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fromkenari · 7 months

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Waterloo Letters #5: bad metaphors about maps

bad metaphors about maps A [email protected] 9/25/20 3:21 AM to Henry h, i have had whiskey. bear with me. there’s this thing you do. this thing. it drives me crazy. i think about it all the time. there’s a corner of your mouth, and a place that it goes. pinched and worried like you’re afraid you’re forgetting something. i used to hate it. used to think it was your little tic of disapproval. but i’ve kissed your mouth, that corner, that place it goes, so many times now. i’ve memorized it. topography on the map of you, a world i’m still charting. i know it. i added it to the key. here: inches to miles. i can multiply it out, read your latitude and longitude. recite your coordinates like la rosaria. this thing, your mouth, its place. it’s what you do when you’re trying not to give yourself away. not in the way that you do all the time, those empty, greedy grabs for you. i mean the truth of you. the weird, perfect shape of your heart. the one on the outside of your chest. on the map of you, my fingers can always find the green hills, wales. cool waters and ashore of white chalk. the ancient part of you carved out of stone in a prayerful circle, sacrosanct. your spine’s a ridge i’d die climbing. if i could spread it out on my desk, i’d find the corner of your mouth where it pinches with my fingers, and i’d smooth it away and you’d be marked with the names of saints like all the old maps. i get the nomenclature now—saints’ names belong to miracles. give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there’s so much of you. fucking yrs, a p.s. wilfred owen to siegfried sassoon—1917: And you have fixed my Life—however short. You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but shall swing out soon, a dark star in the or bit where you will blaze.

Re: Bad metaphors about maps Henry [email protected] 9/25/20 6:07 AM to A From Jean Cocteau to Jean Marais, 1939: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for having saved me. I was drowning and you threw yourself into the water without hesitation, without a backward look.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 318-320). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

#the last letter #bad metaphors about maps #waterloo letters #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #out of credits

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kwebtv · 23 days

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From the Golden Age of Television

The Last Letter - Syndicated - December 8, 1956

A presentation of "Death Valley Days" Season 5 Episode 7

Western

Running Time: 30 minutes

Directed by Stuart E. McGowan

Hosted by Stanley Andrews (as The Old Ranger)

Stars:

William Pullen as Alex Todd

Clint Eastwood as John Lucas

Forrest Stanley as Jacob Moore

George Pembroke as Henry Conklin

Russ Todd as Sam Osgood

Joseph Sargent as Reuben Bennett

Greg Barton as Abner Bell

Robert Sherman as Willam Ballou

#The Last Letter #TV #Death Valley Days #Western #1950's #1956 #Syndicated #William Pullen #Clint Eastwood

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we-are-all-of-legend-now · 10 months

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Tumblr will not format my response to this prompt from @otpprompts properly. It keeps cutting a bunch of things out and posting above the cut but I wanted to have them have credit for the prompt.

Also send me some more prompts. The only ones in my inbox right now are probably going to be longer 🥰

Content warnings: non graphic allusions to sex

Rose didn't know what to do or say when she woke up, wearing nothing but Jake's shirt, laying in the hotel room bed she'd promised her parents she'd share with Trixie after prom. But Trixie had gone off with someone else and Rose had never really planned to spend the night with Trixie anyway. Rose rolled over, finding Jake already awake. Her stomach gave a little jolt. She thought that he was still asleep with the heavy way his arm was across her waist and she had been counting on a few minutes to watch him sleep, get her thoughts together - the same thing that he'd been doing.

It was so strange to feel shy on front of Jake. She was never shy and never with him. He knew her entire soul and, after last night, he now knew her entire body too. It had been an easy decision to make and one she knew that she would never regret but no one had ever prepared her for the morning after. She was looking into his eyes and wondering if it meant as much to him as it did to her, if he was feeling all the feelings she was feeling, if she should start to feel self conscious.

Rose was starting to feel self conscious, against her better judgement. The way that Jake was looking at her made her feel like she was completely naked. Her breath caught her in her throat, the way it had last night when he'd been unzipping her prom dress.

Jake's hand tugged on her hip and Rose rolled into him, hiding her face against his bare chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothed her, the heat of him soothing all the fears and the insecurities that had come to her. He was Jake and she was Rose and this was how they were meant to be: together.

Rose laid in his arms quietly, watching the room start to lighten as the morning slipped away. She didn't know what to say to him or if she even wanted to say anything. Didn't it say everything, being here in his arms?

Finally, Jake shifted, breaking the silence himself. He kissed her forehead and then down along to her ear where he whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too."

#american dragon jake long #jake long #adjl rose #rose adjl #jake/rose #brea writes things #my fanfiction #the last letter #disney #wearealloflegendnow

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thisiskatsblog · 5 months

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Sad today.

#just got a call from an old friend #my first boyfriend passed away from cancer #we were together for several years #and while we both changed a lot since then #he is my lonely in Chicago person #and now I can’t ask how his siblings are #or how his parents feel about me #I have to write them to say how very sorry I am they have to go through this horrible pain #the last letter #life is a bitch #which throws some very nasty curve balls

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yourcprcrn · 9 months

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Saddest Scene?

"I’m a Gentry,” Colt said, managing to pry his eyes open again.

“You are. A Gentry and a MacKenzie. Always.”

“Always?” he asked.

“Always. I will always be your dad. No matter what. Nothing will change that.” Even death. My love for him would cross however far God took him.

“Colton Ryan MacKenzie-Gentry. I got everything I ever wanted.” His eyes closed, and his chest rose only half as high.

#the last letter #rebecca yarros #bookstagram #booklr #book #books #bookworm #bookshelf #booksbooksbooks #books & libraries #bookpromotion #bookmarketing

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thisaintourhome · 1 year

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pig tails, chasing all the snail trails.

where are you goin’, where are you goin', regina?

#songs #the receptionists #soren loved regina #the last letter #90s indie #y2k indie #twee #twee pop #indie pop #1999

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airasora · 1 year

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Charmine has taken over my brain...I was thinking about that detail you mentioned of them seeing each other sparsely and getting to know each other through their letters. I just imagine Charming really agonizing and investing a lot of thought into Jasmine's letters, he takes good care to preserve them. Weird things like how the paper smells (she scents it?) to how her handwriting has changed. Think of that scene in Hamilton, where Angelica is thrown into a loop over a single comma - Charming hangs onto things like that even if Jasmine didnt intend anything (or maybe subconsciously?). And when they meet as adults and spend proper time together, Jasmine is genuinely blown away by how much Charming remembers (they've been engaged forever, does it matter what you write when you can't opt out of the engagement in any case?) And she feels guilty for not keeping all of the letters he sent.

This was supposed to be just a TINY excerpt that I was inspired to make based off your ask, but I wound up writing a lot more, so, uh... I hope you like it xD

Read on fanfiction.net

Jasmine couldn't believe it. There they were; every single letter she had ever unwillingly sent Prince Christopher, all neatly organized in chronological order, preserved in a treasure chest made just for them. She took the first letter, inside the same envelope it had been sent in, but closed with a thin piece of string to easily open and close again. Clearly, Christopher read these every now and then.

They were Christopher's possession, but Jasmine figured she had been the one to write them, so she had the right to read them. The first letter was, indeed, the very first letter she had ever sent him. This was back when she didn't really understand what a fiance was. What an engagement entailed.

Jasmine was around 6 years old. It wasn't her handwriting, but her words. One of the servants had helped her put her words on paper. It was just child nonsense. She was telling Christopher about her favorite toys, that she liked to dance and sing and how her father had just gifted her a baby tiger for her birthday. She didn't ask Christopher any questions, she just told him about herself.

As Jasmine went through the letters, she noticed a pattern. Christopher would tell Jasmine just a little bit about himself in each letter, but more than anything else, he was asking her questions. He asked her about her likes and dislikes, the people in her life, her thoughts and feelings about the world... things normal people would ask someone they're meant to marry.

And Jasmine's letters were her answering his questions. As short as possible, never giving any details or asking him any questions. Her bitterness about the arranged engagement was hidden in how rough her handwriting became over the years. How the ink seemed to get thicker and thicker as the day when they would first meet approached.

Even the scent of jasmine flowers seemed to be poisoned by the bitterness in her letters.

Christopher loved their letters. He looked forward to them every month, looked forward to hearing more about his fiancé and learn about her culture, religion and her desires. While to Jasmine, the letters were just another chore for a Princess. Something to be finished and dealt with as fast as possible, so she could do anything else.

When Jasmine reached her final letter, she almost couldn't bring herself to read it. This letter she remembered. This was the letter where she told him the truth; the ink was sloppy from her furious tears hitting it as she had poured her heart out. She wrote it on the day she would start her journey to meet him. 21 days at sea, sailing across the waters to meet the source of her anger.

Jasmine had never been as honest in her life as she were in the last letter. She clearly remembered all her accusations and all the cruelty she wrote, fully believing she was in her right to be as angry as she were and that Christopher was just yet another person who wanted to control her life.

Jasmine reached Christopher's kingdom before the letter did. In fact, it didn't reach his shore before more than a month had already passed. Jasmine couldn't have known how much things would change in just 30 days. How could she? Christopher was somehow both exactly like she had pictured and yet not at all.

Christopher was genuine. So unbelievably genuine. She fully believed he didn't have a malicious bone in his body. He wasn't sarcastic, snarky, or arrogant. His genuine interest in her practically spilled over once they met.

And he remembered her. He remembered every single thing she had told him. Whether he remembered just because his memory was good or because he read her letters over and over again didn't change that at the very core, he cared. He cared oh so much about her. His attentiveness and kindness was overwhelming to say the least.

But more than anything else what really shattered Jasmine's opinion of him was when he met Rajah. Rajah, her pet tiger, didn't like anyone but her. Not even her father, despite his best efforts, could get close to Rajah without at least a growl his way. Rajah kept people at leg's length and was fiercely protective of Jasmine.

Jasmine and Rajah had been in the courtyard, near a fountain just like they always did at her palace, when Christopher had joined them. Rajah growled almost immediately, stepping protectively in front of Jasmine without her even having to say a word. Christopher simply smiled at the tiger, greeted them both and sat down near a tree, pulled out a book and started to read.

Rajah was just as confused as Jasmine were. People always attempted to approach Rajah, thinking he was tame because he was so gentle with Jasmine. Or they would try to walk around Rajah, avoiding him to talk to Jasmine to no avail, as Rajah would just circle around Jasmine. And some people tried to scare Rajah away, which was always hilarious. You can't scare a tiger, not one like Rajah at least.

Christopher was the first to just... accept Rajah's presence. Rajah didn't want Christopher near him or Jasmine, so Christopher just... didn't approach. He was still within their presence, they could have a conversation if they wanted, but he had a very respectful distance.

Jasmine had her hand on Rajah's head and felt him walk towards Christopher. She didn't know what he was going to do, Rajah had never willingly approached anyone unless to strike. But his movement was calm, his tail hanging down rather than lashing like it would if he were stalking a pray.

Christopher ignored Rajah, his eyes dutifully focused on his book. The tiger approached him, sniffed his shoe then his pants and finally his book. Jasmine was close enough to see the sweat drops falling from Christopher's forehead. He was absolutely terrified, but kept his calm as the large animal had its mouth so close to him he could feel its breath.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Rajah laid down with his head on Christopher's lap.

Jasmine's jaw dropped. And Jasmine's jaw never dropped. It wasn't until then that Christopher reacted as well, lifting his arms away from the tiger and staring at it. He lifted his head to look at Jasmine, asking if he could pet Rajah. Jasmine didn't answer, she could barely hear him. The sight of Christopher actually petting Rajah was only the second most surprising thing she was seeing right then; Rajah enjoying it was the most surprising.

And then Jasmine cried. She didn't know why. A huge wave of emotion just washed over her, and when a loud sob hitched her throat, Rajah practically jumped off Christopher to go and comfort her. Jasmine sat down, hiding her face in Rajah's fur as Christopher approached her, asking her if he had upset her. Jasmine shook her head to which Christopher asked if she'd prefer for him to stay or leave. When Jasmine said leave, he didn't question it. He simply respected her decision, told her where to find him if she needed him and left her.

Jasmine, now reading her final letter to Christopher, felt that same wave of guilt she had that day at the fountain. All her anger had been targeted at a person so sweet and genuine that she couldn't help but think lowly of herself. She believed him when he said he was in love with her, how could she not? Christopher didn't have just one love language, he had them all. He treated her with respect and kindness, never lied or pressured her into spending time with him nor did he pressure her into this marriage as she had first thought.

And how had she treated him? Like vermin. Like some filthy creature whose only purpose was to fuel her hatred towards her title as a princess. She had used him as an outlet for everything in her life she found unfair. When he was in fact probably the only one who had ever respected her to this extend.

When one of the letters on the paper was hit with one of her tears, Jasmine heard someone behind her. She didn't have to look over her shoulder to know it was Christopher, she knew it was him because a gentle knock on the door was heard. Only Christopher would knock on the door to his own room after having caught someone sneaking into it and going through his private belongings. He was too kind for his own good.

Christopher sat next to Jasmine, at a respectful distance as usual, and just looked at her, waiting for her to speak. But Jasmine didn't know what to say. What could she say, knowing he had read this letter she had so conveniently forgotten? He must have had received it last night because he seemed a little off all day today. That's why she had gone to his room, to figure out why he was suddenly distancing himself from her when all he had been doing all month was trying to get closer to her. He used different strategies, but he had the same intent all the same.

So when Christopher suddenly seemed cold, it threw Jasmine off. Well, as cold as Christopher could be... which wasn't a lot, but just enough for her to notice. His smile never fully reached his ears, his voice was just a tad rougher and his eyes... had a red tint to them. She couldn't bare the thought of having made him cry.

What could she say or do to show him that the girl sitting next to him was ashamed of the girl who sent him that letter? Words were failing her and she didn't know how to convey was she felt...

Until something obvious crossed her mind.

Jasmine wiped her face as clean as she could with her hand, almost furiously rubbing away her tears, when she felt a hand gently touching her cheek. She looked at Christopher, who was now using his thumb to help her remove the smudged mascara and eyeliner, looking completely composed and focused while doing so. Despite it all, he still looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world to her. That made her next action all the more easier to do.

Putting a hand on the floor to support herself, she leaned forward and let her lips touch Christopher's. His fingers were still on her cheek, frozen in place for a few seconds before he let the palm of his hand hold her jaw softly. It was a feather light touch, almost like he was afraid of scaring her off.

Jasmine's heart couldn't take not looking him in his eyes anymore and so, she leaned back and looked at him, silently begging for him to understand what she was trying to say. Christopher slowly opened his eyes, a tint of red on his cheeks and a goofy smile on his face. Jasmine smiled, just a little bit. She opened her mouth, hoping to say something, but nothing came out. She wanted to make sure Christopher understood her, but he didn't seem to be thinking about the letter anymore.

Perhaps she didn't really need to put it into words. After all, actions spoke louder than words... and all those words shared between them over the years could never speak louder than that first, sweet, gentle kiss they shared, both with tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces.

#charmine #jasmine #prince charming #christopher #fanfic #fanfiction #otp #ship #prompt #writing prompt #imagine your otp #the last letter #letters

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