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scarofthewind · 3 years

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Slashers on Mother’s Day

A/N: Here is the first part of the mini, multi-fandom series I am doing in honor of mother’s day! I hope you all enjoy this pure fluff!

Mother’s Day master post

Warnings: None, pure fluff and joy, reader is a mother obviously

word count: 2.6k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Spoils you too much:

Charles Lee Ray: “I think she’ll like this one, what do you think?” Charles asks his daughter who stood next to him, looking up at the overpriced jewelry in her father’s hands. “Too big,” she shakes her head and Charles agrees after looking it over once again. He already had a whole basket on his arm full of stuff for you ranging from stuffed animals your daughter had picked out to flowers, jewelry and even some pieces of clothing. Just as the two thought they were done shopping and walked over to the check out, Charles pauses by the perfume stand and looks them over, picking up a few and smelling them before bending over and letting his daughter smell. “Smells like grandma, Dad,” she scrunched her nose as he quickly put it back. They spend more time shopping than they need to but the smile on your face when they bring out the loads of gifts is enough to make everyone happy.

Brahms Heelshire: Brahms did all his shopping days before Mother’s day, but the amount of items he’d purchased made you question his sanity. “Don’t look at me, she picked that out,” Brahms shrugged, pointing to your daughter who was giggling next to you. “Mommy will look like a princess,” her contagious laugh made Brahms crack a smile as you put the simple tiara on your head. “Uh oh, the Queen needs to watch out,” he joked, resting his head on his palm as he watched you continue to open the countless gifts scattered in the living room. “You know this was too much right? Flowers and a card are usually what’s expected.” You told him with a smile. Brahms nodded over to the coffee table where a giant bouquet of flowers and a few cards sat, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I think you got this one for yourself,” you said to your daughter who was playing with the stuffed animal she had picked out as well. Another giggle erupted from her as you tickled her sides, Brahms watching from his spot, his heart flooding with a warmth he wanted to keep forever.

Jason Voorhees: Since he doesn’t come from money, or have it for that matter, he likes to spoil you in other ways like physical touch or by waiting on you hand and foot. “I can get to the bathroom by myself you dork,” you told your lover as he carried you from the couch to the bathroom, only letting you down when you were inside. When you shut the door, Jason turned around to look at his daughter who was coloring a picture for you for Mother’s Day. “Look! Look!” She squealed in joy, waving her father over before pointing at the messy shaped people. “There’s you, me, and Momma!” Her eyes looked up to Jason with excitement and happiness that made him smile. “Should I draw her another one?” She asked, reaching across the table to grab another piece of paper before aggressively scribbling on it. The bathroom door opening made Jason move towards you, picking you up and walking you over to the kitchen table, not wanting you do any moving on your own today. With a soft kiss to your head once he sat you in a chair, he moved to sit next to you, watching as your daughter gave her artwork to her mother and wondering how he got so lucky.

Bubba Sawyer: He woke up with the sun and so did his kid; both of them ready to spoil you as soon as you woke up with small gifts and lots of love. “I think we should make chocolate chip pancakes!” Bubba’s son said with a lopsided grin as they both stood in the kitchen. Looking at the stove, Bubba scratched his head, unsure of the recipe or how you even make them, his child doing the same thing. “Maybe we just make coffee?” The little boy suggested and Bubba nodded, moving over to the coffee machine and getting it started. “Flowers,” Bubba said suddenly, remembering what it was he thought he was forgetting. With a determined nod, his son took off to the garden to pick some of the wildflowers before bringing them inside to help his dad make them look pretty. Carefully taking the vase over to the table where a card and some homemade candy sat, Bubba set the flowers down and nodded in approval. “Boys?” You asked from upstairs, tiredly waking up and running your hands over your face before hearing two sets of footsteps come barreling up the stairs. “Happy Mother’s Day, Momma!” Your son shouted as he leapt across the bed, tackling you in a hug before Bubba did the same, nearly knocking the air from your lungs. The faint smell of coffee in the air and the spoils of a father and son with more than enough love to give, made your day the best.

Wakes you up with a kiss and breakfast:

Michael Myers: “I made this at school for her,” Michael’s daughter said to him, holding up a poem about mother’s day she’d written for you. “I’m sure she’ll love it. Can you do me a favor and set the table?” He said gently, watching his daughter nod and walk over to the silverware drawer while he continued working on the bacon and eggs that were hot on the stove. It was quiet between the two like usual until his daughter spoke once more, “I’m hungry, when’s she waking up?” Turning the stove off and putting the pans on the opposite side of the appliance, Michael wiped his hands off on the kitchen towel before looking over at his child. The vase full of flowers almost blocked her tiny body from his view but when he stepped around the table, he could see her eyes that matched his, glimmering with excitement. “You stay here and I’ll go get her okay? Get your poem ready that you made for her,” Michael watched as she grabbed the paper and held on to it as he walked upstairs to the bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. Looking around to make sure his daughter didn’t follow, Michael walked over to the side of the bed where you slept and began peppering kisses all over your face, watching you twitch and let out a low groan at being woken up. With a small smirk, Michael began kissing lower, his mouth attaching itself to your neck before you shot up, pushing him off you. “Happy Mother’s Day,” he chuckled, watching you smile and shake your head at him before moving to press a kiss to his lips.

Pelle: All you felt were the feather-light kisses of your husband as he pressed his lips against your cheek, waking you from your sleep. As your eyes opened, Pelle pulled back and grinned down at you, letting you sit up before pressing his lips to yours, “Happy Mother’s Day to the best one in the world,” he said softly, your heart warming at his words as you hear the bedroom door open and your kids come walking in, the eldest holding a tray of food and the youngest carrying a cup carefully towards you. “We made breakfast- well- technically Dad did,” your oldest said with a smile, setting the tray down on your lap and letting his sibling set the cup down on your nightstand. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you said with a small smile, letting your kids hug you tightly, the youngest one crawling into bed next to you. “How else would we show our appreciation for you?” Pelle hummed, the corner’s of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “We also have flowers and a few cards for you but I left them in the living room,” your eldest told you before he turned and went to get them. “Love you Momma,” the younger sibling said, yawning at your side with a tired smile on their face. “I love you too,” you replied, pressing a kiss to their head before looking down at the food on your lap and digging in.

Thomas Hewitt: “A little to the left- just a bit more- perfect!” Thomas taped up the Mother’s Day banner in the place his daughter instructed before moving back and looking at it with a nod. “What flowers should I get?” His son asked as he came through the front door, hands covered in dirt. “Anything that’s bloomed and that’s not brown already,” Thomas told him before the boy took off outside. The daughter walked to the kitchen, fixing up the rest of the food before setting the table and getting the coffee ready. “You should go wake her up, Dad, I can get the rest of the stuff set up since there’s not much left.” With a nod, Thomas moved towards the stairs, making his way to the bedroom and opening the door only to find you sitting up in bed. “Did we wake you?” Thomas asked as he walked over, leaned down, and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. You shook your head after he pulled away before moving to your knees to chase after his lips, kissing him once more. A low chuckle left him once you had your fill, a lazy smile resting on your face. “Happy Mother’s Day to the best woman in the world.” He said gently, watching you smile before following him downstairs where your kids waited with a wonderful meal and decorations.

Vincent Sinclair: “What are you doing?” You laughed tiredly as Vincent proceeded to press kisses all along your face and neck, tickling you lightly. “Happy Mother’s Day,” he cooed, helping you sit up before he practically dragged you to the kitchen, showing you all of the food that he may or may not had Bo help him make for you. “Momma!” You heard your twins shout as they ran over from the living room, nearly taking you out as they hugged your legs. “Happy Mother’s Day! You’re the bestest Mom ever!” “We made you some stuff come look!” They both were such high energy that it made your face hurt from smiling as they pulled you over to the living room where they had little crafts all over the place for you. A painting of their handprints as well as Vincent’s that formed a tree made your heart flutter and you knew you’d be hanging that on the wall soon. The front door opened and Bo walked in carrying flowers for you and some candy for the twins, making them turn their attention towards him for the time being. “Happy Mother’s Day to the mother of my nieces,” he smiled at you, giving you a hug before being tackled by the twins as they searched him for the candy. Walking back into the kitchen, you put the flowers in a vase and moved to wrap your arms around Vincent, pressing your lips to his for a second, “Thank you for all this.” With a small laugh and his arms tightening around you, Vincent replied, “Anything for the love of my life and the mother of my two amazing daughters.”

Almost forgets but his kid reminds them:

Billy Loomis: “You’re lucky I told you,” Billy’s daughter laughed from her spot on the couch, a children’s show playing in the background as he struggled to get everything in place before you woke up. Billy cursed under his breath as he nearly knocked the vase that had a beautiful set of flowers, over. “That’s a bad word,” his daughter chimed and he gave her a look that made her face the T.V. quickly. Running his hands through his hair, Billy cleared his throat and poured you a cup of coffee just as you were walking down the stairs, tightening your robe around you and coming into the kitchen. “What’s all this?” You asked, looking down at the cards on the table and the bag of gifts that sat in your chair. “Happy Mother’s Day!” Your daughter shouted, leaping off the couch and running towards you with open arms and a wide smile. “Did you two do all this for me? You didn’t have to.” You said, looking over to Billy who smiled at you in return. “Of course we did, you’re the best mother anyone could ask for.” He pressed a kiss to your lips before his daughter gave him a look, knowing damn well if it wasn’t for her, he would’ve forgotten. However, at least now she had something to blackmail him with.

Bo Sinclair: “Which one?” Bo asked his daughter as he held up two bouquet’s of flowers. “You’re probably going to need both since you forgot,” she sassed back, going back to texting her friends on her phone. “You think she’ll know?” He panicked, taking both anyways and walking over to the card section. Bo managed to sneak out of the house before you woke up to get you Mother’s Day stuff and he prayed that you would stay asleep until he came home. “It’s Mom, she knows everything.” With a glare, Bo ignored his teenaged child’s response before checking out and practically speeding home, making it just in time before you came sauntering to the living room, sleep still on your mind. “Happy Mother’s Day mom,” your daughter said with a smile, giving you a hug and distracting you from her dad’s struggle with putting the flowers in a vase. “He forgot didn’t he?” You whispered to her and she nodded with a small snort of laughter, “Yeah but don’t worry, I put him through the ringer for it,” she replied and you laughed in response before letting her go and making your way over to Bo who was trying to play it cool.

Bughuul: He didn’t mean to forget; the time he spent between the human realm and the realm of the dead had his senses all backwards. So when his son came up to him and asked him what he got you for Mother’s Day, Bughuul panicked. “What do you think she’d like?” He asked his son who thought about it for a second before responding, “Something simple like flowers or something else she likes.” Bughuul sighed, trying to think of what to get you before settling on black roses and a few books and candles he thought you would enjoy. “Thank you for reminding me, I would’ve forgotten without you,” the deity told his son as they set the gifts up nicely in the living room before you came walking in with a cup of coffee in your hands. “Happy Mother’s Day, my love.” Bughuul said gently, watching his son bound over to you and give you a tight hug. “He forgot but don’t worry, I reminded him!” Your son shouted happily, much to Bughuul’s shock and he promptly apologized for the rest of the day.

Norman Bates: With how fast Norman was running around the house trying to set up decorations and get the gifts ready for you, his daughter truly thought he’d end up breaking something. “Calm down, she’s not going to notice,” she told her panicked father as he quickly ran into the kitchen to get breakfast finished and add the finishing touches on your gifts before he remotely began to calm. “I can’t believe I forgot, I feel horrible.” He said, a disappointed look on his face that made his daughter pat him on the back. “It happens to the best of us, no need to worry. Mom loves you and she’ll love all this stuff you set up for her no matter what.” Norman smiled gently at his daughters words before your figure caught his attention ad he made his way over to you. “Happy Mother’s Day,” he grinned, bending down and pressing his lips against yours before he lead you into the kitchen to eat.

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lovedrr · 5 years

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Story Title: Evolution of Love

Chapter Title: Come Back To Me

Resurrection

As Charles had predicted, one bad day was all it took to turn the world against the mutant population. The “Jean Grey incidents” had spawned a tidal wave of new congressional legislation, intended to contain, detain and restrain all mutants deemed remotely dangerous. It almost seemed as if the world had been waiting for an opportunity, or an excuse, to turn against them.

Also, as Charles had warned, Genosha had been hit hard. It was the first to fall. Every occupant of the island had been taken to covert restraining areas supposedly for debriefing against the once again wanted criminal Eric Lensherr, but in reality these were nothing more than internment camps.

And, as Eric had predicted, it was the start of another holocaust … just as of The Jews not so long ago.

The Jean Grey School for the Gifted had not yet been infiltrated, but unless The X Men could find a way to reverse the tide turning against them, it was only a matter of time.

For the last month, their focus had been rescue. Finding the incarcerated mutants, particularly the youngest children, and freeing them. It hadn’t been easy. The governments of the world had developed very good hiding locations.

Their stealth missions had been risky and dangerous, and they were becoming more so. With Scott now leading the team in the field, Charles worried for him more than ever. Since the loss of Jean, he had become a changed man.

He still did what was necessary for the good of the team. But he was much more reckless with himself and his own life, fearlessly putting himself in harm’s way.

It was only a matter of time until he got himself killed.

This mission had gone badly and turned brutal. Several young new mutants: Samuel Guthrie, Roberto DaCosta, Dani Moonstar, Rahne Sinclair and Illyana Rasputin had been discovered being held in a horrific nightmare mental hospital on a secluded stretch of private land.

The hospital turned out to be a cover for an underground stronghold, complete with a small army of heavily armed security personnel. Careful surveillance led to the deduction that the best way to get in and out was through a hidden access tunnel far behind the main installation. Charles quickly felt that the property was covered by a covert dampening field which severely restricted all mutant abilities.

With Peter and Kurt already injured from previous missions, it was left to the rest of the team to rescue The New Mutants from this macabre hospital. Scott and Ororo had infiltrated the hospital, snuck the kids down to the lower levels and were rushing through the last tunnels before the alarms sounded. Now they were in a race for their lives with a militia close behind them.

Nearing the exit to the outer grounds, Scott made a final decision.

“Ororo, take the kids and go. Get out of here,” Scott said firmly. “You’re team leader now.”

“Come on, Scott,” she replied, her accent heavy with emotion.

“No. They’ll catch us if I don’t hold them off. We can’t let them get their hands on these kids again.”

“Scott …”

“You said you had my back, right?” Scott said, turning to face her.

“Yes,” Ororo answered quietly. “I’ve always got your back.”

“Lead the team,” he told her. “Go.”

With only a lingering moment of utmost respect between the two team leaders, Ororo turned away from Scott and ushered the kids up through the tunnel.

“Come on! Come on! Hurry!” she yelled.

Scott followed the group up to a few yards out of the tunnel, enough to clear some distance, then he turned back to face the army of approaching soldiers which would certainly be his death.

‘Scott,’ Charles called inside his mind.

‘Thank you … for everything,’ Scott told him wordlessly. ‘I appreciate it all.’

Inside the cockpit of the jet, Charles slowly lowered his hand from his temple, his eyes brimming with unshed tears for the young man that was the closest to a son he had ever known.

On the field, Scott steadied himself. The first shots rang out, automatic machine gun fire. Diving to his right, Scott opened his visor and released a beam that cut the top of the tunnel. But it didn’t cut fast enough. With the overlying dampening field weakening him, he was only able to make a partial dent. Part of the ceiling collapsed, but after the first line fell, the second wave of commandos were quick to begin digging their way through the debris.

Scott turned to look behind him. Storm and the others were only halfway across the marsh, struggling to navigate the difficult terrain with their injuries. If they could just make it to the jet hiding in stealth mode just over the ridge, Hank would fly them all to safety. But they needed more time.

Scott turned back to the tunnel. The small army of soldiers were at the edge, leveling down on him, preparing to barrage his position. Scott readied his visor.

This was the end ...

Then, the sky lit up ...

A bright light, seemingly a small meteor, suddenly came shooting down from Heaven, making landfall directly over where Scott stood. Uncannily, there was no impact explosion. Instead, white hot blazing fire cascaded outward, flowing over and even through the entire landscape. Miraculously, the tidal wave of fire halted at the edge of the marsh, just behind Ororo and the children. As for the tunnel, the fire surged inside, leaving no stone unturned.

In the epicenter of the blaze, Scott stood transfixed. He looked around warily, amazed that he wasn’t burning to death. Then, he suddenly realized that he wasn’t standing on his feet anymore … he was floating.

In front of him, a figure began to form out of the fire. Full, flowing, feminine … a figure he’d recognize anywhere. He stepped forward. There was fire in her eyes, her hair was fire and fire flowed over her skin like a living breeze. As he watched, more of her form smoothly faded in from the white hot colors around her, appearing the colloquialism of an angel of God.

“Jean …” Scott whispered.

“Scott …” Jean whispered.

“You … You’re alive? How?”

“It was … The Phoenix. I … I tried to stay away, but I couldn’t,” she said. “There was no way I could watch you die. But, I know your place is with The X-Men. And, after the things I’ve done, I knew I could never go back.”

“You said you would always come back to me,” he told her. “Come back to me.”

Before either of them had even realized it, they were in one another’s arms.

“I’ll always come back to you,” she whispered.

Their lips touched … their bodies embraced … their hearts rejoined.

Their time apart had been crushing to both of them. They needed each other more than their next breath. Nothing in the universe would separate them ever again.

They only parted as the sound of the SR-71 Blackbird approaching startled them. As the jet lowered into hover mode, the hatch opened.

“We’ll figure this out together,” Scott said firmly, still holding Jean’s hand to draw her toward the jet as they seemed to be walking on air.

Jean drew back a little, wary, but Scott wouldn’t let go. He held her firmly. After a moment’s hesitation, Jean followed her alpha. Reaching the jet, the fires around them dissipated, and the burning landscape beneath them quickly cooled to a smoking husk.

Everyone in the cockpit stared at her in stunned silence.

“How is this possible, Jean?” Charles asked.

“I … I’ve been learning to control it,” she said quietly. “I would never want to … hurt … anyone again. But, I know, I can never give back … what I took away,” she added, glancing at both Hank and an injured Eric, then turning back to face Charles. “I’ll go.”

“Jean, wait,” said Charles, staring at her intently from the co-pilot’s seat. “Despite what’s happened, this is still your home. And, we need you now more than ever.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Jean told him. “I don’t deserve it. I …”

“It’s not about what we deserve, Jean,” Eric said quietly but firmly, turning from his seat behind Charles. “It’s about forgiveness. “Charles reminded me … there was One that forgave all of us … Christ … and we should forgive. I shouldn’t have turned you away when you came to me, no matter what you had done.”

“All of us have made mistakes, Jean,” followed Hank. “Some terrible. When we do, we admit that we’re wrong, and we get right. I was wrong about you. Scott was right.”

“Take your seat, Jean,” Charles said quietly.

Stepping forward, Jean slowly sat down in the chair she used for most of their missions. Scott took his seat in the chair behind her.

As the jet roared into motion, Scott reached a hand forward, touching Jean’s shoulder lightly, giving her the comfort of his heart. Leaning back toward him, Jean placed her hand over his own, holding him to her.

Then, both of them gazed forward, knowing that whatever adventures lay ahead, they would face them together …

(to be continued…)

#ssjg #scott summers jean grey #scott&jean #dark phoenix #post dark phoenix #charles xavier #eric lensherr #hank mccoy #the new mutants #love #romance #adventure #cyclops & phoenix #phoenix #ororo munroe #storm #Christ #forgiveness

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galadrieljones · 5 years

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A Funeral: Chapter 16 (Arthur Morgan x Mary Beth Gaskill)

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 | Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth | Rating: Mature

Content: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, Epiphanies, Backstory, Banter, Deep Emotions, Sharing a Bed, Swimming, Arthur to the Rescue, Forests, Abduction, Angst, Heavy Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Content, Sexual Themes, Adult Content, Canon Divergence

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. In their desperate search for meaning together, they endure a number of trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another as well as to the future, and to the unchecked dangers of the natural world.

Credit to @bearly-tolerable for the banner! Art is my own.

***For the rest of this story, you can visit the masterpost or AO3, both linked in the replies to this post and also at my blog.***

Chapter 16: The Father

On the way back, they camped one night in the wild, practically, and spent their second night back at the Winterson’s B&B in Emerald Station. Lawrence and Lizette were glad to see them again. They stayed up late talking and drinking brandy Old Fashioneds in front of the fire. The brandy Old Fashioned was a style of drink neither Arthur nor Mary Beth had ever had before. They were used to Kentucky Bourbon Old Fashioneds, which is what they served at the high saloons in St. Denis and also in Rhodes.

“Back in Wisconsin,” said Lawrence, muddling a piece of orange with the brandy in a mortar bowl, “they make them with brandy.”

“You learned that while studying medicine with your pa?” said Arthur. He took a drink. He liked the brandy Old Fashioned. It was awfully sweet, but he could stand it.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is it true they got lily farms up there? In Wisconsin?”

Lawrence glanced at him over the top rim of his glasses. They were in the sitting room. Lizette had brought out a loaf of raisin bread with fresh butter. “So I hear,” said Lawrence. “But west of where I used to kick around, which was a port city on Lake Michigan by the name of Kenosha. You’d probably find some lily farms on the other side of the state though. Closer to the Mississippi. Peonies, too.”

“Peonies?” said Mary Beth, sounding breathless. “That must smell so good. Gosh.”

“I imagine it would smell quite good, yes,” said Lawrence, proper, smiling at her, very warm. He was taken with Mary Beth’s vivacious outpourings in conversation—innocently of course. More like admiration for a daughter he never had.

Going to sleep that night, Arthur and Mary Beth were a little boozed up and just lie there in the big, white bed, staring up at the big, white ceiling. He held her hand and counted the cracks in the stone, of which there were very few. The house was in strong condition. At some point, Mary Beth turned to face him, her head resting in her hand. She was too tipsy to read before bed that night and just wanted to be close to him. He opened his arm up to her so she could rest her head on his chest, and he closed his eyes.

“I ain’t been drunk like this in some time,” she said.

Arthur smiled at this. “Last time I got actually drunk, I lost Lenny at the saloon in Valentine. I nearly got arrested for my disorderly behavior.”

Mary Beth found this to be amusing. “How’s he doing?” she said.

“Lenny?” said Arthur, breathing out. “He’s fine. He works too hard, I believe.”

Mary Beth hesitated then, burrowed a little into his smell and his warmth. “I was just wondering. You know I think he’d taken a shine to Jenny,” she said, a little sad. “Before, back in New Austin. I didn’t know her that well.”

“Me neither,” said Arthur.

“Anyway,” said Mary Beth.

“Yeah.”

They breathed.

“I’m falling asleep,” said Mary Beth after a little while.

“Me, too,” said Arthur. “I’m beat.”

“How early do you want to leave in the morning?”

“Whenever we get on,” he said. “I ain’t in no hurry.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

He turned his head, kissed her soft on the temple. “Goodnight, Mary Beth,” he said.

They fell asleep like that, with all the lamps lit. At some point in the night, Arthur woke up and went to turn them all down while Mary Beth slept soundly with her hair like a combed out nest on the pillow.

The next night, they rode into Shady Belle, very late, after one in the morning. This was by design. The camp was mostly sleeping. They were greeted by Charles on the perimeter, who was eating an apple and extremely relieved to see them. They hitched up their horses and were able to sneak inside, undetected by all but Sadie, who was up late on the porch, smoking a cigarette and keeping watch on the courtyard with her long shotgun in her lap.

She smiled at the sight of them. “You’re back,” she said.

“That we are,” said Arthur. “Anything to report?”

“Not really,” said Sadie, blowing out a lungful. “Kind of a dull week.”

“Well that’s all you can really hope for,” said Arthur.

Mary Beth reached into her saddlebag then, which she had flung over her shoulder. She took out a handful of blackberries, tucked in a handkerchief. “A souvenir,” she said, “for you.” She handed them to Sadie, who was outright surprised and flattered.

“Blackberries?” she said.

“They don’t grow down here,” said Mary Beth. “Not like they do up there in Roanoke Ridge. You work real hard. It ain’t nothing big but they sure taste good.”

“Well, thank you,” said Sadie, giving a nod. “You’re real sweet, Mary Beth.”

She blushed.

Arthur held the door. Together, he and Mary Beth went inside to the quiet, sleeping plantation home. They looked around. The walls, all crumbling, smelling of mothballs and beer and swamp. Arthur sighed. Mary Beth was looking around at all the shadows, listening to the sleeping girls and their breathing in the room up front with the windows. Mary Beth had her hands cupped together in front of her, tense, like she was seeing the place for the first time, and she was disappointed. “Come on,” he said, his hand on her lower back. “Let’s go upstairs.”

She smiled up at him, like she was trying. He felt such an enormous weight inside him now, again, pulling downward, anchoring him into nothingness, and he wanted to release it, float away. But once they got to his quarters, which were cozy and nicely kept, and they could see that Miss Grimshaw had been keeping it dusted, they both relaxed a little—the windows were wide open and it was not so terribly oppressive here. She lit the lamp on the little table by the bed and walked around the room with it, studying the pictures and things, the little jar of flowers that he kept to remind him of his childhood dreams. Arthur stripped to his drawers as it was hot, and he was exhausted. He sprawled as much as he could on the bed, which was small like the bed at Deer Cottage. He watched her walking around the room in her careful examination of his things and his life, and after a little while, he beckoned her to come over to him, which she did.

She sat down on the bed beside where he lie. She smiled down and he calmly took down her braids. She undressed, too, just to her pale chemise. She lie next to him, on the inside, closest to the wall and closed her eyes. He had a thing where he needed to sleep on the side of the bed between her and the door. It’s just what it was.

“I love you,” she said before they went to sleep. It was not the big white bed at the Winterson’s. It was not the simple beauty of Deer Cottage, or the odd romance of Hamish Sinclair’s loft. It was just their place, and she was slowly settling into what she knew and how it didn’t matter, none of it did, as long as they were beside one another.

“I love you, too,” said Arthur. He curled around her, held her. They slept hard and still as warm stones past morning break, into daylight.

In the late morning, Hosea was out walking the swamps, getting new air into his lungs. He noticed Sarah and Watson were back. Kieran was over there with them, brushing out Sarah’s mane and putting it into delicate braids. Watson was chewing on an apple core and looked neatly groomed herself.

“Kieran,” said Hosea. He went over, put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Arthur and Mary Beth—they’re back I see.”

“Yep,” said Kieran, feeding a peppermint to Sarah who licked his hand. “Got in late last night, according to Charles. Ain’t nobody seen them yet this morning though.”

“I see,” said Hosea.

“They must be pretty tired.”

“I would imagine so.”

“You could check the house?”

“Will do.” He patted Kieran firmly on the back then, gave him a little shake. “Keep it up, kid. You do a fine job with these nags. I mean it.”

“Yes, sir,” said Kieran, a little bashful. "I was thinking of taking Arthur's old horse Diana for a ride today. Just to stretch her legs, maybe into Rhodes."

"I'm sure Arthur would appreciate that," said Hosea. "Just be careful."

"I will be. Thanks, Hosea."

Hosea went back to the house.

Inside, Karen was sitting at the table, playing solitaire by her lonesome with a cup of coffee and a piece of buttered bread. “Hi there,” she said.

“Hello, Karen,” said Hosea. “You seen Arthur or Mary Beth?”

“Nope,” said Karen, failing to look up from her cards. “Didn’t even know they was back.”

“I’ll check upstairs,” he said.

“Sounds good,” she said.

He walked by John’s room. The door was open a crack. Abigail was in there with Jack. They were reading a book out loud on the chair. “Morning,” said Abigail when she saw him, very bright and pretty.

“Good morning, children,” said Hosea. “What are we reading?”

“Oh, something with knights,” said Abigail. “I don’t know a thing that’s going on, but I’m trying my best.”

“Where’s John?”

“Somewhere around here. Chores, maybe.”

“You seen Arthur at all? Or Mary Beth?”

“I didn’t know they was back,” said Abigail. “But Arthur’s door is closed. Been closed all morning.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Uncle Hosea," said Jack.

“Bye, Jack. Don’t quit with the book-learning. It suits you.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

He pulled the door closed behind him, went to Arthur’s room. He took a deep breath and knocked. “Arthur?” he said through the door, gently. He knocked again. “Arthur. You awake in there?”

Arthur groaned. He reached over to the top of the hope chest by the head of the bed, picked up the cheap pocket watch he kept there. It was after ten. Mary Beth was barely stirring. He sat up, rubbed his face with both hands furiously, placed his feet on the floor. “Coming,” he said. Had it been any voice but Hosea’s he would have told them to fuck off.

He got up slowly, went to the door where Hosea was waiting patiently on the other side. “Morning,” said Arthur.

“Good morning,” said Hosea. “I’m sorry to wake you. I just saw your horses were back, and I was eager to make sure everything was okay.”

“Everything’s good,” said Arthur, leaning in the doorway. He crossed both his arms over his chest. “We just got in late. How’s everything with you?”

“Just fine,” said Hosea. “Just fine. How was your trip?”

Arthur smiled, real groggy feeling. “Oh, you know,” he said, like a joke. “Life-changing.”

Hosea reached forward, placed his hand firmly on Arthur’s shoulder for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Me, too."

“I also wanted to talk to you about something. It’s not a pressing matter, but I think—”

He stopped himself short then. He was glancing past Arthur, into the bedroom, looking surprised.

Arthur followed his gaze. Mary Beth was coming over from the bed now, wide awake. She was shrugging one of Arthur’s shirts over her shoulders and pushing the hair out of her face, and when she saw Hosea at the door, she smiled, big and easy going. “Hi, Hosea,” she said, buttoning the shirt. “It’s good to see you.”

Hosea blushed, furiously, removed his hand from Arthur’s shoulder and stood up very straight. He seemed taken quite off guard. “Miss Gaskill,” he said. “I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” she said, looking up at Arthur. “Morning, Arthur.”

He smiled down at her. “Good morning, Mary Beth,” he said. Then he glanced down at the wood grain of the old floor by his feet and sort of laughed. He started rubbing at his face again and looked up at Hosea and his old man’s chivalrous surprise. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” he said.

Hosea shook out his head a little, sort of like a dog, coming into a new realization. “Oh,” he said. “Right. Well, it’s no hurry. Take your time. I’ll be out on the balcony, with coffee. Just come find me when you’re ready.”

“Can do.”

Mary Beth was still smiling. “How are you?” she said to Hosea.

“Oh, I’m just fine,” he said. “Thank you. I know I’m an old geezer, Miss Gaskill, but you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Of course I do,” she said. “Don’t be silly.”

Hosea became bashful. He wrung his hands a little then, smiled at them both, looking somehow both immensely sheepish but also emotional—proud, maybe? “See you in a bit,” he said to Arthur. He nodded quickly, to Mary Beth. “Miss Gaskill.” Then he was on his way.

Once he was gone, Arthur closed the door. He had his hands on his hips. He started to laugh, scratching at the scruff on his face. “I never seen the old man blush like that before,” he said. “I think you near on gave him a heart attack.”

“Well, he obviously wasn’t expecting to see me,” she said, brushing her hair in the mirror by the foot of the bed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come to the door like that.”

“Nah,” said Arthur, waving her off. “I’ve known Hosea for over twenty years. He was gonna find out anyway.”

“I guess,” said Mary Beth. She looked over her shoulder then, as he was getting dressed. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” said Arthur. “I’ll find out, and I’ll tell you later.”

“I should probably go find Miss Grimshaw,” said Mary Beth, feigning exasperation. “I’m sure she has a whole list of chores for me to do, on account of my relaxing vacation and all.”

Arthur laughed to himself. “She’ll go easy on you,” he said. “I got a feeling.”

“That sounds like a real nice feeling,” she said.

But Arthur got quiet then. He was looking out the window. He didn’t have a shirt on yet. He’d got distracted by the sights and the sounds from the outside.

“You okay?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m just nervous.”

Mary Beth understood this. She went to him. She regarded his size and his naked back, and she pressed into him, kissing the long spine, muscled and the groove between his shoulder blades. She put her arms around him and felt him exhale. He was warm and he smelled good.

"I know I shouldn’t be.”

"It’s okay to be nervous,” she said, wanting to make him relax. She felt a hand down the front of his slacks, real casual, and she held him, then she worked him in firm strokes until he began to respond, and then he himself shuddered and leaned forward against the table on the palms of his hands. He hung his head, helpless to her. They were still in these desperate wanting stages in which their bodies were vessels to unveil and explore. She told him to turn around and face her, and he obeyed. He leaned back against the creaking table, and she dropped to her knees and undid his slacks and pushed them down and took him into her mouth. This was something she’d never done before, but she wanted to give to him, to just sit in worship, for a moment. He was a little surprised by her forward, gentle aggression but he didn’t protest. He held the hair off her face and seemed desperately curious as he watched her. And at some point, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back as she fell into a rhythm. He was breathing deep, making both boyish whimpers and deep, masculine noises that excited her, and after a little while, his grip on her hair grew tighter, and he told her he was very close, and then he pulsed into her, and she was very happy to finish him and ease him into a calm release and then she let him go, and she sat back on her heels, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and waited until he opened his eyes, and then he sort of cradled her face in his big hands, and he looked down at her tenderly. He gave her his hand. She stood, and she helped button him up and she helped him with his suspenders. He kissed her on the eyebrow, looked down at her and then kissed her knuckles with his eyes closed.

“Do I deserve you?” he said, sort of lighthearted, but she could tell he was not fully joking.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Please, Arthur,” she said. “Don’t start with that now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It ain’t nothing to be sorry for.” She kissed his jaw and then she fluffed her hands through his hair and went back to braiding her own hair in the mirror at the end of the bed. He took a very deep breath and absorbed the good feelings inside his body, his head cleared by their casual yet intense intimacy—something he just was not used to. He rolled up his sleeves and put on his hat. He gave her a kiss and she was putting on her necklace with the turquoise stones.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

He let her go. He lingered in the doorway a little, watching as she straightened the pleats of her skirt.

Arthur thought then about living in a house on a hill overlooking a vast prairie. He’d never had anything of his very own before. Not like this. Not even Mary. No matter how much he’d loved Mary, how she loved him back. It had been groundbreaking for him, as it was after the tragedy of Eliza and Isaac, and it made him think—just for a second, that there was life out there. There was something he was good for, still. That he could find a way to redeem his failures. But with Mary, it was never like that. It was never casual or easy. It was years that went by, and even still, it was never simple. There was always something getting in the way, some obstacle. Her father, this life. It came between them and wrestled her away on a continuous basis. Making her second guess, making her choose and question herself, the both of them, and what they knew. She liked the ride. She liked the thrill that it gave her. She was a good girl, and he was a bad boy. But that’s only the way she saw it, and he didn’t want to be that to her. He didn’t want to be that anymore. It was a necessity. It was not a choice. It wasn’t, and that was the thing that Mary Beth understood that Mary never could see: this life was not a choice. It never had been. Before now.

Arthur came out to the balcony. He found Hosea, reading from a book of detective stories and drinking a cup of coffee. There was a carafe and another cup, for Arthur, and a tin ash tray. The air was warm. The day was new and humid, but not as humid as it could have been. The flies were buzzing, nonetheless. Arthur took off his hat, hung it on the back of his chair, and then he sat down.

“Morning,” he said. He was still a little groggy.

“How are you, Arthur?” said Hosea, closing his book and setting it aside. “Good, I hope?”

“I’m well,” said Arthur, nodding. “Thank you. How are you doing, Hosea? How’s everything?”

“Calm enough,” said Hosea. He poured Arthur a cup of coffee from the carafe. “Of course the weather here leaves something to be desired, but I muddle through.”

“Good,” said Arthur, regarding the steaming coffee, taking a sip.

“Dutch is in St. Denis,” said Hosea, right away. “Scoping out something or other with Mr. Angelo Bronte. I can’t say I trust the matter one bit, but we’ll see what pans out.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” said Arthur. “Bronte?”

Hosea stared at him, smiled. “Initially,” he said. “Yes. I am heading to the city this afternoon to discuss some matters with Dutch at the saloon, and I was going to ask you to go with me. But that’s no longer necessary.”

“You sure?” said Arthur.

“Absolutely,” said Hosea. “I’ll bring young Lenny instead. He could learn a thing or two, if he’s so inclined.”

“Okay,” said Arthur. “Fine by me.”

Hosea nodded, took a drink.

“Is everything okay?” said Arthur, giving him a long, careful look. “It still seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“There is,” said Hosea.

"What's going on?"

“Tell me about you and Mary Beth,” he said, desperately interested.

Arthur felt his cheeks get a little hot. He wasn't really expecting this, though he wasn't sure why not. He leaned in on his elbows, took a sip of his coffee. “It is what it seems,” he said, wringing the mug between his hands.

“You seem happy,” said Hosea. “You seem together.”

“I am,” said Arthur. “And we are. It happened sort of fast, I guess. But to be honest, we’ve been friends for a while. The trip just put our relationship into perspective a little bit. That’s all.”

“Do you love her?” said Hosea.

Arthur sighed, squared up with him. “Yes,” he said. “I do. And strangely enough, she seems to love me back.”

“There’s nothing strange about that, Arthur.”

“Seems strange.”

“Why?”

“Well, she’s younger than me, for starters. Prettier than me. Smarter than me.”

“You’re smarter than you think,” said Hosea, finishing his coffee, pouring another. “I’ve always tried to get you to see that. Maybe she’ll succeed where I’ve failed.”

“You ain’t never failed me,” said Arthur, serious.

“Not yet,” said Hosea, cheeky. “Are you gonna marry her?”

Arthur nodded, lit a cigarette from his pocket, offered one to Hosea, but Hosea declined. “When the time is right,” he said, leaning back in his chair, studying the tip of the cigarette. “We ain’t discussed marriage specifically, but we’ve discussed most else.”

This seemed to bring Hosea a great deal of surprise and joy. He smiled, placed a firm hand on Arthur’s forearm, which surprised Arthur. Hosea leaned closer to him over the table, spoke quietly. “That’s wonderful, Arthur,” he said. “I’m truly happy for you.”

Arthur blinked through the smoke, relieved, near on confused. He put out the cigarette in the ash tray. “Thank you, Hosea,” he said, fanning away some of the smoke, searching the moment, not sure how to proceed. “That means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome,” said Hosea. “But I assume this means you’ll be leaving the gang. You and her.”

Arthur cleared his throat. He was looking right at Hosea and feeling Hosea looking right at him, right into his soul. He felt like a boy, but he felt okay. He felt safe. He looked down at Hosea’s hand where it was touching his forearm. He put his own hand on top of Hosea’s in a rush of gratitude. He sighed and closed his eyes. He nodded. Then he looked up. “Yes,” he said. “You know I can’t do it any other way, Hosea. You know.”

Hosea was nodding along, in a reassuring fashion. “Yes, I know,” he said. “And I want you to know that I think that’s real smart, Arthur. Real smart. That’s the first smart decision you’ve made in a long time.”

Arthur smiled at this. It was a dig but he knew it was meant to be a positive reinforcement. He also felt somewhat strange, still unsure of what to do or say. He shook his head. “I’m…scared, Hosea,” he said. “I got a conflicted feeling in my gut.”

“Scared of what?” said Hosea. “Not of being a husband, I hope. If I could do it, you certainly can. You’ll figure that out on the fly.”

“No,” said Arthur, almost amused by this. “No, not that.”

“Then what is it?

“I just—I ain’t sure what’s coming,” said Arthur. “And I don’t know how to handle…certain very delicate parts of this equation. I know how I feel. I know how she feels. We been through a lot this past week that’s made things very clear. I want her, and I’m making a tough choice here, because I cannot protect her here forever, nor can I protect myself. I mean, with everything, what else am I supposed to do?”

“You want children, I hope?”

“Yes, I do,” said Arthur, swallowing, thirsty. “I want that chance, Hosea. I blew it before. You know that. I destroyed a whole part of myself.”

“Arthur, you’ve got to let it go.”

“I am,” said Arthur, patting Hosea on the hand. “I am. But I can’t forget. Even if I can forgive myself for what happened to Eliza and Isaac, I can’t forget, and I ain’t doing that again. I ain’t making that same mistake.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this quite a bit,” said Hosea. “What’s the problem?”

Arthur sighed, heavy, shook his head. “Dutch,” he said.

“What about Dutch.”

“I keep coming back to him, even as he infuriates and confuses me to no end,” said Arthur. “These past few years. The killing. The revenge. Blackwater. I can’t—I can’t keep giving and giving and giving. Not when I don’t know what the hell is going on. I just can’t, not no more. Colm O’Driscoll nearly killed me for it. I ain’t taking that chance.”

“You leave Dutch to me,” said Hosea, very brisk.

“What do you mean?” said Arthur.

“I’ll talk to him. Today, in St. Denis. I’ll make him see reason, and if I can’t, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I love you like a son, Arthur. That’s no joke. That’s the heartfelt truth. I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you, your happiness. I know how it’s been hard, what you’ve had to endure. I’ve always thought you’d be better suited for a quiet life, your own domain. You’re a good man, a smart man, and a loyal man, and you’ve come a long way, and I have always thought that with the right girl you’d find an outlet for your loyalty that makes sense.”

“What do you mean, an outlet that makes sense?”

“A family, Arthur,” said Hosea, shaking him up a little. “A real family, of your own.”

Arthur was deeply touched, filled with emotion in ways he could not describe or fully communicate. “I don’t—I don’t know what to say,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” said Hosea. “I just want to be clear. Do you understand everything I've been saying?”

“Yes,” said Arthur. “I think so.”

“Good.” Hosea patted him on the top of the hand once, then removed his own hands to his lap and sat back in his chair. “Now, do you two have specific plans for the future, or is this all being played by ear?”

Arthur looked down into his coffee. “We was thinking of heading north,” he said. “Soon. I don’t know exactly when.”

“May I ask a somewhat personal question?” said Hosea. “You don’t have to answer."

“Anything.”

“Is there a chance, Arthur, that Mary Beth is already pregnant?”

It was like he’d read Arthur’s mind, the way he was looking at him, right into him. Arthur clenched his jaw a little bit and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I don’t know how likely or exact, but yes.”

“So this could all be happening very soon,” said Hosea.

“Maybe,” said Arthur. “Like I said, I’m not sure.”

“And you’re thinking north?” said Hosea, serious. “Like what? Iowa? Wisconsin?”

"Exactly.”

“Very well.” He was looking down at his hands now, like he was thinking, calculating. “Have you talked to John?”

“Marston?” said Arthur, leaning in. “No, why?”

“You should,” said Hosea. “The two of you should discuss this together.”

“Discuss what?”

“Leaving.” He stared right at him, his eyes old and glassy, but pure. "Before it's too late."

“Leaving together?” said Arthur.

“Just think about it,” said Hosea, very warm and fatherly. He coughed once, into his shirt sleeve and smiled. “Talk to John. That’s all I ask.”

Meanwhile, Mary Beth was leaving Arthur’s bedroom, closing the door, when she happened upon Abigail in the hallway. Jack was there, with a handful of crayons and a small stack of paper. When Abigail saw Mary Beth, she became excited and hurried. She rushed Jack down the stairs.

“Go on,” she said. “Go find Miss Tilly.”

“Hey, y’all,” said Mary Beth. “How are you?”

“We're fine,” said Jack. “How are you, Mary Beth?”

“Just fine.” She smiled.

“You heard what I said,” said Abigail to Jack. “I need to talk to Miss Mary Beth about something, now you run along, okay?”

“Okay, mama,” said Jack. “Bye, Mary Beth.”

“Bye,” said Mary Beth. She was a a little confused.

Once Jack was gone, Abigail smoothed the pleats of her skirt and tucked the loose hair behind her ears. She grabbed Mary Beth by the arm and looked around, real secretive, and then she tugged Mary Beth back into her room, closed the door, sat them both down on a couple of chairs across from one another by the open window.

“What’s going on?” said Mary Beth.

“Tell me everything,” said Abigail, lighting up.

Mary Beth almost started laughing. “Everything about what?” she said.

“About you and Arthur.” Abigail was leaning in real close, her elbows resting on her knees. “I know you two are together now. Tell me. Tell me all about it.” She was smiling so big and so bright and so pretty. She grabbed both of Mary Beth’s hands into her own. Mary Beth was blushing. She was flattered. She didn’t really know what to say.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #mary beth gaskill #arthur x mary beth #arthur morgan x mary beth gaskill #a funeral

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ferociousqueak · 6 years

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Fandom memery

@tarysande tagged me to do the thing a million years ago, and I might be late but I’m here! Let’s do this!

Three Fandoms:

1. Mass Effect

2. Brooklyn Nine-Nine

3. Stranger Things

The First Character You Loved:

1. Liara T’Soni. She was just so cute and shy and bookish and easily flustered, and I loved her immediately. I knew nothing about the game when I started it, so when the dialogue with Kaidan turned flirty with Kaidan, I was like “oh snap! You can do this??” But THEN things turned flirty with Liara and I was just “BYE KAIDAN I HAVE A BLUE BOO NOW.”

2. Terry Jeffords. He was obviously the level-headed voice of reason who had little patience for Jake’s antics. Also, he’s a devoted husband and father who makes his family important to his identity from the very beginning, and that’s something I’d love to see more of in general.

3. Benny Hammond. He was just so understanding of Eleven being scared and obviously not capable of complex communication, and he was a giant, soft teddy bear, AND WE WERE ROBBED.

The Character You Never Expected to Love So Much:

1. Garrus Vakarian. I read a lot of people saying they were thirsty for him in the first game, but I side-eyed him in that game a lot, ngl. I saw him as a loose cannon looking to make Shepard his excuse for bad behavior, and DID YOU HEAR WHAT HE SAID TO TALI IN THE ELEVATOR OMFG. To be clear, I didn’t dislike him. I just didn’t trust him. But he arcs so hard over the next few games and gains complexity, maturity, and vulnerability, AND I JUST LOVE HIM A LOT OKAY.

2. Jake Peralta. He annoyed me a lot at the start of the show, but like Garrus, he arcs hard. I feel like he starts out as the standard “Everyman” who’s supposedly brilliant but really he’s pretty mediocre and his self-regard is entirely unearned. But then he learns and grows and treats his colleagues as equals and family. I feel like he goes from being a lone wolf to the family pup, and I love his development.

3. Joyce Byers. Her first scene put me off. A lot. She’s chastising her teenage son (who’s making breakfast and who’s working nights to supplement her income) for not knowing where HER child is?? I raised my eyebrow at her pretty hard for that. But then as you start to learn more about her situation and how ready she is lay down her life for her children and how she doesn’t let ANYONE tell her she’s crazy when she KNOWS she’s right and NO ONE TOUCH HER SHE’S MINE AND I LOVE HER.

The Character You Relate to the Most:

1. Tali’Zorah. She’s a huge nerd who has no idea how to adult and pretty much relies on bullshitting her way into getting people to give her a chance to prove herself.

2. Amy Santiago. Again, a huge nerd who’s super organized and color codes everything and developed a deep sense of competition because her brothers always told her she couldn’t do things when she was a kid.

3. Joyce Byers. She’s been through some shit, but she would die for the ones she loves. She’s not tiny, she’s concentrated fury.

The Character You’d Slap:

1. Admiral Hackett. LET SHEPARD REST GDI. I don’t hate him, but he needs to learn that the Alliance has more commanders in it than just Shepard.

2. Hitchcock. Boy needs to stop creeping on ladies, realize he loves Scully, and marry that man already.

3. BILLY FUCKING HARGROVE. THAT RACIST SEXIST ABUSIVE UNSTABLE PIECE OF SHIT. That being said, I do realize the irony that he’s likely the way he is because he’s been slapped too much. But still:

Three Favorite Characters (in order of preference):

IN ORDER OF PREFERENCE???? WHAT KIND OF MONSTER!

1. Nyreen Kandros, Garrus Vakarian, Tali’Zorah

2. Rosa Diaz, Amy Santiago, Terry Jeffords

3. Joyce Byers, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair

A Character You Liked at First, But Don’t Anymore/Are Having a Hard Time with at the Moment:

1. Kaidan Alenko. I don’t hate him, and I understand a lot of people love him, which they’re free to do ofc. Specifically, it’s the romanced Kaidan that turns me off. He puts so much responsibility on Shepard for his feelings and even accuses them of cheating when he’s the one who did the breaking up (thanks BioWare for letting m!Shep defend himself to Ashley but not letting FemShep do the same with Kaidan that was great real classy and not sexist at all). I’m not a fan of that dynamic at all.

2. My love for the characters on this show has only grown <3

3. Karen Wheeler. I was a proud member of the Karen Wheeler Defense Squad in season 1, but then the Duffer brothers had to go and make her completely disinterested in her kids and then set her up with Billy and UGH EW GROSS NO THANK YOU. Season 2 Karen is a completely different person from season 1 Karen, and I will never forgive the Duffer brothers for creating an interesting, complex character and then going “oh wait you weren’t supposed to like her, here let’s ruin her for you.” KAREN WHEELER DESERVED BETTER.

A Character You Didn’t Like at First but Do Now:

1. Ashley Williams. While I never thought of Ashley as racist (in the Mass Effect universe, humans are on the receiving end of cultural and institutional racism and reverse-racism isn’t a thing so), the isolationist beliefs she holds in the first game put me off. Again, like Garrus, she arcs pretty hard and learns and grows and matures. At this point, I’m furious we didn’t get to romance her in the third game.

2. Charles Boyle, kind of. I didn’t exactly dislike him to begin with, but I found his obsession with Rosa creepy and distasteful. Once the show ditched that dynamic, I could appreciate him for being the goofy oddball he is.

3. Steve Harrington. In fact, I hated him quite a bit at first. But once he ditches his asshole friends and realizes he’s being an insufferable douche canoe, I started to warm to him. By the end of the season 2, I was ready to lay down my life for this disaster of a den mother.

Three OTPs:

1. Shakarian, Shali, Nyreen/Not being fridged

2. Jake/Amy, Holt/Kevin, Gina/Her phone

3. Joyce/Hopper, Jonathan/Nancy/Steve, Lucas/Max

And now for no-obligation tagging! @servantofclio, @mordinette, @pagerunner, @probablylostrightnow, and @bloomingcnidarians. Only if you want to!

#hows about a meme thingy #it looks like Friday is my official memery day #long post #Mass Effect #Brooklyn 99 #Stranger Things

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The New Mutants and Its Nightmare on Elm Street Influences

https://ift.tt/2UAxmZ8

This article contains mild The New Mutants spoilers.

The New Mutants is an odd duck. The writing was on the wall back in 2017 when 20th Century Fox first pushed the film off its original 2018 release window. Apparently the delay was the result of the studio wanting to make it more of a horror movie via reshoots… reshoots that then never happened.

Even so, those horror elements are still on bonkers display in Josh Boone’s final cut of the film, now available on Blu-ray and VOD. Even without knowing Boone was vocal that the Nightmare on Elm Street movies were cornerstone influences, it’s clear his mutant mayhem wants to live on the same block.

To be sure, these aspects are more muted than they should be, which is the result of the film’s biggest problem: tonal inconsistency. New Mutants veers wildly between young adult drama, youthful hijinks, and a nigh ‘80s slasher sensibility where very few characters actually get slashed. If reshoots had actually upped the horror quotient, this could fit nicely as a continuation of the Elm Street Kids’ travails. But even in its bizarre current form, there is something there to appreciate, particularly for fans of Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors.

Nearly 40 years after Robert Englund first growled his way through a Freddy Krueger movie, many fans still think of the first Wes Craven-directed A Nightmare on Elm Street when they look back on that series. But for horror fans of a certain age, 1987’s Dream Warriors was the only Nightmare on Elm Street movie that mattered. It’s the one where Heather Langenkamp’s Nancy Thompson returned, and a gang of street-wise ‘80s teen movie archetypes found themselves locked in a mental hospital with Freddy picking them off one pun at a time. And as these victims found ways to fight back in their nightmares, they became the “Dream Warriors,” just as their film turned into a superhero movie with a body count.

The high concept of a monster fighting the Breakfast Club inside of Nurse Ratched’s hospital is still incredibly appealing today. And it’s emulated from top to bottom in The New Mutants. Not that Boone and his stars have exactly been coy about this fact; Dream Warriors has been name dropped by the filmmakers ever since the first trailer introduced us to the movie’s versions of Rhane Sinclair (Maisie Williams), Illyana Rasputin (Anya Taylor-Joy), Sam Guthrie (Charlie Heaton), Roberto da Costa (Henry Zaga), and Danielle Moonstar (Blu Hunt).

Even way back in 2017, Boone told Collider that Dream Warriors was one of New Mutants’ big influences. “I do love Dream Warriors,” Boone said at the time. “I loved the first [movie] as well, but this is very much a rubber reality horror movie for the first about 75% of the movie and then it becomes something else.”

And unlike many X-Men adjacent films, the characters from early New Mutants comics are more or less recognizable in their live-action forms here. Nevertheless, how they’re introduced is pure Dream Warriors.

After a dubious opening sequence in which Hunt’s Dani Moonstar survives a “tornado,” the young girl is committed to an isolated sanitarium along with other teenage mutants. Their chaperone Dr. Reyes (Alice Braga) swears they’re being groomed by an unseen benefactor who we’re led to believe is Charles Xavier… but her evasiveness about the details suggests something more sinister.

All the while, each of the kids is plagued by nightmares, both when they’re asleep and awake. And the waking terrors are of their worst fears come to life. So, yes, this is basically a Freddy movie without Freddy. That in itself could be viewed as damning, both to horror fanatics who want more thrills and superhero fans who like their popcorn buttered the same way every time, but even with its (many) foibles, there is charm in New Mutants’ rough edges. Here is a movie decidedly not a product of the all-too-familiar blockbuster assembly line.

For instance, Boone takes his Dream Warriors aesthetic and runs with it via multiple visual references and plotting echoes, all of which feel unnatural for its superpowered fantasy. In one early scene, a character briefly entertains suicide while standing atop a menacing Gothic tower, not unlike how Freddy forced Phillip (Bradley Gregg) to throw himself from one in Dream Warriors, earning the label of “suicide” by other characters; in a more overt fashion, New Mutants’ Roberto sits in a wheelchair in another scene, just like the one Will (Ira Heiden) used in Dream Warriors; and the character is later seduced into a watery illusion by a dream girl who is not what she seems, a la Joey’s haphazard “wet dream,” as Freddy coins it, in the direct Dream Warriors sequel, A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master (1988).

All of these knowing nudges from Boone and his co-screenwriter Knate Lee are there for Freddy’s Children to catch. Yet they can also both improve and hinder New Mutants. In the plus column, they feel unusual and original for a movie about comic book characters; on the other side of the ledger, few of these “scares” actually go far enough to be frightening. Thus the movie feels strangely unfinished, even after spending years on a shelf. In fact, there are several scene transitions where you know something is missing from pickups that were never filmed.

And yet, that low-fi messy quality may add to its rough hewn, uneven charm for a certain set. Like all of the Nightmare on Elm Street movies, this isn’t high art. But the fact it goes for these horror moments with complete sincerity is kind of refreshing. Like Dream Warriors, New Mutants and its cast take their plight seriously, probably too much so. But after a decade of most superhero movies relying on a smug self-deprecation—a persistent invisible smirk at the camera which promises we know it’s nonsense—New Mutants’ emotional earnestness will appeal to a smaller cult audience.

In this vein, the strongest aspect of the film is likely any scene involving Williams’ Rahne and Hunt’s Dani. The former has the benefit of being played by the lone actor to nail her thick accent, as well as the rich horror trope of being a hard-believing Catholic. Like many a teenager from a religious home, Rahne fears Hell, which Bone and Lee’s screenplay embrace in the thematic sense with Rahne also being a glorified werewolf who fears her “evil” mutation.

In the more literal sense, Rahne also struggles with her attraction to Dani. It’s a romance that doesn’t feel tacked on by a studio note or an afterthought for social media; like Boone’s earlier work, it’s presented as a sincere puppy love story. But even that has echoes in the Nightmare on Elm Street saga, with the second film, Freddy’s Revenge (1985) attempting to tell a subtextual gay love story–one full of shame and literal self-mutilation where the main character transforms into Freddy when he’s attracted to his buddy.

New Mutants does this element better by removing the “sub” in “subtext,” and the shame. Rather it commits to a sweet romance just as earnestly as it commits to a sequence where Rahne’s dead priest returns to haunt her with a demonic voice that sounds a lot like Freddy’s warble. Yet this, too, mirrors a locker room attack in Freddy’s Revenge.

Despite the tonal dissonance between these two elements both aspects embrace the LGBTQ+ undertones in X-Men comics better than most actual X-Men comics, and in their own way are reminiscent of how goofy ‘80s slasher movies could become comforting outlets for marginalized groups.

Movies

Is New Mutants an Ending for the Fox X-Men Universe?

By Gavin Jasper

Movies

New Mutants: A Horror Version of The Breakfast Club

By Don Kaye

That New Mutants tackles these delicate aspects as brazenly (or some might say as tastelessly) as those ‘80s slashers is kind of wild. It also ensures that New Mutants will eventually find an audience. Perhaps not the audience who superhero movies are so methodically engineered for in the 21st century, nor in the mainstream commercial audience Fox almost quaintly thought this approach would appeal to. It certainly isn’t critics with the movie’s ungainly, batshit tendencies.

But as with Dream Warriors before it, here’s a film in which young people use superpowers to fight the man and topple authority while seeing each other in a way they, nor any superhero movie, has before. It gives this bloody mess teeth… and claws.

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danmacrae · 7 years

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Silly 90s Intro Blab: A Thing To Skim Through On The Toilet

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Hello! I’m semi-tolerable nuisance Dan MacRae! Why am I shouting at you? Not sure! Sorry, I’ll take it down a notch.

Instead of learning how to pleasure a woman or how to unlock the mysteries of grooming, I have devoted my life to TV nonsense. Blessed YouTube presence RwDt09 has been collecting these amazing compilations of era (and sometimes season) specific TV intros and they are my everything. Imagine having a child that didn’t suck? That’s the feeling RwDt09′s videos put in my heart.

I've been obsessively rewatching this collection of mostly forgotten early '90s TV intros. The bulk of these shows died a quick death and feel like the product of whatever drugs TV execs take. (Probably something snorted from one of those awesome McDonalds coffee straws they ditched in like 2002.) Because I'm a handsome pin-up hunk of the year, I wrote some dumb blurbs about the first few shows and have some stray thoughts on the rest. This appeals to no one but me AND I APOLOGIZE TO NO ONE!

In the immortal words of John Lennon, let’s get biz-zay!

DINOSAURS: I’m at a point in my life where I can acknowledge that Dinosaurs sucked. It’s incredibly freeing. Christ, this is like that stupid-ass Norman Lear show where dogs did social commentary BUT WITH HENSON PUPPETS! I hope Baby Sinclair was stomped to death and eaten as pudding before the extinction series finale. (Yes, that happened.) The intro isn’t bad, mind you. You get the lumbering theme song and Earl gets stuck in a door CUZ LAFFS! TIMES SURE HAVEN’T CHANGED HO HO HO! God I hate these fucking dinosaurs.

Intro MVP: It’s not a stellar pack, but we get a bit of Robbie Sinclair who census data has shown led to a variety of surprising sexual awakenings for youths at the time.

SCORCH: A 1300-year-old dragon named Scorch visits the 1990s on a budget that looks not far removed from Skank on The Ben Stiller Show. The song will make you want to barricade your sex organs from a world where you can bring children into a world with THAT CAWAZZZY SCORCH! The theme song really is a special brand of irritating and Scorch looks like a malformed Deviant Art dildo with a vaguely religious bent.

Intro MVP: Probably John O’Hurley for not actually appearing in the intro. (Even with O’Hurley’s weird résumé.)

FISH POLICE: Not to be confused with the (ARF! ARF! ARF!) Dog Police, Fish Police and Family Dog are shows I know almost exclusively from being mentioned as examples of the crappy post-Simpsons primetime animation gold rush. Fish Police actually looks good animation-wise, but it’s pretty clear you’re gonna be sledgehammered with endless “COULD YOU IMAGINE FISH DOING THESE OLD TROPES? DO WE NEED TO CALL A SEARCH PARTY FOR YOUR SIDES? ARE THEY SPLITTING ALREADY?” jokes. Congrats dipshits, you made a cinema-touched precursor to Frankie & George. You dummies. Also there’s the tone of casual racism UNDER THE SEA so do with that what you will. DID YOU SEE CHINATOWN? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT SHIT?

Intro MVP: Thank goodness they specified who John Ritter voices so we could all bask in Inspector Gil as a character name. Fuck you, Fish Police.

CAPITOL CRITTERS: Christ, this looks UNWATCHABLE. Like walk into oncoming traffic as an alternative unwatchable. Capitol Critters centers around an animated mouse named Max (voiced by Neil Patrick Harris) witnesses his family being murdered in Nebraska and moves to D.C. and wait what the fuck is going on with those roaches? (Racism, mostly.) Who thought this was a good idea to invest time, money and animator joint damage in? Stephen Bochco, baby! I have a perverse curiosity to see an episode but after 90 seconds I know I'd be dying to eat a fucking gun instead of suffering through any more of Capitol Critters.

Intro MVP: Gotta be Bochco. Also, EAT SHIT BOCHCO!

And now a really tiny blab about the rest. Watch this clip package, ya goofs!

FAMILY DOG: Folks were fucking horny for Spielberg TV shit in the 90s, ditto Tim Burton too and that's how an Amazing Stories, uh, story was morphed into a shitball TV series that Brad Bird wanted no part of. Also, I have no idea how to explain things like the CBS StereoSound chyron to anyone born after Clinton left office.

THE CRITIC: Nice to see you, Jay Sherman! This is a lovely intro and you likely know that already. I've done a few rewatches of The Critic (not the web series season, though) and I say the show definitely holds up and is far from a duketastrophe. That said, some of the parody film clips that got raves at the time are kinda creaky in hindsight.

CHARLIE HOOVER: Can I say something? Fuck Sam Kinison. Hmm... That's a bit harsh. I guess I just don't get him on any level. The only thing he's done that I've ever found all that funny was when he said he wished Andrew Dice Clay die of stomach cancer from the inside out, like Bette Davis. Kinison's not my cup of tea is what I'm getting at. In Charlie Hoover (GET IT HURF HURF), Kinison is a foot high loudmouth in a long coat that's getting 40-year-old square Tim Matheson where he needs to be in life.

A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN: Or... "Betty Spaghetti's Here Which Is All The Star Power You Need!"

HARDBALL: A League Of Their Own had a fun, feel good intro with all the corny touches of ol' timey baseball. Hardball tries to sell you on Joe Rogan: Baseball Fella and the vague scent of urinal troughs.

GOOD GRIEF: Howie Mandel golfs in a cemetery and it's not particularly clear if he's just fucking around on strangers graves for fun. (Alternate Theory: Those graves belong to the family from Bobby's World. All the Generics!)

THE FANELLI BOYS: If enjoy broad Italian-American stereotypes to the point of falling down laughing at the sight of a pizza box, you'll love The Fanelli Boys! Joe Pantoliano and Christopher Meloni both star.

SOMETHING WILDER: Something Wilder was the sort of show where I wished Gene Wilder well and still kept 5000 miles away from watching it. Also, Wilder's face on that house is CHILLING.

DUDLEY: Embrace the luxury hotel elevator elegance of Dudley! Does it feature Dudley Moore make a series of faces where he seems surprised by everything? You better believe it. This was also where Max Wright got work in-between taking abuse from a cat eating alien and Norm Macdonald.

CAROL & COMPANY: It's a bit Carol Takes On in the intro with Carol Burnett in assorted costumes and that's alright because everyone does the assorted costumes intro thing. Tickets to the show are blown across America and get in the hands of whatever Orphan Black Carol happens to be in the area.

THE CAROL BURNETT SHOW: This is an extremely 90s sort of intro that feels like something more upscale soft rock stations did in TV ads at the time too. Richard Kind directs a bit of paper at someone midway through.

DREXELL'S CLASS: One of more storied entries in the Dabney Coleman being an asshole catalogue. The first intro features Dabney, ol' Drex himself, just hanging around in class being hot shit and occasionally mimicking a flying dinosaur. The second intro is a more traditional clip collection highlighted by a young Brittany Murphy (WHO WAS MURDERED! FACT! REMINDER!) and Coleman in a wild 8 ball jacket. Rembrandt off Sliders also makes an appearance.

TEECH: If this intro looks exactly like a sitcom where a Cool Black Music Instructor™ teaches Prep School bad boys in Bush Sr era America that's because it is exactly that sort of sitcom. Maggie Han deserves better.

THE ROYAL FAMILY: It seems extra cruel to take Redd Foxx's popcorn away considering he'd be dead before the fifth episode even aired. Della Reese is in this, die-hard Della fans.

ROC: This intro works perfectly. We get Charles S. Dutton, Ella Joyce and an easy to digest Jerry Lawson theme song. (En Vogue would do the theme later.) It��d be nice if they could get Edgar Allan Poe wagging a finger at seafood or something else in the background to push that Baltimore thing even more, but I still wish this intro from 25+ year old Fox comedy all the best in its future endeavours.

BREWSTER PLACE: Speaking of good intros, Brewster Place is a first rate brand of TV welcome. Brenda Pressley is the MVP of the intro over Oprah Winfrey which might explain why Brenda Pressley has been missing since 1992. (I know she’s on The Path. Just play along.)

SUNDAY BEST: The intro equivalent of getting someone to throw shit at a wall, we get an early 90s NBC grab bag of fuck it whatever shots of TVs and TV dinners with poor Carl Reiner trotted out partway through.

AMERICAN CHRONICLES: Mark Frost and David Lynch paired for a documentary series in the early ‘90s on Fox because Fox was like fucking UHF at the time. The industrial strength creepy opening doesn’t include any shots of narrator Richard Dreyfuss turning towards the camera and that’s a damn shame.

AMERICAN DETECTIVES: If you get horny for stressed out real-life detectives, this will send your undergarments to Mars! Lots of mustaches here. A whole Safeway bag’s worth. Some real rural gas station rock going on with that theme tune.

FBI: THE UNTOLD STORIES: The tone of this entire intro is: “Hey kid, wanna see a dead body? Or twenty?” Creepy music blasting over Jackie Kennedy on the back of JFK’s death limo and Wayne Williams heading to trial equals primetime party fun!

ENCOUNTERS: THE HIDDEN TRUTH: Suck it, Sightings! Encounters is leading a new dawn for crackpot horseshit to eat Bugles to! I appreciate the shameless X-Files knockoff intro thing Fox is doing (cuz it’s their show) that comes complete with head shop blanket alien head popping up midway through.

STEPHEN KING’S GOLDEN YEARS: Essentially Garth Marenghi's Darkplace with one hell of a music rights win tacked on.

TRIBECA: This opening reminds me an awful lot of terrible movies I was bullied into watching on VHS at a friend’s house.

WIOU: One thing I like in a TV intro is when something fun happens with the title onscreen. It’s a minor thing, but the way those WIOU letters turn into view? HOOCHIE MAMA! Eight is Enough’s Dick Van Patten does a fantastic job of conveying that being a weatherfellow is tough work.

GABRIEL’S FIRE: I will never for the life of me understand how the early ‘90s could not sustain a James Earl Jones fronted program titled Gabriel’s Fire. Those worlds are supposed to meld beautifully.

PROS & CONS: Gabriel’s Fire would morph into the more lighthearted Pros & Cons which symbolized its new form by laying it on thick with the Video Toaster touches. Instead of James Earl Jones peering at you from the darkness, this go-around it’s a lot of smiles and silly moments with Richard Crenna.

BURKE’S LAW: Hearing “it’s Burke’s Law” at the start of that intro is like when “Do you smell what The Rock’s cooking?” would play before Dwayne Johnson would wander down a ramp to kick Triple H in the stomach. In this case, it’s to get you fired up that Gene Barry’s back on television. This particular episode promises Dom DeLuise and Tawny Kitaen together at last!

MAX MONROE: LOOSE CANNON: If you only see one intro for a Shadoe Stevens vehicle that transitions from a Donut Hole shot to an extended leer at a lady’s bum, make it this one!

TEQUILA AND BONETTI: The creators of Tequila and Bonetti know that if you want folks to get on board for an L.A. dramedy about a New York cop and streetwise police partner dog, you should kick things off by trying to make you feel sorry for this asshole who “accidentally” murdered a kid. Seriously, that’s the route Tequila and Bonetti goes with this fucking insane opening that begins with newspaper headlines screaming “COP KILLS 12 YR OLD” while he cradles a black girl in her arms and then BOOM! we’re spun around to JACK SCALIA GRINNING AROUND WACKY LOS ANGELES AND ALL ITS CRAZY CHARACTERS LIKE A DOG THAT JUMPS THROUGH A FUCKING WINDOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE? THIS IS LIKE IF SOMEONE STROKED OFF THE HANNITY VIEWING AND KEPT WHAT WAS SPURTED OUT ONSCREEN! It’s just a really, really, really bad intro.

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thefeministhundred · 7 years

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Feminist Review of The 100: 3x08 Terms and Conditions

Writer: Charles Grant Craig

Director: John F. Showalter

Total time in episode: 40

Total number of character credited in episode: 22 (Murphy in credit only)

Number of female characters credited in episode:

Clarke Griffin (Credit only)

Abby Griffin (Credit only)

Octavia Blake (Credit only)

Raven Reyes

Harper McIntyre

Alie

Hannah Green

Denae

Amount of time at least one female character is the focus of a scene: 13 (maybe the shortest length of time?)

Total times episode passes Bechdel test: Passes with Raven and Alie. No other female characters communicate at all.

Number of deaths in episode: 2

Female: 0 i think

Sexualized moments: 0

Bad Ass Woman Moment of the Episode: “We could shocklash Pike’s fascist ass and hand him to the grounders.” HARPER!!! This line was amazing.

Badass Female Friendship Moment: There are zero. No friendly lady interaction.

So, there is very little that happens for and about women in this episode. Raven is basically following orders until the end when she realizes she doesn’t remember Finn and she remembers that is bad. That moment gave me chills, Lindsey just nailed it. And Jasper’s casual emotional poking. Something is wrong with Raven, and through his trauma and self destroying, he senses it. She is not reacting to anything about Finn. Anything. And I do appreciate that about Jasper.

When Raven says “I don’t remember Finn.” OH MAN. Listen, I am a well known not lover of Finn. But I appreciate how much Raven loves Finn and care about her FEELINGS for him.

I have to say here: It makes ZERO sense for Abby to not be in this episode. Kane and Sinclair are arrested and Abby is NO WHERE TO BE SEEN. Are you KIDDING ME? Abby would have been there fighting the moment she heard about it. I understand they only have Paige for so many episodes... but this has become obvious this season. It is frustrating how they just leave characters out of plots that they SHOULD BE IN. How come Raven isn’t ever told about Kane? Lincoln? Why doesn’t Jasper have a thought on Bellamy becoming a mass murderer? Why doesn’t Bellamy notice Raven is getting worse? WHY DO THE ADVENTURE SQUAD ALL IGNORE THE FUCK OUT OF EACH OTHER THIS SEASON? Why doesn’t ABBY try to talk to Bellamy? Why hasn’t Harper checked in on Raven? Or Jasper? I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS SHOW SOMETIMES.

This seems to be the one episode a season where the ladies take a back seat to the men. Unshockingly, it is one of my least favorite episodes.

Screen caps from http://screencapped.net/

#feminist review of the 100 #The 100 #season 3 #3x08 #terms in conditions #raven reyes #Harper Mcintyre #alie #Hannah Green

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femmelieutenant-a-blog · 7 years

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REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! tag 10 ! good luck ! TAGGED. @judgmentcast TAGGING. Guys, this one is HELLA LONG. Have fun if you want, but I don’t blame you if you don’t. It’s open to all.

BASICS.

FULL NAME : First Lieutenant Helga Katrina Sinclair NICKNAME : Lieutenant, Sinclair, Blondie, H. K. Sinclair, H. K. AGE : Twenty-nine BIRTHDAY : October 24, 1884 ETHNIC GROUP : Caucasian. NATIONALITY : American (Identifies as German-American) LANGUAGE / S : German, English, Japanese, Korean, Italian, French SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Closeted Bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Closeted Biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Widowed/Single (But technically verse dependent) CLASS : Working class. HOME TOWN / AREA : Stuttgart, Germany. Also will answer with Washington D.C., USA. CURRENT HOME : Verse dependent, but mostly she just moves around and does not stay in one area. PROFESSION : Verse dependent; Army lieutenant, spy, bounty hunter, assassin, mercenary

PHYSICAL. HAIR : Blonde EYES : Gunmetal blue NOSE : slender, relatively small, upturned at the end. FACE : High cheekbones, square jaw. There is a beauty mark beneath her left eye (her left, not yours). Moderate sized forehead. LIPS : Full, well-proportioned to her face, often painted red with lipstick without care to the social meaning of it. COMPLEXION : Fair with olive undertones. Not translucent thanks to plenty of healthy sun exposure. Clear and not splotchy. BLEMISHES : The aforementioned beauty mark. SCARS : Scarred knuckles from years of hand-to-hand combat training, a couple superficial ones to the rest of her body (Major scars were healed/rectified by her exposure to Atlantean magick) TATTOOS : None. HEIGHT : 5′7″ WEIGHT : 150 lbs. BUILD : Curvy hourglass built and sculpted through exercise and activity. Tall for her sex (during her era). Otherwise, lean, muscular, slightly angular from aforementioned sculpting. FEATURES : Almost perpetually narrowed eyes, boldly painted lips, the mark beneath her eye. Her constantly-worn gloves. ALLERGIES : None USUAL HAIR STYLE : Worn in a braided plait, the end often partially over her shoulder from it being absently played with. USUAL FACE LOOK : Eyes are hooded, giving her a bored but watchful expression, The pout of her lips is subconscious, but often hidden by an authoritative scowl or scheming smirk. USUAL CLOTHING : (When not in the military uniform of whoever she is working for) black turtleneck/button-up men’s shirt/tank top, pants (Men’s and often tailored until women’s become available), boots. She has an old Army greatcoat that will be worn until it dies of sheer old age, and wears a utility belt and gun holster. (Exception is in Modern verses, where she will dress as per the common fashions to better blend in.)

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S : Failure, abandonment, being alone, being wrong. ASPIRATION / S : To try and find meaning and purpose in independence, to rise from her ashes. POSITIVE TRAITS : Ambitious, observant, proud, intuitive, intelligent, active, eager, clean NEGATIVE TRAITS : Sarcastic, spiteful, manipulative, loner, bossy, follower, dependent, distrustful, cynical, paranoid, fearful, bitter, skeptical MBTI : ESTJ; The Executive (Surprised because I always had her as INTJ...) ZODIAC : Scorpio TEMPERAMENT : Brash. SOUL TYPE / S : Performer/Leader ANIMALS : A cat - a white Persian in the lap of someone pulling strings she merely watches over the actions of. She can be complacent, but beware of her claws. A panther - deadly and sleek with little care as to who gets hurt to get to her end-goal. This is the transformation she has made. VICE HABIT / S : Drinking, the occasional smoking, finding pleasure in the Flesh and material. FAITH : Athiest. GHOSTS ? : No AFTERLIFE ? : None at all REINCARNATION ? : Nope. ALIENS ? : On the fence, purely because she saw some things in Atlantis that just cannot be explained. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : Doesn’t care about politics or political workings so long as there are people against them willing to give her a job, or the people in power desire her services to take down the rebellious. ECONOMIC PREFERENCE : Luxuriously wealthy SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION : Part of the working class, but financially sound. EDUCATION LEVEL : Homeschooled as per the norms of a socialite’s daughter, but she benefits from extensive military training both from the American Army and Navy.

FAMILY. FATHER : Major Alexander Sinclair (father) MOTHER : Mrs. Marianne Sinclair (Formerly Stroh) (mother) SIBLINGS : All younger: Johnathan Sinclair, James Sinclair, William Sinclair, Oliver Sinclair, Thomas Sinclair EXTENDED FAMILY : Aunts and uncles from both parents NAME MEANING / S : Helga: Holy or Blessed; Sinclair: Bright, Clear. (I appreciate this irony) HISTORICAL CONNECTION ? : One of the first famous connections is the Princess of Kiev, also known as Olga of Kiev of Saint Olga. Sinclair is of the Clan Sinclair, which helped in the Norman conquest of England and was given the land that is now Roslin, Midlothian in Scotland.

FAVOURITES. BOOK : 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne. She loved it as a child. MOVIE : Once films were made, Casablanca. 5 SONGS : Mein Sohn Nur Mut - Carl Maria von Weber; Night on Bald Mountain - Modest Mussorgsky; Por Una Cabeza - Gardel; Killer Queen - Queen; Bat Out Of Hell - Meat Loaf DEITY : She always found Athena and Freya interesting to read on, but is not religious, so holds them in no regards. HOLIDAY : New Years MONTH : It used to be May (until someone had to die). Now it’s September SEASON : Summer PLACE : None WEATHER : The middle of a raging thunderstorm SOUND : Waves lapping against a stone breaker, the crackle of a fire in the hearth, the metallic click of bullets loading into their chambers and a pistol’s hammer being pulled back, heeled boots running on wet cobblestones, a bed-frame’s creaks of protest. SCENT / S : Leather, steel, gunpowder, salt air, vanilla, musk, new rope, old books, whiskey, coffee, canvas. TASTE / S : Rich dark chocolate, red wine, whiskey, umeboshi, black coffee. FEEL / S : Silk against skin, rope against skin, quality leather, a firm grip. ANIMAL / S : Big dogs NUMBER : No preference. COLOUR : Olive green, black, gold, red, steely gray.

EXTRA. TALENTS : Helga is a skilled commander and leader when given the chance to be such. She speaks many languages, and has years of opera training to her name as well. BAD AT : Almost any artistic expression save singing, horseback riding, judging character, resisiting tempation TURN ONS : Power, dominant personalities, charm, intelligence, danger TURN OFFS : Bombast, sexism, weakness HOBBIES : Singing, antique firearms collecting TROPES : (ALL FROM THE TV TROPES SITE) Badass Longcoat, Contralto of Danger, Dark Action Girl, Deadpan Snarker, The Dog Bites Back, The Dragon, Femme Fatale, Flare Gun, Heel-Face Door-Slam (I like to contest this one), Kick Chick, Last Breath Bullet, Nothing Personal, Perpetual Frowner, Right-Hand Cat, Redemption Equals Death, Sexophone, TankTop Tomboy, Thrown From The Zeppelin, Wai-fu AESTHETIC TAGS : Mausers, leather gloves, smoke, WWI, steampunk landscapes, red lipstick, femme fatale GPOY QUOTES : I don’t know what this means...

FC INFO. MAIN FC / S : Rachael Taylor ALT FC / S : N/A. OLDER FC / S : N/A. YOUNGER FC / S : Maddie Hasson (specifically as Jo Masterson) VOICE CLAIM / S : Claudia Christian, Karen Souza (for singing_ GENDERBENT FC / S : N/A.

MUN QUESTIONS. Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie , what would it be called , what style would it be filmed in , and what would it be about ? A1 : Well, technically, she has a film. Though to be fair, I would make the whole thing longer, less PG, way more of a war film with Lovecraftian/Steampunk overtones than what we got.

Q2 : what would their soundtrack / score sound like ? A2 : German opera, steampunk instrumentals... Hans Zimmer. Maybe some prog-rock bits a la Savatage?

Q3 : why did you start writing this character ? A3 : I loved Atlantis and Helga as a kid, so that has always been there. But while I was in the finals days of a fandom that didn’t care if I existed, I watched the film and we just... clicked.

Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ? A4: She was unlike any film heroine that I had seen before then (I was 8). She was sarcastic and kick-ass and not genuinely good. She was active and suffered real consequences in her story. May or may not have also found her hot.

Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5 : As someone who likes to think of themselves as morally upstanding, the fact she tends to give so few shits about others

Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ? A6 : The snark. that is all.

Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ? A7 : I’m one of those stupid artsy types.

Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ? A8 : Joseph Korso, Gerge Armstrong Custer, Prince Adam (The Beast), Jacob Frye, Haytham Kenway, Judge Claude Frollo, Kent Mansley, Dean McCoppin, Charles Emmerson Winchester III, Prince Hans Westergaard, and there are many more but those stick out the most to me for their dynamics.

Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ? A9 : Honestly? Her compelling nature as a character. I don’t really have to look to an outside source to be inspired.

Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ? A10 : HOURS

#⚙‖ 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕆𝕗 𝕄𝕖 (Headcanon)

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marcusssanderson · 5 years

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101 Quotes for Instagram to Inspire Love

Looking for the best quotes for Instagram?

Instagram is one of the world’s biggest social media platforms today. According to recent statistics, the social networking app boasts of over 1 billion monthly active users.

Such popularity makes it a powerful platform to connect, engage, and influence others. It also makes it a great place for sharing inspirational narratives and spreading love and positivity.

While a picture is worth a thousand words, words can improve a picture by telling a story, providing context, or triggering curiosity. Instagram captions are a great opportunity to tell a powerful story and give information that the audience can’t see for themselves.

To help you channel the positive power of Instagram and help brighten you audience’s day, we’ve gathered these quotes that you can use for your Instagram captions. Use them to spread love to yourself and others.

101 quotes for Instagram to inspire love

1.) “There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved.” – George Sand

2.) “Don’t brood. Get on with living and loving. You don’t have forever.”— Leo Buscaglia

3.) “Love in its essence is spiritual fire.”— Seneca

4.) “We love the things we love for what they are.”— Robert Frost

5.) “Love is like a good cake; you never know when it’s coming, but you’d better eat it when it does!”― C. JoyBell C.

6.) “You don’t love someone because they’re perfect. You love them in spite of the fact that they’re not.” – Jodi Picoult

7.) “Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”— James Baldwin

8.) “Ultimately, it is the desire, not the desired, that we love.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

9.) “Love is not maximum emotion. Love is maximum commitment.” ― Dr. Sinclair Ferguson

10.) “Love For All; Hatred for None” ― Mirza Nasir Ahmad

Inspirational quotes for Instagram

11.) “The only thing we never get enough of is love; and the only thing we never give enough of is love.”— Henry Miller

12.) “A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and man cannot live without love.” – Max Muller

13.) “Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.”—Robert A. Heinlein

14.) “At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.”— Plato

15.) “Where there is great love, there are always miracles.” – Willa Cather

16.) “Better to have lost and loved than never to have loved at all.”– Hemingway

17.) “To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already 3-parts dead.” – Bertrand Russell

18.) “Love is a divine being.”― Lailah Gifty Akita

19.) “A loving heart is the truest wisdom.” – Charles Dickens

20.) “To be brave is to love someone unconditionally, without expecting anything in return.” – Madonna

Uplifting and beautiful quotes for Instagram

21.) “Those who love deeply never grow old; they may die of old age, but they die young.” – Sir Arthur Pinero

22.) “Self-love is the source of all our other loves.” – Pierre Corneille

23.) “The greater your capacity to love, the greater your capacity to feel the pain.”– Jennifer Aniston

24.) “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”—Lao Tzu

25.) “The art of love is largely the art of persistence.”— Albert Ellis

26.) “Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much a heart can hold.” – Zelda Fitzgerald

27.) “Love, it never dies. It never goes away, it never fades, so long as you hang on to it. Love can make you immortal” – Gayle Forman

28.) “Hate generalizes, love specifies”― Robin Morgan

29.) “One day spent with someone you love can change everything.” – Mitch Albom

30.) “Everything that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.” – Franz Kafka

Inspiring quotes for Instagram that’ll warm hearts

31.) “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”– Ali MacGraw

32.) “The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved – loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.” – Victor Hugo

33.) “The more the soul knows, the more she loves, and loving much, she tastes much.” – W. H. Murray

34.) “Love is what you’ve been through with somebody.” – James Thurber

35.) “If you would be loved, love, and be loveable.”— Benjamin Franklin

36.) “A bird cannot fly with broken wings. Your heart cannot love without learning to heal.”― Kemi Sogunle

37.) “Our first and last love is self-love.”—Christian Nestell Bovee

38.) “Love is a great master. It teaches us to be what we never were.” – Moliere

39.) ”My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness.” – André Breton

40.) “And if our hands should meet in another dream, we shall build another tower in the sky.” ― Kahlil Gibran

Quotes for Instagram to inspire love and friendship

41.) “Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.” – Iris Murdoch

42.) ”The highest function of love is that it makes the loved one a unique and irreplaceable being.” – Tom Robbins

43.) “The only language you need is the language of the heart – love.”― Simran Silva

44.) “Love is just a word, but you bring it definition.”– Eminem

45.) “We loved with a love that was more than love.” – Edgar Allan Poe

46.) “The first duty of love is to listen.”—Paul Tillich

47.) “Love does not dominate; it cultivates.”— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

48.) “One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love.” – Sophocles

49.) ”There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.” – Jane Austen

50.) “Remember that the most valuable antiques are dear old friends.” – H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Quotes for Instagram that’ll make your day

51.) ”To be fully seen by somebody, then, and be loved anyhow – this is a human offering that can border on miraculous.” – Elizabeth Gilbert

52.) “Love is the flower you’ve got to let grow.” – John Lennon

53.) “Let the love not escape from within.”― Suchet Chaturvedi

54.) “True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked.” – Erich Segal

55.) “We are most alive when we’re in love.”— John Updike

56.) “Love cures people—both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.”—Karl A. Menninger

57.) “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” – Marcel Proust

58.) “Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.” – Washington Irving

59.) “There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven’t yet met.” – William Butler Yeats

60.) “The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart.” –Elisabeth Foley

Beautiful love quotes for Instagram

61.) “A simple ‘I love you’ means more than money.”– Frank Sinatra

62.) “Love does not claim possession, but gives freedom.” – Rabindranath Tagore

63.) “Love is flower like; Friendship is like a sheltering tree.” – Samuel Taylor Coleridge

64.) “The love we give away is the only love we keep.”— Elbert Hubbard

65.) “If I know what love is, it is because of you.” – Hermann Hesse

66.) “Love is the greatest refreshment in life.” – Pablo Picasso

67.) “A loving heart is the beginning of all knowledge.” – Thomas Carlyle

68.) “Man’s best support is a very dear friend.” – Cicero

69.) “Love is ease.” ― Noorilhuda

70.) “Spread love everywhere you go.” – Mother Teresa

Quotes for Instagram that will make you appreciate love

71.) “Love is a promise; love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear.”– John Lennon

72.) “I’m gonna fight for you until your heart stops beating.” – Stephenie Meyer

73.) “Life is a game and true love is a trophy.” – Rufus Wainwright

74.) “One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.”— Sophocles

75.) “A life lived in love will never be dull.” – Leo Buscaglia

76.) “You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back.” – Barbara de Angelis

77.) “It’s not what we have, but who we have.” – Winnie The Pooh

78.) “Love is an endless act of forgiveness. Forgiveness is me giving up the right to hurt you for hurting me.”- Beyonce

79.) “The only thing that really matters in life is to love and be loved.” ― Andrew Critchley

80.) “Be in love with your life. Every minute of it.”—Jack Kerouac

Quotes for Instagram about love and friendship

81.) “Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.”– Aristotle

82.) “Share your smile with the world. It’s a symbol of friendship and peace.” – Christie Brinkley

83.) “True love is selfless. It is prepared to sacrifice.” – Sadhu Vaswani

84.) “We need not think alike to love alike.” – John Wesley

85.) “The greatest healing therapy is friendship and love.”— Hubert H. Humphrey

86.) “To love someone means to see them as God intended them.” – Fyodor Dostoyevsky

87.) “Trust your intuition and be guided by love.” – Charles Eisenstein

88.) “For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.” – Carl Sagan

89.) “There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship.” – Thomas Aquinas

90.) “The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.” – Audrey Hepburn

Other inspirational quotes for Instagram

91.) “I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.” – Walt Whitman

92.) “One must not trifle with love.” – Alfred de Musset

93.) “Constant use had not worn ragged the fabric of their friendship.”- Dorothy Parker

94.) “And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make.”— Paul McCartney

95.) “There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.” – Vincent van Gogh

96.) “We love because it’s the only true adventure.” – Nikki Giovanni

97.) “If you wish to be loved, show more of your faults than your virtues.” – Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

98.) “I get by with a little help from my friends.” – The Beatles

99.) “Let us come alive to the splendor that is all around us, and see the beauty in ordinary things.”—Thomas Merton

100.) “Don’t ever think you are nothing. Somewhere along the line, there is going to be someone who thinks you are everything.” ― MHS Pourri

101.) “Those who listen with their hearts will begin to see patterns everywhere.” ― Grace-Naomi

Did you enjoy these quotes for Instagram?

Although social media can sometimes lead to bullying and negativity, it can also be a place for positivity, diversity, and support.

As one of the most successful social networks today, Instagram provides a great opportunity to inspire and uplift others. Hopefully, these quotes will help you inspire love using your Instagram channel.

Did you enjoy these quotes for Instagram? Which of the quotes was your favorite? We would love to hear all about it in the comment section below.

The post 101 Quotes for Instagram to Inspire Love appeared first on Everyday Power Blog.

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