“Alexander Pope declares his love to Lady Mary, who responds with laughter”
If you’ve never heard of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1689-1762), I highly recommend you check out her Wikipedia page (as a start). She was the wife of the British ambassador to Turkey and wrote about her travels in her letters. A highly intelligent, well-educated and charming woman, she is lauded both for being one of the first to make an earnest attempt to gain a better understanding of Turkish customs and culture, as well as challenging 18th century attitudes towards women. Even when she was married, she was also wooed by various men, among them Alexander Pope, who took her rejection of him so badly that he slandered her name in one of his works.
A Wattpad request. I do not own Thorin or Dwalin. They belong to J.R.R.Tolkien.
Warnings: Cute Fluff, slightly jealous Thorin.
Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader, Dwalin
Thorin stared in disbelief. How had
you managed to follow them so far? As your suitor, Thorin had always known you
were mischievous, but not like this. You bit your lip as you waited for Thorin
to make up his mind about what to do with you. You had been following after the
Company for weeks and none of them had noticed until that night. Apparently,
you had twisted your ankle after stepping in a rabbit hole. The little cry of
pain you’d let out had given away your hiding place.
Anon: Reader is an istari who is with the dwarves when Smaug attacks and dies helping the dwarves escape.
Anon: The company comes across a mysterious traveler whom they think to be human ( looks like a human) but is actually immortal or something. Has all these stories of their great adventures. She comes across legolas and he finds her intriguing.
Whenever in need of inspiration I head on over to A Well Traveled Woman. Bekah collects beautiful imagery of all that’s good - travel, food, her beautiful family/life and strong words. It’s nice to see what inspires others and to get a peak into someone else’s life. It is all very humanizing, humbling and touching to see the triumphs and struggles that we all go through. Bekah is a beautiful woman with a lot to share, head over to her blog and you will quickly see what I mean.
Theodora and Justinian had a romance to rival many of the most famous love stories in history, and theirs certainly had a happier ending than the likes of Antony and Cleopatra or Napoleon and Josephine! Procopius recorded that when Justinian first saw Theodora, he fell violently in love with her and that after he made her his mistress, she seemed the “sweetest thing in the world.” Justinian might have had any woman in the Empire, but it was Theodora he chose and essentially fought his aunt and uncle to marry. Theodora was an attractive, well-traveled, intelligent woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and in those qualities Justinian recognized his future Empress. After her death, he chose not to remarry, remaining a widower for seventeen years.
Stephanie Thornton, history teacher and writer, author of “The Secret History: A Novel of Empress Theodora”
Captain America Civil War: The Great Avenger Bake Off
Summary: The Avengers need to do something to help promote a more positive, friendly image. Netflix-obsessed Y/N has the perfect idea: The Great Avenger Bake Off. It’s Tony vs. Steve in a battle to see who can produce the best baked good. Nat and Sam are the judges, Bucky and Y/N the hosts. Wanda and Vision are in charge of the live stream and Clint has the fire extinguisher. What could possibly go wrong? Ready, get set…BAKE!
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, Reader
Early morning rays shone down through the tree branches as
Zelda padded around through the grassy forest area at the bottom of the hill.
Her hair pulled back in a simple braid and her body adorned with unassuming,
warm clothes, she appeared to be just another Hylian collecting mushrooms and
herbs in the early hours. Perhaps the only thing that might begin to give her
away was the pristine white horse that loyally waited for her out on the road.
As dressed down as she was with a traveler’s saddle and carrying some bags
filled with the harvest of that morning’s ingredient collecting, a pure white
horse as strong as she was a little hard to ignore.
But luckily, Zelda’s breakfast that morning had included
some silent shrooms, so even if she wasn’t trying to be inconspicuous, the two travelers
gossiping just a few meters away would have to be supernaturally observant to
notice her eavesdropping.
“She still hasn’t married?” One of the travelers asked.
“Well why should she? She’s proven quite well over the last seven
years that she’s perfectly capable of ruling on her own, hasn’t she?”
Ok, here is the THIRD part to what I originally intended to be a drabble. Plot bunny run amuck is what this is!! This part is 2080 word (bringing the entire piece to 6300 and change). This is my first AU (slight AU, but still here goes my “screwing with canon” rule). I will blame it on @callieskye@jenn582 and @azaleablueme
“Come on Lavender, you know it’s for the best. You were just telling me that he hadn’t even snogged you since he was poisoned.”
“That’s not the point, not the point at all Pavarti!”
“Then explain the point. Because despite the shite you talk in front of our roommate, your “relationship” with Ron has never been that great.”
“That’s not true! He was the love of my life!”
“Don’t be so dramatic, neither of you ever used that word. The boy never even got you a gift, and in all these months he hasn’t even tried to take your clothes off.”
“That’s just because he’s a gentleman!”
“Get off it! What is really going on here?”
Hermione flattened herself against the wall outside her shared room. The guilt for eavesdropping was no match for the euphoria brought about by the content of the conversation. She had purposely waited to return to her room that night suspecting that the recent break up would make things impossibly more awkward. For a brief moment she considered going in and adding her own thoughts, but she decided that gloating was not appropriate. Not that it wouldn’t be satisfying. In light of this new information she decided to return to the common room; suddenly she felt anything but tired.
Ron lay in his four poster thinking about recent events, and while he felt lighter than he had in months, he was still anxious about what came next. Part of him felt hopeful; it was a tiny flame that had been ignited when he woke up after his poisoning to find Hermione watching over him. In the weeks that followed, he had stoked that fire with every little scrap: shy glances, lingering touches, soft words. All the while he tried to extricate himself from the mess that he had made with Lavender. He still couldn’t quite believe that it was over. If I had only known that all it would take was seeing Hermione come out of my room then I would’ve done that weeks ago!
He half chuckled at the thought, but then shivered slightly when he thought of Lavender’s anger. It was a little terrifying. Not sexy like Hermione when she gets mad…her hair all wild…her eyes flashing…her mouth slightly open…her chest heaving. Before Ron could get caught up in an elaborate fantasy, he had a horrible thought, one that caused him to bolt upright in his bed. Bloody hell! Hermione had to go up there alone tonight!
Now he knew for a fact that Hermione could take care of herself, her punching Draco Malfoy in the face was still one of the greatest moments of his life, but he was still worried. After all he had put her through it hardly seemed fair that he should be able to sleep peacefully while she had to face the aftermath on her own. Realizing that he could not go up the girls’ staircase, he decided to do the next best thing and go down to the common room. At least he could be closer to her just in case.
For a few moments he thought the perhaps he had in fact drifted off to sleep because the sight of her sitting on the sofa, reading in the dim light, was too good not to be a dream. When she looked up and noticed him, the smile she gave him quite literally took his breath.
Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: how about one on the
day sasuke woke up next to sakura on their bed for the first time
after 10 years at the end of gaiden? Idea: @mycherryqueen Note: I was like real close to making this a lemon, and then I contained myself. I was like “naaaaa make that shit cute and wholesome, my dude.” Also I will fight anyone who thinks that people 30 and up can’t be adorable and shit. Papa and Mama Ombree are like the cutest little married couple and I will fight for that wholesome cuteness in SasuSaku
The light the spills
from the curtains is what brings him from the sleep he had succumbed
too. His lids are slow within their raise blurred by the that is
desperate to keep him. Caves, forests, and run down inns are what
he’s grown accustomed too within the lands that threatened. How
many years had he slept within lands so far from home? He had done so
without question—he would not let the comforts of home keep him
from his mission.
The birds that bring
forth the noise of morning linger within his ears. There is no smell
of the earth within these walls. They’re not the walls of his
home—they are the walls of an apartment, and yet they are no less
soothing, and no less welcomed. The deep breath he inhales only seeks
to make him press the back of his head further within the pillow and
fingers roughened through years of battle seek to remove the sticky
obsidian upon his forehead. There’s no denying the comforts of home
when so full enveloped within them. The ache of his muscles and the
ache of the days, months, and years that have passed seemly purged
within the confines of these four walls.
I was the other one. No, not that one either. You’ve never met me. I didn’t make history, I didn’t have a name or a title worthwhile, but I know the stories and I was there. Everything that was said was true. All of it, even the variations. Because the truth is stranger than any of these things could express.
It wasn’t a frog, but it could have been. Certainly that was the easiest descriptor, because something bulbous and black and foul cannot be named, not when it used to be the Prince, not when it was my brother. Yes. I am the sister.
All we had were questions and an empty chair at the banquets. A bed that was no more used than wetted by the oozing skin of someone once considered kindred, my friend and companion. Was it a curse? A natural anomaly? A prophecy we did not take to heart? The thing, this Prince, could not answer. It belched meaninglessly, carried around the manor on a veiled sickbed normally used for ailing elders. It had eyes, somewhere… we could not tell exactly which of the protrusions were ocular, as they all seemed to be staring at us.
This creature of slime was not malicious in action, it seemed to have no interest at all. Not passive, no, but distracted. The handmaidens offered warmth and comforts, the finest velvet under this new mobile throne, but any semblance of personhood was never roused within my brother. He sat, gulping out of openings that disappeared back into its bulk when the gasping ceased. There was not one single mouth, nor one tongue. There was too much of everything.
Still, we kept the charade. My parents would talk to the creature over dinner, hoping it would respond to food or react to our kindness. An entire kingdom pretending nothing was amiss, resting the crown on a nearby gilded pillow, ignoring its squelching as easily as it ignored us. Neither heat nor cold bothered the thing, no food could tempt it. Only once did I see it move of its own accord, a lone tendril inching across the silver plates presented before it, digging to find a prize. The room was still, all eyes fixated on this new arrival. I cannot speak for the rest, but my body felt locked with apprehension, and fear. The curling limb squirmed to the center of the banquet, and quicker than anything I had seen, flopped itself into the pan of pork drippings beneath the roast. It rolled and slapped the wet fat, shuddering in the oily debris and lay satisfied. Slower than we could see, leaving a trail of dark gristle, it retracted. The room stayed still, and silent, and after our food had turned cold it was cleared and we retired for the night. The dreams I had… I thought they were so horrible, but upon waking I recognized they were not different nor separate from this new reality.
That was when the noises began. Deep in our chambers, a sound reverberated through the empty halls, out into the valley outside and below. It was not so much audible as felt, a rumbling belch that rattled the windows. In the moonlight I sat upright, the dawn nearly peeking onto the horizon, and I felt the fear well up within me again. This was not a dream. It was long, this call, several minutes passed before quiet resumed in the manor. Though I heard no other noise, I knew there was not a person in the house who remained in slumber. One long call, then silence again. The next night, two. Then every night. The damp ululations vibrated the very hairs of my scalp, long utterances that echoed almost from another world… and the portal was, used to be, my brother. Our mornings became weak affairs, the eyes of my parents sunken, my father looking wan and gaunt. Still, we continued the royal charade. What else could we do?
The town below sent messengers and well-wishes, hearing these unearthly disruptions as clearly as we had. The gifts piled up in the entry hall, borne of both concern and care. Even as a moaning blob of otherness, he was still our Prince, and we must be reverent. Even in this monstrous form, he was extraordinary and important in a way I could never be.
Then began the nightly visitations. Knocks upon our door, the gates clattering and being forced open, always accompanied by a grim visage of women, their eyes glazed from lack of sleep or being currently entombed in slumber. Their arrival was consistent, summoned by my brother’s visceral calls into the moonlight. It wreathed these enslaved pilgrims in mystery as they slammed their fists against our doors, blank-faced and expectant. The first night, the pale girl was shown in and walked through the halls, almost in a trance, disappearing into my brother’s chamber. We had long been used to disruption in our rest, and in the entry hall of our manor, my parents and I, chilly in our bed robes, watched the girl enter, and leave. It was as though she had spent no time there at all. No words were spoken. We avoided each other’s eyes. Then we retired to our beds. For once, the calls had quieted. We slept.
The parade of women continued, different each night, varying times and myriad circumstance. Some were dressed as fine ladies, hair glossy and gems shining. Others wore tattered clothing, bare feet pale with cold. Some were frighteningly young. We did not bother to greet them; oftentimes I would lay with my gaze fixed on the ceiling, waiting for the ghastly chorus to be over, for the transient mouths to seal themselves and recede so I may return to my rest. Other nights, I would join the servants in the entry hall and watch the parade go past. Only one woman per night, but if sleep was truly evading me, I took a macabre interest in the happenings.
It was my mother and I who saw the woman who didn’t leave. She looked older, well-traveled, and I glimpsed a carriage at our gates which looked dusty from the road, but otherwise well-kept. This figure strode into the manor, her face sharper and more keen than many of the others I had seen. She looked at me, acknowledged I was there. Her confident steps clicked down the hallways, and this time my mother and I shared a glance. Something was different. The long-exhausted sense of fear roiled within me, awakened and angry. We waited for the mysterious woman to exit the bed chambers. But she did not.
There is a new member of our household, now. We do not know her name, have never heard her speak, but it is clear. She is the new Princess, and at her side is the Prince, back as himself at least… looking as such. But mealtimes are silent meetings, their distant gazes not meeting ours as they slurp oily, fattened soups and lick glistening silver spoons teeming with lard.
My brother is back in a recognizable form, the guttural calls replaced with occasional midnight burbling, the only sounds I’ve heard either of them make.
So it seems my brother, the Prince, has indeed found his bride. They shall reign over this land in a way we never knew before. At last, there is a proper Princess that roams these halls. At night, when I consider this woman with the travel-lined face and opaque stares, I am glad she is the Princess. But then I wonder… The Princess of what?
A/N: Happy New Years! Hope your 2017 is great (: and so sorry I haven’t posted in a while! Haven’t been too motivated):
You could’ve sworn you had missed the sign. Or maybe you had turned left when you had needed to turn right? Perhaps you had been distracted. You sighed as you pulled into the driveway. ‘I cannot believe I got lost! And on today of all days!’ you thought angrily as you knocked on the tall door, ‘I’ll just ask for directions and be on my-’ your thoughts were interrupted by a crack of lightning a little to your north. ‘Great’, you sighed as rain started to pour around you in buckets. You shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your forearms. The door had been yanked open by a woman who had an apron on with flour sticking in her brunette hair. “What can I do for you?” she asked, leaning the bowl of mix against her hip. “I-I had been t-trying to get t-to Godric’s Hollow when.. Wait- ignore tha- Godric’s Hollow is just a nickname for-” you stammered, immediately realising you had just told a muggle of Godric’s Hollow. The woman was snickering at your heavily blushed face when she said, “You a witch? You’re lucky my husband is a wizard or else you would be in big trouble, hun,” she paused, looking at your sopping appearance, “Oh, goodness! How could I be so rude! Look at how cold you are! Come in, come in!” The woman ushered you into the house. Right as soon as you stepped over the threshold you were hit with a blast of warm air and the smell of burnt cookies. “You have a seat there, and I’ll get you a cook- oh no!” she yelped as she ran into the small kitchen. You heard many curse words as the house was overcome with smoke. You started giggling as the smoke alarm started blaring and you heard many footsteps come from above. Just as the woman came out of the kitchen with a tray of black cookies, a group or four boys came bounding down the steps. You recognized them immediately. The Marauders. The one you knew as Remus Lupin spoke worriedly to the woman, “Mum! Mum, are you alright?” “Oh yes, yes. I’m fine, just a little cooking mishap,” shaking the boy’s hand off her shoulder, “Dear, would you like something to drink? Water? Butterbeer? Hot chocolate?” she directed the attention to you. Your face turned bright red as all the eyes came onto you. “Oh, no I’m fi-” “Y/N?” James Potter asked. “That’d be me.” You had spoken to James a couple times, trying to get him away from your best friend, Lily Evans. But other than that you hadn’t ever spoken to any of them. “What are you doing here?” he asked, taking out his wand to dry you off. “Well. I had been on my way to Godric’s Hollow to meet up with Lily, and I got a little lost and-” “A little?” Sirius Black interrupted, “Love, Godric’s Hollow is over 40 minutes away.” You buried your face in your hands, ‘Lily had given you the directions. She had purposefully sent you to your crush’s house. I bloody swear I’ll hex her into next week next time I see her.’ “Well, you can’t very well travel to Godric’s Hollow, in this weather,” the woman motioned to the window, “You can stay with us if you’d like. We have a spare room for you.” “But Hope, James and I are staying in there,” Sirius whispered to the woman not-so-quietly. “You four share a room at Hogwarts, what’s the difference?” she asked the boy, daring him with her eyes to say one more thing. “Oh no, really, it’s fine. I can just sleep in my car-” “Nonsense! Now you all get upstairs! And, Remus, show Y/N where the bathroom is and the guest room. Oh, and boys!” they all whipped their heads around, “Don’t be gits.” They all chuckled as they walked up the stairs, the three taking two steps at a time, and Peter Pettigrew tripping behind them. You followed the four into a bedroom that looked like it had once been a very nice room, but now was a teenage boy’s den. Dirty laundry laid around the room with empty soda bottles here and there. Remus quickly pulled out his wand and with a wave had cleaned up the mess. Sirius and James each flopped down on the two beads as Remus sat in the desk chair and Peter wearily sat on the floor. You stayed in the doorway, not knowing what to do. “C’mon, love, don’t be shy. This is your room after all,” Sirius said whilst patting the space next to him on the bed. You crossed to room and sat on the floor across from Peter. “So, what were you going to Lily’s for?” James asked, of course he would want to talk about Lily. “Well, we were going to go shopping for school supplies and I would spend the rest of the holiday with her, but since I’m here tonight, those plans might be postponed,” you sighed. “Interesting tale,” Sirius said sarcastically, earning a glare from you, “But since we now have a person whom we know nothing about,” he said to the boys, “I say we play Truth or Dare.” “I don’t know..” you said. You were quite tired and just wanted to get some shut-eye. “Oh, of course, I forgot. Y/N is the coward of the lady Marauders,” Sirius said cocking his eyebrow at you. “Sirius-” Remus started, but was quickly interrupted by you. “No way am I the coward. Game on.”
Multiple firewhiskey bottles later, the five of you were sprawled across the floor, giggling at something Sirius had just said. “Okay, Y/N, truth or dare?” James asked stretching his legs out. “Hmm.. dare,” you said. James smirked mischievously, “I dare you you to kiss the most attractive guy here.” Sirius and James each straightened up, anticipating you would kiss them, but when you leaned past both of them and kissed Remus on the cheek, everyone was astonished. When you leaned back, you realized you had essentially just told your crush that you liked him. “I- um, I’m sorry-” you mumbled quickly stumbling out of the room and down the stairs. You sat down on the overstuffed sofa, burying your head in the throw pillow. ‘How could I do that?! Five years of having a crush on Remus, five years of planning how you’d tell him, all down the drain within one night.’ Your thoughts were interrupted as you felt the couch cushions dip into the weight of a person, and heard a voice you recognized immediately, “You- you think I’m cute?” You scrunched your eyebrows at him, “Well, duh. I mean I did just embarrass you and myself in front of them.” “Embarrass? What you did up there was many things, but not embarrassing, Y/N,” he looked at you placing his hand over yours. You breath hitched in your throat, “Wha- what do you mean?” He grinned at you taking both of your cheeks in his calloused hands, “I think you know what I mean,” he whispered, connecting your lips to his. It felt like magic, definitely worth the wait. You didn’t know how long you had been like that, but when you heard some commotion in the corner of the room, and a foot attached to no body, you could put the pieces together. You pulled away from Remus, grabbing your wand out of your back pocket, and mumbled “Accio Invisibility Cloak.” Next thing you knew you had a shimmering, silky cloak in your arms and there were four boys in the room instead of one. “Wormtail! I told you we couldn’t separate from each other too much! The cloak isn’t as big as it used to be!” James whisper-yelled to Peter. The three boys’ eyes fell on you two on the couch, and they all broke into smug grins at your embarrassed faces. Sirius spoke to you both, strutting to the space in front of you, “Do Prongs and I need to give you two the dreaded ‘talk’?” he smirked, cocking an eyebrow at you two.
I have MANY favourite songs that
scream Klaroline, here is just one. The tempo suits a waltz perfectly, hence
the theme. All lyrics by Lifehouse.
Ahead of his coronation, Prince
Klaus has to polish his waltzing skills, enter dance teacher extraordinaire
Caroline Forbes to whip him into shape.
What day is it. And in what month? This clock never seemed so alive. I
can’t keep up, and I can’t back down. I’ve been losing so much time.
flickered to the corner of the palace ballroom consulting the impressive,
grandfather clock. It was at that point, Klaus decided that his childhood,
superhero dream of flying had suddenly been overtaken by an intense desire to
stop time. If only just to breathe and take everything in for a few extra
she muttered, bringing him well and truly back to the present, rubbing her big toe
as she did it.
Highness,” it was thinly veiled judgment, more than a polite address. Klaus
knew that particular tone all too well since their lessons had begun. “It’s
left foot then right.”
what I was doing.”
me, you weren’t,” she offered, looking briefly over at his heavyset bodyguard
standing in the doorway ominously, a slight smile tugging at his lips although the
rest of his face remained impressively stoic. “My left toe can testify to that
he huffed, moving to the nearest table and grabbing a water bottle then taking
a long swig. “I suppose I was…”
but opinionated, dance teacher knew him too well. It should have scared him
after such a short time together but it didn’t. When his mother had insisted he
take classes ahead of his coronation next month he’d tried everything to avoid
it but to no avail. Esther Mikaelson was a stickler for tradition, even if
other members of the family didn’t always follow suit.
never wanted to be King, he always thought it impossible anyway. He liked the
title but he was always the fun loving Prince. It was Elijah that was the
perfect epitome of a future King, until tragedy had struck and he’d passed away
unexpectedly from a rare form of cancer. His ascension to the throne was then a
forgone conclusion but his grief had kept that fact at bay, for a few months at
something he’d begrudgingly and slowly accepted over time but this circus of a
coronation, including dance classes, wasn’t what he signed up for.
only imagine given the upcoming coronation. Dancing is probably the last thing
on your mind.” That was true but it was after the coronation part that scared
him most. “Well and the whole becoming King part.” It was as if she had jumped
into his head and rifled through his inner most insecurities. “I mean when you
include the Commonwealth countries as well as Great Britain, that’s a lot of
always talk a lot?” He interrupted, choosing not to let her finish that
I’m dancing,” she shot back cheekily. “But someone in this room is being a
little difficult, and I’m not talking about Ahmed.” She looked over noticing
his smile had slightly grown in the last few minutes. Caroline had every
intention of making him laugh aloud one day.
know, people don’t usually talk to me like this…”
to get bossier when I’m overwhelmed by castles, corgis and royalty,” she
admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “Your Highness if…”
it,” he soothed, leaning over to place a hand over hers comfortingly. His
heartbeat quickened slightly, Klaus usually blamed it on the cardio workout but
didn’t have that excuse this time. “But there’s nothing to be overwhelmed
to be overwhelmed about? Are you kidding me?”
a highly, accomplished woman. You’re well travelled and…”
exactly do you know that?” She asked curiously, her left eyebrow cocked. “Have
you been checking up on me?”
working in our employ which makes a security check compulsory. The file MI5 and
your CIA gave my personal secretary was a lot more dense than you thought, I
guess you could say.”
stole that candy bar because Katherine dared me,” Caroline rambled. The way she
scrunched up her nose defensively was the the most adorable thing he’d seen. “And
that whole sorority incident was totally blown out of proportion.”
broke into a dorm room to steal someone’s knickers,” he smiled knowingly, actually
enjoying their dance practice for the very first time.
pledging,” she scoffed. “It’s not my fault the guy happened to be the Dean’s
extremely interested in this former life as a underwear thief, please tell me
more,” he smirked. She didn’t respond immediately just rolled her eyes.
like the future King of England is just another guy,” she alluded. Before
Elijah’s death, Klaus would have worn that reputation like a badge of honour
but her words hurt. He wasn’t quite sure if it was the words or the woman
saying them that affected him the most.
we get back to practice?” He asked, not bothering to look at her before
resuming his place mid dance floor. She seemed a little taken aback, her blue
eyes searching his curiously. He didn’t mean to be so harsh but it was all
becoming too familiar and being a future King, Klaus knew that emotion was
something he couldn’t afford to betray. “I promise I won’t step on your toes
words,” she murmured, stepping into his frame, that delicious, vaniall scent
wafting into his nostirls. Klaus closed his eyes momentarily, telling himself
that it would all be over soon.
By the extent to which her headache had lessened, Erina could only surmise that she had overslept. She had no idea how that could have happened when she set two alarms on her phone and three on her tablet the night before—unless someone had turned them off, that is. And if someone had done that, someone would have no choice but to face the full force of her wrath.
After she showered and moisturized and padded out into the living room of the Airbnb in her bathrobe, Erina saw someone in the kitchen taking some sort of souffle out of the oven.
“Mornin’ Nakiri,” he said, grinning at her. “How’re you feeling?”
“You turned off my alarms!” She tried in vain to hold onto the rage that was suddenly eluding her.
“You slept through the first two,” he pointed out with a shrug. “Besides, you were snoring like a damn grizzly bear, so I figured you were pretty tired.”
Erina blanched. She hadn’t…had she?
“I…well, that’s just impossible. I don’t snore. And at any rate, I was supposed to have three meetings this morning.”
“Pushed back,” he explained. “Doujima’s cool with it, and Tadokoro’s train from Tōhoku got delayed anyway.”
Erina decided that it was entirely too early in the morning for her to read into the fact that he still called his married ex-girlfriend by her maiden name. “Oh…When is the first meeting.”
“In an hour and a half.”
Erina finally allowed herself to glance over at the souffle, which upon closer inspection looked perfectly browned at the top and smelled delicious. “Asiago cheese and sun-dried tomatoes?”
He nodded once. “You want coffee or tea?”
“Coffee.” She took a seat at the kitchen table and crossed one leg over the other. “Like the whole pot.”
“I gotchu,” he said, giving her shoulder a light squeeze on his way back to the french press.
As she anticipated the sensation of piping hot black coffee gracing her god tongue, a thought occurred to Erina. With all the chaos that had ensued since their unexpected return to Tokyo, when the hell had he found the time to go grocery shopping? And to bake her a breakfast souffle? And to reschedule all of her meetings?
And then, for reasons she couldn’t quite identify, Erina got up and followed him and loosened the sash on her robe. “You said an hour and a half?”
“Yeah, did you want more ti-” When he turned around, Erina tilted her head upward and pressed her lips against his. She smirked into the kiss when his fingers slid beneath her robe, between her legs.
Hopefully they’d still have some time for breakfast after.
[Laura returns to the Silas library to visit an old friend. Older and wiser, and perhaps riddled with regret for leaving AU Carmilla twice — she undertakes one last mission to do something she should have done all those years ago.]
In the deepest depths of the library’s guts, Laura tread carefully over broken stone steps and chunks of debris towards a room she once called home. As she grew closer the walls of the library exhaled as if they were waking up from a long nap to greet an old friend.
“Hello to you too,” Laura ran a hand over the bricks and smiled, “I think you know why I’m here. I would really like to see her again.” she politely explained to the sentience that lived within these old dusty books. “I’m not too proud to beg either.” she admitted in defeat.
I like Rebecca but honestly they need to sort out the consistency problems with her character because half the time I don’t know what her motives are or what she’s thinking, and I’m actually a Rebecca fan who looks for that sort of thing. The writing is getting so shoddy that people are making theories that she’s an evil mastermind who lied about everything, and the truth is that isn’t even an impossible theory based on what we’ve been given. We’re so in the dark about Rebecca as a character that those theories could possibly make sense. Look, Rebecca is in her 30s. She’s a woman of the world, well-travelled, independent (supposedly). Will they actually give her some agency in this storyline please, because (as a feminist) it’s getting hard to watch a fully grown woman being written as a walking womb who has no control over her own destiny. Also I think this lack of agency is contributing to some female fans taking an intense dislike for Rebecca, and I think that’s a shame. If they’d only give her scenes of her own where she could establish a set personality and casual viewers could get to know her, then I feel like she’d be a more successful character for the show. I don’t think the only reason she’s not going down well is the Robron thing. That’s a biphobic shambles as well, but honestly, please Emmerdale give Emily Head some good material to get her teeth into. She’s so much better than what she’s being given right now.