{ Benedict Bridgerton has never willingly followed a skincare routine in his life. Enter Sophie Baek: armed with fourteen bottles, a pink fluffy headband, and absolutely no tolerance for his excuses. Nights at Sophie's flat start looking like this: her practically sitting on his lap while she pats snail mucin and salmon DNA into his face, lecturing him about UVA rays and how talking can exacerbate the smile lines around his nasolabial folds. She has zero patience. And yet - he'd let her apply literally anything to his face, as long as her hands stayed there. }
You know, the more I think about it. Considering how much of a panic Benedict is in at the end of episode 7…it frankly wouldn’t surprise me if he was so panicked he legit ran on foot to the docks. Like didn’t even wait for his horse, he oriented himself and just booked it as fast as he could
"Sophie deserves to be able to hold on to that hair"
The way I read that post at my workplace and almost choked on my coffee from laughing. GIRL GIVE US THAT FIC!
Sophie Bridgerton has been married for two months, and they have been, by far, the best two months of her entire life.
She wakes up every day a little stunned, still. That her life has turned out this way. That she isn't working in someone else's home. That she is married to a man who adores her; loves her.
They've let themselves run a little wild at My Cottage. They don't try to look very presentable. She dresses simply and does her hair practically. She doesn't worry about who might see her plain dresses and her uncomplicated hair styles.
Her husband certainly doesn't mind.
And he's worse than she is. He walks around with no shoes on, in just a shirt and trousers and suspenders. He shaves sparingly. He won't let her cut his hair, and he won't call the barber.
And Sophie loves him this way. Free to just live. Breathe. Be who he is, instead of what other people expect him to be. He's no longer handling anyone's estate, or chasing after his siblings.
It's just the two of them. The Crabtrees are around, but they make themselves sparse. And Sophie feels a little sheepish about that, but they don't seem to mind; seem to understand that they're still in their honeymoon phase.
This morning is a perfect example why.
She had woken him up with soft kisses to his chest and belly, and, upon waking up, Benedict had flipped her over and buried his face directly into her center, forcing a sound out of Sophie she had never made before. A combination of a moan and a squawk. It had made Benedict chuckles against her, and sent a shiver through her.
There's so much more hair to reach down and grab now, and Sophie loves it. She knows that when they eventually go back to London, he'll have to get his hair cut, and she's dreading it because it feels so good to grab him as he pleasures her. As he makes her come apart.
He's so good at it.
Another aspect of her life that Sophie is still stunned by. She cannot believe she is allowed to have this man. All of this man. Every morning. Every night.
He lifts his head, grinning, breathless, lips a little red. "You are not paying attention to my efforts."
"I am," Sophie argues breathlessly.
"You are not, or you would have come by now," Benedict bats back.
She sighs and strokes his hair. "Forgive me. My mind did drift."
"Do you need me to stop?" he asks, growing a little more serious.
She shakes her head. "I was thinking about how lucky I am that I get to have this. You."
Benedict smiles slowly and kisses her belly gently, before his lips drift down again, and Sophie closes her eyes, arching against him. He makes a pleased sound and she moans, gripping his hair again.
She reaches her pinnacle quickly, her hand tightening in his hair, making him moan, making her shudder harder and cry out.
He kisses his way back up and holds her tightly. "My Sophie."
She melts in against him, her eyes still closed as she lays in his arms. "You have ruined me."
"Have I?" Benedict chuckles softly.
"Mmm. I shall never wake early, or be useful when the sun rises again," Sophie complains.
He nuzzles in against her, his hand rubbing her bare hip. "Excellent. The hour that sun rises is the perfect time for sleep."
"So you have said before," she mutters, gazing up at him. She reaches up, brushing at his unruly hair.
Benedict's own gaze turns tender and adoring.
"Promise me that when we go back to town, you will not cut it all off," she requests.
Jedi telekinesis makes me feral because this is a thing.
The fact that they can hold without holding. The fact that they can cradle their own crystal souls without touching. Like the crystal is a firefly they're cupping with a grip so light it's actually light itself.
They can hold butterflies without killing them. The hands wielding the unfathomable power of the universe can be the gentlest of hands, gentler than a breeze.
It looks so magical and soft and peaceful qsdfghgfdfghfds I love them
I think there's a lot of triage in the way the jedi handle the events of the prequels, and it just gets more and more pronounced as the movies go on. In tpm you see Qui Gon make a series of quite utilitarian decisions within his mission, reflecting the wider backdrop. Even the council changing it's mind about Anakin's training can be understood this way; the evidence of a sith master (who would presumably be in the market for a new apprentice) makes training him themselves a matter of priority, despite their previous assessment of him. At the beginning of aotc they are advocating for diplomacy, by the end they are using the illegal army they were highly disturbed to find to hunt down the separatist leader, previous concerns superceded by the urgency of the now. If they can just get dooku and attack the droid factory now, maybe they can nip this in the bud. The rest can wait. This is an established pattern by rots. They know there's a sith master in the republic, they're keeping an eye out, but they've got to deal with the one they know about. They know palpatine is dismantling the republic bit by bit, but again, gotta get the seps on the backfoot before they act against him. Gotta carry out that coup before they can hold an election. Gotta get the immediate problem under control before moving onto the next one.
Tcw show is littered with this too. It's easy to use this lense about a lot of the problems, and i find it tempting as one possibilty when it comes to the clones. This is especially obvious in the chip arc, where they learn some disturbing things and then let it slide with a grimace. It's not like it's not concerning, it just gets back-benched, like so many other things.
There's probably something in there about crisis forcing action vs crisis forcing complacency. There's a lot of romanticism about times of intense uncertainty and violence bringing about great change, and the og trilogy is itself about a revolution (albeit a restoration rather than true revolution) but the prequels are heavy in the crisis as cause of collapse.
revenge of the sith is still so fucking funny, because, like, the separatists invade coruscant, and kidnap the head of state. that’s a war-winning action. at that point, they just motherfucking won the war, unless a miracle happens. and then you have half the jedi council and a bunch of other jedi just chilling in the jedi temple, on their fucking doomsday, feet propped up and relaxing, and the council still chooses to call anakin and obi-wan from the other ass-end of the galaxy in the “outer rim sieges” to come fix this shit, like yoda wasn’t right motherfucking there. yoda was sitting on the fucking couch! and they STILL called obi-wan and anakin from the OTHER END OF THE GALAXY. in no ways was anakin spiritually prepared to be a jedi master, but motherfucker i kind of get why he was pissed. i kind of understand that. if i got called into work to save the day and i walked in and the rest of the staff was just sitting, and i still saved the day, and then they denied me a promotion, i’d have fucking quit. he’s not spiritually ready by any means and in fact he’s deeply turbofucked, but i understand where he was coming from. i understand, man.
