#franfinesheffield

i am always here to bang pots and pans about this interaction from the original at world's end draft

you were an honest man once, btw. no longer, if you even care. i fucking LOVE that they never reconciled. i love that he still cares about her good opinion, that he understands why she's angry and empathizes and still won't yield—that she gives him no quarter.

Well... what a good question, because there are two ways I can answer this.

Simple, quickest way to answer: they're just my OCs 😂

More complicated is… Do you know this CW show called The 100? They're two of its characters, Abby and Marcus. Or more like, their AU version of them.

So my friend @blizzaurus, who is just an absolutely amazing writer, created this whole AU for T100 with them as main characters and it’s set in the Regency era, just a wonderful romance story. A beautiful love letter to Jane Austen’s work. I can even link to it here - it is still ongoing.

Why do I call them my OCs? Because we think that the show is seriously so bad, and it’s horribly written, it disrespects the characters, it was just shit overall (I didn’t even manage to watch the whole thing, I was mostly skipping it for the best parts). So… at this point we just adopted them and treat them like our own characters, building their story from scratch which is completely detached from the show.

I did a lot of arts for them and the story too, few of them are posted under this tag

I should post more of it here too, but I am a bit lazy. 

There is a lil bit more on my Instagram or most of it on my Twitter, if you feel more interested.

And here is the full drawing from my icon

This is perfect timing bc I just had ice cream from a boardwalk shop ^_^ cookies and cream 4 lyfe 🔥🔥🔥

Fran Drescher A.K.A. Fran Fine on The Nanny. Episode Title: From Flushing With Love. Date Premiered: December 17, 1997 On CBS.

8: common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Obi-Wan Kenobi is not humble. <3

13: worst blorboficiation

Din Djarin. like. great character, excellent blorbo material although he is not my blorbo personally, BUT the enormous contingent of fans who will swear that this mercenary who kills people in cold blood is actually just so soft and sweet etc. etc. etc. is insane to me. if you're gonna stan a vicious mercenary then at least celebrate his worst (best) attributes!

but also the real answer to this question is my own blorbification of Freddie Trumper. I will never stop.

16: you can’t understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

coffee shop AUs. I find that premise deeply, deeply boring. in general I don't like modern AUs but coffee shop AU is (to my subjective taste) one of the worst.

(also answered here)

23: ship you’ve unwillingly come around to

Travis x Nat, kind of. I still don't really ship it (mistnat and lottienat are RIGHT THERE) but I understand it more after s2 and find it more compelling than I did in s1.

(also answered here)

and it is officially sexjam now. thank you.

67. playing the melody

There are moments in their life now, settled and quiet, that reflect the days of their youth in a softer glow. The smallest things will remind Elizabeth of her father’s early dinner parties: she would sit at the harpsichord, and Lieutenant Norrington would turn the music for her, diligently, moving mechanically as though this was the only function he had been created to perform. From England she had brought with her only one handbook of music appropriate to her skill level, and it was not long before she knew them all by heart, but benevolently she allowed the young officer to share her moment. This was before Elizabeth learned humility with age and discernment, before she knew there would never be any ill word said against the performance of the governor’s daughter no matter how poorly she played—but she had not known until much later how nervous it made a young fourth lieutenant to be put in such a public position of favor. Now, years and promotions and disgraces later, she lies in the strengthening morning light, a perpetual late riser. In the other room, assuming she is not listening, James hums softly to himself a tune from that infamous handbook; Elizabeth imagines the left hand accompaniment beneath it, as clear in her mind’s eye as her father’s sitting room, and warmth floods her chest.