#so despite my misgivings on the new book

[lullaebies]

Absolutely love your blog! If you're still taking Jaehaera/Aegon III requests what about one where they're in a secret relationship and are keeping it from their families but some shenanigans ensue (maybe they snuck out or something, or someone walked in on them kissing?) and they're somehow discovered? Also please overprotective father Aegon II because yes!

(Preferably an AU where the Dance happens later?)

The gathering in the room feels like a court of thorns, and Jaehaera feels as if she is going to hurl. Standing by her family with her grandmother looking at all around with hawk eyes, she feels if something is about to implode. Aegon had been taken from her side to his mother’s, Princess Rhaenyra. The heiress to the Throne had been most wroth, her, her husband, and her sons waking in the middle of the night for this… issue.

The worst of it all, Jaehaerys had been still laughing with damn near tears in his eyes while telling what he witnessed. She had begged him to leave it be, but then he and Aegon got into an altercation, and now… Ugh!

“So I enter her room because I left my book there—” he looks at Princess Rhaenyra and her family, particularly Aegon. “It was my room once too, do mind— and what do I see if not Aegon the Younger pining my sister against her own closet? The closet, grandmother. He didn’t have the mind to get her against a bed.”

She’s going to choke him.

“Oh, fuck off,” Aegon yells at her twin. “As if she hasn’t told me about you becoming a damn near Rosby stableboy in your visits there—”

Princess Rhaenyra pushes him back to his half-brothers, the lot of the brown haired boys holding their brother of nine and ten, yet only his father manages to stare him down. On the other hand, her father had been gritting his teeth beside her, while mother held onto Jaehaerys’s forearm in warning. Alicent gives her twin a pointed look.

“Mind your words, Jaehaerys,” she says, and turns to look at Rhaenyra and her family. “Prince Aegon, would you mind explaining how you came into my granddaughter's rooms?” 

Aegon licks his lips, and Jaehaera swallows. The story is longer than both of them would be able to admit. Despite the blood feud of the families, they had managed to talk last year at the ball for her and Jaehaerys five and tenth nameday. Even went on a joint ride with Morghul and Stormcloud, and before he left for Dragonstone, they decided on a day to meet again at the Kingswood. Such meetings repeated. They could only afford a day a moon, but those days were all so sweet. Did she do anything wrong? Yes, had been the objective answer, but she couldn’t care for it.

And here he is, in her very own home. They could hardly speak by their family, how could she not ask for a moment of privacy?

Rhaenyra rubs her temples. “Things like these happen at this age, Alicent,” she says. “You are stressing Jaehaera and Aegon both.”

Alicent furrows her brows. “Oh, these things do happen at this age, don’t they?” she asks, glaring. “We had known since we were her age how reputation matters in finding marriage. Your son is three years her elder and should know not to fiddle with a noble girl’s corset strings at the hour of the bat.”

Jaehaera feels some tears well up in her eyes. She doesn’t care for the embarrassment of being caught by now, but this makes her feel a fool. It had been nothing insidious, was it? They hadn’t even kissed until they celebrated the new year. She hadn’t lost her chastity, either. It is not just…

“He came into those rooms because your granddaughter let him in, Queen Alicent,” Prince Daemon says. “You should mind her doings before you lay judgement on my son’s.”

Jaehaera’s father had been standing quiet for the longest while, but with that he flares. “Men had been sent to the wall and got castrated for less, Uncle. If you don’t like my mother’s judgement, perhaps I should see to it?”

She holds onto her father’s arm. Please, let this stop. 

Daemon eyes him dangerously. “See to your own misgivings,” he says. “Your own son laughs at your daughter's.”

“Father, please,” Jaehaera says, when Aegon the Elder tries and almost manages to escape her grip. Her mother and brother come quickly beside them. Her mother stands in front of her father and puts a hand on his chest, warning, while Jaehaerys comes to Jaehaera’s side, a wroth smirk thrown at their grand-uncle’s way.

“I am laughing at my sister’s choices, grand uncle. At least if it had been Viserys, he has my aunt’s pretty face,” he says, backing their father for once. They often argue, but at times they work together, they prove they’re made of the same cloth. “The Seven had laughed at Aegon giving him yours.”

Daemon starts stepping towards them. “You think you are a jester, you defected—”

Prince Jacaerys comes against his step-father to stop him from coming forward, the same ways her mother has to stop her father from doing the same. Her grandmother and Princess Rhaenyra had come to yell at one another, and even the kingsguard had come to get involved. Jaehaera’s body is reduced to shaking, fat tears fully sliding down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly between gentle sobs, the sleeves of a dishevelled dress wiping against her face again and again to try and catch all the tears. Only the family beside her hears, so loud were the voices in the room. Her brother and father turn around, with similarly apprehensive faces. “Please, please stop..”

Behind them, from the other side of the room, Aegon sees her in her pathetic state too. She never was the emotional type, and she had oft hoped he liked it for he had been none too different. The unusual petrification on his face makes her blood feel as if it is running dry, and it feels all gone when the dark amethyst of his eyes fall into what she could only call resigned acceptance.

Aegon, her Aegon, comes by his mother and her grandmother, holding Princess Rhaenyra’s arm. “It was my fault. We didn’t mean to… I took it too far,” he finally says. “I won’t come by her any more, Queen Alicent.”

It hurts more than anything else he could’ve said.

Her mother pushes their father aside to cloak her in an embrace. Jaehaera can only tremble and sob against her mother’s robe.

The room grows silent as Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent agree to not tell The King or all else of the incident; so ill had been King Viserys, it had not been worth ailing her grandfather further with this issue when he had been on the brink of passing. 

All is to be forgotten, and cast away. Jaehaera’s puffy eyes lift from her mother’s shoulder, and catch his gaze one last time before he leaves. He tries to mouth something, but is pushed by his family out of the room.

Jaehaera sinks against her mother again. Even if she banishes the days in the green Kingswood from her thoughts, the scent of the campfire charring wood black will live in her dreams.

#and they completed the task they didn't manage that night in the middle of the war and brought peace 🙏 the end #i wish i could add more jaehaerys shittalking it was my favorite thing #i have one more request for jaehaera/aegon iii and then im focusing on exams and my longfic #jaehaegon #aegon iii targaryen x jaehaera targaryen #jaehaera targaryen x aegon iii targaryen #aegon iii targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #alicent hightower #prince jaehaerys targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #i would tag daemon and rhaenyra too but i don't think those who go their tag would care for this #hotd #hotd fanfic #my fics #my fanfics #reqs #answered #forwithinthishollowcrown

[sailtomarina]

Hello, neighbor

Hermione adored the flat, small and “historical” as it was in one of the oldest buildings of Diagon Alley, because it not only looked out onto her beloved Flourish and Blotts, but also because it afforded her close access to both sides of her muggle and magical worlds. The building’s magic revealed its age in occasional fits of energy where the showers gushed soap bubbles instead of water and the shared hallways sported wallpaper from bygone eras. Regardless of the unpredictability, she wouldn’t give up her place for anything in the world.

Until someone moved in next door.

Courtesy notices informed surrounding flats of the new lease and move-in dates. This in itself wouldn’t have been a problem since magic ensured ironclad noise cancellation. What was an issue was the owner’s obvious lack of awareness for available square footage.

Anyone normal would have magicked furniture straight into the flat, preferably exactly into their predetermined spots. There wouldn’t be any need for moving vans, blanketed lifts, and workers hauling in box after box. But this occupant obviously didn’t reconcile the available space with their belongings. The hallway outside of Hermione’s door was crammed full of crates, oak side tables, and authentic Tiffany lampshades. Items flowed out her neighbor’s open door all the way down the hall to the lift, and more continued to appear with little ‘pops’ wherever they could fit.

Today happened to coincide with the release date of Walter Hammervite’s third novel in his ThestralRising series, and Hermione had plans to pick up her reserved copy and spend the entire day reading. Unfortunately, the hall was crammed so full, she could barely squeeze out her door much less make her way to the lift. The only available path was one that required sliding over tables and under what looked to be brand new quidditch brooms towards her neighbor’s door.

This isn’t actually how she planned to introduce herself, but they left her very little choice, didn’t they?

Rifling around her pantry and extracting a dusty bottle of red wine from Godric knows how long ago, she decided to present her gift and kindly ask they clear the shared space as was only appropriate. Wielding the bottle like a wand, she ventured forth through the obstacle course until she arrived sore and slightly out of breath at the doorway.

“Excuse me? In anybody home?” With a bookshelf blocking most of the entrance, she resorted to knocking lightly on the door frame.

“I’ll be there in a moment!”

Was that…but no, it couldn’t be, could it? There’s no way he would live here of all places.

Hermione could hear scuffling and light thumps underneath the music that blared out into the hall just as rudely as the furniture.

“Merlin’s left bollock! This piece of shite shelf…just, can you squeeze through and give a hand?”

The familiar voice encouraged Hermione forward despite her misgivings, and she placed the bottle inside the shelf before pushing through the cramped space into the flat. As she popped into the small opening, she finally came face to face with the voice on the opposite side of the bookcase.

“Malfoy?”

With a complete lack of surprise at her identity, he nodded acknowledgement and waved a hand helplessly at his situation. “As much as I’d love to say ‘Hello, neighbor,’ I think we can both agree there’s a bigger issue on hand.”

“Yes, that being your complete arseheaded miscalculation of how much shit you have—”

“I’ll have you know these are priceless heirlooms, Granger—”

“—and this shit is blocking me from a book whose release I’ve been waiting months for!”

“Well, what would you have me do? I haven’t lived on my own since Hogwarts.”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about using magic like the wizard that you are, and handling this mess?”

He gaped at her momentarily before shaking his head in frustration. “I’m still on probation, Granger. I have another six months before they return my wand.”

Oh, bollocks.

They stood awkwardly in silence for a minute before she reached back into the case and surrendered her wine. “I meant to give this to you as a housewarming gift to welcome you to the building, but now I have a better idea.” Closing her eyes, she brought to memory the spells she needed before waved her wand in a tight pattern, shrinking everything in the hallway down to fist-sized versions of themselves. She continued rotating her wrist, sending it all into neat piles.

“That’s a neat trick, Granger, but how does that help me?” Malfoy raised an impressed eyebrow at her spellwork while simultaneously crossing his nicely muscled arms across his chest. Not that she noticed.

“Now, you give me a tour of your flat and we determine what you actually want to keep and what needs to be returned.”

“I thought you had a book to retrieve?”

“I do, but I also refuse to live a single minute more with an impassable hallway and you obviously require assistance.”

He scoffed at her statement. “You’re not the only witch I know. I could always ask Pansy or Blaise.”

Tilting her head at him, she waited a moment before calling his bluff.

“Alright, then. I’ll leave you to it. There better not be any more heirlooms blocking my doorway when I get back.” She turned to leave and was halfway to the lift before she heard her name.

“Granger!” He leaned out the door, nervously chewing on his lip and blonde hair mussed.

“What?” She didn’t fully turn around to face him, keeping the pressure on.

“How about you come over after you get your book?”

“…”

“I mean, I would like it if you came over and helped…I’m asking you to help me.”

“Why me?”

He stepped out fully into the hallway and faced her, hands now tucked into the back pockets of his slacks. “I’m trying to start over,” he admitted, “and I’ve wanted to apologize to you for a while now.”

Hermione likewise faced him and really, thoroughly looked him over. She should have noticed earlier, but he was wearing completely muggle clothing—worn white sneakers, trousers and a button-up shirt not completely wrinkle-free. Most notable was his expression. She couldn’t recall seeing him so open before, not since early Hogwarts days when she’d see him laughing with his friends at the quidditch pitch before…well, before everything. Before Voldemort. Before “mudblood”. Before all the events that had robbed them of their childhood. He looked tired, but nearly free of all the weight of his upbringing. She might even dare say hopeful.

“Do you like to read?”

“Excuse me?”

“The book I’m getting is the third in the series. If you’re into fantasy, I can lend you the first book and we can talk about it later.”

His grey eyes widened slightly at her offer and he stood a little taller. “I do like reading, if you remember that bookshelf from earlier.”

She smirked at the reference. “I’ll be back in a bit, Malfoy. When I return you better have a detailed list of your belongings ordered by priority.”

“How am I supposed to remember everything I have when you shrank half of it?” He beckoned at the pile in the corner.

”If you can’t remember it, then it obviously isn’t important enough to keep, is it?” She spun back around without waiting for a reply and disappeared into the lift.

He laughed in agreement and looked back at his mess of an apartment. “Well, I guess that’s taken care of.” Waving his hand wandlessly, he summoned parchment and quill and at further gesturing an itemized list started writing itself. He turned to the bottle on the counter and corked it to let it breathe. “Next step, neighbors to friends.”

#dramione prompt #dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #harry potter fanfiction #flash fiction

[netherworldnotgone]

Prologue

Dying hadn’t been an experience you’d call pleasant. And then there’d been the book, and the instruction to move on to the Netherworld… You’d have thought it was some kind of practical joke if you hadn’t been standing over your own very deceased body. 

So you drew the door and the second it cracked open the pull of the Netherworld had dragged you, away from everything living and into its depths of darkness.

You wandered in the darkness, flinching as others of the recently deceased passed you by, until a voice rang out in the darkness. With nothing better to do, you did as the other wandering dead did and headed towards it.

The green-skinned woman gripped her keyboard and shuffled them all into line. You glanced along and there had to be several dozen gathered, most sporting some kind of grievous injury. The man next to you had some kind of metal pipe going right through one eye and out the back of his head, and you recoiled a little. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

Time, whatever that meant in this place, ticked on and you fidgeted in your spot in line, before a new voice interrupted the quiet.

“My name is Juno!” The croaky voice called out, and you peered around everyone else who’d turned to look to see an old, severe looking woman with an impossibly tall hairdo. She took a long drag from a cigarette before her face was clouded with smoke that leaked out from her throat before she started marching slowly along the line, barking out instructions.

As she finished shouting about liquids, a glowing gateway appeared in the nothingness. Juno stood by it and when no one made a move she screamed again.

“Get a move on! I haven’t got eternity to spend on you lot!” With a sharp gesture, the line started to file through the gateway and off into…whatever came beyond.

The green skinned woman with the clipboard stood by her, checking things off as each person stepped through, while Juno stared hard into every face. A couple of times she stopped someone and gave them a look over before snorting out in annoyance and pushing them on through. 

You approached, making to step through, when a clawed hand slammed down on your shoulder.

“You. Wait.” With a dark smile, Juno gave you a look over, before shoving at your shoulder to get you to turn around. “How’d this one die?” She asked. Her eyes were locked on you, but it was the woman with her clipboard who answered.

“Good,” Juno said. “No visible marks.” She pulled you away from the gate and off to the side. “You wait here til we’re done.”

You watched as the rest of the line was shuffled on through, too scared to do anything but wait like you'd been directed. 

“So!” Juno said finally, turning to you. “You want another shot at life - don’t argue, everybody does. You want life, and I have a job that needs doing back on the breather side. So, we can strike a deal. Miss Argentina!” She snapped and the other woman jumped forward, pen at the ready over her clipboard. She looked more than a little uncertain about this whole thing, but didn’t say anything.

“Our deal,” she continued. “In exchange for return to life in the breather world, you - what’s your name?” You jumped at her snap of a question and gave your name. Miss Argentina noted it down.

“You get to live again in exchange for guiding a few troublemakers through to the Netherworld. Three breathers, three ghosts. Simple work. So, we have a deal?”

The way she said it, it wasn’t really a question, but there was a dark slickness that also promised it wasn’t anything near as simple as she was making it sound. 

Her hand was stuck out though, expectantly, and despite all your misgivings, you took it.

Juno’s smile grew wicked, Miss Argentina’s expression more concerned, but there was nothing to do about it now. With the handshake a chill had run through your body and there’d been a definite sensation of something happening. 

“Well, there you go,” Juno dropped your hand and gestured behind you. Another doorway had appeared, ringed in green like the one you’d been pulled through into the Netherworld.

“Don’t keep me waiting long.”

You didn’t get a chance to say anything before a hand shoved you hard in the back and sent you stumbling right through.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice broadway #choose your own adventure #fanfic #poll

[featherstorm2004]

Ok so forget Fyodor being obsessed with Jesus apparently he just is Jesus XD but yeah this chapter is just wild with us being on the hinge discovering what his ability is. And I've seen people theorize that Fyodor's ability is body swapping through blood however I'm not so sure that's it. Don't get me wrong it's a fine idea but idk Asagiri likes to make people's abilities tie to the books that inspired them so they have a tendency to be a little out there, plus they've been getting more creative with the abelites and how their used in new chapters so body swapping feels a little too simple.

Especially for a character as surrounded in mystery as Fyodor, there's also the fact that people have been speculating that his ability only targets his killers, but that doesn't really track since Karma never harmed Fyodor.

However despite my misgivings about this theory, it would make the time Fyodor first 'revealed' his ability to Sigma way more messed up since if the body swapping is true then he wasn't really lying to sigma and he in fact has possessed some poor soul, and Sigma might just be his latest victim.

With that being said the true take away from this chapter is that Fyodor is Jesus and our lord and savior XD

Bastard even has the same dam pose

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bungou stray dogs fyodor #bsd 114 #bsd chapter 114 #bsd spoilers

[seriousbrat]

Will we see more Lily and Sirius moments in Falls the Shadow? Would love some more headcanons on their relationship🤗

Yesss actually their friendship is quite a big focus from chapter 9 onwards. They don't even know it yet but they're about to be besties. Here's a little excerpt:

Sirius sighs, tossing the book back down onto the table. “Yeah, you’re probably right. You sound like Prongs.” “Prongs…” Lily repeats thoughtfully. “What does that even mean, anyway— why do you lot call him that?” “He likes forks,” Sirius says without missing a beat. “Forks?” Lily says, laughing. “Yeah, right— what about… Padfoot, then?” “I’m dead stealthy.” She snorts. “And, er— Wormtail?” “Someone’s been paying attention,” Sirius says, playing for time while he thinks of a good explanation. “Don’t change the subject.” “He tried to grow a moustache in fifth year,” Sirius says, grinning at her. “And that’s what it looked like.” “It looked like a worm’s tail?” “Yeah, like half a worm. The arse of the worm, if you will.” Lily shakes her head in exasperation. “You’re lucky you’re so good at lying.”

Anyway headcanons (also just what I'm developing in my fic)

So something Lily really ends up liking about Sirius is how brutally honest he is about pureblood society. James is somewhat sheltered from this imo, his parents are progressives and they're new money, they're not really part of ~pureblood society~ the way the Blacks are. So honestly although James obv has some idea he doesn't really know, intimately, what those sorts of people are like the way Sirius does. And Sirius doesn't try and protect Lily from this, he just tells her:

“...anyway, look, I know these old pureblood families, I know how they work, better than James does— play their little games all you like, they’ll never accept you, never.” Lily looks back at him, resolute. “I know. But thanks for being honest with me about it.”

moving on:

Another thing they share is a sense of humour and a sort of reckless, anti-authoritarian streak. Yes, James has this too, but I see him deep down as being somewhat more thoughtful and circumspect. James has had an incredibly privileged life; on the face of it you'd say Sirius has too, except that his parents were the scum of the earth lol and he was disowned by them. On some level, Sirius can understand Lily better because he knows EXACTLY, intimately, what she's up against in the wizarding world.

Sirius also greatly appreciates intelligence and basically as soon as he starts giving Lily a chance he immediately recognises that she has it in spades. He likes having intellectual equals, that's what drew him to James in the first place and it's also a draw towards Lily. She can match him dig for dig, razor wit for razor wit. Even when they're in disagreement about something it's fun for him, and that's important to Sirius.

In order for Lily to have written Sirius a letter like the one she did, they had to be really close imo. And I believe he loved her deeply, and she him. They become really good friends in seventh year and it only grows from there. Lily really admires the fact that he turned his back on all the beliefs that he was taught as a child. Sirius, for his part, admires someone who is brave enough to stand up to what he fully knows is extremely dangerous and pernicious in wizarding society.

it's mutual respect baby. obv in my fic they also bond over: not really giving a toss about Quidditch but only caring because of James, and of course their shared vendetta against Professor Buttercrambe, which James is a bit more cautious about. Despite their initial misgivings/hostility they both deem each other more than worthy of being the most important people in James's life.

Anyway that's what I've got off the top of my head but I love their friendship so much and I have a lot of fun writing them together. So expect lots of sirius+lily interactions in short order!

#sirius black #lily evans #mine #reply #lily #sirius #hcs #the darkest days

[muse-write]

🥔 po-tay-toes: one of the hobbits invited you for a meal; who are dining with? Which of the seven meals are you enjoying?

🍃 leaves of lórien: what gift would you most like to receive?

🌟starlight: you're allowed to live in one of the Elf Kingdoms of Middle Earth, which one are you picking?

🧂 best salt in all the shire: which small joys do you most look forward to? (particular tea, using a perfume, rereading a book, etc.)

☕ may I tempt you with a cup of chamomile?: What is your favourite hot beverage?

🌳 fangorn forest: Which of Tolkien's creechurs is your favourite?

🕷 creepy crawlies: which of tolkien's creatures do you think is the most frightening?

🔥 barbecue: who is the worst antagonist?

🗝 lost heirloom: which heirloom/object in the films or novels would you like to learn more about?

🍲eowyn's home cooking: which other way could the ring be destroyed? (funny answers only)

📕 the red book of westmarch : what is your favourite quote(s)?

👑the silver crown: the war is won, the world is saved, the king has been crowned. Who are you partying with at the coronation?

🏔 the misty mountains: the pass is treacherous, which two characters are you taking with you to make it over the mountains?

🌋 mount doom: what middle earth take are you throwing into the fire?

⚙ technology: everything is exactly the same but you can give one character a modern invention. Who is it and what are you giving them?

⛵valinor: we're approaching the end of this game, is there a take/opinion you absolutely want to share?

🦗 weta: you're allowed to take one prop (or the canon useful version) home with you from the set, what are you taking?

☀ when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer: either share a piece of good news or something you're looking forward to.

There, a nice short ask for you! ^_^

🥔 I'm dining with Frodo (and maybe Sam if he's around, because you know he'd be a great cook). I feel like we'd have plenty of things to discuss and we could discuss history and Elvish stories and make up poetry and sing songs. Yep, I'm daydreaming about this now.

🍃I don't think it's a surprise to say I want a sword. Imagine going off from Lothlorien on your quest and getting a First-or-Second Age sword from Galadriel herself! Although I would also be partial to receiving a vial of Earendil's light.

🌟What do you think? (Rivendell, it's Rivendell and always will be, I want to live in Rivendell so bad.)

🧂 listening to a good audiobook on the way to work (a thirty minute drive either way gives me a lot of time to get absorbed into a story). recently a good small joy for me has been playing LotRO at the end of the day. Also watching The Chosen on Sundays with my dad. I have a couple of hair clips and earrings I like that I think look really pretty on me and they make me feel fancy, so I've enjoyed that.

☕ I like coffee--I do enjoy tea, but I'm really picky because sometimes it really just tastes like hot water with a hint of leaf. I like flavor (so no black coffee for me, I have to have cream and sugar).

🌳Depends on what "creechurs/creatures(?)" means; if humanoid creatures, then the Elves are my favorite. If not, then...I like Huan. Talking dogs from Valinor just sound cool.

🕷The first orcs--the sheer body horror of twisted Elves having been tortured and corrupted into a form so adverse to what Eru Iluvatar created them to be is wonderfully terrifying. I enjoy those takes that rely on them being more or less like normal Elves, but just...to the left. Evil. Against anything good and warded off by beauty, the exact opposite to what Elves have been established to love. (Despite my misgivings about RoP, I really like what they did with Adar, he was a good idea.)

🔥?? Not sure. Feanor, maybe, just because it's unclear whether he's an antagonist or not. I think Sauron could have been more present in The Lord of the Rings, but Tolkien had a reason for not really showing him, so I can't call that 'bad' either. I've never really cared much for the 'antagonists' in Tolkien's works, simply because he's not that concerned with them as characters other than representations of evil corrupting good.

🗝 Maybe the Elfstone? I like the idea of this relic from the First Age being passed down to the Kings of Gondor in the Third Age, and I'd like to know what happened to it afterward. Also the maker of it is ambiguous, so it has a mysterious past.

🍲Glorfindel takes it back to Valinor and they throw it in the Void. It either becomes nothing or Feanor and his sons keep it out of reach of Morgoth until the Dagor Dagorath.

📕 There are....so many. But the one I thought of first was: “The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”

The one I thought of second was: "And he sang to them, now in the Elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness."

👑 The hobbits would be great partiers!

🏔️ Aragorn would be a great companion—he’s climbed many mountains in his day. Maybe also Arwen, I just have a feeling she’d be a good traveling companion in hard times. She doesn’t appear much in the book but I get the sense that she’d be a loyal friend who looks after everyone.

🌋 There are so many bad takes I don’t even know. Character-wise? Russington. I can see the appeal, I get why people ship them, but also they are cousins. Actual Middle-earth centric? Maybe that the Valar are horrendous at their jobs and meddled too much/didn’t do enough. The Valar were working for the good of Middle-earth and, more importantly, to fulfill the plans of Eru Iluvatar, which I think is extremely importsnt to look at from Tolkien’s Christian POV. Of course people do have some valid criticisms, and fans can think whatever they want, I just think that sometimes I see people missing what Tolkien was trying to do (it’s something that took me years to come to terms with as well).

⚙️ I’d give Elrond medical science and bring HollersandHolmes’ AU to reality.

⛵ I don’t think so…

🦗 I’d take Legolas’ pair of knives. I’ve wanted them since I first watched the movies. They’re so elegant, so Elvish!

☀️ I’m pushing myself out of my comfort zone this year and trying to be such a more social person! I’m more confident than I was this time last year!

#guess what ask I stumbled across in my drafts? #completely forgot about this #ask game #lord of the rings #jrr tolkien

[sjbattleangel]

*Takes a deep breath*

   Oh boy, this is gonna big one.

   I love-scratch that-adore Cassandra Cain. Ever since I discovered her solo series and her fantastic debut in the “No Man’s Land” storyline (Thank you, Linkara!) I have just fallen in love with her. Her unbreakable moral compass, compassion, dry sense of humour and reckless bravery has endeared me to her so much.  And yes, I do enjoy James Tynion’s controversial reimaging of her as “Orphan” along with Scott Snyder, Bryan Hill and Joshua Williamson’s take on her. Heck, I’m really digging the fun new “Batgirls” series by Becky Cloonan and Micheal Conrad. Of course, they have imperfections-such not getting Cass’s character 100%  right at times-but overall, they are enjoyable, memorable experiences.

So yes, I love Cass...

...but I hate her toxic fandom.

Now before anyone gets kittens over this, let me explain myself: There are plenty of amazing Cass fans who form a positive, welcoming fanbase-be it all of the talented fan-artists, fan-writers, etc.- and they are among the most creative, friendliest people I’ve ever met. However, I’m speaking about another Cass fanbase, one which happens to be the most pettiest, vindictive and unpleasable fanbase I have ever witnessed, to the point that they almost make H.E.A.T (Hal’s Emerald Action Team) look like saints! 

How? Why?

It’s quite simple, it begins with “Robin: One Year Later” after “Infinite Crisis”. In this story, Cassandra is suddenly turned into an over-the-top villain who makes grandiose monologues, kills without mercy and leads The League Of Assassins. Plus, she speaks fluent Navajo. (No, I’m not making that up.)  This storyline broke those fans, so much that they now see the character of Cass as “Ruined forever.” Even worse, whenever new Cass storyline comes out-be it Tynion’s “Batman/Detective comics” or the new “Batgirls” ongoing-they will hold it impossible, unreachable standards and declare it “Irredeemable garbage” that “destroys her even more”, regardless of the stories’ qualities.

   Despite one or two exceptions, they are NEVER, EVER pleased.

   You know what’s really annoying is the constant accusations of the writers “ruining her”, “infantilizing her”, “ or “having her job.” ect.

   Firstly, while Cass does loose a few fights here and there, what matters is that she gets back up again and never gives up whether it’s as lead or supporting character. So as far as I can tell, she isn’t “jobbing” for anyone.  “But the writers hate her and want to destroy her so they have her job-” No, Cass losing a few fights doesn’t mean the writers hate her nor do they want to destroy her. She’s still presented as a vital member of the BatFam through her resilence and determination. As for “jobbing”, Inigo Montoya, speak my feelings:

  Also, remember, Cass lost plenty of times in her solo series yet none of these fans accused her creators or other writers of “having her job” or “ruining her.” Hypocritical double standards much?

   And no, just because Cass isn’t the centre character in “Batman” books or made the leader of the Batgirls doesn’t mean she’s being “turned into a submissive doormat”. When she is portrayed as being a bit more savy, snarky and light-hearted-as in the case of “Batgirls” or “Urban Legends, she is in no way being “infantilized for the sake of white women” but being shown to have a more playful side to her personality as a unique individual. 

   Tynion doesn’t hate Cass, Snyder doesn’t hate Cass, Hill doesn’t hate Cass, Williamson doesn’t hate Cass. Cloonan and Conrad do not hate Cass. If they hate the character so much then why are they using her in their stories then? As an important member of the BatFam even? 

   Another thing I really cannot stand is when these toxic fans mis-blame writers like Tynion for any misgivings they had for his work on “Batman” such as turning Cass into “Orphan”, thinking DC let him do whatever he wanted with complete freedom. I’m sorry but this is wrong. I’m going to go on limb here and guess here but from the writing and his respect for the character, Tynion wanted to make Cass Batgirl again but editorial at the time wouldn’t allow him, so he was forced to reimagine her as a completely new character with a brand new origin story. Yes, this is a different Cass but what matters is that the spirit of pre-Flashpoint Cass still lives through her.

   And there is the whole “Tournament arc” ballyhoo started by certain site users who I will not name. I just want to get it out that Williamson didn’t “steal Cass’s tournament arc”, he didn’t “spit in the face of her fans”, but most of all-yes, this is a real claim- he doesn’t “support Eugenics!” These are just flat-out lies spread out by these users, salty over Cass not being put in the centre of the universe.

   Then there is the whole idiotic controversy over Greg Weisman changing Cass’s origin story for “Young Justice: Outsiders” where it is Lady Shiva who trains her from birth to be a killer, takes her voice away by cutting out her vocal cords. Even more, it is Cass who was (accidently) responsible for Barbara's crippling. So while Weisman made a few changes to Cass and her origin story, no, he didn’t set out to “demonize Asian women” nor did he try to “hurt Cass”. Like any other creator, he wanted to bring a new twist to familiar character in order to tell a compelling story. Whether it worked is completely up to the viewer.  I can’t believe I must stress this enough but Weisman is not a “bigoted hack.” Tynion is not a “bigoted hack.” Snyder is not a “bigoted hack.” Hill is not a “bigoted hack.” Williamson is not a “bigoted hack.” Cloonan and Conrad are not “bigoted hacks.” They are normal people like you and me, who slip up and make mistakes. Sure they don’t always create successful works but they try their best and never set out to upset or hurt anyone.     

   Look, we have come a long, long way since “Robin: One Year Later”, sure the road had been bumpy, haphazard even, but Cass is now in a better place. She has gotten good stories, is in a family that loves and cares for her and, most of all, is Batgirl again. How cool is that? Yet these toxic fans can never pleased! It’s always the same-old “Jobbing” here, “Infantilizing” there, “Ruined forever” everywhere! no matter how hard DC Comics creators try to please them, it’s always “Not good enough”, followed by personal attacks on the creators themselves to flat-out DEATH THREATS. All because of one bad storyline that happened years ago! They can never move on, never be happy with anything. This hateful entitlement has just grown into negativity for negativity's sake. Don’t they realize this ends up sending a message to DC Comics? And that message is:  “Bringing Cass back was a mistake if her fans will never be pleased.”

To quote “King Of The Hill's” Peggy Hill:     

 “They don’t know what they want...only what they DON’T want.”  

  I’m sorry. I love Cass and I will continue to love her but this is just so negative and depressing. I can’t take it anymore. I want nothing to do with these angry, entitled, “no-fun-allowed” jerks anymore.  

  I’m done.

#cassandra cain #cass cain #batgirl #batgirls #dc batgirls #cassandra cain batgirl #dc comics #toxic fandom #toxic nerds #anti-toxic fandom #comic fandom #fandom #rant #ranting #toxic fanbase #toxic fans #comics fandom #fandom discourse #fandom issues #batman #young justice #detective comics #batfam

[grandhotelabyss]

Which works of fiction have done most to shape your perspective(s) on the real?

That's a good question. A readerly cliché—a cliché because it's true—holds that a (serious) novel changes over time, is a different book every time you read it over the years. Based on that, the novels that have been most formative are the ones I've never stopped reading because they never stop forming my vision, altering my vision, confirming or disconfirming my vision. I've discussed this or hinted at it in pieces I've written on Hamlet (an honorary novel for our purposes), Frankenstein, The Scarlet Letter, Moby-Dick, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Ulysses, Mrs. Dalloway, Lolita, The Crying of Lot 49, Blood Meridian, Watchmen, Beloved, Underworld (see the Review Index at my main site for these). The books I've only read once that have been most formative—books I really must read again—include Anna Karenina (Tolstoy's clarity literally clears your own eyes so that you look at the world as if new) and The Brothers Karamazov (neither your rebellious atheism nor your quiescent piety can survive Dostoevsky's challenge) and Villette (Brontë gives us fiction's great depiction of the hidden life) and Middlemarch (Eliot provides the apogee of moral and intellectual seriousness in the novel). Then there are (in no particular order) Austen's decency, James's subtlety, Faulkner's intensity, Coetzee's severity, Beckett's comedy, Roth's indignation, O'Connor's grotesquery, Ozick's intelligence, Kafka's oneirism, Ishiguro's quietism, Wilde's aestheticism, Mann's irony, Borges's idealism, Lawrence's vitality, Bellow's heroism, Didion's rigor, Murdoch's ethics, and, most recently, Bolaño's...well, whatever it is—duende perhaps—but I haven't lived with it long enough to name it. And the childhood and adolescent influences you don't want to admit to. I revisited Gaiman's Sandman recently, and I really can't deny that it may be the secret basis of my aesthetic sensibility despite every adult qualm and misgiving...

#literature #literary criticism

[cristel-is-noveling]

[SEPTEMBER 1] The Stages of Decomposition

Ah, death! You just have to be accurate, right? Right?

It was a long time coming, but today I finally had to look at pictures of the decomposing corpse of a pig. So how did your morning go?

If any writers out there need a resource on the stages of decomposition, I found this pretty informative article by the Australian Museum. Very complete.

(Warning: Very graphic pictures of a dead pig, duh. On the bright side, all of this is equally applicable to human corpses. Or so they tell me.)

So on to today's progress...

REFERENCE 📚

Still on Spiral Dynamics. Despite all my misgivings, this is a great model if you want to portray the dynamics of personal and societal change in your art. Big scope stories (with stakes on the "village" "kingdom" and "cosmic" scales) might specially benefit from it in order to avoid simplistic portrayals.

So far, the patterns ring true enough. It's the proposed theory I'm still on the fence about. I don't want a review of this book to become its own project (and I might do well to search for critical takes before I set out to reinvent the wheel), but I'm collecting notes on stuff that I think might raise doubts.

WRITING 📝

Total Words: 334

I'm not disappointed in the word count, but I made a few bad decisions, which I regret.

I was inspired enough by the reading material to want to dedicate a sprint to checking the theory against my own world-building. Not only did it line up well, I was also able to make some new connections. So there was some benefit to it.

But the truth is that I could have done this any other time. And in light of what would come next, it wasn't worth it.

Enter the dead pig.

The second writing sprint was spent on the manuscript.

I needed to describe a corpse, and spent the better part of the sprint on a little research detour.

This is one I don't regret! The imagery gave me some cool ideas that I incorporated into the chapter to great effect. I truly am glad I didn't slap an [insert description here] tag and moved on, because I like this new direction better, and everything not on this foundation would have ended up scrapped!

Still, it was entirely too little time, and I had to stop writing just as I was getting warmed up.

If only I hadn't wasted the previous sprint. Oh, well.

BIOLOGY 🌱

Done with xylem, currently on phloem and the Pressure-Flow Model of Transport. After yesterday's fiasco, I felt I was breezing through the material.

Particularly fascinated by plasmodesmata and the whole idea of companion cells!

#journal entry #writer #writing #writing process #writing progress #journaling #productive #journal #work in progress #writeblr #writing resources

[ufonaut]

are you liking the jsa series? i’ve been reading reviews on comic geeks, tumblr, and other websites and it seemed pretty well liked until i went onto twitter and i’ve seen like majority of justice society of america fans there hate it. either because of retcons like judy garrick and huntress’ future jsa or the fact that’s it’s geoff johns on the jsa again. thanks for your time!

AM I LIKING THE JSA ONGOING!!!!! if you go into any jsa-related tags chances are 90% of it consists of my billions of panels posted after each new issue so, yes, i'm loving the new jsa series and i think that's plenty obvious from a glance at my blog. i don't think you can count most people on here or twitter as jsa fans though lmao interacting with out of context pages from afar hardly warrants their opinions being taken seriously

the new golden age initiative is the best thing to have happened to the justice society since the '76 revival and in many ways, it's a genuine return to form for most of the team -- both in characterisation (like in alan scott's case) and in the actual physical return of legitimate golden age characters like jimmy martin, the newsboy legion, little boy blue & the blue boys etc etc. like man, outside of roy thomas, i really can't name a single other writer who's as knowledgeable as geoff about the literal golden age of comics and who loves these characters half as much. it may be hard to admit for those among us who don't think doomsday clock is the best comic ever published (which i certainly do stand by forever) but geoff's kept the jsa alive for thirty years and counting and we owe him a great deal despite the occasional misstep.

i also love judy garrick! i love the future jsa! i love this take on teddy knight's future! i love vlad & ruby sokov! i'm here for all of it and i'll never get over how strange (and i'm being kind here) it is that most complaints come from infinity inc enjoyers as if every part of that series isn't the retcon to end all retcons.

i've got my misgivings about a detail or two, there's a couple characters getting the spotlight when i'd personally much rather forget their existence all together, but all in all? best damn book on the stands right now and you better believe i'm buying every issue & every variant like my life depends on it!

#asks #anon #jsa #jsa 2022

[innerdreamercollective]

🎧🎧 Release Blitz 🎧🎧

Omegaverse Poly Romance Fans, This one's for you!

Wicked Girl (Knot Their Toy, Book 2) by @author.aj.merlin

Narrated by @allysonvolleraudiobooknarrator

Published & Produced by @pinkflamingo_productions

Audible US 🎧 https://adbl.co/4cJD5m5

Audible UK 🎧 https://adbl.co/49sjzaM

Featured on @the_flock_on_tour

Blurb:

The murders may be over, but my heartache is back in full force, thanks to my mother and my own misgivings.

When I return to Winter Grove early and end up relying on the pack to help me out, I’m sure it’s a new form of torture. Instead, I find myself growing closer to August and Foster. I can’t help but think they’re dragging me deeper underwater, with no intention of letting me up for air anytime soon.

To add to the confusion, a new arrival at the university has a grudge against the pack, and she knows that getting to them is easier when she’s targeting anyone who’s more vulnerable than the boys.

And that might include me, despite how much I want to stay out of it.

But when she goes after my place at Winter Grove and the pack that I might be willing to call my own, will I just let her? Or will I take a few lessons from my vile boys and show her I’m not so quick to surrender?

#NowLive #NewRelease #ReleaseBlitz  #PinkFlamingoProductions #TheFlockonTour #WickedGirlAudioTour #AJMerlin #AllysonVoller #OmegaVerse #PolyRomance #UniversityRomance

[dollycas]

A High Tide Murder (A Cannabis Café Mystery) by Emily George #Review / #Giveaway - @KensingtonBooks

A High Tide Murder (A Cannabis Café Mystery) Cozy Mystery 2nd in Series Setting - California Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kensington Cozies (February 20, 2024) Paperback ‏ : ‎ 320 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496740505 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496740502 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0C6FTVW4F The newest installment in the Cannabis Café cozy mystery series featuring twenty-eight-year-old, classically trained pastry chef Chloe Barnes—sure to appeal to millennial readers as well as lovers of classic cozy mysteries! What a long, strange trip it’s been for Chloe. After her dream of becoming a Parisian pastry chef—and a wife—crashed and burned, she returned home to the seaside town of Azalea Bay, California and opened a cannabis café. Despite some residents’ misgivings about how such a business may affect the community’s reputation, Baked by Chloe has become a popular destination for tourists and locals alike. Nothing mellows out people like sweet edibles and frothy drinks with a dash of CBD. But when it comes to surfers, the only high they want to ride is on a wave. The annual summer Azalea Bay Pro Challenger Surf Competition is underway, and fan favorite Aaron Gill is treading water. Plagued by professional and personal pressures, he finds himself no longer a top contender, and everyone is saddened when he takes his own life. But his best friend Ethan Wilson knows that despite Aaron’s difficulties, suicide was not on his mind, and he begs Chloe to investigate. Against her better judgment, Chloe dives in and discovers Aaron was surrounded by people motivated enough to help him wipe out—permanently . . . Dollycas's Thoughts It is time for the annual summer Azalea Bay Pro Challenger Surf Competition and Chloe's Cannabis Café, Baked by Chloe is ready for the masses of surfers and their followers. This is huge for her new business. Then fan favorite Aaron Gill is found dead of an apparent suicide. People believe the pressure of the sport and his performance in the competition pushed him to take his own life but his best friend Ethan Wilson doesn't believe it for a minute and begs Chloe to do some sleuthing and she can't refuse. She soon agrees with Ethan when she finds plenty of people who had the motive to be sure Aaron Gill had ridden his last wave. ______ I loved the first book in this series, A Half-Baked Murder, and couldn't wait to read this one. Ms. George has created strong characters. Chloe is smart and fun. I love that she and her Aunt Dawn run the cafe together. Dawn's current hobby is dog dancing. The lady always cracks me up. Chloe's Grandma Rose is a breast cancer survivor like me so I identify with her easily and was happy to see her life moving in a positive direction. Chloe's newfound friends, Cal, Ben, Archie, Erica, and Matt, often get together to play Dungeons and Dragons and have welcomed Chloe into their group. Jake is still around but the relationship he has with Chloe is complicated. I enjoy the way these characters continue to develop throughout this story. Matt's brother Ethan is a surfer and his best friend was the deceased Aaron Gill. He along with Matt and Chloe found him dead in his hotel room with a note in his hand. I will admit I read the synopsis and knew suicide would be mentioned in the story but had hoped it would be a fleeting moment and the death would be classified as a homicide much sooner. The police did not even look at any other evidence so it was up to Chloe and the others to prove it wasn't which carried it much further into the story. As a mother who lost an adult son to suicide many observances about Aaron and his behaviors and stressors hit my heart like a sledgehammer forcing me to put the book down to strengthen my heart and to skim certain sections. That being said I knew he was murdered and I had to know whodunit so I focused on the clues, I had a culprit in my sights, and was happy that in the end, I was right. The reveal was tense but the takedown was great. I find the theme of a cannabis café fresh and new. Ms. George takes the opportunity for Chloe to explain the way cannabis is used clearly for its medicinal benefits and the relief it can provide. Chloe also explains how she prepares the cannabis to be used in her recipes. Three recipes are included after the mystery. I wish I had a Sparkling Canna Gria to get me through the tough times while reading this story. A High Tide Murder is a well-plotted and well-written mystery with great characters that are engaging and entertaining. I am excited for this series to continue to see if the ending foreshadows what Chloe is going to face next. *Note - Suicide references could trigger survivors or their family members. Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent About the Author Emily George writes modern murder mysteries that feature her favorite F words: female friendships, family and furry friends. She also likes alliteration. Like her sleuths, she’s an elder Millennial who grew up on a steady diet of late 90’s romantic comedies, Spice Girls songs and Babysitter’s Club books. When she’s not figuring out creative ways to kill people (fictionally, of course) she enjoys knitting, baking, playing video games, and listening to true crime podcasts. She resides in Canada with her husband and can be found online at Emily-George.com. Find her on Facebook and Instagram too. I am giving away my Advance Review Copy! The contest is open to anyone over 18 years old with a US or Canadian mailing address. Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited. You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find something you like here and become a follower. Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow. Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Following My Facebook Fan Page. Add this book to your WANT TO READ shelf on GoodReads for 3 Bonus Entries. Follow Kensington Books on Twitter for 2 Bonus Entries! Follow Kensington Publishing on Facebook for 2 Bonus Entries! Pin this giveaway to Pinterest for 3 Bonus Entries. If you share the giveaway on Twitter or Facebook or anywhere you will receive 5 Bonus Entries For Each Link. The  Contest Will End March 14, 2024, at 11:59 PM CST The Winner Will Be Chosen By Random.org The Winner Will Be Notified By Email and Will Be Posted Here In The Sidebar. Click Here For Entry Form Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Receiving a complimentary copy in no way reflected my review of this book. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.” Read the full article

[disappearingground]

Jenny Lewis: ‘My friends have heard some of the stories, but there’s some good ones I’ve been saving’

The Guardian June 4, 2023

The US singer-songwriter and former Rilo Kiley frontwoman on touring with Harry Styles, being happily single and the importance of joy – mostly in puppy form – in your life

By Kathryn Bromwich

One of Jenny Lewis’s many appealing traits is a certain kind of rock star insouciance. So when she was announced as the support act for Harry Styles’s North American tour in autumn 2021, prompting many of his fans to respond with: “Who the fuck is Jenny Lewis?”, the singer-songwriter created a Spotify playlist of the same name. It showcased the many highlights of her 20-plus-year career in music, from her days as frontwoman of indie rock band Rilo Kiley, through various side projects, to her current solo career making shimmering pop songs infused with country and 1970s rock (“The more she goes on … the more she sounds like one of the greats,” wrote Kitty Empire in these pages, about her last album, 2019’s On the Line).

Despite their initial misgivings, the fans “were amazing from show one”, says Lewis. She had just come out of the pandemic and total isolation – “I hadn’t even gone to a restaurant or done anything” – and found herself on the biggest stages she had ever played, arenas filled with thousands of new young fans. “I got pure love and support and total attention,” she recalls, speaking over Zoom from her home in Los Angeles, sunlight streaming in through the wall-to-wall windows behind her. “They make signs at the shows to get Harry’s attention, but about four shows in, someone in the crowd had a sign that said: ‘I’m here for Bobby Rhubarb.’”

Bobby Rhubarb is Lewis’s two-year-old cockapoo, a present from a poet friend named Serengeti and the subject of the first single from her fifth solo album, Joy’All (“I need a dog that’s hypoallergenic / In the poodle milieu and photogenic”). The song, Puppy and a Truck, came out of an online songwriting workshop organised by Beck and is a sweet, moving bop about being single in her 40s and finding a deep sense of fulfilment in her new life. “I don’t got no kids / I don’t got no roots,” she sings at the end, in a tone that could be read as wistful, or liberated, or both.

Shit gets real, there’s a lot of suffering, and how are you going to weather it?

This balance of emotions is a central tenet of Joy’All, an album that came out of lockdown and Lewis’s first opportunity to stop and process everything that had happened to her in the preceding years. “I think going through a big tragedy, or the loss of both of your parents, or the end of a long-term relationship,” she says of this time, “the common theme as a human being is just: shit gets real, there’s a lot of suffering, of varying degrees, and how are you going to weather it?”

During her time alone, she experienced “a spiritual shift – I realised that the pursuit of joy is a really important thing”. She found this in Bobby Rhubarb, who brought new rhythms to her daily routine and reminded her of the things that truly matter – “Like play and going on a walk.” She read books by Hermann Hesse, Raymond Chandler and Ram Dass, consumed “a lot of murder content” and grew two massive weed plants (“pleased to meet you, Mary Jane”, goes new track Love Feel).

Joy’All is an uplifting, layered album filled with ear-worming hooks and memorable lines, preceded by a spate of career-best singles such as Psychos (featuring what she calls the “ultimate Tinder profile description line: ‘I’m not a psycho / I’m just tryna get laid’”) and Giddy Up, a Kacey Musgraves-esque country-pop tune about taking a chance on romance, and cognitive dissonance. Throughout the LP, difficult events are balanced out by joyous ones: “the essence of life / is suffering” goes one line, later becoming “the essence of life / is ecstasy”. The pain of a breakup sits alongside the thrill of a new liaison; there are references to an encounter at an after-school party that “almost destroyed” her, but also to listening to Marvin Gaye with an “ice-cold Modelo”.

On our call, Lewis is engaging company, with a sparkling intelligence and a warm, easy laugh. With her feathered red hair and a T-shirt bearing the logo of the Beastie Boys label Grand Royal, she exudes an energy halfway between Stevie Nicks and Natasha Lyonne, interrupting herself with a joke when she feels she is coming across as too LA (she divides her time between there and Nashville). She was born in Las Vegas in 1976 and by the 1980s had a thriving career as a child actor, with roles in TV shows such as The Twilight Zone, The Golden Girls, Baywatch and Murder, She Wrote, as well as films including Pleasantville, Foxfire – opposite a young Angelina Jolie – and the now cult classic Troop Beverly Hills.

Lewis learned a lot during those years: memorising lines, accessing emotion while performing (“You have to think of the worst possible thing to make yourself cry, which is such an interesting thing for a brain that is still forming”). But by the early 00s she was out of that world. She has spoken openly about the trials she faced in childhood: her absent musician father, Eddie, and the heroin addiction of her Vegas entertainer mother, Linda. Lewis’s deceptively cheerful-sounding 2019 track Wasted Youth is about her mother spending her acting earnings first on buying, then selling drugs: “I wasted my youth / On a poppy, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo / Just for fun.” Their relationship broke down, with Lewis becoming estranged from her father and mother for many years. She reconciled with them before their deaths in 2010 and 2017 respectively.

Having some time and distance has given her perspective, allowed her to see things from their point of view as well as her own. “My attitude is good, in that I accept my mom for who she was. I understand that it was probably really hard for her and she did what she had to do to survive. I appreciate all of her choices, even if they weren’t the greatest choices.” She understands now that some addicts don’t get clean. “The recovery rate for heroin addicts – it’s a very small percentage. So the more I’ve learned about that, the more I can accept the whole thing.” She is still unearthing memories from that time; a memoir is in the works (Patti Smith’s Just Kids is a touchstone). “My friends have heard some of the stories, but there’s some good ones I’ve been saving,” she says, rubbing her hands together.

There were also, she adds, many amazing moments in her youth. “I think sometimes the good ones get overshadowed. But my mom was so charismatic and funny and cool. She was a hipster.” One moment in particular springs to mind: “She was in this rehabilitation centre after surgery and I went to visit her. And when I got to her room she was passed out with a peanut butter sandwich listening to Tame Impala. I was like: ‘How is she so cool?’ There were these absurd moments – the context was very serious, but there was always something funny going on.”

Lewis’s upbringing has been an endless source of material. Many of her songs with Rilo Kiley were verbatim accounts of the incredible characters in her mother’s orbit. “Blake [Sennett, Lewis’s then boyfriend and bandmate] and I would get together, he’d be playing guitar and I would just start reciting this stuff. He’d go: ‘Where the heck did you get this?’ And I was like: ‘Ah, never mind.’” A Better Son/Daughter is still the song she gets approached about most. “I’ve seen some tattoos [of it] as well,” shes says, “which is always incredible – it’s like, was that a mistake? But people really connect with that song and share their experiences with depression and addiction and their relationship with their parents.”

As well as the fans who have been with her from the beginning, Lewis now has a cohort of admirers who were too young to appreciate the music at the time. Early 00s female pop-punk acts such as Paramore and Avril Lavigne are now being reappraised; echoes of Rilo Kiley can be heard in the catchy, emotionally literate breakup songs of Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift (the band’s hit Portions for Foxes was included in a list of 18-year-old Swift’s most listened to iPod songs). “It’s like the spin cycle on your washing machine,” cackles Lewis. “It’s the cool cycle: 20 years and suddenly you’re cool. You’re like, wait, you hated this shit back then.”

In addition to Rilo Kiley, Lewis has also been part of duo Jenny and Johnny – with former partner Johnathan Rice – and all-female indie supergroup Nice As Fuck, whose debut performance was at a Bernie Sanders rally in 2016. “I keep leaving behind versions of myself,” says Lewis. “The actor version, the girl in a band version, the start a band with your boyfriend version, the all-girl New York punk band version. I’m constantly starting these things and then moving forward.” While she loves collaboration and has learned a lot from it over the years – she has worked with the Postal Service, Vampire Weekend, Bright Eyes, She & Him, and Ringo Starr, who played drums on Heads Gonna Roll – for now she is happy having autonomy over her own work. “My relationship with my songwriting started out very solitary. I’ve only co-written with a couple of people. Mostly my boyfriends, whoever I’m going out with at the time. But now I’m totally free to do whatever I want to do creatively. What is interesting to me in a song might not be interesting to a collaborator, but I don’t really care because I’m writing more for myself.”

Maybe Elon Musk can throw a giant festival on Mars called CancelFest, where all the cancelled people go

Musician Ryan Adams did some early production work on her last album; he was later accused of sexual misconduct by several women. Lewis has talked about this on numerous occasions, standing in solidarity with his accusers, and is understandably keen to move on. “There’s a broader conversation on behaviour among rock’n’rollers and the bigger conversation of what to do with people who misbehave,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “I think we should all be accountable for our own behaviour. But I don’t think you can cast people out completely. There has to be some sort of rehabilitation process.” Her eyes crinkle into a smile. “Maybe Elon Musk can throw a giant festival on Mars called CancelFest, where all the cancelled people go.” She turns serious again. “It’s such a complex question. I don’t have an answer. There are some shady characters in the world but I sometimes hope they’re on their karmic journey, and they will figure it out, if not in this lifetime in the next – in a Buddhist context. But I don’t believe people are all bad.”

Like everyone who lived through the dubious gender politics of the early 00s, Lewis still has some thought patterns of her own to unlearn. “I think my generation, we assumed there was only one spot if you were a woman. So in being ‘just one of the guys’ I was kind of getting into the club. And you’d be very protective of your role within that because there were so few women.” On the Styles tour, when she introduced her song Just One of the Guys, she dedicated it to all the tomboys in the crowd. “I could feel my band cringing when I said that. And I thought: ‘Oh wow, I guess tomboy is not a term that we use any more.’ And then I looked it up and it’s got a totally negative historical meaning.” So she is adapting. “Here’s the thing: things are changing, language is changing. We just have to learn and accept the fact that we may not understand right away. I don’t have a problem with addressing people in a way that makes them feel comfortable. I don’t understand why people get pissed – do you want others to feel bad? It doesn’t make sense.”

One way in which society isn’t moving forward as fast as she would like is the pressure to have children and be in a relationship. “If you’re not, and you’re in your 40s, there’s this old maid thing. But I feel better now than I have felt in my life. I’m totally single and I’m in complete control of my creative output and my schedule – not to say that, you know, I don’t have my romantic dalliances.” She is on a dating app, largely for entertainment value (she points out the remarkable number of men who include photos of Larry David among their own pictures). She went on a date recently, which “ended up being very fun, even though he wasn’t the one”, she laughs. “He was wearing a Star Wars T-shirt when he walked up and I was like: ‘Oh, I’ve never seen Star Wars. This just can’t work.’”

Lewis has addressed the fact she doesn’t have children in a number of songs, something about which her feelings fluctuate. “The other day I had a visceral reaction to reading that Robert De Niro [just had] a baby and he’s 79. It’s the luxury of being a man or a Peter Pan – I also consider myself to be a sort of Peter Pan figure.” Most of her friends don’t have kids, but now some of the men are reaching their mid-40s and starting families. As a woman on the road for many years, there wasn’t a moment where she felt the need to stop and take care of a child.

“I’d never imagined myself as a bride or a mother. And, of course, there’s a little bit of fear when you come from a relationship like I had with my mom, which was very complex. So I didn’t care, didn’t care, didn’t care, and then when it’s no longer an option, there’s a sense of Fomo. But ultimately, I made this choice. And I’m totally good with it.” Her affection gets lavished on Bobby Rhubarb. “She gets all of my love and I treat her in all the ways I wish my mom had. So I just snuggle the shit out of her.”

In an interview with the NME a few years ago she talked about how, with confessional songwriting, you “can’t put the worms back in the can”. Are there any songs she wishes she could take back? “No. There are some interviews I wish I could put back in the can – not this one! – where I’m spouting off about cancel culture like a dumdum anyway, but I honour the work. Even songs that have been written about me that aren’t flattering. What you say later in an interview, that’s on you. I’ve talked about some personal things that I really wish I could take back, but no – the work is in amber for ever.”

#publication: the guardian #album: joy'all #year: 2023 #song: puppy and a truck #mention: bobby #mention: harry styles tour #person: serengeti #mention: pandemic #mention: breakup #mention: reflection #mention: weed #song: psychos #song: giddy up #song: essence of life #mention: encounter in teen years? #mention: child acting #mention: father #mention: mother #mention: drug addiction #mention: heroin #mention: memoir #mention: rehab #mention: childhood #mention: rilo kiley #person: blake sennett #song: better son/daughter #mention: songwriting #mention: sexism #mention: motherhood

[elains]

A Court of Thorns and Roses ♦ Nesta Archeron 

 Down into black eternity, Nesta and the Cauldron twined and fell, burning through the darkness like a newborn star.

#acotar #acotaredit #nesta archeron #sjm #sjmedit #litedit #highfaedaily #acotarnet #myedit #acofs #userkesh #usernuwanda #userkates #LOOK i'm in general hella disillusioned with sjm #BUT I LOVE NESTA OK #so despite my misgivings on the new book #here i'm editing her

[neonun-au]

(un)traditional | kwon soonyoung

alternatively titled: 'til horang do us hae

pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader genre: fluff, wedding au, more...fluff, established relationship, humour warnings: none word count: 1.8k

The digital clock on the hotel night stand flashes the next minute as it passes. A re-run of Law & Order: SVU drones on in the background as you sit at the edge of the bed, staring sleeplessly at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the closet door. 

It was a dream in all of its creamy, off white lace and resplendence. A dress you never thought you could even find, let alone afford, tucked away in the corner of a small boutique wedding shop. You had seen so many episodes of Say Yes to the Dress in your lifetime to the point where you were convinced that the people who cried when they found ‘their dress’ were just being dramatic for televisions sake, but the minute you slipped it on and stepped in front of the mirror all of those misgivings melted away into the fog of tears that began to cloud your vision. 

The dress itself had never been a focal point for you in terms of wedding planning, but sitting here alone in the bridal suite at 1:30am (10 hours before you were set to walk down the aisle in it), it was the only thing tethering you to the reality that the day had finally arrived. Your eyes flickered from the show on the TV back to the dress and every time they landed on the soft layering of fabric on the bodice, you began to well up at the thought of your husband-to-be seeing you in it. Finally. 

It was a long engagement. Unlike almost everything else Soonyoung did, the wedding was not something he really felt too keen on rushing. “Why shouldn’t we just enjoy our time being engaged for a while?” he would say, nuzzling a soft kiss into the crook of your neck as you scrolled through possible wedding venues. “We can,” you would nod, “but then this museum is fully booked for private events for the next two years.” 

“But I like introducing you as my fiance,” he would smile, offering you a bit of his pain au chocolat from the bakery by your office. 

“Okay Soonie,” the agreement would come out in a sigh, accompanied by an affectionate smile. Who could say no to that, truly? “But you’ll have to seal the deal sooner or later or I’m gonna take Mingyu up on the offer to run away with him to Greece and open a cafe by the sea.” 

The date was finally set for three years and 4 months past the day he formally proposed (formally because the original proposal was in panting breaths after an afternoon spent tangled up in each other on vacation). A year of that was spent actually planning the wedding; and now after all of the time, money, and energy spent–the wait was over.

You had wanted to abide by a few classic traditions, despite your fiance's disregard of almost all formalities and willingness to do basically anything unconventional (if his tiger striped tie for the ceremony was anything to judge by). Something borrowed, something blue, something old, something new, and the night before the wedding spent in separate rooms from the man you were to spend the rest of your life with. 

The idea, at the time, had seemed like a highly romantic notion to you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as the saying goes, and since you didn’t think you could grow any fonder of him anyway, you thought you might put that to the test. What you had not expected upon deciding to follow this tradition was the fact that you had not spent a night sleeping without him in months. Or the fact that it had been even longer since you had slept well without him.  

The regret of the choice sank in almost immediately as you kissed him goodnight after dinner, watching as he strolled off to the bar with his friends and you wandered back up to your room alone in an effort to get an early night's rest. Now you sit, sleepless and lonely, at the edge of a stark white hotel bed and ache for the company of your longtime companion.

The spare key to his room next door sits on the credenza next to the TV, glowing at the edge of your vision–tempting you away from the tradition you had insisted on following. Your fingers itch to reach out and grab it and after a moment's contemplation–and a glance back at the clock as it flashes dangerously close to 2:00am–you give in. 

Grateful for the proximity of your rooms as you step out into the hallway in slippers and a robe, you pad along the gaudy abstract carpet of the hallway until you come to a stop outside of his room. A small rush of adrenaline floods your body as you raise the keycard to the lock; a small niggle of worry about disturbing him creeps up inside your brain and you raise your fist to knock on the door as you gently push it open–announcing your presence. 

All of the lamps are still on as you enter and the brief worry disperses into amusement as Soonyoung comes into view. He’s standing barefoot in his robe (brought with him from home, tiger striped of course. You had bought it for him on his birthday the first year you started dating not knowing he already had three nearly identical ones) in front of the full length mirror–his hair is messy with the attempts of sleep and his hand is curled into his signature pose. 

You see him mumbling words to himself and shaking his head–clearly not enjoying the direction–and it takes him a moment to notice your presence has entered the room. “Oh!” he whips around, eyes saucer wide and startled. 

“I’m sorry,” you laugh, walking over to smooth down some of the hair sticking up from his head, “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“No, it’s fine,” he leans into your touch as you fuss over him, laughing away the nerves that had settled in at your sudden appearance. “I thought we weren't supposed to see each other tonight? Is everything okay?” 

“It’s fine,” you smile, planting a soft kiss against his cheek before sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I just couldn’t sleep.” 

“Me either,” he admits. 

The mattress sinks as Soonyoung plops down next to you, his hand idly reaching for yours in the absence of words. You glance around the room that he’s been occupying for the past few hours–a few empty soju bottles are scattered about, along with a hurricane of clothing and personal effects from both Soonyoung himself and his groomsmen. Among all of the chaos surrounding you, his wedding suit and tie hang proudly on the hook across from the bed–displayed in a mirror image of your own dress back in your suite.

“This tradition is silly,” you blurt out the admission and he laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Yes,” his fingers intertwine with yours and he tugs you closer to him on the bed, nestling you into his side. “We spend every night together already anyway, why should this one be any different? I wanted to go and see you hours ago.”  

“Why didn't you?” 

He shrugs, “you said you wanted to do this.” 

“I guess I did,” you laugh, embarrassed that the idea had ever even come from you in the first place considering the inevitable outcome.

“Also Josh threatened me.”

“As he should,” you nod solemnly and Soonyoung whines in protest–whines that fall on deaf ears as you laugh and move away from him to disrobe and slip under the covers. “Can I sleep here?” you ask, burrowing into the duvet as Soonyoung watches you fondly. 

“I don’t know, I think my fiance might not like that…” he raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, “you know I’m getting married tomorrow right?”

“Oh, congratulations,” you gape at him. He giggles as he slips in next to you and you feel the warmth of his body sink into your skin almost immediately as his legs find yours under the covers. “She must be a very lucky woman.” 

He nods, expression shifting to serious as he inches closer to you, “she is.” 

“Very funny,” you reach over to deliver a hard smack to his thigh and he lets out a dramatic ‘ouch’ at the blow before pressing a soft kiss to your lips in apology. 

“Lucky, but not as lucky as I am to be marrying you,” he grins, knowing the cheesy sentiment is primed to clear him of all charges.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you roll your eyes at him before twisting around to turn off the bedside lamp. The regular nightly routine of teasing and conversation lulling you finally into the arms of sleep. He follows in kind and the room descends into darkness. 

A moment of silence follows as you adjust your positions in bed, your head on his shoulder and his leg thrown over yours. Peace settles in and the nerves of the days that awaits you drift off into nothing as you lay together. 

“Soonie,” you mumble against his neck. He responds with a soft hum, already slipping into sleep but still cognizant enough to hear you. “What were you doing when I came in here earlier?”

“Practicing my vows,” he admits with a soft laugh, tracing absent circles over your back with his fingers.

“Those were your vows?” You recall the scene–the concerned expression, the mumbled words, the curled fingers.

“Mhmm,” he replies, all thought absent from his mind. 

“And they’re ready for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he yawns, pulling you in tighter to his side with an arm around your shoulders. “They’ve been ready for months, I just want to get them right. You didn’t hear them, did you?” His voice takes on a momentary tone of concern at the possibility.

“No,” you draw the word out and he stiffens under you.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, concern more evident in his voice now. 

“If you ‘horanghae’ me in your vows in front of all of our friends and families,” you whisper into the dark of the hotel room, listening as he swallows the lump of fear in his throat, “I will divorce you and then marry Seungkwan.”

.

.

.

The wedding goes off without a hitch (or, any hitch beyond the ring bearer (Mingyu’s dog) almost making off with the rings across the hotel grounds 10 minutes before the ceremony). 

Soonyoung tears up as you walk down the aisle–you’re sure only in part because of the beauty of the dress itself–and he weeps openly (along with at least half of his groomsmen) at the reception later during his speech. His vows are heartfelt and touching and despite his fingers twitching at his side, he refrains from lifting his hand into his standard pose. 

That is until you walk outside for the first set of photos and you raise your own hand in tribute for him and he bursts into a strangled mixture of laughter and tears at the sight. 

© 2022, neonun-au, all rights reserved

if you liked this! please consider reblogging with a comment or sending me a message! i love to hear your thoughts and feedback, it helps to keep me a more motivated and better writer~

#kwritersworldnet #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #svt x reader

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Hiddleston - Stripped Sunday

A/N & WC - I came up with this concept ages ago and only just got around to writing it, though it’s slightly short. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to. 2k.

Warnings - Swearing (that's now just a given), definitely suggestive and nsfw but nowhere near explicit, just mentions of sex, nudity too. And unknowing exhibitionism I guess? 16+

Summary - Sunday's are always the best, especially when you and Tom walk around the house nude, but it's been a while. Too long a while. So, obliviously, you take matters into your own hands...

THOMAS WILLIAM HIDDLESTON IS A SIMPLE MAN, believe it or not. He likes meals he can cook in fifteen minutes, he likes his tea with only a splash of milk, he likes the simple pleasures of nature. He likes morning runs and evening walks, re-watching movies he’s seen a dozen times, cuddles on a cold night. But most of all, he likes it when you walk around nude.

It might just be the one singular thing in the great mystery of life that is inexplicable to him, the one thing he enjoys so bloody much he daren’t speak of it, lest he risk losing it. Just the sight of your beautiful body keeps him up night after night after night when he’s working away, plotting and planning ways to ensure he never forgets it for the second he returns home. He can’t even begin to explain the things it does to him.

So, he set up a Stripped Sunday, with the basic premise that you both have to walk around in your birthday suits all day. It’s essentially his unique, perverse, inventive way of seeing you naked all day once a week. Not every Sunday, naturally, but just on occasion, when he’s not working, he’ll jot it down on the calendar. Nothing too glaring, in case someone catches a glimpse of his calendar, but just scribbling down a winky face in a Sunday space, and you know what you’re in for.

In all honesty, you love it just as much as he does. It’s hard not to. Seeing him walking around the house with not a scrap of clothing on all day does things to you you’ve never been able to put your finger on—or his. If you were to get pregnant, Stripped Sundays would be the culprit with the amount that the two of you shag in a single day. And he always seems to have another round in the bank to wake you the morning after, hungover on dripping lust.

However, it’s been far too long without one of these days, you think to yourself. And you know that there are no plans for the day, seeing as there’s nothing in the diary or the calendar, where—upon Tom’s own decree—all arrangements have to be written down. Seeing as you and Tom have a somewhat secret relationship, one certainly sheltered from the press, and no one knows you’re together, let alone live together, keeping all plans written down is imperative. His work meetings are always good reasons for you to get out of the house for a few hours.

Today, however, Tom seems to have made a mistake. Today’s meeting utterly slipped his mind, and he completely forgot to tell you, let alone jot it down, that he was having a casual meeting with a few co-stars to discuss future production of some sort—of what, he was entirely unsure, since this was texted about weeks ago, now. Nothing too major, though.

Logically, Tom thought that, with how late you were currently sleeping, and how much you enjoy your lie-ins, he’d be wrapped before you woke up, and even if that wasn’t to be the case and you wake up, that you’d have the sense to dress, or even call for him at the very least, before going downstairs.

You aren’t so lucky.

—

Waking up to an empty bed is never much fun. Usually if Tom wakes up before you, he’ll only slip out to put the kettle on, or fetch a new book to read from the library while he waits for you to stir naturally… that is if he isn’t waking you up in other, more pleasurable ways. At most, if he does have plans and doesn’t want to wake you after a late night, he’ll leave you a lovely note, a voicemail, and a thermal mug of tea.

Today, however, you can smell the coffee machine on—no wonder after the late, and rather energetic night you had—and hear the machine whirring, signalling that Tom likely hasn’t long been awake. That’s when the gears begin to turn and your plan begins to formulate, a completely devious idea that creeps into your mind and quirks your lips into a smirk. No matter how enticing the idea to nuzzle back into the pillows is, your need for Tom is overpowering your clawing need for sleep, especially with your primal instincts telling you he’s within grabbing distance, his aftershave still on the sheets you’re wrapped in. So, you strip his shirt, now perpetually appropriated by you, off and get out of bed, stretching as you go, beginning to make your way downstairs.

“What’s that?” Tom hears someone ask.

Not hearing your footsteps on the squeaky stairs over the whirring of the coffee machine and the layered discussions, including his own laughter, he simply replies, “Probably the dog.”

You, however, aren’t lucky enough to hear this brief conversation before your bare feet land on the cold hardwood floor, sending chills throughout you that don’t seem to even mildly combat the overwhelming heat building all throughout you. With just a few more steps, keeping your footing light and avoiding Bobby’s various chewies and toys littered all over the floor, you’re entering the kitchen in nought but your birthday suit. Utterly, completely in the buff.

“Morning baby,” you call out, yawning, your eyes fluttering shut, your jaw wide.

Except, instead of the warm embrace and slatherings of kisses that you expect to receive, or even a simple “Good morning, Princess,” you’re welcomed with a deadly silence, a stillness you can’t quite comprehend.

Your eyes fly open in shock, opening to see three people, mildly familiar faces, with mouths agape and eyes wide, sitting around the breakfast bar with mugs between their hands. Tom looks as stunned as you’ve ever seen him, over by the coffee machine, his hands trembling. With a fixed gaze of his baby blue eyes, so piercingly alarmed, he looks you up and down, his eyes blazing over your nude form, his kissable mouth practically watering at the mere sight of you.

That’s before it clicks with him, the dire situation, and alarm bells begin to blare inside his head, causing him to jump into action. Almost instantly, he’s pulling his shirt off his strong arms and muscular torso with lithe fingers, and is tugging it over your head, covering your naked torso.

You can already feel the blush on your cheeks, your skin burning from the bruised base of your throat to the pierced tips of your ears, the blood in your veins rushing around so violently that it drowns out any other comments or noise within the room, within the situation, but you’re brought back to reality when Tom’s strong, callused hands fall to your arms, clasping the flesh before he’s all but lifting you off the tiled floor and steering you back out of the room. It snicks shut behind you, but all you can focus on is the kiss he gives you, slanting his thin lips over yours so intoxicatingly that you’re able to forget your humongous disaster, if only for a second. There’s an emptiness the second he stops kissing you, and you’re able to hear the previously shut out gossip from inside.

“Sweetheart, what the hell was that?” he commands, his tone soft.

Despite the austere authority he so naturally demands in a room, he doesn’t sound angry whatsoever. If anything he’s just a little exposed, his private home life revealed to people when he wasn’t in the least bit prepared for once in his lifetime, with a definite undertone of irritation, mostly that he can’t have his way with you instantly. His blood is roaring, his stomach an explosion of swarms of butterflies, his core pulsating. He can’t tear his eyes away from you, even now you’re covered, your hardened nipples poking through the fabric.

“I— I saw the calendar was empty, I wanted to impress you, have a nice Sunday because it’s been so long,” you confess, shuffling your feet on the floor, unable to meet his blue gaze boring into you, “I’ve felt… distant from you recently, you’ve been working so much. I don’t know,” you shift anxiously, tugging on his shirt wrapped around you, “I love you, I didn’t wanna lose you. I thought you’d like it.”

“Baby,” he says, “I love you and this so so much. Of course I like it!”

You let out a feeble cry against his chest, his arms knotting around you and tugging you into his chest in one swift movement. His hugs, the way he holds you and cradles you, always make you feel better, no matter what your troubles may be.

You sniffle a little, “Really?”

Any trace of hardness in his face just dissipates and is replaced with sympathy, empathy, love.

“I truly wish I could take you right now, Darling, and if they weren’t here, I’d be fucking you on that breakfast bar and you know it.” He sighs deeply. “But, I didn’t put down a special Sunday for a reason, love.” Leaning down, he kisses away your wry tears, and then the tip of your nose. “You are so thoughtful. It’s all my fault though, I must’ve just forgotten to write this down.”

How can you be mad at him when he’s being so thoughtful and heartfelt, confessing his mistake even when it was your rash thinking that’s gotten you into this mess?

Once you calm your breathing down, though, you realise that you’re actually not particularly phased by this at all. You don’t mind this; it was the sheer shock that passed over Tom’s face, the flash of terror he must’ve felt with his work colleagues in the room with him that scared you so. You know well enough that it’ll be a huge knock—monumental, even—for him, if this gets out. Your worry for your treasured boyfriend takes power over any of your own misgivings.

“I’m really sorry, Tom.”

“Don’t be,” he says hastily, “can you please pop up and get dressed, though, darling? Just some shorts, I don’t want you to feel exposed.”

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding, stepping away from him to make your way upstairs. Before you’ve taken so much as a step, though, he tugs you back by the bottom of his shirt, and ravels you into a searing kiss, everything he wants to say passes from his lips to yours.

—

You return a couple of minutes later, dressed simply, comfortably, his shirt in your hands, you find him waiting for you, standing outside the door with his hands clasped at his front. He greets you with open arms, prompting you to take his hands as he leads you back into the kitchen, your eyes connecting in a secret agreement before stepping inside.

The air is rife with anxiety, three panicked faces staring back at you, but thankfully, you’re able to recognise these people as ones he’s worked with for a while, people he knows really well; confidantes and friends more than co-stars or colleagues. However, by the inquisitive glint in their eyes and their parted mouths, you imagine they’ll still have a lot of questions, and this’ll still be a hit for Tom.

He wraps his spare arm around you, his head bowed as he meets the dead faces staring at him. That’s when you begin to wonder if something else has happened.

“Baby, everything okay?” you ask, cupping his jaw, caressing your thumb over the scruff of a beard shadowing his bone structure.

That’s seemingly when it hits him, his face paling, blanching, his grip around you loosening.

“It’s a good job you never got over the threshold, darling,” he says breathlessly, “or I’d be in much more trouble.”

You look to him, eyes searching his face imploringly as he viciously gulps. “We were live on Instagram.”

“SHIT!”

Well, it looks like Tom’s girlfriend is public knowledge. You can’t mind, though not as he dips his head and kisses you hotly, heartily. With this passion, the second these people leave, Stripped Sunday might just happen after all.

#tom h #tom hiddleston #british toms #thomas william hiddleston #loki laufeyson #loki mcu #loki marvel #twh #tom hiddles #hiddles #hiddleston #hiddlesbum #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston angst #loki fic #loki x reader #loki x you #loki fluff #loki smut #loki angst #Tom William hiddleston #tom hiddleston baftas 2021 #Tom Hiddleston hot #Tom Hiddleston x y/n #Tom Hiddleston imagine