#but i’d assumed it was referring to the kind in grey london

[antaripirate]

EVERYONE SHUT UP WE HAVE ALUCARD CONTENT

[bettyannbutterworth]

Asleep - Chapter 5 (After the rain)

Tom finishes preparing two tea mugs of strong, milky tea and joins her at the table.  He smells like he had a shower as well, and he wears a very nice grey jumper with fresh dark jeans, not a tear or hole in sight.  The top could be cashmere, it looks very soft and warm. So does he.

[...]

“Yes, that was the goal.  To tire Toby out.  Let me put your things in the dryer.”

Alex holds her trousers, shirt, and smaller wet items to her chest.

“Just tell me where it is?”

She ignores his amused smile and follows the directions to the appliance, 30 minutes should do.

Returning to the living room she can hear soft music in the background, it sounds dramatic but pleasingly so.

“What’s that playing?”

“The score to a movie called Conquest of Paradise.”

“It’s nice.  I rarely go to the cinema and I don’t own a TV.  Does it bother you that I’m clueless to your… prominence?”

She is honestly curious.

Tom chuckles, “No, not at all.  Believe it or not, I like it…I’m enjoying it.  All too often, when I meet new people, the conversations center around my job, the perks, that kind of stuff.  I like that I can talk with you about anything but that.”

Alex sips her sweet tea and considers.

“My circle, which admittedly is not as exciting as yours must be, might be also rarified.  There are so few of us who specialize successfully, that one might consider me a celebrity of sorts.  Being the daughter of a world-renowned scholar, having extensively researched and published myself…” She laughs, “though to most people, it probably wouldn’t compare.  But I like that you share my passion about my field of interest and at the same time it’s refreshing to talk about other things, do other things.  Maybe even learn new things.” She looks over to the snoring Toby.

Both start to say something at the same time, Alex gestures for Tom to go ahead.

Tom pauses for a moment but Alex insists. She isn’t sure if she should really voice what’s in her head, the mood that has been created in the last hour and now by the homely setting, almost an intimacy, is unfamiliar to her, making her feel soft and vulnerable.

“Well, I was still wondering about the things you told me while we were walking.”

Tom waits, watches to see if she understands that he is not trying to pry, that it’s up to her whether to continue or stop.

“Yes?”

“After the loss of your mother, how long did you stay in France?”

“A little over a year. Grand-mère was 80 already at the time and her health was deteriorating and the doctors wanted her back at her home in London.  She said, ‘there is only so much that France can heal, some things simply need time and the love of a father’.’  And she was right.  Even though I was terribly sad to leave Severine, I missed my dad and home, so we returned.”

Tom would like to keep asking, to dig deeper, remembers that he had interrupted her.

“What did you want to say before?”

Alex is debating what to do but finally gives in to the urge to be candid with him. Also, she has the weird feeling Severine is standing behind her, nudging her on, giving her a thumbs up.

“I just thought. Well. We had mentioned our… occupation and the things that might come with it. I meant to add that I have to admit, it threw me a bit when I looked you up online.  Obviously, there’s the fact of your success, your,” Alex can’t think of a better phrase and makes a face, settling for “fame.  But what really surprised me, was how different you do look in person to me from some of those pictures. I know actors, the good ones anyways, are like chameleons, but honestly, even if I had seen you in a movie before you walked into the shop, I’m not sure I’d have recognized you.”

Tom snorts and shrugs his shoulders, “The short version is, I’m a lazy bastard.  Contact lenses dry my eyes, shaving is a hassle and to be honest it irritates my skin, so I only do it if I really have to. Make up obviously helps… does the hair bother you?” He jokingly strokes an imaginary Gandalf beard. “I’ll take it off immediately, just say the word!”

Alex laughs, “No, I quite like it, actually.”

She doesn’t add that it helps her to not get too distracted by his intelligent eyes, but it’s a close thing.

“Is that right?” Tom asks, as if hearing her thoughts and although she is aware that she might be crossing the line from innocent teasing, she feels compelled to speak about what's been on her mind since Wednesday, when the search engine had corrected her spelling of his last name and offered  ‘Results for Tom Hiddleston’.

“You must have thought me naïve, for not knowing who you are.  And I felt naïve, if not embarrassed later because I did what a person that loves reading as much as I do, should know better than to do – I judged the book by its cover.“

“You took one look at my hairy self and drew the conclusion I was a tortured, suffering artist? A poor scholar?” Tom raises his eyebrows jokingly.

“No. I mean, maybe, yes, a little. And just for the record I was fine, with you being any of these things. But I’m referring to later on, the moment I saw pictures of your... actor persona, the man in a £4000 suit. The award winner. Posing.” She presses her lips together for a moment. “I judged. And assumed.”

She tries to say it without bias, even smiling, and Tom interjects that not all the suits are that expensive and posing in them is, well, required, but she can see he understands that she is serious. She continues with a small voice and Tom has to lean in to hear her properly.

“You are obviously an attractive man, inside and out, but these pictures…Beauty, or what is perceived as beauty, can be a distraction.  It can be used as a cloak to hide behind and I admit, I was once deceived by it.  And hurt.  I take responsibility for my actions then; I wanted to believe that inner ugliness could not be hidden under outer elegance, that outer beauty must be a reflection of what is inside.”

Alex stares into her cup, apprehensive to look up at a silent Tom. She finishes her tea and her line of thought, “However, I learned, that it’s mostly a mask, a superficial disguise to hide something, and to tell you the truth, I thought, when I looked you up and found this other facet of you…that I had discovered yours.”

Tom remains still and when she finally gazes up at him, he gives her a tiny wistful smile.

“I’m afraid you have, Alex.  I am an actor and I have perfected so many disguises that I sometimes don’t know any more who the real me is.  People do judge books by their covers, and people in turn by their looks.  I would be lying if I didn’t admit to doing the same at times.  I too have my experiences with confusing perception versus reality.  Sometimes, Alex, I even encourage it, preferring to wear a mask – however, when I do, it’s not to hide what’s inside, but rather, to protect it.“

He takes a deep breath, “Your, as you call it, naivety is actually a superpower.  It made you immune to my deception, and I have to say I am grateful for the moment when you looked up at me with unclouded eyes and ordered me to leave my damn cup at the shelf.  You gave me the chance to be myself, and you have no idea what a joy that is.  As is finding out,” he smiles, “I like who I am when I’m with you.”

[eldritchsurveys]

1005.

What battery percentage is your phone on right now? >> 93%.

Do any medical afflictions run in your family? >> I have no idea what I’m genetically predisposed to.

Who did you last talk to in person and what did you say? >> Sparrow. I don’t remember, it was just a casual interaction.

What's your favourite Mexican dish? >> That’s tough. I do like quesadillas a lot, but ultimately there are hardly any Mexican foods that I would say no to.

Have you ever been to a professional sports game? >> No.

How far do you live from New York City? >> A few hundred miles.

How often do you talk to your parents? >> I don’t.

Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? >> I prefer to never have a period ever again, if I can help it.

What was the weather like in your town today? >> Mild and sunny.

Are there any phrases or words that you say a lot? >> I mean, probably, but the thing is, I can never remember what they are when asked. If I say something a lot, it becomes unremarkable and not worth remembering.

How many boyfriends or girlfriends have you ever had? >> Too many.

Have you ever ordered a specially made cake from a cake shop? >> Does a wedding cake count?

What was the last movie you saw and who did you watch it with? >> Vampires vs the Bronx. I watched it by myself.

What's the name of your first real boyfriend or girlfriend? >> Meh.

Do you clean your ears daily? >> Not daily.

What accent do you have? >> I assume it’s a generic American anchorman type accent.

What scent of air freshener do you keep in your bathroom? >> Why would I keep an air freshener in the bathroom? The last thing bathrooms need are more smells.

Have you ever dated a model? >> No.

What's the best job you've ever had? >> Selling merch for local bands at their shows.

How about the worst? >> The other jobs I’ve had.

Do you have naturally straight hair? >> Not at all.

What is your ultimate goal in life? >> ---

Have you ever visited someone in prison? >> No.

What months were you and your siblings born in? >> I was born in May.

Do you write down your passwords in a physical place to prevent losing them? >> No, I use a sort of algorithm for my passwords, so while they are always different for every site, I can still figure out what it is.

What are your three favourite vegetables? >> Oh, damn. Can I just lump “leafy greens” in as all one type of vegetable? Gonna cheat and do it anyway. Greens, carrots, tomatoes.

How many times a day do you check Facebook or any other social network? >> I check facebook like 3 times a week.

When was the last time you had a blockednose? >> I don’t remember.

Who is your favourite comedian? >> Dylan Moran, Tiffany Haddish, John Mulaney, Bo Burnham.

What colour are the socks you're wearing today? >> I wore black socks with a space print when I went out earlier today.

What did you have for dinner last night? >> Just some sweet potato fries.

What was the last concert you went to? >> Er... I think that was Hozier.

Are you an ugly crier? >> As self-conscious as I already am about having emotions in a visible manner, the last thing I want to do is call myself ugly about it too. Christ.

What scent is the soap or body wash you use in the shower? >> I don’t remember what the scent of the soap I currently have is supposed to be.

Have you ever had sex in/on a vehicle? >> Once outworld, at least twice Inworld.

Who do you live with? >> My spouse.

What letter does your street name begin with? >> W.

Do you do anything to groom your eyebrows? >> Nope.

When was the last time you ate at McDonald's? >> It’s definitely been a while.

What's your favourite Popsicle flavour? >> I never was a popsicle person until we started going to the farmer’s market and got hooked on this one lady’s homemade popsicles. She uses fresh fruit and makes the best flavour combinations. Right now I’m fantasising about one called “London Fog” which is earl grey, coconut milk, and lavender. It’s the most luscious shade of purplish-grey, too.

Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? >> Casey, I think. It was a short discussion about the SSI approval process.

Do you have any injuries at the moment? >> No.

Have you ever been to an ophthalmologist? >> No.

Do you own any animal print clothes? >> Nope.

Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? >> Average, I assume. I don’t care to change it, my height is one of the few things about my body that has never bothered me.

When was the last time you went to a drug store/pharmacy? >> I don’t remember. We’ll have to go to one soon, to get flu shots. Hopefully this weekend.

Do you ever binge-watch TV shows? >> Not really. I used to, but nowadays I get restless after two episodes (or three or so, if it’s a 20-minute show as opposed to a 45-minute or hour).

Have you ever mustered up the courage to tell someone how you feel only to be rejected? >> I mean, I guess. I’ve made overtures towards people that were rebuffed, but not necessarily in a way that felt... particularly rejecting, I guess? Either they were particularly tactful or I just didn’t take it as hard as I could have.

Do you keep your files and documents organised in one place? >> Yeah. I only have a few, anyway.

What's your favourite sweet treat to bake? >> ---

Are you good at flirting and letting people know you're interested? >> ---

What did you have for breakfast today? >> The same thing I have every day.

Do you prefer sweet or savoury breakfasts? >> Savoury only. If there’s sweet stuff involved, like french toast with syrup, it has to be paired with something savoury or I won’t eat it.

Do you like chick-flicks? >> Generally not, I guess. But there’s always exceptions; I love Legally Blonde, for example.

Have you ever taken an acting class? >> No.

What is your favourite kind of berry? >> This is tough. I really don’t want to choose, but I guess if I had to, I’d pick strawberry.

When was the last time you watched one of your favourite movies? >> A while ago, I guess.

How often do you use Youtube? >> I use it fairly often while playing FFXIV because I look up dungeon guides and class guides. Other than that, I watch it maybe once a week or so, to catch up with channels I’m subscribed to or watch things I’ve saved or heard about.

Do you prefer Prince or Michael Jackson? >> I don’t listen to either, but I guess I’d rather listen to MJ than Prince.

What's the coolest thing you've ever dressed up as for Halloween? >> I’ve never dressed up for Halloween.

Are you ignoring anyone right now? >> No.

How do you usually style your hair? >> I don’t.

Do you have any tattoos? Tell me about them. >> Yeah. I feel like I’ve explained them a million times, but the short version is: Mannaz rune, the number XIX with a spider dangling from the I, and “scully, it’s me” which is an obvious X-Files reference (especially if you see Sparrow’s “mulder, it’s me” at the same time).

Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? >> No.

When was the last time you used a stove? >> I don’t usually use the stove, so I don’t remember. Probably the last time I made tea.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to eat? >> Of course.

Are you sitting, standing or laying (or something else) right now? >> Reclining.

How many hours per week do you typically work? >> ---

What was the last pill or tablet you took? >> A CBD capsule.

How far away from your house is the closest grocery store? >> Meijer is about a five- to ten-minute drive away.

Have you ever lived in university/college campus housing? >> No.

Who was the last person you complimented? >> I told someone I liked their glamour (outfit) on FFXIV.

Are you the type of person to take naps, even if you've slept plenty? >> I don’t usually take naps. The only time I do so is when it’s completely unavoidable, like I’m falling asleep at the keyboard.

Do you have a crush on anyone at the moment? >> No.

The age old question: dogs or cats? >> I prefer dogs.

When was the last time you saw your best friend? >> ---

Do you know any couples who resemble each other? >> No.

Have you ever been fired from a job? Why? >> No.

Are you tired right now? >> Not particularly, but it is getting close to my bedtime so I probably will be soon.

Do you like spring rolls? >> I do!

What do you live on in terms of a street, road, crescent, place, court etc? >> Drive.

How many purses or handbags do you own? >> I have a holster type bag, if that counts.

Do you get along with all your aunts and uncles? >> ---

Have you ever eavesdropped and heard something you didn't want to hear? >> Yeah, that happened all the time when I was a child. I had this weird self-destructive habit of listening in on my guardians’ conversations about me, which were almost always on the negative side. I don’t know why I didn’t just... stop eavesdropping. I had to know I wasn’t ever going to hear anything good. So I call it “self-destructive” because, like, why else was I doing it if not to just punish myself?

When was the last time you used a pen, pencil or marker? >> A few hours ago, adding something new to my FFXIV daily-to-do list.

What's your favourite type of curry? >> I have no idea.

Do you often go to do or say something and then just forget? >> Yeah.

Who makes you laugh the hardest? >> I don’t know, man.

Have you ever had casual sex? >> Unfortunately.

What was the last thing you paid for with cash? >> Admission to the Meijer Gardens.

What's the last letter of your middle name? >> W.

If your phone rang right now from a number you don't know, would you answer? >> I never answer my phone.

How long is your hair? >> Like... one centimeter.

What was your first pet's name and how did you pick that? >> Roxie. I think my father chose it, idk.

Do you drink diet or regular soda? >> I don’t drink soda most of the time, but when I do, it’s always regular.

Have you ever been to Europe? >> No.

Do you worry about your own health? >> I mean, sometimes. Not obsessively or anything.

Who did you last make plans with, and what plans did you make? >> ---

Can you smell anything right now? >> Not really.

How old were you when you got your first cell phone? >> Seventeen.

When was the last time you bought a pair of shoes? >> Around this time last year, probably? Or maybe a little earlier, idr.

Do you like fruit and vegetable combo juices? >> Depends on exactly what fruits and vegetables are involved.

Have you ever been on a spring break trip? >> No.

Would you rather be warmer or colder right now? >> I’m at the perfect temperature right now.

How tall are your highest heels? >> ---

What's your favourite flavour of frosting? >> ---

When did you wake up today? >> Around 7.30, I think. Or maybe earlier. I don’t remember.

Do you change your appearance often? >> No. There’s really nothing to change.

What colour are the street signs in your town/suburb? >> Green, I think.

Have you ever blocked someone on Facebook? Why? >> Probably, a long time ago. Because they were annoying, I’d assume.

How many people do you work with? >> ---

What was the last thing you ate? >> Half a lemon coconut cookie.

Do you have any plans for three hours in the future? >> I plan to be asleep then.

Has anyone ever made a comment about your weight that offended or upset you? >> Thankfully not.

[crvelsovls]

—

ophelia tate has been walking around town. hazelgrove is familiar of the thirty-one year old hunter. she is aware of the supernatural residents in town. the people of hazelgrove can agree that the librarian can be vehement yet still be reticent. let’s just hope things in town can settle down. + delicate fingers adorned with moonstone gem rings, a coy smile spread across peach-tinted lips and a slender form shrouded in an air of mystery and intrigue. 

s’up buttercups ?? ‘tis me again, here with my second gal ; ophelia. she’s my clever lil huntress who’s loosely based on various past muses of mine. she’s a lot more... innocent that delphine but she’s still quite fiery and sarcastic dkjsdsh anyways, i’ll save you all from my pointless babbles but as usual, pls flick that lil grey heart n i’ll shimmy my irish butt into your ims for plots !! : )

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. ophelia penelope tate.

nicknames. o, phe, & effie.

current age. thirty-one.

birthday. january thirty-first.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

species. human.

nationality. british.

religion. raised a catholic but no longer practices.

birthplace. london, england.

current residence. hazelgrove, me.

sexual orientation. bisexual.

romantic orientation. demiromantic.

education. english literature degree.

occupation. librarian at hazelgrove public library.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. natalie tate. †

birth father. alexander tate. †

full blood siblings. astrid tate. †

maternal grandmother. katherine reynolds.

maternal grandfather. marcus reynolds. †

paternal grandmother. anika tate.

paternal grandfather. edward tate. †

maternal aunts. odette reynolds.

maternal uncles. none.

paternal aunts. sophia tate.

paternal uncles. duncan tate. †

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, french, & latin.

negative traits. capricious, ornery, impulsive, guileful, & caustic.

positive traits. ardent, whimsical, intrepid, graceful, & poised.

strengths. etiquette, bold, rational, practical, original, perceptive, direct, & sociable.

weaknesses. dramatic, impulsive, quick-tempered, insensitive, impatient, risk-prone, unstructured, misses the bigger picture, & defiant.

skills. skilled with blades and various knives, hand-to-hand combat, perception, persuasiveness, good judgment, & able to use initiative.

talents. retaining information, memory recall, knife throwing, & quick thinking.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. blue.

hair colour. blonde.

height. five feet, four inches.

weight. 52 kg.

build. she is of quite a petite stature, and slender with mild curves.

scars. a long, silvery one running along half her spine.

tattoos. n/a.

piercings. earlobes.

glasses. yes, but usually wears contacts.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. aquarius.

element. air.

house. ravenclaw.

myers briggs type. estp-t.

alignment. neutral good.

enneagram. type seven.

temperament. sanguine

intelligence type. interpersonal.

character label. the orphic.

past mental disorders. post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, & suicidal tendencies.

current mental disorders. undiagnosed.

addictions. nicotine.

vices. wrath, envy, & pride.

virtues. temperance, charity, & diligence.

allergies. penicillin.

diet. vegetarian.

dominant hand. left.

accent. mostly english with a mild twang of notable american.

blood type. b negative.

vehicle. bottle green 2015 volkswagen beetle.

BACKGROUND.

trigger(s). mention of exorcism, mentions of murder, & mentions of death. 

born and raised in london, the tate family seemed picture-perfect. though, underneath, the story was very different from how it seemed. while ophelia and her younger sister were showered with love and affection, their parents remained mostly absent albeit for fleeting moments in time. it wasn’t until ophelia grew older that she became more curious about what led her parents astray for weeks at a time. under the illusion that her parents were simply important figures, perhaps lawyers or detectives, a childish ophelia had never considered that their lives had been tainted by a much more corrupt presence.��

eventually, it transpired that her parents were hunters. more specifically, people who hunted down supernatural creatures and put an end to their existence. or, tried, at least. how ophelia stumbled across this fact was by pure chance. her grandfather had been visiting and she had walked into the basement where she witnessed her father and his father attempting to exorcise what she then described as a ‘man with black eyes.’ nowadays, she’d refer to said man and his kind as demonic bastards. 

of course, with their sights elsewhere, the demon managed to free himself only to murder her father and grandfather in the process. if it hadn’t been for her mother, ophelia would have ceased to exist that night also. it was that night that her mother shipped them off to live with their aunt for a while but eventually, after a week or so, her mother returned.

seemingly, everything had been fine until one night when their home was attacked by a pair of vampires. these vampires having been survivors of their mothers attack on their nest, thus they tailed her and laid low until the most opportune moment where they attacked. how ophelia managed to escape that night was anybody’s guess. though the rest of the household hadn’t been so lucky.

having lost her parents, sister and aunt to supernatural creatures, ophelia grew up with a deep rooted hatred for every creature of the night. it had taken her many years to learn of each creature, their weaknesses, strengths and, most importantly, how to kill them. but once she had mastered the art, she set out on a mission to hunt like her parents before her. admittedly, in the beginning, she’d had some near misses, brushing with death many times. but with more hunts under her belt, the better she became.

eventually, ophelia decided to leave london behind in search of the states where she was certain there would be ample supernatural beings endangering the lives of innocents. she moved around for a few years until she settled in hazelgrove where she soon learned that the town harboured an abundance of things that went bump in the night. it was this fact alone that she opted for staying put where she also works as a librarian; constantly researching and reading up on various creatures.

becoming a hunter hadn’t been something that had ever crossed her mind until she’d lost everything. in fact, it had been a path that she should have never stumbled across if it hadn’t been for her witnessing the demon that night. still, nevertheless, it was the road she’d travelled down now and with resentment deep in her bones, there would be no stopping her.

PERSONALITY.

to all who encounter her, ophelia can appear on the surface an extremely reckless and careless woman with a huge tendency to adopt a sardonic tongue during almost all occasions. given her demeanour and attitude, it would be fair to assess that all the blonde is, is a satirical mouthpiece with a permanent simper corroded into the corner of her lips. despite this all, the shell of ophelia does contain much more substance. regardless of her blasé attitude, a passionate, whimsical girl remains deep within the high walls of her persona. it’s almost safe to say that the facade she paints over herself every day is nothing more than a basic ruse; a temporary fixture to aid in slowly but permanently fixing the broken fractions of her mind. it goes without saying that ophelia is constantly shrouded in mystery, concealing her true emotions and feigning any feelings whatsoever. although a sensitive, vulnerable aspect of her persona remains, it seldom prevails against her impulsive, sarcastic, intelligent nature. the problem with being clever is already knowing the things others try so desperately to hide from you. ophelia knows how others view her, she sees how they look at her. everybody assumes she’s too difficult to reason with and believe she’s even tougher to understand. it is this that enables ophelia to flirt with danger, use her words as a weapon and also a bargaining chip. it is this that gives ophelia an overwhelming sense of adrenaline, swimming through her veins and fuelling the fire that lies within the pit of her stomach.

QUICK FACTS.

can drink any man under the table.

smol but fierce.

one of those people who just excels at everything they try their hand at.

has a very high pain tolerance. seriously, it’s kinda freaky.

the only thing she’s truly terrified of is spiders. those eight-legged cretins have her shaking like a leaf.

absolutely adores animals. much prefers them to humans.

was raised a catholic and went to an all-girls catholic school but she no longer practices.

doesn’t drink much as she doesn’t like to be out of control even in the slightest.

she quite likes being a hunter and she does the job very well. attention to detail is key when she’s working.

is a very reckless driver, it’s a surprise she hasn’t been in an accident yet.

looks innocent but really isn’t in every sense of the word.

she’s that bitch that loves reading and has a thing for poetry.

she’s quite adventurous and loves to feel the adrenaline in her blood.

doesn’t take herself or her life too seriously.

a bit meddlesome and a troublemaker.

always up for a good time and is usually the life of the party.

outspoken and quick-witted with a sharp tongue.

WANTED PLOTS.

for wanted connections and potential plots, i’m open to just about anything so feel free to hmu for connections or any plots you can think of !! some i’d really love are :

best friend ( pls give my girl a bff she can tell everything to and can party with and just do best pal stuff with like platonic soul mates pls. )

childhood friend ( they maybe drifted apart ? )

an on off relationship ( pretty much like a fwb type situation or casual hookup situation that could develop into feelings or just remain casual. )

a potential love interest ( bonus points if it’s angsty. )

exes / past flings / one night stands.

enemies and rivals.

drinking / party buddies.

and obviously connections with fellow hunters and the supernatural oOoOoOo.

[proteusspade]

BBC Merrick Miniseries Delay Theory

Disclaimer: This theory is a joke.

... mostly. For those not in the know, the BBC miniseries about Joseph Merrick (AKA the Elephant Man) has been delayed for unknown reasons. It was originally going to come out sometime late this year, but it has not yet begun production at all, and nobody seems to have been cast in it besides Charlie Heaton. (People were pissed about this, I have a whole other post about why they shouldn’t be.) The real reason behind this is probably because of some sort of pre-production trouble. Budgets. Securing shooting locations. Maybe fact-checking the script (I can dream, right?) All those boring things.  BUT ... in my head, it’s because of Alan Moore. See, Alan Moore is a big Merrick fanboy. There’s a couple very adoring Merrick cameos in From Hell (please read the graphic novel, the movie is garbage and has almost no connection to it), and a full page of The Killing Joke is devoted to a speech derived very closely from a scene in Bernard Pomerance’s 1979 play “The Elephant Man” -- it’s a reference that you absolutely can’t unsee once you’ve seen it. I remember I found a Merrick reference in V for Vendetta once, can’t remember what it was. This is major fan shit, the kind of thing I’d do. The BBC headquarters, I assume, is located in London. Alan Moore, last I heard, lives in London. I cannot help but picture production being bogged down not by budget concerns, but by a flood of letters from Alan Moore giving his input on what he wants to see, what he doesn’t want to see, etc from the production. All in the same verbose detail he provides to his artists. Hundreds of letters flooding in like Harry Potter receiving his Hogwarts letters.  The letters aren’t getting a response, so at 3 AM Alan Moore is spotted nailing his Merrick-related theses to the door of the BBC studio. They begin to hold auditions for the other roles, but things get off to a bad start when the actress auditioning for Nora Ireland walks into the room with a thick, grey beard and a metre-long mane of wild hair, a white apron set atop a thick leather jacket to give the suggestion of a nurse.  “Mr. Moore, please... let us run our auditions in peace,” sighs a producer, face in his hands. “Next.” Alan Moore exits, but soon re-enters. All of the Nurse Irelands on the docket are Alan Moore.  So are all the Frederick Treveses, and all the Reverend Valentines, and all the Sam Torrs, and all the Madge Kendals, and all of the F.C. Carr-Gomms. Someone suggests just letting him have Carr-Gomm to make him go away, but he notes that he will not shave or cut his hair for the role, because he will not bow to corporate whims over his personal appearance.  Auditions are halted. The actual actors who were slated to audition are contacted, and all seem to have been intimidated away from the roles, and demand the roles be given to Alan Moore -- although some of them describe him as “that Rasputin-looking guy”. Anthony Hopkins is found tied up in a closet on BBC property where Alan Moore intercepted him earlier. 

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 14 ~The Price We Pay~

Claire padded into the kitchen, turning on the coffee machine as she went and then loading the washer with stray dishes. She grimaced now and again at certain use and movement of her muscles, a reminder of the night and morning she had with Jamie. 

Earlier in the shower, she'd noticed with shock, the discoloured blemishes and bruises on her skin in different parts of her body. Undoubtedly, Jamie had made his mark and bestowed her a gift she will never forget. He'd shown her what it felt like to be desired and wanted as a woman and knew from thereon, after being truly well-loved and served, she would never accept anything less. 

The floor creaked behind her, just as she was retrieving the mugs from the cupboard. Spinning around, she found Jamie leaning against the doorframe, a towel draped low on his hips and an amused smile plastered on his face. "Ye wearing my jersey," he observed, examining the oversized rugby shirt on her.

She shook herself mentally as her eyes drifted from his happy trail to his face. "I only bought it because they didn't have one of Alistair Price." 

He walked over and stopped in front of her, lifting her chin with an index finger. "Wee liar." His head dipped to kiss a bite mark on her exposed shoulder. "Do ye wear it often?" he murmured.

"Only when I'm lounging about the house."

"I like seeing ye wear it." Then their mouths met, and his hands pulled up the hem of her shirt, cupping her backside. 

Insatiable!  Warmth and contentment fanned out in her belly as he deepened the kiss. She was just about to wrap her arms around him when the phone rang. 

Half-heartedly, she pulled away and gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, but I have to take that."

He gave her one last kiss before letting go, his eyes telling her that they weren't done yet. Composing herself, she answered the phone. "Hey, Joe, what's up?"

"LJ, hey, I have a temporary job for you if you're interested. It's at St. Leonards Medical Centre," he rattled excitedly.

"Oh!" With so many things happening all at once, she hadn't anticipated working so soon. "Well, I was kind of ..."

Joe interrupted. "You remember my ol' buddy Grey?"

"Grey ... Grey," she whispered, searching her memory bank. "Oh, you mean John Grey. Of course, I remember him." She stole a glance at Jamie and met his gaze. "He was part of your medical team during the rugby tournaments."

"That's right. Well, John is at the St. Leonards Medical Centre now. They're kind of short-staffed at the clinic as one of his colleagues broke his leg in a horseback riding accident. They're inundated with work at the moment, and I thought perhaps you could help while you get your life back in order. It's only temporarily."

She chewed her lip and played with the thought. The upside of working at a medical practice, the hours were more regular and less stressful. And moreover, she liked Joe's handsome friend. Besides having worked with him before, she found him funny, witty and kind. "How temporary?"

"Two weeks tops. There's a replacement coming from Glasgow in a fortnight, and then you can go back to residency program hunting. So what do you say, LJ? Will you do it?"

She reflected on it for a bit and sighed. She knew fully well how understaffed hospitals and medical centres were in their area, and it was only for two weeks. "Fine. When do I start?"

Joe let out a whoop in the other end. "Monday at seventy-thirty. The practice opens at eight. I'll text you John's number now in case you have further questions. And thanks a million, LJ. You're a star!" 

She smiled as she switched off her phone and faced Jamie, who was now leaning against the counter, watching her with his arms crossed. "It was Joe. He asked me if I could help his mate at the medical centre," she explained.

A shadow passed his features. "When?"

"Monday."

He tucked his tongue into his cheek. "I was hoping we'd have more time in case I got the job at the network or asked to go to London for an interview."

Her stomach bottomed out, and the feeling of contentment suddenly took a nosedive at the mention of his possible new job. Maybe because she would see less of him or perhaps because it would mean he would be once more in a public's eye where most women would want a piece of him. To her surprise, the thought of him going back to his meaningless relationships sent jealousy coursing through her veins. She immediately banished the dark thoughts with little result. "It's only for two weeks, and there'll be no night shifts," she reasoned, attempting to force down the melancholy in her voice.

As if sensing something was wrong, he sauntered towards her and pulled her into his arms, his eyes searching hers. "Are ye coming to Lallybroch this Sunday for lunch? With me?"

She was surprised. "Willie did ask me, but you really want me to come?"

"I want ye to meet my family. I'll ask Geillis, Joe and yer uncle too, so ye dinnae feel out of place. My family can be quite overwhelming. And let's say ...curious."

"But I thought ..."

A line manifested between his brows. "Ye thought what?

She sensed despondency in the air and had a strong feeling she'd hurt his feelings or made him worry. "Never mind."

With a sigh, he pulled her in for a long intoxicating kiss, his tongue delving in for thorough exploration, seemingly never tiring of her taste. When they finally drew away, he dragged a thumb across her bottom lip, his serious expression becoming more pronounced. "Sassenach, I'm not used to waking up with someone beside me and perhaps, what happened between us was too soon for ye. So, if I've pushed too far too much, I'll back off a bit."

In that instant, all she could think of was expelling the uncertainties she'd cause and getting them back to that comfortable place they've been. Shyly, she slid her palms over Jamie's chest and across his shoulders, her nails scoring his skin. "Last night was amazing, Jamie," she whispered. "And it was the first time in a long time I didn't check the windows and doors before going to sleep." She tilted her head to look at him. "With you snoring in my face, I felt safe and slept very sound."

He burst out laughing. "Snoring in yer face. Is that right?" He studied her for a moment before he spoke again. "Ye really feel safer with me here?"

She nodded. 

Satisfaction took over his expression as he tucked a curl behind her ear. "I like knowing that, Sassenach."

"And, a little reminder ..." she began, tracing a circle on his chest with a fingertip. "I want you to know that you're way more than just rugby. It will always be something you are passionate about and something that brings you joy. And then you can return to you, and that's okay. You're enough and complete without it."

His breath fanned her cheeks. "Am I?"

"You saved my life, you helped me escape my wedding and yesterday you spoiled me with a basket of chocolates." She twined her fingers with the hair, curling at the base of his neck. "You're scoring tries by the thousand in the gestures department, Fraser."

His eyes twinkled. "Was that an intentional rugby reference I hear?"

"I thought you'd appreciate it if we stayed on the theme." Claire felt how much she showed him at that moment. Ten years of putting down a crush as an adolescent's fancy and assuming what she felt for Frank was love, when really all that while she'd had no idea that this was what love felt like. This was it, so laden at times it couldn't be lifted and so light at others it made you capable of floating.  Guard your heart , a voice whispered in the back of her head.  He doesn't love you back ... then nor now.  With a forced smile, Claire gently pulled away. She immersed herself, making them coffee, her voice unnatural when she spoke. "Get dressed. I want to take you somewhere."

She didn't bother to find out his reaction as she occupied herself, knowing if she looked at him, he would extract her true intentions. A few heartbeats passed before Jamie left the kitchen and with a sigh of relief, she smiled, hoping what she had in store for him wouldn't backfire.

..........

The direction she took on their drive brought them to the Rugby and Community Sports Club. It was an idea she'd thought of this morning, inspired by her love for watching the game and Jamie's passion for it. Since the season wouldn't start for another two months, the open field sat deserted beneath a cloudy grey sky, automatic sprinklers spraying from a distance. 

Without looking at Jamie, she could feel the strain sneaking into his frame.

Lately, he'd started speaking to her more and more about rugby, especially ever since he'd shifted his focus on the presenter's job with the sports network. But the thought of actively playing the game again as a non-professional seemed to make him uncomfortable as if he wouldn't permit himself full enjoyment of rugby unless he could excel at it at a top-level. Sadness descended upon her. She could close her eyes and see him in his crisp navy blue uniform. She envisioned strong, powerful legs carrying him across the field, shimmying gracefully past a wall of defending opponents, and body-slamming anyone who got in his way while soaking the adoration and enthusiasm from the cheering crowd. He'd so obviously been the best in his craft, and no one ever challenged his superiority. In fact, like her, the whole nation celebrated it. 

Easing the car into the parking slot and remembering the earsplitting roars from the crowd in the past yesteryears, Claire's gut told her not to stop pushing him. She wanted him to embrace the sport again without associating it with his accident. More importantly, like she'd told him earlier, he didn't have to be the best rugby player to be the best Jamie.

"Sassenach ...what are ye doing?"

She didn't allow his warning tone to dissuade her. "I'm your number one fan, Jamie. And I'd like to play pass and catch with the nation's greatest. It'll be something to cross off my bucket list."

"We're probably not allowed to be here," Jamie mumbled, looking stressed out, his eyes warily darting to the view before them. He started to tap a finger on his thigh, a quirk she'd noticed when he was out of his comfort zone. "We should leave it for another time. Besides, I'm not dressed for sports."

She eyed his clothes. He was still wearing his jeans and shirt from the night before, and his shoes weren't ideal for running. Whereas her, she'd come prepared with a pair of yoga pants and trainers. But still, that didn't stop her from pushing her agenda. "C'mon, twenty minutes is all I ask."

"We don't have a ball."

"I have one," she winked at him and got out of the car before he could come up with another excuse. After quickly grabbing her backpack from the back seat, she headed towards the field and took out the ball, aware of Jamie not far behind. She began to position herself as if she was in a scrum, handling the ball as she'd seen a million times on the television.

"Christ, Almighty, Sassenach, ye have nae hopes in hell of doing a dive pass like that. Ye're supposed to have the ball below yer body."

"I used to play with Joe and his mates, and this is how Joe taught me."

Jamie had no choice but to move towards her. "Joe is more of a tennis man," he grumbled, grabbing her waist and pushing her back lower. "Ye need to angle yersel' this way."

She did as she was told and bent lower to her waist. "Like this?"

Jamie groaned and rolled his head on his shoulders. "Bloody hell, Sassenach, ye're killing me."

"Wot?"

"I ken what ye're doing," he growled, pressing himself against her rear and squeezing her waist. "Fine, ye win. We'll do a few passes and run towards the other end of the field."

She grinned as she watched him settle into his post opposite her, looking smooth and dangerous as a panther. "You do the dive and pass the ball to me," she instructed.

Jamie nodded, his shoulder muscles taut and stretched under his shirt. His warm breath puffed out onto her face as they imitated the scrum position, bent down and locking arms together. Over them, the sky darkened even more, obscuring their shadows on the ground. There was a heavy pressure in the atmosphere, a warning that soon the heavens would open.

As he counted, Claire had a moment of panic as she thought of his past injury. What if pushing him caused more harm? But there was no time to ponder as he grabbed the ball and straightened up.

Trying to keep up with his long legs, she was on her feet too and off running. She knew he wasn't even exerting much effort for her benefit so she could keep up. And then the ball came hurtling towards her, and with as much force she could muster, she leapt and caught it with a loud oomph and ran as fast as she could, the wind whipping her hair loose and cooling her heated skin. Halfway towards the end of the field, she twisted her body, to release the ball. With a snap of her arm and turn of her wrist, she gave him her best spin-pass.

Holding her breath, she watched as Jamie caught the ball with ease. It had been over a year since he'd held one in his hand, yet his body slipped right into the familiar movement. His legs were long, one hand carrying the ball as if it was glued there, not bothering to hook it under his arm, and his coppery locks were swept back by the wind. He was like an eagle soaring the skies of the highlands or a stag racing through grassy pastures, zig-zagging with grace and dexterity as he covered the rest of the course. Muscled legs twisting and body flexing, he was a magnificent sportsman and a work of art to behold. He reached the other end of the field and flew in the air to dive in for a heart-stopping touchdown.

Claire could no more check her loud shout of cheer than she could stop the drizzle that started to fall around them. Jamie spun towards her as he got up, an unmistakable grin spread on his face, his joy so palpable from where she stood. He didn't hesitate to pass her the ball for another round. And then another. Each round they did, caused Claire's heart to expand with pride. The rain grew heavier, drenching them to their skin, but they didn't stop until there was nothing left in her. If she had more energy and stamina, she would have continued until the sun was gone, watching him grow more confident with every catch and race across the field, but she couldn't have been any more triumphant when he dropped the ball to the ground.

Tears clouded in her eyes as he strode towards her, lifting her into a bone-crunching hug. She laughed without inhibition as he spun her in a circle, her arms fastening around his neck. "Show-off," she whispered into his ear. "How did that feel?"

"Bloody awesome!" he breathed.

Remembering their morning discussion about wanting her touch, a wall inside Claire cracked in the middle and crumbled down. She clung to him as he walked them away from the field, raining kisses on his neck.

"Christ, Sassenach!"

"Wot?"

"Thank you." His eyes probed hers, his hands firmly clutching her thighs. "For accepting me as I am and showing me, I can change for the better. How do ye do that?"

I love you, that's how.  Claire couldn't say it out loud, so she took his face in her hands instead and kissed him, hoping that when the day came to let him go, she would have the strength and courage to do so.

..........

There was an impatient, loud knock, making Claire jump. "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" she muttered under her breath. "What now?" She'd been so deeply engrossed in her reflections of the recent events and packing for her overnight at Jamie's, she'd lost track of time.

After their afternoon at the field yesterday, they'd returned to her cottage, showered and stayed in to watch movies. They'd ended their evening making love on the living room floor, and that morning he'd left her to do some errands. But not before asking her to stay over at his apartment for the weekend. She'd hesitated at first, but she'd shut the nagging voices in her head and agreed. Next week there would be plenty of opportunities to occupy herself with her temporary job and think over her situation with Jamie. This weekend she was determined to enjoy their time together.

Another knock. This time louder.

Quickly glancing at her watch, she made her way through her living room, tying her bathrobe tight.  It was too early for Frank. And even more so for Jamie. Who could that possibly be?  Peering out the window before opening the door, she saw it was indeed Frank. He looked casual in jeans and a black button-down designer shirt. The only thing that was out of place was his unshaven face and restless demeanour which was very unlike the smooth and collected man she knew.

She opened the door. "You're early."

He marched inside without waiting for an invitation, making her automatically step back. "I see you still have that tattered bathrobe you like to wear so much. Didn't you tell me you got rid of it?"

Claire stiffened but refused to be unnerved. He'd always had an opinion about the clothes she wore and her taste. When he'd told her to get rid of the bathrobe, she'd defiantly hid it at the back of her closet. "It's my mother's," she reminded him. "Where are my things?"

"In the car."

"Can you please get it then."

"What's the rush?" he asked, critically eyeing the inside of her cottage with a disapproval shake of his head. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he spun around to face her. "You have somewhere to go?"

Feeling apprehensive, she tugged the tie of her bathrobe nervously. "In fact, I do, yes. Let's get this over and done with, shall we? I'll help you get my things from your car."

"Plans with Jamie?"

"None of your business," she snapped, already at the end of her tethers with the on-going drama called Frank.  Why can't he just let me be?

His lips turned into an ugly sneer. "Why so defensive, darling? Everyone knows you're fucking him."

A sting went straight through her heart. She didn't know the man before her anymore. What happened to the man she fell in love and once vowed to share her life with? "Think whatever you like, I'm beyond caring. I only want to get my things back." She made a move to go outside, but he yanked her back with force, causing her to lose her balance and bang her head on the floor with a loud thud.

He pulled her up without an ounce of care and shoved her against the wall. "You think you can humiliate me in front of hundreds of people and escape the consequences?" he snarled, his spittle landing on her face. "Oh no, my dear. You're going to pay."

Her heart pounded with fear, but she strived to remain calm. "Let me go, Frank, please. You're hurting me," she pleaded. She twisted within his grasp and saw the door was still open. If only she had the strength to push him away and make it outside. "Can we talk about this calmly?"

"I thought you said we're done talking." His hand began to tug the ties of her bathrobe and panic flooded through her. "I've come to claim what's mine. Now spread your legs and give what's due me."

She tried to bring her knees up, but he'd anticipated her move. His thighs pinned her against the wall, and his fingers dug painfully into her wrists. Above her head, he gripped her hands with iron strength, and the more she twisted and turned, the more she felt Frank's erection pushed between her thighs. "Please, Frank, don't do this."

"Come on, sweetheart, give it to me as good as you give to Jamie," he mocked, ramming his hips against her, one knee forcing her leg to part.

"No, no, please ..." She squirmed, trying to pull her hands from his grasp, but he was too powerful and too heavy for her to push away.

"I'm quite sure Jamie wouldn't mind sharing. He did steal you from me, after all." He seized her face and forced her to look at him. "Did you scream like a bitch in heat when he fucked you or did you fake it like you did with me?"

"No, no ..." she trailed off in a whimper as she felt his hand slip underneath the waistband of her panties. And when his finger slithered in further, that's when she lost it. The thought of Frank taking her right then made her sick to the point of revulsion, causing her to forget her fear for her safety.

She screamed, twisted and fought like a possessed madwoman. She was about to bite into his arm when suddenly the weight of Frank was lifted off her. Blinking and disoriented, she only had a moment to see his body flying backwards into the air and find Jamie standing over Frank's sprawled body.

Without giving Frank a second look, Jamie quickly got to her and made a quick assessment of her state, his eyes and hands searching for any signs of injury. "Are ye alright, Sassenach?" he asked, his calm voice a complete contradiction to the rage pulsating in waves around his body.

Unable to speak, she simply nodded and wrapped her arms around her body.

And then with a calculated move, Jamie straightened to his full height and menacingly approached Frank. He grabbed the half-daze figure by his collar to his feet, and Jamie was just about to throw a punch to his guts when the door was flung wide open.

"Police! Stay where ye are!"

Everyone froze, and Jamie let go.

A few seconds went by before Frank suddenly found his voice. "Arrest him, officer. This man has violated his restraining order. My name is Frank Randall ...Dr Frank Randall from the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, and if you check your records, you will find I filed for a restraining order because I felt my life was in danger. As you can see, Mr James Fraser here is a very violent man."

Claire let out a gasp and realised she'd underestimated Frank. "No, no ..." She forced herself to speak, but her vocal cords seemed tight and constricted. Her ears rang, and her vision blurred. Mind racing, she did a quick self-diagnosis and realised she was experiencing the symptoms of concussion. It must have been caused when she'd lost her balance earlier and hit her head. 

Taking a huge gulp of air, she tried once more and strained her voice, fighting the darkness that seemed to engulf her at a rapid pace. But the only word that came out before she blacked out was, "Concussion..."

[bakechochin]

Book Reviews - Camera Obscura

Camera Obscura - Lavie Tidhar - I’d been keen to read more of the Bookman Histories ever since I finished the first one a while back, and this one did not disappoint - The world is still fucking rad, presenting a new view of 19th century Paris with literary characters running amok (and it’s still a joy to be able to identify everyone) and with some new interesting ideas thrown hither and thither which pretty much means that there’s a new radical world element introduced every few chapters, which is fucking awesome - I liked the somewhat smaller scale this time around; there are no omnipotent deities, not end-of-the-world scenarios, just straight up detective work, solving murders and the like -> This links in with how I like how efforts are made to differentiate this book from the last one, despite the similarities being evident; an example that comes to mind is that whilst a large point of the last book was Orphan feeling insignificant at being a pawn in other people’s schemes, in this book Milady de Winter accepts this as the way the world works, which was refreshing -> These changes were also at points beneficial to the story; like I found the travelling across the world elements in the previous book a bit ridiculous and also felt like they were a bit of an unnecessary digression when it was the city of London that I was interested in, but in this book, the faraway mystical elements come to the protagonist rather than the protagonist going to the faraway shit (for the most part), which I found worked better - It was this book that made me properly realise how much I like books that splurge fantasy and sci-fi; like it started with stuff like The Vagrant, but this book really does a great job at piquing my interest by making the sci-fi elements mysterious and enigmatic, thus filling the same kind of role magic would do in an ordinary straight-up fantasy book - Oh and there are some amazing bits of writing in this book, including one very tense and fucking hard to read chapter the likes of which I haven’t seen since the First Law trilogy, so that’s fucking great - Hooray for this book being gratuitous and stupid and penny dreadful-esque, with wuxia monks and stupidly overpowered killing machines and murders every few chapters - there’s enough of the good stuff that I can forgive some of the more questionable stuff, like the salacious human/automaton paintings that put me in mind of Mieville’s variety of disgusting writing - The short story ‘Titanic’ was very very short, but enjoyable nonetheless, and the twist that separates this fictional Bookman history from real history really made me laugh - At times the book is really really well written, and what I found interesting was Tidhar’s interesting new ways of delivering dialogue besides conventional back-and-forth conversations, but with this new idea comes a bit of confusion, as the book often changes without warning to some new way of writing dialogue, and sometimes it’s a wee bit unclear which character is saying what at any given time - Like the first book, I felt a wee bit overwhelmed when right at the start of the story we get a shit load of different plot points introduced (this book presents us with secret societies and shifty comrades and unexplainable deaths and midnight killers in just the first hundred pages), and thus, same as last time, inevitably some plot points will turn out to be not as important as first made out and others may be forgotten altogether - I thought that the new protagonist Milady de Winter was a bit of a twat; like I get that she’s got the whole unflappable badass thing going on to be in direct contrast with Orphan in the last book, but all she does is go around acting like a massive dickhead to people, abusing them verbally and physically to get what she wants, and it’s kind of vaguely justified because she’s searching for information but really she just comes across like a short-fused arsehole because of it -> It’s like we’re immediately set up to hate her because she’s shitty towards people who appeared in the last book, people in the last book we were meant to like, so it’s like Tidhar is challenging my loyalty for the old characters vs my loyalty to this character he’s only just introduced and is acting like a bastard -> And for that matter, be it because of Milady de Winter feeling against the world and thus opposing everyone, or because of an intentional decision, the side characters don’t seem anywhere near as likeable as they did in the first book - Some of the major elements of the story were a wee bit confusing, be it because they weren’t explained properly or they didn’t seem like they should be how Tidhar wrote them or just because I’m an idiot who can’t pick up on stuff; the main one that comes to mind was all the shit with the origin of the grey virus thing, and how it linked with the shit going down in the east (like yeah I understand vaguely how it happened, but what the virus can and can’t do is pretty vague; fuck it, you’ll read all about it in the book, make your own judgements) - The detective work proceeds in an odd fashion since a load of discoveries hinge entirely on people accidentally and conveniently saying more than they intended, or just getting the information beaten out of them - Because a lot of the characters are cribbed from pre-existing literature, Tidhar kind of assumes that we’ll know who these characters are, and so there’s deliberate ambiguity in saying who is who when the reader should be able to piece this together, which is all well and good but when I don’t get the reference, it never gets explicitly stated who they are, so there were a few unsolved mysteries for me when I wasn’t well versed in what these characters are references to - There are times where it seems like Milady de Winter doesn’t really have much of a purpose in the overall scope of things; it’s established early on that she’s basically a pawn for the mysterious higher-ups and her role isn’t to find the killer or do anything especially heroic, it’s just to set things in motion that are out of the protagonist’s hands and will no doubt happen offscreen, so occasionally I was a bit put out by how little Milady de Winter really does or can do (I mean these feelings were immediately dissuaded whenever she beats up a shit load of people, which is often, so this is a minor complaint) - I’m not sure if this book is really fast paced, or if it just seems that way because of the really short chapter lengths; it’s a book you can read in very short bursts, but there are often times where it feels like either too much happens in a short pace of time or nothing much happens in an entire chapter - 7/10

I have a load of other book reviews on my blog, check that shit out.