#tact?? nonexistent.

[mutatiio]

@mayxthexforce (from Obi-Wan for Maul)

When Obi-Wan opens his eyes, it feels like blinking. The transition from his awake self to the dream self is far smoother than he ever remembered it being. But that thought lasts only the few seconds it takes him to realize where, and when, he is. His mind completely overtaken by what were once his primary goals and thoughts at some point in his life that happened many years ago– twenty-six years ago, to be exact.

Bruck is right in front of him, running away. Obi-Wan is chasing him– right, he has to catch him, get him while Master Jinn is keeping Xanatos busy, make him tell him where they took Bant so that he could get her to safety. Bant. He has to save Bant. The reminder makes him push himself to his limit, nostrils flaring and heart hammering inside his chest as he chases after Bruck, refusing to allow there to be any more distance between them than there already is. Seven feet. Just seven feet. He chases Bruck down the stairs that ran parallel to the turbolift shaft that led up into the Jedi Council's tower. Their lightsabers alight and the only thing keeping the area illuminated– just two spots: one red, one blue, moving at inhuman speed. Bruck reaches the end of the stairs and rounds the corner sharply. Obi-Wan turns his lightsaber off, jumps the about ten steps he has left, boots squealing against the floor when he hit it, sliding a foot or two as he twists his body to face the way Bruck went and keeps chasing him the second he regains his footing, reigniting his weapon.

When his lightsaber lights up a small part of his surroundings again. He's not in the halls anymore, but in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Right now, due to the power-down, the waterfalls had ceased to run so all there was left were the structures and the pool, which hadn't drained at all. It is this realization that leads to him spotting a different shade of blue in the water, accompanied by a glint of metal. Bant is down there, chained to the bottom of the pool and sure to run out of air. Amphibians couldn't hold their breath underwater forever. They needed air just as much as anyone else.

"We had a connection that I can't explain. It wasn't the result of time, of yours spent together..." Obi-Wan's voice plays from the recorder device attached to Bruck's lightsaber. "It wasn't the result of secrets or confidences. It was something else."

"You loved her." comes Bant's response. A vulnerable conversation Obi-Wan had thought private, recorded and exposed to him now that Cerasi, the subject of said conversation, was dead, by someone he'd never particularly liked, but believed to be trustworthy in the way all Jedi are trustworthy, only for this betrayal to further taint the memory of his late friend.

"At least Bant kept her promise. She's taking your secret to the grave," Bruck taunts. "That's right Obi-Wan, Bant is dying. I won't have to do a thing. I'll just make you watch."

Obi-Wan's expression darkens. He turns his lightsaber off. Bruck swung at where he'd been standing, and hit nothing. He barely managed to turn his upper body in time to block Obi-Wan's attack, which came as silent and deadly as that of a predator. He didn't even ignite his lightsaber until he was less than a foot away from Bruck. Obi-Wan had trained his whole life up until now in defensive methods, he'd vowed to always fight to preserve life, and he'd promised Cerasi that he would dedicate the rest of his life to keeping peace. Yet, none of that matters as he attacks Bruck relentlessly, forcing the slightly younger Padawan back and up the rocky hill that made up the backside of the waterfall.

They reach the peak, lightsabers sizzling against each other and both pushing with all their might, unwilling to give the other any more terrain. But Obi-Wan is stronger. He shoves Bruck back hard enough to make him stumble and almost slip on the slippery moss that makes up the waterfall bed. A guttural sound, like a watery growl, echoes through the gargantuan room, and it is then and only then, as he watches the fear in the other boy's eyes, that Obi-Wan realizes that electricity has come back and that the water systems would come next–

The waterfall erupts back to life. The layer of moss once again acts against Bruck, stealing his balance from him as the pressure of the water sweeps him over the edge- but not towards the pools. He would have most likely survived if Obi-Wan had been backing him up towards the side of the cliff that led down onto the pools.

Obi-Wan rushes forward, too late to grasp Bruck's hand but just in time to watch him go down and hit several rocks, bones breaking and limbs twisting at impossible angles, before the fall stops when he hits the grassy ground. Bruck landed face down and yet, his face is still half facing towards Obi-Wan, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Obi-Wan stares, slowly brings himself back to his feet and turns on his heel, pale as the marble pillars that hold the temple upright, and makes his way down to the pool, jumping in and emerging about two minutes after, dragging Bant along with him, gasping for air as he emerges.

He awakens from the dream still gasping for air and still as pale as he'd been that day. Skin clammy and clothes sticking to his body as he sits upright and barely manages not to hit his head against the upper bunk, solely because at the same time he's sitting up, he's moving to stand, stumbling his way out of the shared quarters.

it's as seamless as waking. if he didn't know better, he might have mistaken this moment for reality. but he's been here before - though his first impression had been outside the temple. his second hidden away. both under the watchful eye of his former master. even with his foreboding presence, he does not register the force within the building the same. 

it had once been gnawing, scratching at the back of his skull, his mind static. a reaction to the lightside of the force, he'd decided. now it was more neutral. bordering on what he felt most days recently. 

it's one of those dreams. the shared connection he'd been shackled into by the force. with, of course, kenobi. both being and entity clawed at his memories, forcing him to relive and remember them. 

thankfully, this one seems to have nothing to do with him.

he can tell instantly that he’s surrounded by water. there’s a purity that emanates from it, the air fresh and pleasant. just how realistic were these ‘dreams’?? 

it takes him very little time to find the subject of this memory, his eyes adjusting to the darkness just as young - younger than on naboo - kenobi ignites his weapon. his previously darkened form is washed out by blue, his expression, even from this distance, grave and set. then he’s searching and maul follows his gaze when it lands. through the still water it isn’t difficult to make out the shape of a being. presumably stuck. 

" we had a connection that i can't explain. "

focus shifts back again. he knows, without a doubt, that this is kenobi’s voice. however, he does not recognise the other boy, the one illuminated in red and the source of this recording. then comes a second voice. 

" you loved her. "

judging from the wave of darkness, maul assumes that this had been a private conversation. one this boy should not have heard nor recorded. bant. the one in the conversation and likely the one in the water. or the topic of the discussion they were having. the former feels more likely - with forcing kenobi to watch. still, maul felt as though he was a step behind, like he was missing part of crucial context to truly grasp this situation. but there’s no time to ponder before the boys spring to action.

kenobi slips away into the darkness and maul’s eyes only adjust to track him just a moment before he’s striking viciously at the boy. he’s fighting in a way that maul has only seen from him once, though more concentrated now. anger and focus from wanting to save a life rather than frenzied fury from wanting to avenge one. the move is blocked, but is quickly followed by a flurry of others, forcing the ‘enemy' to retreat blindly backwards. 

maul followed behind them, intuition telling him how this encounter would end - for why else would he be seeing it other than guilt?? guilt, guilt, guilt. maul is beginning to suspect that this sentiment makes up all that kenobi is, more than blood and water, more than flesh and bone. his very being is so deeply entwined with it that it’s difficult to distinguish when it begins or ends. if it even does. if it ever will. 

guilt is a useless feeling. 

the battle has reached its climax. kenobi pushes the boy and, as if forewarning what is to come, he nearly slips. then came the growl and had maul not known better, he’d assume it came from kenobi rather than the water. 

then, as predicted, the boy is falling. the very battlefield he’d chosen working against him, his hubris killing him (maul should not judge, but he is). he moves to peer over the edge just moments behind kenobi, the telltale snap and crunch of bones marking the descent down. golden eyes stare, passive. the boy’s neck is snapped, his other limbs twisted oddly, too. 

dead, yet the air smells purer than before.

deserved, yet the guilt is clear within kenobi. 

maul watches kenobi from the corner of his eye though he is still facing the fallen enemy. he looks sickly. of course a jedi would not see this victory as it was.

he wakes as he had in the dream. seamless and easy, calm until it isn’t. the door shuts behind his begrudging partner. a moment passes before he rises and twists, pushing himself from his bunk to land firm, metal connecting with metal. and he follows, as he had before.

" kenobi. " maul says as he enters the ready room. it’s still unclear as to why the force has decided to connect them in this way. he has no desire to understand the intricacies of kenobi’s guilt and shame nor is he equipped to deal with the aftermath of him reliving each situation. there is one thing he is curious about, though. and what better time to ask- " who was she referring to?? "

[lux-scriptum]

U kno for pulling the tower today it wasn’t actually as bad as I thought

[eureka-its-zico]

Happy Birthday, Zoro

Synopsis: Zoro wasn't much for birthday's until he met you.

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: fluffy, friends to lovers, (Zoro and Doc)

Words: 2.5K

A/N: I had to write something for the birthday boy before the day is over. It is probably the shortest thing I've written in a hot minute, but I hope it is still enjoyable. Much love, Jenn.

He’d let it slip one night while you’d all been celebrating Nami’s birthday. Of course, she’d asked for fireworks and pretty gifts. She’d also asked to play poker, but that was something you and the rest of the crew weren’t willing to talk about. 

There was no way someone won every single time. 

Cheating aside, the one thing that Zoro could agree on was the booze. You’d both been sent out to pick it up. Who better than the resident alcoholic on the ship to know what a good brand was? 

What you hadn’t expected was for him to basically pull you out of your reading nook in the galley. You could still feel the way his fingers had snaked around to grip the inside of your arm. Two seconds later, he was lifting you up and out of your spot with your book almost fumbling to the floor. 

“Zoro-“

“Come on, Doc, you're coming with me.”

“You could’ve asked!” You huffed. 

You were well aware that Zoro was still holding onto your arm. You were also well aware that he was much closer than usual making it hard for you to remember that you were mad at him. Big mad because you were just getting to the good part in your book. 

“I am asking.”

Gods. He said it like a fact. His face was as smooth as stone and unblinking.

This was your Zoro. Master of having zero tact. 

“Asking is with words, you ass.”

“Yeah, I don’t do that.”

“I’ve noticed.”

And with that, he took it as you conceded to go with him into town. In part, it was probably for the best. Zoro’s people skills were nonexistent and you and Sanji frequently had to apologize for him. 

While the trip to town was enjoyable, what made it the best was the way Zoro changed around you. It wasn’t an astronomical change. He didn’t talk a whole lot more or say fewer things that reminded you he was an asshole (but he was your asshole so…) or be less broody. What he did was smile more. 

They ranged from the small smirks he did when you were talking. Your animated hand movements with every other word as you weave a deep story for him or an excessive explanation on why using chopsticks for hair pins was an ingenious idea. You wondered if Zoro himself even realized he was doing it. But your all-time favorite? 

It was when he smiled brighter than any star in the sky. His entire face lit up and chased back all the broody darkness he usually wore like armor. So, while you were upset to be torn from your book, you knew you would much rather be here in town with him. 

When you arrived at the store Zoro immediately asked for samples. Two of everything. You thought he meant for himself, but felt complete terror widen your eyes when he slid one over to your place beside him at the bar. The only response you got was a raised brow and a smirk he quickly covered with the edge of his glass. 

“What? Can steal a man’s glass from a dinner table but not an offered one?”

“Excuse me. I only did that because I knew you wanted it.”

“Hmmm. So, if I vocally say I don’t want you to drink with me, you’ll drink?”

You took a sniff of the amber liquid poured into the glass and felt your eyebrows curl up in retreat. 

“This smells like regret,” you informed him with your eyes looking over the rim of the glass at his very striking figure. 

This man was insane if he thought you were going to drink with him. You had no control over your mouth once you had one glass too many and you weren’t sure you could take responsibility for whatever your hands may, or may not, do. Especially since he was wearing another one of his gi’s, which suspiciously looked more untucked in the chest area than usual. 

You were going to have to ask Nami if she might have spilled some secrets from a girls' night. 

“There is no such thing as regret. Just a learning experience.”

“Yeah, no. That sounds like regret.”

He let out an annoyed sigh as he kicked back what was left inside the glass. The man didn’t even pull a face. He just casually swallowed it and placed the glass rim down first on the bar. 

“That’s going to be a no.” He hummed to himself before he turned to look at you. “Look, Doc, I just want a second opinion on the booze. It’s for Nami’s special day or whatever.”

He had a point. You didn’t want Zoro picking something that was strong enough to melt the hair off a man’s chest, but you also didn’t want it growing any hair on anyone’s chest, either. 

“Fair point.” 

You took one last look at your glass before grabbing it and slamming back its contents. The regret was instant as it burned its way down your throat and boiled molten in your belly. You couldn’t keep from coughing as you tried to shoot daggers in his direction. 

“You know what you learned there?” Zoro asked.

You were scared to ask but felt yourself coughing, “What?” regardless. 

“You don’t like that one.”

Your hand lightly smacked him in the arm on a whim. You waited for him to turn and give you a death glare from the tap, but you were given a soft smile instead and was that- did Zoro just laugh? 

He was already on his fifth glass and maybe that was why he was being so damn cute. Yeah, that was it. Zoro instantly became a lightweight. 

You knocked back the second one in record time. This time, it didn’t burn as much as the first, but it still didn’t taste much better. 

“I never understood the big deal about birthdays.” Zoro’s voice was deep in thought, his eyes roaming the inside of the empty glass of his sixth drink. “It’s just a day.”

A “Tsk,” pushed past your lips as you leaned over towards him. Your cheek rested on his arm as you looked up at him. It felt like it was taking forever for him to even glance down at you. You were about to poke him in his side to finally make him move when dark eyes fell down on your face.

Gods, you really needed to remember to breathe. 

“It’s not just a day! It’s the day you were born. It’s not just to celebrate but to be grateful that you’re here. I’m grateful you’re here.”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat. The way his eyes flashed with something you weren’t used to seeing made a question form on your tongue but before you could ask it, Zoro looked away and back at the table. His hand wrapped around a new glass and quickly emptied its contents. 

“Come on, we still have a lot of booze to get through.”

It wasn’t until the two of you were squeezed into a booth, all of the booze gone, and your head resting on his shoulder, with Zoro’s head resting on yours, that he mentioned it again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever celebrated my birthday before,” he hummed. His fingers were playing with the hem of the pocket on your cargo pants. “But if I did. I want it to be with you.” 

It felt silly that just a few words could make your heart race like it did. It was the booze, you’d reminded yourself. You’d both drunk enough to tranquilize a sea beast. Zoro would never just mumble things like this to you, resting his head on yours like he did. 

That day Zoro didn’t say more than that and you didn’t press him. Not that you could, anyways. You couldn’t even remember the walk back to the Merry. The night of Nami’s birthday, in the middle of the fireworks, you’d both been sitting on the deck. Your eyes cast up to the explosion of color that painted the sky. 

“November.”

“What?”

A finger stroked the neck of the bottle he’d been nursing. His wrist found a comfortable spot on his knee as he leaned back on his palm. It was enough to look natural - enough to not bring attention to the fact this position easily put him shoulder-to-shoulder beside you. 

“My birthday it’s…it’s in November. If you are curious.”

July came and went. August and September. You practically counted each day in each month and hated how it seemed to go so fast, but not fast enough. You’d planned and had every idea of how you were going to give him one of the best birthdays ever.

You’d already bought his favorite whiskey and gave it a cute little bow. You’d even asked Sanji to show you how to make a cake. You practiced tirelessly with Sanji watching you every step of the way. So, you couldn’t understand how or why your cake looked like a deflated balloon. 

“Did you overbeat the flour?”

Sanji was leaning back against the counter. A hand covering his mouth because you knew he was either smiling or frowning or a mixture of both. The towel he’d used to clean up your earlier spill rested over his shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” you groaned into your hands. 

“It’s alright. It’s not the time to panic-“

“It is the perfect time to panic! I don’t have time to try and redo the cake, Sanji.”

The day was almost over. Zoro had spent the majority of it out with Luffy. You’d been waiting for them both to come back and when they did, it was night. You weren’t sure how many hours were left in the day for you to do this, but you knew you didn’t have a lot of time left. 

“Can you hand me a cookie cutter?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna improvise.”

You used the cookie cutter to find the best part of the cake and cut out a piece. You slammed on maybe too much frosting and quickly went and grabbed your present from your room. It might have been a good idea to change since you were practically wearing most of the cake ingredients on your clothes. 

It was too late to change anything. You were already in front of his door and with the tip of your boot knocked as gently as you could. You could hear the slightest sounds of Zoro moving around inside—a groan and what sounded like a few choice words grumbled right after. 

You weren’t ready for what greeted you. 

Zoro swung open the door and all your brain functions ceased. He was shirtless. The scars Mihawk had given him were fully on display along with every ridiculous muscle definition known to man. His hair was haphazard from sleep, eyes still struggling to focus, with pants hung low at his hips. You weren’t sure if you should be thankful or happy. One thing was for sure. You almost dropped your cake. 

“Oh, hey Doc. What’s up?”

Fuck. Was his voice always so unnecessarily rich like this when he woke up? You weren’t sure why, but you panicked and practically shoved the items towards his face. 

“Surprise!”

He looked from your would-be birthday cake and the bottle of whiskey with a bow and back to you. 

“What is this for?”

“Your birthday, silly.”

That seemed to wake him up and not in a good way. He quickly reached out and pulled you inside. He shut the door behind you and if it weren’t for the bit of moonlight that showed through his window, you both would’ve been consumed by darkness. 

Zoro moved forward and you remembered you were in a dimly lit room with him. With a tight smile on your face, you lifted the cake and repeated, “Surprise!”

“You said that already.”

“True but this time it didn’t result in you pulling me anywhere. I brought matches too so you could blow out the candle on your cake.”

Zoro took one look at your cake and all that grumpy energy he held from being woken up disappeared. It was replaced with a soft grin as he looked from the cake to you. 

“Why is it in the shape of a Christmas tree?”

“Let's not focus on the details. Oh, and this is for you too!”

Yes, you were nervous. Yes, this was the first time you’d been inside his room like this, but everything was fine. It was fine. So, there wasn’t any real reason why you almost slammed the bottle into his chest. Zoro didn’t seem to mind the small impact as his eyes landed on the label. 

“It’s my favorite one.”

“I know. It took me a while to find it. Come on. Come sit.” 

You moved to sit on the edge of his bed. Your fingers went to dig the matchbox out of your pocket, and as soon as you got it out, strike one to light up the candle. You carefully lifted the plate back up in your hands as Zoro sat down beside you. The soft glow of the candle made all the hardness of his jaw and cheeks appear softer and the plushness of his lips more inviting. Everything about Zoro appeared different in the soft illumination of the candle and you wished you could draw it to memory. 

A smile that was big and genuine lifted the corners of your mouth. Your hands held up the plate at the best angle between you as you softly said, “Happy Birthday, Zoro. Make a wish.”

Zoro tried to shake away the smirk that started to form before he leaned forward and blew out his candle. You turned to place the plate on the barrel beside the bed. 

“Are you going to ask me what I wished for?”

You froze in place. Your heart suddenly beat wildly against your chest as you struggled to swallow past your racing pulse. You hoped when you turned back around to face him you didn’t look terrified. 

“It’s usually bad luck to ask,” you replied.

“Ask.”

“What did you wish for, Zoro?”

“You.”

You weren’t prepared for Zoro to close the last few inches between you. For his hand to weave his fingers into your hair while his other gripped your waist. Those last few moments of sanity you had before he pressed his lips against yours evaporated the minute he touched you. 

Maybe you’d been his true present all along. 

-----------

As always, thank you for reading. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated.

__________

[blanketforcas]

🚩Cult and cultlike/toxic behavior: red flags in fandom 🚩

A non-exhaustive list inspired by my 10+ years of experience in fandom, both personal and second-hand. By sharing this, I hope to make other people more aware and able to protect themselves in the future. No fandom space or friend group is worth your mental health.

They claim they have secret information and use that to lure you in

They might either lovebomb you at first or make you (feel like you have to) prove your worth

The leader(s) of the group might not feel super approachable, at least not without fear of saying the wrong thing

They seem to create or point out a divide in fandom you’d never noticed before. Likely this divide isn’t actually there in wider fandom, or the need for it is wholly unnecessary.

They create an us vs them (outsiders) situation. Their group has the most knowledge and expertise, if others critique them it’s simply cause they must’ve heard false rumors. They are always the ones who are “misunderstood”.

Questioning statements from leaders/people with high regard in the group, is not without risk. You can get dogpiled, your intelligence put into question and gaslit about your own words and feelings.

You see discussions happen and get more heated, and at the end of that discussion the person on the receiving end of the things mentioned above ^ starts apologizing profusely and/or believes they are indeed stupid. However, if this person does keep defending their stance, they might get bullied or kicked out of the server/group chat

Too much emphasis on Being Right/having the correct take or theory – it may seem it has a higher priority than empathy and tactful communication

You need to have an opinion (their opinion), because silence equals condoning or agreeing with the “other side”

Everything is a moral issue. When everything is made out to be a high-stakes issue or reflective of everyone as a person, it's easier for the leader(s) to manipulate you.

You find yourself excusing people’s behavior because you agree with their point. The way they bring their argument forward and the tone they use, become subordinate to finding out the truthTM

There is such a thing as The TruthTM in every theory, discussion or analysis

If you don't Get It, it's cause you haven't "worked on yourself enough". Or it's cause you're not trying hard enough, or you haven't done enough reading, or you have blind spots only they can see.

There is a lot of conspiratorial thinking – maybe actors are trying to send us secret messages, maybe there is a Whole Lot You Don’t Know But We Do, Trust Us, maybe this or that person in fandom has tried to attack us and are planning a bigger attack,…

You barely/don’t have fandom friends outside of this group and if you do, you tend to intentionally (whether subconsciously or not) hide your experience from them. They wouldn’t understand the way they talk, they wouldn’t understand the way it works etc

They want to know a lot of your personal information. - might only happen once you get into higher ranks

You might get (more and more) specific “tasks”, it starts becoming a part-time job instead of a hobby/fun space to hang out with friends

Of course, these red flags are not always immediately visible let alone advertised when you join a group chat/discord server/twitter or tumblr bubble. They can also be nonexistent at first and show up later. Here are some general ways to stay vigilant:

Periodically check in with your values, if they might be changing & how you feel about that.

Keep an eye on the way people (and yourself) are being treated. Is it kind? Is it fair? Do you feel on edge all the time when you’re having conversations? Is your body more tense when you’re in this online space or when certain people are around? Be honest with yourself here.

Ask yourself: Is this space becoming my only coping mechanism? Am I spending too much time here? There’s no shame in spending a lot of time on things you enjoy, but do check in with yourself sometimes whether you are actually still having fun and if you are taking things too seriously or parasocialising a lot.

There's a lot of fun to be had in fandom and a lot of good that comes out of it - don't forget that. Keep seeking that. It's why we're here!

[shadowqueenjude]

you know what, i think im getting to a point where I'm more tolerant of aramantha than rhysand. At least she knows she's bad and doesn't hide behind a screen. Also I'm thinking back on a lot of what rhysand did in acotar and a lot of it seems to be not necessarily things she ordered? like if she wanted to threaten spring court w the head on the spike, she would have had that sigil be her sigil not the night court (also I've fallen into the trap of evil women hot, i support womens rights and womens wrongs, send help it's a dark pit) ALSO! I think Nesta would've slayed in Hewn City, I think she would have caused a revolution so that the people there could go up to the surface. She has the court tact and poise that none of the IC have and i can easily see her taking complete control of the situation... wish sjm would've put her there :(

We love and appreciate manipulative evil women here. I'm so tired of manipulative men being glorified and manipulative women being shit on. Make a manipulative women compelling for FUCK'S sake. It's naturally more compelling than a man being compelling because we're underestimated by others and we're born with a natural disadvantage over men so we use our cunning and wiles.

A lot of what Rhysand did, we only have HIS WORD for it that it was ordered. For instance, the head. Why would he put his own sigil on it and ask if Tamlin got "his present" if it was Amarantha who ordered it? I'm sure Amarantha has her own sigil. The winter court children? Maybe he was ordered, but why is he passing blame to someone else, claiming some other nonexistent daemati did it? Clare Beddor??? I would've respected Rhysand more as a villain if he just ADMITTED he was a coward and submit to Amarantha to avoid punishment. Rhysand could've been a compelling villain, or at least a hot one.

Honestly would’ve loved to see Nesta thrown down into the Hewn City only to be crowned the leader of the revolution because she so would. Made all seven high lords listen and restored the valkyries all while still in a depressed state. I meaaaaaaan… Nesta the woman that you are.

[nerdyrevelries]

Rosella: Rose in Bloom’s Italian Adaptation

Back in August of 2022 when I was doing Alcott Adaptation August (a month where I watched and reviewed every single adaptation of Little Women that I could reasonably find; still need to finish my reviews of 2019 and 1978), I was scouring IMDb for anything that Louisa May Alcott had a writing credit on. I found something really surprising: A 1964 Italian TV mini series called Rosella. Could this be an adaptation of my favorite underappreciated Louisa May Alcott novel, Rose in Bloom? Naturally, I had to know more.

The IMBd page tells us very little. In addition to Louisa May Alcott, there is one other writing credit, Anna Maria Romagnoli, who wrote the screenplay. Then we have a director, Lelio Golletti. It was produced and distributed by RAI Radiotelevisione Italiana and filmed in black and white. Finally, we have a cast list: Rosella is played by Laura Efrikian, Marco is played by Enzo Cerusico, Carlo is played by Marino Masé, Stephano is played by Vittorio Mezzogiorno, Febe is played by Angela Cavo, Zia Clara is played by Loredana Savelli, Arci is played by Paolo Modugno, Giacomino is played by Marco Paolini, Zia Myra is played by Anna Maria Ackermann, Debora is played by Vittoria Di Silverio, Zia Jessica is played by Delia Valle, Zia Pace is played by Donatella Gemmò, Zio Frank is played by Gerardo Panipucci, and Dottore is played by Carlo Lombardi. Based on my nonexistent Italian, I would guess that Rosella is Rose, Marco is Mac, Carlo is Charlie, Stephano is Steve, Febe is Phebe, Arci is Archie, Zia Clara is Aunt Clara, Zia Myra is Aunt Myra, Zia Jessica is Aunt Jessie, Zia Pace is Aunt Peace (who might have been combined with Aunt Plenty to make the cast more manageable?), Debora is the cook who is sometimes called Debby and sometimes called Dolly in Eight Cousins, and Zio Frank must be one of the uncles, though it’s unclear which one. However, I was stumped by Giacomino and Dottore. 

The wonderful @thatscarletflycatcher​ offered to do some research for me as she’s a Spanish speaker, which is a lot closer to Italian than I am, and she managed to find some promo images with captions that she translated for me. I’m including them below the cut since there are some pretty big spoilers.

Rose (Laura Efrikian) is a girl from a good family that became an orphan early in life. She is taken away from school and received in the home of Aunt Peace. It is there that she receives the visit of her cousins that give her a welcome.

Rose’s aunts consult with each other to restore confidence and serenity to the girl left so soon deprived from the affection of her parents. But their cures don't give good results and raise the skepticism of Uncle Alec.

According to this, there is a “zio Alec” who was not listed on the cast list. Which means that Zio Frank can’t be Uncle Alec. My guess would be that he’s Uncle Mac, but I’m not sure.

Now it is Uncle Alec, her guardian (Gianni Agus), who thinks of another remedy. With a lot of tact, he tries to accustom Rose to a sporty and healthy life in the open air and to share joys and sorrows with her cousins.

So, here we have proof that Uncle Alec was not on the cast list and also that he was played by Gianni Agus.

Even Deborah (Vittoria Di Silverio), the old cook of the house, and Phebe (Angela Cavo), who helps her with the domestic chores, get together to help Rose, and Phebe confides to Deborah that they have already become friends.

Aunt Myra (Anna Maria Ackermann) tells her nephews that she's worried about the health of her nephew Mac, who risks losing his eyesight from reading too much. It will be Rose with her thoughtfulness the one to help Mac.

Uncle Alec has prepared a ship trip to Campbell’s Island. Rose is a bit afraid. Then, uncle and niece reach land happily. Uncle Alec, taking Rose's hand, walks onto the island. "To be happy," he says, "each man must have an island. But... there's someone roasting something over there. Who are the pirates on Campbell’s island?" (Gianni Augus: Uncle Alec; Laura Ephrikian: Rose)

The island is, in fact, inhabited. Then in fact Rose's five cousins appear to give her, noisily, a welcome. Rose pretends to be angry: "Is it possible that it must always be you the ones to surprise me?" "If only the smell of the roasting fish had not betrayed is..." Archie answers. (Marino Masé: Charlie; Enzo Cerusico: Mac; Paolo Modugno: Archie; Vittorio Mezzogiorno: Steve; Marco Paolini: Jamie)

This caption gives us confirmation that the cast has been condensed to some degree. Rose now has five cousins instead of seven. (The cuts are, of course, Will and Geordie, which is the correct choice since they have no narrative function except to add some extra numbers.) I’m also now pretty sure that Giacomino is Jamie.

The aunts get together to discuss Rose's future. Deborah takes the opportunity to get help making butter. The discussion is lively. Aunt Clara exclaims, moved: "Rose's future is as dear to me as it is to you." And Aunt Myra adds: "In the meantime, her education has decidedly worsened." Timidly, Aunt Peace replies "But Alec's experiment isn't over yet..." (Vittoria Di Silverio: Deborah; Anna Maria Ackermann: Aunt Myra; Donatella Gemmò: Aunt Peace; Loredana Savelli: Aunt Clara)

The fact that Aunt Myra seems to be rather concerned with education makes me think that the Aunt Myra of Rosella may be a combination between the Aunt Myra of the book and Aunt Jane, just as the Aunt Peace of Rosella seems to be a combination of the Aunt Peace of the book and Aunt Plenty.

Rose has found her cousins Archie and Charlie smoking. She's scandalized: "It is bad for your health, and you don't like it, so why do you keep doing it?" "Why shouldn't we?" Charlie answers fast. "It is for the sake of your health that I say it to you," Rose replies, "and to please me." To which Charlie retorts, "Would you give up your earrings if we gave up our cigarettes?" Archie wavers a little. "Don't be cruel! You know how much she cares!" he tells his cousin. But Rose has not a single moment of doubt: "I care more about you than about my earrings. I accept the deal."

Phebe tirelessly copies a page from the almanac. Caught as she is in her difficult task, she doesn't hear Rose enter the room. When she realizes it, it's already too late. "What are you hiding, Phebe?" Rose asks. "I am just trying to study a little," the girl answers embarrassed. "I am so ignorant". Rose: "Would you like me to be your teacher?" "That would be marvelous!" Phebe replies. "But Deborah always needs me."

The greeting of Aunt Peace has turned into a party. They have gathered together to give their welcome to Uncle Alec, Rose, and Phebe as they come back from their trip to Europe. Rose is moved: "I cannot believe I love this house so much," she says. "I think I only want you, Aunt Peace." (From the left, Phebe: Angelia Cavo; Rose: Laura Ephrikian; Archie: Paolo Modungno. Standing, from the left, Charlie: Marino Masé; Mac: Enzo Cerusico)

Phebe, sitting at the pianoforte, sings an old folk song. Archie listens to her enraptured. When the song ends, Charlie and Mac applaud vigorously. Only Archie remains in the same fixed position he was at the beginning of the song. Phebe stands up confused and happy.

At the small table prepared for two, Rose and Uncle Alec have a meal. Rose has decided, to make Aunt Clara happy, to dedicate herself for three months to a worldly life. She tells this news to Uncle Alec, who, a bit shocked, exclaims: "And so, you will have three months of trial. Three months are not much, but they can be just enough." (Uncle Alec: Gianni Agus)

Rose, dressed in white, makes her triumphal entrance into Aunt Peace's drawing room, which has been turned into a ballroom for the occasion. The girl has her "card" filled with names, and the gentlemen fight over her. Charlie is the most insistent, and they form an splendid couple indeed.

Charlie and Rose meet at the park. Charlie wants to communicate to his cousin his decision to depart for Calcutta to start a new business and redeem himself in her eyes, after having frightened her, one evening, when he showed up at Aunt Peace's house completely drunk. "Yes, I'm determined," he says. "I cannot resist. I have too many bad habits." "When will you go, Charlie?" Rose asks. "In a month," the youth answered.

Charlie, having fallen off a horse, has suffered a spinal injury. He's in a very grave condition, and Rose runs to his bedside. The young man asks her humbly to forgive him for having disobeyed her. The disgrace did indeed happen because Charlie, during a goodbye lunch with his friends, had drunk a lot. (Charlie: Marino Masé; Rose: Laura Ephrikian)

Charlie dies. A little later, Rose opens an orphanage for poor children to which she devotes her full attention. One day, searching after two little ones in the forest, she's caught in a storm. Pneumonia is the consequence. The affectionate letters from Mac, her other cousin, and the visit of Phebe, help the girl recover fast.

To completely recover, Rose is invited to spend some time on the mountains. Mac joins her. The affectionate conversation is rekindled between the two. Rose is persuaded that her cousin has talent, and motivates him to write a book. "Your very letters were the ones that have revealed something about you to me," she says, "something that perhaps you yourself don't even know. You were born to be a writer, Mac." The young man is moved but a little disappointed. He rather expected from Rose different words. "Do you want me to?" he asked.

Archie goes to pick Phebe up at the convent where the girl now lives. He proposes marriage to her, but Phebe cannot accept becoming part of the Campbell family if they don't want her. (Archie: Paolo Modugno; Phebe: Angela Cavo)

Rose has restarted her activities at the orphanage. Uncle Alec is in charge of the healthcare of the children. The little ones enter three-by-three, and doctor Alec studies them attentively: "Come on, tongue out!" And turning to Rose he adds: "It will almost be disagreeable to me to give this job to my successor, Dr. Mac Campbell. It is not a very profitable one, this position, but it brings a lot of satisfaction." (Uncle Alec: Gianni Agus)

Aunt Clara has conceded, and Archie and Phebe get engaged. During the party, Mac intervenes. He tells Rose that he has a secret to tell her, and he gives her a poetry book he wrote. "This is half of my secret." Rose is happy. "And the other half?" She asks trembling. "I will have to employ my whole life in telling it to you," Mac says. "Would you like to hear it?"

I’m not sure if this is meant to imply that Archie is Aunt Clara’s son in this version or just that she was the biggest objector to Phebe marrying in and with her acceptance, there was no one among the Campbells who was still against their marriage. 

From these screenshots and descriptions, it would seem that the adaptation covers events from both Eight Cousins and Rose in Bloom. Otherwise, there are still many things that are mysterious about it. I’m still not sure which uncle “zio Frank” is supposed to be, and I have no idea who Dottore is. Neither Scarlet or I have been able to find out if this adaptation still exists somewhere or if it’s lost media. Scarlet kindly wrote an email on my behalf (since my Italian remains nonexistent) to the company that made and distributed the adaptation to try and figure this out, but thus far she’s been passed between email addresses for different people and departments and we don’t seem to be any closer to an answer.

Still, if this is the only information we ever get about this adaptation, it still makes me happy to know that it at one point did exist. Perhaps there’s some 90-year-old Italian woman who tuned into the slot that ran Rosella, TV Dei Ragazzi (the TV of children), in 1964 and fell in love with the characters and story just as much as I did. I will never meet this Italian woman, and even if we did, we wouldn’t be able to communicate unless she had learned English at some point, but it’s cool to think how the same story can touch people all around the world. They may never know each other, but for at least one moment, their hearts are connected throughout time and space. 

And personally, I think that’s pretty cool.

[grace-nakimura]

OKAY. BUT. WHAT ABOUT OBI-WAN AND MARA?

HOW AM I BEING PERCEIVED I JUST WROTE ONE THING -

this is small. i shat this out at random. i love writing, but i am scared of being perceived. this would be - if this becomes anything - sometime after the initial rescue and the journey of finding somewhere safe-ish to live, or teary reunions, etc. unbeta'd, much like the sequels after tfa. ( brief mentions of dehumanization. the inquisitorious was not filled with the Best Vibes ok. )

"Your sad-cave smells."

For all the demons she and her bu'ad had slain, and for all the steps forward they've taken, one thing remains the same: Mara-Jade Kryze's filter is nonexistent. Tact is just another word for lying, Mara had told her.

It's a good thing Satine abdicated the throne, as did Korkie, because something tells Satine that this is just a part of who Mara is just like her freckles, her long limbs, or her golden red hair.

Satine doesn't necessarily correct her too much, since it's true. This tiny little cave with a blanket for a bed - can it be called a bed? - and the ground more sand than anything is hardly a home. More of a hiding place.

Her Ben stands there, annoyance radiating from him, and for a moment he isn't a man of nearly forty-eight. He's the same padawan who argued with her for the sake of it, or the Jedi master who argued against her politics. She was warned by Beru that he wouldn't be the man she might've remembered, but whatever journey he returned from seemed to reinvigorate him - his fire did not die.

Neither did hers.

Thankfully, neither did Mara's, who stares him down with an identical expression that causes her to snort. Loudly.

"I'm in the process of moving," he defends himself against a child. "Thank you for the unsolicited advice, youngling." Missing the sarcasm entirely Mara, with her hair pulled back in halo braid - although it was slowly being undown due to the shawl she and Satine both wear to protect from the two suns - and a dusty white jumpsuit simply shrugs.

Another loud snort escapes Satine's mouth. "You're ridiculous." Satine chides the elder, crossing her arms. Mara's interest in seeing what little there is of Ben's "sad-cave" wanes and she ventures outside to sit on the cliff overlooking the sandy dunes, picking at a rock or two with interest. "She's eight."

"She lacks manners." He grouches.

"And you were a bastion of graces and courtesy at eighteen?" Satine counters, dryly. "She's spent most of her life being unable to speak her mind," and this reminder causes the man's face to soften. Oh, it says. Oh, our bu'ad'ika spent six years being conditioned and trained as a sith-trained weapon. It says, oh, she only recently found out she has an actual name, and, oh, she's spent most of her life thinking she was only a number. "I, for one, will not muffle her."

A pointed look is all it took for Ben, even as he rolls his eyes, to make his way over to his granddaughter. Their granddaughter. He sits beside her as she picks at more rocks - probably going to add more to their already growing collection - and while it isn't ideal by any means, it's a start.

There isn't much to pack. Ben had been rather frugal, which would make her comment on the snob he used to be if the reality of everything wasn't heartbreaking enough. Korkie should be here. They should be in Kalevala, on her family's estate, surrounded by leagues of children and family. Peace.

Her ears and eyes don't stray away from Ben and Mara. Ben isn't fully Obi-Wan anymore, nor is she fully Satine, and Mara is just learning how to be a person let alone a child. They are all broken in different ways, but it's through time they can find the needle and thread to mend themselves. After all, the word broken implies a thing can be fixed, and that, in itself, is hopeful.

" - you're the man in the holos," Mara's voice pipes up as Satine bends down to dust off the vaporizer. "I - well. Um. Some of us snuck into the archives and I saw you. You were going over fighting styles." Mara sounds almost shy from where Satine can hear her, timid. Oh, ad'ika, his bark is worse than his bite. He already adores you. "I liked yours. It looked like dancing, so it's how I chose to fight." A pause. "Fifth brother didn't like it."

She can practically feel Ben's chest puff out like one of those ridiculous preening birds on Naboo. He says, "Well, I'm glad someone appreciates Sorehsu." Satine rolls her eyes but continues to clean anyway as she listens. "You mentioned dancing; did you know that your grandmother is the one who taught me how to dance? I imagine she'd teach you if you would like. And I could teach you form three if -" she peeks from where she's been bending down, now squatting ungracefully, to give him a pointed look which he returns tenfold. It says, I will not overstep my bounds, you stubborn woman. " - if you are comfortable and if your grandmother is comfortable."

He gives her another pointed look as if to say, so there.

Childish.

Mara misses it. Her face is scrunched up - namely that nose of hers, Ben's nose - as if she's eaten something sour. "Isn't she too old to teach me how to dance? Whenever she sits down she makes a loud noise like it's painful," Mara continues, unperturbed by the older woman's slight mortification. Or maybe she just doesn't realize it. "Something about loving your knees when you're young or something. She also has to use the fresher a lot because -"

"That's - that's enough, Mara," Satine interrupts. For all she knows Mara will bring up her sleeping habits. Apparently, she drools. Heavily. "Why don't you help me clean this and we can be on our way before sundown?"

Ben, however, is simply beaming. The only thing that she can think of is how big his shit-eating grin is from where she squats as those gray eyes of his twinkle. "What happened to not wanting to stifle her voice?"

Di'kut Jetti.

[lasesmed]

Here's my honest review of hazbin hotel

Its complicated

At first blush, it's crass, crude, stilted, and difficult to get into, but midway into the series, the writing seriously picks up for a moment, and it actually becomes a genuinely enjoyable watch

The animation is very smooth and well-done at times, but I find the character designs leave a bit to be desired. You can only give so many characters constantly smiling sharp teeth until it feels overdone

As far as the writing and music goes, it varies quite a bit. There are a few songs I enjoyed quite a bit, but I feel a lot of the music lacks just a little bit of refinement to get just to that point

The writing on the other hand needs a lot more polish. My initial prejudices were well confirmed when the show just kept going with the same profanities over and over again with very little variance or tact with regards to proper usage of swear words. The humour is childish and the punchlines to jokes are often nonexistent.

For instance, alastor is supposed to be literally the scariest guy around, and yet his epic 'I'm about to end your life' one-liners verge into being five-liners in a clunky and deeply uneconomical phrasing of his threats. Show, don't tell.

The characterization is strong for some characters but very confusing and inconsistent for others. There are choices some characters made that came completely out of left field and in complete contradiction to their previously established character.

There were a handful of quite good moments in the show, but I feel confident in saying that writing is not the author's strong suit

[unohanabbygirl]

FMN AU: Luke remembered his past a long time ago, maybe even before foster care. How does this change things when he is reunited, if It even changes how he meets Alicent, I can imagine a kind of trauma response to seeing her again and maybe him even attacking her in a fit (like jace did Aemond lol). Though maybe you picture him being more well adjusted if he remembered before as he wouldn’t have as much sleeping/drug struggles? Love all your fics and how active you are in your lore for each story! Like our own fandom within a fandom lol!

Luke having his memories in tact does change A LOT of things.

For instance, his nightmares wouldn’t be as damaging and likely fade over time once things begin to come back. I imagine that they only appear in times of incredibly heavy stress, like being moving across the country for example. Currently the nightmares are just Luke’s memories trying go break through but hitting a barrier. So in this au the barrier would be nonexistent.

Another things is that many of Luke’s dangerous coping mechanisms would’ve never come to be because he 100% believes that if he came back then his other family members came back as well. The thought of his mother and siblings finding him in such a horrible state keeps this version of Luke far away from drugs and alcohol. His faith in reuniting with them is what keeps his head above water (sometimes)

However I’d say this Luke still uses sex as a way to feel close with others. He’s always been very touchy feely and needs to feel loved even if he’s only hurting himself. The hyper sexual behavior is one of those ways of coping that would develop regardless of whether he remembered from the start or not.

Lets get into his first encounter with Alicent!

Though Luke remembers his step-grandmother, he doesn’t outwardly react in the same way Alicent does. Remember that he spent his past life in fear of this woman, so seeing her brings back too many horrible memories causing him to go still in shock. But once she tries to initiate contact is when he pushes her back leading to a guard to be called in since an intimate putting hands on any sort of authority figure is enough to warrant isolation.

Luke knows he probably blew his one chance at getting out of Hellhot, but he refuses to play nice with her and thats that.

Alicent would have to change her approach immediately. Getting Nyra and Daemon down to Hellhot for a group meeting so Luke can get the full picture. With encouragement from Nyra and Jace then Luke would have no choice but to put his faith in Alicent.

Lastly, I love our little FMN fandom too 🥹 reading everyone’s hc’s makes my day.

[crystalelemental]

The bad news about posting fic while sleepy from being nervous about them is that I ramble-talk when I'm nervous and when I'm tired and this shit is intrinsically embarrassing.

The good news about writing for a nonexistent ship is that no one is going to look at that commentary, so I can die with my dignity in tact.

[irlkisukeurahara]

Ok more serious post about episode 5 of TYBW now lmaooo. Imma be honest I adore almost everything about how the anime handled Byakuya vs Äs Nödt but one thing that bothered me a bit is how they downplayed the gore a bit.

We have the panel, here.

If you squint, you can see Byakuya's ribs peeking through the blood. You see more blood out than in. The whole brutality of the moment is just there. The impact is strong as hell. The one thing that really takes away from original manga panels is how Kubo doesn't do backgrounds at all. The baby blue void and bright colors does mess with the tone, but then again the massive amount of blood currently outside of Byakuya's body speaks for itself.

I think the anime does the opposite.

The colors used sets the tone very well. But one gripe I have is how the shading hides just about all of the gore?? It's so dark you can't see most of the blood. His torn open chest is literally a black void. Censorship or an oversight?? The anime wasn't supposed to be censored. Might've been an oversight then? There's also less blood coming from his now nonexistent arm, which seems a little weird. Guess it makes it easier to tell at first glance that his arm is just entirely gone. His pants are entirely in tact too, so you can't see the blood draining down his legs. That just seems... Off. Up until now they've been making the anime slightly bloodier than the manga. But this bit here almost seems blatantly censored. I might be tripping but it just, seems weird?

Other than that I enjoyed the adaptation and I'm excited for the anime to continue.

[ivalatona]

Standing Here I Realize - Gold Round (Team 9)

For what has got to be the last time, the arena flashes a bright white and is reborn into something new. The four heroes enter a small void in their passage to the next fight, and when they exit, they are greeted with something grotesque.

Puppets. More specifically, puppets of themselves. Each is a lifeless, wooden mannequin of its human counterpart, strung up by threads that seem to trail into an endless void high, high above the arena grounds. Follow the strings long enough, and you’ll find only darkness. Each is equipped with the weapons and clothing of its original, allowing them all an eerie mirror to examine their current equipment with. What makes them creepier, however, is the fact that their strings trail back down from the ceaseless shadow above and around the fingers of a puppeteer. Though it is only an illusion, a permanent, toothy grin taunts L’Arachel and her allies. It suddenly snaps its head to the side, and as though the world around them is responding to its plea, two monsters emerge from nonexistent ceiling.

The first is a colossal, eight-headed reptile, which pushes and coils past the set of dolls to bear its many fangs at its prey. They drip, drip, drip, with a noxious substance, hungry and eager to sink into a human neck. The second--a hundred-armed, fifty-headed humanoid--slams a crater into the floor in its wake. Its gruesome heads roar up in unison, ready to resort to unrestricted brutality to reduce the four living souls before it to a bloodied pulp.

L’Arachel is, understandably, off-put by all of this. The puppets appear human but lack facial expressions, breaking the ability to form a sense of empathy with them. The snake instills a primal sort of fear when faced with a predator in the wild. And the damnable monstrosity showcases an intimidating strength from appearance alone. All culminate a sense of terror in the Rausten girl, as they would anybody. But now is not the time to be shaking in one’s boots.

Her eyes trail down to her hands, which have a slight tremble as she holds her legendary Forblaze tome. Normally she’d be excited at the prospect of using this sort of thing, but in a horrifying scenario like this, she needs to act carefully. Rather than rushing these foes head-on herself, she needs to strategize. And what better way to do so than standing back and bossing people around?

“You, with the lance!” She’s quick to then point out, gaze flicking to the arsenals of her companions, “As the princess of order and denizen of guidance, I command you to make the first strike! See what you can do about that awful thing with the scales and fangs, and receive my holy powers while you attack!”

L’Arachel uses Rally Strength, Speed, and Resistance! Sigurd receives +2 strength, and +4 to speed and resistance until R2P

Her finger is quick to redirect itself at Deirdre, who she continues to bark orders at, “And you! His lover! Have you any tact? Any grace? Support him in his endeavors. We’ve come too far to lose, have we not? You’re both lucky to have such a genius mind at the helm of this operation.” 

L’Arachel uses Rouse! Deirdre receives +1 strength, and +2 to speed and resistance until R2P 

UP NEXT: @divinetyrfing

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 10

Warning: Smut

8 years later

Moldy peaches? No. Bit off apple? No. Stale bread? Doable.

The gang had made their way close to a town called Armadillo, fairly close to Blackwater. All you were trying to do was find some food since y’all were running out.

“Dutch you’re not gonna believe what I found. It’s gonna blow your mind”. Of course you were being sarcastic when you presented him the stale bread you found in the empty cabin.

“Hm.. well I bet that’s better than whatever the hell they’re giving to Arthur in that prison” Dutch said helping setting up camp.

That’s right. We had a little run in with the O’Driscolls before coming here resulting in Arthur getting arrested. I don’t know what he expected when he decided to try and stay behind to loot the dead bodies he shot.

“I’m gonna go and bust him out. You comin Hosea?”

“I might as well. I already have a plan in tact”

You and Hosea rode your horses to the Armadillo jail and saw the sheriff sitting at the front desk smoking a cigar.

“Here’s the plan. You’re gonna go in there and report a robbery while I slip in there and get our boy out”

Hosea always had some scheme cooking up in that brain of his. We honestly could’ve gotten Arthur out yesterday but we all thought we should keep him in there for the night for him to think over his stupidity.

You walked inside the jail and put on my best face to look like you had been shaken up.

“Mister sheriff please! There was this terrible man outside who robbed me! If we hurry we could catch him and throw him in this place like the rest of the trash here!”

You looked directly at Arthur while saying the last bit who had his hand covered over his mouth trying not to laugh.

“I’m sorry ma’am but we have to wait for someone else. I can’t just leave the jail without anyone keeping watch-“ the sheriff tried to explain

“Please sir he’ll get away. He stole my engagement ring my late husband had given to me and... and- that was the only thing I had left of him” finally you broke down into tears.

“O-ok. I’ll look for just 5 minutes but after that you’re outta luck I’m sorry”

“Thank you” you got up and wiped your crocodile tears

After you and the sheriff left, Hosea came in and stole the keys. He unlocked the bars to Arthur’s cell.

“Took ya long enough”

“Yea well Annabelle insisted you stay another day for being stupid”

Annabelle, Colm O’Driscoll’s sister, a girl who Dutch had found to be sweet on. Now she ran with y’all in the gang taking on the same role Bessie had.

After the sheriff had looked for the nonexistent man for 5 minutes he gave it up like he promised, sending you on your way with 3 dollars for sympathy. You kinda felt bad for lying to him. You found your way back to Arthur and Hosea seeing Arthur with that stupid smirk.

“Hey darlin’”

“Don’t hey darlin’ me”

Still you let Arthur pull you into a kiss. Things had been different since that accident at the mansion. You and Arthur agreed to just not talk about it again and move on. Now Arthur was 22 and you 21 and you guys were much more mature. Or so you liked to think.

“Is there anything back at camp I’m starving”

Those men at the jail most likely hadn’t given him anything to eat ever since he got thrown in there.

-

Back at camp everything was set up including your and Arthur’s shared tent.

“Ok please tell me we caught a wild boar or something” Arthur expressed his hunger once more.

“Well geez Arthur. Not even a ‘hello’? As soon as you come back you immediately start asking for food” Bessie, who was just recently gossiping with Annabelle was still a nagger. Still you guys did make up after the whole scene you caused after the mansion job.

“We have salted beef with stale bread. Take it or leave it”

“Oh I’ll definitely take it”

Ever since we figured out what gang the man with the pig birthmark belonged to we had been tracking them down. Eventually Dutch did become rivals with their leader, Colm O’Driscoll. After all he stole his sister from him, Annabelle.

Arthur leaned towards you after finishing his food.

“Wanna go into the woods?”

Immediately you got up and made your way to the woods with Arthur right behind you.

“Be careful you two” Hosea meant that both ways of course.

Arthur pushed you up against a tree and attacked your lips. “That food must’ve done something to your nerves huh baby?” You laughed into his mouth. “Nah it was that cold night in jail. I hate being by my lonesome without you”

“What’ya want me to do to you sugar?”

Whenever he used that name you knew exactly what was on his mind.

“Anything you want”

“Ooh I like the sound of that”

He threw your shirt over your head and started nipping at your neck. You started wearing pants and a shirt more often since it was easier to ride a horse and get around. The only downside is that it was harder for Arthur to get his access to you.

He pulled your pants and undergarments down and grabbed your hips. You unbuckled his belt and pulled his already hard member out. You put your arms around his neck and kissed him hard. “I’ve missed ya so much sugar I fear I might be fast” Arthur admitted. He inserted himself into you slowly and you both sighed at the same time. He pulled out and pushed himself back in fully bottoming out.

“Stop being gentle and just fuck me”

“Patience sugar”

He started at an agonizingly slow pace which was actually starting to make you frustrated. Like damn he just was just talking about how much he missed you and now he’s trying to tease you??? Despicable. You squeezed his shoulders hard and he understood and decided to stop teasing. He quickened his pace causing moans and whines to slip out of your mouth.

“You like that sugar? You want me to go faster? Harder? This is your rodeo doll just tell me how ya want it”

“Harder. Please you feel so good don’t stop”

He slowed his pace down a little to put more force into his thrusts. He could feel the tension in his stomach start to build up. “It’s gonna happen. Are ya close?” You shook your head and Arthur felt a little disappointed. He knew he wasn’t gonna last long but he at least thought he could make you close before he came. He pushed you harder to the tree for support and brung his left hand down to start rubbing on your clit.

“Oh Arthur. That’s it just hold out for a bit baby”

“How can you just say that when you’re squeezing me like a vice down there”

Finally he brought you to an orgasm that left you shuddering in his arms.

After a few more thrusts he finally pulled out and came on the floor. You both were breathing hard but were glad you both got able to finish. Believe it or not that was kind of a luxury. Between Arthur always being called to go on jobs or him just simply not being able to hold himself long enough, one or both of you always gets left unsatisfied. And whenever Arthur cums too fast, which is often, he always feels really bad and makes sure to use his fingers on you after.

Still his ring for you sits heavy in his pockets.

[edeliexii]

                               @emmaxmicah​.

             “I don’t know how I feel about the idea of sharing you.” Èdelie adores Emma more than life itself, but embracing the appearance of her significant other does feel odd. She’s sure Gabriel’s a stellar, respectable male companion to have, yet hopes everything the two has in their friendship stays in tact. “Let’s just make it known from now that double dates are out of the question. I think that’d be too weird for us to participate in. He’s free to come over whenever he pleases, though.” She’d also need a date to partake in one, regardless; the components of her relationship with past lovers currently nonexistent. “How do you feel?” The question isn’t targeted towards her personal affairs with Gabriel, but the newfound change beginning to overtake her physical form. It’s her Emma there, just a newly presence that’ll take getting used to.

[gildinbainas]

"These lands are Other, these stars not my own, yet in the palace of my mind, your countenance could never be so foreign. And yet. I stand at your feet, a supplicant, a stranger." 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘬𝘪'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰-𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘙𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥. "I should not have come."

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @sovereignofdeceit

Icy, blue-grey eyes, which were normally void of anything telling, had faltered just so, but only to the trained eye. Otherwise his countenance remained unbothered despite the somewhat confusing words that had spilled from their uninvited guest's lips. '…yet in the palace of my mind, your countenance could never be so foreign…'

Words spoken in a manner that seemed to imply a familiarity yet Thranduil was well over five thousand years old. An elf's memory was quite remarkable and in his 'old' age, Thranduil was hardly one to forget so much as a name let alone a face. He knew NOTHING of this intruder, and while every part of him felt compelled to simply have him thrown out ( a merciful act in comparison to past deeds ), he supposed his life of solitude had awakened a CURIOSITY that sprung to life every so often. It wasn't every day that some half human wandered about his lands, let alone lived to tell the tale. While the spell had been broken, Mirkwood was far from the Greenwood it used to be. It would take time for remnants of the past to truly fade leaving parts of Mirkwood still quite DANGEROUS to wander about alone. This… Loki he called himself, was very much alone when his soldiers found him. There was more to him than a mere 'supplicant stranger'. This the Elvenking was certain of.

"You must forgive me if dramatic sentiments likely practiced to win my favor bore me to tears. If you were aware of the dramatics that entertain me daily then you would know your approach oft falls upon deaf ears. Still…" He paused, growing silent as he stood. His long, form fitting gown swept the floor as he walked, taking each step with the ease of one who was accustomed to moving with fabric sweeping about the ankles. When the Elvenking reached the bottom step, he remained just so letting eyes bore into his guest. So far, there was little evidence to suggest Loki meant harm to him or these lands, but one could never be too cautious and Thranduil was hardly one to dismiss the idea of a threat so quickly.

"Perhaps you are right. You should not have come. You are a stranger in lands ruled by one who prefers the company of his own kind. You are neither Sindar elf or newly formed ally which begs the question as to why you are truly here. Your words seem to imply a familiarity that I know to be nonexistent. Elves have impeccable memory and I know thee not."

He took his final step within the stranger's threshold making them somewhat eye level. Long, silver strands remained perfectly in place as his ethereal form swept past Loki gracefully. This stranger would have his attention only briefly --- long enough to hopefully talk his way into being released with his head fully in tact.

"I require an explanation for this intrusion. For your head's sake, I hope it is far more believable than your opening act."

[misspeculiar-principe]

Baby-Making Posts, Part 3