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landwriter · 1 year

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Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic

for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella

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Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.

Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x

Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad

Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down

plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!

Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)

Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard

wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you

Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently

...elizabeth

Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.

Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through

Hob replied moments later.

?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!

Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.

...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.

Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”

Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.

Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.

The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”

He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:

hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x

Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.

“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.

Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.

“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.

The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”

Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.

“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.

“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”

“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.

He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.

Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.

A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.

“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.

Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”

“Unhappily, I paid for this.”

“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”

Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”

“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”

They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.

“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.

“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.

“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”

Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”

Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”

And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.

#dreamling #domaystic2023 #this is DISTRESSINGLY sweet you've been warned #the sandman #three days in a row!#new record for actually doing a monthly prompt thing #continuing to just write about today's weather and call it a fic #my writing #the sandman fanfic

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unhealthy-reading-habits · 10 months

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Like many people, I binged watched Season 2 of Good Omens on Friday. I had a couple of days to deal with all the emotions, and I’ve now reached an epiphany. What follows here is the mad rambling of a GO apologist.

Warning: Good Omens Season 2 spoilers ahead, do not read if you don’t want spoilers. I will be spoiling the ending of Season 2 in this post. Please go watch it first. I’m also going to mention the ending of two of Jane Austen’s works (P&P and S&S)

The epiphany: Good Omens is a romantic story. Both Crowley and Aziraphale asked for this heartbreak but both are so woefully naïve about what love is, they didn’t even realise what they were asking for.

What do I mean by this?

In episode 2 (S2), they both describe what they think a romantic scenario is, but both are only focusing on the romantic finale. They are not thinking about the build-up to that moment, which includes a heartbreaking separation which only then leads to those romantic conclusions.

They are actually describing the same romantic scenario of having a separation and then reuniting in love again, they just present the scene differently.

Crowley describes his idea of romance as two people looking longingly into each other's eyes in the rain. He does say “beneath a canopy” but follows the above line by saying that if you “get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes”, this is what makes them fall in love, so Crowley is talking about confirming your love in the rain.

Examples in Richard Curtis films

Four Weddings and a Funeral - No cover, just rain kissing

Bridget Jones's Diary - No cover, just snow kissing

At face value, we think Crowley is saying the rain thing because of what happened at Eden, and I think that is part of it. But keep in mind that during the "before the beginning" scene and at the Eden scene, neither of them stared into each other’s eyes. They both kept facing forward.

What Crowley is actually describing is the romantic trope of the protagonist couple having a love-confirming kiss in the rain. The issue is the “confirmation” love kiss occurs after there is a period of separation or break-up in the relationship itself.

It’s sometimes called the “Second-Act Breakup” or "Third-Act Breakup" and the ending of Season 2 is a classic set-up for a Break-Up/Make-Up Scenario.

The trope often happens after the couple get into a big fight/misunderstanding/some event that breaks the two people up. The “under a canopy” bit isn’t the important detail here, the actual romantic scene Crowley is eluding to is the reunion kiss in the rain. To get a reunion kiss though, you need to break up properly first.

The romantic film story for the reunion kiss in the rain is only fully satisfying because it’s the moment after the horrible low of the two breaking apart, trying to forget the other person and thinking that they might not be together. So when the two characters do reunite at the end, it is a great romantic conclusion to the story.

Aziraphale described his idea of romance as going to a ball in a Jane Austen novel, where the characters realise they misunderstood each other, but the misunderstanding has to come first in this case.

It’s very obvious that the Good Omens 2 story is only halfway through and is written like a Jane Austen novel, which is blatantly said throughout the show.

[Side note: it’s been years since I read these novels so I’m hoping I’m not misremembering.]

Pride & Prejudice – Elizabeth angrily and rather viciously rejects Mr Darcy’s proposal mid-way through the novel and the remainder of the story is the “being separated” phase of the romance until they are reconciled at the end.

Sense & Sensibility – Elinor’s affection for Edward is disrupted by Lucy Steele’s presence as Edward’s fiancé half way through the novel. This “break up” of the courting between Elinor and Edward is only resolved at the end of the story when Lucy leaves Edward and he is now free to propose to Elinor.

The two most well-known stories by Jane Austen have a break up/separation scene about half way through, which the characters have to work through to then have the reunited happy ending.

For the Break-Up/Make-Up story, the two romantic interested need to finally realise/decide to disregard everything else, settle the misunderstanding and reunite, that’s the finality of the romance. To get this scene, you have to go through the break-up where the two separate first to get those raw emotions, which makes the reunited ending so incredible.

Yes, Aziraphale and Crowley have had fights and temporary lapses in their relationship, like the bandstand scene. But it’s not really them that are causing the break-up. It’s outside forces pressuring them, the environment around them making them act this way. They are also only fighting about something external (raising the antichrist, finding the antichrist etc).

This break-up is more personal, it is them individually instigating the break-up over their own intimate relationship. It’s not the usual song-and-dance, this is Aziraphale choosing a plan and Crowley choosing a different plan and both are too stubborn to relent.

It is Crowley and Aziraphale choosing to split because they cannot reconcile their opposing views about their own relationship and both choose to walk away from the situation.

There is a hypothesis about the “coffee” and Metatron’s maybe brainwashing here, but in my opinion, Aziraphale still chose his plan for their relationship over Crowley’s plan for their relationship. This was a conscious choice on Aziraphale's part.

This time, they were arguing about themselves, which led to a true break-up. An irreconcilable argument between them that they must work through so their relationship can mature:

Crowley still cannot understand that Aziraphale will never run away with him to be just the two of them. Aziraphale cares too much about Earth and humanity and wants to help people, so Aziraphale will never just leave.

Aziraphale still cannot accept that Crowley is not and does not want to be an angel. Aziraphale is not listening to Crowley when he says he does not want to go back to how things were before because he is genuinely happy with just being with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale consistently reminds himself that Crowley is a demon because (maybe knowingly, maybe subconsciously) he still sees him as an angel.

Crowley’s good actions further emphasise what Aziraphale already knows, that Crowley is a good person, but it’s very difficult for Aziraphale to separate the concepts of “good” and “angel”.

Both of them are not accepting the other as they truly are. Their relationship needs a real break-up, caused by themselves so that they can learn to accept each other as their full authentic selves.

We have to endure the low points to fully enjoy the high points.

Neil Gaiman has been very clear he intends there to be a season 3 so this love story is only halfway through, and frustratingly the break-up scene is the end of season 2. It’s like ending P&P when Elizabeth rejects Mr Darcy’s first proposal, or ending The Notebook as Allie sees the newspaper article about Noah but not showing them getting back together.

We know Crowley and Aziraphale will end up at the South Downs cottage. It’s just an emotional heart-wrenching journey between the two points. But when we get that reunion between them, it’s going to be delicious.

P.S. Neil Gaiman, you goddamn tease, if you are going for a full P&P/kiss in the rain experience, I really hope we get an Aziraphale wet shirt scene

#ineffable husbands #good omens meta #crowley and aziraphale #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens

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softboynick · 1 month

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wip wednesday - 5/1/2024

hello hello hello! I am almost released from the confines of grad school, so to celebrate here is more from my @aroyallybigbangrwrb!! I've been tagged by so many lovely people over the last couple weeks - just know that I see you, I love you, and I can't wait to read what you've all got in store!!! no pressure tags will be under the cut <3

a letter from alex to henry:

Hen, Don’t think for a second that I would ever call you a coward. You are the bravest son of a bitch I know. And I already told you. I forgive you. I’ll keep repeating it until you’re sick of me. I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you. Thank you for writing back to me. A part of me wasn’t expecting a reply, but the other part - the most desperate part of me - needed to know that you were okay. The only thing about rehab is what I know from the movies. Does it feel like a cult over there? Wait, I probably shouldn’t say anything like that, in case I get assassinated or something. Ignore me. (But seriously though, are you getting cult-y vibes from anyone?) Did you know it was pouring rain when I got to KP? Nora convinced me to use my sky miles, and I didn’t realize I’d be practically swimming through London when I landed. Bea said I looked like a drowned rat when I got to the palace, and Shaan almost didn’t let me in. I’m a little pissed that I didn’t get to you in time. I had a whole speech ready. Truly something to rival Mr. Darcy and his fuckass sideburns. But I think the letters will have to do. Makes it feel even more like Jane Austen, which I’m sure you’d prefer, you big romantic. You may say you have a wretched heart, but it is still the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed. I want to know every inch of your heart, all the good parts and the bad ones, too. We haven’t had that much time together, but I already want it all. I will gladly be the sun to your moon, and when we finally cross paths in our orbits, I will make it worth your while. We’ll be a global phenomenon. Just you and me. Hopefully, I don’t have to wait every 44 years to see you. But I’ll still wait forever if I have to, because like I said, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I don’t even think it’s physically possible for me to let you go. So sorry, babe, you’re stuck with me. If you want to be strong, do it for yourself, not for me. And even if you can’t be strong, that’s okay, too. I like to imagine recovery like a rollercoaster. It goes up, but it also goes down. And sometimes, there’s a random loop-the-loop that throws you off-kilter until it levels out again. It takes time, but I know you will eventually make it to the end. I understand your decision, but if you ever change your mind just let me know. I’ll always wait for you, A

@henrysfox @taste-thewaste @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @captainjunglegym

@onthewaytosomewhere @priincebutt @tinyarmedtrex @onpurposeilovehimonpurpose @england-would-fall

@anincompletelist @wordsofhoneydew @bitbybitwrites @itsmaybitheway @nocoastposts

@luainthewild @henryspearl @sheepywritesfics @mossy-fae @duchessdepolignaca03

@lfg1986-2 @theprinceandagcd @anchor-bird-94

+ OPEN TAG <333

#wip wednesday #my writing #i can finally focus on my rwrbigbang and i'm so excitedddd #rwrbigbang

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sea-salted-wolverine · 2 years

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@slightlyunderokayartist i made another post so I didn't hijack the other one. Because I basically paraphrased an entire novel.

I am going to make you appreciate Pride and Prejudice. It may at some point involve a PowerPoint full of comic sans and memes but I'm on my phone right now, so bear with me. Don't worry, I will remain nice about it.

The thing about Austen, is that she was one of the earliest means based feminists. (Yes, shes writing about landed gentry, but this is 180fuck and feminism is baby steps) Basically the thrust of alot of her work is that violence against women isn't always physical or even particularly violent. A lot of her contemporaries had stories about kidnapping and coercion and perfect pure heroines. In contrast Austen writes a character who is kinda a bitch and the primary antagonist is the fact that her life is entirely beholden to the decisions of the men around her.

So the book opens and you have lizzy. A bitch(affectionate). Shes got four sisters, no brothers and parents wealthy enough to own a country estate but not a London town house. So they're well-off but not fancy.

Lizzy is the second daughter and her dads favorite, because she's clever and cynical like he is. Her older sister is beautiful and sweet and shy and if Austen were anyone else she would be the main character. But Austen said 'nah, I wanna write about the messy one'. There are also 3 younger sisters who are various mixtures of spoiled bratty immature wild child girls.

If you can't tell, Mom and Dad have not been doing a ton of parenting. Specifically Dad, has not bothered to hire a tutor or send them to school so none of them has any marketable skills beyond being a socialite. And they're not even particularly good at it. Dad is less than motivated to take them anywhere they make connections and the entire family is pretty yikes as a result of his decisions. People see Jane (older sister) and go 'oh shes pretty and pleasant and her sister (lizzy) is fun to chat with, but yikes'

The issue is, there's no dowery for any of these girls. A dowery, if you don't already know is money set aside for a woman's married life that transfers to control of her husband when she leaves her family or if she doesn't marry, goes in a trust so she'll be supported when she doesn't have family to take her in. Its basically an insurance policy so she won't starve to death on the street because women can't legally own anything. Also it's a lot of money, that then goes to the new husband, so it makes woman in question more desirable. These girls don't have that, because dad never got around to it. Other issue, when dad dies all his stuff, including the house, goes to some cousin because women can't hold property. Cousin has never met this family and could decide to kick them all out when he owns the house.

Mom, looks at her daughters and goes, 'holy tits, you have got to get married. Preferably to someone rich enough to take care of his in-laws, but married, now.' So she's trying to marry her daughters off for money and different adaptions handle this differently but the original work is pretty forgiving because the other option is pretty grim.

In comes Mr Darcy and his buddy Mr Bingley. Bingley is very wealthy and has the personality of a golden retriever. Darcy is extremely wealthy and doesn't want to be there but his extrovert bestie is dragging him to parties because its good for him.

Mom goes 🤑🤑🤑 and shoves her daughters over there. Bingley and Jane are getting along immediately and Darcy is looking at Mom and going "uh dude..."

There is an overheard conversation that consists mostly of "eh, Jane seems nice but uh everything else? Yikes.😬 " to which Lizzy has the opinion of "what a dick, whatever, not like i ever have to see him again"

Except Mom sees JanexBingley happening and she's gotta lock that shit down. So she insists jane ride on over to his place for a visit tomorrow. In the rain.

"But momma we are fragile English gentry we can't get rained on, I will surely fall ill and die" says jane.

"Yeah, no shit, that's the point. Now go live your favorite hurt/comfort sick!fic and snag a husband"

Jane gets rained on, Jane gets sick. Lizzy says absolutely not and walks over to Bingley's house in the mud and busts down the door to get to Jane. (Lizzy has Plot Armour and/or a functional circulatory system)

Darcy, who's chilling at his bros house, looks at Lizzy and goes "oh, wow" Lizzy goes "you're a dick i don't care about your opinions"

Inside of Darcy head: ooooooh😳😳😳 pretty lady being mean to me? Flirting? 💘Maybe?🥰 oh no shes meeting all my standards

What actually comes out of his mouth: I'm not impressed

Lizzy: I don't feel bad about hating you, because as usual, I'm right

Then Mom shows up, because it can always be worse. Jane is in fact living and enjoying her hurt/comfort sick!fic and Lizzy is about to invent noise canceling headphones a couple centuries early so she doesn't have to make any more small talk. Mom wants to make sure that Jane is being slutty enough. The bratty little sisters are there. Bingley is shopping for rings. Darcy the hypocrite thinks maybe he should chill a little because the prospective inlaws are yikes.

A note: having unhinged in-laws was a big no-no that reflected badly on you as a person, un like today when its just assumed that everyone has a nightmare somewhere on the other side of the family. Like the toilet shotgun. We don't talk about the toilet shotgun.

Carrying on

We meet a dude. His name is Wickham. Hes a bad dude but we don't know that yet. He is of the opinion that Darcy is a huge cunt and Lizzy decides this man has good opinions. There's drama, Darcy screwed me over, blah blah, he sucks and I'm broke but handsome and charming.

We also meet the cousin. Imagine the most obnoxious person you know with a connection to some random famous wealthy person and make sure they bring it up every chance they get. He's also aware he inherits the house.

Marrying your cousin was a thing back then, so he looks at the available choices and picks the pretty one. Jane is spoken for, says Mom but Lizzy is very lovely, I'm sure she would love to be not homeless. Cousin goes yea sure, acceptable. Hey Liza, sorry, Lizzy, I love you v. much, plz marry.

Lizzy, understandably, does not want. Says no. Will not marry into a miserable loveless marriage for comfort. Dad gets the final say, says yeah thats reasonable, favorite daughter gets what she wants. Mom goes "hey your options are miserable and married or miserable and homeless. And your entire family comes with you on the second one. Are you sure thats your final answer?"

Theres some plot, there's a party. Bingley cuts it off with Jane and she sad. Lizzy is pretty sure it's Darcy's fault.

The man himself shows up and asks her to marry him. It goes... poorly.

There is an adaption where she starts swinging a fire poker at him while spouting lines of dialog lifted straight from the book and its not out of place. She reads this man for filth, bringing up Wickham and how he's responsible for breaking her sisters heart and also in general a huge dick that she would not marry if he was the last man on earth. It does not help that he's not only admitting to the things she's accusing him of but defending it with stuff like "i didnt want my buddy marrying into your nightmare family" and "Wickham is an asshole who deserved it"

She knows shes fucked if she doesn't mary rich but she bitches this man out so hard he leaves town and goes back home to learn to be nicer.

A bit later she gets a long ass letter explaining how Darcy thought that Jane was getting shoved into marriage by their mother and didn't want her and Bingley to end up unhappy. And also how Wickham got a fuckload of money from Darcy's dead father and squandered it all because he's an asshole. The asshole also tried to marry his baby sister to weasel into the family fortune so they're not talking and there's the 1800s version of a restraining order out there. Ends with something like "I respect you and am a little scared of you which is why I wanted to marry you and if you never want to speak to me again thats fine"

Lizzy should really be allowed to say fuck here but she doesn't. She decides to get out of town herself and goes to chill with her aunt and uncle. They're touring the countryside and Darcy has a house big enough for tours so they end up touring the house. (Ugh, rich people)

The household staff who work for this guy are all of high opinions. The cleaning lady knows your shit. She knows. And they all like the guy.

Lizzy does not say fuck.

Darcy is not supposed to be there in his own house but he shows up in his own house and sees the love of his life with whom he monumentally blew it. In his own house.

Darcy doesn't get to say fuck either.

Lizzy gets a letter and she really really should be allowed to say fuck because Wickham has run off with her baby sister.

Not married. Run off. Sister has had no supervision or parenting and just knows she needs to get a man so she did. Kinda. And tanked her whole family's reputation in doing so. No no one will marry any of the sisters and they're all fucked.

Darcy realizes this is partly his fault and hes also the only one who can really fix it. So he, without telling anyone, runs down Wickham and threatens/blackmails/bribes him into marrying baby sister and saving everyone's reputation. He makes sure little sister and Wickham have enough money to live comfortably regardless of how shit that relationship turns out to be.

Then he goes over to his sad golden retriever friend who has been moping about the pretty lady who didn't love him and point out that now he has spent all that money and effort rehabilitating the Bennet reputation Bingley might as well marry Jane. So Bingley prances off to go propose to Jane and Mom realizes her family is secure and quits double fisting ye old anxiety meds.

He doesn't tell anyone this. Lizzys family still thinks she hates him. He shows up and goes "hey hope you're happy and okay with this, my feelings haven't changed since last time I asked, I'm hoping yours have."

Lizzy would love to marry this guy because he was never really an asshole from the start and her family is indeed kinda a mess.

Her dad reassures her she doesn't have to marry the rich dude she hates for his money, Jane already did that. Lizzy explains that no actually she loves him and also he saved their ass with respect to the Wickham debacle. Dad decides that Darcy must be a good dude if thats the case and says yep go get married.

Blah blah blah happily ever after.

Lizzy overcomes her prejudices against Darcy and unbends her pride enough to admit she was wrong.

#pride and prejudice #i did not intend to summarize the whole thing im sorry #its good #Elizabeth Bennet is a bitch (affectionate)#sitting over here with my dunce cap that barely fits over my enormous brain

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commando-rogers · 10 months

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thoughts on the first two episodes and by thoughts I mean screaming

EVERYTHING ABOUT THE EPISODE ONE COLD OPEN WAS ABSOLUTELY FUCKING OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

LIKE HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE SEEN AND WRITTEN AND READ FIC ABOUT ANGEL CROWLEY CREATING THE STARS

oh my fucking god David Tennant’s performance there was incredible, he was just so open and happy and excited and giddy, and still undeniably crowley (though who knows what his name was then) and just the brilliant little seeds planted of his personality and his questions and god his enthusiasm and his facial expressions were absolutely incredible

and the fact that AZIRAPHALE IS THE ONE WHO FELL IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT BEFORE TIME EVEN FUCKING EXISTED YET

AND CROWLEY SHIELDING AZIRAPHALE UNDER HIS WING FOR THE METEOR SHOWER JUST LIKE AZIRAPHALE THEN DOES FOR HIM AT THE WALL IN THE FIRST RAIN

AND NOW CROWLEY IS LIKE YEAH HUMANS FALL IN LOVE WHEN THEY GET CAUGHT IN THE RAIN AND STARE INTO EACH OTHERS EYES REALLY CROWLEY??? REALLY????

and now ok oh my god the fact that we’re gonna have the trope of two characters trying to orchestrate a romance while then falling in love themselves ???????????? like the parallels of Maggie and Nina to aziraphale and crowley are so clear personality-wise dynamic-wise etc (though tbh it’s not cut and dry how we’d have thought it’d be) and just knowing crowley and aziraphale are gonna spend so much time talking about love and trying to create love is gonna fucking murder me

I mean it when I say I don’t need or even necessarily WANT crowley and aziraphale to say I love you or kiss or something I feel like that’s just too small that’s too inconsequential for supernatural beings who’ve known each other for eternity. but the love is just so clear. it’s so much.

Jon hamm oh my god he’s incredible

ugh aziraphale’s fear after lying during the Job storyline was honestly so heartbreaking and both actors did a great job conveying what the stakes were for each of them

I’ve been screaming forever and we all have been screaming forever about the parallels between crowley and aziraphale and lizzy and mr Darcy in pride and prejudice so the fact that’s gonna be a thing omg

the I was wrong dance

oh my god

fic writers are probably already going feral over it

it was incredible

the way it was so perfectly flourished and bouncy while crowley hated every second

and just. the way they’ve so clearly had this little inside thing for centuries. I just. oh my god. oh my god. oh my god

curious about Nina’s controlling partner - interesting her name starts with an L, interesting that she’s kind of like aziraphale in that she always feels surveilled by her partner and “we’re just friends, we barely know each other” that is STRAIGHT FROM THE GLOBE SEASON ONE EPISODE THREE

and so it is interesting then if Nina reflects aziraphale and Maggie reflects crowley- we’ve always felt that crowley, though he hides them, has such strong emotions and feelings, so if they’re parallels it’s interesting how Maggie is almost like Crowley’s id of maybe this is how he feels having spent forever (months) working up the courage to get close (bring the LP)

idk man

and oh my god just the way that crowley is the one who got aziraphale to lie and to realize maybe heaven and hell and good and evil aren’t as black and white as he thought

interesting their discussion of how aziraphale seemed to be the one saying there was an “our side”

ugh I’m just so. I’m so. oh my god. it’s so beautiful I love it omg and I also love that I can’t tell where it’s going

if we see aziraphale trying to drive I’m gonna lose my shit

I have so many other thoughts I can’t remember right now but omg

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luckydragon10 · 2 years

Text

P&P Chapters 7 and 8

(Chapters 5 and 6)

As of my last reading, Mr. Darcy hadn't budged from his mean -15 points, but Lizzy rose to +25.

Chapter 7

The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and to a milliner’s shop just over the way.

Somehow I feel like the milliner's shop might be the bigger draw than the aunt...

They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley’s large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.

The female gaze is well represented here.

“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody’s children, it should not be of my own, however.”

I have no doubt that you think slightingly of MANY other people's children.

“Mamma,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson’s as they did when they first came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke’s library.”

Read the room, Lydia.

“No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to rain; and then you must stay all night.” “That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “if you were sure that they would not offer to send her home.”

...+5. Yes, please, bring logic into this. Also, that's quite a lead you have on Mr. Darcy at this point.

Will he ever get a chance to dig himself out of his hole?

“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness—if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.”

It's ALMOST funny but hits the wrong note for me. Mr. Bennet, don't make me start scoring you as well.

“I admire the activity of your benevolence,” observed Mary, “but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.”

Thank you, Marytron 2000, you sound like a textbook read by an android.

Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion’s justifying her coming so far alone.

Mr. Darcy, your conflicting comments render a net zero sum. That was a missed opportunity to start digging yourself out of the hole. OMG, why do I bother with you? Hopeless.

Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment,

Good sister points, another +5.

~~~

Chapter 8

The sisters, on hearing this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter: and their indifference towards Jane when not immediately before them, restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original dislike.

AH! Delightful. Elizabeth is also using a scoring system. 😂🤣

who, when he found her prefer a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

Someone help, what's a ragout? Don't make me google this. I shan't.

“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley.

You have my full permission to marry Jane.

“Not at all,” he replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.” A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again.

*suspicious side-eye* I'm giving you a tentative +5. VERY tentative. I feel like you're going to kill it off at any second.

“If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside,” cried Bingley, “it would not make them one jot less agreeable.” “But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy.

HA. I'll take those 5 points back now!

Ahh, a nice rousing argument between our leads, yes, very good.

Oops, Jane, sorry, looks like you will continue to be the sickly device by which we keep the leads in proximity. Get well soon, Jane.

(Chapters 9 and 10)

#nemi reads p&p #pride and predujice #chapters 7 and 8

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vivianweasley · 3 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 6)

Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley.

Last Chapter! (I combined the last chapter and the epilogue cuz they are not too long.)

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Malfoy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: food mention, mention of divorce, people pretending to choke, proposal.

Word Count: 1.8k

Disclaimer: photos used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Pride and Prejudice Series Masterlist

Fred walked downstairs, noticing a faint smell of apples in the joke shop. “So are we selling apple juice now, Georgie?” he joked.

But George looked confused, “What apple juice? I could only smell caramel-” And then the answer finally came to George, “Amortentia!”

Fred followed George to the shelf displaying amortentia and immediately realized a firecracker just exploded next to this shelf, causing at least four bottles of amortentia to break and the love potion inside to spill.

George waved his wand and cleaned up the mess, but a satisfied smirk soon appeared on George’s lips, “Strange. Didn’t know you liked apples this much.”

“Shut up and go back to work!” Fred raised his voice, covering for the fact that he’s a complete mess now.

That fainting smell of apple that’s still lingering in the shop also had a dash of the scent of book pages in it. And this combination could only remind Fred of one person.

You.

The person whom he married out of a dare. The person who he fell in love with during the process. The person who just walked out of his life.

George noticed the change in Fred’s expression. How defeat was now written all over his face. “Mate, you need to do something. You can’t just let her walk away like that.”

“What can I do?” Fred sighed, “Maybe she’s been waiting for this all the time.”

George sighed with Fred. This wasn’t like his brother. Soon the lingering smell of amortentia caught his attention, and a brilliant idea popped into George’s mind. “She has feelings for you too, and I can prove it to you!”

You pushed open the door of the joke shop. George just called you claiming that there’s an emergency, so you rushed to the joke shop immediately after work.

George approached you with a small glass vial, “Y/N, this is the new perfume I just made. I need your opinion.”

So this is the emergency??

You looked at George, couldn’t decipher what his smile meant. But you did know one thing. In fact, everyone who went to school with the twins should know the rule: be careful of what they handed to you. So you stepped away from that vial and asked with caution, “When did the joke shop start selling perfume?”

“Oh, we are always trying to expand our business,” George noticed how you became alert, so he added, “I swear to Merlin, this is not a prank!”

Still finding his smile suspicious, but for Merlin’s sake, you still decided to take the vial.

“Does it smell good? What does it smell like?” George asked carefully.

“Hmm...” The perfume did smell very good. You could smell the sweetness of cinnamon, a dash of gunpowder, but it also smelled so familiar. It smelled like...Fred’s cologne? “George, I’m pretty sure someone else has already made a perfume like this.”

“Really? How so?” George felt his heart beating at his throat, so scared that you might say another person’s name.

“Isn’t this just Fred’s cologne?” You were finding this unbelievable. How could George not recognize his own twin’s cologne?

“Oh really!!” Hearing a definitive answer from you has made George so happy that he pulled you into a hug. “Got it! Thank you for your opinion! You’re the best!”

“You’re welcome...?” Watching George being so happy that he could start dancing at any minute, you were beginning to think that the chemicals in the perfume were toxic. How could making a plagiarized perfume make a man so happy?

Two days later, you apparated to the joke shop again. It was raining outside. Maybe the weather was trying to set the tone for what was about to happen next. After taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door of the twins’ apartment, the apartment that you called home for the past year.

Fred opened the door, letting you in without saying a word. You tried not to look at him so you could appear indifferent and won’t be affected by his expressions.

“Here’s the divorce document,” you said as you took out all the paper in your bag. He took the documents and flipped through the papers quickly, still not saying anything at all.

You couldn’t tell if his silence meant he’s also not ready to say goodbye or he just had nothing to say to you. But you tried not to overthink as you continued, “Oh, before you sign it, you still have one wish left. What do you want me to do?”

“What if I said,” he finally looked at you, his eyes capturing yours, “I don’t want you to go?”

His words were like a drum in your ears, rendered you speechless. Before you could fully process what he just said, Fred continued, “It might sound crazy, but for the past few days, I realized I just couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. I know I’ve lived 20 years without you perfectly fine, but now that I’ve had you in my life, I don’t ever want to live without you again. I know I could be insensitive sometimes, and I probably did something stupid that made you mad in the past year, but I’m willing to change if you tell me to.”

“All I’m trying to say is,” he took a deep breath and continued, “Please allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. And please don’t divorce me.“

You finally let out a soft laugh. That’s Mr. Darcy’s line in Pride and Prejudice. You remembered reading this part to him during Christmas, and you couldn’t believe that he actually memorized this line.

Fred panicked when you weren’t talking, “But of course, if you really want to, I wouldn’t stop you. I-“

“You know, you don’t have to use your last wish on this,” you stopped him, “I was going to say yes anyway. But If you insist, that won’t be a problem with me.”

Fred’s eyes widened as he processed your words, “Wait, does that mean-“

You answered his question by pulling him down and pressing a kiss on his lips. He was shocked by your sudden action but soon kissed you back with his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

So this is what it feels like to kiss him, and it’s so much better than how you’ve imagined it would be. It started a soft kiss but soon became more passionate, as if you were making up for all the time you two spent on being oblivious.

“Should’ve done this earlier.” A smirk appeared on Fred’s lips when you finally pulled away.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were still heated.

He chuckled before giving you another soft peck on the lips. His hands were still resting on your waist.

“And you’re still this idiot’s wife.”

～(warning: people pretending to choke, food mention)~

“Y/N, there’s a Mr. Weasley looking for you,” the receptionist raised her eyebrows and smiled at you.

“Thanks! I’ll be done in a minute!” You quickly finished the last sentence and looked at Luna from across the table with your puppy eyes.

She chuckled, “Alright, you can leave early today.”

“Thanks, Luna, you’re the best!” You flicked your wand to pack up your bag before running to the door.

“Tell Fred I said hi!” you heard Luna’s voice behind you.

“I will!”

A month after your fake marriage ended, you quit your job at Whizz Hard Books. You didn’t want to work in a place that wouldn’t accept who you really are.

Ginny introduced you to Luna Lovegood and The Quibbler. You immediately fell in love with the whimsical ideas and style of The Quibbler, and Luna gave you a new job as you two hit it off very quickly. So this is where you work now. No need to hide your background and use a fake last name. This place accepted you for who you are.

Fred was at the door, opening his arms when he saw you running to him. “Happy one-year anniversary, darling!”

You giggled as you ran into his arms, “and this time, it’s real.”

“Yep,” he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “ready?”

You nodded, and the next second you two apparated to your favorite restaurant.

The dinner was delicious, and for dessert, Fred ordered your favorite cake. But when you were enjoying the cake, you suddenly felt something hard inside. This was extremely dangerous, for you could’ve swallowed it if you weren’t paying attention. You were just about to complain when you finally realized what it was.

It’s a ring!

You were surprised. Was Fred trying to propose? But last time you checked, you two were still legally a married couple.

But this also seemed like what he would do on your one-year anniversary. You were sure he was waiting to see your surprised face, and an idea soon came to you.

You pretended that you were trying to pick up your spoon because your elbow “accidentally” swept it down on the floor a few seconds ago. When you were sure Fred couldn’t see you, you slid the ring on your finger. Then you got up and took another bite of the cake like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

A few seconds later, you started coughing. Your brows were furrowed as your hands reached for your neck like you just choked on something.

Fred was freaking out, knowing that he’s the reason behind all this, “Darling, are you alright?”

The only response you could produce was a few glottal sounds and you looked like you were almost crying.

Fred ran to you as fast as possible. He wanted to help, but he had no idea what to do as his brain was in an absolute mess now. The only thing he could manage to do was apologizing again and again, “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have done that. Baby, I’m so sorry…”

The noise you two were making attracted the other customers’ attention, and you saw a waiter approaching you with his wand, trying to help. You knew it’s probably time to stop this prank.

“Are you talking about this?” You finally stopped acting and waved your left hand in front of him.

Fred’s expression froze, still trying to recover from the terror of accidentally hurting you. After a few moments, he finally realized, “Wait, does that mean…”

“YES!” You chuckled.

Fred’s furrowed brows finally unfolded as a bright smile appeared on his lips. He picked you up and spun you around, “She said YES!”

The crowd around you was clapping and cheering while your husband was cheering himself as well.

You giggled, “Freddie, you know we never went through with the divorce, right? So technically, I’m still your wife.”

“I know, darling, but I figured that I owe you a proper proposal,” he said while pressing multiple soft kisses on your face, “Plus, I just want to make this official. I love you, darling.”

“I love you too,” You smiled as your lips found his again, “I love you most ardently.”

A/N: I can’t believe I really finished this series asdfgfgjk Thank you guys so so much for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking this series. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me❤️

Series Taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @theweasleytwinsgirl @bookworm06 @unabashedbookscollector @txtdreamss @sagittarius-flowerchild @rsheridan @ovrwd @anywherebuthere @allaroundaddict @jeminila @secretsofageek @magical-spit @freddieweasleyswife @lilypad-55449 @hufflepuffzutara @honey-honey-5644 @kyloren-peterparker @treblebeth @kyloren-peterparker @fred-sux @rodrickmalfoy @liliputbahn @its-yasbxtch @daydreamgirl8 @305weasley @awritingtree @lucymfer @bberree @malfoy-wife15 @weasleyxmalfoyxstyles @justfollowtheroad @nojamsonmytoast @amc723

(If your name is bolded, Tumblr wont let me tag you. And I’m really sorry if I forgot you!)

(General taglist in reblogged post cuz it can’t fit in one post)

#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley series #fred weasley x malfoy!reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Most Ardently (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,200 Warning: Adult language Premise: Days after her recovery, he tells her of the Pride and Prejudice vibe they apparently give off. Set after the events of Book 2, Chapter 11.

Quote: “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

The bright beams of moonlight spilling through his window were enough to stir him awake. The first thing he thought of was how he had forgotten to close the curtains shut, as was his custom every night before bed. A slight rustling next to him, however, followed by a sleepy hum reminded him he had been far too busy to remember the damn curtains.

When she settled further into his side, Ethan smiled, watching her sleeping form, carefully taking in every detail with something akin to urgency. Inexplicably, his chest constricted as he took in the faint dusting of freckles at her nose, the dark fan of lashes splayed in a half moon, her rosy, parted lips that puckered slightly with her breathing. It was almost as if every part of him knew he had been so close to losing her.

Almost two weeks had elapsed since the attack and the icy terror of losing her still gripped him like an iron fist. His arm flexed on instinct around her as he fought back the remnants of dread, choosing instead to pull her warm body closer to his as irrefutable proof that she was there, right by his side.

Mere seconds after, Lilac stirred, opening her eyes briefly only to squint at the moonlight.

“Hey,” she murmured sleepily.

“Hey,” he returned softly. “Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“It's almost one.”

“Shit. I fell asleep.”

With a jolt, she pushed away from him, frantically patting the nightstand for her phone. Ethan sat up with a frown, already missing the warmth of her body.

“Where are you going?”

Lilac clutched the covers to her front, all traces of sleep gone as she winked at him from over her shoulder. “I've finally had my way with you, Dr. Ramsey. Now for my escape.”

The playful smile she gave him made his heart leap with elation. Laughing, Ethan reached over and pulled her on top of him with ease. Lilac half shrieked and half laughed, her hips settling comfortably over his, her hands flat against his chest to steady herself. The messy tendrils of her dark hair brushed against his skin, leaving his every sense at her disposal.

“Now that you have me, you might not be able to get rid of me that easily,” he explained in a serious whisper, their lips almost touching.

“Good.”

Ethan kissed her, exhilarated by the fact that he didn't have to hold back anymore. Her lips curved into a smile against his, perhaps knowing this too. They pulled away for breath several times, their lips meeting with renewed fervor right after, until they were both practically too dizzy to continue. They caught their breath in silence, basking in a haze of unbridled happiness.

“I should go home,” she said at last. “We have work in the morning and I don't have a change of clothes.”

“Sienna brought you an overnight bag. It's in the car.”

At that, Lilac pushed herself far back enough to give him a stunned look. “She– what?” She blinked several times. “How would she– She doesn't even know–”

“She knows.”

This only made Lilac blink in quicker succession, mouth open as her brain struggled to verbalize all her questions. It was entirely too endearing and Ethan couldn't resist leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose.

“I told her,” he explained. “Though that was unnecessary. You forget she caught me sneaking out of your apartment all those months ago?”

Lilac's shock slowly melted as she realized this. Soon, her expression relaxed into a grin that gave way to unrestrained laughter. When she couldn't stop, Ethan joined in, shaking his head.

“I forgot she saw that,” she said when she finally sobered up. “For being two highly intelligent doctors, we can be so stupid sometimes.”

Ethan shrugged.

“Even if she hadn't seen me leaving that morning, she would have suspected. According to her, we give off a vibe.”

“A vibe? What kind of vibe?”

“A Pride and Prejudice vibe.”

At that, her face lit up in a way that made his stomach swoop.

“I knew you would enjoy that.”

“You absolutely put out Mr. Darcy vibes,” she said, barely restrained joy seeping from every word.

“Here we go.”

“Aside from being rich, handsome, and short-tempered—”

“Short-tempered?”

“—you are also masterfully good at the longing glances and discreet hand touching.”

“Hand touching? I don't recall—”

The lie was swiftly interrupted by her impressive recollection. One by one she listed all the stolen glances from across hospital halls and the way his fingers always seemed to find hers. Impressed, he only grinned at her, content in the knowledge that she remembered every instance as vividly as he did.

Lilac, on the other hand, was too busy circling back to teasing him about Sienna's reference. She cleared her throat, lowered her voice to a supposed imitation of Ethan, and quoted in an impressive English accent: “I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself.”

Ethan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Despite being the subject of her playful taunts, he was ecstatic to hear her melodic laughter again.

“My good opinion once lost, is lost forever,” he quoted, earning him an impressed, arched brow from her.

It should have been embarrassing that even that small gesture was enough to tempt him because he was kissing her again. This time, when they pulled away, she bit her lip, a poor attempt to fight back a broad, radiant smile.

For his own part, Ethan allowed himself to smile as he looked at her, his fingers gently brushing a wayward lock of hair away from her face. Her eyes fluttered closed against his caress, making her nothing less than ethereal in the pale moonlight. The lovely sigh that followed inspired his very blood to buzz alive with warmth, like the spell of a quiet summer evening.

Unbidden, another quote echoed in his mind, one that was far more fitting to the way his heart pounded fiercely against the confines of his chest— for her. Always for her.

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

They were words he used to scoff at.

But now…

He remained perfectly still as their truth dawned on him, casting color and warmth into his every thought.

Lilac was watching him curiously. “What?”

His response was a gentle kiss that should have lasted forever. When he pulled away, he did so to kiss her jaw. “You make me so happy.”

Eyes bright, Lilac searched his face with such reverence that Ethan held his breath. Her delicate hand slid from his neck to his chest, right above where his heart thrummed vividly, proving his words true with each beat. Whatever she was looking for, she found because she leaned in and kissed him yet again.

“Completely and perfectly and incandescently happy?”

“I know you're back to teasing me about the Austen reference but yes. Completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

___________________

Author’s Note:

Me @ me:

Sorry. That reference killed me so I had to do this. I felt it in my soul.

Thank you for reading this! And thank you for all the support you showed “Everything I Wanted” despite all the issues I had posting that one.

Love you guys!

-Bree

_______

Tags

@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #playchoices #my writing

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nightbrightwrites · 3 years

Text

A Good Classic

~ A/N: I’m a bit nervous about posting here; I love writing but I’ve never written an imagine before. Hopefully you all like it, and feel free to let me know what you think and what you want to see!

Summary: You’ve always loved to read, and you weren’t going to let moving into the dorms separate you from your precious tomes! What you didn’t account for, was how the hell you were going to get everything upstairs. Luckily for you, a certain lightning bolt boy was ready and able to offer some help, and maybe get a date out of it too...

Reader is male, btw! Trans or cis isn’t specified, but I am a trans man myself so there will definitely be more trans male oriented content in the future!

Disclaimer: Most of the books mentioned here are English classics; I didn’t want to misrepresent any Japanese titles that I haven’t read. Thank you for your understanding!

You had never regretted your love of reading. It had been a constant in your life for as long as you could remember, and moving into the U.A. dorms wasn’t going to change that. When you woke up that morning, it had been with excitement at the thought of finally moving your books into your dorm. The past few days had been setting up the shelves, and now it was finally time to fill them.

What you didn’t ever think to consider was just how the hell you were going to get all the boxes to your room on the second floor, especially because the elevator was still getting fixed after a certain SOMEONE lost their temper once again.

Thanks Bakugo.

Getting the many boxes to the dorm building wasn’t too bad; you’d had the help of some of the other students of U.A. But none of them could stay, so the task of getting every box up the stairs and to your room, not to mention unpacked and organized, fell onto your shoulders. The sun was shining as of now, the air sweet with the promise of flowers blooming with the incoming spring, but if the forecast was to be believed and rain was on its way, then you needed to get it together and fast.

Before you could steel yourself to bend over and grab the first box, someone calling your name grabbed your attention.

“(Y/N)!” Kaminari was jogging to you with his ever present grin, boyish in its charm and more than enough to bring your own smile rising to the forefront. “What’s with all the boxes?”

At the reminder of your plight, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I brought some books from home-”

“Some?!” Kaminari’s eyes bulged as he looked around at the many boxes surrounding the entrance. Luckily no one had needed to get around you, but you wanted to get these books safe and sound before the rain started.

“Yes, some!” You scoffed. “What can I say, I have good taste and I didn’t want to leave them behind! I just...” You rubbed at your temple. You thought about asking your classmates, but you didn’t know where they were and something didn’t sit right with leaving your books out here while you ran to find someone.

“Did you text someone to help? How’d you even get all of these here?” Kaminari looked way too amused in the face of your frustration, though he raised his hands in placation when you turned your gaze onto him.

“My friends helped me get them here, but they didn’t stick around. And I...don’t have anyone else’s number.” That was a lie, completely and utterly, but you also refused to admit that the thought of texting had completely slipped your mind. it just wasn’t something you were willing to admit, especially to Kaminari who’d never let you live it down.

“Yikes.” Kaminari looked around at your situation one more time, before his eyes met yours once more. He seemed to be considering something, lips pursed in thought, until he finally gave a lazy shrug.

“I’ll help!”

Saying that you were taken aback was an understatement. “...You?”

Kaminari’s bright grin dropped, and you had a to bite back a snort. “Sorry, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that. Thank you, you’re the best!”

“Ah ah, don’t go singing my praises yet, pretty boy!” Kaminari kept talking, but your head was a little more focused on the pet name. Pretty boy, huh? No one had ever called you that before, and you...kinda liked it. Even though it threw you off balance, it was worth it for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Hello? Earth to (Y/N)! Don’t make me have to zap ya!” A hand waving in front of your face snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Were you listening to me?”

“No.” With that, you picked up a box and headed inside, rolling your eyes fondly at Kaminari’s protests. Soon enough you heard him stomping behind you, muttering something about the box being filled with rocks instead of books.

------

“So, Pride and Prejudice, huh?” Kaminari lifted the book with a raised brow.

You two had managed to get the last box inside just as the rain started, and both of you were exhausted to say the least. You didn’t want to keep him any longer, but he offered to unpack your books and you really could use the help.

You weren’t, however, going to take his shit. “Kaminari, I know for a fact that you like the classics just as much as I do.”

“Pfft, what? No way-”

“I know that you sit in the library every Friday before curfew to read in the little corner over in the history section. I sit there too sometimes, it’s very comfy.”

Kaminari sputtered for a moment, during which you took the time to load up your poor shelves with more literature. Listening to the usually confident boy sputter for a moment was a lovely soundtrack, though you silently prayed he didn’t short circuit. Your poor books couldn’t handle it.

“...S-So are you just stalking me or something? If you liked me that bad you could’ve just asked me out.” He chuckled, still slightly off-kilter. He hoped he was sounding at least somewhat flirty, but from the funny look you gave him, he wasn’t doing that good of a job.

“In your dreams, maybe.” You chuckled. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re my personal Mr. Darcy.”

“Mr. Rochester?”

You paused. “Is this your way of telling me you’re gonna lock me in the attic?”

Kaminari’s grin never dropped so fast, and you had to stifle a snort behind a hardcover.

“Come on, throw me a bone here (Y/N)!”

“I’m free tomorrow.”

Kaminari blinked, feeling his face heat ever so slightly. “H-Huh?”

“You wanted a bone, yes? I’m free tomorrow if you wanted to-”

“Yes!” Kaminari fist-pumped, already running through ideas in his head. “You won’t be disappointed, (Y/N)!” He sprinted out of the room, careful not to trip over or God forbid, step on any of your books.

“Kaminari, we’re not done-! And he’s gone.” You sighed, shaking your head fondly. Luckily you were almost done shelving, though it took you a bit longer than usual; your mind was a bit preoccupied with your date tomorrow.

#nightbrightwriting #bnha #bnha reader #male reader #kaminari #denki kaminari #bnha imagine #bnha male reader #bookworm! reader #mha #mha reader #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #kaminari x reader #kaminari x male reader

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t-o-m-hollands · 4 years

Text

Summery: Tom is not entirely sure of how it happens. But one moment he’s the gardener of Locksley Hall, and the next he’s run off to marry the lords daughter. A girl he despises.

Well, sort of.

Warnings: Smoking.

A/N: this is (loosely) based on the Locksley Hall poem by Tennyson, but the relationship between them is pretty heavily inspired by Atonement by Ian McEwan (the first part of the book) and the story at large also slightly inspired by Downton Abbey. Also, I’ve changed the law in this. As I understand it (from watching Downton Abbey) girls could never inherit the estate, no matter if she was married or not. Here you will inherit, but only if you are married and it will then go to your husband. Also, I was listening to Old Money – lana del rey the entire time I was writing this.

Locksley Hall, England – 1920.

It’s June, and Tom finds himself praying for rain.

It’s one of those summer days when the air stands still. Not a whiff of wind, no breeze in the trees, not a cloud in the sky. Just an ever-pressing, inescapable heat that seems to paint the whole world a hazy golden shade.

He’s knee-deep in the earth, sweat running down his back, shovelling soil under the merciless sun. It’s midday and the warmth is intolerable. He can already feel the blisters he’ll have on his hands tomorrow. To top it all off his head is pounding and he reminds himself to give Harrison a good kick in the chin the next time he sees him; for convincing him that one more drink wouldn’t hurt.

And god, he desperately wants a cigarette.

“God, it’s hot today” Madeleine’s bored voice drifts out the open window. “One can hardly think straight”.

Tom lifts his head and observes her through the glass. The owner of the voice is in the conservatory. Wearing a lace dress and her dark curls perfectly pinned into place. She is primly drinking tea alongside her mother; safely hidden away from the beaming sun.

He swipes the sweat from his forehead before shovelling the spade further down in the dirt. A sudden urge to throw some of the earth through the conservatory window hits him, just enough to dirty up her white gown. But he resists it. Instead he sits down by the flowerbed and leans his pounding head against the wall. His sore muscles scream in relief. Lighting a cigarette, he then closes his eyes and inhales deeply. The whole world goes white as the sun shines through his closed eyelids and a soft sigh escapes him.

“Have you received any more letters from Sir Hatfield?” He hears lady Locksley inquire from inside.

“What, James?”

“Yes, of course James, has he written you again?”

“Thankfully not”.

“Oh, don’t be silly child, he’s the owner of Hatfield house! God knows you could do worse than him” Lady Locksley scolds her oldest daughter. Despite himself Tom’s interest is peaked, so he keeps smoking and listening to the conversation, ignoring his gardening duties.

“But he’s such a bore” Madeleine whines in response. “Honestly mother, all he ever talks about is hunting. And Hatfield house is a terrible building, you know I can’t stand Tudor architecture. Plus, James is ancient.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s not ancient, he’s ten years younger than your father.”

“Exactly, and I’m two-and-twenty years old!”

“Oh, do be quiet, you’re very lucky he’s shown any interest in you at all. I have talked to your father about this. It’s high time for you to get married. Ever since Francis…” she trails off and Tom knows why. Francis had been her oldest child and only son, the one set to inherit the land and the title. Who had died in the war during the battle of the Somme. Tom had known Francis and had not been fond of him. Upon hearing about his death he’d wondered if the heir had been shot by one of his own, though he did not air this suspicion. Tall and handsome Francis may have had been, but he had also been entitled, rude and unkind to animals. He’d beaten his horses, screamed at the servants and taunted his sisters.

Lady Locksley continues with a new air of authority in her voice. “It’s more important than ever before that we find you a good match. You know what’s at stake if you don’t marry and marry soon”.

Silence for a second, and unease is setting like lead in Tom’s stomach. Maybe this isn’t a conversation he should listen in to.

“Yes, I know.” The words sound heavy and reluctant in Madeleine’s mouth.

He opens his eyes and discretely as he can he pops his head up to sneak a look through the window. The look on the young heir’s face strikes him. It’s not sad, nor angry or dismayed. It’s apathetic. Like she’s somewhere far, far away.

“Boy, I thought I told you to start digging!” Bertie Higgins voice booms over the grounds as he crosses the corner of the building and walk towards Tom, who quickly puts out his cigarette.

An elderly man, with bushy beard and eyebrows, a bit too fond of beer and with fingernails so dirty Tom wonders if they’ve ever been cleaned, walks towards him. Mr. Higgins has worked as the head gardener on the grounds of Locksley Hall for longer than anyone could remember.

“Sorry Mr. Higgins, I just took a breather” he says before putting out his cigarette and picking up his shovel again. Mr. Higgins observes him for a moment, then he leans in closer and whiffs of the beer the older man had for lunch hits Tom’s face. “Listen, boy” he says in a low voice “no good will come from spying on them gentle folks, hear me? No good will come of it”.

“Mr. Higgins I wasn’t -” Tom begins to defend himself but the gardener pats his shoulder and continuous in his stern voice. “Is no use lyin’ to me, boy, I’m too old, I’ve seen too much. You’ve been sniffin’ after that young heir since you came back. ’s no use lad. Them folks are not for the likes of us, above your station she is, well above your station.” Tom wants to protest. For he has most certainly not been sniffing after anyone, least of all Madeleine Locksley, but Mr. Higgins continues. “Now Alice,” he says and pats his shoulder again “she’s some good maid she is, why not ask her out?”

Alice was indeed a maid at Locksley Hall. Pretty and always ready for a laugh. She’d made it perfectly clear of her interest in him too. There was however a streak of pettiness to the girl that he wasn’t too fond of, and therefor he’d reclined her thus far. But he doesn’t particularly feel like sharing that with Mr. Higgins.

“Now boy” Mr. Higgins goes on. “You had your breather, go back to diggin’, if I told you once I told’ you a thousand times, you dig when the sun’s out and the dirt is dry an’ you water when the sun’s gone down”.

Tom goes back to digging, the sun burning his neck, and his joints already protesting.

He doesn’t notice Madeleine’s brown eyes observing him from within the conservatory.

***

The bathwater has gone cold. Still, she stays in the water. The prospect of putting down her book and getting up and ready for yet another family dinner seems dull at best. The rose-scented cold water feels refreshing against her skin. Today really had been unbearably hot.

Still the heat lingers in the air.

Outside the bathrooms leaded windows the last rays of daylight are lighting up the grounds. Though the light in the gardener’s cottage is already lit.

Dropping her copy of Pride & Prejudice to the floor she sinks further down into the water. Leaning her head back against the edge of the tub she closes her eyes and sighs.

She’d just gotten to the part in the book where Elizabeth refuses Mr. Darcy’s proposal and it had annoyed her. How Elizabeth could refuse Mr. Darcy and all his possessions, and it didn’t lead to despair and desolation for her entire family, instead, as if by the waving of a magic wand, everything worked out beautifully in the end. That wasn’t real life.

Everything was annoying her today. Her mother’s persistent nagging, her father’s detachment, granny’s constant complaining. Tom’s strong arms wielding a shovel. The cotton shirt sticking to his sweaty back, the suspenders holding up his muddy trousers.

She sinks further down into the cold water.

Tom had looked annoyed today as well. But then again, he’d seemed permanently aggravated ever since he got back from France, at least in her presence. She’d seen him laugh plenty of times with Harrison from the pub when she visited the village, and with Alice too. He’d even crack a smile from time to time with Mr. Higgins. But her presence always seemed to put a frown on his face.

It had not always been this way.

As children they had played. They had explored the woods like travellers discovering a new world. Had run over the poppy fields pretending they could fly. They’d made it down to the sea and Old Sailor Joe had told them stories of Odysseus, and his long journey home. They’d sneaked out and slept under the stars and he had told her all of what Mr. Higgins had taught him about botany. Of how the things we sow in the ground with time will grow. About which flowers could kill you, and which ones could heal.

They had shared secrets and kept them between themselves, solemnly sworn blood-oaths with all the seriousness of a promise between children. They’d sworn that whatever happened between them stayed that way. That his secrets were hers and she’d keep them to her grave, and likewise for him.

Then she’d been sent away to boarding school and he had gone to the village school and that had been the end of that. During the holidays so much time had seemed to have passed between them that it was hard to pick up the threads of childish games where they’d left them. Then, war had broken out and she’d been sent to live with relatives in Canada, and Tom, well, Tom had joined the army.

Once they’d seen each other again years had passed, and they were strangers to one another.

The last evening light shines over the grounds of Locksley Hall, but Madeleine doesn’t move out of her bath, instead she stares out the window, feeling no motivation to move.

Everything is fleeting, that was what she kept feeling. The hours, the days, the weeks, the months and years. Time passed her by so rapidly and yet all the days looked the same. She felt like a leaf landing in a river, being swept away with the stream with no control of where it was going or were it’d end up. Soon, she would be married, most likely to dreary James Hatfield, and then they would settle in Hatfield house and she would never spend her days roaming the grounds of Locksley Hall again.

Or maybe, she wouldn’t marry, and upon the death of her father and in the lack of a male heir, all their lands and possessions would go to the crown, and they’d all would be left with nothing.

A scream works itself larger in her throat. It had started earlier that day, with her mother in the conservatory. It would only grow larger, and larger until she wouldn’t be able to hold it in any longer. She knew this much from experience.

It felt like this,

In school they’d been taught about diamonds, about how with heat, pressure, and time diamonds are formed to something so unbreakable and everlasting that only another diamond can cut it. She’d imagined how all the screams she’d held inside, pressed between two lungs, over time created so much pressure that they’d turn her insides into diamonds.

As a child she and Tom had snuck into the library one night. In a book of medical terms they’d found the word autopsy with the description: “An examination of a body after death to determine the cause of death or the character and extent of changes produced by disease — called also necropsy”. Not understanding much of this they had searched the other medical books until they found a more thorough description of what the word meant.

She had been horrified upon finding the truth in all its bloody glory. How, upon one’s death, a pathologist would cut you open to see what they could find. Painted pictures of the procedure followed, and Madeleine is still certain that the image of a cut open human heart is imprinted on her retinas forever.

She imagined it like this,

When they cut her open they won’t find veins, or blood, or intestines. But instead a cloud of smoke as they’ll tear her up, and inside –

dust.

And a diamond heart; at the living core of which a handful of secrets shared between children years ago were kept. And the pathologists will look at one another and ask themselves, ‘why did she walk around with a diamond heart for all those years?’ Not realising, that her diamond heart was a perfect symbol of her.

Beautiful and valuable.

And essentially useless.

The door to the bathroom bursts open, and a very aggravated eleven-year-old girl stands on the threshold. Her cheeks are flushed red, not only from a day spent playing in the sun, but from barely held-back rage.

“That hag!” she bursts out. Her curly, brown hair a mess, wearing a grass-stained dress. A big hole at the sole her left sock.

Madeleine finally steps out of the cold water, pulls on her robe and turns to Beatrix.

“Beanie darling, you know you can’t call people that. Now, what has happened?”

“She told me I’d only be fit to marry a sailor the way I look! And then she had the nerve to say that I was lacking manners! Just because I told her I’d love to marry a sailor, at least he wouldn’t be such a bore!”

The older sister tries to hold back a smile, not wanting to encourage this kind of behaviour. “Would we perhaps be talking about granny?” she inquires.

“Do we know of anyone else that fit the description absolute hag?” her little sister answers, hand on her hip, clearly still annoyed. “Also, she says I have to change for supper in the nursery, god knows why; I’m hardly trying to impress nanny, and that they are waiting for you downstairs.”

And thus, it is time to face the unavoidable and join the lion’s den. Madeleine steps into her adjoining bedroom to get dressed and Beatrix follows closely behind.

“You’ll never guess who she suggested you should marry” Beatrix continues, amusement in her voice, as she sits down at her sisters dressing table, inspecting the bottles of scent and jars of powder with a bemused look on her young face.

“Was it by any chance James Hatfield?” Madeleine answers as she steps into the blue frock Alice had laid out for her earlier.

Beatrix stares at her sister in incredulity and in a heartbroken voice she wails with disbelief in every syllable,” OH, surely not! Leine, you can’t marry him! You simply can’t!”

Benie and Lenie were the affectionate nicknames the sister had for one another. As a child Beatrix had not been able to say Madeleine, but instead only pronounced the latter part of the name and dragged the vocals out into a ‘leeniee’ every time she called out for her.

“Well, he hasn’t proposed yet, so nothing is set” Madeleine answers while avoiding her sister’s questioning eyes, inspecting her hair in the mirror instead.

“So that’s why they’ll have a ball then, I was wondering what called for such an occasion”.

“A ball?”

“Yes” Beatrix states, inspecting her own freckled, sunburned face in the mirror. “Mommy told granny that they would have one as soon as possible”.

The scream works itself larger in Madeleine’s lungs.

“Oh, well. It can’t be helped” she says and leads her sister out of the bedroom. “Now, you really do need to change, or nanny will be furious with you, and I’ll have to join them downstairs”.

The bedroom door closes behind them as they leave.

***

The late evening air is loaded with the scent of rhododendrons. In the trees the nightingales sing, and the summer air feel cool against her bare arms as she steps out into the night.

Carefully, as to not be seen from any of the windows, she makes her way across the garden. It is dark, but on her childhood paths her feet still knows where to tread. She walks past the house, the gigantic rhododendron bush, and along the pathway lined with pink geraniums, down the trail past the summerhouse by the lake and further still until she arrives at the fountain by the labyrinth. The deep green hedges are lined with powder pink hydrangeas, blue hyacinths and cardinal red peonies. In the middle of it a square with a fountain. And if you look past that, the entrance to the labyrinth itself.

If she had walked further still, away from the labyrinth, she’d come to a wide field of poppies. Had she, instead of walking north from the house, walked west she would have ended up by the sea, and the cliffs and Locksley Bay. East of the house laid the road to the village, and then the road to town. South of the manor the forest grew.

She doesn’t go through the entrance of the labyrinth but sits down by the edge of the fountain. From her pocket she picks up a package of Woodbine cigarettes, but when she goes to light it, the lighter only flickers.

“Need a light?”

She nearly falls into the fountain, taken by surprise by the familiar voice. Tom laughs and walks out of the shadows. Hands in pockets and hair a wild mess.

“Wanker!” she burst out, heart beating painfully hard in her chest.

“Now, now, where did you learn a word like that?”

He’s so smug, and it’s making her skin crawl with anger. She ignores his question and ask, “did you follow me here?”

He moves closer still, until he’s right in front of her. Then he takes out his lighter. She puts the cigarette in her mouth and he lights it for her.

“No” he answers eventually. “Was just finishing up watering the peonies.”

“You water the peonies in the middle of the night?”

He lights a cigarette for himself and blows out pearl white smoke into the summer night before he answers. “Yeah, as Mr. Higgins keeps telling me. You dig when the soil is dry, otherwise you’ll shovel mud, and you water the plants when the sun’s gone down and the soil is cool, or you’ll just end up boiling the poor things”.

She looks at him, really looks at him; while he’s busy looking up at the moon. His white cotton shirt is filled with stains of earth and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, a worn linen jacket thrown over his shoulder. Worn suspender holds up his muddy pants. His brown locks frame his face perfectly and in the moonlight his skin, tanned from working out all day, seems to almost radiate. He looks positively angelical. A sudden urge to pull her fingers through his hair overwhelms her.

She looks away.

The nightingales sing louder than ever in the silence, as do the buzzing insects. Somewhere in the far distance a fox screech.

“You know” he says, sitting down on the bench opposite the fountain, leaning back he spreads out into a relaxed position. “Whenever I hear a vixen’s cry I think about Gideon’s ghost.”

“Well, you are the inhabitant of Gideon’s cottage”.

When, or indeed why, the gardener’s cottage on Locksley Hall had been baptised Gideon’s cottage no one seemed to know. Not even Old Sailor Joe, and rumour has it he’d been guarding the boats in Locksley Bay since the first wave crashed against its shore.

But the gardener of Locksley Hall had, for as long as anyone could remember, lived in Gideon’s cottage.

As a child her older brother had frightened her with tales of Gideon’s ghost, and how he still roamed the grounds of the manor, still volatile over long forgotten quarrels. When ever she’d hear a fox’s cry at night, as they laid tucked up in their shared nursery, he’d told her it was the ghost of Gideon, seeking out small girls to take out his revenge on. She had been terrified.

When she’d told this to Tom he had lost his temper with her brother, the two had never gotten along, and he’d taken the older boy to the ground, punching him with his small fists until a furious Bertie Higgins, who’d seen the quarrel from across the yard, had pulled him off him. Madeleine knew Tom had gotten a trashing from Mr. Higgins for the attack and a stern telling off from her father.

“I love that old cottage” he says with a found smile on his face, blowing out more smoke into the air between them. “But I’m yet to see his ghost. ’s a shame really, would have asked if the legend was true about gold being buried at the cliffs of Locksley Bay”.

She smiles, and the nightingales keeps on singing. The scent of peonies and hyacinths is heavy in the air, despite the smoke.

Tom observing her with an intensity that unnerves her, so she turns away from him to look down into the fountain. Slowly she lowers her hand into the cold water and she watches as the goldfish swim around her.

“Why are you out here smoking at night?” he asks, and she turns to back to look at him, pulling her hand out of the water. He’s still observing her, and she feels almost naked under his glance, despite the silk gown she’s still wearing from dinner. It makes her nervous when he looks at her like that, because underneath their easy tones of conversation, she’s not actually sure he likes her all that much. She shivers, goosebumps all over her naked arms.

“Here” he says and throws her his jacket. She utters a thank you and pulls it on. It smells of earth and smoke, and fresh cut grass. It smells like him and her diamond heart beat harder in her chest.

“Papa doesn’t like me smoking in the house.” She answers in the end.

In fact, her father was against her smoking at all. It was a habit that had begun at Talbot Heath boarding school. Smoking with the other girls behind the gymnasium. They’d practised smoking without coughing, feeling mighty smug when they succeeded.

But smoking was, as it had been pointed out to her by her father, ‘not a dignified habit for a woman of her class to partake in’. When she’d gotten back from Canada after the war they’d have words about the subject. In the end the general agreement was that she did not smoke in the house, or amongst other people. She didn’t always follow these rules. There were days when all she did was sit in her bathroom, smoke cigarette after cigarette and read books. A part of her wanted to walk around the house and leave a trace of smoke in every room. Like a ghost, reminding them that she is still there. But a deeply rooted respect, verging on fear, of her father has always kept her from doing such a thing.

Tom hums in reply, that smug smile on his face again. “And what’s dear papa to say about this then? Hmm?” He nods at her, sitting just a meter away from him, wearing his jacket. “Princess sneaking out at night to share a smoke with the gardener?”

“Oh, do shut up”.

“You know you really have improved your vocabulary since we last spoke” he replies dryly, “must be all that reading”.

“How do you know I read so much”.

And maybe it’s a trick of the moonlight, but she swears he blushes, his cheek the colour of peonies. “I can see the light in your window from my cottage at night”.

“Oh, and you’re keeping tabs on me? How sweet!” You reply in a mocking tone, grateful that you get the chance to be smug for once.

“Well, it’s hard not to notice it” the annoyance is clear in his voice. Then he changes the subject. “What are you reading so late at night anyway?”

“At the moment, Tennyson”.

He groans, “of course you like Tennyson” he scoffs, puts out his cigarette and lights a new one, offering her one as well, which she accepts.

“What’s wrong with Tennyson?” She asks, indignant.

“Nothing I guess” he responds, “unless you’d like to read about things other than knights and fair maidens”

“He did not only write about knights and fair maidens!” She defends fiercely. “He wrote about love and loss and death and privilege and -”

“Oh, he wrote about privilege, did he! Well, you know all about that, don’t you? Little miss ivory tower”.

“And what do you read then? What is so good it makes Tennyson look foolish to you?” She tries to keep her annoyance out of her voice, but its difficult, especially when he looks at her like that. Like he finds her laughable.

“Recently? Mostly Gorky.”

“You always did prefer your literature Russian. You’re politics too if Alice is to be believed.”

He smiles, a little less condescending this time, “and you always loved your poetry, and no, she isn’t”.

“You must like some of the poets, surely?”

“I’m rather fond of Shelley, actually”

“And the sunlight clasps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what is all this sweet work worth, if thou kiss not me?” she quotes, not considering the implication of her words until they’ve already left her mouth. It had always been her favourite poem, and the words fell from her lips so effortlessly. But the intensity in his eyes as he observers her seem to change the very air around them. It is as though the whole world stills, if only for a moment. Like the nightingales and the foxes and the crickets all have heard her, and quieted down, in suspense over what’s to happen next.

He stands up and puts out his cigarette. Looking away from her he suggests, “we should head back, it’s late. I’ll walk you”. So, she puts out hers as well and follows him, and in silence they head back to the manor house, each avoiding the others eyes.

She pulls his jacket closer to her.

Then, he stops in his tracks. “Look,” he says and points up at the night sky “Andromeda burns bright tonight”.

Already as a child he’d been good at recognising the constellations. Many a night they had sneaked out and wandered off to the poppy fields where they’d laid down their heads, and he had pointed up to the sky, just as he was doing now, and taught her to read them.

“Andromeda, who was tied to the rocks, to be eaten by the sea monster Cetus?”

He nods, but doesn’t look away from the sky, “but Perseus rescued her”.

“And you criticised Tennyson for writing about knights and maidens” she teases.

He looks down at her then, a smile tugging the corners of his lips. They start walking again, his hands in his pockets, looking at the road ahead.

“So, what did your dear Tennyson write about privilege?”

“That opportunities are only given to those with riches already” she answers, and then she quotes, “every door is barr’d with gold, and opens but to golden keys.”

Tom is silence for a moment. They’re nearing the end of the road; they’re by the rhododendron bush, and they’ve reached the points were they have to walk their separate ways.

She removes his jacket and hands it to him.

“Keep it, for now. You can give it back later, you’ll freeze.”

“No” she argues. “No, Alice will see it and wonder”.

He doesn’t argue with her on that point but takes the jacket from her outstretched hand. “Well” he says, awkwardly. “See you around, Lady Madeleine”.

They part ways.

***

FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED

(A/N: I’m reposting this because the first time i posted it didn’t show up in the tags and it had like 3 notes)

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland headcanon #tom holland #tom holland x fem #tom holland x oc #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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authora97writingupdates · 3 years

Text

Okay here's the first look at my new Harry Potter series. I'm trying to make it better than the last time.

Privet Drive was a very upscale neighborhood. Or rather, that’s how the homeowners association wanted it to be seen. They had houses of upper-middle-class proper British families. Copy and pasted houses with copy and pasted lawns, and even more copy and pasted families.

Fathers in these houses on Privet Drive often worked traditional 9-to-5 jobs. In the other cases, they worked respectable jobs. Even the retired men yet to move contributed to the community. You know, at the insistence of that community.

The mothers in each house were homebodies. They tended to their gardens. They managed their children into proper British citizens. There was the occasional wild mother that enjoyed a man’s work or disliked gardening. Or the odd father that enjoyed staying home with the children, taking a proper woman’s role in the house.

The community on Privet Drive talked about those houses. A lot. The gossip piled up alongside the letters in their mailboxes about keeping a brighter garden, or in more proper child management. All those lesser families moved out before long. Often they moved to a nearby neighborhood called DimKeep Lane.

DimKeep Lane had very little in terms of real respectable British families. As it was mostly housed by rejected Privet Drive residents, they were not copied and pasted folks. Many parents worked well enough jobs, some even very respectable even by Privet Drive. But the mother did the job, automatically making them questionable. Gardens were not a requirement, children even less so.

48 DimKeep Lane held a very unique family called the Lafayette’s. They had no garden. The family was...

That mother was...

The father Mr Lafayette was...

Oh, but who could forget those twin girls? Twins daughters that were just barely old enough for school. A pair of black-haired babbling girls who were just the cutest! Also most mysterious. At any time, the Lafayette girls were found running and playing outside.

The younger sister, Darcy, was the more bold twin. Always with dirt scrapes on her knees or elbows. Lucky for their mother that Darcy hated wearing dresses, or she would always be washing out the grass stains. Darcy often wore basic shirts and jean shorts with tiny trainers in only the brightest shades. The girl played rough with the boys, unafraid of getting hurt or of hurting others.

That’s where her elder sister came into play. Morgan Lafayette usually played with or around her sister. Morgan looked very similar- their only true outer difference being eye color and hairstyles. Morgan’s amber eyes versus Darcy’s deep indigo, Morgan’s twisted black curls and waves versus Darcy’s iron straightness. Morgan tended to dress in shirts and shorts too, occasionally deciding to wear a darker scheme.

Parents went to that child, telling her about Darcy’s antics, or about fun local parties for the family to bring food. Some parents questioned why they weren’t looking for Mr or Mrs. Lafayette before immediately forgetting that question. How confounding! Morgan pulled Darcy back from all fights, worked out peace, then threw Darcy back. Many parents were impressed at the maturity!

Morgan still got into fights. They were few and far between. Usually involved with children taller than Morgan being- to put it bluntly- assholes. Ah, to be a child again! The parents of DimKeep Lane laughed.

The girls were finally attending school. Specifically St. Grogory’s Primary School for Year 1.

The teachers were happy to accept them. Rather, they barely noticed two more children but they were happy to meet the Lafayette Twins.

Morgan and Darcy went to their first day of school with little fanfare. To be clear, fanfare happened, just not to them. Other children cried and screamed, their parents cried too. None of them wished to part ways with their parents. Some kids cried because school sounded boring.

Dudley Dursley, for example. A fat whale of a child even at age 5. He screamed and yelled about the stupid school. They wouldn’t let him watch the telly or eat candy. Petunia Dursley tried to keep his spirits up with promises of toys and his friends being there, but nothing calmed her little Diddykins down.

Her second child stayed silent just behind her. If you ever called this child her’s, Petunia’s face would shrivel like she’d eaten a bad lemon. This child was not hers nor ever would be. Little better than a freak, her nephew knew his place waiting silently behind proper respectable people.

Said boy was currently 1/10 his cousin’s size, and that’s being generous to his cousin. Clothes hung off his skin, ones that clearly had never been worn by Dudley but belonged in a rubbish bin. The glasses on his head- round and black- were already being held together by tape. His black hair was wilder than the sobbing Dudley, barely covering a giant lightning bolt-shaped scar on his head.

Harry watched the other children, curious. His aunt and uncle told him his parents died, too drunk and worthless to care for him. As he saw other children crying and their parents hugging them, Harry wondered if his parents might have done the same.

Naturally, with so little to do, Harry looked over at the collection of toys out for a distraction. He saw the two children already parted from their parents. Only a pair of twins. One playing happily with big thick building blocks, one reading a book from the shelf.

He walked over to them. Morgan glanced at him from over her book. Darcy kept playing with her blocks. Harry sat beside Morgan, peeking at her book.

“It’s about a place that has raining food.” Morgan explained. Harry tilted his head. “My book. It’s about that.”

“How?” Harry asked.

Morgan hummed, thoughtful.

“Magic.” Darcy pushed another block in place, making something like a castle.

“Or maybe science.” Morgan replied.

“Definitely magic.” Darcy argued. “I wanna have magic food!”

“No way.” Morgan dismissed. “Magic can’t make something out of nothing.”

“Then it uses water! I don’t know.” Darcy huffed. She grabbed another block.

“What do you think?” Morgan asked the new playmate.

Harry stared.

Morgan stared back. Darcy snickered. “About my book.”

“You-” Harry shifted on his spot. “You’re askin’ me?”

“Yeah. What do you think?” Morgan asked again.

Nobody ever asked Harry a question before. Usually, Harry asked the questions. The Dursley’s always yelled at him to shut up. Aunt Petunia loved to tell him to not ask questions. Nobody wanted Harry to talk more. Harry loved the feeling.

“...magic.” Harry answered. He pointed at the odd rain. “That’s spaghetti.”

“It is.” Morgan nodded. “I like spaghetti. Do you?”

“I like bowtie noodles.” Darcy cheered.

Harry shifted again.

“It’s okay to not like spaghetti. I don’t like meatballs.” Morgan assured Harry. “Darcy hates the curly kind.”

“The curly colorful kind!” Darcy corrected. “It’s different colors but not flavors! That’s stupid.”

“I like spaghetti.” Harry pointed at the picture. “Yummy.”

Morgan and Darcy smiled.

The other children stopped crying as they talked. Parents successfully distracted them with the promise of toys or friendship, or even getting one of the teachers to help distract the kindergartener. One child held out, screaming about useless school and wanting to go home.

Petunia bribed him with more sweets- something the teachers discouraged. Still, the candy got Dudley to focus on something else. He enjoyed the treat as Petunia ran off, crying herself. Oh to leave behind her precious baby!

The candy soon vanished. Dudley looked around the play area for something. He saw his best friend. He also saw his favorite person to antagonize and a bunch of toys that would suit his idea.

Morgan turned a page in her book.

“You can read?” Harry asked.

Morgan nodded. Darcy snickered again.

“Morgan reads all the time.” Darcy explained. She moved her block castle to the side, letting her add extensions. “Like a nerd.”

“What’s a nerd?” Harry asked. “Is it like a freak?” He hadn’t understood the word at all. He just knew the tone Darcy used- a disgust like when the Dursleys called him a freak.

Morgan tensed. “I’m not a freak. Reading doesn’t make me a freak, it just makes me smart. Darcy’s mad I don’t wanna play.”

“It’s why we’re here.” Darcy replied.

Morgan glared at her sister. Darcy went back to the blocks.

“No freak?” Harry asked again.

Morgan shook her head. “Do you like to read?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know how.”

“That’s okay.” Morgan started using her finger to follow the words. “The pictures work fine.”

Harry, for one of the first times since coming to Privet Drive, smiled.

Dudley stormed up. Piers Polkiss at his side, sneering at the two ungirly girls and the pathetic orphan boy.

“Do you mind?” Darcy asked. “We’re busy here.”

Dudley kicked the blocks down. Harry watched, frowning at another toy lost to his cousin. Morgan and Darcy stood up, glaring at the fat boy.

“Stupid!” Dudley yelled. “That’s a boy’s toy! Not one for stupid girls!”

Darcy leaned towards her sister. Harry couldn’t hear what was asked, only seeing Morgan shake her head. Darcy rolled her eyes, glaring harder.

“Okay.” Morgan sat back down. She picked up the book, showing it to Harry. “We had spaghetti on Saturday. It had long noodles and red sauce.”

On Saturday, Harry ate old crusty bread that Dudley threw away. Literally. Dudley had thrown it against the wall. Harry ate it, then cleaned up the smudge on the wall.

Darcy sat down, leaning against her sister.

Dudley got annoyed that the other children ignored him. “Hey! Gimme blocks!” He yanked a block up, throwing it at Darcy’s head.

Morgan caught it. She stared at the fat boy and his friend. Somehow, Dudley saw something that Harry did not. Something that made Dudley want to get as far away from Morgan as possible. A latent survival instinct, if you want.

Instead, Dudley grabbed another block to throw at Morgan’s head.

See, as a child, Dudley expected that Morgan would be unable to catch it. She already held another block and a book. Her arms were full. She surely could not take another item.

Morgan dropped the first block. She caught the second. All before anything touched her face.

Darcy snickered, still on Morgan’s shoulder.

Harry watched, awestruck.

Dudley went for a third block. Piers grabbed two, ready to throw at all the black-haired kids. They threw with a force that all children considered lethal.

Morgan raised the book, using its hardcover as a shield for herself and Harry. Darcy ducked behind her sister, two blocks in her hands.

Harry could hear Darcy whispering now.

“Can I do it now?” Darcy hissed.

“No.” Morgan replied another wave of blocks hit the book. “But save it for later.”

Darcy saluted.

Dudley reached over. He snatched the book out of Morgan’s hands. The book pages tore under Dudley’s grip. Dudley threw the book on the ground. For good measure, he stomped on it.

The twins stared. Harry frowned.

Darcy reached forward. She held Morgan’s shoulder, holding the girl back.

Dudley threw another block.

Harry moved, blocking the twins’ body with his own. The block hit him. Harry was horrifically used to it.

By then, the teachers finally noticed the two boys throwing blocks at defenseless children. They rushed to the aid of the smaller ones. Lucky for them, classes need to start anyway.

But that little brave act...To them, it was enough. It may not be clobbering a troll…actually yeah it kinda was- point is, it made a strong friendship between the three children.

#oc morgan spencer #oc darcy anderson #harry potter fanfiction #first chapter preview

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owlsbride · 3 years

Text

Icha Icha and Prejudice: The Book Club

Chapter III: Who the Hell are Darcy and Wickham

He pondered the gift's weight and size with his hand before opening; apparently, it wasn't to lo long. It seemed to him that Sakura was playing nice with him. She could just choose a book as long as Konoha's history, but instead, she offered him the possibility of reading what? Three or four hundred pages? Definitely, she was becoming softer, ah maturity, she was getting there, and she was doing it in the most perfect ways, suddenly, he was glad that he wasn't that old yet. Actually, he felt like he was in a great moment: young and stronger than any good active shinobi and old enough like to understand life. Yes, perfect timing, but he also reminded himself that the thing with Sakura, was just that, a thing, a flirt. A game they both enjoyed until one day it could be over. But there was no reason to worry about that right now.

Kakashi didn't tear apart the red paper immediately, he took his time to ponder it a bit more while looking for his new cellphone. He hated that devilish device. Since the telephone signals, and with them the damn internet had reached Konoha, they had turned the village into an unstoppable tide of unlimited communications that could occur in the most diverse places. If he went out for a drink with Genma, for example, the always senbon user could spend the whole night texting with girls he got online. Instead, Guy used to make videos that he posted on the internet talking about eternal youth and giving self-help advice. Naruto kept texting him, asking when he would be ready to become the next Hokage and sending pictures of Hinata and her future motherhood, or funny dog and cat jokes. And so one day, one of the most elusive members of Konoha, despite his current position, became engulfed in modernity and massive connectivity, even with the other villages and nations. Yes, he hated, but at the same time, it was an excellent way of being in touch with people without the extreme necessity of meeting them face to face.

With all that said, he also had to recognise with a smile only visible for him, that it was the funniest way of pestering Sakura around building a lovely tension between them that rocked like waves between love and hate in the most amusing ways. So he texted her.

9:30: Morning Sakura, Thank you for the gift, I didn't open it yet, But I'm the most intrigue, Who are these Darcy and Whickham?

He sent the message and waited for the answer, he patiently took a seat at his desk and started checking the foulders in front of him. Nothing seemed too important like to take care of at that moment, so he requested Shikamaru not to be bothered during the day while waiting for an answer. Rather sooner than later, he would have to start reading that book if he wanted to be the best participant of the exclusive two members book club. Sakura's response wasn't coming, the day outside was terrible, the rain didn't stop since yesterday, and it looked like it wasn't to end soon. Where would she be? Kakashi really hoped for her well, that she wasn't working, because this time he would get mad, outraged. The vacation thing had been an order, and despite his generosity, his good disposition, his humility, his patience and his weakness for Sakura, he was the Hokage, and an order was an order. After all, it was for the good of the girl who only knew how to work.

So he texted her again, putting aside his pride and how desperate he might sound. In other circumstances, he could have waited whole days for an answer. He was not one of those who lived glued to the phone, responding instantly or pending of notifications and contrary to what they might say it was not snobbery instead a kind of an unconscious aloofness. Still, considering the circumstances, it was his right to be a bit pushy.

10:15: Oi, Sakura, where are you? all ready too immerse in your lecture?

He started removing the red paper from the book. The revealed was a slow process, almost ceremonial, like undressing her... it. The book was old, not old enough like to be a relic but it wasn't a new copy. Sakura gave him her own book as he did, what was inside of it was a mystery. He was intrigued by the title: Pride and Prejudice, no image in the cover, just a silky, velvety green hardcover, with golden letters stamped on them. Kakashi flicked through the pages from beginning to end as if to get a first idea of what the book implied, but apparently, it did not reveal anything. He had to start at the beginning.

Chapter 1: It's a truth universally stated that an unmarried guy in possession of an awesome fortune should be in want of a wife. However little acknowledged the feelings or perspectives of the sort of guy can be on his first getting into a neighbourhood, this reality is so well fixed inside the minds of the encircling families, that he's considered the rightful property of someone or different in their daughters.

So the book was an apology to what? Single men? Single women? Healthy people? It wasn't what Kakashi was expecting from Sakura.

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

10:30: H.Sakura: Sleeping Kakashi, holidays, remember?

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

10:30 : H.Sakura: You will have to read to find out. Don't be so impatient.

10:31 H. Sakura: I haven't started yet. Why so eager in perverting my mind?

So that was all after all. Sakura was just sleeping, so much worry for nothing. Kakashi should have known better. After all, the pink-haired girl was a good girl. But the truth was that he wasn't pleased about the situation. For no reason, he was upset. First, even if she was on vacations, she could have answered earlier, why to sleep late if she didn't spend the whole night reading? Second, why didn't she start reading? And finally, what was this book she gave her without any information? She wasn't playing fair. At least Sakura had an idea of what Icha Icha was about.

10:35, What makes you think that your mind is not already perverted?

Suddenly, the texting was more interesting than Pride and Prejudice, who was left behind in less than a minute.

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

10:38 H. Sakura: Trust me, sensei, I know my mind and is not as perverted as yours.

Kakashi laughed.

10:38: You are accepting though that even if your mind is not perverted as mine...

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

10:39: H. Sakura: Arghhh... What do you want?

10:40: So many things...

10:40: But for starters, I would love to hear why you haven't started with your part of our exciting endeavour, then I would love you to explain to me what this book is about.

The answer didn't come fast, and Kakashi turned his view back to the book. He caressed once more the cover, and then something caught his attention. In most of the pages, there were sidenotes and underlined sentences. Did Sakura used that book at school, or was it something else? Maybe, those notes were more interesting than the story itself. He could perhaps decipher more from her than he had ever expected. Yes, he was smart after all, and he patted himself in the back for that.

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

10:50: H. Sakura: Sensei, please, give me a break. Let me wash my face and have a cup of coffee first. Then we can discuss anything you like. I didn't start reading because I was thinking of you 10:50 H. Sakura: I mean, I was thinking what book to choose

Kakashi burst into a silent laugh.

10:51: So you are thinking about me... Imagine when you start Icha Icha...

10:52: H.Sakura: Yes, I will start thinking wich poison is the more accurate to kill a Hokage without leaving a trace.

The Hokage was so enjoying this, this silly flirting innocent game.

10:52: Yeah, tell yourself that till you believe it

10:53: Anyway, You never told me what Pride and Prejudice is about...

10:53: H.Sakura: How much have you read so far?

10:54: Two paragraph

10:54: H.Sakura: Then stop bothering me, and keep reading. Talk you later.

Kakashi finished the conversation with Sakura with her last message. He was sure they would talk again sooner than later, besides he needed to go back to his own reading.

Why, my dear, you need to know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken with the aid of a young guy of big fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and 4 to see the location, and became a lot extremely joyful with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take ownership before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be inside the residence with the aid of the end of subsequent week." "What is his call?" "Bingley."

Notes:

Another update for you all. Kakashi and Sakura are texting, for now.

Something about the write: In these messages when I don't put the name is because is the one who is texting and POV of the character, for example in this case is Kakashi's so I think there is no need to say that he is the one sending the text to Sakura, the same will happen in the next chapter but in the other way. Is it clear or I confuse you all more??

Please please please, even if I hate pleading, you know what to do.

next chapter soon, what would be inside icha icha?

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spacesunflcwer · 4 years

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reasons why i love pride & prejudice, specifically the 1995 adaptation

(ok when i started this i was going for a list of reasons but it ended up more like live commentary of the series oops)

it's so accurate???!? i read the book for the first time after having seen the miniseries like 4 times and i was stunned by how identical the dialogue was

"oH mr bEnNEt"

literally all of mr and mrs bennet's dialogue is hilarious. she's such a drama queen and he's just there like please shut up but also sassy

mr darcy at the first ball is literally like a socially awkward emo teenager who hates everything whose mum (mr bingley) is encouraging to be more social and make friends lmao

when mr darcy compliments lizzy's eyes to miss bingley and she's so offended..... she's like wtf fitzwilliam how dare you appreciate a peasant??!?

elizabeth "i promise i shall never dance with [mr darcy]" bennet hahaha think again lizzy

when jane gets invited by miss bingley and mrs bennet is like go on horseback because it looks like raining so you'll spend the night lmao this woman is ready to do anything to see her daughters married huh

all the awkward encounters between elizabeth and darcy when she goes to netherfield like when she walks into the biliard room and they just stare at each other until she leaves lmao

that scene when they're all in the drawing room and miss bingley is like let's go for a walk around the room to refresh ourselves lmao people in the 19th century were really bored huh

the amount of tension between lizzy and darcy when they have that conversation about pride sksksksks

mrs bennet sure knows how to throw shade (at darcy) lmao

MR COLLINS

i really dislike him because he's so annoying but he's also so stupid and full of himself in a funny way it's hilarious i love it lmao

i literally lose it every time he mentions lady catherine de bourgh which is A LOT

just the tone in his voice when he says is so funny to me

for real why didn't mr collins go for mary she's literally the female equivalent of him like.....

oh wait i know why misogyny lmao

you know, i'm not going to talk about wickham because fuck him

the netherfield ball!!!!!

when miss bingley goes up to lizzy to diss wickham and lizzy looks so ready to cut a bitch lmao

when mr collins goes up to darcy to talk about lady catherine and lizzy and jane are like oh god oh fuck someone stop him shit it's too late and then darcy is like *read at 7:39pm* ajsnsjsks

ok but when mrs hurst goes and plays the piano that was amazing i don't like her but that was really good

mr collins's proposal. just. when he's like "let me tell you the reasons why i want to marry. and then the reasons why i want to marry you specifically" like pull out a whole powerpoint presentation why don't you

oh and OF COURSE lady catherine de bourgh is amongst the reasons ("that should have been the first reason actually")

when lizzy says no for like the second time and he's like "ah but a lot of times women refuse when they really mean to accept" unfortunately not much has changed in the way of men has it, no means no!!!

"if you do not accept his proposal, your mother will never see you again. and if you do accept his proposal, i will never see you again" i'd forgotten how much i love mr bennet he's so great

when lizzy finds out he proposed to charlotte and charlotte accepted and she's like BITCH WHAT THE FUCK

literally fuck miss bingley what a bitch. let jane be happy!!! fuck you

oh my g o d when they go to visit charlotte and mr collins and he starts going on about the STAIRS and how their steepness is ideal and the closet in lizzy's and how lady catherine suggested they put shelves in and cOuSiN eLIzAbEth LoOk hOw prAcTicAL iT iS laDy cAthEriNe tHinKs oF evErYtHinG shE's sO gOod tO uS

lmao when charlotte is like yeah i like my life most days we barely even see each other

when they go to rosings park and mr collins won't shut up about the 64 windows of the house and how amazing they are

lmao when lady catherine asks lizzy something and then turns away and lizzy CONTINUES TALKING and lady catherine just turns slowly like bitch wtf did i allow you to keep talking

when darcy won't stop STARING AT HER (because he's so in love) and she's there like wtf

the scene at the piano omg the amount of romantic tension between them and the staring at each other again god help me i love them so much

lmfao when mr darcy randomly visits lizzy and just sits with her for like 5 minutes and then gets up and leaves mood tbh

i will never get tired of the love confession scene tbh he goes in and literally walks around the room sits down gets up walks around some more for like 5 minutes before he finally starts talking

"in vain i have struggled. it will not do. my feelings will not be repressed. you must allow me to tell you how ardently i admire and love you."

and then elizabeth is like bitch what the fuck and pulls out a 40 slide powerpoint on why she could never love him

which was completely justified of her btw. darcy was a dick back then

the sequence at the beginning of ep4 when they're both having flashbacks to what the other said lol

also when lizzy has those flashbacks where darcy's full face just randomly appears out of nowhere like a ghost yeah what the fuck was up with that it’s SO WEIRD

when they go dine at rosings for the last time and lizzy is full on sarcasm about how oh so sad she is to be leaving and oh so grateful to lady catherine and mr collins loses his shit because he thinks she's being serious lmao

honestly though when she's all dramatic about darcy to maria but without actually saying anything and maria is just like ok wtf but whatever i guess, and then she does that again to her aunt and uncle when they're at pemberley and she's all like wE hAvE tO LeAVe nOw and they're just there like ummm ok?? what just happened here. i mean this is a thing that she does frequently and idk i'm wondering how her general acquaintance feel about it. like every once in a while she'll go all dramatic and everyone is like oh there goes lizzy dramatising her life and not explaining anything to anyone, again

lmao when maria tells her she's been packing and unpacking all night and lizzy tells her she can pack it however she wants and lady catherine will never know. like yes maria you are a strong independent woman and can pack your suitcase however you please

when lydia gets invited to brighton oh noooooooooooooo

time for kitty to develop her own personality i guess lol

i will never get tired of elizabeth only deciding to go to pemberley because she's 100% she won't run into darcy and then she does

also when they're staring at the house and she's like damn that is a nice ass house

i love how bad the paintings of darcy inside the house are because everyone is look how beautiful he is! and what a realistic painting this is! and then they show it and you laugh at loud because that shit is UGLY and nowhere near like colin firth

i still don't understand why darcy jumped in that pond. was it because he was trying to clear his head to not think about elizabeth? was this something he did regularly on his way home?

on that note, if he did it to forget about elizabeth it was pretty unfortunate for him that he literally ran into her 5 seconds later lol

HIS LACK OF SOCIAL SKILLS NEVER CEASE TO AMUSE ME

"are your parents well?" "yes" *1min later* "and your parents? are they well? and your sisters?" and ofc lizzy laughs at him

ok what i still don't understand is how when darcy returns suddenly he's all smooth and talkative and keeps the conversation well and alive and just what?? he went from 0 to 100 real quick in terms of social skills and i Do Not Understand

omg the next day when him and bingley and georgiana go the inn to meet her and bingley starts talking to her and he's so HAPPY AND EXCITED and i love how he goes "yes we haven't seen each other since we danced at netherfield on the 26th of november". boy's been counting the days since he last saw jane and i love it. he's so in love

on that note of so in love, the way the scene immediately switches to show us darcy staring at elizabeth while she plays the piano with full-on HEART EYES ahhh i'm so soft for them

and then that BITCH caroline goes and mentions wickham and darcy panics because his sister is right there elizabeth IMMEDIATELY sees and knows and goes back to georgiana to help her and changes the subject

i really think darcy fell even more in love with her when he saw how well her and his sister got along, and how much she cared for georgiana, because he probably could never love anyone who didn't seeing how important georgiana is to him

and then it just shows elizabeth and darcy staring at each other like this 💘💖💗💖💕💗💖💘💖💘 total heart eyes

when caroline basically roasts him for being in love with liking elizabeth and he just snaps at her and says she's the most beautiful woman he knows GET REKT CAROLINE

omg when lizzy gets jane's letter and is really upset and he tries his best to comfort her ahh my heart

"i will never see him again" YES LIZZY YOU WILL

mrs bennet's worst case scenarios... convinced mr bennet's going to fight wickham and wickham will kill him lmao

you know I WONDER where lizzy gets her dramatic airs from

when mr collins shows up and is all basically throwing shade at them and lizzy is just like ok then if we're so bad how about you leave so you don't have to be around us for any longer

like yes lizzy drag him!!!!

when they show us lydia and wickham in london and you can see wickham starting to get pissed off at lydia... looking like he's regretting all his life choices

which he should, btw. he made terrible life choices and they’re literally all his fault

when everything is (sort of) resolved and mrs bennet is like i knew everything would turn out well in the end! yeah SURE you did

when lydia and wickham come back and you can tell lizzy is so ready to fight

when lydia spoils that it was darcy who helped them and lizzy is like mr darcy?? did you just say mr darcy????

oh yeah also darcy taking all the blame for all that happened and insisting to pay for everything... i love one (1) wholesome responsible man

jk i love two (2) wholesome men because bingley

mr bingley and mr darcy came back to netherfield!!!!!!!!!

when they go to longbourn and darcy and lizzy just stare at each other the whole time. again

when darcy finally tells bingley he purposefully kept him and jane apart and admits that it was completely wrong of him. GROWTH

bingley still asks for darcy's blessing & darcy tells him he shouldn't need it & bingley replies that he would still rather have it. WE STAN A WHOLESOME & SUPPORTIVE MALE FRIENDSHIP

and then bingley just sprints to longbourn to propose to jane when most of them have barely woken up lmao

the scene when they're all sitting in the drawing room and mrs bennet is trying to get them to leave so it's just bingley and jane is so AWKWARD and funny lmao

"mama, why did you just wink at me??" "why would i wink at you kitty"

"actually now you mention it i need to talk to you about something UPSTAIRS!"

and then jane is happy :) finally :) jane deserves ALL the happiness :)

when lady catherine randomly shows up and just starts insulting their poverty lmao

while lizzy, kitty, and mrs bennet just stand there awkwardly

"your hall is too small" "so you call this a drawing room" "your west facing windows must be awful in the summer" ok boomer

and then proceeds to lose her shit at elizabeth while elizabeth just stands there

"he is a gentleman and i am a gentleman's daughter. we are equals" YOU TELL HER ELIZABETH

and then tells her she doesn't owe her anything which is just 19th century equivalent of go fuck yourself bitch

that whole scene was a big fuck you lady catherine de bourgh

and is probably one of the most iconic scenes in the show

when mr bennet calls up lizzy about how he's heard rumours that she's to be engaged to darcy and just finds it so funny and lizzy is just there like hahahahaha yeah that would be hilarious wouldn't it when she's probably just dying inside because darcy!!!! love of her life!!!!

no offense but the part when they go for a walk and confess their love to one another among other things is literally one of my favourite things ever

apart maybe from the piano heart eyes scene

it's just so soft

when he says he hates himself for the things he said the first time he proposed and can't believe that was thing

and that he's eternally grateful to her because he doesn't think he would ever have changed if it hadn't been for her

on that note, gotta appreciate the fact that this isn't one of those stories where girl meets guy who's a dick, girl proceeds to change dick guy into a nice guy. no, lizzy did not change him herself, and she literally refused to be around him for as long as he was rude and selfish and everything she stood against. he himself decided to change, yes because of her, because he loved her and wanted her to love him back, but ultimately he did all the necessary changes to his character by himself. and only then, only then did lizzy properly start loving him. so yeah, here's more proof of why pride & prejudice is one of the best and one of my favourite love stories :)

oh yeah also, about how darcy wanted her to love him back ; “one word from you will silence me forever” yes he was openly grateful to her for everything BUT he was also 100% ready to shut up and leave her alone and accept it if she said no again. because he is A GOOD WHOLESOME MAN WHO RESPECTS WOMEN AND KNOWS THAT NO MEANS NO YES I'M LOOKING AT YOU MR COLLINS GET ON DARCY'S LEVEL

anyway yes i love mr darcy A LOT

but seriously i have such high standards for men and for any future relationships i may be in because of p&p and mr darcy specifically lmao

anyway going back yes i love that scene it is precious

they're so in love and the way they look at each other is so soft and ugh i love them so much

"dearest, loveliest elizabeth"

my heart :,)

i can't believe they're not even holding hands in that scene

and then when mr bennet finds out he proposed to him and he's like bitch what the fuck because darcy??? this guy??? seriously???

as was jane, by the way

anyway wedding time!!!!!

"join this man, and this woman... and this man, and this woman"

we love a double wedding of the two best and most wholesome couples

lmao caroline and georgiana's faces at the wedding. fuck you too :)

when they walk out and they're so happy!!!!!! their smiles!!!!! aaaaahsjskssjajanj

for real colin firth's big smile in that scene is just,, precious,,

and then they kissed :)

ngl, one of the things i wish would have been included in the miniseries is the epilogue from the book... i loved it it was so happy and wholesome

anyway i love this book and this story and the 1995 miniseries and i need to reread the book

oh and also, the music in the miniseries is really good!! the theme song is literally perfect i love it so much

so yeah i love pride & prejudice :,) thank you jane austen for giving us this beautiful beautiful story

💖💖💖💘💘💘💗💗💗💕💕💕

#pride and prejudice #elizabeth bennet #fitzwilliam darcy #mr darcy #pride and prejudice 1995 #i love this story so much #in case you couldn't tell #spacesunflcwer

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adcres · 4 years

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howdy hey , pardnerrrs :> i’m rox ( she / her ) ‘n i’ll be playing yr residential sullen broodin’ boy , nico . i didn’t have the time to write out a whole new intro , given that i have back to back classes again today :-’( , so please forgive me for recycling his old intro akawodkgrsd ; . that being said , i did tweak around some tingz and i updated his wcs for him , so if yr down to clown around just hmu on my discord : 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔫𝔦𝔞#2854 ! okie okie , i’ll shut da eff up now ♡

BASICS.

༉‧₊˚✧ kim taehyung , cis man , he / him / his — did you see that nicholas “nico” yoon was trending last night ? the twenty three year old street artist has been getting a lot of press lately . i think it’s due to them being so + quixotic & + free-spirited , but i always thought they seemed - withdrawn & - sybaritic . their fans always say they remind them of soft smoke rings spun in a dreamy haze , silver-ringed fingers rapping against polished oak , and waning light refracting against broken glass though . i wonder if they’ve found out about REDACTED yet … i guess we’ll have to wait and see . [ rox , 22 , pst , she / her , none ]

PINTEREST & PLAYLIST .

01 and 02 .

PERSONALITY .

at first glance , nico reads as this aloof , arrogant type that doesn’t like to associate w the common public . always keeping the majority of people at a comfortable distance , nico moves almost exclusively within his own social network , and doesn’t like to deviate from what he knows best .

not so much pretentious as he is lazy , making an effort to socialize with complete strangers is simply something that nico would never do . hehe ... he’s kind of shy like that .... ♡ though he’d literally never admit it ♡

despite giving the impression that he’s some intimidating and chronically indifferent kind of guy , nico is genuinely a sweet boy — ‏‏‎ one who’s in a constant state of confusion as to why people seem to be so scared of him . it always comes as a shock when close friends of his admit that they thought he absolutely hated their guts when they first met him .

b/c tho he’s p smart , nico is very oblivious at times , and he’s 100% the kind of guy who’ll walk away from a conversation thinking he did a rly rly good job trying to make a friend ... when in reality he prob said four words in the span of thirty minutes smh .

overall , nico’s a private person , especially with what he’s thinking ... and it’s really hard to get a clear read on what’s on his mind . sharing his feelings has never been one of nico’s interests b/c he just genuinely doesn’t think whatever he has to say is rly worth mentioning . so he usually just shuts da fuck up n lets other ppl talk so he can mentally gain the strength to continue socializing .

push nico’s buttons enough tho ‘n you’ll catch this mf speaking in full sentences .

lastly , it should b noted that nico is a romantic through n through ... this mf probably d*ed in the victorian era ‘n got reincarnated b/c he’s got that ‘ lets share furtive glances across the room but never say a thing to each other ‘ thing on lock . mr. darcy headass

and while nico might play the role of long-suffering , ever pining lover to a T , he’s more in love w / the idea of love than he is w / any single person . and he literally cannot hold down a relationship w/o fucking it up for himself in some shape or form .

kind of sarcastic ... v much the teasing type ....

can b very impulsive at times , loves to go on solo adventures at night , prefers his own company tbh ...

overview : melancholic , reticent , noncommittal , humble , mild-mannered , romantic .

a mix of : josh from clueless and j.d. from heathers

more here .

MORE AESTHETICS.

the chill of silver jewelry against flushed skin , forgotten graffiti on porcelain sinks , flickering motel lights , kisses sticky with vodka , eyes ringed with lavender , sleepless nights surrendered to the dull buzz of television , obscure art house films , sun-kissed cheeks , the surprise of summer rain , chest aching with lost loves , scattered baby’s breath and rosemary , and a shared smile between perfect strangers .

CHARACTER DISSERTATION.

nico was born on a brisk wintry morning in the fashion district of los angeles ( january 21st , 1997 ) to a family of six .

as the second youngest child , and the only male son to boot , nico grew up with his only inheritance being a generational kind of hunger , one that demanded for more than what his struggling parents could offer

the arts stole nico at an early age ... ushering him into a world of creation and freedom beyond the four bleak walls he daily occupied . from spending lonely summers tucked away in some forgotten corner in the library to practicing on a borrowed violin from dawn to dusk , nico knew that even with nothing at his disposal , there was always something to be made w/ the tools he’d been given

despite not having the money for private tutors to hone their son’s growing artistic talents , his parents did whatever they could to support his dreams , whether that meant working double shifts back to back or scrounging for loose change underneath the sofa cushions to pay for whatever materials nico needed .

it was in this strange way that nico grew up p spoiled . somehow having nothing while also having absolutely everything at the same time .

very much a family man , the first big purchase nico made once he broke out in hollywood was a house in beverly hills for his parents . now that he’s finally at a place where he can take care of his family , nico makes sure that his parents and sisters want for nothing

while he showers everyone else with generous gifts and obscene amounts of money , nico doesn’t particularly feel comfortable doing the same for himself . he’s a simple man through n through . one who’s content to spend his time walking his dog late at night , listening to a podcast on his airpods , instead of going out to a club w/ other well-known socialites .

a true artist at heart , nico refuses to conform to the current trends of hollywood , instead insisting on wearing thrifted clothes to important galas — ‏‏‎much to the frustration of his PR team and the chagrin of his stylists . but none of the choices nico makes seems to surprise anyone anymore . driving flashy cars and wearing designer clothes has never really been his style , after all . and it’s important to him that he remain authentically himself despite everything .

WANTED CONNECTS.

pr relationship ( open ) : someone that nico is contractually obligated to date ... i could totally see there being drama ‘n tension from having to pretend to actually like each other ... would b better if they rly did not like each other at all ...

fwb ( open ) : buddies who bump uglies sometimes ... they both agreed they’d never catch feelings for each other but we’ll see ...

frenemies ( open ) : someone that grinds nico’s gears but they’re a friend of his friend ... so they’re forced to keep it civil . i can see them exchanging hateful comments in the back of their friend’s car while simultaneously posting pics of each other on ig to keep up the rouse .

unrequited crush ( open ) : likely nico would not realize if yr muse had a crush on them ... but it’d be fun to play it out like a kdrama anyway heh heh

a close friend group ( open / any ) : i thought it’d b so cute if there was like a small group of friends , maybe 3-4 ppl , that do stupid shit like ditch going to celebrity after-parties to break into abandoned buildings , get real high , ask stupid ‘ would u rather ‘ questions , and do sum main character type shit ... yk what im puttin down ... ‘n nico is def the type to open up in the presence of extroverts so i think having a group of wild outsiders of diff bgs would b v inch resting ..

enemies / rivals ( open / any ) : tbh nico prob rubs ppl the wrong way since he has resting bitch face ‘n never wants to talk to anyone .. so im sure there r ppl who just do not like this mf ... and rest assured that the feeling is mutual ...

bad / good influence ( open / any ) : nico’s known to mount his high horse often ... mr morality over here ... so i just know he prob would butt heads w/ the residential troublemaker . tho nico’s artwork can be controversial and out of the box at times , his art style and his personality are at constant odds , and it’d b interesting to have that bad influence / good influence dynamic w/ someone .

family friend ( open ) : someone who grew up w/ nico in dtla ... couldve gone to the same public school as him ... or their families couldve gone to the same church ...

ok my intro post has become a fucking behemoth so im going to stop here ‘n just say i have so many more wcs in mind so if u wanna plot lets just talk hehe :>

#lavish.intro #okie gotta blast i have class in 5 min

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midnightelite · 4 years

Text

A Witch’s Guide to Pillow Forts: The Barrette Method

Me and @solstilla co-wrote a cute little one-shot for you guys!

He can battle Slytherins, he can face Death Eaters, he can even look Voldemort in the eye and defy him. But he can not stand thunderstorms. Fluff fic!

You can read it on AO3 or FFN

The rain was pounding on the roof of James and Lily’s brand new apartment-their first apartment they’d ever owned together. Hopefully, it would be one of many. Lily lay surrounded by cool air and the smell of James and Sirius’s apartment as it still lingered on the furniture. It was familiar and comforting; the perfect combination filled her heart with the feeling of home, slowly lulling her to the brink of sleep. Between moving out of her parents’ home, helping Sirius and James pack up their old apartment, and unloading boxes from the rental van her father had gotten her, Lily was absolutely knackered.

She vaguely heard the front door open and close, and the sound pulled her back to reality. James had just returned from Sirius’s new flat! Her face lit up as James entered the room, scrambling up from her spot on the sofa and bounding into his arms. Lily smiled up into his eyes, going on her toes to press her lips to his. James ducked before their lips met, a small smirk gracing his features before he pulled her into a tight hug.

“You were gone entirely too long. I missed you,” she whispered, burying her face into his shoulder. “You owe me James time tonight. Do you hear me?“ Lily tilted her head back to look up at him, her nose bumping his with how close they were.

“Oh isn’t someone getting overly attached now that we live together? If you’re lucky, you’ll get some James time.” He pressed a kiss to her nose and pulled back, starting to walk away.

“James!” she squealed, taking hold of his hand so he wouldn’t go too far. “You missed!” Lily tugged him closer with their conjoined hands, batting her lashes up at the dark-haired boy.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I hit my mark.” He winked before turning and leaving the room.

She watched him leave, her lips parting in surprise. What was he up to? James had never rejected a kiss from her, and while she could tell he wasn’t upset, Lily knew he was up to something. She heard the shower in their downstairs bathroom turn on and huffed before sitting back on the sofa. Fine. Two could play at that game.

As the minutes ticked on, Lily got lost in the sound of the rain hitting the window pane. It reminded her of how much Petunia and her enjoyed rainy days when they were younger. Memories came flooding back, memories of laughter and togetherness, and simpler times.

Petunia raced in, holding a pile of blankets in her hands. “Lily! Come help me hang these!” Lily looked up from where she sat. She stood up to grab a blanket from Petunia and once she started building, she copied Tuney’s precise work. The two worked tirelessly to perfect their own little blanket castle. Bed sheets flung over the armchairs and clipped onto each other with Lily’s barrettes. The barrettes were the most important part. Not only did using the many different color barrettes the girls had introduce decoration to their design, it was crucial to the structural integrity. With the barrettes in place, their castle was looking good. After the two sisters made sufficient progress on the walls of the structure, they switched to the interior, laying down every pillow and cushion they could find along the floor in front of the sofa. Quilts and fuzzy blankets draped over the tops of the cushions so the cracks in between the pillows wouldn’t be as noticeable, but they were lacking the right amount to fully snuggle underneath. Their mother must have heard them complaining, for moments later she would usually stroll in carrying a heap of fuzzy blankets.

When their masterpiece was finally finished, Petunia would crawl inside carrying a torch with her. Lily, on the other hand, found it much more important to bring their favorite fairy tales with them. Although it sometimes took some begging, Tuney would read those treasured stories of fairies, unicorns, and even wizards! Weaving entire worlds around battles and romance with the thunder crashing down around them. A little later on their parents would usually join them, taking over the storytelling so that both girls could snuggle close together. With the fireplace lit just outside their own little fortress, their imaginations filled with wonders beyond belief, and their parents by their sides, little Lily had never been more at peace.

The rain was picking up outside, but Lily didn’t notice the sound until the boom of thunder forced her back to the present.

Thump.

Well that wasn’t thunder. The sound seemed to originate from the bathroom, so she stood to investigate when James came barreling into their living room donning nothing but a towel hastily tied around his hips. Lily’s eyes scanned him up and down. He hadn’t even dried off yet.

“Where’s the fire?”

“What do you mean fire? My life was at risk! Showering during a lightning storm? Do you want to be a widow?” He tried to hide the panic in his eyes, passing it off as a joke. He failed miserably, if Lily’s stifled laughter was anything to consider. At least she was kind enough to try to hide it.

“James, deer, we’re not even engaged.” Lily slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently.

“We already have three children,” James said in such a matter-of-fact voice Lily had to wrack her brain to remember when she was ever pregnant. “Considering how Sirius, Peter and Remus act, and all.” He added. That made more sense. “I feel like we are basically married at this point. Which means me dying would make you a widow.”

Lily snorted. “Right. Well the storm isn’t going to kill yo-” Another crash of thunder echoed outside, and he couldn’t help the jump his body decided was appropriate given the circumstance. And that’s when it hit her. “Oh my gosh, you’re scared.”

“Me? Scared? Absolutely not! I literally dueled Slytherin students in the corridor. I faced Death Eaters just last week! I looked Voldemort in the eye and told him no. This is just weather Lily. Please pull yourself together and stop projecting.” He hoped the tremor wasn’t evident in his voice.

Lily couldn’t help but grin, watching her boyfriend as she leaned against the back of the sofa. James was visibly trying not to squirm under her penetrative gaze. She knew this was nothing compared to his daily life, but he was still at least a little bit scared. How was it possible for one man to be so adorable?

“Hmm. Right. Okay, I’ll stop projecting,” Before Lily could continue her thought, another boom shook the house. This time even Lily had to admit she was a bit startled, but James...James was a whole other story. The color from his face drained and you could see the anxiety behind his eyes.

She shot him a knowing look, her eyes speaking for her. “Fess up, buttercup.”

“OkaywhenIlivedwithmyparentsyoucouldn’treallyhearorseeanythingfrommyroomandthenwhenImovedinwithSiriushealwaysdistractedmebylettingloosemysnitchormakingmeplaywizard’schessuntilIdidn’tnoticethestormanymore!” James mumbled incomprehensibly.

“What?” Lily shook her head. “I got like half of that. James, love, it’s me. You can tell me anything. You know that.”

James took a deep breath. “I am a bit afraid, okay? I didn't notice as a kid when I lived with my parents. The house was so big the sound never really carried in. I did notice very much when I moved in with Sirius, but he was always good at distracting me! Now…” James’s eyes fell toward the ground. He looked defeated.

“Now you need a distraction,” Lily finished, nodding her head. Everyone had their thing. Lily had spiders. James had thunderstorms. Honestly, it was a bit relieving to see someone usually so strong and fearless have simple fears like this. But she wasn’t going to let what happened earlier just slip by without a proper response.

She smirked, tilting her head to the side. Her fingers found their way into her red locks, twirling a strand playfully. “And your wife isn’t a distraction enough?” She pouted her lips, looking up at him with the biggest doe eyes James Potter had ever seen.

His eyebrows disappeared behind his damp hair. Lowering his voice, the corners of his lips quirked up. “You are more than enough a distraction” James leaned in to meet her lips.

Perfect. Right where she wanted him. She let him linger right in front of her, so close they were almost touching. Almost.

“I have a better idea,” her lips quirked up at the corners, reminiscent of the man standing in front of her. James’s eyebrows rose momentarily before he began to wiggle them. She had to suppress a laugh and waited a few seconds, letting him hang on the edge. James lingered just on the precipice of seduction before Lily changed her demeanor entirely. Just as he made a move to close off any space between them, she turned her head quickly so his advance landed on her cheek instead. He may have wanted a kiss on the lips, but he would have to, what were his words? He would have to be pretty lucky to make that mark. “James,” Lily said in a sugary sweet tone, “I was going to suggest we make a blanket and pillow fort, what kind of woman do you take me for?” She placed her hand over her heart to complete the dramatic remark.

Lily watched as about a dozen different emotions flashed across his face in only a matter of seconds before settling on something a bit more guarded. “I am so sorry if I have dishonored you. I thought I was fulfilling your wishes. I hope you do go easy on me.”

He knew just what heart strings he was tugging on, but Lily was not going to dwell on that or her plan would completely crumble. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Darcy, now go get changed. Also while you’re up there, can you look through the box in our room for extra blankets?” James flashed his signature sideways grin at her, back to his normal self.

“As you wish.” James swept into a deep bow before turning and heading up the stairs towards their bedroom.

“That’s from The Princess Bride!” Lily called after him. Though he was already in their bedroom, she still heard his laughter carry down the stairs. She smiled to herself, wondering how she ever got so lucky to have James as her boyfriend. Not that she would ever say that aloud. He doesn’t need a bigger head. While he was preoccupied, she busied herself with pulling the cushions off the couch to prepare for the inside of their fortress. Just like when she was a kid. Grabbing her wand off the coffee table beside the sofa, Lily shot a couple sparks into the fireplace: a skill she didn’t have as a kid. She tucked it into her hair for easy access, just in case she would need it inside the fort.

The thud thud thud thud of James bounding down the stairs caught her off guard. She popped her head up, squealing at the sight of him. James’s tower of blankets peaked over his head. Only his fleece pajama bottoms from Euphemia distinguished him as a human as opposed to a blanket monster.

“How many blankets does a full grown woman need?” She could hear the jest in his tone. He then unceremoniously dropped the blankets into a pile on the now cushionless sofa.

“I get cold.” Lily rubbed her hands together in excitement, overlooking their supplies.

“Yeah well, considering the circumstances I don’t think you’ll need this many blankets. I am the human equivalent of a heater.” That pulled her away from her plans for a moment, looking up at him with glee on her face.

“Maybe, if you’re lucky tonight,” she repeated the phrase from earlier, quirking one eyebrow at him.

“With the amount of blankets you have, my deer, you may need to be the lucky one. I’ll be just fine.” Lily rolled her eyes at the wink he sent her way, and took his hand so he could stand next to her and overlook their supplies together. How his arm made its way around her waist, she wasn’t quite sure. Lily gave in just a bit, leaning into his side.

After a moment of reflection, Lily set to work by draping blankets over the sofa to build the foundation of the external walls. James quickly followed suit.

“Hey, love, can you get the chairs from the dining room?” She pointed, scratching her head as she built the pillow fort in her mind. Something was missing, but she couldn’t place her finger on what exactly.

“Of course, Master Lily.” James made to bow again, so Lily threw a cushion at his head. Which he promptly caught before dropping it and leaving the room with way too much of a skip in his step. Damn those Quidditch reflexes.

James brought in the first two chairs, acting as if he was returning from some great battle with his pride in holding one on either side of him. Pretending she didn’t notice her show-off of a boyfriend, Lily kept focused on the sheets. Only when he returned and set down the last two chairs did she look up.

“What’s next, my princess?”

“It’s queen, actually.” The smile he shot her was bright enough to light up the whole planet, completely and utterly blinding. Queen. She and Petunia would pretend their pillow forts were castles. Her smile turned bittersweet, to which James scrambled to sit beside her.

Lily blinked at his gesture. Poor James was all worried over nothing. Sitting up a little straighter, Lily took his hands in her own. “James, have I ever told you about what me and Tuney would do on rainy days?” James shook his head. She took a deep breath and continued on.

“Before I knew about magic, Tuney and I were best friends. I’m pretty sure I mentioned that?” She looked at him for affirmation. He nodded his head. “When it was storming bad, I’d always get a little bit scared, but Tuney always knew that getting my hands busy would keep my mind off what was raging on outside. She would run and grab all the extra blankets and sheets from our linen closet and we would build fortressesses.

“At first, they were small, but as we grew they would take over the entire living room. We would spend most of the day constructing them.” Lily laughed, looking around their new living room. It seemed such a tall order now. “Building the walls with different sheets and blankets, padding the inside with sofa cushions and pillows. Then when we were done, we liked to pretend they were our castles and we were princesses like from the fairytales. I would always bring our favorite stories in and she would create magical worlds filled with every creature imaginable. I would completely forget about the storm raging around us. Eventually as it got later, my mum and dad joined us, and would take over the storytelling. We would end up camping out in the living room, falling asleep after cuddles and bedtime stories. Sometimes Dad would wake us up with cinnamon hot cocoa.” A quiet laugh escaped through her lips. “It’s funny, I was scared, but these are some of my fondest memories.”

Lily looked up from her lap a little misty eyed, that same bittersweet look from before gracing her features. James leaned over to kiss the one tear that slipped down her cheek away. She pulled him closer into a tight hug. Although claps of thunder sounded outside, she didn’t even feel him flinch.

As the silence settled James blurted out,“Have I ever mentioned I love you?” Lily rolled her eyes in exasperation. What a sap, right? She kissed his cheek and pulled him up from the floor.

“Hmmm….I don't recall. It doesn’t sound familiar. What was it again?” Lily’s eyes crinkled as he tackled her with a bunch of kisses all over her face.Catching herself with one hand, the other landed on his chest, and she gave him a gentle push to create more space between them, much to the disappointment of both parties, so that they could return their focus to the task at hand.

“Hey, I’d say you’re thoroughly distracted, but this fort still needs some work, so get back to it!”

James stood at attention and saluted. The two lovebirds began setting the chairs a good distance apart, smiles blossomed on their faces as they worked in comfortable silence. They graduated to padding the inside with the cushions. As they were nearing the end, the draped blankets just weren't staying in place like they should. They kept slipping down from where they hung them. It hit her like a ton of bricks: she'd forgotten the most important part!

“Hold up!” She darted towards the stairs, the biggest, goofiest grin on her face. James was left to catch the end of the blanket she’d dropped when she left. “I know just what we need to finish this off!”

Lily raced up the stairs, towards the bedroom, on a mission to acquire her secret ingredient. The mahogany nightstand’s top drawer had been claimed as their junk drawer, slowly filling up with odds and ends from both Lily and James over time. During this move, the junk seemed to accumulate much faster. She tugged open the drawer harshly, excited to get back to her project with James when she spotted it. A little blue velvet box.

Her breath hitched. What was this doing in the junk drawer? If Lily’s heart hammered any faster she was afraid it was going to explode. Now she needed the distraction. She reached a shaky hand out and grabbed the box. Why was this in the junk drawer?

This better not be what she thought it was.

Still debating if she should open it or not, she jumped at the sound of James’s voice. It was incomprehensible over the blood pumping in her ears.

“What?” She didn’t turn around, focusing on the feeling of the velvet box moving between her fingers. Why was this in the junk drawer?

“Lils? Are you okay? I thought you knew what you were grabbing, want me to come up and help you find it?”

“No!” she yelped, far too fast of a response. Far too panicked. Just as she heard James scramble up to check on her, she spotted the barrettes, snagged them before racing down to see her boyfriend before he could find her at the junk drawer.

Why would you put a ring box in the junk drawer?

“Hi,” she breathed, moving to wave her hand but realizing she was still holding the box! She smiled sheepishly, quickly hiding the box behind her back.

“Hey…” James narrowed, his eyes, leaning to the side to try and see just what Lily was holding.

“Found the barrettes,” she said, holding up her other hand. Like a magician, the idea of distraction would work.. Right? Lily laid the hand with the barrettes on his shoulder, giving him a nudge to turn around and move towards the living room again.

Another thunderclap and this time he truly has no reaction at all. Well at least she managed to keep his mind off the storm. Lily tried for a reassuring smile, giving his shoulder another nudge. He was silent, but he actually turned around and went down the stairs.

Said silence lasted a lifetime. Finally, he whipped around with a blazing look in his eyes. She was not off the hook. Perhaps if she decided to start the conversation, she could gauge his reaction.

“Funny story...So I found the strangest thing while looking for my barrettes upstairs…” Lily unfolded her hand to show him the small velvet box. “Any idea why this was in the junk drawer?”

The color drained from James’s face as he realized what she’d discovered. Lily could practically hear his internal monologue.

Okay so I have two options here: pretend I have no idea what she is talking about, or fess up. Though the former is looking more appealing at the moment because she does not seem happy. Oh god. What if she isn’t happy? What if she doesn’t want to marry me? What if-

“James, do you not plan to use this?” She decided to go easy on him seeing the doubt and fear creep into his face. He really was an open book, at least to her. The longer they were together, the more fluent in James Potter she became.

“I-uh planned to use it eventually?”

“It was in our junk drawer,” Lily deadpanned.

“I was kinda hoping it would get buried and you wouldn’t notice…” His hand flew up to his hair in an attempt to subdue the wince creeping onto his features.

“How long have you had this, James?” Instead of looking at him, she was entirely focused on the blue box. She hadn’t even opened it yet.

“Uh.. Do you want the truth? Or like an answer that will make you comfortable?” His hand still had yet to leave his locks alone.

Despite the whirlwind inside her, Lily managed to choke out a laugh, dragging his hand from his hair and into her own.

“The truth, please.”

“So you remember that time you came over and met my parents for the first time?” Lily nodded. Of course. She’d been so nervous, and Euphemia and Fleamont had treated her as if she was the daughter they’d never had. “Christmas break, seventh year?” A smile tugged at Lily’s cheeks.

“You made me cookies the muggle way and burnt them to a crisp. I remember.” James let out a little chuckle.

“Well Mum loved you, and after you left she told me, ‘You better marry that girl James,’ and gave me the ring.” He took the box from her still outstretched hand, hesitating for just a moment before kneeling in front of her. Inside the box was an ornate ring, with a gold band and emeralds instead of diamonds.

“Lily, I knew from the moment I met you that you were it for me. Although, it was nice to hear Mum felt similarly. This was my grandmum’s engagement ring; her and my grandfather were married for seventy-six years. Mum said it would bring us good luck, and really, what I was trying to get at before I got side tracked with the ring’s history is...You have bewitched me body and soul. You are the greatest adventure I’ve had thus far, and I do not wish for it to end.”

Lily dropped the barrettes she had been gripping so tightly, covering her mouth with her hand as she felt the prickle of wetness start to form in her eyes.

“I love you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and kiss you goodnight-if I’m lucky-every evening. I want this to be only the first of the many, many places we live together. I want to travel the world with you. I want to win this war with you by my side. I want to explore new places, new things with you, only with you.

I want to start a family with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to live every waking moment with you by my side. And it would be the greatest honour of my life, if you, Lily Marie Evans, would agree to be my wife. ”

Lily’s lips quivered, tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked down at him. She slipped down to his level and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, yes, a hundred million times, yes. James Potter, I want to marry you.”

James stood, his arms snaking around Lily’s waist and spinning her with him, snug against his chest. Lily squealed, hugging James tighter, as her tears turned into laughter. He spun her around and around until they both were dizzy. When he eventually placed her back on the ground, Lily refused to let go. Whether it was due to affection or the room spinning was still up in the air. All she knew was she’d never felt this way before. Never in her life had Lily experienced this much joy, this much peace. Not even those nights camping in her living room. He was her home, and she his.

James stared down at his fiancée-his fiancée!- in total adoration. His thumb rubbed along her cheek in a tender caress.

“I feel pretty lucky tonight, James.” He smirked, and pressed his lips to hers briefly. Lily met his eyes, glancing towards the ring box to which he happily slid the ring onto her finger.

“Have I ever mentioned I love you?” Lily whispered, a smile far too similar to James’s signature lopsided grin toying on her lips.

“Hmmm….I don't recall. It doesn’t sound familiar. What was it again?” Lily threw her head back in laughter, pulling him in close for a passionate kiss. Only when they both were breathless did she pull away. “Why don’t we make good use of that fort we built?”

His lips brushed against hers ever so slightly. “I suppose I do feel lucky.”

Lily and James disappeared behind the entrance to their dilapidating castle, the barrettes lay on the ground forgotten.

#Jily #Jily*#MWPP #marauders #James Potter #Lily Evans #Lily Evans Potter #jessica #melissa #writing

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