#jem writes things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

Text

Kit to Ty

Ty,

I need someone to talk to and I don’t want it to be Julian or Emma. Or Jem or Tessa. So it’ll have to be you. Which means I can’t ever send this and you can’t ever read it. I’ll burn it in the garden when I’m done writing it so I’m not tempted to send it.

The gardens here are really excellent, by the way. I guess you know that since you’ve been here. There’s an old Georgian greenhouse, and a little pond with lilies and frogs and benches to watch them, and a walled garden, and it’s just very nice to walk around here with Mina. I never had a sister or brother before, you know that, but being with Mina makes me realize more about how you felt about Livvy. Still feel about Livvy I guess. I’m not saying I forgive you. Just maybe I understand more.

Blackthorn Hall is still being restored, of course, and there are faeries everywhere doing the restorations. They’re brownies, apparently, and even though they aren’t doing anything that interesting—weeding and carrying wheelbarrows of dirt and whatever—I can’t stop watching them. I have hardly seen any faeries at all since—well, since we were in that battle with them. I guess I didn’t realize how strictly I was being kept apart from them. Until now.

I should really stay away from them, because every time I get close enough for them to talk to me, they do something to freak me out. The head builder, this guy Round Tom— he’s not even that round, honestly — anyway the first time Round Tom saw me he did a little thing where he jumped in a circle and made some odd gestures in the air, and then bowed in my direction. I just turned around on my heel and walked off in the other direction like I had just remembered I forgot something.

And then General Winter, like Kieran’s General Winter, was there helping out—Julian says he’s there to keep all the workers in line since they are scared of General Winter but not Round Tom—and he knew I was the First Heir. Like the Riders did.

The Riders whose horses I made disappear. Or something. I don’t know if they ever came back. No one seems to know.

I tried to pretend I didn’t hear General Winter either but we were just out in the open and it would have been way too obvious. So when he addressed me as First Heir all I could think of to say was, “That’s me. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

“If you’ve been told,” he said, “then it is true, since we do not lie.”

I wanted to say buddy, I worked at the Los Angeles Shadow Market for years. Faeries do all kinds of sketchy stuff. Instead I just said, “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do about it.”

General Winter watched me with this thoughtful look on his face, and said, “You need do nothing about it, yet. Indeed, at this moment that might be the wisest course of action. For things are strange in Faerie.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“There are disturbances,” he said slowly. “Rumors swirl about the Seelie Court. And Mother Hawthorn walks again.”

BEfore I could ask him what any of that meant, Round Tom came rushing over. “Cousins.” (I had forgotten faeries sometimes addressed each other like that, and it gave me a little shiver, like he was saying, you are one of us.) “I have found something. Please come with me.”

He led us around to one of the big plane trees. A little ways away from the trunk was a huge hole, and then on the other side of the tree were two sawhorses across which balanced a coffin.

At least I think it was a coffin. It was really busted up, half-rotted, cracked everywhere, caked in dirt. It was obviously the thing that had come out of the hole.

“A tomb?” said General Winter as we got closer, but Round Tom was shaking his head.

“We would not have disturbed a tomb,” said Round Tom. “But none lie buried here. Only magic, of a dark and powerful kind.” He stepped back. “Look inside.”

I came closer. There was indeed a bunch of random stuff inside the coffin. It looked like—well, you know how old Egyptian pharaohs were buried with all their belongings? It was like that, I assume for a Shadowhunter, except the belongings were a weird assortment. It was dirty and falling apart and mostly just junk—papers and little jars and bits of fabric and the hilt of a sword with no blade, that kind of thing.

“How old is it?” I said, and Round Tom reached it and fished out a liquor bottle. The label was pretty faded and ripped but it was a printed label, in a Victorian style. I wondered if Jem or Tessa would have any guess whose stuff it could be.

“You said there was magic here?” I said.

“Dark magic,” Round Tom said gravely. “Wild magic.”

“The curse?” said General Winter.

Round Tom’s expression cleared and he shrugged. “Perhaps not. It’s actually much less demonic in nature than the curse on the house. But emanating from the foot of an unremarkable tree it bore exploration. There are two items that might be of further interest.”

He cleared away some of the mess and revealed a scabbard. It was a very nice scabbard. Sorry, that doesn’t really capture it. A very very nice scabbard. It needed some cleaning up, but it was obviously beautiful and, I’m sure, valuable. It was steel but covered in gold inlay all over in the shape of leaves and birds. There were some runes on it, too, so it was definitely a Shadowhunter’s at some point.

“Nice,” I said.

“It is more than ‘nice,’” General Winter said. “It is clearly the work of Lady Melusine herself. See how it has not deteriorated at all?”

Round Tom looked important. “And yet it is the less interesting of the two pieces,” he said. With a great dramatic gesture that he had clearly practiced ahead of time, he pushed all of the junk to one side in the coffin, leaving—

“Is that…a gun?” I said.

“One of those mundane weapons, yes,” said Round Tom. He picked it up as though it might go off, though it was rusty and covered in dirt. It was a revolver. It didn’t look any different than revolvers from a million gangster movies, or Westerns—I guess if I were really sending this to Ty I would have to explain what a Western was.

Anyway the big difference was this gun was covered in etchings and runes and words and was obviously magic af. (Which means . . . oh, never mind what it means.)

“But Shadowhunters don’t use guns,” I said.

“They never have,” General Winter agreed. He picked up the gun with a surprising amount of familiarity, and sighted along it in the direction of a nearby tree. He tried to fire and it just clicked — the cylinder didn’t even turn.

“Rusted shut, probably,” said Tom. General Winter handed it to me to look at. I’m not good enough with runes to know any of the ones that were on it. I pointed it at the same tree, kind of as a joke, kind of just to feel how heavy it was, and pulled the trigger, and there was a huge BANG and a bunch of wood splinters exploded from the tree.

My arm kicked back from the force of the shot. And we all stared. My ears were buzzing, but I thought I heard Round Tom say something to General Winter. I’m pretty sure the words First Heir were in there.

Certainly when I looked at them again, at Round Tom and General Winter, their expressions were guarded. Closed.

“Perhaps we should take this item inside and see if the other Nephilim recognize anything about it,” General Winter said flatly.

“I’m sure it just only works for Shadowhunters,” I told General Winter, but he just gave me kind of a troubled look and said nothing. “Anyway. I’ll bring it in.”

I could feel General Winter and Round Tom watching me as I ran across the lawn and into the house. Jem and Tessa were sitting on a couch in the drawing-room, watching Mina coloring with crayons on some butcher paper.

The moment I came in holding the gun both of them looked utterly shocked. Tessa got to her feet and moved between me and Mina. I told myself she was standing between the gun and Mina, but it still felt rotten.

“What—” said Jem, standing up, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He just stared at me, and the gun.

“Round Tom found it in the garden,” I said. “Is this a gun for Shadowhunters?” I could feel my voice getting tighter. “Shadowhunters don’t use guns.”

“Long ago, Christopher Lightwood tried to create a gun that Shadowhunters could fire,” said Tessa. She was still staring at the gun.

“It was in a coffin,” I said. “With a bunch of other stuff. A broken sword, and a fancy scabbard.”

“I wondered what he did with it,” said Jem. He? Who was he?

Jem and Tessa exchanged a look. “The gun belonged to my son James,” she said. I felt kind of sick. Tessa hardly ever talked about her children with Will. “He was the only one who could use it. It would not fire in anyone’s hands but his.”

“I fired it,” I said.

They both looked stunned, and not in a good way.

“You are very special, Kit,” Jem said. “You are the First Heir. We don’t yet know the extent of how that power works in you.”

“Or perhaps it is just that he has faerie blood,” said Tessa.

I could have said that it definitely wasn’t just faerie blood because General Winter couldn’t use the gun and he doesn’t only have faerie blood, he has a full faerie body with faerie organs and everything. But I didn’t say anything. I just felt a weird feeling in my stomach. I said I would put the gun away and not use it, and Jem and Tessa seemed to feel that was the best thing I could do, and Mina piped up and said “Gun!” and then I felt like the worst person on earth.

So now it’s late and I’m up writing this letter to you that I am going to burn when I’m done, because I can’t sleep. Because I don’t want to be the only person in the world who can fire a magic gun. I don’t want General Winter to straighten up when I’m nearby like I outrank him. I don’t want any of this. I had five minutes where I got to think, oh neat, I found this cool-looking gun and I bet there’s a story behind it, I wonder if they’ll let me keep it or if it needs to go to a museum or something. And then I fired it and instantly—just another thing that’s weird about me.

Good night, Ty. I’ll never send this, and you’ll never read it.

Kit

4K notes · View notes

inthe-dark-tonight · 7 months

Text

And All the Stars Align

chapter one: across the room, your silhouette

din djarin x princess!reader series

chapter two

summary: your mother seeks out the well known mandalorian, din djarin, to help your planet by fighting in a duel. what starts as a strong distaste for the armored man grows into something more.

word count: 1.7k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: no use of y/n, slow burn, slight enemies to lovers, some helmetless din, no physical descriptions of reader other than clothing a few times, no mentions of age gap so read however you’d like, not really that many warnings yet :)

notes: this is the first thing i’ve ever written, i’ve just been really nervous to post it but here it is!!! i also was slightly inspired by padme and anakin’s relationship in episode 2 & 3 so you may see some similarities here and there. this will be multiple chapters, not sure how many yet but know that it will be quite a few lol. thank you to my loves @shatteredbaby & @javiscigarette for beta reading and brainstorming with me mwah. also @pr0ximamidnight for listening to me ramble about this fic and also encouraging me to keep writing ily

He’s sitting in the cantina on Nevarro minding his business, when he suddenly feels a presence behind him.

“Can I help you?” His deep voice booms through the modulator on his helmet. He doesn’t bother to turn around.

The man standing close behind him clears his throat before speaking. “I’m visiting from the planet Xeron. I was sent by the queen in search of a Mandalorian named Din Djarin.” He pauses, hesitating for a moment. “I was told he could be found here.”

Din turns around in his seat and props his elbow up to lean back on the counter nonchalantly. “You’ve found him.” He says in a flat tone. Although his face is covered with a beskar helmet, his voice is enough to make anyone intimidated. “You have one minute to explain what you’re here for.”

The advisor swallows hard and clears his throat. “I- uh,”

“Fifty-six seconds.” the Mandalorian says, his voice coming out deep and monotone.

“Our planet, Xeron, is having a quarrel of sorts with our sister planet, Arkam, and we need help. We need your help.” He hesitated for a quick moment, a bit flustered. “Word around the inner rim is that you’re a great fighter, you’ve taken down a mudhorn, a kryat dragon, the list goes on and on. We’re desperately in need of someone to fight. Someone who will win.”

“What’s in it for me?”

A week later the Mandalorian is on his way to Xeron. Your mother, the queen, insisted that he come a week early to settle in before the duel. She had said we should lend him our hospitality for what he’s agreed to do for our planet, so there’s going to be a welcome dinner hosted tonight when he arrives.

You’re currently in your room getting ready to leave when there’s a knock on your door. “Come in.” The door opens a crack and you see Jem poke her head in.

Jem is your closest friend, though she’s more of an assistant of sorts. You don’t like to think of her that way, she’s just your friend that also happens to keep watch over you and help you out with anything you might need.

“Are you almost ready? Your mother is already in the grand hall awaiting your arrival.” She raises her brow at you, knowing that you always tend to be late.

“Yes just- give me a second. I’ll be right out.” You smile before she shuts the door behind her.

You turn towards your mirror and take a deep breath. Why are you so nervous? It’s not like you haven’t attended banquets for visitors in the past. You run your gloved hands over your floor length dress and take one last look in the mirror before turning to leave.

When you open the door Jem is waiting there for you, also wearing a long elegant dress for the occasion. She turns to walk down the hall and you quickly follow.

“Are you curious to see what he’s like?” She asks as you make your way towards the grand hall.

You look at her slightly confused “….who?”

She blinks at you, waiting for you to say something else. “The Mandalorian, you know, the one your mother hired to fight in the duel?” She gives you an odd look before the two of you step into the elevator. “I’ve heard he’s quiet, a little mysterious. I guess we’ll see for ourselves.” A smirk grows on her face as she says the words.

When the elevator doors open again, you quickly round the corner to see that the doors to the great hall are wide open and the room is flooded with people. Some are gathered standing in large groups, others are sitting at the large tables spread around the room. You look around the room and see your mother through the crowd, sitting in her usual spot. You walk towards her smiling here and there at guests as you pass by.

“You’re here! We can get started finally.” She gestures something to one of the royal guards, seconds later you hear a loud noise signaling that dinner will be served shortly. In the next couple of minutes everyone is finally seated, Jem sitting next to you. You glance around noticing that someone’s missing, the guest of honor. Great first impression, you think to yourself. If he can’t even arrive on time, how’s he going to win this fight?

You can see your mother glancing around the room frantically. “Where is he?” She mumbles to herself. The guests are chatting at a low volume, probably wondering what’s going on as well.

All of a sudden one of the doors to the royal hall opens, everyone’s head snaps towards that direction to get a look. As you look around the room, everyone’s quiet and still. It’s like the world has stopped. You hear heavy steps growing closer and what sounds like something clanking. Finally you look towards the door and your eyes land on him. The Mandalorian.

He’s covered head to toe in beskar armor, and the visor on his helmet creates a t shape. There’s a sway in his step, he walks with confidence and you can feel the air in the room has changed just from his presence. Your mother stands from her chair as he gets closer, and everyone else in the room follows. You’re so mesmerized by him and the confidence in each step he takes that you end up being the last to stand, eyes never leaving his captivating form. When he gets to you and your mother he bows his head, leaving your mother ecstatic.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our guest of honor, Din Djarin.” She gestures towards him. “The Mandalorian.” the room applauds.

He nods and takes a seat next to your mother, everyone following her lead to sit. Your mother looks at one of the royal guards and droids start coming from the kitchen with plates full of food, placing them at every table.

Your mother turns her head to Din “Thank you so much for being here tonight, I’m glad you could make it a week early. We want to show our thanks, and how greatly appreciative we are.” she smiles at him.

Din turns his head towards her and nods. “Thank you for your hospitality.” His voice is deep coming through his modulator, it sends a chill down your spine. You’re still staring at him when your mother starts to speak.

“This is my daughter.” Your mother fully sits back in her chair so he can look past her and see you properly.

He turns his head towards you. “Princess.” He nods his head again. What Jem heard is true. He really doesn’t say much, but you feel squeamish under his gaze.

“We really are more grateful than you could ever imagine.” Your mother smiles again. “Please! Help yourself!” Your mother gestures to the table full of food.

Jem nudges your shoulder and you turn to her, finally breaking your gaze away from Din. She’s smirking “I told you” she whispers before reaching to fill her plate.

You’re trying not to stare at this point, just looking out the corner of your eye. You pile a few things onto your plate and before you can take a bite you see his hand lift up to his helmet. You hear a hissing sound as he lifts it off his head.

You snap your head to look over at him and you’re absolutely stunned, almost breathless as his profile comes into view. The strong outline of his nose and plush pink lips immediately catch your attention. You don’t think you’ve ever laid your eyes on someone as beautiful as him. Still taking in his features, your mouth slightly opens in awe. His large brown eyes, the crease between his brows, the way his curls fall perfectly over his forehead even after having a helmet on.

He turns his head towards you, almost like he could feel your gaze. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you quickly turn back to look at your plate in embarrassment. You can still feel his gaze burning through you, your body starting to heat up. Through the corner of your eye you can see him staring now, you lift your head and turn to look at him again. This time he turns away, quickly glancing back at you for only a split second before focusing on his plate. It’s almost… shy. Cute, you think.

“I didn’t know Mandalorians could remove their helmets?” Your mother asks him.

Din clears his throat as he glances at your mother. “The rules aren’t… as strict as they once were.” He states.

His voice sounds even more heavenly without being filtered through the modulator. It makes your skin tingle.

The rest of the dinner you don’t dare to look at him. Your mother dismisses everyone and people get up to gather and chat again. Everyone wants to speak to Din, he’s never not crowded by guests. He put his helmet back on at this point after dinner.

Jem pops up beside you. “Wow, I knew he’d be popular tonight, being the guest of honor and all but… he really can’t catch a break”

“Yeah.” you’re trying to seem nonchalant as you stare him down from across the room.

“Have you gotten a chance to speak with him?” She looks over at you.

“No!” Your head snaps towards her and Jem’s brow raises at your tone. “I mean, no. He’s been occupied basically all night.” You’re looking back towards where he stands.

“What’s there for me to say anyway?” You glance over at her “Am I supposed to thank him? However much my mother’s paying him won’t be worth anything if he doesn’t make it out.” You look back out into the crowd of people and you’re unable to spot him.

“Yeah, I guess.” She pauses for a moment. “Well I need to go find your mother, I told her I’d help her with something. See you later?”

You nod and watch her disappear into the pool of people laughing and talking loudly.

You hear someone say your name in a deep voice from behind you.

“Princess.”

thank you for reading lmk what you think & my asks are open to chat :) xo

np tagging some moots: @ilovepedro @isitmeulookin4 @joelsversion @nostalxgic @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @jenispunk @beskarandblasters @javiscigarette @gracieheartspedro @cannolighost @eliza-8 @hearteyesforjoel @tieronecrush @daydreamingmiller @pamasaur

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x fem!reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x princess!reader #din darjin #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfiction

251 notes · View notes

artistformerlyknown · 2 years

Note

Happy WIP Whenever again, my love!! I'm back for a second week in a row, that's insane!! Medication really is the best thing in the world, huh? Anyway! Real simple this week, just baby steps to get us back into a rhythm here, can you write me, like, 5 sentences and share them with me? And bonus, can you tell me what you like about them? Thanks, babe!! 💙

helloooo lovely kit! i’m getting to this and it is in fact wednesday now! i’ve been revising for exams today so figured i could use this as a nice little writing break - it’ll be on my phone since i’m in a bit of pain today but hey, it’ll be words!!

The space outside of the porthole was empty. There was a distinct lack of stars or asteroids and no creatures to latch onto the hull. It was quite a relief after the frustrating trip they’d undergone to get to this little corner of the universe. What was meant to be a routine maintenance check of a smaller base has spiralled into something infinitely more complex when they’d realised that the base itself hadn’t just been in disrepair, there was an active takeover going on that nobody was remotely prepared for. Pretty inconvenient.

this is not 5 lines but it is 5 sentences, so that’s fine :) i’m enjoying these because i think they’re a nice introduction to what’s a very recent brimming of mine - i was watching love, death and robots last night and this morning and i recollected on how much i adore creepy, horror scifi but never ever write it and thought i should change that!

thank you for the lovely ask and reason to write <3

#extra thanks in the tags!!!!#personal #friend shenanigans #jem writes things #jem answers things

1 note · View note

bbeeew · 27 days

Text

sdv teir list [/j]

my rating for every bachelor/bachelorette in sdv in whatever order I decide

Alex

8/10, despite giving off that homophobic sporty guy vibe he's actually nice and I think he would be a good candidate

Haley

7/10, respect her and those who enjoy her as a character, but I don't really like her. But that's more personal preference

Harvey

11/10, the DISRESPECT this man gets is insane. For what, for why. He's honestly a 9/10 but he gets bonus points for how dogged on he is for no reason.

Maru

8/10, ignored and undervalued. A hidden Jem more people need to talk about

Sebastian

7/10, the gamer boy thing is cute, the smoking and hating parents thing is a little eh, bonus points for frogs.

Emily

6/10 if she is straight, 8/10 if she's a lesbian. Her character doesn't have a lot besides crystal girlie and being straight makes her bland. Mad respect of she's a lesbian tho

Sam

9/10, his hair may be nasty, but the golden retriever energy can make up for that. Also you get to pick the kind of songs he writes, which is sweet.

Abigail

8/10, eating rocks is cool, kinda leans into that I hate my father area but it works well towards the end of her arc.

Shane

12/10, I'm being biased but once again WITH THE SHADE BEING THROWN AT HIM. He's still a loving father/husband and does try his hardest regardless of wether you stay platonically with him or not. (Side note: he doesn't get worse after marriage, I better not see this brought up in the comments of a happy post)

Leah

9/10, lesbian queen, not much else to say. Very few downsides to her both in dialog and as an individual.

Elliot

7/10, kinda gives that over romantic mom book vibe, but I can get behind it. Kind, charismatic, loses 2 points for disliking pizza tho

Penny

10/10, extra point for the shade as well. For a character so sweet and kind and struggling with so much you really gotta be doing her dirty. She's giving the kids an education and that's great. Hope she is doing well.

Notice how none of them are below a 6/10

That was intentional, all have their values and all appeal to different people. And rating them through the "this is my idea of them and not how they are in the game" glasses isnt fair.

#Sdv #sdv shane #sdv sebastian #stardew #sdv elliott #stardew leah #sdv leah #stardew elliott #stardew emily #sdv harvey #sdv haley #sdv penny #sdv abigail #sdv sam #sdv emily #sdv bachelors #sdv bachelorettes

81 notes · View notes

headedstraightforfrankcastle · 1 year

Text

Anakin Boyfriend headcanons SFW

SO lately I’ve been obsessing more and more over Star Wars - mostly over Kylo, Poe and our boy Anakin. I’ve been thinking about some things lately and now you have to think about them to :)

!: no gender specified, Revenge of the Sith!Anakin (but no downfall lol just cute vibes here)

A/N: not proof readed, please let me know if you notice any typo! sorry about it <3

we can all know he basically he’s a gentleman

his love language is small acts of service.

you would help him get ready for his missions, he would help you get ready for yours

he would make sure you have everything packed with you, and if you’re a particularly forgetful person he would place all your thing on your bed so you don’t forget anything

if you don’t understand how soomething works he’s ready to explain it to you again an again, if you lose something he’d help you find it, if you’re feeling down he won’t leave your side unless he absolutely has to.

he would kneel in the middle of a corridor just because your boot is untied

your official styler

he would bring you small gifts from his missions

everytime he sees you treasure them like jems on your shelves he smiles like a proud baby

constantly sitting on top of him

like - this man is the only chair existing for you

he would love to balance you on his leg, with your back against his chest and his hands slowly caressing your wast

whenever you two are alone he gently pushes you against the first wall he finds only to kiss you so slowly and kindly it hurts

he holds your hands in his when you’re cold!

I told you to bring your gloves, baby, why don’t you ever listen to me?

little did he know, it was your plan all along

if you can walk side by side keep one harm aroud you waist or shoulders so you have all the space you need to hug his side

one of your favourite things in the whole galaxy is seeing him try to hide a smile when you stroll like that

if you two are separated but still in sight, he would keep an eye on you 24/7 to make sure you’re okay and no one is bothering you

when your eyes meet his, you swear you can see them shine

this king would bring you breakfast in bed

most of the times he just asks C3P0 to do it, but when he’s in a good mood he tries to cook your favourite dishes

i’m not sure he’s good at cooking but he tries with all his heart, and you both finish your food with the promise of you teaching him your secrets in the kitchen

constantly makes sure you stay well fed and hydrated

training sessions with him! (propably would write something about it, stay tuned)

everytime he passes next to you he leaves a small kiss on your forhead, or a soft stroke on whichever part of your body he finds first

you have to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up and the last one he sees before he fells asleep

would tell you you are beautiful even when you’re at you worst (you’re always an angel to him) and mostly when you feel like everything but something remotedly good

kisses your tears away and keeps you close to his heart when you’re crying

literally there for you wheneve you need him

the. way. he. looks. at. you. you are the only person for him, he is the only person for you - and the galaxy must know it, because it stops when you linger a bit too much in the glance of the other

when you’re in a dangerous situation he keeps one step in front of you

he knows you are fully capable of protecting yourself, and you’re damn good at it, but it keeps him calm to think he has at least this under his control, so you let him

also it allows you to watch his back, so it’s a win win

little spoon (I will not elaborate)

Thank you for reading, let me know what your thoughts are on bf!Anakin and if we share something!

#anakin #anakin skywalker #sw anakin #episode 3 #revenge of the sith #skywalker #anakin imagine #anakin x reader #anakin headcanon #obi wan kenobi #luke skywalker #padme amidala

714 notes · View notes

kujo1597 · 2 years

Text

I’m reading what I have written for “The Fuck Riot Tour” because I keep referencing it in other fanfics but I haven’t posted it yet. And this is still my favourite moment.

“Hey look, it’s Jerrica Benton,” Pizzazz pointed at her. “Let’s boo ‘er! Boooo!!!”

The entire crowd erupted into boos and jeers for a moment before Pizzazz waved her hands to calm everybody down.

“Alright alright, quiet down you miscreants I was joking!” Pizzazz shouted. “Jesus. Look, Jerrica’s here for a good reason for once. Aren’t ya?”

#Adventures in Writing #It's 90% done I just need to tighten things up and also flesh stuff out and make it flow better #Jem and the Holograms #Pizzazz and Jerrica are friends at this point #Believe it or not

4 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 25 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

7K notes · View notes

scintillyyy · 3 months

Text

and actually, while there are certainly a lot. Lot. of criticisms to made re: dixon & his writing of steph and the sexism therein (although, it's very prevalent and like 'yea that's bad' but also sometimes it's like. well, it's not actually necessarily significantly more or out of the ordinary than most other 80s & 90s media in comparison) (listen i grew up taking out jem and the holograms vhs's from blockbuster every week, there is actually no amount of bullshit that can ever top the jerrica/rio/jem bullshit for me, i am highly desensitized here (two of those people are the same person. one is a man who, for unexplained reasons, really, really, really hates liars in any way, shape, or form)), i do feel that because he's such a reprehensible person there's a lot of. hm. malice retroactively attributed to him re: his writing of steph on account of the way that she was treated after he stopped writing her that is not actually there in the text & in fact is completely at odds with his long-term plans & ideas & hopes for her story & the fact that he was very vocally unhappy with the direction editorial took with her after he was removed.

like he did not write her as messing up & being reckless & being as less skilled because he didn't like her or he wanted readers to dislike her or anything. (i'd argue it's the opposite, actually). her story through his writing is one where she would have eventually received the full acceptance she deserved, which is why he eventually wanted to culminate her success into temporarily becoming robin, the ultimate reward, & in fact his plans for that story is that she would be so super amazing at it because of her determination and hard work and the only reason it wouldn't have worked out long term is because bruce would want to protect her. it's why towards the end of his run writing her she finally was receiving the full acceptance he felt she deserved from both batman & the birds of prey, she was finally in the know as far as tim's secret & getting more integrated into the batfam as a whole, & she was finally gaining tentative acceptance and mentorship from dinah which would put her on more equal footing with cass & tim. a classic rags to riches story.

it was murderer/fugitive and the removal of his influence for her character where things actually start to go south for her, under editorial directive. if you're thinking her finally being completely kicked out over one minor mistake vs just chided but in general allowed to continue regardless, you're thinking devin grayson in gotham knights. if you want to talk about a batman who thinks that steph is a weak link who's going to get hurt with her recklessness (and that gets reinforcedby the narrative by her continuing to act reckless, and lying to tim about a lot of things) you're thinking lewis. if you're thing just making her abjectly terrible at things for the explicit purpose of justifying her being not good enough and undeserving at doing this, you're talking about willingham & dc editorial deciding to axe her character. in comparison, if you look at her being dropped by the birds of prey, written by dixon, you get dinah giving her a talk about how talented steph is, it's just that dinah is not her mentor & can't give her the attention she needs (probably the absolute kindest rejection she gets in that era where dixon is being transitioned out and i think it's notable that he wrote such a kind rejection in comparison to everyone else's at the time).

#anyways. i think i'm done thinking about this for now.

58 notes · View notes

theawkwardterrier · 4 months

Text

Wednesday 100: The Countless Infinitesimals

So often, it is the little things. Jem's mouth against her cheek in a lisping kiss, or Marsali's hands crushing herbs alongside hers. Some root Ian's foraged, left with a note calling her Auntie as always. Meeting eyes with Fergus, suppressing mutual laughter at the latest unintentional child’s rudeness. Brianna and Roger writing and illustrating elbow to elbow, creating a storybook. Slicing her garden's first tomato, sprinkling precious salt, watching Jamie bite into it, eyes closed, arm around her waist pulling her close.

So often, it is the little things reminding her of the joy in this life of theirs.

#Wednesday100 #Claire Fraser #Fraser family feels #title from a Samuel Taylor Coleridge quote

54 notes · View notes

cowboy-lover69 · 4 months

Note

Do you ever think Atticus and Reader will like have an extremely late night because Reader won't shut up about gossip around the town, but like she doesn't mean harm by it, but Atticus is like 😐, sorry if this seems boring but I love your fics x

Midnight Gossip

hey, this was going to be longer but I can't seem to write longer fics as much as I want too, when I started writing this I was doing Y/N but it felt very clunky to write with so I just made an OC to replace it with, I hope you don't mind!

The time was getting onto around 9:30 pm, and Atticus was just about at his limit. He laid in bed, the book he was reading sat on his chest, flipped over. He groggily looked at Alice, who was rambling excitedly about the town gossip, which didn’t particularly interest him, especially when it was this late. Alice was from the city, he didn’t think she would pick up the small town mannerisms of the other woman who lived near them, but it didn’t seem that Alice struggled with that. He didn’t usually mind her gossip, he enjoyed her company, and if she enjoyed something he would do his best to enjoy that as well, but he was struggling tonight.

“And you know, Honey, I heard that Miss Stephanie has been having some sort of a aff---”

Atticus cut her off, in a need to get some sleep. This was far later than he would like to be up.

“Dear, it’s getting on late, and I hate to interrupt, but I have to sleep,” Atticus said, putting his book on the bedside table and rolling over to face Alice. She seemed a bit dampened after that, but not enough for Atticus to read in her pale face. His glasses were off so he currently could not see her face well, and he was as tired as a dog.

“Oh, okay. Well, no worries Honey, we can talk more tomorrow” Alice says.

“Yes, more tomorrow,” Atticus says exhausted, but also satisfied she didn’t get too upset. He rolls over and shuts off the lamp before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep the best he could.

The next morning Atticus noticed Alice had been acting a bit off. She left for work far earlier than she had to, which was strange because she always dreaded work. He worried something he had said last night had upset her, which he never meant to do.

Atticus out of his worry decided to ask his sister, in some ways, and for some things, he trusted her opinion. Alexandra was sitting out on the front porch, she glared out into the sunny summer street. Her sun had shaded the top of her face. Atticus stepped out on the porch, putting on the hat he had stored in his hand so he could shield himself from the sun.

“Where is Scout and Jem?” Atticus first asked.

“Just down the street at Miss Maudie's, I am sure she keeps them entertained.” she vaguely jested down the street with her hands.

There was a moment of silence where Atticus debated asking for advice. Alexandra has never been the best at advice, but he was sure it would help

“Sister, has Alice been acting a bit off this morning, or am I just not thinking right?”

Alexandra perked up and looked at Atticus, her eyebrows raised a bit.

“Acting strange? A little, but you know her better than I do, gosh. Maybe you should just ask her if everything is alright.”

Atticus was nervous to ask Alice just in case she would deflect the question like she tended to do, but it seemed his sister didn’t help much.

The next time they were alone together was the next night. He was reading and she was silent, not a word. She was lying on her back, her eyes closed but she was not sleeping. This proved to Atticus something was off. At night she would always talk to Atticus at least a bit. If she didn’t do that she was hanging on him. Atticus set his book on his bedside table and rolled over to face Alice.

“Everything alright, dear?” Atticus said in the softest tone he could muster.

“Huh me, am fine, just tired”

Just like he thought. She was deflecting. Or maybe there was nothing actually wrong, he thought. He decided to ask again.

“Are you sure? You've been acting off, and am worried I hurt your feelings.” Atticus took his hand and rubbed her forearm. His hand was rough against her soft skin, he worried it wasn’t helping much.

“It’s silly really” Alice says, retracting her arm slightly.

“Nothing is silly, tell me please.”

Alice sighed and glanced away, before returning her eyes back to Atticus. Her blue eyes looked slightly saddened, her hair covering them a bit.

“I guess I never thought about how you felt about me talking so much, like I do. I'm worried I've been bothering you without even realizing.”

That's it, Atticus thought. He was glad that she wasn’t mad at him. He wasn’t glad she was feeling a bit self conscious. He feels back for making her feel that way, but there probably not much he could have done in the way of preventing it.

“Oh dear, I apologize for making you feel like you bother me, you don’t. I was just tired, and usually I love hearing you speak, but sometimes I need my rest. It wasn’t anything against you, dear.” Atticus maintains eye contact with Alice, hoping to see her worries ease.

Alice nods slightly before Atticus speaks again. “Please dear, feel free to come to me if you ever feel upset again, or for anything you need. I love you and I want to make sure you're as pleasant and happy as you can be.”

Alice smiles at him, and places her hand on his face caressing his cheek before moving to kiss him. The kiss was soft and romantic, no sense of desire, just romance. Her lips were soft and slow as they kissed. They kissed for a while, at least it felt like that to him. She pulled away, and looked at Atticus again.

“Thank you, for being so caring and patient with me Atticus, and thank you for putting up with my gossip. I will do my best to try to keep in mind your feelings more often.” Alice says.

“Thank you dear, I think it’s getting a bit late and we should call it a night.”

Alice nods and Atticus rolls over and turns off the lamp illuminating the room. Then they sleep.

MasterList

#atticus finch #atticus finch x reader #to kill a mockingbird #tkam

54 notes · View notes

jomiddlemarch · 16 days

Text

and is there honey still

Kissing Mary Vance was nothing like kissing Faith.

This realization, occurring a moment after the kiss ended, Jem’s hand still at Mary’s slender waist, her normally pale cheeks as pink as a rare mayflower, was followed immediately by the understanding that he’d never be able to tell anyone. There was no confidant he could trust with such a secret, even if he could bring himself to so violate the rules of gentlemanly behavior. It just wasn’t done and that was before he considered speaking of kissing Mary Vance, who was accepted as Miss Cornelia’s adopted daughter, but whose personal history was never quite forgotten.

Susan, should she ever hear of it, would be scandalized beyond comprehension.

Jem would never eat another slice of her strawberry pie.

His friends and siblings would be confused, Faith put out, her pique covering any feelings of betrayal, for all that there was nothing binding between them.

Mother would be disappointed and Dad would shake his head.

The expression in Mary’s eyes, those queer eyes he now saw were the color of moonstones, told him she understood it all.

“It’s nothing to make a fuss about,” she said. Faith would have tossed her head making such a remark, her golden-brown curls shown to advantage, but Mary only looked at him steadily and let the hand that had been on his shoulder drop to her lap.

“You hold yourself too cheap, Mary,” Jem said.

“That ain’t—that isn’t possible,” she replied. “Anyway, what’s a kiss amount to?”

It was a good question, one Jem had thought he’d known the answer to, just as he thought he’d known the answer to the question she was laboring over at her desk in the empty classroom, a piece of paper scribbled over and crossed-out, grey smudges on the foolscap, on Mary’s white cuffs. She would’ve laundered them herself, being Miss Cornelia’s daughter not relieving her of her housekeeping duties, chores she’d call them though Jem knew none of his sisters had ever helped even pinning clean clothes to the line.

He supposed a kiss could be an ordinary thing, a peck on the cheek or the lips, a greeting, friendly and inconsequential as a wave, a forgettable gesture of a mild affection.

Kissing Mary Vance was nothing like that.

He could say, in all honesty, that he hadn’t planned it. He’d been pointing out something in her writing, a tricky bit she’d gotten tangled up in, and she’d been peering down at the page, trying to make it out. When she’d perceived her mistake, she’d looked up at him, her expression one he’d never seen before, victory and pride and delight all swirled together, altering her face from one he’d recognized without being aware of it into one he’d been startled to discover. Without a word, without a thought, he’d leaned in and kissed her parted lips before she crowed over her achievement or thanked him, the caress impetuous, a whim, irresistible.

She was irresistible. He’d grazed her lips with his own and in the space before the next heartbeat, he’d cupped her jaw with one hand and let the other drop to her waist to draw her close. He felt the most tremendous desire for her possess him, everything else dropped away. She tasted, quite impossibly, of honey, though that was perhaps because he had always liked honey best, and she was warm in his embrace, coming closer when his hand at her waist reached around her back, sighing a little when he stroked her cheek and angled her head to be able to kiss her more deeply. Every second, his desire for her ratcheted sharply upwards and she met him, her hand clutching his shoulder, her sharp tongue sweet in his mouth. She kissed the way a fast girl kissed but there was a terrible innocence to her response that made him know she’d never kissed anyone else, whatever she might have intimated to his sisters and her friends.

He couldn’t say why he’d broken away.

A sound in the hallway or her sudden stillness when his hand grazed her breast, the need to breathe, the pounding of his heart felt throughout his whole body.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Mary went on when he was stayed silent.

“Are you sorry?” he blurted out, and hearing the words he became suddenly terrified that he’d transgressed, become that monster Reverend Meredith always warned of in his gentle way, a man consumed by his appetites, greed and lust. “Oh, God, Mary, have I made you do something you didn’t want—”

“As if you could!” she said, wry again, Mary Vance again as he’d ever known her. If she’d wanted to, she would have slapped him, he was sure of that. “There’s no person living who could make me do what I didn’t want and certainly not you, Jem Blythe.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” he said, chastened, still too close to her. Still tasting the honey-sweetness of her lips, feeling the sound of the quiet moan of hers he’d swallowed in his throat.

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” she offered. “Or ever again. It could be just something that happened once, like as if you’d knocked over my inkwell, and we can forget about it. If that’s what you’d like. To be easy about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” he repeated, agreeing. An inkwell knocked over would leave a stain, one endless scrubbing would never entirely remove. “But I won’t forget. I shan’t.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” she said, her old tone mixed in with a new softness. He’d mussed her hair and some of the loose strands caught the light, a far cry from the usual trig appearance Miss Cornelia insisted upon. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see this Mary again, but it might be enough, to have seen it this one time. It was more Walter’s way to say he’d carry it as a talisman, but Jem felt it without saying it, that to have this moment might serve him well in the future.

“Mind you turn that paper in,” he said.

“Mind yourself, then,” she said and turned away.

He wouldn’t see Mary alone for another ten years.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Mary said, sitting down beside him, facing the water. She tucked her skirt around her and made no effort to conceal her sturdy, scuffed boots. It was a cool evening, cooler by the shore, but she didn’t have a coat or even the old wool shawl she’d refused to give up before he’d left for France. He shrugged off his own coat and offered it to her. He’d be warm enough in his heavy jersey, one the fisherman down at the harbor wore when the wind picked up.

“Not Rainbow Valley?” he said.

“Why would you go there? You’re not a child anymore. Haven’t been for a long time, unless I miss my mark,” she said.

“No, you’re right,” he said. “Not for a long time.”

“You don’t have to talk to me about anything. Not about the War or Walter or being a prisoner,” she said. She said it without any particular tenderness, which was the most consoling part. He recalled, very dimly, that before she had come to Miss Cornelia, she’d lived through her own horrors, yet spoke of them rarely if at all.

“Don’t have to tell me about any French girls either,” she added and he laughed.

It was the first time he’d laughed since he came home. Since he came back to the Glen, anyway, and called it home without being able to fully mean it.

“Not much to tell there. I mostly saw nuns and the Red Cross nurses are awfully brisk, whatever their nationality,” he said.

“I’ve always thought Cornelia would make a good nun, for all that she’s married,” Mary said.

“Perhaps,” Jem replied. The waves kept breaking on the sand and it was dusk, romantic if you wanted it to be. Mary had his coat wrapped around her shoulders. Jem felt scoured, raw and empty.

“Why’d you come, if you don’t expect me to talk?” he asked after several minutes of silence.

“I guess because you need someone who doesn’t expect you to talk but who’s willing to sit nearby, without fussing over anything,” she said. “I’ve plenty of handwork and housework to deal with at home. I’m perfectly content to sit and be idle and there’s nothing you can say or not say that can hurt me. I’m not hurt the way you are, I can bear whatever you need—”

“They can’t at home,” he said. Mother, with grief in her grey eyes and grey in her auburn hair, and Rilla, grown into a mother before she was a wife, Dad with something more broken inside him than any of the rest. Susan and Dog Monday and the letters from Di and Nan, blotted and halting. Una, who might as well be one of the French nuns who tended him, all of them mourning Walter and trying to rejoice at his return. Jem, trying to keep them from hearing any of his nightmares, biting his tongue when they spoke at a meal of the future or the past.

“I know,” she said. “Faith Meredith’s married a Brit. Officer, Lord Something Hoity-Toity of Fancy Abbey-on-High.”

“I’m happy for her,” Jem said tiredly. “We were childhood sweethearts, that’s all.”

“I know. Just wanted it said so you’d know I know,” Mary replied.

“If she’d waited, I wouldn’t have wanted her. I wouldn’t want her to have me now, as I am,” he said. “Befouled, diminished—”

“Walter’s dead, Jem. You don’t have to speak in his voice,” Mary said.

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were. If you don’t think I’d remember, after all those afternoons, those walks and rambles, listening to him, well then. You’d be wrong. I remember,” she said.

“I want Faith to stay as she is. Beautiful, golden, untouched, a lovely memory from my splendid childhood,” Jem said.

“Good Lord, she’d far better off than I thought, even without taking a castle into account,” Mary exclaimed. “Maybe her Lord Gawain-Excalibur-Avalon actually treats her like a women. A person.”

“I didn’t know you liked the Arthurian legends,” Jem replied, taken aback by Mary’s remark, choosing to deflect.

“I liked the sword. And the Lady of the Lake with her own place,” Mary said.

“I thought it would be like that, the War, knights going out,” he said. “I knew there’d be wounds and death, but I thought there’d be honor—"

“You always were a bit of a fool,” Mary said. “Stands to reason though, the way you were raised.”

“We had a—you’re right,” he said, realizing he did not have to defend his parents or Ingleside. “Mother was so careful for us to be well-loved. To live in a world where we might imagine ourselves heroes or able to speak with the fairies—you would have done better than I at the Front, Mary.”

“No one would do better,” she said. He braced himself for her to talk about his medals, his valiant efforts in the prison camp, how he tended those around him with what little he had. How many men had died in his hands, their blood the scent in his nose as terrifying as gas. “You lived.”

“It doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Come here, then,” she said, shifting to kneel facing him. The moon had risen and it suited her, her eyes gleaming like opals, her hair silver, the shadow soft around her bare throat. She reached a hand to touch his cheek, rough with the whiskers he hadn’t shaved for the past few days. “Come here, James,” she said and the sound of his name startled him enough to move closer. To let her draw his face to hers for a kiss.

For a moment, he was seventeen again and Walter was alive, the fields of France green, the chestnut trees in leaf. Then he heard a wave break and felt Mary’s hand move to the nape of his neck, her fingers callused, and he tasted salt mixed with honey. She beckoned him and he put his arms around her, holding her tightly, trying to lose himself in her embrace. Letting her find him.

They were alone with the moon and the sea. There was no hallway and Mary kissed him well enough there were no memories, not of France or Germany or Holland, not of the ship or the train or the graveyard with the stone too white, the wilting mayflowers at its base. There was nothing Mary would not do, no end to the comfort she would offer. His hands were at her waist and her breast, eased beneath her skirts, and she coaxed him on. When he brought both back to cup her face, she’d smiled under his lips. When he lay back against the sand and brought her to lie next to him, her head resting upon his chest, she’d come with him.

“I should have asked, Miller Douglas?”

“He married Ada Parker six months ago. I didn’t shed a tear, except that they should be happy,” she said. “To be honest, I didn’t fancy being a shopkeeper’s wife, but I would have made the best of it.”

“I’m alive, but I don’t know what I have to offer,” Jem said. Mary thumped him on the chest, hard enough to notice, soft enough to be nothing more than a scolding.

“You’ve yourself and I’m myself. You don’t have to offer me anything,” she said.

“That’s the first lie you’ve told,” he said.

“Then remember me. This. How it was, how it might be,” she said. “Grieve and suffer and if you want, I’ll be there for it. Or you can come round in a while, when you’re sorted out. I’m in no hurry. I’ve an idea of how to run a doctor’s house, no offense to your mother or Susan, and I’d like to try it out some time.”

“Will there be much pie?” Jem asked.

“There will be honey-cake, pots and pots of clover honey ready to drizzle. That’s your favorite.”

“Call me James again,” he said.

She propped herself up on his chest so he could see her face, the curve of her lips, her silvery hair hanging loose around her cheeks.

“I believe you meant to say, please, James. Mind yourself, then.”

Tagging @gogandmagog who posted this:

DIANA, teasingly: “You, anyhow. I saw you kissing Faith Meredith in school last week ... and Mary Vance, too.”

JEM:- “For mercy’s sake, don’t let Susan hear you say that. She might forgive it with Faith but never with Mary Vance.” From The Blythes Are Quoted

And @freyafrida who wrote "also want to write jem/mary fic now although i have zero ideas for anything apart from the ship"

35 notes · View notes