#edith explains

[nightmaresart]

"I'm Edith Payne, this is Charlotte Rowland, and we're the dead girl detective agency,"

I told you guys I would do it and here is the final product, I really tried to do my research on what the women would wear in the edwardian era as well as the 80s punk fashion. I tried to keep some parts of Charles original outfit the same because it just didn't seem right to completely change it around. As for Edwin I tried my best to keep the colour pallete the same while working with what I had found regarding his era.

I definitely will try to draw more screenshots with the female versions I created, and maybe I'll even draw a male version of Crystal and Niko to complete the group, who knows.

Tagging @jinchaeji

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

[moonverc3x]

(^ the RIGHT reference has a more accurate design for Js wings ^ I was just too lazy to give her a proper front-facing view LMAO)

hiii thank you for looking at my Kirby ocs!! that is all <3

additional misc references:

[rebelangelsims]

🤘

[shirayuki7]

Bought Emily Wilson's Odyessy translation and I turn it over...

Top review was Madeline Miller.

The last review was Edith Hall.

That is fucking backwards. Edith Hall, a published and reknowned historian is at the bottom and a mediocre author is at the top????

[awkwardtuatara]

okay but in The Chimes of Midnight the Doctor and Charley try to leave the sentient horrifying murder house with the ability to manipulate space and time that's rooted in paradoxes and grown beyond comprehension... using the Doctor's own sentient mysterious vehicle/home that can travel all of space and time that operates beyond human comprehension and is inextricably connected to him. like is it any wonder that maybe that didn't go as well as they'd hoped

[releasing-my-insanity]

Siegfried is an unreliable narrator.

At least when it comes to his perspective on his parents and Tristan. Siegfried claims that Tristan was the parents’ favorite. But if you look at the age difference between the brothers, it becomes quite obvious that what Siegfried sees as “I’m loved less” is actually just the natural consequences of one brother being an adult while the other is a baby.

Siegfried is upset that that the parents spent a lot of time with little!Tristan, but Siegfried was in veterinary college, Tristan was an infant. According to Samuel West, the actors decided that the age difference between the brothers is 19 years. So Siegfried, who had spent nearly two decades as an only child, suddenly had a baby brother.

(Rest under the cut for length)

Parenting advice always recommends explaining to older children that babies need more care, but that doesn’t mean that the older siblings are loved any less. I guess the Farnons Senior assumed that since Siegfried was nineteen, he didn’t need that conversation and would naturally understand that Tristan needed more attention than he did. But he didn’t.

Another complaint that Siegfried has is that Farnon Senior used to go to Tristan’s cricket matches at school but never went to his. A few seconds later he’s mentioning that their dad was also a veterinarian. It’s pretty obvious what happened. By the time Tristan was old enough to be playing on his school cricket team, his dad was pretty old. There’s a high chance he had retired.

He didn’t go to Siegfried’s matches because there was always more veterinary work to do and he couldn’t just drop everything to go see Siegfried at school. But if he was retired by the time Tristan was in school, then he suddenly had a lot more time on his hands that he could use to spend time with his younger son.

There’s also the possibility that Farnon Senior retired because he had started to have health problems that were making the work too difficult. If that’s the case he probably knew based on a combination of his age and health that he wouldn’t live to see Tristan to adulthood. He got years to spend with Siegfried, but not nearly enough time to spend with Tristan. So he was trying to squeeze as much time as he could into the time he had left.

All Siegfried sees is his own perspective. He hasn’t tried to see how things were for his parents. Or for Tristan.

Siegfried saw “my parents love me less than they love my brother.”

Tristan saw “Our parents are old and fragile and I’m a child who needs his brother, but my brother doesn’t want me.”

And the parents saw “We have two sons who we love very much and want to do right by. But they’re very different ages and need different things from us.”

[mrsllyziy]

bro Danny from the movie Evil Dead Rise is how I imagine Gus Finch would look like in a live action of WROEF just listen

[chuuyanakaahara]

wait so chuuya loses his ability !! :(

well. yes and no.

he loses his ability in that it's blocked from him, per se; it's there, but he can't access it. the ability that originally hit him - the last of cheri, the same ability that impacted atsushi in the prequel fic, which isn't necessary to read act of faith - essentially "blocked" the user's ability and thus, the divide in their soul and their body pretty much caused them to succumb to madness (and. well. kill themselves.) in twenty-six days.

chuuya was unconscious for those twenty-six days, so he never had the chance to lose it. and he was comatose for a long fucking time, actually, because abilities are a little wonky when it comes to him bc they're interacting with his singularity, so logic gets a little re-write when it comes to chuuya.

he does get his ability back; tainted is intrinsically linked to his soul and it's a pivotal part of every ability user, once they manifest their ability. it's about getting past that "block."

and chuuya does get over that, in act of faith! in fact, the scene where he re-activates tainted is possibly one of the most pivotal of the entire fic, i'd argue. not to spoil or anything, since you haven't read it, but let's just say chuuya places his faith in one of dazai's methods of dealing with his problems.

[businesstiramisu]

Been watching Suits, it’s Very Good

I mostly knew it as “the show that made Meghan Markle famous”, and to be fair, she is great in it

But no one told me about Gina Torres as the managing partner of the law firm, and she absolutely owns that role.

(you might know her as Zoë Washburn in Firefly -- and tbf I’m more into Zoë as a character, but Gina Torres plays an *incredible* Jessica Pearson! Looks amazing, dominates every room she’s in, decisive and respectable leader, somehow I still buy that she has a strong moral code act despite “laywers being dicks to each other” being the entire point of the show, and she’s just as much in the muck as any of them)

And apparently in the later seasons my fave Dulé Hill joins the regular cast!! So yeah lots to love about this show, and I haven’t even talked about the actual story or main characters yet.

[winterrrnight]

no cause I just hope to one day write something which literally changes lives like some fics have done to mine like fr bro

[tanoraqui]

obviously the Historical Figure Episode(TM) of Doctor Who that I’d write would of the Noted Author subset endemic to the RTD Era; it’d be called “Spiders in the Trenches” and be set in the middle of World War One ft. one Lt. John Tolkien.

idk if the main aliens are spiders or if they're just using giant robotic spiders as soldier-minions. Either way, Tolkien is a little too defensive when he says he's not afraid of spiders.

The alien invaders want some sort of shiny mcguffin, maybe as a power source for their ship? Or for a mega-weapon? We do not want them to get it, at any rate. Race to find the Shiny Power Jewel-Thing which has been lost somewhere in this like 20-mile radius of the Western Front.

When our heroes narrowly beat the spiders to the SPJT, Tolkien realizes that the spiders only ever attack at night because light hurts them somehow, so he holds the SPJT up as it flares and shouts, "Get back, foul creatures! Back into the shadows from whence you came!"

(They're from the dark side of a tidally locked planet, and made for extremely low-light conditions? The SPJT flares because it's controlled telepathically and it connected to Tolkien's mind when he touched it?)

Ideally Tolkien's first encounter with the Doctor is that he wakes up in the trench one day (after losing some men to a mysterious monster in the darkness a couple nights ago?), and there's 2 random strangers in weird clothes idly singing and playing an instrument which they stole from someone a couple bedrolls down. (This works well with Fifteen & Ruby's established inclination to music!)

We do need an Eowyn Moment, because that's iconic, but I'd split it: for dialogue, at one point the head boss evil alien boasts, "No human can defeat the Tenebrarachnid Empire!" and the Doctor replies, "Good thing they've got me, then."...

[I don't know if this is a Fifteen line yet. I know it's a very Eleven line]

...and there's a soldier in Tolkien's unit who is revealed to be secretly a woman! Who disguised herself as a man in order to enlist for ??? reasons, and who dramatically pulls off her hat to reveal her long hair.

The third notable local character is the sort who inspired Sam Gamgee, "...the English soldier, [like] the privates and batmen I knew in the 1914 war, and recognized as so far superior to myself.”

^those two can have a romantic subplot if it fits (comrades-in-arms is also extremely good). Tolkien, however, at some point shows Ruby the picture of his wife Edith which he carries at all times, she of the black hair and bright grey eyes, and is obviously ready to monologue about how wonderful she is.

In the same scene(?), Tolkien looks up at the stars and says their brightness shining afar, clear of all the horrors on the ground, is always a source of hope and strength to him.

Maybe also in the same scene? Tolkien is shown to make up stories for fun, or to read them in his little spare time - fairy tales and mythological epics. Maybe he tells them to the men around the fire, maybe he keeps a little notebook, maybe he just admits to daydreaming... When asked why, he paraphrases his quote from later life, " Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?"

At some point (Star-watching scene? when the Doctor inevitably has to explain that aliens exist? when they're all saying goodbye in the end?) there's a line drawing attention to the Doctor's parallels with Eärendil - eternally wandering figure of hope, sailing the stars in a ship with a light on top, not quite mortal...

Tolkien DEFINITELY tries to figure out the alien language, in writing or speech.

Something the aliens are doing is making people sick. Maybe the attacking robo-spiders are venomous, maybe there's a toxic byproduct of the alien ship, maybe it's a deliberate first assault of the planned invasion... By the end of the episode, Tolkien is very ill. The Doctor has figured out an antidote and given it, but Tolkien says goodbye to him and Ruby only to stumble to a medical outpost - from where, the Doctor explains to Ruby, he'll be sent home with this bad case of what's assumed to be trench fever. Between the fever and the brief psychic entanglement, and unentanglement, with the SPJT, he won't even remember most of this, and what he does remember, he'll put down to fever dreams amidst the horrors of war.

But he'll remember some things! He'll remember an eternal wanderer of the stars, unaging and undying and ever-hopeful, heralded by light (and a vworrrp vrorrrp noise).

[ichayalovesyou]

Why Do Old-School TV Duos Have SUCH MLM Vibes?!

I think there’s something very specific about the formula and writing style of non-serialized/semi-serialized shows from the 60s to 80s that featured two grown men going on wacky dangerous adventures that makes my gay little literary analysis brain go absolutely off the wall bonkers. I’m trying to figure out why!

I’m writing this on my Trek blog because I don’t think this pattern in people actually shipping these types of relationships the way they do if fandom as we know it wasn’t born via TOS in syndication. That being said! I also think it has to do with the way these shows are designed that makes myself and others OBSESSED with a specific character dynamic that feels (to me) damn near impossible to replicate in modern television. In a way that’s more than just fandom, it’s in the way TV like this was written at the time!

Further explanation under the cut!

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

I think what it usually boils down to is this. There’s a charming protagonist whom without the series could not operate, frequently top billed or the title character! (See: Wild Wild West, Starsky & Hutch) BUT he doesn’t have anyone to play off of! So what do they do pretty much every single time? Give Mr. Idealized Vision of Time-Period Masculinity For Genre a second guy to rhyme with!

See but the other guy has to play opposite but parallel to our hypermasculine protagonist. So what frequently ends up happening is that in order to play off our “normal” guy, even though he’s also a white dude, is that he’s still somehow Other.

They’re always perfect for each other, and they always get into scenarios that would be written, shot and interpreted by conventional audiences as romantic IF either one of those characters were a woman! Especially at the time these shows were made in.

If the one is aggressive, the other is gentle. If the protagonist is violent, his counterpart is intellectual. If the one is stoic, the other is emotional. Which (while one size def doesn’t fit all) usually makes the second guy come off as much more queer-coded (and sometimes other minorities like neurodivergent/disabled etc) than the other because of the traits associated with masculinity vs gayness at the time! Our prime examples in these gifs are Spock, Hutch, Artemus, and also *BJ!

*(M*A*S*H is a bit of a unique case since the show flirts with queerness more openly in ways that people more into the series have explained better than me but I think it still fits the formula I’m discussing.)

Here’s the thing though right? We’ve got two best friends, and the show NEVER really feels right if one of them is missing unless the focus of the story is how A & B operate without each other while trying to find the other one. They stick with and rescue each other unfailingly in scenarios that might destroy a regular friendship.

Hell, there’s often stuff that would emotionally/physically destroy a regular person/character in modern media. But because it’s not serialized they always seem to pull through seemingly through the power of friendship alone or dealing with it off-screen! Emotional consequences? Yuck! (Unless it’s M*A*S*H or Starsky & Hutch, like I said, not monolithic)

Here’s the thing that some people might say throws a wrench into the interpretation I’m discussing. What about the absolutely non-stop parade of conventionally attractive women the main protagonist (and less frequently the supporting man) goes through?

I would reply: how many of those female characters actually emotionally impact our protagonists as characters long term?

The answer is of course, because it’s NOT serialized, almost none! Kirk can watch Edith Keeler get killed by a car accident and still be making eyes at Spock the next episode. Hawkeye can have a “life changing” romance with a Vietnamese humanitarian woman, then share a blanket with BJ next episode like she never existed!

The Doylist explanation of course is not just the fact it wasn’t serialized but also just, constant, blatant 20th century sexism. Which SUCKS!!! As well as not wanting a long term love interest to throw off the character dynamic of our duderagonists. It’s the 20th century tv equivalent of bros before hoes.

However the Watsonian explanation always seems to result in no love interest EVER being more important than what the two protagonists have no matter whether you think they’re queer or not. No attractive woman could make our reputed babe-hound protagonist abandon his buddy. There’s no earnest romance our more queer-coded supporting man doesn’t end (or get ended for him) often for the protagonist’s sake.

Now some of these women are incredibly well written and straight up GOOD matches for our guys. So why wouldn’t they get involved in something long term UNLESS!! They were in love with each other the WHOLE time?

What if protagonist (frequently the babe hound) doesnt know he’s queer, or knows but doesn’t know he’s in love with his bestie, or any number of similar fruity explanations? The supporting man also runs into this explanation but people tend to believe he’s already aware that he’s queer but either also doesn’t know he’s in love or is keeping it to himself because time-period homophobia and/or thinking (probably not unreasonably) that babe hound is straight?

Between the inherent closeness of being narrative foils. The regularly scheduled life or death drama creating sometimes insanely romantic (in the narrative if not a literal sense) drama between the two. The revolving door of weekly women they never seem to get attached to enough to leave one another. The non-serialized nature resulting in sparse personal information/history about the protagonists as a result.

I think between the very NATURE of the way tv shows were written at the time. Plus the way fandom was shaped by a dynamic that has rippled through how media works and is interpreted by fans for decades upon decades. It’s not hard to imagine getting really emotionally invested in the possibility of the protagonists being in love is a fantastic way to enjoy the media!

In conclusion, it’s really fun and easy to go “these bitches gay! Good for them good for them!”

[homoquartz]

i don't know how to explain that "wicked little letters" is SUCH a lesbian movie??

like, it's the way that edith, who is so incredibly sheltered that she doesn't even swear, is so overwhelmed with horror when the woman she is falling in love with stops speaking to her, that she starts sending herself furious, bullying letters with swears that pour uncontrollably out of her. it's very "get out of my school." she can only express the intensity of her passion for her neighbor through the language of something else already forbidden to her, something angry and which she is equally ashamed of.

like yes i know the intended purpose is that it's a film about womanhood, it's intended to be very girl-power etc, but a piece is always as much about the artist's intention as it is the viewer's interpretation

[muddyorbsblr]

the final Lady Sharpe part 4: something to look forward to

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: You and Edith make significant progress on your mission to put Lucille behind bars; Thomas makes a confession before you go to sleep

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: ghosts; a lil bit of steam [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Reader & Thomas are married; more pining; simp Thomas

The ink had dried enough on the final document you were working on duplicating for tonight that you could group them together and place the original papers back in Lucille's hiding place. Tomorrow morning if ever she were to check on them, she would be none the wiser of what had been transpiring over the last two weeks. You repeatedly clenched and unclenched your fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them after writing with barely a pause for break over the last few hours.

"Tomorrow we'll be done with all the documents," you whispered into the silence, feeling Edith's presence nearby as you made your way to Thomas' workshop. "I'll need you to show me where the phonograph cylinders are hidden, and if you know which one has Lucille's demented confession…"

"I'll show you the way," she confirmed. "And I'll make sure that none of the more…how do I put this…bloodthirsty spirits don't touch you. They tend to be a bit overly protective of their turf."

"The what?" You froze in place at her mention of bloodthirsty spirits. You had enough of a fright when you'd first "met" her and Enola, you might not survive encountering their less agreeable companions. The feel of someone nudging you from behind had you moving down the corridor again.

"Don't you worry about them, Y/N. I'll do my part to keep them away, explain to them that you're our friend, and you'll put an end to Lucille's lifelong murder spree. It might take time for them to fully understand, but they will."

Once you crossed the threshold to Thomas' workshop, you heard the exaggerated groan that belonged to your fleeting husband. Checking the candle in your hand, there was only about a thumb's worth left.

"Right on schedule," Edith remarked before you felt a nudging sensation on your shoulder. "You know he must really care for you if he's willing to endure being with her for the sake of your safety. Before she made him go back out into the city to find a new wife--well, a new victim, he looked gaunt. Almost like he found his life grotesque. Then he came back here with you and…there was color in his face again. Like he's allowed himself to live while he wooed and married you. There's a happiness in him when he's with you that I only ever saw glimpses of back when I was--"

Her words fell dead, but you had a feeling you knew what the sentiment was. Back when I was alive. Back when I was his wife.

"Why Miss Edith Cushing, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were playing matchmaker with your ex-husband and his current charlatan of a wife," you mumbled, trying not to look to deeply into her words, her testimony of Thomas' time before you. You were already having enough trouble keeping your affections for him at bay whenever he engaged in your routine of a kiss to cap off the night, marking yet another rung on the progression ladder. Lucille's incarceration becoming ever closer.

You decided to hide the duplicated papers in between the pages of his sketchbook, thinking the chances were slim that Lucille would look into them since he only kept concept art of the toys he wished to work on within it. Flipping through the pages to evenly distribute the additional papers, you found a set of sketches that had absolutely nothing to do with toy designs.

The last few pages that he'd worked on in the journal were filled with sketches of you. Some depicted you asleep, others as if the image he had in mind was of you next to him at the dining table. And a full page that showed the bedroom you shared with the baronet, you perched on the edge, a light wash of orange painted on the page, like the scene was illuminated by firelight.

That was the day you arrived at Allerdale Hall. The fleeting moments of desirous bliss you had before reality came crashing down on you.

"You say this marriage is all an act for you both now, but it doesn't look that way. Not from where I'm standing…well, floating." Both of you shared a chuckle before she posed a question at you. "Y/N something I noticed at night when he makes his way back to you…there's an excitement in him, as if he can't move fast enough."

"I--I didn't know about that part," you answered her in hushed tones as you made your way to your shared bedroom, maneuvering the barely moonlit halls with what little candlelight remained. "I usually try not to look at him before we sleep. I fail, of course, but I make the effort. Granting his request for a kiss after he washes the night off of him was already a miscalculation on my part--"

"Completely understandable miscalculation," she quipped, managing to quietly open the bedroom door wide open. "Far too handsome for me to even think of knowing any better back then."

"My thoughts exactly," you mumbled, stepping into the bedroom and disposing of the used candlewax before stretching and allowing yourself to relax from the night's clandestine activities. "Goodnight, Edith."

"I'll talk to the spirits inhabiting the corridor where the cylinders are hidden," she offered, a faint whispering joining her once again before you heard her echoing chuckle. "It seems your husband's rushing to make his way to you. You still have quite the night ahead. Goodnight, my friend."

You could feel the fatigue setting in as you let the tub fill for Thomas' bath before putting away your tools and your blades, mentally preparing yourself for another night of insufficient sleep. Just as you had for the better part of the last two weeks.

Right as you made your way back to your side of the bed and shook your hair loose from your bun, Thomas walked through the open door. You gave him a small smile. "I should be done with the documents tomorrow, Edith and I will work on transcribing the recording cylinders that can lead the case more to Lucille than you two days from now at the latest."

"That's wonderful news, darling," he beamed at you, running his gaze over you briefly before walking toward the bathroom. "I shall see you in a few moments," he told you, his voice echoing across the tiles. A few seconds later the sound of the water sloshing and a sinfully satisfied groan filled the room as he sat into the tub. "You truly are a godsend, my wife. Thank you."

You did your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach hearing him call you that. You wouldn't hear it for much longer with the progress you were making. "You're welcome," you answered back, fighting back your own sounds of relief once your back hit the bed and you allowed yourself to finally relax for the night.

The cumulative efforts of the last dozen or so days seem to have finally taken its toll on you, your eyes fluttering shut as soon as your head hit the pillow. You hadn't been able to hear the sound of Thomas padding his feet on the floor and back to you, or his little gasp as he saw you in your slumbering state.

"No…" he sighed, climbing into bed with you. "Y/N, darling, please tell me you haven't completely fallen asleep yet," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face.

"Hmm?" You leaned in to his touch, feeling a strange sense of comfort when your cheek rubbed against his slightly calloused hand. "'M awake…" you mumbled, slowly opening your eyes. He gave you a tender smile when your eyes met his, and you couldn't help but return it.

It was only in these moments just before you both went to sleep, your parts in this perilous operation done for the night, that you could allow yourself to almost feel as if you were a normal married couple. Just laying in bed together before going to sleep, sharing a quick goodnight kiss before he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

Perhaps even indulge yourself, even for a moment, in the dangerous truth that once this was all over, you would miss these fleeting moments of peace with him. You'd miss how he held you through the night and how you'd wake up wrapped in his arms. How in the last few days he would greet you in the morning with a soft kiss to your nose before you both made your way out of bed and stepped out of your room.

You would miss him when all this was over. When you'd both signed the divorce papers and went on your separate ways, and you were back in your apartment in the city, going to bed alone, you would miss him.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a small sound coming from the back of his throat as he sighed into the kiss, almost as if he was relieved. "This is the only thing getting me through the nights," he said solemnly, settling more comfortably into the bed as he kept kissing you. "Knowing that this was what awaited me when I get back."

Instead of your usual night routine of a few kisses and he would pull you into his arms, both of you falling asleep to the sound of the other's breath evening out, he moved his body closer, kissing his way to your neck, his hand traveling down the side of your body until it settled at your waist. His lips began to trace along the neckline of your nightgown, the contented hums against your skin combined with the feel of his lips on you had you struggling for breath. "Thomas--"

"It should be you," he whimpered, his exhales warming your skin. "I should be spending my night with you. Laying with you." He kept on kissing along your neckline, his other hand pulling along the string that exposed your décolletage and he immediately pressed his lips to your chest, above your heart. "You're my wife, I should be with you."

He kissed his way back to your lips, your shock from his confession letting his tongue slip past your lips and tangle with your own. It was like flames licked all along your body at the contact, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as your fingers weaved into his onyx curls.

"Thomas, wait--" you tried to say, placing your hands on his chest in a paltry attempt to get him to pause for a moment, failing to fight against your eyes fluttering closed and your entire body melting under him the moment his tongue delicately ran along the roof of your mouth.

"I want to lay with you," he said once he pulled away, looking at you with those wide pleading eyes that likened him to a pup asking for a treat. "May I?"

For the love of all things good in this world say yes, you hissed at yourself. You struggled to breathe properly, fighting against every instinct to give in as he repeatedly whispered "please" into your skin. Trying to not let the curiosity and desire consume you and see how far your husband was willing to go.

This was the fantasy you wanted to lose yourself in, where by some miracle when all this was over and you both made it out alive, that you'd found something with each other that neither of you wanted to lose. That after all this perhaps you could have a life together, preferably far away from Allerdale Hall and the figurative and literal ghosts that roam the corridors.

The fantasy that perhaps when you were both safe from Lucille and she was serving her time behind bars, locked away where she couldn't harm anyone anymore, that Thomas might not want to sign the divorce papers. Because maybe he was falling in love, too.

"We've come so far already, we can't afford to lose focus now," you answered him, your voice coming out so small it was like the words all but refused to get through the lump in your throat. "Once all this is done, and we're free of her, you'll be free to do whatever you please…with whomever you please."

The last part left a bitter taste in your mouth, like it physically pained you to say the words.

"You're right," he sighed, leaning away enough so that he could look at you. The expression on his face was akin to that of a wounded pup, making the guilt and regret from your decision overwhelm your system. "Of course." He moved over to his side of the bed, taking a breath before hesitantly touching his fingers to yours. "May I still hold you?"

You didn't think twice, moving over to him and settling into his arms. "Yes, of course." The words refused to be spoken, but you'd found a strange comfort in his embrace. That despite the very real danger you both found yourselves in, and the looming dire consequences of Lucille and the business end of her cleaver if you made so much as one misstep on this perilous endeavor of yours, you felt almost a safety in his warm embrace.

And while no one would ever be able to get you to admit it, it made getting up out of bed in the mornings near impossible. You didn't want to leave him. You wanted him all to yourself.

All the more reason why you needed to be done with this and go your separate ways. You should never be so selfish as to beg him to stay with you and deny him yet another freedom. So much had already been stolen from him.

He brushed a lock of your hair away from your face before asking softly, "How long do you reckon before Scotland Yard comes here after you send the papers?"

"Not long," you answered him, your words full of confidence in your peers. "I'll include a summary of my findings to help them through the papers I've sent them, process them faster. I'll also try and emphasize the urgency of our situation, that we're currently living in a manor with a woman that has the intention and means, not to mention the stomach, to kill me. That we have very good reason to believe our lives are in imminent danger. Should get them moving pretty quick."

"And what are we to do until they arrive?" You could feel him tensing as he anticipated your response.

Bile flooded your stomach from what you had to tell him. "We keep routine." His beautiful face looked so pained as you said the words. "She has to believe that there's nothing wrong, that everything's going to plan. If she gets even the slightest whiff that we're up to something and she kills me. Maybe even you if she finds out that you helped."

He took a shuddering breath, pulling you closer against him so he could press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's hope they move quickly then," he mumbled against you, pressing more kisses on the same spot as he took calming breaths. "I can barely stomach any more of it." His breath hitched at his words, his tone rife with shame.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his pulse sprinting like a madman. "This burden shouldn't be on you. Never should have been. She's stolen so much from you…" Your sentiment caught in the back of your throat as you did your damnedest to fight back tears. "I'll do my best to make sure she doesn't steal any more of your life away."

"What if she figures out what we've been up to? Or if she gets impatient and realizes there's no money coming after all this time?"

It took you a moment before you could answer, the implication hanging over you both now like the Sword of Damocles. "Then Scotland Yard will arrive here to a corpse. Either mine or hers."

Tears welled in his eyes as he pulled you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I won't let her hurt you, I swear it." He stole a few more kisses from you before he cradled your head against his chest. "You should sleep, I can feel how tired you are."

"Exhausted," you confessed, settling into his embrace, the comfort from his hold blanketing over you as your cheek rubbed against the soft hairs on his chest. "Goodnight, husband."

You couldn't resist calling him that. In a few short weeks you'd never be able to again.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, stroking your hair before he whispered, "Goodnight, my darling wife."

As the minutes passed, and the only sounds that filled the bedroom were your breathing and the crackling of the fireplace, Thomas found himself unable to succumb to sleep just yet. He was still riddled with so many questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask you quite yet.

What if by some freak accident of a chance, Lucille comes across one of your colleagues when she runs her errands in the city and they were to mention who you were, and what you did before you married him? What if now that she was armed with this new information, she deemed you too much of a threat and decided to do away with you like she'd done with so many other innocent women?

What if she decided to make it even worse, and ordered him to kill you instead? Spout some nonsensical notion that he needed to get his hands dirty this time around so she could see if he still had the stomach for it?

He knew he wouldn't be able to hurt you, that he would be completely unwilling to. But would he be able to protect you against Lucille?

And the question that had him looking upon the coming weeks with a mix of dread and hope, all depending on how you would react if he were to even muster up the courage to say the words: What if you stayed together after this fleeting partnership of yours? What if you were open to exploring what a life together would truly be like? Move away from Allerdale Hall and find a place in the city?

"What if I begged you not to leave me?" he whispered into the empty silence, stroking the backs of his fingers along your cheek. "What if I've fallen in love with my wife, and I want to turn our marriage into something real?"

A/N: *popping out my head from my writing hidey hole* Well hi there! Been a long while since I updated this story, but I can promise you now…I didn't abandon it 🫡 And we're picking up with our precious meow meow baronet big tiddy goth husband really showing his hand here that he's catching feelings 🥹

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[nthspecialll]

Arthur quoting Dutch

Something I think quite interesting in chapter six is that Arthur qoutes Dutch to Edith Downes when apologizing to her, saying "this country is man unleashed," and to those who haven't read Evelyn Miller, this is his writing, something Dutch also quotes at the camp fire, so in reality it is Arthur qouting Dutch qouting Evelyn, but why is that interesting?

This is a very vulnerable moment for Arthur, he is standing face to face with the woman who's life he ruined, face to face with the woman who's husband showed him his mortality, the woman who somehow also symbolizes the downfall of his family, and he wants to apologize. Yet while apologizing he is still somewhat trying to make her understand why he did what he did even if it won't make her forgive him.

However while trying to explain he realizes that he cannot make it sound good, there isn't a way he can frame it to sound like more than what it was, greed and filth, however it once was justified to him, it was explained to him and he fell for it, so in a desperate attempt to make her understand he explains it in the way it was explained to him, the way Dutch explained it to him.

Dutch was Arthur's father or more of a father than Arthur's actual father. Dutch was everything to him and Dutch always quoted Evelyn Miller, using it to explain how they were better than others, using it to justify everything they did, all the hurt they had caused. Because of that Evelyn Miller's words became impactful to Arthur, the explanation "this county is man unleashed, it is not our fault more than anyone else's because this county ruins men," made sense. Therefor it was much to Arthur's surprise that the justification did not sit well with Edith.

Arthur was forced to realize something, poetry and philosophy when given no meaning, is empty words. Dutch gave those words meaning to Arthur, however they had little meaning to Edith, they were instead a lame excuse for her husband's murder.

I simply find it interesting how when Arthur is the most vulnerable, when he regrets his actions yet still wants to somehow justify them, he quotes the man whom he has lost faith in because in the end Dutch's words truly were the only thing keeping him going all those years.

[wildrangers]

"Slut!" // William Nylander

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: Famous singer reader x our boy Willy

{For my 1989 Vaults Track Challenge}

Warnings/tropes: fluff, resolved angst (very minor), mentions of anxiety, strong allusions to sex but no serious smut (like PG-13-ish), cursing

You were used to attention but even you had a limit. You’d hit it a few months ago after the tabloids latched onto you being seen with a mystery man, aka Marc from your agent’s office. When your team published that to dispel the rumors, the media reframed it as you sleeping with him for favoritism within your agency. While they hadn’t actually been yelling “Slut!” at you, they may as well have been and you’d needed to get away from New York.

You’d escaped to Toronto because you enjoyed the city whenever your tour had passed through and decided it was busy enough to get lost in without attracting the press. You were hunkered down working on your next album, doing your best to lose yourself in the rhythm of the city and get back to what you loved most—your music.

Got lovestruck, went straight to my head

Got lovesick, all over my bed

Love to think you’ll never forget

Handprints in wet cement

You’d been walking your dog, Edith, when the air changed around you—you couldn’t quite explain it, but you could feel a group of people getting excited about something and it set you on edge—had you been spotted? You froze, eyes darting around as your breath fogged in front of you.

You spotted a group of maybe a half dozen girls giggling as they walked away from a tall, blonde man with two dogs. As you let out a deep sigh of relief, Edith spotted the other dogs and yanked the leash out of your grip, charging for them and their owner.

“Edith!” you called, heart in your throat, as you jogged after her. Luckily, you were in a quieter part of the city but you were still panicked until you saw the guy grab her leash.

“I am so, so sorry, thank you so much” you called out once you were in speaking distance of him.

“It’s no problem” he replied, smiling easily at you. “I was relieved when a dog was running over—when I heard someone yelling ‘Edith!’ I worried a grandma was really in trouble.”

You chuckled and shrugged, “I mean, she’s just an Edith, you know?” Normally, at this point, you’d disengage to avoid being recognized but his face was so open and you hadn’t realized until now how lonely you’d been holed up writing. “Who are these gentlemen?”

William introduced himself, as well as Banksy and Pablo. You discovered your buildings were near each other so when he offered to join you on your return there, you took him up on it despite your reservations.

“So, what do you do for work?” William asked after a natural lull in conversation and your pulse picked up.

“Oh, I work in the music industry, what about you?”

You felt him reassessing you and his cheeks suddenly flared pink, “I’m sorry, I thought you looked familiar but it didn’t click until just now.”

“Please, don’t be sorry” you laughed, your own embarrassment rising to meet his. “It was nice talking with someone as a human being.”

“Yeah, I get that” he sighed.

“Oh?” you asked, wracking your brain for how he could possibly relate to such a strange feeling.

“I play for the Maple Leafs” he explained and you nodded, pretending to know what that meant. He must have caught on because he let out a rich laugh that made you smile from the sound alone. “The NHL team here, this is kind of a hockey town.”

“Well, that explains the girls back there…” you mused, reflecting back on the frenetic energy that comes with a person meeting someone they only know through a TV.

“They were sweet” he shrugged and you glanced over, noticing his legitimate nonchalance.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Not really, it comes with the territory and 95% of the time people are nice.”

“Well, that’s good” you mumbled, mostly to yourself. While your fans were lovely, your mind flashed to all the times you’d been met with judgement and jealousy from girls who were into your famous exes. It was a bizarre, shame-inducing experience despite you doing nothing wrong.

“Hey look!” Will said excitedly, pulling you from your thoughts. “Come here, quick.”

You followed him in confusion towards a small section of sidewalk that had been replaced and was surrounded by caution tape. “What exactly are we doing?”

“Come on, we gotta do our hand prints, no?” he grinned and his genuine excitement made you smile too.

“Fine, but quickly” you agreed and he whooped before taking his left hand out of his glove, you doing the same with your right hand. You two quickly stuck your hands in, the wet concrete cold to the touch.

“My plan worked” he smiled and you tilted your head in confusion. “Now you have to come over, make sure we can wash that concrete off your hands. Can’t play guitar with chunks of that stuck to you.”

Lovelorn and nobody knows

Love thorns all over this rose

I’ll pay the price you won’t

You must have dozed off watching the Leafs game because you were woken by Will softly greeting the dogs. You stretched, letting the throw blanket fall around your waist as you yawned.

“I’m sorry, babe, did I wake you?” he asked quietly, placing a kiss to your forehead.

You hummed in response, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to pull his lips to yours. His kiss was gentle and attentive—he always seemed to anticipate just what would make your heart flutter in your chest. He pulled away a moment later, his blue eyes shining with joy that warmed you from within.

It had only been a few months since you’d met and, if you were being honest, you were a little terrified by how quickly you were falling for him. Contrary to what the tabloids said, you normally guarded your heart quite closely. But with Will, it was beginning to feel like all you needed was him.

“Where’d you go?” he asked and you realized he’d sat down beside you, concern all over his face.

“I’m sorry, just got lost in my thoughts.”

“What were they saying?”

You hesitated, trying to decide how to phrase it, “It just worries me how much you mean to me already.”

“Oh, älskling” he replied, pulling you to him. Your arms wrapped around his middle and you buried your face in his neck, breathing in his scent. “What concerns you about that?”

“I’m scared of people finding out” you admitted softly.  

“Because of the media being assholes?” You nodded, pulling him tighter. “Y/N, people say shit about me all the time. It’s just what happens when you’re in the public eye.”

You sighed, pulling away slightly to look at him. He didn’t get it—how different it was being a famous woman versus a man. “What would the story be about you if it came out that we’re dating?” you questioned and he grinned.

“Just that I’m lucky to have somehow landed a woman that is way out of my league” he replied and you rolled your eyes, butterflies filling your stomach at the compliment.

“What do you think it would be about me?”

He took in your serious expression and paused to think before shrugging, “Tell me.”

“Y/N, dating William Nylander!” you proclaimed dramatically. “Another new man for the songstress! Will she ever settle down? How many famous men will she use for attention? What will her ex think? When can we expect the break up album?”

You’d tried being light-hearted but your voice cracked on the last word as tears pricked your eyes. “Hey, hey” he said quietly, embracing you again and running a soothing hand through your hair. “They can say whatever they want. Only we know what this is—how real it is. They can’t take that from us. But, if we keep hiding, think of all the things that fear is taking from us. You coming to a game, me being able to go to a show of yours someday. Me being able to take you out to celebrate a win or on a nice date.”

Tears flowed freely at his words, “I didn’t mean to hide us, I’m just scared.”

“I know” he replied, wiping away your tears. “And I’ve loved getting to know you and developing this relationship, just us two. But that’s not how relationships work—I want you to meet the team and me to meet your friends, see your home in New York.  I mean, if you’d want that” he said, faltering at the end.

You grabbed his face in your hands, placing a gentle kiss to his nose. “Of course, that’s what I want” you reassured him, getting lost in his deep blue eyes. And as he leaned in to kiss you again, you accepted that you’d likely get backlash in a way he wouldn’t. But you wouldn’t let that stop you from being with him fully.

But if I’m all dressed up

They might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a slut

You know it might be worth it for once

You were nervous as you left Scotiabank Arena with Steph and a few other girls. You’d felt safe up in the suite, watching the game with the other partners and families but away from prying eyes. Now, on the street surrounded by fans, you felt your anxiety rising. You could feel people watching your group, noting the WAG jackets—you couldn’t tell if they’d realized who you were or were just intrigued because of your relationship with a player.

As you saw Will’s car pull up to the curb, you confirmed with Steph which bar you’d all meet up at to celebrate the win before sliding into his passenger seat.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Will asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah, I’m sure” you nodded, despite the nerves filling your stomach. His strong hand gripped yours as he pulled out, heading a few blocks away to the bar. You’d gone to a few closed team events to meet everyone—parties at people’s apartments, joining the girls for at-home brunch, etc. All to help you feel comfortable enough for this milestone.

“You look beautiful, Leafs blue suits you” Willy complimented as he pulled into a spot and you squeezed his hand in thanks. He quickly came around to your side, opening your door and helping you out as he always did, ever the gentleman—it was one of the things you loved about him. You paused for a second at that thought before deciding you had enough to worry about tonight without bringing the L word into it.

You were escorted to a private room where you enjoyed a few hours of joyful company, dancing and drinking, celebrating the guys and their hard work. You’d almost convinced yourself you’d overthought this outing—everything was going great, why had you been so worried? But by the time you were leaving, cheeks flushed from the warmth of the bar and the alcohol flowing through you, your fears were confirmed as cameras began flashing.

Will wrapped a protective arm around you as your name was shouted from all around, Steph tucking herself closer to your other side, bracketing you in their safety.

Send the code, he’s waiting there

The sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air

Everyone wants him

That was my crime

It was the following afternoon and you were spiraling. All those moments you thought were private were plastered across the internet. You and Steph cheering after a goal, you picking up John’s daughter so she could see the ice better, you shielding your eyes when Will had taken a hard check. Let alone all the photos they’d gotten outside the arena and of you walking into and out of the bar.

Even worse, a fan had gotten past your building’s security, knocking on your door shortly after lunch. Luckily, she’d been sweet but it still rattled you. Your building’s manager had apologized profusely, quickly changing all the codes into the building and retraining the staff on privacy procedures.

Will was at practice and wouldn’t be over until later that afternoon, leaving you to your own devices. You’d successfully fought off Googling your own name for hours before finally caving.

Y/N spotted with William Nylander—but is she still with Marc?

Y/N has gone through all of Hollywood’s men—she’s moved onto Toronto now!

When can we expect the Nylander album?

That last one had been the worst—as if your music was owed solely to the men you decided to be with, not something you worked tirelessly on. Your phone vibrated beside you and your shoulders sagged in relief as Will’s name popped up.

“Hey babe, are you almost here?”

“I’m outside, can you send me the new code? It’s a zoo out here.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I totally spaced, it’s 161152. I’ll call George to let him know you can come up.”

A few moments later, you were pulling Will into your apartment and locking the door behind him. You began to explain everything that had happened today but instead simply burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry, älskling—I believed you but I didn’t realize how crazy it would be. But we’re going to figure this out, okay?” And you let yourself believe him as he rubbed soothing circles on your back, his presence filling you with a sense of safety. “And I’m going to be taking your laptop away from you” he added, spotting what you’d been searching.

You chuckled through your tears, pulling away to grab a tissue from nearby, “I knew I shouldn’t but couldn’t stop myself” you admitted and he nodded. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

“Hey, no” he countered, gently gripping your face between his hands. “We knew this could happen.”

“I know but why would you want to put up with all of this?” you asked, emotion clogging your throat again.

“Because I’ll take anything and everything that comes with being with you” he answered, eyes serious as they held yours. You didn’t know what to say to that so you just wrapped your arms around his middle again. “Want to take a nap? I could use one after the last twelve hours.”

Half asleep

Taking your time

You’re not saying you’re in love with me

But you’re going to

A few hours later you were woken by kisses placed all over your face and gentle hands caressing your waist. “There she is” Willy mumbled into your ear and you giggled, turning your face so you could capture his lips with your own. His exploring hands made quick work of both your clothes and soon he was a comforting weight on top of you.

You’d obviously had sex with Will countless times by this point but this felt different somehow. You both normally favored faster, rougher sex but Will was moving so purposefully and slowly, seemingly drawing out the time you two were joined together, impossibly close.

Later, as you came down from your high and felt his rhythm falter, you opened your eyes to meet his and the look there stole your breath away. Such affection and care were in his deep blue eyes before he dropped his head to your chest, burying his face in your neck as he caught his breath.

“That was incredible, Y/N” he said softly and you pulled his face up to yours, pouring all your unsaid feelings into the kiss.

Half awake

Taking your chance

It’s a big mistake

I said it might blow up in your pretty face

A few nights later, you were curled up in Will’s bed, wrapped in his embrace. The dogs were fast asleep around you but you were clinging to wakefulness, enjoying the warmth of Will behind you after a long day in the studio.  

“Y/N?” Will said softly and you hummed in response, turning in his arms to face him.

You smiled up at him sleepily but felt yourself wake up a bit more at the intensity in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” he began, swallowing thickly. You frowned slightly at his nerves, reaching up to brush a piece of hair out of his eyes. “I just love you, that’s all.”

You fought back a smile, “Oh is that all?”

“Shut up” he giggled, hiding his face in your neck, pulling you even closer to him somehow.

You ran a hand through his hair, placing a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you too, William.”

“Yeah?” he questioned, pulling back just enough to gaze up at you.

You nodded before smirking, “You may come to regret it but yeah, I love you.”

He placed a gentle kiss to your collarbone before settling into your chest again, “I could never regret this, my love.”

A/N: My first Willy story! Thanks to those who sent support for this little series I'm working on to hopefully get out of this writing slump. I wrote this in a few hours so please let me know any feedback you have ☺️ 'Say Don't Go' with Lindgren next!