.”

Jester giggled and climbed on top of her bed – their bed, she corrected herself – and thought about herself at fifteen feeling very alone. Teenaged-Jester would be very impressed Adult-Jester was sharing her childhood bedroom with a hot, sailor boyfriend.

“Caleb has the manacles too,” she remembered, unlacing her boots and kicking them onto the floor. “If things got really desperate, we could have always handcuffed them together.”

“Did they catch you spying on them?” he asked as he looked under the bed.

Jester wished she could take the fear from him, but for Fjord the monsters which could hide under there were real and they had killed him once before. Instead, she kept the conversation light and happy the way he did for her when memories of the Iron Angels came for her in her sleep.

How many times had he calmed her frantic heartbeat by telling her about his time at sea? They didn’t keep a tally of who had helped who more, it was just understood they’d always be there for each other.

“I wasn’t spying on them,” she argued, but didn’t make any attempt to sound convincing. “I was just making sure everything was good.”

“And everything was good?” Fjord asked as he reached into the bag of holding. Jester winced at the loud noise coming from the bell now in his hand, and waited until he’d hung it on the doorknob before answering his question.

She waggled her eyebrows, “Things were very good.”

He snorted and put a bell on each curtain rod, adjusting the rope so it hung in the middle of the curtain. If anyone tried to sneak into their room in the middle of the night, the bells would sound and wake them up. It wouldn’t be a ton of notice, but she and Fjord would at least be awake for whatever attack might be coming.

Fjord had tried to learn the alarm spell Caleb used all the time, but Fjord’s magic just wouldn’t work like that, so this was the next best thing. Last time they were here Jester made a point to talk to Bluud about the patrols around the chateau within Fjord’s hearing, hoping that knowing that might make him sleep a little better.

“I guess we won’t wake them up for breakfast in the morning,” Fjord teased as he sat at the edge of the bed. Jester shifted so she was sitting next to him, and he automatically held out his arm to her. It was a silly thing, and she couldn’t remember exactly how it had started, but part of their nightly routine was Jester helping Fjord out of his armor.

“We can have something sent up,” Jester suggested pragmatically as she tossed one of the arm pieces onto the nearby chair and started on the other one. “They’ll need to keep their strength up.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Jester.”

She ignored the slight tease in his voice and threw the second piece of armor to meet the other one and turned around so Fjord could undo tie at the back of her dress. It was easily something she could do herself – it was something she had done herself  – but it was such a couple thing to do and it always made her heart feel a little warm around the edges.

“Are you doodling tonight?” he asked as he got up to divest himself of the rest of his leathers.

Jester shook her head and pulled off her dress, but before she could throw it Fjord took it from her hands and hung it from one of the hooks near the wardrobe. “Nope, I’m too tired. I don’t know how teleporting is just as exhausting as actually travelling, but I’m always wore out by the time we arrive.”

“It’s the time change,” he told her as he walked around the room to turn down the lanterns, but she knew he was also taking one last look at the room before getting into bed. His fingers brushing lightly against the bells as if to test to make sure they were working.

He’d told her once the bells had been inspired by her. Apparently, he’d been thinking about something to hang from the doorknobs for a while, but wasn’t sure if shells would be loud enough to wake him up. Then she’d used Toll the Dead during a fight and immediately afterwards he bought the bells.

The first night he’d hung them up had been the best sleep either of them had gotten in weeks.

Jester climbed under the covers and when he joined her he was shirtless, which was her favorite version of Fjord. Unless he was in the hot tub back at the Xorhouse, he almost never went anywhere unless he was fully clothed. She liked to think this was a Fjord only she got to see.

Jester waited until he was settled on his side of the bed and then practically laid on top of him. They hadn’t been sharing a bed long, and at first she had kept her distance because her skin was always just a little bit cool and she didn’t want to make him cold. But Fjord had pulled her across the bed one night and told her, very seriously and with a twinkle in his eye, that when it was hot like it was during the summer it was easier to sleep with her pressed right up against him.

She wasn’t sure if she believed him, and what would they do when it was winter? But Jester wasn’t about to argue, and pressed herself against the warmth of his bare skin, draping one of her legs over his.

As they lay in the silence of the chateau Fjord ran a finger up and down her arm, which was a pretty good indicator for Jester he wasn’t trying to sleep. His mind was focused on something else and she was just about to poke him when he spoke up in the darkness.

“Thanks, by the way.”

“For what, Fjord?”

There was a beat of silence before he answered. “For putting up with my nonsense.”

Insulted on his behalf, Jester put her hand on his chest – right over his scar – and lifted herself up so she could look down at him. “It’s not nonsense.”

He snorted like he didn’t believe her. “It’s a little bit nonsense.”

Jester huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes, hoped he could hear it in her voice if he couldn’t see it. “Does it help?”

“Help?”

“Checking the room, putting up the bells, does it help?”

“Well,” he fidgeted beneath her hands and looked away, just a little bit shy. “Yeah, it does.”

“Then it’s not nonsense.” She looked down at her hand and moved her fingers over the puckered skin. Magic healed wounds faster, but it didn’t take away the scars, instead it looked like it had been there for years instead of months. It looked healed over even though the damage was still fresh and raw for Fjord.

“No one blames you for being wary, for making sure what happened on the Ball Eater never happens again. Maybe one day you’ll be able to go to sleep without putting up the bells, but until that night happens it doesn’t both me to have them up. And if you never get to that place, that’s okay too. When we get our own place we’ll hang bells on every window and all the door knobs.”

Jester sat up, suddenly excited by the idea forming in her mind. “We’ll make them different notes! Whenever we walk from one room to another it’ll be like music! And then if someone does attack the house we’ll be like ‘That was a high c’ or however music works, and we’ll know exactly where they’re coming from. This is brilliant.”

When she refocused her gaze back on Fjord he was looking up at her with a soft smile, his eyes just a little unfocused. “What?”

“You’re perfect.”

Jester’s heart did a kind of ladylike faint in her ribcage, and she covered it up with bravado. “I know that, Fjord.”

He smiled at her like he knew what was going on inside of her, and knowing him like she did, he probably did. “I’m serious, Jester. You’re perfect for me.”

That was better, Jester thought. She didn’t like the idea of being perfect, that was too high a standard to keep up with, but she loved the idea she was perfect for him. The same way his steadiness and warmth was perfect for her.

She picked up his hand and held it in her lap. “I love you, Fjord.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but then the first time she’d uttered those words he’d been dead and unable to hear them. So now she said them as much as possible, to make sure he always knew and never forgot about much he was loved.

To the bottom of the sea and back.

“I love you too, Jester.” His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand, “Why don’t you get your book out and read a chapter?”

Jester grinned and got off the bed to get her latest book from the haversack. “I knew you were invested.”

“Well, the last time you read it Sir Harlan was standing on a ledge, fighting a zombie knight. How the hell is he going to get out of it?”

Jester snuggled back under the covers and opened the book to where she’d last left off. On nights when she had nightmares Fjord would sometimes read from books until she fell asleep, and on other nights she read from it just so they could have something happy and silly to think about before going to sleep.

Fjord liked to pretend he was indifferent to them, but she’d once caught him reading ahead to make sure the hero survived a very scary fight.

“Okay,” Jester rested her head on Fjord’s shoulder and picked up where they’d left off a few days ago. “Sir Harlan knew he was in an untenable situation, but he would not give up. Not when the fairest lady of the land was only two floors up, trying to get to him. He would not perish from this fiendish nightmare when he was so close to being with her again.”

And so she kept reading until the hero was no longer in danger, thanks to the Lady Isabella who was handy with a crossbow.

Eventually they fell asleep, wrapped around each other.

The bells were silent.

[ginwhitlock]

Lens of Lust III    

“Bella is finally at the receiving end of Jasper's promise. ”

PART I  PART 2

warnings: smut! 18+ only

FROM PREVIOUS INSTALLMENT:

A cream hand shot out in front of my dazed eyes and pulled me into a backlit hallway. Coming into focus, I could only make out that the hall was empty of various students-- even those who were always truant. The lights flickered above me and I went to struggle against the freezing hold at my back.

“Alright darlin', I thought I gave you a warning.” came a familiar voice from behind me.

With my back pressed up against his hardened chest, my neck strained to meet his voice. The soft unfurling of syllables lingered at the curve of my ear. His own lips were pressed firmly into the crown of my skull, his nose tracing wide circles into my roots. 

A chilled hand caught my chin and brought my eyes to meet his. The ones I had dreamed of— with their pools of condensed sugar— were gone. In their place an overflowing river of tar. They glinted like blackened gunmetal, dangerous and inescapable. My doe eyes were lost in them. 

With his palm still resting on my cheek, he ducked his head in the crook of my neck. His blond curls tickled the tip of my nose. I could smell the power in this gesture, the breathless creature above me with all his eternal wounds, was nestled in the heat of my body, his razorblade teeth just inches from my supple skin. 

His breath returned in a moment, it’s presence washing over my chest in a shoreline wave. 

“Oh darlin’. God, you smell like salvation, ya hear me? Good enough to eat.”, Jasper whispered into the soft curl of fine hair at my scalp. 

The curve of my ass rubbed against the clasp of his belt on instinct, his words sending me into a frenzy. 

Both of his hands snapped onto my hips, stilling them without needed strength. In a moment I was pressed up against the thin metal row of lockers. I fisted my hands into the raw hem of his jacket, trying to ground myself. Facing him now, the hunger laid behind his teeth was noticeable. I should’ve been terrified— but Jasper’s soft grin merely made the danger collect in the knot of my underwear. 

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I searched his face, tracing his perfect features with my eyes. His mouth, a sharp line of flesh that was almost blue under the fluorescents, the hollows of his cheeks made concrete with his sire’s  venom, the reddened skin lining his coal eyes— which were gazing into mine with a thousand lingering questions. 

They slowly detached from mine and traveled down the expanse of my chest to my covered hips. Slowly he pulled one hand from my side and ran his knuckle over the inseam of my jeans. My legs spread on instinct. 

My eyes fluttered shut as I caught the breath in my throat. 

“You know Isabella,” His fingers started to press into the crease, “you’ve been quite a handful today.” 

“Jasper, loo-k I’m—“

The swirling of rough circles through the fabric ceased. His digits moved to the fly, popping it open, button by button. 

“What Darlin’? You’re sorry? For what? Realizing that my brother doesn’t have your attention anymore?”, his eyes met mine again, this time holding something deeper than any oasis in the desert. 

His fingertips ran over the band of my cotton underwear. 

Jasper leaned his face in, his perfectly straight nose just millimetres away from mine. With a simple shuffle forward he touched his lips to mine lightly— just enough to feel the marble exterior. 

The pitch black of his irises became shielded by his pale eyelids as he whispered against my awaiting mouth, “Do you know what you did to me in that shoebox of a classroom? God, Edward has no idea just how sweet his blood-singer really is, does he?”

He punctuated the question with the primal claim of my mouth. Filled with feelings I couldn’t— didn’t want to figure out just yet, I kissed him back with the same passion. The world behind him disappeared from my mind. Edwards’s boyish qualities and the sharp fear of getting seen in the back of the hallway faded. All that mattered was the soft pull of his canvas sleeves, the sweet scent of firewood and cinnamon that clung to his very being, and the pool of wetness mounting beneath his calloused hand. 

I moaned into his mouth, the skin underneath my clothes flushing red with the need of him inside me. 

I felt him smirk into my lips, slipping the pads of his fingers underneath the waistband and trailing a red hot path to my center. I gasped at the sensation. 

“Jesus baby you’re fucking soaked. Is this all for me?” 

I tried to answer his question with only a nod of my head, my mouth only forming open ended sounds, but the gleam in his eyes told of a mischief that wouldn’t let me get by that easily. 

“Answer me Isabella or I swear I’ll make sure the entire school hears how good I’m treatin’ you.” A singular digit pushed into my center. 

A sudden furrow of my eyebrows came with my rushed response, “Yes Jasper it’s all for you—“, a second joined the first, gaining speed, “fuck Jasper— oh God yes— all for you, always for you.” 

The blond’s thumb rubbed circles on my clit, bringing my orgasm to the surface. Whimpers of his name fell out of my mouth in a steady stream as he attached his lips just below my ear. The pressure in the pit of my stomach crescendoed as he sped up his fingers. 

The band snapped in a split second, my vision whiting out as I hissed his name through my teeth. His free hand held tight to my trembling sides as I drowned in the aftershocks. 

As my sight cleared his iced tongue ran up the outline of my neck to my jaw. His lips found mine in a clash of pleasure and his own projection. 

Jasper slowly removed his hand from my panties, bringing his fingers to his mouth. With his eyes locked on mine, he sucked my cum from each digit. I could see the slight scrap of his canines on his ivory knuckles. 

With my wobbly legs steadying, I reached forward and fisted his belt buckle. Within a moment Jasper had reached down and helped me take the overly complicated thing off, sliding it out of the belt loops only to bring his hand back to my own and pull my jeans down and over one of my ankles. The other leg was pulled down to the crest of my foot. 

With them came my ruined underwear— in which the vampire ripped them from my hips without faltering. A purposefully showey wrist shoved them in his back pocket with a quirk of his lip. 

My own went to pull down his wranglers over his ass, going for his boxers in the same breath. Instead, my palms were met with the scarred skin of his naked hips. 

My eyes went wide as I met his upturned brows. 

“What sugar, you didn’t think I was a commando kind of man?”

My head shook in slight disbelief. 

“Well then there are a couple more things about me you’re gonna just bug out about darlin’.” His face lit up in the smile I only dreamed of. A teasing happiness that radiated past his soldier exterior. With a laugh nothing like Alice’s wind chimes. Something deeper. Richer. Like ground tobacco. A forest filled with falling trees. 

My face widened in a rare smirk, “I always pegged you as a man with more layers than just his jeans— I wonder just what else I’ve been wrong about.” 

His mouth was latched on mine again with vampiric speed, a growl reverberating from his chest. Jasper hitched both of my legs around his waist, leveling my heat with his pressing erection. The squeak out of my mouth at the action just caused his jaw to clench. A hand at my waist lined up his cock with my entrance. 

Breaking apart, we both watched in baited breath as he slowly sunk deep, my sex squeezing down on the sudden disturbance. The length of him opened my walls in a overwhelming stretch. 

My hands found their way into the thick of his mane, the spun silk wrapping around my fingers as I pulled in time with his force. 

His hips came to a halt as I felt a sudden pain at my center. His teeth camped into a tight line— the hinge of his mandible tensing. 

“I should’ve known my brother never dared...”, a sharp inhale through his nose rose the hair on the back of my neck. “There’s blood, not much, just enough for me to know.”

My mouth went dry at the admittance.

“Are you okay Jasper? We can stop if—“

A rouge grin unclenched his jaw, “Oh God darlin’ if you think I’m gonna stop fucking a pussy this good, you’ve got me mistaken.”

His hips drew out of my slip in a slow movement. Only when he came to almost pulling out completely, he pushed the tip back in, relieving the discomfort with a deliberate pace. 

My legs wrapped tighter around his waist as he built up speed, stroking my sex with each push and pull. Our noses touched as he whispered sweet nothings into my open mouth. 

“...so tight for my sugar...”

“... my wet little kitten...”

“...yeah girl fuck me back. Fuck me back.”

My knuckles drew in his roots as he bruised my ass into the crevices of the flimsy lockers. 

“Jazz... I need it harder. Fuck me harder.”, I spoke in a soft whisper, afraid he would be too concerned for my safety to even consider it. 

Instead, he nipped my Cupid’s bow and placed a hand behind my head. Squaring his feet, he increased his strokes ten-fold. 

He muffled my moans with his mouth, but the steel behind us groaned in dissatisfaction. My clit buzzed with overflowing stimulation. As if feeling my thoughts, his fingers started to swirl the engorged bud. 

As his hips started to falter, I felt the familiar tightening of wires in my abdomen, building my orgasm brick by electrifying brick. 

With a final flick, Jasper brought me into a mind-numbing release. The air filled with electricity as he stilled deep inside my womb. The ceiling felt as if it would collapse on our heads, the sky clearing into a million fireworks. My mouth instinctively bit into the fabric at his shoulder to quiet the inferno ripping through me. 

Without setting me down, the blond pulled out of my dripping sex and pumped himself a final time onto the outer lips. He lazily ran the tip through my dripping golds, causing a shiver to run through my body. 

With a sated smile, he tucked himself back into his jeans, he helped me slip back into my own, one foot into a pant leg at a time. The ground shook as he gently set me back on my feet, his hands resting at the curve of my ass. 

In a second his belt was buckled and his booted feet pulled me into a kiss so unlike the first we had shared. The shocking warmth of his lips pulled me into a state of bliss. 

“Now you just tell me if my brother ever compares to your dreams, darlin’.”

[howlingmolly]

ϟ.  → Christina Hendricks : Female : She/Her : social worker : back to the wall by the divinyls  ϟ  did you see Molly Weasley ? you know ,  47 year old pureblood who Gryffindor . some say Molly can be quite supportive but are known to be hot tempered. they are aligned with the order .  maybe that’s why they remind me of sex in the morning, coffee, Stevie Nicks.   ϟ 

GENERAL

Name: margaret olivia prewett-weasley Nicknames: molly Age: 47 Place of birth: birmingham Spoken languages: english Sexual orientation: bi Occupation: social worker/stay at home mum

APPEARANCE

Eye color: cinnamon brown Hair color: fiery red Height: 5′2 Scars: c-section scar. percy’s birth had been particularly hard.  contrary to what the muggle world had said at the time of when she had her c-section, however, she was then able to give birth naturally to her other children. Piercings: earlobes and conch Tattoos: none

FAMILY

Sibling(s): twin brothers Parents: isabella and carl prewett Relationship with Family: she was close to all of her immediate family members. she was really close to her mother until she went back to work after her father lost his job. she then became increasingly closer to her father until she hit puberty and became close again with her mother. up until they died, she was super close to both. the same goes with her brothers, she was close with them until their death. Spouse/Significant Other: arthur weasley Children: bill, charlie, percy, fred, george, ron ginny, harry, hermione, fleur Pets: a chicken, princess lay-a

MAGICAL

Wand: 12.5″, Surprisingly Swishy, Cedar, Dragon Hair First Spell: scourgify. living with a set of twin brothers, she couldn’t stand the sight of a mess and to this day, it’s still one of her most used spells Favourite Spell: the spell to determine if one is pregnant. it brings back a lot of nostalgia for her and while it’s not useful for her and hasn’t been for years, it’s a sentimental one and it brings back a lot of memories First Magical Experience: fabian’s pacifier levitated away from him when he started to cry too much right after her parents brought the twins home. Patronus (if they have one): an elephant If they were a Magical Creature what would they be: a dragon

HAVE THEY

Had sex in public: yes Had a broken heart: the first relationship molly was in ended badly and it’s the only one that didn’t end amicably. her other relationships left her hurt, yes, but not quite like after her first relationship ended. Been in love: yes Cheated:  never Stayed up for more than 24 hours: does she need to mention she has seven kids? Broken a bone: a few toes tripping over her kid’s toy Bullied someone: no Been fired: no Got into a physical fight: yes, with her brothers Got any grudges against anyone? more than she likes to admit A dark secret: no

ARE THEY

A virgin: she has seven kids A cuddler: yes. almost too much of a cuddler A kisser: yes A smoker: not often, but she’ll have a cigarette socially Scared easily: she startles easily, yes. her family, though, is the only thing that she truly becomes scared easily about Jealous easily: no Trustworthy: yes Dominant: yes Submissive: if the situation calls for it, but it’s not easy for her Forgiving: she hates to admit it, but she holds grudges very easily Single: very much not so

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have they wanted to kill someone: yes Have they actually killed someone: yes, but not with a lot of ptsd and guilt associated with it Have they ridden a beast: yes, with charlie on a dragon Do they prefer private or public praise after helpings others: private. she doesn’t do things to get praise What keeps them up at night: worrying about her family Guilty Pleasures: breakfast in bed Last time they cried: when she walked down the baby aisle and looked at the little onsies What event would you choose death over living through: another rough childbirth. she can’t bring herself to even think about losing another child like she did with fred If they died today would they be happy with the life they’ve lived: always

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Goretober Day 16: One To The Dirt One To The Pyre

Prompt: Burn Fandom: BBC Robin Hood Summary: Isabella is executed for witchcraft. Warnings: Physical abuse and implied sexual abuse.

They aren’t particularly unjustified when they bind her hands with rope. They aren’t exactly in the wrong about their accusations. But they don’t know the full story. They don’t know what he has put her through. They just took his word for it. They just followed his pointed finger.

Isabella supposes that she hadn’t gone about it in the most intelligent way. The curse was a success, God, it was a success. But she hadn’t covered her tracks well enough this time. She has cast spells before but never one so potent.

She might be on her way to the pyre, but he is on his way to the dirt. With any luck they will mistake him for dead and bury him several days too soon. He will wake to pitch darkness and the smell of damp dirt and worm. The taste of nature herself.

Isabella smiles. It deserves a slow and agonizing death. She looks at the scars and bruises on her arms. The same brand that decorate her neck and collar and her torso. The ones that pair so well with the welts on her back and thin lines that match his whip. She doesn’t regret what she has done. She only regrets that she has left traces of it in such plain sight.

Her hands were her own downfall. They smelled of herbs and spices. The witch’s scent is accompanied by dirt and residue beneath her fingernails. They might have taken it for days spent toiling in a garden had she not been the bride of a lord. If not that then it would have been the smear of rat’s blood. And if not the rat’s blood then it would have been the black stain on her fingers.

Normally she wears gloves but she had been careless and they have seen the permeate discoloration from years of spellwork and potion making. And now, just as her dreadful husband is beginning to decay alive, she is being walked to the stake.

It is deeply autumn, he favorite time of the year. The trees are vibrant and rustling, shaking off their leaves with each sway. There is a tinge of warm cider in the air and a fragrance of cinnamon. Of dried straw and crops teeming for harvest. It is a shame that she won’t live to celebrate the harvest. It is the one time of the year that she feels fully alive, fully free. When the moon flares full and golden-orange and the beer kegs flow more freely. When the feast is magnificent even to the peasant class. When Robin shows his face for only a good time and some ale.

They will likely build the bonfire up from the same wood that she is to be burned upon. She doesn’t resist as they bind her to it. Maybe if she truly had the power they accuse her of having, she’d put up a fight. But she is admittedly too dumere. Something of a sheep that has finally had enough. She finds that even sheep are quite aggressive brutalized regularly.

But Isabella has gone passive again. She has thrown all of her seething and spite into the poison she’d be dying for and as no fight left in her. It is a shame that she won’t know a life without the beatings and beratings.

Though she hasn’t any fight, she holds her head high. And higher still as Prince John addresses her. “It’s such a shame that such an elegant lady would…” he twirls his hand. “Get acquainted with such nasty things.”

She would like to pretend that the nasty thing she has gotten acquainted with is Thornton.  

“A witch…” a declares with an exaggerated sweeping of his arms. It is more for the crowd than for her. “Black magic. She has poisoned her own husband.”

The crowd leers.

“Do you deny this?”

“I savor it.” She snarls.

“And unrepentant!” Prince John flinches. His theatrics are growing tiresome. She almost yearns for them to just light her up so she doesn’t have to hear it anymore. “An evil creature with no remorse.”

Really she has only done one thing. Mostly she uses her herb work and potions to care for migraines, stomach pains, and other aches and illnesses. And mostly she uses her magik and rituals to promote luck and prosperity and sometimes, if she is feeling daring, clairvoyance. Really nothing noteworthy nor harmful. It is just this one thing, this one dark deed. She doesn’t think that, that makes her evil. And is it really so evil, so unjustified, to rid herself of an abuser?

According to all of Nottingham, her practices and rituals are far more foul than Thornotn’s own practices. It is a ritual of its own the way he tears her clothes from her and throws her into bed and… Yes, he is getting what he deserves.  

Prince John is still prattling as while she scans the crowd. She finds Robin and she wonders if he will save her. They have ended things on such a sour note and they are left with little fondness for one another. But he does seem like the sort who would try to help her regardless, unless that is dashed by a hatred of her heathenism.

She finds Thornton front and center and he looks horrible. His eyes pierce into her, but they lack their ferocity. They are tired and have bags that span acres. His cheeks are hollow and his complexion is corpse-like, shot with raven feather-black veins.

She flashes him a smirk. She might be a dead woman but soon his veins will burst and his flesh will rot away and he will still breathe. At least her suffering will be over within the day. His own returned smirk is her only warning.

The match has been thrown. It takes a moment, one long and horrible moment. But the flames burst up. She hadn’t expected it to get so hot, so soon. The fire is still only a small blaze; perhaps she is just imaging the heat before it truly rises. Albeit, it doesn’t take long for that blaze to reach her toes. When it gets there it is torment. Her nerve endings flare as the fire eats away her feet.

Isabella holds back a scream, her lips twitch into a snarl and she makes a point of holding Thornton’s stare. Part of her still hopes that Robin will come to her aid. That hope is squandered and that part of her burns away when the fire makes it to her knees.

She still suppresses her screams, has bitten her cheeks and a chunk of her tongue off in the effort. She lets the blood drain from her mouth and drizzle onto her chin. A mistake. The crowd takes a uniformed step back and one voice calls out, “it’s more witchcraft!”

She never guessed that Nottingham had such a surplus of fools. When the fire reaches her hips she finally cries out. Her legs have already blackened, there is no skin left to melt, there is only equally blacked bone. Blackened bone and the smell of burning meat and muscle tissue.

The less sadistic of the towns folks slip away. The more respectful of them, simply turn their heads. The smell has pushed several people to heave. She would think that they are the ones on the pyre.

By the time the fire reaches her stomach, Isabella wishes that she were dead. Not that it is her first time itching with such a desire. Still she holds her glare. Unwavering. Hateful. Thornton turns away, but she knows that he can still feel her hatred burning and simmering perhaps hotter than even the fire.

She roars with it when it reaches her chest. It quite literally boils her blood. It runs down her skeleton with skin that slowly sloughs away to meet the wood below. It is just as well, she knows that the relentlessly searing pain will be over soon. The fire only needs to lick and strip the flesh and muscles above her heart and then burn that away. But the fire climbs to her face before that happens.

This is the worst part. This is when her eyes finally leave Thornton. In an instant her vision flashes a vivid yellow-white and then it goes black and she feels jelly running down her cheeks. She is spasming now, reflexively thrashing and jerking against the chains that hold her in place.

And then it is over, her charred body still, her last breath wafts up to the sky with the smoke. She didn’t use it to curse them all. She didn’t have to. They had damned themselves in killing her, because she is the one who knew how to put him down…

The full moon rises on festival night and in the midst of their bonfire, Thornton bites into the neck of Prince John.  

[until-theend-oftheline]

Alone Time Interrupted

Pairing: Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: Violence (accidental but it’s there), Sebastian is lucky you love him. Poor Will. (Just realized these sounds like Seb hurt her - he doesn’t! Not even a little bit!)    

Square Filled: Caught Red Handed for @marvelfluffbingo

Word Count: 1600ish

A/N: This is thought part of my LLL universe but as always it can also be read as a stand-alone.

I wanted to do this since the moment I saw the latest One Minute Men vid (Milk part 3) and I finally got around to it with some encouragement from @jewels2876 - completely unscheduled and unplanned fic but inspiration happened.

Betaed by: also by @jewels2876 - thank you, Jules!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

You were practically skipping when you got off the subway. It had been ages since you had a day to yourself. You loved Sebastian and your kids dearly, but there was something to be missed about soaking in the bath with scented candles all around with only your music as a distraction.

You loved being a mom. Your kids were the most amazing little humans in the world and you wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. They were two little balls of energy though and Sebastian was hardly any better. You smiled as you thought of your little family. They made you so incredibly happy. A girl just needed a moment to herself every once in a while.

So when Sebastian had announced he was spending the day shooting for his One Minute Men project, you had quickly called Georgeta and asked if she wanted to spend the morning with her grandson. Of course, she had said yes, so after dropping Isabella off at school, you had gone to Sebastian’s mom’s place to drop off Alexander. Now you skipped towards your apartment, excited for a day alone in the company of your bathtub and fuzzy robe.

As soon as you were home you headed straight for you and Sebastian’s bathroom. You selected a bath bomb he had bought you while he was in Greece filming and turned on the hot water as you stripped down. Candles were lit and your favorite Spotify playlist soon buzzed through the speakers of the room as you lowered yourself into the hot water with a sigh of contentment.

You closed your eyes, letting the music and smells calm your body and soul as you soaked in the hot water. This was heaven, even if a small part of you couldn’t help but wish Sebastian was with you, you also knew his presence would make bath time more fun than relaxing. Today you needed relaxing.

In fact, you were so relaxed you managed to doze off a little before a loud sound from the kitchen made you jump. You sat up straight, not sure if you actually heard anything at first or if it has been part of a dream you couldn’t recall. It wasn’t long before another loud crash sounded from your kitchen and you jumped a little again; instinctively wrapping your arms around your body, you stared down the unlocked bathroom door.

Another bump sounded this time followed by voices you couldn’t clearly make out over the music. Your mind started to panic. Someone was in your apartment. How was that even possible? There was a high tech security system in this building and a guard by the front door.

You quickly decided you couldn’t stay in the bathroom so you quickly, and as quietly as possible, got out of the tub. You wrapped the warm fuzzy robe around you, that you had put on the radiator for comfort as you quickly formed a plan. You had to get out without anyone seeing you. If you could get downstairs to alert the guard, everything would be fine.

You took a few steps towards the door before turning around to grab the bristle bath brush you had hanging in the shower. You weren’t sure what your line of thought was but you did feel a slight bit safer clinging to it; you snuck out of the room then down the hallway towards the main elevator shaft. You knew if you could get into the elevator and close the gate behind you, you’d be safe, you repeated over and over in your mind as you moved as quietly as possible.

“Oh hi Y/N,” a voice sounded behind you. You didn’t think of how familiar it sounded or the fact the man knew your name. You just shrieked, spinning around and swinging the brush as the intruder’s face. It collided with the side of his temple before you had time to stop yourself.

“OUCH! What the hell?” Will, one of Sebastian’s best friends and One Minute Men partner, yelled rubbing the side of his face just as Sebastian and Joe came running into the hallway from the kitchen.

“Ohmygod Will I’m so sorry!” You started apologizing as you realized what you had done, before turning around to face the two men appearing behind you. Embarrassment made your cheeks flush red as you looked from one man to the other, before meeting Sebastian’s eyes.

“Y/N I didn’t think you were home. What hap…” Sebastian started, before the scene in front of him finally clicked in his brain and he doubled over laughing as you and Will both glared at him.

“You… Oh God. Y/N/N… A bathbrush? Really?” Sebastian laughed, as Will grumbled something about you packing quite the punch.

“I thought you were burglars,” you defended yourself, grabbing your robe to wrap it closer around your body, suddenly very aware you were almost naked in front of Sebastian’s friends.  

“So you attacked Will with a bath brush?” Sebastian grinned walking up to you, running his hands up and down your arms to calm you even if he was clearly still amused by the entire thing.

“My little slugger,” he teased, causing you to pout but lean into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry we scared you, darling,” he spoke softly and serious this time as he held you close.

“Do you need an ambulance or are we good to continue,” Joe chuckled, directed at Will who was still rubbing the side of his head.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, causing the two other guys to laugh as you peered past Sebastian’s arm towards the kitchen.

“I thought you were filming. What are you doing he…” you started before noting the pots and pans scattered all across your floor. “What the hell did you do to my kitchen?”

You pulled away from Sebastian, heading straight for the disaster area. “Sebastian!”

Sebastian was nervously rubbing the back of his neck as you turned to face him with murder in your eyes and his two friends suddenly seemed to find your floor insanely interesting.

“We were filming this thing where…” Sebastian started but stopped when he saw your raised eyebrows.

“So you’d thought you’d ruin my kitchen?” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No… I mean. We’ll put everything back when we are done,” Sebastian promised, making your shake your head as you stepped a little closer to him.

“No. You will put it back now and you can go find someone else’s kitchen to torture,” you warned, fighting to keep a straight face as a childish little whine left your partner.

“But Y/N,” Sebastian started again and it was all you could do not to laugh. You loved him and his silly, creative endeavors were part of who he was, but he wasn’t destroying your home over an Instagram video.

“No,” you grabbed the suit jacket he was wearing pulling him a little closer. “I love you Seb, but no.” You could see the fight hadn’t entirely left him so you playfully raised the bath brush still in your hand. “Don’t make me use this thing.”

“We’ll go somewhere else,” Will quickly interrupted, making you and the two other guys laughed.

“Okay,” Sebastian relented, taking the brush from your hand and throwing it on the dresser next to you, before pulling you into his arms. “I really am sorry we scared you,” he muttered, burying his face in your neck.

“Seba,” you giggled at his affections. You weren’t mad at him. This was who he was and none of them had meant to scare you. “I’m getting you all wet.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” Sebastian smirked, pulling back a little to look down and you wiggling his eyebrows. You blushed, burying your face against his chest, trying to contain your laughter as Joe and Will hastily made their escape.

“Okay! You got this Seb. We’ll find somewhere else to film and call you later,” Joe showed Will towards the elevator.

“Yeah rather not have any mental scars to add to the physical one,” Will played, making you blush even harder.

“I’m sorry Will,” you called after the two men, but he just waved you off as the gate closed and the elevator started it’s decent.

“Lesson learned. Don’t scare Y/N,” Will yelled with a chuckle, making both you and Sebastian laugh before your eyes met and his darkened a little as he ran his fingers into the opening of your robe.

“Where were we?” his voice sounded a little lower than usual, sending a shiver through your spine.

“Well I was taking a bath and you were going to clean the mess you made of the kitchen,” you teased him, making Sebastian groan.

“Smartass.” He quickly swept you off your feet, lifting you into his arms, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. You squealed in surprise but quickly started laughing as he playfully squeezed your ass. He walked you into the living room, clearly deciding the bedroom was too far, before throwing you on the couch making you squeal with laughter again. A laugh that was swallowed with his kiss as he lowered himself down on top of you and you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer.

Your plans of a day relaxing alone might have been interrupted, but if you were completely honest you preferred spending a childfree day in Sebastian’s arms over anything you could do on your own anyway.

Please reblog; help me spread my work - Leave a comment. Feedback is fuel

Sebastian Stan Tag Team

@feelmyroarrrr @sleepretreat @thejourneyneverendsx @roxyspearing @jewels2876  @hellaqueerangelofthelord @danijimenezv @cd1242 @mizzzpink @rumoured-whispers @becs-bunker @janeyboo @smoothdogsgirl @blacktithe7 @ifyougetkilled-walk-it-off @jae-sch @grace-for-sale @scarletlingeries @mizzezm @readitandweepfics @averyrogers83 @captainsamwlsn @sebs-potato @sorenmarie87 @docharleythegeekqueen @erosbellarke @the-wayward-robot @super100012 @myfanficlibrarium @lucifersbird @achishisha @hp-hogwartsexpress @winchesters-favorite-girl

[edgeofmyniall]

five

The vase, full of wildflowers, sat in the vase on Rachel’s desk two days after her date with Niall. They had been delivered during her planning period when no student was around. When she walked up to the front office, the secretary couldn’t stop smiling at her.

Rachel grabbed the flowers and headed back to her classroom fully aware of how hot her cheeks were. When she thought it was safe, she read the card. She knew who these were from.

“Since you don’t have a vase…” There was no name but under the near penmanship was a drawing of the lightning bolt and Harry Potter glasses that Niall had done his best with.

It was three weeks since their date, and Niall had spent any free time he could watching the Harry Potter movies. It’s better than not really knowing about them at all, right? If that was something Rach liked, he’d want to at least hold a good conversation about it. He took the sorting hat quiz thing and found out he’s a Hufflepuff. Researching the house online, he thought the quiz must be broke because he’s more brave than anything. He’d face his worst nightmare years ago. I wonder what House Rach is in, Niall thought and then he realized that ever since they kissed, he was to referring to her as Rach instead of Rachel.

He had grown attached to her. The texting back and forth, the phone calls that went well into the morning, the companionship he so longed for- through it all, even if it was a short amount of time, he had grown fond of Rachel. He wanted to spend more time with her.

But his heart hurt as he longed for Rachel. Was he doing an injustice to Isabella? It almost felt like he was cheating on her- almost. What would his kids think? How would they handle it? Would they hate him for moving on? Especially with a teacher? How could he do this to his family? He wanted to know.

So on a Friday night, it made it clear that the twins needed to be free so that they could have family night. Sitting around their triangle table, Niall laid out the board of  Monopoly as his nerves got the best of him. Mags and Mack looked on as Niall placed the car onto the start square.

“It’s been a while since we had family night. Figured we’d spend some time together.” Niall said as he shuffled the deck of cards.

“We’d have more time if you weren’t gone all the time,” Mags snapped as she slammed Alice down. Mack looked at his sister as he contemplated reaching for a game piece. “Saw your note on Miss Miles’ flowers.”

“Wait, dad’s been sneaking out with Miss Miles? Your teacher with the big a-“ Niall cut his eyes to his youngest before the word ass slipped out of his mouth. “Astronomical sense of literature.” Mack cleared his throat. “So Miss Miles could be our new mom?”

“I don’t think it’s that serious...yet.” Hearing her dad say those words cut Mags deep. She sat up quickly scooting the bench back before throwing her face piece at the wall. She stomped up the stairs before locking herself in her room. Niall looked at Mack before walking up the stairs to his daughter’s room. He knocked gently.

“Mags?” His daughter, who nearly always was the first answer him before he even got his sentence out didn’t speak a word. She didn’t come to the door, so Niall knocked a little harder. “Maggie? I want to talk to you. Please open the door.” He wiggled the door knob, but it didn’t budge.

Nothing. Now, Niall felt enraged. Who was Maggie to lock the door in his house? With Mack it was one thing. That kind of thing happened often enough that Niall had the drill handy to unscrew the door from the frame, but Mags? She would have never done this in a million years. It shocked Niall to the point that he was dumbfounded.

“Maggie Ryann Horan, open this door right now or I will take it down myself. One.”

Niall found himself standing in front of Maggie’s door with his hands on his hips, waiting for her to shuffle around to unlock her bedroom door.

“Two.” I swear to God Maggie if you don’t open this door…” Niall thought as he ran his hands through his hair. “I just want to talk.”

“Go away,” Mags’ voice trembled. Niall knew Mags was upset, but for what? Because he started dating again? It had been thirteen years- Niall wanted to be happy again. “Maggie…” Niall’s voice pleaded, “Talk to me.”

“GO TALK TO YOUR NEW GIRLFRIEND. IT’S NOT LIKE YOU CARE ABOUT MOM ANYMORE.” A thud came from the other side of the door as if Mags had thrown something at the barrier between daughter and father. “Fuck,” Mags whispered softly, stifling her crying.

“That’s it. I’m going to get the drill, and take down this damn door.” Niall walks away from the cream door, huffing out “God damn teenagers. I swear, they think they own the fuckin’ world,” when the click of the lock from Maggie’s door stops him in his tracks. She had unlocked the door when Niall had stepped away from the door well. Niall turned around and stood in front of the still closed door. He sighed, shaking his anger away- Mags need someone to talk to, not someone who was going to yell at her. He turns the knob and lets go of the cool metal. The door turns to expose a tear stained face of his daughter on her knees hovering over a broken framed picture of her mother. Maggie had thrown the picture of the young woman at the door when she was yelling at her father.

“I broke… I broke it,” Maggie cried as she picked up the photo through the jagged pieces of glass. Niall squatted down and took his daughter’s hands in his. The photo of the Isabella laid on the white carpet next to the broken metal frame and glass. “I...I got so angry. I’m so sorry Daddy, I don’t know-”

“Shhh, it’s alright. Just the vessel that broke. Let’s look here, okay?” Niall brushes the wet brown hair out of Mags’ face before kissing her temple. Niall pulls the picture out of the rubble and hands it to his daughter with no scarring. “See, there, Mom’s okay. We can get another frame, okay?” Mags shakes her head and begins to cry harder. Niall sits down on the carpeted floor and pulls his first born in his arms. “What’s going on with you?”

“I just,” Maggie goes quiet before speaking again, “I don’t know,” she whispers looking down at the palm of her hands.

“You got to talk to me so we can work this out. Is it because I’m dating?” Niall asked, his voice calm and soothing, which was far from what he was feeling. He was a nervous wreck. He had expected something like this out of Mack, but not Mags.

“Why do you have to date? Wasn’t mom enough?” Mags asked as she looked up with tear filled eyes to her father. Her cheeks and the tender parts of her eyes were blochted red- something she had inherited from her mother.

“Well…” Niall began. Mags laid her head on Niall’s shoulder, sniffling as she listened on. “your mom will always be enough. She’s the love of my life, but ever since she’s been gone, I felt empty. There’s this hole that has been made empty since Mom died. And I thought if I didn’t look at it- didn’t even acknowledge it, it would go away. But it didn’t, it kept getting bigger.

I kept myself from drowning with my grief by raising you two.”

“And by helping people in town?”

“That too. It kept me too busy to grieve. It’s basically like I forgot that the whole was there. Until I met Rachel. She was the one who is filling that hole for me.”

“But don’t you miss mom?”

“Every damn day. It hurts like hell some days, but I’ve grown used to it.”

“Miss Miles, she seems nice.”

“She’s very fond of you. Told me that she wanted to send your writings off.”

Mags listened to Niall with open ears. She still very much wished that she had known her mom, how she laughed and smelled- the stories her dad told her do no justice.

“She doesn’t want to be your mom. Rachel knows that you have one. We’re just seeing where things could go. You’ll always have a mom, you understand that, right?” Mags nods her head. The two of them sat there in silence until Mack yelled out that the game needed to start.

“Can she come over one night? For game night?” Mags asked before she walked out the door. Niall smiled as he scooped up the broken glass.

“Of course, baby girl.”

---

Niall sat in his office at Horan Building, LLC going over paperwork for upcoming projects when there was a knock on his door. Tommy, the high schooler who worked part time, was standing in the doorway. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Niall looked up from his desk and asked, “Who is it?”

“Some lady. She wanted to speak with you.”

“Alright, tell her I’ll be out in a minute.” Niall straighten his hair and pressed down his gray polo with golden embroidered Horan Building, LLC on the right side of the chest with his palms before standing up and making his way to his awaiting guest. It was half past four when he entered the front of the store only to find Rachel staring at the wall of plywood behind the counter.

“My my what a surprise,” Niall said catching Niall’s attention. He wrapped his arms around Rachel’s waist and hugged her tightly. He kissed her on the cheek, making her blush slightly. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see where the famous Niall Horan works at, catch you on your turf. Show me around?” The couple began walking down each aisle as Niall tells Rachel all about the tools they import from across the country. He found his arm hung over her waist as he talked about how he built a rocking chair that he uses to this day. It was one of the first things he built.

“Well, the real reason why I came by today…” “Was to see my sexy face, I knew it.” Niall winked as they walked back up to the front. Rachel gently shoved Niall’s shoulder before speaking again.

“One I want to renovate my kitchen. I don’t really like it. It’s too cluttered for me. Know any good handymen?”

“I may know a few…” Niall smirked.

“And I also was informed that this coming up Friday I was expected at your house for game night.” Rachel smiled.

“Mags is persistent. Shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“Guessing you told her?”

“Yeah, I think she’s coming around to the idea of me dating.”

“Dating? I thought I was showing around an old fart.” Niall’s laughed boomed through the store.

“Yeah, that too.”

Rachel kissed Niall, a sweet and tender peck on the lips before squeezing his hand, “I’ll be there at seven.”

As Rachel turns to leave, Niall grabs her hand, “Wanna come to the Halloween Carnival with us?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

In that moment, Niall felt whole again.

[ti-bae-rius]

My friend - who hasn’t read TSC - reviews characters:

Preface this with the fact he’s one of my very best friends. He loves the diversity in the books and wants to make that known. Okay...on with the descriptions:

Clary (aka Clair-why) confused bimbo who needs to sort out her name and call herself Claire and stop boning her could-be brother and do something useful

Alec (aka chiselled rainbow) the hot gay one who is boning Mr Magic

Magnus (Mr Magic) super powerful because his dad is literally Satan. Queer as shit and fucking Chiselled Rainbow. He has two little shits as pets (aka his children) who are under constant threat of getting kidnapped

Isabelle (aka Isabella/aka legs) only there for readable boobs and has a cool snake bracelet (Chiselled Rainbow’s sister)

Jace (aka Jason aka Mr Incest) man’s too busy banging his sister when he should be banging Chiselled Rainbow because that would’ve been more interesting.

Max (aka Cream Cake) draws hunger runes and fire runes - he must love food as much as he loves arson

Simon - (weirdly attractive nerdy best friend who doesn’t sparkle) - that’s it, that’s all his character. Oh and he wants to bang Claire-why because he has no self esteem. He even gets a daylighter ring and still doesn’t sparkle (I think he got missed up with Vampire Diaries here)

Raphael (aka Romeo aka idk smth Italian) All sucking, no sex. Granddaddy is Satan, Daddy is magic man. Loves God so much he scarred a cross on his chest. Asexual/Aro god.

Camille (aka Asian vampire who I think used to bang magic man) That’s it.

Luke (aka Good Boy) why wasn’t he black in the book? Wanted to bang Claire-why’s mum. He gets his period and turns into a monster.

Max and Rafael (aka Smth Italian Jr and Cream Cake jr) constant fear of being kidnapped

Now with bonus TDA characters:

Ty (aka Ty-day Friday) autistic gay. He has lots of siblings. His twin died. That’s a thing.*

(*if you don’t know, Tidy Friday is a private school British phrase we use for when someone grabs your tie and yanks on it so it tightens into a tight knot and you can’t undo it. We generally do it on a Friday at the end of the day in last period.)

Diana (aka the ultimate) great facial tattoos #respect (he likes Diana)

Emma (aka Friendzone’s mascot) the main character in the chronicles of Ty-day Friday. She really wants to fuck her best friend and it’s making the world explode. Probs got crabs from having sex on the beach.

Dru (aka actual cinnamon roll) Can kick ass and have curves

Mark (half fey half gay) In a three way relationship with a shadow hunter and a faerie. I think he was in the wild hunt which sounds like a gay bar.

[throughtheglassdarkly]

Scorched Earth, part 1

“The forces that affect our lives, the influences that mold and shape us, are often like whispers in a distant room: teasingly indistinct, apprehended only with difficulty.” – Charles Dickens

It’s funny how the days where your life changes irrevocably start out just like any other. I suppose if you know something’s coming, it’s easier to prepare for. It’s less of a shock when it happens. It doesn’t feel like things are never going to be the same after.

Yeah, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? I should introduce myself first. My name’s Derek. It was before this, it’s the same now. But I’m far from the person I was before the events I’m going to tell you about. That might be a good thing. It might not. How I feel about it changes based on the day.

But I’m not the only one who I need to tell you about. There were five of us all told, a motley crew. My motley. The others who were taken with me, the ones who escaped with me. Pam, Yova, Day, Isabella, and me. People I might have never met if my life continued on the way it had been going, but some of the most important friends I’ve ever had in my life.

In fact, before I get any further, let me tell you a little about them. Who they were, before they got taken. Their stories are much more interesting than mine. You’ll be spending a lot of time with me anyway. There’s plenty of time for me to tell you about myself.

So, Pam first. Pam’s basically June Cleaver: the perfect mom and wife, three kids, one was adopted, loves cleaning and baking, spends as much time with her family as possible. Makes a mean snickerdoodle, too. Pam’s the only one of us who wasn’t from Albany. Her family was vacationing here. I’m sure now she wishes they’d gone to Maine.

Then there’s Isabella. She’s the sort of person where you know they said when she was little, she was going to be a heartbreaker. She’s a geologist, which is totally the coolest job any of us had. Worked at the local university, constantly went to digs everywhere. The sort of person you always felt drawn to. Where Bella goes, the party follows.

Day. Oh, boy. Detective Day. He’s a cop. He, um. He’s enthusiastic. About getting the bad guy. I… can’t say he always did the most honest things in getting those bad guys. He might have been a good cop once. But, yeah. I think Day might have been the one of us who most benefitted from getting turned into something else.

Next is Yova. Tsaryova, to be precise. She’s a pianist. A really talented pianist, the sort who should be a lot more famous than she is. Also she’s hella tall. And wears suits way better than I can. She’s much more of a gentleman than I could be. And it’s good to have someone else around who’s waving a flag at the pride parade.

And then there’s me. Derek. I’m not much to write about. I had a boring job, data entry at a medical billing company. Wasn’t making much use of my degree. Couldn’t keep a boyfriend. Never really made much of an impression on anybody, I guess. Except on the days where I’d bring something I baked to work. That’s sort of my secret hobby, baking stuff. And I guess that’s as good a place to start as any. All the trouble for me started because of baking.

It was the last Friday in May. That time of year in upstate New York is absolutely beautiful. Our winters are a complete misery, but when the sun finally melts the last of the snow and the leaves and flowers start to bloom, there’s no more beautiful place on Earth. And where was I on such a beautiful day? Sitting in my cubicle, putting together a bill for some lady’s hip replacement surgery.

It wasn’t all bad. The last Friday of the month was a birthday celebration potluck at work. Not my birthday, that’s not until November, but it was a chance for us to bring in food and have a nice big lunch, which beats the hell out of the greasy spoon café on the first floor of the office building I work in. So, I should probably tell you that I have a hard time talking to people. It’s not that I don’t like people, I actually really do. But they never seem to remember me. It’s just… I guess I don’t leave much of an impression. I tried bringing my lemon drip cake, which is always a crowd-pleaser, but even then, it seems like nobody ever wanted to talk to me. At least, most everybody. There was this one new guy, James, who was kind of cute in an even more awkward way than I am, and he was all about my cake. It was weird to have somebody talking to me, but nice.

So the rest of the day went pretty much as normal. Everybody wants to get out of there first thing on Friday. And I was getting ready for my usual Friday night: heading to the local gay bar, paying fifteen bucks a pop for a watered-down cocktail, and not getting lucky. Woo-hoo. But this is where things started to get weird. I was walking to the bar – nice day, remember? – and I was almost there, when I smelled… I can’t even really describe it, it was like grandma’s cookies, fancy French pastries, and warm baked bread all at the same time. The best smell I ever smelled in my life. I tried to see where it was coming from and saw what looked like a new bake shop opening up in a building that had been empty forever.

I tried to see if it was open, but the only person I saw was this stocky guy with a really unfortunate mohawk. I asked him if they were open yet and he said they were planning to open tomorrow. I told him I couldn’t wait to see what they made, because it smelled so good, and he offered me a free sample of what they were making. I couldn’t say no to that and followed him inside. The pastries they had out looked even better than they smelled, and when I took a bite – it was the best thing I’d ever eaten. I couldn’t even think about anything else. It was heaven. It took over everything, my entire existence was caught up in what I was sampling. And then I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head and everything went black.

The moral of the story: Don’t take candy from strangers, kids.

So, while this was going on, Yova was having an equally strange night. She’d been out working at a gig, accompanying a friend of hers who was a jazz singer. Yova says that she was the only thing making the girl sound decent, which was probably true, and also lets you know how modest she is. She had to make some improvisations while she was playing to keep the singer in tune. She was pretty pleased with herself.

After Yova’s gig, she was walking home by the capitol building in downtown Albany. It’s a beautiful place with a reflecting pool – if you haven’t been, you should go. She said she wasn’t planning to do anything out of the ordinary until she heard a flute playing the exact tunes she’d been playing earlier in the evening. But it wasn’t just the songs: it was the exact improvisations Yova herself had done. She found a very attractive, very pale lady playing the flute and struck up a conversation. After some healthy flirting between them, the lady, Aurora, asked Yova to take a walk with her.

Everything was going just fine until they wandered by the reflecting pool. Yova’s attention was grabbed by a particularly shiny quarter in the moonlight, and then when she looked at it, she saw her reflection glance away. She was understandably freaked out, which is also when Aurora started getting creepy, talking about how magic was real, and pointing Yova’s attention back to her reflection. As Yova watched, Aurora started pulling on her reflection, making it grow and grow. Yova was – I guess mesmerized is the best word. Because she couldn’t even react when Aurora pushed her into the reflecting pool. It’s only a few inches deep, but Yova started sinking into it, falling away from the world. And she saw on the other side herself, still standing with Aurora.

The moral of the story: Don’t go off with attractive strangers, kids.

Around this same time, Pam’s family was enjoying the sights and attractions of upstate New York. They were from Minnesota, and if any family ever summed up Minnesota Nice, it’s Pam’s. She was out with her family, her son, and her two daughters, and they were enjoying a nice picnic lunch outside of Albany. Hot dish, from what I understand.

I don’t actually understand what hot dish is.

So the kids were off playing while Pam and her husband were being adorable on the picnic blanket and then her son came back, but the two girls were still off somewhere and it was getting time for them to go. Pam decided to go off and look for the girls while her husband was packing up the picnic. She wandered through some of the paths, following the sound of her daughters laughing, but then started to hear one of them crying. She found one of her daughters on the path crying and tried to look her over and see what was going on.

And then she heard both the girls behind her. She turned and they asked her what she was looking at. And when Pam looked around, what she thought was her daughter before now looked bloated and scarred. And Pam tried to get away, but then… well, you don’t know what the Hedge is yet, but she was surrounded by it. Thorns and brambles and branches coming up out of nowhere, separating her from her kids. Separating her from everything.

The moral of the story: Don’t let your kids off the leash, kids.

A couple of days after this, Day came upon his own trouble. He’d been having a rough week, a lot of trouble with his cases, and on top of all that one of the rookie cops got fired for massively mishandling an investigation. Day’s partner had been jumping in and helping everybody out, so when she asked him for a favor, he couldn’t really refuse. She asked him to come out to a local park and help her look for a missing mom from Minnesota. Yeah, that missing mom from Minnesota.

So Day and his partner were off combing through the wilds when he decided it would be a good idea to try and unwind a bit and he lit up a joint. Shortly after this, the two of them stumbled across this really disgusting-looking goo and his partner went off to get some evidence bags. As Day followed along a trail of this goo, he kept seeing stranger and stranger things, from an apple the size of a basketball to a tree that looked like it was made of elastic. The tree also had a lot of that weird goo around it and also inside of it. Yeah, he watched as it stretched itself open, creating a path leading inside.

So Day did what every good detective should do when faced with a tree made of rubber: he pulled out his gun and walked inside. He followed it into this very strange landscape where he found someone who might sound a bit familiar: a short, stocky guy with a terrible mohawk. When he told the dude that he wanted to know what was going on, the guy yelled for someone named Rex. All Day remembered from that point was getting tackled by some writhing mass of sinew and muscle, and then everything went black.

The moral of the story: Don’t hit up a joint on the job, kids.

So that leaves just Bella. And hers is a story just like all of ours. She’d just gotten back from a dig in New Mexico, was dealing with the usual academic bullshit and really wanting a night out. She called her best friend and a cute dude she was interested in from work and they all made plans to go out to one of her favorite clubs for the evening. She and her best friend went out, they met the cute dude, he told her about all the stupid work drama, and then they hit the dance floor.

So they were out majorly cutting up the dance floor, drinking, having a great time, and nature called. Bella went to the bathroom, waited in the huge line that all ladies’ rooms inevitably have, and then after she got back on the dance floor, she saw her gentleman friend talking to another girl. As you might imagine, this wouldn’t do, so Bella made her way up to this other bitch and saw… herself. A complete, exact copy of herself.

Both of them were completely confused, with the other Bella seeming to say that she was trying to find herself. Then she stepped on Bella’s shadow, which caused the shadow to stretch out. The girl reached into her pocket and pulled out some sort of blade, then cut through Bella’s shadow and pulled it into herself. She started walking away and Bella followed her, only to see a tall, eerily pale lady. Starting to sound familiar? Yeah, once we started talking, we realized what was going on. And then, after this lady spoke to the other Bella and congratulated her on her new life, she did something that made Bella fall through the floor into nothingness.

The moral of the story: Don’t ever do anything fun, kids, because apparently life just isn’t fair.

So that’s how we were all taken. Taken by whom and where is a little harder to explain. Suffice it to say that we all woke up around the same time in the back of a cramped cart in a thick, overgrown forest. We were all tied up, our arms bound by rope. The first thing I noticed was a horrible taste in my mouth, about the polar opposite from the treat I’d sampled right before everything went black. I spat it out as fast as I could and saw it was just dead leaves and bark. The others were equally worse for the wear, and nearby, sitting by a fire, were the mohawked guy who’d given me the treat and pounced on Day, as well as the creepy pale lady who’d snatched Yova and Bella.

Obviously, none of us were too thrilled about this, and even less so when Aurora came over and started taunting us, asking if we were scared and if we knew what was going on. I was trying to hide it as best I could, but I was terrified. I didn’t know what was going on, who these other people were, where I was or why I’d been taken. Aurora was extraordinarily happy to explain that we were her and Buck’s – Mohawk Guy – prisoners. They were taking us somewhere for “their lady.” I didn’t know at the time who that was, but she didn’t sound like the sort of person I wanted to meet. As perhaps a last piece of advice, Aurora told us that if we made their lady happy, we might benefit as much as she and Buck were going to.

Yova somehow managed to get her hands free during Aurora’s speech though thankfully she was smart enough not to act like she had. None of the rest of us realized that she had done it, because she and Day were bickering back and forth like crazy: he was convinced there was a logical explanation for what was going on, possibly that we were all sharing the same bad trip. Pam was taking things surprisingly well, mentioning that she had read about human trafficking before and that she’d saved some clippings about it. I think Bella and I were both convinced at this point that we were either going to die or were bound for some fate worse than death. Day finally told us to just calm down and that we would try and get free when we could, which seemed like sensible advice.

Before anything else could happen, though, we all saw this really strange looking guy come up. I can’t really describe him, other than that he looked like he was made of plant life, mossy and shimmering (“mossimer,” Pam later dubbed him), and motioning for us to be quiet. At that point, we were willing to do just about anything if it meant we would get away from Aurora and Buck, so we obeyed while he threw something over toward the fire Aurora and Buck were sitting by. It exploded and then – well, then things really went to hell.

But this is already pretty long for an introduction. The rest of our adventures through the glass, darkly and back again can wait for a bit. I’ll pick this back up in a couple of weeks and will have a lot more to tell you then. If you think this is crazy now, boy, just wait until you hear about what happened to us next. Stay safe out there, and remember: don’t ever take the free samples.

[wishingforatypewriter]

Oc Ask About sosuke please i really love this OC Numbers 1. 2. 5. 8. 11. 12. 14. 16. 18. 19. 21. 23. 25. 26. 27. 30. 31. 42. 48. ~Sorry if there are many~

Thanks for the ask! I tried my best!

1. What is your OC’s favorite color?Black2. Does your OC collect anything? What do they collect?Sosuke collects old records and vintage liquor. 5. What is your OC’s first memory?His first memory was of messing around with Shun’s sound system until it broke (he was like two and his dad was so over him in that moment). 8. What is your OC’s theme song? This is hard….maybe “Novacane” by Frank Ocean11. What are your OC’s hobbies?His main hobbies are micro-brewing and DJ-ing. 12. How patient is your OC? How hot-headed are they?Sosuke is very patient. He’s basically the definition of chill. It’s extremely rare for him to lose his temper, and he’s usually the one to calm his friends (and Isabella) down when they’re mad about something. However, all his chill goes out the window whenever Kobayashi Haruo comes around. Haruo is a rich double Elite Ten legacy student in the 118th generation,  and his main hobby seems to be flirting with Isabella Mito-Aldini. Sosuke is NOT HERE FOR IT, but he can’t really say anything about it because Bella is (technically) not his girlfriend. It’s a very frustrating situation for him. 

14. What foods does your OC like to eat? What are their least favorite foods?What he loves more than anything else is some really good barbecue. He will eat a steak or some ribs any day of the week. Being a chef, he’s open to all types of food, but he really doesn’t care for vegan/vegetarian substitutes for things. 16. What does your OC smell like? Mostly wood. He spends a lot of time outside grilling, so the wood-smoke smell always sticks to his clothes. 18. What are your OC’s greatest fears? Weaknesses? Strengths?Sosuke’s greatest fear is that he won’t accomplish anything at Totsuki or make a name for himself. He also worries that people will think he rides on Raiden’s coattails.His greatest weakness is the fact that he’s chill to the point where he can be kind of passive about things he should be more assertive about. His greatest strength is his sense of composure; he almost always makes rational decisions, and has been pretty successful at the academy because of it. 19. What kind of music do they listen to? Do they have a favorite song?Sosuke listens to almost every musical genre, but he really likes hip-hop and EDM. His favorite song changes from week to week, but he has an undying respect for the classics. 

21. What personal problems/issues do they have? Pet peeves?His biggest personal issue is the fact that he’s involved with a girl that a lot of his dorm friends dislike. His major pet peeve around that situation is people snooping into his business instead of just asking a question. 

23. What is a random fact about your OC? 

He has perfect pitch (doesn’t sing, though).

25. What inspired you to create them / how did you create them? Were they originally a fancharacter? What was their personality / design like when you first made them?

In my very first idea for a next gen fic (back when Raiden wasn’t a thing and the whole story was centered around Yukihira Midori) I envisioned Sosuke as a secondary love interest for Akane. In their first year of high school, Sosuke would have been the 10th seat on the Elite Ten (with Akane in the 9th seat) and there would have been a casual flirtation between the two top first years.

However, as I further developed his character, I realized that he and Akane wouldn’t have any chemistry. I ended up liking his dynamic with Isabella a lot better.

26. Who is the most important person in their life? Why? Who is the least important to them (that still has an impact and why?

The most important person in his life is probably Ryoko because he always wanted to get into the Elite Ten to make her proud. 

(I’m honestly not sure who the least important would be)

27. What kind of childhood did your character have?

Sosuke had a pretty relaxed childhood. Because he’s not the heir to any huge conglomerate or prestigious family, he wasn’t under as much pressure as a lot of his classmates. He grew up in the same neighborhood as Yuna and they spent a lot of their early years together. The only thing that made his youth a little stressful was the fangirls who’d flocked around him since he was in elementary school. 

30. Do they want to get married? Why or why not? Would they ever want kids? Do they have kids? Why?

Sosuke does want to get married and have kids someday, but it’s not a huge priority for him because he’s still so young. He thinks his parents have a really good marriage and he could see himself having a life like that in the future. 

31. What is their most traumatic memory/experience? What is their favorite memory?

Nothing particularly traumatic has ever happened to him, tbh. 

His favorite memory is going on a trip to Nashville and Memphis,Tennessee with his father when he was ten. The food and music cultures in those cities made a huge impression on him. 

42. Does your character have any scars? Where did they get them from? 

Sosuke has a few scars on his knees and shins from skateboarding mishaps. 

48. What were their parents like? How has that affected how they are as an adult?

Ryoko was very supportive and joked around with him a lot. Her cool and mature personality definitely rubbed off on him. Shun was always very hard to impress, and that motivated Sosuke to excel even more. 

[gregkatepetegowest]

Lake Isabella + Sequoia National Forest

Our next stop was Sequoia National Forest. I have always wanted to see Sequoia or Redwood trees in person so was super excited about this stop. Initially, I tried to find a place for us to stay just outside of Sequoia National Park, which is north of Sequoia National Forest. I could not, for the life of me, find a place near the park entrance that allowed dogs. I stumbled upon Sequoia National Forest and Lake Isabella just through researching the area. Lake Isabella was just over an hour drive from the Trail of 100 Giants, a paved trail with hundreds of massive sequoias. What I’ve learned on this trip is if you aren’t staying inside the park, you’re likely going to drive a ways to get to access the popular park areas. The roads in and out of the parks are mostly mountain passes so you must go slow to avoid driving off the mountain (have had many visions of twitching or sneezing while driving and doing this). Mileage wise, it’s usually not far it just takes a while to get there.

Anyway, we arrived at the Lakeview Motel around dinner time after a 3.5 hour drive from Vegas. The motel was exactly as I expected when I booked it. Nothing had been renovated since the hotel was built in the 1950’s! The kitchenette (although not functional because it was no longer not up to code) was so cool. Original sink, stove, and ice box all in one. Apparently, kitchen appliances were built this way to save room (a sign in the motel told me this so feel free to fact check).

The motel was located on a tiny strip across the street from Lake Isabella and there was not much else around. Like, basically nothing within walking distance with the exception of… Yep, you guessed it, a Mexican restaurant! Did we get dinner there both nights? Sure did.

We only had one full day in Lake Isabella so we hit is hard. We drove up to Trail of 100 Giants, which was incredible. Pictures really don’t do these trees justice. I am STILL trying to wrap my mind around A TREE being 2,000 years old. Almost all of the Sequoias in this grove had scars from burns during forest fires. When a tree is “injured” in a forest fire, it begins to produce extra tannin which is essentially how the tree heals itself and is able to continue to grow and thrive after being burned. Wild. Nature is so cool. This walking trail was also dog friendly which is always a huge plus. We did have to endure lots of large families who were camping at the onsite campground. Lots of shouting and one fellow double fisting Bud Lights at 11 am on the walking trail. But hey, I certainly know what it’s like to be in vacation mode? If I could do it again, I would have planned to arrive just after sunrise – Cannot imagine how peaceful/serene/amazing it would be in the grove with little to no other people around.

After hugging as many trees as we could, we drove to Kernville which was a happening little town about 20 minutes from where we were staying. We had to drive through here on our way up to the forest and immediately decided we would stop for a walk/beer on the way back. Had I known this placed existed, I would have tried to find a place to stay there. Kernville is located right on the Kern river so lots of people floating, picnicking, etc. and an adorable little town square with coffee, restaurants, shops, etc. At this point, it was hot AF which doesn’t bode well with Greg so we did a short walk and then popped into Kern River Brewing Company. There was a crowd but we managed to get a spot on the covered, dog-friendly patio and enjoyed a tasty brew. The day wasn’t over yet, though. We headed back to The Lakeview Motel and dropped Greg off for dog napping, changed into our suits and headed over to Remington Hot Springs. The hot springs were a short hike down to the Kern River and built right alongside the river. Really cool and very different than our New Mexico hot spring experience. There were a number of pools here and the pools are upkept by locals so there wasn’t algae, etc. on the rocks/bottom of the pool like there was in New Mexico. Very touristy and full of families but I think going later in the day helped. We were able to soak in the original tub, which is the hottest/cleanest water and after a 30-minute soak, we went for a swim in the Kern which was my favorite part. The water was cold but so refreshing. After our river dip, we headed back. We grabbed Greg and walked down to our favorite (and only) local restaurant, El Portal. The food was actually really good (margs were not) and anywhere that’s walkable/we can bring Greg is optimal. So that was that.

The next day, we got up early, because the temperatures were going to skyrocket, took Greg for a quick hike to check out some old gold mines and snag a panoramic view of Lake Isabella and then hit the road to Mammoth, CA, where we are now. I think all three of us were ready to leave the desert and breathe in some mountain air. Mostly Greg and his fur coat.

[mermaidsirennikita]

are you an art historian? sorry if I got that detail wrong but I was wondering if you knew how people know the identity of a person in a portrait? For example, how do you know if a medieval portrait is of the queen or a noble and not an imaginary person or someone unknown? sorry if my question makes no sense

No, it’s a good question!  And I wouldn’t call myself an art historian yet, but I’m a tentatively aspiring one.  I might be one later if I do a fuckton more research and/or… get up the energy for grad school.  But I have my B.A. in art history!

SOOOOOO, spiel below.

Unless there’s an inscription, note, title, etc. written on the portrait it’s technically impossible to be 100% beyond a shadow of a doubt sure about a sitter’s identity…  I actually ranted about this eons ago because people on Tumblr are super desperate to find new portraits of Anne Boleyn (why Anne?  why not literally any other famous lady whose face has been largely lost to history?  because she’s Anne Boleyn, and since several probably authentic images have not proven that she’s super foxy hot people are looking for something that will).  It usually takes years for art historians to come to a consensus about the identities of unidentified sitters, and EVEN THEN, people still argue about it.  I’m sure this painting of Mary, Queen of Scots took tons of effort to uncover and based on what little I’ve read there’s great reason to believe that’s Mary (it even looks like other images we have of her) but I’m sure someone will write an article about how it’s REEEALLY someone else entirely.  I researched Lady with an Ermine by Leonardo da Vinci for my capstone project, and even tho we have letters from Cecilia Gallerani, a mistress of the man most likely to have commissioned the portrait, saying “yeah so you have this portrait of me painted by Leonardo when I was younger” clearly referring to Lady with an Ermine… but there will still be outliers who say it isn’t her.

So.  In more conclusive cases, there will usually be records in place that let us know that a portrait was commissioned in the first place.  In the case of Isabella d’Este, we know that she was after Leonardo to paint her portrait and that it never happened but was in the planning stages–which leads to the conclusion that there are probably preliminary drafts in existence.  You find a preliminary draft of a woman matching Isabella’s general description and age, dating to the right time…  You can probably guess that the woman is Isabella.

Today, we also have technology that can help us guess how old a work is–it’s way harder for forgers to do what they once did because art historians can test for pigments and other materials that were only in use for certain time periods, and that helps narrow down the era.  Before then, there were stylistic notes that could give you an idea of when a painting was made.  For example–prior to the popularization of the three-quarter pose by artists like Leonardo, female sitters of Italy were usually in profile.  So if you find a portrait of an Italian lady sitting in a three-quarters pose, you can probably date the portrait to the late fifteenth century or later–and then you go into things like her style of dress, etc.  Style of dress goes a long way towards identifying a person’s place of origin, especially for women–English women dressed very differently from Italian women of the same era, and so on.

Most European portraits were of a certain class, up until some artists and patrons started playing around with everything from idealized peasant scenes to like... the proto-gritty shit Rembrandt dabbled in.  This is especially true for Catholic nations.  You had to be AT LEAST of the upper middle class to afford to commission a portrait, and for that matter, many artists tended to court a certain specified clientele.  Raphael spent much of the prime of his career working for the pope, and so that meant that he spent a lot of time in Rome, and that in turn meant that he was often in the service of glittery rich Romans.  Now, does this mean that the sitter is always rich?  No.  Raphael also painted a famous nude, La Fornarina, and the sitter was quite possibly his lower-class mistress.  But in that case, the person commissioning the painting was probably a rich guy who wanted a nude, and Raphael was like “fuck yeah getting a chance to paint Margarita naked and get paid for it, life is sweet”.  Patrons normally had $$$, basically, so if we see a typical portrait we know that we’re looking at that class, most likely, and the more expensive the portrait looks, the richer the sitter (and the patron) likely was.  Rarer pigments indicate more money spent, more detail on the clothing equals greater $$$.

When it comes to incredibly important families, there are spmetimes dead giveaways.  Bronzino’s portraits of Cosimo de’ Medici I’s household often featured details like rubies and pearls among the women, which one art historian I read from theorized was a signature of the Medici at that point in time.  It wasn’t unusual for women in particular to wear emblems of their families, because the portraits of them were usually commissioned by fathers or husbands, and essentially these were ownership tags.  That’s what Cosimo was doing, most likely.  If you know the artist–in this case, Bronzino–you probably know where they worked at a certain point in their lives.  If you know when the painting was executed, you know the artist was probably in X city.  Who would be most likely to employ Artist X during that time?  A small cluster of families.  You sort of have to narrow it down.  Most important families of Europe also had coats of arms, which can show up in their paintings–but unfortunately these are often the first to deteriorate and they begin to look similar.

When an artist was painting a famous sitter like Mary, they might include her initials somewhere, maybe in the case of a king or queen with a good Rex or Regina for measure.  Kings and queens are often given little identifiers, too, though these aren’t always consistent.  In several portraits of Mary her hands are emphasized because beautiful hands were prized at the time, Mary was considered a beauty, and so on (also Elizabeth’s hands were rumored to be scarred after her bout of smallpox, and whether or not this was exaggerated I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a dig after her reign began).  Mary is also often depicted in widow’s wear; now, this doesn’t mean that she wore those clothes often, but she was an iconically beautiful young widow after her first husband died, and then she *oh so tragically* lost another…  A lot of artists probably worked off of one painting Mary actually sat for in widow’s wear to have shopped around to potential suitors.  From what I read of this newly discovered portrait, Mary probably never sat for it; it was a tribute/propaganda piece by a support, and most likely the artist was working off of copies.

It’s kind of like how many portraits of Elizabeth I during her reign depict a few of the same things; grand red hair, magnificent clothes and jewels, flawless skin, dark eyes, the same basic facial features.  Did Liz have the time to sit for umpteen portraits?  No!  And she didn’t want to.  She didn’t want the reality of her aging appearance, she wanted the iconic Elizabethan image circulated, and so it was.  Art historians can later pick up on the commonalities between these propaganda pieces and figure out who they’re of.

In the case of this newly discovered work, I imagine the art historian also did a lot of research about the patron’s potential ties to Mary, the political climate at the time, whether or not the artist had materials to work from regarding Mary’s appearance, and so on.  Like I said, the painting looks like Mary, though that… doesn’t necessarily mean much–but the eyes are similar to the other portraits we see, the profile is right, her hair is styled as it was in other paintings, the outline of the clothes seems fine.

Basically, there is soooo much that goes into “proving” a sitter’s identity and even then you’ll never be 100% right in the eyes of everyone.  For years, people thought a portrait was of Katherine Howard, and recently that was debunked.  Everyone shops that portrait of a blond lady with one tit out as Lucrezia Borgia; it’s not.  Identifying people is cool but for a lot of art historians it’s somewhat irrelevant, because we’re more looking at what a portrait reflected about the times and that’s why Mary’s identity IS relevant in this particular case.  Going back to the Secret Anne Boleyn Painting conspiracy theories–people just wanna see a hot Anne there, and that’s what’s frustrating.  By showing us Mary here, this art historian has also given us an example of people showing their support for this embattled queen through propaganda commissions, and for that matter getting scared and covering it up.  That speaks to the political, social, and cultural goings-on of the time.

Some art historians love to find SEKRIT IMAGES because that sells books, but when you ask a lot of professors “do you think that’s a portrait of JANE SEYMOUR” or whatever they’ll probably be like “eh idk man”.  The identity is less important on its own than it is as it relates to the reasons by a commission.  I mean in my case the identities of portraits I studied in school were only really relevant in that I was able to discuss the political constructions that wives and brides became in one Italian court.  Otherwise identity didn’t matter at all.  And tbh, that ambivalence towards identifying people probably makes it even harder for the art historical world to come to a consensus on ANYONE.  But this new discovery sounds pretty solid and honestly, it’s really cool.

[mytherapistsays-blog]

The Princess Switch is a Tale as Old as Time

The Princess Switch is a Tale as Old as Time ⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ @MyTherapistSays ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣ https://mytherapistsays.ca/the-princess-switch-is-a-tale-as-old-as-time/

Or… as old as the merging-of-two-frames editing technique. Vanessa Hudgens is the latest star to sink down to join in on the low budget Christmas movie train, playing two mysteriously identical strangers who swap places and assume each other’s identities. Sound familiar? The answer should be yes, because since time immemorial we’ve witnessed many a Disney starlet in more or less the same film. The question is, who did it better? Someone call Us Weekly, because we are blowing this sh*t wide open.

IT TAKES TWO

(MARY KATE & ASHLEY OLSEN, 1995)

Okay, to be fair (barring any outlandish conspiracy theories), these two actually are separate human beings, but the identity swap principle still applies. In this 90’s classic, orphan-girl/ inner-city-kid Amanda attempts to trespass explores the woods beyond the grounds of her summer camp and bumps (quite literally) into prim and proper Alyssa, who lives with her rich ass wealthy father, Roger. Amanda is about to be adopted by the Butkises, the family who collects kids for child labour- actually you know what, it was for child labour- and Alyssa is about to have the gold-digging stepmother from hell, Clarice. They decide to swap places so Alyssa can know what it’s like to be a real kid and Amanda can know what it’s like to have real human affection, and they work together to set up Alyssa’s social worker with Amanda’s father. Chaos, food fights, and less-than-romantic horseback rides ensue.

Pros: Olsen twins before their acting skills absolutely nosedived. Kirstie Alley. Whoever the rich dad’s driver was.

Cons: The Butkises. The horror that was THIS scene.

Most memorable line:

Amanda: It’s got to be that can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of stuff, right?

THE PARENT TRAP

(LINDSAY LOHAN, 1998)

Another unmistakable 90’s classic, which also coincidentally involves the same-but-not-the-same girls to meet over summer camp. Hallie is a cool, laid back Cali gal while Annie is a posh English girl. Despite a rocky start meeting at summer camp (what are the chances!) the girls realize they have the same birthday��� and the same parents- wait, they’re sisters?! They decide to switch places so that they can like, actually MEET the other parent who has abandoned them for years, and set up their rich vineyard owning father with their classy but slightly disheveled mother, and also get rid of their treacherous stepmother to be, Meredith Blake. They succeed, and though this movie has the best cast and best soundtrack possible, it is seriously unsettling how f*cked up it is for their parents to keep them apart and live without one of their own daughters. What kind of co-parenting tactic is that?!

Pros: Dennis Quaid. Dennis Quaid. Dennis Quaid. The epic handshake sequence. Vineyards. London. The crackling-candy-wrapper-to-sound-like-static phone hack. Also Janice from Friends.

Ohhh. Myyyy. GAAAHD.

Cons: The cringey prank wars between Hallie and Annie that are honestly very telling of how frightening and ruthless 12 year old girls can be. The hot-pin-and-apple-as-a-homemade-ear-piercing-kit. Meredith and the lizard. This movie is not for the weak of stomach.

Most memorable line:

Hallie (or Annie, who tf knows): So if your Mom is my Mom and my Dad is your Dad… and we’re both born on October 11th, then you and I are… like… sisters.

THE LIZZIE MCGUIRE MOVIE

(HILARY DUFF, 2003)

In the best movie-from-a-TV-show production of all time, Lizzie and her, like what, eighth grade graduation class take a graduation trip to Italy (??? wtf? Is this PCA? How is everyone affording this?). Lizzie bumps into Paolo, a cute, charming Italian boy whose age I am really troubled by and don’t want to think about too much tbh, because I am already scarred from watching one too many episodes of Age Gap Couples. While Gordo is trapped in the Upside Down friend zone, Lizzie begins gallivanting around Rome with Paolo, who out of the blue drops a bomb on her that she is the exact Doppelganger for his former singing partner and could she like, assume her identity? Leave it to Lizzie McGuire to say yes, Kate willingly helping her out by covering for her (yes, hell really has freezed over) and shit to hit the fan. It all ends with Paolo being exposed for the weenie that he is (which we really should have anticipated from this lewk below):

We have Lizzie performing at the Colo freakin seum, while Gordo is clawing his way out of the friend zone (but I’m sure if Lizzie McGuire continued into their high school years she would have fallen for a Jesse McCartney or equivalent hottie of the day and dumped Gordo’s ass).

Pros: Italy. Pasta. Ethan Craft!

Cons: Paolo. No Miranda?!

Most Memorable Lines (because you can’t pick just one):

Kate: Lizzie McGuire, you are an outfit repeater!

Miss Ungermeyer: David Gordan. I think that’s Italian for ‘sneaky little brown noser with a hidden agenda’.

Miss Ungermeyer: Mr. Craft, you are in the most beautiful city in the world, is this having any effect on you?

Ethan: Yeah the cobble stones are like totally thrashing on my wheels.

Isabella: Sing to me, Paolo!

MONTE CARLO

(SELENA GOMEZ, 2011)

After years of saving from her shitty waitress job, Grace, a down-on-her-luck Texan girl fresh out of high school, finally gets to go to Paris with David Cassidy’s daughter her coworker Emma. Instead of the vacation of her dreams, she gets a shitty tour bus version of the city with Blair Waldorf as her salty stepsister, Meg, tagging along. It doesn’t take long for the girls to have a falling out and find themselves in a swanky hotel lobby to take shelter from the rainstorm that is kind of a metaphor for their disaster of a trip. Their luck changes when Grace is mistaken for a wealthy British heiress, and with some encouragement from Emma takes her place and fills in for her duties, which leads the three girls to Monaco. Grace falls for Theo, a local rich boy with other character qualities that don’t seem notable to me at the moment; Meg falls for an adventurous Aussie, and Emma just really wants to get home to her long term boyfriend Owen and install some dimmer lights. Of course the fiasco unfolds when Cordelia returns unexpectedly, and some drama goes down with an expensive piece of jewelry going missing (a telltale sign of an unoriginal plot). But not to worry because just like every chick flick out there, everyone gets a happy ending. 

Pros: The excellent casting of romantic interests (Read: Corey Monteith, Luke Bracey, Pierre Boulanger). Who Says. Monte Carlo- it actually looks really effing bomb. Why is Monaco so underrated?! I might just be too poor to even have it on my radar as a travel destination.

Seriously. God bless this casting director.

Cons: Selena Gomez’s acting. Selena Gomez’s fake British accent. The fact that I will never be mistaken for an heiress and have a whirlwind romance with a foreign wealthy man.

Most memorable lines:

Grace: I finally meet a guy who likes me for me. And I’m not even me.

THE PRINCESS SWITCH

(VANESSA HUDGENS, 2018)

So here we are in present day. Let me just start by saying, there isn’t even a princess in this movie. Lady Margaret is a duchess. It’s called royal decorum honey, look it up. Stacy, a baker from Chicago, is somehow invited to this very prestigious international baking competition in Genovia Aldovia Belgravia (is anyone else noticing that these fake European countries all kind of sound like font families?), and ditches her bakery during what I assume would be her busiest time of the year to hop across the world with her business partner/ best friend and his daughter. There she runs into Lady Margaret, who mysteriously looks exactly like her and proposes they swap places so she can get away from the world of schedules. Stacy agrees, and falls for Margaret’s fiance of an arranged marriage/ loveless engagement, Prince Edward of Belgravia. Meanwhile Margaret falls for Stacy’s DILF friend Kevin. They manage to swap back before Stacy’s competition (which she wins despite her competitor cutting the cord to her Kitchen Aid, which she only notices after the majority of the cake has been baked, which like, b*tch, how were you mixing the batter before?), only for the Prince and Margaret to have to present the awards to the winners (because like, I’m sure that’s how William and Kate fill their schedule). Though Margaret had revealed their secret to Edward before the event, the four go backstage to give Kevin the downlow. Stacy is alarmingly okay with Edward (sort of) proposing to her, and Kevin is alarmingly okay with this despite having JUST caught feelings for who he thought was his best friend? Flash forward to a year later, and Edward and Stacy have married, and it is implied Kevin and Margaret are next? What the hell happened to their award winning bakery?

Pros: Gunner from Nashville. Kevin’s abs.

Cons: The haircut. The Jackie O blazer and pencil skirt ensembles. Another ill fated horse riding trip. The mysterious old guy who kept showing up but whose presence/ significance was never really explained?

Seriously, why is everyone dressed straight outta 1952?

Most memorable line: 

Stacy/Margaret: In fact I took a nap on it. Slept like a log.

Edward: A log?

Stacy/ Margaret: Yes, dear, a royal log. It’s an expression we have in Montenaro.

Over the passage of time, the same-actress-two-characters/ swapping identities plotline has served us some of our most heartwarming and cheesy memories of film. I honestly don’t know if there really is a way to rank which is best, because they are all terrible in their own right. What matters most is that this tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme seems to keep going strong 20 years later, so we can expect another version of this more-or-less same story to make us gag/dazzle us in the coming years.