#she starts the novel not valued at all

[fallenangelontheceiling]

I’m breaking my No Tumblr For Lent rule because I really have to share -

I’m 65 pages into Mansfield Park and I can’t stand Edmund. He’s objectively a Good Person (which I can already tell is going to be a rarity in this narrative), but god is he insufferable.

The Crawfords are flakes, but at least they’re entertaining flakes so far.

Austen is always scathingly snarky but this is the first time I think she comes off a bit self-righteous??

[ceruark]

ensnared. (yandere! prince! sunday x gn! royalty! reader)

synopsis: prince sunday invites you to dance the entwine with him. if you evade capture, he’ll finally leave you alone. but if you get caught, you’re his forever. cw: general yandere themes - obsessive & possessive behavior, implied stalking words: 3,991 disclaimer/inspiration: the dance “The Entwine” is not my idea! it's from the novel Entwined by Heather Dixon, an all-time favorite of mine :)

“The Entwine, also known as the Gentleman’s Catch, is an amusing and challenging redowa suitable for accomplished partners. [...] Similar to a trois-temps waltz, it is danced in open position with a long sash. The lady and gentleman each take ends of the sash, which their hands must not leave. In a series of quick steps (see below) the gentleman either twists the sash around the lady’s wrists, pinning them (also known as the Catch), or the lady eludes capture within three minutes’ time. STEPS. Twist (35), Needle’s Eye (35), Dip and Turn (36), Lady’s Feint (36), Bridge Arc (36), Under-Arm Swoop (37), Thread (37), Beading the Sash (38), the Catch (38).”

Excerpt from Entwined by Heather Dixon

It has been a year since the queen died.

You stand in the grand ballroom of your palace for the first time since your mother's death. It seems dimmer without her, lacking the light her laughter brought to it. Every shift of skirts has you looking for her, only to be disappointed when you catch yourself seeking out a ghost.

She ruled alone for nearly fifteen years. After your father died in battle when you were young, many other kingdoms tried to swoop in after she became widowed. They vied for her hand in marriage so they could expand their territory and get their hands on the lucrative gemstones that are excavated from your land's caverns. But the queen was unshakable, and she refused to remarry, continuing to keep her kingdom safe and opulent all on her own.

And she died last winter, an incurable sickness settling in her lungs seemingly overnight and stealing her final breath within the week.

You hardly had time to mourn her. With no one sitting on the throne, your mother's advisory court scrambled to find you a suitor so that you could marry and be crowned as soon as possible. There hadn't been a rush to find you one, but with the queen's sudden death, they need to get you on the throne before someone else came along to seize it.

Tonight, Welt— formerly your mother's personal advisor— had declared while you prepared for the ball. Tonight, we will find you a suitor. You will be coronated by summer.

You sigh as your gaze sweeps over the ballroom. Truthfully, you have no interest in any of the attendants. Most of them don't have anything noteworthy about their personalities, and those that do are individuals you've mentally decided are best kept at arm's length. You’re certain that more than half your selection pool were invited out of courtesy; none of them possess enough influence or value for your mother's advisory court to approve of a marriage between the two of you.

Except for one.

Penacony's beloved prince has been pursuing you for as long as you could remember. It started off innocent, a mere childhood crush. Long before you were adolescents, he would pluck flowers from the centerpiece vases on ballroom tables and hand them to you, ever the gentleman. You can still remember the sound of whichever court member was assigned to look after you cooing at the sight, endeared as you accepted the flower from his hands and spent the rest of the night at his side, discussing all the important matters that plagued the minds of young royalty.

And then, things changed.

As you two grew older, something about him shifted— you couldn't quite explain it. It made your skin crawl, the way his gaze trailed you throughout the ballroom, the way his fingers lingered just a little too long when he kissed your hand in greeting, the way anyone you shared mutual romantic interest with started avoiding you like the plague the second he heard of your budding relationship. There was something off about him— about his infatuation with you— and you distanced yourself from him as much as possible over the years.

Your mother's advisory court had been furious; they believed your eventual marriage to Sunday was set in stone given how taken you were with each other as children, and they planned for a prosperous future backed by Penacony's enormous and infinite wealth. They took your refusal to interact with him as rebellion and scoffed at your explanations, but luckily, you weren't alone in your suspicions. Your mother and Welt were also unsettled by the way he looked at you at formal gatherings, and your mother swiftly shut down her court's insistences on you trying to make amends with Penacony's prince.

We have no need for marriages of convenience. My child's happiness and safety will be valued above all else, she told them, and it was the end of the discussion.

Welt has upheld her and your wishes following her death, but the rest of the court are more willing to challenge him than they'd been to challenge the queen. Multiple court members have pestered you about marrying Sunday, stating that he would readily agree; you would get on the throne quickly, and the kingdom would prosper with his empire’s assets. Though they drop the topic the second you snap at them, you can tell they're still scheming, pulling at whatever strings they can to bring the prince back into your favor and push you into his arms.

And the undeniable proof of that stands across the room, piercing you with his golden eyes. Of course he's among the guests the court selected for you to choose your partner from. What else could you expect from them?

You sigh and swipe a glass of wine off a nearby table. It's going to be an incredibly long night.

As you sip at the bitter liquid and eye the blonde prince from Belobog, a familiar voice sounds behind you. "Something troubles you, Your Highness."

You turn around, relaxing at the sight of your faithful personal advisor. Veritas gazes down at you, face as neutral as ever.

"Someone," you respond, a frown tugging at your lips. "It appears the court is still refusing to let go of their little delusion."

He glances over your shoulder and hums noncommittally. "It appears so."

You swirl the red wine around in your glass, continuing your sweep of the guests. Certainly, Belobog's prince seemed like your best option right now. Albeit easily flustered, he was sweet and courageous— you would be able to fall for him given the time.

"Gepard Landau?" Veritas asks, his gaze having followed yours to the man standing beside his sister and her wife.

You look up, meeting his doubtful gaze. "Do you see any better options?"

He takes another glance around the room, then grimaces. You bring your hand to your mouth, covering your sudden laugh.

"Though he may be the most respectable of your options, there is not much Belobog can offer you." He tilts his head, still staring out at the crowd. "I suggest you reconsider."

You flash him a tight, sarcastic smile. "If that is the standard you suggest I go by, then my options are narrowed down to Aventurine and Sunday."

You get along fine with the blonde lord hailing from IPC territory, and he possesses charm like no other. He's gotten you more flustered than any other suitor has, but you know it's all fake. Something lurks beneath his picture-perfect exterior, and he keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to guess what his true intentions are. Someone like that can't be good news for you.

Veritas sighs. "I suppose Landau will have to do, then."

A flurry of movement and fabric draws your gaze to the dance floor. You light up as you watch two figures dance in the center of the crowd, one ducking and dodging out of reach while the other tries with fervor to capture them in their arms.

They've finally brought out the silk sashes used to dance the Entwine.

Your Entwine record is exemplary. When dancing as the gentleman, there were only a handful of people you hadn't been able to catch— Aventurine being one of them. Though your record dancing as gentleman is flawed, your skill when dancing as lady is unmatched and known far and wide.

In all your years, you have never been caught during a dance.

"Wonderful," you say, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You could already feel the exhilaration that came with successful capture and evasion. You turn to your advisor, eyes glistening beneath the lights. "Veritas, would you be so kind as to humor me with a dance?"

You think it's the light playing tricks on your eyes when he flushes red. Before he can respond, though, Welt strides up to the two of you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Perhaps you could get to know your potential suitors better through the Entwine, no?" The man you've come to think of as a father figure smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes creasing as he does. "You enjoy it so much, hopefully it can be used to bring you closer to someone— both literally and figuratively speaking."

Your smile matches his. "I think that's a great idea."

"Perfect." Welt turns toward the dance floor. "Allow me to announce—"

He stops dead in his tracks, freezing just in time to prevent himself from walking into someone. He backs up, and your blood runs cold at the sight left behind.

Sunday stands before you, pristine as ever, with a silver sash draped over his arm.

Welt finds his voice before you do. "Prince Oak," he greets, dipping his head into a bow. "A pleasure to see you again. We are very grateful for your attendance."

Sunday looks at him. The fond expression he had fixed on you smooths out into his perfect half-smile. He nods at Welt in acknowledgement. "Imperial Advisor Yang." He turns to your left, appearing less enthused to greet Veritas. "Imperial Advisor Ratio."

His eyes land on you again, and a chill runs down your spine. You force a polite smile onto your face, bowing your head slightly. "Prince Oak. An honor to see you again."

He sounds breathless when he responds. "The honor is all mine."

When his gaze starts to grow heavy on your shoulders, Welt clears his throat. He eyes the fabric hanging off of Sunday's arm. "I suppose you are here with... intent, yes?"

"Correct," Sunday says. He glances down at the silk, reaching up to pinch a part of it between his fingers.

He meets your eyes again, his face imperceptible. It's more terrifying than his openly longing and lingering gaze.

"I wish to dance the Entwine with you," he says, voice diplomatic and devoid of emotion. "If you are willing."

You clench your hands behind your back. "Will you be dancing gentleman or lady?"

"Gentleman." He pauses, voice lowering a bit. "I wish to try and catch you."

You smother a scowl before it can crawl its way onto your face. Of course he would want to dance as gentleman. How typical.

But there's something to his demeanor that tells you there's more to it than he's letting on. It's sitting on the tip of his tongue: his real intent behind asking you to dance with him.

"For what reason do you wish to dance with me?" In a quieter, harsher tone, you add, "Be honest with me, or I will refuse outright."

His fingers run over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles that snag them. He tilts his head to the side, and the desire that swims in his eyes leaves you shaking.

"If I catch you," he says slowly, "you will give me your hand in marriage."

Bile burns at the back of your throat, your anxiety clawing its way up and trying to escape. It's a bold declaration, especially when directed at someone who has never been caught before. Your faith in your skill is resolute, but the sheer desperation on his face is enough to make you hesitate.

Your voice trembles slightly when you speak. "And if you fail?"

He hums, flicking his gaze off to the side. "If I fail, I will never ask for it again."

You latch onto the statement like a moth to a flame. All you have to do is avoid capture— something you've done time and again— to get him to leave you alone. You've never seen him dance the Entwine, or show any interest in it; undoubtedly, your skill will lead you to successful evasion.

This is your chance to get him off your back, for good.

Before you can respond, a firm hand comes down on your shoulder, pulling you backward.

"Your Highness," Veritas whispers into your ear, barely contained urgency lacing his words. "Please consider this carefully. Is this a risk you are willing to take?"

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. "I have never been caught," you mutter back.

His brows pinch together. "There is a first time for everything, and you cannot afford to let this one be that time."

You clench your jaw and cast Sunday a sidelong glance. He stares back at you, his posture perfect and features serene despite the way his eyes drink you in, ravenous. There is, as always, truth to what Veritas is saying; you've never seen Sunday dance the Entwine, but that doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't know how, or that he isn't good at it. There's still a high chance you'll be able to evade him given your record, but the chance of him being able to successfully pull off the Catch, though small, is still a potential outcome that shouldn’t be overlooked.

After all, he wouldn't be asking you if the possibility was as slim as you believe it to be.

You bite your lip, hesitating. You look to Welt, pleading for direction. He locks eyes with you briefly, looking just as concerned as Veritas, before he steps forward and partially shields you from Sunday's view.

"Perhaps another time," he says, a polite grin finding its way onto his face. "We are just coming out of mourning, and though it is nice to be part of festivities again, perhaps dancing is still a bit too much for Our Highness right now— the late queen was very fond of the Entwine. Please understand."

Sunday's mask wavers, irritation seeping through the cracks at Welt's excuse. His sharp gaze cuts back to you, but you let your eyes drift back to the dance floor, refusing to meet it.

The tension is broken by the sound of clapping. You turn your head, frowning at the sight of a member of the advisory court approaching.

"Oh, how lovely!" She swoons, pressing a hand to her chest. Her face is flushed from the wine and she speaks loudly, drawing the ballroom's attention to the cluster of people around you. "Our Highness is going to dance the Entwine with Prince Oak!"

All eyes are on you. Your guests whisper to each other, their excitement tangible and filling the air with charged energy. A long time coming, they think to themselves, oblivious to the unfortunate predicament you've found yourself in. Sunday's affinity for you isn't a secret, especially not to the royal families who watched you two grow up at each other's side. To them, this dance is simply an age-old rumor finally coming into fruition, the first step toward solidifying your relationship with Sunday. And to the advisors scattered around the ballroom, watching you like hawks, it is their efforts finally paying off— the final nail in your coffin that will secure the future they envision for your kingdom.

Refusing him now, under countless pairs of hopeful eyes, would undoubtedly leave an ugly smear on your reputation and the integrity of your kingdom.

Your tongue sits dry and heavy in your mouth. You almost choke on it when Sunday's hand finds the small of your back, gently guiding you toward the dance floor. He practically preens under the attention and pressure. It makes you sick.

Another hand catches your elbow in a bruising grip, and you jolt back, only barely catching yourself to make it seem as though you tripped. You angle your body in a way that prevents the crowd from seeing Veritas's vice grip on your arm.

"My Highness has not agreed to anything yet," he bites out in a low whisper, venom dripping off his tongue.

Sunday's eyes snap to him. His scathing glare does nothing to deter your advisor, who glares back at him in response.

When he looks back to you, the deceptively serene look has returned. With the arm not holding the sash, he extends a hand out to you, tilting his head to the side in question. The guests closest to you all coo fondly.

There's a hint of a smirk on his face. "May I have this dance?"

You place a hand over Veritas's, gently prying his fingers from your arm. You can't bear to look at him right now. "It will be fine," you murmur. "I promise."

You run your hands along your sleeves, wiping off as much of the sweat as you can. You inhale shakily, trying to keep the ballroom tile beneath your feet from swimming.

You look up, a practiced, graceful smile tilting your lips upward. You delicately place your hand in his, suppressing a shudder when he brings it to his lips and presses it to them. The steadiness and strength in your voice surprises you when you say, "Of course, Prince Oak."

The ballroom erupts into a mixture of chatter and cheers. Court advisors pester the crowd surrounding the dance floor, ushering them back and trying to clear a pathway for the two of you. You swallow thickly as Sunday closes his hand around your trembling one.

You turn to Welt and gesture at his pocket with your free hand. "If you would be so kind, Advisor Welt."

He nods stiffly, reaching into his coat and producing a golden pocket watch. "Of course, Your Highness."

Your heart hammers against your ribcage as Sunday guides you to the dance floor. A numbness settles over you, and you robotically nod and smile at the guests that you pass. Their eyes shine with an adoration that you could never possess for this supposed relationship— for him.

Sunday releases your hand when you two reach the center of the dance floor. His eyes are dark as he holds one end of the sash out to you. You take it into your hands and back away from him, toward the other end of the floor. Sunday does the same, and you both stop when the sash is pulled so taught that it tugs you a few steps forward.

The familiar fabric and set-up do little to comfort you.

The crowd shifts again, and Welt emerges from it, standing front and center before the dance floor. He holds the pocket watch up to his face, and your breath hitches with anticipation.

"Your three minutes begins..." His voice reverberates off the ballroom walls, resounding clearly over the jubilant tune the orchestra plays.

"Now."

Adrenaline shoots through you like lightning, and you fly into motion. Your vision sharpens, focused in on every movement Sunday makes as you analyze the arc of his arms and the force behind his tugs on the sash. With each under-arm swoop, you dip beneath his arms and twirl away from him with ease, the steps of the dance coming to you the way breathing does.

He's an adept dancer, you'll give him that. Perhaps if his partner was anyone else, he would have already caught them already, within the first minute of the dance. But you are untouchable on an average night, and on this one in particular, you push yourself past your limits, propelled forward by a fervor and desperation to evade his every attempt of entangling you in his arms.

Twist. Needle's Eye.

"Two minutes," Welt calls out.

Approaching another under-arm swoop, you glance at Sunday's face just in time to see displeasure flicker across it at Welt's announcement. As you glide away from him once more, unfurling the sash between you two, he gives it a sharp tug, causing you to stumble a bit and lose your footing. Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly recover, forcing your limbs to move faster and smoother and match the rapid tempo he has now set for the dance.

Sweat beads along your upper lip as you duck under Sunday's arms repeatedly. You're managing just fine, but you've never had to push yourself this hard before; keeping a close eye on his movements while making sure the sash doesn't get tangled around your wrists is a delicate balancing act, and you can feel yourself teetering back and forth, dangerously close to falling off.

He's a far more formidable partner than you could have ever imagined.

Dip and Turn. Lady's Feint.

"One minute."

Sunday furiously yanks on the sash mid-twirl, and you stagger forward. The sash wraps around your wrists once, twice— three times before you regain your footing and lean back, narrowly avoiding Sunday's sweeping arm that almost hooks around your own.

A chorus of gasps ripples through the crowd at your near capture. It worsens your fraying nerves.

You exhale with exertion, trembling on unsteady legs as Sunday raises the stakes yet again. The tempo he sets is merciless, and your body is jostled between the last of your will and the harsh tugs from the other end of the sash. You grit your teeth. The silk digs tighter into your flesh and sends pinpricks of pain up your arms with each snap of his wrists.

Bridge Arc. Under-Arm Swoop.

"Thirty seconds."

The speed at which you weave in and out of spins leaves you dizzy, nauseous. The ballroom melts into incomprehensible shapes and colors around you. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, a pitiful attempt to ground yourself so you won't trip up. 

You do anyway; Sunday's movements are too fluid and swift to keep up with.

The sash binds around your wrists five more times, bringing you even closer to him— too close. You're not sure if it's skill, luck, or sheer force of will that allows you to continue to dodge his attempts at ensnaring you, but you know that you shouldn't be able to do it at this distance.

Frustration peeks through his graceful disposition. His golden eyes trail you, chasing after you as you elude his grasp once more.

Thread. Beading the Sash.

"Fifteen seconds."

You throw yourself into another dip, eyes locked onto the floor just beyond the arm obscuring your line of vision.

If you dodge this one, you'll be free.

Sunday lifts his arms suddenly and pulls, bringing the sash as far back as he can without letting go. Your arms twist in the air behind your back. A strangled gasp leaves you as you lose your footing. In a whirl of fabric, you stagger backward, away from the other side of his outstretched arm.

The Catch.

Your back slams into something solid, and before you can process what has happened, a firm arm snakes itself around your waist, pulling you flush against the body behind you. Your hands, still bound together, dig into your collarbone, suspended at an awkward angle from the sash held above you.

The crowd erupts into noise.

In front of you, a little girl pulls on her mother's sleeve and points in your direction. "Mommy, he caught Our Highness!"

Behind them, Veritas stares at you, petrified and speechless.

Snapping out of your stunned stupor feels like coming up for air after almost drowning. You suck in a shuddering breath and writhe, yanking your arms against the sash and leaning forward, futilely trying to escape. Sunday gathers the last of the fabric in his hands and gives it another sharp tug, keeping you in place against him.

He lowers his head, and his lips brush over your ear as he speaks. "Magnificent," he whispers. His voice rumbles with pleasure, almost to the point of purring. "You are truly a talented dancer."

"Let me go," you rasp out. You're physically exhausted, and your racing, panicked heart prevents you from catching your breath.

Sunday hums again, bringing the hand holding the sash to brush your cheek gently. "Why would I do that?" He chuckles softly, and it's so genuine— not the slightest bit mocking— that it leaves you all the more unsettled. "I caught you."

He brings his arm down, settling it around your waist. His fingers brush over your bound hands, and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek.

"You're finally mine."

[sims-himbo]

THE SIMS 4: BARBIE LEGACY CHALLENGE (BASE GAME EDITION!)

ever since i posted the original challenge, i have been getting asked to come up with a base game version, and it is finally here! i'm really sorry that it took this long but i have no concept of time lol, anyways, i hope even more of you can enjoy it now!

challenge rules below the cut

All heirs must be female and named Barbie. (non-heir children may have any name)

You may use the freerealestate cheat for your first house, but try not to use money cheats after that!

You are allowed and encouraged to use lot traits and rewards to boost skill gain, anything that’s in-game is fair game.

You’ve been raised with traditional values: find a good man, start a family, be a homemaker... But you want your children to aim higher, so you’ll make sure to set them up for success.

Complete Successful Lineage aspiration

Max Cooking and Charisma skill

Have at least 4 kids, each child must complete at least one child aspiration and they must all max out their grades in school

Must have Family-Oriented trait

Your mother was happy staying at home, but not you. You’re ready to fight your way to the top and make enough money to support your family for generations to come.

Complete Fabulously Wealthy aspiration

Max Charisma and Logic skills

Max Business career (Investor branch)

Must have Ambitious trait

Your family is wealthy and you were pretty popular growing up. You’ve always been a trendsetter, pushing the limits and breaking the mold, so now it’s time to take the fashion industry by storm!

Complete Friend Of The World aspiration

Must have Materialistic and Creative traits

Max Style Influencer career (Trendsetter branch)

Max Photography and Charisma skills

Have a gallery wall with all of your friends and family

Your mom has made a name for herself on social media, and she's used her platform to promote your cooking talents! Empowered by this positive attention, you decide to follow your dreams of becoming a world-renowned chef!

Complete Master Chef aspiration (Chef branch)

Must have Foodie trait

Max Cooking and Gourmet Cooking skills

Die by fire, then make Ambrosia to bring yourself back from the dead! (You may cheat for the ingredients, but not for the skills; you may also cheat to add your ghost to your household, here's how)

When you were a lass, your mom made you four dozen eggs every morning to help you get large! Now, you’re determined to reach your full potential in physical performance and become a world class champion!

Complete Bodybuilder aspiration

Max Fitness and Charisma skills

Max Athlete career (Athlete branch)

Must have Active trait

Your mother was physically gifted, but you’re more brainy than brawny. You spend hours at your computer everyday, there’s so much information to absorb!

Complete Computer Whiz aspiration

Max Video Gaming and Programming skills

Win a Professional Tournament in ALL the games

Must have Geek trait

Your family has achieved many, many accolades, and you’ve set out to capture all of it in an epic Tell-All novel that you spend your entire life writing!

Complete Bestselling Author aspiration

Max Writing skill

Write Book Of Life and bind it to your parent, use it to successfully bring them back from a premature death

Must have Creative trait

Being from a successful lineage, people may roll their eyes and immediately write you off as yet another nepo-baby trying to start a music career… So you must prove them all wrong by becoming a proper rockstar!

Complete Party Animal aspiration

Max Entertainer Career (Musician Branch)

Must have Music Lover and Outgoing traits

Max Guitar, Violin and Piano skills

The success of your ancestors has set you up to comfortably follow your dreams. You love the arts, and you want to become an accomplished painter living in a beautiful palace, surrounded by the beauty you’ve created!

Complete Mansion Baron aspiration

Max Painter career (Either branch)

Max Painting skill

Have an Art Gallery and display all of your masterpieces

Must have Art Lover trait

Now that you’ve conquered the world, it’s time to venture out into Space! There’s so much to explore out there, and Barbie must leave her mark all across the galaxy.

Complete Nerd Brain aspiration

Max Astronaut career (Any branch)

Max Logic and Rocket Science skills

Build and fully upgrade a Rocket Ship

Explore Space and bring a souvenir

Try for a baby on the ship!

Must have Genius trait

[inbarfink]

It’s really fascinating to compare the way Agatha handles the Heterodyne Legacy compared to her father and uncle. Because these are the two known generations of ‘Heroic’ Heterodynes after a long, long legacy of the Heterodyne family being known primarily as Evil Bastards - but they have such a totally opposite relationship with that villainous legacy.

Bill and Barry grew up deep inside that Evil Heterodyne Legacy and know all about how truly rotten it really is. Their father was an Old Heterodyne to the bone and an Extremely Reprehensible Human Being. Like, not just Cartoon Evil Overlord stuff - according to the Novels, he forced Bill and Barry’s mom to marry him by threatening her family. And he tried to kill them because they weren’t evil enough to his tastes. 

And when their mom killed him to protect her sons, the Castle killed her in retaliation. The very manifestation of the Heterodyne Legacy has cost them their beloved mother who just saved their life. And all of this in addition to the fact a non-evil Heterodyne was really an unthinkable concept when the Boys started - meaning they had to work extra hard to distance themselves from their family if they wanted anyone outside of Mechanicsburg to trust them.

And Heterodyne Boys worked very very hard to prove to the world that they’re not monsters. Both to fight off against the constant suspicions that they were monsters, and because they most likely wanted as little to do with their father’s legacy as Spark-ly possible. For them the Heterodyne Legacy was mostly kind of a Curse, the thing that tormented their mother and killed her and almost killed them, the thing that makes people wary of them.

And as such, they distanced themselves from anything that’s even remotely to do with that old legacy of monsters, from anything evil or scary or messy or ugly. Much to the chagrin of the Castle, the House of Heterodyne’s many other monsters, the Jager Horde Mechanicsburg’s proud Evil Minion population and many others who felt abandoned by them for the sake of PR.

Then there’s Agatha Heterodyne. And it’s not just that Agatha grew up in a post-Heterodyne-Boys world where the general populace associates the family name less with evil barbarous mad kings and more with good-natured heroism. Where even those who remember the Old Heterodynes are at least willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Where even those who would like her to be like the Old Heterodynes are at least willing to give her some wiggle room to express herself....

It is all of that, but more importantly Agatha didn’t grow up as a Heterodyne at all.

She grew up as Agatha Clay, with the Spark-Suppressing Locket that dulled her mind and made her a miserable klutzy mess who couldn’t do anything right. She grew up hating the constant feeling of being powerless.

And discovering that she’s a Heterodyne came up… pretty close to realizing she’s a Spark, and both of these revelations gave her a certain kind of Power that she never got to have before. She is now both a powerful Spark and a powerful political player in this grand Europa political chess board. 

And as much as she has the same heroic values and upbringing as the Boys did (courtesy of Barry and the Construct Duo), not growing up so up-close-and-personal with the worst consequences of the Old Heterodyne’s evil means she’s not as immediately repulsed by it like the Boys were. 

She encountered all of these old monstrous pieces of the Heterodyne Legacy - the Jagers, the Castle, Mechanicsburg, even just the fear her name can put into people’s hearts - not as the Evil Legacy Forced Upon Her. But stuff that was taken away from her, and she had to earn back. And in a world stacked so heavily against her, so determined to rob her of her agency and newfound sense of power, these things represent the assertion and security of her power.

For the Heterodyne Boys, the worst thing they could ever imagine being was monsters - like their father and the rest of their family was. For Agatha Heterodyne, the worst thing she could imagine is being powerless again. She would take being seen as a monster a thousand times over being condescended and ignored ever again. 

Being seen as a monster isn’t actually all that bad at all, she discovered. 

All of these things together make Agatha not quite the second generation of Actually Heroic Heterodyne or just another link in the Old Heterodyne Legacy - but another new kind of Heterodyne altogether. One that can both retain a moral code and embrace the family’s monstreness at the same time. 

[princesssarisa]

As I've read different people's views on Little Women, I've realized that for different readers, it's a fundamentally different book.

When I see someone describe the "universal" experiences of identifying with Jo, wanting her to marry Laurie, and disliking Amy, I remember all the proof I've seen that these are far from universal. The latter two weren't even my experiences: identifying with Jo, yes, but shipping her with Laurie and disliking Amy, no!

Even people with equal amounts of knowledge of the historical context and of Louisa May Alcott's life seem to come away with vastly different feelings about the story and characters.

I suppose there are a wide variety of reasons for this. First and foremost, which of the four March sisters you personally admire or relate to the most. Then there are other factors like your gender, your age when you first read the book, your relationship (good or bad) with traditional femininity, whether you read Parts I and II as a single novel or as Little Women and Good Wives, your relationships with your own family members, your religion and ethical values...

The list goes on.

That post from @theevilanonblog that I reblogged recently about the different interpretations of Frankenstein makes me want to write out a similar list of ten different views I've read of Little Women. Here it is:

Little Women is about the March sisters learning to be proper virtuous women of their time and place. With Marmee as their role model (a role later shared by Beth as she becomes increasingly angelic in her illness), they learn to conquer their flaws, give up their wild ambitions, and settle down as good wives and mothers. This is especially true for Jo, whose character arc is a slow taming from a rough tomboy to a gentle nurturer. It's a conformist and anti-feminist message, which Alcott probably disliked, but she wrote it to cater to public tastes. (This reading seems mainly to come from critics who dislike the book.)

Little Women is about Jo's struggle to stay true to herself in a world that wants to change her. She struggles with whether to stay a tomboy or become a proper lady, whether or not to marry Laurie despite not loving him romantically, and as an author, whether to write what she wants, write what earns the most money, or give up her writing altogether. In the end, she changes only in ways that make her happy, e.g. by learning to control her temper, and later by embracing romantic love. But in more important ways, she stays true to herself: always remaining slightly rugged, clumsy and "masculine," finding success as a writer, and marrying Friedrich, a man just as plain and "unromantic" as herself, but whom she loves and who respects her as an equal.

Little Women is about learning to "live for others." That phrase is used often and could well be the arc words. Beth is the only March sister to whom a selfless life comes naturally, but the other three master it by the end of the story (as does Laurie). They learn to conquer their moments of pettiness and selfishness, to live in better harmony with each other and with their friends and love interests, and to give up their self-centered dreams of fame and wealth, building lives that focus on service instead.

Little Women is about growing up. The first half is mainly about the March girls' maturing by surviving hard times and learning to be better people, while the second half is about reaching adulthood and bittersweetly parting ways to start new lives. At the beginning, Jo is a girl who doesn't want to grow up: she wants to always be a wild young tomboy with her family (and Laurie) by her side forever. But of course, she can't stop time or womanhood, and is eventually forced to accept the loss of Meg, Amy, and Laurie to marriage and Beth to death. After grieving for a while, she lets go of her old life and willingly builds a new one with Friedrich.

Little Women is about family bonds and the fear of losing them. We meet and become attached to the wonderfully close, cozy March family, which gradually expands through friendships, marriage, and new babies. But throughout the story, the family is in danger of breaking apart, whether due to conflict (Jo and Amy's sibling rivalry, Meg and John's marital problems), or separation by distance (Father going away to war, Amy going to Europe, Jo to New York), or death (the danger of losing Father and Beth in Part I, and the ultimate loss of Beth in Part II). But in the end – unlike in reading #4 above – the family doesn't break apart and never will. Conflicts are resolved, travelers eventually come home, the surviving family members always live near each other and stay as close as ever, and even Beth isn't really gone, because her memory and influence live on.

Little Women is about femininity and each March sister's relationship with it. Meg and Amy happily conform in different ways: Meg to "domestic femininity" as a housewife, Amy to "ornamental femininity" as a society lady. Beth pressures herself to conform to self-effacing domestic femininity, until sadly, it kills her – either because she's too selfless and nurturing when she cares for the fever-infected Hummels, or because she has anorexia, as Lizzie Alcott might have had. But Jo strikes a successful balance in the end, conforming just enough to fit into society, but only on her own terms, and otherwise living a happily unconventional life as a writer and schoolmistress.

Little Women is about Jo's unlearning of internalized misogyny. At the beginning, she's a "Not Like Other Girls" tomboy, who wishes she were male, disdains feminine girls (especially her sister Amy), doesn't care enough when "her boy" Laurie behaves badly toward women, and is afraid to be vulnerable. But gradually, and without losing her strength of character, she learns to embrace the sweeter and more tender aspects of herself, sees that Amy's ladylike manners have practical benefits, and learns to say "no" to Laurie when he turns his childish, unhealthy romantic attentions to her. Then after Beth dies, she realizes how precious Beth's utterly domestic, feminine life was, and embraces a more domestic life herself. Yet by doing so, she becomes a true feminist, as she enters an egalitarian marriage and devotes her life to teaching boys to be good, respectful men.

Little Women is only what US Americans know as the first half. It's just about the March sisters getting by and learning moral lessons over the course of the year their father is away at war. Nobody gets married and nobody dies. Everything else is in Good Wives, which is a sequel with different character arcs and different themes, and which should be published separately, as it originally was and still is outside the US. Trying to tie them together into one narrative never feels quite right.

Little Women is Alcott's idealized version of her own life and family, where no one suffers quite as much as they did in real life, everyone is slightly less flawed, and Jo ends up happily married to a man very much like Alcott's lost love Henry David Thoreau. She wrote the life she wished she had.

Little Women is just a semi-autobiographical slice-of-life that Alcott wrote quickly for money.

Which is the truest to Alcott's intent? I don't know. But while some of these readings I like better than others – and some of them I despise – I'd say they're all understandable and reasonably valid. Some aren't even mutually exclusive, but can be used together... although of course, other readings are mutually exclusive, like whether the story is feminist or anti-feminist, or whether the March family ultimately breaks apart or holds together. And they're all worth using as springboards for discussion.

Alcott wrote more books than she ever realized she did, because Little Women can be many different books to different people.

@littlewomenpodcast, @joandfriedrich, @thatscarletflycatcher, @fictionadventurer, @fandomsarefamily1966

[lunaxstrange]

Can we talk about love in orv?

[SPOILERS]

Okay so, I am aware that Kdj loves the "story" but I really wanna point some things out individually because it's 2am and ORV is on my mind.

Kdj had the easiest way out of the 1863rd turn. The most perfect turn (at the time) but he really went I'd let the world burn for Yjh? Yeah, everything is "part of his plan" but let's talk about the 73rd Demon King arc. My man would do anything to make sure Yjh finishes his story. Apart from this, it's the fact that while everyone else dislike any other version of Yjh (even he hates himself lol), Kdj loves every. single. one. I mean 3rd turn (1864th) Yjh? Yes. Hsy's 1863rd turn? Yes. Frickin' Secretive Plotter? Got off to a rough start but yes. You simply cannot make Kdj hate his beloved protagonist. I mean, this man risked his whole existence to make sure the 0th turn is actually the most perfect one. He didn't want Yjh to regress but became his sponsor anyway because it's what Yjh wanted. He would do anything to see Yjh happy. This type of love isn't romantic or platonic or anything else, it's the most inexplicable form of love. Love in its purest form. I'd like to take the time to compare it to Achilles and Patroclus because while we can fight over whether these two were gay or not, we cannot deny the sheer love they had for each other. No strings attached. Kdj is in awe of Yjh.

Yjh. The regressor. The protagonist. The person Kdj loves the most. Yjh had everything (0th turn) but he really gave it all up just to meet Kdj. Suffered the "Hell of eternity" just to see him. Bro didn't even love Lsw the way he loves Kdj. Tbf, 0th turn Yjh didn't know what the real struggle of passing the scenarios without help was but I'm sure he got the gist. Okay, sure, you can call it "curiosity" that led to Yjh keeping Kdj alive during the 3rd (1864th) turn. But my guy didn't choose Kdj to go to Peace Land because he had "someone he loved" like bro, YJH!? THE COLD REGRESSOR??? HE DID THAT FOR KIM DOKJA! Not to mention the fact that Yjh didn't even care that his whole life was a mere novel. He just despised the fact that Kdj chose the 1863rd turn over him. I'm gonna cry. Bro wanted Kdj so bad that he kept fighting the Secretive Plotter. Not only this, he gave up the 3rd (1864th) turn for Kdj too. Went from Supreme King to terrorist just to save Kdj. When everyone else - even Hsy - gave up. After all, what is a protagonist without a reader? The whole astronaut ordeal might've been to "find his purpose" but we can't ignore their connection. He gave up everything he could ever ask for twice (0th and 3rd/1864th turn) for Kdj. The attachment these two have with each other is insane.

I could go on about them for eternity but we have another person to talk about - Hsy. This woman spent 10 years exhausted, stuck in a world-line and body not her own for one person. Even if it's only Hsy with half her memories, she gave up her perfect world-line because she missed Kdj. Just like Kdj loves Yjh, Hsy also loves every version of Kdj. She wanted to meet him, no matter what the world-line. My girl had only a few hours where she was in control and decided to use off all those hours to write TWSA - a story she herself disliked. Hsy wants to see Kdj happy, every part of Hsy loves Kdj. There is nothing a writer could love more than an avid reader who loves their story. And let's talk about the fact that Yjh and Hsy absolutely hate each other. He is literally her creation (more or less) but their relationship is questionable. Why? Because a protagonist has no value without a reader. Kinda like Asuka Ren and Kyrgios Rodgraim. They have no special relationship despite being creator and creation. Since there is no reader, Asuka and Kyrgios are as distant as two people can be. Alternatively, what brings Hsy and Yjh together is Kdj.

I just can't get enough of the way ORV relationships are written. If I had to describe love as a writer, I'd cite ORV as an example.

[joannechocolat]

On Power, and on Powering Through, and Why They’re Really Not the Same

I don’t pay much attention to personal attacks in reviews. It comes as the flipside of success; an attempt by the critic to puncture what they see as too much success. But I still remember one review, just after the film of Chocolat, when two of my novels happened to be in the Top 5 at the same time, in which a (male) newspaper critic referred to me dismissively as a premenopausal woman writer. I was a little taken aback. Clearly, it was meant to disparage, but I was only 35, ten years away from the perimenopause. What exactly did he mean? It wasn’t a comment about the book (which I doubt he had even read). The obvious misogyny aside, it seemed to express resentment, not of my books, but of me, myself, my right to take up space in his world. That word – premenopausal – was at the same time a comment on my age, my looks, my value, and a strong suggestion that someone like me shouldn’t be this successful, shouldn’t be writing bestsellers, shouldn’t be so – visible.

I don’t recall the name of the man, or the paper for which he was writing. He was far from being the only journalist who felt I didn’t deserve success. I shrugged off the unpleasant comment, but he’d meant it to hurt, and it did. I still wonder why he – and his editor - thought that was appropriate. I also wonder why, 20 years on, women are still dealing with this kind of thing. It’s still not enough for a woman to be successful in her chosen field. Whatever her achievements, you can be pretty sure that at some point, some man in his 50s or 60s – maybe an Oxbridge graduate, author of an unpublished novel or two - will offer his opinion on her desirability, either in the national Press, or most likely nowadays, by means of social media. The subtext is clear: women who don’t conform to societal values of what a woman should be are asking for this kind of treatment; especially those who dare to achieve more than their detractors.

10 years after that nasty review, I finally began the journey into perimenopause. No-one told me it was happening. No-one in the media was talking about it at the time. Even my doctor never thought to mention that my symptoms – the insomnia, headaches, mood swings, anxiety, depression, sleep paralysis, hair loss, brown patches on my skin – might have a single origin. I began to feel I was losing my mind: as if I were starting to disappear. I started to doubt my own senses. I blamed it all on the stress from my job. My mother had powered through menopause – or so she led me to believe – and made no secret of her contempt for modern women who complained, or treated the symptoms as anything more than a minor inconvenience.

And so I did the same. I powered through; and when at last I began to experience the classic symptoms of menopause - irregular bleeding, hot flushes, exhaustion, night sweats so bad that I would awake in sheets that were wringing wet – it did not occur to me to seek help. After over a year of this, I finally went to my doctor, who took a few tests, cheerfully announced I was menopausal, and when I inquired after HRT, advised me to power through – that phrase again - and let Mother Nature take her course. The internet was slightly more helpful. I took up running, lost weight, cut down on alcohol, downed supplements and sleeping pills and vitamin D, and felt a little better. Then, breast cancer came to call, and by the time my treatment was done, the symptoms had more or less disappeared, or at least had been superseded by the symptoms of chemo. I congratulated myself at having powered through cancer as well as surviving menopause.

But two years later, I feel old. I look that way, too. I’ve aged ten years. Some of that’s the cancer, of course. I was quite open about my treatment when I was powering through it – partly in order to pre-empt any questions about my hair loss or any of the all-too visible effects of three courses of chemo. Not that it stopped the comments, though. Even at my lowest ebb, a sector of social media made it clear that my only concern should be to look young and feminine to anonymous men on Twitter.

Right now, I don’t feel either. My hair has gone grey and very thin. My skin, too, seems thinner; both physically and mentally. At a recent publishing event, several acquaintances failed to recognize me; others just looked through me as if I had become invisible. Invisibility would be a relief; I find myself dressing for camouflage. I tend to wear baggy black outfits. I got my OBE last week. Photographs in the Press show me talking to Prince William. I’m wearing a boxy black trouser suit, flat shoes and a red fedora. I think I look nice. Not glamorous, but comfortable; quirky; unpretentious.

On a thread of largely supportive messages, one Twitter user pops up to say: Jesus, who’d accept an honour looking like that middle-aged disaster? @Joannechocolat thought she’d make an impact? She needs a stylist. If you look in the dictionary for the definition of “dowdy”, it features this photo.

It’s not the same man who belittled me over 20 years ago. But the sentiment hasn’t changed. Regardless of your achievements, as a woman, you’ll always be judged on your age and fuckability. I ought to be used to this by now. But somehow, that comment got to me. Going through menopause isn’t just a series of physical symptoms. It’s how other people make you feel; old, unattractive, and strangely ashamed.

I think of the Glass Delusion, a mental disorder common between the 14th and 17th centuries, characterized by the belief that the sufferer was made of glass. King Charles VI of France famously suffered from this delusion, and so did Princess Alexandra Amélie, daughter of Ludwig 1st of Bavaria. The condition affected mostly high-profile individuals; writers, royals, intellectuals. The physician to Philip II of Spain writes of an unnamed royal who believed he was a glass vase, which made him terribly fragile, and able to disappear at will. It seems to have been a reaction to feelings of social anxiety, fear of change and the unknown, a feeling both of vulnerability and invisibility.

I can relate. Since the menopause, I’ve felt increasingly broken. I don’t believe I’m a glass vase, and yet I know what it feels like to want to be wrapped in a protective duvet all day. I’ve started buying cushions. I feel both transparent, and under the lens, as if the light might consume me. On social media, I’ve learnt to block the people who make mean comments. To make myself invisible. To hide myself in plain sight. I power through, but sometimes I think: why do women power through? And who told them that powering through meant suffering in silence?

Fortunately, some things have changed since I went through the menopause. Over the past few years, we’ve seen more people talking about their experiences. Menopause is likely to affect half the population. We should be talking about it. If men experienced half these symptoms, you bet they’d be discussing it. Because power isn’t silence. You’d think that, as writer, I would have worked that out sooner. Words are power. Sharing is strength. Communication breaks down barriers. And sometimes, power means speaking up for those less able to speak for themselves.

I look at myself in the mirror. I see my mother’s mouth; my father’s eyes. I see the woman I used to be; the woman I will one day become. I see the woman my husband loves, a woman he still finds attractive. A woman with a grown-up child who makes her proud every single day. A menopausal woman. A cancer survivor. A woman who writes books that make other people sit up and think. A woman who doesn’t need the approval of some man she’s never met to be happy. She can be happy now. I can. And finally, I understand.  Powering through isn’t about learning to be invisible. It isn’t about acceptance, or shame, or letting Nature take its course, or lying about feeling broken. It’s looking beyond your reflection. It’s seeing yourself, not through the lens of other people’s expectations, but as yourself. The sum of everything you’ve been; of everyone who loves you. Of claiming your right to be more than glass, or your reflection in it. The right to be valued. The right to shine, regardless of age or reproductive status. Men seldom question their own right to these things. But women have to fight for them. That’s why it’s so exhausting.

This morning, instead of putting on my usual baggy black sweatshirt, I chose a bright yellow pullover. I looked at myself in the mirror. It’s not a great colour on me now, but it feels like dressing in sunshine. My husband came into the bathroom. You look –

My husband rarely gives compliments. I can’t remember the last time he commented on how I was dressed. I wondered what he was going to say. Dowdy, perhaps? Inappropriate? Like a menopausal woman in dire need of a stylist?

At last, he said: When you smile like that, you look like a friendly assassin.

A friendly assassin. I’ll take that.  

Shining like the sun. That’s me.

[assortedshrift]

Twst Otome Isekai AU

Reader used to love isekai but became sick of all the terrible ML’s and annoying FL’s. There is nothing worse than getting into a series with an immersive setting only for the author to waste it on terrible main characters.

Eventually you give up on the genre and focus on getting her business degree. A year after graduating things are actually pretty good, you survived the terrible job market and landed a pretty sweet gig with a decent paycheck. Now, on the anniversary of your decision to drop all light novels, manhwa, manga, etc… you decided to celebrate your good fortune with a treat from your favorite cafe. You'll never guess what happened while you were crossing the street…

So yeah, Truck-kun sends you to Twisted Wonderland, which happens to be the last isekai you read. Ugh.

Okay, so it wasn't the worst offender, there were plenty of trashier light novels out there. you were actually pretty invested in the story’s world. The MC Allison (Call me Allie!) is a down on her luck woman from the modern world who died from tripping into traffic, only to wake up in the world of Twisted Wonderland. Through her the audience meets the characters and learns about their lives. The overarching issue is the mysterious condition known as ‘Overblot’ that occurs when someone uses too much magic. Allie is taken in by the Royal Sowards Association (RSA), a multinational group dedicated to helping others. They discover that something about being from another world allows Allei to purify blot, and she saves the ML’s during their adventures.

You honestly liked the novel at first. The worldbuilding was captivating and the characters were interesting. Unfortunately as the story progressed the MC became increasingly disappointing. Allie is first presented as an average, innocent young lady who just wants to do good, but you can't think of her as anything other than a loser. It’s understandable how someone transported to a new world would start off with little agency, but despite many opportunities for character growth the MC only seems to get worse. 

Allie claims to have big dreams but never works towards them. She touts the value of being independent but stays reliant on handouts from the other characters. When faced with the suffering of others Allie cries about the unfairness of life then just… moves on. It was so frustrating for you to be shown glimpses of an interesting world while stuck with the viewpoint of such an agentless character. Considering all this, it would be an understatement to say that you were upset upon waking up in the headquarters of Night Raven Collaborative (NRC), a dark counterpart to RSA. 

If there were a need to describe NRC in one word, that word would be ‘petty’. Some time after RSA’s founding a group of villainous individuals realized that the united heroes were causing all their schemes to fail. The group reluctantly learned to work together which led to the founding of NRC, a secret society dedicated to the destruction of RSA. Now, millennia later, the heirs of these dark legacies are still trying to defeat RSA. 

But that's enough exposition, back to Reader.

You are quickly discovered by Dire Crowley, a dark fae who was tasked by the original founders to take care of the organization as a sort of regent in their absence. In the present day he is the public face of NRC’s leadership. He questions you using magic to determine who you are and why you're here.

Now, at this point it's been years since you last read Twisted Wonderland, and a lot has happened since then, so you have no idea what's going on. This is actually a good thing as your genuine confusion convinces Crowley you aren't some sort of infiltrator. He is quick to focus on the fact that you came from another world, and like Ambrose did with Allison, Crowley suspects that your trans-dimensional travels may have imbued you with special abilities. It's pretty lucky that the man got so caught up in fantasies of exploiting your potential power, because the more he spoke the more you realized exactly where you were. 

Yeah sure, as far as post death situations go it could probably be worse. But seriously? It couldn't have been a story that you actually finished? Isn't the protagonist supposed to be an expert in the fictional world? Well at least there are some secrets that you know about.

Thanks to some quick thinking, you manage to convince Crowley to give you custody of an estate that NRC owns but has mostly forgotten. It's obvious that he intends to keep you close for observation. But thanks to the novel you know that the head of NRC is a lazy penny-pincher who will take any chance to offload work onto others. From his perspective it must have seemed like a deal, you stay close while also taking responsibility for something he considers a waste of resources.

 The Ramshackle estate was originally a neutral ground for the founders to meet in. but once they built a more grandiose HQ the place was abandoned and left in disrepair. The only reason you thought of it was due to a couple chapters where junior members of the RSA  tried to investigate rumors of an evil organization, but had to stop and rescue Allie from the ghosts. There was a short interlude where the shadowy leads of the evil organization had a group call to complain about the heroes and mock them for going after such a useless place. 

Except the joke is on them because later Allie and the juniors return to discover a magic mirror that does… something. You had dropped the story before they revealed that part. The point is that there's something valuable in Ramshackle and it now belongs to you. Initially you intended to pawn the mirror and gtfo. Too bad grim had to go and ruin it. A talking monster who, as far as you remember, never appeared in the novel, but somehow managed to break into the building and worm his way into your heart.

Ugh, whatever. You can improvise.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Thinking again about the darknesses that lurk underneath the surface of Sense and Sensibility (I have talked before about how Edward despite being the eldest is subjected to what we can argue is emotional and financial abuse by his family for years, and how the Dashwood women are disinherited on a whim of their great uncle), and this time specifically about the Brandons.

We get so little about them, and what we do get about them is all bad:

This lady was one of my nearest relations, an orphan from her infancy, and under the guardianship of my father... At seventeen she was lost to me for ever. She was married—married against her inclination to my brother. Her fortune was large, and our family estate much encumbered. And this, I fear, is all that can be said for the conduct of one, who was at once her uncle and guardian. My brother did not deserve her; he did not even love her... I have never told you how this was brought on. We were within a few hours of eloping together for Scotland. The treachery, or the folly, of my cousin’s maid betrayed us. I was banished to the house of a relation far distant, and she was allowed no liberty, no society, no amusement, till my father’s point was gained... My brother had no regard for her; his pleasures were not what they ought to have been, and from the first he treated her unkindly.

Mr Brandon Sr is shown to us as being a greedy man, a bad administrator of his estate, and a cruel father. His first son seems cut of the same cloth, and his pleasures were not what they ought to have been is one of the most, if not the most sinister line between all the Austen novels. But there's more about him!:

Her legal allowance was not adequate to her fortune, nor sufficient for her comfortable maintenance, and I learnt from my brother that the power of receiving it had been made over some months before to another person. He imagined, and calmly could he imagine it, that her extravagance, and consequent distress, had obliged her to dispose of it for some immediate relief.

The Brandons were married for two years; the colonel returns to England and starts looking for her 3 years later. Young Eliza was then a 3 year old toddler. We are obliquely told that Brandon cut all ties with his brother:

It was a valued, a precious trust to me; and gladly would I have discharged it in the strictest sense, by watching over her education myself, had the nature of our situations allowed it; but I had no family, no home; and my little Eliza was therefore placed at school. I saw her there whenever I could, and after the death of my brother, (which happened about five years ago, and which left to me the possession of the family property,) she visited me at Delaford.

Eliza is now 17, so the eldest brother died when she was 14, which is 16 years after his marriage with the older Eliza. In that period of time, he managed to squander the whole of her fortune, and put the estate in debt again, as we are told earlier on by Mrs Jennings:

Poor man! I am afraid his circumstances may be bad. The estate at Delaford was never reckoned more than two thousand a year, and his brother left everything sadly involved. I do think he must have been sent for about money matters, for what else can it be? I wonder whether it is so. I would give anything to know the truth of it. Perhaps it is about Miss Williams and, by the bye, I dare say it is, because he looked so conscious when I mentioned her. May be she is ill in town; nothing in the world more likely, for I have a notion she is always rather sickly. I would lay any wager it is about Miss Williams. It is not so very likely he should be distressed in his circumstances now, for he is a very prudent man, and to be sure must have cleared the estate by this time. I wonder what it can be! May be his sister is worse at Avignon, and has sent for him over. His setting off in such a hurry seems very like it. Well, I wish him out of all his trouble with all my heart, and a good wife into the bargain.”

We know the Bennets, with five daughters, and without a saving mindset, still manage to live very comfortably with 2000 a year, and if they had had any mind to save money, they could have provided all five of them with decent dowries/money enough to keep them out of poverty when their father died if they were single. It is clearly not that the money isn't enough, or that Delaford is an unproductive estate; in fact, it is described to us as almost paradisiac:

Delaford is a nice place, I can tell you; exactly what I call a nice old fashioned place, full of comforts and conveniences; quite shut in with great garden walls that are covered with the best fruit-trees in the country; and such a mulberry tree in one corner! Lord! how Charlotte and I did stuff the only time we were there! Then, there is a dove-cote, some delightful stew-ponds, and a very pretty canal; and every thing, in short, that one could wish for; and, moreover, it is close to the church, and only a quarter of a mile from the turnpike-road, so ’tis never dull, for if you only go and sit up in an old yew arbour behind the house, you may see all the carriages that pass along. Oh! ’tis a nice place! A butcher hard by in the village, and the parsonage-house within a stone’s throw. To my fancy, a thousand times prettier than Barton Park, where they are forced to send three miles for their meat, and have not a neighbour nearer than your mother.

One interesting character, though forgotten because only mentioned in passing, is the Brandon sister. On one of the quotes above we get that she's in Avignon for her health, and we know her husband is wealthy (and probably abroad with her) because it is his estate that the planned picnic is for:

A party was formed this evening for going on the following day to see a very fine place about twelve miles from Barton, belonging to a brother-in-law of Colonel Brandon, without whose interest it could not be seen, as the proprietor, who was then abroad, had left strict orders on that head. The grounds were declared to be highly beautiful, and Sir John, who was particularly warm in their praise, might be allowed to be a tolerable judge, for he had formed parties to visit them, at least, twice every summer for the last ten years. They contained a noble piece of water; a sail on which was to form a great part of the morning’s amusement; cold provisions were to be taken, open carriages only to be employed, and every thing conducted in the usual style of a complete party of pleasure.

It is implied that Brandon and his BIL are in very good terms (and we know he's not afraid of cutting ties with bad relatives), and one can safely guess that at the very least he cares enough about his wife as to have her travel for her health. Another guess can be made about her getting married about 10 years before the events of the book. Whether she lived at home before that, or was at school or somewhere else, it isn't said.

But this way you can feel there's a parallel in a way, between the Brandons and the Tilneys: a greedy, cruel father, a son that follows on his steps, and a younger brother and sister managing the toxicity as best they can. Talking about this with @bad-at-names-and-faces, she brought up the idea that in that scheme, Cathy would be Eliza (if it wasn't her not being an orphan, or a rich heiress, and how that connects with Austen's line about Cathy not being born to be a heroine at the beginning of Northanger Abbey). Certainly part of it is the romantic gothicness of the Brandon backstory, united with NA's commentary on Gothic tropes, but to me it drove home with even greater force how such a situation would break a man; losing Cathy that way would have definitely broken Tilney, and if we had met him 14 years down the line, would he have appeared to the unacquainted much different than Brandon appeared to the Dashwood sisters?

[nasty-bog-boy]

it's just one of those days when it's raining and I really have to talk about Anne Elliot in Persuasion and how much i love this woman with every single fibre of my being.

i just want us to have heroines like Anne Elliot. in my opinion she's one of the best heroines of English literature, especially for when you're a bit older and wiser and you have experienced the unfairness and heartbreak of life.

Anne is miserable in many ways. she's stuck in a life she doesn't want, lacks agency in her life and was persuaded to not only turn down the love of her life but also a good man that could've taken her away from this. Charles Musgrove may not be captain Wentworth but he's a decent man with a family who cares for her and had she married him Anne would at least have a home and independence.

yet despite this she doesn't resent Lady Russell and continues to count her as a close friend. she understands that Lady Russell was genuinely acting out of concern for Anne but is also a flawed person who carried her own predjucides into her judgements of that men.

instead of being witty or confident or optimistic Anne's virtues are patience, kindness and forgiveness. she isn't a doormat but she is a person and does get worn down by the circumstances of her life. she keeps her head in a crisis and looks out for the wellbeing of her friends. she actively listens to people and cares for others. her virtues are all things we can cultivate within ourselves if we try.

Anne doesn't carry her heartbreak with melodramatic, teenage angst like Marianne Dashwood. she mourns what she's lost but understands that it was the result of her own actions and she must accept that. i think this is a feeling readers can understand when we get older. Anne has loved and lost in a way that can related to but she doesn't allow it to corrupt her character.

having romantic heroines that perhaps don't light up a room with their beauty or win heart with their charisma but instead become endeared to both other characters and the reader through their patience and kindness just warms my heart. i think we should try to be more like Anne in our lives. despite the sadness she's living in at the start of the novel her life ends happily, because her kindness and care for others eventually becomes noticed, not just by a man but also by herself as she finally understands her value.

idk i just have a lot of feelings about Persuasion and i could talk about it for days

[caffedrine]

Ikemen Prince Act 4 Prologue Summary

I pretty much have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t trust me, and you shouldn’t either. This summary is not guaranteed to be accurate, it’s mostly written for myself to follow along with all the lore that was just dropped.

Emma has had a recurring dream where she finds a book in a beautiful rose garden and reads it. Unfortunately, the book is unfinished, and leaves her feeling unsatisfied. We then get a summary of Acts 1 and 2 - Emma was chosen as Belle, the woman to choose the next king of Rhodolite from a selection of 8 princes. She also has to go undercover due to the visit of 3 foreign princes. Ultimately, she gets through her trials, chooses a good king, doesn’t get entangled with anyone, and avoids being chained up in Gilbert’s love dungeon. This should count as a happy ending to the story, but it leaves Emma feeling unfulfilled. She wants to have her own adventures, learn more things, meet new people, and maybe fall in love with someone.

Emma eventually wakes up from her flashback nap only to find that she is still in the bookstore, having fallen asleep while reading a book. Just as she starts to get up to close the shop, she realizes she’s not alone.

The shop’s owner and her adopted ‘too young to be a dad’ not-father has returned. He often travels the world, purchasing and selling rare books, and is back from his last year-long trip.

Though he is not a native to Rhodolite, and still wears the beautiful, eye-catching clothes from his native home in Ruby, he has set up a permanent shop in Rhodolite’s capital city. And, he has taken care of Emma since she was a child.

Akatsuki, the shop owner, reveals that he knows all about Emma’s time as Belle, as Sariel had been sending him regular letters. He had hurried home when he heard that pipsqueak from Obsidian had also shown up, but it looks like Emma got through that ordeal just fine without him.

Emma assures Akatsuki that nothing major had happened during her time as Belle, and she had actually enjoyed it. It had given her a new perspective and opened up new avenues of interest for her.

Akatsuki points at the book Emma had been napping on and asks if that’s why she’s changed from romance novels to studying continental history.

This segues into Emma admitting that she feels trapped in a small world since her last experiences and wants to travel the world just like Akatsuki does. Akatsuki offers to take her with him on his next trip.

Emma is excited, and Akatsuki tells her that as his valued employee, it’s time for her to learn how to purchase books as well. 

Akatsuki unfurls a map and sits with Emma. While not usually a problem, these days things are a lot more dangerous than they were. Emma asks if it’s the 3-country alliance between Tanzanite, Ruby, and Acroite. She heard about it briefly during her time as Belle.

And yes, that’s exactly the problem. Right now, the countries are not hostile, but this could be the calm before the storm. Akatsuki asks if, despite knowing of the danger, will Emma leave the relative safety of Rhodolite and travel to these countries with him.

If this had been before her time as Belle, Emma probably would have refused. But now, after meeting the princes of Rhodolite, Emma agrees without hesitation. 

So, the next step is to choose the country. Each has its own dangers, but it is how Akatsuki will get his rare books. Notably, Akatsuki is somewhat hesitant about going to Ruby. 

Since this is her training trip, Akatsuki generously lets Emma choose their destination. To help her decide, Emma asks Akatsuki to tell her about each country.

Tanzanite 

Tanzanite is the land of divination and illusion. Everything is determined by the living god.

The living god is a person born with silver hair and silver eyes. But - it’s not just his appearance that is unique - he is clairvoyant beyond anyone in recorded history, each of his prophesies/predictions has come true. He is considered a miracle bestowed upon Tanzanite by god.

Meanwhile, in Tanzanite

In the Tanzanite throne room, filled with people bristling with excitement, a huge moon shines down as if protecting the people.

With one word, the living god Azel is able to silence the entire vast room of people. With a benevolent visage, Azel tells the crow that god has this spoken and tells them to develop the policies to follow the divine will. Or don’t, it’s their choice whether or not to follow divine will. Just don’t make a choice that they will regret. The heavens will be watching.

Finished, Azel stands up and simultaneously the crowd falls to their knees, their heads pressed against the floor. Among the crowd, the King of Tanzanite tells Azel that there is a banquet being held in his honor and asks him to attend. Azel politely declines - he can’t imagine anyone would enjoy their meal if god were to attend. He’ll just quietly return home, no need to see him off. He bids everyone a farewell, praying that god will bless them.

As he leaves the group, Azel finds himself alone in a quiet hallway lit only by the moon, the night's natural calm returning. Or almost alone.

A woman is waiting for him, dressed in provocative dancer’s garb. She is carrying a variety of dishes and asks if he’s in a good mood. Azel thanks her for her consideration, but he must decline. The woman points out that he already declined the banquet held by the king, but after that divination, he must be hungry. At this, Azel’s traitorous stomach growls. Again, Azel thanks her and declines, mentioning that he is actually in a hurry, and could she get out of his way?

The woman moves to block his path completely as Azel tries to brush past her. Azel loses it, calling her stupid and refusing to understand him no matter what he says. He trips the woman over his foot, and she falls to the ground, dropping all the food.

Azel feels so sorry . . . For the wasted food. His eyes full of compassion, he laughs and asks the woman to lick up the food. She is stunned, and Azel explains that it goes against his morals to waste food. He gesture at an upturned bowl of soup and tells her to crawl to it like a dog and lick it up so it isn’t wasted.

Of course, Azel isn’t a tyrannical monster, he’s not forcing the woman to do anything. It’s her freedom to choose to follow the living god’s will or not.

The woman hesitates, but in the end, she brings her face down to the soup and licks it up. Soon, her body grows hot and her gaze clouds with lust, and she looks up at Azel. Azel surmises the soup must have been laced with an aphrodisiac- he guesses the poor woman’s fortune isn’t good at all today.

Or rather, she is extremely fortunate. The living god, Azel, will keep this a secret between them and won’t tell anyone about her misdeeds.

Azel walks past the woman and calls over his shoulder that she can feel free to take care of herself, or any other option she might have available to her. He will take his leave now.

The woman reaches out to try to cling to his legs and tells him that she loves him. She would do anything, give up anything for their living god. She asks Azel if these feelings she has for him truly is a sin?

(Azel does not appreciate his almost-rapist declaring love)

Azel turns around and tells her that god doesn’t love anyone, since it doesn’t give him any advantage. Well, maybe if she gave him the same amount of money Silvio does, he would consider it. But as she is, she has nothing he wants.

Azel thinks the woman still doesn’t understand, so he will say it plainer. Get out of his sight, he can’t stand her. The woman gasps as the compassion drains from Azel’s face. His eyes are as cold as a desert night, and he looks down on her as if she is an insect.

Most of the time, it’s not love that people like her feel, it’s greed drowning stupid women like her. Under the moonlight, Azel laughs coldly and without any sense of compassion. 

Everyone in this country protected by god is living a happy dream. On the day the dream crumbles away, Azel wonders when people will get over the shock and laugh with him.

Acroite

The country is built on a steep mountain range where it snows year-round. Everyone follows strict laws, making it the safest country on the continent. The laws are enforced by the Keepers of the Laws, people who can set aside their humanity and rule everything fair and balanced.

Recently, the penalties for lawbreaking have become harsher and more severe, but the country is extremely stable and orderly. If someone commits a crime, the Keepers of the Laws will make you pay.

Meanwhile, in Acroite

Snowflakes, large enough to be mistaken for flower petals, flutter down on the houses, coating everything in a white winter wonderland scene. 

The lamp-lit street is bustling and full of people, but unlike other cities, there are groups of people missing. There are no beggars, drunks, or youths itching for a fight. It is because in this country, those activities are illegal, and one can expect to be swiftly arrested.

However, there is a corner where a large group of women have gathered, all jockeying for position. One woman after another asks Matthias to join them at a party, or for dinner. Matthias politely thanks them and explains that he doesn’t want to be late for work. 

Matthias Osbrink, the First Prince of Acroite, the Keeper of the Law. He has blond hair the color of the fading rays of twilight and sad eyes the color of snow in shadow. While he has a stiff demeanor- he is still considered very appealing. The women around him gaze at him with enchanted expressions.

He combs back his hair with a sigh, to the delight of the women watching, and hurries away. A fellow judge walks next to him, patting him on the back sympathetically. He teases Matthias for being so popular with the ladies.

Matthias complains that his coworker didn’t help him at all, after all, Matthias is famous for not being good at dealing with women.

The coworker agrees that he knows that, but unfortunately, he is too busy being envious of Matthias’ luck with women to help him out. If anything, he wanted to switch places.

Matthias asks if his coworker noticed the look in those women’s eyes. They were the eyes of a warrior, determined to annihilate the enemy.

The coworker is taken aback, he was certain they were just lovely women.

Matthias complains that he doesn’t care if they are beautiful or not, the problem is that they are not his soulmate.

His ideal woman is someone who doesn’t venerate him, nor does she look at him like she’s preparing for war. In fact, she’s the type of person who would kiss him goodbye in the morning while adjusting his tie. Afterward, she would smile gently as she waved goodbye and . . .

Yes, yes, this isn’t the first time Matthias’ coworker has heard this fantasy. Honestly, he would say it is starting to get embarrassing, but they passed that mark a long time ago.

Quietly, Matthias’ coworker asks if he’s okay. Matthias points out that he’s spent the past ten minutes explaining how he’s not okay and needs to be rescued from these warrior women.

That’s not what Mathias’ coworker meant. The defendant for today’s trial is Matthias’ friend.

Matthias summarizes his relationship with the defendant. They were roommates at the Royal Academy, and when they joined the National Guard together, they were in the same unit. Matthias recalls him as being a good person, with a cheerful personality, smart, and witty. And, unlike Matthias’s coworker, was good with handling women and could help Matthias out of the situation before.

(Conflict of interest? What is that?)

Matthias sees no problem with handling the trial. After all, he is a member of the Osbrink family.

The seat of the country’s justice, the royal court, was filled with a solemn crowd of defendants, lawyers, state officials, investigators, and a large number of citizens. The five judges, the Keepers of Law, sit high above with everyone watching them.

Matthias summons the defendant, accused of selling secret Acroite military information, forward to testify. While the defendant looks haggard, there is a gleam of hope in his eye. It is well known that the defendant was friends with the Keeper of Law, Matthias.

After the testimony, Matthias rules that there is no reason to exonerate the defendant from his crimes. The defendant disagrees, he made a mistake, yes, but death is too heavy a punishment for it. Matthias disagrees, the law is the law, and as a citizen of Acroite, the defendant must abide by the sentence. The execution will take place in five days at noon.

The defendant collapses, and Matthias watches him being taken away with snow-shadow eyes. With that, Matthias ends the trial and closes the court.

After everyone leaves, Matthias remains behind in the empty courtroom. In the same emotionless voice, he used when he proclaimed the sentence, Matthias mutters that he did the right thing just now. He’s the Crown Prince of Acroite, the land of snow and laws. It’s his duty to condemn and punish all evil.

Ruby

The last country on the list of options is Ruby, the land of Cherry Blossoms and Turbulent Times. The situation is complicated, the country is in a 3-way civil war, each with foreign backing. In theory, there is a royal family, but they’re all on opposite sides.

There is, however, a safe area, in Kagari-Yaksha’s territory.

Yaksha? Emma asks Akatsuki to explain that.

It’s a title of sorts given to one of the faction leaders, a true battle fanatic who has never lost a fight. If they go under his protection, they’ll be safe. For now. As long as he doesn’t decide that they’re his enemies.

Meanwhile, in Ruby

A group of men run through the forest, hoods low over their heads and swords hanging from their belts. When they near a red-tiled castle illuminated by lanterns, they halt and gather to strategize.

A voice begins counting them, 100, 200, at least less than 400. The men all start and grab at their swords, searching the darkness for the voice.

Without a sound, a man with fiery red hair and green eyes appears before them. He asks if they were planning on launching a night attack with so many worthless people. Honestly, they’re barely even worth killing. Compared to all the other factions, these people are barely more than half-trained children. The man asks if they are still planning on going through with their attack. If they give up and turn around now, he’ll let them leave.

One of the attackers notes his hair and eyes and identifies him as Kagari, the Yaksha. Another attacker laughs, explaining that from the rumors, he was expecting a beast of a man, but instead its just some pretty guy. It’s not bad to be disappointed from time to time. Besides, even if he is the warrior of rumor, he is but one man against –

Another hooded attacker recoils as the speaker’s head falls to the ground. Kagari apologizes, he grew bored of waiting for the speaker to finish talking. He tells the men that he’s kind of busy, so rather than killing them one by one, he would prefer it if they just all came at him at once. Hey, even weaklings like them might give him some entertainment if they work together. When one of the attackers protests, Kagari tells him not to get angry, he’s just telling them the truth.

The difference in their ability was obvious.

Kagari notes that this is what it’s like to be weak. Even if they never met him, these men would have still died young. He dodges their attack like a wildcat, his movements quick and efficient. With each stab of his sword, a vital area is struck, and bright red droplets dance like cherry blossoms in the wind. The final attacker tries to run, but Kagari throws his sword, striking the man. Kagari bemoans how heartless people are these days, leaving their comrades to die alone.

The final attacker explains that they’re not comrades, he’s a mercenary who was just hired to do a job with them. He begs Kagari for mercy.

In this country the strong are good and the weak are evil. Therefore, a weak person like this mercenary has no place in Ruby. If he dies here and now, he doesn’t have to go through life being a weak coward who hates himself. Really, Kagari is doing him a favor.

He kills the man quickly, and then disappointedly notes that everyone else is dead.

The quiet night is interrupted again by the sound of approaching footsteps. Kagari’s subordinates arrive, and he orders them to send the bodies back to their employer. The subordinates complain that Kagari went off without them again. Kagari asks if they want to be killed along with the attackers. The subordinates grow pale and Kagari tells them that he was just joking. Mostly.

Kagari sheathes his sword, and the atmosphere lightens. He tells his subordinates that he’s fine on his own, and if they’re useless in a fight, they’ll just get in his way. But even he understands strategy enough to know that the more pieces one has, the better.

No one chases after the Yaksha when he walks away.

With an unsteady step, Kagari settles beneath a cherry tree, and notes that there is a full moon tonight. He watches some of the petals fall in front of him.

(Some days you just wanna take a nap)

The bushes next to him rustle though there is no wind. Kagari asks if they’ve come again.

A cat pops out of the bush and meows at Kagari. Kagari meows in reply and tells the cat he’s especially bloody tonight, so they should stay away. The cat doesn’t heed his warning and approaches Kagari, tail held high.

Kagari muses that if the cat lives in this country, they’re probably used to the smell of blood by now. He lies down, using his sword as a makeshift pillow. The cat trots over to his side and when he strokes under their chin, they begin to fall asleep.

Kagari complains that the cat is too small, too fragile, and too forgetful to survive. They’re going to die soon. Then again, the cat is choosing to sleep next to the Yaksha, a good choice to live a long life.

A shadow flickers in Kagari’s eyes and he pulls his sword close to himself. He wonders when the next battle will be. Tomorrow, the day after?

Unfortunately fighting doesn’t put food on the table. If things continue, he may starve to death. He needs to hurry up before that happens, and then everything will be easier.

Rhodolite

Finished talking about the four countries, Akatsuki turns to Emma and asks which country she has chosen.

Emma thinks that all the countries are interesting, and any one of them would be a good choice. After listening to Akatsuki, Emma chooses.

[tamayula-journal]

Ominis and Japanese!MC when intimate...

There are many different cultures between Japan and the West, but when I started reading and watching smut created by people from overseas when I first started participating in HL fandom, I was surprised to find a particularly big cultural difference: the way women behave during sex!

In Japan, there is a tendency to think that it is sexy for women to behave moderately shy during sex without being too aggressive. In Japanese pornographic manga and novels, it is very common for women to say "嫌/駄目（no)" while panting, with a pleasant look on their faces. (⚠This is just to say that such a tendency is more common than in the West, and not all Japanese men are looking for women who are shy in bed! It depends on the individual 🤣)

Having spent 30 years in Japan with such values, when I read porno novels in HL fandom, I was very surprised to see f!MCs(f!OC) behaving so aggressively in bed! 🙈

From what I have read, there are not many f!MCs who are overly shy or use negative words such as "no" as a moan. This is a very interesting cultural difference for me as a Japanese!👀

I didn't get used to the behaviour of these MCs at first, but now that I've read a lot of international smut, I'm very attracted to MCs who are sexually active and Seb and Omi who enjoy sex with her to the fullest 🥵💞

And when I draw smut, I try to imitate the behaviour of the MCs in those from abroad, without making them too overly shy or negative.

In the Japanese version on the right, the MC says: "No. Don't thrust deep inside me!" In terms of Japanese values, she is far-fetched: 'I feel so good when you thrust deep inside me!' in Japanese, but a direct translation as it is would probably be considered strange by Westerners, so the English version adopts a more positive language for clarity. (I'm a complete novice when it comes to translation, so I don't know if this is the correct translation 😂)

In making smut about the sexual behaviour of Westerners such as Sebastian and Ominis, I try to portray the MC's behaviour in bed as positively as possible, but I cannot erase my Japanese values, and perhaps I may be depicting MC behaviour that looks strange to Westerners at times. I hope you don't mind the details 🤣 But it's fun to think and learn about the cultural differences between countries while watching, reading and making various smut in this fandom! I'd like to draw more smut when I'm free in real life after the move 😌

On a side note, When I first read smut in this fandom, another thing that surprised me, besides the differences in MC behaviour, was that both men and women often say 'F*CK' during sex! 😮 In Japan, we are taught that F*CK is a very bad word that should never be used, so for Seb and Omi to use these words was surprise to me as a Japanese person! I have been wondering for about a year now if it is actually common in the West to use these words during sex …👀

[chimaerakitten]

that “Christian Kane for Quincy Morris” post wormed its way into my head months ago, but somewhere along the way it mutated into “Leverage episode but the mark is Count Dracula”

Investigative Journalist Mina Harker is the client

Dracula threatened her real estate lawyer husband and probably had her best friend and photographer Lucy killed to keep her quiet

beyond just that, there’s a combination of suspected but unprovable kidnapping, (That Jonathan may have witnessed) and a shady for-profit blood donation company

which was trying to acquire real estate near a mental hospital for definitely exploitative and shady purposes

Dracula’s castle: great heist location. Early in the getting-the-con-started phase of the episode Parker steals at least one 15th century painting and a lot of ancient gold coins

Whether Leverage mark!Dracula is actually a vampire is never 100% proven but it’s definitely implied

regardless he’s definitely metaphorically a vampire

and Parker 100% believes he is one, even making a comment on how this isn’t the first time she’s robbed a vampire

Flashback to her cracking a safe in what the props make clear is Wesley Snipes’s house

The Leverage crew pose as a medical/biological goods shipping company (Demeter Transportation) in order to con Dracula and get both his money and evidence of all the shady stuff and crimes

their fake identities for the con are Lucy’s polycule

Eliot’s Quincy, Hardison is Seward, Parker is Holmwood

Nate was supposed to be Van Helsing, but there was a hot potato job-like kerfuffle and Sophie ends up playing that role instead

which makes Nate Renfield

Classic leverage action

the big wrinkle happens when they finally get their 50 boxes full of evidence delivered and discover that Dracula isn’t just smuggling blood, he’s smuggling black market organs

they manage to recover as they always do

(probably because of Harrison coming through with hacking, as a nod to the novel’s tech themes)

Spectacular success and Interpol seizes everything

when we see Mina again post-gloat she’s on her way to wherever Interpol is holding Dracula. She’s wearing a crucifix necklace and she conspicuously tucks a wooden stake into her bag alongside the check for the liquidated value of those gold coins.

after she leaves Parker drops out of the ceiling wearing those cheap plastic vampire fangs

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Love Story 💗 | Loki Headcanon

Link to my Marvel Masterlist

Requested 📨 yes/no

Loki being in a relationship with a romance novelist would look like:

As a close friend to Tony Stark growing up with your mothers being close friends before Maria's untimely death, you were invited to most things Tony orchestrated. Parties, expos, an all that jazz. It was at an event for the Avengers that you first met Loki, brother of the Mighty Thor.

And actually, Thor was the one who introduced the two of you--despite Tony's objections--after discovering your profession and love of literature. Instantly Loki was intrigued but kept his usual demeanor of stoic and disinterest in Midgardians. Yet it diminished as you were able to keep a conversation with him, and keep it interesting, unlike the other Avengers he constantly found annoying.

Honest to God, his first impression when you revealed your profession would’ve been like, “what a naive mortal. There’s a reason what you desire of romance is mere fantasy and only found in the books you write,” and not taken your work serious compared to other literary publications.

Loki always migrated to historical fiction and the works of Shakespeare, Dante, and anything else you might find on a high schooler's summer reading list.

That opinion quickly evaporated upon the first few interactions you two had. Because you were a published author it left Loki with curiosity. Although he'd never admit it aloud, deep down he wanted to know just how your writing process worked and if the stories were inspired by real life events or something you wished to experience.

What initially was supposed to be Loki only reading your debut novel, turned into him purchasing your entire collection of works. And boy was he captivated. You're writing drew him in like a siren luring men to sea. Page after page, Loki found himself in the late hours of the night until the sun rose the next morning, nose deep into your books.

At first Loki planned to keep his enjoyment of your books secret, but then he just couldn't contain it any longer.

What surprised you, was when he started giving his feedback. Discussing his thoughts on the characters and plot. "How could she take him back after saying those things to her? Absolutely unacceptable. No matter how angry I am I'd never that to my partner." "Y/n, I really think you should give the people what they want and write a second novel to 'Seven Nights in Paris,'--In fact it should be call it something like, 'Seven Weeks in London.'

Eventually as the two of you became close and the relationship blossomed, Loki became an integral part in your writing. Both as a reviewer and a muse.

At the core the God was a romantic. The type to not only sway you with words and gestures but reaffirm your values and expectations in a partner. He listened, he communicated, goes the mile to ensure your happiness and needs are met. Whether it be taking you to a nice dinner or leaving notes with your morning coffee already made, your heart was full of love and didn't have to hear Loki say to know his was too.

Moments of your relationship with Loki paralleled in your books. You couldn't help it at times. The writer in you would get so inspired that before you knew it the love interest's dialogued mirrored words he said to you. An argument between the protagonists was awfully similar to one you two had. Poured the feelings of when you two kiss into the scenes the characters finally break the tension.

Yeah, he'd give you his famous smirk to let you know he was onto you to which you'd shrug and say, "Felt inspired." "By me, love?" "Always by you, mischief."

And so it's no surprise to Loki or anyone close to y'all when you release your anticipated novel, about a hopeless romantic writer who meets a misunderstood God from another world, on the day you two exchange vows and rings. Putting your own love story on the shelves for the world to see.

[wol-fica]

[ℝ𝔼ℂℍ𝔸ℤ𝔸𝕄𝔼]-ℙ𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘-

parings - jennaortega x fem!reader

summary - jenna loves to praise you, and you love to do anything she asks. unfortunately, a guy tried to get in between that…

warnings - m e n, oral sex, fingering, anal sex, sixty-nine, praising, r being a downright simp

an - hey guys !

—————

Do you ever dream up such a surreal thing that could never happen, but it surprisingly does?

Some people beg for unrealistic expectations, like a fancy new car, or a shiny rollex with your initials engraved in gold. Sometimes you get those things, most times you don’t; it’s a heavy ‘what if’.

You were one of those people, dreaming of the impossible and wishing for the utmost crazy things. But unlike others, you didn’t crave a new car or a fancy wrist watch; no, you wanted someone. 

See, you loved to be involved with movies and celebrities, tracking down what films they work on and all that jazz. You ranged from smaller, upcoming actors  like Tom Blythe, to bigger faces like Millie Bobby Brown. It was so fascinating to you, being that you valued cinematography and everything that comes with it, so your appreciation for the faces behind the wonderful characters that you love so much need the same attention. 

Naturally, crushes did form on certain actresses; how could you not fall for such an attractive person? You had such a heavy crush on Jenna Ortega, forming from her performance in The Fallout; she was just so beautiful to you. You would have little fantasies, picturing yourself dating her and just having a blast, it was perfect.

Now somehow, you actually met Jenna. It was completely an accident; you were working your normal shift at the library and she happened to stop by looking for some books. To say that you were awestruck was an understatement, but you didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable in any way so you opted to control your fangirling and stay cool when she came up to purchase the novels she chose.

To your complete and utter surprise, Jenna asked for your socials. She claimed you were ‘good looking and charming’ and she wanted to become friends of the sort. The two of you chatted in instagram dm’s constantly, until you sent your number one day and then Jenna asked you out about a month later. 

Fast forward to now, two and a half years later on the set of a movie that Jenna was acting in. She had (informally) posted you as her personal assistant, meaning you had to listen to whatever she said and asked for with no complaints, not like you would anyways.

“Excuse me! Coming through!” You shouted, running past some crew workers while holding a cup of coffee and a pastry. 

Jenna had asked you to get her some food, claiming that she was a bit peckish, and if you were quick she might share some with you. To say that you sprinted was true, harnessing your inner highschool track legs to be as fast as possible so you could deliver what she wanted.

With a shove and a slight “omph” from shouldering a door open, you hurried into the big production room. Cameras were everywhere, with large lights and wires connecting all around the large set piece. People were hurrying about, actors and their makeup teams rushing to add some last touches before they started rolling.

Jenna was sitting in her chair, a script in her hands while she lazily flipped through to review some lines. As you neared her, she looked up to meet your eyes, a smile crossing her face at the sight of you.

“I got the goods!” You said breathlessly, holding up the items.

“Did you get what I asked for?” Jenna asked, taking the pastry bag to look inside.

“Yep! A white mocha iced latte with one pump raspberry and some strawberry purée cold foam, and a unicorn cake pop!” You said enthusiastically, proud that you remembered her favorite order.

“Good girl.” Jenna praised, pulling you down by your collar so she could kiss your cheek, “I’ll let you have some when we finish this scene.”

You nodded, a blush covering your face at the subtle comment she slid in. Jenna would do that often; whenever you did something good or did what she asked, she would either say “Good girl” or “That’s my girl, just what I asked for”. It gets your brain to short circuit and your stomach to churn pleasantly everytime.

“You can sit in my chair while I work, I don’t think anyone will mind.” She said, sipping her drink with a satisfied hum as she stood up, “Tastes perfect darling.”

You smiled, doing a little fist pump for being so damn good at pleasing your girlfriend. After settling into her chair, you took out your phone to scroll through instagram. Beside you, Jenna was chatting to the director about little things they could do to make the scene better. You heard something about a line delivery, but a funny reel caught your attention and you zoned out for the rest of her conversation. 

“Baby.” Jenna’s voice called to you after a while, causing you to quickly look up.

“Yeah?” You said, eyes on her as you gave her your full attention, “Do you need something?”

Her eyes softened, her hand coming up to cup your face. The pad of her thumb brushed across your skin, rubbing gentle circles on your cheek bone.

“No, I just wanted to let you know we are on a three hour break.” 

You smiled, nodding happily, “Do you want to go to your trailer? Or for a walk? I can grab your hiking shoes!”

“No need for that, we’ll hang out in the break room.” She said, tapping your leg as a silent command to follow her, “There is lunch in there as well.”

You stood up, stretching and cracking your back with a sigh. Jenna’s hand patted your stomach, her nails scratching your skin through your hoodie before she walked away with you hot on her tail. You both made your way into the room, Jenna heading to set her stuff down while you went straight for the donuts.

“Hungry much?” She asked with a laugh, watching as you stuffed a maple glazed donut into your mouth.

“Mphmmmm.” You moaned softly, relishing the taste of the sweet treat. 

“Chew with your mouth closed, don’t you have manners?” Jenna said, coming over to you with a napkin. 

“Omf curse I do.” You said, your words muffled by the donut in your mouth.

She raised her eyebrows, pulling back from wiping your mouth to give you a look that said ‘for real?’. She shook her head when you shrugged your shoulders, reaching up to finish wiping your mouth off. 

“Always so messy.” She noted after throwing the napkin away, “You need a portable pack of Kleenex or something.”

“I usually have one in my backpack.” 

Jenna hummed and nodded, picking up a plate to put some salad on. While she added her toppings, the sound of a door opening caught your attention. Turning your body towards the door, your eyes widened at the sight of who was walking in.

It was Mason, one of Jenna’s co-actors. He was around her age, maybe a little older, with a sturdy build and charming face. Almost everyone loved him, since he was claimed to be so charming and handsome, and loads of girls have unbreakable crushes on him. You used to think he was a great guy, until he started flirting with Jenna and giving you dirty looks every time he saw you. 

Soon you picked up on the fact that he had a thing for your girlfriend, and clearly disliked you for getting to her before he did. He always shot flirtatious comments towards her and constantly made sure he was around her at work so he could talk to her, and that unfortunately made you super uncomfortable and upset about the situation.

You have never been a confrontational person, and when anyone ever disliked you or was angry, you would just duck your head and nod in submission. Jenna usually defended you, knowing that you had a tendency to just take the blunt of the aggression, but for some odd reason she never noticed how Mason treated you. 

“Jeeeenna!” Mason dragged out, a charming smile on his face as he heard towards her, “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, how are you?” She said, setting her salad down to give him her attention.

He held his arms out, signaling he wanted a hug, and leaned in to wrap his arms around her waist. His hand went a little too low for your liking, his fingertips brushing way too close to her bottom, but Jenna pulled back before he could go any farther. Your eyes narrowed in jealousy, but not a word was uttered from your lips.

“I’m great.” He said, his hands still on her arms, “Care if I join you for lunch?” 

Jenna shrugged and nodded, gesturing to the seat next to her. You watched as they both sat down, letting out an irritated puff of air when Mason sneakily scooted his chair closer. Their conversation blurred while you stared, unease bubbling up in your stomach. The way he would so subtly touch her, whether brushing his hand on hers or rubbing their knees together; it made you mad. Your emotions were begging to be let out, scratching at your throat to just go off on him, but your anxiety held you back; yet again, you were afraid. 

The thing that was irking you the most was how Jenna responded to him. Her body language was open towards him, her focus and attention almost fully on him. She was smiling, nodding and laughing at mostly everything he said. It was like she completely forgot of your existence and that made your heart ache. With a sigh, you grabbed your phone and moved to leave the room. 

“Y/N?” Jenna called to you, making you turn to meet her confused gaze, “Where are you going?”

“Gonna get some air.” You said, eyes cast down away from Mason’s condescending smirk, “Just text me if you need something.” 

With that, you exited, and Jenna didn't miss the sense of urgency in your step. A pang of hurt came from her heart, a small frown of sadness coming to her face. 

“Anyways…” Mason said, gaining her attention back, “I’ve been meaning to ask you a question.”

“What is it?” Jenna asked, her eyes locked on the door in case you came back in.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner?” He asked in a hopeful tone, “A date at Providence?”

She finally turned to him, disbelief all over her face. As she stared at him, it suddenly clicked in her mind why you so abruptly left. You were insecure and upset, over the fact that Mason was flirting with her and she was doing nothing to stop it.

“No thanks. I have a girlfriend.” Jenna said, standing up to toss the rest of her salad and pursue you.

“But-.”

“Don’t, I’m not interested.” She interrupted, grabbing her bag and hurrying out of the room. 

She speed-walked down the hallway, eyes peering into every open door in search of you. Each time she looked for you, but didn’t see you, the feeling of dread filled up more and more. She almost gave up after about ten minutes, that was until she found you sitting outside.

You were curled up against the wall, your knees tucked into your chest while your chin rested on your arms. Jenna approached slowly, sliding down beside the wall to sit beside you. She stayed silent for a moment, staring up into the sky while listening to you breathe.

“I’m sorry.” Jenna said after a while, turning her face to you, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine.” You mumbled, your hair blowing in the wind while you spoke.

She pursed her lips, feeling like your response was not how you actually felt. She tracked your features, searching your eyes and finding a trace of unease inside your irises. 

“Pretty girl,” Jenna tried again, bumping her foot against yours, “Can you look at me?”

You turned your head, meeting the brown eyes that you fell so hard for. She smiled at you, her hand reaching out to interlace her fingers with your own. Her thumb rubbed your skin, warmth cascading throughout your body from the gentle gesture. 

“I want you to know,” She said, her voice full of confidence, “That no one will ever deter my love from you.” 

You couldn’t help but crack a smile, a small blush coating your cheeks at her words. Jenna giggled softly at your reaction, pulling her hand from yours to cup your cheek.

“I adore you; some stupid guy will never change that.” She murmured softly, her eyes flickering to your lips; a request.

You made the first move, unraveling your knees from your chest to push yourself towards her. She met you halfway, sighing through her nose when her lips pressed into yours. She tasted like vanilla cookies, her scent overwhelming you while you kissed her. 

Your hands went up and around her neck, hers sliding down to your waist to pull herself into your lap. She leaned into you, breaking the kiss for a breath before diving right back in. Her lips slotted into yours, her body weight pushing you against the wall while you both made out. 

“You’re beautiful.” She said between kisses, “My perfect girl.”

“Jenna-.” You started but she cut you off with a kiss.

“My good girl.” She purred, sliding her hands under your shirt to feel your skin, “My trailer is about five minutes away.” 

You nodded furiously, following her closely when she stood up. Her hand grasped yours, fingers intertwined as she pulled you along the gravel path towards the trailers. The walk took less than five minutes, equaling to three since Jenna decided to do a bit of a jog.

Once she unlocked the door and pulled you inside, she pushed you up against the wall, kicking the door shut. Her lips found yours again, her hands pulling your face down to hers to be as close as possible. The feeling of her tongue prodding at your lips set you ablaze, a moan slipping from your mouth while her warm muscle explored you. 

“Bedroom. Now.” Jenna said breathlessly, trying to tug you in the direction of her bed.

You complied, falling onto the mattress. Your clothes were practically ripped off of you, with Jenna somehow undressing herself before you even laid down on your back. She straddled your lap, her hands running along your naked body.

“I think we should try something different.” She mumbled to herself, turning around in your lap.

You opened your mouth to ask what she was up to, but was immediately shut down when she slid down so her mouth was directly above your heat. Her legs went back, knees on either side of your face; sixty-nine position, one she has been talking about doing for months on end. 

A puff of air hitting your clit made you shiver, your eyes falling shut when you felt her fingers drag through your already drenched folds. After a bit of rubbing and messing around, Jenna pushed her fingers in about an inch; a test to see if you were okay to keep going. You whimpered, your legs automatically opening wider for her to easily penetrate you. 

“I’m expecting you to do something back there.” She said sternly, still slowly pushing her fingers into you, “I don’t want to wait.”

Your eyes snapped open, immediately directing your attention to the task at hand. You gently pushed her thighs farther apart, your thumbs coming up to spread her folds open. Carefully, you pulled her onto your mouth, your tongue licking and prodding her entrance as you tasted her wetness. She moaned softly, her movements unwavering while she still fingered you. 

You whined in pleasure when she wrapped her lips around your clit, arousal flowing through your veins. Between the two of you, Jenna was definitely more experienced with sex. You loved to be of assistance to her however you could, being labeled as a “service top”, what your friend called it. 

You pushed your tongue inside of her hole, relishing in the way she moaned around your clit. You thrusted back and forth, filling her up with each push inside of her. The feeling of something spongy on your tongue made you giddy, focusing your assault on massaging that sensitive spot. 

Jenna pulled back from you to give a guttural moan, her fingers finding a faster pace to match your tongue. You could feel your orgasm rising quite quickly, and you knew Jenna’s was close behind from her velvety walls tightening on you.

You came first, your body seizing and mind going blank for a moment. Jenna stroked you through it, her other hand rubbing your thigh while you calmed down. Soon though, she followed you suit, her thighs squeezing your head as she released on your tongue. A cute little noise exited her throat, sort of a moan and an exhale; either way it was adorable. 

“Oh…” Jenna sighed, her fingers twitching inside of you.

“You good?” You asked, knowing she could either want more or be completely burnt out, “Need anything?”

She pulled her hand away from your legs, rolling over and moving until she was sat up beside you. Her eyes met yours, brown irises burrowing into your soul as she analyzed you. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she stared at you, desire pooling in her pupils.

“God…” She said, her hand reaching out to affectionately stroke your thigh, “I want you to sit on my face.”

“J-Jenna!” You stuttered, your face going red in shock.

“Please?” She asked, leaning over so she could peck your lips, “I wanna make you scream my name.”

You’re not sure when you said yes, or when Jenna flipped you both over, or when she got you sat up and over her mouth, but either way she had you where she wanted you. 

Your hands gripped the headboard, trying to not lean all of your weight onto her head in fear of hurting her, but one pull from Jenna and you were done for. She guided your hips down, her tongue licking lazily between your folds. 

A whimper exited your mouth, which turned into a satisfied moan when she finally pushed herself inside of you. The stretch felt nice, and the sensual rubbing she was doing to your thighs was pleasing to you. 

“Oh Jenna!” You moaned out, throwing your head back at the feeling of her tongue finding your sweet spot. 

One of your hands went down to wind into her hair, while her hand slid up to your chest to pinch your nipples. She groped and pulled at you, pumping her tongue in and out of you at a fast pace. Your hips started to rock back and forth, small whines slipping out everytime her teeth caught your clit. 

“Fuck…” You whispered, your eyes rolling from the pleasure between your thighs, “I…I’m close…”

Jenna hummed beneath you, causing you to cry out, and proceeded to pull your thighs farther apart and press her fingers against your other hole. She rubbed for a moment, before gently pushing two inside of you. 

The attention was too much, being that her tongue was inside of you, her fingers were inside of you, and your breasts were being squeezed so pleasantly that you practically broke down on top of her. A guttural moan erupted from your throat, your orgasm crashing down hard. Jenna helped you through it, licking and pumping until you had to push yourself off of her due to overstimulation. 

“You okay?” She asked after you settled yourself into her side, your arm lazily slinging over her waist.

“Mhm.” You nodded, burying your face into her neck for comfort. 

“You did good, pretty girl.” She praised, kissing your temple before grabbing a towel off of the side table to wipe her face with, “I’m impressed with how you ate me out earlier.”

“Don’t underestimate me, idiot.” You joked, patting her stomach, “I’m not that vanilla anymore.”

Jenna laughed, pulling you closer to her chest. She threw her blanket over the two of you, snuggling into you and intertwining her legs with yours. 

“Don’t we have to be back soon?” You asked sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open, “They need you.”

“We have two and a half hours.” Jenna murmured, tucking her head under your chin, “And I need you right now.”

“But-.”

“Shhh.” She whispered, kissing your neck, “Just hold me.”

And hold her you did.

————————

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[pigeonpeach]

The perfect date!

Prompt: Genshin men and women’s ultimate idea of a date by their standards!

Fem reader

Characters: Diluc, Shenhe, Jean, Cloud retainer, Arlecchino, Kujo Sara, Furina

Jean

Jean ,despite her upbringing and high class education, isn’t very picky. What she values most is the effort and thought put in. To earn her heart is relatively easy. Just be a cute little thing and offer her gifts and flowers to cheer her up. Compliment her and overall just look at her with eye contact and a smile as she chats your ear off about the latest romance novel and how disappointing it was.

For you? Your best shot is to go out of your way to pick her favorite flowers, and dress yourself up enough to show you care then she wouldn’t mind where it was even if it was a picnic. In that scenario you would also have to show thought and care. You can’t just smack a blanket everywhere. You have to pick somewhere the knights are available or with a nice scenery. The tree at windrise is perfect as its already her safe spot. A picnic is actually perfect, Jean is a romantic but there’s nothing more romantic than seeing how you fret about every little detail, like a bird preparing the perfect nest for its mate, she is more flattered by effort than compliments. Even if the food you prepared isn’t the best she can see how you tried. Afterall with enough practice you could prepare it properly in the future. When she saw your effort she was starting to swoon. Keep up the effort and you’ll have her last name in no time.

As for how she’d set up the date? A casual lunch at Good Hunter and a stroll through city to Springvale because the scenery is beautiful and the wind is nice but not too cold. She’ll pay for the meal and you will make up for it by being her entertainment. But she’s also picked that route because the wind can pick uo and get a bit chilly with the lake right next to path, giving her the perfect opportunity to offer you her cloak, just like a true Gentlelady!

Diluc

Oh he’s difficult! Not a romantic, not a small talker, not too expressive, not too friendly either. You basically court him the way you would earn the trust of a feral cat who’s never been pet before. Patience and lots of perseverance. The best way to earn his heart however is to be interesting. Go to the bar when nights are slow and tell him interesting stories. Some new fact you learned? Questions that make you stand out from any other bachelorette looking to score it with him. Like “whats your second favorite color? Whats your first memory? Does his hawk have a favorite color?” I should mention to not get too personal too quick. But overtime he maybe endeared by your odd conversations, you stand out in a pleasant way that has him contemplating those questions.

Now that you’ve finally got his trust you can ask him out! Very likely he will take the reins. Likely a typical restaurant date. He picks you up, pays, coat if your cold, walks you home. He isn’t the most creative.

As for you? Well you still won’t be able to spoil him because he will pay you back no matter what. He doesn’t have expensive tastes. You prepare a nice picnic meal? You want to go on a walk through town and lunch? Unfortunately he doesn’t really like the idea because he knows it will spark a huge rumor and end up with you probably glared at by many a lady looking for his hand. The picnic idea is however novel to him. Just be sure to pick a area clear of monsters. Not that he wouldn’t immediately leap into battle to defend you but that he might burn the grass to much. Then you would have to move. But he secretly adores how persistent you’ve been, trying to provide for him, trying to handle everything. He secretly likes that. Unfortunately he has a serious poker face so you don’t notice that until later.

Shenhe

Out of all of them i’d say she’d be the hardest to romance because she’d struggle to understand when she is inlove. She likes you yes. But is it different than how she likes being around Ganyu or sitting in the grass? Overtime it does become different but it isn’t until Cloud Retainer points out that she is obviously being courted that she recognizes your efforts. So she return them.

Easiest by far because she has no concept of romance or what is romantic like everyone else but rather just that: she likes you. She likes spending time with you. She doesn’t care if you don’t get her enough flowers or you don’t pick a good enough restaurant. What she likes is you and talking to you. You could pick a dingy street vendor for a date and she’d still love it. Really its cloud retainer who would disprove. To earn her approval you must work to prove you’re worthy and trustworthy too. She won’t give her blessing out freely. And what better way for Shenhe to learn about romance than by example? But truly, Shenhe would prefer a date on Jueyun karst. With fresh flowers and a gentle breeze in the warm sunlight. Just talking to you, alone. She doesn’t like restaurants unless its a slow or quiet day but she will put up with it for your sake.

Arlecchino

Obviously she lives for the luxury. She knows time away from the children is scarce nowadays so she books a private booth secluded from the other guests, a luxury restaurant with the finest of tastes. She will ensure you don’t go away hungry or feel uncomfortable. The difficulty is the timing. The reason its best to leave her to schedule dates is because she will already have made time for such occasions. One date st least per month! Unless of course there’s complications or scheduling conflicts. Rest assured she will make it up to.

If you’re planning a date for her it would be best to follow her line and not surprise her with it because again, her schedule. The most she’ll let you do is probably make the reservation, she’ll pay for it simply because she likes to provide for you. Better to just let her because she isn’t going to let the mother of her children pay for dinner.

Cloud Retainer

Oh you want to romance a full blown adeptus? Good luck making it up that mountain alot. Your offerings do not go unnoticed by her, as she enjoys your gifts more than most mortals. She even clears out monster camps herself in preparation for your visits. As cloud retainer how ever she isn’t too emotionally available.

But as Xinyun she is far more open minded to the idea. Recognizing you as her favorite human she will humor your offer of lunch. She does prefer more traditional methods but not to a great extent. For instance, a decent restaurant with high quality food. Especially if it’s a date. You dont have to pick the most luxurious of restaurants but if you do it is a good impression to her. But putting effort into your appearance is also very important too. She doesn’t expect you to pay for her tab but she would appreciate. She will find some way to repay you.. perhaps a invention to help you in some aspect of your life? Or perhaps a kiss will do.

Furina

Little bit of a tsundere. It wasn’t actually that hard to win her heart, but she didn’t make it obvious until you asked her out. Just stick with the fancy stuff, flowers and sweets as offerings. She is very traditional in that regard. But oh Miss Furina is so lonely, the second she saw your gentle and loving smile she practically fell face first and head over heels for you.

Of course high end restaurants are her favorite. Especially for desserts. In fact you could just skip dinner and go to a bakery instead, that’s probably cheaper. If you offer to pay though do be prepared for it. She won’t spend too much since it is your money but the things she buys aren’t too cheap either. But overall the perfect date for her is mostly just.. having someone by her side. It may end up be her window shopping or shopping with you dragged along but she has a great time like. She has a great time with you by her side :> after that point the dates can be anything as long as you’re not taking her hiking through the mountains or something, she might like to go outside the city for a picnic though. Maybe even see the cute otters.

Kujo Sara

She was also not that hard to win over, but it was much harder to tell when she did. But her coworkers knew when they saw how she seemed to miss you when you left, or how you made her smile. But before you know it, she’s asking you out!

Kujo Sara will pick the best restaurant for your tastes, preferably a bit high end, and she will encourage you to eat as much as you like. Don’t eat like a pig though that is a bit off putting to her. She isn’t too great at conversing though, especiallt in non professional environments. Considering how nervous she actually is to be on a date with you too, its a bit hard to be confident in such a unfamiliar situation. Just be patient and sweet. Overtime she’ll get better and more open with you.