#above - james bond

[skitskatdacat63]

Pictures that fuel the 007 vettonso au that exists in my head(for now)

Also go listen to "You Know My Name", and think of Vettonso while doing so because I think it is SOOOOOO them coded(but also f1 in general tbh.) And also if you've seen Casino Royale, hey, remember that chair scene? >:)

[yellodisney]

[hairpool]

every time i play a zelda game i am fucking haunted by by my grandparents’ garage sale of 2010 where they sold both systems and their sega genesis for $10

[riverofrainbows]

Eliot Spencer. Listen to me i am obsessed with the man. He is so incredibly stereotypically masculine, and hardcore so, yet at the same time really isn't in ways that would be damning for the 2000s and early 2010s. Long hair, not unusually tall, the most emotionally aware one and most in tune with his emotions on the whole team. (Not that the others don't also have points in that area, but they're all terrible at it in some way and Eliot scores by far the most points.) He has a hobby that's not James Bond like (cooking), and he gets to be goofy while being unquestioned as the most badass guy in the room. And yes he makes inappropriate jokes about lesbians and goes all no homo at physical affection from other men, and younger people probably don't find him quite as monumental as i do in terms of masculinity. But his behaviour never reflects those jokes or the no homo, and he was the red blooded american former military guy character on a big network tv show in the year 2009. For which he was a severely mild case. He treats the other characters as people and not stereotypes, in the way the whole show does, and he has long hair he puts up in ponytails and half buns that have his side bangs falling out (you need to understand what big of a deal the manbun was in like 2013, so much so that they had to invent a word). He's emotional and doesn't actually mean his gruffness most of the time, and doesn't thinks himself above certain tasks or people. He wears ridiculous little outfits without putting up a show about his threatened masculinity, and he's the most emotionally intelligent one outside of cons. He wears little jewellery in his hair sometimes, and little braids even (yes braided hair was a no go), he plays guitar and sings earnest love songs not just to try to get laid (love songs would only be permissible in the immediate context of romance), and whenever they have a young woman as a client, that reminds him of home i presume, he works with so much effort and respect for them as the one he's in service to, and respects their opinion strongly. He wears glasses, and reads books and is way too nerdy for an action hero type of the 2010s. He is great with kids, and unironically so (there were multiple big shows and movies about the topic of "men needing to deal with children on their own" with the entire premise of that being ridiculous and them being naturally bad at it). He's the most stereotypically action hero type masculine guy on the show, and he does get strive or posture for power or dominance in their team, is content with a contributing role and trusting on the expertise of the others, and he is not portrayed as the most valuable one or as that behaviour being beneath him. He undresses so he and the woman he's fighting with are on equal ground reading undress. He is shorter than the others and continuously portrayed as the most dangerous one in any room, and height differences afe never deemphasised via cinematography (seriously, to be regarded as sufficiently masculine in western films they either get really tall actors or employ a variety of camera angles and boxes to give that impression. But just think of Eliot in the pilot when rescuing Hardison in the first break in, standing behind the group of security guys who all look way taller than him and more physically impressive with weapons and all. And then Eliot just in a t-shirt with no weapon but himself.) He has long hair (again, mainstream sufficiently masculine guys didn't do that back then, or now if we think of it (not that long at least)).

The show and all it's characters were a goddamn marvel back in 2009, and sadly in many ways still are today, 15 years later.

And he heals my little broken heart regarding gender stereotypes and masculinity, my heart that grew up in the 2000s and has so much difficulty accepting that my gender is valid. Bless him for it.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cary Grant (The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, Charade)—just the peak of old-school Hollywood sexuality. The glam, the suits, the gentle wit, the acrobatics, those eyes that always looked like they knew exactly what movie they were in and were laughing at the joke...

Vincent Price (Laura, Leave Her to Heaven, House on Haunted Hill, The Masque of the Red Death)—svelte, stylish, horrifying, beautiful, wickedly funny, camp and gorgeous and evil. he was an art connoisseur who advocated passionately indigenous art, he was an actual literal gourmet cook, he was so liberal he got greylisted during the mccarthy era for being too rad, he's my favorite muppets guest of all time

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Vincent Price propaganda:

Submitted: this fancam

Submitted: this entire Tumblr page

Cary Grant propaganda:

"My Golden Age of Hollywood professor, who was very outwardly gay himself, put it this way: Even though Grant's sexuality was kind of an open secret in Hollywood, the public couldn't know in any real way. But anybody could see that there was a queerness about him, so he was casted for roles where he physically embodies his masculinity in a non-explicit but queer way. Bringing Up Baby is famous for the scene where Grant wears a frilly robe (pictured below, but what people don't always realise is that he plays kind of an awkward nerd in that movie. He's a hot awkward scientist in a grand robe!!! Hot!!! In The Philadelphia Story, one of my famous movies of all time, he plays C. K. Dexter Haven, a rich, sarcastic, supposedly abusive guy. And yet, what we see is this laid back, dandy-ish figure, who absolutely does not feel threatened when a woman he supposedly loves (Katharine Hepburn) starts having feelings for, and hooks up with another guy (James Stewart). He lets a drunk Stewart into his office and helps him get his job back! Obviously that is the script and not the actor, but the whole film, and that scene in particular, shows him having this very queer attitude of openness toward Hepburn and Stewart, which is only amplified by the casting of Grant and his portrayal of the character. Anyway, this is not an essay arguing for The Philadelphia Story to be considered a queer film, all I will say is: he's super hot in it."

The link to the above mentioned frilly robe scene from Bringing Up Baby: "I just went gay all of a sudden!"

last minute cary grant propaganda: the last few paragraphs of that new vanity fair article about him and randolph scott that just came out 2 days ago on cary's birthday where he calls it "gravity collapse" and "love at first sight" and says their souls touched and and and i'm actually sharing this mostly because it makes me emotional but also because a vote for archibald is a vote for love. this is my message. apologies for sounding mildly insane.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You were promised a jetpack by liars

TONIGHT (May 17), I'm at the INTERNET ARCHIVE in SAN FRANCISCO to keynote the 10th anniversary of the AUTHORS ALLIANCE.

As a science fiction writer, I find it weird that some sf tropes – like space colonization – have become culture-war touchstones. You know, that whole "we were promised jetpacks" thing.

I confess, I never looked too hard at the practicalities of jetpacks, because they are so obviously either used as a visual shorthand (as in the Jetsons) or as a metaphor. Even a brief moment's serious consideration should make it clear why we wouldn't want the distracted, stoned, drunk, suicidal, homicidal maniacs who pilot their two-ton killbots through our residential streets at 75mph to be flying over our heads with a reservoir of high explosives strapped to their backs.

Jetpacks can make for interesting sf eyeball kicks or literary symbols, but I don't actually want to live in a world of jetpacks. I just want to read about them, and, of course, write about them:

https://reactormag.com/chicken-little/

I had blithely assumed that this was the principle reason we never got the jetpacks we were "promised." I mean, there kind of was a promise, right? I grew up seeing videos of rocketeers flying their jetpacks high above the heads of amazed crowds, at World's Fairs and Disneyland and big public spectacles. There was that scene in Thunderball where James Bond (the canonical Connery Bond, no less) makes an escape by jetpack. There was even a Gilligan's Island episode where the castaways find a jetpack and scheme to fly it all the way back to Hawai'i:

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0588084/

Clearly, jetpacks were possible, but they didn't make any sense, so we decided not to use them, right?

Well, I was wrong. In a terrific new 99 Percent Invisible episode, Chris Berube tracks the history of all those jetpacks we saw on TV for decades, and reveals that they were all the same jetpack, flown by just one guy, who risked his life every time he went up in it:

https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/rocket-man/

The jetpack in question – technically a "rocket belt" – was built in the 1960s by Wendell Moore at the Bell Aircraft Corporation, with funding from the DoD. The Bell rocket belt used concentrated hydrogen peroxide as fuel, which burned at temperatures in excess of 1,000'. The rocket belt had a maximum flight time of just 21 seconds.

It was these limitations that disqualified the rocket belt from being used by anyone except stunt pilots with extremely high tolerances for danger. Any tactical advantage conferred on infantrymen by the power to soar over a battlefield for a whopping 21 seconds was totally obliterated by the fact that this infantryman would be encumbered by an extremely heavy, unwieldy and extremely explosive backpack, to say nothing of the high likelihood that rocketeers would plummet out of the sky after failing to track the split-second capacity of a jetpack.

And of course, the rocket belt wasn't going to be a civilian commuting option. If your commute can be accomplished in just 21 seconds of flight time, you should probably just walk, rather than strapping an inferno to your back and risking a lethal fall if you exceed a margin of error measured in just seconds.

Once you know about the jetpack's technical limitations, it's obvious why we never got jetpacks. So why did we expect them? Because we were promised them, and the promise was a lie.

Moore was a consummate showman, which is to say, a bullshitter. He was forever telling the press that his jetpacks would be on everyone's back in one to two years, and he got an impressionable young man, Bill Suitor, to stage showy public demonstrations of the rocket belt. If you ever saw a video of a brave rocketeer piloting a jetpack, it was almost certainly Suitor. Suitor was Connery's stunt-double in Thunderball, and it was he who flew the rocket belt around Sleeping Beauty castle.

Suitor's interview with Berube for the podcast is delightful. Suitor is a hilarious, profane old airman who led an extraordinary life and tells stories with expert timing, busting out great phrases like "a surprise is a fart with a lump in it."

But what's most striking about the tale of the Bell rocket belt is the shape of the deception that Moore and Bell pulled off. By conspicuously failing to mention the rocket belt's limitations, and by callously risking Suitor's life over and over again, they were able to create the impression that jetpacks were everywhere, and that they were trembling on the verge of widespread, popular adoption.

What's more, they played a double game: all the public enthusiasm they manufactured with their carefully stage-managed, canned demos was designed to help them win more defense contracts to keep their dream alive. Ultimately, Uncle Sucker declined to continue funding their boondoggle, and the demos petered out, and the "promise" of a jetpack was broken.

As I listened to the 99 Percent Invisible episode, I was struck by the familiarity of this shuck: this is exactly what the self-driving car bros did over the past decade to convince us all that the human driver was already obsolete. The playbook was nearly identical, right down to the shameless huckster insisting that "full self-driving is one to two years away" every year for a decade:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/8/23/23837598/tesla-elon-musk-self-driving-false-promises-land-of-the-giants

The Potemkin rocket belt was a calculated misdirection, as are the "full self-driving" demos that turn out to be routine, pre-programmed runs on carefully manicured closed tracks:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/tesla-autopilot-staged-engineer-says-company-faked-full-autopilot/

Practical rocketeering wasn't ever "just around the corner," because a flying, 21 second blast-furnace couldn't be refined into a practical transport. Making the tank bigger would not make this thing safer or easier to transport.

The jetpack showman hoped to cash out by tricking Uncle Sucker into handing him a fat military contract. Robo-car scammers used their conjurer's tricks to cash out to the public markets, taking Uber public on the promise of robo-taxis, even as Uber's self-driving program burned through $2.5b and produced a car with a half-mile mean time between fatal collisions, which the company had to pay someone else $400m to take the business off their hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

It's not just self-driving cars. Time and again, the incredibly impressive AI demos that the press credulously promotes turn out to be scams. The dancing robot on stage at the splashy event is literally a guy in a robot-suit:

https://www.businessinsider.com/elon-musks-ai-day-tesla-bot-is-just-a-guy-in-a-bodysuit-2021-8

The Hollywood-killing, AI-produced video prompting system is so cumbersome to use, and so severely limited, that it's arguably worse than useless:

https://www.wheresyoured.at/expectations-versus-reality/

The centuries' worth of progress the AI made in discovering new materials actually "discovered" a bunch of trivial variations on existing materials, as well as a huge swathe of materials that only exist at absolute zero:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs

The AI grocery store where you just pick things up and put them in your shopping basket without using the checkout turns out to be a call-center full of low-waged Indian workers desperately squinting at videos of you, trying to figure out what you put in your bag:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/31/neural-interface-beta-tester/#tailfins

The discovery of these frauds somehow never precipitates disillusionment. Rather than getting angry with marketers for tricking them, reporters are ventriloquized into repeating the marketing claim that these aren't lies, they're premature truths. Sure, today these are faked, but once the product is refined, the fakery will no longer be required.

This must be the kinds of Magic Underpants Gnomery the credulous press engaged in during the jetpack days: "Sure, a 21-second rocket belt is totally useless for anything except wowing county fair yokels – but once they figure out how to fit an order of magnitude more high-explosive onto that guy's back, this thing will really take off!"

The AI version of this is that if we just keep throwing orders of magnitude more training data and compute at the stochastic parrot, it will eventually come to life and become our superintelligent, omnipotent techno-genie. In other words, if we just keep breeding these horses to run faster and faster, eventually one of our prize mares will give birth to a locomotive:

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

As a society, we have vested an alarming amount of power in the hands of tech billionaires who profess to be embittered science fiction fans who merely want to realize the "promises" of our Golden Age stfnal dreams. These bros insist that they can overcome both the technical hurdles and the absolutely insurmountable privation involved in space colonization:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

They have somehow mistaken Neal Stephenson's dystopian satirical "metaverse" for a roadmap:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/18/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video/

As Charlie Stross writes, it's not just that these weirdos can't tell the difference between imaginative parables about the future and predictions about the future – it's also that they keep mistaking dystopias for business plans:

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/tech-billionaires-need-to-stop-trying-to-make-the-science-fiction-they-grew-up-on-real/

Cyberpunk was a warning, not a suggestion. Please, I beg you, stop building the fucking torment nexus:

https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/torment-nexus

These techno-billionaires profess to be fulfilling a broken promise, but surely they know that the promises were made by liars – showmen using parlor tricks to sell the impossible. You were "promised a jetpack" in the same sense that table-rapping "spiritualists" promised you a conduit to talk with the dead, or that carny barkers promised you a girl that could turn into a gorilla:

https://milwaukeerecord.com/film/ape-girl-shes-alive-documentary-november-11-sugar-maple/

That's quite a supervillain origin story: "I was promised a jetpack, but then I grew up discovered that it was just a special effect. In revenge, I am promising you superintelligent AIs and self-driving cars, and these, too, are SFX."

In other words: "Die a disillusioned jetpack fan or live long enough to become the fraudster who cooked up the jetpack lie you despise."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/17/fake-it-until-you-dont-make-it/#twenty-one-seconds

[itsgreti]

IN THE QUIET MOMENTS

pairing. james beaufort x f!reader

summary. james, burdened by his father's high expectations, finds strength in his relationship with (Y/N), who helps him get through the pressures of his legacy.

warning. mention of domestic abuse

word count. 1.2k

a/n: english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me!

(Y/N) and James Beaufort had been dating for a few months now, their relationship blossoming amidst the magnificence of the Beaufort estate and Maxton Hall. From their first date to their shared dreams and whispered secrets, their bond only grew stronger with each passing day. However, James still had secrets before (Y/N). His father, a tough presence in their lives, had high expectations for James, that weighed heavily on his shoulders.

James was the heir to the Beaufort family legacy, immersed in wealth, power, and influence. His father, Mortimer Beaufort, was a harsh man, known for his rigid standards and desire for power. From a young age, James was groomed to take over the family business, to uphold the Beaufort name with honour and distinction. Yet, the pressures of living up to his father's expectations were immense, and James was unable to decide about his fate. He often hid these feelings by being arrogant, but his true personality is far from that.

Despite his inner turmoil, James was determined not to burden (Y/N) with his worries. He enjoyed every moment they shared, treasuring the moments of joy away from the pressures of his family's obligations. (Y/N) was his sanctuary, her presence a comforting anchor for his troubled soul. He wanted to protect her from the harsh realities of his world, to shield her from the weight of his responsibilities.

One sunny afternoon, (Y/N) decided to surprise James by visiting the Beaufort mansion. She had a big smile on her face and a bouquet of wildflowers in her hand, knowing how much James loved their simplicity among the grandiose setting of his home. As she entered the luxurious halls of the mansion, she couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness. Even though she feels comfortable with his family, sometimes she feels like an outsider in James's world, but he always reassures her that only their happiness matters.

Upon reaching James's study, she found him seated at his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration. Papers were strewn across the desk, and he seemed lost in thought, his mind burdened by hidden troubles. But it wasn't his focused expression that caught her attention; it was the scar cutting his usually flawless lips. Worrying flooded into her as she rushed to his side, her heart aching at the sight of his pain.

"James, what happened?" she asked, gently tracing the scar with her fingertips. Her touch was light, but it carried all the love and worry she felt for him.

James looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and reluctance. "It's nothing, just a minor accident," he replied, his voice tense. He tried to muster a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

(Y/N) could see through his disguise. She knew there was more to the story, and she wasn't about to let him brush it off so easily. "James, please," she urged, her voice soft but determined. "You can tell me."

For a moment, James hesitated, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. He had always prided himself on being strong, on keeping his troubles to himself. But then, as if the weight of his secret became too much to bear, he finally gave in.

"It's my father," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "He... he expects so much from me, (Y/N). I try to live up to his standards, but sometimes it feels like I'm drowning."

(Y/N) reached out, taking his hand in hers, offering him comfort and support. "You don't have to face this alone, James," she said, her voice filled with sympathy. "We're in this together."

Tears welled in James's eyes as he looked at her, overwhelmed by her firm love and understanding. "Thank you, (Y/N)," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "You don't know how much that means to me."

(Y/N) squeezed his hand, her heart aching for him. "James, you don't need to prove anything to anyone, least of all your father. I'm here for you, no matter what."

James sighed, a deep, tired sound that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. "I know, but it's hard. My father has always been so demanding. He wants me to be perfect, to follow in his footsteps. He is prioritizing the business before the family. I-"

(Y/N) cupped his cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes. "James, listen to me. You are not your father. You have your path to follow, and your own dreams to pursue. Don't let his expectations define you. You are more than enough just as you are."

James closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. Her words were like a balm to his wounded spirit, offering him a spark of hope amidst the darkness. "Thank you, (Y/N). I don't know what I would do without you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised, her voice steady and reassuring. "We'll face this together, one step at a time."

As they sat together in the quiet sanctuary of James's study, (Y/N) made a silent promise to always be there for him, to share his burdens and his joys, and to love him entirely, now and forever.

James pulled her into his arms, holding her close as if afraid she might slip away. "I love you, (Y/N)," he whispered against her hair, his voice filled with emotions.

"I love you too, James," she replied, her own voice thick with tears. "We'll get through this together, I promise."

In that moment, (Y/N) realized just how much James had been carrying on his shoulders, how he had been silently struggling under the weight of his family’s legacy. But she also knew that together, they could face any challenge that came their way.

In the following days, James continued to cope with his father's tasks, attending press conferences or negotiating about new business collaborations. But with (Y/N) by his side, he began to find a sense of balance, a way to navigate the duties without losing himself in the process. She stood by him during difficult conversations with his father, offering her steady support. And slowly but surely, James began to carve out a space for himself, a place where he could be true to his own wishes and dreams.

One evening, as they sat together in the garden of the Beaufort mansion, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the soft glow of the setting sun, James turned to (Y/N) with a look of gratitude and love.

"You've changed my life, (Y/N)," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I don't know how I would have faced all of this without you."

(Y/N) smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "You've changed mine too, James. And I'm so proud of the man you're becoming."

James leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. At that moment, as they bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, (Y/N) was happier than ever. And as they held each other close, their hearts beating in harmony, they knew that their love was the greatest strength they could ever have.

[intothedysphoria]

Max didn’t actually seem to dislike her brother that much.

From what Steve had seen the first week they’d moved, all the arguing and long frosty silences and all out fights, Billy would still sneak a note into her pocket every day of school. He’d argue with her classmates, teachers, even the cops if they ever gave her shit.

Billy had dropped her off at the Christmas dance, ruffling her hair a little before noticing Steve. All Steve really got was a grunt of acknowledgment. Which he supposed was better than a punch in the face.

Whenever Mike would make comments about Billy being insane or evil, Max would practically push him off his chair. Steve, not fancying a thirteen year olds left hook decided to put the subject of Billy off the table.

There was only a small amount of facts about Billy Hargrove that Steve knew to be accurate. He was about half a year younger than Steve, the only person he’d really bonded with was Eddie Munson and his dad was a real piece of work. As bad as Lonnie Byers, from what Steve had heard from Max.

Steves parents were Italian-Glaswegian and despite the fact that he bitched about them constantly, Steve loved his parents to bits. His nonna, his granny, his seven billion cousins, all of them were the friendliest people on earth.

The only person James had really disliked had been Lonnie. Until Neil. When his dad had a bad feeling about someone, he was always right.

Steve had been given a mission to befriend Billy. “That wee bairn isn’t being treated right”, that’s what his dad had said. So Steve, laden with spaghetti bolognaise and tablet, knocked on The Hargrove’s door when he knew Neil wasn’t home.

Billy answered, obviously post workout and stared wide eyed at the food. Looking closer at his tank top, Steve could see a pin of the Irish flag settled above his chest.

Steve, not known for his eloquence, mumbled that the food was for Billy and fled for the car. Anything to get out of an awkward conversation.

There were two washed Tupperware containers tucked under Steve’s gym locker the following Monday, accompanied by a note with surprisingly neat handwriting.

“My thanks to the Harringtons. Max loved the tablet.

Uilliam Hargrove”

Steve made a mental note of the way Billy spelled his first name. He had cousins in County Cork and had met a fair few Uilliam’s in his time. Evidently, Neil was the culprit for the anglicised spelling.

Steve’s granny was ecstatic that her cooking had been appreciated and invited him over for dinner pretty much immediately. Steve found himself delivering that message too. This time however, he didn’t run for the car.

Billy studied him, considering, then said he’d be delighted to join. His voice was both surprisingly polite and formed vowels in a manner that was unmistakably West Belfast.

He was charming. Utterly charming. Not the put on way Steve had seen him talk to Karen Wheeler (good god that woman was creepy) but in a way that seemed to just come naturally. Steves house was a blending of Scottish and Italian and Jewish and Irish and Polish and Billy genuinely seemed to love it all.

James sat them together at the table. Probably in an attempt to play Cupid, the meddling old man. Billy used it as an excuse seemingly to scandalise Steve. He was no prude but the way Billy slipped in innuendo after innuendo had Steves face burning.

Dinner turned into staying the night. Steve on an air mattress and Billy on Steve’s bed. Neil wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t there. He probably wouldn’t even notice if Billy disappeared forever.

Steve had never felt himself feeling such a burning sadness for someone and reached out so that they were clutching hands. Billy didn’t shove him away or call him a homo. Instead he clutched Steve’s hand even tighter.

The closer Billy and Steve got and the more Billy slept the night at the Harringtons, the more Billy’s relationship with Neil deteriorated. It got to the point where Billy was showing up with cracked ribs and broken toes, sometimes with Max hovering nervously behind him. Hell, they’d officially started dating with blood spurting out of Billy’s nose.

Until one day when Billy showed up looking the worst Steve had ever seen him. Max was having to support him in standing upright. He was clutching a note in his fist.

“Keep him.”

Out of everyone Steve had expected to go and give Neil a piece of their mind, it hadn’t been his granny. So while Steve was holding Billy’s hand, kissing him and being a bit useless, Maureen had apparently punched Neil Hargrove in the nose.

Funnily enough, Neil never really returned after that. He was somewhere in Alabama. Or Florida. Steve hadn’t bothered to learn where. All he knew was that Billy was a lot happier without him.

They could finally kiss in public. Go on sort of dates. Book nights of passion in sketchy motels.

Know that Max was ok and safe.

And never have his parents involved in his love life again.

For @shieldofiron and @dragonflylady77

Scottish Steve inspired by @ratbastardbilly

[thatlonelycactus]

We talk so so much about debased Crowley and how he’s just going to be a drunken mess post-divorce but why can’t Aziraphale be a mess as well?

Sure Aziraphale has something else for him in heaven BUT how much do you really think a) he’s actually going to be able to do and b) what the Metatron will actually LET him do. Yes, he doesn’t express himself in the same ways Crowley does but no matter how you can express yourself you can still be an absolute fucking mess can’t you?

I wanna see Aziraphale smuggling tubs of ice creams into heaven and eating them as he watches James Bond movies.

I wanna see Aziraphale blaring Queen so loud that all of the angels can sing anyone Queen song perfectly by heart.

I wanna see him scrolling through all of his old texts with Crowley. His finger suspended above the send button.

I wanna see cups of long-emptied cocoa strewn around an office which is a constant mess as he rewatches Sex and the City (or something) for the nth time balling his eyes out.

Please, please don’t leave all the break up angst to Crowley for both of their sakes. Let Aziraphale be hurt. Aziraphale was just as shattered as Crowley.

[runin-reads]

James/Lily vs James/Sirius: a case of accidental queer coding

Jily (James/Lily) is a pairing central to the HP universe in the sense that had they not been married, Harry Potter, the main character, would cease to exist and neither would his story as we know it. Yet we are left with only a few brief glimpses of their relationship in canon whilst other pairings are textually far more fleshed out– take Prongsfoot (James/Sirius), for example, who are frequently portrayed as The Duo, not just by those closest to them (Lupin) but by many others too such as McGonagall, Flitwick and so on. Harry himself could see how close they were during SWM in OOTP and this is someone who had a very limited time with Sirius and close to none with James. 

Queercoding is described as “the subtextual coding of a character in media as queer. Though such a character's sexual identity may not be explicitly confirmed within their respective work, a character might be coded as queer through the use of traits and stereotypes recognisable to the audience.” One character comes to mind when I think of “queercoding” and that’s Sirius Black. He’s estranged from his family, goes against the norms associated with his upbringing, there’s no mention of any ex-girlfriends and most notably he has intense love and devotion for his male best friend; James Potter.  At first glance, James had led an incredibly hetero-normative life by virtue of his wife and son, but through his relationship to Sirius there’s leeway to reach a queer reading of him as well. 

As recognised by countless characters and even Sirius himself, Prongsfoot come in a two-for-one deal:

“Do you remember who his best friend was?”  “Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!”  “Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact…”  “You’d have thought Black and Potter were brothers!” chimed in Professor Flitwick. “Inseparable!” 

The use of the word “brothers” in the above quote is one reason why fans don’t interpret Prongsfoot as queer-coded and/or romantic. However, it’s important to note that Sirius never referred to James as a brother, and there’s no canonical proof to suggest that Flitwick was close to James and Sirius– he was their teacher, not their friend or confidant. He isn’t calling them “brothers” either but rather he’s saying that word to express how strong their bond was. Hence why I believe an exclusively fraternal reading of their relationship doesn’t hold much weight. 

They are, however, established as each other’s closest friend and most trusted confidant. 

“Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would have stopped showing off.” “Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was the best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry.  “I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me.”  “Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed

On multiple occasions James and Sirius were described as a unit– The Unit– within their friend group. Lupin said they were “the cleverest students in the school.” They were the “ringleaders” of the Marauders; always on the same page and in agreement with each other.

“Then, with identical fluid movements, they reached into their back pockets.” 

Even during their very first encounter, they quickly and effortlessly become a team. 

“Got a problem with that?”  “No,” said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy–” “Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” interjected Sirius.  James roared with laughter.

This excerpt from DH also neatly sums up the Marauders group dynamic:

“To Sirius’s right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter, plump and watery-eyed, flushed with pleasure at his inclusion in this coolest of gangs, with the much-admired rebels that James and Sirius had been. On James’s left was Lupin, even then a little shabby-looking, but he had the same air of delighted surprise at finding himself liked and included” 

Lily herself acknowledged Sirius’ importance in James’ life in her letter to Sirius, where she all but says that only he could lift James’ mood whilst the Potters’ were hiding from Voldemort’s forces. 

“James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell — also, Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much.” 

On the other hand, Jily is portrayed in a less compelling way for lack of better words. I spoke about this in my other meta but to summarise it briefly: Lily is James’ wife, the mother of his son and… that’s pretty much it. In the books they’re barely spoken about as a couple, unlike Prongsfoot who are always mentioned together as if they were a package deal– which they were, as recognised by practically everyone. That’s not to say Jily has zero textual backing, though it is far and few between.

“How come she married him?” Harry asked miserably. “She hated him!”  “Nah, she didn’t,” said Sirius.  “She started going out with him in seventh year,” said Lupin.  “Once James had deflated his head a bit,” said Sirius.  “And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,” said Lupin. 

Conclusion

What we do know about James and Lily’s relationship is limited to the following: Lily disliked James because he and Snape were enemies, James developed feelings for her first, they began dating in seventh year once James had matured, they got married when they were nineteen to twenty years old, had a child together. The end. 

On the contrary, James and Sirius are constantly implied to be each other’s closest, most loyal friend; each other’s most trusted confidant. They are equals in every conceivable way. Both were popular, from wealthy backgrounds  and intelligent. Throughout the entire series Sirius’ only priority was Harry, James’ son. He went through unfathomable lengths to protect Harry: he was the first to escape Azkaban, he snuck into Hogwarts with all the dementors around and lived off rats during the GOF so he could be close to Harry, the last piece of James he had left. 

There’s also evidence to suggest Sirius was a narrative parallel to Snape. There are two adults in Harry’s life who sought to protect him due to their respective relationships with one of his parents. Snape was a double agent for Dumbeldore out of love for Lily; Sirius escaped Azkaban to protect Harry out of love for him, an extension of his love for James. 

All these factors are  why I believe that by not fleshing out Lily as a character and Jily as a couple, JKR accidentally queer-coded Prongsfoot. 

[espinosaurusrexex]

Serious Questions

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

summary: Bucky agrees to go on a date to make his colleagues shut up. Now, he just feels sorry for the poor woman that has to spend an entire evening with him. He really tries to make it work, though, because he actually enjoys her company.

a/n: This was a request by the lovely @alana-32. Hopefully, it meets your expectations 💙 I haven’t written pure fluff in a hot minute but this was fun!

word count: 2.9k

warnings: nervous and wholesome Bucky, super fluffy, just a really beautiful bond unfolding 

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

You should get out more, Bucky. Meet people and make friends, Bucky. You need to get laid, Bucky.

Sam’s words echoed through Bucky’s head as he pushed open the door of the restaurant. The warm air welcomed him and the little bell at the entrance rattled when he entered. He didn’t know how it exactly happened, but all of a sudden Clint had pitched into the conversation and urged him to meet his cousin. And Bucky had agreed. Well, the desperate attempt to make them shut up backfired. Big time.

He didn’t want to date. Apart from the fact that he didn’t wish himself on anybody, he didn’t think he could handle a relationship like that. Hell, Bucky barely realized how he made friends in the past year, so how the hell was he supposed to date? He hadn't done it in ages. It was probably different now than it was 80 years ago. 

The waiter looked at him with wide eyes - fear visible on his face - when he entered and chose a quiet place in the corner, though the whole restaurant was fairly empty. What would he even talk about? His hand started to sweat. This had been a bad idea. A really stupid bad idea. His eyes swerved to the door and then back to the waiter standing behind a small bar. Was it too late to back out? 

But then the bell above the entrance chimed again and he knew that he had missed his chance. 

“Hello.” You smiled at him, clutching your bag with nervous fingers. “Are you James Barnes?”

Bucky scrambled to stand up and held out his hand to you with a tight smile. He nodded and gestured for you to take a seat after you told him your name. 

He could do this, he thought. Especially because you seemed just as nervous. The first thing you two had in common, right?

“I’m really sorry, this is kind of awkward.” You looked down at your hands beneath the table with hesitance. “I... uhm... I haven’t done this in a while,” you confessed with genuine eyes. And Bucky could see a hint of comfort washing through your face. 

“I doubt your last date is as long ago as mine, doll. You’ll probably do a lot better than me.”

A small laugh pressed past your lips and Bucky’s heart warmed at the sound. It felt good to make you laugh. He wanted to do it again.

“Let’s rush through the basics then so we can get to the interesting bits. I think that first half hour is what makes these things so awkward.” Your mouth spread into a grin as you straightened up.

“Sounds like a plan.” Bucky nodded. 

“Well, you already know my name... I work in a small bookshop in Brooklyn, I am an only child but never wanted to be. I love dogs, cats, ducks - all the animals, really, but I don’t have any pets because my landlord doesn’t allow them. Well... I have fish - I had to settle for fish because they're quiet. But that’s their problem, you know? They’re quiet and you can’t play with them or pet them.” You shrugged. “Uhm... I like to read - I do that a lot, and I think that’s it.” Your speech ended with a bright smile and Bucky couldn’t help his own from spreading. 

“My turn?”

“Yes.”

“Okay...” He straightened ups as well, a little giddy about the situation now. Normally, Bucky wouldn’t react this way to something he didn't like, but he wanted to try it this time. You were just so sweet and he didn't want to ruin the date... for you. “My friends call me Bucky, I grew up in Brooklyn, I have a sister... had a sister. And I think I’m more of a cat person - if I had to choose. I don’t have any pets. I work a lot, I guess it keeps me distracted. And... I feel like my back story doesn’t need to be explained, you probably know all about it.” He didn’t give you much, Bucky knew that. But those were the things he could say easily and really, he wasn’t sure how you’d react to most of it.

“Bucky... I like it. What’s it short for?”

“Buchanan. ’s my middle name.”

“Like the President?”

“Yup.”

“Hm... I guess that’s kinda cool.”

“I guess.”

"Can I call you Bucky?"

He felt weirdly content with you saying his name. "If you want." There was no regret in his decision as he watched your face scrunch in excitement.

The shallow topics went on for a while, and Bucky was surprised to see that talking to you was easy. He didn’t worry about what you thought, because you reacted to his replies with intrigue and adoration. He felt heard. And he had to admit that he actually enjoyed the little meeting his teammate had set up so far. He learned a bunch of stuff about you. And he picked up on little quirks you had and he celebrated every new one he noticed. Like the way your nose slightly crunched when you didn't believe him, or how your finger grazed over the table when you talked about something you really liked - back and forth. It was comforting to be in your presence.

Bucky leaned back in his booth as he emptied his beer, watching as you ordered another drink for yourself. He found himself smiling into the bottle when the waiter agreed to add an extra peppermint leave, making you bite back a bright smile. The waiter smiled as well, a lot less tense than he had been before you had arrived and it fascinated Bucky how contagious your good mood was. Then you turned your attention back to Bucky and he had to regain his composure. His arm slipped from the back of the booth and fell to his side as he waited for you to talk again. 

“Okay, real talk, now - and I need you to answer this question honestly.” Your fingers pressed on the table like he’d seen important politicians do and Bucky had to hide a smile. 

“Hit me with it.”

“If you could be a mix of any two animals, which combination would you choose?”

Bucky was baffled for a second. He had expected everything but this. And then - out of the blue - he laughed. A real can’t-hold-back-the-snort-if-I-tried-laugh and it felt so unbelievably good, it scared him a bit.

You gasped appalled, but the small smirk behind your hand couldn’t be hidden. “This is serious, Bucky. It says a lot about you.”

“Really, how?”

“Well, for example, I would choose an elephumblebee because it would look freaking adorable. A tiny elephant with wings and a furry butt, are you kidding me? Why the government hasn’t made that happen yet is truly beyond me.”

Bucky got it, then. It really did say a lot about you. You were fun and cute and he could imagine a little clumsy at times - just like he would imagine an elephumblebee. And even though it still felt foreign to him to engage in a silly activity like this, with you, it was fun - and he wanted to. So he thought really hard, his eyes focusing on the wall behind you and you waited patiently and ordered another beer for him. 

Who would have thought that James Bucky Barnes would ever sit in a restaurant and think about how ridiculous a dog with a giraffe’s head would look? Certainly not Bucky. But it was almost comforting to do so.

“Alright, I think I got it.” You just nodded in anticipation. “I think I would be a spider-wolf... a spi- a spolf.” Bucky was satisfied with his answer: A lone wolf and someone people didn’t really like - pretty accurate if you’d asked him. 

You just watched him with a tilted head for a while and Bucky felt a little uncomfortable with his answer now. Had he said the wrong thing? 

“What?” Your lips just pursed in response. 

“Nothing, nothing..,” you trailed off and Bucky couldn’t stop staring at your lips. “I was just thinking, you know - I think I’ve never seen a real wolf before. It’s not on my bucket list or anything and I heard they are so much bigger than you think, but like... have you?”

“I actually have. In the wild - amazing animals and yeah, bigger than a dog, that’s for sure.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up. “Wow, that must have been such a unique experience.”

Bucky smiled sadly, nodding. “To be honest, I didn’t really realize it when it happened. I couldn’t appreciate it the way you would.”

“Oh well, still. It’s awesome. The most extraordinary animal I have ever seen in ‘the wild’ was a raccoon. There’s not a lot of wildlife potential when you never leave the city.” You shrugged as you pressed your lips in a straight line, but Bucky chuckled.

“Not much of the vacation kind?”

“It’s not that...” You paused and sighed. “I just love the bookstore too much. There is this one lady. She comes in every Thursday at exactly the same time and she just sits and reads and she has the most amazing stories to tell. And then there is the little stray cat that comes by every day and we have a little cuddle session. Oh, and I can’t forget about the quiet tatted college kid that secretly reads romance novels in the back isles for hours on end. I would miss them too much...”

Bucky just sat and listened to you ramble on and on about all the individuals you were so attached to, even if they didn’t know. And he was reminded yet again how much he enjoyed this initially dreaded evening. It didn't feel forced and you were so authentic and kind. Bucky was relaxing with every second he spend in the cozy little restaurant with you. He was sure that he could spend a whole day here with you, without getting bored.

He leaned forward as he watched the corners of your mouth tug up and your eyes sparkle with joy while you talked about the bookstore. And he couldn’t help but ask himself how he ended up here. How had he gotten a date with the most caring person in the world - no, really, what were the odds of that happening to him? But the most present thought swarming his mind was: How is a woman like you still single? 

You suddenly stopped taking and Bucky was catapulted back to reality. You looked at him with wide eyes for the fraction of a second and then they softened and your gaze averted to the table. Had he just said that out loud?! Bucky didn’t know what to do. He was frozen to the booth, his hands tightening around the bottle and he held his breath - didn’t dare breathe until you gave him a new reaction.

After a beat, you sighed and looked him in the eyes apologetically. “I... I don’t know.” Your hand moved over the table and nervously began picking on the toothpicks in the glass jar. “I guess, I don’t seem to be the taste of most men around here. I don’t like wild parties and spending my weekends wasting away with a hangover.”

Bucky felt himself cringing at how uncomfortable he had made you. You clearly were embarrassed talking about this, but he would let you talk - or chose not to anymore. Either way, he would respect your decision.

“I... uh... I just haven’t had any luck so far. When I talk about my interests, everyone’s eyes just glaze over and then I never see them again. They think I’m boring, but that’s... I like concerts and dancing... I just don’t need the whole-” Your hands flailed in front of your face before you sunk back into your seat. 

“You’re not boring, doll. I completely understand what you’re saying. I don’t need all that-” now his hand flailed in the air, “either.” Which made you break a smile that got brighter when he returned it. And Bucky felt a little pride swell in his chest when he watched your mood lift again. 

“Can I ask you something?” You suddenly said and Bucky felt a little nervous at the piercing stare you gave him.

“Uh... sure.”

You bit your lip before finally speaking again. “You don’t really strike me as the social type, either.”

Bucky waited for you to continue, but you seemed in thought all of a sudden. “That’s not a question.”

You laughed nervously. “Right. I guess my question is... well, why did you agree to this evening? Clint didn’t really make it seem as if there was a lot of convincing involved.”

Bucky already facepalmed himself mentally for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t want to lie to you - it didn’t feel right. No, you deserved the truth - especially after you had answered his stupid question earlier so honestly.

“To be completely honest, I didn’t know how else to make my friends- uh...shut up. But I don’t regret coming here if that’s what you’re getting at.” He rushed that last part when he saw your face sadden. “I don’t get out too often, that’s true. Which doesn’t mean that I don’t want to... I just don’t know how to do this very well - talking to people. Usually, I get weird stares or fearful glances.”

Your eyes gleamed with something unintelligible before you leaned forward, your elbows resting on the table. “I don’t know how anyone could be scared of you, Bucky.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say, doll. But I don’t blame them, I would probably react the same if I weren’t... me.” His eyebrows furrowed with the last word and he could see a shiver of sadness wash over you.

“I think you’re pretty great,” you offered with an encouraging tap on his hand and Bucky felt his stomach churn.

A short silence overtook you and Bucky tried to keep his composure. The mood had shifted slightly, not uncomfortably, no - but just enough to leave his mind free from any topics he could talk about. Which usually wasn’t a problem, but he wanted to talk to you - tell you more and get told more. Which was why he was extra grateful for your breaking the silence after a couple seconds.

“So... I guess we can check off the heavy stuff as well?”

“Seems so,” he chuckled, holding on to the little feeling of relief you had sparked in his chest.

For the next hour, you actually got Bucky to open up a little more. He hadn’t even realized you were the one talking most of the time because he enjoyed listening to you so much. He came to realize, however, that it wasn’t so bad to talk about himself. He liked the way your eyes lit up at his stories about Clint, or the occasional ‘what, really?’ you threw into his anecdotes, making him feel important.

After another 30 minutes, you had made it outside. And as Bucky stood outside the restaurant door, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, helooked at you with an honest smile, while you adjusted your mittens.

“Thank you for giving this a chance, Bucky. I had a lot of fun tonight.” Your words built puffy white clouds in the air, but other than those, the butterflies in his stomach didn’t dissipate.

“I did, too,” he confessed, realizing for the fourth time today, that this was really true. “We should do this again.”

You bit your lips as your shoulders jerked with reluctance, but before you turned fully, you stepped towards Bucky and hugged him tightly. “Definitely.” 

The cold weather seemed a lot more bearable all of a sudden. Bucky caged you to his chest with his arms and pressed his smile into the crook of your neck while an excited shiver ran through him. He felt incredible, safe, content, and he realized how much he had missed hugs - real, affectionate hugs.

“And you’re not a spolf,” you mumbled into his ear, squeezing him a little tighter. “You’re a curtle - a cat-turtle. Because you have a hard shell and you don’t trust very easily, which might make people feel like you don’t care. But you do - you’re just a little misunderstood.” You pulled back with a sad smile and Bucky felt his hands tighten around you as he stiffened. Though despite the surprise, his lips split into a bright smile.

He gazed into your eyes for a little longer before he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek, making a giddy smile appear on your lips. “Thank you, doll.” 

And then, with a final wave ‘good night’ you turned and walked down the street. Bucky watched until you rounded the corner, unable to wipe the stupid grin off his face.

**Bonus:

“So... how was the date?” Sam teased as Bucky entered the main area of the compound. But his friend just wanted to go to his room and revel in the serenity, you had brought him, a little longer.

“That’s none of your business, punk,” Bucky grumbled, passing the sofa. 

“Why, did you more-than-kiss her goodbye?”

Bucky stopped in his tracks and turned with an annoyed expression, but not even he could hide the blush on his cheeks from deepening at the thought of actually kissing you. His heart was pounding in his chest.

“Oh! Wait? Did you really?!”

“Shut up, Sam.” Bucky wanted to deny it for your sake, but he liked the thought of it too much. So he swiftly decided to simply not spill in front of his friends and your cousin. 

“Holy shit.” He heard Clint chuckle while he made a beeline to his room, missing how the two avengers exchanged a $10 bill behind him.

Wanna be added to the Taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @marrigold-2002

[moriartyluver]

Hello🙋 it's me yet again. How's it going?

Are you still taking requests? If you aren't, please ignore this.

If you are, could I please request a William x Reader oneshot? I got inspired by that poker chapter (I hate Johnson).

So, one night, William, Albert, Moran and Bond decide to play poker, and the winner will be recieving a kiss from William's wife (they somehow persuaded her to do it💀). So, William pulls some intelligent shit (I'm stupid, ok?) and obviously wins. Bonus, he asked reader to sit in his lap for good luck🤭.

I really hope this is not confusing and thank you very much! ❤️🥰

A/N: I’m still taking requests dw 😭 this request got me giggling and blushing omg 🤭 I’d sell my soul to get to sit on liams lap 🛐 (I hate Johnson too)

Character(s): William James Moriarty x fem! Reader

Format: oneshot

Genre: fluff + spicy

Prompt: above^^

Warnings: established relationship (marriage), reader is female, gambling??, a little bit spicy. Way too short 😞

“POKER?”

“That’s right, darling. We’d invite you to join but..” William trailed off as you scanned the table. Fred and Louis were observing while Bond, your husband, Moran and Albert were all sat around a table, the poker set out.

“But what?” You asked, feeing slightly left out. “Because I’m a woman?” You were half joking but everyone knew that playing games like cards or poker were not very ladylike.

Bond shook his head “You’re the prize, (nickname). The prize can’t be playing because then what shall you get if you win? It’d make more sense for you to watch instead.”

You raised a brow in confusion. You? The prize? What on earth was that supposed to mean?

“When you say it like that, it makes you sound perverted.” Moran commented from beside Bond, a subtle smirk on his face.

You look over to William as if demanding an explanation. He smiled sheepishly, it wasn’t him who had declared the bet and he’d much rather not have you on the line.

“What Bond meant to say was that the winner is supposed to get a kiss from, you, (name).” Albert explained with a smug look and a sip of wine as usual, watching his little brother furrow his eyebrows in slight irritation from beside him. “Nothing too extreme, just a little peck on the cheek.”

Clearly he had some of not all the responsibility of creating the prize. Albert wasn’t as much of a mastermind as William was, but God, he had the tendency to meddle and scheme in other peoples lives whenever it could provide entertainment.

You looked at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t agree to this! You can go bet on something else,” then you paused “Nevermind that, as the lady of the house, I’d much rather not have any gambling take place within the estate, or anywhere for that matter. Haven’t you learned anything after that run in with Mr Johnson?”

“Oh don’t be like that, (name), it’s just for fun.” Moran laughed, although there was a slightly guilty tone in his voice, like a child caught misbehaving “Besides, we all know Louis acts more like the lady of the house much more than you do.”

Louis glared at the colonel then rolled his eyes while you held back a snort from his reaction.

You sighed begrudgingly “If you insist..but if I do, then the loser has to do all of my chores for the next month.”

“Two weeks.” Louis negotiated with a stern look.

“Deal.”

Fred was about to pull a stool out for you to sit on but was stopped by William calling out to you. He had his evil (yet attractive) little mischievous smile on so you knew he was planning no good. Chances were, he was probably going to win if Moran didn’t cheat as usual but with a kiss from you up for grabs, he had become even more competitive and determined to win. Both because he adored any scrap of affection he could receive from you, and because he dreaded the idea of you kissing anyone but him, even if it was strictly platonic.

“Come sit here, my dear,” He said, patting his thigh. The corners of his lips were turned upwards “I need my lucky charm to help me win your affections.”

“Do I have to?” You groaned, clearly flustered by the idea.

“Please?” He pleaded, looking at you with a teasing yet innocent expression. You gave in, walking over to him and sitting on his lap while your husband wrapped his arm around your waist, securing you in place. You look at him as if to say ‘you’re lucky I love you.’

“L-Let the game commence.” You said, hoping not to draw attention to your flushed expression as you played off your stutter

“Damn.”

“Oooh, unlucky Bond,” Albert chuckled as James frowned at his loss.

It was finally William’s turn as he was sat beside Bond and the turns went clockwise.

“Your turn, dear.” You said, hand on his shoulder. You could see a smirk forming on his face. One that he would usually wear whenever he would bring corrupt nobles to justice or read of Sherlock’s work in the paper or whenever you would tease him. A smirk he would proudly wear with satisfaction.

You peer over to look at his cards, eyes widening momentarily. You look back at your lover’s face as his eyes land on you. William gives you a wink, ever so smug from what is seconds away from being a win. You had been observing him the entire game, and yet he still managed to get his way as usual.

His hand clutched his cards, ready to spread them over the table while his other hand caressed your waist, thumb massaging the soft flesh over your clothes.

Everyone had been waiting in anticipation, silently observing your reaction aswell as William’s. It was a general presumption that he would win though, partially due to his intellect, partially due to his possessive nature.

“Royal flush.” William stated nonchalantly as he spread his cards on the wooden table.

Moran tossed his cards to the ground in anger, clearly because he had the potential to win if William wasn’t so damn lucky (not for the sake of being kissed, just for the fact he was once again so close to beating William but just not close enough) James has his hand cupped in his cheek, glad Moran didn’t win whilst Albert could care less, he just wanted another glass of red wine.

William could only smile, hoping not to appear boastful despite how badly he wanted to brag, not because he won, but because you were going to kiss him. Although it seemed you had forgotten that now because of how proud you were that he won.

“It seems I’m much deserving of a prize now,” William whispered to you, pulling you closer to him “Don’t you agree my love? I did play so well just for you.”

You pause, recalling the original deal. You hesitantly nod, still annoyed that you were the prize because if you weren’t, you probably would have won anyways.

“Fine.” You groan, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

Except you don’t.

The cheeky bastard turned his head at just the right moment, possibly intentionally, for your lips to land on his. Wolf whistles echo through out the room along with a “get a room” from Moran who recovered from his loss.

You pull away gently, tapping William I’m a faux scolding manner before sticking your tongue out at Moran, about to hurl some insults before William kisses you once more.

[sage-green-matcha]

NO TIME TO DIE - JACK CHAMPION 🌬️

Grammy and Brits winner Y/n Y/l/n meets with Jack Champion for a night full of flirting and awards ;)

Content Includes: flirting, singing, awards show, idk you just being famous and successful 💅

A/n: gonna be gone for a day or two so here’s a longer oneshot for y’all!! <33

<3

<3

<3

“You ready?” You shook uncomfortably in your black dress, the material heavy as you dragged it around. “I’m scared, this is the fucking Oscar’s what if I trip over the dress?” You frowned, a blush brush now on your face. “You look great, you’re gonna do fine” You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were gonna suck. You couldn’t believe that you were here. Sure you’d been to the Grammys and the Brits but the Oscars? Never in a million years did you imagine that you’d be here.

You were nominated for best original song and you also had a small role in handing out awards. That you weren’t nervous for, but performing in front of hundreds of amazing actors, that scared the shit out of you. You were one of the youngest nominees here, besides Jack Champion. Who you might’ve developed a small crush on during the event practice.

“I’m scared, I’m gonna vomit” You felt sick, nervous, all of the above. “Take a deep breath, warm up your voice. You’ll be fine, you always do amazing” You furrowed your eyebrows, singing a random melody as you waited at the side of the stage. The curtain was closed, it was only till the song started that you had to be faced with the hundreds of faces of popular actors, and a balcony full of fans.

“Okay, it’s go time” You looked at the orchestra as you walked across the stage, sitting down on a stool that they had for you. Your team followed, fixing your hair and applying more gloss to your lips to make sure you’d look amazing. Your stomach bubbled with anxiety, fixing your earpiece as someone handed you the mic.

“James Bond films are an indelible part of our cinematic history. Legendary Franchise has produced six Oscar-nominated songs including the title track from our film “No Time to Die” The curtain was drawn open, eyes luckily not on you. It was dark, a small smile coming from your pianists, giving you a sense of security.

“With this exquisite and haunting piece, our next performer has captured the feeling of this film in ways that could only be expressed by music. Please welcome the phenomenal artists and songwriter who co-wrote it, Y/n Y/L/n”

The crowd applauded and you took a deep breath, instructions being given to you through your earpiece. “Okay….and start the music” You felt a shiver run down your spine as the piano started up, blue and white lights surrounding the stage. You kept your eyes closed, taking a breath before you started to sing.

“I should’ve known, I’d leave alone. Just goes to show, that the blood you bleed is just the blood you owe”

You had been instructed to cut to the bridge, eyes still closed in fear of ruining your performance with anxiety.

“Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to everybody else? That if fallen for a lie” you took a stable breath, the lyrics falling flawlessly from your lips.

“You were never on my side. Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise? Now you’ll never see me cry, there’s just no time to die” the orchestra started behind you, opening your eyes to be met with the crowd.

“I let it burn, you’re no longer my concern”

Your voice was filled with emotion, melodically beautiful. The orchestra fit with your voice so well, lights and screen visuals tying the whole performance in.

“Faces from my past return, another lesson yet, to learn” You stood from the stool, giving yourself space to sing. The room had gone dark, all fear washing away from you. You felt the lyrics in you, this is exactly what you imagined it would look like when you were writing it.

Darkness, piano, lights, violin. It was cool to finally be in the place that inspired you. “That id fallen for a lie, you were never on my side” Your voice was airy, loud, and full of emotion. Your hand was placed on your chest as you continued to sing, your eyes trying to spot out faces in the crowd.

“Now you’ll never see me cry, there’s just no time to die” The music got louder, building up to climax. You brought the microphone higher up, your voice filling in the melody with the orchestra. “No time to die, mhm” You took the deepest breath, vocalizing along with your hand to your chest. Feeling the music in your heart.

You brought the mic to your lips, pulling it away as you hit a note. You cheered in your brain, you actually managed to pull it off. The musicians behind you got louder, your voice did too. After seconds of instruments filling your ears you got to the last line, giving your voice a break from the song.

“There’s just no time to die” You smiled at the audience, applauses filling your ears with cheers coming from all sides of the theater. You gave a thumbs up to your pianists, turning around to clap at the beautiful orchestra that performed along with you.

“We did it, oh my god we did it” you squealed as you exited the stage. You felt yourself fill with pride, trying your best not to get emotional. “Uhm I just performed at the Oscars? And I literally did so well?” You laughed, running over to your manager. “See? I told you, you did so well” You pouted your lips, noticing her wiping away her tears. “Don’t cry, come on this is supposed to be exciting”

You dragged the dress back to your green room, smiling at the other performers who were up next. “God, I’m shaking” you grinned. “I was shaking bro! I swear your voice was just like ugh, so fucking good” You smiled, taking the compliment.

You had a bit of free time before you had to preset awards, your manager taking you to the red carpet. “Hey! Y/n…uhm I really enjoyed your performance, you looked beautiful” Jack Champion, your heart paused as you looked up at him, the tall boy smiling at you. “Oh, thank you!” “Of course, you sound really good…like really good” he scratched the back of his neck, nodding.

“Congratulations on your nomination by the way, good luck” You met his eyes as the line moved forward, almost close to getting on the carpet. “Yea! Yea, thanks, I heard you were nominated too, but that performance just won like all the awards” You smiled at his awkwardness. “I don’t know, the other songs are just so amazing” you laughed.

“If you don’t win, people are gonna riot” you blushed, thanking him once again. “You’re all red Y/n, come on you’re next” You went through the carpet, showing off your custom designer-made dress. It was something you had been envisioning for months. Bunched up black silk with a corset bodice, lace gloves with a diamond necklace.

“So who are we here with today?” You stood in front of the camera with a smile. “I’m Y/n y/l/n, how are you?” “I’m doing so good! I mean I just watched your performance and I think this is the best I’ve ever been in my life” You laughed at the compliment, more blush filling your face.

You answered a couple more questions before getting more pictures taken, the photographers screaming your name. “Y/n! Get one with Jack!” You looked over at him and he smiled, walking over to hug your side. You felt your heart beating in your chest, his hand staying on your waist as you walked down the line.

“So sweet of you to walk me down the carpet” you teased. “Just trying to impress you” You smiled and he let go of your waist. “I’ll see you around” he waved before his team dragged him backstage. “Y/n..focus” your manager smiled. “I am focused!”

You walked around for the rest of the night, getting drinks and saying hello to the other nominees. You sat back in your assigned seat, drink in hand before smiling at your stylist. “You ate with this dress, I really can’t I’ve been getting compliments all night” You rested your head on her shoulder with a smile. “You know I try my best, but seriously it was all you. You do really look beautiful Y/n…and I think Jack thinks so too” She nudged you under the table, your focus now on jacks table. He was with his mom and manager, smiling over at you.

“He’s so cute I might die” you exaggerated. “He’s into you, girl I think you’ll be going home with a new man tonight!” You covered your smile, taking a drink of the non-alcoholic beverage.

A couple more awards passed and it was your turn to give them out. You were accompanied by Zoë Kravitz, one of your lifelong idols.

You got on stage, hugging her before the segment started. “I’m Zoë Kravitz” “And I'm Y/n Y/l/n, and we are honored to be announcing the award for best actor of the year!” Zoë read out the nominees, the red envelope in your hand waiting to be opened.

“And the Oscar goes to...” You opened the red envelope with a small mischievous smile. “Jack Champion” the camera cut to the smiley boy, hugging his mom before going up on stage. “This is the first Oscar and nomination for the amazing Jack champion” you added, Jack coming up the stairs with a smile. “Congratulations” You pulled him into a hug, his face red as you handed him the award.

“Well uhm, wow. I just wanted to say thank you. To the fans, to my family. This is something really huge!” He laughed, your heart happy for him. “Thank you to James Cameron, Dileep Rao, and Dr . Max Patel. Thank you to all my co-stars, you guys are all so, so amazing” he held up the award proudly, stepping off stage as you handed out the next three awards.

“Hey! Congratulations! I knew you could do it” You came up to his table during the intermission. “Thank you” he got up, hugging you with a smile. “You raised a good kid Mrs. Champion” Your manager came up behind you, complimenting and congratulating him and his mom.

“Yea, thanks, Good luck with your award, I’m sure you’re gonna win” you blushed. Thanking him again before you walked back to your table, cameras rolling once again.

You felt your heart beating faster, the camera on you for your reaction. “Next we have the award for best original song, and our nominees are..” you smiled up at the screen, your competitors on the large tv. You felt your heart race, you knew you’d be fine if you didn’t win. But yet again winning would be really fucking cool.

“And the Oscar goes to..” you swore you felt your heart stop for a second. The sound of the envelope opening making your heart race. Zoë laughed before reading out the name, “Y/n y/l/n” Your heart dropped, face covering your hands as your stylist and manager jumped to hug you.

You walked up the steps, carefully to not step on your dress. “Uhm…oh my god?” You couldn’t hide your smile, award in hand. “Okay uhm…well, I wanna say thank you! To my stylist, my manager. My amazing co-actors and team. I love you guys so much, I’d be a mess without you all. I also Wanna Thank my family who sadly couldn’t be here. But I wanna thank them for their support! Also thank you to Hans Zimmer, Stephan Lipson for helping me produce this amazing track, this award is for you! And lastly thank you to the recording academy for this beautiful opportunity” You smiled once again, waving the award before walking back to the table.

“What the fuck?” “I told you that you’d win!” They hugged you tightly, the award carefully placed on the table. It was so much more than just an award to you. So much time and effort went into the track, and the final product was so satisfying.

“I’m so tired, I might die” You plopped down on the couch of your green room, taking off your tall, black heels. “Ready for the after-party look?” She pulled it out from the rack, it was similar to the dress you had on, just less extravagant. It had the same beautiful bodice, bodice, with the same slit just more toned down. It was more of a lacy material, a shawl made of the same thin black fabric. “I’m wearing my sneakers with this I don’t care” you laughed.

You got changed into the dress, surprisingly the sneakers didn’t look too bad with it. “Looking beautiful as always, now let’s head out before we get stuck in traffic” As you exited the green room everyone was already leaving. You spotted Jack through the crowd, his tall figure standing out against everyone else.

“Hey! You going to the after party?” “I’m not sure yet! Are you?” You nodded, adjusting your shawl. “Yea okay, I’ll be there” you smiled at him. “where are you gonna put yours?” You asked, matching Oscars in hand. “I think I’m gonna build a thrown just for it” “Seriously?” You laughed. “Yea! I’ll put it up on a pedestal, it’ll look great” You just smiled as he took your hand, your friends following behind the two of you.

Photographers lined up along the exit of the theater. You got into your car before you waved at Jack. “I’ll see you later?” He nodded, letting go of your hand. You watched as your two managers exchanged something, yours getting into the car. “He’s got you so whipped you forgot to get his number. Here you go” She handed you the small slip of paper.

“You looked beautiful tonight, congratulations <3 Can’t wait to see you soon!!! Here’s my number - Yours, Jack :)”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Michael Redgrave (The Lady Vanishes)—my beautiful bisexual hot linguist geek dandy nerd. I'm specifically nominating him for "The Lady Vanishes," but how can you not love him in this—it's a strikingly modern performance, not a whiff of old school macho masculinity; he starts the movie as a bit of a cad, thoughtless and self-absorbed, but the second our heroine's in trouble he's attentive, he's helpful, he's running around speaking languages and helping her with international spycraft shenanigans and just being so funny and warm and JOYOUS. (and again. he is SO bisexual. see the picture [attached below]). he's hot in the debate club twink kinda way and i've never wanted to smooch an idiot more

Cary Grant (The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, Charade)—My Golden Age of Hollywood professor, who was very outwardly gay himself, put it this way: Even though Grant's sexuality was kind of an open secret in Hollywood, the public couldn't know in any real way. But anybody could see that there was a queerness about him, so he was casted for roles where he physically embodies his masculinity in a non-explicit but queer way. Bringing Up Baby is famous for the scene where Grant wears a frilly robe (pictured below, but what people don't always realise is that he plays kind of an awkward nerd in that movie. He's a hot awkward scientist in a grand robe!!! Hot!!! In The Philadelphia Story, one of my famous movies of all time, he plays C. K. Dexter Haven, a rich, sarcastic, supposedly abusive guy. And yet, what we see is this laid back, dandy-ish figure, who absolutely does not feel threatened when a woman he supposedly loves (Katharine Hepburn) starts having feelings for, and hooks up with another guy (James Stewart). He lets a drunk Stewart into his office and helps him get his job back! Obviously that is the script and not the actor, but the whole film, and that scene in particular, shows him having this very queer attitude of openness toward Hepburn and Stewart, which is only amplified by the casting of Grant and his portrayal of the character. Anyway, this is not an essay arguing for The Philadelphia Story to be considered a queer film, all I will say is: he's super hot in it.

This is round 3 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Michael Redgrave propaganda:

"BISEXUAL."

"It feels unjust to submit the entirety of The Lady Vanishes as propaganda, so I'd just like to very politely point everyone to 56:30 of this link, where we get a very nice view of Michael Redgrave's ass I MEAN his lilting, fine-tuned twinkish beauty"

Cary Grant propaganda:

The link to the above mentioned frilly robe scene from Bringing Up Baby: "I just went gay all of a sudden!"

last minute cary grant propaganda: the last few paragraphs of that new vanity fair article about him and randolph scott that just came out 2 days ago on cary's birthday where he calls it "gravity collapse" and "love at first sight" and says their souls touched and and and i'm actually sharing this mostly because it makes me emotional but also because a vote for archibald is a vote for love. this is my message. apologies for sounding mildly insane.

[au-roulette]

Happy June!

To celebrate the fact that we are now officially one month away from the start of AU Roulette, have a post detailing the 36 AUs included in this year's challenge -- or don't, if you'd rather be surprised.

This year's AUs have been curated to be intentionally broad, in the hopes that they will encourage unique takes on each prompt and the creativity of the authors participating. You are welcome to write anything that falls under the umbrella of your assigned AUs, whether it's an original universe, a fusion inspired by another fandom, or something else entirely.

(What's AU Roulette, some of you might be asking? An explanation can be found here, along with the link to sign-up!)

Without further ado -- the AU list, under a cut:

Roleswap - Maybe you want to switch two characters' places, do a class-swap for a D&D fandom, try your hand at an age-swap fic, or you have another idea.

Superhero -- Invent an original universe or do a fusion with one of the many popular big-screen superhero stories. Play it straight and give your favorite characters cool powers, or try a deconstruction of the genre. With great AUs comes great responsibility

Gothic Horror -- Castles. Ghosts. Vampires. Drama. Love that conquers Death. Take your inspiration from classic literature or a newer entry in the genre, like The Locked Tomb books. But be sure to make things spooky.

Post-Apocalypse -- Will the world end in fire or in ice? Or maybe economic collapse, war, zombies, or one of many other options? You write what happens next!

Fairy-Tale -- Pick a classic tale from the Grimms, Hans Christian Andersen, Asbjørnsen & Moe, Charles Perrault, or another favorite author to inspire your AU, try out a more modern re-telling, or use fairy-tale elements to craft your own story.

High Seas -- Including but not limited to Pirate AUs and other Age of Sail adventures. Try out something more historical, or throw in as many fantasy elements as you'd like -- or a bit of both.

Time Travel -- For fixing mistakes, making things worse, or time loops. Or maybe you want to write a fusion inspired by a piece of popular time travel media, like Doctor Who.

Western -- Another AU where writers are free to do their history research or to lean into more outlandish genre conventions. Cowboys, cowgirls, and cowpokes all welcome, of course.

Mythology -- Write a story inspired by your favorite myths and legends, from a whole host of different cultures. Or maybe you'd like to try your hand at writing some epic poetry?

Coffee Shop -- A classic everyone knows and has strong feelings about. Play it straight or add a twist, whichever suits your fancy! After all, no one said where the coffee shop has to be...

College/Academia -- Are the characters in your AU students? Professors? Weary adjuncts? Throwing hands at a conference? Some mix of the above?

Theater -- Put those characters on Broadway or cast them in a disaster of a community theater production. Or a school play! All that really matters is the show must go on.

Ghost/Cryptid Hunters -- Maybe you want to write a story starring the next Scooby-Doo crew, or maybe there really is something strange in the neighborhood. Or maybe it'll never be clear what really happened -- it's your choice!

Secret Agent -- Code words, code names, you name it. Write a story about spies, cryptographers, or any other clandestine operators. Take inspiration from history or from James Bond. Just don't spill your secrets too soon.

Detective -- Whether you're writing the world's greatest detective or someone who just can't get a clue, play up the mystery! Use a classic locale like 221B Baker Street or invent your own.

Cyberpunk -- Time to write cyborg identity crises and fight the machine (literally)! Take inspiration from classic media like Neuromancer or Blade Runner or make a totally new cyberpunk universe of your own creation.

High Fantasy -- Elves and dwarves and gnomes, oh my! This AU could encompass everything from Middle Earth to D&D AUs to your favorite high fantasy books you read over and over as a kid. Or maybe you have your own spell to weave.

Band/Musicians -- Whether you decide to make the characters in your AU famous pop stars, part of an orchestra, students at a conservatory, jamming together in their garage, or otherwise musically-inclined, have fun with it!

Reporter/Journalist -- For everything from local anchors and newspaper staff to big-league investigative reporters. Write characters who'll do anything to get a scoop or with a strong sense of justice -- it's your call!

Cosmic Horror -- You don't have to love Lovecraft to get creative with this AU. Make characters comprehend the incomprehensible, send them messages from beyond the stars, and get a little creepy.

Heist -- Will you write a story about master thieves? Vigilantes righting some wrong? What's being stolen and why? Try a Leverage AU or a caper of your own making.

Space Opera -- The genre encompassing works like The Expanse, Imperial Radch, Mass Effect, and Star Wars, brimming with galactic empires, alien species, and chivalric adventures. Write a fusion set in the universe of your favorite work in the genre, or invent a new one!

Sports/Athletics -- Pick a sport, any sport -- whether a team game like hockey, an individual one like archery, a paired one like figure skating, or something a little unconventional, like roller derby or HEMA. Then it's ready, set, write!

Historical Era -- An AU type absolutely bursting with potential, from medieval romances to 1920s Prohibition AUs, to ones inspired by historical fiction like Les Miserables. Whatever era of history strikes your fancy, you can write it.

Road Trip -- Pack your favorite characters in a car and don't forget the snacks. Or maybe the spaceship, or something else if you're feeling adventurous. Where are they headed and why? Only you know the answer!

Space Exploration -- Whether you want to write modern-day astronauts, a futuristic Star Trek AU, or something inspired by the space race, the sky isn't even the limit with this AU.

Urban Fantasy -- For all your modern-with-magic settings. Write an AU inspired by something like Teen Wolf, Artemis Fowl, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or much of Neil Gaiman's oeuvre, or invent your own world where witches and websites coexist.

Museum/Archives -- Have the characters in your AU working in the exhibits or behind the scenes, down in the collections or even as archaeologists or paleontologists. What secrets are waiting to be unearthed there?

Hospital -- A surprisingly flexible AU option -- are the characters working there, or the victims of some unfortunate accident? Or maybe it's a bit of both. Take it wherever you feel like.

Camping/Wilderness Survival -- Could be anything from a fun summer camp or camping trip to a nightmare survival scenario. Write everyone having s'mores around the campfire or something inspired by media like Yellowjackets, where they might be having... something else.

Steampunk -- A fantastic opportunity to get creative with your worldbuilding. Try your hand at some alternate history, or invent a world of airships and other flying machines of your very own.

Shapeshifter -- Can the characters in this AU turn into anything they want? Or maybe they're more limited, like selkies -- even unable to control their shapeshifting at all (can I get an "awoo" from the werewolf fans?)

Classic Literature -- An AU somewhat more dependent on fusion ideas, but still very flexible! Pick a favorite classic book or play and let it inspire your writing!

Dystopian -- Create your own awful society or let a favorite piece of media guide you, like writing a Hunger Games AU. Will the characters break the cycle, or end up trapped in it?

Renaissance Faire -- A recipe for chaos. Write a bunch or faire-goers or have the characters in your AU working at the faire! Adventures await.

Scientist/Mad Science -- Write characters as normal biologists, physicists, and chemists, the next Frankenstein, or as hapless experiments themselves!

[xxscarletxrosexx]

A Linguistic Analysis of the Spelling Names "Ania" and "Anya" (and the chapter and languages of Ostania)

This includes spoilers from Short Mission 11, or Chapter 90.1

It's not a secret that Anya's (Ania) name change was officialized along with Loid (Lloyd) and Yor (Yoru/Yolanda) in July 2019. I do recall that our loveable Forger family had different spellings in the early manga releases. Many believed that it was Endo-san's way to cover up the spelling mistake, but I believe that, whether or not the origin and/or intention was a mistake, it paved a beautiful opportunity for a deep dive into linguistics and character analysis on Anya Forger.

First, I'd like to address my thoughts on "ANIA" as the spelling. Here are a few of my impressions on this:

"ANIA" could be perceived as her original spelling because wherever she came from used this spelling.

"ANIA" could just be her limitation as a child when it came to spelling her name.

"ANIA" could be an acronym from her lab that probably served the purpose of her existence.

"ANIA" could be the name of her mother/creator. And she was subjected to share the same name of her creator for "sourcing" purposes.

"ANIA" when applied to numerology number, reinforced her code name which is 007 (which is super meta to me, but probably is a coincidence because we all know 007 was Endo's way of referencing James Bond). S/O to @momentocollector for sharing this!

Second, I'd like to address "ANIA" as an identity for our precious baby girl.

"Ania" is the chosen spelling. This could possibly mean that this is her real name and how it should be spelled (You, as the owner of your name have every right to decide what your name should be, spelled, or pronounced after all).

"Ania" could possibly be an influence of either her mother-tongue language's spelling.

"Ania" could possibly be due to her limitation of spelling. (I don't think she is aware of how her name should be spelled.)

Recall that Yor carved out Anya's name as "Ania" and didn't question it. This could be a reflection of Yor's own lack of familiarity of Ostanian orthography since she is academically limited, and she would have listened to how Anya would have wanted her name to be spelled. Furthermore, this tells me that Yor's absence of questioning reflects that she accepts her daughter no matter who she is, be it "Ania" or "Anya".

Third, I'd like to address "ANYA" as her name's spelling.

"A-N-Y-A" is the spelling that her papa gave her, which tells her that she can now be on the same playing field as her parents. Their names and titles are all "masks" in this masquerade that they call "Forger". So, to little Anya, it means that she finally belongs with someone. Anya has essentially found "her home".

We also know that Franky did do a lot of paperwork and found that "Anya" is the spelling that was written down on her adoption papers. This reinforces that "Anya" is the standard Ostanian orthography of her name.

I perceive Loid as a person replicating the "average Ostanian" (since this is a deep cover mission after all), so to also tell her that her name is spelled a certain way reinforces that she has a new identity as an "Ostanian child". (I find this quite ironically poetic because it's a "fake man" giving a "fake name" to his "fake daughter").

I also see that when Anya's eyes light up, it could also mean that this new identity in her spelling change meant she was finally liberated from her days as a lab experiment and living in an orphanage.

Fourth, I'd like to address spelling etymology.

Since I'm not a Japanese linguist expert, I found @connoisseursdecomfort post to be quite educational when it came to Japanese spelling.

What we learn from the above post is that "Ania" is an acceptable name spelling in "Old Japanese". But as time progressed, the spelling changed to "Anya" which is the modern-day spelling of this name (this may tie into Anya's character lore).

We can track "i" becomes "y" in the evolution of the alphabet from Phoenician (c. 1000 BC) to Archaeic Greek (c. 750 BC). S/O to @rachellysebrook for this link. (Again, what this reinforces is Anya's background with an unidentified mother country/mother tongue language).

Another thing is that Yor Forger did not react to the spelling of "Ania". It could possibly be that she recognized Anya's limitation, given that her daughter already had poor scores since her admission.

We also learned that Yor, a real Ostanian, seems to be limited with Ostanian orthography which is most likely due to her dropping out of school to take care of Yuri (fake Ostanian /j). From her interaction with Anya, off-screen, it appears that Yor seems indifferent to spelling standards of names (Which is nice! She is subtly against society's norm and I love her for that). Had she been aware of the spelling, she would have been the one to ask instead of Loid. (But again, it must be Loid because it's poetic and has a much more meaningful interaction between "Loid" and "Anya").

Fifth, I'd like to address the name's (possible) impact on character purpose in the story.

"Anya" means mother in Hungarian (S/O to @httplovecraft1890. This inspired my thoughts on "Ania" as a name in the lab). Could this possibly be an inspiration or coincidence? It could be a stretch, but perhaps Anya's purpose in the lab is that she's a "mother weapon" for war.

"Ania" means "gracious" and "merciful" according to Google. Which makes me think that the lab scientists went with this name because it would represent her purpose as a weapon of war. Perhaps Ania becomes the "truth serum" and could be seen as the "angel of death" because she knows the war captor's thoughts and inevitably they are executed (a possible headcanon).

Sixth, I'd like to discuss the factors of the mysterious "unidentified language".

Anya did use "oui" in the anime when Loid had adopted her. This automatically made me think her possible origins could be French, but it could also take another step back in the language family: Romance. What makes this work is that we treat "Classical Language" as a dead language based on what we read/saw in the manga/anime like Latin. Anya has an innate potential to be bi-/multilingual.

Bonus: Seventh, I'd like to talk about the languages in this anime (This is a bit of a ramble but since we're talking about linguistics, I thought why not)...

Based on the dialogues spoken in the anime, we can confirm that English exclamatory (Oh my God, Goddammit, Shit, Wow, Elegant, etc.) and the Japanese language are the main components of the Ostanian language. This is reinforced by many characters who have used English expressions (Loid, Yuri, Yor, Anya, Damian, Henderson, etc.)

What does bug me is whether or not "oui", a French exclamatory, should be categorized as part of the Ostanian language or if that should be categorized for Anya's hidden lore. The reason is that when Loid/Twilight heard Anya say "oui" in front of him, he did not question it. (Perhaps he was too tired to process this, or he excused it as something Anya could have seen on TV and is merely mimicking. I really don't think Twilight would be the type to excuse this realization had he not had the aforementioned state of mind). I'm leaning more towards the latter as this is from Anya's mother tongue language.

In conclusion (or tldr;): "Ania" may be her real name, but "Anya" is her new identity as part of the Forgers.

If you read everything, thank you for your time! The linguist in me is so happy that Endo-san is steeping his foot into linguistic territory. As short as this chapter was, it said A LOT to me linguistically and provided more details to the scraps of lore that we know of Anya but it also tells us a bit more about Yor, Loid/Twilight, and Ostania.