#from one drama-ridden period to another

[vintagesimstress]

Me about every scene in Act 3 of my hopefully-one-day-going-to-be-published-story:

[certifiedfreec]

i can’t stop thinking about neighbor!graves… 🤔

🏡 you’re new to the neighborhood, getting all your things moved in and seemingly drowning in all the boxes of stuff you have. you ordered some items to replace the ones that got damaged or lost during transit, so that only added on to the cardboard-ridden mess that was your new living room.

🏡 a few days after settling in, you finally notice one of your packages has a mysterious name on it: phillip graves. you suddenly feel bad; how long has this guy been missing his delivery?? you bustle out your door in your pajamas, looking for the house number that matches the one on the package until you finally find it. it’s a fairly large house with dark, sophisticated paint. it’s across and over from yours with a huge black truck backed into the driveway. very snazzy for a truck, you think, hurrying your way to the tall entry door and ringing the doorbell.

🏡 “hey, how can i help ya?” his slight twang is warm and uplifting when he opens the door, eyeing you with a keen interest. god, he’s pretty. he sees what’s standing before him in the cutest little pj set and he’s feeling like an angel was dropped at his doorstep. meanwhile, you’re freaking out- standing there in your scrubby pajamas in front of this ridiculously attractive man, who is apparently your neighbor, and you’ve been holding onto his package without him knowing. (you realize there’s another package of his you’d like to hold though- ba dum tss!)

🏡 you shyly introduce yourself, pointing toward your house and then handing him the box, which he accepts with a teasing “gonna have to tell the HOA about the new thief on the block,” and a quick wink. it nearly melts you, but we must stay focused brothers!! he thanks you and introduces himself as phillip, taking the chance to let you know that you caught him at a good time because he’s often out for extended periods of time with his work. the poor baby must exhaust himself with how busy he is :(

🏡 you hear what he’s saying and being the new, good little neighbor you are, you offer to swing by and grab his mail, check on his plants, and do some basic house upkeep whenever he’s gone. hook, line, and sinker- it’s just what he wants to hear. he accepts your offer with that pearly grin of his, but not without adding his contact info to your phone so he can let you know when he’ll be out of town :’) he’s just so handsome that you feel like you won the jackpot!

🏡 from that day on, it’s like you keep bumping into each other outside- how silly! you start to find some excuses to be out front, maybe to check your roof for any damage or plant some flowers along the side yard, and whaddaya know, neighbor!graves soon finds himself outside giving his big ‘ol truck a wash (you could swear it’s already spotless). god, those flexing muscles and the wet t-shirt clinging to them are much more interesting than your rhododendrons.

🏡 he’s such a friendly neighbor- he’s really taken a liking to you! <3 whenever he’s actually home, he’s got your grocery bags carried inside or he’s grilled some barbecue that you’d be “downright ridiculous not to try”- his words, not yours! it’s delicious, of course, and he credits all his skills to his old man and his “coworkers.” you decide to bake him some sweets in return, and he just about melts. you’re just so good, and so is your baking! he’d really like to taste something else though, too…

🏡 now, neighbor!graves is a pretty nosy guy, so he’s taken it upon himself to keep you in the loop on all the drama in the neighborhood. but really, can you blame him? it’s in his nature to find intel- someone in the community has to do it! this is also a subtle way of letting you know that he’ll be keeping an eye on you, too- because he’s gotta look out for his fellow neighbors, especially if they’re adorable ;)

🏡 eventually he’s away for a few weeks and you’re on deck to pick up his mail, water his indoor plants, all that good stuff. he gives you a key before he leaves and tells you “go ‘head and keep it, mi casa es su casa,” fully inviting you to get comfy in his space- and you do! his furniture is so sleek yet so cozy, his living room complete with a super plush leather couch and a ridiculously large tv. you gather from all his medals and badges decorating the place that he’s very accomplished at what he does- this guy’s the real deal. you also get a nagging feeling that you want to spend more time in his space- it’s just so comfortable, and it smells like sweet vetiver and crisp mint :’)

🏡 so… neighbor!graves, being the nosy guy that he is, has been tracking when you’ve been going over by checking his high-end front door camera from his phone. he can’t help but get flustered at the idea of you in his most personal space- god, he wants you in his bed- and he starts to remember your routine. when he’s finally finished with his operation, he may or may not schedule his flight so that he arrives home shortly after the time usually head over, and your entire body stills when you hear his garage go up. he walks in with some heavy-looking bags wearing an all-black outfit, and you almost swoon. he’s such a man.

🏡 woops, surprise! he apologizes for forgetting to mention when he’d be getting home. he’s so damn excited to see you in his house though, so cute and dutiful, having left his plants perfectly hydrated and not a speck of dust in the area. he has an inkling-no, a certainty- that you’d be an amazing housewife. he invites you to stick around for a drink since you’re already there anyway, and of course you accept since you’d be “downright ridiculous” if you didn’t!

🏡 after you fill him in on the neighborhood drama he missed over some scotch (he is loving your intel collection skills, by the way), he reaches for his wallet to get you some cash for all the trouble- this man was really about to give you a wad of hundreds for your menial house chores! unbelievable! you immediately shoo it away, insisting that it really was no big deal… well, now you’ve left him stumped, because how else could he ever show his appreciation for your hard work while he was away??

🏡 by eating your pussy, of course! it takes very little resistance on both your ends until you’re sprawled out on his luxuriously soft bed with his head between your thighs, moaning and mewling so loud from the perfect licks and swirls on your aching, needy clit that his front door camera can practically pick up on your noises :’) your slick is getting all over his satiny sheets, but he doesn’t even pay that any mind. a few sharp sucks to your sensitive bundle of nerves and the scratch of his light blond stubble along your inner thighs has you cumming so hard that you can’t help but chant his name- and he’ll be damned if that isn’t music to his ears! <3

🏡 he still doesn’t feel like he’s fully shown you his appreciation…maybe he needs to fuck the shit out of you too! he’s talking to you so nicely as he stretches your pulsing walls with his huge, veiny cock, reassuring you that you’re “such a good girl,” “lookin’ so gorgeous right now,” “takin’ me like a champ, baby.”… you’ve never felt so full, yet somehow you can’t get enough of him :( he decides to place a silky pillow under your hips so he can pummel into you from a deeper angle, and he leaves all kinds of purply marks along your chest as he tells you just how perfect your pussy is for him- god, he’s happy you moved here!

🏡 by now you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve orgasmed around his length, and he finally coats your insides with his warm, thick spurts of cum as he groans your name. you both collapse onto his sheets, exhaustedly drifting to sleep just to do it all over again in the morning ;) he gets a hot shower ready for the both of you before kindly requesting some of your amazing baking- he even offers you to wear one of his t-shirts so you don’t get any ingredients on your own clothes! of course, you’re more than happy to oblige. after all, he’s such a friendly neighbor <3

[houseofbrat]

I am just laughing because I sent you that ask, and days after, we have another reporter making W the biggest victim (again, I have sympathy but he is the last one on my list). I find it very tiring TBH, 24/7 they are writing articles like that one, and they should be careful, because many people can start saying that he is crying too much and that he is being tone deaf, that the normal UK people don’t have such privileges and he is still playing victim when nobody is asking for explanations. I think it’s time that his PR stop the articles, because honestly is becoming too much.

I know Chemo isn’t an easy process, it’s honestly very difficult, but reporters and even W’s PR act as if he is the one receiving it and not Catherine. I know Charles doesn’t have small children and maybe he is receiving radiotherapy (that’s why he can do more duties), but still, it’s very odd having him working more than W, when he apparently had Carole and Michael mainly, helping their daughter and most importantly, helping with the children. It’s honestly very bad to have Rebecca saying that he only will work one day per week, yikes, again, I understand it, but I think he can at least work 3 days (and even one day doing 2 engagements and the other 2 days one engagements, at the very least 4. He should have never said that he hates the ribbon cutting engagements, those ones could have been their saving in this period (just 1 hour per engagement, and then he perfectly can do the school run in the morning and in the evening).

Do you think the Wales children will attend Trooping the Colour? It will kinda weird having them on the balcony but not K (since English basically said she won’t attend), and after all the conspiracies, I can’t stop thinking that having such picture with W and his children, will fuel the drama again.

William's inability to do an appropriate level of engagements at this point is completely ridiculous. His kids are in school five days a week, but he can only work one day per week? What utter bullshit.

Yes, I think George, Charlotte, and Louis will attend Trooping the Colour (TTC). They've done it before. George and Charlotte are old enough to ride in a carriage unsupervised by an adult, as they are almost 11 and 9. Louis will be 6 soon, but he's ridden in carriages before without problems. All the kids have to do for TTC is get dressed up, be at Buckingham Palace on time, ride in a carriage to the site, watch the parade from inside the building, and then ride back in the carriage.

Given the practice those three kids have had with the Platinum Jubilee, last year's coronation, and other TTCs, it shouldn't be a problem for them to ride in a carriage with or without their mother. Anyone suggesting otherwise needs to get their head checked, as it will immediately invite more scrutiny and problems regarding the Wales family in general and Kate. The kids don't engage with the general public during TTC. They sit in a carriage to the Horse Guards Parade and back to BP. It is not far at all.

I didn't see Rebecca English state anything in her last piece about Kate not attending TTC. Perhaps she said it elsewhere or people are just jumping to that conclusion as it is unlikely that she will be doing The Colonel's Review the week prior (08 June). Even still, it's more than a month away. We don't even know if King Charles is going to ride a horse or ride in a carriage yet. Kate could easily just ride in the carriage with George, Charlotte, and Louis, and watch from inside the building instead of being outside on the dais, as she was last year with Queen Camilla.

Again, if Kate doesn't appear at TTC at all, then it supports my previous statement that "she is going to be more reclusive for the next year or two."

[atheisen04]

Moonlight is a drama ridden movie about a story that may hit home for some individuals. This movie is presented in three different time periods following Chrion’s story. Chiron grew up in a crime ridden neighborhood in Miami, with a mother who has a serious crack addiction. The film begins in Chiron’s childhood where he is neglected by his mother and regularly harassed and bullied at school by his peers. As a child, Chiron is very shy and withdrawn from others as a result of the neglect from his mother. Early on, his only support comes from the neighborhood drug dealer, Juan and Juan’s kind girlfriend Teresa. They regularly offer up their home to Chiron as an escape from the bullies he faces at school and the abuse from his mother. The film follows Chiron into his adolescence and early adulthood and the effects of the struggles he faced throughout his childhood. This story tells an all too common truth about the predetermined life that many underprivileged and abused children face. 

The Black Klansman, on the other hand, although based on a very serious and sensitive subject, is made to be a comedy. Ron Stallworth is a rookie officer in the Colorado Springs, Colorado police department. He is the first black officer at these particular police department. This film takes place in the early 1970s, when blacks, jews and other racial groups were not viewed as equals by all. Thus, Ron is accustomed to being the target of discrimination and racial slurs in his department. He decides that he is going to go on a quest and go undercover as a member of the KKK. Although this movie is great overall, my all-time favorite scene overall is the scene during which Ron calls the KKK and speaks to one of the recruiters out loud in his office. During his call he claims that he hates blacks, even though he is black, jews and all individuals who don’t have pure white blood. It is truly comical as his coworkers look his way in absolute shock at the words that are coming out of his mouth. His calm mannerism as he speaks as though he is serious, is all too comical. By the reactions of his coworkers, you are able to detect that this is a decision that he made without running it by anyone. The set during this scene seems to portray that it is a serious day at work. Those around Ron are focused, as though they are attempting to solve a cold case. It seems as though it’s just another day at work until Ron begins speaking on the phone with a KKK recruiter. This scene is essentially the rising action of the film, that leads to the climax and the falling action. Thus, this scene is vital to the plot of the film.

[kaiticn]

an ode to beth

The day I turned eighteen years old was the same day that the world lost someone special. Beth was a drama teacher for my high school's intensive regional arts program. She was nothing short of a pillar for her loved ones, the school, and the broader community. She was an advocate for unconditional acceptance of all identities, abilities, orientations and talents; going above and beyond to project kindness and shed light in the lives of all she crossed paths with. She was vibrant, optimistic, and an unconventional spirit.

When exam season came upon us and students where facing times of distress, she used to dedicate the bulk of her class time to meditation periods. She would turn off the overhead lights, leaving only a thin stream of sun from between curtains to divide the room. As a class, we would position ourselves horizontally across the theatre floor, in any way we would fit. It was then that she would play the motivational background music, which I remember was revealed to us at the time to be a copy-written instrumental soundtrack from the Transformers franchise.

She would begin to speak. Except that it was hardly speaking. It was meditation in it's purest, tender form. It was spell-casting turned soul-seduction. It was hypnotic. It was peace.

I thought about describing the things she would say, but I know that my written description of her soft forests and tranquil rivers would do them no justice. Some things are better left unsaid, only to remain in the moments they existed.

She would, however, end each session asking us to visualize the light within us, and imagine it as it extended beyond our mortal selves, warming the room; the school; the town; and the world, exponentially. In midst of the other fantastical lands she drew us to, this piece, I believe, was not something that she made up for meditation's sake. This was analogous for something she wanted us to hold onto and truly bring forth into the world. Despite her years of theatre and the endless shows she's seen and critiqued, it is the ongoing act of spreading love and light into places otherwise devoid of it that mattered most. She abided by one notion: that the world is our stage, and upon it we are called to perform kindness, openness and generosity.

We were truly a scattered, hectic bunch; to tame such large groups of hormone-ridden teens into a state of serenity within minutes is a super power only she herself possessed. Although it was only one among many.

Another was her ability to see through everyone's exterior and cater to the softness of child within. In the ripeness of ninth grade my anxieties and insecurities reigned superior, and I broke down crying in front of her expressing that I was unfit for performing when others were clearly more experienced, with unparalleled skill and commitment to their roles. She responded only with nurturance, disclosing that I ⎯ at merely 14 ⎯ was also capable of that and more. To my recollection, this appears to be the first time my thoughts or feelings had ever been memorably validated by another. That in itself flooded me with new feelings at a time that I was already overwhelmed; I wish I had known, then, how to be more receptive and appreciative of her gesture.

Reflecting on this now, I know I'm not the only one that she touched in a meaningful way. In all her years of educational and community service, I can only begin to imagine how she's gifted such great consideration of the human spirit to countless others. I saw a sliver of this reality at her funeral ⎯ the first and only I have yet to attend ⎯ where so many were drawn to her celebration of life that attendees flooded the church into the street in attempt to express their condolences and say goodbye. Unavoidably, in my twenty-third year I am much different than I was in high school. I hope that those who know currently know me see the ways that I promote thoughtfulness, selflessness and inclusion. I attribute these qualities, in part, to a small-town drama teacher who was seriously kick-ass.

The day I turned eighteen years old was the same day that the world lost someone special. And since then, I try my best to live every day trying to continuing the work where she left off.

[acrossthewavesoftime]

Ok, folks, hear me out: (country) dance scenes in novels and period dramas, particularly 18th/early 19th century, miss so many opportunities.

I mean, some have a certain level of authenticity to be sure and the dancing looks great, but there's so much more to dancing than the aesthetically pleasing coordination of several people.

For starters, there is so much hand-holding involved. And eye-contact. Eye-contact galore. Sometimes end up with a partner you don't really know and have never spoken to, but you just harmonise perfectly on the dance floor. And for authors of couples that aren't straight, there are many figures in which the women and/or men of a set dance among themselves- so your romantic couple of lissome ladies or dashing dukes can absolutely have a moment on the dance floor holding hands, even if the social norms of the day dictate they can't officially dance together as a (romantic) couple.

But, what really gobsmacks me is how those pretty melodies the gentlemen in white stockings and ladies in muslin-dresses always end up dancing to are never named. ...And some titles are just... something else.

Here are some of my favourites:

Imagine some Regency teens huddled close to the DJ (aka the harpsichord/piano-person), asking them to play Hey ding a ding and they don't seem to know it, to which one of the youngsters tries to explain what tune they mean not by humming it, but by singing the melody to the words of "Hey ding a ding" with their friends either enthusiastically joining in, or shrinking back in embarrassment.

Or:

Captain D— has been an odious, wicked fellow all his life, and is definitively extremely interested in the beauteous Miss H—['s fortune]. The only thing is, Miss H wants nothing to do with him, which is why the only dance she condescends to grant him is this one:

...Then perish, Captain D—.

Or:

Consider Miss C— and Miss M—, who really can only see each other in public because otherwise, their families might suspect they're more than just best friends, which in turn would jeopardise their chances on the marriage-market, which of course their fathers aren't particularly keen on- their little girls are supposed to be wealthy countesses one day after all. Not being able to spend time together alone is really, really hard for them, and in her yearning, Miss C— requests the band to play the following for Miss M—, looking at her with long, meaningful glances as they stand next to each other all lined up for the dance:

As the night progresses, Miss M— has hatched a plan; she requests

...and softly whispers "the library" into Miss C—'s ear as they turn past another dancing.

Or:

imagine a couple having a bitter fall-out. Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so had a fight over whether to colour-coordinate their outfits for the evening, which has alas sparked the fire of a dispute as old as their marriage (possibly some decades at this point): Mr. So-and-so never listens (says Mrs. So-and-so), and Mrs. So-and-so never compromises (says Mr. So-and-so). They've ridden the carriage to the party in silence, and as soon as they arrive, they alternate putting in requests:

They're both fully aware what the respective other requested, but as much as they want to be angry with another, they never really can remain so for long, and so, the tune of their requests changes:

Or:

The Duke of W— has espied his lover, the Earl of R— in the crowd. The hour is late, the company is slowly dispersing. As they 'accidentally' brush past each other, the Duke hums the following melody before waiting meaningfully by the garden door, where the shadows of the night shall veil any and all things that may happen there...

I got those gems from Volumes 1-4 of Thompson's Compleat Collection of 200 Favourite Country Dances perform'd at Court, Bath, Tunbridge & all Public Assemblies with proper Figures or Directions to each tune set for the Violin, German-Flute & Hautboy, dating to ca. between 1750 and 1780.

Maybe somebody else would like to take a look at them- be it to bemusedly study titles, try playing one of them, or get inspired for a story of their own...

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Evermore

Simon Basset x Reader

Words: 2319

Summary: While residing in the same house, Simon and his wife could not be further apart. His resistance to love may cost him the only thing he holds dear while he can merely stand and watch it fade. 

Notes: I love Simon waaaaaaay too much. I have been dying to write for him, so please please let me know what you think! 

More period dramas: HERE

-

I never needed anybody in my life

I learned the truth too late

From this spot, he had a view of the entire garden. He watched as you strolled between the flowers, pausing occasionally to smell a particular bloom. You used to walk together, but now, he could hardly bear to even look at the gardens. Seeing you there sent a feeling through his heart that he could not rid himself of. It was better this way. The happiness that you had felt in your first few months of marriage was an illusion. Simon knew that he could never truly make you happy, no matter how badly he wanted to. Still, these days of silence ate at his soul. 

You felt his gaze upon you before you spotted him in a second-story window. Looking up from the rose in your hand, you held his stare with your own, as if daring him to come out from behind his closed doors. This was the first time you’d seen your husband in two days and even when you had seen each other, it was in passing, shrouded in bitter quiet. 

You looked away first, dropping your flower and storming back into the house with renewed frustration. From the corner of your eye, you could see him vanish from the window, probably to disappear into his office for yet another day of avoidance. Through your anger, your heart ached. He never explained his sudden hatred towards you. One night, he simply stopped speaking to you. When you confronted him, he’d shouted and shut himself away in his room. No word between you had been uttered since. 

To fill your lonely hours, you walked the length of the house. Clyvedon was a beautiful estate and offered at least some distraction from your empty heart. This time, however, your usual path was interrupted. 

“Your grace,” You greeted coolly. It was odd to see him in this part of the house, so far away from his usual fortress. He rarely left his office anymore. “I must say, I am surprised to see you away from your desk. You have been married to your work recently.” You put as much venom into your words as you could muster. For a moment, you thought you saw him flinch. 

“Y/N, I understand you are uncomfortable with our current situation-”

“Uncomfortable?” You exclaimed furiously. “You think that I am uncomfortable? This is not an ill fitting dress or-or a pebble in my shoe. I saw you in that window and I couldn’t breathe. Even now, it feels like my heart is trying to leap out of my chest and give itself to you, for maybe that will finally be enough for you.” His eyes shifted to the window, desperately trying to escape your hateful stare. 

“You are more than enough for me-”

“Then tell me, your Grace,” You spat, “why you can’t even bring yourself to look at me!” You had raised your voice beyond what was proper, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to see the anguish that this forced solitude was bringing you. “Explain to me how we can be making love one morning and by that afternoon, you can hardly utter a word to me. Look at me, Simon! For God’s sake just look at me.” 

Whatever his reasoning for coming to you was lost to him now. He could only hear the anger and frustration in your voice. The hatred you must hold for him. While his eyes finally found yours, it felt as though he was looking past you. 

“I presume you will be eating in your quarters again.” Was all he said. The return of his indifference was the final straw for you. Having had enough, you charged off to find the furthest place in the house away from him. Simon watched you go in quiet agony, cursing himself for being unable to shut out his affection for you. He told himself again that this was how it must be. If only that was enough. 

-

Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

He wasn’t sure how late it was, but his eyes were starting to burn from staring at documents all night. He could hardly keep them open. Setting his work aside, he ran a hand down his face, trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes, and slowly dimmed his lamp until the light was gone. When he looked up, he found you standing in the doorway, shrouded in shadow. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you looked like a spirit in your white nightgown and tear stained face. 

“Why are you not in bed?” He questioned, only half awake himself. 

“I came to…” The words caught in your throat, making them sound garbled and broken. You stepped into the moonlight and composed yourself. “I came to say goodbye.” Simon froze. 

“What?”

“I have arranged for a carriage to take me back to London at dawn.” You stared blankly at him, your face sunken and despaired. He hadn’t realized the depths of the misery he had caused you until now. “My presence is clearly unwanted and I feel that we may live our lives more peacefully apart.” 

“I see you’ve already made up your mind on the matter.” Simon scoffed, the pain your words inflicted fueling anger. You didn’t reply. Instead, you turned and started back down the dark hallway to your quarters. He caught your arm before you got too far. “You cannot just leave.” 

“I see no reason to stay, your grace.” 

“You are my wife.” He growled. Finally, your sullen exterior broke away to reveal the anger burning inside of your chest, threatening to swallow you. 

“Am I?” You jerked your arm away, stumbling backwards in the dark. “Because these past few days I’ve felt like a stranger, wandering these beautiful halls, looking for something in them to keep me here. There is nothing but emptiness and grief and pain and I cannot-” 

He placed a hand on your cheek, your words halting on your tongue. You stepped closer into his touch, a touch that you had been aching to feel for days. Simon dipped his head down, bringing your lips slowly to his own. 

His movements were fast and urgent, his lips moving against yours like he depended on you for breath. You felt the familiar feeling rush over you. It was the intense feeling you’d felt so many times at the beginning of your marriage, one you had feared you’d never feel again. But it wasn’t enough. 

“Simon, wait.” You pushed back, trying to find anything in his eyes that could explain to you why he’d been acting so distant. “Talk to me, my love.” 

He tried. He wanted so desperately to be able to share with you his fears, but every time he opened his mouth he felt like that stuttering little boy again. Your gaze pleaded with him. 

“Please, say something.” Still no response. You pulled out of his grasp forcefully, that feeling fleeing just as quickly as it had come. “Tomorrow, I am leaving for London. At least there I will not be reminded how little I must mean to you.” 

You gave him no chance to reply, vanishing into the dark night while he furiously went back into his office, knocking almost every paper off his desk. Simon craved to follow you back to your quarters and show you what you really meant to him, but his feelings didn’t matter. You were miserable and it was his doing. 

Still, the idea of being away from you, the feeling of abandonment sunk into him like sharp claws. It was dark and grim and kept him awake, pacing back and forth in the confines of his office. That night, he did not get a moment’s rest. 

-

I let her steal into my melancholy heart

It’s more than I can bear

Days passed, each one quieter and darker than the last. You were gone. He had watched your carriage leave from his window, solemn and alone. Each day he waited. He waited to hear the rattling of the carriage, the pounding of the horse’s hooves. He left the door to his office open as if he expected you to walk in like nothing had happened. In fact, he hardly left his office at all in hopes that his waiting would conjure you somehow. 

It was the fifth day of your absences when he received the letter. Lady Danbury started by inquiring as to why his wife was in London unaccompanied, but it was the end of the letter that sent an icy fear through his blood. You had fallen ill and had doctors in and out of the house for the last two days. While she did not know the severity of your illness she had heard that you had been bed ridden and unable to take any visitors. She feared the worst. 

Simon didn’t waste a second readying his horse and taking off towards the city. It didn’t matter how many hours the ride took, he went on without stopping. His horse sped through the city, having little care for the foot traffic around him. Hastings house stretched ominously over him, adding to the dread filling his chest. He didn’t wait for a servant to open the door, he didn’t wait to be shown to your room. He ran through the halls like a mad man only to find your quarters empty. 

“Your Grace?” Your lady's maid gasped, nearly dropping the bundle of fabrics she was carrying. “I-I thought you were staying in-”

“Where is she?” He barked, making her jump. He didn’t mean to frighten the poor girl, but he did not have the patients for explanation. 

“S-she’s having tea with Lady Danbury in the drawing room.” The girl squeaked. His confusion was quickly replaced by rage and he stormed into the drawing room, Lady’s Danbury’s letter crumpled in his fist. Your eyes widened at the sight of your husband, sweating and disheveled. 

“Simon, what are you-”

“Your Grace, how wonderful for you to join us.” Lady Danbury smiled triumphantly. 

“Is this meant to be some kind of cruel joke to you?” He snapped viciously. You’d never seen him this way before and, frankly, it frightened you. Lady Danbury didn’t seem phased. “My life is not a game for you to meddle in!” 

“Someone had to show you how much you stand to lose, your Grace.” She said, keeping incredibly calm under the circumstances. 

“How dare you.” Simon was seething. “You wretched woman-”

“Simon!” You exclaimed, jumping up from your seat. “A word, your Grace.” You opened the door to the garden and waited outside for him to join you. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Simon glared. Lady Danbury stood and walked past him with enviable elegance. 

“Don’t lose her, your Grace. Not when she’s finally made you believe in love.” She left without further comment. 

Simon finally walked out and you resisted the urge to slap him. Your fists were balled at your sides and you were walking furiously back and forth on the path. 

“How dare you come here and speak to my guest in such a manner.” You wanted to scream and cry and kiss him all at once. “What on earth are you doing here, anyway?” 

“Lady Danbury sent me a lie in order to get me to come here.” He finally let the exhaustion of his ride rush over him and he leaned against the wall. 

“And what lie could have been so great to get you to leave your office?” You scoffed. Simon’s face softened. 

“She said that you were ill.” He said quietly, his voice betraying the truth. For those few hours before he arrived were the most terrifying he’d ever experienced. “I thought that… I was afraid I would lose you.” 

“You haven’t seemed that concerned these past weeks.” You muttered in irritation. Simon’s face fell. 

“Do you really believe that?” He asked with such pain in his voice it nearly broke your heart. “That I am not concerned for your well being? That I do not care if you are hurt or-or sick?” 

“What else am I to believe, Simon?” You said, exasperated and exhausted with his constantly shifting moods towards you. “You avoid me at all costs when I am with you, you have suspended any affection towards me, and now you tell me that you came all this way because you thought I was ill? I don’t understand you, your grace, I truly don’t.” 

“Everything I have done has been for your benefit.” He stepped towards you. “My affection towards you runs deeper than I could possibly explain and that is why I cannot condemn you to a life cast into my darkness.” His eyes did not look through you now. Rather, they pierced down to your very soul. You stood in shock, trying to find the right words to convey your true feelings. 

“Simon…” You gasped, laying a hand on his chest to feel his racing heartbeat. “You are not a shadow. You are the moon. Yes, you have darkness. Yes there are parts of you that I do not yet understand, but that does not mean I do not wish to know you. You are the guiding light in my darkest nights. You are my husband and I love you.” 

You wrapped your arms around him and brought his lips to yours. It was like your first kiss, hesitant at first, but soon evolved with passion and need. Simon cupped your face in his hands and vowed. 

“I will not hide my love from you again. I will cherish you the way you are meant to be. And I will remind you how dear you are to me every moment I can.” He brushed a joyous tear from your cheek. “For evermore.” 

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[maybege]

Sneak Peak Snippet: Austenland AU

Summary: A little sneak peak of the Austenland AU.

Pairing: Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Rating: T | Wordcount: 667

Warnings: Dreks and we all know what that means

This is part of my birthday bash! This AU is a collab with the wonderful and talented @hdlynnslibrary ❤ I hope you enjoy this little snippet and if you haven't seen Austenland yet, what are you waiting for?

“I have never ridden a horse before,” you admitted, a little intimidated by the large animal in front of you. Romantic images flashed in front of your eyes how he would help you up, sit behind you and ride with you like they always did in those romantic period dramas. Maybe that was what was planned all along? Surely, they could not expect their very modern day guests to know how to ride? What if you hurt the horse?

“No worries, mylady,” Dreks assured you with a sweet smile, “We have an instructor just there by the stables. He will help you get more, I’m sure. Here, I will accompany you.”

How sweet, you thought, hooking your arm into his, he is even escorting me! You looked up at the brunette man, hardly able to keep the giddy smile off your lips. This was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you.

“Mr. Fett should be just through there,” he motioned to a row of stables and you nodded, lifting your dress up a little to make sure the hem wasn’t too muddied and dusty when you walked out again. It seemed to be empty but you heard some noise like someone was sweeping maybe?

Reluctantly you looked back and found Dreks quietly talking with another stable boy, not paying attention to you, so you continued your quest to find the mysterious Mr. Fett.

You find him in an empty box, obviously cleaning it out. He was older than you had expected but not old. The first thing you noticed was the scar that went from his forehead through his eyebrow and over his right cheek. The second thing was how broad he was. Even – or maybe especially? – wearing the regency appropriate pants and shirt and vest, he looked built. He looked strong. Not like the toned muscles Dreks was serving but like he could lift trees out of the ground.

Mr. Fett had not noticed you yet, too doing something, so you took the chance to let your eyes roam over his shoulders, his belly, his legs until you noticed his feet were pointed at you. Feeling caught you looked up, finding him looking at you utterly unimpressed.

Great first impression.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but were cut off by the most unexpected of voices.

“I swear to God if I have to endure one more of her stupid questions about the regency era, I will demand a raise,” Dreks’ voice echoed through the stables, “She probably thinks her smile makes her look enticing instead of foolish,” he scoffed, “I wish I could’ve sat this round out. Nothing worse than pretending you’re into some chick you wouldn’t even look twice at it in the pub.”

Embarrassment washed over you and you blinked, trying to keep the tears at bay. You felt so angry, so humiliated and so … disillusioned, you hardly knew what to do. All you wanted to do was to disappear forever and hide under your blanket.

“Hey Dreks, do us all a favour and shut up!” the man shouted, looking angrier and angrier by the second. Understandable. You wouldn’t want to deal with an angry customer either if you were him.

Because that was what you were. A customer.

Dreks did not say anything but you could her quick footstep that sounded more and more distant. Followed by the sounds of hooves as the party seemed to depart without you. It was probably for the best.

“Um,” you took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders, “I’m sorry for bother you sir, I was just, uh,” your breath hitched and you quickly wiped over your cheek, “I was just wondering if … Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No reason to apologize, girl,” he grunted, “Dreks is a stupid man who can’t see what’s in front of him. You’re here to learn how to ride?”

You sniffled, nodding quickly.

“Follow me then,” he instructed you, “Name’s Boba, by the way.”

You smiled.

[jq37]

Maybe I'm also being animal racist, but a current guess I have for oMaM is that the rabbit Sly saw at the docks was actually the newspaper photographer who seems to be spending a lot of energy documenting Sly's movements at this party, and the bad lighting/state of intoxicated introspection led Syl to make a wrong assumption. (Also did you ever watch Hoodwinked? Spoilers: the reporter bunny did it)

lol hey guys. So I've been fairly MIA the past couple of weeks due to my job trying to actively murder me but I wanted to pop in for a hot second to talk about where we are theory-wise at this point in the season.

First of all, to address the actual ask, I feel like Brennan must have known Longfoot would be suspicious due to ~animal racism~ and put him in as a red herring and now we have even more info to back that up.

I suspect that what's going on with the stuff in the manor is a version of the Pepper's ghost illusion which involves mirrors to do ghostly projections and look pretty darn good for an effect that was invented hundreds of years ago. If you've ever ridden Haunted Mansion at Disney, that's the effect they use to do the waltzing ghosts (fun fact, because the effect mirrors the objects it's used on and the Imagineers forgot to take that into account, all of the female ghosts are leading in the dance!) But that's just fluff, let's talk plot.

So last week's ep threw a LOT of suspicion on Sly with him literally being painted at the villain and Grant doing absolutely nothing to defend himself. And, I'll admit, it would be pretty delicious to not only have Sly foreshadow it earlier with his coy, "Why yes, it also could have been me," and also that Grant himself would have [REDACTED] Rekha a SECOND TIME (watch the Murder Mystery ep of Game Changers if you don't know what I mean--it's my fave ep). But I talked it over with my watch buddy @camwritery and I don't think Sly is actually a baddie. I think this is a double double cross (Lol a cross from Mr. Cross). Here's my thought process.

(1) Yes there's that stack of letters Daisy found in Sly's hand but those easily could have been forged. I'd like Buck to take a look at those since he has that rogue handwriting checking ability.

(2) Squire Badger specially said something was coming to F Sly up and Sly could tell he wasn't the mastermind. Fletcher would make the most sense as to who the mastermind actually is. Like, it wouldn't be so much a twist to the audience but it would be a big ass twist to the CHARACTERS who thought he was fully dead (for the most part) and I feel like that matters more than "subverting expectations" or whatever. It's possible we find out it's actually another party guest I guess (or more likely, that some number of them are involved as accomplices) but Brennan said last week we've met all the characters and it's too late to introduce a new person at this point. And Fletcher is such a through line in Sly and Daisy's stories, it would be weird to not go for the payoff.

(3) So Fletcher is alive. We know this. What would a dead but not dead criminal mastermind want? To ruin his arch nemesis, obv. So, how do you do that? Maybe you fake the death of some mouse to create an unsolvable murder to drive him crazy? And then maybe you work with the person who the fake murder pissed off (because of Sly's inability to "solve" it) to ruin Sly because that guy hates Sly now? And maybe you involve some element of faking deaths in your plan because a faked death is what was central to the original plot that made Sly's reputation and ruined your family? That's so convoluted but this is a guy who handcuffed himself to his enemy and jumped off a waterfall. He's clearly a drama queen and he has nothing but time.

(4) I think Sly has figured this out to some degree and he's decided that letting himself get captured is the best option for him at the moment. Like, he didn't protest at all. Which, yes, checks out to his laidback, posh casual persona but I think he knows that if anything happens to anyone while he's locked up then it casts suspicion on someone besides him or it means the "murders" have to stop because no one will kill anyone while he's not active as a possible suspect due to literally not being able to murder anyone. Speaking of--

(5) Yeah, I don't believe these are murders. All those dead bodies from the list? Badgers, corvids, horned animals. That's the badger fam and their spouses. And the one guy we "knew" was dead also doesn't seem to be dead (which Brennan seeded from the start with Conor's widow hearing his voice which seems possible if she lives so close and he was alive this whole time). I guess framing Sly for a full family murder or something was the plan? But that doesn't quite check out because presumably they'd un-die at some point and I feel like they wouldn't want to live under assumed identities in animal Bavaria or something. I know news doesn't travel fast w/o the internet but they're prominent people. News would spread I assume. Maybe the death faking was to make Sly believe he was crazy? Or to believe in ghosts? Messing with a genius's mind is I'm sure one of the worst things you can do. There's also Buck's Frankenstein theory which is a little out there but they were trying crazy stuff with electricity and dead bodies back in the day. Kind of a wild pull but cam sent me this about a Dr. Squires from the same-ish time period shocking someone back to life. It would be wild and now we have some alt explanations for the electricity but gotta explore all options. And this would Constance to call her dad a madman, lol.

(6) Grant/Sly has a lot more info than us with all those maddening redacted texts so it's very likely he has some long game happening we know nothing about. I wondered if he might have known about Fletcher for a while--when Daisy revealed he was alive he was surprised but I don't remember if he was surprised that he was alive or if it was ambiguous and it might just be that he didn't tell her. I assumed he didn't know at all (because I feel like that's what Brennan narrated in episode 1) but I need to go back and check.

(7) At the end of the day, D20 is a show that rewards love and friendship over betrayal and the like. This very much could be the first season with a real betrayal but I'm kinda skeptical. Sly could just be a big faker but he seems genuine to me. Also, what would his motive even be here? This doesn't seem like his style and I don't know why he'd do this.

(8) Lars failed their check on purpose and Ian saw full puppydog earnestness. Sly if you've been a bad guy this whole time and Lars didn't know, bitch I'll kill you

(9) Not really on topic but I want to note, Daisy's find of that second trick portrait makes me thing my theory was correct and there's a third somewhere. I wonder where.

(10) Even less on topic but the "Show Her Your Butt 2: Electric Boogaloo" sequence last week made me spit soda everywhere and I think that should be acknowledged.

[abrigailcinema]

Final: Alfred Hitchcock

Alfred Hitchcock was an English film director, producer, and screenwriter. He was considered the “Master of Suspense” and some of his most well known films include Rear Window (1954), Vertigo (1958), North by Northwest (1959), and Psycho (1960). I will be mainly focusing on Hitchcock’s 1954 film, Rear Window. Although Hitchcock moved to Hollywood at the beginning of his career, many mannerisms in his films come from his roots in London, England.

His career began in London, when Paramount Pictures was just opening a studio there. He worked as a co-writer, art director, and production manager for over a dozen silent films. Hitchcock then moved to Gainsborough Pictures in Germany after Paramount had pulled from London. He worked on minor films there, until he moved to Hollywood in 1939, where he completed several films throughout and after the time of World War Two. The most successful years of his career ranged from 1954 to 1964. His films following this period were known, but not entirely successful. In his late life, he was knighted in 1980, and due to his health declining, passed away a few months later. Hitchcock distributed his films in Hollywood through various production companies such as Warner Brothers, and in the instance of Rear Window, Paramount Pictures. His filming techniques were unique, to compel the audience to experience the film as if they were immersed in the story. In the case of Rear Window, many of the shots in the film involved the camera panning across the screen, through the eyes of the main character.

Rear Window was nominated for multiple Oscars in 1954, including best cinematography, best writing (screenplay), best sound, and Alfred Hitchcok was nominated for best director for the film. But, to the surprise of everyone, did not receive any of those awards, only the nominations. Alfred Hitchcock did not write the film from scratch; he had an inspiration - a short story, The short story was titled “It Had To Be Murder” and was written by Cornell Woolrich as part of Dime Detective, in February of 1942. It runs an hour and fifty two minutes, and takes up twelve reels of film. Despite being filmed in the early 1950’s, the film was shot completely in color. Alfred Hitchcock was actually enthralled in the writing process, sometimes more than filming itself, because that’s when all of the great “lightbulb” ideas happen. In an interview with Hitchcock himself, he describes why he loves the writing process so much. He states:

“The most enjoyable part of making a picture is in that little office, with the writer, when we are discussing the story-lines and what we’re going to put on the screen. The big difference is that I do not let the writer go off on his own and just write a script that I will interpret. I stay involved with him and get him involved in the direction of the picture. So he becomes more than a writer; he becomes part maker of the picture.”

The film itself revolves around L.B. “Jeff” Jeffries, a New York magazine photographer stuck in his home during the summer due to a broken leg. To pass the time, he sits in his wheelchair and stares out of his apartment window at his neighbors. He is visited by his nurse, Stella, who disapproves of his spying, and his girlfriend, Lisa, who is a model. His neighbors all have personas created by Jeff, such as Miss Lonely Hearts, who often entertains an imaginary dinner date. Miss Torso was a dancer, juggling between three men. There was a traveling salesman, living with his bed-ridden wife, and a struggling composer that plays the piano. Jeff does more observing, and after a few suspicious events happen in his neighborhood, he believes that the salesman, Lars Thorwald, murdered his wife. After numerous attempts to find clues leading to Thorwald being guilty, tension builds as the audience wonders what will happen next (and no… I will not be spoiling the end of the film).

One of the most intriguing parts about Rear Window is the fact that Jeff has the ability to observe much more clearly in his apartment than he would if he were out and about. Observation was one of the main themes of the film, because without slowing down, nobody picked up on anything that Jeff did. Alfred Hitchcock’s repertoire of mystery thrillers is vast, but in my opinion, the scariest part of this film is the fact that sometimes it doesn’t take deep investigation, but observation. Imagine how much people would be able to learn just from stopping and looking around themselves.

In terms of technique, Alfred Hitchcock wanted to capture the film through the eyes of the main character. Typically, he would use the camera to show what the main character was looking at, as if it were through their own perspective. Another popular technique that Hitchcock used was creating montages during his films, including a series of close up shots that were right in the actors and actresses faces. He would use cameras to almost pan around a character to capture every detail about them. For example, the opening scene of Rear Window includes shots of each person’s apartment, panning from one neighbor to the next. It would cross through each apartment, as if someone were looking around (using his own technique of creating a character's perspective) and then swing around to reveal Jeff. The camera followed Jeff’s leg starting from the foot and led all the way up past his wheelchair right up to his face.

Another interesting part about Alfred HItchcock’s films were his decisions when casting. A lot of times, he would work with one or two actors and use them in multiple of his films. He would initially grow a personal relationship with the people he was filming and directing, and then after growing fond of them, he would want to use them in another work of his. However, as much as he might have favored them and used them in his films, he didn’t necessarily think highly of them. There was one instance where he actually referred to his actors and actresses as cattle, because they needed a lot of direction. He tried to hire people that were easily manipulable, and could be as much of a blank slate as possible when working with him. That way, he could turn them into the characters as closely as possible, rather than interpreting the characters a certain way and acting in a way that Hitchcock didn’t like. Something interesting about his casting was that he almost always cast blonde females in his work. Even though it’s a completely ridiculous thing to think, he believed that blondes appeared less suspicious than brunettes did. For that same reason, when a blonde does something deceitful or unexpected, he thought it was a greater shock than when someone with dark-colored hair did the same exact thing. Although this is completely untrue, he believed this and it heavily impacted his casting for all of his films, just to increase the amount of suspense or shock that he wanted to capture for the audience.

In this particular film, L.B. Jeffries was played by James Stewart, better known as Jimmy Stewart. He was in multiple Hitchcock films, including Vertigo, The Man Who Knew Too Much, and Rope. But, one of his most famous films that he was in is still regularly watched during the Christmas season - It’s a Wonderful Life. Lisa is played by Grace Kelly, who was also in To Catch a Thief, Dial M for Murder, and Terror in the Aisles, all creted by Hitchcock. Stella, the nurse, is played by Thelma Ritter. Despite being a famous actor during the time, this was the only film that she was cast in directed by Alfred Hitchcock. As you can see, there is a pattern as to whom Alfred Hitchcock wanted to work with. Rear Window is only a small inside look to how often Alfred HItchcock actually used the same actors and actresses in numerous films of his.

Alfred Hitchcock focused some of his films on the idea of voyeurism, which is the desire or behavior to observe people. Typically this would be used in the context of spying on people undressing or being naked, but this wasn’t the particular case in Rear Window, as Jeff was just spying on all of his neighbors in general. Voyeurism is a global issue, often seen in criminals who are either stalkers or pedophiles. Although Jeff’s instance is not nearly at this level, in the modern world we live in, it is a problem that unsuspecting people have endured. Voyeurism can be seen in a handful of Hitchcock’s films, but is the most apparent in this film. Jeff’s ability to “spy” on people provides him with entertainment while being held up in his home until his broken leg heals. Through this, he finds some satisfaction in finding out information about his neighbors that other people normally wouldn’t pick up on. However, there is some controversy as to whether Jeff is doing something illegal by spying on his neighbors or if he is simply observing his neighbors in the sense that he is a photographer looking for inspiration. The central idea of voyeurism in this instance isn’t to give Jeff pleasure, it’s to satisfy himself in being able to create his own entertainment.

Overall, I highly recommend this classic mystery-thriller to anyone that enjoys watching films. It takes you through a journey of emotions, between the collection of drama and suspense during the film. Alfred Hitchcock created an incredible, spine-tingling repertoire of work, but I believe that Rear Window was a breakthrough, beginning the peak of his career and exemplifying the themes of some of his most popular work.

VIDEOS:

https://youtu.be/m01YktiEZCw

https://youtu.be/j9lZRDAoecs

SOURCES:

Teachout, Terry. “The Trouble With Alfred Hitchcock.” Commentary, vol. 127, no. 2, Feb. 2009, pp. 43–46. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com.libserv-prd.bridgew.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=lfh&AN=37360095&site=eds-live.

Lawrence Howe. “Through the Looking Glass: Reflexivity, Reciprocality, and Defenestration in Hitchcock’s ‘Rear Window.’” College Literature, vol. 35, no. 1, Jan. 2008, pp. 16–37. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com.libserv-prd.bridgew.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsjsr&AN=edsjsr.25115476&site=eds-live.

DeRosa, Steven. “Writing with Hitchcock: John Michael Hayes and the Making of Rear Window.” Worcester Review, vol. 38, no. 1/2, Jan. 2017, pp. 110–120. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com.libserv-prd.bridgew.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=lfh&AN=134934180&site=eds-live.

“Rear Window.” (1954) - Turner Classic Movies, Turner Classic Movies, 1 Jan. 1970, www.tcm.com/tcmdb/title/87777/rear-window/#overview.

Mikulec, Sven. “'Rear Window': Hitchcock's Cinematic Exploration of Voyeurism Disguised as a Top-Notch Thriller • Cinephilia & Beyond.” Cinephilia & Beyond, 12 Nov. 2020, cinephiliabeyond.org/rear-window-hitchcocks-cinematic-exploration-voyeurism-disguised-top-notch-thriller/.

North, David. “Voyeurism and Subjective Understanding in ‘Rear Window.’” University of Chicago Philosophy Review, 17 Apr. 2019, ucpr.blog/2018/12/13/voyeurism-and-subjective-understanding-in-rear-window/comment-page-1/. 

[r-ahh-mi]

Homecoming

Warnings: Smut. 18+. Other than that, this is just a massive dose of fluff.

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Rami is left sifting his mind through an interview during a long press tour of the world that is drawing out far too long for his liking. After months of being away from any sort of familiarity, he begins to miss the very human being who makes him feel at home.

-

There was a small buzzing..or humming-like sound ringing through my ears. The humming was occasionally reaching new octaves and levels of intensity and calm, as if it was riding a very bumpy wave, but suddenly the hum was loud and staccato; repeating itself another two times before a small pinch of pain seared through my shoulder until the sound was no longer catching my attention. I winced, moving my hand in an instant to the warmth on my arm-only then did I recall just where I was and what I was doing and why I had been so rudely nudged by the person sat next to me.

Press tours were never my cup of tea. The first couple stops were fine because the questions were new and fresh and my responses were genuine and filled with real emotion, but after having to repeat a story three times, four times..ten times. It’s dull and my words begin to lose their value of genuine excitement and amusement that it once held. This interview was just like that.

The main cast, myself included, were nearing the end of our dreadfully long press tour that had wrapped itself around the globe, thus making the travel extensive and for long periods of time. And to be completely frank, I missed my bed, I missed my dog, but what, or should I say who I missed the most was my wife.

We’d never gone this long without seeing one another and I knew it was taking a tremendous toll on me and her both, though she was quick to hide it. I knew she wasn’t one to need me around every waking moment, but by the solemn tone of her voice everytime we said goodbye from our nightly phone or facetime call and whenever I told her about something amusing that happened in my day, her smile just wasn't the ‘grin and bear it’ one I was craving to be in the same room as and to smooth away with a kiss that lingered. It was small and slightly even sad, as if she wanted to badly be experiencing the same casual amusements I was seeing everyday.

I could feel myself falling back into my own head--the voices were blurring together again and the high pitched buzzing was seeping through my ears as I was beginning to be consumed with my thoughts again.

“Rami?”

Again, the pinching electrocuted a response out of me as I mumbled an ‘ow!’, and looked in the direction of the co star sat next to me who was looking at me with a less than friendly expression on their face.

I looked around the room and noted that everyone, and I mean everyone, was staring at me. Some looking annoyed, but most just looking expectant.

“Would you like me to repeat the question Mr. Malek?”

My eyes focused on the nicely dressed female as she looked at me nervously while I attempted to re-compose myself.

“Yes-s”, I stuttered, but was quick to get myself back on track. “Yes please.”

Though I didn’t really want her to. Lord knows she would only mutter out a question I’d already heard dozens of times and answered with less than the acceptable amount of enthusiasm.

“I asked if you were missing home at all; I’ve heard it’s much warmer in the states right now than it is here. I’d assume you’d be a bit home sick right now.”

To my surprise, this question was much much different from the others, in fact it’s the first time any member of the press seemed to show a glimmer of sympathy or interest in my personal well being as opposed to wanting further knowledge of this movie I was promoting. It took me a second to respond, though not too many ticking moments or else I feared I’d receive another twing from a rather bony elbow in my side.

“I do miss home, very much actually. Very excited to be in my home with my wife in the next couple days.”

The interviewers eyes seemed to light up, both with excitement of the prospects of a topic to talk about and something else that seemed to make a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

“I’m sure it can be tough being apart from your partner for that long. How do you cope with that?”

I shrugged, what we did was anything but coping or ‘getting by’. We made it work tremendously well and, for the most part, I have her to thank for that. She was quick to keep me grounded and even more quick to assure me that mentally I was still the down to earth boy she’d met twelve years ago who was just in the beginning stages of his career as an actor. She supported me then, she supports me now; there was never a push from her for me to do something different and I never pressured her to accept this lifestyle that I had thrown her in to, yet she did so with an overgrowing ease.

“It can be tough, but nothing we can’t handle. We’ve known each other for too long to let much get to us.”

“Surely there has to be some discourse in-”

I shook my head as my patience seemed to fly out the window much quicker than it usually did. Lack of sleep could’ve been the easy option, but what really seemed to get my ticking was this interviewer quickly shuffling from a sweet question to a comment that was seeking out drama and gossip--you know, things to actually assist them in selling their shitty writing.

“She’s great, truly she is,'' I interjected the woman’s long spiel. “Not everything is easy, but we are doing more than okay in our relationship and she’s the best person I can think of for me to share my life with.”

A couple of my co stars ‘awed’ dramatically as they patted my shoulder. I smiled in recognition, but couldn’t help but feel odd for doing the simple task that was loving and actually enjoying the person I chose to spend the rest of my life with.

“Do you have any children?”

“No”, I shook my head, “no children yet.”

“Yet?” The female interviewer quirked her eyebrow as I nibbled on my lip, holding in a smile that was threatening to spill all the way up to my cheeks.

“Yes, not quite yet.”

“So children are definitely on the table for you in the future?”

I nodded matter of factly as I thought back to the conversation me and her had prior to getting married--baby names, preferred genders, and possible nursery themes. We both saw eye to eye on nearly everything, although, the thing that was of utmost importance to me was having a healthy baby with this woman who, at that point in my life, I hadn’t even gotten the courage to ask to marry me just quite yet.

“Yeah, we absolutely want them in the future. Just waiting for everything to settle down a bit first.”

After that, the conversation seemed to shift to my co stars as the interviewer asked each of them some personal questions that weren’t much different to the ones she asked me. Of course, my busy, busy mind didn’t pay much attention once I knew that I had been asked the questions needed for this interview and I was happy that my mind was free to wander a bit more.

However, I wasn’t awarded the same freedom to think happy thoughts as I was just before the interviewer brought her attention to my personal life. Instead, now all I could think about was her and it was setting in just how god damn much I missed her. She was my partner, but most of all she was my best friend and no one enjoys being apart from their best friend for long. It’s as if a chunk of you is just missing or far away and I wanted nothing more than to cuddle it firmly against my chest and forget about the weighing lonesomeness I was feeling for her.

Eventually, the interview was over and I was free to go back to my hotel room and do as I pleased with the rest of my day. The rest of my castmates had settled on having a bit of an outing with it being our last day in an exotic location that the tour had taken us to and of course I was invited, but I just didn’t feel up to it. I would rather go back to my hotel room and bask in the sullen feelings and order some severely overpriced room service.

As soon as I slid my card into the slot and unlocked my hotel room door, I kicked the uncomfortable leather loafers to the side and reached for the phone set in my pocket as I began distracting myself with the email and text notifications displayed on my lock screen.

As I traveled to the bathroom, I found myself puzzled that I hadn’t heard from her, my wife, in quite some time. Usually she would send me a text whenever she woke up, but as I did the math in my head to compare our time differences, she would have woken up hours ago. I sent her a brief ‘love and miss you baby’ text and set my phone down on the counter as I stripped down to my briefs and shuffled my legs into some much comfier sweatpants.

I began to think about how I would spend the rest of my day; watching a movie or tv show, reading a book, because I never had time to read anymore, or maybe sleeping. Sleeping sounded like the most plausible option, seeing as I rarely got it these days, so I mentally prepared myself for the comfortable awaiting hotel sheets I would be swaddled on top of in just a moment.

But as soon as my eyes looked up and onto my bed, I nearly choked on the sharp and unexpected amount of air I had taken in. Such a reaction was bound to happen when one saw a human form lounging comfortably on their bed. Of course, the second I saw the figure the first thing I thought was to protect myself, but the moment I took in the familiar colored hair, skin, body type, and the faintest of smell, I felt anything but the opposite of crisis mode.

Instantly my shoulders slumped back down to their relaxed positions as I stared at her in disbelief. She smiled cockily—typical—as she watched me just stand there, owl eyed and ridden with shock, but the moment my mind and body seemed to process that my wife, of whom I hadn’t seen in months—god, so many fucking months—was laying on my hotel bed in a country that she was not meant to be in, I lunged for her instantly.

One could compare it to a linebackers tackle as I flung my arms around her, latched my legs to fit on top of hers, and snuggled into her side. She giggled briefly as she returned my fierce hug with just as much, if not more, power and for a couple minutes we just stayed latched on to one another.

I buried my face deep into her neck, smelling the floral accent from her favorite shampoo and id never craved a stereotypical feminine scent so much in my entire life until this very moment as I pressed a simple, sweet kiss to her neck. She giggled some more as her fingertips began to lightly trace up and down my arm and I couldn’t help myself any longer as I pulled my face up so I could have a better look at the face that I recently saw via my phone screen, but hadn’t seen or touched in person in months.

I took her in, making little notes of all the similarities and differences from the last time I saw that gorgeous face of hers, but even more than that, I loved being able to trace my thumb along her cheek again as I cupped the side of her face in my palm. She leaned Into my touch, the way she always had done, and brought her hand up to rest atop mine while her thumb rang along the mountains my knuckle bones created on my hands.

“How are you even here right now?”

Instantly, her lips twitched up into a large grin and I could only hope that she was pleased to hear the sound of my voice as I had been to hear her laugh again.

“I was able to get some time off of work and I didn’t feel like waiting a couple more days to see you.”

“So you just hopped on a plane without telling me?”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes following the same kind of movement as her grin turned back into that sly, beautiful smirk. “Yep.”

Without hesitation I propped myself up on one elbow and moved my mouth to hers in a long, soothing kiss and it was almost like I was being teleported back to the very moment we first pressed our lips together. I relished in the taste of her mouth as our lips started working against one another until my body began to fall into rhythm as I rolled on top of her, letting my weight fall completely onto my arms which held me up above her form. The moment I felt her one hand fall on top of my back, that warmth shot through my body as if her fingertips had an electric current pulsing through them just waiting to zap me.

Though I wanted to take my time cherishing every moment and inch of her, I was also terribly filled with a lust that I hadn’t been able to fully quench in the last one hundred or so days. She was the only one who would be able to fulfill me in such a manor like that, I was positive, so I didn’t waste anytime removing her clothing from her until she was left in nothing but a pair of panties that seemed much too fancy to just be everyday underwear.

I’d be sure to give her shit about that later, but for now I wanted to appreciate them, appreciate her as much as possible.

As I moved a stray hair to safely rest back into its proper place with the other strands of hair, I couldn’t help but notice the beauty that was her. Sure, she was physically stunning, but she was much more than outwardly beautiful to me. She was filled with joy, sarcasm, whit, and intelligence that was remarkable and beyond anything I had ever seen in anyone before.

“I’m flattered by your staring, but it’s getting creepy.”

I rolled my eyes at her comment and playfully nudged my nose against her cheek, feeling the swell of her bare breasts press against me as I continued nudging her face with the tip of my nose until she was in a fit of giggles, but her noises seemed to decrease in volume as I began moving my lips delicately in a downward fashion along her skin.

I let my lips linger for long as I found the nape of her neck, letting my teeth gently graze against her skin before I’d bring the slickness of my mouth and tongue against her sweet smelling body. Her hands gripped my back much firmer than before as she wrapped her legs around my waist, her body beginning to subtly move against mine every now and again.

I noticed her breath becoming louder and faster as my hands began to palm at her chest- the silky smooth skin felt as if I was grasping the finest of materials in my hand as my thumb glided smoothly to flick over her taut nipple, making her body instantly grind itself against mine and causing me to suck in a sharp and nearly painful breath.

If this is how she was making me feel now, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like once I was intimately cradling her form as close to mine as possible while we both moved within one another. To be that close to her again was something I had been craving an ungodly amount and now that I was feeling her, tasting her skin, and hearing her make the most lust filled and pleasured noises, I was nearly thanking god for this time apart that made me that much more grateful to be as close and intimate with someone that I truly and utterly loved with everything I had.

I maneuvered my body down from her collarbones until my trail took me to her chest. I didn’t dare leave the upper half of her body until I left a teasing kiss with the slightest bit of sucking to her hardened nipple as it was kissed by the cool air. She responded exactly as I thought she would, muttering a ‘fuck’ that couldn’t have been louder than a whisper, as she let her relaxed hands slip from my back to my neck. And when my mouth hovered just a bit above the warmth between her legs, I could feel her fingers curl within my hair as she waited in anticipation and I didn’t leave her hanging for long.

My mouth grazed along the fabric of her panties, mouthing and teasing at the material while grazing my teeth along the nicely trimmed lace that was fit perfectly to her body. She voluntarily spread her legs further apart as I wrapped one of my arms around her thigh, keeping it still until I moved the thin material away from her core. Her wetness was immediately visible to me which made the stiffening in my groin begin to pulsate as it became more and more consumed with sensitivity.

I seemed like a magnet to her as my mouth instantly fell to her lower lips, dipping the tip of my tongue gently between her folds as I gave a long lick to her core that made her body twitch ever so slightly beneath my touch.

I let myself enjoy her more as I began leaving flat tongued licks to her small bundle of nerves and playing them up with either quick flicks of the tongue or slow, nearly achining movements.

She moaned out my name as I continued tasting her and I felt her hand slowly slither down to rest on top of my hand that was laying on her thigh. I let my hand switch places to rest next to hers as I intertwined our fingers, all the while, my mouth proceeded to please her body. Her hips were stirring lightly with every flick of my tongue, but her hips became almost uncontrollable as I puckered my lips and began sucking mercilessly on her clit.

She was writhing and squirming with every gasp she could fathom up. Her hand was squeezing mine harshly as our fingers still remained intertwined until it was evident that she was hitting her climax. Her hips moved against my mouth and loud moans breached from her mouth as she grinded her body and I sucked and licked her up for as long as I knew it was pleasurable to her—until I felt her body relax back down into the mattress and her thumb start lightly tracing the divets of my hand again.

I pulled my face up and the first thing I saw was her bashful glow as she looked up at me with red cheeks and a thin layer of sweat glazed across her forehead.

“Well, that was quick,” I joked as I sat back up, but she didn’t seem too thrilled with my better attempt at humor as she brought her had up to lightly smack me along the arm.

“Hey!,” I winced.

“You deserved it! One-hundred percent deserved that Rami!”

I couldn’t help but let out a long string of silent chuckles as I held my hand to my heart in an attempt to calm myself, but she had a much better way of bringing me back to the situation.

Her legs, once again, became tangled up around my waist as she pulled my body downwards and luckily I caught myself with my arms to hold up my spare weight and not crush her.

We both smiled at one another as I combed my fingers through her hair, making the locks fan out across her head like a halo encapsulating her face.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Though my words seemed cliche and maybe they were, they held my inner most true feelings for this stunning creature below me that still managed to keep me memorized.

“Shut up,'' she said between a laugh and a smile as she used her hand to push my head down towards her and press our lips together.

This time the kiss was much more heated and less simple and sweet. It was passionate and loving and sexy all rolled into a glorious triad as we began to get lost and found all at the same time as we fell into our old rhythm of being intimate with one another. Naturally, our bodies began to move against one another, causing me to elicit a sort of primal noise as I pressed my mouth even further against her lips.

We stayed like that for awhile; me pressing my hips down into hers, her responding immediately by pressing her hips upwards until we met in the middle and gave each other the friction we were teasing one another with. However, once she started whimpering against my lips, I couldn’t help myself anymore. I just wanted to feel her as close as humanly possible and I wasn’t letting me or her deprive ourselves of it any longer.

I sat my body up with my weight balanced on my knees while my hands began to busy themselves as they smoothed down the middle of her chest, down her stomach, and to the top of her panties. She assisted me by pressing her thighs together and lifting her bent knees and hips in the air to allow me to roll the fabric off of her hips and down her legs until I was tossing the flimsiness to the ground.

I began to reach down towards the waist of my sweatpants and slip the fabric off of my lower half until I too was left just as bare as she was. Then, I felt her delicate fingers dance along my stomach--I hadn’t noticed until now that she had sat up and must’ve watched me shimmy out of my remaining clothing items, but she seemed to be enjoying herself quite nicely as she traced the indents of my stomach muscles until she was skating her fingertips across the line of hair resting against my lower stomach.

I’m sure she felt as my body tensed with pleasure beneath her, but it didn’t keep her from losing track of her trail ahead. Her hands moved to my hips, letting both of them feel the deeply carved indents that created an upside triangle shape into my skin, but her touch didn’t stay there for long. One of her hands remained on my hip, keeping me grounded, as her other one moved to exactly where I wanted her to touch me the most and I couldn’t help but sigh loudly at the feeling of her palm wrapped tightly around me.

I began to close my eyes, relishing in this much missed feeling and loving that she was the one making me feel this pleasure, but I was also more than ready, both physically and mentally, to feel her to the fullest extent. Quickly, I opened my eyes back up and gently placed my hands on top of hers as I slowly pinned her hands to the mattress.

“You really, really missed me, huh?,” she taunted as she playfully stuck her tongue out from between her teeth.

I shook my head as I resumed back into my position of hovering over her and without saying a word, I grabbed ahold of my member and pressed it against her wetness. Instantly, her playful smirk was replaced with squinted eyes and lips pressed together as she held in a noise that surely was threatening to vibrate off of the paper thin walls.

I started off slow, making sure that we were both comfortable with one another, as I slide inside of her with one paced motion. Her nails instantly dug into my arms as she threw her head back in pleasure, finally letting out a noise that was more than pleasing to both my ears and my hardening member. I let myself fall backwards, nearly slipping completely out of her before I repeated the motion and once I could tell she was enjoying this just as much as I was, I created a steady rhythm for the both of us.

Our foreheads were nearly touching as I thrust my hard cock into her, this time with a little more force, but nothing rough in nature. She seemed more than pleased as she moved her hips upward to meet my movements and I couldn’t help but laugh quietly to myself. Maybe she really, really missed me too, huh?

I could tell she was nearly close to reaching her climax already, but holding off and I was doing the exact same. She was clenching all around me and, my god, the noises she was making alone surely could’ve gotten me there; I wanted nothing more than to finish off and feel that pleasure that she always made me reach, but savoring this closeness and intimacy with her was much more important to me right now. I began to slow my movements down just slightly and she took note of this as she looked at me with the slightest bit of concern that screamed “what's wrong”.

My eyes softened at the comforting look on her face as she brought one of her hands up to my sweaty cheek.

“You okay?”

“Perfect actually.” She looked less than satisfied with my answer as her eyes blinked quickly--she couldn’t have looked more adorable if she had tried.

“Just want to enjoy this as long as I can,” I somehow was able to mutter, though it was surely smothered in heavy breaths and spaced out words.

She partially nodded as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, “Told ya you missed me”.

Of course I missed her and of course I missed this, but I knew she was merely tugging at her ego and letting me know that she was still the sarcastic, beautiful woman that I fell in love with years ago. And truly, she was just that-- I couldn’t have been happier to be so deeply immersed and in love with a human being than her if I tried.

-

Tag: @lovelymalekk​ @mezzomercury​ @amcquivey​ @sherlollydramoine​ @rami-malek-trash​ @rogers-wristbands​ @deacytits​ @ramimedley​

[tazzykiki]

I’m tired, angry and bored so here we go! A messy list of fucked up Public School Things that may or may not be a universal experience:

The Lunches were a mix of good and horrible:

I was usually fine with the lunches because they were pretty decent and, like, yay food! But looking back they were just, so wrong????

Like in my middle school lunches AND breakfast were a mess. I got food poisoning like once or twice from the breakfast and the lunch was pitiful. At one point they just stopped cooking the pasta and left a bunch of uncooked, powdery noodles in a plastic box like anyone was gonna grab them and be like “mm yes! my favorite! hard noodles!”. Like what the actual fuck.

The pizza was also in a box, none of the toppings were labeled so it was a gamble on what type you would get, and most of the time they were burnt. In HS the pizza was fine but it tasted fake as hell and I’m pretty sure they just took some rubber and put cheese on it.  

My HS lunches were better but even then it was just, really concerning how limited and odd the food was. Luckily we didn’t have to pay except for like cookies and stuff smaller than your hand that costs like $2 cuz they want to “promote healthiness” despite feeding us what is basically prison food.

The class sizes were horrifying: I’m sorry but what person can teach 30+ rowdy kids and be perfectly fine??? Not to mention this was the norm the whole day! Imagine grading all those papers, keeping track of every student, and making sure they all shut up long enough to teach. And that’s just for the teachers who actually care.

Like a class size should be a max of 20 with a few exceptions. Do you know how stressful it is for everyone involved? Not to mention, 30 kids was considered SMALL!! Some classes had 40, even 50 STUDENTS!!!! WHAT THE FUCK.

We never had enough books, or supplies, or anything. Usually by the half point of the year, half the books would be missing or destroyed and it was a mess. In HS the Drama and Music teachers had to deal with like, one class of 10-20, and then like 5 classes of 40-50(all mixed grades too). And you know what’s even more fucked up? There was only one of each teacher.

There was one drama teacher. Who btw deserves the world and legit cares about her job and students. I honestly hope she quit and went somewhere better. She had to put up with 40+ screaming kids, grade all of those assignments, deal with insult and harassment(she was plus-sized and white. So she couldn’t talk back, would get insulted, and more.The only white people allowed to be sassy in that school were funny white men that were laid back), and had barely enough supplies to get by.

There was one music teacher. Who also deserves the world and legit cares about her job and students. She had to deal with 40-50, almost 60+, kids. The majority of them being sophomores and freshman, with bits of seniors and juniors. She taught music, taught band, and organized events and performances. She is, I believe, the first and only music teacher in that school and that’s just so fucked up. Like imagine being one person and having to manage hundreds of students like that.

There was only one digital arts teacher but I have no idea what they did since you can’t choose what class you attend. I just know it was constantly crowded, never really applauded, and they weren’t involved in a lot of things.

Oh yes how could I forget the art teacher! Yeah no there was no art class that involved drawing and painting. Apparently that class was scrapped years ago and has now turned into a JROTC locker! :D Speaking of JROTC:

JROTC and Sports had too much support and that’s a serious problem:

Hey maybe it’s because I’m an art kid and I hate exercising(because every attempt to do so was met with laughter, humiliation, and the ridicule of my body even though I can’t control how my body grows and changes), but man did JROTC and sports(specifically football) have way too much attention.

We had not one, not two, but FOUR ENTIRE JROTC CLASSES! Classes training you to be in the military, specifically Air Force. Classes you HAD to take unless you wanted to be in gym(never had the class but from what I’ve heard, there were about 50-70 kids, mostly male, filling up that class and they didn’t do anything but play ball or whatever. All of course, taught by one guy).

Somehow this program had enough support for uniforms, 4 different classrooms, supplies, several teachers(all of whom were in the military at one point[they were chill except for the freshman teacher who called you a whiny baby for being in pain]), and more. 

Not to mention, every so often military people would come by with pretty pamphlets and fun little strength tests and have kids to sign up to newsletters and shit and ask them to join the military when they graduate so they can get free college and happy fun times!! :D

Football was given way too much attention, even over the other sports, and I absolutely hate it. Every month was about  football, football, football. So much money went into football, so much support went into football. Yeah yeah yeah follow your dreams or whatever the fuck they tell you on Disney Channel, but there was too much support on this one sport that involved kids breaking their heads open. 

Please please give me ONE valid reason why this irritating-ass sport had so much attention while art students, craft students, theater students, music students, students who want to work in literally any other field that doesn’t involve science or sports had to fucking scrape every tiny little chance they could from the crumbs that were left behind. PLEASE tell me why I had to join a completely different program that was hella exclusive and restricted to Juniors and Seniors that had a certain skill-level just to have a proper arts class while football players got a cool fancy bus, a shit ton of gear, and praise every single day(seriously their pictures and trophies were everywhere). 

Why is it that they get scholarships and full rides for throwing a ball around and bashing their brains open while I had to fucking destroy my hand and scramble around for some shit like $200 which I wouldn’t even get because I don’t have the skill to paint the mona lisa or whatever. Anywayyyy~

Hey what the fuck was up with the rules? Sorry kids but if you’re reading this, everything they tell you on tv about high school is a lie. Unless you watched the Dora the Explorer movie, then that was actually pretty accurate.

Hey is it weird we had metal detectors and legit police officers(who were armed) in our school? Is it weird that we had to wear plastic, see-through book-bags, that weren’t even given to us for free and were so weak that they had to get rid of that rule because they would break after like 2 months? Is it weird we were all stuffed into a nasty, sticky, pest-ridden, staircase right in front of the main doors in the morning because we weren’t allowed all the way inside for whatever reason unless it was for a club(i.e. sports)? Is it weird that we were all trapped in the lunch room by security guards because they didn’t want kids roaming the halls even though they already did? Is it weird we weren’t allowed to go to the bathroom and were always told “you should’ve went your last class” when your last class didn’t let you? Is it weird we weren’t allowed to use the bathroom and were always told that “you should’ve went during the transition time” even though the transition time was only 4 minutes and the hallways were so crowded that it’d be time for class by the time you’d get there?

Is it weird that when we were allowed to use the bathroom, all of the bathrooms were locked and only one on the other side of the school was open, and the majority of the stalls were broken? And they kept the bathrooms locked, even after school, because they didn’t want kids skipping class even though they still did?

Is it weird that if you didn’t have a belt(if you were male), or a part of your uniform, you would be prevented from going to class if there were no more temporary uniforms?

Is it weird that if one kid did something bad, the entire class would be punished and class time would be wasted and the point of punishment would be lost because the teacher wanted a taste of power or whatever?(hey one time in 8th grade, both classes had to stand in one long ass line for about half an hour because someone was talking and it was treated like it was a joke. this took up our breakfast time too)

Other Shit: One time my HS got like $20,000 and instead of using it to fix at least one thing, they wasted it on useless flatscreen tv’s and SAT “tutors” that taught us 3rd grade english & math, how to annotate(I swear to fucking god one more person try and teach me how to underline a motherfucking sentence---) and did absolutely nothing to help us. Meanwhile the football players were living like kings.

We had a strange assortment of teachers, ya’ll know about my junior and senior english teacher. But did I ever tell you about the freshman JROTC instructor? She was so much fun~ I remember one time!!! ooh this is a good one :DDDD!!!! that I was in so muuuuuch pain that I was crying and couldn’t move! and guess what!!!!???? ooh! ooh! guess! She called me a whiny baby and said I was overreacting!!!! omg? She was so right tho, I was totally overreacting to being in immense, insufferable, pain that no one even attempted to be concerned about~~ 

Oh here’s another good one: I used to cry a lot! It was horribly embarrassing and not fun~ I was either sick, on my period(which according to the multiple doctors I had to be rushed to, was normal and the intense pain was hereditary), or having an emotional breakdown~ This lasted from 5th grade to Senior Year of HS! :D

One time I was in a lot of pain, 7th grade I believe, and cried for a whole hour straight. What did my teacher do? Have me sit in class while everyone went to like social studies or whatever, talked with some teachers, and then complained about how I “cried and cried and cried for an hour straight” with no concern whatsoever. BTW the nurse was never there and even then she was kinda useless.

Don’t even get me started on the several times I was on my period and was actually screaming in pain and was still looked down on because a student screaming and hollering in pain is no cause for concern obviously~ Really surprising how a lot of the male teachers and staff were more concerned then the female ones, especially the science teacher who has a uterus, has multiple daughters, and the audacity to say I’m ~overreacting~. I’m so happy our teachers and schools have our priorities in order.

Note: If you’re horrified by this. Good. You should be.

More misc things: My HS had a shit ton of roaches, water bugs, and whatever those long disgusting things that walk around on the walls and fall off once you see them. Art meant nothing to them. Teacher sanity meant nothing, student sanity meant nothing. The principal was great and I blame whoever’s “funding” schools and working behind the scenes.  I know this was more about personal stuff, but like a lot of things like large classes, lack of supplies, lack of empathy from teachers, constant pests, horrible food, stupid rules that hurt us more than helped, really weird exposure to cops and military, and too much focus on one subject is super common in public schools and I really really want it to stop.

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars: Shadow Fall-Review

The second installment of Alexander Freed’s Alphabet Squadron trilogy is a character driven story of survival and personal growth that ranks among the best novels to come out of Star Wars in years.

(Review contains minor spoilers)

For the first time in the Galactic Civil War, both sides are in equal footing. With the death of the Emperor and the cataclysmic events following the Battle of Endor, The Empire has fallen into disarray and chaos. No central leadership exists and the once terrifying fascist force has split into different factions vying for survival. The New Republic fairs no better. Caught between mopping up between Imperial holdouts and trying to establish a government of its own, the former Rebellion is stumbling as well. All sides are scrambling to make sense of a new galactic order. Caught in the middle of this mess are the ragtag starfighters of Alphabet Squadron. Lead by a guilt ridden Yrica Quell, these five war weary pilots make a new desperate ploy to capture the still elusive and dangerous forces of Shadow Wing, a deadly TIE Fighter regiment that remains one of the Empire’s strongest remaining assets. However, Shadow Wing faces its own test of survival, now under control of Quell’s former mentor, Soran Keize.

Alphabet Squadron was one of the biggest and best surprise hits of last year. While Alexander Freed had already cut his teeth on writing Star Wars with the mostly underwhelming Battlefront: Twilight Company and the novelization for Rogue One, the first in his starfighter trilogy kicked off with an emotional and character driven drama that proved compelling from the getgo. Freed’s prose is dense and detailed and arguably more so than any other current prose writer working for Lucasfilm has the ability to make the world of the Galaxy Far, Far Away feel lived in. There’s an attention to on the streets storytelling. Our characters are fleshed out, flawed, and emotional characters, but they are far from the larger than life icons we see in much of Star Wars. They are part of the galactic swell of millions caught in the middle of a conflict that will change the shape of their society for decades to come.

It’s this feeling of upheaval and cultural shift that gives Shadow Fall much of its success. Freed paints the last year of the Galactic Civil War as a transitional period and while Chuck Wendig’s Aftermath trilogy may have been about the end point of this transformation, Shadow Fall concerns itself with the tough growing pains of societal metamorphosis. As Alphabet Squadron and their fellow New Republic allies attempt to liberate a planetary system orbiting a black hole, they have to contend with their own spread thin forces but also with their place as galactic liberators. They are no longer scrappy rebellious underdogs, but representatives of one government ousting another. Similarly, Soran Keize finds his leadership of Shadow Wing borrowing more and more from the Rebellion, with strategy shifting from wartime to success to the physical and mental health of the men in his charge. Freed creates a general feeling throughout of shaky footing and unease. The end point of the war is well in hand, but nobody is quite sure what it might entail and that proves to be something that drives introspection not only morally and politically, but also spiritually.

Freed’s ability to layer the Galaxy Far, Far Away with detail and nuance remains a strength, but the overall success of Alphabet Squadron proved to be its cast of compelling characters. By the end of its page length, we left the first novel of this series with a dynamic central cast, each with their own wants and weaknesses, and even a collection of memorable supporting characters. Shadow Fall continues that trend here, and while some standouts from the last novel such as Kairos and Nath Tensent (the former in particular) don’t get enough time in the spotlight, Freed digs in deeper with many of his cast than ever before. Following the likes of The Empire Strikes Back, Shadow Fall takes the middle chapter route of separating its heroes and putting them through the emotional ringer.

Yrica Quell remains the most complicated and compelling of the bunch. With her New Republic intelligence handler, Caern Adan, now aware of her secret participation in the genocidal Operation Cinder, Quell finds herself at risk with her fellow pilots. Freed fills her chapters with a sense of hesitancy, tension, and guilt ridden trauma as Quell tries to navigate the comfort of her new life with the looming atrocities of her past. Shadow Fall takes Quell on a twisting and harrowing journey and she ends the novel in an unexpected place that is sure to shake things up for the final installment likely coming next year.

In contrast, Soran Keize makes for an interesting new take on the sympathetic Imperial antagonist. It’s rare that we see a member of the Galactic Empire written with this amount of emotional depth and empathy. There’s a rightful hesitancy to paint representatives of sci-fi fascism with humanity and typically once a Stormtrooper or officer starts to show a hint of light, it means they are redemption bound. Keize makes for a fascinating inversion of this. We first met him having already deserted the Empire, trying to eke out life under a new name and purpose. Keize ended Alphabet Squadron with a decision to rejoin the Empire, but his role in Shadow Fall is far from fanatical patriotism. Instead, Keize becomes a steward for Shadow Wing, attempting to protect the men and women under his command from death and despair. It’s a more humanistic approach than we’ve seen from an Imperial before and it gives the battles at the novel’s climax an additional weight.

Other standouts prove to be Wyl Lark and Chass na Chadic. Lark made an impression and quickly became a fan favorite out of Alphabet Squadron due to his unshakeable moral character and optimism. In a series that approaches being dour in its chaos and bloodshed, Freed strongly balances out the ensemble with a character that feels as attuned to the light as Lark. Shadow Fall maneuvers him into a leadership position that he finds himself taking on  maybe a bit too much responsibility and complicated even further by the intense empathy he feels for the empathy at every step. Freed paints Lark as a good man that isn’t made into a bad one by the horrors of war, but finds himself struggling to find the right thing to do at all times. It makes for compelling and hopeful conflict.

Chass na Chadic, the music spewing B-Wing pilot, was a colorful addition to Alphabet Squadron, but she more than any other character feels like she comes into her own here in Shadow Fall. The last surviving member of multiple squadrons who met their end by the hands of the Empire, Chass has never expected to live through to the end of the Galactic Civil War. She doesn’t actively wish for death, but has more so accepted a reality that her survival isn’t a part of. Combined with her own sense of sardonic humor and multi-species discography, Chass constantly feels like she’s hiding layer upon layer of emotion but remains entertaining all the same. In a smart move, Freed puts Chass in a place that challengers her nihilism in startling ways and it makes for some of the most interesting subject matter of the novel.

If anything proves a little shaky with Shadow Fall, it’s that the overall uncertainty of its world and characters bleeds a bit too much into the plot as well. Freed’s characters feel concerned with moment to moment survival and while it makes for a thrilling and at times emotional read, it’s easy to leave the second installment of Alphabet Squadron feeling a tad unmoored. It’s unclear what exactly this trilogy is building to outside of another conflict between our titular starfighter team and their elusive enemy. I will find myself picking up the next installment in order to catch up with these characters that I have become so attached to and not necessarily because I’m waiting with baited breath for the conclusion of this winding story.

As was the case with Alphabet Squadron, Freed’s prose knows how to oscillate in tempo and focus with ease. His descriptions are detailed and dynamic. His character prose is insightful and personal without feeling overbearing. His action scenes feel kinetic and explosive. It’s impressive just how thick and dense Freed’s prose can feel when it needs to, but how quickly it can shift to something quicker and more action oriented without sacrificing the detail that defines the rest of the novel. It represents a clear evolution from the sometimes leaden Twilight Company that builds upon the style but makes it much more emotionally and narratively engaging.

With Shadow Fall, Alexander Freed’s solidifies Alphabet Squadron as the new Star Wars trilogy to watch for. It’s characters are just as haunting and compelling as ever and Freed’s writing feels more lived in and organic than anything else offered by Lucasfilm Publishing at this time. Pick this book up and savor the read. I’m going to miss these lost souls over the next year.

Score: A

[ingek73]

The British Royal Family, The Media and ‘SussExit’ – Part 1

By Zanye Linda August 9, 2020 4 Comments

The British Royal Family, The Media and 'SussExit' – Part 1

Prince Harry’s engagement to Meghan Markle was heralded by the British establishment, led by the UK media, as a sign of a modern Royal Family; an institution that symbolizes white power and privilege. By accepting her grandson’s marriage to an independent woman of mixed heritage, the Queen had demonstrated willingness to lead and present a Royal Family that was reflecting of today’s Britain. UK mainstream and social media was awash with stories of a progressive Royal Family and Meghan was proclaimed as one to modernize the Monarchy. They even went as far as claiming her engagement as a symbol of hope for Black women much to the skepticism of black women commentators. Fast-forward to today, Meghan Markle and her husband, Prince Harry stepped down as senior royals and moved their family to California to start a new life. But how did we go from modernizing an archaic institution to Harry and Meghan leaving the Royal Plantation?

Winter 2017

Within a week of the engagement announcement, Meghan and her fiancé undertook their first engagement where the world got a glimpse of this modern woman as a working royal. Huge crowds turned out to see them on that cold December day in Nottingham. As is customary with Royal women, her clothes were analyzed, the handbag she carried became a fast seller, and a lot of commentary was made about the couple’s Public Display of Affection(PDA). Later that month, Meghan attended Christmas festivities with the Queen and the rest of the Royal Family – a first for a future Princess. A lot was made of how the family welcomed her. It was during this period of festivities, when most of the Queen’s extended family would meet Meghan for the first time, that one of them arrived at Christmas lunch wearing a racist brooch(blackamoor).

Shortly after the annual Christmas spectacle at Sandringham, from whence the media peddled the idea of the ‘fab four”, Meghan would resume her pre-wedding tour of the UK alongside Harry. In January 2018 Meghan and Harry were scheduled to undertake engagements in Wales on the same day that William also had engagements elsewhere. The media commented on the calendar clash, but this was put down to poor planning by palace courtiers. However, they did note that this was bound to be a problem going forward. The Daily Mail quoted a “palace source” as saying “mark my words, William will be furious”.

As the final month of winter was rolling in, William and Kate undertook a tour of the Scandinavian countries. Back in London, Harry and Meghan were due to attend the Endeavour awards. This was the second clash of events in less than a month, and a scheduling problem for the Royal Rota– the press team dedicated to covering the Royal Family. In the final days of the Cambridges’ tour, Rebecca English, a Royal Correspondent for the Daily Mail informed her Twitter followers that, she would be leaving the Scandinavian tour early to cover Harry and Meghan at the Endeavour Awards, along with many other British reporters. The day after the awards, as William and Kate were concluding their tour, front pages of the papers were devoted to coverage of Meghan and Harry and as the Daily Beast noted, “It has been astonishing to witness in recent weeks just how completely the public appetite for information about William, Kate and their family has collapsed and the hunger for coverage of Meghan and Harry has grown commensurately”.

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The Daily Beast article down played the potential of a problem, stating that the lack of media and public interest in William and Kate, was as a result of their own poor attitude towards the press over the years, and that, this was characteristic of the royal family, with Harry arguably the worst of them all. Besides, Harry and Meghan were still new, and the expectation was for the current interest to wane over time.

At the end of February 2018, we finally got to see the “Fab Four” sharing a stage at the inaugural Royal Foundation forum where each one of them discussed their current and future charitable endeavors. Once again, we would see Meghan dominate media coverage, with headlines such as “Meghan Markle Shines at First Annual Foundation Forum”, along with praise for her ability to address difficult issues, as she referenced Time’s Up and Me Too, both topical issues at that time. Although some commentators saw this as Meghan being political, which the royal family supposedly avoid, others saw her bravery to push forward with female empowerment issues, a cause close to her heart.

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Spring 2018

While Harry and Meghan continued with their pre-wedding tour of the UK and a host of other royal engagements, staff changes were taking place within Kensington Palace. A gentleman by the name of Simon Case, a key player in Brexit negotiations then working under David Davis’ Brexit department, was appointed as William’s private secretary in March 2018. The following month, the UK hosted the Commonwealth Heads of Government (CHOGM) meeting. Harry and Meghan attended various CHOGM events. This was expected given that during their engagement interview, they mentioned that the Commonwealth would be an area of focus for them. It was also during this period that Harry’s appointment as the Commonwealth Youth Ambassador was announced. A position we would later on find out, William wanted for himself.

In the meantime, the wedding preparations were progressing – the palace providing the occasional planning updates and the royal reporters and commentators filling in the gaps with their characteristic speculation. Meghan Markle’s paternal family, (her half-sister and brother) who had been vocal around the engagement, had for the most part been out of the news. Then almost two weeks before the wedding, the Markle quarters started getting noisy. On May 3rd 2018, Thomas Markle Jr published a letter in Instyle Magazine that he had supposedly sent to Harry, telling him not to marry his sister. It naturally became a tabloid feast. While he had managed to avoid engaging or speaking with the press up till now, all of a sudden there were paparazzi pictures of Thomas Markle Sr appearing in the same tabloids.

On 13 May 2018, 6 days before the wedding, the Daily Mail revealed Thomas Markle Sr as a “Royal Scammer”, who had staged the photos with the paparazzi and sold them for £100,000. What followed was a series of revelations about Thomas Markle Sr. via TMZ and the UK press. Even Thomas’ ex-daughter in law and her two sons who had not seen Meghan since she was a child were now involved with the UK media; they were flown to the UK as wedding day commentators, courtesy of ITV.

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The coverage at this point had reached fever pitch. There was wild speculation about whether or not the wedding would take place, given that Thomas Markle Sr. informed TMZ that, he had suffered a heart attack and would not be in attendance. In a sombre statement released via the palace two days before the wedding, Meghan informed the world that “sadly her father would not be attending the wedding” and went on to plead with the media to allow him the privacy he needed to recover. And as they say ‘the show must go on”. Harry and Meghan were wedded in a beautiful ceremony that celebrated them as a couple and was watched by billions across the globe.

Summer 2018

With the drama surrounding the Royal Wedding now in the past, the beginning of the summer would bring a number of firsts for the newly wed couple. Meghan had her first joint engagement with the Queen, which saw the new Duchess travelling overnight with Her Majesty aboard the Royal train. The UK media was only too eager to point out how this was a unique privilege, since other senior and non-senior royals including HRH the Duchess of Cambridge had never ridden the royal train. Afterwards, Harry and Meghan had a joint engagement with the Queen first at the Queen’s Young Leader’s Awards and then at Royal Ascot. Each public appearance made by Meghan was accompanied by a story and commentary on Meghan supposedly violating one protocol or another.

During the summer, Thomas Markle gave his first paid interview with ITV’s Good Morning Britain hosted by Piers Morgan, who from their engagement announcement, had been vocal in his praise for Meghan Markle. The interview was billed as an opportunity for Thomas Markle to provide an explanation for missing out on his daughter’s wedding. It was also an opportunity for Piers and his co-host to interrogate Thomas on unrelated issues such as his opinion on what Harry’s views of Trump and Brexit were, for the simple purpose of stirring up controversy.

In as much as the interview attracted a lot of media attention it did not divert the attention of the new Duke and Duchess of Sussex and the following month, July 2018 saw them undertake their first Royal visit to Ireland. So far Meghan has aced all her appearances but this one was different because, such visits are undertaken on behalf of the UK government, and so she was going as a representative of her new country. It should therefore come as no surprise that they were accompanied by an unprecedented number of journalists, photographers and cameramen. The Irish came out in large numbers to see the royal couple at each stop of the visit, continuing what had become characteristic of the couple’s public engagements. Suffice it to say the visit was a success.

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The month of August is a slow royal news one, as the royal family enjoy their summer break. However, ‘twas not to be, as Thomas Markle decided(or did he?) that it was the opportune time to clear his name and dispel some mistruths that had been written about him. To do that, he penned an Op-Ed in the Mail on Sunday. He would later claim that he was being ignored by his daughter, in a story written by Caroline Graham- a Mail on Sunday Journalist based close to him in Mexico. This is the same Caroline Graham who has been revealed by Bylines Investigates, to be Thomas Markle’s babysitter, paying him a visit every weekend at his Mexico residence. Not to be left out, Samantha Markle travelled to the UK to “try and make amends with her sister”. She appeared on yet another ITV show – The Jeremy Vine show and was strangely photographed delivering a letter to security guards at Kensington Palace.

Caroline Graham Thomas Markle

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Caroline Graham Thomas Markle

Autumn 2018

In September 2018 Meghan launched her first solo project as a Royal; Together, a cookbook she developed with survivors of the Grenfell fire, to raise funds towards keeping the Hubb Community Kitchen open 7 days a week. Around the same time, there were rumblings from the Royal Rota regarding access to the Duchess of Sussex. Their grievance was that, they had not been given exclusive access to the cookbook prior to the promotion video being released on social media – never mind that the Royal Rota was invited to the official launch a week or so later. Maybe the protest was because news of the launch traveled farther and wider compared to what would have been the reach of the Royal Rota, perhaps a sign of the changing media landscape. The book topped Amazon’s bestseller even before it was released bumping JK Rowling off the number one spot.

Weirdly though, after the media had gone to great lengths to point out that the royal family works hard to avoid a clash of events, Rebecca English chose the weekend before the cookbook launch to announce a new project by the Duchess of Cambridge. This would be her first major project after 8 years of marriage. Details of the project were lacking and the launch date was yet to be determined, bringing into question the apparent urgency/timing of the announcement. Preemptive strike maybe?

Nonetheless, the Duchess through this project demonstrated a working style and a level of success that was rare within the royal family. Meanwhile Harry and Meghan were preparing to embark on their first major royal tour. A 16-day tour, comprising over 70 engagements across 4 countries – including Australia and New Zealand whose head of state is the Queen. The tour started on a high note with an announcement that the Sussexes were expecting their first child in the spring of 2019. While the world and the media entourage in Sydney were celebrating the news, back in the UK, royal commentators were stirring up controversy regarding the pregnancy announcement.

On the Saturday before the tour, Harry and Meghan attended Princess Eugenie’s wedding. According to the palace statement key family members had been informed, and had a chance to congratulate the couple in person at the wedding. In an article for the telegraph, Camilla Tominey advances a narrative that we had witnessed over the summer by claiming another ‘protocol violation’ in a story titled “Harry and Meghan may have breached etiquette by announcing baby news at Eugenie’s wedding, says expert” allegedly to the displeasure of some members of the royal family. This was of course a complete misrepresentation of the statement from Kensington Palace, but that did not matter and the mainstream media were only too happy to amplify this narrative.

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Murmurings aside, the tour kicked off on a high note with droves of people turning up at every stop. According to Forbes “Crowds the size that have not appeared for Queen Elizabeth on any of her trips to Australia (which date back as far as the 1950s)”, came out for the Duke and Duchess of Sussex. Amidst the success of this landmark tour and glowing coverage for the British royal family, the Sunday Times reported that plans were underway to split Kensington Palace and create a separate household for the Duke and Duchess of Sussex. Once again we see the palace put out a speculative article while Harry and Meghan are undertaking a highly important tour, making the purpose and the timing of the article questionable at best. Also, it did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm surrounding the tour, which had so far been a success and was commanding unprecedented positive global coverage for both the couple and the Royal Family.

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Once the tour concluded, on cue, the tone in media coverage for this couple changed. For one, the main focus of the coverage was Meghan. Secondly, it was persistently negative and thirdly it was driven by the royal rota. A key fixture in this media whirlpool was Robert Jobson, who had just published a Prince Charles biography “revealing” that Meghan threw a tantrum over a tiara. In the middle of November, Meghan visited the women at the Hubb Community Kitchen. This was a couple of months after the cookbook launch, and Camilla Tominey suddenly remembered that the mosque where the Hubb Community Kitchen is located had “links to terrorists”. The leader of a white supremacist group who advanced that theory, would later thank Camilla Tominey on Twitter for putting their mosque-terrorist story in the paper.

Jack Royston, then at the SUN and currently at Newsweek, wrote that “Meghan made Kate cry”. Why, he couldn’t say, but he was certain it happened. Rebecca English also weighed, in referring to Meghan as an ‘interloper who does not belong’. It was open season with article after article attacking Meghan specifically, calling her all kind of names; difficult, demanding, social climber, over sexual and a lot more. All steeped in racism, sexism and all kinds of bigotry. Every day bore a new story about Meghan, and every story trashing Meghan was an opportunity to uplift Kate.

The Telegraph, for no apparent reason, did a fawning feature on Carole Middleton, praising her as a hard working hurricane. The same paper had earlier described the Duchess of Sussex as “Hurricane Meghan”, a destructive force that was raining havoc on the Kensington Palace staff with her difficult and demanding ways. Curious, isn’t it? Amidst this onslaught of negative coverage, Emily Andrews via a palace source reports that, Harry and Meghan would leave Kensington Palace and move to the Windsor estate, getting ahead of the official palace statement. This became another opportunity to attack Meghan- the narrative being that she was instigating the move, and questioning why the couple would choose to move away from William and Kate at Kensington Palace.

In just one year, how did Meghan go from being the one to bring the Monarchy into the twenty first century to being cast as this villain? To recap events so far:

The media inform us that ‘William will be furious’ because of the shift in attention, which we have witnessed each time Harry and Meghan have a public engagement.

Meghan has delivered her first project, an international best-selling cookbook without the exclusive marketing and spin of the Royal Rota.

The attention Harry and Meghan are getting locally and internationally is nothing the Royal Family or the media has seen since Diana.

Was the spare and his wife outshining the heir? Also what is the connection between ITV and the Markle family? Why does this mainstream channel consistently give them platform? And what about the Royal Rota – they exist to sell the Monarchy to the public while also subjecting them to the appropriate scrutiny. Did they not think the negative coverage surrounding Meghan would have a negative impact on the Monarchy? Where was the Royal Family in all this? When Diana and Sophie were faced with negative media coverage, the Queen and the palace asked the editors to ease up on them. Even Kate was given a grace period to settle into her role as a Royal. Why were they not offering Meghan the same protections?

[likesomekindofcheese]

The Knight of Hallow’s Eve (A Knight!Gwylim Lee Oneshot)

Pairing: Knight! Gwylim Lee x fem! Reader

Word Count: 6,000 (wahoo)

Get ready for some fluuuffff!

Warnings: A mention of sex feat. a creeper, witches, a bit of violence, mentions of violence, Halloween magic, a DND reference, and good ol’ fashioned Urban Fantasy.

Prompts: #10 - “Nope, I’m not scared. Not at all” and #45:  “I hate the woods…especially at midnight on flippin’ Halloween! How did we get so lost?”

A/N: This is my oneshot for @forever-rogue‘s 2019 Halloween Challenge! I wanted to get a little more creative this time around. I hope it’s Halloweeny enough for all of your tastes. I hope you guys all enjoy it! (Also tagging @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, here you go! Knight! Gwilym on the house!)

“I’ll take your dare; I’m heading to the woods,” you said.

Your darer, Carl, smirks with slight disappointment. Alcohol mixed with truth or dare on a Halloween’s night get together made him bold. His leering at you made the chocolates in your stomach flip over.

For your dare, you were given two choices-you had chosen heading to the woods over stripping for him. You’d take anything over that.

Your friend, Erin, runs over to get your arm.

“You can’t! You know that’s where that killer’s been lurking! You’ve seen the news!” she begs. Her black eyeliner is smudged with worried tears.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes. I won’t run into any killer. Set a timer.” You suggest.

You know what the alternative is and so does she.

Erin shoves her purple manicured hand into her black corset. From it, she retrieves a necklace with a simple, dark blue stone.

“Here, take this. For protection” she offers.

You accept it. You know she has always been obsessed with the magical, claiming to be a witch (“but…I’m a different witch…it’s complicated, Y/N!���) and you could accept any possible good luck to get through these next ten minutes. Kindness from her was always a blessing itself, superstition or not.

I can handle this you think.

Crickets chirruped quietly. The trees make the air clean along with the crispness of the breeze. You peek back behind you. You see the back-porch lights of Erin’s house and their faint chatter of what truth to give the next sucker in your group.

An owl swoops over your head. You turn around to look for it, but you only see a faint silhouette and hear its wings flutter away.

You turn your head back to the house. The porch lights are gone.

You take ten steps closer to the house. Besides, if you are still in the woods and can still see them, it still counts as being in the woods. Dare accomplished.

There is no house.

You keep walking, trying to convince yourself that you misjudged your steps. Another turn, and there it will be. Progressing slowly, the night is getting darker and the moon is bobbling in its slow line above.

Trees and darkness is all there is.

You tried to remember what the back of the house looked like. A sign. Anything. But your brain has blanked in panic. You keep walking, almost running, trying to see anything in the darkness.

Reaching down into the pocket of your jacket, you feel the necklace. It’s suddenly hot. Surprised, you take it out and to your shock, it’s glowing light blue. Squinting from the darkness, you see a tree a few feet from you has started glowing bright blue too.

Getting closer, it becomes more beautiful and surreal. It’s a tall willow tree with light blue leaves that seem to swirl as they rustle with the wind. Your eyes blink to make sure it’s real. You have never heard of glowing trees anywhere!

You let the amulet rest on your palm. Suddenly, it floats above your hand. You scream a little in surprise. It’s too heavy for the wind. You feel your head spinning.

A bright beam of light blue light, matching that of the leaves of the tree shoots forth until it meets the dark wood- making a large black hole.

“AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Clunk!

A form falls through the hole and lands facedown into the leaf-ridden ground. The colors melt from light-blue to a musty red. Though it is night, there is enough light that one might think it was the early evening.

“Are you alright?” you ask, shell shocked.

“I…hope I am” he answers.

He starts to groan and get up. Two things strike you: first, not only is he incredibly tall with dark brown hair and the most astonishingly blue eyes you have ever seen, but even more so his clothes.

He is wearing a full plate of shining armor.

This is nothing like the plastic knight armor you see in costume shops. It thuds with heaviness and its silver sheen makes him bright amongst the redness. There is a bit of rust and dirt, here and there. But the edges and quality you know would make any cosplayer or costume designer drool.

How rich would someone have to be to buy a full plate of armor that good for only one night?

“Who is that?” The man pecks his head up. You step back a little. He’s a handsome man with high cheekbones, soft lips, and eyes the color of the sky.

He starts to pull his arms down to get up. “I…I’m alright, I think. But may I ask, where am I?”

You tell him the name of the city you live in.

He arches his eyebrows. “What kind of kingdom is that? Do you have a ruler?”

You tilt your head.

“No…uhm…we don’t. Look, are you a part of a live Dungeons and Dragons campaign?”

“I have no campaign; other than slaying monsters I’ve been sworn to slay and protecting the innocent. I made a vow to the king of my land after the dragon attack” he says.

He sounds genuine.

“Well…wherever you are, you must be far from home.”

“As a knight, I must go where I am called to. You see, the good witches gave me this…” he begins.

From beneath the breastplate of his armor, he reveals an amulet identical to yours. You stop breathing until you must take in a sharp inhale.

“The good witches of my kingdom tell me that if help is truly needed, then the amulet will lead me there. I am on a quest to fight the black rider. I have asked the amulet where the black rider is-what I must do, and if someone is in need or in danger. And it glowed to this tree…and now I am here.” He confesses. He straightens his back in a bit of pride.

“Well, uh…let’s make this simple. You see…this stuff isn’t normal where I’m from but, I could use some help. My name is Y/N. Y/N L/N.” you inform.

“I am Sir Gwilym of the Lee house, my lady.” He replies, with a short bow. He grins and stands erect as if saying he won a championship.

“I…I guess you could say I’m not…not a real lady” you stutter, gathering what knowledge you gained from Fantasy books and period dramas. Anything to help him.

“I’m just a humble peasant, according to your world.” You add, turning pink.

“Yet every woman, peasant or none, is a lady and deserves protection when needed. And if no one else will protect and assist them, then I must, my lady.” He responds with a shrug.

Smiling toothily, you remind him “I have a name, it’s Y/N.”

“Lady Y/N then!” he finishes raising his arms a little.

The wind picks up speed a little and it feels like a bony finger brushing your necks. Gwil’s armor shivers a little, despite its thickness.

“Lady Y/N, I have been riding and searching for two days. I haven’t rest and ate only grass. Do you know of shelter?” he questions. The dark circles under his eyes and slight weakness in his steps are more obvious.

“Yes. There’s a house somewhere around here…I just have trouble remembering where. I had to go out here and I got lost.” You recall. You start clutching and fiddling with the amulet in your pocket.

“May I accompany you? For your safety?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He takes a branch from the tree full of red and orange leaves. Gwilym notices how your jaw drops a little at the sight of them.

“Trees like these may light our way. They’ve aided me many a time” he explains.

“Ours don’t glow here. They bloom green when it’s warm. And some have flowers. Normal stuff” you explain.

“Ah! That is its own set of magic.”

You walk together for a bit. He lumbers across and you must scurry to keep his pace. His armor clanks a little mixing with the crunch of leaves beneath your feet. Walking alone in the dark with a knight as kind (and handsome, you confess silently) as Gwilym you feel your heart pick up the pace. You distract yourself by looking around for a path or sign of the house. There’s still nothing.

“I hate the woods…especially at midnight, on flippin’ Halloween! How did we get so lost?” you whine.

“We could find the tree and turn around” Gwilym suggests. He waves the branch in the other direction.

But when you try that strategy, the tree is nowhere to be seen. You begin wandering together hoping for any sign of human life. After a few minutes in silence, curiosity strikes you.

“Sir Gwilym, uhm…why have you been traveling in the woods?” you ask.

Gwilym grits his teeth. “There is a foe I have sworn to defeat. A foe that has been preying on the children and maidens of my kingdom and some say of neighboring ones. He has been spotted in these very woods. I must find him and bring him to justice” he says.

You nod. You admire his profile from the glow of the magic leaves.

“That’s very brave of you.” You laud. You can smell the cold air in your throat.

“Especially…since I have a little niece” he sighed. His face tightened. Did knights normally speak of their loved ones? Were they permitted?

“She is so dear to me. If anything were to happen to her, I would never…” he stopped himself.

He grew pale with fear of what could happen. You give him a hopeful smile, touching his arm feels too bold.

“You’ll find your foe.” You assure to him, looking up into his eyes, softly.

“Your niece will be …”

You are interrupted by a horse whinny and the clutter of hooves.

“Looks like you’re right” Gwilym stammers.

Before you stands a huge knight on a white Clydesdale horse, both in full black armor with faint red stains. Blood and dirt reek from them.

You freeze, unsure what to do. Gwilym leaps in front of you, blocking you, and unleashes a gleaming sword from his hilt. But the Knight’s shield, twice the size of your body, smacks him across the jaw and knocks him to the ground. Gwylim’s sword falls to the side with a clatter.

“Gwilym!” you cry impulsively.

The knight turns his head and looks at you. He lifts his visor to reveal big, yellow eyes like that of a piranha. You rush and grab the sword, aiming the hilt at him and circling around Gwilym.

The knight hops off the horse and approaches you, sword in hand aimed at your heart.

“Be scared, little girl” he booms.

“Nope. I’m not scared. Not at all” you half-lie. Anything to stop your shaking grip.

You charge and stab him in the breast quickly. His frightened horse dashes away. The black rider falls to the grass. Black leaves replace his plates of armor until they drift away into eternity.

You run over and lend Gwilym your hand to help him up. He looks up at you in amazement.

In the distance, you hear your friends calling out your name. You can make out the distant lights of flashlights.

Gwilym breaks the silence saying, “Lady Y/N…thank you.”

He kisses your hand devotedly. His lips were so soft that it was not stopping your adrenaline from the fight.

He asks for the sword and you hand it to him. Gwyilm kneels on one knee. His two large hands holding onto the hilt while the sword digs lightly into the ground. He lowers his head.

“I am ever in your debt…though I am not sure yet how I may return home. But I swear, even after I return, you are ever my lady and should you need me, I will always be in your service” he promises.

[toomuchtimenerd]

Review for ‘The Queen’s Rising’ series by Rebecca Ross

I stayed up until 3am last night to finish this 2-part series and wow oh wow do I not regret it at all. Both the first book, The Queen’s Rising, and its sequel The Queen’s Resistance had pretty slow starts... but jeez once the plots got going they really got going. This duology was one of the many books that I had put on hold awhile ago. I think I originally wanted to read this during my sadgirl post-breakup phase exactly two years ago, a 3-month long period of time where I got broken up with, had an identity crisis, and proceeded to drop out of my sorority while fully embracing my inner nerd. Disclaimer: I loved being in a sorority, I really did. It just took up way too much of my time and I had realized juggling sorority duties and school left me with no time to pursue my own personal hobbies. 

BUT ANYWAY, I’m really glad I finished this series and really glad I took my time with it. The Queen’s Rising has a pretty slow start and by start I mean probably the first half of the entire book. But it became super complex with all the court politics going on and honestly it went from slow to holy shit whaT’S HAPPENING AHH over the course of like a chapter halfway through the book. The Queen’s Resistance was more or less the same, except with way more political twists (in my opinion, of course) and a touch more romance. Emphasis on touch, because neither of these books were romance-focused or even had that much romance at all, which was kind of a bummer because hello it’s me the lover of all things sappy romance. But I’ll get to that in a second.

The Queen’s Rising follows a young girl named Brienna who essentially gets dumped by her grandfather at a prestigious academy that trains young girls to become ‘passions’. This refers to someone who is master at one of the five subjects: art, music, drama, wit, and knowledge. Brienna’s mother dies before the start of the story, and Brienna’s father is purposefully kept a secret from her. Brienna herself dabbles in each of the five passions before settling on knowledge, which is taught by Master Cartier. Her biggest fears at the beginning of the book is not being picked up by a patron who will endorse the utilization of her passion, and unfortunately this comes true. But she’s offered by the academy headmistress to stay the summer and continue studying her passion, and the headmistress will try her best to pair her with a suitable patron in a few months. Brienna agrees to this and stays in contact with Master Cartier through letters for much of the summer when suddenly everything changed when the fire nation attacked. Just kidding. Brienna shares her strange visions of a Maevana lord from over a century ago with the headmistress, who gives her the choice to choose a strange man who goes by the name of Jourdain as her patron father. Brienna complies, and basically her entire fate is changed at this point.

So my first thoughts were that I really liked the sisterhood that went on throughout the six girls at the academy. Even though the book opens with the conclusion of their schooling we, as the reader, can still get a glimpse of how deep their relationships go. Ciri was a little bit of a brat, but I personally don’t blame her due to her unusual circumstance of sharing an instructor with someone else and Merei was LITERALLY Brienna’s ride-or-die. Obviously spoilers (because my reviews are always ridden with spoilers), but Merei’s role later on in the plot while they’re all in Maevana had me mentally screaming “YESSS SIS”. Cause honestly if I was Brienna, that’s what I would’ve done, especially when Merei shot Allenach on the battlefield. Well, maybe not if I was bleeding out on the ground but still. 

And how could I forget, Brienna the main character. I liked her quite a bit, truly, but if I’m being nit-picky then I definitely do have an issue with how her character progresses in The Queen’s Rising. Brienna starts off as someone who is clearly headstrong and determined, so I guess that’s ultimately the drive that keeps her going through the revolution and such. But I kind of felt like she went from “sheltered girl who’s only ever had time for books” trope to “Maevana warrior who is willing to fight and die for her rightful queen” a little too quickly. I get that she is half Maevan on her dad’s side (who is holy shit such a dick) but it just seems kind of abrupt for her to go from “I grew up as a dainty fair maiden in Valenia my whole entire life and don’t know anything about Maevana outside of what I learned from books” to “I’m going to beg the cruel king of Maevana for my adopted father’s safe passage back into the country and then when no one’s paying attention to me I’m going to scout this land I’ve never been on to look for a stone that has been lost for over a century and everything will be fine” all in the span of... maybe two or three chapters? We are shown that she receives sword/combat lessons from Isolde, the rightful queen of Maevana, but if my mental timeline for this story is correct then those lessons should have only been over the course of maybe two weeks. How much sword technique can a sheltered eighteen-year-old girl actually learn in two weeks? Enough to walk around enemy territory with a concealed weapon and be confident enough to use said weapon when needed? Errr... I don’t know fam that just doesn’t seem realistic. 

Another related issue I have with Brienna is that I feel like she embraces Maevana as her home incredibly quickly. In The Queen’s Rising we found out that Master Cartier is actually Lord Aodhan Morgane, the son of Kane Morgane who had survived the failed first uprising as an infant. He, like Brienna, spent virtually his entire life growing up in Valenia and was schooled in the passion of knowledge. In The Queen’s Resistance every other chapter was in Cartier’s POV, so we got a lot of glimpses into his personal thoughts and his own struggles with returning to Maevana. Unlike Brienna, Cartier/Aodhan really struggled with settling into Maevana, being a Lord, finding his place in a land that he didn’t grow up in, and trying to be a leader to people he had never met before. A lot of the first half of The Queen’s Resistance was centered around Cartier/Aodhan’s inner turmoil in these regards, whereas Brienna (in BOTH books) never seemed to have this struggle despite having a very similar upbringing. Brienna just seems to fit right into Maevana in a way that doesn’t seem particularly realistic or natural given the circumstances that surround her upbringing. 

Now onto the romance! The romance is all centered between Brienna and Cartier, and there are some subtle hints at the beginning of The Queen’s Rising that indicates this is the main relationship throughout the story. However, like the plot this relationship does not really exist or evolve in any way until after the halfway point of the book, when Brienna finds out that Cartier and Lord Morgane are one and the same. Which, by the way, came as a HUGE shocker to me. I DEFINITELY did not see that coming. I assumed Cartier would show up in Maevana in some way or another, but definitely not like that. It was a great twist though, and having both Brienna and Cartier in Allenach’s castle made for a great yet somewhat slow-burn romance. Admittedly, the romance aspect was pretty negligible in The Queen’s Rising. There’s a little bit more emphasis on their relationship in the sequel, but even then it’s not all that much... unfortunately. I really liked these two, and I thought the matching constellations on their passion cloaks were JUST SO DAMN TOUCHING. And the ending of The Queen’s Resistance with the whole golden thread tradition low key had me clutching my chest for a solid two seconds. So the final verdict here is that for the little bits of romance that this series featured, it was beautiful. But ultimately romance wasn’t the focus, nor was it even an emphasis, and if I could have things my way I would’ve definitely liked there to be a little more romance building and one-on-one moments between the pair.

Let’s see... I’m racking my memory for any notable thoughts on some of the side characters. Not gonna lie, Isolde fell pretty flat to me and despite her being the queen I personally could not bring myself to care all that much for her. Luc was a jolly guy, but again not very notable or stand-out-ish in a good way. While it doesn’t bother me, I do have to ask what was the point of Neeve’s character? She shows up in The Queen’s Resistance, and we learn pretty early on that she’s actually another one of Brienna’s half siblings through her father. I don’t understand why Neeve was cast aside by Allenach, after all wasn’t she a daughter that he so desperately wanted? Illegitimacy didn’t matter to him anyway, he could’ve just legitimized her and the fact that Neeve’s mother was dead meant that Allenach didn’t need to worry about anyone influencing Neeve aside from himself. Was Allenach banking THAT much on Brienna? I dunno, none of Neeve’s backstory really makes sense to me or brings much value to the plot either. I like the character just fine, I just don’t understand her purpose... aside from being a long-lost half-sister to the main character. 

I also kept thinking Sean Allenach would eventually betray the queen’s side but he never did, which also makes little sense to me. I mean I guess deep down he really is just a good kid, but it just seems so unlikely for that to be the case when both his older brother and his father are incredibly cruel people. I understood why Ewan and Keela didn’t take after their father, Declan Lannon, because after all they always had each other and they had Tomas who was always a good guy trying to set them on a better path. So for Sean, who seemingly did not have any kind of positive influence to counter the shitty influence that is his brother and father, to be such a kind person willing to undermine his own father’s power just seems statistically unlikely I guess?

And finally, the ending of The Queen’s Resistance with the whole thing about Cartier/Aodhan’s mother still being alive was... good GOD. She was the bone sweeper??? SERIOUSLY? Now that’s a fucking plot twist that I would’ve never saw coming. My heart definitely hurt for Lile, and her written account of what had happened to her over the last 25 years nearly brought tears to my eyes. I do wonder though, when Declan said he loved Lile was he referring to romantic love or the love shared between a mother and son? I was assuming the second type of love, since Declan kept referring to Cartier/Aodhan as ‘brother’. But in Lile’s written account of what happened in her life she writes that she took the Lannon name after ten years in the dungeons. I feel like there’s a lot of ambiguity as to what that actually means. Did she essentially become Declan’s consort? Or did she remain a motherly figure to him and her sharing Declan’s family name made it more real for him? I hope it’s the second one, because I would feel VERY uncomfortable if it were the first case.

When I started this series, I thought I had it all figured out. I guessed that Brienna was the rightful Kavanagh queen within the first chapter, but little did I know the author wanted to tell the story about the queen’s right hand woman, not the queen herself. Which is a very unique approach to a story and I think Ross did quite well (despite the queen herself falling flat as a character. Perhaps some sacrifices need to be made if the story is to emphasize someone other than the queen). Again, I do wish there was a bigger emphasis on Brienna and Cartier’s relationship. I enjoyed Brienna enough, but I simply adored Cartier/Aodhan and I admit I really wanted to see more interactions between the two through Cartier’s POV. I almost wish the last chapter of The Queen’s Resistance was written in Cartier’s POV because I wanted to know what thoughts swirled through his head while he was looking for the golden thread in the tapestry. Petitioning for a prequel novella, completely through Cartier’s POV, during the seven years he spent watching Brienna grow up dabbling in other passions before choosing to become a passion of knowledge. I would pay dumb money to read this. And I would go broke, because I would pay a lot of money to read a lot of things.