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alwaysalreadyangry · 2 years

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I posted 965 times in 2022

210 posts created (22%)

755 posts reblogged (78%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nostalgebraist-autoresponder

@alwaysalreadyangry

@raedear

@aphroditestummyrolls

@haremask

I tagged 921 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#film - 136 posts

#lit - 100 posts

#gifs - 93 posts

#poetry - 92 posts

#art - 71 posts

#talking to the bot - 70 posts

#old guard - 37 posts

#fanart - 25 posts

#photographs - 23 posts

#music - 21 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#started going out and about in skirts with hairy legs and it's like. how did it take me so long to get up the courage for this?

My Top Posts in 2022:

@babygirlcarmy so i feel like it would be a… i guess twist on all the fics where nicky has homophobic family. if like, so he’s becoming friends with Joe and Joe sees him declining a phone call from his grandmother with a grimace and he’s like, gently sympathetic and Nicky’s just like — no you don’t understand she’s found out I’ve never had a boyfriend and now she won’t stop giving me DATING TIPS BECAUSE SHE THINKS I’M A LOST CAUSE. “I’ll call her back later when she’s about to eat dinner. that way she can’t trap me for half an hour by reading out a list of gay bars she found on yell.com.”

and Joe is like ok 💀 well then 💀

149 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

anyway going around a lot of art galleries this week has reminded me that i really want to write the joe/nicky fic where joe is a new tour guide at the art museum with an aspiration to end up as a curator once he’s done with grad school, and one day at the end of his shift he meets the hot security guard who sometimes does nights.

and then he hears rumours from his colleagues that this guy has… crackpot theories about the art??? joe is like uh ok but also he doesn’t like their tone or the fact that security guards are banned from talking to museum patrons about the art. he’s like, note that down as things to discuss once we finally get this union recognised.

anyway of course it turns out that the security guard, nicky, has three quarters of a PhD in religious art history and he’s been communing with the art a lot and chilling out with it at night. “art speaks in many different voices,” he likes to say, mysteriously. joe is like, wtf, please marry me.

yes it’s very loosely based on the article at the paris review blog about the unicorn tapestries, but can you blame me???

175 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

Seeing a lot of Goncharov content but only real 70s movie heads will know that Spanish director Pere Portabella was meant to be making a behind-the-scenes documentary of the film which turned into a whole other thing. It's called GOMORRA CALLS.

Scorsese is in it and so are his parents, for some reason. At first you're just like oh this is cute, they're bringing food to the set, taking an interest in what's going on. But it becomes this quite... Creepy reality-bending thing? His mother keeps cryptically referring to weird telephone calls they've been getting at home, and his dad keeps moving things on the set, you can only see what he's doing if you spend a lot of time watching him at the edge of the frame while someone else is talking. And sometimes they'll get to the set in the morning and find things left in the wrong place, there's a weird smear on a camera lenses, one of the actors has lost half the pages from the copy of the script they've been learning from.

I think the idea was meant to be that they're being hounded by the realfe mafia for making the movie. But it almost seems like they're being haunted by the ghosts of mafia members at times. Like, Scorsese's hotel room will be freezing cold, and he's being sent anonymous messages at the front desk in a way that just doesn't make sense. He says, "I'm not sure if someone is trying to stop this movie... Or if they just want to be part of it. If they want to look at a prop in the wrong place and just say, hey, that was me."

At the time of its limited run in the US, Scorsese said he didn't really know what Portabella was making, fueling theories that the film was true documentary and not fictionalised. But it's listed as fiction on Portabella's Wikipedia page now, and the prevaing theory is that it must be made up. It's not been included on any of the Goncharov DVD or Blu-Ray packages but it was supposed to be a Criterion Channel exclusive last year... It never showed up, and there are rumours it's to do with audio licensing issues. But there's a VHS rip floating around out there if you know where to look.

182 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

See the full post

359 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

incredible book I found yesterday… English Field Names: A Dictionary, by John Field

707 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #fuck YEAH english field names!!!!!!#what a book!!!!!!!

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simaraknows · 6 years

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JS&MN AU were Drawlight, after being freed from prison goes “screw this I’m outta here”, migrates to France, meets Vautrin (aka Jacques “my type is twinks with ambigious morality and money problems” Collin) and thus get’s himself a proper sugar daddy.

#christopher drawlight #jonathan strange and mr norrell #vautrin #jsamn #balzac #literature #oh look I fixed two franchises at once #just imagine drawlight guest-starring in pere goriot #I dare you #he'd be best buds with eugen and later lucien #the possibilities #it's so wild that those two characters could have met #it's almost as wild as the fact that javert and vautrin are almost the same age and would have been the ultimate sassy duo #aaaaaah #let's be real Drawlight is EXACTLY the kind of pretty boy vautrin would have swooped up along the way #hooray for vautrins worrying tendency to randomly collect stray young men #damn I need this fic #vautrin is such a gift #canonically gay master criminal who cannot not flirt with random twinks #after reading bits of la comedie humaine I'm pretty much convinced that Drawlight should have been a balzac character he fits so well into t #into that whole 'society is cruel but yeah money how do I get some' mess #cross-country dandy team-up

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sweet-babyrose · 2 years

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La Rosa Roja (Sandra Paños x Reader)

gif made by: ultraiboothings (deactivated?)

fic requested by: @gt713

Summary: Sandra hasn’t introduced the team to her new gf yet but decides to set up a cooking class at her new restaurant

Paños: I'm setting up a cooking night. Private chef instructor. Celebrate beating Real again. Need to know who wants to go. Tuesday. 8pm.

Leon: Me!!

Alexia: both of us

Jenni: what 👑 said

Ana: sounds wonderful

Jana: none of us can cook. This will be an epic disaster.

Cata: but we'll all be there anyways. They won't charge us if we burn the place down, will they?

Paños: I've been assured the chef will be nice to us

Pere: madre mía. I hate working for my dinner. But I guess.

Patri: of course I want in. What're we cooking???

Osho: yesssss

Pina: my mom's are coming. I'm coming, too.

CGH: me!

Super Mario: oooo yes

Leila: I have to comfort my gf - apparently she's still upset we scored 6 times

Jenni: just tell her to come with us

Jenni: and then she can score on you ;)

Irene: please you two. Yes, I'll come.

Mel: me too

Jenni: what? We've all seen the hickeys the kid leaves

Alexia: stop

Marta: I'm in

Gemma: yesss, can't wait

That Tuesday, Sandra texted the address for the restaurant to everyone, having kept it a secret until then. La Rosa Roja had been booked solid since the day it opened six months ago. This was the chef's third restaurant in Barcelona. And the other two were Michelin starred restaurants. She laughed reading the new flood of texts reacting to the restaurant they were going to.

She got there early, wanting to meet with the chef ahead of everyone's arrival. She spotted her in the back of the restaurant, double checking everything for their cooking lesson. Sandra greeted the host, a young 20 year old girl who waved enthusiastically back to her.

"Hola, Sandra," she said. "She's waiting for you in the back dining room." Sandra smiled at her and then walked towards the back.

"I'm looking for Y/N Y/L/N," she told the chef. "I heard she's an incredible chef willing to put up with an entire team of football players tonight."

You looked up, a huge smile splitting your face. "Well you've come to the right place." You put your notebook down and walked to Sandra. "Hi, mi amor."

"Hi." She kissed you, curling her fingers into the front of your white coat. "How was your day?"

"It just got significantly better." You pecked her lips again and then wiped your lipstick from her lip. "Don't want them to guess too early," you said with a giggle. "Who do you think is going to get it first?"

"Capi sees everything. But she probably won't say anything. I'll bet Pere or Patri will be the first to say something."

"We'll see soon." You smiled, stepping away from her. She reached out, smoothing out the wrinkles she'd put in your coat. Her teammates would be showing up in the next few minutes. "Want to go see the new toys I got in the kitchen before they get here?" Sandra nodded, lacing her fingers with yours, and followed you back into the kitchen.

By the time the team started trickling in, Sandra was seated along the far end of the table, away from where you would be instructing the group. She was pretending to read through the ingredient list when they walked in even though you knew she had already read it. Twice. You looked down at your notebook, trying to hide the smirk. Just a minute ago, she had been blowing air kisses in your direction.

Mapi, Leila, Patri, Jenni, and Alexia were the first to arrive. You'd seen pictures of them around Sandra's apartment and knew most of their names at this point. They all took the seats surrounding Sandra. You weren't at all surprised when Alexia was the first to approach you.

"Hi, I'm Alexia."

"Y/N. So nice to meet you." You shook her outstretched hand. "My girlfriend's a big fan."

"But not you?" she asked, laughing.

"I don't know much about football. She tries to teach me, though. She's mildly obsessed with it."

"If she ever wants tickets to a game, I assume you have Sandra's number now? Just tell her I said it was okay."

You gave her a polite smile. "I'll be sure to do that. Thank you." You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent the smile from turning into a smirk.

"No, the thanks is all to you for agreeing to put up with all of us for tonight."

You laughed again. "Rowdy bunch?"

"We can be. I hope you had some strong coffee before this." She smiled before returning to her seat.

"I saw her in a magazine a few months ago. She's cuter in person," Leila said, leaning closer to Alexia.

"And she's gay. You owe me €20, Mapi. Leave her alone," Alexia warns, seeing Patri look over at Y/N. "She has a girlfriend." Patri slumped back in her seat, crossing her arms.

"How'd you set this up?" Jenni asked Sandra, looking around. "This place is so cool."

"I know someone. She helped me out."

"Would that be the someone that's had you all smiley the last six months?" Patri asked.

"Might be," she answered, the tips of her ears turning red.

"Seriously, when do we get to meet this girl of yours?" Jenni asked. "You're like halfway to asking her to marry you at this point." Jenni was startled by the way Sandra immediately shushed her. "What? It's not like she's here to hear this conversation." She rubbed a hand on Sandra's shoulder.

"You'll meet her soon. I'll bring her for dinner or something."

You came up behind Sandra, dropping your hands on her shoulders. She jumped slightly under your touch before looking up and relaxing. "Is this everyone? Should we get started?" She looked around, counting.

"Just missing Mel." Sandra pulled her phone out of her pocket to text her but saw a message waiting. She quickly read it, sending a reply. "Baby emergency. She's not going to make it. So this is everyone."

"Great," you smiled down at her, before walking back around the table to your spot. If you let one hand drag across her shoulder when you left her, well, it probably wasn't noticed.

"Hi, everyone. I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Welcome to La Rosa Roja. I'm the owner and chef and I'm so happy to have you all here tonight. I've heard this is a big celebration for winning an El Clasico game again?" The room erupted in applause and cheers. You laughed at their joy and enthusiasm. You weren't used to such a large group of athletes. Yet. "And I hear also with a clean sheet for your goalkeeper?" You looked at Sandra, cocking your head to the side, giving her a smile when her teammates all cheered for her. She ducked her head to hide the blush, making your smile grow wider. She was just so darn cute sometimes.

"Well, congratulations to all of you. I've been told this is a very big deal."

"You don't watch football?" Pere asked.

"Unfortunately not very often," you said with a nervous giggle. You weren't usually nervous in front of large groups but something about this large group had you wanting to hide in a corner.

"Um, so I've prepared a menu for you all. Five course tasting menu. I'll break you up into groups and each group will prepare a different part of the menu. At the end, everyone can try anything they feel safe trying."

"Sounds like you've been warned some of us are terrible cooks," Patri said.

"I may have been warned of that, yes." You felt yourself beginning to relax and smiled at Patri. "Don't worry. If the food is really terrible, I'll make you something else."

"Can I burn our food on purpose?" Jenni whispered to Alexia, who smacked her leg in response.

"Just please don't start any fires," you said. You laughed when she paled at having been heard. "Alright let's get started. Split off into groups of 3 or 4. The ingredient list for what you'll be making is on the table in front of you. All of the ingredients are on those two shelves in the back corner," you said, pointing to two large stainless steel units in the corner. "Let's get going." You clapped your hands.

And then the chaos began. Girls were shouting across the table at each other that they were claiming certain people for their team. Patri snuck under the table to swap her ingredient list with the table next to her. Pere folded her list like an airplane and threw it at Jenni, hitting her in the shoulder.

You sat back in amusement and watched it all unfold over the next several minutes. And then something else happened. As soon as they all chose their groups, they settled down and got to work. You could see scrunched eyebrows and whispered tactics about tackling the dishes. Alexia calmly walked over to the shelves and picked up all the ingredients she would need. Pere ran for the shelves, tripping over someone's foot. Bruna and Cata went together to get everything.

You met Sandra's eyes and gave her a soft smile.

Walking around the table, you helped each group properly make their food. You showed Cata how to debone a fish. She wiggled the bones at Jana, making her scream. You told Irene the best way to make sure the vegetables cooked evenly despite being different shapes and sizes. You made suggestions to Aitana about substitutions she could use if she didn't like the ingredients you had picked out.

Stepping up behind Sandra, you covered your laugh with a cough. Somehow, she had ended up on cutting duty. Clearly her teammates had never witnessed her lack of kitchen skills. Sandra was terrible with a knife. You often showed her the proper way to handle a knife but she could never seem to get it down. When you saw the knife slip and nearly catch her hand, you stepped up closer, grasping her hand tightly over the knife handle.

"Hang on, you're going to injure yourself," you said gently. You leaned over her shoulder so you could see the cutting board in front of her. You moved the onion closer, showing her how to protect her thumb, by holding it behind the onion, and curling her other fingers to help guide the knife. Holding the knife with her, you slowly lowered it and lifted and lowered until she seemed to get the rhythm. "Okay, try it yourself." You moved next to her to watch properly. Her face was red and you imagined that if you touched her right now, her skin would be hot.

"Um, thank you," she said, clearing her throat, not looking up at you.

Smiling to yourself, you patted her hand. "You'll get it. Keep working at it. Or let Alexia take over." You smiled at Alexia who was watching with interest. "I wouldn’t want anything to happen to those fingers of yours. I'd think they’re important to a goalkeeper,” you added with a wink. You kept moving, ignoring Pere and Patri who were hitting each other's legs and looking over at Sandra.

"I know we're Spanish but that was…intimate," Leila said, whispering the last word to Sandra. Sandra blushed and continued cutting the onion, refusing to respond.

"She's just being a good instructor," Alexia said, smirking at Sandra.

When the dishes were done, you instructed them all to put the plates on the table in the middle of the room. It was a large table with a stack of plates and utensils at one end. Patri was first in line, waiting for everyone to put their dishes down so she could get some of each one. She nudged Leila out of her way when Leila tried to get in front of her in the line.

As Patri made her way down the table, her eyebrows rose on her head. "Hey Sandra, looks like you're really in luck tonight. Aren't all of these your favorite dishes?"

Since Sandra had already known the menu for the night, she forced herself to look down the table at the different dishes and act surprised. "Wow, it's almost like I set this class up myself or something."

You laughed, drawing some attention to you. You and Sandra had spent quite a bit of last weekend creating the menu for tonight. "Sorry, sorry. Ignore me." You busied yourself cleaning up while they all filled their plates.

"Going to join us?" Alexia asked, stepping up to you with a plate.

"I was waiting to see the general reactions after the first bites before I got some for myself," you admitted. "I don't generally join the people in these classes for a meal but I thought I could make an exception tonight."

"I thought you might," Alexia said. She left the plate with you, going back to her seat. You smiled to yourself. Sandra had been right about one thing - Alexia would figure it out first.

Hoping not to be too obvious, you filled your plate and went to sit back in your seat at the front of the room. Or that had been your plan until Patri called you over to sit with them.

"We want to hear all about how it feels to be so amazing in the kitchen," Patri said when you took the empty seat on the other side of Sandra.

Relaxing, you started talking. Food was something you could talk about all day. You'd always loved being in the kitchen and creating. Your parents used to let you go crazy putting things together and they used to eat it, no matter how disgusting it was. Now, they were happy to see that their years of eating cereal baked on literally anything had paid off and you were getting to spend your time creating food for others.

You found them all easy to talk to, though you hadn't doubted that they would be. Sandra had a lot of love for all of them and you couldn't imagine her feeling that way about people who were purposefully difficult. You had been worried that your nerves would make you tongue-tied but that hadn't happened. It probably helped that Sandra had pressed her leg up against yours under the table, giving you some connection. Your nerves were probably clear to her with your constant hand gestures. You only used your hands that much when talking if your nerves were on edge.

Talking to them, you hadn't noticed how late it had gotten until your house manager came in to let you know they had closed the dining room.

"Oh shoot." You looked down at your watch. "I'm sorry, could you excuse me?" You rushed into the kitchen, apologizing to your team about being so absent tonight and letting them know you could clean up for the event if anyone needed to get home on time. Generally the kitchen staff stayed about an hour past closing to clean but you knew with the class tonight, it would take more than an hour. A lot of the staff had young children and it wasn't their fault you had lost track of time. And the girls had created a lot of dishes.

"Sorry about that," you said, walking back into the back dining room. "Just needed to talk to my team for a minute."

"Everything okay?" Jenni asked.

"Oh yeah, no problem. Just letting them know I'll stay and clean up. So many of them have families waiting at home for them and I hate making them stay late."

"We made the mess, we can clean it up," Alexia said. "There's a lot of us. We’ll be done in no time."

"Oh, that's okay. Please don't worry about it." You started stacking the plates to take back to the kitchen. "I really enjoyed having you all here tonight."

Jenni whistled loudly, startling you. "Hey, goons, let's clean this mess before we head out." And just like earlier, the room erupted into organized chaos. Within thirty minutes, the dishes were drying in the kitchen, the table cloths were in the wash, the tables were moved back where they belonged, the floors were cleaned, and the kitchen was spotless.

"If any of you ever decide you want a career change, I'll hire you," you laughed, looking around the room with your hands on your hips. They'd cleaned the place so fast and so well that your staff was going to get to go home even earlier than normal. "Thank you so much for doing this. It was too much."

"Thank you for a great evening," Irene said. "We really appreciate everything." She shook your hand as she walked out. They each thanked you as they walked out.

"I'm just going to stay back for a minute, make sure the bill's all settled. I'll meet you in the parking lot," you heard Sandra tell Leila. She lingered until everyone left before approaching you.

"That went well," you said.

"I think so." She reached out, resting a hand on your hip. "Coming home soon?"

"Yeah, I just have to finish up some paperwork and then I'll be home."

"Sounds good," she said, giving you a small kiss. "See you in a bit." She gave you another kiss before walking out. You stood there for a moment, just appreciating how much love Sandra had brought into your life. You were grateful for her every day.

Turning to walk to your office, you saw the leather jacket slung over the stool in the back. Picking it up, you noticed the rip in the side from when you'd accidently caught the material in a fence. Hurrying after Sandra, you opened the door to the main dining room, expecting her to be alone.

"Hey, baby, you forgot your jacket." Except, Sandra wasn't alone out there. Her entire team was still standing in the dining room. They all went completely silent when you walked in with her jacket. "Um, oops." You gave Sandra a sheepish smile and a small shrug.

"Guess that explains the pink lipstick on her face now," Leila said smirking. Sandra's hand immediately came up to her face, trying to wipe it away.

"Sorry, thought I got it all," you said, rubbing your thumb over the tip of Sandra's lip to wipe the last bit away.

"Called it," Patri said, high fiving Pere.

"Alright, alright don't be weird," Sandra warned, looking at Pere before she could say anything. She lifted your hand to her lips. "Y/N is my girlfriend."

You found yourself squished up against Sandra, in the center of a huge group hug. You'd never been part of team sports growing up and this unique position caused you to laugh. You buried your face against Sandra's shoulder, feeling her press a kiss to the top of your head. "This is their way of saying they approve," she whispered to you.

"We definitely approve!" Jenni said, as they all stepped back.

"Don't think you'll need me to help with those tickets, after all," Alexia said.

"No, I don't think so either," you said, smiling. You laced your fingers with Sandra.

"But we're going to fully expect you to start coming to games now. We'll make a full-time public WAG out of you," Jenni said, laughing.

"A what?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. We'll talk about this later," Sandra interrupted before Jenni could answer. "Okay, everybody out! Let's go, let's go." She started shoving them towards the front door, leaving you looking after them. When she ushered the last person out, she hurried back to you to give you a lingering kiss. "I'm so happy. This went so well."

"She says with surprise in her voice."

"They're just a lot. So thank you for handling them like a champ."

"If I'm going to be the WAG of a champ, I have to act like one," you said, laughing at the expression on her face. "I may not know a lot about football but I know what that one means. My brother is always drooling over Victoria Beckham and Georgina Rodríguez. He's used the term before." Sandra dropped her head to your shoulder, groaning.

"I'm sorry about them."

"Why? She clearly meant it in a good way." You scratched the back of her head. "I'm looking forward to being a part time public WAG," you whispered. “I already have a full time job.”

"And I'm looking forward to being a part time public um, what do they call the wives and girlfriends of top chefs?"

"Nobody cares," you laugh, amused she would even consider that a word existed. "But I'll know."

"Perfect. That's all that matters." She kissed you again, squeezing your hand. "Your paperwork going to take long? I can just hang out so you're not alone."

"Maybe half hour?"

"Okay, go. I'll be out here."

"If you're going to be here, you might as well sit with me," you said, tugging her behind you into your office. You tossed her jacket in the corner, pulled her down into your lap, and turned on the computer. "Motivation to work harder and get home sooner," you said when she looked down at you.

"Or is this just your way of asking me to distract you? Because this seems like a very good spot to be in for that job." She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leaning down to bite your ear.

"Keep your mouth to yourself for thirty minutes, Paños."

"Okay, okay," she said, watching you start typing data into the spreadsheet you'd pulled up. Sandra grinned to herself. You hadn't said anything about keeping her hands to herself.

#woso imagine #fcb femeni imagine #espwnt imagine #woso x reader #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt x reader #sandra paños #Sandra paños x reader #Sandra paños imagine #sandra panos #Sandra panos x reader #Sandra panos imagine #fc barcelona femeni

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deputychairman · 3 years

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List the first lines of your last 20 stories. See if there are any patterns and choose your favourite opening line!

Tagged by the inimitable @cicaklah ! It’s an interesting exercise; i realise i definitely don’t invest in one single knockout opening line, and if there are any patterns it would be that my openers fill the function of “in this essay i will” - they set up that this is a concluded story with an ending, told by someone who knows the ending. Could be interesting to get away from that and try a different narrative structure, but at the same time that sounds like so much work?

“It started with emails, and he just never expected anything so mundane.” (Fool me twice) A thematically appropriate mundane opener?

“The first time you speak to him alone, when it’s not an audition and there’s no one watching, he jumps.” (The physics of mass and velocity) idk why I did the open and close to this fic in 2nd person but I just think it works, ok. References a much referenced encounter, but makes it intimate again? So different from all the others that it might actually be my favourite.

“In 1984 he won the Valley’s most famous karate match on a fluke – or did he?” (Daniel LaRusso, karate, and the soul of the San Fernando Valley) Sounds like clickbait, was supposed to sound like clickbait – possibly I put more thought into this first line because my POV journalist would also have put more thought into it?

“Waking up with Daniel LaRusso in his bed is really fucking weird.” (Like a coastal shelf) Sets the scene, gets to the point but otherwise meh. Although good echo of previous story’s opening line, which is also Johnny waking up in his own bed and being surprised by the person he finds there.

“There’s an old Asian guy standing at the end of his bed when Johnny wakes up, frowning at him like he’s a disappointment to him, personally.” (Anabasis) A little bit funny and better than the above. Also sets up a good joke in the next line.

“It was weirdly easy to convince LaRusso sneaking into the All Valley Sports Arena at night was a good idea, and maybe that should have tipped him off.” (In the arena) I like the warning of impending something, and the implication that these are people who do not openly discuss things that it might be a good idea to discuss.

“Amanda opens the front door to hear yelling coming from the kitchen.” (Sometimes there is a luxurious amount of time (before anything bad happens)) I was proud of this fic and the writing but this is a weak first line. I knew it at the time but it was just too much like hard work to think of a better one.

“Anthony LaRusso pushes open the door to the guest room to take a fancy white towel he’s not supposed to touch, and trips over a pair of boots.” (The morning after the night before) Another opening door? Move on already. But I like the rhythm of it and Johnny’s boots disrupting life in the LaRusso house just as Johnny disrupts life for LaRusso pere.

“If he’d known Amanda wasn’t going to come, Daniel would never have suggested to Johnny that they go in the first place.” (High School Reunion, class of '85) A pattern is starting to occur to me: I use the tags, summary and author’s note as my marketing material (ugh), so I’m not really asking the first line to do much work. These are all REALLY weak out of context, but does that matter when people are reading them IN context? If I want to half-ass my fic, who’s gonna stop me, the Fanfic Effort Police?

“Rosalind became the Countess de Stael when she was nineteen years old, and even then she knew she’d been lucky.” (the other half of his life) Functional! But the tags and the excerpt I used for the summary were great.

“It was highly gratifying to be approached by not one, not two, but three beautiful women together who apparently just adored his music.” (La belle au bois dormant) It works, nice rhetorical flourish that suits the character, ‘apparently’ is working hard there.

“The path down from the mountains was steep and the stones slid treacherously underfoot, and it took all Jaskier’s concentration to get down without falling.” (A history of dragons in popular culture) Workmanlike, should have avoided repeating ‘down’; there must be 10000 Witcher fics out there that open in a similar way. Again, the excerpt I chose for the summary was much stronger. And that’s why I chose it.

“In hindsight, there had been clues. One of them was in the British Museum, in the Mesopotamia room.” (is that your flaming sword (or are you just pleased to see me)) All the way back to Good Omens already! Apparently I like the ‘in hindsight’ construction for my first lines, I’ve used it since even if not in so many words. For a certain length of story with a certain degree of conclusion to be had, it works. Sets up the let me tell you a story which is complete vibe.

“After She’d done her first six days of work and decided that it was all Good, the Almighty wasn’t given much to editorialising.” (a design for life) C’mon, I’m mildly amusing. Sensible chuckle-worthy. Good imitation of the Gaiman & Pratchett writing style.

“For many years, the King’s Cross area of London was known for its grim and noisy railway station and the drug addicts and sex workers who frequented the streets around it, which also boasted a handful of insalubrious nightclubs and a cinema known as the Sodom Odeon.” (the technology is neutral) I was writing about the Scala cinema and Kings Cross as much as Crowley and Aziraphale, and the opening line does reflect that.

“On the Tuesday after the apocalypse wasn’t, they went to the theatre.” (the first week of the rest of their lives) I like the contrast of the very human concepts of Tuesday and theatre with the huge religious concept of apocalypse.

“It wasn’t at all what he was expecting Aziraphale to say over the second bottle of champagne after their truly spectacular lunch at the Ritz.” (the sublime physical manifestation of divine love) Barely makes sense when taken alone! Obviously first lines are followed by second and third lines so that’s ok.

“A successful thief knows how to leave the past behind, and Peter Nureyev is not just successful, he’s exceptional.” (theories of (in)secure attachment) Look at that, a first line that does stand alone! I guess I can do it when I want to.

“There is no Resistance any more.” (scenes from a revolution) ah, Star Wars of my heart, back when we still thought they knew Finn was the main character.

Sleep like unconsciousness, dreams that are closer to hallucination. That’s what he chiefly remembers from that time as they escape. (the fall of rome) yes this is two lines but they fitted on one line. I like the backwards construction of somebody very tired, the detail before the context.

Would love to read other people’s, if you’re reading this you are invited to participate and I’d especially love to hear from @bomberqueen17 @aimmyarrowshigh (i know you’ve done a tonne of drabbles so you’re probably hyper aware of every word you write!) @ted-imgoingmad @an-sceal @thorniest-rose @trinityofone @some-stars @nomercyonlytears if you enjoy doing this sort of thing! An excellent displacement activity, for sure.

#first lines #fic meme

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ginger-canary · 3 years

Text

Glittery Feelings

A Valentines’ day SofiaPete fic by gingercanary and @lovevalley45

1735 words

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Dimension 20 (Web Series), The Unsleeping City

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Pete Conlan | Pete the Plug/Sofia Lee, Pete Conlan | Pete the Plug & Cody Walsh

Characters: Sofia Lee, Pete Conlan | Pete the Plug, Background & Cameo Characters

Additional Tags: Valentine's Day, Fluff, Canon Divergent (in the way of we just think that SofiaPete), ADHD both of them, Glitter

Series: Part 3 of I just think that Sofiapete

Summary:

Sof and Pete participate in the Valentines' day event at Uncommon Knowledge. It's making personalised cards!

click the link here to read on AO3 or enjoy it underneath the cut :)

There were a billion holidays in the world- but Pete always had favourites. There were the obvious ones that brought everyone together- like the winter holidays and Halloween, and ones that seemed ridiculous but worth celebrating, like international pancake day.

His favourite holiday feature? The way Uncommon Knowledge- his workplace- handled big holidays. His secret most favourite part of that? When Sofia came with him and helped out during those holidays.

“Guess what it’s time for!” Pete yelled as soon as he walked through the front door of Sofia’s apartment. Luckily, Sofie’s mother had moved to a different place or he would’ve had to learn to be presentable at all times.

Through the sounds of the shower, Sofia yelled back at him, “time for you to get in here because we don’t want neighbours to complain?!”

“Right!” He dropped his bag and quickly manoeuvred through the space, kicking off his shoes and removing his jacket in the process. He walked into the bathroom without hesitation, the humidity hitting him like a European summer. As if he knew what that meant.

Sofia stuck her head out from behind the shower curtain, smiling at Pete despite his timing. “Hiya Petey. So what’s up? Did you have a good day at work?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Pete kissed Sofia. “Yup! They finally told me what we’re doing for Valentine’s day!” He pressed his forehead to Sofia’s wet one. “Also you look great today.”

Sofia burst into laughter and flicked some water at him. “You’re silly. So what’s the plan for Valentine’s day?” She slipped back underneath the shower stream as Pete tried to fish a flyer out of his pocket.

“I- I left the flyer in my coat. And you’re in the shower so that makes sense. But we’re making our own Valentine’s day cards!” He jumped up and down then put his hands behind his back and batted his eyes. “Will you come and help out with the kids? Please?”

“That face doesn’t work when I can’t look at you! But obviously I will.”

“Yes!” Pete threw his hands up like he’d scored a big goal.

Sof laughed from behind the curtain then flicked her hand out. “Now go do something else! I’m showerin’ here!”

With a giant shiteating grin on his face, Pete went to find some dinner.

~~~

Uncommon Knowledge was absolutely covered in pink and red decorations when Sofie and Pere arrived, the table of bargain books gone and covered instead with craft paper, tons of glitter, and just about a million markers and crayons. There was a wonderful display in the kids section with books on romantic love as well as aromantic and asexual stories like Rick by Alex Gino and Hazel’s Theory of Evolution. Pete quickly got the shop ready for the event, only sneaking glances at his girlfriend… five times. In his defence, she looked incredible in her red dress. Plus, the outfit matched her louboutins.

As the kids started to trickle in, Sofia’s biggest fan was quick to run up to her and pull her away from Pete. He proudly showed her his artistic rendition of the stone angel (Em, for those who knew), then tugged her toward the aro/ace books. “Come, come! This one..” he paused, struggling to explain his thoughts. “Is me?” it came out as a question, an insecurity as he held out a copy of Hazel’s Theory of Evolution, his arm quickly lowering.

Sofie sat down on her knees and took the book from him, patting his shoulder with her other hand. “Heck yeah little dude, if you see yourself in this book then that’s the book for you.”

The little boy stood up straight and puffed out his chest. “It’s Hazel and Jacob’s theory of evolution?”

“It is now, little dude. And hey, talk to me about the book next time you see me, okay? I’ll read it between now and then.” Sof made eye contact with Pete over Jacob’s shoulder and mouthed “can I get this book” at him.

Pete wouldn’t have said no if it cost all the money in the world. Jacob was a special neurodivergent little kid and Sofie loved him with all her heart. Watching her interact with him just made him fall in love more every time.

~~~~

After instructing the kids to just make as many cards as they wanted, Pete sat down with Sofie at the table and proceeded to do his level best on a cat drawing for her. It was going fine (La Gran Gata had some feedback but he was doing his own interpretation!) until a little kid leaned over and suggested he add some glitter. So he did. The problem was that the lid wasn’t screwed on properly so instead of lining the cat in a circle of gold, he covered the entire card. And himself.

“You look like the craft store,” Sofia laughed, glancing up from her glittery cowboy hat drawing.

Pete stood up and shook as much glitter off of him over Sofia. “Congratulations on your infinite subscription to the craft store.”

Jacob, sitting next to Sofia, leaned over and whispered something in her ear then handed her a bottle of pink glitter.

“You’re right,” she whispered back. “Plus, I’ve signed up to clean up so it’s fine.” She stood up, which should’ve been Pete’s sign to run but he was too distracted by the way Sof looked with golden glitter cascading off her dress as she stood on her chair. Then she pulled the lid off the bottle and poured the entire thing over Pete’s head. “Welcome to the queer parade, Petey,” she said as she tossed him the empty bottle.

Now since children thrive in chaos- naturally, the little girl who’d suggested he add some glitter to his cat tucked a bottle of red glitter into his hand and pulled out a chair for him, presenting it with a theatrical sweep of her arm. Sofia had already redirected her attention to laughing with Jacob, so Pete hopped on the chair and poured the glitter all over his girlfriend. When Sofia turned to him, he shrugged with a smile. “Welcome to the club, bi babe. Do you wanna keep going? We have all day.”

Laughing, she shook her head and glitter went everywhere. “I have to finish my cards!”

“You’re right, me too.” He climbed down and inspected the craft area. “We’ve made a monster mess.”

Eyes full of love, Sofia looked at Pete. “Babe I think we are the monster mess.”

~~~

A few days after Valentine’s Day, Pete dropped by Sofia’s place as usual. “Sofia! I brought coffee!”

“Just bring it to the bathroom!” Sofia shouted back.

Pete stepped into the bathroom. At first, his focus was on trying to find a spot not occupied by hair products or makeup to set down her latte.

But Sofia caught his attention by saying, “Look what you did to me.”

When he looked up, he saw that she was in the middle of doing her hair. Her hair seemed shinier than usual in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Upon closer inspection, he realized why - specks of red and gold glitter were still stuck in her hair.

He tried to hide his laughter by taking a sip of his tea, but it was unsuccessful. “Now your hair matches your sparkling personality.”

“Do you know how much glitter is covering my shower right now? It’s been three days and I’m still combing it out,” Sofia told him.

“What? You’ve been a hairdresser forever-”

“That makes me sound so old, Pete.”

“-And you haven’t figured out how to get glitter out of your hair?” he asked.

“I think I missed the course on glitter removal at cosmetology school,” Sofia deadpanned. “It’s a bit of a pain in the ass to get out. How can glitter just get everywhere?”

“At least you don’t have roommates who call a house meeting about why the bathroom looks like a unicorn threw up in there,” Pete said.

She rolled her eyes, but she still smiled as she put her hair up. “Please, pink glitter isn’t colorful enough for unicorn barf.”

“Yeah, you can tell Cody that.”

“Happy to.” Sofia turned to give him her full attention. “I thought I’d be easier to get glitter out of your moustache.”

He glanced in the mirror at the pink specks in his moustache. “I kinda rock the glitter moustache. Not as good as the feather beard, but the kids love it.”

“You’re making me wish I had short hair. Maybe then it’d budge,” she grumbled, taking a sip of her latte.

Pete chuckled. “It still took me a couple days to get it all out.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “But you rock it.”

“Well, of course I rock it, Petey,” Sofia replied with a grin.

“Oh, yeah, before I forget-” He managed to find a place to perch his tea to dig into his pocket. “We were so busy cleaning I forgot to give you my card.”

It was also quite glittery, but at least it matched her hair. She took it and read it aloud: “‘You’re the cat’s meow’? You’re such a nerd.”

“I’m sure La Gran Gata thinks so too,” Pete joked.

Sofia closed her eyes. “Oh, yep, she agrees. You’re a dork.”

“Okay, as a Vox I know you weren’t actually talking to her-”

“Hey,” she said, interrupting him. “It’s still cute, even if it is dorky. Let’s maybe step out of the bathroom so I can find yours.”

“Haven’t we had our closest moments in a bathroom?” Pete asked.

“True,” Sofia said, brushing past him. “But I don’t want the humidity messing with the glue.”

He followed her out into the living room, where she had ducked into the closet. It took her a moment, but she emerged with a familiar looking card in hand.

“Here you go.”

Pete accepted the card. It still had that glittery cowboy hat, way more colorful than the two he still had stashed in his closet. But in Sofia’s handwriting that was halfway between cursive and unreadable, he read the words, “‘You’re the yee to my haw.’”He looked back up at her. “You’re never gonna get over that cowboy hat, huh?”

“It was cute!” Sofia exclaimed. “Happy Valentines’ Day, Pete.”

He leaned in to give her a kiss. “Happy Valentines’ Day, Sofie.”

#tuc #the unsleeping city #sofia lee #pete conlan #sofiapete #the unsleeping city 2 #tuc2 #dimension 20 #d20 #freckles writes things #and alli writes things so #alli tag

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crieativity · 5 years

Photo

Mycroft only ever had one childhood friend were he to subtract Sherlock from his pitifully scant list.

He insisted Mycroft call him Renard as that was what his grandmother called him. Mycroft introduced himself as Mike, intimidated as he were with the boy’s friendliness.

The summer Mycroft and his family had spent in France had led to him being introduced to Maman Jeanne who would greet him with a tight embrace and Pere Clement who would open the family library just for Mycroft to take any of his books along for playtime.

Mycroft met Rousel and Marguerite who clung tightly to their older brother but even with the three being more keen on physical play and Mycroft detesting such pastimes, they did not mock him for it. They did not exclude him either.

Mycroft enjoyed that summer because he felt like he belonged.

There was no Sherlock to make him conscious of eating when Maman Jeanne makes apple fitters and peach pie.

There was no Mummy or Father that force him to be something that he feels would trigger a panic in him.

There was no grandmama to point out his every flaw in front of his family.

No Eurus to keep away knives and sharp objects from.

There was only love and acceptance with Renard’s family and Mycroft took comfort from it when things took a sharper and more painful turn with his own family.

All these emotions he had confessed to Renard as he shot charcoal off at various parts of the farm for no fathomable reason. Renard only smiled and looked at Mycroft as if he mattered more than the sun that filtered through the trees offering them warmth.

“Then... if my family makes you feel this good, I hope you’ll come back here every summer so we could make sure you have a loving family even for just a little while.” Mycroft only smiled before returning to read the book he had chosen that day.

Sad to say, he never got to go back to France after that year. Or the year after that. Or the next.

Mycroft sometimes likes to think that perhaps Renard was somewhere out there remembering the sad, lonely, awkward boy that he was from years long gone.

Even for just a little while...Mycroft wanted to hope.

Inktober Day 19 - Sling

Some Younger!Mystrade for all of you that may or may not want it! This is just me doing some more sad, lonely Mycroft stuff but uhhhh, now I kind of want to write a fic based on this snippet so that’s a huge likelihood in the future OML

Basically, Greg has two siblings and his parents often have a summer cruise that they go on which affords Greg and his siblings time with their paternal grandparents in France while Mycroft and his family go there to visit maternal relatives but Mycroft isn’t treated too kindly there so he usually takes long walks away from them all until he sees Greg and his siblings playing around and they invite him. When he says he doesn’t play, they ask him to be the judge of a race and he agrees.

Soon enough, they became close friends during the summer and Greg’s siblings now see him as a big brother as well.

*Greg’s name here is Gregory Renard Lestrade and his siblings are Clarence Rousel and Moira Marguerite

Anyway, I hope you guys like this!

#mystrade #mycroft holmes #mycroft x lestrade #greg lestrade #sherlock bbc #kid au #my art #my artwork

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needle-noggins · 6 months

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Really fucking wild that several people have told me that Bluebells is like, The Meryl fic. The Vashmeryl fic. to them. That I understand Meryl really well. That my fic is good.

It simply doesn't align with my self-deprecating feelings that it's mediocre or even just mid at best so it's just. shrimping me that people like and are inspired by my work to go out and make incredible stuff. I'm honored and I'm trying to believe that these compliments are true! What is happening!! I don't know but it's motivating me to continue and bust my way out of a writer's block!

#seriously feeding me with good words is the only thing that motivates me sometimes i am SO down on myself about creating sometimes #often times honestly #bluebellposting #blease. blease read.#especially if you are here after seeing my art for WateredMyCrops' RYV chapter #apparently???? their meryl is HEAVILY inspired by mine??? AND vash's fifth moon trauma????#HELLO?????#HELLO pere is my friend but THAT'S POPULAR FIC SERIES WYT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT????#IM VERY MUCH A LITTLE GUY WITH A LITTLE FIC #HELP

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maymothsandmiracles · 5 years

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One thing my friend, who’s never published any of their MLB fanfic and I wish they would write more, does that the rest of the fandom tends to forget to do is that they always remember MLB is set in France.

Like, the majority of fics I read, you could find and replace any references to “Paris” or the “Eiffel Tower” with American landmarks, and nobody would have a clue it was supposed to be a French city. Cities aren’t interchangeable, the mark of a good writer is that if you did the search and replace people would still know it was set in (insert region here).

And tbh that’s really frustrating as a reader? Like I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade so I keep my comments to myself because I don’t do unadulterated praise very well (I hate feeling like I’m forced to bite my tongue), but here’s a few things I wish fics would do more:

Call Emilie and Gabriel “Maman” and “Pere” instead of “Mom” (gag, it doesn’t get any more Yankish than that) and “Father.”

Monsieur Agreste. Monsieur Agreste! Madame Sancoeur! Not Mr Agreste and Ms Sancoeur!

Little French words/phrases being dropped in conversation. It doesn’t have to be anything complicated, just a “Oui”, “ouais” or “non” here or there go a long way.

The French seem to be huge on nicknames? Like “my flea” is a common pet name for a partner. It’s adorable.

Have characters curse in French, pls! Not English!

It would be so cool if people used street view and referred to actual streets and shops in Paris.

Paris doesn’t have skyscrapers! I don’t expect anyone to know that it’s because Paris has miles and miles of winding catacombs underneath it which interfere with the foundations you need for skyscrapers, but I am surprised at the amount of people who don’t notice that there aren’t any in the show. Even when Marinette & co are in the CBD -- it doesn’t look like the CBD of other cities.

And a few labour things that get my goat, too:

At will employment, I’m pretty sure, is not a thing in France. Now I may be wrong, but from what I know of France, they are hugely socialist and it’s a lot harder to fire people in France than in the US. You can’t just say “you’re fired” and that’s it.

Along that note that is me just being nitpicky, but if Nathalie quits she can’t hand in a two weeks notice. It’s two months if you’ve worked for your employer for X amount of time.

(Along that note no, just because you dislike Gabriel doesn’t mean he’s made Adrien into a child slave, pretty sure the French also have strict laws on that. If he was, he wouldn’t have time for Chinese/Fencing/everything else he’s doing.)

Working more than X hours a week is illegal. Like, beyond a certain amount of hours it goes beyond overtime territory into flat out illegal. A common trope I see in GabeNath fic is Nathalie working herself half to death. It is literally illegal. I’m sure it happens, but there’s... sorta a huge discrepancy when it comes to a fic where Gabriel is simultaneously in love with Nathalie but also okay with her working an illegal amount of overtime.

Along that note and another nitpicky thing, but the French also have the “right to unplug” where when you’re away from work, you can turn your phone off and ignore your inbox and if you're punished for doing that, you can take legal action against your employer. Nathalie's at home and feeling pressured to get some work done? She can go “fuck that” and nothing will happen.

Like maybe I’m being nitpicky about the above, but that was info I found from a 5 second google search about French labour laws. :(

I just kinda wish people would take a few minutes to do just the most basic research? Like you don’t need to get buried in French history or the nuances of court room law, but a quick google search “what do French teenagers call their parents”, “French labour laws”, “can you get fired for X in France” would absolutely go a long way.

It’s just the little things that make a fic really, really feel like an MLB fanfic and I wish it was more common to just throw in little Frenchisms that make it feel more authentic.

#fandom critical #Dusty has opinions #I'm just grumbling don't mind me #I was gonna make this into a big reference post and actually have it be useful and constructive #but I have to leave for uni tomorrow so it's gonna have to wait #so I'm just whining instead #I'll make a big post when I get back #fill it with links and stuff

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albionscastle · 5 years

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Formidable Foes

Last one of the forgotten fics, I may pick up writing for BATB again, I’m not sure. I hope so.

In this one Adam gets a bit too big for his britches so Belle needs to teach him a lesson. Also leather.

Masterlist

30 DAYS OF BEAUTY AND THE BEAST CHALLENGE

DAY 5 - LEATHER

Adam squinted in the sputtering candlelight, his arm coming to rest at his side, tired and aching.

“No time to rest, Your Highness, your opponent won’t give you a moment to even catch your breath.” his companion remarked, lowering his own arm.

“I would hope that I would have dispatched him long before I become this winded.” Adam panted. “Three hours seems a bit of a stretch for a swordfight.”

“Depends on the opponent. I’ve seen some over in moments, others only finished after both parties have collapsed with exhaustion.”

“God help me then.” Adam quipped, raising his sword in salute, ready to begin again.

Every muscle in his body was aching as he parried and thrust, his teacher seemingly always one step ahead of him. He was sweating from the exertion, his body had long been unused to any real physical activity and even then, well it was best not to think of the “exercise” he’d participated in before. It was worth it though, every ache, bruise and cut. Every evening spent trying to relax his tired muscles in a hot bath and going to bed sore anyway. He would fight through it, he had to. For Belle. She needed him and he would protect her and keep her safe. She. Needed. Him.

With a growl he lunged, determined. He wouldn’t fail her.

For her part, Belle wasn’t aware of the thoughts running through his head. As far as he was concerned, she had no idea that he was even training to fight or that there was any danger.

As if he could keep a secret from her, she thought ruefully as she watched him from behind a secret panel, Plumette and Lumiere beside her. She had known the moment the swordmaster had entered the castle what Adam was up to. The rumors of Gaston’s continued existence had reached even her ears, despite Adam’s attempts to keep everything secret. He really had no idea.

“Oh will you look at that.” Plumette sighed blissfully, distracting Belle from her thoughts.

Through the screen they could see Adam holding a lunge position while Chauncey gave instruction. His damp hair was pulled back with a black ribbon, sweat beading his brow. Over his shirt he wore a vest of sorts, fashioned out of leather and fitted perfectly to his figure. His sleeves were rolled up and matching leather bracers graced his wrists. Both women’s heads tilted to the side as their eyes followed the lean length of his torso, down past his narrow waist.

They sighed in unison as he shifted slightly, the muscles of his thighs and rear rippling beneath the buff colored breeches he wore like a second skin. Knee high boots encased his calves, the brown leather shining in the candlelight as he began to move, spinning, his sword flying through the air gracefully.

“Have you ever seen a man so...so….” Plumette broke off with a knowing glance at Belle’s heightened color and shallow breaths.

“Beautiful.” Belle murmured, her eyes following his every move with undisguised desire.

“Such a fine specimen of a man.” Plumette sighed.

“Plumette, my dove, I’m right here.” Lumiere whined, earning himself a smooch from his lady love.

Belle was oblivious to the couple, intent as she was on breathlessly watching Adam’s every move. Long minutes passed before Plumette and Lumiere shook their heads and moved off to seek the warmth of their bed.

It was close to midnight before Adam and Chauncey finally emerged from their seclusion and went toward their rooms. Sweaty and exhausted, Adam took the stairs swiftly looking forward to sinking into the hot water he knew was there waiting for him. He was forced to slide to a stop as he rounded a corner and almost collided with Belle who was coming from the opposite direction.

“Ah, Belle. Couldn’t sleep?” he sounded guilty to his own ear and he couldn’t help but notice the color of Belle’s face as she studiously avoided eye contact with him.

“Ummmm, I wanted a book.” she murmured.

His brow furrowed, she wasn’t carrying a book and she certainly wasn’t coming from the direction of the library. He chose to ignore that, in light of the lie he was about to tell.

“I’ve been with Lumiere, going over all those estate numbers again. He’s so obsessed with it.” he smiled softly, reaching for her hand, knowing he had been neglecting her.

He missed the flash of amusement in her eyes as she wrapped her fingers around his, leaning into him.

With a contented smile he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close and peppering the top of her head with kisses. Bath be damned, he could stay just like this forever, Belle safe in his embrace and all the ugliness in the world held at bay by the castle walls.

He felt her shaking against him and realised she was laughing softly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing, just a thought.”

“What thought, darling? You can tell me.” he smiled, reaching up to run his thumb across her lips.”

“Just something Plumette said earlier, Lumiere seemed determined to get her attention afterwards. It was nothing. I’m sure they are both in bed by now.” she said with a pointed look at Adam.

“Probably doing exactly what I wish we were doing right now.” he growled, spinning her around so she was pinned between his body and the wall.

He took her mouth with a passion he usually tried to keep in check, his tongue filling, exploring, coaxing. He felt her push against him, her delicate hands resting on the small of his back. Her quiet moans against his lips never failed to drive him wild and not for the first time he wondered if they could hold out until their wedding day.

With a groan they pulled away from one another, Belle resting her head on Adam’s shoulder, arms around his waist. Wrinkling her nose she squeezed him for a moment, wondering if she should just tell him she knew about his ‘secret’ lessons. “I’ll never let anything happen to you Belle.” he whispered against her hair.

“And what if something were to happen to you?”

“It won’t.”

“It almost did, remember?”

“I remember.” he sighed, holding her closer. “But that’s over, Gaston is dead.”

She knew he was lying, but he didn’t know that she knew. While she understood his position, she didn’t appreciate the secrecy. She wanted to be his partner, but like most men, he was blinded by his view of women as needing protection that only he could provide. She loved him, almost beyond reason and she knew his reasons for excluding her were valid to him and came from love, but perhaps it was time that Adam learned a few home truths about the woman he was about to marry. Not the least of which being that she was a far cry from being a damsel in distress.

“Adam.” she said sweetly, running a hand across his cheek. “For someone who was closeted in a study reading all evening, you really do smell.”

“It was hot?” he pouted slightly as he took a step back, knowing he had to be pretty offensive in odor after the hours of sweating.

“Hmmm.” she murmured, patting his arm before turning toward her room. “Tell Chauncey I said hello.” she called over her shoulder, leaving him standing in the hall with his mouth agape.

Busted. Afternoon at the castle the next day saw a large gathering of people in the courtyard by the stables. The secret was out and Adam had been in a state of nervous anticipation all day. Belle smiled sweetly and had calmly accepted his explanation. He discovered from Lumiere that the three of them had been watching the evening before and while he felt guilt at being caught out in a lie, he couldn’t deny the hot thrill that shot through him at the description of Belle’s reaction. Three days before the wedding and he could have cut the tension, sexual and otherwise between them with a knife.

Belle had, surprisingly, sent that morning for her father, who arrived with a mysterious, large package and what seemed like half the village. Even Agathe was there, which should have surprised him, but he wasn’t sorry. He rather liked his enchantress and her biting wit, not to mention the fact that half the town was now afraid of her.

No amount of coaxing on his part would convince Belle to reveal the contents of the package, not even when he had pulled her away from her guests and stolen several deep and breathless kisses in a shadowy alcove. She had simply smiled and laughed, patting his hand as though he were a child, her eyes shining with mischief.

He knew her well enough to know when she was up to something.

Lumiere encouraged him to join everyone, Chauncey was teaching several villagers a few basic techniques and they were all having a lot of fun. Belle knew anyway, so why not? He dressed quickly and went down, engaging in some friendly swordplay which quickly turned into spirited competition when he discovered that a good deal of the participants were actually quite good.

The ladies and youngsters all gathered around to watch, placing mock bets on their favorites. Adam’s enjoyment was somewhat tempered by Belle’s absence and he began to realize that he may have made a costly error in keeping things a secret from her. She deserved better than that, from him of all people.

Belle watched the proceedings from a window as Plumette helped her with the contents of the package her father had delivered. Buckles were fastened and hair was braided, the familiar smell of well-worn leather permeating her nostrils. She noticed that Lumiere and Pere Robere were surprisingly formidable and were good naturedly showing the others the finer points of their technique. The baker’s son, Louis was small and fast and didn’t tire easily. He won most of his rounds through sheer tenacity. Adam was lethal. She had never seen a superior fighter, not even Gaston, and his skill in the yard was unmatched. His lessons had certainly paid off with the help of an almost magical natural ability.

Belle had to admit to herself that he had a legitimate reason to feel superior about protecting her, not many men would be able to win against him. But he still needed to see he had a partner, in all things.

“Ready my lady?” Plumette’s excitement was at fever pitch.

“Ready.” Belle declared.

In the yard, Adam had approached Chauncey who had thus far remained on the sidelines.

“Do you spar today? I assume you taught half the men here and therefore know all our weaknesses.”

“I do intend to as soon as my sparring partner gets her lazy arse out here.” Chauncey smirked as he sensed a presence behind him.

“Do you mean me, Chauncey?”

Belle stood behind them, a wicked smile on her face and everyone began to whisper among themselves. Adam dropped his sword in the dirt, his shock was so great.

Dressed in a shirt, leather leggings and boots, Belle’s leather body armor gleamed in the sun and she could have easily passed for a young squire.

“You can’t be serious. A woman?” this from the headmaster, who still held onto his backward opinions, despite several warnings from Prince Adam.

Belle turned toward him before Adam had a chance to jump to her defense.

“Yes a woman. If you have a problem with it then you are under no obligation to watch.” her voice was calm and melodic but Adam sensed the steel and restrained anger beneath the surface.

The headmaster laughed, throwing his hands into the air.

“Oh, I will watch, if only for the amusement.”

Adam wondered where all this was going, what point his love was trying to make in her costume.

“You.” he voice snapped, her head turned in his direction. “ Perhaps you could come down off of your high horse.”

She was calling him out in front of everyone and he felt the blush rising in his cheeks. He deserved a proper dressing down, he knew it and so did most of the others. But it wasn’t in his nature to go down without a fight, and belle was a formidable opponent.

He bowed deeply before walking to where she stood, silence all around. Circling Belle he looked her up and down appreciatively and obviously, noting the twitch in her jaw as she met his gaze.

“Forgive me, Belle, my ignorance of the ways of your village, but in my experience women don’t usually take their pleasure in this form of swordplay.”

He smiled as her cheeks reddened and the others gasped audibly. Only she knew he teased and they both knew he wouldn’t take it any further than was comfortable, but his sweet was spoiling for a fight, an excuse to knock him down. He owed it to her to giver her what she wanted.

She made a show of thinking deeply.

“Perhaps that may explain why I have been forced, these evenings past to find pleasure in my own arms while you chase yours in the sword.”

A chorus of ahhhs surrounded them, the smile on Belle’s face as innocent as her eyes were not and Chauncey was finding it hard to keep a straight face. Adam’s smile faltered slightly.

“Of course I know little of these things.” Belle was laying on the demure maiden act thickly now. “I am, after all, just a girl who’s father gifted her a few lessons in swordplay to appease her curiosity. You will forgive me this one small wish of mine to feel a part of your life and close to you Adam.”

Chancy coughed to keep from laughing out loud. Angry at Adam’s secrecy and view of her as needing his manly protection, Belle was luring him into a challenge, playing him like a lute. She even had unshed tears in her eyes as she entreated a visibly moved Adam.

“Perhaps my dearest love, you would spar with me? I know Chauncey and father always got tired of indulging me and perhaps you could teach me a few things I don’t already know.”

Click. With that the trap was set and all who watched knew it. Maurice and Agathe looked on with pure glee while the others held expressions of pity, confusion, indulgence and amusement. Still, Adam couldn’t be faulted for his attention to even the silliness of his fiance’s whims.

He bowed again and made his way to the center. He understood that Belle had to feel helpless and angry. What harm could teaching her a few moves do? Maybe then she would forgive him and they could spend the rest of the evening slowly ridding her of the pungent leather she wore so well.

Belle noted with satisfaction that Adam had been utterly predictable in his reactions to her. His eyes shone with love, guilt and desire and soon he would understand her point. A glance at her father showed him watching her approvingly, he had taught her to fight her own battles. All that remained was to show everyone else that she could. Hiding a smile, she pulled her sword from the scabbard that Chauncey was holding for her.

“Show that prince of yours what you’re made of.” he whispered in her ear as she grinned. Turning, she took her stance in the center while Adam sauntered closer.

“Are you sure about this my love?” His show of concern would have had her fooled had she not seen the laughter and affection in his gaze. “Swordplay is not for the weak.”

“I’m a quicky study, as you well know.” she winked as the crowd tittered and Adam laughed approvingly. “I wish for you to teach me, surely you won’t deny me this one small pleasure.”

“I won’t deny you any pleasure.” his heated look caused a shiver, but she stood her ground.

Adam let loose his first blow, which Belle blocked easily as he had put no real strength behind it.

If he was surprised at all he didn’t show it. A child could have blocked such a blow and the look on Belle’s face was one of surprise. It would have appeared to most of the spectators that was block was merely lucky and nothing more. Only a very few watching were not at all fooled.

“You handle a sword quite well darling.” Adam smirked and advance again. “Perhaps I should let you practice with mine.”

No one successfully managed to conceal their snickers at the blatant innuendo.

Belle laughed and effortlessly blocked another strike.

“Sir, you flatter me, however I might prefer to practice with a sword that is a good deal larger than yours.”

Adam snorted, laughing as he circled.

“You’ll pay for that one my sweet.” he whispered.

“Sooner rather than later I hope.” she winked at him.

“Belle!” Chancy’s voice carried across the yard. “Why don’t you stop playing with the man and show him some real sport?”

With a wicked look at Adam she inclined her head.

“Shall we?”

Her heart was racing as Adam finally made a real attack, calculated and deadly under any other circumstances. She blocked it expertly and with little effort, smiling at her love the whole time.

After his initial surprise, Adam recovered quickly, a dawning realization of Belle’s point to be made driving home. The spar was more like a dance than a fight as they spun, struck, rolled, struck, leapt and struck again, neither of them gaining or losing ground with the other. The smiles had remained on both their faces as they fought and in Adam’s eyes shone the pride that Belle had been looking for.

Everyone jumped as Adam landed a particularly hard blow to Belle’s sword, driving her to her knees. She stayed down as he raised his sword to knock hers from her hand. At the last moment she rolled aside, re grasping the hilt of her sword. She rose swiftly and countered his next blow with a blade she had had secreted on her person. The two blades now crossed in front of her to connect with his. His eyes widened slightly as they took in the menacing looking curve of her second blade.

“That’s my girl!” Maurice cheered while the others began to clap loudly.

Belle moved so fast that it was impossible to keep up with her as she spun, the two blades wielded with deadly precision. She began to gain ground against Adam who was still somewhat in shock.

There was a collective gasp from the captive audience as Adam lunged to made a slash at Belle’s legs, which she spun from easily. As he rose he was unprepared for her recovery. She leapt into the air, one booted foot planting itself firmly on his midsection and sending him sprawling into the dust, his sword sliding away from him with a loud clatter.

He held up his hands, laughing even in his sound defeat.

“I concede my dear. You have won the day.”

Belle held out her hand to help him up, the sound of cheering loud in her ears.

He hauled her to him roughly, hoisting her up in his arms, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered before covering her mouth with his own, relishing in the feel of her teeth biting at his bottom lip.

“No more secrets Adam, I mean it.” her fingers tangled in his hair, his lips blazing a trail down her neck.

“I promise. I never should have underestimated you my darling.”

“Just don’t do it again.”

Oblivious to the departure of the others to the dining room, Belle and Adam remained locked in their own world, the heat of her anger giving way to the heat of passion.

“You know, my dear,” Adam murmured against her ear. “I really should call you out for casting aspersions on my manhood.”

Belle chuckled lightly. “You did offer to let me practice, perhaps you should just prove me wrong and save yourself the thrashing.”

Adam groaned as she ground against him and he ran for the stairs, carrying her weight as though she was a feather.

“What about the others?” she panted as he held her against the door to his room, fumbling with the handle.

“Hang them.” he laughed as they tumbled inside, locking the door behind them.

Adam advanced on Belle with a wolfish smile, his fingers sliding over the smooth leather buckled across her torso.

“How do we get this off?” he growled.

“Who says we have to?”

With that Adam lost his second battle of the day as any semblance of restraint left him and they both tumbled headlong into one another.

#batb fanfic #batb2017 #30 days of batb #dan stevens fanfiction

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lumiereswig · 6 years

Note

Please can I have a fic where Agathe gets amnesia? -singing anon

The first thing Belle notices when she wakes up are the snowflakes against the windowsill.

It’s June, she thinks. How I love a snowy June morning. Hot cocoa, curled up in the library, maybe a snowball fight later among the June roses….

She wakes up, and kicks Adam, and he finds himself sprawling across the frosty floor.

“Adam, Adam! How hairy you look!”

He checks his hands. “No I don’t. You’re delusional, darling.”

“Am I?” Belle looks at him. A mood—half disappointment, half pride—flickers over her face. “Oh. You’re just the same. But then—what the….”

“Has this floor always had a bit of a snowdrift in it?”

“So it’s not just me! It is snowing, isn’t it? Snowing in June? But the curse isn’t back, you look all clean shaven and normal…”

“I always count on you to be a paragon of affection, my dear.” He kisses her on the head. “I’ll grow the beard soon. Anyway, why the snow? You haven’t been spell-booking again, have you?”

“Mrs Potts hid the spell book so I’d stop.” Belle kicks out of bed and goes to the window. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t—oh, my—holy—”

Adam paws to the window, and sees why Belle can’t speak.

Part of the palace is covered in frost: his summer flowers caked in snow, a small blizzard raging over Mrs Potts’ herbs. Yet the far lawn is in deepest autumn—trees that never lived there shedding golden russet leaves onto the browning ground—and the gate hangs open, yawning, covered in trailing daffodils that should have died in May.

“That’s not quite right, is it?”

“The wood, Adam, look to the wood.”

The forest is raging—buzzing with moths, and fleeting into colors of the rainbow, and sparking up into flames that never quite alight. He sees the leaves all turn black, then blue, then the red of spilled blood. He sees wolves pacing, changing their face with every step, becoming lions and rabbits and gold-teethed fawns with all the prompting of a blink. The paths into the wood all twist and turn aside, and he sees the trees growing, and blooming, and turning into wooded walls.

“Get your cape. We have an adventure ahead of us, Belle.”

“I’ve already got mine on. You get yours, lazybones, and I’ll go rattle up the horses.” She’s already halfway down the stairs—her course brown boots clomping down freshly scrubbed marble—and Adam can’t help but grin.

Magic. He doesn’t like spells, and curses, and things that smell of singed fur and clawing bones—but a quest with Belle is more than he can resist.

“Look, all the magic is coming from the center of the wood.”

“I hope you’re riding in front, Belle. I don’t want to be charged with a stray spell.”

“Think it’s time for another one of us to be the beast for a change?”

“You’ve got to be kidding, you’ve been one for years.”

Belle smacks his knee and hides her smile and urges Philippe forward. Now that they’re in the wood, she sees small details, evidence of magic, that weren’t visible from her window: wildflowers turned to pure gold, and patches of moss singing folk songs, and birds who speak Latin and preach Mass. And beyond that, more and more monstrosities: logs that show doors to other worlds, and creatures with three legs and five eyes watching from the shadows, and a sense that the wood is no longer a wood but a jungle—a desert—a cavern that yawns onto something dark and gold and blinking with eyes.

When they reach the hollow in the center of the wood, Belle feels her heart shudder to a stop. It’s calm, here, and the magic is little; a rustling in the branches, a gentle silver rain, but nothing to compare with blood and wolves and shining leaves. And the dead tree in the center, tipped up on its side like a windblown birds nest, is calm as it ever was.

And Belle knows it ever was. She knows this tree.

She’s off her horse in a moment, fleeing over to it in her rough brown boots, calling out. “Agathe! Agathe! Are you all right? Are you in there?”

Adam follows, slower. He sees snakes creeping off the branches, only a few yards beyond the silent tree. He sees the grass hissing out golden sparks.

Belle finds her, sprawled on her side, sleeping apparently, though she breathes faster than she ought. A broken chair, split on its side, showing all Belle needs to know. “She’s fallen, she’s hurt herself. Adam, help me get her up on your horse. I know, I know, I wouldn’t ask you if I could, but now’s not a time to be afraid—we need to keep her safe.”

Adam bites back all the fright dancing on his tongue, the way his hands flinch away from touching the witch who cursed him. He doesn’t want to touch the magic; it reeks of danger, it brings back all the sense of breaking bones. But he would do anything for Belle…so he reaches down, and scoops up the creature who cast him in darkness for ten years, and turned his servants into wood and brass, and set a snowy curse all about his home. He feels her fragile bones. He’s shocked to feel how cool her cheeks are.

“Hurry.” Belle is already readying her saddle, preparing to hold the Enchantress up on the ride back. “I’ll get some of her herbs—I don’t know what’s what, but maybe she can tell us what to heal her with when we wake up. And there’s always Pere Robert.”

“Absolutely not.” Cogsworth is about to break a vein. “In the upstairs room? The good upstairs room? No! Can we keep her in, I don’t know, the shed?”

“Do you want to get cursed twice?” Lumiere is scraping things off the pantry shelf, unable to make up his mind what to put on the invalid’s tray. “What do you think, mon ami? Chocolate? Coffee? Toffees?”

“Don’t go in there! Have you seen the state of the garden? Four states of weather all at once, and the back labyrinth has a whale in it. She’s clearly gone around the bend, as we used to say.”

“I think I’ll take one tray of oranges and tea,” says Lumiere, his brow furrowed, “and maybe another with the coffee—merde, why are these trays so small?! I’m barely fitting the vase of peonies. Give us a hand?”

“It’s no thanks to her that I have hands.”

“Go on, Cogsworth, she won’t hurt you.” Plumette comes up, feather soft, and smiles at her loves. “She’s sleeping, now; she looks quite harmless. She’s even got a bit of jam smudged on her face.”

“Jam! I knew I was forgetting something. You’re an angel, Plumette. Cheer up, Cogs! Maybe her spells will be a good thing. Perhaps she’ll make me more overpoweringly handsome than I already am.”

“God help us,” whispers Cogsworth, and picks up a tray to take upstairs.

Belle sits beside the bed. Plumette peeps over Lumiere’s shoulder at the figure on the bed. The beggar woman sleeps, restlessly, and magic sparks from her cold fingers, drifting to the window in curls of smoke.

“She woke up once,” says Belle, “and I spoke to her, and she didn’t know me. She didn’t remember bread or jam, or Villeneuve, or any name I knew her by, and she didn’t know of her home in the woods.”

Cogsworth sighs, and ticks, and coughs up a small gear he hides in his pocket.

“Does she know there’s gold dust seeping from her fingertips?” Lumiere goes to hold her hands—thoughtlessly, lovingly, rubbing his against hers as if to warm them. “Maybe she overdid herself with magic.”

“No. I don’t know if she even knows what magic is, anymore. I think that’s why everything is strange—she can’t remember to hold back. She doesn’t realize she’s the one letting all this happen.” Out the window, a passing cloud turns into fifteen milkmaids, who descend to earth with a thump. Nobody notices.

“Have you called Pere Robert?”

“I don’t know if he’ll come—the message came back covered all over with feathers, and before I could read it, it turned into a black-eyed dove and flew away.” Belle gets up, and paces, and throws her hands in the air. “I’m out of my league. I can fix things that tick and whirr, and I can heal a broken arm, but I don’t know how to heal magic.”

“It’ll be all right.” Plumette takes Belle’s head onto her shoulder, and strokes her hair and holds her hands. “We’ll fix her up, the way we would any other human—for she is human, isn’t she, or was once? Maybe chicken soup and sandwiches will still work on her.”

Belle sighs, and pats Plumette’s hands, and goes to take a scramble in the library. I must fix this, she thinks, I must fix this for my friend Agathe.

[stopping here to let my friend @theteaisaddictive take over—we’re gonna try to write this together🔥 ]

#theteaisaddictive #eyyyy it's a FIC #beauty and the beast #batb #batb fanfic #batb 2017 #beauty and the beast 2017 #agathe #the enchantress #belle #prince adam #lumiere #cogsworth #plumette

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