#Marchioness of Rock Turtle Cove

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Blame The Cat

Lady Idonia Pinkerton aka Cath's mother finding out about her daughter's... Well, let's call it a talent, shall we? Dedicating this to that one anon if you happen to read this. (And don't be too hard on Abigail, she's got it hard enough as is)

"What a state!" The Marchioness squealed, "That dreaded cat again! I'm sure- I know he did this."

The kitchen of the famed Rock Turtle Cove Manor, as laid out before her, was far less of the efficient, stream-lined cook's workplace as it usually presented. Truthfully, it could have passed for an exhibition of the various life cycle of stages of a lemon meringue pie.

Clearly the hopeless feline had taken it's playtime with a sack of flour- Every available surface was thick with the white substance. In fact, where the Marchioness had entered, her boots had left distinct footprints upon the floorboards.

Taking a step further, her boot landed with a faint hiss in something soft. Daring to lift her skirt an inch and face it, the Marchioness found a single pat of sunshine-yellow butter pressed into the toe of her patent-leather boots. Fresh from the cobbler, as they were, now ruined.

Stifling an unladylike groan, she called, "Abigail! Mary-Ann!"

The two maids arrived diligently, bowing reverently in the doorway. They, too, let their eyes wander across the unobstructed chaos.

"It was that dreaded cat again." Their lady claimed, forcing an even tone, "He's left the kitchen in this... manner. We'd ought to have been rid of him years ago."

Mary-Ann bit her lip, hesitating. "My lady..."

"Oh, spit it out!" The Marchioness cried sharply. Truly, her patience was wearing thin.

"Cheshire is not at fault for this, uh, particular instance." As she spoke, Mary-Ann tied knots into the strings of her bonnet with both hands. Then, she counted, and methodically untied them. Abigail watched this with much interest.

Stricken and slightly flushed, the Marchioness asked, "Is that so?" The maid confirmed with a nod of her head. It was as she did so that a strand of straw-coloured hair, came to rest on her brow. The lady of the house glared at it disdainfully. "Then who?"

Mary-Ann's throat bobbed. "I- It was-"

"Lady Catherine, my lady." Abigail interrupted. Mary-Ann supposed she thought that she was doing her fellow maid a kindness. If only she knew the hardship she would cause.

Finally allowing the facade to shatter, the Marchioness threw her hands in the air, exclaiming, "Eating all those sweets wasn't enough? She has to make them as well?"

She turned back to the kitchen for a brief moment. "And by all the stars in the sky, did she have to brutalise a sack of flour to get there?"

[kofubisha]

okay. it's here. you can read part 1 & 2 of my collaboration with @eerna for the 2022 @noragamibigbang today, and parts 3 & 4 will go up tomorrow.

❤ we're all mad here ❤

yatori ❤ ~20k

❤ part one ❤ ❤ part two ❤

She remembered very little of her dream but the smell.

Wild, earthen, peppery…her whole body had melted under its thrall. She would sleep forever if only the smell would stay.

The squeak of a door hinge jerked her out of the delicious dream. Then a sharp intake of breath and a dark utterance.

“Oh, sweet clubs.”

She shut her eyes tightly and reached for unconsciousness again, burying her face deep in the pillow. The dream had been so lovely, and the smell had yet to fade.

“Hiyori, get up!”

Ami tugged on the pillow, but Hiyori wrapped both arms around it and clung.

“Seriously, up, up! We need to uproot all this before your mother comes in here!”

Her maid’s voice was frantic, and Hiyori unwillingly peeled her eyelids open. Blearily, she regarded Ami’s face.

“Buh?” was her response.

Then she saw the room.

It was blue. The floor—at most times a lush, wine-colored carpet—was now blooming with masses of flowers. They had spread from the floor onto the divan in the corner and the seat of the vanity. They covered her bed. Hiyori shifted the blankets as she sat up, and a great pile of them slid off onto the floor.

She looked down at her pillow, where the indentation of her head was the only place not drowned in blue petals.

“Are these…” she began.

“Forget-me-nots,” Ami finished, throwing a bunch of them in Hiyori’s face. “With a few cornflowers sprinkled in.”

Hiyori collapsed back on the bed, a cloud of blue petals puffing up around her. She was still caught between the fantasy of the dream and the realization that her mother–the Marchioness of Rock Turtle Cove–was going to walk in at any moment and discover her daughter had dreamed flowers all over her bedroom.

“She’s going to really, truly kill me,” she murmured.

Ami grunted unsympathetically as she shook the rest of the flowers off the comforter.

“Well then, I hope it was a really, truly good dream.”

Hiyori’s cheeks went warm. As soon as Ami said that, a particular detail had returned.

There had been a boy in the dream. A boy with a mischievous mouth, who smelled wild and earthen, and faintly peppery. A boy with forget-me-not eyes.

But she had very little time to ponder boys from dreams, as Ami had resorted to simply gathering up flowers by the armful and dumping them out the window before the Marchioness walked in.

But yes, she thought, helping her maid destroy the evidence.

It was a really, truly good dream.

❤ read the rest on ao3 ❤

[stargazingartist]

Lemony Dreams and Broken Queens

I got a really good response to Morning Flames, thank y’all so much! I finished Heartless a few weeks ago and got this idea for a fanfiction, so here it is! It’s short but that doesn’t mean it won’t wreck you if you’re still in pain over the end of this book! WARNING: If you haven’t read Heartless by Marissa Meyer yet GO DO IT cause this fanfic contains MAJOR SPOILERS to the fantastic book

“Oh Jeeeeest!”

Catherine’s sing-song voice floated through the house, the lemony sweet scent wafting throughout the home from the freshly-baked tarts, just pulled from the oven. Cath placed the tray gently onto the counter, admiring her work. A fleeting memory, gone as quickly as it had come, appeared in her mind, of oh so similar lemon tarts she had never gotten to try, baked on the day this all began. 

As she set to work prepping the tempting confections to allow for them to cool before dinner, she heard the front door of the small yet grand cottage open and close, followed by the soft footfalls of worn leather boots. “You called, Dear?” Jest was leaning against the door frame opposite Catherine, a lazy smile crinkling his eyes, as yellow as the custard in her tarts. A grin lit up Catherine’s face as closed the gap between them, allowing herself to be swept up in his arms as the world around her disappeared. Her eyes met his and for a moment the world was bliss, his eyes filled with sunshine, a promise. She kissed him softly as he set her down, wiping a smear of flour off her cheek and tucking a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. 

She giggled when he pulled away, adoration flooding her entire body until she felt she would burst. He walked across the kitchen to smell the tarts, glancing longingly at her as she beamed with pride. “Dear, you do know how I adore these. Not to mention the fact that they hardly last 15 minutes in the bakery.” “No thanks to you, you hog!” She retorted jokingly as she swatted his hands away. “Now, let them cool. These aren’t for the bakery, you get one all to yourself tonight Darling.” His eyes lit up and he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of it before murmuring against her skin, “Perhaps the tart is not all I will have to myself tonight.” A shiver laced up Catherine’s spine as the corners of her mouth tilted upward, her eyes shinning mischievously before he said, “Now, I have a surprise for you.” 

Catherine’s brow furrowed slightly, a wariness now in her movements as Jest wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Softly, she replied, “Well I believe you should lead the way then Jest.” She flushed but untangled herself from his arms, taking his hand and letting him lead her outside. 

Catherine never got tired of the view from their home. Rising in the distance were the beautiful snow capped mountains of Chess, the setting sun glinting off them as the soft oranges and pinks and yellows blended into the darkness of the night sky. But in front of her now, there was another sight, one that captured Cath’s attention immediately and stole her breath, her heartbeat. Standing in front of her was a tall silver mirror on legs of rich dark oak. and in the Looking Glass was not the reflection of her and Jest, but of the manor at Rock Turtle Cove. She stared at it for a beat, two beats, before tentatively reaching forward to touch it. The surface rippled, and the picture changed to the dinning room where her parents sat, a lingering sadness forever set in the faces of the Marquess and Marchioness. 

Catherine gasped and forced herself to rip her gaze from the mirror, turning her eyes on Jest. “What is this? What is the purpose of this?!” her voice became shrill, but his response was soft. “Catherine,” he said gently, “I know you have always wanted to properly say goodbye, ever since that night. Now you can, we can all have closure.” She gaped at him, glancing between his sincere face, so full of love, and the Looking Glass, beckoning to her, offering a true close to her life in Hearts.

Cath pulled her hand from Jest’s, set her shoulders and stepped forward. But as soon as her fingers touched the surface, the picture rippled again. Suddenly the Cove was gone, replaced by overcast skies, mud, a menacing iron gate. Sir Peter’s patch. She stumbled back, looking to Jest, but he was gone. A choke escaped her and she swiveled her head back to the mirror, only to be stricken with horror. In the mirror was Jest, kneeling bewildered on the ground next to the bleeding, severed carcass of the Jaberwock. Next to him stood a girl in a muddied, ripped red and white striped gown, holding a gleaming sword dripping charcoal tinged blood. It was her. 

Catherine fell to her knees before the image, shaking her head softly, unable to look away but wanting to so desperately. As if in slow motion, she watched herself try and reason with Peter Peter. Saw the moment his expression changed, his resolve hardened. “No,” she whispered, but it changed nothing. Peter snarled at the Cath in the mirror, roaring as he turned to Jest and- “No no no NO!” Catherine was screaming now, screaming and banging on the surface of the now solid Looking Glass as Peter Peter the pumpkin eater beheaded her impossible, incredible, doomed Jest.

When it was over, she watched the mirror Catherine sink to her knees and weep, before the reflection rippled one last time to show her as she was now. When the image finally became clear, a sharp, cold pain pierced her heart. She cried out and looked down, hysteria and grief hitting her like a wall of stone, and saw a dagger, buried to the hilt in her chest. She lifted her trembling hands, dirt caked under her nails from clawing at the ground around her, and wrapped them around the handle. Something between a scream and a sob wracked through her body as she yanked the knife from her body, pulling her broken,  black heart out with it.

Catherine’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up abruptly in her bed, the welcome darkness of her chambers soothing her. Her breath was ragged as she sat there for a moment, waiting for the old pain the wash over her, cripple her, leave her unable to move for days, but it never did. She realized there were tears streaming down her cheeks, but she couldn’t feel anything towards them. All she felt was a cold, numb rage in her chest, seeping into her limbs and evening her breath, “I am the Queen of Hearts,” she whispered to her empty, black rooms. “I am heartless.”

[collectivevoicemag]

2017 Reading Challenge: A Book You Were Excited to Buy but Haven't Read Yet

2017 Reading Challenge: A Book You Were Excited to Buy but Haven’t Read Yet

Heartless by Marissa Meyer (2016)   Heartless (5 stars) Summary I find that I can simply not recall why a raven is like a writing desk. All Cath wants to do is open a bakery with her best friend, Mary Ann. She is the daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Turtle Rock Cove and naturally the happy-go-lucky King of Hearts wants her for his bride. When Catherine meets the court joker, a…

[amaread]

Heartless - Marissa Meyer

Content note: retelling, fat-shaming mother, madness, love triangle, romance,

Quirky retelling in the universe / storyspace of Alice in Wonderland, but not quite. Catherine, the daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Rock Turtle Cove, dreams of opening a bakery with her friend and maid servant Mary-Anne. This is not seen as an occupation for a Lady, especially after the King of Hearts proposes to court her. Throw in a Jabberwocky attack, an intriguing and enticing court joker named Jest and of course, the mad Hatter, in the person of Hatta and it is a bit of a whirlwind. The love triangle aspect does nothing for me - she feels no great affection for the king romantically but everyone around her try to force her to the match.

As well - her mother is very much fat-shaming, not permitting her to eat dessert, taking away her meals before she is done eating, ridiculing her idea of opening a bakery as to how it will affect her shape.