To say my grandmother was eccentric is an exercise in gross understatement. Particular to the point of painful, she needed everything done just so, or she would throw impressive fits, and claim she would never speak to the perpetrator again.
Chateau de Brumagne was built halfway the 18th
century in classicist style. Characteristic for this style is the rather sober
appearance on the outside, which is countered by the sophisticated finishings
on the inside. A consuming fire in 2001 destroyed most of this finishing. The
oak panelling in several rooms was burnt to a cinder and the wallpaintings by
Piat Sauvage were washed away by the subsequent extinguishing waters. The
beautiful, detailed stucco by the famous Moretti brothers, dating back to 1760,
however is still visible under the fire damage. The castle that was owned by
several big names in Belgium’s political history, was also a favourite refuge
for the late King Albert I and his wife Queen Elisabeth. During the interbellum
they stayed here on multiple occasions. The king, a passionate rock climber,
fell to his death in 1934 in the vicinity of this castle.
Genre : Violence , Romance, Drama ( like a lot of drama)
Warnings : Abuse. Violence.
Arranged Marriage Gang! AU . BTS Suga/Min Yoongi and OC . The worst thing you can do to a guy? Marry him when he begs you not to. Worst thing you can do to yourself? Fall in love with him afterwards.
In life, I never got second chances. If the first time didn’t work out, I wasn’t given a second time to try to improve. Instead I would be hit , tossed into the basement and denied food for three days, till I agreed to never ask for anything ever again. Till I promised to never try to embarrass my father like that again.
It happened after my debutante ball when I accidently addressed someone wrong.
It happened after my graduation, when i didn’t make valedictorian.
Afterwards, when I stayed at home, waiting for my parents to send me to college, it happened everyday till I just stopped asking or trying or…just living.
I would wake up, eat my breakfast and set out to explore the woods that surrounded our estate in Busan. I had till twelve in the morning when my mom would wake up, to indulge in all my fantasies , live a make-believe life in which I was loved by a handsome young man who adored me and spoiled me to distraction.
After lunch, I stayed perfectly still while my mom taught me everything I needed to know to be the perfect society wife. I learnt pottery, needlework and hosting. I learned table placements and ranks, learnt complicated waltzes and learned to wear my waist length hair in three dozen different ways. I learned to wear make up in a way that made my eyes look bigger, brighter. I learned how to smile in just the perfect way. How to apply lipstick in a way that would drive any man mad with desire ( Or so my mom told me.)
I learned exotic dishes from around the world. I learned to speak English and French. I learned everything that would turn me into the perfect princess for my Prince Charming.
I also learned to swallow all the screams that threatened to bubble up inside me.
In the evenings I tried to disappear into the upholstery. My father was a psychopath. One wrong word and he would grab me by the roots of my hair and drag me to the out of the room and toss me into the basement. Or worse, he’s take a belt to my calves or my thighs ( Never my arms or face ). I learned to literally stop breathing when my father was in the vicinity. But then, how did I not go to pieces, you may wonder.
Well, you see I knew that it was temporary.
When I turned twenty one my parents would have to marry me off. In our society when a girl reaches twenty one, if she stays unmarried it’s a sign of ill breeding. My parents would be disgraced if I wasn’t married off. It was my get out of jail card, marriage. I knew that every day I got closer to my marriage. When I would officially be out of my father’s protection. It would mean escape.
But what was I escaping into?
I never considered.
I always thought it would be paradise.
My prince charming would be everything I had ever dreamed of.
I believed it completely.
Until the day I actually met him.
Min Yoongi was no Prince Charming.
He was the devil in the flesh.
“You!! Fix your hair!” My father barked so loudly , I jumped. Bowing quickly and quietly and I rose up and disappeared into the restroom on the left wing of the lobby we were waiting in. I found the mirror and swallowed drily. Three simple curls had come undone from my elaborate up do . My father was a stickler for perfection which would explain my outfit. A pale pink georgette dress that fit me to perfection. Paired with pumps of the exact same shade , the dress made me look a little tall. I was rather woefully short and my father was forever cursing my lack of height.
I quickly fixed my hair and glanced at the expensive diamond studded Cartier on my wrist. It was a little past six thirty in the evening. We weren’t due to meet Min Yoongi , the young CEO of Bangtan Inc., for at least half an hour. I fidgeted a bit and reapplied my lipstick.
I’d spent three hours for make up and four hours getting ready. Literally every single feature on my face had been emphasized and perfected till I practically glowed. I had gone over a billion hair-styles to pick the perfect one. It would help highlight my slim figure and also the pretty pink and grey make-up on my eyes. I tried not to tremble as I stepped out of the room and walked back to the lounge.
I couldn’t screw this up. Min Yoongi had to like me. Or else my father would kill me. He would literally strangle me. Trying not to think about that, I sat down demurely in front of my father who gave me another look of impatience.
“Yoongi called me. He wants to meet you alone. Apparently he thinks you can actually have some sort of a useful opinion which, really doesn’t make any sense to me. anyway, go meet him and you better keep your mouth shut, girl. Agree to everything he says and tell him you’ll be an obedient wife.” He growled at me.
As if I wouldn’t.
As if I would actually risk spending the rest of my life in hell.
I followed a suited man who looked less like an assistant and more like a hired mercenary. My hells made no noise on the plush grey velvet beneath my feet as he led me down a few flights of corridors before stopping in front of a oak-paneled door in the middle of a dimly lit corridor. I took a deep breath and when the mad held the door open, I stepped in. My heart began pounding steadily as I noticed the figure leaning casually against the heavy desk at the center of the room. The room was dimly lit and I couldn’t make out his face. On the contrary, a light hung directly ahead of me, throwing my face into sharp relief against the darkness.
“You look younger than twenty one.”
His voice surprised me. It wasn’t that of a twenty six year old. It sounded strong and masculine with a hint of Daegu accent. I felt a sudden dryness in my throat.
“I’m…I’m twenty one.” I said carefully. I couldn’t screw this up. I couldn’t screw this up.
He stayed silent for a few more seconds and then the room flooded with light. I blinked to adjust to the brightness and then almost fainted.
Min Yoongi was a work of art.
His hair was a blinding shade of blonde and his skin so pale he looked almost bloodless. His lips were pink, perfect against his bright black eyes and he had a smile that made my knees go weak. I’d never seen a more handsome man in my life and I was starstruck. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, with a pale blue tie and shoes that practically shined. He wasn’t abnormally tall. His shoulders were broad and strong, his body tapering into a slim waist and nice long legs.
Suddenly , I didn’t feel so beautiful anymore.
“Let’s make this quick. ” He said briskly before turning around and moving to sit behind the desk. I stood still, not sure what to do. There was a chair in front of the desk but I didn’t want to offend him by sitting down before he offered it to me.
He gave me an impatient look.
“Well, sit down fast , will you?” He snapped.
I scrambled to obey, hitting my knee against the desk. I swallowed the cry of pain and bit my lip in mortification when he gave me an amused smile.
“Anyways….what i wanted to say was, I would like for you to release me from this engagement.” He said casually. I felt my breath leave my body in a single second.
“I…what? Why?” I blinked in confusion. There was a roaring sound inside my head. What did I do wrong??!!
“I’m in love with someone else.” He said almost apologetically.
I stared sightlessly as he explained how he was in love with a childhood friend. He wanted to marry her when he was ready, maybe in a couple of years. His parents however were adamant about him marrying me, so he’d agreed to meet me. He couldn’t openly defy his parents , so he hoped that I would do him the favor of saying that I wasn’t interested.
I almost started laughing.
If I told my father what he asked me to say, I would be flayed alive. My father would shoot me dead.
I hesitated and then slowly stood.
“I’m sorry you don’t want to marry me.” I said softly. He gave me a sympathetic smile and held a hand out for me to shake.
“Thank you for understanding, Ji Soo ssi…” He began but I held a hand up.
“I’m sorry….because I want to marry you.” I said firmly. I felt his eyes widen in shock and I felt like the worst human being on the planet. He loved someone else. He wanted to marry someone else. What the hell was I doing??! Then I thought of my father. Of the years of being bruised and battered. The years of going without food and light, cowering in the darkness while he raged at me. If I didn’t get married my father would kill me. I didn’t want to die.
I didn’t want to die.
“Ji Soo ssi…I don’t think you understand what I’m telling you. I’m in love with Hye Mi. That’s her name. She’s the same age as you. she loves art and she’s just in her second year of college. She loves me very much. Please…Please don’t destroy our lives.” He said, his voice hardening a bit. He looked deadly serious and even a little disappointed. Like he’d thought better of me.
I hesitated. I could imagine the kind of love he shared with this girl, this Hye Mi. Some sweet and serious romance with lots of love and happiness. The kind I’d only ever dreamed of. Funny, how in the million different scenarios I’d played in my head , I’d never once considered that my prince would be in love with someone else. I stared at him now.
He was so beautiful. Like straight out of a fairytale beautiful.
“Like I said, I want to marry you. Nothing else matters to me.” I said shakily. He looked stunned.
“What kind of a bitch are you?” He growled out furiously and I bit my lips.
“You can call me names. You can even hit me. I’m not changing my mind.” I said firmly.
He looked at me in disbelief, shaking his head. Like he couldn’t believe the nerve of me.
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
Shaking, I stepped out of the office. When ?i met my father he beamed and gave me a one armed hug that made me sick to the stomach. I’d done something right as far as he was concerned.
Two weeks later , My father received news from the Min Family that Min Yoongi had agreed to the marriage as well. As I sat across from him while the elders discussed the details of the wedding, he stared straight into my eyes, wrath written large in every feature on his handsome face. He hated me. I could feel the fury radiating from him in waves. He wanted me dead. But i couldn’t bring myself to even apologize or tell him the truth. For the first time twenty one years, my parents treated me like a human being. They didn’t yell or hit me. They thought I’d done something right. For the first time, I could leave that house and never worry about being thrown into a basement. Or being thrashed by a belt.
Min Yoongi looked dangerous but not violent.
Whatever he may yell or scream at me , I doubted he would hit me.
Finally the date for our marriage was fixed.
In two months we would be wed.
With shaky fingers I signed the prenup and the dowry. He gave me a look of calculating revenge.
“Say your prayers, you little witch. You’re in for some serious trouble ” He whispered, before stalking out of the room.
On December 7th , we were married in a small private ceremony held in the private ballroom of the Bangtan Hotel. It was attended by just the family and six of his closest friends and business associates. I was told to memorize their names. Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jung Kook.
Because Yoongi was busy with a deal, we wouldn’t be leaving on a honeymoon. All my clothes, jewelry and everything else was packed and moved to the huge penthouse on the top floor of Bangtan Inc.,
On the wedding night, I sat on the small uncomfortable couch of the foyer. The penthouse was locked and no one else was there. I was supposed to meet my husband there but he was nowhere to be found. Deep down I knew he wasn’t coming. But I couldn’t really go back downstairs and tell someone that my husband had abandoned me. So I stayed sitting there .
After about three hours, my body started going numb. The heat in the building was slowly dying down and I was still dressed in the strapless wedding gown from the evening. I curled into a ball on the small couch, suddenly thankful for my short stature. After a few more minutes I started drifting off to sleep. And then I heard voices.
From inside the penthouse.
Surprised and still a bit groggy, I made my way to the door. I gave it a slight push and to my complete surprise, the door swung open. I had tried openeing it for a long time. Had it been closed on the inside then? If so, who had opened it now?
I followed the voices to the end of the exquisitely decorated living space and stopped short in surprise.
It wasn’t just voices.
It was moaning. Panting.
“Oh, babe, I love you so much….”
It was Yoongi’s voice. And some other woman.
I stayed frozen on the carpet, mind finally processing what was going on in the other side of the door. On our bed. On the bed that had probably been decorated for our first night as husband and wife.
My husband was having sex with another woman.
Sudden blinding pain shot through me. It was completely unwarranted. It wasn’t like he had promised me love and a happily ever after. He’d warned me that he was in love with another woman. So why did it hurt so damn much??
Maybe because I’d hoped he’d at least wait till after our first night was over, to cheat on me.
The last phrase made me laugh.
Cheat on me?
Who was I for him to cheat on me?
He didn’t love me.
He didn’t even care if I froze to death in the cold hallway.
He wasn’t a friend or a companion. The sooner I got that into my head the happier I could be.
Swallowing the pain I quickly crept to the couch in the corner of the living space. It was warm inside the penthouse. I slipped out of my gown with ease. I stood still in just the shift and my inner wear, savoring the warm air on my frozen skin. I used the skirt of my wedding dress as a sort of blanket and went to sleep on the couch. I fell asleep quickly.
( PROMPT: I met you online, and I think I’ve fallen in love with you yet I have
no idea who you are, so I suggested we meet and wHAT DO YOU MEAN “just come
after filming” are you kidding me?? How am I supposed to get past security they
won’t let me in!!! )
A/N: IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T HEARD, MY HUSBAND’S - TOM HOLLAND - IS IN SINGAPORE, AND I AM PRAYING THAT I’LL MEET HIM BEFORE I HAVE TO GO TO LONDON, BUT HOW DO YOU FIND TOM HOLLAND??? WHERE DOES HE GO??? AND NO ONE WILL GO WITH ME TO CHECK OUT HIS HOTEL. I COULD CRY. I HAVE BEEN PRAYING FOR HIM TO COME TO SINGAPORE, AND NOW THAT HE’S HERE, I CAN’T EVEN SEE HIM. WHAT IS THIS LIFE. ( In other news, this will be a drabble series featuring famous! Peter Parker. And let’s be real - all the comments we make about our husbands would probably get us laid or slapped. I went with the former. )
You’re in the lecture theater, listening to a
yawn-inducing lecture about classroom management, when your phone pings and
vibrates inside your jacket pocket, sending a tremor up your arm. A little too
eagerly, you yank it out, clicking open the LINE app, a smile blooming across
your face when you see who the message is from.
Next stop on Pebble’s Svance train: Pure Fluff place.
Please have mouthwash to hand, this is tooth-rotting.
(Also I cannot write kisses I’m so sorry)
Apologies for bad formatting, I’ll get on it as soon as I can!
Thanks to life experiences, Lance could claim to be a lot of things. For example, he was easily the best dancer of the Voltron Force, and could eat any spice level that was given to him and thought of jalapeños as a light snack. He was excellent at dealing with kids, and could name most of the countries of the world alphabetically.
But dealing with the cold?
Now that was impossible.
Turns out that Norwegian tundras are incredibly cold, and bundling up in at least three of Sven’s thick winter coats can’t keep out said cold out. He was finding it hard to walk, even the few meters through the thick snow back to the Land Rover.
Sven was somehow walking beside him like nothing was wrong, chattering happily about the blizzards they sometimes get whilst somehow wearing a shirt and a single fleece-lined jacket, as oppose to the layers of insulating plastic that Lance was busy shivering under.
“Sven,” Lance cut him off, breathing heavily, “how do you even cope here?”
“I grew up here, didn’t it?” Sven replied with a chuckle, earning a pout from the paladin next to him. “You learn to deal with it, like how you can deal with your world’s Cuban heatwaves.”
“They’re not heatwaves,” Lance shot back, “just warmer temperatures.”
“Yes, and this is just light snowfall.”
The snow, as if on cue, began to fall heavier, fat flakes drifting and sticking in the wool of Lance’s beanie cap. Around their feet, the mounds of snow they were already trudging through were quietly building up; he could feel snow melt on his socks and in his shoes, and judging by Sven’s sudden grimace, he could as well.
Another gust of wind blew over the white plains, and Sven’s breath curled in front of his face in a smokey cloud.
Lance wasn’t going to admit he was looking at the flush of his cheeks as the wind changed direction, or the way the grey light from the sky lit up his cheekbones in a very particular manner.
“We should be getting back,” Sven eventually mused, hopefully not noticing Lance’s sigh of relief, “if the snow builds up much more, we might not be able to drive back.”
“So what if we’re stuck in the car, all night?” Lance asked coyly.
“Then we’d run out of petrol for the heating by about midnight and freeze until the morning or someone manages to rescue us,” Sven replied, smirking at the fall of Lance’s face, “all in good time, Sharpshooter, don’t rush it.”
“This better be a quiznaking nice cabin you booked,” Lance grumbled, the snow squelching under his boots.
Pulling some car keys out of a trouser pocket, Sven clicked his tongue and ran the small distance remaining to the car. “You can be the first judge.”
Lance’s grumbling continued until the duo were safely in the car, forcing Sven to crank the heating up until it hit one that Lance considered a more sensible temperature and Sven considered way too hot, but wasn’t going to debate.
“So where were all the elks or whatever then?” Lance asked, pressing his nose against the window in an attempt to see through the increasing snowfall.
“You’ll see them tomorrow, don’t worry,” Sven said with a patient smile, “I have a friend who runs a nature reserve, there’s lots of elks to observe there.”
Lance turned round suddenly. “You have a friend who owns an entire nature reserve? How many pies do you have your fingers in?”
“I’m a well-known space explorer here, I can call in a lot of favours,” Sven responded, “like how this cabin isn’t technically on the market, but I knew the owners, so…”
He trailed off, laughing slightly at Lance’s awed face. “What’s this cabin like, then?”
Lance pouted and leant back in the chair, folding his arms. “You keep saying that.”
“And you need to learn to wait for things,” Sven snarked, “you’re very impatient for a member of a team who actively takes out Galrans using endurance hunting.”
Lance narrowed his eyes. “And you’re, uh…” he trailed off, Sven humming playfully at Lance’s inability to create a comeback, “you’re annoying!”
“Whatever you say, my love, whatever you say.”
Lance huffed, turning back to the window. “The snow’s easing off now,” he said absentmindedly, as the windscreen wipers slowed down to a much more regular rate.
“Just in time, we’re almost there.”
“God, Sven, this place is amazing!”
The cabin was, without a doubt, the most luxurious place Lance had ever been in. The living room was the length of the cabin itself, all oak panels and floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a lovely view of the snow-doused plains and forests, and was furnished with plush sofas, minimalist wall hangings, and the biggest fireplace Lance had ever seen in his life. The kitchen was compact but high-tech, and was stocked with all kinds of interesting looking food that he hoped Sven knew what he was doing with, and down the hallway was the bedroom, containing a heavenly looking bed.
There was only one bedroom.
Lance’s heart may or may not have skipped a beat.
“That good, eh?” Sven confirmed, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a pair of faux antlers near the doorway.
Lance hummed an affirmative, collapsing on the sofa nearest the window and lazily undoing the zips to his many coats. “Can I just stay here forever?”
“Well, if your definition of forever is seven days, then by all means, yes.”
“You know what I mean,” he replied, poking his tongue out to the other man, who laughed and pulled his coats out from underneath him.
“How does hot cocoa sound to you?” Sven called once Lance’s coats were hung up.
“Then get up off your arse and help me then.”
“On second thoughts I can survive without.”
“Alright, I’m coming!” He replied with a laugh, pushing himself off the sofa, “but if you’re one of these weird people who eats the powder straight out the tub, I’m teaching myself to drive and going back to the ship.”
Once he was in the kitchen, Sven shot him a smile and tossed him a block of chocolate. “Who said we were using powder?”
The cocoa was eventually made, but only after Lance decided to try and eat half of it, sneaking cubes away when he thought Sven wasn’t looking.
“Hey, Lance, look at me?”
That was when he felt Sven’s lips softly crash onto his, squeaking in surprise before melting into the kiss. His eyes fluttered shut as Sven tilted his head, pushing into it, and-
Sven pulled away, smirking widely.
“So it was you that was stealing the chocolate,” he said, turning back to the pot of hot milk on the stove, “don’t try to evade your guilt.”
“That’s-” he stalled, still somewhat comprehending what happened, “that’s cheating!”
“You would have denied it if I asked,” Sven sing-songed back, finally tipping the hot liquid into two mugs, “I’ll go set the fire up, come in when you’re ready.”
The hot cocoa really was good, and Lance plonked himself next to Sven on the sofa in front of a roaring fire. “Dude, this is incredible,”
“You like it?” He asked, stretching an arm around Lance’s shoulders, who in turn took that as an invite to snuggle into his side and rest his head on Sven’s shoulders.
“I love it.”
“That’s good.” He took a long sip of the cocoa and pressed a kiss into the top of Lance’s head. “I was worried I had gone a little, uh, over the top.”
Lance looked up at him, confused. “How?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure if it was all a bit-” he gestured to the rooms decor- “too much.”
“Sven, babe.” Lance put a hand on his cheek, and moved his head so he was looking at the smaller paladin. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be right now.”
“And your team-”
“Can survive without me for a week.”
Sven hummed in reply, reaching down to press a proper, tender kiss into Lance’s lips. He tasted like the cocoa, all sweet and milky, and Lance gently pushed back into it, sliding his mouth open to deepen it. Their heads tilted slightly, and Sven placed his mug on the table sloppily to place his now free hand on Lance’s jaw.
“I’m sorry,” Sven eventually said, pulling back with a pant, “I should control myself.”
Lance gave a breathless laugh. “Babe, I honestly couldn’t care. That-” he stopped to catch his breath- “that was great.”
Sven hummed again, leaning in for another quick kiss before sneaking a sip of the now lukewarm cocoa. “Are you hungry?”
“For you? All the time, babe,” flirted Lance, snapping his fingers into a gun-shape and pressing it into Sven’s cheek.
“For food, Casanova.”
“Oh yeah, sure.”
Sven certainly knew what he was doing with the food.
Lance had wandered into the kitchen after getting his breath back to see his standing over a large pot of something that smelled fantastic, and Sven was beckoning him over to help.
“Cutlery is in the first drawer on the left, and plates are up here,” he instructed, pointing to a cabinet by his head without ever taking his eyes off the pot.
Throwing an arm around his waist, Lance leaned in to look into the pot. “This smells amazing.”
Sven sent him a genuine smile, reciprocating the hug around his shoulders. “It’s my mother’s recipe, I hope you enjoy it.”
“Compared to the food goo I’ve been living on for the past year or so, it’s gonna’ be the best thing ever.”
It really was. Lance decided that, if he had to eat one thing for the rest of his life, it would be that. The lamb practically fell off the bone, and the cabbage was sweet, rather than the slightly slimy variant that his dad used to try and make. To top it off, he’d never seen Sven look quite so genuinely pleased as he did when Lance tried to groan his appreciation around a mouthful of food.
“I’m glad you liked it,” he later murmured into Lance’s hair as he passed behind to put some washed plates back away, “I was worried it wasn’t going to be up to your tastes.”
Stifling a laugh, Lance spun on the ball of his foot and wrapped his arms around Sven’s neck, grinning up at him. “Dude, you literally could have given me plain pasta and I would have thanked you.”
Lance nodded. “It’s not food goo.”
“I don’t know what this food goo tastes like,” Sven mused, sliding arms around Lance’s waist, “but you’re making it out to be something I should never try.”
“Ugh, for good reason.” Lance’s face pressed into Sven’s chest and he groaned. “It tastes of nothing! Absolutely nothing! And has the texture of literal mush!”
Lance scowled at Sven’s continued snickering. “Did you never have to put up with the goo?”
“Nope,” he replied through laughs, “we got monthly supply deliveries containing actual food, although most of it was dehydrated.”
Lance moaned again. “I would have actually died for dehydrated food sometimes.”
“Tsuyoshi couldn’t survive without actual food, so blame him rather than me.”
“Neither can Hunk, but we don’t really get a choice, y'know?”
Lance yawned suddenly, jaw snapping open and ears popping with a crack.
“Is someone tired?” Sven taunted whilst Lance shot him another scowl.
“No, it’s just been a long day.”
“Then why don’t we just go to bed, then we can start tomorrow early.”
He had hardly finished his sentence before he felt Sven’s arms move from his waist, and a hand around the backs of his knees. Next thing he knew, his feet weren’t touching the floor at all, and Sven was holding him horizontally with one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back.
“Are you comfortable, my Prince?”
Once Lance had gotten over his shock, he tossed an arm over Sven’s neck and pulled him down for a short kiss. “I can’t believe my knight in shining armour was here all along.”
Later, Lance was cocooned in duvet and Sven had happily pulled him into his arms, taking their legs together and tucking Lance’s head under his chin. The pale light from the moon that filtered through the snow clouds made the window glow, casting soft shadows in the room and giving everything a silvery lining, and the residual warmth from the fires kept the room pleasantly warm despite the thick duvet.
“So, tell me,” Lance whispered, voice muffled and scratchy from rest, “what’s the difference between elks and moose, just so I know for tomorrow?”
Sven hummed in thought for a moment, causing Lance to squirm slightly in his arms and his breath ghosted his ear. “It’s all in the name, my love,” he stated simply, “what is a moose to you is an elk to me.”
Huffing, Lance rolled over, careful not to crush Sven’s arms as he buried himself further into the larger man’s chest. “Why is there even a difference in the first place?”
“Because you Americans are a strange, strange people.”
“And yet, I’m not even American,” Lance shot back, pressing a soft kiss into his collarbone with a smirk. He felt a hand mingle in his hair, working gentle circles into his nape and neck. Sven’s general presence was nearly overpowering, but perfect all the same; all Lance could smell was his musky body wash, and the faint scent of the cocoa they’d had earlier that day, and all he could feel was Sven’s arms around him and the hand in his hair whilst the other held him tight around the middle.
“Sleep well, my Lance.”
He dipped off to sleep, replaying the lilting voice of the man next to him in his head.
This was an apology for everyone I hurt with my last fic, and as per, my AO3 link is in my bio!
I can’t believe one of the only genuine moments of friendship we’ve seen between women in this series is Anna and Martha Washington admiring a spork
I forgot to mention this in my 4.01 post, but did anyone else notice Arnold mispronouncing Robert’s name as “Townsley”? It wasn’t as funny as Andre calling Hewlett “Edward,” but I like this little running characterization gag of showing how these snooty-boots underestimate the people around them.
SIMCOE HAS A SEX LIFE AND I AM UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE NOTION.
— Caleb sassing Arnold has made my night. Like, Turn has let me down many a time, but almost NEVER via Caleb Brewster, who is perfect and good.
— I’m so delighted to have more of Martha Washington, and to be able to see the couple in this domestic, vulnerable, relaxed state … but I’m also cracking up that they brought back their thing about Spanish fly.
— GEORGE WASHINGTON AND THE OAK PANELING. THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS THAN YOUR #AESTHETIC, GEORGE.
— Well, way to go, Caleb. It’s not often that he’s the one in the Ring who really slips up, but I think that little laugh was an in-character slip — in keeping with Caleb’s bravado
— and in a way I’m actually very relieved and gratified that Simcoe FINALLY knows whom he’s really after. It’s the final season, so they gotta get that final conflict going, and Simcoe knowing that Abe is Culper is part of that. It does mean that Hewlett’s own knowledge of Abe is less likely to come into play, as he no longer has exclusive possession of that info, but that’s a separate topic.
— I love this random Setauket guy being like, “Abe Woodhull? Fuck yes I’ve been dying to punch that guy, let’s go”
— As I mentioned in a separate post, I’ve been told by a couple people that Simcoe’s backstory was actually originally included, in a very similar manner, in season 1. I’ll have to check my DVD for that to verify, but although not a historically accurate backstory, it’s an interesting one. I’m glad that we’ve been given it eventually, but honestly, I would rather have been given it in season 1 as was apparently originally planned. It has long been a point of discussion in the fandom that Simcoe’s motivations, and his reasons for being so zealous and brutal, have always been unclear. It would have done a great deal to help us understand his brutality if we’d known this from the beginning.
— Also, though, is it TERRIBLE that after the initial concern passed, all I could think was that now Caleb’s nice furry man chest is gonna have a big broad horizontal stripe where nothing grows
— THAT SCENE IN THE PREVIEW IS THE HEWLETT SCENE FUCK YESS!!!!!!!