#Yet another installment in the written next to my mother series

[flowers-in-your-basement]

this want inside of dean is a living thing. It grows when Sam looks at him, thriving off of brushes of fingers and shoulders. It eats away at the inside of dean, sharp pain and roiling disgust.

Sometimes dean dreams of Sam, Sam who wanted him too. A version of Sam that he corrupted long ago. They kiss in bed, they're together and it is beautiful. All the dreams end the same way, they're sitting together eating dinner and dean puts his hand over Sam's. Sam smiles, they hold hands. There's nothing wrong for a few brief moments. Then Sam goes hollow, his fingers rot away. Bones exposed, heart beats in his visible ribcage. Then it too, succumbs to the dark rot.

He always wakes up covered in sweat and horribly, awfully hard.

It's hard to look at Sam for a long time after that, still expecting him to be nothing but bones and exposed muscle.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 12

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Some kissing. Implied Smut.

Word Count: 4,418

A/N: Here's Ch. 12. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

A/N 2: Within this chapter there's a reference to a popular waltz written in 1891, called After the Ball. I've included a link to a YouTube version so you can have an idea what it sounds like. The title of the song will be the link, within the body of the chapter.

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Early the next morning, Dean woke to Y/N's restless sighs and her constant shifting beside him. It seemed like she might be having less than pleasant dreams.

Cupping her jaw, he tried to soothe her with a soft kiss to the forehead. It worked and she stopped moving around so much. But a small frown still puckered her brow. Dean pulled her a little closer against him and she sighed softly as her face relaxed back into a calm sleep.

He hoped it wasn't him and their fight that was troubling her dreams. God knew he hadn't slept at all the night before; instead he spent all night missing her soft presence beside him.

He was getting a little too used to having her there, a little too used to having her in his life all together. She was clearly still up in the air about whether she was going to say yes or no to him.

I should create a little distance, just in case, he thought, stay home for one whole day and night. I need to be prepared for the possibility of her leaving in four days time.

But when he thought of her leaving, he felt a pit start to open in his stomach. And the idea of spending another one of their possibly limited days and nights away from her, made him start to feel panicked, and he absolutely hated that feeling.

He gritted his teeth. Definitely need some distance.

Y/N shifted again, burying her face in his shoulder, her soft sigh making a mockery of his warning to himself. He leaned down to kiss her temple and then her forehead.

She moaned lightly and rolled onto her back. Ignoring his body's response to the moan, he leaned down to place a soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

Like something from a fairytale, Y/N's eyes fluttered open and she stared at him a moment before her lips curved into a warm smile and she stretched, reaching her arms up over her head and giving another, much longer moan that was simply too hard for Dean to ignore.

So as she finished stretching, Dean rolled on top of her, bracing his weight on his forearms, and capturing her lips in a deep, probing, and very un-fairytale like kiss.

A soft whimper escaped her throat and he instinctively rolled his hips against the soft heat at the apex of her thighs and groaned deeply. Sometimes he wanted her so badly he could hardly breathe.

Sometimes? His inner voice mocked him.

As he ended the kiss, he pulled back and studied the lines of her face, marveling yet again at just how beautiful she truly was.

Y/N was slightly breathless as she gazed up at him.

“Well, good morning.” She said, her voice husky with sleep and desire.

“Merry Christmas.” Dean responded.

Y/N chuckled. “And a very, merry Christmas to you.”

He dipped his head and kissed her again, and again, and soon he was lost in the way she clung to him, the way her breath hitched when he slipped his hand between their bodies and stroked her, the way his name fell from her lips like drops of honey, sweet and utterly delicious.

Distancing himself could come later, he decided - tomorrow. After all, it was Christmas; he deserved the gift of Y/N.

Eventually, a long time later, they actually got up and started their day.

Y/N wandered into the bathroom doorway as he began to lather up his shaving soap with his horse hair brush and then apply it to his cheeks.

“So, I'm assuming you've also been invited to Christmas dinner?” She asked.

He grinned at her, with half his face lathered. “The Christmas dinner that's being prepared in my kitchen and served in my dining room?” He chuckled, going back to spreading the soap across his face. “Yeah, I got an invite.”

He finished covering his face and turned to look at her. “I thought we'd get there around one o’clock, since dinner starts at two?”

He picked up his straight razor and slowly dragged it across his cheek, removing the soap, and the whiskers with it.

“Oh I don't know if -” Y/N stopped as he took another swipe with the razor. “Aren't you afraid you'll cut yourself with that thing?”

Caught off guard by the question, it took Dean a moment to answer. He chuckled again and shook his head before continuing. “Not really, no. Been shaving since I was sixteen, I'm kind of used to it by now.”

He rinsed off the blade in the sink and then held it out to her.

“Wanna try?”

Y/N shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not! I'm not going to be responsible for scarring that beautiful face.”

Dean scoffed and laughed, taking the next swipe with the razor. “So, what don't you know about?” He said, referring to her earlier, truncated statement.

“Oh.” Y/N shook her head. “I don't know if we should go to dinner together. At the same time I mean. Won't that be a little obvious that we're…staying together?”

Dean dropped his hand as he was about to scrape off more whiskers, turning his head to fix Y/N with an incredulous look.

“Sweetheart, they're staying in my house and I've barely been home once since I moved you into this hotel.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “They know.”

He had to shake his head at Y/N's predictable blush.

She shrugged. “I suppose, but…”

Dean sighed. “Look, at the very least, they know we've been spending time together, right? So, is it really so strange that I'd offer to pick you up and drive you over?”

Y/N shook her head and Dean nodded. “Exactly.”

He went back to shaving as Y/N continued to watch him from the doorway. After a few minutes of silence, just as he was finishing up, Y/N cleared her throat.

“Can I ask you about something I didn't get the chance to last night?”

Dean grinned as he rinsed off his razor and left it open to dry fully.

“Uh oh. Do you have more phrases you want to know the meaning of?”

Y/N shook her head firmly, turning bright red, and Dean laughed as he bent to the sink to rinse away the last of the shaving soap.

Taking a deep breath Y/N spoke softly. “No, I was wondering…what happens when you…when you get married?”

Dean froze for a moment, the water rushing down the drain before he slowly stood straight and shut off the tap.

He could feel his stomach sink to his toes and then lodge in his throat. He tried to keep his voice steady as he grabbed a towel.

“That won't happen.”

Y/N let out a small, humorless chuckle. “Oh, you say that now. But then one day you'll see some beautiful young debutante across a crowded ballroom and fall head over heels, sweep her off her feet and march her down the aisle.”

“No.” He said succinctly before burying his face in the towel and rubbing it briskly over his cheeks.

“But, how do you know that?”

He pulled the towel away and scowled at her. “Because I know.”

She opened her mouth to speak again, but he slashed his hand through the air, raising his voice.

“No enough, Y/N! That's not something you'll ever have to worry about, so just drop it.”

The silence was loud between them as Y/N nodded.

“Alright.” She said softly.

The look on her face made Dean feel rotten for shouting at her, but he could still feel the panic rising and he needed to shut it down immediately.

He rubbed at his cheeks with the towel again before tossing it aside and walking over to her in the doorway. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms and bent forward to kiss her briefly.

“Why don't you ring for breakfast?”

Y/N nodded again and offered a small smile. “Alright. Though I feel a little like Ebenezer Scrooge, making the staff work on Christmas morning.”

Dean chuckled and nodded towards the end of the bed.

“My billfold is in the inside pocket of my suit jacket that you passionately tossed onto the floor last night.” He said, appreciating the pink that tinged her cheeks at that reminder.

“Grab it and pull out as much cash as you want for a nice Christmas bonus for the staff. Ease our Scrooge-ish guilt.”

Y/N laughed softly. “Alright. Eggs and sausages for you?”

Dean nodded. “Perfect.”

As Y/N moved off to get them breakfast, Dean took a deep breath and forced calm through his body.

It was Christmas; he just wanted to enjoy the day and not let the subject of marriage sour everything.

With that in mind, he forced a smile as he walked back into the room.

“Oh, and a coffee, black.”

***

Y/N leaned back from the table as she finished off the last of her honey-drizzled croissant and licked her finger tips with ravenous delight.

“That was so delicious I could eat a dozen of them myself!"

Dean chuckled and leaned over to thumb away some of the flaky pastry that had stuck to her bottom lip before kissing her softly.

He pulled away, licking his lips. “Mmm…yep, delicious.” He said with a gentle smile.

His green eyes radiated warmth as they stared into hers and Y/N felt her insides turn to mush. She lowered her gaze; she couldn't keep believing those looks.

Yes, Dean liked her, he was obviously attracted to her, and seemed to enjoy spending time with her. But that was where things ended for him.

He'd been perfectly clear about his obvious disdain for the idea of marrying her. She'd merely mentioned the subject of marriage and he'd angrily shouted her down.

It didn't take a genius to understand the rejection in that anger. She wouldn't bring it up again. She didn't need to have her heart pulverized any further.

She loved him and he liked her. And that was the end of it.

She smiled at him now and pushed away from the table. “I got you something for Christmas.”

He grinned and nodded. “Me too.” He went to his greatcoat where it hung by the door and reached into an inside pocket.

Feeling happiness bubble up inside of her despite everything, Y/N went to the top drawer of her wardrobe where a small square box was wrapped and hidden.

They sat in the big green chairs, shifting them slightly so they faced each other a little more.

Y/N quickly passed Dean his gift. “Open it. I hope you like it. I picked it out two days ago and have been dying to give it to you. I'm bad at keeping secrets.”

Dean chuckled as he tore away the wrapping and lifted the lid of the flat box. He reached in to lift out a blue and green striped, silk tie.

“Y/N this is beautiful. But you spent too much money on it.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, it's fine.”

She'd bought it out of her own meager savings because it didn't feel right to buy something for Dean with his own money. It had been a little pricey, but it was worth it to see him looking at it so admiringly.

“So, you like it?”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “It's great and I can wear it to dinner. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Y/N said shyly.

Dean passed her a medium-sized, square box; it was white, and wrapped with a silver bow.

“The bow got a little crushed in my pocket, sorry.” He said, trying to fluff it back up.

Y/N chuckled as she took the box from him. She untied the bow and quickly attached to the end of her braid.

“No, it's perfect.”

Dean smiled. “Suits you.” He nodded impatiently towards the box. “Open it.” He said, excitedly.

Y/N laughed. “Alright, alright.”

She lifted off the lid and pushed aside the shredded paper inside, trying to see what it was protecting.

Lying beneath the paper was a small glass ornament. Y/N picked it up slowly and gasped when she saw what it was.

“It's a snow globe.” Dean said, enthusiastically. “Well, sort of “ He finished with a grin.

It was a snow globe, except instead of snow falling, there were tiny, soft pink flower petals floating within the scene encased in glass.

There was a lush painted scene of a rolling green hill and a path lined with cherry trees rising up over it. Tiny, carved, painted people strolled under the trees, while off to the side, a huge fairway had been created in miniature.

There was a big ferris wheel and a carousel. Games were shown, ring toss, and bullseye. More tiny people played the games, forever frozen in their playful excitement.

The globe sat atop a beautiful, polished, cherry wood base, intricately carved with curling, trailing vines and leaves. And in the very middle of the base, in bold, black lettering, were the words “The Omaha World’s Fair. 1898.”

It was exquisitely created, a perfect miniature depiction of springtime and joy. It was so beautiful and so perfect a gift, that it brought tears to Y/N’s eyes which she rapidly blinked away. She looked up at Dean, and she must have seemed stunned because he gave her a puzzled look.

“Do you like it?”

Y/N could only nod as she tilted it upside down again to make the flower petals float. She could hear the smile in Dean’s voice even if she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the idyllic scene to see it.

“I figured it would have to do until we can get you to the real thing in a few years.” He said. Y/N finally turned her head to look back at him.

“It’s perfect, Dean. So, incredibly beautiful.”

“Good.” He said with a slightly shy smile. He gave a small shrug. “I saw it in a little curio shop window on my way to work a few days ago and I just had to stop and get it for you.”

He pointed towards the globe. “It’s a music box too. Look at the bottom.”

Y/N turned it over to find a winding mechanism on the bottom. She twisted it as far as it would go, and the popular waltz After the Ball, began playing in bright, sparkly notes.

As she flipped the ornament right side up, she gave a little squeal of delight, pointing to the fair scene inside. “The ferris wheel and carousel are moving!”

Y/N watched the intricate movements and the gentle fall of the petals and was completely and utterly entranced by the beauty and ingenuity on display.

Impulsively, she set down the globe on the table and launched herself into Dean’s arms.

“Oof!” He grunted as she leapt on him.

“I love it so much, Dean. Thank you.”

He nodded. “I'm glad. And you're very welcome.”

He bent his head and spent a moment kissing her senseless before sweeping her up into his arms and waltzing her around the room as she clung to his neck and giggled helplessly.

After a minute she was giddily dizzy, and as the last notes of the music box fell away she buried her face in Dean’s neck to try and stop the room spinning. He finally landed them back in the green chair and she dared to open her eyes.

She laid her hand against his jaw and pulled his lips down to hers. When she pulled away there were tears in her eyes again.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.” She told him truthfully.

Dean kissed the tip of her nose and then each corner of her mouth. “Good.” He said with a gentle smile. They sat cuddled in the chair for a little while, just enjoying each other’s warmth and closeness.

Finally Dean kissed the top of her head. “Hey, that storm last night blew away most of the freezing weather. Wanna take a walk? Might be the only time in New York when we get the sidewalks mostly to ourselves.”

Y/N laughed. “That sounds wonderful.”

Dean patted her hip and she climbed off of him. “Then let’s go.” He said with enthusiasm as he headed off to get dressed.

Y/N sank back onto the chair for a moment and picked up her gift, tilting it and winding it up again to watch the scene unfold, with Dean’s words echoing in her mind.

“I figured it would have to do until we can get you to the real thing in a few years.”

For a moment she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to dwell on the happy picture she conjured. She and Dean dressed in their finest spring fashions and strolling the fairways and cherry tree lined sidewalks. Sam and Jessica walked ahead of them, with Lucy between them, holding their hands. Their laughter was carried away by the soft breezes that pulled at her skirts and ruffled Lucy's hair.

The idyllic image melted away though, when she realized that even if she and Dean were still together in three and a half year’s time, they wouldn’t be strolling hand in hand, walking with his family, out in public at such a wholesome, family outing. If they went, they’d go after dark, and they’d go alone. Happy family time was not meant for mistresses.

She set the snow globe down along with her ridiculous fantasies, and moved off to get dressed.

***

“Miss Y/N!” As Y/N stepped through the door that the butler, Grant, held open, Lucy Winchester tackled her, wrapping her little arms as far as they could reach around Y/N’s legs, nearly bowling her over.

“Lucy!” Jessica called out as she and Sam came into the foyer. “For pity’s sake, let Miss Y/N through the door before you attack her.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing. “No, it’s fine. I’ve missed you too, little miss.” She said, patting the girl's dark hair.

Dean walked in behind Y/N and gave Lucy a pretend scowl. “What’s this? Are you saving any of those hugs for your uncle who has spoiled you so rotten this Christmas?”

Lucy squealed and immediately ran at Dean so he could throw her up in the air and then into his arms.

Jessica came forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a crooked grin. “Yes, a messenger delivered all her gifts yesterday. It was everything we could do to keep her from tearing into them immediately. You have indeed, utterly spoiled her. I mean, you always spoil her, but this might be considered obscene.”

Dean grinned. “It isn’t every Christmas that I actually get to see my little Luce on Christmas Day. Gotta make it special.” He then walked out of the entryway with Lucy still in his arms, playing a game where he pretended to drop her, just so he could catch her again, over and over.

Jessica just rolled her eyes indulgently and led them all into the parlor where the Christmas tree sat in all its majestic glory.

They relaxed in the parlor for almost an hour, visiting and chatting, about Sam's conference, about all the places Jessica and Lucy had been throughout New York.

Dean told them about taking Y/N skating. “Couldn't stay on her feet.” He tattled with a teasing grin.

Y/N blushed. “I told you, it's been a long time since I skated.”

“Well, you won't be able to use that excuse next time.” Dean teased her and everyone laughed.

When they finally went into the dining room for dinner, Y/N gasped. The table was laid out beautifully and extravagantly.

“Jessica! This is stunning.” she praised.

Jessica smiled. “Thank you, but I couldn't have possibly put this together without Mrs. Simmons” She turned to Dean. “You should count yourself lucky to have her as your housekeeper, and maybe consider giving her a raise.”

Dean grinned as he pulled out Y/N's chair and then sat beside her. “I'll do that.”

Everything was beyond delicious and Jessica reminded Dean to give his cook, Mrs. Plessi, a raise too.

The conversation flowed surprisingly easy. Y/N had been worried things would be stilted or awkward with everything that was going on. But the dinner was filled with laughter and happiness and Y/N was having a wonderful time, pushing aside all the negativity that wanted to bubble up inside her.

After dinner was finished and they were all fuller than they needed to be, they moved back into the parlor, so everyone could exchange gifts.

Y/N got a beautiful pair of kidskin gloves from Sam and Jessica and a crudely stitched, pincushion doll from Lucy. She suspected the little one had gotten a lot of help from Jessica, but the little girl's eyes shone proudly as Y/N exclaimed over how beautiful it was and how talented a seamstress Lucy was.

She spent the rest of the afternoon playing with all her new toys, introducing her porcelain doll, Esmeralda, to the stuffed bear and cloth doll her parents had gotten for her, and promising they were all going to be best friends.

She gave Sam and Jessica a pretty little glass ornament for their tree with the words, “Christmas 1900” painted on it, and she gave Lucy a book of nursery rhymes.

The adults all exchanged gifts, but of course Lucy got the most gifts of them all, and a lot of those were from Dean. She went a little mad as she pulled them all open. Her screeching joy over the last gift she opened, a porcelain doll with real hair, had everyone laughing.

Eventually, she put her dolls to sleep and crawled up on Dean's lap to get him to read her some of her nursery rhymes. He obliged and the silliness of the rhymes kept them all entertained for a while.

Y/N looked at Lucy in Dean's lap, her rosy cheeks glowing with delight as he read to her, and she felt her heart swell in her chest.

Halfway through the book, Dean set it down and repositioned Lucy in his lap.

“These nursery rhymes are great, but I think we should go for a horsey ride. What do you think?”

“Oh boy!” Lucy cried, clapping her hands.

“Oh boy.” Sam said with a groan. “Not this close to bedtime.“ He told Dean, who chose to ignore him

He sat Lucy on his knee so that it looked like she was riding sidesaddle. Moving his leg sedately up and down, he sung the simple words to the nursery rhyme.

“This is the way a lady rides, lady rides, lady rides. This is the way a lady rides all through the town.”

Shifting her so that one chubby leg dangled on either side of his knee, he picked up the pace slightly, but still kept a steady rhythmic ”prancing” throughout the next part of the song.

“This is the way a gentleman rides, gentleman rides, gentleman rides. This is the way a gentleman rides all through the town.”

Lucy began giggling like mad, obviously well-aware of what was coming next.

“Hang on, l’il pardner!” Dean told Lucy in a would-be western accent.

He began bouncing and twisting his knee all around like a broncing bull, making Lucy squeal and grab on to her Uncle's kneecap. Dean had an iron grip around her waist as he sang the last verse.

“This is the way a cowboy rides, cowboy rides, cowboy rides. This is the way a cowboy rides all through the town.”

He kept her on the bucking bronco for a little while, slowing down every once in a while, only to speed back up and start Lucy cackling all over again.

This will never be mine. I'll never have this with him.

Y/N was laughing as she watched the sheer delight on her little student's face. Sam and Jessica were laughing too, and it was a warm, precious moment.

But it was in that precise moment, when her heart was full and happy, that the realization pierced through Y/N once again.

It was impossible. Even if she stayed with Dean, no matter what, she'd never have this simple, domestic happiness. She'd never watch him bounce their little girl on his knee, never go to the park together as a family and watch him teach their son to fly a kite.

They wouldn't sit down to Christmas or Easter dinners with friends and family. She and Dean wouldn't watch their children grow up, would never watch each other grow old.

She'd get a few years with Dean at most, and when he was through, her only option would be to move into another man's bed. Maybe she'd be able to wait a year, maybe even longer if Dean was generous.

But no matter what, even if Dean gave her enough to live off of for ten years, they would be empty years. Alone years.

This would never be her life.

Tears gathered fast and thick behind her eyes, and she looked away from Dean and Lucy quickly.

“Excuse me.” She said with what she hoped was a believable smile, as she walked briskly from the room. She escaped across the foyer and into Dean's study just before she broke into tears.

She sat down on the couch and buried her face in her hands, the tears flowing freely despite her desperate attempt to make them stop.

The door opened and Y/N jumped up, worried it was going to be Dean. But instead Jessica was poking her head around the door and then sliding inside.

“I thought I saw you disappear into this room.” She said gently.

Y/N tried to dash away her tears surreptitiously. But Jessica had already seen them. She didn't seem surprised by them, and she didn't ask Y/N what was wrong.

She simply stepped forward and placed a consoling hand on Y/N's arm.

“You love him.” She said plainly, but with immense sympathy in her tone.

Y/N thought about lying, but there was no point. So she nodded and felt a sob escape her chest. Jessica stepped forward and pulled Y/N into a hug, wrapping her up tightly and letting Y/N muffle her tears in the soft green wool of her dress.

Y/N cried until her throat hurt and her head ached. When she was finished, Jessica sat beside her on the couch for a little while.

“I'm sorry, Y/N.” She said quietly.

But Y/N shook her head. “No, you warned me.”

Jessica sighed. “I'm still sorry you're being hurt. I could maybe talk to him abou-”

“No!” Y/N said immediately. The only thing she could think of that would be worse than loving Dean when he didn't love her back, was him knowing how she felt and being annoyed by her unwanted feelings or else, worst of all, feeling sorry for her.

“No, it's fine, I don't think there's anything to say to him that's going to change his mind. But thank you.”

Jessica nodded. “I'll give you a few minutes alone, and I'll make sure no one comes in here till you come out.”

Y/N nodded and gave Jessica a smile, grateful to get the time to try and look presentable again.

When she was alone, she took deep shuddering breaths and smoothed down her hair. As she let her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks recover, thoughts began to unfold in her mind and she came to another realization.

She couldn't say yes to Dean.

She couldn't have him for a little while and then just lose him; she couldn't have him, without ever really having him. If walking away now was going to break her heart, how much worse would it be after she'd spent years with him and was then forced to walk away?

She couldn't say yes.

But she also realized that before they parted ways there was one thing she had to do.

Eventually she felt a little more normal, and looking at her reflection in the darkened window, it looked like most of the traces of her tears were gone. So, she rejoined the group in the parlor.

They only stayed another few minutes however, since it was getting to be past Lucy's bedtime.

There were many good wishes exchanged and sleepy hugs from Lucy. Jessica gave Y/N another quick, tight hug, and she and Dean were soon on their way in the hack that rolled up outside the door.

As they made their way through the deserted New York City streets, Y/N slid closer to Dean on the seat, wrapping her arms around his and leaning her head on his shoulder as they bumped along the cobblestone.

She held his hand all the way through the snowy path that led to the garden doors; she didn't want to let go of him.

But when they got inside, they separated so Dean could light some lamps and Y/N could get out of her coat and boots. After Dean had done the same, she was again at his side. She pulled him close and kissed him softly.

Dean tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back. He looked down at her with heat in his gaze and she allowed all her passion for him to show in hers.

“I want to give you something for Christmas.” She whispered.

Dean smiled and pulled his tie loose, lifting the end towards her. “But you already did.”

Y/N shook her head. “I want to give you something else too.”

“Alright. What's that?” Dean asked with a warm smile.

Y/N hesitated for the span of a breath before answering.

“Me.”

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[desiredmalfoy]

True Love Is Eternal (D.M x Reader + F.W. x Reader)

Pairing: Draco x Reader, Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Note this is going to be changing from 1st person to 2nd and 3rd person.

Enjoy the final installment of the Dear Malfoy Series! Fred’s POV! Thank you for everyone who has shown love to my writing! You don’t know how much I appreciate it (it means a lot to me). 

Dear Malfoy [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]  (Masterlist)

The invitation to your wedding invitation came suddenly in the mail. It came addressed to the Weasley family, which I guess includes me. No, it did include me. You put that in the invitation. I didn’t even realize that I was holding in my breath as I opened up the intricate wedding invitation. The Malfoys are not sparing any expense on this. He would give you nothing but the best in life. He had been fine for the past couple of years, he had managed to get you out of his head for the longest time. He had even been in a serious relationship but that did work out. But it seems like the news of your wedding brought all these feelings back. Maybe all these old feelings resurfacing because of the news of your marriage but not because he actually still loved her. Or maybe in the back of his mind, he’d always wish you would have a moment of revelation where you realized who truly loved him.

                                 We are honored to invite you to

                                       the unity of marriage of

                                         Draco Lucius Malfoy 

                                                       &

                                        (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N)

Your name is written in beautiful intricate gold cursive. Taunting me with every letter written. He ran his fingers over where your name was printed, reminiscing of the moments he had with you.

It was the middle of summer and the both of you were laying on the grass outside the burrow. You were looking up at the night sky admiring the millions of stars. Moments like these were the ones he hoped were forever.

“What do you want to do when we leave this place”,  Fred had asked her out of nowhere. 

“Get my own place. I love my parents but I want to have my own space.” 

“Oh! And get a kitten!” (Y/N) excitedly added. “I really want to get a kitten.”

“I’ll get you as many as you would like”, he said as he hugged her tightly.

“Is this your way of asking me to move in with you”, she teased him and his cheeks had become red from blushing. 

“Not yet but one day in the future hopefully.” He answered as he envisioned them with a few cats and maybe a baby or two. “And you know I’ll have my shop by then too.”

He wished he could go to the past. 

——-

Fred dwelled on the thought of going to your wedding. The invitation had been extended to the entire family, including him. After everything that had occurred, (y/n) had always been on good terms with the rest of the Weasley family. She had even eventually forgiven George for not telling her. George had explained to him that she forgave him to let go of the past and move on. 

Fred had thought he would keep on seeing you every summer as the previous ones before. You had always come to stay at least for a couple of days to see Ron and Ginny before you dated him. But the summer after his 7th year and (y/n)’s 5th it all changed. He anticipated your arrival but didn’t want to ask any of his siblings if they knew you’d be coming over. He stupidly thought that he would be able to at least fix your friendship that summer. It wasn’t until he had overheard a conversation between Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Harry that he knew you weren’t going to show up.

“I received an owl from her today.”, Ginny said excitedly as she sat down, a white envelope in her hand. 

“How is she? I miss her greatly this summer.” Hermione asked as she reached for that same envelope from Ginny. 

“She said she’s definitely enjoying Paris with Draco.”

“He took her to Paris”, Ron asked, shocked at the revelation. “The bloke has only been dating her for like eight months and he’s already taking her on expensive trips?’

“It’s Malfoy. Did you expect anything less”, Harry answered with a slight eye roll. “He’d buy her a castle if she would just let him.”

“I knew Malfoy always goes all out but I didn’t think he would take her on vacation so soon!”

“What do you expect?” Ginny laughed at Ron’s still confused expression. “He’s madly in love with her. He’s even nice to Harry of all people just for her.”

“That was the most surprising thing of all”, Hermione agreed with her with a giggle. “Who knew all it took to stop Malfoy from being such a prat was for (y/n) to date him.”

“I mean he even called Harry by his first name the last time we saw him instead of Potter”, Ron added to the conversation. 

“I still miss her this summer”, Ginny complained with a groan. “It’s not the same without her.”

That was the beginning of you spending every summer with Draco instead of at the Burrow with the Weasley’s like every other summer. 

———

He was walking along Hogsmeade after a long day of work. He was headed towards the Three Broomsticks to meet up with George who had taken a few days off from the shop that day. He hadn’t been feeling well the past few days and Fred had told him to stay home. He was finally feeling better and to celebrate, George had asked him to meet there for a couple of drinks. It was a pretty calm evening with a few people walking about the area. Fred mostly went unnoticed by others just trying to get home for the night. 

That’s when he saw you coming out of the dress store with your mother and Narcissa Malfoy by your side. (Y/N) had a huge grin on her face as she carried a large white box with a beautiful ribbon to tie it all up. It was your wedding dress. He just knew it was that. A large smile decorated your face as you seemed ecstatic about the contents of the box. He turned quickly into a different alleyway to avoid running into you. 

He was going to be needing something stronger than butterbeer tonight. 

——-

Fred and George were currently on their way to their parent’s home to visit them for the evening. Life had been hectic and he hadn’t had a chance to see them in a couple of days. Plus it was one night where he would not have to cook for himself and George. Nothing beats a home-cooked meal from your mum on days like these. 

They didn’t even bother knocking as they entered the home. 

“Mum your favorites have arrived”, Fred announced loudly teasingly as he saw Ron sitting on the couch. 

“I didn’t know Charlie and Bill were dropping by”, Ron said without lifting his gaze from the book on his lap.

“That hurts Ronnie”, George played around as he wiped a fake tear from his cheek.

“Anyway, where is mum?”

“They’re upstairs trying on the bridesmaid dressed for the future Mrs. Malfoy’s wedding”, Ron said with a snicker. “Mione and Ginny I mean.”

“I still can’t believe that it’s coming up so soon”, Fred responded as he sat next down to his brother. 

“I am just excited about the food”, George said with a laugh. “I know it will be good.”

“Nice to know you care about me”, a teasing voice said from the stairs. Fred knew that voice and giggle anywhere. They all turned to where the voice was coming from.

“You know what I mean”, George said with a smile. He got up and greeted (y/n) with a hug. “It’s nice to see you again.”

He caught a glimpse of your engagement ring shining in light. Only the best for you.

“I’ve been busy”, she answered simply. “Weddings are a big thing to plan. Especially one that is only a about a two weeks away”

“How the joke shop?” (Y/N) questioned George. “Ginny has told me it’s been going amazingly for you two.”

“Right it has been”, George agreed. “Those Hogwarts kids are great customers. Right, Freddie?”

“Way to make us seem old Georgie”, Fred laughed as he looked directly at her. “It’s nice to see you (y/n).”

“Nice to see you too Fred”, she said, giving him a friendly smile. Not the same one she would give him years ago. 

“Are you staying for dinner darling”, mum said as she came down the stairs with Ginny and Hermione trailing just behind. 

“I’m sorry Mrs. Weasley”, (y/n) apologized. “I would love to but I had promised my parents I’d be eating with them tonight. Plus I still have to get home and see if Draco is back from work.”

You’d made a home with him already. One that he had promised you all those years ago.

“Don’t worry darling.” Mum said with a gentle smile. “You’re invited to dinner whenever you would like.”

“Thank you so much.” (Y/N) said as she hugged mum goodbye. She waved to everyone else and she was gone out the door. 

———

The day of the wedding finally came and he had decided to go. He wanted an opportunity to see you dressed in white. Fred walked over with his family to the Malfoy Manor. They’re escorted to the garden in the back to wait for the beginning of the ceremony. It was decorated with your favorite flowers, white roses. Flowers that symbolized innocence, youthfulness, eternal loyalty. 

The eternal loyalty you were about to pledge to Malfoy for the rest of your lives. 

Fred anxiously waited for the ceremony to start. He looked around the space and saw many of his former classmates interacting with each other. It wasn’t long before the ceremony started. 

Draco enters….

Your wedding party enters….

Everyone stands for your entrance….

The wedding march starts….

You walk down the aisle hand in hand with your father. You looked stunning in your wedding dress. Darling how I wish I was the one watching you walk towards me. You don’t spare a glance to where I’m standing. I’m probably the farthest thing from your mind. And I’m glad you don’t because I don’t think my heart would take it. He watches on a Malfoy cries at the sight of you walking towards him. Fred knew if he was in his place he’d probably do the same.

Because even though all I want to do is run up to that alter and tell you exactly how I feel, I simply won’t. I've seen how happy you are with him, and I can't ever do that to you. Even though I sit here to watch you wed another man and break my heart in the process. 

Why am I even here? Why did I even come? 

He watches as you pledge your love for Draco. Vowing to stay with him every moment of your lives together. He watched as you said “I do” through your tears. 

You make such a lovely bride. Maybe in another lifetime or reality, you’re mine. But in this one darling, we just weren’t meant to be. 

Maybe in another lifetime, I’ll be able to hold you close and never let go. In this one, I foolishly took you for granted and let you slip from my arms into the firm grasp of another man. 

I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I couldn’t resist seeing you in white. 

Because sometimes two souls are only meant to just be in each other’s life for a while; awaiting the lifetime where they’ll meet again but this time forever. 

Alternative Ending:

Fred stood alone in his shop tonight. Wanting to throw himself into work to ignore the pain in his chest. He took another swing of the bottle of fire whisky in an attempt to drown out all the intrusive thoughts running through his mind. He spent the evening thinking about how he wished it was him marrying you, waiting at the end of the aisle. You’d be getting married next week and he couldn’t do anything about it. He knew he messed up all those years ago, and he’d do anything to turn back time. 

He heard the door chime as someone opened the door. He must have forgotten to lock up in his current state. 

“We’re closed”, he yelled out towards the door. He didn’t bother to lift his head to talk to them. Not wanting to be seen in this state. 

“Freddie?”

This caused an instant reaction from him. He’d know that voice anywhere.

“(Y/N/N)”, he whispered. He was afraid you’d disappear at any moment. A hallucination.

“I missed you. I need you.”

“I missed you too.”

I know it’s not the best alternative ending but I kind of left it open for the reader to decide. It is a little something for those who would choose Fred instead. Do they realize they actually loved Fred after all this time? Is Fred just losing it and imagining this? It’s up to you to decide!

Click here for Valentine’s Day Shipping

Taglist: @keepsmilingandstayhappy @sarcasticallywitty15 @adrianpuceyishot @dracoismybabey @little-me204 @loveforreading @stephaniewinchester-weasley @cronen 

Reminder: None of my work can be reposted anywhere. It doesn’t matter if you give credit, please do not repost!

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

This I Promise You - Life in the ER

I’ve been playing around with this for a bit now. I had an itch to write Katherine and Jack’s wedding date from the “Life in the ER” series. So without further ado, here’s their wedding.

Disclaimers: I do not own anything that you’re familiar with - names, songs, lyrics, etc.

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, mentions of blood

Katherine’s Dress

Also, I have the next three “Life in the ER” installments figured out. If there’s something you would like to see in this series, please send me a message.

Many, many, many thanks to @thebarkeepwrites for your many chats with me regarding this section. This wouldn’t have been written without your help and encouragement!!!

June 3, 2017

She stared at herself in the mirror. She had just put on her emerald green dress and was giving herself one more glance before the rest of the wedding party would see her, most importantly before Jack would see her. She had never wanted to be the blushing bride in a white dress. She had found the A-line V-neck asymmetrical dress online and had fallen in love with it immediately. It had lace on the skirt and her niece deemed it the perfect twirly dress.

She was in an old barn, turned wedding venue, where she would marry the love of her life. Her and Jack had been dating for five years and after six months of an engagement, they were finally saying their “I Do’s”. And she couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day, the sun was shining bright and the temperatures were in the mid 70’s, a perfect day for an outdoor wedding.

Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down an invisible wrinkle before relaxing her shoulders and turning away from the mirror. She slipped into her kitten heels, making her way across the room. She took a deep breath, hand on the handle, opening the door.

Stepping into the doorway, her eyes down to the ground, hearing several gasps as she slowly lifted her eyes to those waiting in the room for her. “So?”

“You look gorgeous, Kat. Absolutely stunning. That dress looks 1000 times better than you lead us to believe.” Spot exclaimed. Race eagerly nodded his head, adding on. “Pure perfection, Kat. Jack’s not going to know what to do.”

“That dress is stunning.” Albert wolfwistled, grinning at her.

Davey stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. “Jackie’s not going to know what to think or say when he sees you.”

She bit her lip, blushing. “You sure?”

Abby, her college roommate, stepped forward and grinned at her best friend. “He’s sure; I’m sure; we’re all sure. You look perfect, Katie. Absolutely amazing. You clean up well girl.”

Kat laughed. “Thank you, you all know how to make a girl feel good on her wedding day.”

“If you didn’t already steal his heart, this would’ve definitely done it.” Ellie, her older sister, grinned.

The door opened, drawing her attention away from all of them to whoever entered the room. Penelope, the wedding planner they had hired, was standing there with a tight smile on her face. “Hi Penelope. Is everything going smoothly today?”

“Absolutely. We’re on time with the timeline.” She smiled. “Jack’s ready for your first look, if you are.”

Kat took a deep breath, putting a smile on her face as she eagerly nodded. She gave her friends a wide grin before she walked out of the room, following Penelope to the designated area she was going to have the first look with her future husband.

Weaving through the old barn to the accompanying garden, Penelope slid open the door, giving her a grin. “You have ten minutes. I’ll come get you both when it’s time.”

Stepping through the doorway, she closed the distance between where she stood and where Jack stood with his back to her. She knew the photographer was hidden somewhere in the vicinity but she only had eyes for the man in front of her. He had his back to her, dressed in jeans, a white shirt, and a navy vest. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows.

Walking closer to him, she reached her hand out and put it on his back. She felt the hitch in his breath as he realized she was behind him. “Can I turn around now? You’ve kept me waiting a long time, Pulitzer.”

“You can turn around.” She said, as she took a step back.

Jack didn’t waste any time turning around. She smiled seeing his jaw drop as he slowly dragged in the sight of her. “Kat, you look-.” He trailed off as he reached her hand and laced it with his, giving it a squeeze. “You look amazing, like a princess. You told me you had a different dress but I love it. You look stunning. I’m a lucky man, Kat.”

“And look at how you dress up.” Kat reached out and smoothed out the invisible wrinkle on his white shirt. “You look quite handsome, Kelly. And I’m the lucky one.”

He leaned over and nuzzled her cheek. “Oh how much I want to kiss you right now.”

“The feeling is mutual, sir.” She murmured, leaning up and kissing his cheek. “Only fifteen minutes before you and I are standing in front of all of our friends and family saying our vows and we’re married.”

Without another word, Jack pulled her to him, his right hand in hers as his left gripped her waist. Her left hand wrapped around his shoulder as he started gently swaying. “I love you so much Katherine Pulitzer and I cannot wait to vow myself to you and become your husband.”

“I love you too, my sap.” Kat’s eyes welled up with tears. “Dammnit Kelly, you’re not supposed to make me cry yet.”

She heard the door slide open, knowing their time was up. He took their linked hands and gently kissed the back of her right hand. “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle, hot shot.”

“See you soon, beautiful.” He winked, squeezing her hand, watching her walk away, with a smirk on his face that she would soon be his wife.

Kat had a big smile on her face as she walked back through the barn to the room she had gotten ready in. She could hear the murmured conversations of their guests as they took their seats.

When she entered the room, she saw Race, Spot, Abby, Albert, Ellie, and Davey all standing there talking along with her parents and Medda. She grinned at all of them, pulling the door shut behind her. “Hello.”

“Can we have a moment alone with you, Katherine?” Medda asked, motioning to her parents with a smile.

Nodding, Katherine watched their friends leave the room. She smiled at her parents and Medda, waiting for someone to make the first move. Medda sighed, stepping forward, lacing her hand with Katherine’s hand. “You have made Jack so happy for so long. I’m so excited that you’re finally joining our family. I’ve long considered you a daughter and I’m glad you’re making it official today. Jack’s a lucky man but so are we. Welcome to the family, Katherine.”

Medda pulled her into a hug, as Kat quickly wiped her eyes. “Thank you Medda. Love you.”

“Love you too, dear.” Kissing her cheek, Medda stepped back, allowing her mom and dad to step forward.

Her mom, Kate, grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You look gorgeous, my girl. And your father and I are so proud of you. Jack may not have been our first choice but he’s been wonderful for you and he’s going to be a good man to you as you step forward together in marriage. We love you.”

“Love you too, momma.” She said as she squeezed her mother’s hand.

Looking over at her father, she could see he wanted to be anywhere but where he currently was. Joseph Pulitzer was a man of many words, when he wanted to be. But on his daughter’s wedding date, he seemed to lose them all. “Katherine, you’ve always been the daughter of ours that forged her own path. Your mother and I tried to steer you in a direction we thought was right but you always went your own way. A career in the medical field wasn’t what we had in mind but you have flourished at being a physician assistant. We’re so proud of you and the life that you’ve created for yourself. Love you my darling girl.”

Throwing herself into her father’s arms, Katherine breathed in deeply the familiar scent of ink and paper that she had always associated with her father. “Love you daddy.”

“Thank you three for all your support these last few years. It’s been a crazy ride but thanks to you three, you have supported us through this journey. Your love for Jack and myself have been a great blessing. So thank you for everything you’ve done. Jack and I wouldn’t be here without you.” Kat smiled at them, just as Penelope opened the door.

“It’s time.”

Her mom and Medda gave her another hug before they left the room, leaving her with her father. She looped her arm through his before tugging him out of the room and to the grassy area where she would wait until it was time for her to walk down the aisle.

Penelope handed her bouquet, a mixed colored bouquet filled with white ranunculuses, pale pink peonies, white hydrangeas, blush and navy roses, and eucalyptus to tie the entire bouquet together. Her bridesmaids carried similar bouquets while Spot had a white ranunculus pinned to his lapel, just like Jack, Davey, Race, and Albert.

Her father stopped as she looked at the people in front of her. Davey, Race, and Albert were standing up for Jack and would be up front with him already. Ellie, Abby, and Spot were standing up with her.

Spot turned around and winked at her as Penelope slid open the door and motioned Ellie to start walking down the aisle. She watched Ellie walk as Abby moved forward, ready to make her way down. She looked up at her dad with a smile. “Don’t let me fall, daddy.”

“Never.” He promised as she watched Spot walk down the aisle with a swagger he always carried himself with. She chuckled to herself watching him until he joined Ellie and Abby at the altar.

She listened to the piano music change to Pachebol’s Canon as her father guided her forward. Just as the cello joined the piano, she felt her dad walk forward as the two made their way slowly down the aisle.

She gripped her father’s arm tighter, afraid she might trip on the slightly uneven grass. Taking a deep breath, she looked down the aisle towards Jack and his groomsmen. Locking eyes with Jack, in that moment, everything came together. Nothing else mattered in that moment. She was walking towards her future of being Mrs. Jack Kelly. The butterflies erupted in her tummy at the thought but she smiled at him, excitement radiating off her body. Though she had seen him fifteen minutes ago, he was still in awe of her and his mouth dropped.

Soon, she was standing in front of her beloved, as her father squeezed her hand before putting it in Jack’s. He kissed her cheek before joining her mother. Their minister, Fr Williams, smiled at them both.

“Dearly beloved, we gather here to witness the union between Jack Kelly and Katherine Pulitzer. Before we begin, does anyone object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Kat and Jack glanced around the chapel, daring anyone to speak up. After a few uncomfortable moments, Fr Williams chuckled and continued on with the ceremony.

“Marriage is a sacred act, between two people in the presence of God, their family and friends. Jack and Katherine have decided on their own twist to the ceremony. I believe Amelia will start us off with a poem.”

Katherine smiled at her younger sister as she stood from the pew, making her way to the lectern. “A poem from Elizabeth Barret Browning.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right; I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Amelia smiled at Katherine before making her way back to the pew. Fr. Williams waited until she was seated before looking at Katherine and Jack.

“Jack and Katherine have chosen to write their own vows. Jack, you may go ahead.”

Squeezing their linked hands, Jack smiled at his bride. “Do you remember the very first day that we met? I knew the very first moment I saw you, I was going to marry you someday. I knew we were meant to be together for all of our days. You have become my lover, my companion, and my best friend. There's no one else I'd want to build a life with. I get to have you by my side, my love and my wife, for eternity. From this day forth, I promise to listen to you and learn from you, to support you and accept your support. I will celebrate your successes and mourn your losses as though they were my own. I will laugh with you, cry with you, scream with you, and grow with you. Give me your bad hair days, your long nights, your burnt dinners, and lost keys. Give me your everyday, and I will give you my love to make it alright. This I vow to you today and always.”

Katherine reached up and wiped a few stray tears away, squeezing Jack’s hand. Fr. Williams smiled at the couple. “Katherine, you may recite your vows.”

“How lucky am I to call you mine? Your love and trust makes me a better person, each and every day. Not only do I promise that my love for you will grow with each day, but I promise to be your friend and partner every step of the way. I will be there for you, day or night, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I trust, appreciate, cherish, and respect you. I promise to share with you my hopes and dreams as we build our lives together. You make me laugh, you make me think, and above all, you make me happy. You, my love, are my everything. This I vow to you today and always.”

“You have chosen to seal your vows by the giving and receiving of rings. The ring forms a perfect circle, without a beginning or an end, and is thereby a symbol of eternity and signifies the duration of the commitment you are making. Let us now exchange these rings.”

Handing a beat up gold ring to Katherine, Fr Williams looked at her. “Katherine, repeat after me: I give you this ring, as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and with all that I have, I will honor you.”

“I give you this ring, as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and with all that I have, I will honor you.” Katherine smiled, sliding the ring onto Jack’s ring finger. He squeezed her hand with a smile before Fr. Williams continued.

Handing a dainty gold ring to Jack, Fr. Williams looked at him. “Jack, repeat after me: I give you this ring, as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and with all that I have, I will honor you.”

“I give you this ring, as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and with all that I have, I will honor you.” Jack grinned, sliding Katherine’s wedding band onto her ring finger, so that it nestled close to her emerald and gold engagement ring.

“And now, by the authority invested in me as a preacher, and in accordance with the laws of the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jack, you may kiss your wife.”

Catcalls, clapping, and excited cheers rang out from both sides of the aisles as Jack pulled Katherine into his arms and dramatically dipped her before kissing her not so chastly. Settling Katherine back on her feet, Jack pulled her close to him and dropped a chaste kiss on his lips before linking their hands together.

Fr. Williams grinned at the couple before clearing his throat. “It is my pleasure to introduce to you, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Jack and Katherine Kelly.”

The noise level in the small area escalated as the two raised their hands in celebration before walking down the aisle to the catcalls of their friends. Walking straight into the barn, Katherine drugged Jack behind a column, where the two wouldn’t immediately be found. Pulling Jack to her chest, she grinned before kissing him. “Hello husband.”

“Hello wife.” He pulled back, enjoying the flustered look on his wife’s face as she grinned. “Well, we did it. We’re married.”

“And thank goodness it’s over. I was so nervous I was going to mess up my vows.” She confessed, looking

Jack leaned over and kissed her. “Your vows were perfect, you look amazing, and I love you so much. Thank you for making me the happiest man alive.”

“And you’re going to make your new wife cry.” She warned giving him a look. “Thank you for making me the happiest woman alive.”

Penelope came up to their side, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry but I need you two for the receiving line then afterwards you can sign your marriage certificate before we leave for photos.”

Jack and Katherine sighed, stole one more kiss before they went to stand outside the doors of the barn to greet all of their family and friends. After many hugs and kisses and compliments, they quickly signed their marriage certificate with Spot and Race by their sides.

They had a few yard games set up and an open bar for their guests to enjoy while the wedding party went for photos. There were several acres that were a perfect set up for photos. Katherine was laughing most of the time due to the antics of the bridal party. She couldn’t wait to see the photos and hoped that there were a few great ones.

Dismissing the wedding party, the photographer wanted a few photos of just Katherine and Jack. She gasped as Jack dramatically dipped her, causing the photographer to grin at the great shots the two were providing her.

After the two were done with photos, they headed back to the party. Standing just on the outside of the festivities, Katherine squeezed Jack’s hand and grinned. “Thank you for making me the happiest lady around, Kelly.”

“That wasn’t just for your benefit, Kat. I’m so happy you’re my wife.” He leaned over and softly kissed her. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She grinned. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Stopping at the bar, they each got a beverage before they started to mingle with their guests. Katherine was tugged over to where her grandpa was sitting while Jack was pulled in the opposite direction to see colleagues of his from work. The entire time they were apart, the smiles never left either of their faces.

Penelope got everyone’s attention and directed them to the tent so they could start the speeches and festivities. One of the things that Katherine was adamant about was not having a seating chart. There were tables set up but everyone could sit wherever they wanted. There was a long table at the front of the tent for the bridal party but everyone else could sit wherever they wanted. She wanted it to be intimate by not enforcing a seating chart - she wanted her guests to sit wherever and with whomever they wanted.

As soon as everyone was seated, Race was handed the microphone. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Race, Jack’s younger brother. I’ve had the pleasure of knowing Jack for most of his life. Before I begin, here’s a heads up, I asked Jack before writing this speech if there was anything that I shouldn’t say, and he said no. So if I spill the beans today, it is all his fault. Katherine, you look radiant today, the most gorgeous bride I have ever seen. Jack is definitely a lucky man. And I’m luckiest to have gained another sister today.”

Katherine blew him a kiss as she smiled. “Alright, alright, before Jack kills me, I should stop goofing around! In all seriousness, Kat by marrying my brother, you are getting a husband who is kind and compassionate, who will not only be a great husband but a best friend who will be there for you at each step of the way. In you, he has found the love of his life, which shouldn’t be a surprise for anyone because you are the most tender-hearted woman I have ever seen. And I know that you will make the best wife for Jack. I can see in Jack’s eyes how much he loves you, the kind of love that keeps growing every single day.”

Race cleared his throat, as he looked at his older brother. “Jack, you have always pushed me to be a better person, and seeing you today becoming the man you are and starting a family with this lovely lady is so inspiring to me. Let us all raise our glasses to the new Mr. and Mrs. Kelly and wish them a long and beautiful married life!”

Jack stood up and pulled Race into a hug as Katherine did the same. She pulled back, wiping her eyes before hitting him. “That was the sweetest speech ever. Thank you, Race.”

As Katherine’s Man of Honor, Spot took the microphone from Race. “As Race said, I want to welcome you to this reception where we’re going to celebrate Katherine and Jack for finally tying the knot. They took their sweet time but it’s time to celebrate the long awaited ceremony. If you do not know me, I’m Spot Conlon, Katherine’s Man of Honor. Kat and I have known each other since college, where we met in our freshman Biology class. She split strawberries all over me as we were supposed to extract the DNA from them. Despite that sticky situation, we became best friends.”

She rolled her eyes as he grinned brightly at her. “I never had a sister, but Kat has been my stand-in sister for all these years. Kat has always been there for me, through good days and bad days, and usually with a glass of wine in her hand. She is always ready for anything, from an evening curled up on the couch in sweats, to a night on the town. Jack has truly met his match in my best friend and I couldn’t have picked a better man for her. I have one final piece of advice for you two lovebirds: Never stop laughing, even when the jokes are lame. I wish them well for a long, happy, and prosperous future together. I would like to thank you both for the honor of giving this speech, it has been a great day, and I, like everyone here, am privileged to share it with you. Ladies and Gentlemen, please be upstanding and raise your glasses for the first of many toasts. Here’s to the future, for all that you look forward to together. To the Bride … Katherine…The new Mrs. Kelly.”

Everyone cheered for them as Kat walked over to Spot. “That was great. Thank you for bringing up the strawberry DNA story.”

“It’s the best and it cemented our friendship forever and ever.” Spot grinned as she pulled him into a hug before kissing his cheek. “Love you Spottie.”

“Love you too Kat.” He grinned as he shook Jack’s hand.

As they took their seats once more, Penelope explained how the rest of the night would go. The bridal party would get food first then the rest of the guests could help themselves. Katherine didn’t waste any time as she beelined it for the buffet that had been set up. They had several options of BBQ, mac and cheese, and baked beans. When her and Jack had set the menu, she didn’t want any fuss when it came to food. She wanted to spend time with friends and family and not have a big production. She wanted her wedding and reception to be very laid back and fun and so far, it was working and she couldn’t be happier.

After she grabbed a plate, she headed back to the tent to sit. Releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she eagerly dug into her food, not eating since earlier that morning at breakfast. Jack soon joined her while Spot sat on her other side. “So what is your first dance song going to be?”

Kat shrugged before shaking her head. “Don’t know. I had Jack pick and made him promise he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Jack picked your first dance song?” Race asked, sitting on Spot’s side looking at his brother and new sister-in-law.

Nodding, Kat finished her last bite before pushing her plate away. “It was one less thing I didn’t have to decide on. Besides, he’s really good at picking songs. I’m not worried.”

“What if he picks “You’re Beautiful” by James Blunt?” Spot asked, while Kat rolled her eyes.

Smacking Spot’s shoulder, she glanced at Jack before turning back to Spot. “He knows I hate that song so he’s not going to pick that.”

“You’re a brave woman to let him pick.” Race smirked. “When I get married, it’s going to be “At Last” because it’ll be a long time coming.”

Spot threw his head back and laughed. “Honestly, their song should be “At Last” because it’s taken them five years to walk down the aisle.”

“No, Jack won’t do that. It may play later but I don’t think he will do that.” Kat gave them a look before pausing, narrowing her eyes at the two. “Unless there’s a bet on the line. Sean, Anthony, do you have a bet going on right now?”

Race put on a surprisingly shocked face. “Us, a bet? Katherine, I think you’ve officially lost your mind. We would NEVER bet on your wedding.”

“Don’t believe them, they are totally betting on the first dance and who’s going to hook up with who.” Jack leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Between you and me, they’re not even in the ballpark for the first dance song.”

Race gave his older brother a look. “Thanks Jack for ruining that. Now she’s going to kill us.”

“I don’t want bloodshed at my wedding so I’ll save the killing for another day.” She stood up, giving them both looks, pointing her finger at them sternly. “No more betting at my wedding.”

Penelope called her and Jack over to the small cake they had gotten. Jack had the great idea of having a dessert buffet rather than having just cake served. They had worked with a baker to have cupcakes, lemon bars, chocolate chip cookies, and sugar cookies made for their guests to enjoy.

Standing beside her husband, she narrowed her eyes at him. “No getting cake on my dress, Kelly. I want to wear this again someday soon.”

“So I can smash the cake on your face, just not your dress?” He had a glint of mischief in his eyes. All she could do was grin, shake her head, and lean over to kiss him.

Gripping the knife, she watched him put his hand on top of hers before they cut a small piece. She cut that piece into two, setting down the knife and picking up a piece. Holding it up, she fed it to Jack, who hummed his approval. “That’s really good.”

He picked up his piece and fed it to her, careful to not get any of the icing anywhere besides her mouth. “You’re right, that was good. I was anticipating a smashed piece, to tell you the truth.”

“Well I thought about all the ways you could punish me and I decided against it.” He whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, before pulling back and looking at her mischievously.

She laughed loudly, leaning up to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too Kat.”

They posed for several photos with the photographer before they made their way to the dessert table to grab a few treats. Making their way around the area, they mingled with guests, made small talk and thanked everyone for joining them on their big day.

Walking over to the bar, she got a glass of water and took a moment to herself. Unfortunately, that moment was short lived as Davey came up to her and wrapped her in a hug. “Congratulations, again Mrs. Kelly.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him back before sipping on her water. “And thank you for everything you’ve done for Jack and me. I know we don’t say it often, but we truly appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Davey waved her off with a grin. “You and Jack are some of my best friends, it’s no worries at all. But you’ve opened my eyes to more stuff about a wedding in the last few months than I ever wanted to know so I don’t know if I should be really thanking you for that.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “You loved every moment of it Davey. Don’t deny it. You’ve got a good thing going with Maisie. You should make it official.”

“There’s a reason I won’t be married for a really long time. I think you may have scared me of weddings for the rest of my life.” He grinned as Jack came up to her and slid his hand into hers. “I think it will be a long time before I can look at fabric swatches again.”

Jack laughed, shaking his head at his wife. “She won’t let you forget it for a long time. Hon, it’s time for our first dance.”

Kat shook her head, looking at Davey. “Catch up/wind down dinner some time this week before you and Maise leave us for California?”

“Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it.” He grinned, as Jack tugged her towards the barn for their first dance.

“Ugh why do people have to move away?” She pouted, as Jack paused in the entrance of the barn. “It’s not going to be the same as having Davey down the street. He’s going to be across the country.”

Leaning over, Jack kissed her. “Well we now have a place to go visit.”

Throwing her arms around his shoulder, she grinned standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Have I mentioned lately that you’re brilliant?”

“No but I think you should remind me several more times.” He grinned, returning her kiss with a sweet one of his own. “Now come on, we’ve got a first dance to do.”

He led her to the middle of the makeshift dance floor, pulling her into his arms as the DJ announced that this would be their first dance as husband and wife. He took her right hand in his as she threw her left over his shoulder. “So what did you pick for our first dance?”

She lit up as she heard the beginning notes of “Feels Like Home”, a song that had always had a special place in her heart. “You know me too well.”

“You should’ve seen me listening to so many acoustic songs trying to narrow it down to two or three and go from there.” Jack smiled. “Momma, Smalls, and Albert weren’t helpful and Race hated every song I listened to. I was about to give up when I heard this version and knew it had to be this song.”

She quietly sang the lyrics to him as he gently swayed them around the dance floor. “You know, you’re my home, right?”

Her eyes looked up at him with amazement and awe. “You’re my home too, Jack. Always have been since we were in college and more now than ever as we build our home together. Love you.”

“Love you too Kat.” He gave her a kiss as the song came to an end. They both drastically bowed as their guests clapped at their dance.

She had no sooner stepped away from Jack when Race swept her into his arms and started dancing with her to “You Got a Friend In Me”. “Did you specifically request this song?”

“Of course. We had to dance to this song with our mutual love of Toy Story.” Race enthusiastically nodded as he twirled her around.

There was a weekend that they had watched all three Toy Story movies back to back and they had memorized most of the quotes. Both of them had been bears to watch any Disney movies as they often quoted the movies and sang loudly and off tuned to the songs.

“Hey Race, I know I thank you for the speech earlier but thank you for everything you and Spot have done for Jack and I. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you two by our sides.” She smiled.

Pressing a loud, slobbery kiss to her cheek, he shrugged. “I’ve always wanted an older sister. Sure, Smalls is a great sister but I always wanted a sister who was older than me and could give me all the great advice. I have you now and I couldn’t have asked for a better older sister. Spottie and I will always be here for you and Jack.”

"So who won the bet?" She asked, raising her eyebrows warning him not to dodge the question.

Race chuckled. "Neither of us. I had "At Last" picked and Spot had "Stand By Me". Neither of us won. But I did win the bet about who would hook up with who."

"You've got to spill the beans on that one." She said, looking around the space, trying to figure out who was talking about.

Pressing his lips together, Race quickly shook his head. "Come find me later and I'll tell you."

“Love you Race.”

“Love you too Kat. Now I think my boyfriend has been waiting for an opportunity to dance with you before the big surprise.” Race grinned.

Before she could ask about the big surprise, Race was gone and Spot had taken his place. “You okay?”

“Your boyfriend mentioned something about a surprise and left before I could ask him about it.” She tilted her head in confusion as Spot took her hand in his. “Know anything about that, Conlon?”

The music faded from the previous song into “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol as Kat smiled. This was definitely a favorite of hers and Spot’s; they often sang it off key and loudly as they baked the afternoon away in one of their kitchens.

Spot shook his head. “Nope - but I know he and Jack have been brainstorming about something but they didn’t clue me in. Albert may know something.”

“I’ll have to track him down later.” She said as he twirled her around. She let her eyes wander as they gently swayed to the music. “You having a good time? It looks like everyone is.”

Spot nodded. “You were a genius to have yard games set up for the guests to have something to do besides dance and mingle. There have been several competitive cornhole games going on.”

“Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to happen.” She smirked, sighing. “I’m glad now we can just relax, have fun, and dance the night away.”

Spot gave her a look. “Have you talked to your Aunt Patty and Uncle Stan yet?”

“Ugh, I hate you, Spot Conlon.” She gave him a look. “I know I have to do it but I don’t want to. I don’t like them.”

He laughed. “There’s a thing called alcohol that can give you the liquid courage needed. Besides, I can always interrupt you telling you we need you for something.”

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” She asked, giving him a grin.

Jack, dancing with his younger sister, gave Spot a glare. “Hands off buddy, she’s mine.”

“Duly noted, Jackie.” Spot grinned. “Besides, my significant other is around here somewhere and I want to pin him down for a dance of my own.”

As the song finished, Kat and Spot parted, her to go say hello to her distant family members while Spot went to track down Race.

An hour later, after Ellie and Abby saved her from making small talk with her family, she found herself standing in front of the cornhole boards with a vodka lemonade in her hand. She heard the loud scratching from the microphone as it was passed between the DJ and someone.

“Ummm excuse me. Can I have your attention?” She looked up as Jack stood in the barn door with a big grin on his face. Spot, Race, Albert, and Finch were slightly behind him, each man had a grin on their face and a microphone in their hand. Normally, Kat would worry but she was too blissed out at seeing her husband with a microphone in his hand. “I would like to thank you all for coming to our wedding. Katherine and I are so grateful for your support and love. Before we all part ways, I have one more surprise for my blushing bride.”

He shielded his eyes from the sun as he scanned the crowd for her. Pointing in her direction, he smirked. “Now, as some of you may or may not know, Kat is a big boy band fan. I mean, her first concert was *NSYNC when she was a kid. In the course of five years of dating, I have been to a few boy band concerts, including One Direction, Hanson, and Backstreet Boys. But one boy band remains supreme for Kat. So, my wife, this surprise is for you.”

Before she could do anything, familiar music started playing as her hand flew to her mouth. One of her favorite *NSYNC songs, “This I Promise You” started playing as Jack started singing. She felt people crowd around her as she mouthed the lyrics along with her husband. But the biggest surprise was when Race stepped up and belted out JC’s lyrics. She knew he could sing well but he rarely shared his talent with them.

It was such a simple thing but she couldn’t help falling in love with Jack Kelly once more. And the fact that he roped Spot, Race, Albert, and Finch into it as well, well that was just icing on the cake for Katherine.

Her eyes went wide, watching him swagger towards her with a smirk on his face. He pulled her into his arms as he crooned along to the song. She felt like she was the only one in the world at that moment and he only had eyes for her.

Just close your eyes each loving day And know this feeling won't go away Every word I say is true This I promise you

As he continued to sing, he made his way back up to where the other four were to finish the song. He continued to lock eyes with her as he made a promise through the song.

As soon as the song ended, she rushed forward, throwing herself into Jack’s arms and kissing him. “Best husband ever. I love you for doing that. How long did it take you to learn the lyrics?”

“So long. I listened to that song thousands of times just to make sure I had them right.” Jack grinned. “I think I was more nervous to do that than to say my vows.”

She kissed him again. “You just earned yourself a butt load of brownie points.”

“And what do I do with those brownie points?” Jack wiggled his eyebrows up and down as a blush crept across Kat’s cheeks.

Standing on her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear as his eyes went wide. Nodding quickly, he grabbed her hand and tugged her into the barn for one last dance before they left.

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her as an acoustic version of “God Only Knows” started to play. The old style lights they had meticulously strung earlier in the week had been turned on so there was an intimate setting to the big barn. Others joined them on the dance floor as they twirled in the night.

Jack leaned down, whispering the lyrics in her ear as they swayed gently as the night faded behind them. Katherine wished she could stay in that bubble, swaying slowly with Jack as he sang the lyrics in her ear. She knew there would be few memories that she’d remember for the rest of her life but that was one of them.

God only knows what I'd be without you If you should ever leave me Though life would still go on, believe me The world could show nothing to me So what good would living do me God only knows what I'd be without you

Thank you for reading. What did you think? Did anything surprise you? Feedback would be amazing.

Like I said, I have the next three installments for this series planned but if there's anything you'd like to see, feel free to leave a comment or send me a DM.

[captainscanadian]

Hope | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Prologue)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Why did you have to love Bucky Barnes?

Word Count: 1300+

Pairing: (Eventual) Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Patient!Reader

Warnings: Heartbreak, Bullying

A/N: This fic was my entry for @wkemeup​‘s 4K Writing Challenge. I just decided to rewrite the prologue. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS!

Scarlet sheets soaked in salty tears, quivering lips and trembling hands balled into fists. You fought the urge to let it break you once again, but you knew it was too late. You were already broken, so what even was the point of holding it all in? 

The pain of your first broken heart was one that was not easy to bear, but also one that you should probably get used to. Deep down, you knew that it would be the first of many more to come. But that did not make this any easier, not for a hopeless romantic like yourself. 

“Honey, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on…” Your mother said softly as she stroked your hair, her heart breaking as she heard the sobs of her seventeen year old daughter. “What is it, baby? Did something happen at school?” She asked, pausing for a moment between her questions before she brought up his name. “Is it Bucky?”

You let out an inaudible gasp at the mention of his name, your heart pattering against your chest as you recalled what had happened at school that afternoon. 

Months ago, your face would have lit up when anyone mentioned his name. He was your best friend since you were eight years old, the one person whom you had trusted with all of your secrets and if need be, you would have trusted him with your life. You had loved him for as long as you’d known him, really. 

But now, all you could feel when your mother mentioned his name was… hurt. He had hurt you. While you wanted to believe that it wasn’t his intention to hurt you, deep down you knew that he probably knew what he was doing when he did it. And that hurt you a lot more than the actual heartbreak. 

“Baby, come on… talk to me. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.” 

Wiping away your tears with the back of your hand, you sat up on your bed for a moment. Letting out a sigh of exhaustion, you fought the urge to break into another sob as you looked up at your worried mother. “Mom, I can’t… I can’t do it anymore.” You admitted as you laid your head against her shoulder and cried. “I can’t do it… I can’t… take me out of school, mom. I can’t go back there.”

“Take you out of school?” Your mother asked you, the concerned look on her face never fading. “Y/N, there’s only a few more days of school left. You’ll be graduating next week. Come on, baby… just tell me what’s bothering you. Do you need me to come and talk to the principal?”

You shook your head as you sniffled. “No, no… no, don’t do that. I can’t… I don’t want to cause him any trouble.” You had been so naive, so stupid in love. You should have known better than to put your faith in him when he had rejected you, but you had been blinded by your love to even think straight. “I told Bucky I loved him… I mean, I didn’t say it on my own. I wasn’t ready to… I wasn’t ready to confess. I wanted to wait until graduation but… I’m stupid, mom. I didn’t know how to be subtle about how I felt about him. He figured it out, and asked me about it and… I couldn’t lie about it. I could never lie to him. Me being me, an absolute idiot, I told him that I did have feelings for him.”

“Oh sweetie…” She frowned, rubbing your back once again. 

“I thought he’d understand, mom. I thought he’d feel the same way because… it wasn’t something that came out of nowhere. It was what I’d always been feeling that I only realized now and… I thought he felt the same way about me.” You admitted, feeling your heart break once again at the reality of it all. “He didn’t… he didn’t have to love my back, mom. I could have lived with that. But what he did was… a thousand times worse.”

“What did he do, Y/N?”

“He told Brock about it, you know, the guy he’s been hanging out with a lot lately. I told you, right? Brock’s not a nice guy… he spread it around the whole school and now everyone knows that… I can’t go back there, mom.” You replied, sobbing once more as you began to convince yourself that Bucky did not love you and he probably never will. But what you hadn’t realized that night… was that Bucky did love you. But by the time he realized it, it was too late. 

You hadn’t even gone to your senior prom because of how humiliated you felt. And on graduation, you stayed as far away from Bucky as you possibly could, avoiding his gaze the whole time. 

The summer after your senior year, you had packed up your entire life in Shelbyville, Indiana and moved across the country to sunny California. After obtaining your degree in English Literature from UCLA, you interned at a publishing house before going on to write your own romance novel series entitled Hopeless. A series revolving around a hopeless romantic by the name of Hope Anderson, each novel focused on a different time in the main character’s life when she comes across a different love interest. 

The first novel had been of Hope during her freshman year at Stanford, when she had briefly dated a guitarist named Reid after seeing him perform at a bar. At her young age, dating a guitarist did seem cool at first. Even though Reid had written a song about her when he had confessed his love, Hope ended up breaking up with him after just a few months of dating because she was still in love with her high school best friend. That was the end of that. 

Next was Ethan, whom she probably assumed to be the love of her life. They had dated for four years while attending medical school together and even moved in with each other. But just as she had expected him to propose to her, he had broken up with her in the name of focusing on completing medical school. A few weeks later, she had seen him around town with a younger woman and that was the end of that. 

In the third novel, Hope had moved across the country to begin her new job as a surgical resident. Having lost all hope that she would ever find her one true love, she begins an unethical yet no-strings-attached kind of relationship with one of the older doctors at the hospital where she works. While Dr. Jake Winston was a whole decade older than Hope, the man was mature and treated her with the kind of respect that none of the other men in her life had given her. While there were no feelings involved in their affair, being with him had been the happiest she had ever been. At the end of the novel, you had left it off as they were continuing their friendship with benefits. But whether it comes to an end or not, you were yet to decide. 

There was a fourth novel in the works, but you hadn’t started writing it just yet. Inspiration was not all that easy to find anymore. However, you had plenty of time to complete it, thanks to the publisher being lenient with the next installment. With your audience wondering whether Hope Anderson would finally find her happy ending in the final installment of the series, you knew that this novel would surely be a hit even though you hadn’t even written it yet. 

A decade has passed since your dreadful days of high school. With your ten year reunion fast approaching, God knows what fate had in mind for your story… and Hope’s. 

[ashleysitalianlitblog]

My Brilliant Friend (HBO Tie-in Edition): Book 1: Childhood and Adolescence

From the famous Italian author Elena Ferrante, the story is about a poor but vibrant neighborhood on the outskirts of Naples, Elena Ferrante’s four-volume story spans almost sixty years, as its main characters, the fiery and unforgettable Lila and the bookish narrator, Elena, become women, wives, mothers, and leaders, all the while maintaining a complex and at times conflicted friendship. This first novel in the series follows Lila and Elena from their fateful meeting as ten-year-olds through their school years and adolescence. This book is now turning into an HBO MAX show and it’s a young adult classic in modern-day Italy

The Story of a New Name (HBO Tie-in Edition): Book 2: Youth

The follow-up to My Brilliant Friend, The Story of a New Name continues the epic New York Times–bestselling literary quartet that has inspired an HBO series and returns us to the world of Lila and Elena, who grew up together in post-WWII Naples, Italy. 

In The Story of a New Name, Lila has recently married and made her entrée into the family business; Elena, meanwhile, continues her studies and her exploration of the world beyond the neighborhood that she so often finds stifling. Marriage appears to have imprisoned Lila, and the pressure to excel is at times too much for Elena. Yet the two young women share a complex and evolving bond that is central to their emotional lives and a source of strength in the face of life’s challenges. In these Neapolitan Novels, Elena Ferrante, “one of the great novelists of our time” (The New York Times), gives us a poignant and universal story about friendship and belonging, a meditation on love and jealousy, freedom and commitment—at once a masterfully plotted page-turner and an intense, generous-hearted family saga. 

Adua

The book Adua is by lgiaba Scego has historical references and looks into the life of an immigrant. The story is about Adua, an immigrant from Somalia to Italy who has lived in Rome for nearly forty years. She came seeking freedom from a strict father and an oppressive regime, but her dreams of becoming a film star ended in shame. Now that the civil war in Somalia is over, her homeland beckons. Yet Adua has a husband who needs her, a young man, also an immigrant, who braved a dangerous crossing of the Mediterranean Sea. When her father, who worked as an interpreter for Mussolini's fascist regime,  dies, Adua inherits the family home. She must decide whether to make the journey back to reclaim her material inheritance, but also how to take charge of her own story and build a future. From the choices of being an adult to a wife, the book gives us a look of the hard choices life gives us in a heartbreaking story. 

100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed

An instant blockbuster in Italy that went on to become an international literary phenomenon, 100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed is the fictionalized memoir of Melissa P., a Sicilian teenager whose quest for love rapidly devolves into a shocking journey of sexual discovery.

Melissa begins her diary a virgin, but a stormy affair at the age of fourteen leads her to regard sex as a means of self-discovery, and for the next two years she plunges into a succession of encounters with various partners, male and female, her age and much older, some met through schoolmates, others through newspaper ads and Internet chat rooms. In graphic detail, she describes her journey through a Dante-Esque underworld of eroticism, where she willingly participates in group sex and sadomasochism, as well as casual pickup

The Scent of Your Breath

Melissa P.’s fictionalized memoir, 100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed, became an international literary phenomenon, selling over two million copies worldwide and provoking a warning from the pope. The Scent of Your Breath, the second installment in her series of confessions, is a tale of obsessive love and destructive passion.

Melissa is now a successful writer in Rome, living with her new lover, Thomas. With his soft body and feminine eyelashes, he is sensual, patient, and comforting—the antithesis of all the men who came before. But as soon as she meets Viola, a young woman from Thomas’s past, Melissa is consumed with jealousy. Written as a confessional letter to her mother, the story that follows is one of dark obsession, violent lust, and soul-destroying talent, teeming with the ghosts and dragonfly-women Melissa is convinced are trying to steal her man and bring about her ruin. The Scent of Your Breath blurs the boundaries between reality and fantasy and delves deep into the disturbing yet strangely familiar mind of a teenage girl terrorized by love.

Three O'Clock in the Morning Is by Italian author Gianrico Carofiglio the contemporary heart-waring piece is about Antonio is eighteen years old and on the cusp of adulthood. His father, a brilliant mathematician, hasn’t played a large part in his life since divorcing Antonio’s mother but when Antonio is diagnosed with epilepsy, they travel to Marseille to visit a doctor who may hold the hope for an effective treatment. It is there, in a foreign city, under strained circumstances, that they will get to know each other and connect for the first time. A beautiful, gritty, and charming port city where French old-world charm meets modern bohemia, father and son stroll the streets sharing strained small talk. But as the hours pass and day give way tonight, the two find themselves caught in a series of caffeine-imbued adventures involving unexpected people (and unforeseen trysts) that connect father and son for the first time. As the two discuss poetry, family, sex, math, death, and dreams, their experience becomes a mesmerizing 48-hour microcosm of a lifetime relationship. Both learn much about illusions and regret, about talent and redemption, and, most of all, about love. This heartwarming story has captured the modern Italian audience. 

Lost Words

Winner of the Viareggio Prize, a vivid portrait of Italy on the brink of social upheaval in the 1970s.The author Nicola Gardini, writes about the Inside an apartment building on the outskirts of Milan, the working-class residents gossip, quarrel, and conspire against each other. Viewed through the eyes of Chino, an impressionable thirteen-year-old boy whose mother is the doorwoman of the building, the world contained within these walls is tiny, hypocritical, and mean-spirited: a constant struggle. Chino finds escape in reading. One day, a new resident, Amelia Lynd, moves in and quickly becomes an unlikely companion and a formative influence on Chino. Ms. Lynd—an elderly, erudite British woman—comes to nurture his taste in literature, introduces him to the life of the mind, and offers a counterpoint to the only version of reality that he’s known. On one level, Lost Words is an engrossing coming-of-age tale set in the seventies, when Italy was going through tumultuous social changes, and on another, it is a powerful meditation on language, literature, and culture.

Things That Happened Before the Earthquake

The book by Chiara Barzini describes a story about Mere weeks after the 1992 riots that laid waste to Los Angeles, Eugenia, a typical Italian teenager, is rudely yanked from her privileged Roman milieu by her hippie-ish filmmaker parents and transplanted to the strange suburban world of the San Fernando Valley. With only the Virgin Mary to call on for guidance as her parents struggle to make it big, Hollywood fashion, she must navigate her huge new public high school, complete with Crips and Bloods and Persian gang members, and a car-based environment of 99-cent stores and obscure fast-food franchises and all-night raves. She forges friendships with Henry, who runs his mother's movie memorabilia store, and the bewitching Deva, who introduces her to the alternate cultural universe that is Topanga Canyon. And then the 1994 earthquake rocks the foundations not only of Eugenia's home but of the future she'd been imagining for herself.

I'll Steal You Away

Italian literary superstar Niccolò Ammaniti’s novel, I’m Not Scared, prompted gushing praise, hit international bestseller lists, and was made into a smash indie film. In I’ll Steal You Away, Ammaniti takes his unparalleled empathy for children, his scythe-sharp observations, and his knack for building tension to a whole new level. In a tiny Italian village, a young boy named Pietro is growing up tormented by bullies and ignored by his parents. When an aging playboy, Graziano Biglia, returns to town, a change is in the air: Pietro decides to take on the bullies, his lonely teacher Flora finds romance with the town’s prodigal son, and the inept janitor at the school proclaims his love for his favorite prostitute. But the village isn’t ready for such change, and when Graziano seduces and forgets Flora, both she and Pietro’s tentative hopes seem crushed forever. With great tenderness, Ammaniti shines light on the heart-wrenching failures and quiet redemptions of ordinary people trying to live extraordinary lives.

Heaven and Earth: A Novel Every summer Teresa follows her father to his childhood home in Puglia, down in the heel of Italy, a land of relentless, shimmering heat, centuries-old olive groves and families who have lived there for generations. She spends long afternoons enveloped in a sunstruck stupor, reading her grandmother's paperbacks.

Everything changes the summer she meets the three boys who live on the farm next door: Nicola, Tommaso and Bern—the man Teresa will love for the rest of her life. Raised like brothers on a farm that feels to Teresa almost suspended in time, the three boys share a complex, intimate, and seemingly unassailable bond.But no bond is unbreakable and no summer truly endless, as Teresa soon discovers.Because there is resentment underneath the surface of that strange brotherhood, a twisted kind of love that protects a dark secret. And when Bern—the enigmatic, restless gravitational center of the group—commits a brutal act of revenge, not even a final pilgrimage to the edge of the world will be enough to bring back those perfect, golden hours in the shadow of the olive trees.

An unforgettable story of enduring love, the bonds between men, and the all-too-human search for meaning, Heaven and Earth is Paolo Giordano at his best: an author capable of unveiling the depths of the human soul, who has now given us the old-fashioned pleasure of a big, sprawling novel in which to lose ourselves

[thetypedwriter]

Imaginary Friend Book Review

Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chbosky Book Review 

This is undoubtedly the weirdest book I have ever read. 

You might be thinking… but, thetypedwriter you read fanfiction! This can’t be the weirdest thing you’ve ever read! Things like ABO universes exist!

You would think that, wouldn’t you?

But no. 

I shall endeavor to give you a spoiler free synopsis of the book first followed by my thoughts and criticism, but note that this is an endeavor for a reason. I have now explained this novel in depth to two different people, and both times I have found myself completely and irrevocably stuck on how to even begin, let alone end. 

With that forewarning, here we go. 

The novel surrounds a single mother and her young son moving to a small Pennsylvania town in order to escape the tragedies of their past that include the passing of her husband and her current abusive boyfriend. 

However, while things in their new home start out well-they find solutions to unemployment, poverty, the son’s dyslexia, etc, things start to go awry when Christopher, the son, is lured into the Mission Street Woods at the edge of town by a voice only he seems to be able to hear. 

As Christopher continues to listen to the voice in the form of a cloud, or a plastic bag, or even inside of his mind, he starts recruiting his friends to build a treehouse in the woods that will transport him to a different time and place. The voice, lovingly called the Nice Man, instructs him to finish the tree house by Christmas Day. 

Or else everyone will die. 

As Christopher struggles with newfound powers and responsibilities, coping with two different worlds, his mother struggles with her son’s sanity, the town struggles with anger, blame, and temptation, and what follows is the chaotic descent of a small town into the throes of good versus evil, love and loss, and most importantly, trying to differentiate what is real versus what is imaginary. 

In the simplest terms possible (a facetious statement if there ever was one), I thought this was going to be a thriller mystery book about a single mother and her young seven-year-old son Christopher leaving their home and her abhorrent abusive boyfriend in order to start a new life with hope and potential. 

And it….is? 

But it doesn’t stop there. Chbosky crams so many genres, themes, motifs, and messages into this book that when you think about it, it’s unsurprising that it’s over 700 pages long with the tiniest, most miniscule font I have ever had to squint at. 

However, make no mistakes like I did, this book is horror. 

Yup. You read that right folks, horror. 

To preface, and I might have mentioned this in another post for another book at some point, but I vehemently dislike horror of any kind. This extends to books, movies, shows, etc. 

I understand that horror is a great joy and pleasure for a vast amount of people and that it contains its own literary merit, tropes, and rules, and I can appreciate that for what it is from afar, but I personally take very little enjoyment from consuming anything horror related (I apologize to all the Stephen King fans out there in the world). 

I did not fully realize the extent to which this book was a true horror. 

This is entirely my own fault. I was very much blinded by the rosy colored glasses from college when I first read The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Chbosky’s first and only other novel. 

Perks is wonderful. It is a tragic, yet fundamentally hopeful and loving bildungsroman that shows the beauty and the pain of growing up and accepting yourself. The movie with Emma Watson is what dreams are made of. 

I committed author fraud when I picked up Imaginary Friend based on the pure speculation that I would most likely like it since he had written Perks, a book I adored as both a reader and a teacher. 

I’ve warned readers against this in the past, but it seems like I should have taken my own advice: just because an author has written one good book or one book you like, does not automatically mean you will like their second book, or any of their other books for that matter. 

This cannot possibly ring more true for Stephen Chbosky, as not only are his two books completely different in narrative and structure, but also vastly different in genre and purpose. 

I should have stuck with my gut and realized that I probably wouldn’t like this book based off the synopsis, the genre, and yes, even the cover (it looks scary to me, okay?), but I said noooooo, it’s Chbosky, you have to read it!

And this is where we ended up. 

First of all, I didn’t hate the book. 

I can recognize that it is extremely well written, well crafted, and well developed. I can enjoy a slew of characters, and oh boy are there a multitude to pick from, and I can give credit where credit is due. 

Chbosky is a talented writer. There is no doubt in my mind about this. The way he crafts words, the way he plays with texture and space, and with fonts and sizes, is nothing less of sheer brilliance. 

He undoubtedly is also masterful at motifs, foreshadowing, and symbolism. Notably, there were so many recurring objects, colors, metaphors, and so on that were sprinkled out so consecutively and intentionally throughout the novel-some I didn’t even pick up until the end-that I was left reeling from how immensely talented and brilliant he is. 

Things like his use of baby teeth, blue moon, and fogs/clouds/mist struck me in particular. I know this seems like gibberish, but Chbosky truly came across as understanding what he wanted to portray and how he wanted to deliver it. 

However, the biggest compliment I can give to Chbosky is the sheer magnitude of his imagination and creativity. This book almost overwhelmed me through the use of ideas and concepts I had never really thought of before. 

Alternate dimensions? Check. 

Supernatural powers? Check. 

Incredible use of diction and figurative language? Check and check. 

Chbosky had so many wild and tantalizing beautiful turns of phrases, expressions, and descriptions that it left me with the same sort of gasping epiphany that Maggie Steifvater’s writing always leaves me with, the feelings that writing can be so utterly beautiful and compelling, that it can be all-consuming as well as never ending with its potential to stun, to create, and to warp to unique needs and purposes. 

It definitely was a reading experience quite like any other I’ve had. 

Be that because of the horror genre or because of Chbosky’s odd, yet addicting writing style and this has definitely become a book that left me more than a bit dumbfounded. Although I’ve sung its praises and admitted to my own faults at this point, this book isn’t without flaws. 

To me the horror genre itself is just not my cup of tea like I’ve stated. Strike number one. 

Second, the book was...abysmally long. Atrociously long. As I’ve also said before, I do not mind large books. In fact, big books when you’re reading something you love is a true blessing. Finding that fanfiction at 3am that hooks you immediately and you look up to see its 300k? Amazing. 

Starting a new book series that you fall in love with body and soul and realize you have several installments left in the series to gorge and devour? Ecstasy. 

Sloughing through a single book that starts to drag on and on repetitiously for what seems like forever? Borderline hell. 

This book could have been 300 pages shorter and still contained everything Chbosky wanted to accomplish. It could have had the same brilliant writing, messages, and motifs, but without all of the never-ending back and forth between worlds and battles that just kept popping up time and time again. The abominable length considering its content is strike two. 

Last, the ending was a bit of a cluster. At this point in the novel, so much is going on, you are being exposed to so many pov’s that it’s almost stress-inducing, and events taking place are cataclysmic and 10/10 on drama. Chbosky bit off more than he could chew here. 

The book choked itself at the end, which, after reading for 700 pages is not the feeling you want to have. The ending left me befuddled, disappointed, and also bereft of a conclusive end and explanation for the shitstorm that had just rained down. It was not the ending I wanted, could understand, or could even really grasp. Strike three. 

This book has a plethora of merits followed by three enormous criticisms. If you like horror, then you’ve already crossed hurdle number one. If you can accept it’s repellant length (let alone have days upon days of free time to actually ingest said behemoth) then that’s hurdle number two. 

Hurdle three is up to you. Perhaps you would like the ending where as I found it lacking in structure, content, and answers. I like my endings tied up with neat little bows. I don’t like to be left thinking...hmmmm what does this mean? 

If I am going to read your massive book, I deserve an ending that satisfies the journey. Authors telling readers that it’s up for interpretation makes me want to strangle something. It comes across as enormously pretentious to me and oftentimes lazy. 

In the case of Chbosky, I think he had given himself so many loose threads that the neat little bow I desired was next to impossible. 

So he didn’t even try. 

Score: 6/10

Recommendation: If you love The Shining, are lacking bouts of creativity and imagination, have lots of free time during Quarantine, and don’t mind having an Inception-esque ending where you might not get all the answers you want, while being tasked with concocting it for yourself, Imaginary Friend might be your new best friend. 

Bonus: Here’s a pic of my kitty photo bombing this book shoot. Hope she brightens your day!

[aion-rsa]

Riverdale Creates Its Own Church Because Why Not?

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This Riverdale review contains spoilers.

Riverdale Season 5 Episode 16

“Being canonized has always been one of my life’s goals.”

And so it came to pass that Cheryl Blossom turned water into maple syrup.

Goddamn Riverdale is glorious trash.

In what is either very subtle marketing for The Eyes of Tammy Faye or just the best direction this show has taken since everyone was hopped up on Jingle Jangle, the Blossom family’s “Church of Jason” antics came into sharp focus this week. Although relegated to a B or C plot, this plotline — which works equally well as a satire on hip religions that popped up out of nowhere (see also: last week’s The Other Two) or as Cheryl’s latest brush with divine darkness.

The focal point of this episode was clearly supposed to be Archie getting justice for his fallen comrades, but how can one be expected to pay attention to military intrigue when a line like “for I am Cheryl Blossom, Queen of the Bees” is delivered by Madelaine Petsch without a hint of insincerity? Disjointed as this season is, there’s been a clear effort on the part of the writing to staff to give the show’s secondary characters more to do. (Due to Petsch’s constant scene-stealing it’s easy to forget that she was previously a supporting character before the series’ producers made the wise decision to become an ensemble piece instead of focusing primarily on Archie, Veronica, Betty and Jughead). As a result, Cheryl has shone brighter than ever.

While Penelope clearly sees the Church of Jason as another shady enterprise, for Cheryl it has become a, well, bona fide religious experience. Since breaking up with Toni she has become, in the immortal words of The Lemonheads, “a ship without a rudder.” The Church of Jason gives her a purpose, even if it is only to satisfy her carnivorous desire for validation. Although this has some unexpected side effects, namely that her false divinity unexpectedly gave rise to an actual miracle when she controlled the bees and use them to dispel Penelope from the Church. “Something inside me has shifted,” she tells Kevin afterwards, “something powerful.” More than just quasi-literally becoming a Queen Bee, Cheryl has undergone a true religious awakening and tapped into a power inside of herself. How will this manifest? And what ramifications will it have for her and all of Riverdale itself?

Cheryl has always been more of a persona than a character, reliably outrageous with hints of an inner depth that go undeveloped as the series’ tears through its storytelling. I’d like to think that whatever is happening here is going to correct that wrong and give Cheryl the ability to be fleshed out more. Seeing how self-aware Riverdale has been of late (i.e. Josie’s takedown of the entire gang last week), there is a renewed effort to strengthen sidelined characters. Let’s see how Cheryl benefits from this in the few remaining episodes of the season.

Speaking of sidelined characters, there is none more so than Casey Cott’s Kevin Keller. Five seasons in and Kevin can be boiled down to “loves musicals and cruising for anonymous sex,” which doesn’t exactly befit the character’s GLAAD-award comic book counterpart. The continual lack of depth for Kevin and the show’s reliance on stereotyping him remains an absolute downer. Where are his multitudes? At least by pairing him with Cheryl he isn’t out in Fox Forest all the time. Again though, he remains sidelined without any clear definition. I give the series credit for not following the cliched “Bury Your Gays” trope, but by continually mishandling Keller the argument could be made that his lack of dimensions are a fate worse than death. I’m hoping that the show finally figures out what to do with him, as Cott and Keller — who was Archie’s first openly gay character — deserve much better.

The Church of Jason’s actual goals are unclear, and the miracles on display here were pretty much sacrilegious. Now that something has shifted in Cheryl, expect her to transform the religion into something based on her past trauma (and her mother’s scheming) into something entirely different, and perhaps dark. For now though, I’m willing to go on faith that the Church of Jason, and Riverdale itself, has some entertaining miracles up its gloriously bonkers sleeve.

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Riverdale Rundown

Like last week’s excellent installment, this episode was directed by Robin Givens, who is rapidly becoming one of this series’ best helmers.

I for one would have loved to have seen Cheryl and Kevin’s Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat medley. Thanks Penelope.

A nice bit of meta humor appeared when Jason was referred to as “a man of few words” as we have yet to see the character utter even a pre-death flashback syllable.

K.J. Apa’s hair seems to be rebelling against the red hair dye more and more each week.

This episode’s main plot was about Archie’s attempts to bring General Taylor to justice, but it is so disconnected from the other storylines that it ultimately results in a major shrug. Even the show seems uninterested in this, with the climatic tribunal — which would have at least provided some A Few Good Men pastiching — happening off screen.

Before it was cancelled, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina‘s next season was supposed to be a massive Riverdale crossover involving witches. One can only wonder if Cheryl’s new abilities are somehow tied into this abandoned event.

We learn that Reggie and Hermosa had “a thing,” and one that Veronica seems both revolted (and perhaps a bit jealous?) of.

Hiram Lodge storing his palladium in model of So-Dale is very on brand.

The book Jughead initially passes off as his own before coming to his senses is “Rules of Distraction,” (an obvious riff on The Rules of Attraction) written by the very Riverdale-named Cora Carter.

Jughead’s agent is named Samm, and this is perhaps not so coincidental. One of the greatest-ever Archie artists was Samm Schwartz, who has best known for his work on the Jughead solo comic. By giving the character fluid movement and hilarious facial expressions, Schwartz’s gag-packed panels remain the most pleasing take on the character in Archie’s 80-year history.

Copter Cab, a rideshare company that takes one-percenters to exclusive events via helicopter is such a douchey idea that I’m generally shocked it doesn’t exist in real life.

Jughead gets one of the best lines of the week when he remarks to Betty that she “solved like eight mysteries in high school and were still valedictorian.”

What with Archie’s crusade for justice, Veronica generally kicking ass in her battle to detach from Chad and regain her She-Wolf of Wall Street Mojo, all the aforementioned magic of Cheryl and Kevin, and Jughead’s attempt to get his life back on track, Betty’s search for the Lonely Highway Trucker didn’t get much screentime until the end of the episode. By pairing with Tabitha Tate on the road, she has a new ally, and I can’t wait to see these two trying to solve crimes together.

Speaking of, the Lonely Highway Killer has to be TBK, right?

It’s interesting that the past two episodes have worked overtime to make Mr. Lodge seem small and foolish. I’m not quite sure where this is leading, but it’s satisfying to see him get some comeuppance at last.

Fake brands this week include the Boysenberry pager and The Wall Beat Journal.

Now that Jughead’s The Lost Weekend-ing seems to be headed towards the backburner, I’m excited for next week’s installment which promises the return of Mothmen. Finally.

The post Riverdale Creates Its Own Church Because Why Not? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Return to Me - Chapter One

Chapter One: Still Hurting

A/N: Hi all! I know it’s been a long time coming and probably no one is as excited as I am, but here is the first chapter of my rewrite of Return to Me. If you read the original series, thank you! and also, know that this rewrite will flesh out the things that didn’t make sense, add in new characters, new outfits, have more backstory, and really just be a better story overall. 

The entire story isn’t written yet, but I’ve got a lot of it done, and after seeing the Rise of Skywalker for the fourth time, I couldn’t wait anymore. If you want to be tagged in the next chapter let me know! I’m going to try to post chapters every three or four days. This chapter is going to have a lot, including some face claims to get you introduced to the characters. If you have any questions or anything to say about the fic, please let me know what you think! I hope you all like it!!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 4,871 Synopsis: It has been two years since Poe and the reader saw each other last. As the pressure mounts from the threat of the First Order, the reader, now queen of Naboo, is asked to come back to the Resistance for some much needed help. But now, the reader must also face their daunting past as well.

Next Chapter

Since the days of legends like Padmé Amidala, the focus on painting a regal face on the monarch of Naboo had become less important. Royalty were no longer required to cover their faces with layers of white makeup and red dots on their cheeks; instead, a more natural look was given to the ruler. The people of Naboo wanted to see their rulers as they truly were, and as Naboo’s current queen, you were more than happy to comply.

Most mornings, you were up before the sun rose. Your days were filled with meetings and public events, dress fittings and policy discussions, and a million other little things that befell your title. You had to wake up early to get a start on these things, including sitting down with one of your handmaidens, typically Loré, so that your hair and makeup could be done.

Only on very rare and special occasions would you have to revert back to the traditional face paint. And unlike many of the rulers before you, you tried to stay away from heavy headdresses. You were accustomed to wearing big ball gowns, but the headdresses had made you fall forward more times than you would like to admit and were absolute torture on your neck.

You often got up early for all of this procession: the makeup, the hair, the clothing fittings, but today, it was the butterflies in your stomach that woke you up.

You couldn’t decide if it was nerves or excitement eating away in your stomach, but once you were up, there was no going back to sleep. You pulled out your datapad, going over your itinerary for the hundredth time. You had it memorized already, but if you didn’t keep your mind busy, it would quickly wander to more painful places.

By the time morning broke over Theed Palace, you had been up for two hours.

Nové and Sondé were the first to come in, the former, your oldest friend and most trusted handmaiden, the latter, another handmaiden and your double. Whenever there was trouble, or simply a misscheduling of events, Sondé took on the role of Queen Bhavisama when you couldn’t.

As they walked in, they both looked shocked at the fact that you were already awake, but Nové’s face corrected quickly. She knew exactly what had kept you up.

“Good morning,” Sondé said, bringing you a cup of tea.

“Morning. Thank you. Is everyone prepared for today?”

“We are,” Nové said, “And you, my lady?” She looked you in the eye, clearly trying to read an answer other than the one you were about to say.

“I am.”

“I know that General Organa has assured that you will be completely safe, but Loré installed a new lining to your coat. If worse comes to worse, and believe me, we have a million other precautions so that it won’t, nothing will be able to penetrate the coat.”

“Thank you,” you said to Nové, and as Loré came into the bedroom, looking as tired as you felt, you thanked her as well.

“Where exactly did you tell your council you were going?” Loré asked with a yawn, “I just ran into Lala Jrul in the hall and she wanted to wish us luck on our trip to Bith.”  You smirked slightly, glancing at Nové who had the same look on her face.

“As you well know, the Resistance isn’t exactly public. Most people think it’s just a myth, and until General Organa decides otherwise, we’ll keep its location and practices secret. I told Lord Broden where we were going as he has Leia’s permission, but the rest of my council thinks I’m going on a trip to Bith to discuss a trades deal with their leaders.”

“What’s going to happen when Bith has no recollection of this meeting and Jrul brings it up?”

“They’ll have memory of it,” you said, getting out of bed. Loré looked over at Sondé who answered her unspoken question with a nod. “Sondé is more than well versed on my trade policies, and the Bith are a friendly people, there’s nothing to worry about. She’ll do perfectly.”

“So, you’ll need two looks prepared?” Loré asked. You gave her a sweet smile. The visit to Bith had to be scrambled together quickly because Leia had only just recently invited you. Their resources were running low, and she needed help as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love a challenge.”

She had you sit first. Your makeup routine was always the same. It took twenty-seven minutes every time, but it meant that you had to sit still for twenty-seven minutes and try to stop your mind from wandering for twenty-seven minutes. Once your makeup was done, it was another ten minutes as she braided your hair down your back and wrapped it in a crown around your head. Nové came in shortly after with your travel gown and coat.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly as she helped you dress. She zipped the side of your dress up and dared a look up at you. She knew exactly where your mind had gone during those thirty-seven minutes. “It’s a short trip, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“He might not even be there.”

“I know.”

“You’ve already started campaigning for next term. The deal with Serenno—”

“I know, Nové,” you conceded. She fixed the hem of your dress and stood up, giving you a gentle smile.

“All set.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. She patted your arm as she went to fetch the dress that Sondé would be wearing on Bith, leaving you alone to center your mind on what was really important on this mission.

Your mother was a member of the Galactic Senate. She had told you about the rumblings of the First Order, and the senate’s complacency to let them continue their cold war with Leia’s secret Resistance as long as there was no open fighting.

It was despicable, and The First Order was only getting more and more blatant about what they were doing. There had been open violence, you had seen footage of it, but the Senate still refused to act. Leia asked you to visit to discuss getting the Resistance more resources, but you expected she would ask you another, more taxing question.

If the senate had already decided not to act, you weren’t sure a queen of one planet could convince them otherwise. Although, it had been done before. Leia would need to garner support with her allies and address the senate, either directly or through your mother.

“My lady,” the captain of your guard, Zaisa, said as she stood in the doorway, returning you to the present moment, “We’re ready for takeoff.”

“Thank you, I’ll be down in just a moment.” She nodded her head and closed the door behind her respectfully. You took one last look around the room, making sure you had everything you would need before plunging a dagger through your heart again.

You tried to take Nové’s advice. There was no guarantee that you would see him, and even if you did, nothing had changed. You were still the queen; he was still the Resistance’s best pilot. What happened before was done and you both knew it.

You took one last breath before making your way to your Royal Starship.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“I’m sorry, Captain Nolbowl is training a new pilot,” Nové explained as your ship took another jolt, “I told him to make sure he was careful but—"

“It’s fine,” you dismissed. Your stomach was already churning before you stepped on board, but now you weren’t sure if you could make it to D’Qar without getting sick.

You were anxious to see your old friends again, but you didn’t worry about what was waiting for you once your ship landed. You stood immediately, ready to get off. Nové came to you first and asked if you were okay without words.

“I’m ready,” you said, and she nodded.

It had been nearly two years since you had been on the Resistance base, and yet, every memory hit you full force the moment the overhead door opened. The few spacecraft, the uniforms, the droids, even the smell reminded you of the five happy years you spent here, specifically whom you spent it with. You saw Poe everywhere, although he seemed to be the only one absent from your welcome.

A crowd of people had gathered at the foot of your ship, General Organa waiting at the front. You took one last breath and switched from Y/N to Bhavisama.

“Queen Bhavisama,” she said, taking your hands in hers, “It's wonderful to have you back on D’Qar.”

“Thank you, General. It's good to be back.” She smiled and looped your arm under hers as she led you across the landing pad. You couldn’t help but look around, aware that you were searching for one person in particular.

“How are you?” she asked, pulling your eyes to hers. Her question was congenial, professional, but you knew her underlying meaning.

“Things are well with my people,” you replied, making her smile knowingly. Leia grew up in politics, so she knew how to answers a question one wants to avoid.

“I'm happy to hear. The Naboo are truly our oldest and dearest friends.”

“Thank you for your kind words, General. We are always willing to lend a hand to you, and not just because you’re Naboo.” Leia gave you a kind smile and extended her hand towards the base.

“Please, come inside, we have much to discuss.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Poe stopped dead in his tracks. Leia asked Black Squadron to come down to the landing pad, claiming that she had a surprise for them, but if this was the surprise, he seriously underestimated her sense of humor. As he stopped, he knocked into Karé’s chest.

“You alright, Poe?” she asked, shoving him off gently.

“Hey, she’s my wife, Dameron. If you’ve—” Snap didn’t finish his thought as he saw what had made Poe come to halt. Across the way, you were walking arm and arm with Leia, getting reintroduced to Admiral Ackbar and Admiral Statura. “I— Did you know?”

“No,” he said weakly.

You looked different. You were still beautiful, Poe wasn't surprised by that, but something had changed in the way you carried yourself. You were somehow stiffer, more reserved. You wore a heavier looking dress than you had in the past, but you weren’t caked in the heavy makeup that you had worn at your coronation.

He wanted to go see you, but he knew he had no control over his emotions right now, and if he did speak to you, it would end in disaster. Snap put a firm hand on his shoulder, and soon, Suralinda, Jessika, and Karé followed his lead, letting him know silently that they were there for him. “I can’t see her.”

“Poe, Leia asked you to come down,” Sura began.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t an order. And until it is . . .” he stopped, looking to Snap for advice.

“I’ll make up an excuse for you,” he responded, making Poe sigh in relief.

“Thank you.” He looked over at you once more before turning back to his quarters. Black Squadron gave him a parting look but felt that going with him would only make Leia more annoyed than if just her star pilot missing.

“I’ll let you know how it goes.” Poe nodded his thanks once more before picking up his pace in case anyone decided to turn to their small group and see the Resistance’s most daring pilot running away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

After getting reacquainted with some of the commanding officers of the Resistance and introduced to the a few of the newer ones, Leia led you into a conference room. She motioned for you to take a seat at the head of the Holo table��, as she sat down on your right.

“It really is good to see you again, Y/N,” Leia said quietly, now that you were in more seclusion.

“You too,” you said, smiling genuinely.

The door opened on the other side of the room and instantly you recognized all of their faces. You tried to steady yourself for when you would see him again, but after Karé, no one else entered the room. A horrible thought that he hated you flashed in your mind, but you quickly pushed it away as Leia introduced the group.

“Queen Bhavisama, I believe you know the members of Black Squadron: Captain Snap Wexley, Pilots Jessika Pava, Karé Kun, and Suralinda Javos.” You smiled at each one of them, even though you were unsure why Suralinda was here instead of L’ulo L’ampar.

“Yes, of course. Please sit.” They cloistered around you, Snap sitting on your left, thankfully. Even though they smiled back at you, you knew each of them were pissed off about how things ended with you and Poe. Snap would be the nicest if they decided to take that anger out on you right now.

“Thank you all for being here,” Leia said, a definitive edge in her voice. “Where is Commander Dameron?” In a minuscule reaction that only Nové would have noticed, your back stiffed slightly at his name.

“He ran into a little trouble with BB-8 and Pava’s new droid,” Snap answered. By the look that the three pilots gave each other, you could tell this was an outright lie. Most likely Leia could tell, too, but she didn’t say anything.

“Well, we’ll just have to continue without him. Your Highness,” she said, looking at you, “To put it bluntly, we are running on fumes here. Our suppliers in the Outer Rim have started to deteriorate as the First Order gets word of them. Black Squadron are the only ones with ships, and every last contact we have is slowly slipping away.”

“I thought things were going better since you started spreading the news of who you are and what you do,” you said, looking up at Suralinda. Although you were surprised to see her in L’ulo’s place, you weren’t surprised to see Suralinda on the base. You had read her recent articles, revealing the atrocities that the First Order had recently committed.

“Thanks to Suralinda, our public perception has improved, but there are still not enough people out there who believe in our cause.”

“People believe in you all over the galaxy,” you countered.

“Maybe so,” Leia said with a soft smile, “But they don’t believe that the First Order is as dangerous as they are.” You nodded and pursed your lips in thought.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well, I’ve already been in contact with Osira to keep her ear to the ground in the Senate, but until your mother comes up with an inlet to get our motion on the floor again, we need supplies. We need fuel and troops and intel and—"

“You need a rebellion,” you interrupted. She smiled slightly, nodding her head.

“I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“I have and always will support what you do here, General, but it’s not up to what I want anymore. It hasn’t been for a while,” you added bitterly, “I have to weigh all of this against what is best for my people.”

“I know, but you are our last resort. We have many plans to take down the First Order, but we can’t do them without getting our ships off the ground.” You looked back at your handmaidens, stationed at the entrance of the room, your eyes connecting with Nové’s for a moment.

“I will do anything I can, but I’ll have to discuss it over with my council first.”

“Of course,” Leia said, somewhat discouraged.

“I can personally get you some fuel and credits, but anything else will be a larger discussion.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Snap said, bringing your attention to the other side of the table. You nodded at him, hoping to plead in your eyes how sorry you felt about everything that happened. He nodded at you once, frowning just slightly.

“When is the next time you’ll need to leave base, Captain?” you asked.

“Ideally as soon as possible. Black Squadron has multiple ongoing missions, but we’re expected to meet a few smugglers with supplies in three days .”

“Nové,” you said, watching Jessika pick her head up for the first time and look at your handmaiden. She came to your side and you saw her look over at Jessika, too. “Open up a commlink with Broden. We’ll discuss this further with him.”

“Yes, my lady,” she said, excusing herself. Leia looked worried for a moment, but you waved your hand briefly to wash it away.

“Nothing will get out until you want it to. You can trust me, General.”

“I know. I always have.” She stood up, and you all followed. Leia smiled and patted your shoulder gently. “I have a few things to check on, particularly a few malfunctioning droids,” she said, looking at Snap who didn’t break her gaze, “But I would be honored if you joined me for dinner tonight.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I know you’re eager to get back to Naboo, so I won’t keep you for too long, but your presence on the base has already re-sparked the light we were beginning to lose, and I’d like to hold onto it as long as possible.”

“Thank you, General,” you said sincerely.

“Threepio?” she called. The door slid open on the other side of the room and the protocol droid came hobbling in.

“Ah! Mrs. Dameron, oh, I mean, Queen Bhavisama, it is wonderful to have you back with the Resistance again.” One of the makeup tricks Loré had learned prevented any blush from appearing on your face, and you were grateful for it at this moment.

“Thank you, Threepio.”

“Did you give Bhavisama’s droid the coordinates to her room and adjoining situation room?”

“Yes, O9-I2 has all the needed schematics of the base.”

“I know you must speak with your council,” Leia said, looking back at you, “ But if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, General.” You let your handmaidens lead you to the exit, just as Leia began to address the rest of the group.

“Black Squadron, stick around for a debrief? You’ll have to pass it along to your fearless Commander.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“You’ve never disobeyed me before, Dameron,” Leia said as she stood in the doorway of Poe’s quarters, making him jump and nearly fall out of bed. BB-8 wowed in response, beeping something about how he deserved it. “I don’t think I’m a fan of it.”

“I’m sorry, General, I just had, um . . .”

“Some droid problems I hear,” Leia said, raising an eyebrow. Poe only nodded his head, hoping she would drop this conversation. “You can’t run forever.”

“I’m not running.”

“Well, you can’t avoid Y/N forever,” she said as she sat down next to him. Poe frowned at her, making her sigh. “Since you only want to follow my orders, here’s one: you and the rest of Black Squadron are to join me, a few of the senior commanders, and Queen Bhavisama,” she said, making him cringe at the use of your new formal name, “For dinner. No more hiding.”

“Yes, General.”

“Relax, Dameron,” she said, walking towards the door, “She was just as nervous to see you as you are her.”

“Doesn’t make me feel much better.”

“You’re one of the bravest men I know, Poe, and the most daring of my pilots. You can face a slew of First Order pilots, but not someone you love?”

“Leia—"

“You can do it. And don’t worry, you’ll have someone there who knows exactly how you’re feeling.” Poe sighed and nodded his head reluctantly.

“I’ll be there.”

“I know. Wear something nice, we are in the presence of royalty, after all.” This managed to get a laugh out of Poe, which apparently satisfied Leia as she left him alone. Once the door shut, he fell back on his bed. He hated being in this room. In this bed. This was supposed to be your shared quarters; he shouldn’t be here alone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Walking into your temporary quarters, you could see that they were three times the size of the room you stayed in when you were simply a piece of the resistance. This was the room for dignitaries and heroes that came to see just what the legendary Leia Organa was up to; this wasn’t a place for you.

“My lady?” Loré asked as you stood outside the door for too long.

“Can you make sure Nové reaches the council? I’ll be fine on my own for a minute,” you said as she started to argue. “Don’t worry, Zaisa will be right outside my door.”

“Yes, I will,” Zaisa said, already stationing herself at the door. Loré nodded hesitantly and made her way with O9-I2 down the hall. You steeled your emotions and made your way into the room.

You shouldn’t be here alone. You shouldn’t even be in this room. You were supposed to just be Y/N Dameron. You weren’t supposed to be Queen Bhavisama who had to mask all of her emotions behind elaborate dresses and political jargon. With a heavy sigh, you let all your emotions wash over you as you crumple on to the bed, too upset to worry if anyone could hear you or come in.

A stupid belief system, you realized, as Zaisa cleared her throat a few minutes later. You shot up and looked at her, quickly wiping at the tears that were threatening to leave stains on your cheeks.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked sweetly. You smiled gently and shook your head. “Well, There’s a woman at the door. A Jessika Pava.” You took in a deep breath. “I can tell her to leave—”

“No, it’s okay. Send her in.”

“Do you want me to stick around?”

“I can handle Jessika,” you said with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“I’ll be right outside.” You walked towards your mirror and quickly dabbed at your cheeks with fresh makeup to hide the tear tracks that had started to form, just as Jessika walked in

“Fancy digs,” she said unappreciatively.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you said, turning to look back at her. She forced a smile on her face, looking amused and annoyed at the same time.

“What, were you expecting more of a welcome party?”

“I’ve learned never to expect anything from you,” you said, standing up, “You’re too much of a wild card.”

“Well, I’m glad you remember that,” she said, smiling as she sat down across from you

“I could never forget you, Jessika,” you said with a smile. “Nové talks about you too much for me to forget.”

“Does she?” she asked, smiling genuinely.

“Of course. It’s impossible for us to act like we were never here,” you said with a sigh. Jess smiled sadly at you.

“We’ve all missed you, Y/N.”

“I’ve missed you all, too.” It was nice to hear your true name, not the regal name you took on when you were elected.

“I’m sorry he didn’t come down,” she said. You shook your head.

“I don’t blame him. I don’t think I would want to see me either if I were him.”

“It’s not that. He does want to see you, it’s just—"

“Nothing has changed,” you finished. She nodded. “What brings you by, Jess? If you were looking for Nové, she’s off contacting my council.”

“I meant it when I said I missed you,” she said, chewing her lip, “But you’re right, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding your permission.

“Suralinda joined us a few months ago, right around the time we lost L’ulo.”

“L’ulo’s dead?” you asked in shock.

“Yeah,” she said, frowning.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too. But we’ve got Sura now and she’s not a terrible replacement. She’s also not a terrible journalist,” she added quietly.

“What are you trying to say, Jessika?” you asked, quickly switching back to Bhavisama.

“She has it on good word that Naboo and Serenno will soon be joining.”

“A rumor,” you said, keeping your face blank, “For the time being. There’s not much I can discuss, and much less that I’d like to. I don’t want what you’ve heard to become true, but I’m not sure I have a choice.” Jessika nodded and stood up reluctantly.

“We haven’t told him.”

“Thank you, but he’s strong enough to handle it.”

“He’s the strongest person I know,” she said proudly, “ And I’m not so sure he could. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yes,” you said, not looking up, the weight of her words too much.

“My lady, I got the connection— Jess.” You looked to the door to find Nové and Loré walking into the room.

“Hey, Supernova,” Jessika said, smiling at her. Loré looked confused and a little bit jealous as she turned her attention to you.

“They’re waiting for you, my lady.”

“I’ll be right there. Jessika?”

“I’ll see you at dinner.” She gave one more glance to Nové before walking out the door.

“What was that look all about?” Loré asked as the three of you walked to the situation room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Of course I’m nervous, buddy,” Poe said as he slipped his jacket on and checked his curls in the mirror for the seventh time. “I haven’t seen Y/N in two years.” BB-8 commented on how much time he was putting into his outfit, making Poe roll his eyes. “I’m not trying to impress her. Or make her miss me,” he added after BB-8 called him out again. “Can’t a guy just look good when he goes to see his ex-wife?”

“Mine always did.” Poe spun around and saw Leia in his doorway again.

“Everything okay?”

“Something’s come up. You can’t come to dinner.”

“Why not?”

“Lor San Tekka finally reached out to me. I need you to go to him before the First Order finds out he has the map.” BB-8 rolled into action, coming right up to Poe’s boots.

“We’ll leave right away.”

“Thank you. And Poe?” she called as he started to gather his blaster and flying gear, “You will have to face her one day soon.”

“I know.”

“Good luck. And may the Force be with you.” He nodded and followed her out of the room, making his way down to his X-Wing. He had BB-8 send a message to the rest of Black Squadron, informing them where he was going. Just after he slipped on his jumpsuit and crossed the hangar, something pulled his attention.

Across the way, Poe could see Nové talking to you in great detail. You were clearly lost in thought, but whatever drew his eyes to you, brought yours to him. For the first time in two years, your eyes connected. Five years of dates, kisses, fighting, everything, came back to him in a jumble of emotions. He nodded to you just as you stepped back inside, and he climbed up onto his X-Wing.

[itsclydebitches]

(1/2) Personally, I could never get into Geralt's relationship with Yennefer when I started reading the books. The first thing we learn about their relationship in The Last Wish, is that he broke up with her because he couldn't stand her possessiveness and the way she treated him. That was massive red flag on it's own already, but then I got to the scene in The Bounds of Reason where Geralt tells her that he doesn't care anymore if she forgives him for breaking up with her. And he's

I’ve finished up my work for the day so I’m going to break this down to pass the time lol. My journey with Yennefer of Vengerberg has basically been: 

Hearing about her prior to getting into Witcher stuff and being legitimately excited to meet this sexy, badass sorceress that everyone is head over heels for. 

Meeting her in The Witcher 3 and hating nearly every moment we spent together (with a few exceptions) because she is rude, self-centered, cares little for the boundaries of others (like frequently invading Geralt’s mind), and will destroy everyone and everything necessary to get what she wants. The fact that what she currently wants is Ciri’s safety doesn’t change how horrible her actions are. 

Getting reassurance that CDPR butchered her characterization and believing it because when has an adaptation not messed something up? God knows that’s happened to many of my faves. 

Reading The Last Wish for myself and going, “She’s not better here. She worse.” 

Coming to the Realization™ that Sapkowski, as an author very interested in undermining fantasy tropes, must be deconstructing the concept of True Love/Love At First Sight. After all, we’re not actually supposed to believe that a woman who treats Geralt like Yen does, a man who is canonically so lonely he’s picking up bards on the side of the road, and the both of them being bound together by highly suspect magic is supposed to be representative of real, healthy, destined love. These two are incredibly dysfunctional together and the point is for them not to stay as a couple, demonstrating that neither the characters nor the reader can bank on tired structures (like Hot Male Protagonist meeting Hot Female Protagonist) as evidence of “true love.” Sexual attraction and a djinn wish does not a healthy relationship make. 

The further, disappointing realization that this is not, in fact, the point Sapkowski is trying to make. Or if it somehow is he hasn’t done a good job of writing it. 

Struggling with other aspects of the series, notably how many of the women are written/treated. Finding it difficult to get into the main story-line. Coming to the conclusion that, like Doyle, I massively prefer Sapkowski’s style in a short-story format. 

Deciding to put the books on hold for a while and check out some other material. Maybe I’ll like Yen in the comics! 

I do not like Yen in the comics. Neither does Vesemir.

I post a few times about this dislike and marvel at how often events are twisted to paint Yen as a victim. One moment stands out regarding Yen dumping you in the lake in Witcher 3. When I expressed discomfort that she would do this to Geralt and then “jokingly” threaten to kill him next, someone basically asked me, “Well, did you pick the dialogue option where you’re an asshole to her?” It was asked with such confidence that for a moment I floundered. Had I chosen something that justified such treatment? Yet this is the exchange: 

“Yen... Told you already. I lost my memory.” 

“And I’ve lost my patience.”

(Side note: Yen is fully aware of how much Geralt despises portals.)

I begin to realize that a lot of the fandom truly believes that “Expressing a fact” equals “Being an asshole” to Yen. That any disagreement is automatically asshole behavior. Which is how Yen herself views the world. As fans have pointed out – myself included – she has a habit of rejecting responsibility and convincing others she’s the victim in most situations (with the one exception I can think of being her admitting that she destroyed the sacred site in Skellige), whether we’re talking about her condemning Geralt for sexualizing her (ignoring that she orchestrated that situation) or likewise condemning him for leaving her (ignoring that her behavior is what drove him away). I find myself re-emphasizing to others that my issue is not with flawed characters, but rather how Sapkowski’s story and the fandom insist that Yen isn’t actually flawed in these ways. 

Watching the Netflix adaptation and promising myself that I’m going to give Yen a clean slate. Let’s start over. I connect with her for the first few episodes and then everything falls apart once she starts blaming others for her own decisions, getting obsessed with a biological child in a world filled with adoptions, abandoning a woman to die because she dared to insult her, having to re-watch her taking over Geralt’s mind only this time with an orgy that’s super iffy in regards to consent… There’s a lot going on there. 

My friend – who knew I disliked a character but didn’t know who/why because I didn’t want to bias her ahead of time – slams into my texts talking about how much she hates Yen too. 

I make a few more posts expressing my personal discomfort with their relationship + how the fandom tends to erase her behavior for endless praise, rather than just acknowledging that they love the ship and Yen has done horrible things. I get a couple of anons (which I delete) about how I’m just a misogynistic – and now racist – asshole who can’t understand how badass she is.

I grapple with the fact that my primary ships are indeed Geralt/Jaskier and Geralt/Regis. Maybe I am drawn only to Hot White Guys and have internalized misogyny to work through? Then I remember the hundreds of other het/femslash ships I adore, the thousands of other badass women in media – including the Witcher – that I love and conclude that no, I just really don’t like relationships where parties are cruel/disrespectful/borderline abusive to one another. Hence why I criticized Netflix for taking an already wonderful relationship between Geralt and Jaskier and making Geralt insult him all the time/punch him. 

More and more I find myself uncomfortable with fans taking scenes where Yen verbally accosts someone, assaults them, or otherwise does them dirty and talk seriously about how they aspire to be her. I experience an intense need to remind everyone that being a badass and standing up for yourself does not mean treating people the way Yen frequently treats others. 

I read a lot about how many fans can’t get behind a Geralt/Triss pairing because of how Triss treated him in the past, even if she’s now improved. I completely agree. I wonder though why the same doesn’t seem to apply to Yen. I’m told I just need to read more of the books (which I’m honestly not eager to do) because she gets so much better later on. Don’t you care about character growth? When I respond, “Yes, but even if she does grow I’m not comfortable with that relationship because of all she’s done in the past – to say nothing of what she does in the future if we take the games as canon too.” That response does not go over well. So Triss’ past actions justify a reader’s discomfort with the relationship, but Yen’s past actions have to be forgiven? Witcher and RWBY are the only fandoms I’ve come across where women can commit truly heinous acts  and the response is “Yas queen!” rather than, “Huh, that’s a cool antagonist.” 

As I work through these differing opinions I’m constantly reminded that Yen is an excellent mother to Ciri and each time I wonder what bearing that has on how she treats Geralt. 

I’m likewise reminded of all the Big and Important sacrifices Yen has made for her family. Those deserve acknowledgment! But it doesn’t change her everyday behavior. Even if Yen stopped pulling shit like mind control, torture necromancy, and scaring people to the point where they assume she’ll rain fire down on them if they disagree, she just doesn’t extend basic kindness/respect on a day-to-day basis. Some people love that in a character. I personally don’t. I find Yen to be a vain person who puts her own self-comfort over others’ lives just as often as she deigns to save them. Dandelion is just going to have to wait until she’s had a bath before his curse is lifted. Margarita will have to do without her help because Yen doesn’t want to get her clothes dirty: 

“Mucking through ruins and sewers, hmm. I’d rather leave it to the expert.” 

“Meaning you’d rather waltz in once the hard work’s done.” 

I finally finish The Witcher 3 and find Yen tolerable from the boat onward, mostly because we don’t have to do much with her. 

I start the first Witcher game, wondering how I’ll find her in the first two installments. Frankly, at this point I’m not terribly optimistic. 

And every once in a blue moon, in a sea of post-Netflix Yen adoration, I see a post going, “Hey, ship what you ship but can we just acknowledge that this relationship isn’t the happy-go-lucky, super healthy, #goals pairing that most of the fandom wants to paint it as?” and I’m compelled to reblog :D

[drcrushers]

so this was meant to be the next installment of the ‘wait for me’ series, but i never finished it and it’s honestly still a rough draft. it was a plot point i didn’t end up using but i also might in the future in a different setting. so enjoy this little nugget!

"I don't like it."

Persephone glanced at the reflection of her husband as she looped one of the studded gems into her earlobe. Simple diamonds - well, simple compared to the variety of gemstones and beautiful colors offered by the unlimited stock in the mines. Simple was better for that particular evening - an evening that already had her stomach turning into knots. 

"I know." She said quietly, admiring herself before she twisted in the chair to her vanity so she could see her husband properly. Hades was leaned against one of the bedposts, arms crossed with a darker than normal expression. "I don't like it either, but it's better this way."

"Don't see how." He scowled, brows knitting together in the center of his forehead. Persephone stood and crossed to him, taking his face between her hands. Her mighty man, who’d been doom and gloom all afternoon, didn’t pull away. Just gave a huffy little rumble deep in his chest.

"Because you need to be here." She said slowly. "Because if you go up that mountain you'll cause a war with one wrong expression. You ain't as subtle as you think, husband." She fiddled with his rolled up sleeves, fingers tracing the arm bands woven with the fine silver thread. He gave a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. 

"And you won't? You got a temper to rival your momma's." Hades replied after a moment. She tugged hard on the armband and let the elastic snap against his bicep in warning. He caught her hand in his, bringing her knuckles to his lips fondly and the expression on his face softened briefly. "I worry."

"I know. Were it for any other reason, I wouldn't go at all. Don't trust 'em. And after this - well, they'll be lucky if we don't turn them away at the gates now." Persephone glanced over to the bedsheets, where she'd tossed the letter sealed with the damn lightning bolt seal and her name and Hades' written in her daddy's own hand. "But I gotta face my music. And you know I ain't goin' unarmed. He wants to play hardball, he'll find out how much better I play. Especially given the circumstances."

"It ain't his business." Hades snarled. And he was right, Persephone knew. The underworld and it's inhabitants were not his realm. Nor any of the others. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last that the king of the gods stuck his nose where it didn't belong. To demand their appearance to answer about the songbird and Persephone's choice of temporary successor - well, things were working out just fine. Granted it had only been a few months since, but she hadn't heard bad things (except from her momma, who had already ripped her a new one - but then Persephone had used Melinoe as a bargaining chip and had immediately won that argument). 

"No. Ain't his business. But you know him - can't stand it if somethin' happens under his nose and he didn't condone it."

"He touches you at all and -"

"Hades." She warned gently. "Thanatos is comin' up with me. Momma will be there too, and she'd rip Zeus in half if he even thought of it and send you the remains in a box of ashes. Hera will deal directly to me." She leaned up to kiss the frown from his lips. "Now tell me I'm pretty."

"You're stunning, as always." He murmured, and reached up to brush an errant curl from her face. "Haven't seen you like this in a while."

She'd donned a black dress not unlike her usual underworld wardrobe, but this dress was laced with silver accents that gleamed like the diamonds Hades was so fond of comparing her to. Nothing terribly fancy, but enough to make a statement - which was half the battle up on the mountain. They all lived in damned black tie wardrobes most of the time and while Persephone was not to be outdone, she was sure as hell not gonna follow their rules. 

"I'm queen of the underworld. Gotta look the part." She smiled. "Just need my crown."

With a flick, a wreath of silver and gemstones appeared in Hades' hand. Old as their marriage, that crown. She hadn't worn it since they stopped doing official trials and having audiences and the factories had started rising up. Hades had made it for her within the first week of their marriage, a crown of silver leaves and asphodels immortalized in delicate gemstones. He nestled it atop her head in a soft gesture, sealing it with a kiss to her forehead. 

"You be careful up there." He whispered and she nodded. 

"And you take care of our girl." Persephone smiled softly, which was accompanied by the soft noise of their daughter in her bassinet by the bed - neurotic as they both were, they had yet to move her to her own nursery. Persephone turned to gather Melinoe into her arms, pressing a kiss to her nose. "Was wonderin' if you were gonna wake up to tell momma bye, chickadee." 

Melinoe blinked, and lurched forward to try and grab at the shining gems that decorated her mother. Persephone chuckled and caught a flailing hand in her own, pretending to nibble on it to the delightful squeals of laughter of her little one. Her whole world, her girl and her man. Melinoe wasn't even close to her first birthday and already she had the look of her daddy, those dark eyes all brightened with curious energy. Their winter's child. A miracle, if Persephone believed in such. 

"He'll be expecting you to bring her." Hades crossed the space between them, reaching out instinctively to catch Melinoe's other hand. “He wasn’t subtle in the invitation. As if he had the right."

"Which is why I ain't. He's expectin' you, too. But I'll handle it. One of us needs to stay with our little sprout. I'll see to our girl up top."

With a kiss to her daughter's forehead and a parting kiss from her husband, Persephone headed off for the train. The underworld was quiet and while she smiled at the shades she passed, there was a tension in her expression and her stance building the closer she got to the platform. She hadn't been up top in a while now with the new arrangement; she had imagined this trip would have been introducing Melinoe to real sunlight for the first time. Not going up the damned mountain on her daddy's whim because he was feeling bitter that she'd circumvented his original contract. Not to mention it was the first time spending any length of time away from Melinoe, which didn't sit right in her gut either. But her little girl had Hades, and would be safe in the underworld. Untouchable. One of the good things about the shadowed realm - the other gods couldn't cross the boundaries without permission, not even Zeus himself. If anything happened to her up on Olympus, Hades and Melinoe would be safe.

The train was waiting when she arrived, and so was Thanatos. Persephone was perfectly fine going up the mountain on her own, but Hades had insisted and she wasn’t about to argue. If things went sideways - well, it would be useful to have someone else on her side. Quite frankly Persephone didn’t trust her momma to pick her side over Zeus’. Much as she hated the king of the gods, Demeter could be easily swayed into doing what was best for Persephone - or what she thought was best. Especially since Demeter was unaware of why Persephone had refused for so long to go up the mountain, why Hades had forbade it. That was about to be out in the open, too.

The great machine let out a hissing billow of steam as she hopped up onto the platform. Thanatos tilted his head, eying her sharply with those endless black eyes. Her lips quirked and she gave a mock curtsy. 

“Let’s get this over with.” He murmured in a voice nearly low as Hades’, and offered out a hand to help her onto the train. Persephone snorted, but took his hand and stepped onto the train for the first time in a real long while. 

It felt strange, really. Somewhat empty. Granted she’d done plenty of runs up top without Hades, and plenty back down. The train had just been a mode of transport, nothing more or nothing less, taking her from one prison to another while she wore gilded handcuffs and drank herself half blind. The bar was still there, untouched, and Persephone briefly considered making herself something to get a bit of liquid courage to deal with her relatives. Deciding against it, she flopped unceremoniously into one of the seats and tried to lose herself in the gentle thrumming of the train beneath her feet. It lurched, and began the slow pull away from the station. 

Persephone tried not to consider worst case situations. Quite frankly she hadn’t considered consequences to her and Eurydice’s little switch - not that there was any. Not important ones. The only thing lost seemed to be her daddy’s ego, which was nothing unusual. Only annoying as hell, and the fact that he had put thinly veiled threats to her in the invitation made her all the more angry. She only worried - Eurydice now spent half the year up top, which was very much fair ground for Zeus or any of his demi-god bastards he usually got to do his bidding. Which meant she was vulnerable. She had faith that Eurydice could hold her own with the share of ancient magic Persephone had gifted her, but the idea all the same made her stomach sour more than what it had. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to swallow the bile in the back of her throat.

Maybe she should have let Hades come. Or made him go without her. But no - she’d caused the mess. Made her bed. Now she had to lie in it. Hades didn’t need to take the blame; didn’t need to be made out to more of the villain all of Olympus seemed to think he was. 

She knew when they passed from the underworld to the mortal realm, a chill running up her spine and causing the hair on her arms to stand on end. She looked away from the slowly brightening landscape beyond the window to Thanatos, but he had leaned back on another bench and drawn a hat over his face; for all appearances, he seemed asleep. She knew better of course, but didn’t bother in disturbing him. 

The train began to slow as they approached the platform she had gotten on and off at since the beginning of time. She watched it come into view, the train coming to a full stop just a few moments to allow other passengers to board. It felt strange not to be getting off. They'd barely stopped before they were off again, and the door to her private compartment opened. Persephone smiled. 

"Hey there, songbird." Persephone greeted as Eurydice stepped through, wearing her usual garments - except the red bandana at her neck. Eurydice hugged her fiercely and Persephone could smell the sunshine that radiated from her, like an inner light. It suited her; seeing the smile and the color in her face was even more of a delight. Songbirds were far better alive than dead.

"Its good to see you." She murmured. "You holding up alright?"

"Alright as ever." Persephone promised. "Though I should be askin' you."

"More than. Demeter's helped and I think I'm doing okay. I mean - everyone is happy. No one is hungry. The harvests look good - great even." Persephone noted the brightness in her face did not fade. "I'm happy."

"Good. As long as you're happy, I am too. Poet alright?"

"He is. Sends his love. Already writing a new song."

Hopefully Orpheus would still hold up, when Eurydice came back down below for those required six months. But knowing she was coming back - that was the aid. Eurydice would always come home to him. Doubt would and could not cloud Orpheus as it had Hades. Not after everything. 

Bickering tore Persephone's attention from Eurydice to the two others that had boarded and were now coming into the private car with quiet words hissing between them like two angry snakes. 

"What in hell are you two on about now?" Persephone asked. Demeter and Hermes both looked up, Hermes sweeping forward first with a bright grin. 

"Never you mind, sister. A'ight?"

"A'ight." Persephone echoed, and moved to embrace Demeter. "Hello, momma."

"Hey, girl." Demeter smoothed a few flyaways from Persephone's unruly curls, and took her face in both her hands. "Missed you."

"Missed you. Wish we were meetin' under better circumstances."

"Never you mind. Your daddy is a bag of hot gas and nothin' more. I'm on your side, and your girl's here. Much as I hated it - she's good. And you got the little one. She ain't here, is she?"

"No. I figured she's safer back below, with Hades. Just in case." Persephone murmured. "Just in case."

From there, quiet conversation filled the car. Persephone listened as Eurydice and Demeter filled her in in the things up top, and Hermes toured on about the things even further up top. No one made mention of where and why they were going, but she could feel the tension grow thicker than molasses the closer they got to the mountain. Goosebumps pimpled across her arms as they passed another barrier into the true realm of the gods. She swallowed back the bile in her throat and stared out the window.

Worst case, she'd end up dead. Hypothetically. Or stripped of her abilities. Memories erased. There were too many possibilities. Eurydice could be hurt, too. Or Orpheus. Persephone had inadvertently dragged quite a few people into her mess - but they had come willingly. And they were there as a figurative army at her back as the train once more began to slow. 

The platform at Olympus was only a part of a great train station. One gilded in gold and paintings and statues from the classical era, when the mortals had gotten how the gods had looked all wrong. Curiously, she watched Eurydice take it all in with a slightly awed expression as they disembarked. Scenes from long ago eras were portrayed in murals, paintings, and frescoes that hadn't aged a day. 

The marble statues were hidden in little alcoves along the walls between the artwork - beautiful but not at all accurate. Hades had a massive beard in his, her mother was carved far older than she should have been. Persephone had one as well, but they'd given her so much youth. Artemis looked fierce and Athena and Ares both wore matching expressions in theirs. Eurydice paused at some of them as they threaded through the grand hall of the station. Tunnels that were not labeled branched off, leading to what she knew were other platforms that led to either other realms, or other places on the mountain of Olympus. It felt strange to Persephone - there was usually at least a few demigods or muses roaming about the station to head here or there. 

Now it was empty. Nary a soul. 

"I'd give you a grand tour if I could." Hermes was saying to Eurydice, his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward a wall that instead of a tunnel, held a gleaming golden elevator. The doors opened at their approach with no prompting - Eurydice balked. 

"Tacky as hell. Used to be this was just one lush field." Persephone muttered. "Olympus used to be more green than gold. Heph's done nice work on the tile inlays, though."

Demeter snorted as they stepped into the elevator. There was no panel of buttons - the elevator doors closed once they were all piled in. Thanatos looked almost out of place, his dark aura contrasted sharply against the gold interior that reflected everything right back. Persephone studied her tinted reflection, her own dark clothes and gleaming silver crown a direct disobeyment of everything Olympus was. Demeter had not dressed up, and neither had Eurydice - good. The bitter part of her hoped it offended at least some of them. 

The elevator climbed with no noise, rising higher in a way that made Persephone's stomach swoop uncomfortably. No. Melinoe did not belong up there in such a gilded cage. A gilded hell. 

"Should we have a game plan?" Eurydice asked after a moment. Persephone reached out to grasp her hand and squeeze it. 

"Game plan is on me, chickadee." She murmured. "Whatever happens, go along as you can. If things go south, Thanatos is tasked with gettin' you right on outta here."

"And you." Thanatos rumbled lowly, which she ignored. Eurydice frowned. 

"South?"

"Gods have tempers and they get all riled up. If they do, it'd be too dangerous. You got half my magic girl, but it wouldn't be enough to keep you safe against the whole panthenon."

Eurydice opened her mouth to likely protest, but the elevator stopped quite suddenly without even a hint of warning. The doors slid open and cool air swept into the container as they stepped off. A set of double doors greeted them in a grand, gilded lobby with more stupid art - place looked more museum than anything. Displays of wealth and power that Persephone curled her nose at. The great set of wooden doors was ancient as time itself, carved with a tree of a myriad of branches. Beautiful and worn, Persephone recalled the one time she had seen it before it had looked the very same. She'd traced the inches of it with lithe fingers while Hades had held tight to her hand, the pair of them about to face her momma and Zeus in regards to their hasty marriage and Demeter's fit of ire. 

Now, she took hold of Eurydice's hand and squeezed it tightly. If Eurydice was afraid, she certainly didn't show it. With no further hesitation, she shoved open the heavy doors and stepped through.

The room itself had not changed largely since her last visit to Olympus. In mortal terms it was akin to a ballroom, but the ceiling didn’t exist; instead, it was open to the cosmos above in a beautiful array of stars - for now. As she recalled, it had a tendency to change with her daddy’s moods. On a raised half dias around the room there were gilded thrones, identical in color but carved with unique inlays to their owners. For all the modernity that the gods had, Zeus had kept the core foundations of the mountain the same. The room could be anything it wanted - a lounge, an intimate club, whatever they wanted. Clearly it was a power move being pulled; make her feel like an outsider. Nothing new.

Arranged on the thrones were, as expected, the pantheon. Her daddy in the center, perched like the king he thought he was. Hera was to his left, her face an impressive neutral mask - Persephone’s nails dug into her palms at the sight of the so called queen of the gods, and didn’t relax even as Demeter took hold of her free hand. Poseidon, Artemis, Apollo, Ares, and Athena fanned out on either side of Zeus and Hera, with Aphrodite and Hephesatus rounding things out. Three of the tacky chairs were empty - Demeter and Hermes both moved from her side then to take up two of the empty chairs. The remaining one belonged to Hades - and thus, as his wife, it also belonged to her. 

But Persephone did not sit. She stood with Eurydice, the pair of them alone in the center of the room. 

“Full regalia for this really necessary?” Persephone remarked to the otherwise silent room. “Figured we’d settle this in your back office and be done with it.”

“Your actions deserve full council.” Hera drawled, painted lips drawing into a sharp, deadly smile. “I should think you’d be happy to have a fair trial.”

“Trial?” Persephone arched a brow. “Nothin’ in that damn note of yours said trial. I’m here to say my piece, that’s all. Ain’t a reason for a trial. I’ve done nothin’ wrong. And before you open your mouth again will some utter bullshit, point me to whatever trumped up rule book you’ve invented tellin’ me I’ve done wrong by the universe.”

“Persephone.” Zeus’ voice rumbled in a way not unlike Hades’. He was older than she remembered, grayer at the temples. Nearly fully white as Hades, but not quite. Whereas her husband took after his mother, Zeus and Poseidon took after their daddy in a way that made her stomach twist itself back into knots. “You’re here as a guest. Not on trial. But you understand we naturally have . . . questions about your decision to give this human -”

“I have a name.”

Zeus’ gaze slid cooly over to Eurydice, who had spoken quite sharply. 

“A name. My name is Eurydice. And Lady Persephone saved my life.”

“No, she didn’t.” It was Hera who spoke again. Gods, Persephone wanted to rip her perfect fucking face off. “She broke the law of the underworld and returned a soul to the living without permission. Souls are not permitted to return to the aboveground in the way you have, mortal.”

“Last I checked my husband was in charge of the law of the underworld, not you.” Persephone remarked. “And he ain’t got a problem with it.”

“I can’t help but notice Hades isn’t here.” Poseidon added. “Will he be joining us at all?”

“No. He willingly remained behind to see to the realm. That a problem?”

“You mean to babysit?” Hera mused. Persephone’s vision went vaguely red.

“Forgive me, I didn’t want to expose our daughter to the bullshit on this mountain at such an early age. She’s fine, by the way. Thanks for askin’.”

Hera’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not like I asked for this!” Eurydice added. “I want it, more than anything. I love what Lady Persephone has given me. And - the promise of the contract is still there. I only bring the spring for six months. Then I spend winters down below. It’s the same thing as her, isn’t it? I just . . . took over her contract.”

Bold, Persephone thought. She’d expect nothing less from Eurydice and that fire burning in her. Hera looked positively livid that Eurydice had spoken without being spoken to - again - but to Persephone’s relief, Zeus looked at least amused. A decent sign. 

“Hades has given his permission.” Persephone repeated, then glanced to her momma. “And so has Demeter.”

“I have.” Demeter added. “As a firm believer in a child havin’ both her parents, I granted the contract amendment.” She gave a long side-eye to Zeus, who pretended clearly not to notice. 

“If both parties agreed, I see no true issue.” Athena’s voice was clearly flat; one of the many who seemed bored by the whole ordeal. Who thought it was a waste of time. 

“I did not give my permission.” Zeus said evenly. 

“Hades was the holder of the contract, with respect.” Hermes drawled. 

“And if you look at that contract close enough, it never mentions me by name.” Persephone pointed out. 

“It says Kore - “

“Which ain’t my name.” She cut across her father. Her hair was standing on end again - like the way it did just before a real bad thunderstorm. When lightning was in the air. Shit. “My name, as granted and given by you, is Persephone. Other than that, the contract states the seasons gotta be brought. And far as I can tell, Eurydice’s doin’ a damn fine job of it. Haven’t heard a single complaint.”

“She’s right. I looked over it myself.” Hermes spoke again. “She technically ain’t broke a single thing in that contract. And Eurydice’s doin’ a fine job as it is.”

“I did what I did for the sake of my marriage, and my daughter. I ain’t gonna abandon my girl. Eurydice and Orpheus helped repair damage done. If it weren’t for them, pretty sure you wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation. Instead you’d have mortal riots on your hands cause they’re all starvin’.” Persephone flexed her fingers, but they returned to the balled up fists at her side. It was difficult, trying to keep her temper under some normal range. The entire situation was foolish, the council a joke. Just because everyone else in the room seemed to be a shit parent, didn’t mean Persephone would ever be. 

“Are we going to really discuss the logistics of this?” Hera snapped. “She broke the laws. You cannot just decide to name someone a god because you felt sorry for them. Otherwise half the mortal realm would be gods by now!”

“As opposed to the bastard demi-gods runnin’ about?” Persephone snarled. “Not much difference. I had every right. It’s my power, and mine to do with what I damned well please.”

“Then clearly you need stripped of them because you don’t know how to handle them.”

“Like you stripped me of my children?” 

There was a quiet, tense silence that settled. Persephone was staring at Hera with every ounce of fury in her, watching as the queen of the gods seemed to internally debate how best to handle the situation presented. Perfect.

“You’ve gone delusional as well. I’ve done nothing to your child.”

“Ain’t for lack of tryin’.” Persephone continued. Without breaking her glare to Hera she fished in the front of her dress and pulled out a small, folded few notes that had certainly yellowed with age. She brandished them with a flourish. “And you did. Try. Succeeded before, too. I always thought it funny why my babies never survived in my womb. I’m the goddess of fucking life. Except where it mattered - or so I thought.” She stepped forward toward Hera’s throne, and no one made an immediate move to stop her. 

“And then I found the letters. Half a dozen. Written to lackeys in your hand. Dates line up real nice and neat. Every little life crushed before it could even thrive because the goddess of childbirth and fertility deemed it so.”

She had grown closer to Hera, enough to throw the letters at her feet. Hera had the decency to look slightly appalled. 

“You murdered my children. I ain’t got proof of it yet, but I’m pretty sure you nearly cost me my marriage, too. And for what?” Persephone could feel the anger radiating from her in waves; if anything remotely green and living within her vicinity had existed, it would surely be brown and ashen by now. Dead. “You’re a monster. And you’re lucky I don’t make you eat the ground beneath me and grind your face into the mountain from here to the bottom.”

Her gaze went sharply to Zeus, who was watching with a mixed expression. 

“Deny Eurydice, reverse my choice. Strip me of my powers. And I’ll consider these letters as a threat of war. Hades agrees. You came for us, our family, our realm. Whether you were in on it or not.” Persephone’s teeth grit together as she glared at her father. “Go against this - or even think of laying harm to her or Orpheus or anyone else I love, and consider the underworld borders closed. No one in or out. Mortals will riot as their loved ones rot and their souls wander your realm. And they’ll go from worshipping you to cursing your temples near and far.” 

Her smile was dark, wicked, an expression learned from her husband. 

“And in case you decide it’s worth the cost - just remember. Hades and I are the only protection you have from the monsters in Tartarus. I can’t promise one or two might not somehow get out should there be any sort of war. So by all means. Try. Us.”

[magpiefngrl]

Book Recs Jan-Jun 2020

I’ve been reading voraciously these past six months (my Goodreads challenge says 68 books so far). Here are some memorable reads, grouped according to what you might be into.

I want queer romance please:

Brothers of the North Wild Sea by Harper Fox (m/m historical)

This book ruined me (in a good way). Or maybe it isn’t good that I’ll be carrying it inside my heart for ever and ever till the end of my days, my lip wobbling at the mere thought of it. A wonderful romance, a pairing I adored, gorgeous prose, a fascinating historical background (medieval times, north of England, Viking invasions). There’s a faint supernatural undercurrent that becomes more prominent at the very end. I sobbed through the last few pages with fear, with relief, with happiness. Highly, highly recced.

Bitter Springs by Laura Stone (m/m historical)

Every historical novel I’ve read is set in the UK, so the fact that this is a US historical book was fascinating to me. Two POC cowboys fall in love while seeking mustangs in the wilderness of Texas (?? idk where Del Rio is). It’s sweet and loving with a side-serving of jealousy when a former lover briefly appears on the scene; but mainly it’s two men getting to know each other and falling in love in the desert. I loved the horses too.

The Sins of Cities trilogy by KJ Charles. (3 books, 3 different couples, interconnected, m/m historical)

OK so the first book in the series didn’t do much for me. A pairing who loves to be domestic and sweet and to drink tea by the fire is cute... but I got bored. The second one, though... I think my eyes popped out of my head from the sheer heat of it. Justin Lazarus shot to the Top-5 of my fave characters of all time, and I’d willingly kill all of you for him, sorry that’s how it is. The trilogy is a murder mystery set in Victorian London, and unlike most romance series, you’ll need to read the books in order. Overall, this isn’t my fave series of KJC, but it was fun nonetheless, and it does have Justin in it so it’s worth a read.

Slippery Creatures by KJ Charles (m/m historical)

This one is amazing!!! This is KJC’s latest, first in a trilogy with the same pairing, which means the HEA is 2 books away (it doesn’t mean that this ends unhappy; another reader called it the WNDY ending -- We’re Not Done Yet). Boy, this is a scorcher. Set in the 1920s, it features spies, secret societies, murder, lies, kidnapping, grey characters with elastic morals: these are all catnip for me, and I inhaled this novel twice in a week. Highly recced for anyone into a gay historical romance, who loves a bit of pulp with their gay sex. The second installment is out next month.

The 13th Hex (novella) and Widdershins by Jordan L. Hawk (both m/m historical paranormal, but different universes)

I can’t say I’m enamoured by Hawk’s writing skills; in fact, I usually feel a tad let-down by the prose, mainly because the books have such potential. Hawk’s plotting is fantastic and his world-building fascinating and truly unique. I just love both of these worlds and their magic systems. Hot sex too. I don’t want to discourage people: I’m possibly just too fussy with prose. Hawk is super popular and you should give his books a shot. Widdershins is free! (In case it sways you: Hawk recently came out as a trans man.)

Unnatural by Joanna Chambers (m/m historical)

I read a few romances by Chambers lately, some less satisfying than others. This one is a standalone companion novel to her most popular series, called Enlightenment, set in Regency Britain. It’s a well-written fast read; a friends-to-lovers romance, with lots of tension and chemistry between the leads. As in all Chambers books that I’ve read so far, there’s lots of angst about one’s homosexuality (very era-appropriate) and lots of pull-and-push before it ends in a very HEA.

****

Do you have anything with fantasy and/or magic, my kind lady?

His Majesty’s Dragon by Naomi Novik (alternate history, Napoleonic wars with dragons)

Do you like dragons who talk and bond with honourable officers during times of war? Do you love soulmate bonds and sentiments such as: “I’ll do anything for you” and “You’re mine” but when it’s people, it makes you uncomfortable? Well, here former Naval officer Lawrence and his dragon Temeraire (and all dragons with their handlers) have this bond, and it’s the best thing ever. I’m in love with Temeraire, I shiver at the profound bond between Lawrence and his intelligent dragon, and I can’t wait to read the rest of the series by a beloved author (ahem).

The Dark Artifices by Cassandra Clare (YA urban fantasy)

I don’t hold the best opinion of Clare’s writing skills so I was pleasantly surprised when I read the first installment a few years back (Lady Midnight). I decided to reread it during quarantine, and then I moved on to the second one, Lord of Shadows. They’re both long novels, tightly-plotted, with several romances evolving on page.

I was excited to read the last one, A Queen of Air and Darkness, but alas! I didn’t love it. To start with, it’s 1000 pages long, and unlike books of that length that I’ve read, you feel it. The book drags. Everyone and their mother has a POV and a love story on page. There are no subplots, because they’re all Plots: all afforded equal space in the narrative, so there’s lots happening at the same time, but the story doesn’t feel like it’s moving forward with a good pace. As the end of the trilogy, Clare indulges in some of her fave elements, namely mentioning someone’s eye colour every three pages, or having every single person paired up by the end (something which bothers me a great deal). There are a few plot contrivances that ensure her main pairing conveniently gets their HEA. I confess I skimmed most of the last part of the book. I’m happy I read it and got to the end of the story, but I can’t say I was satisfied. If you’re looking for an undemanding, escapist fantasy, though, it’s the ticket: it certainly worked for me when I had quarantine brain.

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amar El-Mochtar & Max Gladstone

Sci-fi, literary af, two time-travel agents from opposing Agencies bent on destroying each other, exchange letters and fall in love. I’m completely torn in half: half of the book (the prose, the imagination) left my jaw on the floor. The rest of it left me cold and indifferent. Wonderful prose, couldn’t get into the characters. Short and dense.

Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner

Queer fantasy novel that gives strong Dangerous Liaisons vibes. Written in 1987, one of the first fantasy novels to feature a society where same-sex is accepted. The writing is beautiful, the plot twisty. There’s no actual magic, but there are sword fights, courtroom drama, intrigue. Good fun if you like that kind of thing.

The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang

Adult fantasy. So far (I’m half-way through) it’s phenomenal. I’ve seen it recced everywhere and was so happy to see that Scribd offered it in my subscription. Set in a Chinese-inspired world, it features a vivid setting and memorable characters, and I’m loving it. I predict it’ll be my new fave. Do heed the content warnings (pretty much every CW you can think of applies); it’s quite dark as it progresses.

A bunch of novellas and short stories by Aliette de Bodard

This author came to my notice about a year ago. I’ve been following her on twitter ever since, but didn’t have the chance to read any of her work until I saw she had a bunch of stuff available on Scribd. I read a couple of sci-fi novellas set in a Vietnamese-inspired future; The Citadel of Weeping Pearls was my fave.

She’s also published a fantasy trilogy with fallen angels and magic set in a war-ravaged Paris, which sounds awesome. I haven’t read it, can’t afford to yet, but I did read two short stories set in that ‘verse and they were fabulous. The atmosphere, the setting, the premise, the Fallen of the Dominion universe just sounds like very much my thing. Here’s a link to some free stories they offer, if you want to check out her writing.

The Autobiography of a Traitor and a Half-Savage by Alix E. Harrow

I read a short story by Harrow several months ago and was blown away. I’ve rarely fell so fast and so deeply in love with an author. I haven’t read her debut yet, but I came across this short novella and she blew me away again. It’s a story set in the US, magical realism rather than fantasy imo, and it’s about colonialism and the land, and it’s so powerful. You can read it for free at Tor.com. Please do, it’s incredible.

******

[nightskywonderer]

Frank Miller previews his next epic Batman comic, The Dark Knight Returns: The Golden Child

The Dark Knight isn’t done yet. Three years after The Dark Knight III: The Master Race continued Frank Miller’s epic Batman saga that began in 1986 with The Dark Knight Returns, EW can exclusively announce that another installment is on the way. This December comes a new one-shot comic titled The Dark Knight Returns: The Golden Child, written by Miller and illustrated by artist Rafael Grampá.

The “golden child” in question is young Jonathan Kent, the son of Superman and Wonder Woman. His older sister, Lara, was a major player in The Master Race, where readers saw she had inherited her mother’s Amazonian discipline as well as her father’s Kryptonian superpowers and signature S-shield costume. Jonathan was only a baby then, though he was important enough to be the focal point of a battle between the Amazons and the Kryptonians from Kandor. The Golden Child takes place three years after the conclusion of The Master Race, and though Jonathan is still a child, he’s now grown into a powerful presence, as you can see in Grampá’s exclusive preview art below.“

The possibilities for what he could be just started coming to mind like crazy. I thought the contrast between him and Lara could be really exciting,” Miller tells EW. “Lara has so much power and passion, so for the little boy to embody all of the wisdom and intelligence of the Kryptonian race would be an exciting new dimension. He really sort of developed as a little floating Buddha, someone who when he wasn’t even a toddler yet was speaking in full sentences and had an understanding of events that surpassed anybody else’s. He’s the most magical member of the family.”

"The Dark Knight Returns started as a Batman story, but as it has gone on, Superman and his family have come to play a bigger role. There are surely still countless comic fans out there, this EW writer included, who still have memorized Batman’s brutal monologue to Superman during their epic fight at the climax of The Dark Knight Returns (“I want you to remember the one man who beat you”), Miller’s been a little nicer to the Man of Steel in the years since.

“Even though in Dark Knight Returns I gave Superman a very hard time, in his own title I’ve wanted to really celebrate the character,” Miller says. Though he notes, “He doesn’t need my sympathy!”

THE DARK KNIGHT: THE GOLDEN CHILD #1

Release date: December 11th, 2019

Written by FRANK MILLER

Art and cover by RAFAEL GRAMPA

Colour by JORDIE BELLAIRE

48-page one-shot

The story takes place three years after the events of Master Race, where Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Carrie Kelley, and Lara Kent overcame the renegade priest Quar and his cult of Kandorian fanatics in their bid to convert humanity into worshipping them as gods. During this interim, Lara has spent time learning about what it means to be human, while Carrie has grown into her role as Gotham City’s new protector, Batwoman. When a terrifying evil returns to Gotham City, Lara and Carrie team up to take on this new threat, but this time with a secret weapon – Jonathan Kent. Known as the ‘Golden Child,’ Jonathan possesses power unlike anything the world has ever seen and could be all that stands in the way of the destruction of Gotham City, as well as the whole planet.

Full article: https://ew.com/books/2019/09/13/frank-miller-previews-next-epic-batman-comic-the-dark-knight-returns-the-golden-child/

Additional information:

"The Dark Knight Returns story began with its heroes getting older," Miller said of his the latest chapter in his Dark Knight Universe. "Now we’re seeing the next generation of heroes in action, and Rafael was the obvious choice for me to usher in these heroes that are vigorous, untested and loaded with promise. I think that Jonathan Kent in particular will surprise everybody with his unforeseen abilities and impossible mind."

Not only does the series feature the first comic book art Rafael Grampá has produced in over half a decade, the one-shot will feature "open to buy" variant covers by Paul Pope, Joëlle Jones, Andy Kubert and Frank Miller. According to DC's release, Grampá was "hand-picked" by Miller to collaborate on the project.

Article: https://www.cbr.com/frank-miller-rafael-grampa-dark-knight-returns-golden-child-announce/

[imagitory]

D-Views: The Princess and the Frog (with guest input!)

Hi everybody! Welcome to another installment of D-Views, my on-going written review series focused around the works of the Walt Disney Company, as well as occasionally films made by other studios that were influenced by Disney’s works! For reviews for Disney films like Mary Poppins, The Little Mermaid, and Treasure Planet or non-Disney films like Anastasia, The Nutcracker Prince, or The Prince of Egypt, please consult my “Disney reviews” tag!

I’m super excited about today’s subject -- not only is its heroine my favorite Disney princess, but I also won’t be watching the movie alone! My darling mum, who has in the past helped me review Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, has graciously agreed to co-review this with me! We hope that you will join us on this magical adventure through the Louisiana bayou as we review...The Princess and the Frog!

In the early 2000′s, the Walt Disney Company -- especially its animation department -- was in trouble. Of all of the films done in the so-called “Experimental Era,” the only animated film that had made Disney a real profit was 2002′s Lilo and Stitch. The others, even if they did manage to receive favorable reviews, were all financial disappointments. The Emperor’s New Groove was fourth at the box office opening weekend behind movies like What Women Want and How the Grinch Stole Christmas and only grossed about 169 million dollars in theaters worldwide after costing 100 million to make. Brother Bear even now boasts a rather sad 37% rating at Rotten Tomatoes. And even if Atlantis: The Lost Empire hadn’t received such lukewarm reviews and been accused of plagiarizing several other movies (most notably Nadia: The Secret of the Blue Water, Stargate, and, as I’ve discussed previously, Castle in the Sky), it wouldn’t have changed the fact that it was released the same year as Dreamworks’ green monster hit Shrek. But no Experimental Era film did as badly as the last one -- Home on the Range -- which after its release in 2004 was so badly received both by critics and at the box office that it prompted Disney to write down the production costs and announce the closing of its 2D animation department for good.

But it didn’t close for good. In 2006, the new president and chief creative officer of the company, Ed Cadmill and John Lasseter, reversed the decision. The 2D animation department had one last chance to turn their dark destiny around, and in 2009, as Disney did after World War II with Cinderella and in the late 80′s with The Little Mermaid, it pinned its hopes on a beautiful, goodhearted princess.

The Princess and the Frog in some ways was Disney’s attempt to return to their Disney Renaissance roots. Its directors -- John Musker and Ron Clements -- had previously directed The Little Mermaid and Aladdin among others. The reinvented fairy tale story features magic, a theatrical villain, a prince, animal sidekicks, romance, and Broadway-musical-style songs. Even the advertising highlighted how much it wanted to remind millennial audiences of the films they grew up with, putting a spotlight on the music and beautiful hand-drawn animation, rather than the “adult,” meta humor that Dreamworks had used to advertise its films and Disney later used to advertise its next Disney princess movie, Tangled. Some production details leaked to the public, such as the title of “The Frog Princess,” the main character’s original name, and her profession as a chambermaid, also were edited upon receiving backlash, and still others (such as the use of voodoo in the plot and our black princess’s prince not being black) were just left as is. Despite all of the negative press that swirled around the project, there was also a lot of promise that Disney fans noted too, such as Dreamgirls supporting actress Anika Noni Rose being cast as Tiana, Pixar composer Randy Newman being chosen to write the film’s score and songs, and Oprah Winfrey being brought on both as a technical consultant and the voice of Tiana’s mother Eudora.

The marketing decision to focus more on nostalgic millennial adults rather than the new Generation Z is what I feel largely contributed to The Princess and the Frog not being the blockbuster Disney was hoping for. As much as I wholeheartedly believe that animation is not and has never been a children’s medium, the attitude that lingered around the public consciousness in the late 2000′s and sadly even today is that animation -- most importantly, 2D animation -- is for kids, and without the kids being just as excited to watch the film as their nostalgic parents, uncles, aunts, and older siblings, The Princess and the Frog was fighting an uphill battle, even if it was produced by a marketing monster like Disney. Even though the movie was handicapped by this bad marketing choice, however, I would still argue that The Princess and the Frog was a success. Even with that bad marketing choice, the racism-themed controversies that had swirled around its production, and the release of James Cameron’s blockbuster Avatar a week later weighing it down, Tiana costumes were selling out everywhere prior to Halloween that year. The movie still was #1 at the box office opening weekend, an honor not held by a Disney animated movie since Lilo and Stitch. It still made $104.4 million and was the fifth highest grossing film that year. It still earned pretty favorable reviews, earning an 85% at Rotten Tomatoes.

Sadly, because The Princess and the Frog wasn’t the big blockbuster that The Little Mermaid had been, Disney turned its focus more toward its 3D projects, and after the release of Winnie the Pooh in 2011 (the same weekend as Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2 -- COME ON, DISNEY, WERE YOU EVEN TRYING TO GIVE THIS FILM A CHANCE??), the 2D department did close its doors after all, and the studio went in a new direction with the release of Tangled. It’s a choice I lament Disney making, for as much as I’ve enjoyed most of the 3D entries to the Disney Revival, there was something so utterly magical about seeing The Princess and the Frog’s premiere at Walt Disney Studios in Burbank with my mother back in 2009. 2D animation is a beautiful art form, and it’s frustrating that Disney has turned its back on it so thoroughly after it got Disney to where it is now. The Princess and the Frog could’ve been the Great Mouse Detective to another 2D film that could’ve been a Little Mermaid and proved once again that 2D animation is for everyone, not just for kids, just as Little Mermaid did. But instead, the film that was the Revival version of The Little Mermaid was Disney’s first 3D princess film, Tangled -- and not to diss Tangled as a film, but it saddens me that it succeeded largely by playing to the public’s ignorant attitude that 3D animation is more “adult” than 2D animation and that the way to communicate that your animated movie is “for adults too” in your trailers is through using snarky meta humor rather than through artistry and complex themes.

With all this background out of the way...laissez le beau temps rouler! Let’s start the film!

Anika’s singing voice starting our film out is just a perfect introduction. Its pure, unassuming tone just ripples with sincerity as we are led into our introductory scene for our main character Tiana, her mother Eudora, and her absolutely hysterical best friend, Charlotte “Lottie” La Bouff. As we leave the La Bouff manor, we also see a touch of the “Lady and the Tramp influence” that Musker and Clements added to the production in the background design. Just by transitioning from the well-kept, affluent neighborhood in the dimming sunlight to the more run-down areas of town at night, we get a perfect, complete sense of the environment that our heroine lives in, all without any dialogue. And yet, as Mum pointed out, even the rundown areas are full of warmth and charm. Just like in Lady and the Tramp, they never look scary or shady, simply modest and maybe a little worn. On the note of charm, as well, I absolutely friggin’ adore Tiana’s dad, James. Considering how big of a role he has in the story, it’s really good that we see how big of an impact he had on his daughter through his good, hard-working attitude and love for his family and neighborhood despite not having much screen-time.

Once the “Walt Disney Pictures” banner floats by, we finally meet Tiana as an adult. As mentioned earlier, Tiana is my favorite Disney princess. Part of the reason why comes back to the fact that Tiana’s movie came out right before I started my first job (ironically enough at a restaurant in Disney World) and she inspired me to give 120% everyday, but the other reason Tiana speaks to me so much is because she reminds me quite a bit of Mum! Like my mother, Tiana is a very warmhearted, logical, and hardworking person who never sits on her laurels and is always ready to fix a problem, and it was really cool to see a Disney princess with the same kind of organized mind and stubborn work ethic that I saw in my mum growing up. That feeling I had watching Tiana’s story is one of the things that inspired me to write my Disney crossover story TrueMagic, where I wrote a character directly inspired by Mum. On top of all that, I realize that Tiana speaks a lot of the millennial and gen Z experience, having to save up a lot of money at two dead-end minimum wage jobs just to try to get ahead in a world where the cards are stacked against her. We even see her sleeping in the room she grew up in, meaning she’s still living at home as an adult to make ends meet!! Isn’t that relatable!!

I have heard others critique Randy Newman’s music, but in my opinion the score and songs developed for this movie perfectly set the mood of 1920′s New Orleans. The opening number “Down in New Orleans” is really well-paced with the medley of scenes introducing Tiana’s usual work day, Dr. Facilier’s vindictiveness and desire for Eli La Bouff’s wealth, Naveen’s playboy attitude, and Charlotte’s instant attraction to the newly arrived Prince. Of the songs, I’d personally cite Tiana’s “Almost There” and Facilier’s “Friends on the Other Side” as the strongest links, with “Gonna Take You There” as the weakest, but even if you don’t end up finding the songs catchy, I don’t think anyone can deny how well it suits the film’s setting.

Now admittedly, one critique you could give the film is its idealized, whitewashed view of historical race relations. Let’s be honest: in the 1920′s, a rich cotton baron like Eli La Bouff would not have visited a cafe on Tiana’s side of town and he would not let his precious daughter engage with Tiana as an adult either. As much as there were people who didn’t follow the common attitude that black Americans were somehow “inferior” to white Americans, if you didn’t follow that attitude, you couldn’t have expected to be very financially successful or influential in such a racist society, as Mr. La Bouff is. On top of that, Tiana would not only be facing passive prejudice when trying to open her own restaurant, like the kind the Fenner brothers express about her “background” -- she would also be likely facing active discrimination and potentially violence. As much as this film doesn’t truly represent the way things were back then, however, I would argue that the decision in the end benefits the picture, which clearly is supposed to be a fairy tale. This is a story where a girl kisses a frog, becomes one herself, meets an alligator who plays the blues and a firefly in love with a star, and both fights against and alongside people who practice voodoo. It may have a historical backdrop, kind of like Pocahontas and The Great Mouse Detective do, but it is still a fantasy. There are other films that aim to teach us about how things really were back then, so why can’t we have one where a young black American lives her own fairy tale in the iconic Crescent City? Plus, in Mum’s words, an integral part of this story is the pure, unlikely friendship between Charlotte and Tiana, which would have been close to impossible in a completely historical setting. To my memory, it’s actually one of the few times we see a close friendship between two female contemporaries in a Disney princess movie -- the closest we’d had previously were relationships like Aurora with the three fairies (which was more of a familial relationship) and Belle and Mrs. Potts (which...yeah, big generation gap). Even in films that came later, we have Elsa and Anna, but they’re sisters, not just friends. And Tiana having a friend like Charlotte ends up being pivotal in her eventual triumph.

Speaking of Charlotte and her friendship with Tiana, something I love about her is that she doesn’t just give Tiana the money she needs to open her own restaurant. Instead, because she knows Tiana has pride and wouldn’t just accept the money for nothing, Charlotte finds a reason for her to give her the money she needs by assigning her the task of making beignets for the ball she and her father are hosting. It’s something that reminds me a bit of my mum and her best friend, who also comes from a wealthy family -- like Charlotte, my mum’s best friend likes spending money on my mum, but has always known that she can’t buy my mum’s friendship. Both she and Charlotte know that you can only be a friend through expressing sincere caring, which is the mark of a true friend.

Ever since The Princess and the Frog first came out, “Almost There” has been my work mantra, and every time I hear it, I just am full of drive and excitement. The animation for this sequence -- animated by senior Disney icon Eric Goldberg, who previously worked on the Rhapsody in Blue segment in Fantasia 2000 and was the supervising animator for the Genie in Aladdin -- is also pitch perfect, incorporating both Al Hiershfeld-inspired designs and an Art Deco vibe to envelope us in Tiana’s fantasy. It’s one of the kind of artistic risks that Disney used to do more often, like the Pink Elephants sequence in Dumbo, the fairy’s gift sequences in Sleeping Beauty, and the Zero to Hero sequence in Hercules, and you just don’t see this sort of highly stylized song sequence in most of Disney’s newer films. The only one that comes to mind is the “You’re Welcome” sequence in Moana, which ironically enough also featured Eric Goldberg drawing all of Maui’s “Mini-Maui” tattoos! Those sorts of stylized musical numbers is something I’d love to see more of in the Disney Revival, because it gives the film in question such character and can bring an already great song to new heights.

Naveen is a character who I could’ve very easily disliked upon first meeting him. Obnoxious, selfish, and/or vain characters -- such as Lightning McQueen from Cars or even Kuzco from The Emperor’s New Groove -- really tend to rub me the wrong way, unless there is something in the character at the very beginning that makes me want to see them improve themselves. Fortunately our main prince is saved for me because we see that along with his vain, shallow, playboy attitude, he also expresses a great love of music and living life to the fullest. He doesn’t ignore his responsibilities as a prince just to be rebellious or lazy, but because he is so in love with New Orleans and its culture. He isn’t an angry or willfully condescending person: he immediately starts dancing with regular New Orleans citizens and is enthralled with the moves of a tiny street entertainer. And just as Tiana represents the millennial experience through working multiple jobs just to make ends meet, Naveen expresses a different kind of millennial experience -- that of being so sheltered by one’s privilege that, once you’re on your own, you’re incapable of sustaining the life style you’ve become accustomed to and are led by society to believe you should be able to achieve. At this point, it’s still easy to feel sorry for Lawrence, Naveen’s resident “Peter Pettigrew-look-alike” manservant, though that impulse quickly disappears after we see his interactions with our villain, Dr. Facilier. Speaking of which...

Just as Tiana is my favorite Disney princess, Dr. Facilier is my favorite Disney villain. Voiced by Keith David, the man who previously gave life to Goliath in Disney’s Gargoyles, the so-called “Shadowman” is -- in Mum’s words -- just “deliciously evil.” His voice drips with cold charisma, dipping into rich bass tones but never sounding groggy or lacking in energy, and the animation -- done by Bruce W. Smith, supervising animator for Oscar Proud from the Disney Channel show The Proud Family -- just fits David’s line-reads like a glove. Although Lawrence briefly provokes Facilier, effectively foreshadowing his true viciousness, the witch doctor largely puts on a theatrical persona that entices even the most jaded viewers in with his song “Friends on the Other Side.” Mum brought up the wonderful comparison to Oogie Boogie in Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas, and just like Oogie Boogie, Facilier’s number feels very unscripted and spontaneous, and yet it’s still conniving. Even though the song is jazzy and oddly conversational, there’s this dangerous, sinister darkness echoing in the background, not just in the echoing voices of the Friends on the Other Side but in the lyrics with multiple meanings (”when I look into your future, it’s the green that I’ve seen”). Along with the theatricality, however, Facilier doesn’t forget to also be very intimidating as a villain -- the scene where he turns Naveen into a frog gets quite scary in its imagery.

Just as everything seems to have come up roses for her, Tiana is suddenly about to lose the restaurant of her dreams for good. But there is still hope -- or, at least...there’s a frog. Or a prince. A frog pri -- you get the point. Interestingly Naveen, while a frog, reminded Mum and me of two very different characters. Mum immediately thought of Aladdin, thanks to his charming, smiling expressions, while I immediately thought of another frog seeking a kiss from a beautiful girl: Jean-Bob from The Swan Princess. I personally think the second of those is a coincidence, given that Jean-Bob and Naveen really don’t have much in common excluding a flamboyant accent, but Aladdin’s influence on Naveen’s character animation is pretty reasonable. After all, Flynn Rider’s design was also influenced by previous Disney princes.

Not having seen this movie in a while, I’d forgotten about the “frog hunters” sequence in the middle of the movie until it came on screen. I know that Tiana and Naveen had to face multiple dangers before they reached Mama Odie, not just for dramatic storytelling but also to help cement their budding relationship...but I’m sorry, the characters of the frog hunters are just...uncomfortable. The stereotypical portrayal just comes across as very mean-spirited, especially when compared to the great respect for New Orleans culture in the rest of the movie. The scene does give Tiana and Naveen good character development, though, so it’s a flaw I can overlook to enjoy the rest of the movie.

Usually I don’t enjoy Disney “sidekick” characters as much as I do more developed main or side characters, but I will grant that as sidekicks go, Louis the alligator and especially Ray the firefly are among the better ones. Louis is kind of there for humor more than to advance the plot at all, which is a shame, but Ray becomes both ridiculously charming and central to the film’s theme of love when we see his romantic side in his song “Ma Belle Evangeline.” This song has special significance to Mum and me, all because of Mum’s little Russian Blue/Short-Hair kitty, Evangeline, or Eva for short. When Eva and her sister Ella (full name Cinderella) were being driven home from the pound, the two cats were absolutely beside themselves, crying and yowling the whole way. The only thing that quieted them was me singing songs to them, including songs based on their names -- Cinderella’s opening theme (”Cinderella, you’re as lovely as your name”) for Ella, and “Ma Belle Evangeline” for Eva. Even now, Eva knows that that song is her song, and she always relaxes whenever she hears it. The song sequence in the film also beautifully reflects Tiana and Naveen’s budding relationship, which has already affected them enough that they are starting to take influence from each other. Tiana has started to open up and have some fun, while Naveen is more able to acknowledge his shortcomings and takes more responsibility. They even see eye to eye enough that they stop Louis from telling Ray that Evangeline is a star, not a firefly. Tiana/Naveen is my Disney OTP mainly because of that influence that they have on each other. Both of them are such beautifully flawed characters, but they both also teach and encourage each other to be better people than they would have been on their own.

Tiana and Naveen learn that if they want to turn human again, they need help from Charlotte, who will be “princess” of the Mardi Gras Parade until midnight that night. Unfortunately, when Tiana finds Charlotte, she finds her about to marry who she thinks is Naveen on a float in the parade. Admittedly I kind of wonder why Tiana didn’t consider that it might not be Naveen, as earlier she saw a human Naveen dancing with Charlotte before meeting frog!Naveen and so should know there’s an imposter, but I suppose it’s just story convention, to have this kind of a pre-climax misunderstanding. It’s the same reason why Naveen is locked in a box on the float where he can interrupt the wedding, rather than being stowed away more securely somewhere else, or why Charlotte didn’t turn into a frog too after not being able to turn Tiana and Naveen back.

At long last, our climax arrives. After Dr. Facilier “lays Ray low” in a scene that makes both Mum and me cry out in grief, he corners Tiana in the graveyard, enticing her with the dream she’s worked so hard for in the hopes of getting the medallion that would allow Lawrence to impersonate Naveen and Facilier to steal the La Bouff fortune. But because of all of the character development Tiana’s gone through, she remembers what’s really important -- the people she loves -- and she outdoes the Shadowman, condemning him to be yanked down into the underworld by his so-called “Friends” for all time. The growth Tia’s gone through also gives her the strength and courage needed to put her dream aside and tell Naveen about her feelings for him. And because she’s a true friend, Charlotte shows no hint of bitterness about missing out on her “happily ever after” with Naveen -- instead she immediately is supportive of her friend and tries to fight for her happiness, to the extent that she looks over the moon when Tiana and Naveen get married as humans. Even Ray, who Mum wishes desperately had been able to make it, achieves happiness by finally becoming a star beside his beloved Evangeline. As our film comes to an end with a reprise of “Down in New Orleans,” we’re left with a sense of triumph and optimism...two things that embody our newly crowned princess beautifully.

The Princess and the Frog is a movie that, in Mum’s and my opinion, should receive much more appreciation that it has. Financially speaking, it only did about as well as The Great Mouse Detective and Lilo and Stitch in theaters, but it still has left a lasting impact. I still see plenty of little girls dressing as Tiana in the parks, and I still hear about young black women and girls who have found validation and comfort in the first African American Disney princess. Even I, who share a complexion with white bread, find Tiana an engaging, brilliant role model in today’s world -- in Mum’s words, she embraces the idea of success being half inspiration and half perspiration, but she also learns the virtue in disregarding the chase for success when it comes at the cost of your values. She learns how to love, how to grow, and how to change, while also encouraging the best from those around her. The Princess and the Frog also features what I would argue is the best Disney animated villain since the Disney Renaissance, a soundtrack that embraces its setting to the Nth degree, and a prince who grows just as much as his love interest does while they are together. It’s not a perfect film, but no film is, and Mum and I hope that like other Disney films that didn’t make much money on their initial theatrical releases, we as a Disney fanbase can make this movie a cult classic and give it the love it fought so hard to earn and so rightfully deserves. Look how it lights up the screen -- ma belle Princess and the Frog!

[alliswell21]

Unmasked ~ Eighteen

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Also my thanks to @alliswell21 and everyone else who has offered up their inbox for submissions. Please enjoy the eighteenth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 18 ~~

The Harvest Festival lasts slightly longer than two weeks and usually provides us with a healthy income to sustain us through winter and well into spring. It is the culmination of three seasons of overlapping plantings, crop maintenance, and harvest. Hours upon hours of work. Everdeen becomes a hive of life with visitors from all across Southeastern Panem and sometimes even further. Booths are set up for the sale of wares and food treats. There are games for the children to play and contests for the adults. Planting the bulbs that will weather the winter in soil and hopefully flourish in spring carries a festive air in the task, as though we are planting the seeds of hope for the bounty of the present year to carry over into the next. In the evenings, the world comes alive with music and dancing, the lively reels and jigs of country tunes rather than the stuffier songs of the city and high society. Other than spring, it is my favourite time of year.

All through the day, I am occupied with sales and bargaining. Talking with tenants and people who need my attention. Normally my father would handle most of this while I stand beside him. This year, Father is busy dancing with nearly every female in Everdeen, from my mother down to Sae, leaving the bulk of the real work to me. It is heartening to see him so happy, waving away Dr. Aurelius’ concerns and insisting that he has never felt better.

When I mention this to Peeta, who has not left my side all day, he smiles. “Katniss, he is handing Everdeen to you. You have kept it running nearly an entire year. This festival is all due to you. It is your harvest.”

I am not certain how to feel about that and loop my arm through Peeta’s as we watch the festivities. My foot taps to the beat, but I know better than to ask Peeta for a dance, despite my longing to join. I do not wish to cause him discomfort, no matter that I could never feel shame or embarrassment when partnered with him.

As the night winds down, I find that I am exhausted. Once I am changed for sleep and laid out on the sofa in our room, my head resting on Peeta’s thighs as he reads through correspondence he left neglected today. His fingers comb through my hair, mine trace absent patterns on his knee, yet I can tell that something bothers him.

“What news, husband?”

“A friend. From the infantry. He has returned home to troubles. His brother passed, leaving the land to him. It took some time for him to return home and in the absence of a landlord, a large number of the tenants left. He’s in need of hands to help harvest or his wheat crop will be left to die in the fields.”

I pause in my aimless drawing on his knee and consider this. The answer is evident, and I know Peeta has already reached the same conclusion, much as we both dislike it. “How far?”

“The southern half of East Panem. With a hard day of riding Cicero, I could be there in a day.”

“You should go,” I say quietly.

“And miss the festival? Katniss, I do not wish to leave you.” I sit up then, to face him, maintaining as much of a stoic expression as I can manage.

“Nor do I wish you to leave. However,” I say before he can argue. “We will be quite fine here. The Harvest Festival is perhaps the easiest part of running Everdeen, and you will regret not going to his aid if you remain.”

Peeta tilts his head as he examines me and I smile, overcome with affection for my husband. I trace the scars on his face and then lean forward to kiss the edge of them, down along his jaw. “You never told me how you came by these marks.”

“Musket fired too close to the ground while I was seeing to a wounded drummer. Had to move us both to safety before I could continue, and you know what burning clothes stuck to skin can cause.”

“Hm,” I kiss down his throat, already plotting how to persuade him to take me to bed. “When will you leave to help your friend?”

“Tomorrow, I should think,” he says, the anguish in his voice a mirror of the pain in my heart. “He sounds in desperate need.”

“You should offer additional work and pay to several of our tenants. Take extra hands with you.”

“If that is alright with you.”

“Ask for volunteers. How long will you be gone?”

“I will not be gone longer than two weeks, I should think.”

“Then I shall see you back here before the end of the festival.”

“Yes,” he gasps as I shift to straddle him and press my body into his to feel how aroused he is already.

“Is that a promise, husband?”

“It is a promise, wife.”

“Promise me you will dance with me when you return? Just once, Peeta. It can be a slow tune.”

“Katniss,” he groans as I sink my teeth into his shoulder. He curses and promises me a dance.

My mind grasps onto the thought that now would be the perfect time to say it. To tell Peeta of my thoughts just this morning. Three such simple words that he uttered in the dark as though they were no more heavy than an exhale. But did he? Or did I dream the soft sigh of his love against my brow? I do not know, I was barely awake. I bite my tongue and kiss him instead, wild and uninhibited.

Peeta gathers me in his arms then, holding me close to his chest as he heaves us off the sofa and carries me across the room to our bed. I whine slightly, perturbed at being moved, but as he lays me on our mattress, I grasp hold of him and make demands.

As always, he readily gives me what I want. What I need. Clothes and wooden leg discarded on the floor. Whispered words and pleas, and a dance in the darkness. For what is intercourse but a series of bodily movements in harmony…a dance. I demand that he give me more and the creaking of our bed gives evidence to the desperate meeting of our bodies, almost violent in our need.

His hand clenches in my hair, twisting it around his fist, pulling tight against my scalp and bending my body. His moans roll over my skin as he plunges into me again and again. The short bursts of pain cause strange ripples of pleasure that overwhelm and steal my breath. He is holding back, waiting for me to succumb first. It is this knowledge combined with the sound of my name on his lips, a desperate breath of utter longing, that tips me over the edge into blissful, rapturous oblivion.

The rest of the world falls away to nothing as I revel in my release, in the feel of Peeta’s triumphant shout against my neck before he begins to thrust madly. I wonder for one second if we might break the bed and then he stops, his back arched and his head thrown back in exquisite relief, his abdomen clenching and his fingers tight in my hair.

The way he holds me after provides such an exquisite contrast. So perfectly gentle and soothing. His whispers are more effective in drawing me down into deep slumber than a lullaby, and yet…and yet…

My dreams that night are wild and reckless. A man cloaked in shadows and moonlight illuminating only part of his face, unending pleasure stemming from his touch. He takes pleasure from me like an animal, on all fours with his fingers digging into soft flesh, mine holding tight to bed linens and my throat dry with screams of pleasure I cannot voice for fear of waking the whole house. Whatever he takes from me, he gives back tenfold. The crazed thrusting of uncontrollable lust reaching deep inside me to places I’d never known a man could touch.

Then he takes me with his mouth, my legs splayed wide, immodest and desperate, pinned to our bed beneath his strong hands. The delicate scrape of his tongue on me, marking me. Branding me as his as I shatter again and again. And again. It is as though he is determined to ensure that I cannot forget him in his absence.

I am certain my legs have become useless until he settles me on top of him and I become the one crazed and desperate in motion. I long to tell him that I could never forget him. He has rooted himself in my heart, seared himself beneath my skin where I could no more remove my love for him than I can my own scars. But speech proves impossible for me.

Yet, in the moments when I am coherent enough to recognise the blue eyes watching me as I dance over his body with abandon, I capture the words he moans to me in his ecstasy and hold them close to my heart.

Yours.

I’m yours, Katniss.

Yours, yours, yours.

Everything I am is yours.

Always.

And…

I love you.

… I love you so…desperately…deeply…

I reach a final, tremendous peak with those words floating in the sultry air around us and then dreams yield their hold to the dark, blissful oblivion of restful, dreamless slumber.

In the morning, I am alone. The window shut against a driving autumn rain, and a single orange flower left for me atop of Peeta’s sketchbook, tied to it with a green ribbon. I haven’t the heart to look at the drawing he left me just yet, knowing that there will be no more for some time.

Then the evidence that my dreams last night were far more real than they were imagined begins to accumulate. My wild hair and the nearly wrecked state of the linens on our bed. The teeth and suction marks on my shoulders and breasts and even the back of my neck, the throbbing ache between my thighs. The ten round bruises on my hips where Peeta would have grasped hold of me as he loved me from behind, savage and wild and beautiful. Another set on my thighs where he would have held my legs secure to the bed while he made love to me with his mouth, again and again. My knees weaken at the very thought of it.

Worst of all, though, is the hollow feeling in my breast as I rise and move to the window and know. Peeta’s gone. He left before I could tell him that I love him too. How stupid of me not to reciprocate the words when he spoke them last night.

I rest my forehead on the cool glass, holding the sheet from our bed wrapped around me, my shoulders and my feet bare, hair a wild tangle down my back until Mary finds me like that.

“Mrs. Mellark?” she says my name like a question and I lift my chin. I am not some sniveling, weak willed, lovesick schoolgirl. And I will not act like one.

Peeta will return within the fortnight. I can tell him then. He promised me he would, and if I know one thing about my husband it is that he can be trusted to keep his promises.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is good,” I say as my eyes skim over the written out history. It is far more thorough than I could have hoped. “Could she have returned to any of these places?”

“It is unlikely. She seems to have stayed for as long as she could,” Haymitch says and taps one line near the bottom. My cheeks burn as I realise what he is trying to tell me without saying it.

“Oh no. The poor thing.” I glance up at my uncle as he fixes me in place with a penetrating gaze.

“You are not appalled?”

“I am only appalled at the lengths women must sometimes go to in order to feed and house both themselves and the ones they love,” I say as I fold the pages of parchment together. “There are three years missing yet in your history for her.”

“I have some leads to fill that hole. I shall keep looking…unless you wish to stop. We may only find worse things than this”

“No,” I say and glance briefly over the crowd that has gathered for the afternoon games. The rain did not last long enough to force a cancellation of the festivities. The muddy fields have in fact drawn more people, it seems. Those eager for the fresh air and the tempting scents of meat pies on the cool autumn breeze. Children play, ignoring parental sighs that they will need another bath if they are not careful.

“No,” I repeat to Haymitch. “I want to find her, if she still lives. And the child.”

Haymitch scoffs at this and I scowl at him. “You think that wise?”

“You think Peeta would want to leave his half sister to suffer in an orphanage somewhere? Or worse?”

“There is no knowing who the child’s father is, nor what she has grown to become. She would be nearly seven by now.”

“I am aware of that.”

“It is also possible that your husband already knows of her existence and chose to do nothing…”

My neck heats as I consider the possibility but then I shake my head. “No. He would not. If he knows, then he has been searching for her as well. Which leads me to believe he does not know.”

“You will not be able to keep your search secret from him much longer if you are determined to save both,” Haymitch says with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Perhaps combining our efforts will produce faster results then. When he returns, can you provide him with your contacts?” Haymitch grunts, but he nods in agreement.

I wonder how on earth I am supposed to explain to Peeta that he has a sister, and that I already plan on adopting her, if possible. She belongs with her family, and if she has none now, then her family is here at Everdeen. And how am I to explain the existence of the child without shattering his heart? How to tell him that his mother was reduced to prostitution for a number of years. My heart aches at the thought of it and it is the only reason that I hope he already found this piece of his mother’s journey, so that I will not be the one breaking his heart.

The child will be easier to locate than the mother, it seems, and so I tell Haymitch to focus on that for now. “But we are not conceding defeat on finding Nancy, do you understand?”

“I understand completely,” Haymitch tells me with a strange look in his eyes. Before I can summon a retort, my sister calls for me.

“Katniss, I need to speak with you.”

“Can it wait?” I ask as I notice the massive hay bales being rolled in for the next contest. I am meant to judge who is able to secure and lift their bale the fastest. It occurs to me that it is a shame Peeta is missing this particular contest. With the strength in his arms, he would excel at a contest such as this.

“No it cannot wait,” Prim insists.

I sigh and motion for her to speak. I am developing a headache. Peeta has been gone four days already with no word from him, Haymitch has brought me both good news and complications in our search, and Maysilee is recovering from a slight fever. While the festival at least is a resounding success, it still leaves me drained. At the end of the day, I toss and turn, unable to find sleep despite my fatigue. The empty space in my bed taunts me with unspoken words and fears I cannot explain. The drawing he left me was of me as I slept, the words along the bottom of the page nearly bringing tears to my eyes.

Leaving you is near impossible, and so I go while you still sleep. Had you opened your eyes before I left, and looked at me as you have done these past days, I might never muster the will to depart. Yours always, ~ P ~

“I’ve had a letter from Rory,” Prim’s words intrude on my musings.

“Are we on a given name basis with him now then?” I ask, a little testy. She frowns at me and then I notice her quivering lip.

“I do not know anymore. I told him of your plans to take me to Capitol for a season and now I fear he is withdrawing his interest!”

“Mother and Father agreed to the season as well. Pester them about this,” I mutter and she huffs angrily.

“They only agreed because you insisted! It’s not my fault you regret how your husband hunt turned out. Do you know what Rory said to me about this whole season and more suitors for me fiasco?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” she says and I nod.

“If he cannot handle the competition for your hand then his affections are not strong enough to last.” The competitors for the game have taken their places and I give the signal to begin.

Prim chokes on a sob. “I don’t want to him to have competition! I want to marry him! And you’ve frightened him off!”

“Prim,” I say as I turn to her and her watery eyes slice through me. I cannot stand to see her in pain. Perhaps this season idea was a poor decision, but she agreed to it, seemed eager even until now.

“All because you’re not in love with your husband! That does not mean that I will be miserable with my choice, nor do you need to make me miserable with mine! He was going to propose on his next visit, I am sure of it, and now he won’t!” She spins on her heel then, headed straight for the floor as bales of hay slowly rise.

“Prim!” I shout after her but she does not respond.

There’s a shout of warning and then one of the bales descends, the rope sliding through grasping hands and more yells fill the air. I run for her but I am too far away. Joe reaches her first, shoving Prim out of the way of the hay before it crashes to the ground. It disintegrates in a fragrant cloud. Several hands grasp hold of the rope at the same time and heave. With no weight, the hook swings free and wild.

A warning lodges in my throat as it flies up towards Joe and slices him straight up his spine.

He shouts and falls to the ground beside Prim as pandemonium breaks loose. Prim reaches for Joe, crying out apologies and attempting to see to his wound. Joe begins to screech.

“Hands off, witch! Devil take you and your herbs! I’ll not let you drag me to hell!”

Prim retreats as I glower at the man’s display. Everyone steps back from him as he holds his torn jacket and shirt together and waves a bloody hand at us to keep us distant. He raves about witches and sorcery. We are all too stunned to know what to do.

Madge pushes her way through the crowd and slaps Joe across the face. “Cease, man! I am no witch. Come with me and stop making a fuss!”

She grabs Joe by the arm and drags him away. He goes, surprisingly docile. I hurry to Prim’s side, although Mother and Father are already with her.

“I am fine,” she insists, taking their help to stand. The crowd around us whispers and wavers in shock and uncertainty. “But Joe…”

I squeeze Prim’s hand. “I will assist Madge.”

I scurry to follow them, leaving Prim with Father and Mother seeing to her. I pass by Haymitch as he tries to calm a near hysterical Effie and I leave him to it. Assured of Prim’s well being, I care for nothing but my husband’s injured friend — a friend who just saved my sister’s life, although I am certain he despises me.

I am able to follow their trail, a handprint left here and there that leads me to the house, to the bathing room. I fetch Mother’s healing kit along the way and enter the room, gasping and nearly dropping the basket as I take in the sight before me.

“Oh wonderful. Kitten has decided to join us,” Joe snarls as I stare at him…or rather… her…

Torn, bloody bindings and clothes litter the floor. Joe sits on the bench beside the tub, facing me, stripped bare to the waist. Madge bends over her back, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

“Katniss… shut the door,” she says in a wavering voice. I do so, too shocked to do differently. I lock it for good measure and gape, my mind grasping at connections and hints that line up with dizzying speed.

“You… you…”

“I have breasts,” Joe states. “Quite nice ones, too.” She fondles them for a second and smirks at me. “I can understand you gaping at them. I have all of the other baggage that comes with being a woman in this world as well. Would you care to see?”

“I…” I have no idea what to say.

“I could use your help, Katniss.” Madge’s words bring me to my senses. “I’m quite good at sewing but have never sewn human flesh and… I do not know what herbs we will need.”

“Are you certain your patient will accept such witchcraft?” I ask and Joe gasps with pain and shuts her eyes for a moment before leveling me with a fierce look.

“I meant no insult to your sister. She has been nothing but kind to me. And I will… I will apologize to her later. But I could not let them discover me in such a public manner.”

“You had better apologize. You caused a shameful scene,” Madge scolds and Joe turns slightly to glare at her.

“And you slapped me, your highness!”

“I needed to get you out of there before you revealed yourself!”

“You knew?” I ask Madge and she sighs.

“Katniss, please,” she says again instead of responding to my accusation. “I will explain later. Right now I truly need your help. I am quite out of my depth here.”

I move to Madge’s side and help her clean the wound, taking too much pleasure in Joe’s muffled grunts as we warn her of the coming pain before we pour the spirits to kill infections on her opened skin. She releases a string of colourful curses that has both Madge and I sharing a glance.

“For shame, Mr. Mason! Such foul language in front of ladies,” I say in my most scandalized tone. Joe hangs her head and shakes it.

“Ladies,” she sneers and then laughs. It is precisely the reaction I was hoping for, distracting Joe from the pain as Madge carefully stitches her ragged flesh back together. “Neither of you count as ladies by any conventional definition and well you both know it. Your highness with your scandalous affair before your late departed husband was even cold in his grave. And you Kitten, with your insatiable lust, pouncing on your poor husband at every turn, demanding he tussle you in the stables, out in meadows—“

“It was by a lake,” I interject and she scoffs. “If you are going to accuse me, at least ensure that your accusations are correct.”

“As I said… Neither of you are truly ladies, only masquerading as one of them.”

Madge and I share another look, colour rising in both of our cheeks. The way Johanna says the word ladies makes it sound like it would be more of an insult to actually be a lady in her eyes. Madge looks away first when Joe releases another string of curse words.

“Here,” I say, offering my hand to Joe to hold through the pain. She bats it away and I return it to assisting Madge. “So then I assume your given name is not really Joseph…”

“Johanna,” she gasps and then releases more curse words. “My name is Johanna. Jo still works for short. That way, when someone tries to call me Joseph the way her majesty here did, I can tell them no one calls me Joseph. Explains why I don’t readily respond to it, and it’s not a lie.”

Madge’s face reveals nothing. She purses her lips and concentrates on her stitches.

“What is your story then, Jo?” I ask gently. “What leads you to dress as a man and fool everyone around you?”

She laughs sardonically and another stream of expletives makes me blush hot. For a moment, I think perhaps she will not share but then she takes a deep breath and speaks. “Same thing what makes the two of you hide your true natures. Disapproval. My father thought to marry me off to a rector. A man four times my age with two wives already dead in the ground and a belief that there is no ill that cannot be solved by a decent whipping. My dear Mama agreed. She  thought the influence of the church was the only —“ More curse words echo off the stone walls and Madge halts her sewing for a moment until Johanna regains some composure. “—The only way to cure me of my evil nature.”

“What makes you so evil? I’ve seen no signs of devil worship about,” I say with a great deal of doubt in my voice. She turns her head to peer at me over one creamy, perfectly shaped shoulder and a sickening feeling fills me as I realise that she is in fact rather beautiful, even with her cropped short hair. A collection of pixie features I took for a boy’s in truth belonging to a lovely young woman perhaps four or five years my senior. She smiles at me and it brings me no comfort.

“My parents discovered that I have as great a thirst for a juicy cunt as I do for a big fat cock.” My face flames with her words but I allow myself no other visible reaction. Her words are meant to shock me. I will not give her the satisfaction. “I never saw the reason why my father and brothers could be so freely promiscuous, could fuck whatever they wanted… women, men, goats… without repercussions, but I was forbidden a single loving affair with a girl I loved.”

“Really, Johanna,” Madge admonishes.

“Allow me some fun, your highness. My back is shredded, I shall have yet another ugly scar, and unless Kitten here takes pity on me, I might be out of a home within the hour.”

“You are not exactly endearing yourself to her with that kind of talk,” Madge says and then an awful thought occurs to me.

“Does Peeta know?”

“Does Peeta know?” Johanna sneers again and my stomach feels as though I had just jumped from a great height.

I think of his words… one night of reckless abandon because he felt sorry for himself… surely he wouldn’t then travel with that person as a companion.

Madge says her name in a warning tone but Johanna fixes me with glittering brown eyes, her gaze unwavering as though she knows the precise direction of my thoughts.

“Of course Peeta knows. He’s been helping me maintain my ruse for years now. In fact, this is about how he found out. I refused my betrothal and when my dearest parents tried to have me sent to an asylum, I ran away.” She hisses and her next words begin strained then even out.

“I ran away, cut my hair, dressed myself as a boy, and enlisted in the infantry. I was a drummer for them. You know, the ones that beat the cadence to send commands across the fields. I was shot in the leg, and that would not have been a problem, but I panicked. Then some crazed loon took a bayonet to my side while I was attempting to drag myself from the field. I cut the lout’s throat but the damage was done.” More curse words and she smacks her hand on the stone bench.

“Nearly done,” Madge soothes and Johanna takes a few more deep breaths.

“Peeta found me. I told him I’d rather die right there on the field, knowing what he’d discover as soon as he started tending to me… God love the man, he tended to me anyways and barely even blinked. Not even with musket fire around us… a brush fire. An enemy soldier attacking him. He just… sliced the man the way you slaughter a pig then went back to sewing me together enough to move me. He even yelled at another medic who tried to help, sent him to assist the others wounded nearby instead. He stitched me up, and then lied to the doctors. Said the leg wound was the only one. He stopped by the field hospital every day after and saw to the wound on my side himself. When I was healed enough to rejoin the field, another drummer had already taken my place. Peeta convinced the commander to make me a part of the medical team instead.”

“Driving the cart to move the wounded and the dead,” I supply.

Johanna nods, lifts her arm then, and points to a long jagged scar over her ribs, curling beneath her breast. Exceptionally close to the orb. “This is the one Peeta stitched back together.”

I drop my eyes and watch as Madge finishes her stitching.

“He never asked me why. Why would a girl hide as a man and join the infantry. When I asked him why he never asked… he said he assumed I must have a damn good reason and it was none of his business. He trusted that I would tell him if and when I was ready to trust him. No one would willingly subject themselves to such a life unless they were desperate, had no choice, or wished death upon themselves, he said. It is quite cute when he is so naive.”

I wipe my hands clean with a rag and set myself to the task of crushing herbs.

“So then when he took that sword to his leg…”

“I couldn’t let him die,” Johanna whispers, turning her head just enough for me to see her profile but not enough to look me in the eyes. “I wanted to because then the only person who could betray my secret and see me returned to my family would take my secret to the grave. I would be safe without having to trust in a man. But… I couldn’t. He saved my life, so I saved his.”

“And did you and he…Were you one of the women he…” I trail off, unable to voice the despicable fear choking my throat closed.

“No, Kitten,” Jo says and finally meets my eyes. “I told you he’s a right gentleman. I offered, several times in fact, but he always refused. Said it wasn’t right to take advantage like that when he knew my secret. He saw that knowledge for what it was, something a lesser person would use to control me and so he refused to give even the impression of such control. The damn righteous bastard said he wouldn’t sleep with someone who felt they owed him a debt like that, and that the only reason I was offering was because I felt I owed him. Not because I loved him.”

My spine grows stiffer and my motions as I grind the herbs more forceful with every word she speaks. It sounds like something Peeta would say, but I don’t know if I can believe Johanna.

“Don’t tell him I said it… but he was right to refuse me. He’s been the only real friend I’ve had in years and I am glad he wouldn’t allow me to ruin that,” Johanna says and then she grins. “But he wasn’t above listening to me every night I got drunk and a little too talkative about all the reasons my father thought I needed divine intervention. All the maids and local girls. The boys I let beneath my skirts. My favorite though was a dairy maid named Portia. Ah she was a sweet treat indeed. And you’ve reaped the benefits of my big mouth, haven’t you, Kitten?”

I mix the herbs with the cream despite the burning on my cheeks. I am at least appeased that I am not healing one of my husband’s former lovers, but the fact that Peeta apparently learned much about pleasing a woman simply by listening to this one aggravates me. I smack the cream onto her back and she startles, once more cursing and glaring at me.

“Is that why you hate me then? Because I have been intimate with him while you were not.”

“That would be too simple, Mrs. Mellark. Give me some credit for having more depth of emotions than a jealous harpy. I despise you because the two of you are free to love one another openly and no one will question or recoil from you for it. No one will accuse you of being unnatural, sinful, or an abomination for having that tussle in the stables or by the lake and wherever else on this green earth the two of you have been when you cannot control yourselves. I despise you because you have a real and extraordinary love right in front of you, and you are too much of a coward to admit it.” I blink at her and she scoffs.

“I am not a coward.” Madge stares at me as I spread the cream along the stitched seam of Johanna’s back. “But I won’t admit it to you before I say it to him.”

Johanna’s eyes widen, astonished and so feminine in that moment that I wonder how I did not see it before. The curtsies, the things she’s said to me, the way Peeta reminded her on the day we met that a rough serving man cannot just grab a lady and pull her from the mud without her permission…

I turn to Madge to keep Johanna from questioning what I just confessed to her. “You have been awful quiet during all of these revelations. How long have you known?”

“Since the day after your father awakened.”

I am taken back to that day. The stables. The tea.

“The tea for the monthlies was for Johanna,” I say and Madge nods.

“I did not like keeping it from you, Katniss, but I thought it best at the time. Even though Johanna insisted she and Peeta had never been intimate, I feared the truth coming to light just then might ruin what was growing betwixt the two of you.”

“Which begs the question, Kitten…what will you do now?”

I look between the two women and consider the options, all of what has been revealed to me tonight.

Pulling long strips from the healing kit at my feet, I meet Johanna’s gaze. “Now I will bandage your back. When I am done, you shall return to your dwelling, drink every drop of the tea I am sending with you. You will sleep on your stomach and not disturb or scratch at the bandages. In the morning, Madge and I will tend to your wound. You will only admit either her or myself to see to your care. While I do not believe that my parents would turn you out should they learn the truth, I will not take that risk without your blessing. And once you are healed, you will stop teaching Maysilee to jump side saddle and teach her how to do the thing right. Safely astride. I’ll not see her break her neck over something so foolish as propriety.”

Johanna squints her eyes at me as I speak and then laughs when I am done. “Now I see it, Kitten. I know why he’s so hopelessly in love with you!”

I ignore this and bandage her back, but I have the strangest sense that I have somehow acquired a new ally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued… look for chapter 19 on the blog of @everlarkficexchange.

[aion-rsa]

Cobra Kai and the Legacy of The Karate Kid

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Since Netflix picked up Cobra Kai it’s been sweeping up viewership like Johnny on Daniel-san’s leg. When The Karate Kid debuted in 1984, it was a smash hit, delivering returns of $100 million on a modest budget of $8 million. It also earned Best Supporting Actor nominations for the late Pat Morita (Mr Miyagi) from both the Oscars and the Golden Globes. Miyagi was a crowning achievement for Morita whose career spanned 175 roles beginning in 1964. 

The Karate Kid was embraced by pop culture, redefining the martial arts genre. It had a profound effect on the practice of martial arts in the United States. The Karate Kid stands alongside Enter the Dragon and Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon as a film that reshaped the way Americans viewed martial arts. Martial arts made an amazing leap, one of the largest in U.S. history, boosting the whole economy. Everyone who ran a Dojo during the mid-80s remembers what a windfall it was. 

The Karate Kid spawned three sequels, a cartoon series, a reboot, as well as several homages outside of the franchise’s canon that starred original cast members. Just like Bill and Ted Face the Music and Star Trek: Picard, the new series updates a time-honored franchise as Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio) and Johnny Lawrence (William Zabka) grapple with the drag of growing old along with a coming of age soap opera of the next generation. Easter eggs sell it to its loyal fanbase with nods of nostalgia while new teen characters share the spotlight to lure fresh viewership. The original cast keeps it genuine, abetted with cameos from other peripheral characters. Daniel and Johnny were career defining roles for Macchio and Zabka, something they’ve long embraced with many non-canon cameos since their last official appearance in these roles in 1989.

The Mr. Miyagi Tetralogy

The success of The Karate Kid guaranteed a sequel, so the bulk of the cast reassembled for The Karate Kid Part II two years later. It picks up immediately following the first film, in the parking lot immediately after the All-Valley Karate Tournament where Kreese (Martin Kove) punishes Johnny for losing, causing Johnny and his squad to leave Cobra Kai. However, Daniel and Johnny’s love interest, Ali (Elizabeth Shue), did not return. Ali is written out with a dismissive comment by Daniel about how she dumped him for a football player. Fans are clamoring for Shue to appear in Cobra Kai and the show references Ali repeatedly. Towards the end of Season 1, Daniel shows Johnny Ali’s Facebook revealing that she’s married and a doctor. The Karate Kid Part II, quickly narrows down to Daniel and Miyagi as they journey to Okinawa, where Daniel finds a new love interest in Kumiko (Tamlyn Tomita). 

The Karate Kid Part II did better than the original, earning $115 million worldwide. While it didn’t garner any major award nominations, it was well received. Since it was set in Japan, it hasn’t been referenced much in Cobra Kai beyond when Johnny’s son Robby (Tanner Buchanan) discovers Daniel’s den-den daiko (rotating hand drum). As an interesting side note, the sequel subtly revealed Mr. Miyagi’s given name in Japanese. When Chozen (Yuji Okumoto) picks Miyagi up, his name is written in Japanese as Nariyoshi Miyagi, which is only one character different than Morita’s actual Japanese given name, Noriyuki (Nari and Nori are alternate spellings of the same character, which means ‘completed’). 

The Karate Kid Part III also picks up where Part II left off, but it drops the ball. It delivered a disappointing $38 million box office and was the final pairing of Daniel and Miyagi.  Nevertheless, it is referenced by Cobra Kai almost as much as the first film. Daniel and Miyagi return from Okinawa to find the LaRusso’s residence at South Seas complex being dismantled. The implication is that it is to be demolished, and yet it appears in “Different but the Same”, the 9th episode of Cobra Kai (why the new owners kept that painfully 80s South Seas logo is incomprehensible, but it made for a good Easter egg). Daniel’s mom, Lucille (Randee Heller) appears in Part III, who has cameos in both seasons of Cobra Kai, but she is quickly written out, sent away to take care of Daniel’s Uncle Louie (Joseph V. Perry). It’s a short scene to set up Daniel living with Miyagi, but Cobra Kai picks up on it with Louie LaRusso Jr. (Bret Ernst), a pivotal character in Season 1. 

Kreese is supplanted by his fellow Vietnam veteran, Terry Silver (Thomas Ian Griffith) and Karate’s Bad Boy Mike Barnes (Sean Kanen). Both Silver and Kanan had authentic martial arts backgrounds so this installment had the best fight choreography. Ironically, The Karate Kid has had mediocre choreography throughout the series. After the initial film, Zabka continued to train under Pat Johnson, a genuine master of the Korean martial art of Tang Soo Do. Johnson was the choreographer and played the referee for the first three films. Fans complain that in Cobra Kai, Macchio still lacks convincing martial skills (he’s had 36 years to train). However, the Season 2 finale fight in Cobra Kai redeems the franchise with a brilliantly choreographed long take scene in the center of a massive brawl.

Part III flops on several levels. The over-the-top villainy of Silver was too caricatured, complete with the hackneyed ‘bwahahaha’. Furthermore, without Shue or Tomita, there’s no romance. Robin Lively played the new girl, Jessica Andrews, but she was only 16 at the time, and while Macchio’s babyface still allowed him to play a convincing teen, he was 27 so romance with a minor wasn’t an option. Nevertheless, Cobra Kai references Miyagi and Daniel’s Bonsai tree business from Part III with a chiding comment from Daniel’s wife Amanda (Courtney Henggeler) and the special Miyagi-do Kata that Daniel learns in the threequel is the one recited repeatedly throughout the series. 

The Next Karate Kid abandoned Daniel altogether to follow Miyagi’s new pupil, Julie Pierce (Hilary Swank). Despite being a total flop critically and financially, it’s Swank’s breakout role, and her budding talent shines, although not enough to redeem the film. What’s more, Miyagi’s given name is inexplicably changed to Keisuke. The new production crew apparently could not read Japanese.

The Saturday Morning Cartoon

Before Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network, kids had to wait until Saturday morning to see cartoons. The Karate Kid was a 1989 Saturday morning cartoon series on NBC. It only ran for one season – thirteen 20+ minute long episodes – with none of the original actors voicing their characters. Daniel (Joey Dedio) and Miyagi (Robert Ho) were joined by a new character, kimono-wearing Taki Tamurai (Janice Kawaye), in a series-long quest to recover a small pagoda with magical powers. Their search took them around the world – London, Paris, Hong Kong, San Francisco, New York and more – a different location for each episode. The plots were all the same: the threesome almost recovers the pagoda, only to have it slip out of their hands again until next week’s installment. Again inexplicably, Mr. Miyagi’s given name was changed to Yakuga. In Cobra Kai, it is restored to Nariyoshi on his gravestone, meaning someone finally read the Japanese in Part II. 

The Karate Kid animated series was available on several streaming networks like Netflix, Hulu and iTunes, but all those services have abandoned it. It’s a weak show. The cheap cell animation is poor quality and horribly dated. Episodes can still be found on the web, but it’s not worth the search. It’s clearly outside of canon because there’s no magic in any of the live-action movies unless you count Mr. Miyagi’s magic healing hands, parodied in the first season finale of Cobra Kai. 

That Other Karate Kid

In 2010, a The Karate Kid remake starring Jaden Smith as Dre, the new Daniel, and Jackie Chan as Mr. Han, the new Mr. Miyagi. The project was met with intense internet backlash from the start. Even Macchio jumped on the critic bandwagon at first. In an MTV interview, as reported by Digital Spy, Macchio said “It feels pretty good that some people are pretty angry that they’re trying to remake The Karate Kid. It feels good that the public feels you don’t touch certain things. Sometimes you go back to that, and probably shouldn’t.” It’s ironic in the wake of Cobra Kai, but he changed his tune soon after Will Smith called him personally to ask him to advise Jaden. “He called and said, ‘Would you mind getting on the phone with my son?’ I felt like Yoda to young Skywalker.” Macchio confessed that his initial negative reaction was said too “candidly” and endorsed the project.  As the film’s premiere approached, more reporters reached out to Macchio to get his take. The Sun asked him if he might make a cameo to which Macchio replied (again ironically), “I have less of a desire to be in it or do a cameo because no one wants to see Daniel LaRusso in his forties. It would be like robbing the Karate Kid fans of their youth for me to be in it so I think it’s best to keep it separate.” Given the success of Cobra Kai, fans clearly want to see Daniel-san pushing sixty.

Another major issue was that all Asians are not alike. Karate is a Japanese martial art. Jackie Chan is Chinese and propounds Kung Fu. In Hollywood, the whole point of a reboot is to capitalize on the brand name, but naysayers complained that Karate was the wrong title for the reboot. Jackie wouldn’t be a sensei. He’d be a sifu. The title became so contentious that even the Wall Street Journal chimed in. 

Hollywood made a quick save for the title. When Dre’s mother Sherry (Taraji P. Henson) asks Dre about his ‘Karate,’ he replies, “It’s not Karate, mom.” The scene was strategically included in a Cinemark ‘First Look.’ And the title was changed for the Chinese market to Gongfu Meng (Kung Fu Dream). The Karate Kid was never released in theatrically China just like some 80+ Jackie Chan films were never released theatrically in the west so the brand name had no value. The Chinese version also added a finale fight where Han fights Li (Yu Rongguang), this version’s Kreese.

Jaden’s The Karate Kid is a complete reimagining of the story, like the Kelvin timeline in Star Trek or the Flashpoint timeline in DC comics. With a budget of $40 million, it earned $359 million worldwide making it the most financially successful installment yet. Naturally, talk of a sequel has been discussed, however last year, Jackie Chan said that any statements claiming that he would participate The Karate Kid 2 or Rush Hour 4 were “false”.

Beyond the Karate Kid Canon

Over the years, Macchio, Zabka and Kove have appeared in homages and parodies of the franchise. In 2003, Macchio and Zabka played themselves on How I Met Your Mother.  The episode ‘The Bro Mitzvah’ was about Barney’s (Neil Patrick Harris) bachelor party where he wanted to have the hero of The Karate Kid attend, so his friends arrange for Macchio to join the festivities. However, in Barney’s perspective, Johnny is the real hero. This ‘Barney wax on’ viewpoint is held by many fans, akin to the ‘Jar Jar Binks is a Sith Lord’ theory of Star Wars. In the Cobra Kai episode ‘Molting’ Johnny explains his take on the events in The Karate Kid. Technically speaking, Daniel’s winning crane kick should’ve disqualified him because strikes to the face are illegal. Daniel steals Ali and provokes Johnny, drenching him in the bathroom while he’s trying to roll a joint. 

For something completely different, an unauthorized musical spoof of The Karate Kid played at the off-Broadway Teatro la Tea in 2004. It’s Karate, Kid! The Musical featured Daniel-san, Johnny, Mr. Miyagi and Ali but Cobra Kai was replaced with the Bitchkicks. The show featured songs like “Damn You, Daniel-san”, “Wax On! Wax Off!”, and “The Way of Fisting”. 

In 2007, Macchio and Zabka reprised their iconic roles for the music video ‘Sweep the Leg’ by No More Kings. In the video, Zabka is a has-been living in a trailer watching The Karate Kid every day with his Cobra Kai buddies. Spliced with clips from the film, all the original Cobra Kai squad appears, Kreese, Jimmy (Tony O’Dell), Bobby (Ron Thomas) and Tommy (Rob Garrison). Even the South Seas condos are shown. Zabka wrote and directed the video. 

In another 2010 parody, Macchio plays himself in Funny or Die’s ‘Wax On, F*ck Off with Ralph Macchio’. Haunted by being typecast as squeaky-clean Daniel, Macchio struggles to sully his image to get more work in Hollywood. When Macchio tries to pick up a prostitute, she tells him to come back when he’s 18, to which he retorts ‘I’m 48!’ Molly Ringwald appears claiming that Macchio wanted to change the name of the Brat Pack to the Smile Bunch. There’s a reference to Jaden’s reboot too. 

Kove dove into replaying Kreese in 2011 with Comedy Central’s Tosh.0. In a segment called Web Redemption, host Daniel Tosh mocks a viral video by Josh Plotkin where he tries to break a board over his head. Kove and Ron Thomas appear in Cobra Kai gis in a breaking competition with a scoreboard that echoes the All-Valley Karate Tournament. And just last year, Kove donned Cobra Kai colors again for a QuickBooks ad in which he blames his aggressive teaching style on stress caused by not being able to manage his school’s finances. He drops comments like “Support the leg” and “More mercy” and goes so far to change the name of Cobra Kai to Koala Kai.

Cobra Kai is exactly where it needs to be on Netflix. The series is beautifully written and performed, coupling drama and comedy with bumps of action, all within bite-sized 20+ minute episodes. As its fan base continues to expand, so does anticipation for Season 3. And please, bring back Ali. Can’t Shue can take a break from The Boys? The final scene of Season 2 is such a tease, and after all that Johnny has been through in this series, he deserves a little mercy. 

Season 1 and 2 of Cobra Kai are now available on Netflix. Season 3 premieres on Netflix in 2021.

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