#for everything a season

[honorhearted]

@socialseasons​ | continued from (x)

John was dead. No matter how many times Ben read and re-read Gregory’s frantic, pleading words, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around them -- couldn’t fathom why the boy believed Francesca needed his help. The malaise was too strong, he’d claimed. She would write home with pleasantries, but refused their mother’s fervent plea to come home and rest. 

But what could he do, Ben wondered? After his departure, he’d promptly cut off all ties with Francesca. Her letters arrived for many months, and despite his yearnings to correspond and keep himself abreast of her life, he’d selfishly discarded them into the fire, not even giving in to the temptation of opening them and reading what laid inside. A little over a year later, the letters finally stopped, and despite the undeniable hole in his heart from the loss of her friendship, he’d deemed their separation for the best. She had a husband now. She would soon have a family...

And now Francesca had nothing. She had no one in that big, empty manor, and despite Ben’s distance and lack of connection to her plight, he couldn’t help but feel responsible. He should’ve been there. He should have never let her face all this alone.

It was this guilt that fueled him into accepting Gregory’s secret invitation. Weeks onboard a cramped ship gave way to a stormy, unpleasant arrival with a chilling sense of foreboding. The wind whipped pellets of rain into his face, and waterlogged his clothes within moments of being on land. It was fitting, Ben thought. He was surely being tested for intervening where he was not welcome -- he was surely being punished with this tragedy of his own making.

By the time Ben pounded on the double doors to Francesca’s manor -- or rather, her husband’s -- it was late afternoon and he was shaking from the chill. Impatient, he shifted between using the door knocker and his fist, banging on the thick oak surface until it opened and revealed a servant with a cautious, disapproving scowl.

“Lady Francesca,” Ben choked out, abruptly lowering his fist. “Please...I need to speak with her.”

He knew he must appear bedraggled and untrustworthy at best, and his suspicions were confirmed once the woman denied him entry. 

“I’m sorry, but her ladyship is not currently admitting any guests,” she said.

She moved to close the doors, but Ben was quick to lodge his foot in between the wooden slabs. “Please,” he begged, “I’ve come out all this way...”

“And I’m sure she’d appreciate that,” the woman coolly said, “but I’m afraid you-”

“I was sent for!” Ben furiously cut in. “Please, you must let me through!” When the woman yet again moved to shut the doors, he used all his body weight to barrel in across the threshold, the servant’s shrill cry rising above the din as Ben breathlessly shouted, “Frannie! Fran, it’s me... Please. You must come down here!”

“Sir, please!” the woman growled. “If you don’t leave right this instant, I will have you thrown out by force!”

The commotion finally seemed to rouse someone’s attention. A woman appeared at the top of the staircase, and both Ben and the servant stopped in their tracks, the former feeling as though an awl had punctured him right between the ribs. It was her... It couldn’t be, and yet it was. The weight of womanhood carved itself across Francesca’s features, soft and refined, yet grief had mellowed out some of the brightness in her smile and the sparkle in her eyes. She was no longer sweet and carefree -- she was no longer a child, naïve and at fate’s mercy.

Finally, something seemed to register in Francesca’s face, and then she came rushing down the steps to meet him, her arms flinging around his neck and holding on tight. Forgotten was their small audience, and Ben stooped to properly embrace her, a lump in his throat as he passed his fingers through her hair and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out. Please forgive me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Words failed him in that moment -- after all, what could he say to a friend he’d so heinously abandoned? -- and pressing a kiss to her temple, he finally settled on asking what happened. Francesca went rigid against him, and her silence tore his heartstrings akin to knives as she lowered down to her proper height, her eyes scanning his face with clear confusion.

“Your husband,” Ben weakly explained. “Frannie, I didn’t know... Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You know exactly why. 

Pressing his lips inward, shame bled across his features and he swallowed, suddenly unable to return her gaze. “I...I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted. It was true. He didn’t know what to say, and as tears filled his eyes, he was suddenly grateful to the rainwater masking his emotional turmoil. It was her -- it was really, truly her -- and somehow, it hurt nearly as much to have Francesca there with him as it did to be apart. Her hands were clasped in his own, and yet the weight of them didn’t feel real...couldn’t be real.

And then just like that, she pulled away from him. It was as though a curtain had been drawn, promptly closing off the warmth in her face as she reverted back to something colder, proper and guarded. Don’t hide from me, he wanted to plead, and yet he knew the sentiment was laughable. Had that not been what he, himself had done over the past four years? He’d once told Francesca she taught him not to run from his problems -- that he needed to face them -- and yet Ben was still running, even now.

While Francesca fussed over his wet clothes, he finally felt the chill in the significantly warmer foyer and shivered, guilt ribboning through him upon her question.

“I didn’t wish to be presumptuous,” he said, “so I do have an inn I can return to, should you prefer it. Caleb helped me with my last minute travels, so he’s presently staying there.” Wiping the rainwater from his face, Ben offered a feeble smile and quipped, “You know, all those years ago during your debut, you had quite the stunning entrance. I suppose I was well overdue.” In more ways than one.

Once Mary had left to prepare his room, Ben reached down and took hold of Francesca’s hand, his heart in his throat as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll stay,” he finally agreed. “For as long as you need me.”

[ato-dato]

American 60s female presenting you say????? Well don’t mind if I do!!!!!

[the-bluespirit]

THE CAST OF EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE wins Cast in a Motion Picture at the 2023 Screen Actors Guild Awards

[lokittystuckinatree]

I am simultaneously deliriously in love with the ending of Loki season 2 and absolutely loathe it

On one hand…Shakespearean tragedy at its finest, essentially circling back to Loki’s original Thor 2011 character arc by reversing it, and Loki has literally ascended to godhood. In the end, Loki’s ultimate selfless sacrifice was to sit upon the highest throne in the multiverse, and that to me is tragically ironically beautiful

On the other hand…Loki being alone makes me want to burn Marvel studios to the ground and do other unspeakable things

Best and worst ending of all time f u Eric Martin

[valeriapryanikova]

This season, on Hermitcraft...

(speedpaint)

[lovelyinspiration1463]

This is my pièce de résistance. I've peaked.

[hansoeii]

you'll make it back.

[sanzundertale]

babygirl i will invent stages of grief you have never seen before

[munsons-mutiny]

One of my favorite trope for Steddie is Steve hunting down Eddie when the kids join Hellfire and giving him a long list of dos and donts.

At first Eddie thinks he’s just being a prick, and worried he’s going to turn the nerds into freaks like him. Especially when he says not to mention drugs in front of Dustin.

But then he starts pulling out lists of monsters that can’t be in campaigns. And like what??? Why can’t he use demagorgons? They were gonna be in the next combat! He’s tempted to ignore the warnings, in fact he’s all set to, but something about Steve’s face when he was laying it all out haunts him. Something so deadly serious about it. So first he decides to test the waters to see if he’s full of shit.

When the session starts, he makes a throwaway comment, “you’re acting like there’s a mindflayer around the corner.”

All the kids freeze but Wheeler especially looks like he’s going to be sick. He even grabs at the bracelet around his wrist. The one he always said his best friend made him before he moved.

Eddie curses himself for even trying to test it out after that, and immediately bullshits the whole session so he can scrap any hint of demogorgans from the campaign.

After that session he drives straight to Harringtons house and demands they go over all the things he can’t include again, in detail, while he takes notes.

He doesn’t know what’s going on with these freshmen, but he knows trauma when he sees it and well he’d gotten attached to the gremlins.

When he leaves that night, he thinks Steve is looking at him with approval. Like he trusts him with their well-being now.

[bloom161]

This might be a hot take but can Mrs.Flood just be Mrs.Flood who knows what a TARDIS is cause she lived in London all her life, where alien shit is happening at least once a year and is always accompanied by the doctor and a strange police box.

Yk the doc aren’t as subtle as they think they are, word gets around as to what the box actually is.

[carebooks]

overlooking all the other reasons why the show went downhill: katara’s feminine rage missing, aang getting guilt punched every episode, bumi being ooc, almost zero gaang bonding episodes, three episodes compiled into one (done twice), azula being introduced too early + given too much screen time, the cave of two lovers being in s1 when it was a s2 episode— all of that is valid but the show can really be pointed out in two ways where they went downhill:

aang never waterbended once during a season where it is literally called book one: water.

yue’s wig.

[megaawkwardhuman]

ah just another thursday I see

[aminetko]

Omg they are angel and demon in disguise🤯🤯🤯(I love them)

[the-bluespirit]

MICHELLE YEOH wins Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Leading Role for Everything Everywhere All At Once

[jimjimenezzz]

i love you media that emphasized mundanity. i love you media that says you still matter as a person even if you don't achieve something great. i love you media that says existing and being alive is enough. i love you "we might not remember your poems, but we'd remember you." i love you "i was no hero" "perhaps. but you are a brave man." i love "in another life i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you." i love you "but who's gonna watch the deer?" i love you the mundane as something to be loved for

[madootles]

dramatic eyes. dramatic lips. drama on the cheeks.

sketch