thread scene

CP bachelor AU: part 10

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

***

They’re filming the penultimate episode when Erasmus throws a huge, shining spanner into the neat mechanism of Laurent’s show.

This close to the end, the on-camera small talk is finally giving way to more serious discussions about compatibility. Damen is meant to spend this afternoon asking each suitor in turn where they see themselves in five years, and what they really want out of life. 

Erasmus is first; he sits on the edge of the couch, set at an angle to the leather armchair where Damen is enthroned, and twists his hands together. He hasn’t looked this visibly nervous in a while. Damen has obviously noticed it too, because he bats a few sillier questions at Erasmus instead of plunging straight into the heavy topics. He has an instinct for people that makes Laurent wonder what kind of easily-swayed idiot Theomedes must be, not to see how wired Damen is for leadership.

When Damen poses the in-five-years question, Erasmus runs a tongue over his lips and colour fills his cheeks. He’s the only suitor who hasn’t yet kissed Damen at least once on camera, and Laurent approved of that on the basis that it maintained tension, but now would be a good time for a kiss if one is going to happen.

Laurent moves his eyes away from Damen’s mouth.

Erasmus says, still blushing, “This is hard to say. I think you’re incredible, Damen. Really. But–”

But?? rings in Laurent’s head like a struck bell.

Keep reading

As not to hijack wonderful fanart, I saw commentary from @unfolded73fics discussing the negative portrayal of sex and sexuality on OUAT, and I can’t help but agree.

A long-standing problem in media has been that sex and sex appeal, among women especially, has been portrayed negatively or something villains do. It’s a long-running joke in the Once fandom that cleavage=villainy, and rarely do we see couples engage in or reference sexy times without it either being interrupted or having some underlying negative thread.

The steamiest scenes we’ve gotten this season have been Golden Queen making out all over the place, and using sex as some weird bargaining chip. They were clearly being painted as bad guys, with Rumple potentially (and I say potentially because I don’t know their separation status) cheating on his wife. Captain Swan may have done a little bit of grinding on the couch, but even that was interrupted.

The point: we’ve only really seen one good portrayal of sex among a loving couple without any underlying issues, and that’s Snowing. Rumbelle has certainly engaged in sex, but the scenes also included an underlying issue that Rumple was blatantly lying to Belle about things. When Outlaw Queen finally had an onscreen sex transition, there was the fact that his wife was nearby and frozen. Emma is portrayed as the “good girl” to Hook’s “bad boy” for not having sex on the first date. Once Hook switches to being a hero and gets in a committed relationship, his innuendos pretty much stop - even when he is alone with Emma. (Couples have sexy talk, you know!)

I know this is a family show, but it would actually be nice to show that sex and sexuality don’t only belong to evil characters or happen during dubious levels of consent or relationship status. Show more Snowing flirting, have Hook hit on Emma. Show some more positivity.

(and Golden Queen can just go away.)

Okay so I’m not done with this and legitimately when I have time this summer in the season break, will probably end up writing some Savitar fic and will probably make it coldflash if I do.

How to cut your threads so your followers don’t have to scroll for ages just to get through one post:

Note, before we begin: This may only work for desktop users, as it appears that you cannot highlight text on mobile. If you find yourself capable of such a thing and it only happens that my own mobile device is absolute scrap, then simply apply this method as you would on desktop.

Now, for the actual tutorial part of this (placed under a cut as to not take up too much space):

Keep reading

10

Stargate SG-1
↳ Threads

Send me a prompt, and I’ll try to fill it. Preferably Hannigram or Rarepairs. I love fluff(& smut) and AUs :)

I’ve been a bit blocked lately, and I hate it because I love writing. BUT, it usually helps me to write small ideas, either in a twitter thread or small scenes, so I was thinking about doing something like this ^^

I obviously can’t promise I’ll write them all, and I can’t write for some Rarepairs, but I want to try! You can send them replying here, in an ask or message if you’d prefer to remain anon (or on twitter, since I’m asking for prompts there, too).

OUaT S6 Wrap-Up 3/3: Characters & Conclusion

Part 1: Structure | Part 2: Theme

In my 6x01 review, I posited the following arcs for this season:

  • Rumple’s arc has to do with whether he can avoid repeating his own early story – especially challenging when it seems that he has lost this child before he can even be born – and regain what he has lost, before it’s too late.
  • Regina wants to start a new story, but she’s already taken a step down the path she walked once before, and her other half is out there plotting evil.
  • Emma has been told that her story will end soon, just as it finally seemed that happiness was within her reach. Can she avoid this? Should she avoid it?

And indeed, those were each brought to a conclusion by the end of the season.

  • Rumple did avoid repeating his own story. 
  • Regina has started two new stories, one of each of her selves.
  • Emma met her fate and has her happy ending.

There are a lot of devils in those details, though. 

Keep reading

I’m getting all worked up bc of that stealing gifs post I just reblogged bc !!!!!

the more i think about it, the more i get mad bc yeah, loading the frames to layers can take 2 minute or even sharpen, but resize can take a while depending on you method and the cOLOURING!! do you think the gifs are like this naturally? we work hard to have a nice result while sometimes trying to give the gif a natural look, not to speak about the gifs that simple doesn’t fit any colouring you try and you just :) 

@slcvicshadow

Pietro didn’t notice things, that was Wanda’s job. She was the brains, he was the brawn, or at least that was how it used to be. Now Wanda was kind of both, and he was stuck in that weird space where their old dynamic used to be, and he figured he might as well try to pay attention.

Natasha Romanoff was the Black Widow, and she was also Clint’s wife. Those two things made absolutely no sense in his mind, but Pietro assumed there was something beyond Clint’s penchant for breaking Netflix oaths. After all, he’d almost died for the guy (not that he’d admit it). She also really liked this fancy French bread, baguette. She ate it with ham and cheese, sometimes. Pietro wondered where she got the money to fly in bread from France; in Sokovia, everything they had eaten was grown in their own back garden. He supposed she had a lot of money left over from Avenging.

He was rooting through the fridge in one of their safehouses one morning when he realised her stock of French bread was running dangerously low. “Hey guys,” he called out, “I’m going to Paris. Be back in a sec.”

Like he was in that weird French musical, he ran to the capital city, stole some bread, and was back before the fridge slammed closed. He pushed his hair off his face and rested against the bench, breathing a little heavily. “You really need to eat American bread sometime,” he said, looking up at Natasha when she emerged. “The Parisians get super angry at thieves. Like, really angry.”

Conversations of the Heart

@lovelornrocketscientist

Audrey had such a hard time concentrating at work, her mind was off thinking about that night where she and Fitz had that awkward conversation with each other.  It hadn’t gone well and things were never resolved between them.  Instead, they just sort of pushed it off to the side even though she knew it was weighing on both their minds.

The thing was, as much as Audrey wanted to bring it up to him again to  work things out –– she was scared. Scared that he’d tell her that he didn’t want to talk about it.  Even though she was sure that Fitz wasn’t going to leave her –– and she wasn’t going to leave him –– she still wanted to them to have a healthy relationship where they could talk about anything that was heavy on their hearts.  She wanted Fitz to know that she loved him for who he was and that she didn’t want him to change for her or for anyone.

Her stomach did flip flops all the way on the drive home, but she wasn’t going to let that deter her from from talking to him after dinner.  She made a promise to herself to not let her emotions get in the way like they did the last time.  No crying, no fits of anger … just words of how she felt.  Hopefully, he’d do the same.

After dinner, Fitz headed into his office and Audrey cleaned up the dishes as she planned out what she wanted to say to him –– or more like how she wanted to start.  There was no way she could plan out everything she was going to say when she didn’t know how the conversation on his end was going to go.

Audrey wiped off her hands on the dish towel, and then shut off the kitchen lights before heading down the hallway to his office. The door was cracked open and she could see that he was sitting at his desk but he didn’t appear to be busy at the moment. If he had been, she might have changed her mind.  

She ran her hand through her hair and took a deep breath through her nose, and then knocked lightly on the door.  “Fitz, honey…” she said quietly, pushing the door open a little so she could step inside.  She smiled softly and looked at him with hopeful eyes.  “I was wondering if we could talk.”

As nervous as she was feeling before, it seemed to all wash away now that she was standing before him. “…If we could go back to that conversation we had awhile back …. on Pi Day.  It’s just been on my mind a lot lately.  I don’t like how things were left between us.  We never really answered each other’s questions.”  Audrey shook her head and gave a sad little chuckle.  “My emotions got the best of me … and I just feel like I didn’t deal with it in the best way. I’d like for us to have another chance to talk again though.”  

DATE: 3/27/2017
TIME: 1:21 a.m.
LOCATION: Stoop of Roman’s Apartment
CLOSED TO: @orionmassetti

It was either very poetic or very unfortunate that Alexander, high on lust, found himself in the company of Orion Massetti, lust incarnate. Birds of a feather, he supposed. 

In the aftermath of Cirque Arcana’s fallout, he’d set out to find Roman, for the slight of being denied the title of underboss was not so great that it had shaken Alexander’s steadfast devotion to the little prince, and the safety of his king would always take precedence over all else. 

And so he’d sought out Roman—and found, instead, il diavolo. 

Massetti looked strange against the backdrop of West Verona—beautiful and bacchanalian, always, but strange, different; more wolfish, perhaps, with sharper teeth and hungrier eyes. It suited him, West Verona, the wolf’s den. Or maybe Alexander’s drug-induced lust goggles suited him. 

It occurred to Alexander, distantly, that Orion Massetti should not have been on Roman Montague’s stoop, and that there were matters more pressing than Massetti’s appeal to be considered at present. But he was still choking on the poison of aphrodisia, and try as he might to summon some small parcel of pragmatism, his heart and hands thrummed with want of satisfaction, of carnal indulgence. He was lucky, he supposed, that the effects of the aphrodisiac had dulled some; he was equally unlucky, he supposed, that Orion didn’t need the aid of aphrodisia to induce the thrum of desperate want in others. Have mercy, Massetti, he prayed silently.

“Massetti,” he drawled from the base of the stoop, the greeting steely, clipped, barbed with suspicion and edged with misdirected frustration at the night’s events. “And here I thought I was the only Montague you made house calls to.” It took some effort to keep his voice even, and even he could hear how unnatural he sounded—too guttural, too raspy, too hungry. “You wound me, mio amico.”

DATE: 4/10/2017
TIME: 12:47 a.m.
LOCATION: Hotel Emelia
CLOSED TO: @reginadaly

Alexander loved hunting.

It was one of his few remaining pleasures anymore. He drank often and fucked often and waged wars often, and he performed his duties as well as Roman expected him to, but he did all of these mechanically, and without much of the bacchanalian passion for which he’d been dubbed ‘Antony,’ indulger of vices and seeker of life. After Celeste, and after Damiano, and after Maeve and Giya, he’d taken to the art of going through the motions, and his heart, stubborn in its stagnancy, seldom beat with anything more than bored lethargy anymore. Hunting was his sole source of gratification these days. Born a wolf, his body had forgotten not that Alexander Rallis was a predator, and—grief-stricken or not, godless or not—he still took to the hunt like fish took to water, like roses took to the sun: beautifully, gracefully, naturally. Hunting was, perhaps, the only thing left that set him apart from his dearly departed lover and his not-so-dearly departed boss—the only thing left that made him feel alive.

Tonight, he hunted—or he’d meant to hunt, but, as if cued by Alexander’s thoughts of flatlined hearts, the heartless princess herself appeared at the opposite end of the bar he’d been sitting at for the past hour or so. At the center of the bar was Alexander’s mark: a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair who was presently nursing his fourth shot of something honey-colored, and who had made the rather unfortunate mistake of not paying the long-overdue debts he owed the Montagues. Executing hits was grunt work, really, and tailing a mark was far too lowbrow a task for an advisor, but Alexander had always enjoyed this aspect of his profession, and if carrying out this modest assignment would satisfy his dormant lust for life, he’d do so—happily. 

He intended to let Daly be, to send her on her merry way without making any real attempt to throttle her, but she was persistent in her quest to piss him off, evidently, and he began to wonder if not making any real attempt to throttle her was a realistic goal. With her sights very apparently set on Alexander’s target, she gracefully (and silently—she always moved silently, the little mouse) dismounted her barstool, strolled past their mutual person of interest, and, as if invisible, swiped his wallet without invoking so much as a raised brow or a turned head from target or spectator. 

Jaw slack, he waited for someone to stop her, for the barkeep to beckon one of the security guards huddled in the corner of the lobby. But her theft, it seemed, had gone unnoticed. She had a knack for invisibility, did she? He was only mildly inconvenienced by her interruption, but it was mild inconvenience that had forged a decades-long feud between Verona’s two great families, and so his temper, now pricked, flared wildly. Lip curled, he polished off what was left of his glass of gin and stormed after her, eyes bright with ire. He swallowed up her small steps quickly, and when he reached her, he grabbed the crook of her elbow, tugged hard, and spun her around. So as not to attract too much attention, he spoke pleasantly, casually, the way one speaks to a dear friend. “We have to stop meeting like this, topolina,” he drawled. And then, speaking too quietly for prying ears, he hissed, “For fuck’s sake, Daly—what are you doing? Is it too much to ask you to allow me the privilege of conducting business in peace? Scowling, he snatched the wallet she was hiding behind her back and waved it in front of her face. “And without the complication of petty theft?” He expelled an exasperated sigh. “If it’s your snakes you’re worried about, don’t be. Bigger fish to fry tonight, princess. I’m giving you and your lot the night off.” From being hunted by my pack. “Enjoy it. Go. Leave. Now.” 

“my blog is a rp/ask/art blog. Most of the time it’s text threads, but I will also draw my muse, mutuals muses, scenes from threads etc. I had taken a few mental health days in a row and was like ‘sorry for vanishing, here’s an art’. Then I get an IM from a mutual informing me that they were unfollowing due to 'too much ooc’. my queue was running drafts. If you consider one piece of muse art 'too much ooc’ why would follow an rp art blog? I guess I need text walls 24/7 and everything else is bad?“

Verses/Banners

So, I’m a visual person and I create a ton of content.  It’s next to impossible to keep track of it all both lurking and as an RP partner with every post looking the same.  So, this is my way of clarifying my understanding of plot and relevant content.  

Bubble!verses: Threads tagged with this banner are considered for the most part self-contained.  Bubble!verses are loose and can grow into a larger verse or merge with other bubble!verse threads.  They can, and usually are, affected by applicable threads/verses.  As I am an impulsive (and I know others are too) the point of these is to keep things open/flowing without restrictions.  All asks take place in a bubble verse where he’s aware of all verses, unless specified!


Trust!verse: [Closed]  A completely separate, self-contained, plot-heavy verse  with jasusthedeserted.  The first thread Escape sets the scene.

Spots and Scales!verse:  All PendlesXJasus fun happens here


Boots and Sneaks!verse:  All PendlesXReyna fun happens here! 

Spaghetti Western!verse: [Closed] All PendlesXT’mara fun happens here!  


A banner does not mean a verse is set in stone! They are an indication of my understanding of the thread.  If you disagree with the !verse provided, let me know so I can fix it/figure it out/we can plot!

Not all verses have banners yet!  They will still be tagged with their current tags and treated as closed verses.