#young me had superb taste in men

[fluffypotatey]

Yeah, the Knights of the Round Table are cool, but what about the Squires of the Round Table? I want to know about the pack of hapless adolescents that are supposed to be learning the finer points of knighthood from THEE most chaotic bastards to ever share a braincell.

(Merlin unknowingly becomes, like, the patron saint of squires bc if he can handle Arthur, they can handle their respective masters as well)

no ok i'm in love with this. the squires of the round table is the spin off i didn't know we needed, but by GOD am i glad you told me, anon.

(you are a GEM, anon, i'm in love with you)

the squires for knights are the round table's adopted children. oh, sorry, was that kid the son of such and such??? he's leon's boy now. they all have youngest sibling syndrome so sorry i don't make the rules and yes they do treat merlin like he's a mob wife.

anyway,

these squires would get up to so much shit omfg. if you're the squire to gwaine, have fun upsetting your noble father (because most squires come from the nobility and since arthur took down that rule when he became, then there became this influx of squires who were from the common people) and learning that doing illegal shit is the best thing and you've only tasted a sliver of what gwaine has been doing since he was 13 but you LOVE IT---

squires of sir leon are trained into how to become the mom friend. it's not much, but it's hard work. sometimes the little squires pity their knight because he is not paid enough for for the antics his other knights and king get into ("poetry??? seriously, is that what they told him???" "idk that's roland said" "maybe we should gift him some more moisturizer?"). yes they do treat sir leon with the respect they would give an older cousin.

sir elyan is very new to all this...squire business but he's not one to let his little men (little brothers tbh) be caught slacking. he has them run drills everyday and they complain about it all the time ,but then you'll find them in an empty room perfecting their forms, and making sure it's perfect because sir elyan deserves the best. and he called nathan's form "superb" but nathan's a bitch and you just think that if you get this form right---

elyan teaches his squires moves that were taught to him by tristan and isolde because they totally worked together while elyan was away and he respects them so much and misses them and wonders if they ever got the chance to settle down and breath like they had dreamed

sir percival is second on the list of knights who teaches his squires the more traditional way (first is leon obvi) but that does not mean he let's them fall behind with dirty tricks. listen, this man was friends with lancelot (honorable, noble, dreamed of being a knight since he was prob 15) so he knows the intricacies of knighthood; however, he is also besties with gwaine and elyan both of whom are a chaotic combination if put in the same room. the squires are granted the perfect balance of swishy swordplay and body slamming a bitch. sleeves??? don't know her. the squires beg percival for them to cover their arms and he is offended.

sir lancelot, the epitome of honor and loyalty, is a force to work with. the squires think that he'll be the one whose teaching will lead them far off adventures and gain cool ass scares. lancelot is actually the old coot who grants wisdom like an old man who's lived two lifetimes. his training is unusual but somehow it works. the chores he assigns aren't demeaning, nor are they used as punishment. you are lancelot's squire for a week and you immediately understand that this man is a man who has his heart on his sleeve and you watch as he gazes at the king, the queen, and the manservant. his eyes always fond and full of...something. you are too young to pick up on a deep and unconditional emotion like that. not yet.

#WHOMST DO I HAVE TO PROPOSE TO???? #like the ring is right here i am on my knees please will you give me the great honor of taking my hand?💍🥺 #all the squires have a designated night where they go to the tavern and just talk about their knights #some nights it's a competition to see who's knight is the best or who's knight is the most difficult #'oh you scrubbed the floors for hours :)))) how about shoveling horseshit out of stables until and i am quoting sir gwaine on this: #'the smell resembles more of hay than that pigstye' #'oh gwaine gave you tips on how to pick locks??? well sir elyan taught us how to shoot arrows while riding' #just the most petty and heated competitions ever #if you insult their knights??? you dare insinuate that one was being treasonous or unworthy of their knighthood because of status???? #prepare to face the wrath of of about two dozen adolescents who's mentor figures are the most feral bunch of men to ever walk the earth #please this is beautiful #anon thank you so much imma give you a kiss *mwah!* #Anonymous #bbc merlin #camelot knights my beloved #knights of the round table #sir elyan #oh yeah sir elyan also converts his squires to the hoodie agenda #sir leon #sir percival #sir gwaine #sir lancelot #headcanon #long post #i could add more about arthur and his squire pre/post merlin but i think that's already discussed so yeah #ask #squires of the round table

[viatagrinner]

Gilbert von Obsidian. First love.

Chapter 2.

Part 2/1

(Lo...ver)

The response was delayed for a few seconds as the words were uttered in a voice that no one could hear.

MC:... Didn't you say you don't like lying?

Gilbert: I'm not lying. If I say I'm your "lover," it's the truth.

Gilbert: At least on this occasion.

(On second thought, it probably made sense for Master Gilbert to bring me to this party.)

Since Master Gilbert declared that he was a "lover," it might be a soire that requires a "lover.

MC: What kind of party is this?

Gilbert: Seeing is believing, right?

Master Gilbert holds my hand and deliberately looks around the hall.

(There seems to be nothing unusual in the venue. ...There may be more women than men in the audience, however.)

The reason I find it more glamorous than a goodwill meeting is that many women are dressed in colorful dresses.

Nobleman: Prince Gilbert. Thank you for accepting my invitation.

In the strange atmosphere, it was a mature man, who seemed to be the organizer, who was the first to speak.

Gilbert: If you invited me, you must be preparing a very interesting spectacle for me, right?

Nobleman: Of course, Your Highness. It's been a long time since I've interacted with Obsidian.

Nobleman: Everyone here is interested in your country. We are here to get to know each other and to...

Gilbert: Yeah, I don't like that roundabout wording...

Part 2/2

Gilbert: You need to be more clear. I have a woman I want to marry.

Nobleman:....Eh .

(I see. .... I see what you mean.)

It's not my imagination that there are a lot of young ladies there, but this party seems to be a place for women to "greet" Master Gilbert.

Gilbert: The throne of Obsidian must taste superb to your country.

Gilbert: Do you know why, Miss Bunny?

MC:..... Because it builds diplomatic bridges, right?

Gilbert: Too bad, we all want what's beyond bridges.

(What lies ahead...?)

Master Gilbert spins his words cheerfully, as if singing.

Gilbert: If Obsidian compromises with a Rhodolite woman, doesn't that mean he gets a bridge to a superpower?

Gilbert: Not only from Rhodolite, but from neighboring countries as well, who will be eager to build bridges with us.

Gilbert: Giving up your own daughter for richness and accolades is not a bad option.

Gilbert: It's a double-edged sword, but it also makes you a hero if you've played a role in bringing peace, right?

(I wonder if it's such a simple story...)

Gilbert: It's not easy.

As if seeing through my heart, Master Gilbert laughs.

Gilbert: But the noble will use any means to gain power. It doesn't matter if they are rubbing elbows with the enemy.

Gilbert: But noble people will use any means to gain power. It doesn't matter if they have to hug the enemy/shake hands with the enemy.

Gilbert: That's why I prefer you.

(..."That's why"?...)

Before I had time to think deeply about the catch, Master Gilbert brought my finger close to his lips and took one.

Part 2/3.

Instead of being kissed like the prince in the story, I was mocked with all my might.

MC: Ow..Ouch...

When I pulled my hand back and looked down, I saw a faint mocking mark on my index finger.

(How dare you mock me!?)

Gilbert: I like you because you don't seem too interested in power, you know?

Gilbert: I'm the type of guy who likes to leave a mark on a girl he likes

(Alt. Translation: Gilbert: I want to leave a mark on my favorite child, right?)

Master Gilbert does not seem to be afraid and shakes his shoulder.

I felt the air around me freeze even more.

Gilbert: I'm sorry too. It hurt, didn't it?

Prince Gilbert lifts up my hand again, his cold fingers gently caressing the bruise.

(Maybe, but ... I've threatened all the daughters in the room.)

No woman likes a man who "hurts her if she likes him".

(...Originally, Master Gilbert knew exactly what this party was about.)

(But it's a threat, so his goal is not to interact with the noble daughter.)

(I thought Master Gilbert wanted to bring me in as an excuse to refuse to marry...)

Gilbert: What, do you like me that much? Thank you.

I seemed to be staring at him unconsciously, and when I came to myself, he was holding my around the waist.

Gilbert: That's why the Lover's slot at Rhodolite is already filled.

Gilbert: As long as she's around, you guys are out of my sight.

Gilbert: Hmmm, what is the true identity of the young lady who makes me crazy?

Part 2/4

A single word, casually uttered, made my blood run cold.

(... No way!)

All eyes were on me. There was doubt in many eyes.

Gilbert: At this rate, her House will win.

Gilbert: Hey, by the way, which house is Miss Bunny from?

(...I screwed up!)

Of course, Mr. Sariel prepared my identity in advance of the visit of the princes of the three countries.

My current status is that I am the adopted daughter of a certain viscount, and although it is not impossible for me to call myself that, it would definitely cause trouble for the viscount's family, who are cooperating with me.

If I mention my family name here and now, not only princes from other countries but also domestic nobles will turn on me.

(Break from the back and expose my true identity...)

(...If you think of it that way, the purpose of the party becomes clear.)

Master Gilbert is convinced that I am "Belle. All that remains is for the proof to be irrefutable.

Gilbert: Is there something you can't tell me?

(If I speak my name proudly in such a public place, I will die.)

(... If that happens...)

I shake Master Gilbert's hand back and look into his red eyes.

MC: Oh... I'm keeping us a secret from my father.

MC: So I'm incognito here.

MC: Please don't be mean.

Gilbert: ...Hmm?

Part 2/5

Master Gilbert, who says he hates lies, looks down at me. I was horrified to see that his mouth was smirking, but his eyes didn't seem to be smiling.

Gilbert: Well, that's okay. The only reason I attended the party today was to brag about you.

Gilbert: I don't care if you identify yourself or not.

(You gave up more easily than I expected...)

(No, no. Now that's not really what I'm after either.)

(... I feel like I need to escape.)

Above all, my tension had reached its limit.

(I want to calm down and sort out the situation once and for all.)

MC: I'm sorry, Master Gilbert. I'm a little stuffy...

MC: Can I go get some air?

Gilbert: Yes, that's fine.

It seems that even the word "bragging" is not a "lie" for Master Gilbert, but it is not his real intention.

(I may have never been in a situation in my life where I could not trust anything like this.)

Gilbert: See you. Be careful, okay?

I left the hall as if running away from Master Gilbert and followed the back of the servant who was guiding me.

The organizer told me to go to the break room.

Servant: Lady MC, this way!

MC: Thank you very much.

The servant bows and walks away.

(... What is Master Gilbert's true purpose? I have to think about it.)

As I reached for the doorknob, I saw a shadow of someone other than myself on the door--

(...Huh?)

Geez, he such smooth talker. 😁

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen ouji #ikepri translation #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #ikemen prince gilbert #gilbert von obsidian

[stuftpineapples]

"I'll pick up your pieces"

I knew Shikaku was the one bc he never shied away from being a great role model to Shikamaru. Mans was open about his feelings and he let his son know that having feelings does not make one weak. He has been such a strong and consistent pillar through out the Naruto series (and mans was hella fine for free 🥵😭)

I'm a little salty that Shikaku was literally the blueprint and they didn't make adult Shikamaru look like his fine ass daddy 😭🤧. I'm getting off topic 😂 but all this is to say that I believe in Nara clan supremacy. The mens of the Nara clan do not disappoint 🤧🤧🤧

Aside from being really hot, I just really appreciate the way Shikaku raised Shikamaru. These two are leaders through and through. Shikamaru has been through so much main character trauma that it's crazy. Konoha couldn't have made it this far without the brains and the dedication of these two. From the sasuke rescue mission to Asuma's death, Shikaku always knew what to say to get through to Shikamaru. He was such a great father figure and I just 🥺

Also, no matter how many times I see this scene I'll still tear up 😭🤧

#I am attracted to great fathers #shikaku nara #shikamaru nara #naruto shippuden #young me had superb taste in men #NARA CLAN SUPREMACY #we love to see it

[nakababakla]

going thru the canon stories in order of publication and if i continue, i might report incidents where watson memorizes intricate or unnecessary details, which prove his superior intellect and memory.

SCAN

A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across the upper part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy.

Why does Watson know all those details with intense accuracy? I can't possibly believe that he jotted down the King's appearance while he was talking with Holmes, because then he'd have to transcribe their conversation too. So how?

Watson describing men: omg his cheekbones his lip his chin his clothes, girl omg *one long paragraph of description*

Watson describing Irene Adler: "her superb figure" "beautiful creature"

At three o’clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortly after eight o’clock in the morning.

Why are you jotting down times, dude.

[Holmes said,] "I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the top of the coach-house."

Dude are you transcribing everything Holmes says? Holmes talks fast, so how fast are you writing djdjjdjddj. Most of all, why are you so studious to record everything? This part isn't even necessary.

There was a group of shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with cigars in their mouths.

This was evening. It was dark. So Watson wasn't writing. Which means he memorized these details.

#squawking #acd canon #acd holmes #acd watson #meta #ok im not actually sure whether i will continue this IM SORRY i am busy and i dont continue projects. #this is ofc a watsonian perspective. from a doylist perspective all these things dont count #butttttt as fans that hold a queer reading of SH we almost always use watsonian perspective

[stageyrebecca]

Review: The Drifters Girl ★★★★★

Earlier this month, I got to see a show I've been excited for since its announcement: The Drifters Girl.

As an avid supporter of jukebox musicals, and fan of 50s doo-wop group The Drifters, I knew I had to see this show. It follows the life of Faye Treadwell (Beverley Knight) as The Drifters' manager, whose husband managed the group until his untimely death. The Drifters Girl explores the prejudices Treadwell faced as one of the first African-American female managers in music history, and what she fought to gain the respect of the male-dominated industry. It ultimately leads to a court case surrounding the brand name of The Drifters with one of its founding members.

Beverley Knight is, unsurprisingly so, a superstar lead in this show. Her natural take to Faye Treadwell feels like the role is made for her, and the perfect balance of comic timing and heartbreak is found in her delivery.

I have to say: The Drifters Girl is the reason why jukebox musicals have earnt their place in the West End. This small cast manages to exude a sensational load of energy.

It opens with a medley of some of the band's most famous hits, featuring iconic Drifters choreography, with a young girl dancing among them. She is revealed as Faye Treadwell's daughter, who between them narrates the story of her life with The Drifters. I had the joy of seeing Savanna Musoni in the role.

For those familiar with The Drifters, you may wonder how a 6-person show might cover the extensive back catalogue of past performers. Impressively so, the four men who play The Drifters seamlessly swap roles through slick changes of costume and characterisation.

Treadwell's husband, George, is denoted simply by a trilby hat and is played by Adam J. Bernard. Bernard was the only cast member I hadn't seen before, and what a joy he is to see on stage. Bernard delivers a hauntingly beautiful rendition of There Goes My Baby.

Other defining parts of The Drifters Girl for me are Tosh Wanogho-Maud winning the hearts of everyone as Ben E. King during Stand By Me, and Matt Henry's superb delivery of the over-confident and sleazy founding member Clyde McPhatter.

The most memorable moment in the show for me is when Treadwell takes the group to the UK, ironically scored by Come On Over To My Place. The number is effortlessly led by Tarinn Callender and takes us through the cities where Faye Treadwell is met with prejudice from racist innkeepers. It was so interesting to see my favourite Drifters song switch its meaning. The scene is met with light-hearted comic relief from all cast members putting on their best regional accents.

I was lucky enough to bag day seats in the front row, which are fantastic for feeling part of it, but not so great if you want to see what's happening upstage - so I can't comment on set design. When (not if!) I return, I'll definitely sit further back to soak in the full picture.

My only call for change in the show would be to have a longer encore with a medley of songs from the show. I was so ready to be up on my feet for much longer! The Drifters Girl is the definition of a joyful musical.

If I'm honest, I haven't stopped thinking about this show since I left the theatre. Every performance on stage has stayed with me. In the current absence of a cast recording, I've been rinsing The Drifters hits which I loved before going in (as a 24 year old with an eclectic music taste). But similar to Jersey Boys, once you know the story behind the music, every beat means a little more.

Plus, a brand new British-born musical in the West End is hard to come by these days, and has gems of moments perfect for a UK audience who either love or are unfamiliar with The Drifters' music.

I cannot recommend this musical enough. I sincerely hope it sweeps up at the Oliviers, and gets the recognition it deserves. And I hope younger audiences put aside their reservations about not knowing the music, because if you don't know it going in, you'll certainly be singing it on the way out.

The Drifters Girl is playing at the Garrick Theatre, London.

#The Drifters Girl #musical theatre #review

[hjbender]

Do you have any favorite crossover ships? For me it's Thranduil/Loki 😳

“I’m not big into crossovers—” I begin to say, then I read the second part of this ask and

Holy ship yes, anon. You have fantastic (and very handsome) taste in pairings. I came very close to touching this ship once, but I missed it by mere inches. At least this gives me a reason to reuse this image:

Thranduil/Loki. Thrandroki? Thranki? Elvenfrost? I don’t know what this ship is named. But I do know that it absolutely slays.

It’s not even that far-fetched when you think about it. Like Middle Earth is just one of the outer realms in the MCU, not very advanced, home to men and elves and wizards and dragons, with their own pantheon and everything. Maybe Asgardians consider it a backwater realm or just pay it no mind.

Maybe Loki, Tesseract in hand, arrives on Middle Earth right before the War of the Ring and hears the biblically-long story of Eru and the Ainur and Morgoth and Sauron and the Silmarils, all the way down to the One Ring, and is just like

Another universe in peril because of madmen wielding glowing magic stones and forging lethal jewelry FML the Norns must hate me

Sidenote: This crossover is very flexible with/in the MCU. You could either follow canon and have Loki landing in Middle Earth when a) he originally fell into the wormhole in Thor, b) he escaped death at the end of Thor: The Dark World, c) he got knocked out of the Bifrost by Hela in Thor: Ragnarok and never landed on Sakaar, or d) he used the Tesseract to escape in Avengers: Endgame. Or anywhere in between these possibilities, really. Loki continually disappears and reappears in the MCU with little mention of what he’s been doing in the meantime, so this could simply be One Of Those Adventures he’s had.

Following Scenario A, maybe he crash-landed right in the middle of Mirkwood and was found by Legolas and Tauriel, who brought him all scratched and bleeding and traumatized (because you can never have too much hurt/comfort) to the caves of the Woodland King, who was instantly intrigued by this handsome young sorcerer from another world. Loki is invited to stay and heal, and he gratefully accepts. He’s bathed, his wounds are dressed (and so is he, in regal robes befitting a prince of the Woodland Realm), and he and Thranduil spend many hours in quiet counsel with one another, strolling the vast halls of the king’s domain, getting to know one another.

Loki is undoubtedly bewildered by the attention but pleased by Thranduil’s company. Perhaps he finds it easy to fall into the elven king’s bed. (Lonely Widower Thranduil romancing the vulnerable Asgardian sorcerer is a lovely image indeed.)

There’s so much room for serious Loki Feels, too.

Maybe (Scenario D) this is the Loki who escaped with the Tesseract in Endgame (or a slightly later version who just escaped from the brutal imprisonment of the Time Variance Authority) and he has no reason to want to return to his own realm/universe. Perhaps he looks at the elven king sleeping beside him, his long silver hair draped across his naked skin, and considers staying on Middle Earth for the rest of his life. Here no one knows him. Here he doesn’t have to face the consequences for his actions, even though he was under Thanos’s influence. Here he isn’t a villain, a jealous brother, a failure, or a runt. Here he is simply a mysterious sorcerer prince, beloved (and loved, very passionately so) by a regal Elf king. Perhaps he could even help the people of this world win their war, be the hero for a change, be admired and respected by all. Middle Earth is well-hidden from the other realms; even Heimdall had difficulty seeing what happened here. It’s possible Thanos and the Avengers will never find him. Loki has changed much in the year(s) since he arrived on Middle Earth, but he is not so reformed that he wouldn’t mind letting the rest of the universe burn to the ground while he finally achieves true happiness. He deserves it after all he’s been through, doesn’t he?

It’s too much to think about right now. Loki doesn’t want to spoil the lovely evening with his own unpleasant thoughts. He lays back down beside Thranduil, who sleepily reaches out his long, elegant arm and wraps it around Loki, pulling him gently to his chest. He presses a kiss to Loki’s forehead and strokes his dark hair, which has now grown out quite long, in typical Elf fashion.

“Meleth-nin,” the king murmurs against Loki’s skin. “My love. I am so grateful you fell into my life.”

And Loki just shuts his eyes, tucks his head beneath Thranduil’s chin, and pretends that this is the only life he’s ever known.

🥺💖😢💔😭

There are so many superb things that could be done with this crossover. Maybe Loki is dual-sexed in this AU and, at the end of the war and the razing of Dol Guldur, he weds Thranduil and becomes the Queen of the Woodland Realm and bears a child or children, adorable, beautiful little babies who are half Elf and half Jötunn, and Thranduil’s heart, which had been broken into pieces ever since he lost his beloved wife, finally begins to mend. (See how both Loki and Thranduil heal through their relationship with each other, it’s copacetic and perfect and wonderful and ;aslkdjfaslkdjf I swear I am going to write this fic one day if it kills me, anon. Thank you for opening my eyes to this awesome ship!)

#ask bender #thranduil/loki #crossover #elvenfrost #crossover ships #tolkien #lotr #mcu #marvel #the hobbit #thranduil #loki #fic ideas #tolkien x mcu #what if #mpreg #lokiedit #thranduiledit #hobbitedit #hjbedit #marveledit #hjbendergifs #lee pace #tom hiddleston #thiddlestonedit #meta

[serifsans]

As of late, I have been enamored with shopping malls.

No, no, I really must correct that. I detest shopping malls, which obviously explains why I keep finding myself inside of them. I love to see and be seen but I just can't stand crowds. I dread passing kiosks. They accost you. If I had wanted to buy whatever sugar scrub you're selling, I already would have. Everything smells like pretzels. There is a place selling cheesecake. I love cheesecake. The cheesecake itself isn't the issue. The menu is simply too long and you really can't expect me to read all of that when I just want cheesecake that I don't even need.

I don't need a lot of things. However, I want them.

I digress. Malls are wretched -utterly wretched- and it's no wonder they're dying out. I've become fascinated because they're dying out, even if certain ones don't realize that yet. It's best exemplified by department stores, the big ones, of which I used to be an enormous fan and which I still am but only the very nice ones where I can spend my paycheck in one go. It's much nicer to spend someone else's paycheck in one go, of course, but I'm an angel and would never, ever do such a thing, not even if a kindly benefactor took pity on me and decided to gift me an entirely runway-ready wardrobe and a new bedroom set with a fresh set of silk sheets to go with it.

Visiting a department store used to be quite the glamorous affair, you know. They had a sense of style, of drama. It seemed like they were much bigger then, much grander, and the escalators. For some time, I worked briefly in a store -I dare not name it because it'll date me and apparently age is considered quite embarrassing here for reasons unknown to me- selling perfume, mainly to very well dressed ladies and significantly less well dressed gentleman wanting last minute gifts for said ladies, and I had to take three flights of escalators to reach my area. It was fantastic. I was sheltered -very, very sheltered, not sophisticated at all, easily impressed- and I'd never seen anything like it before. I'm still very fond of escalators, even if I'm afraid I'll catch the hems of my pants in them.

And the lights! The lights! They had a lovely jewelry section, really superb, and they had all these pretty lights reflecting off of everything and the loveliest marble floor and a very nice skylight and when you passed through it at the right time of day, all the displays gleamed so nicely. The jewelry was nice too, of course, because I wouldn't want to work any place that had ugly jewelry, but those cases were so nice. They had a darling little café too -completely unaffordable, I've never seen such an expensive salad in my life- and I liked to spend a lot of time in there ordering cookies and tea and observing the latest trends in hats. Hats really ought to come back into vogue because they add such an air of drama and mystery. People nowadays think they're so daring in fashion but where are the hats, hm? Where are they? If you add any sense of fashion, you'd be wearing a hat and it'd be completely over the top. If you can't be outrageous, then what's the point?

It's all so boring now. You go into a department store and it's half-abandoned at best and you can't find anyone to ring you up at all because only three people are working the entire floor. There is always a waffle maker on sale and no one will ever buy it. The fashion hasn't adapted in twenty or thirty years unless you're at one of the very upscale department stores certain people in my life don't like me visiting because they think I'll make bad financial decisions and even then, the menswear is always so, so boring. It makes me weep. Where are all the colors, hm? There's still some fun to be had in the sort of clothes marketed towards young men but after a certain point, it's all drab button downs and maybe bowling shirts if you're feeling edgy. Disgusting. After a certain point, you have to choose between no pockets and no color (gender is fun but gendering is so horrid) unless you pay a tremendous amount of money or make your own clothing, which, of course, costs a tremendous amount of money itself because the price of cloth is outrageous. Trust me, I know.

Anyway, they're all half-dead and completely unglamorous now. Maybe they never really were that stylish to begin with and maybe I was simply easily impressed, but no, no, I believe that they really were better. You have to adapt to survive, you know. It turns out you can't stay the same way forever. The department store model isn't sustainable in this day and age, especially if you never update the stores to match modern tastes. At very least, update the merchandise, please. I feel as if I've seen the same paisley pink pant suit on clearance in at least three separate decades.

They're awful. Horrid. I still find myself walking through dying department stores quite often, especially ones that haven't realized they're dying yet. I do generally avoid purchasing any clothing there as a proprietor of my own boutique (if you need a last minute card for your mother, please visit; I'll save you) and as someone who can generally make something better anyway, but my accomplishments don't extend to materializing my favorite colognes out of nowhere. If I don't smell like vanilla musk at all times, I will dissipate into the aether.

My latest haul because apparently people share this online:

A rollerball of my favorite scent

One candle, rose petal ice cream

Five containers of bobby pins

An eye mask, unicorn design

An anti-aging serum. The sales person was very persuasive. I don't know what I'm going to do with this. I look like this on purpose.

A Bluetooth speaker. I already hate it.

Several boxes of assorted candy

Hair ties, velvet

A tote bag for carrying flowers in

Several interesting rocks from a store that smells like the 1960s

Scented water that you spray on your face when you'd like water on your face. My god, why haven't I been in the face water business?

Love and kisses,

Me

#my online diary #I have been forced to start an online diary because CERTAIN PEOPLE in my life who will remain nameless #believe that I spend too much money on notebooks. #I spend the appropriate amount of money on notebooks.

[haniawritesfiction]

Recent Reads-July/August 2021

The Psychology of Time Travel By Kate Mascarenhas

In a world where time travel was invented in the 1960s, two women become caught up in a murder that hasn't yet happened. For a book about time travel, The Psychology of Time Travel feels closer to realistic fiction than a sci-fi novel, honestly, if we ever invent time travel I could see this easily happening. For all that it technically a mystery, this book is more interested in the relationships, dysfunctions, and institutions that create these circumstances than the actual mystery. Don't go into this book expecting a murder mystery and you won't be disappointed. Mascarenhas masterfully uses pov's of minor characters to make this world feel truly immersive while never losing sight of her main characters, both of whom are flawed, fascinating, and very human. A great take on the time travel genre. -9/10

Devil's Ballast By Meg Caddy

A swashbuckling adventure focusing on the famed female pirate Anne Bonny. Devil's Ballast was.... a weird one. For a book that's meant to be a pirate adventure the pace is way too slow at times and then when it finally reaches the action, it rushes through it. The book also had a completely unnecessary pov of a pirate hunter that added absolutely nothing to the plot. I feel like I would've enjoyed the whole book way more if Anne herself had been more memorable, I'd just finished watching Black Sails, so Devil's Ballast's Anne Bonny and Jack Rackham are pretty boring in comparison to their Black Sails counterparts. But the part of the book that irked me the most was the romance. Anne spends the whole book seeming not that interested in Jack until the last second when he's her great love again. The strongest relationship in this book is the friendship between her and Mark Read, which was pretty cute and my favorite part of the whole book. -4/10

The Strangers Child By Alan Hollinghurst

In Edwardian England, while staying at a friend's house, a man writes a love poem that becomes famous. In the decades following, his family and friends are forced to live with his, and the poem's legacy. The Stranger's Child is an incredibly atmospheric book, with beautiful prose, but it felt like a bit of a letdown. Instead of an exploration of what if a famous love poem is actually gay, it's more of a meandering look at various moments in English history and the people living through it. There were chapters that just felt entirely pointless and there were only three sections that actually felt thematically linked. This book had so much potential, but it felt like the author's vision and the supposed premise were constantly at odds.-6/10

Crooked Kingdom By Leigh Bardugo

The sequel to Six Of Crows; political intrigue, gang wars, and magic all meet in the seedy underworld of Ketterdam. I read Six Of Crows about four months ago and mostly enjoyed it, though to be honest, I didn't quite get the hype. With this book, I get it. Crooked Kingdom weaves a complex and engaging plot to match it's superb worldbuilding and characters and I read it in one sitting. The fantasy elements were never too overwhelming nor predictable and the ending was the perfect amount of bittersweet. If you struggled through Six Of Crows, give this one a try, you'll find it hard to put down.-8/10

Circe By Madeline Miller

A re-imagining of an often maligned figure in ancient Greek mythology: the sorceress Circe. I had a massive greek mythology phase as a kid and so reading this was a blast. Miller's writing has an appropriately mythical feel, weaving multiple myths together to explore Circe's psyche. Circe herself manages to be incredibly likable despite her flaws and Miller expands her beyond her common depiction as a vindictive, promiscuous woman. Because of the nature of the plot, I feel like having basic knowledge of greek mythology enhances the reading experience, especially knowledge of the odyssey. To understand this Circe, it's important to understand the Circe of the odyssey and the way the common tropes of greek mythology are being deconstructed.-10/10

Honey Girl By Morgan Rogers

A young woman feels lost after getting her doctorate and runs off to spend the summer with a woman she got married to while drunk in Vegas. Honey Girl is not a romance novel or really your traditional romcom, instead, it is an exploration of family and coming of age in your twenties with a well-written love story at its center. From the prose and general atmosphere, this book has an almost magical feel, yet manages to feel incredibly raw and real. If you're burnt out on romcoms and want something that isn't too saccharine yet leaves you with that warm fuzzy feeling, this book is for you.-10/10

Bolla By Pajtim Statovci

In 1990s Kosovo, two men, a Serbian and an Albanian fall in love. Years later, the two men both struggle with the after-effects of the war and their circumstances. Bolla is not the sort of book that you can say you like, though I certainly didn't dislike it. The writing is fantastic and has a very unique quality (possibly due to the novel having been translated from Finish) yet Bolla is incredibly bleak. The romance presumably at the center of the novel is less of the focus and instead what anchors the two men's stories. Their relationship is over by chapter three and at first, I was honestly a little peeved that it got that little attention or description, however by the end of the book I honestly felt it worked. A haunting story of war and the human condition.-7/10

The Kingdoms By Natasha Pulley

When a man gets off a train in London, he can remember barely anything about himself or his life, except the sense that the reality he is faced with is wrong; Britain has been under occupation by the French since they won the Napoleonic wars 85 years ago. Determined to find out who he really is, he follows a century-old letter to an abandoned Scottish lighthouse and finds himself the key to winning a war that could change everything. The Kingdoms is a book that keeps on giving, just the premise of a Britain occupied by France is fascinating, but Pulley goes a step further weaving a complex plot that kept me on the edge of my seat. Her writing is fantastic and like the premise, it felt like entire books could be written about every single setting. The characters are also engaging, from Joe, our main character, who is just so immediately likeable, to Kit, a character who is the definition of morally grey. My only quibble is the female characters, who feel fairly underdeveloped and only really there to flesh out the male ones. -9/10

Cinderella is Dead By Kalynn Bayron

300 years after Cinderella found her happy ending her legacy has been twisted to create a dystopian life for the girls living in her kingdom. Four to five years ago, I think I would've really liked Cinderella is Dead; I mean it's a sapphic fairytale retelling! But my taste in books has changed a lot and this book just felt far too YA for me. The writing felt young, the characters underdeveloped and the plot cliched.-2/10

#recent reads #haniawrites #recent reads july/august

[shypotato-translations]

QTVW Chapter 23

Showbiz* Sexy Queen (X)

----

In the end, it was Ling Tianye who came to the rescue and opened a celebrity cocktail party on the top floor of the hotel, so the director happily took the crew to the cocktail party for a meal.

The crowd: "......" really shouldn't have any hope for the world's most stingy director.

The crowd moved on to the location and once they had taken the lift to the top floor, they were greeted with a wide selection of fine food on one side;

On the other side, an elegant international art orchestra plays music that is bright and pleasing to the ears.

The guests at the reception, who were all dressed in evening gowns, were a little uncomfortable with the casual clothes they were wearing, but when they looked at the calmness of the director's face, they immediately discarded the image and went on to do other things.

Mei Mu Lan walked to the food area, picked up a plate, forked a piece of cake and ate it slowly. She was acting like she was taking advantage of the situation, but she just wanted to be angry with the director. After she crossed over to this world, she ate almost every meal with good taste and high prices.

She was wearing a close-fitting knee-length dress at the moment, her face unpowdered, eating cake slowly and gracefully, only so lightly, but attracting the attention of many, many people at the reception.

Unconcerned by the looks of these people, she turned to lean against the wall and watched Bai Jieying, led by Ling Tianye, meet many flamboyant people, who she had been paying divided attention to for the past six months, finding a few usable points of information between the signs and traces.

For one thing, this traveler is such a superb actress that it is obvious that she is either an actress or in a special profession;

Secondly, the traveler has a strong taste for the world and is able to play with all kinds of men; her background should not be pure;

Thirdly, the traveler has refined tastes and can be seen to have been educated in relevant areas;

Fourthly, the traveler is well-handled and is able to do it all on her own when she is in the cast and acting in martial arts scenes.

In summary, Mei Mu Lan has a few guesses as to the identity of this traveler, but as to her exact identity, she will have to wait to continue to observe for some time before she can come to a conclusion.

As for the "hidden task - solving the travelers" in the system, Mei Mu Lan thought of murdering her.

But if it were really that simple, the Virtual Time Master System would not need, at all, to set up administrators like her to enter the virtual world and perform tasks.

The hidden mission, solving the travelers, should have a deeper meaning. She just didn't understand it yet, so she couldn't do anything rash at the moment, she had to wait until she, herself, understood the true meaning of the mission before she could do anything to solve it.

As Mei Mu Lan thought of this, her thoughts once again came to a standstill and she shook her head off, her gaze falling on Ling Yi Yao.

The film 《The Burial Man》was finished, and according to her plan, it was time to move next, Mei Mu Lan thought to herself: The first thing I need to do is pack my bags tonight and move there early tomorrow morning. According to the plot, Ling Yi Yao has already moved into this villa, so she must make some big noise to get Ling Yi Yao's attention for this move.

So thinking, she suddenly remembered Father Mei. That said, during the time she stayed at home, the original owner's father had been away.

The butler once overheard that Father Mei was going to participate in a large auction in Europe for six months, so she guess he would be going home in the next two days.

In fact, Mei Mu Lan does not hate this man, Father Mei is still a wise and fair man in many ways, except that he insisted on marrying this childhood friend.

But he was a shrewd man with a sharp mind, and as mentioned in the novel, after the original owner's death, Father Mei aged by more than ten years in an instant, and he really had feelings for the original owner. And immediately after the original owner's funeral, he handed over all the big and small affairs of the Mei family to the Mei butler to handle, and on the same day, he announced the news that the Mei butler had become the new patriarch of the Mei family.

Even when her stepmother pleads, he does not change his mind, showing that he does not let his feelings sway his mind.

In that case, Father Mei was still worth getting close to, Mei Mulan thought, and perhaps she could talk to him when he returned.

The accidental death of the original owner's mother, the death of the original owner in an 'accidental' car accident, and the fact that Mei Mu Lan does not mention it does not mean that she has forgotten about it.

After observing her stepmother, she came to the conclusion that the original owner's mother's death, the original owner's death by poisoning, and her stepmother, should have nothing to do with each other. Because the stepmother was a rather idiotic person, with little intelligence or fighting ability, and only had a mouth that didn't allow people to get away with it, such a person was the easiest to deal with. Of course, we can't rule out that it was the stepmother who acted too well and fooled her.

So, assuming it wasn't the stepmother, why was the original owner poisoned at the college graduation party? And why was the car destroyed?

This poisoner must have known the original owner's temperament well enough to know that the original owner would drive onto the highway and look for Ling Yi Yao after she had lost her mind in a drunken stupor.

Mei Mu Lan searched around among the people the original owner knew, but in the end, she still couldn't get a clue.

Everything is hidden in the darkness, dimly lit.

Mei Mu Lan could only sip her wine helplessly and focus her attention on the reception.

Her eyes casually scanning the entire venue, then she felt a blazing sight and she frowned as she looked over to see a woman with semi-long hair and an elegant tight black dress, picking up a glass of wine and walking over.

This woman, with her pale skin against the black dress, is as fair as can be.

The eyes are dark, extremely dark, and give an eerie sense of dread when looking at people.

She looks like she is in her forties, but her wrinkle-free face makes her look as if she is in her twenties again.

A peculiar woman, Mei Mu Lan defined.

This woman walked over, strong emotions welling up in her deep dark eyes. She approached slowly, her posture elegant, and she spoke, her voice husky like a man's, as she said,

"Mu Lan, hello."

Mei Mu Lan showed a puzzled expression and asked,

"Who are you ......? I haven't seen you before."

The woman smiled lightly, a deep dimple at the corner of her mouth, looking playful and cute, making it even more impossible for Mei Mu Lan to tell the person's age.

She continued hoarsely,

"I'm a friend of your mother's, I've lived in America before and only returned a few days ago, you look a lot like your mother, is she okay now?"

It turned out to be a friend of the original owner's mother, and it dawned on her,

"Hello auntie, my mother, she, passed away four years ago."

The woman's face was stunned for a moment, then the smile on her face deepened as she let out a feigned sigh and suddenly asked an unrelated question as she said,

"Is Wen Xueluo okay now?"

Wen Xueluo is Aunt Wen, it seems they all know each other, Mei Mu Lan doesn't like this woman much, so she drops her eyebrows and says in a nonchalant tone,

"Aunt Wen is very nice and looks ...... very young."

The woman froze again, then she smiled even more and said,

"You're funny, you're much better than your mother, first time we've met, introductions, I'm Seven, you can call me Miss S."

This time it was Mei Mu Lan's turn to freeze, Miss S?!

Of course Mei Mu Lan knows Miss S. This lady, the writer and screenwriter of 《Love in a Fallen City》, a long-time overseas patriot, a well-known writer specializing in fringe literature, domestic and international, the most awarded female author of literary awards.

She smiled deeply and said,

"I have long admired Miss S' name, but I didn't expect you to be my mother's friend.”

Miss S hooked her lips into a smile, her originally ordinary and common appearance actually had a seductive charm after she smiled lightly and deeply like this.

She moved closer, leaning close to Mei Mu Lan, she exhaled softly, her nostrils blazing, hitting Mei Mu Lan's neck as she said,

"We will meet again, and when we do, I look forward to it, you will lie in my *** and be naked with me."

Mei Mu Lan had black lines, but on this occasion she couldn't push her away, she could only take a step back herself and lean against the wall, she teased,

"Auntie, being so old, this kind of thing is not for you anymore, be careful of twisting your old back."

Miss S laughed merrily, then took a step back and turned to walk away, and by the time she had taken five steps away, she turned back and said,

"Tsk, Mu Lan, take a word of advice from your aunt and watch out for Wen Xueluo! Haha, I''ll see you in a month."

Mei Mu Lan was stunned and turned to think: this mission world is really a universal yuri, did she have an accepting face? How come everyone likes to be imposing and talk in her ear.

By the way, why didn't Ling Yi Yao do that, she was looking forward to it, ah. She resentfully searched for Ling Yi Yao's back, but after searching for a long time, she couldn't find her, and she wondered, when did this woman leave? Strange.

Early the next morning, Mei Mu Lan left the Mei family's home with her luggage, rounded off with the keys to her new villa, and drove to the Jiangnan Town area.

She was halfway down the road when she started honking her car horn in defiance of her image, and it's a good thing the villas in the area hadn't been sold yet, or someone would have sued her for disturbing the public.

Two minutes after she pressed the button, a security guard appeared in front of her car as if he had fallen from the sky and raised his hand to stop her,

"Please keep quiet. Civilisation depends on you, on me, on everyone."

Mei Mu Lan: "......" This odd security guard, where did you find him.

Mei Mu Lan swept her eyes around and found that the villa just two metres behind her was Ling Yi Yao's residence, and two metres in front of her, was her residence.

So she blinked and discharged,

"Uncle Security, I can't find my villa, can you take me there?"

The guard grimaced and replied,

"I'm sorry, I'm only 19 years old and I can't be your uncle. Also, I'm only responsible for the safety of the residents, not the part of giving directions."

Mei Mu Lan: "......"

Mei Mu Lan blinked, took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, opened the car door, stepped out of the car and said,

“I know, I was blinded just now, so this house is my villa, well, I found it, now you are not needed here."

The security guard, with a paralyzed face, said,

"Excuse me, please park your car in a fixed position and do not obstruct the passage of others, thank you for your cooperation."

Mei Mu Lan: "......"

Ling Yi Yao, who was leaning against the window watching: "......" suddenly felt like the sun was shining and the birds were singing, and the mood was so relaxing.

As she faced Mei Mu Lan speechless and a thousand times over, the scene dropped off and actually looked so amusing. Maybe she could call the head of Jiangnan Town today and ask him to arrange for this little security guard to be promoted.

Mei Mu Lan drove into the garage with a wooden face, and it was only when she stepped out of the garage and into the courtyard of the villa that the security guard left at ease.

Mei Mu Lan: "......" What is this indescribable feeling of fuckery? Can I call and complain to the person in charge of Jiangnan Town about the replacement?

Anyway, now that she is living next door to Ling Yi Yao, she will wait until the evening to take the neighbourhood love dessert and go over and fake-slut (really seduce), her future neighbour for good.

With this in mind, Mei Mu Lan revived from the spot and opened the door with the key in high spirits.

Ling Yi Yao, "Suddenly I feel so cold, the weather has cooled down? It's just March now, strange."

As night fell, Mei Mu Lan put on a light trench coat, carrying a plate of cupcakes, and walked to the door of Ling Yi Yao's villa. After she straightened her face to ensure that her facial muscles could perfectly portray her mood, she knocked regularly on the door**, and then the door opened, and Ling Yi Yao, wearing a short shirt and grey jeans, opened the door, with an expression on her face that said: You've finally come.

There are a few meaningful moments of looking beyond the horizon.

Mei Mu Lan immediately showed herself stunned, shocked, jolted, and then haughty with a smile as she said, "...... Hey, don't go." You haven't seen my expression, it's a waste of acting.

The moment Ling Yi Yao opened the door, she turned and walked away, leaving a forlorn Mei Mu Lan shivering at the door.

Ling Yi Yao walked over to the sofa and sat down, pointed to the sofa opposite and said,

"Close the door and come and sit down."

Mei Mu Lan immediately doggedly closed the door and pounced ...... on her.

Ling Yi Yao looked at her, narrowing her eyes with such a hint of danger as she asked in a slow and profound tone,

"Why are you, sitting, on, my lap."

That's right, what was happening was that Mei Mu Lan, without any delay, pounced on Ling Yi Yao's body, her thighs pressed against her thighs, their chests against their chests, their noses against their noses.

Mei Mu Lan covered her face with a shy face and said,

"Oh, nasty, it was you who said you wanted me to sit over here, so I sat over here."

Ling Yi Yao: "......"

Ling Yi Yao picked up Mei Mu Lan with one hand, opened the door of the room while the other party was still imagining various plays, and threw her out with one hand.

Mei Mu Lan: "......" This is too fierce, isn't it?

It was Mei Mu Lan who wrote on Weibo that night: My goddess is a little arrogant and a little violent, tossing people around and sweating profusely, and they are now aching all over.

She is looking forward to the expression on Ling Yi Yao's face when she sees this tweet one day in the future, it must be very emotional.

For the rest of the day, it was a daily routine of Mei Mu Lan to go to Ling Yi Yao's house, then within five minutes, she was thrown out again by Ling Yi Yao with one hand, then she went to Ling Yi Yao's house again, then was thrown out again.

The days were very sweet and kudos must be given.

Then one afternoon, Mei Mu Lan, who was planning to clean herself up and have her mind in various plays, received a call from Miss S.

#yuri #transmigration #world hopping #shypotato #QTVW23

[ssfdvbed]

I was about to lose the fruit of all my efforts at self-improvement

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"FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD" (1967) Review

"FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD" (1998) Review To my knowledge, there have been five adaptations of Thomas Hardy's 1874 novel, "Far From the Madding Crowd". One of them is even a modern day adaptation. I have not seen this modern version of Hardy's novel. But I have seen at least three adaptations, including the 1967 version directed by John Schlesinger.

"FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD" - at least the 1967 version - has been highly regarded by critics, moviegoers and fans of Hardy's novel for nearly five decades. It is the adaptation that other ones have been measured against . . . much to their detriment. "FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD" was a different direction for Schlesinger. It would prove to be the first of five period productions directed by him. Schlesinger and screenwriter Frederic Raphael stuck as closely to Hardy's novel as they possibly could. The movie was not a hundred percent adaptation of Hardy's novel, but it was pretty close. Anyone familiar with Hardy's novel know the tale. It begins with a young 19th century Englishwoman named Bathsheba Everdene, living on a farm with her aunt, Mrs. Hurst. She meets Gabriel Oak, a former shepherd who has leased and stocked a sheep farm. Gabriel falls in love with Bathsheba and eventually proposes marriage. Although she likes Gabriel, Bathsheba values her independence too much and rejects his marriage proposal. Gabriel's fortunes take a worse for turn, when his inexperienced sheep dog drives his flock of sheep over a cliff, bankrupting him. Bathsheba, on the other hand, inherits her uncle's prosperous estate. Their paths crosses again, and she ends up hiring Gabriel as her new shepherd. Bathsheba has also become acquainted with her new neighbor, the wealthy farmer John Boldwood, who becomes romantically obsessed with her after she sends him a Valentine's Day card as a joke. He sets about wooing her in a persistent manner that she finds difficult to ignore. But just as Bathsheba is about to consider Mr. Boldwood as a potential husband, Sergeant Frank Troy enters her life and she becomes infatuated with him. Frank was set to marry one of Bathsheba's former servants, a young woman named Fanny Robin. Unfortunately, the latter showed up at the wrong church for the wedding and an angry and humiliated Frank called off the wedding. Bathsheba finds herself in the middle of a rather unpleasant love triangle between Boldwood and Frank, while Gabriel can only watch helplessly as the situation develops into tragedy. "FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD" is a beautiful movie to behold . . . visually. One can credit the movie's sweeping and colorful look to its iconic cinematographer Nicolas Roeg. Thanks to the latter, the English counties of Wiltshire and Dorset never looked lovelier. Not surprisingly, Roeg earned a BAFTA nomination for his work. The movie also benefited from Richard Macdonald's production designs, which did an excellent job in recreating rural England in the mid 19th century. This was especially apparent in those scenes that featured Gabriel's arrival at Shottwood, and his attempts to get hired as a bailiff or a shepherd at a hiring fair; the harvest meal at the Everdene farm; Bathsheba's meeting with Frank in Bath; the rural fair attended by Bathsheba and Mr. Boldwood; and the Christmas party held by Mr. Boldwood. I will not pretend that I found Richard Rodney Bennett's score particularly memorable. But I must admit that it blended well with the movie's plot and Schlesinger's direction. I also noticed that Bennett added traditional English folk songs in various scenes throughout the movie. I have seen at least two movie versions and one television adaptation of Hardy's novel. And it occurred to me that the main reason why I ended up enjoying all three adaptations so much is that I really liked Hardy's tale. I really do. More importantly, all three adaptations, including this 1967 movie, did an excellent job in capturing the novel's spirit. With a running time of 169 minutes, "FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD" took its time in conveying Hardy's story . . . with a few little shortcuts. And thanks to Schlesinger's direction and Raphael's screenplay, the movie not only recaptured both the idyllic nature of 19th century rural England, but also its harsh realities. More importantly, the movie brought alive to the screen, Hardy's complex characters and romances. Hollywood once made a movie about a woman torn between three men in 1941's "TOM, DICK, AND HARRY" with Ginger Rogers. But the complexity between the one woman and the three men was nothing in compare to this tale. Especially, when the leading lady is such a complex and ambiguous character like Bathsheba Everdene. Another aspect of "FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD" that I enjoyed were the interactions between the movie's leads and the supporting cast who portrayed Bathsheba's employees. Like her relationships with Gabriel, Frank and Mr. Boldwood; the leading lady's relationships with her employees - especially the women who worked inside her home - proved to be very interesting. There was a good deal of controversy when Julie Christie was announced as the actress to portray Bathsheba Everdene. Apparently, the media did not consider her capable of portraying the tumultuous mid-Victorian maiden . . . or any other period character. Well, she proved them wrong. Christie gave a very skillful and nuanced performance as the ambiguous Bathsheba, capturing the character's passion, vanity and at times, insecurity. Terence Stamp was another actor more associated with the Swinging Sixties scene in London, but unlike Christie, his casting did not generate any controversy. I might as well place my cards on the table. I think Stamp proved to be the best Frank Troy I have seen on screen, despite the first-rate performances of the other two actors I have seen in role. He really did an excellent job in re-creating Frank's charm, roguishness and unstable nature. Thanks to Stamp's performance, I can see why Schlesinger became so fascinated with the character. Despite Christie and Stamp's popularity with moviegoers, the two actors who walked away with nominations and an award were Peter Finch and Alan Bates. No matter how interesting all of the other characters were, I personally found the William Boldwood character to be the most fascinating one in Hardy's tale. And Peter Finch, who won the National Board of Review Award for Best Actor did a superb job in bringing the character to life. Finch beautifully re-captured the nuances of a character that I not only found sympathetic, but also a bit frightening at times. Alan Bates earned a Golden Globe nomination for his portrayal of the stalwart Gabriel Oak, which I believe he fully deserved. I think portraying such a minimalist character like Gabriel must be quite difficult for any actor. He is a character that required real skill and subtlety. Bates certainly did the job. The actor managed to convey the passion that Gabriel harbored for Bathsheba without any theatrical acting and at the same time, convey the character's introverted and sensible nature. The movie also benefited from some skillful and solid work from its supporting cast that included Golden Globe nominee Prunella Ransome, who portrayed the tragic Fanny Robin; Fiona Walker (from 1972's "EMMA"); Alison Leggatt; John Barrett; and iconic character actor, Freddie Jones. As much as I enjoyed "FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD", there were some aspects of the production that I found troublesome. Earlier, I had pointed out that Schlesinger had seemed so fascinated by the Frank Troy character. And while this contributed to Terence Stamp's presence in the movie, Schlesinger's handling of the character threatened to overshadow the entire movie. Quite frankly, he seemed a bit too obsessed with Frank for my tastes. This heavy emphasis on Frank - especially in two-thirds of the movie - also seemed to overshadow Bathsheba's relationship with Gabriel Oak. At one point, I found myself wondering what happened to the character. Worse, the chemistry between Julie Christie and Alan Bates had somewhat dissipated by the movie's last act to the point that it barely seemed to exist by the end of the movie. And Schlesinger allowed the "ghost" of Frank Troy to hover over Bathsheba and Gabriel's future relationship by ending the movie with a shot of a toy soldier inside the Everdeen-Oak household. No wonder Stamp was credited as the male lead in this film. There were other aspects of "FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD" that either troubled me or failed to impress me. I am at a loss on how Prunella Ransome earned a Golden Globe nomination for her portrayal of Fanny Robin. Mind you, she gave a very good performance. But she was on the screen for such a small amount of time that there seemed to be no opportunity for the narrative to delve into her character. Ransome's Fanny came off as a plot device and a part of me cannot help but blame Hardy's original novel for this failure. Although I cannot deny that Nicholas Roeg's cinematography was visually beautiful to me; I also found myself annoyed by his and Schlesinger's overuse of far shots. It reminded me of how director William Wyler and cinematographer Franz F. Planer nearly went overboard in their use of far shots in the 1958 western, "THE BIG COUNTRY". I read somewhere that Alan Barrett had earned a BAFTA nomination for Best Costume Designs for this film. I do not mean to be cruel, but how in the hell did that happened? I have to be frank. I was not impressed with the costumes featured in this film. Although I managed to spot a few costumes that struck me as a well-done re-creation of fashion in the mid-to-late 1860s, most of the other costumes looked as if they had been rented from a warehouse in Hollywood or London. Not impressed at all. Aside from my complaints, I enjoyed "FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD" very much. A good deal of delight in the film originated with Thomas Hardy's original tale. But if I must be honest, a good deal of filmmakers have screwed up a potential adaptation with either bad writing, bad direction or both. Thankfully, I cannot say the same about "FAR FROM MADDING CROWD". Thanks to the first-rate artistry of the film's crew, a well-written screenplay by Frederic Raphael, a very talented cast led by Julie Christie; director John Schlesinger did an excellent in bringing Hardy's tale to the screen.

#thomas hardy #far from the madding crowd #far from the madding crowd 1967 #john schlesinger #bathsheba everdene #gabriel oak #frank troy #william boldwood #julie christie #alan bates #terence stamp #peter finch #fiona walker #prunella ransome #alison leggatt #john barrett #freddie jones #andrew robertson #paul dawkins #julian somers #brian rawlinson #period drama #period dramas #costume drama

[chiseler]

Glad Rags: Fashion and the Great Depression

Some years ago, in a breathtaking lapse of taste, The New Yorker published a fashion spread that aped iconic photographs of Dust Bowl migrants. I was as appalled as the next right-thinking person by the pouting models in $400 distressed cardigans pretending to thumb rides along desert highways. But if the charge is infatuation with the aesthetics of the Great Depression, I am guilty, guilty, guilty. Throw me in the clink—just so long as it resembles the hoosegow that Barbara Stanwyck saunters around in Ladies They Talk About (1932).

Why was everything, from automats to automobiles, from nightclubs to radios, from skyscrapers to bus stations, from cocktail shakers to the battered hats on homeless men, so elegant in the thirties? Why did bums back then look better than bankers today? Why are the movies and music, the clothes and every aspect of design from typefaces to elevator panels, so intoxicatingly stylish?

The easy answer is that art deco glamour was a form of escapism, a consolation to the down-and-out, and an expression of irrational optimism. Cruise ships, trains, office towers, mechanized restaurants: art deco was all about speed and modernity, the thrill of zooming into the future. (Then why does deco still look modern and alluring, while the space-age design of the sixties just looks dated and silly?) If cynicism was society’s ballast during the Depression, style was the kite-string tugging upward, the flag that kept flying.

It’s not the swells in their glad rags that I admire most, or even the bootleggers in silk shirts, but the wardrobes of working girls. Take the plain, slinky black dress that Stanwyck, as an ambitious office worker in Baby Face, accessorizes with a series of different detachable white collars and cuffs. Those starched cuffs and collars—chic, yet as humble as table-napkins—are perfect, almost poignant symbols of Stanwyck’s determination to better herself with the small means at her disposal. In Golddiggers of 1933, out-of-work chorus girls draw lots for the privilege of wearing a gorgeous, borrowed outfit to an audition. The little hats that hug one side of the head, the soft dresses molded to the hips, the scarf collars and pleated hems, create a look that collapses the two meanings of “smart.”  Neither frivolous nor utilitarian, it’s a neat, streamlined look that is still seductive; it signals quiet confidence and also wit, the sort of wisecracking verbal self-defense these girls mastered.

Movies like Baby Face tell their stories largely through their heroines’ clothes and belongings: they climb from cotton frocks to furs, from paper matchbooks to jeweled cigarette cases. (Clothing is no less crucial to the gangster’s rise; tailored shirts and luxurious overcoats are almost the point of his law-breaking.) Like Stanwyck in Baby Face, Joan Blondell in Blondie Johnson starts out in the drab, shapeless clothes of the down-trodden. Alight with anger after her mother dies, denied aid by a sanctimonious government official, she vows to get hold of dough, “and plenty of it.” Next we see her, she’s wearing a snazzy velvet suit that fits like a glove and conning suckers out of ten dollar bills by pretending to be a damsel in distress. She’s willing to bat her eyelashes and exploit her curves, but it’s really her brain she uses to get ahead, rising to become the head of a criminal “corporation,” and fiercely defending her virtue, even while clad in diaphanous pajamas. In Hold Your Man, Clark Gable calls attention to the warmth of the room, trying to talk Jean Harlow into doffing her coat. She complies, but when he suggests she remove her hat as well, she quips, “I’m pretty cool about the head.”

It’s this sense of wit and sass that’s often missing from latter-day reconstructions of the thirties, making people in period pieces appear overly formal. Current actors, looking embalmed in handsome clothes and make-up, fail to capture the way Cagney in his pin-striped suits was always poised on the balls of his feet, ready to crack into a tap dance; or the stunning bodily freedom with which women wore their thin, fluid, backless gowns, somehow never looking unduly exposed. Carole Lombard in shiny satin wide-legged lounging-pajamas and high heels furiously riding an exercise bicycle: there is the deco spirit in a nutshell. I sometimes wonder if it was the sheer delight of wearing such flattering clothes that gave women in thirties movies their unequaled zing.

Their sleek clothes don’t hide the female form the way dresses of the 1920’s did with their dropped waists and bosom-flattening bands. Neither do they exaggerate it with structured undergarments like those abandoned after the first world war and re-introduced after the second. It takes little insight to observe that the times when fashion has been most extreme in its devotion to the hourglass figure have been repressive eras for women, and periods when their clothes were more androgynous have been times when women made strides toward equality. In the early thirties, however, fashions were feminine without being cartoonishly so; they simply revealed the way women really look. The ideal of beauty was slender but not boyishly skinny, effortlessly athletic without gym-workout muscles.

Thirties dames look sexy on their own terms, not trussed up for male consumption like women of the fifties in their waist-cinching girdles, teetering stilettos and torpedo bras (often filled out with falsies on actresses of the fifties.) Many women in the early thirties wore very little under their clothes, as pre-Code movies prove with their obligatory lingerie shots. One almost feels sorry for pre-Code men faced with gals like Blondell, who in Blonde Crazy allows Cagney to inspect her flimsy underwear but repels his every advance with a slap that sends his head snapping back against his spine.

It is surely no coincidence that the interwar period was perhaps the only time when fashion was dominated, or at least heavily influenced, by women designers. Chanel borrowed from men’s tailoring to make women’s clothes simple, comfortable and sporty, without making them mannish. Madeleine Vionnet pioneered the bias cut, constructing garments so the grain of the fabric ran diagonally across the body, creating that smooth, clinging drape that defines feminine style of the thirties. Stanwyck’s lithe, bold stride wouldn’t be the same without the skirts that show off her beautiful hips and just enough of her killer gams. The jazzy, diagonally-striped ensemble that Claudette Colbert wears in It Happened One Night—something she has apparently purchased with the proceeds from pawning her wrist-watch—is the sartorial equivalent of her cocked eyebrow and throaty, sarcastic delivery.

These are Hollywood movies, of course, in which actresses often wore dresses so tight they couldn’t sit down between shots. But there’s plenty of documentary evidence that ordinary women, while they made have had less perfect figures, had just as much stylistic sass. Inept, small-time criminals Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow might never have become folk heroes if police hadn’t found a roll of undeveloped film in their hideout in Joplin, Missouri in 1932, and if the pictures hadn’t shown Bonnie wearing a snug beret, a skirt and sweater as jazzy as Colbert’s, and standing with her high-heeled foot hiked saucily on the bumper of a Ford V-8.

Or consider the stout matron in Walker Evans’s 1935 photograph of a New Orleans barbershop, sporting a blouse with sizzling concentric stripes, a jaunty black tie and a black hat with a rakish white feather. Men were no slouches either. Evans’s 1936 pictures of street scenes in the “negro quarter” of Vicksburg, Mississippi feature men lounging idly in shirtsleeves, unbuttoned vests and felt hats, each one a fashion plate. Lined up in a row in the wood-frame buildings behind them are hand-painted signs for the Savoy Barber Shop, the New Deal Barber Shop, and the Brother In Law Barber Shop. These men may not have jobs, but at least they have well-trimmed hair.

One can always ask, was there really such an epidemic of elegance in the thirties, or did photographers just seek out images of dignity? In the same way, one can look at the photographs of Robert Frank or the documentary footage of Los Angeles in The Savage Eye (1960) and wonder if there was really an epidemic of ugliness and vulgarity in the late fifties and early sixties, or whether artists just emphasized it. But the question is moot: either way, the images reveal how Americans—or at least their professional observers—saw themselves. Struggling against deprivation and anxiety, they were proud, stoic and stripped to their lean, essential spirit. Prosperous and secure, they were hapless victims of an aesthetic crash. A movie like Murder by Contract (1958), about a hit man killing time in L.A., staying in suffocatingly tacky motel rooms, seems to be the portrait of a man sleepwalking through a society where taste has flatlined.

Fifties style was artlessly boastful; its ideals were plastic mannequins of happiness, innocence and surfeit. This is why when it failed it failed so hideously: the old, the poor, the ugly, the lonely look caught in a pitiless glare, all their shortcomings exposed. The beehive hair, bouffant skirts, school-girl necklines and cat’s-eye glasses made young women look stodgy and matronly, and older women look grotesquely girlish.  In the thirties, haute couture expressed sublime hauteur, but it was based on aesthetic principles so sound that even when they trickled down to the cheapest knock-offs and most threadbare hand-me-downs, they still looked good. And so we come to the paradox of men in breadlines, women in migrant camps, whose je-ne-sais-quoi can inspire fashion spreads.

I am haunted by a bit of archival footage from the superb documentary Riding the Rails (1997), which shows a group of teenage hobos gathered on an open flat-car. Their elegance is unforgettable. It’s partly that their ragged clothes are so well-cut—in those days before baggy, one-size-fits-nobody garments—and partly that they’re worn with such an air. One boy wears an overcoat that’s too big for him and a handkerchief knotted on his head; he looks like a Napoleonic soldier retreating from Moscow. Men today who affect newsboy caps tend to wear them as though they were balancing a plate on their heads, but these boys wear their soft caps pulled down low over one eye, making them look at once tough and shy. They also seem, like everyone Dorothea Lange photographed, to stand and move with uncommon, easy grace: idle, but charged with contained energy. Their faces are wary, reticent and disillusioned. In another archival clip, boys sitting around a fire in a hobo jungle respond to a reporter who asks them why they are on the road. “Out here for my health,” one deadpans. “Just riding,” another tersely shrugs.

These are the real-life versions of the characters played by Frankie Darro and the Warners juveniles in Wild Boys of the Road (1933). Several things about that film are startling. One is how the kids dress and act like grown-ups (at a school dance, they wear evening clothes and circle the floor to “The Shadow Waltz”), as opposed to today, when grown-ups dress and act like kids. Another is how quickly and completely two middle-class boys turn into outcasts, panhandlers, embittered scavengers living in a garbage dump. But most startling of all is the way stoicism and dignity are taken for granted, the universal determination not be a burden or feel sorry for oneself. The elderly interviewees in Riding the Rails are candid, matter-of-fact, wry and compassionate. There is more to elegance than dressing well, than being tasteful or—that overused and inelegant word—“classy.” There is an intangible quality, a kind of mental and moral grace. Elegance has spine, but it’s not rigid; it bends but doesn’t break. It is understated; it is reserved. It knows the virtue of holding something back—some strength, some anger, some sense of irony—because there is more than one rainy day.

by Imogen Sara Smith

#The Chiseler #Imogen Sara Smith #Fashion #Great Depression

[toxophilitis]

An Incestuous Party cont.

Chapter 4

Despite the rush and confusion Ann had been under to fix dinner for the evening, she found that she was all finished with quite a bit of time to make herself ready. The day had been one hectic decision after another, and with dinner due at seven thirty, she found that she would be able to do nothing else at five o’clock, giving her close to two and a half hours to calm down and rest. The August afternoon had been warm, and Ann was feeling gritty and dirty. A shower would make her feel better than anything else she could think of, and as there was no one else in the house right now, she decided to get cleaned up.

She stepped into the shower and allowed the almost hot water to splash against her naked skin, and relaxed immediately as her muscles unwound and the grime washed from her smooth skin. The jets of water were so comfortable that she wanted to stand in the shower forever. Lifting her hands over her head, she cupped them around the spigot, letting the water pour rather than blast along her silky smooth flesh, trickling down her arms and around her breasts, flowing along her belly and washing her thighs and shapely legs. She lathered her soap again and again, never becoming bored at rinsing the bubbles from up between her legs, and as the hot water relaxed her tense muscles, she massaged her thighs and breasts, reveling in the loosening of her tight skin. She allowed her mind to drift in the languid feeling. She had never met Roy, Larry’s boss, though Larry had told her quite a bit about him. They had met once or twice when Larry had come to Cortland looking for a job as an executive at the plastic’s plant, and the two men had hit it off right away. Larry hardly talked about Susan, Roy’s wife, but if half of what Larry had said about Roy was true, Susan would be something special. According to Larry, Roy had impeccable taste and would settle for nothing less than the best in everything. She was really looking forward to meeting the couple, and as they lived less than a nine away, Ann figured that they would be seeing a lot of each other.

Finally stepping from the shower, she toweled down and, in a fit of giggly boldness, walked the eight feet from the bathroom to her bedroom in the nude, feeling invigorated as the air whipped at her naked body. Walking to her closet, she looked at the mass of dresses she had hanging up, trying to decide what she should wear. Larry had told her to look her best, and that meant to wear something that was revealing as possible without being actually under-dressed. Looking through her wardrobe, she finally decided on a sky-blue chiffon dress, one that she had worn only twice in her life, and only on special occasions. It had a low, revealing neckline that showed much of her breasts, and the bottom hem was a very sexy four inches above her knees. As she slipped into her pink panties, she started to put her bra on, but remembered that she could not wear a bra with the dress she had chosen. Far too much of the lace would show. At first she was a little hesitant of wearing something that revealing, but she put it out of her mind. Her husband wanted her to look her best, and she knew that she would if she wore the dress. Slipping the flimsy clothing over her head, she ran her hands along the cloth to remove the slight wrinkles. She had put on a pound or two since she last wore it, and while it was hardly enough to ruin her shapely curves, it was enough to make the dress tighter on her body, showing beautifully every curve of her luscious body.

Sitting in front of her mirror, she brushed her hair, noticing that she hardly had to move at all to expose the red nipples of her full and fleshy breasts, and she found her gaze fixing on the glans. Each movement of her arms through her full, long hair rubbed the sensitive breast buds against the soft cloth, and she was feeling, against her will, a low, smoldering fire coursing through her body. It made her feel more and more excited, and by the time she had finished brushing her hair and rimming her lips with a flesh colored lipstick, she was looking at herself in the mirror, she gasped at her sensual beauty. She was very proud of her body, but even she was surprised at how good she looked. Her breasts jutted from her chest, barely covered by the skimpy cloth, and her legs were like tanned pillars underneath her nylons. Slipping her feet into her high heels, she gave her hair one final brush, and, as she heard the doorbell ring, sighed.

Gracefully gliding down the stairs to the door, she gave her hair one final touch up before opening the door. Larry was standing in front of the two other people, and as soon as he saw his wife, he gave a little whistle and nodded slightly to her, indicating his approval of her attire. Walking into the living room, he was followed by a man and a woman.

“Honey,” said Larry, turning to the couple behind him, “I’d like you to meet Roy and his wife, Susan. People, this is Ann.”

Roy’s eyes were fixed on the nearly exposed breasts of Larry’s wife, and Ann could feel a little shiver run along her spine as she watched him lewdly smile, as though he were stripping her with his cues and loving what he saw. As Larry walked from the living room to the dining room, Ann followed. somewhat glad to be away from Roy’s lewd stare. She wished she had worn something a little less revealing, but it was too late to change anything now, and besides, she thought to herself, she was probably imagining things. Susan was hardly a woman to be snubbed for her lack of beauty. A shade taller than Ann, she wore her bright red hair very well, and her dress was even more revealing than Ann’s, the plunging neckline cutting her black velvet gown nearly in half, and the inner slit ran all the way from her ankles to the middle of her thigh. It was much tighter on her than Ann’s was, and Ann finally realized that Roy must have been looking at her out of appreciation, much the same way Larry was gazing at Susan now.

“As soon as Karen and David come down,” said Ann to break the ice, “we can eat.”

“You have two children living here?” asked Roy, removing his eyes from Ann’s curvaceous body and lighting a cigarette. “Larry told me that you only had a son.”

“Karen is my niece,” offered Larry. “She’s going to the college in the fall, and she asked if she could stay here, with us until school began. We saw no reason not to have her here. After all,” he said, lighting a cigarette of his own, “this house is pretty big.”

As soon as he finished explaining, David and Karen bounded into the dining room, and the six of them sat down to eat.

* * *

“Dinner was absolutely superb,” said Roy as he pushed his chair away from the table in total satisfaction.

“Thank you,” said Ann, lowering her head and blushing at the compliment.

“It sure was, Mom,” offered David. “I don’t think I could eat another bite. May I be excused?”

“Where are you going, son?” asked Larry, aware of David’s hostility toward him.

“Oh, I thought I might go outside and run around, try to work off all this food,” answered David in a tone of friendliness that surprised both Ann and Larry. Perhaps the boy was beginning to accept his step-father after all.

“Okay, David,” said Ann. “Don’t stay out too late.”

“May I be excused too, Mrs. Dolan?” Karen asked. “I think it might be nice to go running with David.”

“Well-l-l,” said Roy, “the two younger people want to be alone. Well, let me tell you, there’s nothing like a night to go walking in.”

“We’ll be running,” said David, hardly able to control his embarrassment.

“Of course, David,” said Roy. “Well, Karen, you don’t let him run too fast.”

Karen winked at the guest and walked out of the room behind David. As soon as they were out of the house, Ann looked to Larry.

“I don’t think I like the idea of the two of them being alone together,” she said.

“Aww, come on, honey,” soothed Larry as he stood up from the table. “Young people have to get their fun too, you know.”

“That’s right, Ann,” said Susan. “After all, David is becoming a young man. It’s high time he took an interest in the opposite sex.”

“I... I guess I still think of him as my little baby,” stammered Ann.

“Hey, everybody,” said Larry in a jubilant voice. “Who wants to see some of the movies we took while Ann and I were on our honeymoon?

“Oh, now really, Larry,” said Ann as she cleared off the table. “I’m sure that they would be bored by our home movies.”

‘Quite the contrary, Ann,” volunteered Roy, “we would very much like to see them.”

“There, you see,” said Larry. “Come on. You can do the dishes later. Besides, you haven’t seen them either, honey.”

The idea of washing the dishes was hardly welcome to Ann, and it was true that she hadn’t seen them. She walked into the living room and sat between Roy and Susan while Larry set up the screen and projector. Turning out the lights, he sat next to Susan and prepared to watch.

* * *

“Hey, where ya goin’?” asked David in a whisper as he followed Karen to a window against the living room door.

“I did a little looking around during the day,” she whispered as she checked to see if anyone could see her looking into the now darkened room. “I found a movie hidden in the closet, and if what I know about my uncle is correct, it won’t be a Walt Disney picture.”

“I don’t get it,” said David.

“Just come here and watch. If I’m wrong, we can sneak up the back stairs and you can fuck me on your bed like we planned. But if I’m right ...”

David decided that he may as well humor her. He crept along the house and looked into the window. He could see that the room was dark, and the four people were sitting together on the couch. From their position, the two kids could see the movie screen clearly.

* * *

Ann sat back into the couch, the food she had eaten making her feel sleepy. She wished she could have seen the movies they took before they were shown to near strangers, but perhaps this would be funny. She watched and waited while the film threaded itself through the projector, and suddenly, she had a feeling that something was not what she thought.

A title, “Twenty Minutes in a Bedroom,” flashed on the screen, and Ann sat forward in her seat, wondering what was going on. Suddenly the movie started, and Ann knew that these were not of her honeymoon with Larry. Or anyone else, for that matter. It was a color film, for one thing, and they had shot everything in black and white. There was a strange man sitting on a rather lavish bed, reading a book. Ann turned her head to look at Larry, and she was surprised to see that he was relaxing almost as though he knew what was happening. Suddenly, there was the sound in the film of someone knocking at the door to the bedroom. The man got off the bed and went to answer the door. He was met by a luscious blonde, wearing the skimpiest of clothing.

“Mr. Smith?” asked the woman in the film.

“Yes. Miss Jones? Come in. I’ve been expecting you for quite sometime now.”

“Well,” answered the woman. “You know how traffic can be.”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Smith.

Ann was sitting tight and tense in her seat. What the hell was going on here? she thought to herself. She was about to ask out loud to Larry when she saw that the man in the movie was starting to undress. Ann was held transfixed by the incredible sight, and her interest was further enticed by the fact that woman was stripping as well. And then everything came to her. This was some sort of stag movie, a porno picture rather than the scenes from her honeymoon. Why was Larry showing this thing in front of guests?

She was hypnotized by the sights on the screen. The man and woman were completely naked, standing mere inches from each other. His cock was immensely swollen, and Ann gasped at the thought of him fucking it up into the woman’s cunt. Surely it was too big. The man must be deformed in some way. His cock was so large that Ann wondered how it was able to stand up from between his legs.

The woman in the movie looked just as amazed at the size of it, thick, long and purple with the web of pulsing, almost glowing blue veins running through it.

* * *

Outside, David gasped at what he was looking at. He had never seen a stag film before, in fact, had only heard about them in the lowest whispers. What was going on, anyway? How could his mother actually be sitting there watching this? What sort of man was Larry to be showing this to his mother? David gave a quick glance to Karen, and was shocked by what she was doing. She had pressed her hands up under her dress and was moving them around along her tight little pussy. David wanted to say something, but he was suddenly aware of his own erection filling his pants, and he forced his gaze back to the screen in the living room.

Ann could hardly believe what she was looking at. The woman had gripped tightly the man’s penis, a rod that was so thick that she could not surround it with her long, slender fingers. She was moving her hand along the turgidly pulsing length, stroking the cock, and she reached out with her other hand and placed the man’s hand against the swollen mass of breast flesh, making him squeeze and knead the beautiful, well-formed flesh. Ann could feel her own breasts swell in sympathy, and she brought her hand up against the nearly exposed flesh of her own breast and touched herself, trying to relieve the shooting ache the picture was bringing on her.

Roy shifted his weight to relieve the tension caused by his burgeoning penis, and his motions caused him to graze across Ann’s naked arm with his hand. He and Larry had discussed which movie would be shown after dinner, and Roy had decided to let Larry do the picking. He wasn’t disappointed. The woman in the film was really something. Her breasts were large, and that tight little cunt of hers looked really inviting and juicy.

The man in the film placed his hand along the hotly glistening pussy slit of the woman and probed gently into it, pushing his fuck-finger slowly up into the warm, wet softness of her cunt. The woman opened her mouth and moaned as he fingered her vagina, and she lewdly spread her legs to allow him easy passage into the searing chamber of her now fully exposed cunt. She was stroking his cock faster and faster, and the two of them were making low, throaty moans of lascivious delight as they brought each other to higher and higher sexual passion. The man’s hands were resting more tightly on the woman’s breasts, and he had engulfed them fully between his powerful looking ringers. His face was contorted in a hungry look of lustful intent as he squeezed the nipples teasingly. The woman let out a groan of intense arousal, and she lifted her body in an attempt to impale her cunt on the rigidly throbbing cock in front of her. She pressed down with her hand and lowered the burgeoned rod down between her legs and trapped it there, a smile of triumph on her face from the hardness of it.

Ann gasped at the lascivious sight, and she was further shocked when she felt Roy’s hand resting on top of hers. She hadn’t felt him brush against her the first time. She had been too engrossed in the movie. But now, as she tried to follow the lewd and perverse sights on the screen, she was becoming more and more aware of what he was doing.

Roy had shifted his body so that his knee was rubbing against Ann’s, and it seemed as though he had done it deliberately. His hand resting on hers gave her a little squeeze, as if to tell her that he was becoming aroused by the movie, and it was her duty to satisfy him. Ann was confused and uncertain how to react, and as she glanced in the direction of Larry, what she saw caused her even more dismay.

Larry was sitting with his arm casually flung around Susan, his hand resting on her breast inside of her dress. Her husband was actually kneading the naked breast of his boss’s wife, and Roy didn’t seem to care. In fact, Roy was making further advances on Ann’s confused person. His hand was creeping slowly along her arm, inching its way nearer and nearer to her breast. Ann could feel her cunt begin to seep slightly from watching the movie, and she was in complete confusion at the touch of Roy sitting next to her.

On the film, the man had allowed his cock to move from between the woman’s legs, and the huge bulbous tip was pressing hotly against her slightly spread cuntal opening. She was resting on slightly bent knees, opening her curl-fringed pussy mouth to the man’s expected thrust, and finally he pumped his pelvis forward and rammed his cock deep up between the tender lips of the woman’s pussy. The woman stiffened as the man drove his long, thick rod all the way up into her open belly, slapping his heavily swollen balls hard up against the soft red fringe of hair rimming her cunt mouth.

At the same time, Roy slipped his hand into Ann’s loosely clinging dress and engulfed her now desire-swollen breast with his powerful fingers, squeezing it teasingly as he pressed his palm tightly against her nipple.

Ann tightened her body. What was she expected to do? She couldn’t let this stranger, this man who was not her husband touch her body the way he was. How could Larry allow such a thing? Her thoughts were racing through her mind in distended chains, and she stared at the screen, wide- eyed and confused as Roy moved his face against her body and lifted her breast out from under the dress, opening his mouth and placing his lips around the passion-swollen mound, lashing out against the sensitive nipple with his tongue and sending ripples of confusion and delight searing through Ann’s body. Ann was sitting on the couch with her hands in her lap, totally unable to fully understand what was going on, but as she felt Roy’s tongue whip at her nipple, she was brought from her trance. With a violent surge of will, she bounced from the couch and ran from the living room up the stairs.

A confused Roy looked over in the direction of Larry, who removed his face from the full, luscious lips of Susan and tossed his head in the direction of the stairs, indicating that Roy should handle the matter in his own way. With a hungry smile splitting his mouth, Roy rubbed his hands together and walked to the stairs, thinking that he would show that hot little bitch a thing or two.

* * *

David was aghast at what he saw, and he wasn’t sure what he should do. It was obvious that his mother wanted to be left alone, but it was also obvious that his step-father’s boss was following her, and that meant no good, as far as David was concerned. Wrenching his gaze away from the seduction on the screen, he looked at Karen. She was smiling as she watched, not the fucking in the movie, but the sensuous stripping of Susan at the eager and skillful hands of Larry. She watched with lewd intent as he stood up from the couch and dropped his pants to the floor, exposing his hardened cock, clearly visible against the light coming from the screen. She gasped as she thought of having Larry’s cock plunging deep into her cunt, and she wanted to have him, wanted to show him that she was as good a lay as Susan, and perhaps better.

“Karen,” whispered David. “What’s happening?”

Karen pulled her eyes away from Larry’s huge cock and looked at David.

“I think your mother is gonna be fucked by Roy, if he has anything to say about it. And it looks as though your step-father is really getting it on with Susan.”

David was shocked. Even though he hated Larry, he was his mother’s husband, and she shouldn’t be fucking with another man.

“I better go and see if she needs any help,” he whispered as she turned her face back to the incredible scene in the living room.

“You do that,” she answered. “I think I’ll stay here and see if they need any help.”

David hardly heard her. He was off and running around the house, coming to the back door and walking into the house as quietly as he could. He had seen his mother run up the stairs, and he knew that she would go to her bedroom. As he crept up the stairs, he hoped he wouldn’t be too late to prevent his mother from being fucked against her will.

[abhisai1]

Murder?

It was nine o'clock at night upon the 29th of July. One would say that the god's curse was hanging in the sultry and stagnant air. Lack of wind and a full moon could send shivers down the spine of even a strong muscled man.

Every police officer, in the city, would expect a murder to take place at this time of the night. And, alas they were not disappointed as just before a quarter past nine, they had a case of death registered in their records!

The street was buzzing like that of a packed swarm of bees. The photographers stood behind the various barriers kept by the local police. The gleam of yellow tape and the rapid clicking of photos by the reporters summed it all. The death of a person!

Crowd was slowly gathering outside the house. The well wishers, relatives and others were trying to go inside but the police kept barricading them.

After a minute or so, a red, blazing car arrived. The superintendent strode out of it in an alarming speed. A couple of constables paved his way by pushing a lot of photographers aside.

After asking some formal questions to the constables, the superintendent hopped over the gleaming tape and found himself staring at the white chalk outline of the dead figure. The body was still there. But he made up his mind that the body would be the last thing he would look onto. There were other matters which had more importance.

Though the pool of blood certainly made the case look a bit interesting, his eyes were looking on to something else. Sound of flowing water! Water was flowing continuously. The wash basin was a minute away from overflowing.

The tap had not been closed. With the short temper he had, he roared for a policeman and scolded him very badly.

"Sorry sir, I didn't touch it because I had read in novels that fingerprints are a crucial element in the case of murder. I didn't want my fingerprint to surface anywhere." The short heighted constable blurted out these words at the drop of the hat.

"Are you a new joining?" The superintendent asked in a callous way.

"Yes sir."

"You are a gadha (donkey). You and your bookish knowledge! How did you manage to become a constable? Don't you have minimum common sense? Murkho! You idiot, what do you have in your pockets?"

The constable, with a trembling hand, took out a pack of cigarettes and showed it to his boss.

"You are a real gadha. Don't you have a pair of gloves in your back pocket?"

"Yes sir," the constable grinned. "Sir, do you want this pair of gloves for quality check?"

"Arey murkho! I wonder how did you become a police officer! Can't you put on your gloves and close the tap? Where are your type of men bred? In asylums? That's the correct place for you. Now pack your bags and get out of here, otherwise I don't know where my limbs would be!" The superintendent shouted with a threatening voice.

"Sorry sir," the constable uttered. Before leaving, he asked a question.

"Sir, do you want this pair of gloves or shall I take it away with me?"

"Shut up and just get out of my sight!" The superintendent yelled. After the constable left, he calmed down a bit but he continued murmuring and scolding the idiotic constable at his heart.

There was nothing else interesting to be seen except the white outline made with chalk and the body. Alas, one should not expect a bathroom to show up interesting things.

Blood was oozing out of the head. The ambulance was on the way. He took his pair of gloves and touched the body. With the experience he had, he could say that the skull was broken.

It looked a clear case. He thought that if the foolish constable was in his place, that idiot must have closed the case the moment he saw the body.

But years of experience had taught him that most often, the clear cases become the most extraordinary crimes. And to add on to that he could sense something fishy. Again, years of experience had taught him to go by his instincts.

To move a step ahead, he tried to reconstruct the accident. Just as he started to rehearse the play, he heard the siren of an ambulance.

Silently, he moved aside. A couple of young men, in white, came with a bed, laid the corpse on it, covered it with a white bedsheet and quietly went away.

As he had no more work with the corpse, he didn't interrupt the men and let them do their work. After observing a things or two, he started the rehearsal again.

He tried to rehearse the most probable way of the accident, slipping in the bathroom. Well, he tried many angles and finally hit upon the right one. But instead of a smile, he was a bit upset.

The best satisfaction of a policeman is the closure of a case.

But the superintendent was in no hurry to close the case. Though the first rehearsal was a success, there was no harm in considering the other possible ways of the misshapen.

Now, an intelligent police officer has always the need to consider foul play. Or in common words, murder.

It was quiet a few times in the recent past that he had come across a well planned murder. He desperately wanted this one to come into that list. Life was boring these days. He hoped of an adventure and this seemed too good an opportunity to miss.

As he didn't have much personal information about the victim, he decided to search for the weapon used to murder. Of course, it's only an 'if' these days.

He quickly lit his cigarette and started making rounds in the cozy bathroom. Surprising, he could smell a perfume with a strawberry odour. Not the kind one would expect in a bathroom. Sadly, after touring for about 10 minutes in the bathroom, he didn't come across anything extraordinary.

There is always the case of the murderer taking away the weapon with him. And he thought that was the most probable. Emergence of some ideas took place but he had no evidence to support it.

His nerves were handing him over. Some key points of this case seemed to be connected with his dark past. He tried to shred off those fears and tried to gather courage.

The thought of his past made him shiver even in the brightest of light. For trying to forget his past, he came outside the bathroom and tried to forge the criminal ideas of how the murderer could have escaped.

There were only two ways he could enter the house and two entry points were the only exit points he could think of.

As the bathroom led to the master bedroom, he decided to investigate there. All seemed quiet there and there were no sign of struggles. There were no traces of blood and all the things were kept in an orderly manner.

He opened the various cupboards and the drawers but nothing attracted him any attention. The bedsheet was also neat and clean. No signs of dust. He decided to search the living room next.

One could see a lavish sofa with a superb finish in the middle of the room. The sofa being a U shape helped it gain more beauty. There was even a nice coffee table and an empty cup on the top of it. He kept it aside ,in a packet, for forensic purposes. Beside the sofa, a couple of accent chairs were also present.

A beautiful painting and an excellent wallpaper conveyed him that the victim was rich. He then toured along another two bedrooms and the dining room. Every single thing looked rich and had a beautiful taste of colour but all these things were tried to make simple yet artistic.

He wondered when he would have this kind of house and all the rich decors inside. The house looked like an old one from outside but was exactly the opposite from inside.

From there, he could go to either the garden at the backside of the house or the kitchen. He chose the kitchen as his next target. It was very large and again it was very clean.

At the corner of the kitchen, a large pizza was on a table. It was from the dominoes. The pizza was still inside the box. When he inspected the pizza, he could hear his stomach grumbling. For a second, he wanted to eat the pizza, how much ever cold it was. But he knew meddling with it at that time was absolutely wrong.

Moving on, he wandered into the garden. He found himself amidst a lot of greenery. He wondered if the murderer escaped from that path and jumped over to the wall. If the murderer had done so, certainly he would find some footprints on the soil. But there were no traces of the murderer escaping from over the wall.

He thoroughly checked there as well but in vain. The plants were looking very fresh. The water dropping from the leaf was a sight to behold at nighttime. The sound of cricket made the garden more pleasant. The bushes were well grown and a series of various flowers were sown in an orderly manner. From what he could make up, the victim was a nature lover.

The newly laid soil hadn't had any footmarks and the flowers were also not stamped on. As the murderer had no chance to escape from the main door, this was the only way he could have escaped.

For a police officer to find a criminal, the police officer too needed a criminal brain not a police brain.

He found a way the murderer could have escaped. There was a thin line of grass beside the newly laid soil which would not have any footmarks even if one would walk there. But to do that one needed hefty amount of practice and thus only an expert in rope climbing could do that.

There could be a chance that a police officer committed this crime as during police training, all have to practice rope climbing and endure a lot of other torturing things.

But seldom does one find a police officer committing crimes these days. With that thought in mind, he gazed dreamingly towards the full moon.

With a sly smile, the superintendent patted himself on the back for the flawless murder he had just committed!

#short story #mystery story #murder #plot twist #unique #books #novel

[the-chanteloup]

InuYasha RP Bio

Omg. I’m alive! Things have been so hectic, I forgot I had a Tumblr! Silly me. Well, I’ve returned, and with that return, I give you my finalized InuYasha RP bio! 

So, I created this character about 18 years ago when InuYasha first aired on Adult Swim. I debuted her on Yahoo!Chat, and when that died, she sort of went into hibernation. With the series coming out, and this sudden surge of InuYasha, I really wanted to finalize her, and get her out into the world. :3  

Name (last, first): Setsuna ( Of the Karyukai, The Flower and Willow World )

Nickname(s): Hanyou, Runt, Pup, Geisha

Age: 55 (Youthful appearance, commonly mistaken for 20-25)

Species: Half-Dog Demon, Half-Human (Hanyou)

Gender: Female

Birthday: Around the Winter Solstice

Life Story:

Left on the doorstep of an orphanage in the village of Sawara, in a shabby reed basket during a harsh winter was not the ideal beginning, but, all great legends must start somewhere. Luckily, warm hearts were in good spirits this cold night, and the overseers of this particular orphanage just couldn’t leave a bright eyed, bundle of joy out in the elements. Brought in out of the cold, and raised alongside human children, the pup never really knew she was different, other than having two black fluffy ears atop her head. As she grew, she was given a general education along with the other children, nothing fancy since they were considered the lower class, but enough to get her by should she ever take to selling turnips.

Unfortunately, all fairy tales have to end, and when her 16th year rolled around, she was tossed out into the world to fend for herself.

Being a small Hanyou had its benefits job wise, roaming gangs of thieves were always willing to have her tag along for heists, at a quarter of the profit for most of the dangerous work. But fate is a fickle mistress, and while perusing through a shop during a heist one night, she was detained by an older man named Ino Tadataka, with nun chucks. How embarrassing. She didn’t need superb Demon hearing to know her comrades had bailed, leaving her the scapegoat. However, before she could decide which hand she was okay with having chopped off, the old man offered her a deal. She would assist him in mapping some of the harder to reach places in the area, and in return he would house her, feed her and teach her to read.

Since climbing trees for an old man was a much better option than losing a limb, she hastily agreed, and spent many years assisting “Old Man Ino”, as she called him, in completing his map of Japan.

In the Spring of her last month with Ino, he referred her to an old friend in a village called Kanazawa in the Western Lands for another job. With no other real work leads, other than going back to stealing, she took the lead. When she arrived at the mapped destination Ino had given her, it turned out to be an exotic tea house. She swore on all the Gods above and below that she would knock the taste out of that old pervert’s mouth for this. As she stood outside making her proclamation to bash an old man’s head in, she was interrupted by the tea house’s 'mother', Kikuya. Seeing a rare opportunity to be the only tea house in the district with a Hanyou entertaining, Kikuya took her in instantly.

Amazingly, after several rough years of learning, she was finally “promoted” to the highest rank, Geisha.

Fast forward a few short years, just a few months from fully paying off her debt, she is one of the more popular girls advertised at the tea house. Fully skilled in playing the kokyū, flirting with men in a proper way, starting and losing games of Janken or Daruma Otoshi gracefully, and pouring hot tea in hazardous ways, courtesy of her quick Hanyou reflexes, she has acquired several frequent guests.

A Samurai named Yorimoto quickly became her favorite “customer”, and though they saw each other as nothing more than siblings, she developed a connection to the Human. He was never short on adventurous stories about fighting, and war, which she soaked up like a sponge, enjoying the romantic way he told of their honor code. Being half-Demon, she was naturally drawn to weapons and all their convenient ways of killing things, and eventually convinced Yorimoto to teach her how to use the Naginata. Unfortunately, it was highly un-Geisha like to swing around a “blade on a stick”, as her mother called it, so, under the guise of certain services, they met and trained. Several months passed, and her Samurai was called away to battle, but before he left, Yorimoto gifted her a Naginata all her own, for emergencies, of course.

Even though she was content to stay at her tea house and practice her Naginata in peace until the day when she could afford to open her own business, she also wouldn’t mind a little bit of adventure sneaking in and stirring things up.  

Appearance:

Setsuna stands an intimidating five feet tall at her black ear tips, which has earned her the nickname “Runt”. Thanks to her Demon genetics, despite her small stature, she is sturdily built, muscular and has a curvy frame. She is a milky skinned Hanyou with loosely curled raven black hair that trails down to her rear, and cobalt blue, cat like eyes rimmed in coal eyeliner. Her ears are slightly fluffy, and sport two small silver hoops in each, a gift from her Geisha mother, Kikuya. Her claws are a soft pearl color; however, they are kept at a shorter length due to her kokyū playing and aesthetics for the tea house, but they still remain filed to a point and sharp.

Her only truly intimidating feature is a deep, guttural growl that could easily be mistaken for a much larger demon. Setsuna’s normal attire is that of a typical Geisha, minus the white makeup. Elaborate silk kimonos and obis, along with jeweled hair trinkets and pins. Her hair is never tied up, allowing her ears to remain out in the open. When she is training with the Naginata, she dons a black hakama, with a royal blue sash around her waist. Setsuna is almost always barefoot as she likes the feel of Earth on her skin.

Like all Hanyou, she reverts to a mortal Human form on the night of the new moon. She becomes weaker, as she loses all of her Demon abilities. Her hair fades to a dusty blonde color, and her eyes dull to a pale gray.  

Personality:

Setsuna is usually the center of the party. Having trained with her Geisha mother, she can strike up conversations easily with almost anyone. She has a laid-back demeanor, seeming to just roll with the punches. A smile of some sort is usually found on her face, giving her an easy to approach look. She has an old wisdom about her, and is always available to offer advice or find an answer to a question. She tends to have a soft spot for animals and children, but she prefers both go home with someone else. Her one true weakness is a field of wild flowers, or flowers of any kind. Though she hates to admit it, she’s a sucker for romance and intimate physical touches.

Unfortunately, with a decent amount of Demon blood in her veins, Setsuna is not the quiet, demure creature one would expect when they see her in full Geisha attire. Having been raised by thieves, her mouth is dirtier than a sewer grate, and her mind has been likened to that of a lecherous old man’s. Even with traditionally excitable genetics, she is calm, collected, and calculating, preferring her enemies to either make fools of themselves or to wander right into her trap. Though she has never been in a true battle, the canine in her usually wishes a mother fucker would so she could let her Naginata bathe in blood. Of course, that doesn’t mean she goes looking for a fight, but should one happen to peek around a corner….

Good Habit(s):

She is very understanding, and a good listener. No problem is too dramatic, or small for her ears. She offers honest advice (This could be good or bad) She is fiercely loyal to those who have earned it. Her colorful background and lifestyle have given her a wealth of wisdom and knowledge, both useful and not.  

Bad Habit(s):

Hot headed, she finds a boiling point rather quickly over certain things. Decently excitable, the World is a big adventure to a young Hanyou. Territorial, what’s hers is hers. Cursing bad enough to make perverts blush.

Like(s):

Walking in the forest, feeling the sun on her skin and the Earth on her bare feet. Having her hair done/played with. Food. Training with her Naginata. Playing the kokyū. Listening to stories, mostly battle and war stories. Thunderstorms at night. Wildflower fields.

Special Powers/Abilities:

Aside from the typical Hanyou speed, flexibility and agility, she has a natural ability to hide and camouflage herself due to her small stature. She’s also decently formidable in a fist fight. Intimidating low, guttural growl usually used for intimidation. Rapid healing.

Ambition/Life-long Dream:

Even though she longs for the thrill of battle, a more reasonable ambition would be to finally pay off her debts to Kikuya, and to open her own tea house that specializes in ‘unique’ Geishas like herself.

Love Interest:

Unknown.  

Occupation/Job:

Geisha, entertainer, Hanyou

Notes:

Now, I know y'all who follow the series are looking at me like, "Uh...THAT NAME IS FAMILIAR" And, yeah, I know, trust me. I had a moment when the official announcement was made, but when I created Setsuna, I actually used the name from the manga Angel Sanctuary ( showing my age here ), and this character was never meant to follow any sort of canon story line, ever, she was always strictly AU. With all that being said, please don't come for me. xD I am smol and anxiety ridden. I really just wanted to have her bio published, because I love this little shit of a Hanyou. She was one of my very first creations and holds a pretty special place in my cold black heart. A few more notes: I'm totally up for RP! Feel free to send me a note or whatever. I'm pretty laid-back, and open to most scenarios.

I usually ship Setsuna with Sesshomaru, because it's adorable, but, I’m open to any ship.  

She has no art. Like I said, this has been a long time coming, so I haven't had any art of her commissioned, but maybe in the near future I will. ( -eyeballs the extremely talented @destinyfall) But, I can give you details and photo references if you decide you would like to RP.

#roleplay #rp #literate rp #inuyasha #demon #original character

[sevenpeaches]

The Waiter

Description: A little visit to a new restaurant downtown brought you more than just good food…

Word count: 1.5k

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Waiter!Taehyung x Reader

Authors: @riceeater22 & @sevenpeaches

It was the middle of the evening rush hour. The night was young, and the night was busy. The restaurant that had recently opened downtown was a bubbly  hub of energy, full of excited customers enjoying their meals. Apparently, this restaurant was opened by a pair of very handsome, very talented brothers with superb culinary skills. The rumour of “very handsome brothers” was probably one of the reasons why the restaurant was packed tonight. Everybody (mostly the young females who flocked the area) was curious to set eyes on the supposed eye candy. 

You were blissfully unaware of these rumours of “handsome brothers” though, you were only interested in trying out the food.

In the middle of your duck salad - which was very good, by the way- a waiter came over to if your food was okay. Looking up intending to give him a quick smile and a reassuring comment, you faltered at the sight of him. He was very, very good-looking and honestly, very charming. Soft brown hair nearly fell into his big, chocolate eyes, which were alight with a spark of mischief. The tight black shirt he was wearing only complimented his compact physique and brought out the amber highlights in his eyes. You couldn’t help but feel something melt inside you. 

Seeing your eyes glaze over slightly, he broke out into a shy smile, as if he knew why. “Everything… okay?”

Blinking, you composed yourself. “Oh, definitely. The food is great, ah….” You snuck a quick look at his nametag. “…V.”

“You can call me Taehyung,” he said with a quick wink as he refilled your wine glass. “Good choice of wine…?”

Realising, almost belatedly, that he was waiting for you to tell him your name, you quickly blurted “Y/N”, hating how awkward you were being.

“I’ve always liked that name, I’ve always thought it was very pretty,” he said, flicking you a quick look and you felt yourself melt even further.

“Would you prefer I called you Y/N, then?” you teased with a light smirk, trying to mask how blushy you were feeling.

Taehyung laughed, and your heart warmed. 

“It’d get a bit confusing if we’re out together then, wouldn’t it?” he wondered, mirroring the teasing airiness in your tone. Before you could come up with a response, he clicked his pen in anticipation. “Would you like anything else today, Miss Y/N?" 

With this snack standing in front of you, your mind drifted to dessert. "Do you… recommend anything from the dessert menu?" 

As you watched his tongue stick out from the corner of his mouth in thought, you struggled to keep your thoughts decent. "Mmm, I’m not supposed to do this but…” Taehyung looked around theatrically before leaning closer to you, rendering your single braincell useless. He smelled like freshly baked bread and… something else you couldn’t place. Whatever it was, he smelled amazing. 

You were subtly leaning in to catch a better whiff when he continued to say, “The strawberry shortcake is out of this world.” He lifted a hand to his mouth to conspiratorially whisper, “The strawberries are handpicked from my family’s farm, so I can guarantee their freshness.”

Unable to keep the smile from your face, your enamoured gaze turned to one of surprise as he pulled away. “Your family grows strawberries? I might have to try that, then." 

Taehyung looked down at his notebook with a small grin. "Shall I make that one strawberry shortcake for you then, Miss Y/N?” He asked as his eyes reconnected with yours, pen ready in hand. You indicated your affirmation, and your handsome waiter went on his way. 

Taking a sip of your wine, you watched as the busy restaurant seemed to get even busier. The waiting queue lengthened past the front doors, and you silently thanked your timing. You hadn’t needed to wait at all. Watching as the waiters rushed to and fro carrying trays of food and drink, you basked in a mildly petty sense of superiority. You were being waited on by one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on - everyone else would have to wait their turn with him. 

You texted your best friend while you waited for your dessert to tell her this place was no joke, highly recommending a second visit. The food was great, and the staff was… Impeccable, to say in the very least.

You were in the middle of outlining a particularly juicy description of your waiter’s features when a plate piled with angel cake, strawberries, and whipped cream slid in front of you. You hoped the sudden drop of your phone into your lap went unnoticed as you gave the waiter, Taehyung, your attention. His eyes twinkled with something you couldn’t place when he said “Enjoy”. 

He left your table, but quickly found a spot where you couldn’t see him to get a good look at your reaction, without appearing to look like a creep. He peeked from his corner, waiting almost anxiously to see how you would react to his recommendation. Not knowing you were being watched, you took a big spoonful and almost cooed out loud at how amazing the flavours tasted.

Eyes aglow, you looked around for your waiter, needing to tell him how much you loved the dessert. Spotting him, you waved excitedly. “Taehyung!” you all but shouted. Remembering yourself, you clapped a hand over your mouth as Taehyung made his way over to you.

“The shortcake okay, Miss Y/N?” he asked, already knowing the answer from the look on your face.

“Are you kidding? “Okay”? I don’t think I’ve ever tasted any strawberry shortcake this good before in my life!” Taking another spoonful into your mouth, you gave him a bashful smile. 

Your waiter watched happily, his eyes crescent moons at your obvious enjoyment. “I’m glad its to your satisfaction,” he said with a slight bow. 

As he observed your delight in munching on what may be the tastiest dessert ever, Taehyung stealthily glanced around the restaurant. Surely they could do without him for a few minutes, right? He looked at you again, watching you wipe a small amount of strawberry juice from your chin, before deciding now was better late than never. Pulling the empty chair from your table, he turned it around and straddled it, facing you.

“Hey, ah… Y/N, I was wondering…” Taehyung began, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. 

You looked up, cheeks puffed out from dessert. You had no idea what was coming and you certainly didn’t look like it. “Yeah?” you asked from a mouthful of cake.

Thinking you were the cutest person he’d ever laid eyes on, Taehyung relaxed a little. “Would you like to… Go on a date with me?” he asked slowly.

Shocked, your eyes widened at the words you were hearing. You were definitely not expecting that. Suddenly embarrassed at how disheveled you must look right now in front of this handsome man, you quickly swallowed the remainder of the cake and dabbed at your mouth with a napkin. Your head was spinning.

Did the hottest guy I’ve probably ever met just ask me out on a date?

Taehyung’s chocolate eyes watched you expectantly, his heart feeling like it would just burst out of his chest from nervousness.

“I’d love to,” you said with a shy smile, flooding relief through Taehyung’s body.  “Really?” he asked, grinning widely. “I would love to take you to-”

“Taehyung!” a voice shouted, interrupting him. “Get back to work, we don’t have time for this!”

“Coming!” Taehyung called back, getting to his feet. “My brother, Jungkook,” he explained, jerking a thumb at the general direction of the voice.

You turned and you saw a young man dressed in the pristine white of a chef’s uniform, standing behind the kitchen window, watching you and Taehyung with his hands on his hips. Jungkook, you assumed.

“Jungkook’s in charge of baking around here, he made your shortcake. I’ll pass him your compliments,” Taehyung said, purposely taking his time pushing the chair back to the table to spend more time with you. “Also,” he added, leaning down to you again, allowing you to catch another whiff of his fresh-bread scent. “Again, I’m not supposed to do this, but… tell Jimin,” he paused to point at the crescent-eyed cashier, “I said your dessert’s on me.”

“What? No, Taehyung-”

“Nope, can’t take it back! Tell him I said so,” he grinned, practically dancing away. 

Biting back on your own smile, you watched your waiter dance away to serve another table. Having finished the remainder of your dessert, you pushed your plate away but something under it caught your eye.

Lifting the plate, you saw a piece of paper. Curious, you peered at it and when you saw what was inscripted on it, you smiled for the umpteenth time tonight.

Here’s my number! I hope to see you again very soon.

ps. You look really cute when you’re excited about dessert.

Taehyung ♡ 

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