it is the most wonderfully made, historically inaccurate, giddily fun, perfectly paced, goofy horror movie romance novel bullshit bonanza that has ever blessed the silver screen.
i mean it is just so beautifully full of every genre without being overwhelming.we’ve got: comedy, action, suspense, horror, romance, adventure, ancient aesthetics, and it’s a period piece. all perfectly balanced and blended into one movie.
and the characters are so LIT
we got our main babe, evelyn “motherfucking” carnahan, a super-klutz librarian, total history nerd, and certified badass/damsel in distress. she raises the dead on accident, because she cannot resist books, and has the guts to put that motherfucker back where he came from and literally saves the world.evie’s greatest hits:
“what is a place like me, doing in a girl like this?!”
*after totally destroying the library* “i’ve just made a bit of a mess in the library.”
“no harm ever came from reading a book.”
evelyn: *upon opening the tomb* “i’ve dreamt about this since i was a little girl.”rick: “you dream about dead guys?”
“oops.”
then we’ve got rick “brendan fraser” o’connell, your not-so-typical battle hardened gun slinger with a heart of gold. he seems filthy, rude, and a complete scoundrel at first, but then he turns into a literal puppy, with massive heart eyes, that worships the ground evie walks on.rick’s greatest hits:
*screams at mummy*
*screams at sand*
*screams at things that are illogical to scream at*
*screams*
next is our Comedic Relief Character™, jonathan carnahan, who also rises above his trope. he’s there for the laugh sure, but is never useless. he actively helps to move the plot along and isn’t just there. he also is the farthest thing from brainless and annoying.jonathan’s greatest hits:
evelyn: “have you no respect for the dead?”jonathan: “of course i do, but sometimes i’d rather like to join them.” same.
oh and that time he was like “IMHOTEP” and saved his own ass like that was so smooth, y’all know what i’m talking about right??
then there is ardeth BAE. he is the audience rolling his eyes because *sighs* white people. he’s tired of these motherfucking mummies in this motherfucking desert. literally prettier than everyone.(he has a much bigger role in the mummy returns, but is still so fab here)
and of course THE MUMMY. imhotep. actual emo. literally carved some poetry into the back of his sarcophagus when he was buried alive with flesh eating bugs, because he is that Extra™. just wants to bring his girlfriend back to life so he can make out with her without it being treason.
and all the side characters are also gr8.
now i wanna take a moment to talk about the romance. because it is so BEAUTIFUL. like usually in action movies it’s macho man undermines girl and they bone. not here. no time for that shit.
rick and evie have such a great relationship based on mutual respect and affection. they both cater to each other’s strengths and cover each other’s weaknesses. they are the literally definition of: “those two. in a fight, they’re lethal. around each other, they melt”
what else, i could literally talk about this movie all day.
the special effects have held up pretty well.the music score is GORGEOUS.the costumes are amazing.the makeup, especially for anck su namun, OH WOW.the george of the jungle era brendan fraser sign me the fuck up.rachel weisz.
so many good things.
it’s just great.
#i secretly rate every action movie from 0 to the mummy
it’s a beautiful mess of a movie that can be enjoyed by people of all ages and transcends time and posterity as the alpha mummy movie, and to those who disagree i beseech you:
“…There is hardly a thing I can say in its favor, except that I was cheered by nearly every minute of it. I cannot argue for the script, the direction, the acting or even the mummy, but I can say that I was not bored and sometimes I was unreasonably pleased..“ - Roger Ebert
The Mummy is one of my all-time favourite movies, if not #½*. I mean there were movies that I felt more invested in and enthusiastic about when I first saw them, but it’s been over 20 years, and I can still watch the Mummy every now and then and enjoy it just as much as I did when I first saw it.
*I say ½ because there’s also Jurassic Park - the only other movie I can think of that I still enjoy watching after over 20 years.
AUTHOR NOTE: I was rewatching Game of Thrones and my love for Jory was like the fire reignited itself so I just had to write this. Hope you enjoy it lovelies <3
You wanted to scream that you wouldn’t marry into any family other than House Cassel, however it you had already been forbidden to see him unless supervised by your mother, your father or Ser Rodrik Cassel. But you’d been meeting in secret in the chambers beside Old Nan’s, a place nobody would suspect you to ever go. And that was where you met Jory this night.
He was dressed in his leather, his cloak clinging to his shoulders and his wavy hair sitting comfortably on them. The smile he cracked as soon as he saw you burned the desire you felt for him inside, wanting nothing more than to melt into him and give him everything. However, you already had a declaration to make.
“Jory...” you whispered.
“The Greyjoy boy truly is a Greyjoy despite being raised by Starks.” Jory called out in a huff. He must not have heard you as he threw the latch on the door and strode over to you. “Arrogant and selfish, he is.”
“Jory...”
“But no matter that. Tonight, you are all that matters. Only you.”
You placed a hand on your stomach and rubbed furiously but softly. “Only me?” you questioned. He knitted his brows together in confusion, looking down to you. You could see he wasn’t clearly getting what you were hinting at. “Jory, I’m with child.”
Although it took him a few seconds to understand exactly what you were saying, his lips eventually curled into a wide smile and his hands curled around yours on your stomach. His child was growing inside you.
“I love you. And now your mother cannot deny me the right to make you my wife.”
never enough (to give it up) (daryl dixon x fem!reader)
I don’t own these images. I made the collage.
Warnings: canon typical language, violence and sexual references
A/N: a friend of mine took a picture of me with his film camera and this fic was born. I love photos you can hold in your hands. It’s like holding a memory. - En
Idea: “if you wanna know what someone loves, look at what they photograph.” was listening to Champagne Saturday by the Chaingang of 1974
Tagging (please let me know if you wanna be tagged in future fics): @chasingdreamer @fuseburner @lilythemadqueen
Masterlist
The noise of the flash startles him.
Daryl cocks his crossbow in your direction, before yanking it downwards immediately. His startle response has always been high - he jumps at loud noises, sleeps with his back against walls, always keeps his eye on an exit. But this was different. It wasn’t just the sound that startled him - it was the action too.
“Why’d you…..do that?”
He asks, looking at the photo sliding out from the camera. You took it in your hands and shook it. It’s a myth, of course. Shaking it does nothing. But it’s habit. You’ve been doing it since a child. So, why let the apocalypse stop you?
You play dumb and Daryl grumbles.
“Cause I wanted to, man. Here.”
You hand it over to him. He looks at it intently, as if it’s some alien creature. You bite down on your bottom lip, watching his hair fall over his face as he brushes his thumb over the photograph.
“Daryl….didn’t you have pictures….when you were a kid?”
'Also known as boutonniere flowers or bachelor buttons, legend has it that cornflowers were worn by young men in love; if his love was returned the flower would remain bright and fresh, however, if the man’s love was not returned, the flower would fade quickly.'
Word Count: 2308
Warnings: none
‘Good morning, Elfreda,’ Osferth said nervously, a small smile on his face as he glanced up at the woman in front of him.
‘Good morning Osferth,’ she replied, batting her eyelashes at him. ‘Are those for me?’
‘Yes,’ he replied quickly, handing her the flowers he had picked for her that morning, ‘I saw them and thought they were as beautiful as you.’
‘Oh, Osferth they are wonderful. Thank you.’ She smiled sweetly at him as she bid him a good day before she threw a smug look in your direction. Elfreda walked over to where you sat mending some wicker baskets outside your house in Coccham, a smirk on her face. ‘Beautiful day, isn’t it?’
You don’t answer, trying your best to ignore the woman standing in front of you.
‘Look at these beautiful flowers Osferth picked for me,’ she said smugly, pushing them into your face.
‘Not that you’ve done anything to deserve them,’ you muttered under your breath. ‘Everyone knows that you don’t truly care for him.’
She gave a you a harsh laugh. ‘And yet he still pays me more attention than you. How does it feel to pine after a man for years without getting a single glance in return?’
Your cheeks began to burn, and you turned your gaze back to the basket you were mending, refusing to rise to the other woman’s taunts. She let out one last harsh laugh before she turned and carried on her journey through the village.
Her words hurt you because they were true. You had known Osferth ever since he had first joined Lord Uhtred when you were both scarcely older than children and had been almost inseparable ever since. You had both grown so much since then and so had your feelings for him. However, he only saw you as a friend.
It was one thing for your affections not to be returned, but it was another to watch him fall in love with someone else – especially one who didn’t deserve it. Elfreda was beautiful, with long dark hair that glistened in the sun, a perfect figure and emerald eyes that sparkled like jewels – she would put even a princess to shame. You on the other hand, well, you were you, and his eyes had only ever been for her. She of course did not return his affections; she simply enjoyed the attention and was happy to accept any gifts he gave her. She knew how much you loved him and loved to flaunt Osferth’s affections for her in your face.
---
‘Do you think Elfreda loves me?’ Osferth asked you one day whilst you were lazing by the river. You were supposed to be doing laundry, but he had come to keep you company and had distracted you. Instead of cleaning your family’s clothes, you lay next to Osferth with your feet dangling in the water, enjoying the Spring sunshine.
You looked up at him, surprised at the question. ‘I’m not sure,’ you replied quietly.
Osferth seemed to think for a moment. ‘I think I’m going to ask her to marry me,’ he said confidently, a smile on his face.
You sat up abruptly, moving so you looked down on him. His smile faltered when he saw your face. ‘Y/N? What is it?’
‘You deserve better, Osferth!’ you told him. ‘She may be beautiful, but she doesn’t love you, not really! Not like I-‘ you stopped yourself before you admitted your feelings and made a fool of yourself. You sighed deeply, looking imploringly into his eyes. ‘She’s not the person you deserve.’
‘But she’s perfect!’ he said, confusion on his face. ‘Unless you don’t think she’d say yes, has she told you something?’ he asked you suddenly, panic in his eyes.
You knew Elfreda wouldn’t marry him; the real reason she kept up the pretence of returning his advances was to make your life more miserable, to rub in the fact that she could have him if she wanted and you couldn’t.
‘I don’t think she would,’ you tell him honestly. He looks heartbroken but it would be worse if he asked and she rejected him.
‘Are you sure?’
You looked into his desperate eyes; the eyes of the man you loved. You didn’t answer for a moment, desperately dreading killing his dreams. ‘There is a way I have heard of – of finding out if your love is truly returned,’ you offered, trying to give him a smile. ‘You carry a cornflower upon your person and if the flower remains fresh and bright it means they love you in return, if it fades quickly then they do not.’
‘It sounds like pagan witchcraft to me,’ Osferth replied wearily, a small frown on his face.
‘It is not witchcraft, Osferth,’ you told him with a slight smile. ‘Do you think I’m a witch?’
‘No, of course not.’ He thought for a few moments more before finally getting up to leave. ‘Thank you for the advice, Y/N. You are truly my greatest friend.’
You smiled back at him but inside your heart broke, knowing that he would never see you as anything more than that; a friend.
As you watched him walk back towards the walls of Coccham, you hoped he would find someone to love who deserved it, who gave him happiness. Even if it wasn’t you.
---
Despite his misgivings, Osferth decided to pick a cornflower to see whether Elfreda returned his feelings. He had spoken to some of the other residents in Coccham and, although Finan had laughed at him, Sihtric said he believed the method to work, as did the old, Saxon baker’s wife.
Feeling slightly embarrassed to be seen wearing a flower (he was a warrior after all), he placed it inside his tunic, tucked just over his heart. He was sure that she thought of him in the same way he thought of her; surely, she would have said something by now if she did not care for him, he had been courting her for months.
However, when he took off his tunic at the end of the day, he found the flower had wilted and by the next day it had shrivelled and faded. He tried to tell himself that it was simply due to the unseasonably warm weather they had been having recently, that it didn’t mean that Elfreda did not return his feelings. He told himself again that it was pagan nonsense and that he didn’t believe it, however a sense of dread had settled deep in his bones.
After a few days wrestling with his feelings, he decided that he had to talk to her.
---
You were sat in your small home, mending some of your father’s shirts, when Osferth burst through the door. ‘Osferth!’ you exclaimed a smile on your face, happy to see you closest friend.
However, your smile fell when you saw him. His face was forlorn, and his eyes brimmed with tears, as he slumped into the nearest chair, his head in his hands. He looked utterly broken – it broke your heart.
‘You were right,’ he said in a low, shaky voice. ‘She doesn’t love me. I don’t think she ever did.’
You quickly closed the distance between you and wrapped him in a hug, stroking his back. ‘Oh, Osferth…’
‘I’m such an idiot! Everyone could see that she didn’t feel the same and I refused to listen,’ he sobbed, ‘I bet everyone’s having a good laugh at the fool I’ve made of myself!’
‘No! This is not your fault,’ you reassured him, ‘you are a good, kind soul and she took advantage.’
‘I’m a gullible idiot, that’s what I am!’
‘Perhaps,’ you smiled, ‘but I wouldn’t wish you to be any different. Don’t ever change, Osferth. Not for anyone.’
He finally lifted his head and looked you in the eyes, a small smile growing on his face. ‘What would I do without you, Y/N?’
‘Well I’m not going anywhere, so luckily for you, we’ll never find out!’
You both laughed lightly before you brought him back in for another hug. Although he was heartbroken, you knew Osferth was strong – he would get through this, you knew it.
---
Almost a year had passed, and Summer was once again fast approaching. Elfreda had married a rich merchant and had moved to Winchester earlier that year. Your life had continued as normal, looking after your family, helping to bring in the harvest, and spending time with Osferth. Nothing had changed.
In contrast, everything had changed for Osferth. His training sessions with Finan had begun to fully pay off and now he was truly the warrior he was supposed to be. Uhtred had begun giving him more responsibility and he no longer felt like a distraction or a liability, instead he felt like he belonged among Uhtred’s men.
However, the greatest change was in his feelings towards you. It had happened slowly, almost without him realising. He had always valued your friendship and enjoyed the time you spent together, but it became the highlight of his day. When he entered a room, he’d always look for you and was disappointed when you weren’t there. He found himself making excuses to touch you, whether it be tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear or brushing his hand against yours as you walked.
It had taken many months for him to get over the heartbreak of Elfreda’s rejection but when he did it was like a fog had lifted and he could finally see clearly. He could finally see you.
He couldn’t put into words how he felt about you; all he knew was that he was happiest when he was with you and he wanted to be more than just your friend. However, his new feelings scared him; if he admitted them then everything would change between you and he was terrified of losing his best friend.
He was walking outside the walls of Coccham one day when he spotted a cluster of cornflowers in a nearby field. He picked one almost absentmindedly, not really thinking about why he did it. He placed the flower in his tunic and returned to the hustle and bustle of the village.
When he walked through the gates, he was immediately called for by Finan, telling him to get the horses ready. Danish raiders had been spotted and they were to ride to meet them. He hurried to get ready for the journey, the cornflower he had picked moments ago immediately forgotten.
---
Several days later, Osferth sat around a campfire with Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric. They had successfully found and repelled the raiders without much difficulty and were on their way back to Coccham. The men were teasing him again, which wasn’t anything unusual, however he was a little surprised when they brought you up. He hadn’t realised that they had noticed his feelings towards you. It made him blush immensely which only fuelled their laughter.
They had camped near a river and so Osferth decided to have a wash. It was the first time he had removed his clothes in days, having been constantly on the move tracking the Danish raiders across half of Mercia. As he removed his tunic something fell to the floor at his feet. He looked down to see the cornflower he had picked before he had left Coccham.
It had dried out since he had picked it, however the colour was still strong, and it hadn’t shrivelled or faded significantly. The sight made him smile. He picked the flower up carefully, taking great care to not damage the delicate petals. You had told him that the flower remaining bright was a sign his love was returned; he desperately hoped you were right.
---
When he returned to Coccham he immediately went to your home, finding you preparing your family’s evening meal with your mother. After exchanging pleasantries, he asked to speak with you privately which your mother reluctantly agreed to.
He led you out of gates to your favourite spot on the river where you had both spent so much time together. He took out the dried cornflower out of his tunic and handed it to you, much to your confusion. ‘I’ve had it with me for days,’ he told you gently, ‘it is dry, but the colour is still bright.’
‘It is,’ you agree, examining the delicate flower in your hands, ‘but why are you showing me this?’
‘You told me that it was a sign that your feelings were returned.’
‘I did,’ you smile at him, still not quite taking his meaning. ‘Does this mean you’ve fallen in love, Osferth?’
‘I have, I think,’ he grinned at you.
‘That’s wonderful.’ You tried to give him a smile. It had been inevitable that he would fall in love with someone eventually, but you had hoped the day would never come. ‘Who’s the lucky girl?’
‘I’m looking at her.’ You stared at him dumbstruck, not taking in the meaning of his words. Surely you had misheard him, he couldn’t possibly be in love with you. ‘Unless you don’t feel the same that is,’ he added quickly, wringing his hands together.
You stared at him for a moment longer. Osferth was sure you were going to reject him, but then your face broke out into a smile. Closing the distance between you, you pulled him towards you and your lips met. You had kissed boys before, but this was the only kiss that mattered.
---
A few months later you walked down the isle of the small, ramshackle church in Coccham, a huge smile on your face and a bundle of cornflowers in your hand. Osferth beamed at you when you came to stand next to him at the alter; it seemed all your dreams were finally coming true.
Tagging: @morosemagick @magravenwrites @solinarimoon @obipoelover (please let me know if you'd like to be added)
also tagging @maggiescarborough because I know you love Osferth 💜
AUTHOR NOTE: I’ve been recently reading a lot of Daryl Dixon and I’ve been loving him a little too much. Hope you enjoy reading this short one lovelies xoxo
She stomped her foot in front of him, stopping him dead in his tracks so that he would have to walk around her to get away. He looked at her, seeing her auburn hair fall over her shoulder as she stood still finally. He swayed on his legs and chewed his bottom lip lightly. His matted bangs sat on his nose and cheeks, hiding his blue eyes from sight.
“Ge’ ou’ta way.” he grumbled the order.
She chuckled while shaking her head, her arms crossed across her chest. “Why? ‘Cause you can’t admit it?”
He let out a depressed breath of air from his nose. Why couldn’t she just let it go and have done with it? It didn’t need to be spoken of. He couldn’t find the words to express what she actually meant to him and so he would show her physically. That was fine with her for a time. Now she had found herself falling in love with Daryl Dixon and she wanted to know if there was a label for them.
“Or ‘cause you don’t care?”
He pushed his arm out towards her, clenching his fist bar his index finger which pointed straight at her. “Tha’s bullshit an’ you know it.”
He pushed past her, his shoulder bumping against hers. She spun around as he reached the door frame. “Then what, Daryl? ‘Cause I don’t get it. You’ve absolutely no problems when it comes to fucking me but you can’t admit that you like me?” Daryl didn’t speak, didn’t stop, didn’t do anything apart from walk to the next room. She huffed loudly and let out a gritted scream as he continued. “You’re just a coward.” she cried out.
She had expected him to slam the front door shut with him on the other side, however he stormed back into the room, his arms tense and his eyes steaming. “Don’t call me no fuckin’ coward.” he whispered under his breath.He roughly grabbed her arms, leaving fingerprints on her delicate skin. She breathed in deeply as he threw his lips on hers and passionately kissed her like he needed her there and then.
A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.
Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.
Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night…
TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway?
“You are absolutely unbelievable!”
“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid.
“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”
“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”
“Sherlock!”
“John!” He mimics.
John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face.
“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”
As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs.
Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what’s coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded.
“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.”
With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open.
“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake.
John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.
