god can you believe that miss fisher’s murder mysteries really went & hired a woman in her late forties to play a woman who in the books is in her late twenties ???
they took one look at essie davis in all her devastatingly beautiful splendour, with her bright eyes & laughter lines & apple cheekbones & freckled shoulders & charming smile & said fuck it phryne fisher is now a forty-something woman in her goddamn prime who has driven ambulances in the trenches & flown planes & scaled mountains & who is irresistably gorgeous & knows it ???
it honestly means so much to me that they did that. you see so many tiresome instances of young women being cast as older women & they just turned that on its head & the show is all the better for it. they don’t try to make her look younger, they don’t smooth out or cover up her laughter lines or the crinkles around her eyes or the creases when she turns her head or her upper arms or the freckles on her hands. they just let her be & she is so beautiful.
this is what happens when you let women run a show.
Hermione’s back arched into Draco as his large hands curled around her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the desk.
“We musn’t,” she gasped, her nails clawing the grains of the wood. His only response was a wicked laugh that rumbled through her as he ran biting kisses down the column of her throat.
Their hurried breaths were deafening in the quiet office; only the hubbub sounds of the afternoon DMLE filtered through the flimsy door. Hermione peeked at the moving silhouettes she could see through the frosted glass, and bit her lips to muffle her moan.
“We must,” Draco murmured against her skin, as he popped the buttons of her dress. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the black lace that you have on under here since this morning.”
Hermione squeaked as Draco dropped down to one knee and the rough pads of his fingers slipped up her thighs.
“What if someone comes in and catches us?” she whispered as her knees unconsciously fell wider.
Draco’s grey eyes glinted over the frame of his glasses, his kiss-bruised lips tilted to a smirk. “Then tell them to come back later, Deputy Granger.”
Her response was lost as she lifted her hips at his urging. She held his heavy gaze that darkened with lust as he slowly peeled the delicate lace from her body.
Her breath quickened, her body tingled with anticipation as Draco stood, pocketing her lingerie before he loosened his belt.
Hermione grasped the straps of his holster as his firm grip parted her thighs around his waist. She could feel every brush of air over her newly exposed skin that slickened with gathered arousal. Draco swallowed her whimpers as he stole the breath from her lungs.
“These are staying with me,” he said against her lips before he captured them between his.
“I’m not going to stop,” he growled darkly as she felt him at her core, “until the entire fucking department knows who makes you scream.”
Seeing that Emilia Clarke refused to bash the fans for being upset of the series finale is what makes her wonderful. She understands that people were not pleased and is okay with that. It’s nice to see her understandHERfans.
