She plays well at the role of the maiden, Jaime will granther that. No doubt she has been well-trained, well-prepared, no doubt from hergirlhood she spent time practicing the look she gives him now, a demure glance throughlowered lashes while she gathers the silken sheets over her bared breasts toprotect her modesty and her shame, suggesting nerves but willingness, a sort ofskittish desire. He can imagine her as a young girl (a younger girl, for sheis still a young girlā¦) standing before her looking glance, imagining howshe will enchant her future husband. Ā He wonders if she thought even then that her charms would bring her a crown. Hedoubts she ever imagined she would try and turn the heads of three husbands,that her crown would be won and lost and won and lost again, only to end up thebride of a cripple nearly old enough to be her father, a man who might as wellbe a thousand leagues away for all that he hovers by the small table at thewindow with his cup of wine, uneager to unwrap those silks and bare all of hisvirgin bride for his eyes alone. Thrice wedded and a maid still, they say, he scoffs to himself, turninghis gaze away from the girl and out the darkened window. He swirls the cup inhis hand and watches as the ruby red liquid sloshes over the side in hiscarelessness, staining the rushes upon the floor. He knows all too well themeasures a woman may take to make herself seem virginal ā he saw Cersei employthem all. Not that it truly matters. His father had been so desperate to bring the Tyrellsto heel without having to offer up another king ripe for the taking that hewould have ordered Jaime to take the girl to wife even if she had fucked Renlyand his entire guard. And who is to say she hasnātā¦Ā Her eyes are dark, quizzical in the candlelight. āWill you not come to bed, mylord?ā she calls to him, and she pulls the silks higher, to her neck, shyingaway even as she urges him along. What a minx this one is, he thinks,and he scowls at her paltry tricks, turning his face away. Such coquettishnessmight have charmed vain Renly, might have turned Joffreyās swollen head, butJaime has no patience, no use for a young and sparkling wife like some littleuseless bauble. Ā To his surprise, however, his dark expression seems to trouble her not at all,and after a long moment of silence, she shrugs her shoulders, slipping beneaththe covers like a mermaid will sink beneath the waves. āOr donāt,ā she says, restingher hand beneath her cheek, childlike in the gesture even as cynicism fallsfrom her lips. āYou wouldnāt be the first to refuse his marital rights.ā Ā
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It is sometimes said of the Ilvermorny houses that they represent the whole witch or wizard: THE MIND IS REPRESENTED BY HORNED SERPENT; the body, Wampus; the heart, Pukwudgie and the soul, Thunderbird. Others say that HORNED SERPENT FAVOURS SCHOLARS, Wampus, warriors, Pukwudgie, healers and Thunderbird, adventurers.
HEY GIRL I'VE MISSED YOU! for your prompt thing, in honor of ctm coming back on christmas, what about the turners they're both doctors au (like instead of a nun she's a young doctor he's mentoring and he feels skeevy about crushing on her)
He didnāt want to like her, he doesnāt make a habit of liking the junior doctors ā he doesnāt even make a habit of learning their names. The names change every year along with the faces, and they all blur together in the endless churning wave of trainee doctors pushed out into the field by the NHS. Why bother with more than a hey youĀ when heās better off spending his precious little free time with Timothy, instead of leaving him with the housekeeper.Ā
Patrick Turner. Does not. Learn. Their names.Ā
Until she walked onto the maternity ward, with hair like sunshine and voice like a song, eyes as big and blue as the country sky. A former nurse, heād heard (overheard, if he was being entirely honest) the ward nurses say. Former nurse, who got her certifications after a traumatic home delivery and heroic in-the-field cesarean section. Patrick heard that much, but not her name.Ā
Her hands never shake. She never needs much direction. And without fail, she always keeps the mothers calm, always gets the babies to breathe, little lungs opening up and unfurling into strong squalls. Sheās blessedly easy to talk to, even bums a cigarette off of him as they stand together in a miserable drizzle after a particularly difficult birth, clad in drooping. tired scrubs, and blood-splattered shoes. Her ID must be on the coat she discarded hours ago, but Patrick looks for it.Ā
What is your name?Ā
He sees her in a cafe on a Saturday where Timothy is at his grandmotherās, honey blonde curls hanging to her shoulders and glasses slid to the end of her nose, buried in a book. And he knows he shouldnāt interrupt her ā their precious little free time, and junior doctors have less of it than he does, and when it comes down to it heās her superior and she is so, so much younger than him, itās inappropriateā¦ and by the time heās cycling through his fourth or fifth excuse not to approach her, sheās spotted him.Ā
āDr. Turner,ā she says with a smile so bright it has its own wattage.Ā
āPatrick, he corrects her, nearly fumbling his coffee.Ā āWeāre not at work, you donāt have to call meāā
āShelagh, then,ā she says.Ā āNot Dr. Mannion.āĀ
Ah. There it is.Ā
Shelagh.Ā
The chair across from her is empty, and she gestures to it.Ā
āShelagh,ā he repeats, like itās the most beautiful thing to ever trip off his tongue. Patrick Turner sits, his eyes finding the imprint of soft pink lipstick on the rim of her tea cup, and find himself jealous of the porcelain.Ā
He barely knows her. But for the first time years, the clouds clear and he feels the warmth of the sun.Ā
send me a ship + au scenario, get a three(-ishā¦ or more) sentence fic.
Bruh Jean x Lucien 22. two miserable people meeting at a wedding au
this gave me the perfect opportunity to write up my body shot scene so thank u
1500 words and thereās a craig mclachlan youtube reference easter egg in here
Lucien threw back the last of his scotch with a grimace, eyeing the festivities around him. The Tyneman family was equal parts ancient family friend and long-time adversary. As the last representative from the Blake family, he was obligated to attend Edwardās wedding (that andthe threat from Patrick to skip this yearās donation to Victim Support if he didnāt attend).
Pushing his chair back from the table, he stood and walked to the thankfully-open bar. A few more glasses of scotch and he would be well on his way to a state in which a Tyneman wedding wasnāt all that bad.Ā
He flagged down the barman and took a seat, looking around before he did a double take at the woman he had sat next to. Softly curling hair, an upturned nose, steel blue eyes, bright red lips, all wrapped up in an exquisite wine-colored gown. His heart skipped a beat and he found himself learning towards her, noticing her frown.Ā
āNot a big fan of weddings?ā His shoulder brushed hers and he pretended not to notice the shock of warmth it sent straight to his fingers.Ā
The woman turned to him, her frown evaporating in the face of his grin and she shook her head, smiling at him ruefully.Ā āIām afraid--and, oh, donāt think less of me, but,ā she bit her lip.Ā āIām afraid Iām not much a fan of the family.ā
Lucien let out a bark of laughter, picking up the drink the bartender had placed in front of him. He lifted his glass,Ā āNow, that I will cheers to.ā The woman raised her wine glass and clinked the glass against his drink, eyeing him over the rim as she took a sip in cheers.Ā
He extended his hand,Ā āIām Lucien, by the way. Lucien Blake.ā She took his hand and he noticed the softness of her hand, the way his hand wrapped completely around hers.Ā
āIām Jean Beazley.ā
They shared a smile and Lucien was proud to note that her eyes flickered over his face, taking him in, lingering on his lips. The noise of the wedding seemed to fade away and all he could see, all he could hear was her.Ā
āSo, Jean Beazley, what did the esteemed Tynemans do to earn your ire?ā
Jean blushed, looking down at her wine glass, swirling its contents absentmindedly.Ā āTruth be told, Patrick is at his heart a lovely man, Iām sure. But, well, I work at the art museum downtown and Patrick owns a portrait Iām desperate to have in our collection and he insinuated if I attended his sonās wedding with him, heād be open to negotiating.āĀ
Lucien nodded,Ā āI see. This portrait must be really worth it if youāre willing to subject yourself to a couple of hours of Patrickās time. Out of curiosity,ā he added.Ā āWhich artist are you after?ā
Jeanās eyes lit up,Ā āHer name is Genevieve Etienne.ā Lucien froze, hoping his face betrayed nothing. Jean didnāt seem to notice and she continued, āShe doesnāt have very many works in circulation, but this particular piece is just,ā she sighed, wistfully.Ā āItās beautiful, all her works are, but this one is different. Thereās a sadness to it. Itās like you can feel it in the brushstrokes. Itās absolutely stunning.ā
Lucien took another sip of his scotch, nodding. He was just contemplating how to tell her Genevieve Etienne was his mother--that he had a whole room full of her paintings if Jean wanted to look at them some time--when a commotion startled them both.Ā
Across the bar from them, Edward and his new bride were surrounded by the bridal party, all cheering and egging the pair on as Edward deposited his wife onto the bar and proceeded to lick a shot of tequila out of the hollow of her throat.Ā
The hoots and hollers filled the banquet hall and Lucien and Jean turned to one another, both shaking their heads. Jean pursed her lips,Ā āSeems more of an activity suited for a nightclub than a wedding, if you ask me.ā
Lucien grinned, knocking her shoulder with his,Ā āWell, if you ask me, Iād say there was something rather romantic about drinking from your partnerās body. Itās about as intimate as you can legally be in a public forum.ā
His voice had dropped an octave and it was low and husky, his eyes flicking to Jeanās mouth, already imagining the places heād lick first. She was absolutely stunning and he couldnāt remember the last time heād been so affected by another person.Ā
Jeanās eyes met his and he could see the beginnings of desire and he let out a half-groan when she bit her lip before confessing,Ā āIāve never done one before.ā
He raised his eyebrows in surprise.Ā āNever?ā
She shook her head, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.Ā āIām afraid I married rather young and my late husband and I never had much time for the typical party scene; we had a family and a business to run. And when he passed away, I just couldnāt bring myself to go out with the girls like that. It felt like I lived a different life.ā
Lucien covered her hand with his and squeezed it, offering comfort.Ā āIām sorry to hear about your husband, truly.ā
Jean covered his hand with hers,Ā āThank you. It was a long time ago. But thank you.ā
A brief moment of silence fell over them and Lucien scrambled, not wanting the conversation to end. He caught sight of Edward pouring another shot into the crook of his brideās elbow and he got an idea.Ā
Turning back to Jean, he smiled at her,Ā āItās not too late, you know.ā His grin widened at her look of confusion.Ā āTo have a body shot, I mean.ā
Her eyes widened and she held her hands up in front of her, warding him off.Ā āOh no, I think Iām well past those days, now. Plus, I donāt think anyone here wants to lick anything off me.ā She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking down.Ā
Lucien took a deep breath. The scotch and the heady smell of her perfume and the power of her smile were all going to his head because he felt invincible, daring.Ā
He took her hand in his and turned it over, palm up. With his free hand, he dipped his finger into his scotch and drew a single, wet line down the inside of her wrist.Ā
Beneath her skin, he could feel her pulse thrumming, felt the warmth of her body. He looked up at her, āTrust me?ā His heart hammered uncomfortably in his chest and he mentally pleaded with her to say yes.Ā
To his delight, she nodded at him, watching with wide eyes as he ducked his head and licked the line of scotch straight from her skin, closing his eyes and savoring the combination of sharp, bitter alcohol and the sweet taste of her. He lingered at her wrist for a moment, his nose nuzzling at her pulse point.Ā
When he released her wrist, he sat back and smacked his lips and grinned.Ā āThere,ā he said softly, just for her ears.Ā āNow youāve had a body shot.ā
Jean stared at him, eyes flicking between her freshly-licked wrist and the pleased, smug grin on his face. Then she laughed, rubbing at the spot on her wrist thoughtfully,Ā āTechnically, I think youāreĀ the one who had the shot.ā
Lucien leaned forward, ready to tell her that he had a hotel key in his pocket and they could order room service and she could strip him down and take as many body shots as she wanted off of him so long as she kept lookingĀ at him like that--like he was special and interesting and mattered.Ā
But before he could work up the courage to say anything, Patrick Tyneman was there, offering his hand to Jean and giving Lucien a cursory nod.Ā āJean, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?ā
Jean slipped her hand into Patrickās and nodded,Ā āOf course, Patrick.ā As Patrick led her away to the dance floor, Lucien saw her look back at him, eyes apologetic.Ā
He slumped back into his chair, draining his scotch and licking his lips, hoping to still find a trace of her taste there. He really, really hated the Tynemans.
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waltersskinner replied to your post āIām not saying Iām in love with The Doctor Blake Mysteriesā¦ but I just...ā
dude i just started watching this too!!!
It makes up about 1/4th the content on my dash already, so I figured I give it a try. I started yesterday evening and Iām already almost about to start season two. Itās so good!!!
waltersskinner replied to your post: the worst thing the fucking nbc lecter show ever...
to be fair from what they said at the time it was an issue of not being able to get the rights to clarice starling rather than an actual choice to exclude her and bryan fuller did make a lot of male characters from the books into female characters in the show
I wasnāt very clear, youāre right, i didnāt mean to imply that the fandom effect was a purposeful venture on behalf of the creators, i just meant that the show itself follows fanfic trends, in that 90% of fanfic is about 2 white dudes who have unhealthy relationships somehow being in love with each other, and that the show which actually /is/ fanfic (but with a huge ass $$$$ budget) follows the same model.
And that while coming from the creator, a gay man, that narrative is one thing, but coming from scores and scores of straight women consuming it and reacting to it, it is a completely different, far more sinister thing that's just a glut of fetishization and female exclusion under the guise of progressiveness.Ā
But yes, I know they couldnāt get her, iām glad actually, after what the show did to all itās other ladies, i donāt want any of their paws on her. Before the show aired the gender bending sounded like a good thing, but the stories they were given, the abuse added to them, how they were never given importance of the homoerotic subtext between the two white guys? yeah, a problem. One that doesn't get discussed enough because apparently itās Just Not Progressive to say anything against the central white m/m narrative, no matter how damaging said narrative is to the stories of the women around it.Ā
(i am incapable of not using an example so like, Abigail, who lived in the books, just fine, instead was subjected to further abuse, and murdered... just to fuck with Will b/c Lecter was all romantically betrayed, the ām/m narrative is more important than womenās storiesā crap literally got her killed, and this shit isnāt ~progressive, itās deeply troubling b/c i can pick a bunch more examples out easily, and it is not above reproach, i donāt care how gay it is).Ā
(but also, the show not getting Starling does not stop the fandom from treating the character as most of the ladies on the show were in itās narrative, aka, badly, which is what i mostly made my post about, i still canāt look for clarice content without being bombarded by content where the fandom is pulling that crap, and iām so done. so done.)Ā
all the articles about ted cruz's night with trump make me laugh, because whenever i read his name all i can think about is my (republican) con law professor (who is fairly active in washington politics) telling us that cruz is the most hated man in washington, has no good qualities, and no one in the senate talks to him unless they have to and i'm just like He Deserves This.
plus LYING ted is also the ESTRANGED zodiac killer, and let me tell you folks he is TERRIBLE, just TERRIBLE. SAD!
