#florence has that effect doesn’t she

[artist-issues]

About Greta Gerwig, Little Women, and Narnia

Greta Gerwig should not be in the Narnia realm at all. As anything.

The Narnia stories are inseparable from Christianity. Greta Gerwig is a Unitarian Universalist. This means she, in her own personal life, doesn’t believe in the saving work of Jesus Christ, which is a core belief of Christianity, and a core theme in Narnia. Everything in the Narnia books hinges on this, from the character motivations to the structure of the fantasy world to the way the magic in Narnia works.

Additionally, the women in Narnia do not adhere to post-modern or even antique feministic values. They are celebrated for their love and tender-heartedness and faith, all of which require self-sacrifice. Aravis of The Horse and His Boy starts out a proud warrior escaping an arranged marriage and ends up a humbled lady of Archenland court marrying the Prince. Susan Pevensie is at her best when she’s tender-hearted and at her worst when she doubts and becomes more concerned about her own identity than others. The school that Eustace and Jill go to in The Silver Chair is derided for it’s feministic views. By contrast, modern feminism is opposed to self-sacrifice, and that is the kind of thing Greta Gerwig demonstrates belief in throughout all of her works.

Am I saying that no person who isn’t a Christian or some type of conservative when it comes to feminism can ever work on Narnia? Absolutely not. I’m not saying that. Lots of people on the Walden Media Narnia movie (the first one), which was great, were not Christians and did not believe in the saving work of Christ. But they stayed faithful to the source material, even if they didn’t believe in the source material themselves. So the story retained it’s autonomy and power.

Greta Gerwig can’t do that. She has already demonstrated that she does not know how to make a story that hangs on to it’s integral source material if she, herself, doesn’t agree with that source material. She can’t be objective, and therefore, she can’t be faithful to what Narnia is.

How do I know that? Little Women.

I don’t care if you liked the Little Women movie by Greta Gerwig. I don’t care if the acting was “amazing” and I don’t care if Timothee Chalamet and Florence Pugh are great in it. I said exactly what I said. Greta Gerwig made a great movie—but she made a terrible adaptation of Little Women.

It was not Little Women. She made changes to Little Women. What changes, you ask? Changes to the specific pieces of the source material that did not reflect Greta Gerwig’s personal views.

That’s the cardinal sin for directors of adaptive stories or remakes—to make changes to the core themes of a classic tale, because you don’t agree with those core themes. That’s called mutilation, not “updates.”

Here’s how she did it in two major ways in Little Women:

She cut out Jo’s humble response to Friedrich’s gentle rebuke of sensation stories, and replaced it with a feministic self-pitying outburst from Joe and s borderline apathetic, cool piece of feminist advice from Friedrich. That takes all the continuity out of it and warps the characters. That scene is so pivotal in the book. It’s Jo, respecting a man who is much older and excellent in character than any other she’s ever known, and feeling immediately humbled by him calling her out. She’d never have responded that way if Laurie called her out. They would have argued. But this scene was supposed to show what Jo needed from a future romantic partner. She needed someone she respected, someone who could be wise and gentle—two things Laurie is not. She needed someone who would help her take her eyes off of worldly success and herself, and onto eternal benefits to mankind, specifically, the effect her stories might have on children. His gentle, respectful, wise love (and the love of characters like Beth) turns Jo from a self-absorbed writer into a selfless mother, like her own Marmee.

But Greta Gerwig never wanted Jo to be a selfless mother. She wanted, and I quote, “Jo’s love to be her work, and her romance with Friedrich secondary.” You know why?

Because that’s what Greta Gerwig believes in. Greta Gerwig’s life is her work. Watch any of her movies, you’ll see the smudge marks of that wholehearted belief all over them. She can’t even be objective when the whole point of a character is to make work secondary, as was certainly the case with the character of Jo March. No. She has to twist up one of the best American heroines ever into an automaton of herself.

The second way she mutilated source material is with Amy and Laurie. In the books, Amy and Laurie grow to love each other out of the character deficiencies that they make up for in one another. At the start of their courtship, Amy is ambitious and Laurie is lazy. Amy wants to marry for advantage, and Laurie wants to make much of his spurned love for Jo by giving up on life. And that’s it.

It’s Amy who first wakes up to feeling something romantic toward Laurie, not Laurie, and Laurie is not the first to make a move on her. Laurie does not know he is in love with Amy until well after she knows she loves him. Then, he does not make the first outward advance on Amy. They both come to the same conclusion together; when they do, she does not resist. In Greta Gerwig’s version, he’s back to falling in love with a girl who’s resisting, because that’s where Timothee Chalamet’s emotional acting shines or whatever.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that she adds a feminism speech from Amy, as a reason for her resistance, and she subtracts the scene where Laurie actually proposes. The scene where Laurie proposes, in the book, is so beautiful.

The two characters are in love, they know they’re in love, and neither of them is insecure about it. Amy has learned that she needs a life-partner who knows her and will protect her, like her old home-values did, and not some rich aristocrat or prince. Laurie has learned that he needs a life-partner who can stir him toward change, not through big explosive arguments and hope of conquered affection like Jo, but with gentle love and sheer inspiration, found in Amy.

So, in the most beautiful analogy for courtship that ends in marriage ever, he proposes to her while they’re rowing on a lake. She’s sitting next to him in the middle of the boat, she’s got one oar, he’s got the other, and she says, “How well we pull together, don’t we?” And he says, “so well that I wish we might always be in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” And she says “yes.”

That’s it. No argument. No big, passionate, sentimental explosion like he had with Jo. No wrenched and broken heart-strings. He didn’t have to convince her. She didn’t have to resist. Because entirely without force, and entirely without insecurity, they protected each other’s hearts and came to a conclusion that was based on something so much deeper and more eternal than fleeting passion.

Greta Gerwig cut that out and listened to Meryl Streep and put in another stormy lover’s-quarrel speech from Amy about why she couldn’t be with Laurie because she was in Jo’s shadow, and feminism and marrying for advantage, blah blah blah. It’s terrible. It’s mutilation. It ruins everything the original Little Women had.

it doesn’t matter if she got some of the characters right. It doesn’t matter if she got a lot of the quotes right. It doesn’t matter if all of Act 1 of the movie is mostly-book-accurate. If you change load-bearing themes or character motivations, you show that you can’t be objective and faithful to the source material.

It is fine if Greta Gerwig wants to make a movie about a woman who loves her work more than anything else. It is fine if she wants to make a movie about how women are under-appreciated for their minds and souls, and have characters that go on a journey to prove it. But it is not fine to use someone else’s story to say it. Make your own story, Greta Gerwig.

Oh, you already did? See: Lady Bird? See: Frances Ha? Then come up with something new. Don’t shoehorn your same beliefs into every franchise that is offered to you, like vomiting, then eating the vomit and regurgitating it over and over in new colors. Figure out how to tell someone else’s story in a faithful way, objectively, or else keep your stained hands off until you can clean them up. Especially, keep them off Narnia.

Greta Gerwig makes movies for Greta Gerwig, by Greta Gerwig. She can’t be objective, and for that, she can’t do Narnia. She can’t do it justice, she can’t do it faithfully, because she makes movies for herself, by herself.

#Little women #Greta gerwig #Greta gerwig hot take #hot take #Narnia #the chronicles of Narnia #little women 2019 #Louisa may Alcott #c.s. Lewis #lady bird #Frances ha #Timothee Chalamet #Netflix the chronicles of Narnia #Netflix #Netflix Narnia #Aslan #Walden media #Narnia 2023 #Narnia no #remake #adaptation #Barbie #barbie 2023 #Florence Pugh #jo March #Laurie #Amy March #Theodore Laurence #Greta gerwig hate #Greta gerwig love

[wishcamper]

Don't Worry Feyre, Darling: the relationship anxiety to coersive control pipeline

CW: emotional abuse, reproductive abuse

Creds: licensed counselor with focus in addiction, trauma, and gay stuff; experience in group and family counseling, mandated DV clients, and abuse victim support.

Before the mob comes: I am not pro or anti Rhys, and I think his contradictions say much more about SJM than anything. I also believe it’s possible for a fandom to reclaim/rewrite a character who has been massacred by an author.

We’re going to begin at Rhys helping Feyre during an extremely dark place in both their lives. We’re going to end at him withholding vital medical information from her for the sake of “protecting her”. But first, some context.

Inside all of the (amazing) drama around the 2022 movie Don’t Worry, Darling , was a story that is pretty well worn at this point: men deciding they know what’s best for women and giving it to them whether they like it or not. In the movie, Florence Pugh’s Alice lives inside a computer simulation where she is the modern equivalent of a 50s housewife: dresses, calisthenics, martinis, “making a roast”. (She also gets eaten out by Harry Styles but that doesn’t seem to be an explicit part of the world’s design.) The problem? She doesn’t know she’s in the simulation. Harry Styles, in between all the cunnilingus, drugged her and put her in the program against her will. Yikes! Why!

The movie explains that he believed their life in the real world was miserable, and that he was saving her from that by giving her this perfect life. She should be grateful, if anything! What he doesn’t tell her, but that we see, is that Harry Styles also seems to struggle with a sense of inadequacy for not being able to provide. He is failing to live up to personal and cultural standards of manhood but, instead of dismantling those standards, he makes it his wife’s problem by kidnapping and brainwashing her consciousness. Hm. Interesting strategy. Let’s see how it works out for him.

With Rhysand, his motives in the beginning are more understandable - he initiates rescuing Feyre from the very real danger of Tamlin and her own mental decline. He feels justified breaking whatever magic law because of his own experiences being trapped and believing people should have a choice about where they go and who they are. He emphasizes over and over that these choices are Feyre’s and that she has freedom with him. We see through ACOMAF that helping her gives him a sense of purpose after the trauma UTM. His friends remark on how Feyre brought him back to life, never questioning and even encouraging this pattern.

But Rhys clearly has a lot of anxiety about his relationships and closeness in general. He mentions on several occasions that people around him tend to suffer because of him, and how afraid he is of doing that to Feyre. She is very receptive to this and puts effort into proving him wrong. He finds safety in the bubble of their relationship that probably feels pretty fucking good. The unfortunate side effect of this is that instead of processing and resolving his own anxiety, he directs it through Feyre and his love for her. Meanwhile, he keeps his anxious maneuvers behind the scenes, like not telling her about the bond, taking her to the Weaver, encouraging her to learn to read, to train. It may be genuinely helping her, but there’s also this sense of ‘I know what you need better than you do’. And again, nobody questions this.

We flirt with this tension at the beginning of ACOMAF when Rhys enforces their bargain from UTM. As the reader, at that point, we are supposed to believe this is cruel of him. He interrupts her wedding for fucks sake, throw your shoe at him girl! But over time we start to feel like it’s okay because Feyre secretly wanted it, it’s ultimately for her own good. Rhys is the most powerful High Lord in history, I’m sure he could’ve figured out a way to break the bargain, but he didn’t. In fact he engineered a situation where she'd be at his mercy. Why? Because Rhys was worried about Feyre, felt her deteriorating through the bond. Because of that, he felt justified in coming to collect. Personally, I have no opinion about whether crashing the wedding was the right or wrong thing to do. But it does set up, at least in the world of the book, that removing someone’s autonomy is okay if it’s for their own good, if the ends justify the means. In fact, that overstep ends up being the road to Feyre’s life in the NC and her love with Rhysand, a love that is so great she willingly tethers her very life to it. Even in ACOWAR we see how their relationship is a way he regulates his anxiety *cough*battlefield blowjob*cough*. He gets used to Feyre’s health and happiness being his source comfort and can continue to avoid dealing with his own shit internally.

In his seminal work Why Does He Do That?, Lundy Bancroft, a specialist in treatment of abuse perpetrators, debunks the various myths about what causes abuse and why it happens. His thesis is disarmingly simple: people abuse because they believe it’s justified. He says one of the signs of abuse escalation is “a growing attitude that he knows what is good for her better than she does”. Bancroft also notes that abuse is so hard to spot because “most abusive men don’t seem like abusers” (emphasis his) and that abusive men have periods of being charming, funny, even kind. Abusive men often don’t see themselves as such, because the strategy works for them - they feel good when they displace their emotional problems onto someone else.(1)

And then Feyre gets pregnant with a baby that could kill her. Besides the fact they really should have talked about this before trying for a baby given Rhys is mixed race (Cassian and Nesta too, but that’s a whole other post), Rhys claims a sense of ownership over his wife and child almost immediately. He’s constantly being described as smug and glowing with male pride. Even when he’s not smarmy, he’s consumed with his own ideas about protecting them and can’t hear the protests of others. We see his anxiety morph into more overt control in attempt to handle the situation. He believes he’s justified in keeping the danger from Feyre because he doesn’t want to stress her out. But that is not about Feyre, that’s about Rhys. HE is scared, HE is lost, and so he makes a decision on her behalf to lessen the burden he’s already carrying, whether he’s aware of it or not. He must keep her in a happy bubble else how is he supposed to go on.

Don’t Worry, Darling is at least critical of this ‘I know better’ motive even if the movie is stupid, and Harry Styles gets some frontier justice in the form of a whiskey glass to the back of the dome. But ACOSF condones Rhys’ actions and even insinuates our main character is deserving of death for calling him out. Bancroft writes that “part of how the abuser escapes confronting himself is by convincing you that you are the cause of his behavior”. He wouldn’t HAVE to do this if you just TRUSTED HIM.

But here’s what I think. I think Rhys has walked down a path of using his relationship to balance his internal conflict. Anxiety is a force in every relationship, but with Feyre he must maintain her beautiful life where she never worries in order to feel safe himself. I can have empathy for this, kind of - he’s suffered significant losses and it’s understandable he feels protective of those he loves. I think about celebrities with non-famous spouses, and how they avoid talking about them because they don’t want the scrutiny. I believe Rhys thinks he’s genuinely doing right by Feyre. But Rhys is so averse to his own anxiety that he can’t let himself trust anyone else to resolve it. He can’t let go of Feyre as his safe space and almost condemns her to die because of it.

And this is how, ultimately, Rhys traps himself. He tries to create a bubble where Feyre can never leave him, and ends up signing both their death warrants. I hope the world of fan fiction can redeem him, because I really don’t think Sarah can.

And yes, I know it’s faerie porn and it’s not that deep. But this is a series marketed toward an audience at risk of abuse and intimate partner violence. Bancroft lays out key points at the end of the book that feel particularly relevant to the larger conversation:

“Once we tear the cover of excuses, distortions, and manipulations off abusers, they suddenly find abuse much harder to get away with.

If Mothers Against Drunk Driving can change culture’s indifference to alcohol-related automotive deaths, we can change culture’s attitude toward partner abuse.

Everyone has a role to play in ending abuse.

If you are trying to assist an abused woman, get help and support yourself as well

All forms of chronic mistreatment in the world are interwoven. When we take one apart, all the rest start to unravel as well.”

Why Does He Do That? , Lundy Bancroft. https://ia800108.us.archive.org/30/items/LundyWhyDoesHeDoThat/Lundy_Why-does-he-do-that.pdf

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #rhys critical #feysand is dysfunctional #don't kill me #intimate partner violence #why does he do that? #prythian university #sjm critical

[jaggedjot]

Do you think we should have gotten a scene of Louis either in Dubai or at rue royals just like talking about his feelings regarding his mother after her funeral I just feel like we had the scene of Louis looking at the mom in the coffin and then cut to Grace meeting Claudia like I feel like we didn’t get to sit with Louis processing his mother’s death? We as the audience spent time with Florence and suddenly she’s dead and gone and Louis doesn’t express anything about it? Did that seem like a time saving decision on the writers part?

Thank you for the question, anon. This is actually a subject that I am planning to write about when I get to the fourth episode of my rewatch.

It is an absence, one of dozens of notable subjects that Louis gracefully steps around, but not one that feels inexplicable to me.

I think it is important to remember that the memories in this episode all come from Claudia, who does not understand the history or complicated relationship Louis had with his mother. There is an implication that her death effects Louis, as Claudia does mark the moment where Louis is told that Florence has died as the end of their family's blissful happiness ("And then the phone rang last night, and all the easy times stopped."), but Claudia is either unwilling to write about it and or does not fully comprehend it.

It is also worthwhile considering that this loss would impact Louis differently to that of Paul or Grace, not just because of the antagonism between Louis and Florence, but due to the way that the siblings are framed throughout as a having a unique bond (e.g. Paul expressing no concern for their mother's future during his final conversation with Louis, Paul's welfare only seemingly being discussed by Grace and Louis, Louis visiting just to see Grace). The loss of Grace and Paul still pains Louis because he feels regret for his role in how those relationships played out (e.g. refusing to recognise Paul's increasing emotional instability, avoiding seeing Grace rather than addressing their issues), but Louis’ recollections of Florence are more resentful than remorseful.

#it is rather exciting to have a question about something I haven't yet written about #Florence de Pointe du Lac #Louis de Pointe du Lac #Claudia #Interview with the Vampire #Vampterview #Questions and Queries

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine you are saved from the dark side by Anakin Skywalker.

Warnings1: the plot of this story involves the exclusion of the Ventress in her arc of “The Clone Wars”. This means Y/N is the apprentice of Count Dooku, but when he thinks he has you killed, you are not. You are rescued by Anakin instead… Is there redemption for you after all?

Warnings 2: smut, lots of drama, action, angst. Don’t read this if you are minor or possess any sensibility with these themes.

Recommendations: “Bring Me To Life”, “Lost in Paradise”, by Evanescence. “Nemo”, by Nightwish. “St Jude”, by Florence and the Machine.

***

Intro

Darth Sidious reaches out for Dooku. Through the hologram he can see the Count going on one knee to greet the Sith Lord.

“Master.”

“The power of Y/N is growing. You must prevent it from growing it further. This is an imperative order.”

Dooku hesitates.

“But she has been my faithful servant…”

It’s when he begins to suffocate. Life has never before been at this close to be put an end.

“I am not to be questioned. Remember, my apprentice, that I don’t tolerate any failures whatsoever.”

Dooku is on his feet again, breathless. He nods his head.

“Of course, Master. It will be as you wish.”

“Good.”

Your death warrant has thus been signed.

***

Your black hair falls loose behind your back all the while a dark cape with a long hood omits your features. Darkness is in you and power is alluring. Almost every enemy that crosses your path does not live to tell the grandiosity you possess. Your reputation proceeds you to the point even those who are your allies whisper how you strongly opposed Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and Knight Jedi Anakin Skywalker once.

You don’t care about reputations. You are not there to conquer anyone by fear or anger. You are there to ensure the missions assigned to you are done without second effects.

There are moments, however, where you are under a heavy rain sensing something’s wrong is about to begin. And that is what happens now. You don’t recollect how exactly you end up serving Dooku, but here you are, serving him to survive.

Yes. It has always been a matter of survival. Had not it been for such, I would have not fallen.

You are surprised when old memories of your family and friends come back to haunt you. But there is little time to dwell in their faces. As you are going back to your ship after unsuccessfully battling Kenobi in planet Y/C, rain starts to get heavier and you sense you are being followed.

You turn and you don’t see anyone. There is nothing around you, no one near you. But the presence is there. Though you are prepared for a fight, you know it’s a risk to stay there, in an open field within a strange planet.

You go back to your ship, uneasy. Your shoulders are tense and as you prepare to fly, your heart is tormented with a bad feeling. It doesn’t take longer to concretize, though: once your ship is leaving the atmosphere of that planet, you hear a strange sound.

“Who would attack me like this?”

What you see is that the attack does not come from any ship you might remember by the association to Jedis, the Senates or even maybe a Separatist.

You opt for reach out for your Master. Strangely, he is unreachable. You try again, you don’t succeed. You pilot fast, it’s when you see there’s not only one ship, but two after you.

Shit.

You try contacting Dooku one last time. When he doesn’t answer, you know you’ve been sent to die. You hate him for it, but your hate is strangely weak. Because I deserve it. A thought that is not as empty and insignificant as you would think.

The chase eventually interrupts what might’ve been the rise of an internal unrest. Your ship is hit and the next thing you know you are thrown out of it. It is so violent that the moment you are floating in the space, everything is black and you come to believe you are dead and gone.

***

Anakin finds himself surrounded by destruction everywhere. Once again, he is frustrated for not finding General Grievous. He’s about to turn the ship back to Coruscant when R2-D2 makes a noise.

“Uh? What are you spotting, R2-D2?”

It’s when he finds you floating amidst the destruction of many ships belonging to the Republic’s supporters.

“So she’s dead, hm? One less enemy to deal with.”

R2-D2 seems to protest.

“How would you know that? You’re not asking me to check it, are you?” Anakin heavily sighs. “Fine. I don’t know why I’m doing…”

It’s when it occurs him that if you are alive, the Jedis will definitely reward him for taking you as a prisoner. It’s solely with that purpose that he rescues you.

Once inside the ship, you are tied to the litter all the while Anakin proceeds to apply the closest to first aid. He watches as your whole skin looks blue and your long hair nearly grey, but once you start breathing he sees, in fact, that the color of your skin is y/c and your long locks are black as coal.

When you open your eyes, you stare surprised at Anakin’s blue eyes. His demeanor is serious and not at all friendly. In fact, your long time enemy has a saber right to your neck.

“You are not in advantage here, Y/N.” He tells you. “I’m taking you to Coruscant back with me where you ought to rock in prison. To the hell you should go, but I am not an outlaw man to send you there with my own hands.”

You don’t say anything at all. You are disappointed to find yourself in such a state. Death would have been sweeter.

AnakIn reads your thoughts, but he’s not moved by your internal torment. Yet, eventually curiosity takes the heels and he says:

“How the hell did you end up here nearly dead?”

“Why’d you care to know?” It’s the answer you give him.

There is tension in the air. You look at each other as if you are about to draw your sabers and engage in a battle. Anakin’s hand is already resting on his side.

“If you feel like putting an end to my life”, you tell him, “what’s stopping you?”

“Believe me, I would if I could.” Anakin clenches his jaw. “The only reason why I don’t is because that is not the Jedi way. I wonder, though, why isn’t your boss here? Where is Dooku, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. He used to trust in me, clearly he doesn’t anymore.” How easily you give the information seems to surprise you both.

Anakin folds his arms, distrustful. But he senses you are not telling lies.

“Why would you think that?”

Since you are a prisoner whose former allegiance led you to your current state, you know you owe nothing to Dooku anymore.

“Because he conducted me to a trap. He wanted to have me dead. The reason why, we can only speculate.” Giving the look in his eyes, you throw your hands exasperatedly in the air. “Look, I have no reason to deceive you. I know my past of bad doings proceed me, a reputation is always after my name when I come to places, but whilst I may be many things dishonest is not one of them.”

Anakin frowns at you, but says nothing. It’s a long journey and he opts to call his master instead. As he does so, you are left there in the cabin. You notice your saber has been taken away from you, but the worst is not this. It’s to be left with your thoughts.

Someone would say that no one is completely bad that no good can flourish from the inside. Once upon a time, you’d laugh at this romantic philosophy, but now… When looking down at your heart, you are desperate for redemption.

Your pride, however, is like a flying demon who refuses to let go of the prey, which is your good self, haunted and corrupted by dark forces. You are broken, and part of you reminds you constantly that there’s no salvation for you.

Silence becomes unbearable to your conscience. If that is what’ll be of you in a cellar, the despair seems to dig its claws in you. You close your eyes, decided to meditate when the door opens again and here’s Skywalker right before you.

“I want to collaborate”, you say. “I don’t care what it costs me. I want to see Dooku dead. It’s only fair, eye to eye.”

Anakin’s eyes are fixed on yours and you don’t read a good judgement in them.

“You will collaborate, but not how you demand it. You shall tell the Jedi Council all you know and it is only then you will meet your fate at the cellar, where I hope you stay for good.”

“For a Jedi, you carry a lot of anger in you.” It’s all you say, rather melancholically. “Been there, done that. The result is terrible.” You snort at yourself.

Something about your self hatred captures Anakin’s attention.

“What makes you think I will end up like you?”

“I don’t.” You blow away a few locks that fall in your face, since your hands are tied in chains. “But I know what I feel. Truth be told, I deserve it.” You smirk disdainfully.

However, the effect of your words have a different weight to Anakin’s perspective. He begins to see you are not entirely bad and besides if he does give in to hate you, as he is inclined to, Anakin might equal himself to an agent of dark forces like you which he doesn’t want to.

“Self pity is not going to convince me you are a poor lamb, offered to the sacrifice of the Sith Lord.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him.

“I told you what I know. Why are you still here, Jedi?”

“Because”, Anakin takes a seat on the opposite where yours is, “I think there is something else you’re not telling me.”

You don’t answer him. In fact, you turn your face away and slid back to litter. Anakin is patient…for some time, but he ends up leaving you due to your refusal to cooperate with him.

Once the door closes, you fall prey to yourself. As you drift to sleep, a world of fire and blood prosecutes you. The judge is your conscience and you are condemned to an eternal misery. It doesn’t, however, generate hate. Instead, it leads you to suffering.

In the back of your mind, there is the image of your mother, your father… A family you left behind. What had happened? How did you become Dooku’s apprentice? How did you drown yourself in dark magic?

How did the good girl go bad?

I was never good, you hiss at your conscience as you turn from one side to another. Until the memory where you used your saber to sacrifice the one you loved the most comes.

When you gave the last drop of goodness. When you fell.

You wake up tormented, breathless. You don’t realize you are sobbing until you find Anakin watching you, surprised to find you in a deplorable state.

You are devastated, desolated. Anakin cannot help but pity you. If you were entirely bad, would you feel this way? A question he has yet to uncover the answer.

“What’s this?”

He knows his question comes out ruder than he thought, but Anakin doesn’t know how else to put. What draws him to you is the good feeling that is starting to bloom, which gets his interest.

You look at him, startled. You come to realize you are exposed to him, nude in soul, sentiments crudely exhibited right in your eyes. It is too late to mask them, to hide away in your old self. What’s this tempest that has brought you from the naughtiness?

Something about you inspires Anakin in untying the ropes that had chained you to the litter you’ve been since you were captured.

“It’s dark torture for you.” You answer him dryly. “Like the poison boiling the blood, twisting what’s healthy into disease.”

“You are not healthy, Y/N. To submit yourself to Dooku? That cannot be stated as such.” Anakin watches you.

Your long hair, dark as coal, is a complete mess; some locks are partly omitting your features and he hesitantly brushes them away. It’s when your eyes meet. His blue ones stare into your yellow irises, however, Anakin notices that in your right eye the intensity of the color is beginning to dissipate: the conflict in you starts to show and he has a glimpse of the real color of your irises.

***

“I sense there is good in her.” Anakin surprises himself by advocating in your favor.

Obi-Wan turns at him as if Anakin went mad.

“Good in Y/N? Anakin, are you out of your mind? She did…”

“There is no need to list me her deeds, Master.” Anakin interrupts him, impatiently so. “But you don’t know what I saw. That she was left to die by the man she was devoted to produced in her some shock that I swear I saw the original color that once painted her irises.”

Obi-Wan looks thoughtful.

“Interesting. Well, keep an eye in Y/N, Anakin. She’ll still be judged for her crimes, though.”

Anakin has a plan.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s your fault that you instigate me the hero syndrome.” He smirks at his Master, who smiles against his will.

“Very funny, Anakin.”

So the two part. All the while this happens, you are taken to a provisory custody. You have the opportunity to clean yourself and dress new clothes. After that you are surprised to see the Jedi with you in the cell.

“What brings you here?”

“I think there are more informations you have than you are willing to share.”

You sigh impatiently.

“I told you, Jedi. I told you everything I know.” You snort at him. “All I want is…”

“…revenge. You Sith never change.” Anakin rolls his eyes. “Try surprising me.”

You detest that cocky guy. Your thought seems to entertain him because he smirks at you.

“I am not here to do so, Skywalker.” You snap back.

The two of you stare at each other. You are annoying and he’s obnoxious, but how come neither seem to turn the back to other?

Silence yet remains when Anakin says:

“You know, if you cooperate I could help your cause. Are you okay with going to the prison without a fight? Honestly, Y/N, I’m beginning to think I underestimated you.”

You walk up to him and would have slapped his face for his imprudence had he not held your wrist.

“Careful, Y/N. I’m here to bargain for you and you’re not helping yourself.”

“I don’t need your help.” But you hesitate because you come to realize this is not the wisest thing to say. His smirk shows you so, much to your annoyance. “Why aren’t you leaving me to die, Skywalker? Isn’t it easier for you?”

“It is, but I don’t think you are worthy to be sent to death.” What he is about to say will overpower any darkness that might still hold a grip onto your heart. “A fighter like you doesn’t concede to a few battles lost. There is good in you, Y/N, and I am not going to give up on you, no matter what you say.”

***

As you and Anakin search for Count Dooku, his whereabouts remain difficult to find. The Jedi comes to notice that little by little some traces of darkness are slowly fading away from you.

However unaware you are to details as these, you come to realize you’ve grown tired of the guilt, of always choosing the wrong paths. There is a moment that revenge seems useless to you.

“It is exhausting.” You tell him as you land to planet Y/C to get supplies. It’s raining and Anakin senses a storm is coming so he decides to rent a room in a nearby hotel. “The hatred, the angst, the dark. In the beginning, to hold such power was alluring. But at what cost?”

Anakin turns at you as he leads you to the hotel.

“It’s all gone now. The past cannot be changed, Y/N, but it can be cured.”

You don’t say anything. Your eyes are puddled with tears. As you go inside the hotel, rain starts getting heavier outside, but the sound comforts you. Anakin sees how it has the effect to calm you.

“And here’s your room.” You two are told before the key is given to Anakin.

To your dismay there is only one bed. Anakin sighs.

“…for fuck’s sake. Well I’ll take the couch.” He doesn’t wait for your reaction, he needs a shower and will get one.

Although embarrassed you might be with this situation, you are found conflicted with your feelings. As you tie your hair in a ponytail, you begin to separate your clothes before being drawn to the window.

Pulling away the curtains, you sigh almost in relief when seeing the storm outside. It feels like home to you, providing you an strange peace; as if you were famine after a long time emerged in chaos and now you are finally fed with comfort.

You close your eyes. You concentrate in the rain, the sound of it makes you chill. The nothingness calms you, helps you see reason where before you could not. Still… Past is always there to play tricks at your mind, using memories to distorce facts.

When you open them, you feel your cheeks are wet. How long have you been crying? You are quick to rub your eyes, but when you turn around, you see Anakin leaving bathroom. The Jedi is shirtless, his hair is wet and his curls…make him adorable.

As if Anakin captures your thoughts, his eyes go straight to you. You are quick to get your clothes and run to the bathroom, your face completely a bright shade of pink, much to his delight.

Once you are clean, you wear a white blouse and a pair of black pants. You are suddenly shy when noticing the blouse does show your nipples. This never bothered you before, though, why being so obtuse about it now?

Nevertheless, you fold your arms and leave bathroom faking an arrogance that, in fact, has long left you. But Anakin knows it better when seeing you. The fragility is temporary, like an eggshell about to break and leave something stronger and better to come soon.

He takes a seat next to you, not without coming to notice the change in your aura and the beauty that rises from it. Your face, completely clean of the dark make up you used to wear, shows Anakin delicate features and full lips that are so inviting. Though your left eye is yellow, he pleasant notices the right one is y/c. A good sign.

Your hair, black as coal, is loose on your back—acquiring a shine that nearly makes it look like dark blue. Your y/c skin is soft and… and it’s when his eyes linger at your chest and at your stiffed nipples. Anakin’s throat is dried.

He quickly looks away as you seem to notice his presence.

“You may stay if you like.” You fold your arms again.

“I appreciate it.” Anakin doesn’t move away. “May I tell you a secret, Y/N?”

You are surprised to notice he actually trusts in you. Even more than that, you in fact return that trust.

“Yes. What’s it… Anakin?”

It’s a different sensation to pronounce his name. And to know the effect it has on him makes your heart pound. His smile is so warm and affectionate. You blush.

“Anakin, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He clearly forgets what he is about to say, distracted by you; the tenderness that flows with you. Anakin feels the change operating in the Force.

“Like I am worthy of your fondness.” You mumble.

Anakin makes sure to step closer to where you stand. His hands work to unfold your arms, locking his fingers with you; though he eventually releases the other to lift your chin. So your eyes meet and your souls speak.

“I’ve once followed the path of vengeance. I tried saving my mother but I couldn’t. But the suffering that came along with it was not deserving the time wasted in dwelling on it. I’ve learned the lesson in the most difficult way.” He gently caresses your cheek before letting his fingertips brush your jawline, moving from your neck right to your hair. “Let me love you, Y/N. And there will be no regrets to recollect.”

You forget how to breathe when your hands cup his cheeks and your lips pursuit his, pairing your tongue with his in an endless dance where fire dictates the rhythm. You experience bliss when his arms are all around you, where the kiss deepens, elevating you to somewhere divine.

However, as passionate it is, the burn turns to an ache—one of the kind you left with the ghost of your beloved so many years ago. Now you are alive, not a woman dusted into wind, a memory of your old identity, mounded to placate the designs of the Sith.

He knows it. Anakin’s smile brightens the most when parting the kiss to mewl under the love you irradiate.

“Never let me go, Ani.” You whisper, helping him get rid of his shirt.

Your place your hands over his muscles; your fingertips slowly caress his arms, neck and shoulders before resting over his abs. You nuzzle your nose against his neck as he rocks you against him; you stay like this for a while, breathing his sweet scent drives you crazy.

And you come to realize that loving him moderately is not an option. You hesitate when such thought occurs you. You panic when you become aware that he’s more than the man who saved you.

Once the enemy, now the lover.

“Let me hush your fears.” Anakin hears your heart beating against your chest. He leans forward to peck your lips once more before lifting your shirt and tossing aside. The way he looks at you makes you feel wanted, desired. “You are gorgeous, my love.”

You like how he devours your chest with his eyes, seeing the lust in his blue tempestful irises only reinforcing yours. His hands are careful with you, and you arch your back, already wet when he helps you get rid of your pants.

He is down of his knees, caressing your thighs as he removes your panties. Anakin smirks when seeing you rub a leg against the other to help ease the friction. You breathe in anticipation, so hungry for his touch.

“Ani… don’t make me beg.” You whisper.

“I want this to be perfect”, Anakin tells you before rising his right hand all the whilst resting his left one on your waist.

His eyes are glued on yours, transfixed by your beauty. The fallen angel seems to rise to heavenly mercy as he inserts a finger so indecently into your core that you gasp loudly.

“You are dripping”, Anakin observes maliciously as he inserts another finger. “Oh my maker! You test me, love.”

It doesn’t help you that his left hand moved up to your chest. He uses his fingers to stroke each breast, caressing it slowly—yes, Anakin is taking things slow to you because he wants to enjoy every second with you. You moan loudly, barely minding the sounds that come from you.

“Yes, babe. Is it good?” He asks you.

Something about his eyes makes you sigh in content. You move your hips right against his fingers, enjoying the waves of pleasure that make your mind completely blank.

“Yes, Ani. It’s so good!”

Both of his hands are now around your hips and you are about to pout when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. You need to find support on the wall because otherwise your knees would go week.

“Anakin!”

Your hands play with his hair all the while you ride his face. It makes you mewl under his power. You are now absolutely devastated by these new feelings he inspires you. Before you know you are coming undone and the moans that leave your mouth turn into now screams that echo in this room.

You are barely able to walk after this round, and it’s only the beginning. You help Anakin to stand but you push right him to bed.

“Oh my darling, let me reward you…” you brush your lips against his right before your hands move from his neck to his abs until these are finally settled in his stiffness under his pants. All the while you are kissing his jawline down to his neck, you begin to unlace his pants and tend his manhood gently.

“Y/N…” his breath is heavy and your name comes like a song from his lips. “Angel, what are you… Oh, Maker!”

To say Anakin never desired you like this would incur in lies. Though he doesn’t know when from enemy you’ve become something more, how many were the times his eyes scanned your body? Or that he touched himself thinking about you?

As he watches you begin to go down on your knees, Anakin breathes in anticipation. His hands caress your face, stroking your skin ever so soft before running to your hair. He gently pulls your hair before you are about to engulf him.

“Hmm. So thirsty are you?” He smirks, enjoying the power he has over you. Anakin does feel your ache right in between your legs, his eyes staring at your hard nipples, but how you are so undone before he even begins with you does ignite him a new sensation.

“Yes, my love.” You stroke him, eyes glued on his, a mischief in your lips. “Let me redeem myself from all the pain I’ve caused you.”

Anakin smirks down at you and even when you take his length at long last, he is surprised you do so. He shuts his eyes, enjoying to pump it right against your lips even if he does so in the gentlest possible way.

It arouses him further to feel your moans vibrating against his manhood. But he has other plans for his seed—he is not wasting them at your mouth. So when Anakin feels he is about to come, he raises you kindly and lies you down in bed.

His lips are pursuing yours hungrily as he finally thrusts in you. You gasp pleasantly, wrapping your legs around his waist. As you lay your head back to the pillow, Anakin breaks the kiss to move to your chest, his tongue settling right around your nipples.

“Oh Maker!” You cry out loud much to his pleasure.

As he adjusts his hips to move with yours, your bodies are now synchronized. All the while he thrusts in you, Anakin intercalates it with his fingers right deep inside you, making you squirm.

“Anakin!” You whimper, earning him a malicious smirk.

“Sing to me, angel.” He whispers in your ear. “I’m ruining you, my love.”

You roll your eyes as your legs begin to feel heavy, as you seem to get distant from your body, as if you are levitating. You arch your back, the mess you make in bed perceptible as sweat soaks the sheets.

Anakin smirks down at you as he watches you come undone, his right hand moving to your face to remove some hair that is glued in your skin. And right there, your body shakes and he feels right into his manhood all the juices you release.

Not long after, he comes right into you too. And you’ve never felt so amazed as you are now with his seeds right inside you.

***

The moment he sees you sleeping in his arms is when he realizes—as if there was ever the need of confirming it—that he loves you. Anakin, when surrounding your thoughts and sentiments, is more than happy to find the same in you, the mirror to what he feels for you in the exact same proportion.

As he strokes your long hair, seeing peace in your features for the first time, Anakin knows he’s already deeply attached to you. He’s not losing you to the dark side again, it’s a vow the Jedi makes to himself.

Anakin smiles as you cuddle onto him; even into your sleep, you unconsciously bury your head against his chest, clinging onto him like a child. There’s something beautiful in this simple gesture, in being loved like you love him. As he begins to drift himself to sleep, Anakin does so the happiest of the man that night.

***

But the greatest test is yet to come. In your opinion, redemption will be only a plausible reality to your heart and conscience the moment you defeat Dooku. It’s not about killing him, no—this would be revenge and part of you thinks that the old “eye for an eye” is not worth it anymore.

However, once you and Anakin finally discover the man’s whereabouts, is when the disagreement between you two rises.

“I need to fight him, my love.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t be stubborn, Y/N. That is not a mere man, Dooku is a Sith Lord.” Anakin tells you.

You reach out for him, hands cupping his face, gently putting his curls behind his ear.

“I know. But because I’ve been familiar with his techniques, maybe I have a chance. I cannot let this man go unpunished. I need to try.”

“The Jedis can do that.”

You smile when remembering the countless times you’ve made things difficult to Obi-Wan.

“Just let me try.”

“I will not risk your life, Y/N. I am not going to lose you.”

“You won’t.” It’s when you have an idea. “Call Obi-Wan. Perhaps it is time for all of us work together at last.”

***

“You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.” Anakin is reluctant to let you go in this mission.

“I have to agree with Anakin, Y/N.” Obi-Wan is present in this as well, having met you two somewhere in between the planet where Dooku is located and where the Master Jedi has been. “There is little need to fight him alone to ensure your redemption. Although it is the first time I see a Sith going back from darkness, it doesn’t mean we are willing to risk you. There are other ways to clear your path. Besides, revenge is not the Jedi way.”

“I’m not fighting him to kill the man, Master Kenobi. I don’t want Dooku dead, despite a part of me wishing him so, otherwise he’d not continuously to pose a threat to the Galaxy. He’s the hand behind the Separatists in this endless war, but if I may overpower him…” you leave your point in the air.

Obi-Wan strokes his chin, looking thoughtful. Anakin says:

“Humiliating such a devil creature will not redeem him either. Unlike you, he’s lost to the dark for good.”

You smile at him.

“Believe me, my love, I know what I’m doing.”

Against his will, and because you are too stubborn to let this opportunity being carried out by the hands of others, Anakin lands the ship and watches you jump from it without looking back. His eyes follow your moves, the dark cape omitting your frame as rain falls over you. His heart aches.

“Not everything is lost, Anakin.” Obi-Wan breaks the silence by filling it with hope. “I, in fact, have a good feeling about this.”

“I pray you are right in this, Master.”

***

The grand salon is poorly illuminated, but you don’t need it to see right through it. Dooku smirks as soon as you step inside.

“So you are alive, Y/N. I should have made sure myself that you would not come back from the dead.”

“I don’t think you strike me as a man who does the dirty work, Dooku.” Your pick your saber and prepares to fight. “A coward is what you are.”

He frowns at you, sensing there is no more darkness in you—or very little to come to surface anyway. His two red lightsabers are now in each hand.

“We will see if you are as courageous as you claim, Y/N.”

The fight begins. You are patient, not moved by angst. But the sentiment of vengeance has not been entirely defeated.

“I see you are about to defect again, will you not?” Dooku smirks at you.

You narrow your eyes, not allowing him to break into your weaknesses and turn them against you. To oppose Dooku is an art few would master. Your skills, as fallible as they might be, resist his blows. He does not like that.

Hate is his driving force as patience becomes yours. The fight is balanced, to each attack a better defense. You begin to transpire.

Will you be able to overpower your former Master?

***

“I worry for Y/N.” Anakin says once he and Obi-Wan reunite after his Master contacts Windu and his men. “As strong as she may be, Dooku is stronger.”

Obi-Wan knows his fellow Jedi and former Padawan is moved more by his attachment than reason when he says so. He shakes his head. Typical of Anakin, to fall for those he is supposed to help. I should have seen that coming.

“You underestimate Y/N. The fight is surprisingly equal. You should start being reasonable at least once in your life, Anakin. Otherwise your often good judgements will be clouded by your impulsiveness.”

Anakin raises an eyebrow at him.

“Your capacity to make a compliment never ceases to bewilder me.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

“Lovely as always, Anakin.”

***

Zoom.

Zoom.

Zooooom.

Ah, had you been a Jedi!

Such is Obi-Wan’s thought as he watches your skillful maneuvers counterattacking Dooku’s blows. Anakin told his master your story: how the Sith Lord had sensed Force in you and basically catapulted you into becoming an agent of the dark forces.

But he too is impressed by your trainings, readapted to better use. Nonetheless, these lack the resistance that is part of the Jedi training. So eventually you are bent to a muscle cramp and it nearly costs your life.

“Wait”, says Obi-Wan, preventing Anakin’s imprudence again. “This is not the time.”

“I am not losing her!”

“Shush.” He hisses lowly. “Otherwise every effort of Y/N will be for nothing. We must not give our positions away before time.”

In the meantime, you are getting yourself tired. You don’t seem able to resist him further.

“Give up!” Dooku yells at you.

He pushes you again and again, trying to subjugate you, to placate you. To have you dead again. To fix the mistake of never making sure you breathed no more.

However, your concentration skills elevate your shields. You resist him. But for how much longer? The cramps are unbearable and for about a second your knee weakens and you slip, almost getting yourself killed. His saber manages to make a scratch in your shoulder—and how it burns you!

It’s enough to provide the enemy more advantage. It’s when you start levitating. He is about to twist your neck and break it, but it would be so easy to destroy you! Because you’ve been the only one so far that got close to defeat him, he intends to torture you.

And you know that, so you smirk down at him.

“You may kill me now, Dooku, but the fact I got close to overpower you will be eternally engraved in the back of your mind. You are not as invincible as you like to think.”

You begin to suffocate. You are ready to brace death if necessary. You know you successfully planted the seed of self discord. The hate in his eyes shows you did overpower him, his concept of darkness, his ego. To you, the humiliation that he won’t be able to forget—a reminder of his weakness—will always remain as part of him however the count tries to erase it of his mind.

Comical this might’ve been had it not been so tragic. But one cannot not live whilst the other breathes.

Hence why he comes to die. And you survive him.

***

“Where is Y/N? Is she well? Is she all right?” Anakin inquires after you. He had come to discover the main head behind the rise of the Sith and was instructed by Obi-Wan to chase the Chancellor and arrest him. In short: there are Siths no more and the Republic prevails intact. The clonic wars finally come to an end.

“She is, Skywalker.” Windu tells him. “She’s being well cared by the medical droids.”

“Her tactics did work in the end.” Obi-Wan says pleased.

“Because of her efforts in eradicating the Sith, she’s clean of the charges against her.” Windu declares.

“Much to teach us she has.” Interferes Yoda. “To the shadows those who have been tempted, leave to them we do. Vain our paths have become.”

But Anakin, pleased he may be with your rehabilitation, to the redemption he helped you earn, needs to see for himself you are well. And he doesn’t take long to find you resting. Your semblance is in peace and there is only a scar in your shoulder to remind you of the battle.

He watches you dream a peaceful dream, serenity stamped in your face. Anakin takes a seat by your side and mumbles:

“Your heart is not lost to dark. You are going home with me. A better horizon awaits.”

He takes your hand and there presses a kiss. Never before had Anakin been in such a blissful peace.

Epilogue

To wake in his arms is more than you deserve. To watch him sleep, his chest going up and down…The light of your life, your redeemer, your savior. You lean to caress his back, the scenes of the night before still giving you chills.

You admire his well built muscles and a blush comes uninvited to your cheeks because you never cease to admire his physique. He is so devilish handsome that it takes your breath away.

Your fingers move from his arm, up to his shoulder before resting on the back of his neck, wrapping around his curls. Little by little he moves, waking up.

And you are there to greet him with love, to welcome him with the warmest of the kisses. He smiles at you, already listening to your heart beat. That he is the cause of why it races loud makes him so proud of himself.

“Good morning, princess.” He pulls you right against his chest and you are gladly engulfed in his arms. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, my darling. Did you?” You plant soft kisses in his neck.

“How could I not when you’re with me?” Anakin smiles down at you.

“Must you go to work today, though?” You ask him, not minding how selfish you sound as you hug him close.

“You are coming with me, remember? It’s the feast day to commemorate the fall of the Sith, their defeat for good.” Anakin laughs heartily. He then rolls over you. “I will parade you proudly. My wife, the heroine of the Republic.”

You blush a deep shade of red that makes Anakin beam.

“Anakin!” You giggle. “Don’t be silly!”

He nuzzles against your neck.

“Why, it’s true.”

“No. That is not. But you know what is?”

You gently make him look at you, melting inside upon seeing the warm smile that spreads fully in his lips.

“Yeah?”

“That you brought me back to life, that you saved me. And I will always love you for that, my husband. You are the hero I needed.”

And so he leans to kiss you, your hearts beating as one.

#star wars #imagine Star Wars #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker #Anakin Skywalker smut

[supervisormeero]

An Unhinged Analysis of 10 Songs That Remind Me of Syril and Dedra 

Behold, a breakdown of/ramble about a few songs with lyrics that I think fit Syril, Dedra, and whatever delightfully messed-up mess they're likely to have going on in Season 2. Putting most of it under a cut because seriously, I had Too Many Thoughts (shocker) and no one needs to see all of them unless they're prepared. Anyway—

“Egoist” by Jenna Holiday

“I see myself in you, I’ve always been an egoist/I want the best for you, you show me where my ego is…” 

For two of the most self-obsessed people in Star Wars canon, a song all about egos and arrogance and loving someone because “I see myself in you” is a little too perfect. After all, Syril and Dedra don’t care for each other because they’re actually in anything resembling real love; at least in Season 1, Syril’s obsessed with Dedra because she is who he wants to be, and Dedra tolerates Syril because he’ll help her get what she wants. Also “you’re thinking of you/while I’m kissing myself”… like, yeah. Provided they ever kissed, that’d be them.

2. “Oleander” by Mother Mother

“And if you leave me/rest assured, it would kill me/like an oleander, white, white leaves”

This song describes a toxic, codependent relationship, and that’s one of the directions I could see Syril and Dedra going in Season 2 (the toxicity, certainly). They don’t love each other, but for various professional and personal reasons that get inseparably jumbled, they need each other - perhaps more than they’ve ever needed anyone. That terrifies them. Neither of them have the capacity to deal with those emotions healthily, and thus, the possessiveness, jealousy and toxicity commences. Also “I’ll make a mess/and you’ll be there to help me undress” has the spirit of post-Ferrix Keero, what with Dedra “making a mess” of Ferrix and Syril “being there to help” by rescuing her and calming her (take or leave the ‘undress’ lyric, but at least half the fics on AO3 are about something of varying levels of spice happening in the broom closet). “If you leave me, rest assured, it would kill me…” I suspect they might be the death of each other in the end, so... sure. Either that, or somebody’s ending up alone and very pleased with their advancement to a lucrative new position on the Death Star.

3. “Money Power Glory” by Lana Del Rey

“I want money, power, and glory/oh hallelujah, I’m gonna take them for all that they got…”

This is probably more Syril than Dedra, since (in my opinion) he cares more about money, power and glory; she doesn’t need accolades, she only needs control. It’s a typical Lana song, but it’s all about climbing to the top and wanting power above even a romantic relationship. I suspect that’s the direction we’ll see Syril go in Season 2, eventually leading him to betray Dedra in favor of climbing the Imperial ladder.

3. “Drumming Song” by Florence + The Machine

“There’s a drumming noise inside my head, and it starts when you’re around/I’d swear that you could hear it, it makes such an almighty sound…”

I think most would choose “Kiss With A Fist” for Keero. I understand that. But for reasons I can’t fully articulate, this song makes me think of Dedra being dragged into having feelings for Syril entirely against her will. It’s about falling for someone to the point where their presence has a physical effect on you; hence, the “drumming noise that starts when you’re around.” She wouldn’t know what to do with any of that, of course, because I sincerely doubt Dedra “never been touched” Meero has felt any of it before. But I do think it could happen - and if it did, she’d hate him for causing that "drumming noise" and making her weak.

4. “Love Love Love” (Cabin Sessions) by Of Monsters and Men

“Those bright blue eyes can only meet mine/across a room filled with people that are less important than you…”

This song is almost too sweet for Syril and Dedra. But certain of the lyrics fit so perfectly that it's unsettling, so I threw it on here. At its core, it’s about having someone fall in love with you and knowing that for whatever reason - circumstance, a lack of reciprocation, you having no understanding of or experience with relationships whatsoever and being more rattled by someone touching you than stalking you - you can’t return their feelings. I’m probably too stupidly sentimental about a ship that laughs at sentimentality, but it almost landed to me as Dedra reflecting on Syril’s attitude toward her. Plus, “bright-blue eyes across a room filled with people that are less important than you?” In my ridiculously elaborate headcanon that will never happen on this show, that’s Dedra making eye contact with Syril across the meeting room table after he weasels his way up from the Bureau of Standards to the ISB.

5. “Us” by Regina Spektor

“We’re living in a den of thieves/and it’s contagious…” 

A den of thieves = the ISB, and the Empire in general. Aside from that, the song references having a “statue built of us,” and while I don’t think Dedra’s necessarily after that level of recognition, I don’t think she’d turn it down were it offered. Syril would love a statue built of him so he could proudly show it to his mother. He and Dedra are both trying to achieve a goal that would lead to that sort of laudation within the Imperial ranks, and in the end, they’re probably hoping for a timeless level of appreciation and respect. In some form, that’s probably Syril’s greatest hope: a statue of him with Dedra at his side. 

6. “Easy to Hate” by Waterparks

“You’re selfish and a half, and the other half is me/all that I can do is fall in blame with you…”

This is a fun, catchy song. 2. This is a song about hating someone almost as much as, if not more than, you love them, because your partner loves themself more than they love you. To me, that rings as Syril realizing Dedra doesn’t really care about him, much less love him or see him as an equal, and she never will. So, “it’s too easy to hate you/you’re hard to love.” And yet, as the lyrics state, he’ll “fall in blame” with her, but he won’t initially break off whatever weird connection they develop. Partly because of what he feels for her despite her apparent and cutting indifference, partly because he thinks if he keeps trying he’ll make something happen between them, and mostly because he needs her in his quest to gain power. 

7. “Breezeblocks” by Alt-J

“Please don’t go, I’ll eat you whole/I love you so, I love you so, I love you so…”

I have loved “Breezeblocks” and the whole An Awesome Wave album since the early 2010s, and so now I have little choice but to cram Alt-J onto any fandom mixes I create. In this case, though, I think it mostly fits: especially after the bridge. Much like “Beggin for Thread,” there’s a power imbalance here and such a consuming, obsessive desperation to keep someone close that you’d “eat them whole.” Huh. Who’s known for having consuming, obsessive tendencies almost to the point of delusion? 

8. “Beggin for Thread” by Banks

“Stooped down and out, you got me beggin for thread/to sew this hole up that you ripped in my head/stupidly think you had it under control…”

Look. I can’t resist a sewing reference because of Mr. “(Please) Look At Me, I Tailored My Uniform, And My Suit, And Everything I Own.” But like many others on this list, this song deals with power imbalances, mind games, and needing to have the upper hand in an unhealthy relationship. Kyle’s talked about how Syril and Dedra’s relationship in Season 2 delves into the concept of who does and doesn’t have power, and I think this song is a decent example of that. Whether intentionally or not, Syril and Dedra are going to mess with each other’s heads in their unending attempts to Prove Themselves to the Empire. The vibe of this song aligns with that. Also “my words can come out as a pistol and I’m no good at aiming/but I can aim it at you”… Dedra sure can’t defend herself in a riot, but she can definitely “aim her words” right at Syril’s heart.

9. “Sober II (Melodrama)” by Lorde 

“They’ll talk about us, all the lovers/how we kiss and kill each other/they’ll talk about us, and discover/how we kiss and kill each other…”

Circling back to The Toxicity, this song is all about two people who have an on-and-off relationship riddled with miscommunications, misunderstandings, and constant tension. If that isn’t Syril and Dedra, I don’t know what is. Plus - “all the glamour, and the trauma, and the fucking melodrama” - seems very ISB/Imperial to me. It’s glamour on the surface and backstabbing and trauma beneath, and the reality of that is going to cause some very real melodrama for Cereal and Debra. Plus, this song has the coolest combination of strings and a beat. Just… listen to it. It’s short, it’s one of my favorite Lorde songs, and you won’t regret it. 

10. “Daylight” by David Kushner

“Oh I love it and I hate it at the same time, you and I drink the poison from the same vine/oh I love it and I hate it at the same time, hiding all of our sins from the daylight”

Okay, so, because I’m old and not cool and on TikTok or wherever I suspect this song blew up, I just found it. It’s actually probably just about garden-variety infidelity, but there’s enough wiggle room in the writing that you can twist it to the right angle to fit Syril, Dedra, and their (presumably?) super-secret Season 2 investigation into Axis and Andor. “Hiding all of our sins from the daylight” could be embarking on a “sinful” non-sanctioned hunt for the rebels who ruined both of their reputations, or it could be embarking on a sinful non-sanctioned hunt for the rebels who ruined both of their reputations and falling in the most doomed, toxic, imbalanced, non-sanctioned love at the same time. “You and I drink the poison from the same vine” feels very Keero to me; the poison, of course, being Imperial ideology. And, because Syril and Dedra are twin flames, they’ll “love it and hate it at the same time.” Dedra would love how well they work together and how efficient they are as a team, but any of the feelings… cannot process. Complete shutdown. At least listen to the last minute of this song; whether or not you think it applies to Keero, it’s gorgeous. 

#syril x dedra #syril karn x dedra meero #syril karn #dedra meero #keero #kyle soller #denise gough #why yes I do spend too much time jumping through mental hoops to apply every song lyric to them #me hearing literally any song: #‘it’s a keero AU’ #anyway if you made it to the bottom of this post here’s a cookie 🍪 #you deserve it

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

To 10 Games

Thanks so much for the tag @thevikingwoman! In no particular order and no particular criteria. Just games that have meant a lot to me for one reason or the other over the years.

tagging @wintersongstress @muses-circle @elveny @alyssalenko and anyone else. I have no clue who is here anymore, lol.

1. Resident Evil 4

Though I love the remake and plan on replaying it soon, the original has to be on this list for not only being nostalgic, but just for being a big staple of my time in high school. I played this game way after it released, but it was such a fun escape when I needed it. Ada and Leon were the first couple I really shipped and their dynamics still appear in my writing today, even subtly. honestly I think it's also fair to say Ada also taught me how to flirt. lol.

2. Kingdom Hearts.

This was the first game I played where the story impacted me enough for me to cry at the end. Yes it’s not exactly great and it’s very cheesy and weird, but I feel the need to include it because this was the game that made me realize how impactful the medium of games could be in terms of storytelling.

3. Dragon Age

I’m sure you knew this would be on here! I’ve spoken so much about it, but let it suffice to say it got me back into writing and now I’m a much better writer because of the things I’ve learned and developed along the way! Will give the edge to Inquisition over Origins on this one, but I feel like a lot of people don't know how much I replayed origins, and in fact played it all the way back when it first came out.

4. Tomb Raider Anniversary

Been thinking about these games a lot recently. I do love the remakes but I have to say I’m partial to this Lara, of Legend and Anniversary variety. She likes adventures and history and she explores and goes to cool locations, and at a time in my life where I was just starting to realize how much travel means to me, I got to vicariously travel. I also think these games are a good blend of puzzle, exploration, and action.

5. Red Dead Redemption 2

This was the game that solidified my feelings that story telling in games not only rivals that of other mediums, but sometimes can even overtake it. Playing RDR2 feels like reading a long epic novel where the characters become your best friends by the end.

6. Last of Us

It would feel weird not to have this game on here because I truly think it is one of the best games that has ever been made. I just like to pretend the sequel doesn’t exist. Cough.

7. Assassins Creed 2

I love so many of these games—odyssey is definitely up there as well but I have to give this one to 2. I played it when I was 16 after coming home from Europe for the first time and enjoyed the hell out of running around Florence after I had been there. I did also have fun playing odyssey again after being in Greece. Couldn’t find the place I jumped from in Paros I was so sad.

8. Okami

This game is very much pure nostalgia. beautiful cell shaded animation and compelling use of Japanese mythology.

9. Mass Effect 2

I don't quite love ME as much as Dragon age due to my own preference for fantasy/medieval, but I love 2 for where it took the story/characters. Overall, ME is one of the few, if only, pieces of SciFi media I like.

10. Witcher 3

If you put a gun to my head and told me to name what I thought the best video game ever released was, I'd say Witcher 3. I have fond memories of playing this game while eating pizza in college. I also just love the animations for this game. In a time of "realism is the way" in video games, to me it's the more animated style that is much more timeless. (this is another reason I like Baldur's Gate right now)

#games #tagged

[muffindaddystyles]

Y/N is jealous of Harry’s new date, and the realisation took years to rain down upon her and Harry.

warning: sad jealous angst, mentions of fever, screaming and crying, heartbreak inspired from Taylor Swifts “All too Well”.

..

The dewy glow of Luna melts into her skin, twirls into tight notches upon her heart ever radiant than the beat of the small organ stitched into her chest as she watches the shadow of two figures dancing in the big window of Harry’s house. She reminisces the times they’d do the karaoke nights in their silly loose pyjamas and jam around his house like wild geese in the middle of night; he’d stuff his nose with popcorns to entertain her and had the goofiest smile etched across that clean beautiful face of his upon dragging out a laughter from his bestfriend.

His bestfriend. His ride or die. His cuddle stuffie. His partner in crime. His proud person. His soulmate. His Y/N.

Harry’s a firm believer of, “Your soulmate could be anyone. It doesn’t have to be your significant other always. For me it’s you Soapie.” He told Y/N when they were 19. On the rooftop of his mother’s house when they smoked a joint for the first time in their life. The clank of hollow bright red bricks was all it was heard as Y/N was about to trip from the slope of roof from the surprise itself and had their asses busted. Anne grounded both of them in one house which meant more of a disaster than anything else.

Her chapped lips whisks up into a smile as her glazed upon eyes reflects with the ghost of memories walking near her with every second of music getting louder and their giggles getting merrier.

It was that call. On her yellow coloured telephone. Wednesday, 12 A.M. End of the June. The violet swirl of clouds danced chaotically in the sky.

“Y/N what’s your favourite place to go out on a date to?” He asked, “What? Why? Our usual, why?” Her confused sleepy voice alerting her brain about the fishy-ness of the moment.

“Do you prefer me in suits or comfy clothes?” That made her stomach all squirmy. Tickles of an emotion unknown to her made her all giggly and shy. a school girl getting asked out on a date to her favourite Arcadian by her hot-shot crush.

“Comfy…, now tell me what’s it?” She all but smiles bashfully taking quaint deep breathers to prep herself for what’s about to come next.

She could hear his grin from the other side of phone, her supple fingertips scratching the yellow plastic cord of the phone in anticipation and her bottom rosy lip bounces from matching his grin.

“It’s a date–“ He sputters out and she cuts him off excitedly in true Y/N fashion,, “You’re asking me out on a date!?“

Those were never dates. They used to hangout for hours and hours more like practically living with each other and never without each-other but not dates.

You can call it whatever friends want to call it.

“Oi. I took you out on enough dates. This’s with the girl Florence introduced me to––“ She cut him off again, “…but you never told those were dates…” Sad pout pillowing atop her mouth, her brows meeting in a bewildered frown and her grip around the nip of her sleeping maxi looses from where she was holding it atop her thigh out of sheer excitement.

“Is she prettier than me?” Her eyelashes wets. How pathetic of her. She thought. From where these feelings of eerie jealousy and envy’s coming from? He has dated many girls before, but why now? Was it because he asked for her opinion that she figured it out he’s serious about whoever this person is? Or was that she’s entirely so in love and now raw to her feelings than before?

She can’t explain it at all.

Harsh slam of plastic against plastic echoed into her room as she put the end to the call and the concerned, “Y/N are you okay muffin?” rusted between the poor connection was all she heard in his caramelised soothing voice.

Today after two days of that heartbreaking call. Y/N walked to his house to show him that him going out with other people doesn’t effect her, she’ll be the same Y/N for him she was previously .

If it couldn’t be more painstaking before it’s now as she watched them in his house. Her hands shakes holding a container of glazed warm cinnamon rolls Harry loves to eat and her feeble cry weaves away along with the cold gust of wind as the first droplet of summer rain falls and dribbles down her neck making her numb to any kind of feeling rather than getting out squeasy airy laughs out of her.

The rain pours down at her infuriatingly, humming down the loud shaking sobs that suffocated her chest making her feel like a small cricket being drowned into a muddy splash while it’s in search of its home. The container of cinnamon rolls falls at Harry’s doorstep. the music halts to nothingness as the thunder roared against his windows and Y/N squeaks running back in the heavy rain from where she came from.

..

When Harry opens the door. His chest echoes with a sharp sound of a m drag, that of a knife stabbed in between two ripples of his rib-bones. A fallen container never seemed more sad than a fallen star and he looks over his shoulder to see the girl sleeping on his couch, a red scarf that of Y/N wrapped around her neck and a rush of guilt oozes in every of his pore. The urge to ask for it back politely surges inside him and the realisation settles deep inside the pit of his stomach.

He needs to see, Y/N.

..

On the other hand Y/N’s sneezing like a weasel train. High on fever as she caught cold. Trying to make a soup with a broken heart. The heart shaped note of a how to make a berry cake scribbled in Harry’s writing makes her paralysed in her spot, eyes wide awake with pools of sadness in them and the round plate in her hold falls and shatters against the floor as if the moon got split into two halves revealing a sky that of blankness.

His sweet disposition. His sweet care. His heart always making a home for her. All gone leaving Y/N alone.

She never thought she’d be here at 3 A.M curled into a ball feeling small on her kitchens yellow floor and the recall of memories eating her whole.

Clothes still soggy. Hair sticking to her neck. Body stinging against the coolness of tiles as she stares the the slight of refrigerator finding the blue light horrible and vexing to her core.

She screams. Shrieks practically like a sour bratty kid with her aching throat only to gasp into quit when her flats door clicks shut, accompanied by a worried booming voice of him.

“Y/N!? Soapie??” He rushes to her. On his knees in just seconds infront of her and his intestines pulls into itself when he sees the paleness on her, the dead glimpse of her eyes.

“Y/N – are you okay? I’m askin’ you–“ He bends over her to meet her stoic gaze, slithering his strong arm under her neck to sit her up and curses out loud in vexation when he finds her burning, “Fo’ fucks sake are you fuckin’ mad?” He scolds her, gasping in surprise when his knuckles brushes up her cold soggy dress.

His jaw falls apart. Arms in air. When her clothes made a smacking noise against his fully dried ones. Her elbows nurses around his throat as she pulls him down into herself, her cries fusing behind the sweet spot of his ear.

“Hey baby. Shhhh it’s okay yeah…?” He croons. Petting her wet hair lovingly and soothingly. Scooting her caringly into his lap and hugs her back, ever so tightly and warmly. No space for even a string to let through.

“I love you Harry. I’m so sorry. I love you.” In that moment every ounce of air sucks out of his lungs and all that’s left is the jelly softness of affection for his Soapie.

“S’okie if you don’t love me back– but b–…” She hiccups gasping a saccharine yelp as a red scarf muffles around her shoulders and she’s pulled close to his face where he could admire her as much as he wants.

“Couldn't you have said it before you silly?” He giggles. His thumb caressing her bottom swelled up lip and he doesn’t leave her to answer, levelling her head high that of his Queen and flowers his mouth against hers in an endearing kiss full of love.

“Oh me Soapie. You dunno how much I prayed to ‘ave you as my soulmate forever.” He confesses into the kiss and that just makes Y/N cry more.

There’s still so much to unfold. So many feelings, hurt, love and buried emotions of years but one thing’s sure that;

The pretty spotted Luna is evident of their loving confessions.

#im sorry if this turned out shitty lol I popped out of blue after ages #I wasn’t in a good mental state and wasn’t able to write at all #im trying to do what I love and I hope y’all like it too :) #harry styles #harry styles fanfics #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry angst #harry styles angsty blurb #harry styles angst fanfics #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagines #drabbles

[chansaw]

what is the rottweilers au.......

well it goes like this:

the team members on the westerburg high rottweilers represent a diverse variety of social strata in the food chain. they can put their political factions aside on the pitch to operate as a terrifyingly effective unit, but outside of sports, each girl sticks to their own clique. and it works - they’re undefeated state champs. but you know how this goes. this isn’t about soccer. they never make it to seattle.

heather chandler learns that being an apex predator at westerburg doesn’t make her an apex predator in the wilderness. she’s only captain because her dad bribed coach ripper, but there’s no use for blackmail or acidic insults in the middle of these woods. the rest of the team adapts: heather duke takes to the rifle like a duck to water. veronica doesn’t flinch when she has to draw the hunting knife across the dead deer’s throat. betty finn’s sash of girl scout badges becomes more than just decoration, and martha is apparently the second coming of florence nightingale. don’t even get her started on whatever heather mcnamara’s deal is. she’s nothing like the funny, light-hearted girl she was before. apparently she sees the future now.

but none of that really matters. what matters most to heather is the fact that veronica managed to steal jason, her latest piece of arm candy, without her even noticing. if it weren’t for the baby, that secret affair might have stayed secret forever. and yeah, she knows she never really loved jason - “if you really knew him, you’d know he prefers to go by j.d.,” veronica spits - but it’s about the principle of the thing. no one steals heather chandler’s things.

well, you know how this one goes. no happily ever after here.

25 years later: heather duke is running for mayor. heather mcnamara vanished off the face of the earth after her dad sent her to a nice farm upstate. betty works as a nurse in the ICU, and veronica sawyer is just trying to keep her head above water.

again, the au doesn’t follow the plot of yellowjackets beat by beat. of course it’s the same circumstances but the characters are way different than the YJs, so things change. but people still get eaten. narratives still get haunted. and jason dean is a much more competent blackmailer than jeff sadecki.

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Hello there,

Hope this finds you well.

I have read your "morality clause" post and it is quite understandable and coherent. However I would like to ask you about "when things went belly up with DWD" if its ok.

We all experienced the disaster of the campaign around DWD, from brewing during its filming period to intensify in the last month before launch. I am curious about when you say that things “went belly up”, what do you mean exactly ?: is it about how did Olivia and her team work unilaterally or rather how did they (HO) work on a common agreement but the acceptance was disastrous?

Olivia's speech contained miltiple red flags, but sadly it was the same one that she has always pushed; I am aware of how everything became even worst the moment the cast & crew joined in the stunt promo to finish off the situation, but what sparked the fire were those 2 or 3 interviews in which various statements from Holivia mixed gasoline and flames... (following a non-stop number of pap-walks that stopped from the sudden to gaslight everyone who have eyes and that lead to Venezia, etc.)

Bottom line: I can consider disagreements, new negotiations and adjustments (as you mentioned) bts because of an unexpected turn of acceptance & exhaustion from the GP/fans, but if "those clauses" had been key and could have brought this BUA timing & “friendly” exit wouldn’t have they immediately stopped any damaging line of speech before getting worst as the first step. Not only they didn’t stop any of the narratives but they continued to feed them. Don’t you think?

Thank you,

N.

Hey, love!

So, I think to understand what I mean when I say “when things went belly up”, you have to think of the weight of the ramifications in terms of the impact on Harry as a wider brand, as opposed to the impact of Harry within his own fandom.

You see, HSHQ expect a certain amount of backlash from within fandom, but, unfortunately, it’s often seen as negligible, because we’re already loyal and converted. If we don’t like Harry’s “girlfriend”, it really doesn’t matter, because we already love Harry and continue to support him.

Where the tides really turn is in the court of public opinion (the GP) and while you’re right in saying Olivia’s narrative never changed, public opinion did the moment Florence decided to speak out against her. That was the first time the GP really stopped and thought “Wait a minute, maybe this isn’t just about Harry’s fans not liking his girlfriend. Maybe there is validity to their dislike.”

That’s when fandom discussions began to gain traction outside of fandom, and then gain even more credibility with the physical evidence that was being attached to the drama (Shia, Shia, Shia; miss Flo; Florence and Chris refusing to do promo; no one taking the time to interact with Olivia at VFF) until it was undeniable that this was absolutely going to damage Harry’s wider reputation.

And, while it seems like a small thing, their “cool off” at Venice and her subsequent disappearance from his shows in September were a direct effect of that, and showed me that HSHQ were desperately trying to regroup and put out fires.

The thing is, the most Harry’s team can do to stop Olivia is threaten to end the stunt, but I believe at a certain point, that threat had no real teeth when she knew he would still need a beard for MP anyway. So, it’s likely the morality clause was breached and Harry got the most he could out of it, while still being able to somewhat “salvage” the two years he invested into the stunt by keeping her around for the shortest amount of time humanly possible.

TBH, it’s still not all clicking in my head, because the one part I can’t figure out is why Olivia had this much power and say that allowed her to push the envelope as far and as long as she did, but this is the most logical theory I can come up with at the moment.

I still would have ended the stunt immediately (and at least spared Harry Olivia’s desperate attempt to stay in the spotlight with the Nanny Diaries), but I guess HSHQ perceived My Policeman as a huge enough threat to insist Harry weather Cyclone Olivia for a little bit longer.

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #stunt tw #stunt discussion #BUA discussion #holivia tw

[evita-shelby]

Nothing More Difficult than Love

Chapter 10

Gif by @cillianmurphyaddict

Taglist: @whitejuliana1204 @livelifewondering @lovemesomevesey

Tw: casual mention of suicide thoughts

Married life is good.

Married life away from work is better.

But they leave the idyllic beach house and return to Small Heath after staying in Brighton for another week.

It’s the last week of April when they return to 6 Watery Lane.

Time passes differently then.

Its June when the telephone is put into the shop and July when Tiago discovered he had to live in Casablanca for a year if he wants to remain alive.

He was packing and Lizzie was on the fence about leaving with him because John popped the question and she had said yes.

She’s been fucking her cousin on the side, and no one save for Eva and Polly knew.

Eva was happy she was allowed to use Tommy’s office for her personal use. She would taken that pretty gun they gave her and aimed it at her temple had she been reduced to just a housewife.

Work was good, work didn’t have the risk of fucking a woman and claim its for the greater good. Work didn’t lie to her on her wedding day.

Work unfortunately came with the side effect of being near Grace.

Grace has been a competent secretary; two warehouses have been searched and Eva is this close to killing her.

How could she ever like a person like that?

“What language do you speak on the phone with your family?” Grace asked her in public where everyone can hear them. Everyone at the shop knew Eva didn’t like Grace and most would agree she was justified.

“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Eva said with a wink and added, loud enough for people to overhear. “We’re on enemy territory with people waiting for us to fuck up. Better we be accused of being paranoid than for the competition to stumble on a company secret.”

“So, you talk in a language no one speaks to avoid revealing company secrets then. It’s a good strategy.” Grace said as if it didn’t bother her that they had no way of getting a person who speaks that language to listen in.

“Even the government should take a page out of our book, so easy to bribe operators, especially when most people already resent the government.” Eva continued with her work.

Freddie Thorne had been instrumental in getting them favorable contracts with the Camden Town boys.

The first ship filled to the brim with Alfie’s ‘bread’ was heading to New York this morning. In return Solomons would get a significant discount on gemstones and metals mined from the family mines.

Something Grace was unaware of thanks to Florence’s lessons in Hebrew as well as Yiddish.

Thank God, Eva has always been a linguaphile.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to threaten a factory owner who doesn’t ‘do business with bean eaters.’” Eva gestured for her to go away.

“I think you should ask Thomas for that one.” Grace’s cheeks get pink and tries to turn away before Eva or anyone else noticed.

Eva wished she could clobber her with the telephone and be done with it.

“I got his last name now, it’s as good as having him in person.” She said with a laugh.

---

Married life is good.

Married life with a woman who can match his desire and ambition is better.

She’s jealous, she’d warned him about it, but he likes how she gets when she is feeling threatened by Grace.

Tommy swears she cums harder when she knows Grace can hear them.

If they didn’t have a kid by their first anniversary, it won’t be for lack of trying.

“Can’t do this here, love.” His grip on her hips says differently.

Tommy’s lost count on how many times they’ve done it in the snug at the Garrison or his office.

“Tell me who killed Maguire and I might indulge you, wife.” He offered.

He liked the word wife, he thinks.

“I made a grown man cry today, Tommy, can’t that be reason enough for you to fuck me here.” She whined.

She must know, played coy about it and refused to tell him. Said it wasn’t the right time yet, said they were on their honeymoon and their biggest worry was getting caught fucking in the beach again.

“It’s really obvious, I’m surprised you have figured it out yet.” She tugged at his shirt and ground her hips against him. “Even said she’d gone off script that time we were in granny’s parlor.”

Grace. She’d left early, just after they did.

Eva was right she was too sloppy in her work.

“Does the IRA know it was her?” he asked, worried they’d blame it him.

“Killed him in broad daylight.” Eva nodded, her elbows resting on the top of his shoulders and brushing some stray hair away from his face. “I told Florence she should be referred for extensive training. The UVF couldn’t train a dog to shit.”

“Smart mouth like that could get you killed, love.” He tried not to smile.

“Should’ve insulted Carranza sooner if I knew I was going to meet you.” Eva said with an honest shrug.

“Mr. Shelby said they weren’t to be disturbed, sir.” Grace can be heard saying outside, but whoever it is just laughs and barged in anyways.

That had killed the mood.

“Ugh, Evita, can’t you fuck him at home like a normal woman?” Israel de Souza said with a groan as he barged in anyways.

“Why are you here, aren’t you supposed to be heading to your precious yacht, Izzy?” Eva asked him, coming to sit next to Tommy.

“Because I love you most, I waited to give my gift.” Izzy said as she handed her a box wrapped in a wine-red bow.

“What the fuck, Izzy?” She unwraps the box and lifts the lid expecting anything else. “Divorce papers?”

A part of Thomas felt relieved when she seemed shocked at her cousin’s audacity.

“Think of it as a way out, Evita.” He said a little too honestly. “In case things don’t work between the two of you. You’d be able to split the money and not fear any repercussions from the family.”

A way out.

Israel had left his bride, some American socialite named Adeline, at the altar when he realized his elder brother, Andres, was in love with her.

Now Adeline was happily engaged to the man she loved and not his homosexual younger brother.

“I don’t know what to say, Izzy.” Eva said and Tommy knew that sound was not a yes, but not a no either.

It was a maybe I’ll keep this for a rainy day.

It stung that she’d be fine with ending things even when they’ve just begun.

“Keep them, if you burn them now and decide to call it quits, you’ll find the family will make sure they get what they gave him with interest.” Israel said looking at him.

You deserve that; he can see it in Izzy’s brown eyes.

---

There is a hopeful smile on Grace.

Eva wants to commit horrible acts of violence against her person. And Tommy while she’s at it.

He may have earned some of her forgiveness, but its two steps back for every step forward.

Black Swan, maybe she could send them an anonymous tip. Karma could be so slow sometimes.

Sure it might get her on a one-way trip to Paris, or Casablanca with Tiago, or Antigua with Izzy, but it would be worth it.

“Should go for a drive, just us.” He suggests, bringing her hand to his lips.

“We should, amor, but I’d rather not interfere with work if I can.” Eva said sweetly, letting the word love fall from her lips as easy as water.

She’d said that’s what it meant, when he asked for a translation.

Grace was just about to interrupt with something or the other when he shook his head.

“Work can wait.”

---

It takes them ten minutes to change and gather the things for an impromptu picnic at a spot only he seemed to know. Some hazel tree at an abandoned fair ground.

There’s history here, two dead women he had feelings for. Greta, his first love, and Zelda, the girl who died by the time he wanted to do right by her and the baby that killed her.

“You have no idea how much I missed sunny days.” She took off her hat and unpinned her hair.

He likes running his fingers through her dark brown hair, pulling it too when they get too carried away.

“Figured you’d like it.” He kept his eyes closed. The romantic girl in her thought the sunlight made him look like some fairytale prince she’d wake with a kiss.

She loves him, but she’s too much of a coward to say it.

Ever since Antonia left her high and dry, Eva’s developed a fear of rejection.

“I love it. Reminds me of home. Makes me regret all those times I took it for granted.” She wouldn’t deny it she missed Mexico. The Mexico of her childhood, before the war touched her and her loved ones. “Sunlight, palm trees and endless beaches.”

And hurricanes, earthquakes and heatwaves so bad clothes dried in fifteen minutes and several people dropped dead by the end of the day.

But she traded all that for rain, snow and cold so bad Tommy now rubs her ankle until the pain subsides because she wanted to live.

Three suicide attempts and Eva decided she wanted to live when death was coming on someone else’s terms.

“Haven’t done this since before the war.” He said, hands behind his head and hat now forgotten under it.

“I’m honored that you chose to share it with me, Tommy.” She gives in to the urge to snuggle up to him.

“Who else would I share it with?” he asked with a small smile.

She likes his smiles the most, she thinks.

A name comes to mind, but she won’t bring it up. Wouldn’t kill the moment by summoning her.

“If my exile is ever lifted I’m showing you all my favorite places back home.” She promised him. “The hammocks on the back porch, linen closet I had my first kiss in, the beach by the house—”

“Who was your first kiss?” he asked ,stopping her from rambling.

Should she tell him?

“My childhood friend and first love, married the cousin I liked most of all, so now we don’t even write to each other.” She keeps it vague and looks away, embarrassed and hoping to convey that she doesn’t want to talk about it.

“His loss was my gain, Evie, I’m glad he didn’t marry you.” He said, shifting her underneath him. Elbows on each side of her head, making her look at him.

He wouldn’t want her after she said it.

“Promise me you won’t overreact, Tom.” She asked him wanting to avoid his eyes.

“Can’t be that bad, Evie. Whatever it is won’t change my feelings for you.” He kissed her as if to prove he meant it.

They always say that and then act like she just grew a tail and horns.

“It wasn’t a man I had been in love with, it was a woman.” She was afraid of seeing his reaction, so she looked at the bark of the tree they were underneath of. “Kissed her in a linen closet when I was fourteen, thought it meant nothing until we both ended up hostages when we were fifteen and fighting in Villa’s army when we turned eighteen.”

“Go ahead and say what you think, I’ve heard it all before.” She added cynically.

“Polly’s had women lovers, Greta’s brother liked boys, and I’d have to cut out my own tongue if I lied about all the men who fucked men in France and had wives or girlfriends back home. Why would I think you disgusting, Evie?”

Its so sincere it makes her forget he doesn’t love her.

“You know how people are about this, if I told the wrong person I'm bisexual, I’d have to find another country to grant me asylum.” She caressed the side of his face and leaned upwards to kiss him again.

“I’d like to see them try and take you from me, Mrs. Shelby.”

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #oc fanfiction #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic

[sebastianshaw]

In my darkest fantasies I am the picture of passivity Waiting for you silent stage Suppressing all my private rage But as my sister said I’d probably last six days - Girls Against God by Florence + the Machine I’ve said before Haven is generally my Mary Sue character now, with me just inserting her into everything and typically having everyone love her because it soothes my salty soul after how she was ACTUALLY treated. But there are some characters I do see being mean to her, because, well, it makes sense. Like Sinister, the Fenris twins, and. . .Emma. Now, evil and/or racist characters like the first two, but why Emma? Partly, I’m kinda fed up with her in canon so it’s the “make the character I don’t like look bad by being mean to my fave” Mary Sue thing. But partly, Emma actually is just mean. She’s mean even to people she LIKES. And I don’t think she’d like Haven AT ALL. Why though? Because I think in many ways, Haven throws Emma’s entire understanding of how the world works out of whack. Before I get going, I’d like to note, I am NOT an Emma expert so if you find yourself thinking my analysis is TOTALLY WRONG, you are probably right. But this has been in my head for AGES so I’m gonna get going.

Both Haven and Emma are very feminine in extremely stereotypical ways, but it’s very OPPOSITE ways of femininity. Emma is the “sharp” and “sexy” way, the femme fatale, whole “my eyeliner wings are sharp to cut the patriarchy” thing, the “women as conniving schemers” way. Haven is the “soft” way, the maternal way, the women as maternal and nurturing beings. This is even reflected in their dress; Emma in high-fashion super-skimpy stark whites with mostly sharp cuts, Haven in very traditional long flowy and ornate, detailed outfits in bright colors. An n being soft and yielding and nonsexual, Haven is everything Emma either can’t be, or thought she had to push down and stop herself from ever being in order to survive and succeed. She’s everything Emma thought she would be punished and taken advantage of if she allowed herself to become, and thus expects to see other women punished for. And yet, Haven is rewarded for it instead. And I think that would tick Emma off. Of course, Haven is NOT rewarded for ANY of this in canon. You KNOW how she’s treated in canon. But in MY world, where -I- am writing things, Haven’s way of being a woman and how she handles situations in general is, while SOMETIMES a hindrance or not effective, is also often rewarded and very effective. She takes a very different route with Emma, but gets great results. And to Emma, this is both bizarre and unfair. It’s bizarre because her entire life she’s felt she had to take the route of firstly being extremely callous and mean and disliked to get shit done, and also to exploit her beauty and sexuality for the same reason. She sees women who don’t as weaklings and fools, she’s pretty plain about this fact in the 80s when she talks to that one Hellfire maid who is upset about the costumes. So when she sees Haven doing NONE of this, doing the OPPOSITE, and getting just as good, it’s not just weird, it’s upsetting—Emma had to repress and carve away all the softness in herself to the point it became a struggle to reach even when she wanted to. Haven didn’t have to do that, but she’s reaping the benefits that Emma sacrificed so much for. There’s also the fact that her mother Hazel is the only “soft” woman (read: didn’t do anything about the abuse in their household, never spoke up against their father, etc) in Emma’s life and she’s a bystander to abuse. Emma has complicated feelings for her father; she hates him yet she credits him for making her a very successful woman. At times she seems to have empathy and even sympathy for him but she has none of that for Hazel that I’ve ever seen. She never expresses any feelings about Hazel at all  to my memory. She’s a non entity, she’s just there, she doesn’t count, and I think that’s how Emma sees women who aren’t like herself, as being like Hazel. Useless people who let bad things happen because they don’t have the spine to do something. So definitely hostility and projecting there. Now, speaking of women and men. . .

In canon, Haven’s allies are almost all women, and the one guy who goes to bat for her is Madrox’s gay-coded dupe who cries and wears a pink crop top that says Stop The Hate. And I definitely think Haven is a girl’s girl, I write her as catnip to other women in various ways, but I also think she’d have quite an effect on many men too. Just, not like Emma does. Emma banks on men’s desire, exploiting their need to either have her sexually because she’s hot or to conquer her because she’s NOT docile and submissive. Haven is beautiful, and I’m sure some men find her sexy, but the response I think she mainly elicits is the response to protect, to serve her, to be polite to her, to open doors, to not swear in her presence or make her cry, that kind of thing. It is still sexist in its own way, but a far more soft and benevolent sort, where she’s pedestalized as a treasure and can get to her goals that way, rather than putting up with the insipid lust and misogyny that Emma, by her own admission, relies on. Again, she gets the same results without the same sacrifice that Emma felt she had to make.

And again, Haven is beautiful. This is remarked upon in-universe, with Strong Guy saying she looks like a “babe of the month” despite that fact that she’s 40, six feet tall, with very dark skin and, to put it bluntly, a big ass (which was NOT desirable in the “heroin chic” 90s America). None of which is unattractive, btw, but is often treated like it is. Emma is the epitome of white Western beauty standards, and she canonically did that very deliberately via hair dye and plastic surgery and she sleeps in her diamond form to stave off aging. So yet again, from Emma’s perspective, she put in all this work, but then Haven shows up and is getting the same admiration while not putting in any of the effort. It’s enraging. Doubly so since my Haven has love handles and smile lines. Given how Emma has body-shamed totally svelte women before, I have no doubt she’s got no shortage of catty comments for Haven on this matter. And the thing is, Emma does see other women as competition by default as it is even without all this extra reasoning. Her father was the abuser in her household, but that abuse made her sisters into her enemies and her mother into an enabler. We can see this attitude in how she’s interacted with other women for DECADES, always ready to tear them down in one sense or another. Ironically it’s even how she seems to ultimately bond with other women, by starting off with animosity—her and Jean, her and Storm, her and Kitty in Astonishing. Any woman that Emma is friends with has always started out firstly as a foe, and always an extremely personal one at that—these three are the ones she hurt most after Firestar. I don’t think Emma knows HOW to build a positive relationship with another woman that doesn’t begin from animosity. If Emma can build a bond with another woman that doesn’t involve seriously clawing chunks out of each other emotionally and sometimes physically along the way, I have yet to see it (no, I do not count the Lourdes retcon) And integral to this is that the other woman in the equation does strike back, does have that inside her too, often in a way as nasty and cruel as Emma herself could be. Jean, Kate, and Ororo have all shown themselves more than once to be capable of absolute brutality towards others under the right circumstances, and Jean in particular really hurt Emma in a very cruel way in retaliation once. And I think it’s only then that Emma can see these women as worthy of her respect, and as kindred spirits under the skin, someone who is like her in some way, and thus not someone she feels “bad” by comparison next to. That’s why she WANTS Haven to “hit back” to show she actually ISN’T this perfect soft enduring angel, but Haven WON’T and I think it would drive her batty. Because the thing is, I think Emma knows Haven COULD hurt her if she chose, just as badly as Jean and without even needing telepathy. Emma has an empathy and understanding of other people that she usually uses for cruelty, as she did when she was brainwashing Firestar. Haven demonstrated in canon that she COULD do the same but chose not to, when she pinpoints the psychological problems and pains of everyone in X-Factor, but approaches them with sympathy rather than manipulation. She does CLAIM she’ll use these issues against them if they keep getting in her way, but never does. So she COULD probably rip Emma an emotional new one but WONT, and her refusing to rise to any bait Emma gives—as I see Emma trying to provoke her—makes Emma both see as morally superior (which she hates) and ALSO as unworthy as respect for not taking the shot. In Emma’s head, she’s both better AND worse than she is, and she hates both options. It’s complicated, basically, as anything with Emma is. And bringing it to “feeling bad in comparison next to”--while Emma is in general proud of who and what she is and sees it as an advantage to getting things done for others that need to be done and that other characters are too “pure” to do (which is an unusual thing for a female character and I do like that about her) there are absolutely moments she’s conflicted about it and hates herself for it. I think she’s proud of who she is and looks down on others….and I also think she thinks she’s a bad person. And here Haven is, just effortlessly embodying these traits Emma is so pained by lacking (or believing that she lacks) and actually getting things done like that and people love her for it. It’s upsetting. It makes Emma feel like maybe she never had to work to strip away all softness for herself, resent Haven for not having to make the sacrifices of her own soul that she did to get the same results, it makes her feel unappreciated because don’t these people who fawn over Haven realize what SHE went through for THEM? None of which is Haven’s fault nor even necessarily reality, but it’s a very HUMAN response in my opinion. And speaking of feelings, Haven’s someone pretty clearly okay with them, whereas Emma has very much shown herself as afraid of them. And I think there’d be a definite envy that Haven can let herself be so vulnerable in so many ways and be at ease with that. I also think she sees Haven as able to escape her past and responsibility for it in a way Emma can’t, because as much as writers try and drive it into readers heads that Emma was Actually Innocent and Heroic The Whole Time, other characters did still bring up Emma’s history in-universe against her all the time well after her heel-face-turn. Whereas Haven actually does have a really goddamn good excuse. As for how Haven feels in all this. . .she handles every jab with absolute grace, not retaliating or displaying any upset. Emma’s doubtless not the first person to attempt to get under her skin for some reason. And because Haven is so uncannily perceptive and empathetic, I think she can discern at least SOME of Emma’s reasons, even if she can’t know why she has those reasons, and she has a quiet sympathy for her. Which, of course, would just piss Emma off more. Because this woman isn’t buckling or shrinking under her, which the bully in Emma wants, the need to punish other women for not being like she is, the contempt she has for that (again, see the maid), but she’s also not doing the OTHER option Emma wants either, which is rising to it, breaking her Miss Perfect mask, showing she’s NOT this angel everyone else thinks. She does NOT bow to Emma, and yet neither does she push back. She is unyielding yet softly so, like a padded wall. And I think that just drives Emma nuts. But hey, I could be wrong.

#out of shirt #haven and emma #alt marauders

[ivyemerscn]

IVY FLORENCE EMERSON | THIRTY-ONE | FLIGHT ATTENDANT

personality:

despite a troubled past, ivy has always been able to keep moving forward. she has a clear and logical perception of conflict and always knows how to work with large groups of people, no matter that the situation is.  so long as no one knows her closely, they have little ammunition to use against her, making her feel like she always has the upper-hand in a situation. although this sounds like she’s always aligned for her own success, it is merely a side effect, she will do whatever it takes to get through an event, even at her own peril. her main motivation in life has been to continue on for her father’s sake, to keep cool and calm enough to be the type of person he could feel some kind of pride in talking about. she has never actually asked him if this is the case, taking on the presumption of guilt that has haunted her throughout her decisions. 

headcanons: 

cannot recall many childhood memories, and has not seen a therapist for these recurring blackouts. she assumes it is trauma and does not have the introspection to deal with why it is happening. 

wears a fake engagement ring out of travel habit, she found it made professional interactions much easier and also just really likes the piece. 

she returns home more often than she would let on to see her father. it is still very much a safe space for her. her plan of action at the moment is to gather enough supplies from the wexley to get to her only family member and maybe finally accept that she has to settle in mount airy. 

her signature beer at walden brewery was the holyoke saison, which she’d named at ten years old after a family trip to massachusetts. she doesn’t remember its flavor profile anymore, just that it had a strong aftertaste of herbs. she’d liked watching the face customers made after they drank it each and every time. 

she wouldn’t consider herself a serial cheater, but she’s never been able to commit to just one person. the moment they start talking about exclusivity something dark finds coils around her, refuses to let her have it. there’s no point in allowing herself a future when she’s taken it from others. 

as a flight attendant she is CPR and crisis trained. although she was always best at deescalation, she’s got a host of skills that the residents of the wexley have yet to see come out. 

supply list:

bottled waters

airplane snacks

shooters

taser & various protection weapons

compact luggage (currently being packed)

first aid kits

if you can find it on an airplane, she has it

other:

pinterest

muse

#bnyintro #i added the personality for now until her bio is up and running :) #anyways always around to plot

[upontherisers]

oc introduction: meet ‘em in the skies

hey y’all! this is a semi-formal introduction post to the women of meet ‘em in the skies, my Band of Brothers universe. thanks to @mercurygray and @shoshiwrites for giving me some guidance on how to structure this. my OCs are presented in alphabetical order by first name because that’s how my google doc sorted them. (there are also a lot of them so here’s a read more!)

Anita Kennedy Matthews, 18; from Harvey, IL

Youngest of seven girls, doesn’t often get the chance to be the first in her family to do something. Wants to do more with her life than sit around and wait to get married, so she volunteers for the paratroopers the day after she graduates high school. Loves to swim and go dancing. Dedicated to her friends, happy, and slightly naive. Has an unexpected reunion during training.

Coretta Bailey, 26; from Oakland, CA

A trailblazer. One of the first Black graduates of Scripps College, one of the first Black nurses accepted into the ANC, and the first Black nurse to report to the ETO for duty. Her parents would prefer her to be home, so she placates them by occasionally writing to a pilot she knew growing up, and he writes back, but she hopes no one thinks she’s serious about starting anything. There’s a war on. She’s beauty and she’s grace, refined, eloquent, poised, and determined to serve the men and women of her country to the best of her ability.

Doris “Trip” Davis Danes, 21; from Snowshoe, WV

Grew up hunting and farming in the woods with her younger sister while her father and older brothers worked in the coal mines. Shoots straight, doesn’t miss. Knows how to stick up for herself when threatened. Had to balance being the eldest daughter but the second youngest child with no mother in the house. The Army came and got her when the integration order went into effect. Only went to school through eighth grade.

Dorothy “Dot” Woods, 19; from Chicago, IL

City girl, loves heights. Grew up in the Bronzeville neighborhood of Chicago’s infamous Black Belt, and loved it. Was a NYA kid and ended up as a switchboard operator at a phone company for a year and some change. Her dad fought in the Great War, her older brother’s 4F, so she decides to join up before they try to draft her. She’s willing to do the dirty work in order to win the war. She’s not happy about having to serve with non-Blacks, but she’ll do it.

Eleanor “Ellie” Gibbs, 20; from Billings, MT

Rancher’s daughter. Loves riding horses, knows how to shoot, pitch a tent, and collect freshwater. Used to go on cattle drives with her older brother and her dad. Went to boarding school on the East Coast but was sent back for disciplinary reasons. Wasn’t allowed to follow her brother to the Pacific, so she bribes some stable hands to sneak her out of the house and she joins the paratroopers. She’s a sweet talker with a smile like warm sunshine.

Estelle Brown, 18; from Austin, TX

Replacement who joined up to kick some ass but ended up a medic. She’s trying to roll with it. Was constantly in school-yard scraps and fights with her nine siblings growing up, so she learned to patch up her own cuts and bruises. Competitive dancer, competitive in everything, that’s why it was the paratroopers or nothing for her. She wants to be with the best. She’s as stubborn as they come, fiery, and vibrant. Chews gum like her life depends on it.

Florence “Flo” Kanaka’ole, 20; from Honolulu, HI

Showgirl turned soldier. Was in her family’s tourism business dancing and making crafts, and picked up gigs at some of the sailor’s nightclubs on Waikiki Beach so she could afford to live with some friends. Wanted to join up after Pearl Harbor to protect her homeland, and Army posters appealed to her. No more makeup, dresses, or fake smiles. Makes everyone learn to say her last name correctly. If they can say Eisenhower, they can say hers. Loves to sing ‘Ōlelo songs and she’ll dance for everyone when she’s drunk. Best friends with Frankie.

Frances “Frankie” Wilson, 19; from Baltimore, MD

Joins up because she’s bored. Her husband is off being a hotshot pilot in the Pacific, and she’s bored in her in-law’s house, getting no action—combat or physical. Quits her seamstress apprenticeship to join the paratroopers because she wants a challenge. Her good looks and perfectly tailored uniforms can be deceiving. Feisty, foul-mouthed, funny, and a shameless flirt. Will tailor your uniforms for money, doesn’t really care how much. Best friends with Flo.

Georgina M. Webster, 20; from Harlem, NY

Comes from an illustrious pedigree, constantly name drops her parents’ acquaintances and some of the people she knew in her youth. Wants everyone to know she’s a Radcliffe student but refuses to explain what that means to anyone who doesn’t already understand. Incredibly smart, whip quick wit, regularly complains about the poor quality of everything that the Army provides. Has no bedside manner. Storms every room she walks into.

Gloria “Glory” Davies, 19; from Memphis, TN

A gentle, sweet Southerner. Kind, soft-spoken, humble, not a mean bone in her body. Oldest of eight, dropped out of high school to help her parents run their restaurant. Wanted to join up when the war started, but was too afraid to leave her family for the unknown. Eventually worked up the courage and met Easy Company at Ft. Bragg. Loves music but is too shy to sing in front of others. Quickly becomes a favorite of Col. Sink’s. 

Jeanne “Jeannie” Carmichael, 19; from Fruitland, GA

Comes to the Army with no strings attached. No family, no friends, no address. Just the clothes she has on and the few belongings in her bag. A quick learner, thinks fast on her feet, incredibly strong, good with her hands. Good memory on account that she can’t read. Has yet to learn how to people. Knows nothing of the world outside of her tiny farm town, and has to adjust to people with morals different than hers.

Josephine “Joey” O’Shaughnessy, 25; from Boston, MA

A red-headed fury. Is trying to get some heat off of her back after an incident at OCS by shaping her platoon into the best the Army has ever seen. Doesn’t have the time or patience to care about individual feelings, but always takes the time to help a soldier she sees struggling with a task. Refuses to leave a man behind. Believes in raising the lowest common denominator. Proud graduate of Spelman College. Best friends with Lil.

Lillian “Lil” Sikes Linetti, 22; from Atlantic City, NJ

Howard University Alumni. Got married at 18 and struggled to be a housewife after college. Believes the Army will give her something to do with her education and will give her space from her husband. The middle of five children all serving in the Armed Forces. Has always wanted to travel. Has a knack for maps and navigation. Mom friend, gets worried sometimes. Doesn’t put up with shenanigans. Best friends with Joey.

Matilda “Mattie” James, 17; from Pahokee, FL

Grew up as a migrant worker. Taught herself to sing and read music, soloist at her church, former music teacher. Wants to help her family move to Pittsburgh, where the Black community is growing and her dad’s family lives. Doesn’t tell her family that she’s joining up, or that she’s going with the paratroopers for the extra pay. Wants to fight so that her younger brothers won’t have to. Second youngest company member, and she’ll go after you if you bring it up. Wants to be treated like an adult. Faith is important to her.

Rose Robinson, 27; from San Francisco, CA

Though a New Yorker by birth, she spent her childhood and adolescence between San Francisco and Paris. Attended the Emma Willard School and Vassar College. Speaks several languages, loves baseball, and art. Joining up with the OSS puts her in close contact with her good friend Lewis Nixon over the course of the war.

Victoria “Bertie” Adams Albert, 19; from Green Bay, WI

Joins up when a recruiter comes into her family’s camera shop and asks if anyone would like to join the APS. Believes in telling stories honestly and truthfully. Will run directly into the line of fire for a picture. Easy to tease, but easy to apologize to. A bit idyllic, naive, young, in over her head at points. Trusts people in authority. Babbles when she’s nervous. Tries to use her camera as a shield but gets too attached anyway. 

if you have any questions or would like to know more about any of them, please don’t hesitate to send me a message or send in an ask!

#meet 'em in the skies #i cannot in good conscious tag all fifteen of them #masterlist #my writing #i do not have a fun little collage or cover image alas #jk tagging all of theme jesus christ #anita kennedy matthews #coretta bailey #trip danes #dot woods #ellie gibbs #estelle brown #flo kanaka'ole #frankie wilson #georgina webster #glory davies #jeannie carmichael #joey o'shaughnessy #lillian sikes #mattie james #victoria adams albert #rose robinson

[talkingharrystyles]

🌌I should clarified that the “grab them and risk it” wasn’t pertaining to the stunt. That small portion of his life will revert back. The stunt will end. It has a deadline, which will be met, as agreed. It’s akin to when you’re doing a group project- that’s what the stunt is. A project in lieu of marketing. The “grab them and take the risk” was directed to his own life and personal growth.

Some still are asking why stunt, I explained this to Luna and another awhile ago - stunting is less cost effective compared to marketing. Pap pics, “blinds” “fan sights”, and articles are cheap. She shows up and fans on both sides talk about her. She colludes with a few gossip sites, plants some accounts with content, and people talk. Ironically, people also talk about their scandalous “meeting” which brings the conversation back into the *tada* the film she and him are in. Thus, weaving the film’s marketing into their tabloid drama. That is how you can tell the difference between hers and Harry’s team articles. Olivia is the meant to carry the weight of marketing DWD- not Harry or Florence or any other cast member. That’s why you’re always going to see DWD mentioned when Harry is mentioned in her articles because she’s reminding the audience of her film (marketing). Same with Ted lasso when she and Jason are printing press of them. Harry’s articles lack the significant DWD promo. But that’s made up for with his his family bizarre behavior. They’re participating because, as suspected, Harry and his team are in on the backend deal, as I discussed with Luna back in March. Were they acting like this with Dunkirk? My Policeman? Did they do this with ICarly episode? They only act like this when they’re wanting something of his or Gemma’s to financially succeed. There’s proud but then there’s the temptation of greed. Doesn’t mean he’s this wicked, soulless creature from hell. If he was, believe it he would go full throttle and do the very things some fear. It just means that he’s human and falls into temptations. As said, not much is needed with stunting. It also comes with immediate ROI, which is paid directly to Harry and his team. It is work for them, after all. Which one of them wants to work for free? Other than a few brand promotions, Olivia compensation is the press (attention). DWD would had, in the right hands, been great. The spec script was pleasant (we all told people it was a rip off Westworld meets Stepford meets Truman meets get out), the cast was talented (Dakota. Shia too despite the side issues). The crew was equipped. All Olivia needed to have done was shut the frick up and follow agreed directions. But no, she got too power hungry once Harry joined and decided to go off tangent. She underestimated his fans and the GP by thinking “okay I can do PR with him and his fans will love me and believe it’s real because they’re young and naive and believe everything he says or does and I’ll get attention for both the film and I’ll get more money”. Yeah, okay. The same fandom that has people with the skills of Anonymous. You can totally recycle literally every PR move he’s previously done and think all his fans will believe it without question. For some shippers, you really can’t fault them. They truly do care about him, as a dear friend of mines said earlier. Those are the ones now realizing the truth, as they’re looking at the evidence and asking the right questions which aren’t being met with clear answers.

You all have been seeing that DWD’s official marketing was substituted for the stunt. Consider how “cheap” the quality of the film advertisements are. That’s not what it should be. Usually film’s posters are suppose to be an entirely different photo shoot, or, at least, an high quality image that perfectly captures the films message. Remember Twilight and the cast photo shoot prior to premiere? The first film budget was incredibly low yet Hardwicke managed to allocate the funds for ads.

Harry going down on Florence doesn’t tell people what DWD is about. Neither them in the bed. You know what would had? If she coordinated for them to be pictured together with one image mirroring perfection and the next dysfunction. Alluding to all is not what it seems.

“Live the life you deserve”.

Moron, the tagline is a play on the title. Not some IG coffee mug quote.

Something eerie like “Don’t worry darling, you’ll be alright” or “Don’t worry darling, we’re together forever” should had been used. Something. Seriously, this is why crew and Dakota left because Olivia is an idiot who swears she’s right. Like damn, I honestly do want to host a debate with this woman on certain issues just to see the depths of her ignorance.

Not to mention the absent of a film, of this anticipated caliber, as said last year, trailer shown on tv. I live in America and regularly watch channels Warner Bros own or affiliated with…. I’ve yet to see DWD official trailer, or it’s teaser aired at all. Maybe I’ve missed it. But it’s odd that the film, itself, isn’t being marketed as films like it are right now.

The less money paid for official marketing lowers the overall budget. Thus, allowing for Olivia to earn more of the backend deal. Marketing is separate from film budgeting. Which is why Marvel’s cost is usually in the millions. Olivia, Harry and Warner bros have long accepted it won’t be much which is why they’ve forfeited official marketing that a film like DWD should have. Instead settling for mediocrity. I mean, the discombobulated trailer wouldn’t had been released if Warner Bros had high hopes for DWD. It’s all to keep the cost low so she and others can take home whatever exceeds the budget. Just because the budget increased, the studio’s insurance policy is covering the unexpected cost due to unforeseen circumstances (COVID). Not sure why some are thinking she’s responsible for those issues. That’s not true. It’s the cost invested into the film that she’s responsible for gaining and exceeding.As long as DWD exceeds the budget invested into making the film, Olivia gets a portion of the contracted backend deal. If it remains below the cost invested, then she doesn’t. Whatever exceeds the budget is hers and will be divided amongst Harry, his team, and whomever else is in on the deal (I’m betting Katie).

I’m going to leave this here just in case anyone wants to read more of film marketing: https://www.nfi.edu/film-marketing/

🌌

[ofmelcdies]

❛ ... i've heard it in the chillest land, and on the strangest sea... ❜

𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑-𝐑𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃. twenty seven. written by taylor.

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𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Name: Lavinia Charlotte Delacour-Ryland

Title: Lady

Referred to as: Lady Lavinia

Nickname(s): Lav, Vinnie, Lottie (her father)

Age: Twenty-Seven

Gender: Cis Female

Sexual orientation: Pansexual, she finds fascination in personalities not gender

Occupation: Former typist, aspiring pianist

Nationality: British-American

Religion: Catholic, though slightly ambivalent given the loss of her parents

Class: Upper, raised middle class

Place of birth: Brooklyn, USA

Hometown: New York City, NY

Faceclaim: Florence Pugh (Little Women)

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Height: 5’4” (1.63m)

Weight: 53kg (117 lbs)

Build: She has curves, a toned core, and strong calves, all of which are a side effect of walking most places in the city — she has a body built from motion

Distinguishing marks: A small scar on her chin from falling on a rock as a child

Hair colour: Blonde

Hair style: Long and often pinned up into a bun that is always fixed with her mother's red rhodonite pin

Eye colour: Green

Clothing: Accustomed to simple skirts and quarter-sleeved blouses, she has a difficult time adjusting to her new wardrobe of pinstriped dresses and hats – she often seeks guidance before dressing for the day

Scent(s): Lavender, vanilla, and a faint note of coffee beans

Accent: American, with a deep, melodic cadence

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

Summary: With a firecracker wit and sense of self attributable only to being raised by free-spirited parents, Lavinia is a breath of fresh air. She is passionate and, when asked, unafraid to give her honest opinion, making her your best bet for a healthy dose of reality. she pairs this silver tongue with an easy smile, oozing charm to soothe the sting of her words. She's a bird unwittingly plucked from her natural environment, trapped in a cage she never knew existed and asked to cope.

Virtues: Genuine, Inventive, Reliable, Insouciant, Humorous

Vices: Sarcastic, Stubborn, Cryptic, Impulsive, Possessive

Moral alignment: Chaotic Neutral – The Free Spirit

Natal chart: Capricorn Sun, Gemini Moon

Habits: bites nails when stressed

Character tropes: Rosalind (Shakespeare's As You Like It) 

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

Parent(s): Lord Arthur L. Ryland (deceased) - youngest brother of the Dowager Countess of Grantham ; Marguerite Delacour (deceased) - french expat

Sibling(s): N/A

Spouse: Unmarried 

Children: N/A

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Following her father's death, Lavinia made one request of Montmere's legal team. Using her newfound wealth, a train ticket was arranged for her to visit her late mother's parents in Quebec. It was the first and last time she saw them in person, and marked her last stop in the Americas before boarding the ship to England. She still writes to her grandmother monthly.

Sarcasm is a cloak she wears well, a coping mechanism developed to get through life in the city. that said, she’s fairly open, so long as the conversation doesn’t stray too far from the surface; she’ll just as readily discuss her emotions as she’ll endure a root canal.

Given her upbringing, she finds her greatest challenge since arriving at Montmere — save for remembering all of the titles and idiosyncrasies of nobility— is aligning herself with her newfound relatives. She grew up around the people who served, not those who hired the service. 

Fiercely protective of her mother, Lav doesn’t speak of her parents often, if at all, having grown tired of pitying stares. She wasn't the sort of woman to have been accepted into this society, too rebelliously French to sup at a table with more than one fork. Her father is a safer topic, though until she learns his reasons for keeping this side of the family a secret, she keeps to surface-level retellings.

She hasn't quite grasped the concept of having tea in the morning over coffee, and she'll often consider sneaking downstairs to make a pot herself.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒

Dowager Countess of Grantham – her father never mentioned his family beyond passing comments of “your grandmother this, your aunt that." She had assumed that anyone carrying the Ryland surname must have died. Now she seeks answers, had her father willingly run off into the night or was there something more at play?

Downstairs – Being that she grew up in a middle class environment, I would love to see Lavinia interact with members of the downstairs. She feels like she can relate, but can she really now that she has “Lady” tacked onto her name?

Mentor – She needs someone to teach her the ropes because, whether she likes it or not, she’s rich now and this is her world. Plus, it would be a lie to say that she’s not at least moderately interested in what this world has to offer. 

#about. #task.

[overlookedwwiimedia]

Oppenheimer (2023)

Basic Story: The story of Robert Oppenheimer before, during, and in the years after building the atomic bomb.

Fan Thoughts:  Oppenheimer, as stated in plenty of other reviews, focuses on the man and his life, rather than the effect of the bombs; there are multiple movies made in Japan about the aftermath that are far more relevant if that is your area of interest.  The section of the film that focuses on his early career and the assembling at Los Alamos is really well done, moving along quickly and keeping the audience’s attention easily.  The film has Nolan’s signature touches throughout: use of cinematography, the typeset stating times and locations, using an intense soundtrack or silence at times to emphasize what is happening on screen.  Cillian Murphy and Robert Downey Jr. are excellent in their roles, two standouts in a truly star-studded cast who all bring convincing performances.  There are two things that did not work for me while watching this: half of Florence Pugh’s scenes, and the last third of the film that focuses on Oppenheimer’s security clearance renewal turned trial.  Firstly, Florence Pugh is inexplicably nude in half of the scenes she is in despite it only making any sense in the story the first time and even then, they tried to work the “Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds.” quote into a sex scene, where it just doesn’t work.  In a later scene she is again nude for no real discernible reason while talking with Oppenheimer, and later again Oppenheimer’s wife imagines her writhing on top of him during his trial in a scene that is completely jarring and out of tone with the film as there are few other scenes where someone’s mental images appear on-screen, and those are usually Oppenheimer’s imaginings of the universe.  Secondly, the last third of the film drags as it gets bogged down in the politics of what happened to him during the ‘trial that wasn’t a trial’ which is hard to make engaging, although it does rally right at the end.  Oppenheimer is a serious, somber film about a complicated man haunted by the choices he made with some excellent acting and a mostly solid production.

Warnings: nudity

Available On: In theaters July 21, 2023.

#wwii movies #overlookedwwiimovies